“I know why you’re here,” she said quietly.

Hunter sighed heavily. “Oh, God. I’m not quite sure where to start…what to say.” He gave her another genuine, heartfelt smile.

The tenderness of his expression hit her right in the heart, but despite her fantasies she recognized she couldn’t take that personally. Any kindness Hunter extended was merely courtesy necessary for good communications and a good relationship for Tyler’s sake….

“Tyler’s at school right now, but he’ll be home about three.”

Hunter’s brow furrowed. He stared at her. “Excuse me?”

She cleared her throat. “Tyler, our son, is at school right now. But he’ll be home about three.”

Hunter grabbed Abby’s wrist to interrupt her. “Tyler? Our son?” he repeated, his face white with shock. “We have a son?”

She wet her dry lips. “Hunter…”

“Abby, do you really believe I would have left you?” He caught her gaze. “That I would have left a child…my son?”

Dear Reader,

This holiday season, as our anniversary year draws to a close, we have much to celebrate. The talented authors who have published—and continue to publish—unforgettable love stories. You, the readers, who have made our twenty-year milestone possible. And this month’s very special offerings.

First stop: BACHELOR GULCH, Sandra Steffen’s popular ongoing miniseries. They’d shared an amazing night together; now a beguiling stranger was back in his life carrying Sky’s Pride and Joy. She’d dreamed Hunter’s Vow would be the marrying kind…until he learned about their child he’d never known existed—don’t miss this keeper by Susan Meier! Carolyn Zane’s BRUBAKER BRIDES are back! Montana’s Feisty Cowgirl thought she could pass as just another male ranch hand, but Montana wouldn’t rest till he knew her secrets…and made this 100% woman completely his!

Donna Clayton’s SINGLE DOCTOR DADS return…STAT. Rachel and the M.D. were office assistant and employer…so why was she imagining herself this widower’s bride and his triplets’ mother? Diana Whitney brings her adorable STORK EXPRESS series from Special Edition into Romance with the delightful story of what happens when Mixing Business…with Baby. And debut author Belinda Barnes tells the charming tale of a jilted groom who finds himself all dressed up…to deliver a pregnant beauty’s baby—don’t miss His Special Delivery!

Thank you for celebrating our 20th anniversary. In 2001 we’ll have even more excitement—the return of ROYALLY WED and Marie Ferrarella’s 100th book, to name a couple!

Happy reading!

Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor

Hunter’s Vow
Susan Meier

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Books by Susan Meier

Silhouette Romance

Stand-in Mom #1022

Temporarily Hers #1109

Wife in Training #1184

Merry Christmas, Daddy #1192

*In Care of the Sheriff #1283

*Guess What? We’re Married! #1338

Husband from 9 to 5 #1354

*The Rancher and the Heiress #1374

˜The Baby Bequest #1420

˜Bringing Up Babies #1427

˜Oh, Babies! #1433

His Expectant Neighbor #1468

Hunter’s Vow #1487

Silhouette Desire

Take the Risk #567

SUSAN MEIER

has written category romances for Silhouette Romance and Silhouette Desire. A full-time writer, Susan has also been an employee of a major defense contractor, a columnist for a small newspaper and a division manager of a charitable organization. But the greatest joy in her life has always been her children, who constantly surprise and amaze her. Married for twenty years to her wonderful, understanding and gorgeous husband, Michael, Susan cherishes her roles as mother, wife, sister and friend, believing them to be life’s real treasures. She not only cherishes those roles as gifts, she tries to convey the beauty and importance of loving relationships in her books.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter One

Abby Conway had always believed Hunter Wyman would return to Brewster County for her.

Except in her dreams and fantasies, he had been wearing armor and riding a white horse. Handsome, virile, masterful, he would swoop down, securely grasp her wrist and scoop her up, nestling her between his hard chest and the horse’s reins. His warmth would enfold her, his strength would protect her.

She never once pictured him standing on the back porch of her bed-and-breakfast, shielding himself from a heavy April downpour with a neat black umbrella. Though she had clearly envisioned his beautiful gray-green eyes and his chiseled features, she never saw an expensive taupe trench coat casually slung over the shoulders of an even more expensive black suit.

And never, ever, in her dreams had she been standing in her kitchen, her red hair haphazardly tied in a knot at the top of her head, her jeans and sweatshirt threadbare and outdated, her nose dotted with flour.

“Hunter,” she said weakly because, frankly, that was all she could manage.

He smiled. “Abby.” Though almost seven years had passed and volumes and volumes of pain stood between them, his eyes warmed, his smile grew. “It is so damned good to see you.”

Abby’s eyes misted and her heart thumped. “It’s so damned good to see you, too,” she said, and swallowed the lump of emotion that tightened her throat.

“May I come in?”

She knew there was no reason to keep him out, yet she glanced around uneasily. Old habit, she supposed.

“Sure.”

She pushed on the ancient wooden screen door and granted him entry. Careful, polite, he stepped into her green-and-yellow kitchen. Holding the door open, he turned to lean his umbrella against the wall of her porch, then faced her with another broad smile.

“I can’t believe I’m really here.”

“I can’t believe you’re really here, either,” she said, meaning it. Her mind was working a thousand miles a second, pulling her out of her fantasy and grounding her in truth and reality. If he wanted her, he could have come back years ago. Given that he hadn’t, she had to force herself to see and understand that he was here only for his son.

Honesty compelled her to admit that if Hunter had come to claim Tyler after leaving her to have their baby by herself, there was a part of her that wanted to rail against him for the suffering of seven long, difficult years. However, there was another part of her that was too cold and tired to fight. In the last four years, the family fortune had been eaten up by medical bills and both of her parents had died. She was alone and broke and needed help, but more than that she was beginning to see that Tyler missed the influence of a man. She could raise him by herself, but Tyler would know life only as a one-dimensional struggle.

So, if Hunter Wyman wanted to be in his son’s life, Abby was willing to admit he needed to be there. Pragmatic and poor, she was also willing to concede his return was better late than never.

“I think I know why you’re here,” she said quietly.

Hunter sighed heavily. “Oh, God, what a relief. I wasn’t quite sure where to start…what to say.” He gave her another genuine, heartfelt smile. “I should have known better.”

The tenderness of his expression hit her right in the heart, but despite her fantasies she recognized she couldn’t take that personally. Any kindness Hunter extended to her was merely courtesy necessary for good communications and a good relationship for Tyler’s sake.

“Tyler’s at school right now, but he’ll be home at about three….”

Hunter’s brow furrowed. He stared at her. “Excuse me?”

She cleared her throat. “Tyler, our son, is at school right now. But he’ll be home at about three.”

Hunter grabbed her wrist to interrupt her. “Tyler? Our son?” he repeated, his face white with shock. “We have a son?”

