Forget Everest…parenting is a real challenge

There aren’t many adventures Aubrey Hanson hasn’t tried. But parenthood and domestic duties are definitely not for her. Then her twin nieces are orphaned and suddenly Aubrey needs those skills! There’s one problem—their gorgeous uncle, Dixon Carter.

Officially, he’s their guardian and he wants Aubrey involved, just not in charge. Unofficially…well, the spark that caused their almost night together still simmers. In fact, it’s threatening to get out of control and disrupt raising the twins. Aubrey and Dixon can’t keep the attraction a secret forever. So they need to figure out how to be together…with kids!

Dixon pulled Aubrey into his arms

“There’s no point in beating yourself up about the past.” He held her in the dimly lit hallway, wanting to press comfort into her bones. Maybe somehow they could comfort each other enough to wipe away the grief.

She let him hold her for a few seconds, but she didn’t relax a muscle. “I dread leaving here, having to say goodbye.”

“I know.” He dreaded seeing her go—for himself as well as the girls. They wouldn’t accept Aubrey’s absence easily…and he wasn’t sure he would, either.

She leaned back to look at him, her eyes piercing even through her tears. “There’s no way to make this easy, is there?”

“Not that I can see, no.” Words gathered in his throat. Don’t go. Stay here. Help me with the girls, especially Sienna. Be with us. Be with me.

He couldn’t say that. She had a life far from here. They’d made a solid plan. They’d both be better off sticking with it. Even though letting her go now might be the hardest thing he’d done in a long time.

Dear Reader,

Before I had my son, I wasn’t sure I would make a good mother. Like Aubrey, I didn’t think I was that maternal. I was focused on my career, for one thing, but, really, kids seemed so fragile to me. There seemed to be so many things I could screw up. I figured motherhood was better left to those more naturally inclined…or at least more intrepid than I.

But Aubrey’s sister Briana had it right: Maternal is as maternal does… You learn together.

That was certainly true in my case. That didn’t make parenthood any less difficult or scary. When we had our son, my husband said the words that Howard says in this book about his baby daughters: Why would we bring into the world someone whose pain we’ll feel more strongly than our own? Why indeed?

Out of love and hope. And that was how Aubrey decides to take on parenthood in her ready-made family. Dixon’s already made that decision, but there are things he can learn from Aubrey about handling emotions and trusting his own heart.

The pair of them have quite a journey to their happily ever after. It involves climbing mountains, kayaking rapids, zip-lining canyons and running obstacle courses. They make it, but not without troubles. From their adventure, they learn that beauty can come from tragedy and grief can bring a greater love for those we’ve lost. As Aubrey tells her nieces, the person who died lives on in our hearts and in our minds and that is a tremendous comfort, I’ve found.

This story moved me as I wrote it. It touches on so many issues and feelings that I hold dear. I hope it touches your life, too, and offers you insights, a smile and makes you hug your loved ones just a little closer afterward.

All my best,

Dawn Atkins

Adventures In Parenthood

Dawn Atkins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Award-winning author Dawn Atkins has written more than twenty-five romances for Mills & Boon. Known for her funny, sexy, poignant stories, she’s won a Golden Quill Award for hot romance and has been a several-times RT Reviewers’ Choice Award finalist. Dawn lives in Arizona with her husband and son, who taught her all about the adventure of parenthood. Contact her through her website at www.dawnatkins.com.

To the Now and Then Book Group

You teach me more about what makes a book good every time we meet

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 Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

“YOU SAVED MY family.” The grateful client grabbed Dixon Carter into a bear hug. Rattled, Dixon managed a back pat or two, hoping that did the trick. Emotional stuff threw him.

“We just gave you some advice, Eric. You earned the job.” A laid-off auto tech, with an ill wife and two young boys, Eric had recently secured a job with the city, thanks to the help he’d gotten at Bootstrap Academy.

“You gave me the guts to apply,” Eric insisted. “You taught me how to interview, what to say on my résumé. You got me the leads.”

The man had tears in his eyes. Tears.

Dixon blinked back the moisture in his own eyes, pride making his chest burn. We do good work. “That’s why we’re here.”

Dixon sometimes got so caught up in the business side of the agency he forgot the rewards. Bootstrap Academy was a last-chance job-training and placement agency in Phoenix. The place was his brother Howard’s dream, and Dixon had been privileged to help bring it to life a year ago.

“All I know is that if it weren’t for this place, my boys wouldn’t be stepping off the bus next fall with new backpacks, new sneaks and snack money burning holes in their pockets,” Eric said. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Tell them your story.” He nodded toward the new clients in a meeting room down the hall. “That’s all the thanks we need.” Ideally, Eric would give hope to the men and women who’d been beaten down by economic hard knocks or their own mistakes.

“Thank your brother and his wife for me, too.”

“Absolutely. They get back tonight.” Howard and Brianna had taken a vacation to celebrate their fifth anniversary—their first trip away from their girls. Dixon was watching the four-year-old twins—and counting down the hours until their parents returned.

Not that he didn’t love the girls. He adored them. But adding them to his own work, plus what couldn’t be put off of Howard’s, had been tough. Single parents deserved medals. Dixon would like a family one day, but not until he stopped putting in sixty-hour weeks here.

Oh, and found a woman to have one with.

Howard and Brianna were due back before the girls’ bedtime, thank God. Dixon hadn’t yet performed the elaborate night rituals to Sienna’s satisfaction. Ginger was more tenderhearted, but a challenge in her own way.

Eric headed for the workshop, and Dixon saw his assistant barreling down the hall toward him. “What’s up, Maggie?” he asked.

She nodded across the lobby to the small shop where they sold donated business clothes. “Tonya’s about to lose her nerve with the interview.”

Dixon backed up so Maggie could beeline for the young woman dressed in cutoffs and a tank top, who was glancing from a rack of blazers toward the exit door, ready to bolt. When Maggie reached her, she said something that made the girl smile, then led her deeper into the shop toward the manager.

Maggie had uncanny people instincts. She gave pep talks without being condescending, help without pity, support without being pushy. Tonya would walk out today with more confidence, a business suit and bus fare, if that’s what she needed.

The smallest gesture could change everything for their clients. A smile, a word of praise, a phone call—all could be a lifeline for someone about to go down for good.

Maggie had been one of their first clients. Howard had wanted to hire a social worker, but Dixon had had a feeling about Magdalena Ortiz. And he’d been right. Dixon wasn’t used to trusting his feelings. Facts and figures were predictable. People not so much. People were the whole show around here, though, so Dixon often found himself at sea.

Checking his watch, Dixon sprinted for his office. He had twenty minutes to finish and send the email to the foundation before he had to get his nieces from gymnastics. Late pickups were not tolerated, according to Brianna. What are they going to do? Put me in time-out?

Dropping into his chair, Dixon pulled up his draft of the intent-to-apply email due by five today. It looked good. Complete. He clicked Send, hoping he wasn’t too bleary to judge. They had to win this grant if the agency was going to survive another year.

He’d been up half the night finishing the app. He’d laid out a convincing argument, based on Bootstrap’s high success rate, efficient operation and range of services. Today he’d tried to bring it to life by weaving in the client stories Howard and Brianna had given him. Howard had been a social worker for seventeen years before starting Bootstrap. His wife Brianna had been a high school teacher. Now she ran their workshops and basic skills program.

The stories were heart-wrenching. They fired Dixon up, kept him awake nights hunting down grants, looking for more ways to help. Dixon had found the building and negotiated a killer lease, but money was always tight. Coming from business, Dixon had been shocked at what non-profits went through for modest bucks. Banks were stingy, grant entities required endless paperwork and sources dried up all the time.

A shriek of laughter rose from down the hall, where they provided child care for clients and staff—including his nieces—reminding Dixon he had to run and fetch them at gymnastics.

He was about to get up when the intercom clicked, and the receptionist spoke. “I’m sorry, Dixon, but there’s an urgent call.” Something in her voice put him on alert, every muscle tense. “It’s a doctor. Calling from Reno.”

Reno? Reno was near Tahoe, where Brianna and Howard had been staying. Except, they should be on the road by now. Electricity shot through Dixon like the zing of a sudden cavity.

Don’t panic. It might be nothing. “Send it through.”

Let it be minor. Let it be a mistake.

He picked up the line the instant it rang. “This is Dixon Carter.” He held his breath, reined in his alarm.

“You’re related to Howard Carter?”

Something’s wrong.

“He’s my brother, yes. Did something happen?” He kept his voice level and steady. Whatever it was, he’d need to stay calm.

“This is Dr. Finson, Reno Regional Hospital. I’m sorry to tell you that your brother and his wife were involved in a highway accident.”

“Are they okay?” No, they’re not. He heard it in the man’s hesitation, his grave tone.

The doctor inhaled sharply before answering. “I’m afraid their injuries were too massive. They died on the scene.”

“No!” The word exploded from him. No, no, no. It can’t be. It’s a mistake. Howard can’t be dead. Or Brianna. No. Not possible. He fell against the headrest and his chair rolled back, as if to escape the news. This can’t be true. They can’t be dead. It’s their anniversary. There’s a party Saturday.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Carter,” the doctor said. His voice was hard to hear over Dixon’s muddled thoughts. “They suffered fractured cervical vertebrae, so death was likely instantaneous. I’m going to transfer you to a liaison who’ll talk over transportation arrangements.”

“Transportation arrangements?” The hospital had a travel agent? They’d get him a flight, a rental car?

“For the bodies,” the doctor said. He sounded young. A resident likely. Maybe he’d gotten the patient names wrong. They made mistakes at busy hospitals, right?

Dixon opened his mouth to ask for proof, for a second opinion, anything, but he was put on hold. His brain was moving through sludge. Howard was dead. Brianna, too. Killed on the highway. They lay in a hospital morgue, their bodies broken. Oh, God.

Waiting, he fumbled in his desk drawer for a pen, finally seeing the one on top of the yellow pad where he kept a running list of to-do items, some checked, some not. Insanely, he mentally added a task: bury your brother and his wife.

The social worker who came on the line was kind. She spoke slowly, waited for his questions after each piece of information. His mouth felt rubbery as he talked, and her voice came to him as if from underwater. She told him to contact a Phoenix mortuary, which would make arrangements with one in Reno to prepare the bodies and fly them home. Prepare the bodies...fly them home. The words were tiny bombs exploding in his brain.

She gave him her number if he had more questions. “Will you be all right? Do you have family nearby?”

“I’m fine. No one nearby. My mother’s away.” He’d have to reach her on the cruise ship in Europe. She would know how to reach his father, who’d skipped out when Dixon was ten. But Dixon wasn’t close to his mother. His family consisted of Howard and Brianna and Sienna and Ginger. Sienna and Ginger!

He had to pick them up. His gaze shot to the clock on his desk. He’d be fifteen minutes late if he left right now. “I need to go. I’ll call if I have questions.” He jumped up, sending his chair crashing to the wall behind him and lunged for the door, patting his pocket for the keys to Howard’s SUV. They’d asked him to drive the girls in it instead of Dixon’s Subaru WRX since the SUV was built like a tank. Howard and Brianna had taken their sedan to Tahoe. Maybe if they’d had the SUV they would have survived the crash...

Too late. Too late. They’re gone. He ran for the door. Maggie, two of the social workers, and Ben, a Bootstrap graduate they’d hired as a handyman, huddled around the reception desk. “What happened?” Maggie asked Dixon.

“Brianna and Howard were in a car wreck. Killed. They’re gone.” The words hit his ears like blows. He noticed he was trembling. The women gasped, faces shocked. Maggie covered her mouth with her hands.

“I have to get the girls. Cancel the United Way lunch, Maggie. Hold down the fort as best you can. I’ll call when I’m able to. Ben, finish the shelves in the career center, then wire the computers.”

He jumped in the SUV, squealed out of the lot and gunned the engine, wishing for his WRX with its turbo boosters. He leaned over the steering wheel as if that would get him there faster.

Sienna and Ginger, those two sweet girls, were orphans.

Bile rose in his throat and his vision grayed. He twisted the steering wheel, swallowed hard. He didn’t have time to get upset.

The girls were probably freaked enough that he hadn’t arrived. How would he tell them what had happened? When? Not right off. Not until he figured out the right way.

Grief tugged at him, dragging him down, breaking him in two. He fought to stay clear, to keep going, to do what had to be done. Get the girls, feed them, find a funeral home, reach his mother—would her cell phone work at sea or would he have to ask the cruise line to contact her?

He had to call Brianna’s twin sister, Aubrey, too. Aubrey was Brianna’s only family, as far as Dixon knew. Their mother had died when they’d barely graduated high school. Breast cancer, he thought. He didn’t know the story on their father, who wasn’t in the picture. Where would he get Aubrey’s number?

Probably from the stapled pages of instructions Brianna had left with details about the girls’ food preferences, their schedule, what they needed in their backpacks for Bootstrap, the babysitter next door, plus a list of emergency contact numbers—a plumber, an electrician, several neighbors, the pediatrician. At the time the list seemed to be overkill. Who would ever need any of that?

He did. It was all he had.

How would Aubrey take the news? Would she even be in the country?

Supposedly, she was coming to the anniversary party in three days. He’d figured she would breeze in at the last minute with some extravagant, impractical gift like she’d done for the twins’ birthdays. She’d brought her ski-bum boyfriend to the last one. Dixon and Aubrey had had a moment five years before at Howard and Brianna’s wedding. Since then, she’d been prickly around him, and they’d hardly spoken to each other.

Now they’d be forced to work together. They had a funeral to plan.

He shoved that idea into the swirl of his thoughts and snagged a new worry. What would happen to the girls? They would need a guardian.