She gaped at him. He couldn’t possibly be denying it! “You knew very well I was pregnant when you left.”

“Abby, your parents told me our baby had died.”

The blood drained from her face. “What?”

Hunter dropped her arm and ran his hand across his eyes. “Your parents told me you’d miscarried, Abby. That you didn’t want to see me…that you blamed me for losing the baby because I’d upset you…That’s why I left town…” He rubbed his fingers over his eyes again. “Oh, dear God.”

Oh, dear God was right, Abby thought, falling to one of the chairs around her kitchen table. As if the impact of seeing Hunter after so many years wasn’t enough, the realization that her parents could have been so cruel finished the job of buckling her knees. Her parents hadn’t liked Hunter, but Abby never thought they’d hated him enough to ruin her life—or to deprive Tyler of a father.

She wet her dry lips. “Hunter…”

“Abby, do you really believe I would have left you?” He turned, caught her gaze. “That I would have left a child…my son?”

At eighteen, alone, scared, pregnant, listening to the explanations of two parents she believed loved her, Abby had thought it all made sense. At twenty-five, looking into Hunter’s candid eyes, his compelling face, she knew the truth. It hurt so much that her hands began to tremble. “Oh, God.”

Hunter drew a long breath. “Okay, let’s not panic,” he said. “I came here to apologize to you for leaving without saying goodbye and to get your forgiveness so we could both let go of the past. The plan has changed a little bit, but that doesn’t mean we can’t work this out.”

The first half of his words reassured her, the second half didn’t sound like Hunter at all. Confused, she surreptitiously peeked at his sedate trench coat, his expensive black suit, the shoes that probably cost more than she’d paid for Tyler’s entire school wardrobe, and it suddenly hit her that seven years had passed. Seven winters, springs, summers and falls. Seven Christmases. Seven Thanksgivings.

Though the daydream that got her through many a difficult day had been having Hunter Wyman ride up on a white stallion to take her and Tyler away from all their troubles, the truth of the matter was she didn’t really know this man at all.

Worse, he said he had come to get her forgiveness so he could let go of the past—which meant he wanted to let go of her.

He wanted to forget her.

He had as much as come right out and said it.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Tyler?” Hunter demanded of his best friend and partner, Grant Brewster, as he paced the floor of Grant’s den.

Tall, muscular, black-haired Grant leaned back on the burgundy leather chair behind the huge mahogany desk. Though Norm Brewster had died the year before, the familiar study was still the headquarters for the Brewster fortune and the old chair still the seat of power.

Grant crossed his arms on his massive chest. “How the hell was I supposed to know you didn’t know?”

“How could I have known?”

“You left town in the middle of the rumors that Abby was pregnant. The whole town knew she was having your baby. I figured you had your reasons for leaving and if you wanted me to know them, you would tell me.”

Hunter sighed. “Her parents told me she had miscarried.”

Grant conceded that point with a nod.

Hunter sighed wearily. “I should have realized they lied.”

“But you didn’t,” Grant said, sounding old and wise and enough like Norm Brewster that Hunter’s head came up sharply. “You might have been twenty-four, but you were fairly immature. Forgive yourself and move on.”

“That’s approximately what I told Abby we needed to do.” Hunter paused, then began to pace again. “I meet Tyler this afternoon. We’re not putting it off or hedging the truth.”

“Good for you.”

When several seconds passed without Hunter making any further comment, Grant prodded, “But…”

“But I’m scared to death.”

“Don’t be. Tyler’s a great kid. Abby’s been a fabulous mother. In spite of some very difficult years.” Grant shifted on his chair. “If you want the truth, I’d say your return is perfect timing. She needs help.”

Hunter turned. “What kind of help?”

“Every kind of help. She’s working as a waitress at the diner to supplement her income because the bed-and-breakfast doesn’t make that much money, and her parents’ illnesses exhausted every cent her family had. She’s overworked and underappreciated.”

Hunter took his seat in front of Grant’s desk. “So, she needs money? I can pay child support….Hell, I can pay back child support….I want to pay back child support.”

Grant caught Hunter’s gaze and held it. “You owe more here than child support. If you’re going to survive your return to this community, people need to see your integrity. You can’t just talk about it. You can’t just toss money around.”

“Are you saying that in order for our construction company to make the transition from Savannah to Brewster County I have to make amends for my past?”

Grant shrugged. “Only if you want people to respect and trust you.”

Knowing Grant had deliberately hit a nerve, Hunter laughed. “You’re a dog.”

“I’m an honest, forthright dog because that’s what my father taught me.” Glancing down at the paperwork on his desk, Grant dismissed his partner. “Now, go do the right thing.”

“Come in, Hunter,” Abby said with a smile, as she held the screen door for him that afternoon. “Tyler’s not home from school yet, but that’s normal when it rains. Unless I missed my guess, he and his friends are probably jumping in puddles.”

Laughing nervously, Hunter stepped inside and shrugged out of his coat. Though it had insulted him that Abby’s family had never let him beyond the kitchen, right now being in the kitchen gave him a homey, welcome feeling. A sense of rightness, a sense of comfort.

A sense that he belonged here.

Memories of the love and laughter they had shared all those years ago lured him but Hunter fought them. Thinking this through after his talk with Grant, he had actually considered that to the residents of rural Brewster County, Pennsylvania, “doing the right thing” by Abby meant that he should marry her. He had even considered that if he and Abby could pretend the past seven years hadn’t happened, pick up where they left off, and get married, they would be the happiest two people in the world. The picture was so appealing that the temptation to believe nearly dragged him under.

But he also knew the truth about life, people and relationships. There was no such thing as a sure thing. Though he believed Abby had loved him, and he also believed she understood he left because her parents had lied to him, she was only eighteen when they were dating. Not only could her feelings about him have changed as she matured, but she had seven years of hating him under her belt. God only knew what that might have done to her. God only knew how that might have colored the way she had raised their son.

So what he planned to do in his meeting with Tyler, his relationship with Abby, was expect nothing from either of them. He would let them give what they wanted at their own paces, and accept whatever he got as enough.

No expectation, no disappointment. It was a good rule to live by.

However, when Abby turned and smiled at him, Hunter’s heart lurched and he once again got the sudden urge to just ask her to marry him and force them into a position where they would have to rekindle their old love. He could still feel the heat and the fire, the passion, of making love to her. It suffused him, seared him with memories he thought long forgotten. Memories that made him ache for the commitment he thought they could have made seven years ago.

However, if circumstances precluded them from attempting marriage then, plain, old-fashioned intelligence precluded it today. Hunter knew so much more about love and matrimony now than he had at twenty-four. And he refused—absolutely refused—to jeopardize his relationship with Tyler because he still had a few flights of fancy about Tyler’s mother.

But he had to admit she was beautiful. He had forgotten that. Somehow over the years he convinced himself that she was the red-haired, freckle-faced rich kid who had money but no looks, who had more or less befriended the shy farmer’s son because they were both outcasts. Seeing her stunning hair, shot with fire by the afternoon sun, her shimmering green eyes, her smooth alabaster complexion, he remembered things the way they really were. She might not have been popular in high school, but it wasn’t because she wasn’t attractive. The more he thought about it, the more Hunter realized she had been an outcast by choice. She wanted more, and to Abby he had been more.

Her faith in him had puffed him up and boosted him at a critical point in his life. Her confidence literally made him who he was today. And though he couldn’t risk a try at the fairy-tale world they dreamed of, he could give her honesty, justice and money. Genuine, hands-on, spendable reality. Not fantasy. If they were going to resolve the problems that faced them, they had to stay away from fantasy and stick with reality.

Glancing around the comfortable kitchen, Hunter recognized that was probably the reason she was keeping them in her kitchen, the room he was accustomed to being in, rather than the living room. This was reality for them. He had to remember that and stay the hell away from daydreaming. He was much too smart for daydreaming anyway. He had gotten over that years ago, and couldn’t believe he was slipping back into that bad habit now. He had to be as practical as Abby was.

Right at that moment, Abby wasn’t thinking about anything practical, reasonable or even sensible. Not only was she too nervous to be analytical about the finer points of introducing her son to his father, but it hit her full force that she didn’t know the silent stranger standing in her kitchen.

She had loved Hunter Wyman all of her adult life, but seeing him again after seven long years, she had to wonder what happened to him. He was as handsome as when he left—maybe more so—but his sedate, businesslike demeanor didn’t fit. She couldn’t reconcile her Hunter to this composed and quiet man. He had been much too passionate about life to be so…well, stuffy.

“You’ve certainly changed,” she said, wanting him to look at her so she could see his eyes. When her efforts were rewarded by his glance in her direction, Abby’s heart sank. He even lost the friendly warmth he had that morning when he first showed up at her door.

“I had to change. I wanted a better life.”

She knew that. Part of what drew her to him had been his desire for a better life and the courage and drive she knew would get it for him. “It appears you got everything you wanted.”

“And then some,” he agreed, taking a seat at the table when she offered it with a wave of her hand.

“Would you like tea?”

He smiled. “You remember.”

She acknowledged that with a slight tilt of her head. “I remember a lot of things.”

“So do I,” Hunter agreed, gazing around the room.

She expected to see at least a shadow of anger, if only because he had hated being banished to her parents’ kitchen. But not one iota of sentiment crossed his face. His brow didn’t crease. He didn’t frown. No memories haunted his eyes. She told herself to be glad that he had grown up and grown beyond his history, but that didn’t satisfy the emptiness that seemed to seep into the room by degrees as she came to terms with the new man that he was. He had definitely moved beyond his past, and though she had wished that for Hunter a million times, suddenly she wondered if that wasn’t a mistake.

In growing out of his past, he had outgrown her. In moving beyond his roots, he behaved as if he had none.

She handed him his tea. “Here you go,” she said, sounding more like a waitress than a friend. She just barely stopped the instinct to reach into her apron for a customer receipt, and the near slip almost made her laugh, but one look at Hunter’s serious countenance stopped her. Where was the happy man she’d loved? Where was the smile she had lived for?

“So, you’re partners with Grant Brewster now?”

He nodded. “Grant actually saved my construction company. I had hit a rough spot, and he had come to Savannah looking for a place to invest some money. We were a match made in heaven.”

Watching him while he talked, Abby was struck by the emotion in his voice. The first real emotion she had heard since his warm hello that morning. He loved his company, but she couldn’t help but remember a time when he thought they were the match made in heaven. Now he used the phrase to describe a business.

“That’s…interesting,” she said, then grimaced because her tone conveyed exactly the opposite meaning of what she intended.

Hunter chuckled. “The truth is, Abby, I’m probably not very interesting. I more or less became successful by changing. I’m not wild and rebellious anymore. Not hot-tempered anymore. I don’t lose my cool. I handle things.”

“That’s good,” Abby said but she was oddly disappointed. Not that she wanted him losing his temper, particularly around Tyler, but she couldn’t stop herself from wondering how this remote stranger could enjoy the prosperity that had once been so important to him.

Forced into a strained silence, Abby peeked at him and the very act of looking at him took her breath away. His dark, dark hair accented the smooth angles and planes of a face that would have made him the perfect candidate for modeling. He was still so damned sexy and gorgeous, it was impossible not to think of him as the guy she had loved all those years ago. Recognizing this really was Hunter—Hunter Wyman in her kitchen!—shot an unexpected ripple of tingles down her spine, which she quickly squelched. This might have been the boy who had wanted to wrap up the world and give it to her gift-boxed, but the man he had become had new beliefs….

Before she could complete her thought, Tyler burst into the kitchen. “Hi, Mom!” he said and immediately reached for a cookie.

With the moment of truth at hand, Abby froze. She glanced at Hunter and saw that he, too, seemed paralyzed. Reserved, composed, he sat motionless, waiting for her to do what had to be done.

She cleared her throat. Gazing at her dark-haired, grayish-green-eyed little boy, the picture of Hunter in elementary school, she was swamped by fear. It was a good thing—a very good thing—for Tyler to meet his father, but she suddenly had the feeling they could have timed it all a little better. At the very least, they could have prepared him.

However, now that the wheels were turning, it was too late to stop, too late to try to think of a way to make this easier. Hunter was in her kitchen. Tyler was staring at him with wide-eyed curiosity. The ball was in her court.

She stooped to her son’s level. When she put her hands on his small shoulders, he gave all his attention to her. “Honey, this man is Hunter Wyman.”

As if in slow motion, Abby’s little boy lifted his gaze away from her up to Hunter. Instead of seeing the explosion of happiness she expected to see on her son’s face, Abby found herself looking at gray-green eyes full of fire.

“Hunter is your father,” Abby added slowly.

Tyler’s lips thinned and his chin lifted. Because Abby knew her son so well, she easily recognized the look that expressed the bottom line to everything he felt.

Condemnation.

“I know. You told me Hunter Wyman was my father.”

“Well, this is him,” Abby said brightly. “He’s moving back to Brewster County because he’s partners with Grant Brewster. So now he really gets to be your dad.”

Though he spoke directly to his mother, Tyler never took his gaze from Hunter’s face. “He didn’t want to be my dad before this?”

“He was away,” Abby began, but Hunter interrupted her.

Hunkering down to Tyler’s level as Abby had, Hunter captured Tyler’s attention. “I didn’t know you existed. I’m sorry. I’m very, very sorry,” he said honestly, humbly. “Sometimes adults do things that don’t make a whole heck of a lot of sense, and people who shouldn’t get hurt do.” He paused, giving Tyler time to digest that. “I shouldn’t have left town without finding out for sure what had happened to you…and your mother.” He glanced at Abby for emphasis. “Because I didn’t, we didn’t get a chance to know each other. This is my fault. I will fix it.”