It had to be him. Dixon was the only option. His mother loved the girls, but only in small doses. And parenthood had to be the furthest thing from Aubrey’s mind. She had some kind of travel blog about outdoor sports.

Of course, it was far from his mind, too.

You’re it, Dix. You’ll have to raise the girls. His gut churned, and he noticed that his jaw ached like crazy. He’d locked his back teeth, as if that would help him keep it together. He looked up, saw the red light and slammed on the brakes. Damn. It wouldn’t do for him to get in a wreck on the way to get the girls. He was all they had now.

How would the twins react? Ginger would dissolve into tears. Would Sienna? He imagined screams and wails and howls of grief and wild questions he wouldn’t know the answers to.

They’d be upset that he was late, and hungry, so he’d stop for fast food—always a hit—take them home and somehow find a way to tell them their parents would not be coming home tonight...or ever.

Call Constance. The answer popped into his head. The Bootstrap career counselor used to work as a school psychologist. She would talk him through this. He couldn’t blow it. The girls were counting on him.

As he waited for the green, the icy fact of Howard’s death trickled past his defenses.

Howard is gone. Your brother. The one person who loved you no matter what, your best friend, your family.

It can’t be. It’s not fair.

Howard deserved more time with his kids, more time with the agency he’d only begun to build. Dixon wanted more time with him, too. He owed him so much.

He’s gone. Forever. You’ll never see that grin of his, never get to harass him about the Phoenix Suns, kick his butt on the court, eat his smoked ribs, watch him work wonders with people in need.

The light turned green and he stomped the accelerator to the floor, shutting down his pain. He had a job to do. Two minutes later, he whipped into the strip mall that held the girls’ gym. He spotted them doing cartwheels on the sidewalk, watched by one of the trainers, who looked pissed. He parked, jumped out of the car and hurried over. The instructor looked pointedly at her watch.

“There was an emergency. I’m sorry.”

Her face didn’t change. She’d probably heard a million excuses. I bet you haven’t heard this one.

“Where were you, Uncle Dixon? We’ve been waiting and waiting.” Sienna’s piercing blue eyes locked on his, more accusatory than her words.

“Uncle Dixon!” Ginger ran and leaped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist.

His chest tightened and his lungs seemed to shut down. He loved these girls so much. They had giant hearts, boundless energy and huge spirits. How would this tragedy harm them?

He would not let them suffer. He would keep them safe and secure, and make certain they knew they were loved. He loved them more than words could say already, but he would love them more. He would love them the way his brother had, the way their mother had.

Was that even possible? How could he possibly replace their parents?

He felt like he was running on air. He didn’t dare look down.

The girls clambered into their booster seats.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “How about Bernie’s Burgers?”

“Yes! Yay! Bernie’s, Uncle Dixon. Bernie’s, Bernie’s, Bernie’s!” Ginger bounced up and down.

“Mom said only once a week because of the salt and the bad fat,” Sienna said. “We already went.”

“It’ll be our little secret,” he said, sick inside.

Soon the car filled with the comforting smell of fries and hamburgers. He bought milkshakes, too, which was too much, especially for Ginger, whose eyes were bigger than her tiny stomach.

He didn’t care. And when they started a French fry fight, he didn’t try to stop them. Go for it. Enjoy every last second of carefree fun. He listened hard to the light music of their sweet voices, the cheerful shriek when a fry hit its mark. How long before they would laugh like this again?

He blinked against the blur before his eyes.

At the house, Dixon set the girls up at the kitchen table to eat, leaving his own food untouched. Why had he even ordered? His stomach was in turmoil, and a bitter taste clogged his throat.

Once the girls were occupied, he grabbed Brianna’s emergency notes and the phone book, and ducked into the guest room to make the necessary calls. He left a message on his mother’s cell phone and alerted the cruise line, which would make contact with her.

Now Aubrey. Holding his breath, jaw clenched, he braced for her reaction, but the call went straight to voice mail.

“This is Dixon Carter. Call me. It’s urgent,” he said. He wasn’t about to leave the terrible news on a recording.

Next he called the mortuary with the largest ad, figuring they’d be busy and efficient. The funeral director would contact the mortuary in Reno, then call back to schedule a time to arrange the funeral.

The funeral.

The word rang in his head. Images poured in: flowers, caskets, gravestones, hymns, everyone in black and sobbing. Meanwhile, the girls chattered happily in the kitchen, oblivious to what he was doing.

Dixon was finishing with the funeral director when he heard the landline ringing from the kitchen. By the time he reached it, the caller was leaving a message: Hi, guys. Rachel here, checking to see if you need anything for the party Saturday. Should I bring ice? An appetizer? Watch the girls? Is there any way I can help?

Rachel was Brianna’s best friend. He picked up. “Hello, Rachel. It’s Dixon.” Glancing at the girls, he carried the handset down the hall. “There is something I need you to do....”

She could call everyone and tell them that instead of attending the couple’s anniversary party, they’d be attending their funeral.

* * *

HER SPEEDOMETER HOVERING at ninety-five, Aubrey Hanson scanned the interstate for highway patrol cars lurking on the shoulders. She didn’t have time for a ticket. Not today. Not with the good news she had to share with her sister.

Every time she thought about it, an electric thrill ran through her, making her forget altogether the scrapes and bruises she’d gotten in Norway.

She was this close to being sponsored by ALT Outdoors, the top recreation outfitter in the U.S., possibly the world.

The timing was crucial, since her inheritance was almost gone, and the ads on her blog and podcast barely paid her rent, let alone her travel costs.

She’d been saved. She could keep doing what she loved and get paid for it. She couldn’t wait to see the sunburst of pride in Brianna’s brown eyes when she heard. She couldn’t wait to hug her sister, jump around with her, shrieking their joy to the sky. Why did Phoenix have to be almost four hundred freaking miles from L.A.?

It wouldn’t quite be real until she’d told her sister. Brianna alone knew how much this meant. With the sponsorship, Aubrey’s blog—Extreme Adventure Girl: Ordinary Girl on an Extraordinary Journey—would reach thousands more women—hell, millions—and change more lives.

Calm down. It’s not official. The test run would be at the adventure race in Utah next month. Still, she was so close she could taste the triumph.

She was especially glad to tell Brianna because of the odd talk they’d had on their mother’s birthday—they always called each other then—right before Brianna left for Tahoe and Aubrey for Norway.

Brianna’s question had come out of the blue:

You’re sure this is what you want—the blog and the travel and all?

Aubrey had sucked in a shocked breath. Of course. This is what I’ve worked for. You know that.

Aubrey’s blog and her podcast shared her trips and challenges, mostly outdoors. Her purpose was to prove women didn’t have to be amazons or athletes—or even that coordinated—to achieve difficult challenges. The secrets were training, tenacity and guts.

The women who followed her lead became empowered. They found the courage to break up with bad boyfriends, demand raises, go to graduate school, snatch stars they’d thought out of reach. Aubrey was proud to have had an impact on their lives.