“How?” Tyler asked simply.

Yeah, how? Abby echoed in her head.

Calm, cool, collected, Hunter said, “I don’t know yet. But if we take this one step at a time, everything will work out. For right now, though,” he said as he rose and walked back to the table, “it’s enough to finally get to meet you. If you want to go up to your room or go outside with your friends, I understand.” He paused and smiled. “You can do whatever you normally do.”

Tyler peered at his mother. “Can I go outside?”

“I’d rather you changed into play clothes first,” Abby said, feeling ridiculous making the inane request, given that she had just introduced her son to the father he had never met.

Tyler nodded and raced from the room. Abby turned and gaped at Hunter. “Well, that was warm and fuzzy.”

“We’re boys, Abby, not girls.”

“You didn’t even hug him!”

“He didn’t want me to hug him,” Hunter replied.

“Hell, he didn’t even want me to touch him.” From the quiver in his voice Abby might have believed that bothered Hunter, but his next words were again detached and indifferent, making her think she had imagined the emotion. “It was almost as if somebody might have told him things about me that made him afraid of me.”

Abby gasped incredulously. “What?”

Hunter faced her. “Did you hate me so much that you had to poison his mind against me?”

Abby might have actually appreciated his accusation, if he had said it with some feeling. Since it was delivered with complete composure, she didn’t trust it.

“First, I didn’t hate you,” Abby quietly replied, so confused she knew she didn’t dare lose her temper for fear she had misinterpreted something and would make a worse mess out of this situation than it already was. “Second, I didn’t tell him anything but good things about you.”

“That’s not how it looks to me. There’s no other explanation for how he could hate me even without knowing me….”

Before Hunter could say anything else, Tyler slid into the room again. “You hurt my mom,” he said simply, his chin raised defiantly.

“I didn’t mean to hurt your mom,” Hunter quickly retorted. But Tyler didn’t listen. He grabbed another cookie and shot out of the back door.

“You still expect me to believe you didn’t say anything to him?”

Abby only stared at Hunter. She understood that Tyler’s jumping in and out of the room—and the conversation—was only his way of dealing with his anger, and typical behavior for a six-year-old. But she couldn’t get herself to explain that to Hunter because his insinuation was infuriating. And personal. All these years of sacrifice and struggle, she had never once said anything hurtful or hateful about Hunter. She couldn’t stand here and let him make the accusation as if he had the right—as if he had every right in the world to everything he wanted after deserting them.

“Do you really think me capable of trying to get him to hate you? And if I did, why?” she demanded. “To what end?”

“Your parents got rid of me seven years ago by lying to me,” he said. “What was their reason for that? To what end?” he asked, mimicking her, but he shook his head as if to stop himself. “Okay, let’s just calm down.”

Again he hauled back his anger and controlled himself, but Abby’s eyes narrowed. She would have welcomed the opportunity to argue any of this out with him, but because she believed it was better not to fight, she reined in her temper just as he had. However, the part of her that was hurt and upset, the part that had been abandoned, knew they would never resolve any of this without an opportunity to clear the air, because they both had feelings they had to deal with. Though Hunter kept leading them in the direction of a real, honest discussion, as if he understood that, too, he never let them finish. Seven years ago he not only would have let her have her say, he would have encouraged it.

And he would have had his say, too.

“The bottom line is that I want a relationship with my son,” Hunter said, removing his coat from the back of the kitchen chair. “So if I can’t form a decent connection with Tyler while he’s in your custody, I’ll file for custody myself.”

Without another word he strode out of the kitchen and Abby stood, openmouthed, staring at her back door. Now where had that come from? After the great pains he took to make sure they didn’t argue, it didn’t make any sense to threaten to file for custody.

For a few seconds, she considered that he might not care to get his say or to hear hers, because he was simply going to push until he got what he wanted—to bulldoze his way into their lives. But she honestly hadn’t seen signs of his being unreasonable in either of their conversations. Actually, she hadn’t seen signs that he wanted anything at all until his parting shot.

The truth was she had absolutely no idea what to think. She didn’t have a clue who he was or how to deal with him. She didn’t know how to keep the peace with him, resolve the past, or even come to a halfway decent agreement, because any time an emotion entered the picture, he quickly quashed it.

But one thing was clear. He’d changed. He’d really changed.

And she wanted her fantasy back.

Chapter Two

Since Abby knew less was more with her son, she said very little about Hunter that night or on the walk to school the next morning, except to reinforce that Hunter was basically a nice guy who had missed out on being part of their lives. She told Tyler she genuinely believed Hunter would have been there for them if he had known of Tyler’s existence. She didn’t lay blame on her parents. She couldn’t. She didn’t want Tyler to hate the only family he had known because of a mistake.

And for her own sanity, Abby had to believe it was a mistake. She had to believe her parents never would have tricked Hunter out of town if they had realized how very desperately she’d loved him and how very much he’d loved her.

Thinking about how much Hunter had loved her, walking from Tyler’s school to the diner, Abby smiled. He had been wonderful. Funny. Effervescent. Handsome. And passionate. Incredibly passionate! He had loved life and refused to be beaten by a horrible childhood. He’d intended to be something…someone. And he’d promised to take her with him.

That had been the plan. Lying naked in the back seat of his old car, cuddling after making love, he would tell her his dreams and the very resonance of his voice could convince her he was right. He would have it all. They would have it all—together.

She almost couldn’t equate the withdrawn stranger with the extraordinary man who had loved life, who had seen the future as bright and beautiful in spite of his humble, disheartening beginnings, and who couldn’t wait to make love to her.

Even as Abby served breakfast to the residents of Brewster at the diner, she kept thinking about the way Hunter made love to her. The memories, replete with feelings and sensations, haunted her. The pictures in her mind were so vivid and so complete, she was abundantly grateful for the distraction when the wives of all three Brewster brothers entered the restaurant, each carrying a toddler triplet.

Both little girls, Taylor and Annie, wore pink dresses with ruffle-rump tights and Cody wore a navy one-piece romper that looked like a sailor suit. The babies, now over a year old, got a refill of milk in their “sippy” cups and each woman ordered toast.

Though they tried to make it look as if they’d decided to bring the kids into town for a treat, Abby knew they’d come in to hear about her meeting with Hunter. Evan’s wife, Claire, a stunning brunette, was the only one of the women Abby had actually known since childhood. But Kristen, Grant’s wife, and Lily, Chas’s wife, had become close to Abby in a very short time. When the Brewster brothers became guardians of their father’s triplets, Evan met Claire and married her. Lily was hired to be the triplets’ nanny and Chas fell in love with and married her. Then when Kristen, the triplets’ aunt, came to Pennsylvania to try for custody of her nieces and nephew, she and Grant fell in love. Now all three Brewsters were married. Each of them had responsibility for one of the triplets and Abby had three friends. She decided not to spare the details of her meeting with Hunter. Lord knew the truth always got out eventually.

“He said what?” Lily asked, her big blue eyes wide and round with confusion. A breathtaking blonde with a sharp mind for details, Lily was the most sensitive of the three.

“He threatened to file for custody.”

Though Abby didn’t want to admit it, and though she didn’t want to see it come down to a battle between husbands and wives, she was glad that the Brewster women considered her a part of their clique. Because she didn’t know how to handle Hunter, it was a comfort of sorts to have an “in” with the other people in his life. If she couldn’t get him to listen to reason, maybe the Brewsters could.

Glancing from Claire to Lily to Kristen Devereaux Brewster, Abby sighed and wondered about the fairness of using them. In the end, she chose not to. “I probably shouldn’t be talking with you guys about this.” Her gaze drifted over to Kristen, the green-eyed blonde who was also the aunt of the triplets, babies who had been in the custody of the Brewster brothers since the death of their father and Kristen’s sister, the babies’ parents. “Especially you,” she said to Kristen. “After all, your husband is Hunter’s partner. I wouldn’t want to say anything to cause trouble or hard feelings.”

“Well, you just hush up, now,” Kristen said, her Texas accent obvious in the hills of central Pennsylvania. “Hunter may be Grant’s partner, but you’re my friend. And where I come from friends take care of friends.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think anybody can take care of this.”

Claire frowned. “Frankly, I don’t see what the problem is. For seven years you’ve been waiting for Hunter to ride back into town and take you away from all this,” she said, waving her hand to indicate the aging diner. Cody, the triplet for whom she and Evan took responsibility, patted her cheeks as she spoke. “If you ask me, everything will be fine after a few weeks of the two of you getting reacquainted.”

Abby shook her head. “Reacquainted” didn’t quite fit the bill of what was happening between them. While Abby remembered a bright, wonderful man full of promise, the Hunter Wyman who had returned was quiet and brooding. And bossy. They couldn’t even have a reasonable discussion about Tyler. Getting “reacquainted” was completely out of the picture. “I don’t think so,” she said.

“Why?” Claire demanded. “Has he suddenly grown a second nose?”

“No,” Abby said, heat suffusing her when she brought up Hunter’s image in her mind. His looks were the very last of his problems. If anything, age had made him even more gorgeous. “He hasn’t lost one ounce of his attractiveness.”

“Oh, look at you,” Lily said with a laugh. “You’re blushing.”

“She’s always adored Hunter Wyman,” Claire told Lily as if speaking a confidence, but she didn’t bother to lower her voice. “He was the older man in her life. The rebel.”

Both Lily and Kristen sighed with delight, but the observation made Abby frown. “Maybe that’s it.”

“What?” Kristen asked.

“Maybe I don’t like him because he’s not a rebel anymore.”

Claire gave her friend a confused look. “You don’t like him because he’s not a borderline criminal?”

“No, that’s not quite it.” Abby pulled her lower lip between her teeth as she tried to draw her conclusion. “I think I don’t know how to deal with him because he’s not a rebel. Seven years ago, if Hunter would have decided he wanted Tyler, he probably would have kidnapped him.”

All three of the women gasped. Abby shook her head furiously. “I wouldn’t have let it happen,” she insisted. “But the point is, back then I knew how to handle Hunter. I knew him so well I could have kept him from doing something rash and foolish. I don’t have a clue how to handle the man he is now.”

“I still say you’re worrying over nothing. This is a chance for you to reunite with your one true love,” Claire said dreamily. “So, things aren’t going exactly as planned. Give it a chance. It will all work out.”

“My one true love was passionate and wonderful,” Abby said dully. “This guy isn’t. This Hunter might be handsome and sexy, but the passion is gone. In some ways he behaves as if he thinks passion is wrong. Or as if he believes passion is the ‘bad’ trait that held him down in Brewster County.”

“Or,” Kristen proposed, “because Grant is the passionate partner, maybe Hunter thinks he’s the one who has to be in control. Maybe all he needs is a little time or a little push to loosen up.”

“So what are you going to do?” Lily asked.

“I have no choice but to let Hunter see Tyler,” Abby said. “He’s coming over tonight after dinner.”

“Maybe you should try to be a little seductive and refresh his memory about what you shared,” Claire suggested, waggling her eyebrows.

Abby blushed furiously. “Not on your life.” She might have done that under other circumstances, but she was afraid to now. For all she knew, this Hunter might scold her if she flirted with him.

“What was it you loved about him, sugar?” Kristen asked suddenly.

Though anybody reading her thoughts of the morning would have said the way he made love to her, Abby knew that wasn’t true. “He was honest,” she admitted quietly, because in her life there had not been enough honesty. Poor as Hunter had been, lonely as he had been, he didn’t know any way to behave but with honesty and simplicity. Being with him, loving him, was the easiest thing Abby had ever done. “And direct and genuine.”

“Okay,” Claire said, sounding relieved. “Those things don’t change. Now if you had said his looks, we’d all think you were crazy because looks can fade. But honesty doesn’t fade. Neither does forthrightness. He’s still the same guy, Abby. You only need to bring out the best in him.”

Just the thought that he was the same man filled Abby with yearning. Not simply sexual, but emotional. In that second, she realized how much she missed him, but more than that she understood that she had never stopped loving him. If there was a chance, even a teeny, tiny chance, she could bring out the simple, honest man in him again, Abby knew she had to try.

Dressing that evening, after rushing Tyler through dinner, Abby also reprimanded herself for being impatient. She couldn’t believe she had jumped to the conclusion that Hunter had drastically changed merely on the basis of two short meetings. Good Lord, seven years had passed. Many, many things stood between them. Of course, he wouldn’t act like her best friend the first time he saw her after a long separation. And he certainly wouldn’t behave like a lover.

Confident, composed, Abby jogged down the steps when she heard the front doorbell ring. Though she hadn’t exactly dressed up, she hadn’t worn jeans and a T-shirt, either, as was her usual practice. Instead, she had exchanged the jeans for a short, flared skirt and the T-shirt for a soft mint-green sleeveless sweater. She wasn’t a woman who believed in high heels, but she did have chunky-heeled mahogany sandals that more or less suited the outfit.

Reminding herself that her friends were right and she shouldn’t judge Hunter too harshly or too quickly, Abby pasted on a smile and opened her front door. When she saw him, her jaw fell.

He wore charcoal gray slacks and a black turtleneck sweater that not only made him look wealthy and sophisticated, but also made her short skirt and sandals seem totally inappropriate. She felt poor and humble and something like the beleaguered heroine of Cinderella, instead of the lonely, ivory-tower princess she used to be.