I’m saying you don’t have to push so hard, Brianna continued. If you wanted to quit, have a family, go to school, whatever, you can. You’ve done more than Mom could ever have wanted.

Their mother’s bedtime stories had been tales of all the places she’d biked, hiked, climbed and kayaked before she’d had them. They’d lost her to breast cancer the summer after they graduated high school.

Where is this coming from? Aubrey had asked, her stomach bottoming out at her sister’s abrupt doubts about Aubrey’s chosen path. Brianna was her number one fan. I feel like you’re out there for Mom and for me, she’d always said. Now she wanted Aubrey to quit?

Then it hit her. Wait, it’s the money, huh? You know I’m running short. You don’t want me to feel bad if I have to quit and get a regular job, right?

I just want you to be happy.

Relieved, Aubrey had rushed on. You don’t need to worry. I might have big news when I see you. I have a meeting about a possible sponsorship.

Brianna had been excited, but after they got off the phone, Aubrey still felt a shiver of unease. That wasn’t the whole story. Her sister had sounded melancholy. She’d mentioned wanting to find their grandparents, who’d been estranged from their father, who’d been killed in a ski accident before Aubrey and Brianna were born. The girls need more family.

Brianna did have a point. Their other grandparents were gone—their grandfather at forty due to diabetes, their grandmother two years later from pneumonia.

The conversation had gnawed at Aubrey until she finally figured out what was going on with Brianna. She misses you. She’s lonely. The family the girls need more of is you.

Once she’d figured it out, Aubrey burned with the need to fix this, to make it right, to be there for her sister...and for her nieces.

How had she been so blind? Shame flared hot on her face. She’d fooled herself that the Skype chats and occasional visits had been enough.

They grow up so fast, Brianna always said. She’d been gently warning Aubrey, and Aubrey had missed it completely.

Brianna always filled Aubrey in on the cute things the twins said and did, sent Aubrey videos of them at gymnastics and martial arts—classes Aubrey had paid for. They didn’t need more classes from their aunt. They needed more time with her. It made her ache to think that Brianna had held back her feelings for so long.

Aubrey knew why. Brianna understood the pressure Aubrey was under to keep her blog fresh and interesting. To keep her advertisers, Aubrey needed thousands of people glued to her blog and downloading her podcasts. That meant constant travel, research and training. Stay fresh or die was a fact of life in the blogosphere, where it was rare to make a living wage.

Brianna had been too understanding. Aubrey would visit more, starting with this trip.

“Meow.” Her cat, Scout, offered up an opinion from her spot on the passenger seat, where she sprawled to catch the sun that shone on her spotted fur. She was a Belgian leopard cat—a blend of domestic cat and Asian leopard. Scout was brilliant and bold, and could practically read Aubrey’s mind. Because she went with Aubrey on her adventures, usually tucked into a special pocket in Aubrey’s backpack, her fans had dubbed her Scout the Adventure Cat.

“I know it won’t be easy,” she said to her doubtful cat. The ALT sponsorship would escalate her travel schedule, add promotional appearances and other obligations, but it had to be done.

Scout gave a disdainful blink of her topaz eyes.

“I’ll make it work,” she insisted. Family matters most.

Determination caused her to sit taller, drive faster. She’d set off for Phoenix right from the ALT corporate offices, stopping only to grab gifts for the girls, along with flowers, champagne and an anniversary card for Howard and Brianna, as well as a new burner phone. She’d lost hers somewhere in the snow-packed fields of northern Norway. Aubrey went through phones like tissues.

Scout didn’t look convinced. Aubrey projected far too many human emotions onto the cat, but in her mind, a good cat was worth three bad boyfriends any day.

Scout was worth double that.

Not that Aubrey had had all that many boyfriends, bad or otherwise. She had fallen in love only once. Rafael Simón was a freelance travel writer heavy into extreme sports. They’d seen each other for nearly a year. Aubrey had broken it off once it was clear they wouldn’t work out.

Aubrey rubbed her grainy, sandpapery eyes. She was bone-tired and jet-lagged from the flight from Norway.

She finished off the last of her third energy drink, tossed the empty can onto the floor of the backseat, where it rattled against the ice chest containing the champagne.

Maybe they sold caffeinated date shakes at the Date Ranch Market—the halfway mark to Phoenix. She had to stop to get the girls’ favorite treat—the special red licorice only available there—and to use the huge, sparkling restrooms. When they traveled, Scout usually did her business hidden by trees, but Scout liked the Date Ranch facilities, even though people gawked and exclaimed over a cat using the toilet.

Aubrey sat up straighter, widened her eyes and blew out a breath. Stay awake. Think about the girls.

She’d love to bring Brianna and the twins on her adventures. In a couple of years, they could handle a white-water raft trip on the Colorado. Howard would likely have to be talked into it.

He was cautious and overprotective anyway, but the plain painful truth was he didn’t trust Aubrey with his girls. It had started when she made the mistake of buying sparkler birthday candles for their second birthday, excited to see the girls’ surprise and delight. Instead, the sparks had stung their cheeks. Sienna had shrieked and Ginger cried. The next day, Aubrey had offered to watch the girls while Howard and Brianna went out to dinner and she’d overheard Howard tell Brianna he wasn’t comfortable leaving the girls with her.

He hadn’t liked the bikes and helmets she’d bought last year, either. She’d confirmed on her blog that four-year-olds could ride bikes, and she’d gotten the proper sizes and everything.

It hurt that he thought she would endanger the girls, but he would come around over time. She hoped he’d like her anniversary gift as much as she knew Brianna would. Through one of her advertisers, Aubrey had gotten a great deal on an adventure trip for two in New Zealand, a haven for outdoor recreation, with breathtaking scenery. Aubrey would watch the girls while they were gone. The only hitch had been that Brianna and Howard would have had to buy the plane tickets, and she knew they saved every extra dime for their agency.

But now, with the sponsorship, Aubrey could buy their tickets, too! She smiled, thinking how delighted Brianna would be. She’d give them the gift right off, not wait for the party.

If her timing was right, she’d reach Phoenix not long after Brianna and Howard returned from Tahoe.

She couldn’t wait to make it up to her sister and her nieces for the time she’d lost with them. She was as determined and driven as she was when she faced a new adventure. She couldn’t wait to see her sister’s face when she opened the door and saw Aubrey on the porch, gifts in hand.

CHAPTER TWO

SIX HOURS LATER, Aubrey parked in front of the Craftsman bungalow where her sister lived. Thank God she hadn’t fallen asleep at the wheel. Scout had sensed her drifting a couple of times and meowed in warning.

Whew! Made it. Cheated death again.

She smiled at the thought. She always said that to herself when she’d met a difficult physical challenge. It meant she’d pushed past fear and doubt, taken the risk, the leap and made it out alive. She always felt amazing afterward. Her nerves tingled, her skin hummed. Colors were brighter, the air fresher, smells so much sweeter.