“Hello, Hunter,” she said gaily, though inside she was dying. “I’m afraid I’m a little behind schedule, and I haven’t had a chance to dress yet,” she said, adding the lie because she refused to be in the submissive position with him again. Surely she had something in her closet that could give his charcoal gray slacks a run for their money. “So, I’ll just run upstairs and—”

He caught her hand and kept her from turning to the steps. “You look fine,” he said quietly, then almost groaned. Had he said “fine”? She looked wonderful. Cute. Happy. Sexy. Incredibly sexy. “There’s no need to change on my account.”

“I know,” she said, and yanked her hand out of his grasp. Too late, he realized he’d been holding it forever, as if her hand belonged in his. “But you’re so dressed up,” she added plaintively.

Hunter laughed. “These are comfortable clothes for me now,” he said and moved into her foyer, hoping she would relax and follow him. He hated the fact that he made her nervous. The more nervous she became, the more he wanted to console her. And that was bad, even dangerous.

Not only had Hunter heard from Grant that Abby never spoke harshly of him, but he also realized that the Abby he loved wasn’t capable of being vindictive, which meant she hadn’t said anything but good things about him to Tyler. In one short day every suspicion he had about her had been mitigated or completely resolved by someone, and he kept getting this surge of nearly overpowering emotion that seemed to demand that he ask her to marry him.

Aside from his own miserable marriage failure, he couldn’t dredge up one good reason not to marry her, except that seven years had passed and Abby might not want to marry him. Which was actually the clincher that kept him from making a darned fool of himself. Unless he harnessed all the instincts that continually sneaked up on him, he might blurt a marriage proposal. And he could not let that happen. Particularly since he had decided that moving into the bed-and-breakfast would be the best way for him to get to know his son and for him and Abby to have time to hash out their problems. If they were going to live under the same roof, he had to control himself.

“Well, they sure don’t look comfortable to me,” Abby insisted, her gaze roaming up and down his body.

Hunter felt an instant, instinctive reaction, which didn’t amaze him as much as it overwhelmed him. No matter how much his logical thoughts kept reminding him to cool off and settle down, his instincts were screaming that this was his woman. He didn’t need to cool off or calm down. She was his.

Looking at her the same way she’d just appraised him, he couldn’t suppress a burst of jealousy thinking she dressed this cute, this sexy for her guests all the time. And if she did, why?

But if she didn’t, why tonight?

“So, where’s Tyler?” he asked, setting his suitcase on the floor beside him and turning his attention away from her and onto the proper matter at hand, before his curiosity and his unwarranted jealousy got the better of him.

She shrugged, then glanced around questioningly. “I don’t know,” she said, sounding truly confused.

She looked adorable standing in the center of her dark wood foyer. Her bright hair sparkled from a recent shampoo. Her gorgeous legs were exposed beneath the short skirt. Her face was scrunched in confusion. She was nervous and flustered and simply irresistibly dressed, and before Hunter could stop the natural conclusion from forming, it formed. Adding the nervousness and her sexy little outfit together, Hunter couldn’t help but think that she might still have feelings for him.

If she had dressed this way specially for him because she found him as attractive as he found her, maybe there was more than attraction between them….Maybe she had actual feelings for him?

Immediately on the heels of that, he realized that he still had feelings for her. Lots of them. Attraction. Desire. And the need to be a parent with her. They had a relationship that resulted in the creation of a child and he wanted to raise that child with her. With her. Because she was good, kind and genuine and he knew their personalities complemented each other. He would never be so foolhardy as to think he still loved her after a seven-year separation, particularly since he had been through an ugly divorce and didn’t believe love of the poetic, romantic kind existed. But all things considered, if he were to try again with another woman, Abby would be that woman. She was sweet, she was sexy and she had his son.

As all those thoughts rolled to their obvious completion, and Hunter acknowledged that sexual attraction was not the only thing he felt for Abby, he wondered if the impulse he had tagged instinct wasn’t actually good, sound logic.

“You know what, Abby?” he said suddenly, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “This is starting to make sense to me.”

“This?” she asked breathlessly, confirming what he had been thinking all along. She did find him as attractive as he found her.

“Well,” he said slowly, his logical conclusions urging him on. He refused to be guided by uncontrollable impulses, but sound reasoning couldn’t be ignored. Because it was sensible, it had to be right. “I don’t want to be forward, but it looks like you probably dressed up for me.”

She gasped, but he held up his hand to stop her from commenting. “And I still think you’re the sexiest woman on the face of the earth. Adding our attraction to the fact that we have a son, the very best thing for everyone involved would be for us to marry and raise Tyler together.”

Abby was speechless, flabbergasted and embarrassed—mostly because he’d guessed she had dressed up for him because she was attracted to him. She considered that he was teasing, or didn’t fully understand what he was saying because he said it so calmly, so efficiently. But then, for the first time since he’d entered her foyer, she noticed the suitcases at his side.

“What’s this?”

“I decided that the quickest way to get to know Tyler would be to stay here—in the bed-and-break-fast.” He paused and caught her gaze.

Their eyes locked, and Abby swallowed hard as a hundred possibilities assaulted her. Hunter Wyman would be staying in her home. The man she adored. The man she hadn’t been able to resist since she was eighteen. The man she had pined for the past seven years. The man who had just asked her to marry him.

“I hadn’t intended to stay for free,” he advised pragmatically. “I’ll be a paying guest.”

His straightforward announcement left her even more flabbergasted than she had been at his proposal, and Abby stared at him. Where were the sensitive bones that used to be in that wonderful body? Not only was he rolling into her world like a bulldozer on one of his construction sites, but he offered his proposal like a waffle cone without ice cream. It held so much promise, so much potential, but there was no love behind it. She wanted to feel the wonderful, heavenly hope that someday he could love her. Instead, she felt only emptiness.

It seemed she was nothing more to him than a hotel proprietor, who just happened to be raising his child.

Where was her Hunter?

At a complete loss for what to say, Abby took the only route available to her. She couldn’t afford to refuse a paying customer and his staying at the bed-and-breakfast was better than having him file for custody. So she checked him in, gave him a key, and left the room. Tyler hadn’t come down to meet with his dad yet, but he would eventually and Abby decided that since Hunter was so good at figuring things out, he would figure out what to do with Tyler when he arrived.

Hunter was baffled, too. Since he only said what was so very obvious, he couldn’t believe he’d made her mad. Her leaving angry didn’t make sense.

His mind a jumble of confusion, he sat down on the sofa to wait for Tyler but almost before his backside hit the seat he heard, “My mom likes flowers.”

Startled, he looked behind him and there sat Tyler, scrunched between the back of the couch and thick velour drapes that enveloped him in darkness.