Her adventures weren’t always death-defying. More often, they were mental risks. Each win was a step up the ladder, a notch on her belt, a memory added to the stack. If she died tomorrow, she’d have enjoyed every minute to the fullest.

Shake every thrill from life. That had been her mother’s advice to her and Brianna. She’d made them both promise to do it.

Aubrey had absorbed the advice to her bones.

Because her mom had died of breast cancer, Aubrey had always feared that the disease ticked away inside her, marking off the months, weeks, minutes she had left. It was part of what drove her so hard. Do it now. Don’t waste a second. Do it before cancer blooms in you like a toxic flower. Brianna worried about cancer, too, but more quietly.

Scout meowed, eager to go. Aubrey unzipped the hard-sided carrier so her cat could jump in, closed it, put the strap over her shoulder and got out of the car, wincing as her new scabs protested the change in position. She had a bruise the shape of Scandinavia on her hip, along with scrapes from falling on the ice during the race. Reindeer were unbelievably fast, and the hairpin turns had scared the crap out of her. She’d squealed and yelped the whole way, but she refused to be embarrassed.

The whole idea of her blog was to be real—to share her worries and fears, her mistakes and pains. If Aubrey could do it, her readers would see that they could, too, shrieking all the way.

She slipped the gift-bag loops over her wrist, lifted her well-scuffed roller bag out of the cargo hold, tucked the flowers under one arm, grabbed the handle of the small ice chest in her other hand and trundled up the walk, Scout hanging at her hip.

The gift bag held in-line skates for the girls, who were just old enough to have the required balance. She’d bought boy skates—dark blue and much cooler than the babyish pink ones for girls. Why did manufacturers infantilize girls? She’d done a blog rant on the topic around Christmas time that three major news outlets had picked up.

She had her mountain bike with her, so she’d ride bikes with the girls while she was here. She’d bet money Howard had installed training wheels she’d have to take off.

Her sister’s neighborhood was modest, the house small, but so well cared for it practically glowed. With its sunny yellow paint, friendly porch swing, and crowd of bright flowers in brass pots, the place matched Brianna’s personality. Her sister made a house a home, for sure.

Aubrey glanced back at her car—an XTerra she’d chosen for its rugged versatility. Her tough, mud-spattered vehicle and her sister’s cozy, flower-bedecked house reflected their different styles. Aubrey was the restless soul, Brianna the settled heart.

At the door, she saw someone had left a foil-covered cake pan on the mat. Maybe Aubrey had beat them home. That was fine. The babysitter—Jessica, who lived next door—was probably there with the girls. If not, Aubrey had a spare key.

She knocked, smiling in anticipation, expecting her nieces.

But it wasn’t the twins who stood in the doorway. It wasn’t Brianna or Howard, either. It wasn’t even the babysitter.

It was Dixon. Howard’s brother. Her heart lurched like it did each time she’d seen him since the humiliating incident at the wedding.

He was good-looking, for sure, with strong features—a straight nose, square jaw, generous mouth and serious eyes so dark they seemed black. He was built like a tennis player—tall and lanky with broad shoulders and long, strong arms—and he moved with an athlete’s grace.

In a flash, she remembered him carrying her down the hall to her hotel room. He’d slapped in the key card, then kicked the door open so hard it slammed into the wall. It was as if he wouldn’t let any barrier keep them apart. She’d felt a thrill that totally erased the pain of her ankle.

Except instead of throwing her on the bed and making love to her, he’d put ice on her ankle and left, shutting the door he’d so hotly kicked in moments before with a soft click. Damn. Just thinking about it pissed her off again.

“Aubrey?” He sounded surprised and not happy to see her.

Ouch. “I’m early,” she said, though she had every right to visit her sister whenever she wanted. “They’re not back?”

“No. They’re not.” The words seemed to desolate him. She noticed his eyes were bloodshot, his jaw rigid, his mouth grim. Something’s wrong.

He glanced behind him, then pulled the door closed, joining her on the porch. “The girls are eating,” he said as if that were a legitimate reason to keep her outside. What the hell was going on? He seemed shaken, as if he’d heard terrible news. Terrible news he was about to share.

A chill washed over her. Scout gave a mournful yowl, either picking up Aubrey’s tension or wanting out of the carrier. Aubrey set it down, along with the gift bag and the ice chest, taking the flowers from under her arm. Three daisy petals drifted to the porch, white on white, snowflakes landing on a drift.

“What’s the matter?” she asked faintly.

“I tried to reach you, but I got voice mail. I left a message.”

“I lost my phone. For God’s sake, tell me what it is.” Goose bumps moved in a wave down her body. She felt colder than when she’d tumbled over the crusted snow pack on that final turn in Norway.

“You should sit.” He motioned at the porch swing. “It’s bad.”

“Just say it.” Her legs wobbled, so she stiffened them, refusing to give in to weakness.

“Brianna and Howard were in an accident coming back from Tahoe.”

She gasped.

Dixon swallowed, as if it would take effort to say more.

“And...?” she prompted him. Get it out. Tell me. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears.

“They were killed.”

“No. No.” Her insides froze. Her brain locked down. That couldn’t be right. Was this a joke? Had her ears tricked her? They were buzzing now. “What? They...what? No.”

“The doctor said they didn’t suffer. Their necks... It was quick.” He snapped his fingers. She saw he was blinking a lot. He was going to cry? Stable, solid Dixon Carter? Oh, God. It was true. This was no joke.

“They’re dead? Brianna’s dead? No. No. No. No.” She shook her head violently. Her wobbly legs went liquid and she staggered, one foot landing in the middle of the foil-covered pan. Gooey liquid leaked over the sides. She smelled tuna fish and Lipton soup. Tuna casserole? Who even made that anymore, let alone gave it to someone? was her stunned thought.

Focus. Think. What did he say again? I can’t breathe. I feel sick. I can’t throw up in front of Dixon. I can’t move. It was like someone had shoved a pillow onto her face, punched her in the stomach and tried to electrocute her all at once.

Dixon caught her arm to keep her upright. She gasped for air.

Don’t faint. Don’t puke. Don’t lose it.

But she seemed to be dissolving from the inside out. The terrible sound of a human in agony filled the air. As Dixon pulled her into his arms, she realized it was coming from her.

Her heart was shredding, her lungs bursting, her brain going blank. Brianna was gone...lost...forever. Aubrey would never see her sunburst smile, feel her hug against her heart, know she was there, sharing their twin souls.

When she finally realized she was bellowing in the man’s ear, she made herself stop and backed out of his arms.

She had the wild urge to run, to escape, to do something big and physical. She’d felt this way when their mother died. She’d run to the park, taken the obstacle exercise track through the trees for endless hours until her legs had given out and she’d collapsed on the grass, fighting for oxygen.

It hadn’t helped. The heartbreak had followed her. She knew there was no use running now, so she sank onto the swing. It rocked forward, toppling the ice chest, so the lid fell off. Ice spilled and the gold foil on top of the champagne emerged. She saw she’d dropped the flowers, too. Red roses and white daisies. Fresh and romantic. She’d been so happy when she’d bought them, so eager to celebrate her own news and Brianna’s anniversary. Now the flowers seemed fragile, damaged, ruined.