“Get out of there,” Hunter said gruffly, grabbing Tyler’s hand and pulling him a little farther out in the open so he could see more of him than the light of his pale eyes. “What the heck are you doing anyway?”

The little boy crawled out from behind the couch. On all fours in front of Hunter, he raised his gaze and said, “I been hiding.”

“All this time?” Hunter asked curiously.

Tyler nodded.

The absurdity of it made Hunter laugh. While he and Abby looked for Tyler, he was right under their noses. “Hiding, huh?”

Tyler said, “Yeah. You know,” he added, shifting his legs until he was sitting instead of kneeling, though Hunter sensed he’d done it more as a way to avert his attention, than to make himself more comfortable.

“Other girls get flowers,” he said, his focus skewered on a ball he gripped like a lifeline. “Lily got flowers the one time she stayed at the bed-and-breakfast. Chas brought them.” He looked at Hunter. “But my mother never gets flowers. She told Lily she would like some flowers, too.”

In a peculiar sort of way, Hunter knew exactly what Tyler was saying. He had walked into Abby’s life unannounced and turned her whole world upside down. It was no wonder she behaved irrationally.

“You know, Tyler,” he said, rising from the sofa, “I think you’re right.” Not only would taking Tyler’s advice start to form a bond between himself and his son, but it also wouldn’t hurt to get on Abby’s good side. Because he’d been trying to manage a bunch of uncontrollable instincts by presenting a logical, rational case, he’d just asked a woman to marry him, but he’d done it as if he were proposing a business deal, instead of marriage.

The kid had a point.

Abby deserved flowers.

“Let’s go,” he said and began to lead Tyler to the door. But remembering Abby’s frame of mind when she left the foyer, Hunter thought the better of it, and said, “Go tell your mom you’re leaving with me.”

Believing Tyler would walk into the kitchen, Hunter’s brows rose when the little boy only ran to the door and shouted, “Mom, me and Hunter’s going out.”

Hunter didn’t for one minute consider that appropriate notice, but when Abby called, “All right,” as if she were glad to be rid of them, he frowned. Nothing in this household went the way he thought it should.

On the front porch, he turned to Tyler. “Are you sure this is okay?”

Tyler nodded. “Yeah, you made her mad. She’s probably in the kitchen trying to bake something.”

“Bake something?”

Tyler shrugged and added mournfully, “Yeah, probably coffee cake, and we’re going to have to eat it for breakfast or she’ll get mad again.”

Hunter laughed out loud at the observation until it struck him that he and his son were having a normal, honest conversation. About Abby. Their common bond. Though he might have thought his marriage proposal abrupt, and Abby might have downright hated it, Hunter truly believed he was on the right track.

And Abby would come around.

Given that Brewster hadn’t changed much in seven years, Hunter wasn’t surprised to find that the Petersons still owned the florist shop. He was even less surprised to find them resting on their back porch in the fading rays of the sun.

“Evening,” he said to the old couple who rocked back and forth on a swing that hung from hooks in their porch ceiling. “Lovely night.”

“Great night,” old man Peterson agreed. “You new around here?”

Hunter shook his head. “No, I’m Hunter Wyman. My dad and I owned the old place on Church Road. I’m Grant Brewster’s business partner now.”

“Well, I’ll be,” Matilda Peterson said, her crochet needle stopping mid-stitch. “Hunter Wyman. Will miracles never cease.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hunter said, though he wasn’t exactly sure what she meant by that. Was it a miracle he’d done so well for himself, or a miracle he was home? “I’m sure you know my son, Tyler,” he added, first, to include the boy and, second, to head off any speculation. Brewster was a small enough town that everyone surely knew about Abby’s child. But more than that, Hunter didn’t want any question about his plans. Not only was it important that his intentions were clear to everyone, but it was more important for Tyler’s sake that the boy understood he had not been abandoned—and neither had Abby.

“I’m here because I need some flowers. You wouldn’t happen to be able to open your shop to take my order to have flowers delivered to Abby tomorrow at the diner?”

“Don’t need to open the shop,” old man Peterson said. “Still got a mind like a steel trap,” he said, pointing at his temple. “I’ll remember. What do you want to send?”

He looked down at Tyler. “Any idea what your mom likes?”

Pleased to have been consulted, Tyler grinned. “Chas bought Lily roses.”

Mrs. Peterson gasped. “Filled the room,” she said with an appreciative sigh. “Those Brewsters know how to treat a woman.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Hunter agreed, realizing his friends had a penchant for the extravagant, flashy gestures that typically swept a woman off her feet. Unfortunately, since Hunter knew he had already tossed enough surprises Abby’s way by his proposal, he also knew it wouldn’t be wise to go overboard with this.

“I think I’ll just stick with a dozen.”

“Red?” Mrs. Peterson asked speculatively.

Hunter considered that. He knew that the color of a rose you sent to a woman meant something. He could also see from the look of anticipation on Mrs. Peterson’s face that red meant something really good.

“Make them red,” Hunter decided. “You can bill me or I can stop by tomorrow afternoon and pay for them, but I want to make sure she gets them first thing in the morning.”

“You got it,” Mr. Peterson said.

Hunter grabbed Tyler’s hand and turned to go, but Tyler tugged twice to stop him. “My mom’s gonna like the flowers,” he said with authority, and Hunter felt pride swell up in him like nothing he’d ever felt before. He wasn’t sure if it was the knowledge that he’d pleased his son or the knowledge that he was about to please Abby, but something filled him with warmth and rightness…maybe a combination of both.

“I think you’re right,” Hunter told Tyler, then a thought struck him and he stooped down and caught his son’s gaze. For the first time since he’d met Tyler, Hunter noticed that the little boy’s eyes were exactly the same color as his eyes. His nose was the same. His lips had the odd little upward curl at the corners that was the mark of all Wyman men.

Hunter was hit by a strong, almost uncontrollable urge to hug Tyler. To hold him. To feel the little boy that he’d created. To give him love. All kinds of love. To let him know that he was loved. So loved that Hunter could barely breathe for the strength of it.

But that wasn’t appropriate. He didn’t really know this little boy and Tyler certainly didn’t know him. He didn’t want to scare him.

Instead, he steadied his hands on Tyler’s shoulders. “One of the most important things about flowers,” he said, studying his son’s eyes, feeling things that threatened to overpower him, “is that they need to be a surprise.”

“A surprise?”

“Yeah, women love surprises.”

Tyler’s eyes widened comically. “My mom will love a surprise!”

“Okay,” Hunter said, again overcome with love for this child who so adored his mother. “Then that makes this our secret.”

“Our secret!” Tyler agreed, obviously tickled to be in on something covert.

Quiet, studying each other, they simply stayed on the sidewalk. Hunter waited patiently while the little boy appraised him, but when Tyler blinked rapidly as if becoming uncomfortable, Hunter rose and, with his hand on Tyler’s shoulder, began leading him home.