“There must be a mistake. It can’t be,” she said. Maybe she couldn’t run, but there had to be some escape from this horror.

“I’m sorry.” He crouched in front of her, steadying the swing with his hand, as if he sensed her dizziness.

“When?”

“A couple of hours ago. The hospital called me at work. I arranged to have them flown here for the funeral.”

“The funeral. I can’t... I don’t... A funeral?” She squeezed her eyes shut. “The girls!” Her eyes flew open. “Do they know?” Ginger and Sienna had lost their parents. Another wave of horror washed over her.

“Not yet.” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to explain it properly. I called a counselor at Bootstrap for advice, but she hasn’t picked up the message. They’re eating now and—”

The door burst open. “Uncle Dixon—” Sienna stopped short when she saw Aubrey on the bench. “Aunt Aubrey?” Sienna surveyed her with the same blue eyes Aubrey herself had. Her hair was the same strawberry-blond, straight and shiny, though not as sun-bleached as Aubrey’s.

“It’s me.”

“You came already!” Ginger’s eyes went wide. They were dark like her father’s and mother’s, and her wheat-colored hair curled like Brianna’s.

“I did,” she said shakily. Get it together. Calm down. The girls don’t know. Don’t scare them. Be strong for them. A band of ice water—as if she’d stepped into a mountain stream—gripped her rib cage and there seemed to be a golf ball stuck in her throat.

Sienna spotted the casserole with Aubrey’s footprint in the foil. “Eww. Someone stepped in it.”

“I did.” Aubrey lifted her foot as proof, glad of the distraction. “Sorry.”

Sienna bent to study the blob that had squirted out. “It’s good you wrecked it. It’s got peas.” Sienna made a face. “Everything Ms. Wilder makes has peas. Yuck. Jessica hates it, too, but we can’t agree with her because it’s not polite.”

“You dropped your flowers.” Ginger picked them up, then noticed Scout’s carrier and got down to look through the mesh window. “Hi, Scout.”

The cat meowed a greeting. Scout loved the girls, tolerating their aggressive attention, even as toddlers, when they would haul her around like a stuffed animal. Most cats would have hidden under a bed, but Scout was made of tougher stuff.

“Can I take her out, Auntie Aubba?” Auntie Aubba had been Ginger’s toddler name for Aubrey. Aubrey loved that she still called her that.

“In the house...sure.” Aubrey pretended to cough to hide her shaky voice. Ginger’s innocent eagerness was painful to hear.

“I get to do it, too,” Sienna said, grabbing the handle while Ginger put the strap over her shoulder. “You have the flowers.”

“You take the flowers. I thought of Scout first.”

The two girls had a tug-of-war, but managed to get the carrier and the flowers into the house, only losing a few more petals. They were so excited, so lighthearted, unaware of the dark train roaring from the tunnel to plow into their tender lives.

“Guess we should go in,” Aubrey said, putting the lid on the ice chest, picking it up, along with the gift bag and her roller bag handle.

Dixon stopped her with a warm hand on her arm. “You need a minute out here?”

She shook her head. “Let’s get this over with.” She preferred to remove bandages with a quick rip, not a slow, agonizing tug.

“I don’t want to tell them yet,” Dixon said. “I’ll try Constance again.”

She didn’t see the sense in that, but she didn’t want to argue with the man. She’d hardly absorbed the news herself. Dixon grabbed the ruined casserole and held the door for Aubrey, who walked into the house on legs gone numb. At least she no longer felt her Norway scrapes.

In a glance, she surveyed the living room, with its overstuffed sofa and love seat in a floral pattern, the jewel-toned area rug on the polished oak floor, the play corner with toys in bright buckets. Such a happy place. Such a happy family.

Gone now. A gloom seemed to fall over the room, dimming the colors, making the toys shabby, the furniture cold.

She turned to Dixon, and their eyes met. He looked sad and lost. Exactly like her. She turned to the girls and dropped to her knees. “I need hugs.” She held out her arms, hoping she could keep from crying. Sienna gave her a quick, hard squeeze. Gymnastics and martial arts had turned the girl into solid muscle.

Ginger wrapped her thin arms around Aubrey’s neck and clung to her, giving Aubrey time to breathe in her feather-fine hair, which smelled of bubblegum shampoo, French fries and the sweet salt of little-girl sweat.

When Ginger let go, Aubrey wanted to say, I love you, I missed you, I’m so glad to see you, but her throat was too tight.

“Why are you crying?” Sienna asked, staring at her with her sharp blue eyes.

“I’m just happy to be here.”

“Happy doesn’t make you cry,” Sienna insisted.

She wears me out, Brianna had said about Sienna. She won’t let any question go unanswered. She probes and pokes and demands. Just like you used to.

“Better let Scout out,” Aubrey said to shift Sienna’s attention.

Ginger was already at the zipper.

“No fair,” Sienna said. “You carried her. I get to unzip.” Sienna was clearly the take-charge twin.

The carrier open, Scout jumped out and shook herself indignantly, wiggling each paw, then her tail.

“She prefers to come to you,” she reminded them.

“We know,” Sienna said. The girls sat poised, hands out, eyes so eager Aubrey had to smile. Scout obliged them by delicately sniffing their fingertips, then rubbing her cheek against them.

“She remembers us,” Ginger said. “She’s showing us she loves us.”

“She’s putting her smell on us,” Sienna said. “It’s animal in-stink. That’s what Jessica says. Cats and dogs are animals. They don’t do people things like cuddle and kiss and love.”

“Scout does,” Ginger insisted. “Look in her eyes. That is l-o-v-e, love.”

Aubrey remembered a similar disagreement with Brianna, who’d been convinced that the ducks at the park recognized them, while Aubrey was certain they only saw bread crumbs. Brianna had always had more heart than Aubrey.

The night their mother died, Brianna had held their mother’s hand and whispered to her. Brianna had been there, brave and strong. Aubrey had run away. It still shamed her.

Scout jumped onto Aubrey’s lap. The cat stayed close when Aubrey was upset, purring wildly as if to soothe whatever ailment Aubrey suffered.

“Will she do her tricks for us?” Ginger asked.

“She’s got to get familiar with your house first.” Scout could give a high-five, fetch things, drink from a glass and play dead.

Aubrey’s thoughts began to buzz like angry bees. It can’t be true. Brianna can’t be dead. The girls can’t go through this. Please, no, Brianna. We can’t go on without you.

“You okay?” Dixon asked softly.

“I’m fine.” She forced a smile, then turned to the girls. “How about you open your gifts?” She plopped the bag between them, delaying the bad news a little longer.

The girls reached in from opposite sides of the sack, orange hair against wheat, then lifted out the boxes, looking through the clear plastic at the contents.

“Rollerblades,” Aubrey said. “What do you think?”

“Cool,” Sienna said.

“It’s too hard for us,” Ginger said, scrunching her nose. “Remember that big kid in the park with blood all down his arms?”

“We’ll get pads for your elbows and knees,” Aubrey said. “You’ll wear your bike helmets, too. You’ll be safe.”

“Daddy took the helmets back. He didn’t know what you were thinking,” Sienna said. “The bikes are put away for when we’re bigger.”

“You’re big enough,” she said, irritated by Howard’s attitude. “You girls are gymnasts. You have crazy balance. People on my blog told me a cool way to learn. Easy-breezy.”

“Easy-breezy?” Ginger repeated eagerly.

“Easy-breezy. I brought my bike, so once you learn, we can ride together in the park. Won’t that be fun?” Her voice cracked, but she had to give them something to look forward to, something to soften the coming blow.

She glanced at Dixon, who looked totally bereft. They had to get this over with. Her mouth was so dry she wasn’t sure she could get out the words. “Listen, girls, we need to talk to you about—”

“First, ice cream,” Dixon blurted, cutting her off. “Your aunt came early, so we should celebrate. Help me scoop, Aubrey.” He grabbed Aubrey’s arm and stood, pulling her up with him.

“Ice cream?” Sienna stopped tearing into the box and stared at Dixon. “But we already had milkshakes. Ginger will upchuck.”

“We’ll make it small, just a taste. Because your aunt surprised us.” He headed for the kitchen, pulling Aubrey by the arm, Sienna’s suspicious eyes burning holes in their backs.

“Ice cream? Really?” Aubrey whispered, once they reached the kitchen. “You want them to link ice cream with their parents’ death?”

“I need to try Constance again. She’ll know the best approach.” He pushed buttons on his phone.

“We don’t need an approach, Dixon. We should tell them flat out. Use simple words. They’ll react, and we’ll try to give them comfort.” Dixon wanted magic words, but there were none. She’d learned that when her mother died.

At least you were eighteen. They’re only four.

She clenched her fists, dug her nails into her palms to keep from crying.

“Bowls are to the left of the sink,” Dixon said, the phone to his ear. “Chocolate chip for Ginger. Strawberry for Sienna.”

She opened the freezer, the blast of cold air pleasant against her face, where nervous sweat had trickled down her temples. The freezer was jammed with plastic containers and big Baggies, each labeled with a dish—lasagna, chicken cacciatore, Chinese noodle casserole.... It looked like Jessica’s mother had been helping out the bachelor babysitter.

Rummaging around, she found the ice cream and scooped out servings for the girls, sheepishly aware that he had known their favorite flavors, while she had no clue. Aubrey wasn’t part of the girls’ daily lives the way he was, and it was her own fault.

In the background, she heard the girls putting on their rollerblades. When she’d finished scooping, she stared at the family photos on the fridge—the girls with Mickey Mouse at Disneyland, the family playing miniature golf, the twins in leotards on the balance beam, doing a kata in martial arts gi.

She should have been here more, been part of all this. Don’t wallow. You’ll spend more time. You’ll pay more attention. You’ll—

She felt an icicle stab to the heart. Who will raise the girls?

Aubrey or Dixon. They were the only choices. Dixon’s mother, Lorraine, was older and traveled a lot, according to Brianna. Just like you, Aubrey thought queasily.

How could Aubrey manage it? She couldn’t move the girls to L.A. where she shared a tiny apartment with an actress-slash-cocktail waitress. She would have to move to Phoenix. And what about her travel, all the promotion she’d have to do if she got the sponsorship?

Anxiety sent an acid wash down her throat like a gulped shot of tequila, no lime or salt to ease the way.

“Voice mail,” Dixon said with irritation. “I’ll try again later.” He slipped the phone into his pocket. Dixon lived here. He worked at Bootstrap, where the girls went for day care. He knew their ice cream preferences and a whole lot more about their lives.

Dixon would be the choice. No question.

What would Brianna want? Wait. Was there a will? Didn’t people list guardians in wills? Aubrey sure hadn’t seen a will. Had Dixon?

“All set?” Dixon picked up the bowls.

Aubrey felt woozy, like the stormy drift dive in the Bahamas before they’d sunk below the waves. Dixon looked just as green, as if he stood on the same rolling deck.

“Hang on.” She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “We need something more.” She ducked into the refrigerator for a can of whipped cream and a jar of maraschino cherries. As she squirted the cream and dropped the cherries, her hands shook. So did Dixon’s holding the bowls. The resulting mounds were lopsided, the cherries sadly off center. “Good enough.”

In the family room, the girls were holding on to each other trying to balance on their skates, sliding forward and back, waving their free arms wildly.

“Ta-da!” Aubrey said. “Ice cream sundaes!”

Dixon set them on the table. “Have at it, girls.”

“But we’re not allowed to eat in here,” Sienna declared, staring at the heaping, messy bowls. “And you said just a taste.” She paused. “Where are Mommy and Daddy? They promised they’d be here by supper.” Her voice was sharply alert.

Aubrey looked at Dixon, who closed his eyes briefly, then gave her a slow, resigned nod. It was time to tell them. “Sit down, girls,” he said dully.

Still holding each other up, the girls clumped to the sofa, and sat, skates dangling from their skinny legs like moon boots. Already scared, they stared at Dixon and Aubrey with wide eyes. Dixon pushed the table to the side, making room for him and Aubrey to kneel in front of the girls.

“You asked about your parents...” Dixon started. “We...your aunt and I...need to talk to you about...them.”

Looking into their still, wan faces, so vulnerable, so terrified, Aubrey couldn’t stand it another second. “They were in a car accident.”

Both girls gasped.

“They didn’t make it,” Dixon added quickly.

“What didn’t they make?” Sienna asked in a tremulous voice.

“He means they died. The accident killed them.”

“But it didn’t hurt,” Dixon said. “They didn’t have any pain.”

“What? No! You’re lying!” Sienna’s shrill cry, echoing Aubrey’s first reaction, pierced like a hot spike to her heart.

“It’s true,” Aubrey said. “I wish it weren’t, but it is.”

“They’re in a hospital in Nevada,” Dixon said, “but they’ll be flown down to Phoenix for the funeral.” He paused. “That’s a church service where people get together and talk about the dead person and—”

“Everybody knows what a fun’ral is,” Sienna said. “We had one for our gecko that died.”

“Are they getting fixed up at the hospital?” Ginger asked, clearly not grasping what Dixon meant. This was so hard. Aubrey wanted to pull the girl into her arms and erase her pain, but there were no magic hugs any more than there were magic words.

“No. It’s just their bodies,” Dixon said. He had to clear his throat to continue.

Aubrey put a hand on his arm to support him. “Their spirits are gone. In Heaven.”

“With Grandma Hanson and Grandpa Carter?” Ginger asked tremulously.

“And Grandpa Metzger,” Aubrey threw in, though she had no idea how Heaven worked or if her father would be there to greet the daughter he never knew he’d had.