Tyler, however, reached up and took Hunter’s hand off his shoulder. Just when Hunter expected him to drop it, he rearranged his small hand inside Hunter’s much larger one so that they were holding hands as they walked toward the bed-and-breakfast.

Emotion swamped Hunter again, but he didn’t say anything—he barely breathed. He had the sudden, intense feeling that the way to win this little boy’s heart was to win his mother’s. And though Hunter was absolutely positive he had had Abby Conway’s heart at one time, all the rules had changed. Even the playing field was different.

Before they took the first step up the stairs to the front porch of the bed-and-breakfast, Hunter stopped Tyler again. “Now remember,” he whispered, “the flowers are our little secret.”

Tyler grinned naughtily. “I remember.”

In that second, Hunter prayed, really prayed, that the flowers would work. Because he suspected that the same gesture that could win his son’s heart, could also lose it if Abby thought the flowers too personal or out of line, considering that this time tomorrow the whole town would know Hunter had returned to Brewster and had sent Abby flowers….

Red ones.

One dozen long-stemmed red—for passion, he suddenly remembered—roses.

God, she was going to kill him.

If a private marriage proposal could make her mad enough to leave the room, long-stemmed red roses seen by the entire town would probably turn her into a nuclear warhead.

He had a feeling he was going to be eating coffee cake for days.

Chapter Three

Just as Tyler had predicted, an off-center, slightly burned coffee cake awaited them the next morning.

“I usually get breakfast pastries from the diner for paying guests,” Abby said apologetically as she served Hunter a slice. “But I thought it over last night and came to the conclusion that it would be better for Tyler if we didn’t treat you as a paying guest.” She caught his gaze. “But more like family.”

Stranded in the regret of her beautiful green eyes, Hunter didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. For Tyler’s sake, he agreed with her. It was better to treat him like family rather than a guest.

But something else, something like a need to cheer her on also made him feel accepting her decision was the right thing to do. After all, how hard could it be to eat a piece of slightly burned breakfast cake?

“I think it’s a great idea,” Hunter said enthusiastically. “This looks…wonderful.”

He took a bite and chewed thoughtfully, hoping to get a burst of cinnamon or sugar—or just plain flavor that would give him an honest reason to compliment her. Unfortunately, the burst of flavor never came and neither did the sense that he had chewed enough that he could swallow. Finally, in desperation, he took a drink of coffee.

“That dry, huh?”

“It’s coffee cake, Abby,” Hunter said brightly. “You’re supposed to sip coffee while you eat it.”

“Oh, right,” Abby said. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Okay, then,” Hunter said. He had never seen the shy, insecure side of Abby before and though it was unusual, it was also endearing. All their time together she had been the one with the confidence who spurred him on. Now it seemed fate was giving him the chance to return the favor. Without hesitation or grimace, he took another bite from his cake.

“Morning, Mom,” Tyler said as he ran into the room. “Hey, Hunter,” he added, jumping onto the chair beside Hunter. Then he saw the coffee cake. “Aw, Mom!”

“Now, Tyler, it can’t be that bad,” Abby returned, slicing off a piece for her son. “See, Hunter’s eating it.”

Hunter would have passed Tyler an apologetic smile, but for Abby’s sake and since he had a plan to rescue his son, he kept his eyes forward and said, “I’ll walk Tyler to school this morning.”

“That’s all right,” Abby said, turning around to face the counter behind her. “It’s on my way to the diner.”

“But he wants to go in early today,” Hunter said, while he gave Tyler a quick look he hoped would convey to his son that he should just go along. “And I told him I would walk him in. In fact,” he added, inspiration striking, “he may not have time to finish that cake.”

Abby sighed. “All right. I’ll wrap it up for him. He can take it with him.”

“Good idea,” Hunter said, and when Abby turned away again he caught Tyler’s gaze and winked at him. “What time do you go in to work?” he asked Abby casually.

“Nine or so,” she replied, her back to Tyler and Hunter. “I don’t have to go in until the second wave of the breakfast crowd.”

“That’s good,” Hunter said, then mouthed to Tyler that they would grab a takeout order of toast on the way to school. Grinning foolishly, Tyler nodded.

When Abby turned to hand Tyler his cake, both the men in her life were as quiet and unassuming as church mice, but Abby couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. First, Tyler was never this quiet. Second, he now nearly adored the man he had absolutely hated yesterday.

Yeah, she was sure of it. Something had happened.

She considered the possibilities the entire time she straightened the kitchen and dressed in her waitress uniform. She thought about it walking to the diner. She was still thinking about it as the Brewster women entered with the triplets.

“He ate my coffee cake,” she said without preamble as the women took seats at the counter and Abby poured them coffee.

“I told you he still loved you,” Claire said, holding Cody back from the hot cup.

“No, I think it had something more to do with Tyler.”

“Tyler?” Kristen echoed curiously. “What the heck would eating your ungodly dry coffee cake have to do with Tyler?”

“I’m not sure,” Abby said, honest enough about her own cooking that she didn’t take offense. “But this morning, when Tyler came into the kitchen he said, ‘Morning, Mom…Hey, Hunter.”’

Kristen, Claire and Lily only stared at her.

“He didn’t just say hello. He used that friendly, buddy kind of hello men say to each other. ‘Hey, Hunter,”’ she explained, looking at the three women as if they were slow and dull for not keeping up.

“And this is bad because…” Lily prodded.

“Because yesterday Tyler hated Hunter. Almost despised him. I didn’t think I would ever get him to speak civilly with the man, then Hunter took him out for a walk last night and now he’s acting like Hunter’s his best friend.”

“Abby, all this is good stuff,” Claire reminded her, patting her hand.

“I know that,” Abby said, frustrated. “But I just can’t help but think there’s a reason.”

In that precise second, Thadd Peterson, grandson of the Petersons who owned the florist shop, strode into the diner with a long, white box haphazardly strewn across his arm. As if he were a third grader instead of a sophomore in college, he stared at the instruction card, trying to decipher it.

“I think this says Abby Witness,” he said to Abby, handing her the card to get her assistance. “I don’t know an Abby Witness.”

Lily yanked the card from his hands before Abby could take it. “It says ‘Abby Waitress…’ then the next line is, ‘At the diner.”’

“Oh,” Thadd said, passing the box to Abby. “Here you go, then.”

Abby stared at the box. Claire fished into her purse and pulled out a dollar. “For your trouble,” she told Thadd, dismissing him. He looked at the money, grinned and walked away. Claire turned to Abby. “Open it!”

“I’m afraid to.”

“Well, I’m not,” Kristen said, grabbing the box and tugging open the wide red ribbon. Lily lifted the lid and Claire pushed back the white tissue paper.

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