“I don’t believe you!” Sienna’s voice broke, her anguish ringing in Aubrey’s ears.

Oh, sweetie, I know, I know. It hurts so much, so very much. She was too young for so much suffering.

“I’m calling Mommy.” She lunged off the couch and tromped, headlong in her skates, to the kitchen, where she grabbed the phone.

“I want my mommy and daddy,” Ginger said, big tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I know you do.” Aubrey held out her arms, but Ginger pushed off the couch onto Dixon’s lap, her knees bent, skates behind, and sobbed into his shoulder with all her might. Dixon was more familiar to her, so it made sense she’d go to him over Aubrey.

It’s done. They know. The worst’s over.

But that wasn’t true. Aubrey’s mother’s death had been a boulder dropped in a pond, but grief had rippled outward for months and months, each wave a fresh blow. She’d feared it would kill her, then wished it would. Instead, she had had to endure the pain, day and night, on and on, as had Brianna. Would it be easier because the girls were so young, or harder? She had no idea.

Sienna stood by the phone, wobbling in her skates, so Aubrey went to help, steeling herself the way she did when she faced an impossible-looking rock climb.

“Mommy, call me back...please,” Sierra said into the handset, her voice frantic, her eyes jumping here and there, like a trapped bird desperate to escape a cage. “It’s an emergency.” She put the handset in its dock, then stared at it, willing it to ring.

“I know it’s hard to accept, Sienna.” Aubrey racked her brain for soothing words. “I can hardly believe it and I’m way older than you. It’s a terrible shock. It takes time to get used to, but we’ll do it.”

Sienna’s lip trembled, her face slowly crumpled.

“We’ll help each other.” Aubrey held out her arms.

“Leave me alone!” Sienna turned and hop-tromped down the hall, slamming the bedroom door so loudly the living room windows rattled.

Now what? Go to her or leave her be?

In a flash, she remembered holding Sienna the day she was born. Brianna had thrust the tiny bundle of a baby at her. Aubrey had cupped her hand around Sienna’s delicate skull, examined her tiny fingers, fragile as twigs, looked into those clear trusting eyes and panicked. Here. She’d tried to hand the baby back to Brianna. I’m scared I’ll break her.

But Brianna refused to take the bundle. She looked at Aubrey, her eyes glowing with a new fire. Everyone feels like that. You learn together.

That flash of memory, hearing Brianna’s voice again, felt like a gift to Aubrey and calmness washed through her. Go to her. Shared pain is less pain. Brianna and Aubrey had gotten each other through the terrible times, after all.

At first, Aubrey hadn’t understood that. When the minister’s wife had said, You’re so lucky. You have each other, it had been all Aubrey could do not to smack her. They’d lost their mother, their only parent. Lucky was the last thing they were.

Soon enough, she saw the truth in those words. They’d comforted each other like no one else could have. She would do her best to comfort Sienna. You’ll learn together.

CHAPTER THREE

GINGER’S LITTLE BODY trembled in Dixon’s arms, and he had to tighten every muscle to keep from breaking down. He was no good with feelings in general, and his niece’s heartbreak was more than he could grasp, let alone figure out how to fix. Aubrey had gone after Sienna. He hoped she knew what to say.

Ginger raised her tear-drenched face and looked at him. “Will you take care of us, Uncle Dixon?”

“Of course I will,” he said, fighting the urge to squeeze her tight—too tight—as if that would somehow help. His insides seemed to be churning and melting at once.

“Forever?” she added.

“Forever.” I will watch over you and protect you from all harm, no matter what, or die trying. The experts would probably frown on such a grandiose promise. Right now he didn’t give a damn. To help Ginger feel better, he would say anything. He would move in with them—at least at first—so as not to disrupt the girls any more than necessary.

They knew him and loved him. As ill-equipped as he felt, he was the best they had. He wanted to make this right, but how did you make something right that is more wrong than anything that could happen to a child? The girls needed each other most of all, he assumed. Aubrey would know about that, since she and her sister had lost their mother, too. Not this young.

“Shall we go talk to Sienna?” he asked.

Ginger nodded against his shoulder.

He stood, still holding her. As he walked, the skates bumped his legs. What the hell had possessed Aubrey to buy rollerblades? For their third birthday, she’d given them an indoor trapeze and tightrope set. One of the few quarrels Dixon had ever heard between Howard and Brianna had started when Howard bitched that Aubrey was clueless about the girls—buying them classes and toys they were too young for. Brianna had defended her sister with a surprising ferocity.

Aubrey meant well. He knew that. She clearly adored the girls. He felt kind of sorry for her. She seemed to think she had to prove her love with gifts and activities, as if she thought the girls wouldn’t remember her or, hell, love her back.

In the bedroom, Sienna lay facedown on the bottom bunk and Aubrey was pulling the skates from her dangling legs.

“That’s my bed!” Ginger shrieked. “Get off my bed!” The girls were up in each other’s grills about private areas—beds being a flash point. “Daddy said you can’t be on my bed without my permission.”

Sienna raised her face, her cheeks wet with tears, her nose running. “Who cares what Daddy says? Daddy’s dead. So is Mommy. They’re never coming home. They left us all alone.”

Her raw pain hit like a punch in Dixon’s chest. Aubrey dropped a skate with a clunk and hunched over, as if she’d been hit by the same cruel fist. Her eyes met his, their usual crystal-blue gone cloudy.

“We’re not alone,” Ginger said. “Uncle Dixon promised to take care of us forever.”

Aubrey’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He wished they’d had a chance to discuss him being the girls’ guardian first, but it couldn’t be helped. Besides, she would likely be relieved to know he was willing to take over.

The leopard-spotted cat appeared out of nowhere and leaped onto the bed to lick Sienna’s cheek, purring wildly. “Her tongue’s rough,” Sienna said.

“She wants you to feel better,” Aubrey said.

“She just likes the salt,” Sienna said, but a smile flickered on-off.

“I’m sad, too, Scout,” Ginger said, holding out a cheek. “I’ve got tears. See?”

“She wants to be with me,” Sienna said.

“You have to share,” Ginger whined. “It’s not fair.”

“She’ll be with you, too, Ginger,” Aubrey said. “We have plenty of time for Scout to make you both feel better.”

“Will you stay forever, too?” Ginger asked, swiping at her nose.

Aubrey blinked, opened and closed her mouth, clearly not knowing what to say.

“Your aunt lives in L.A., so she can’t,” Dixon said to help her out.

“I’ll stay as long as I can.” She shot him a look, but he could tell she’d been caught off guard.

Ginger sighed sadly.

“How about that ice cream?” he said. “It’s out there melting.” Like that will help, you idiot.

“My stomach hurts too much,” Ginger said.

“It’s gross when it melts,” Sienna said.

“Then let’s run your baths, huh?” He figured keeping to the routine was the smartest way to go.

“I don’t want a bath,” Sienna said, her arms buried in Scout’s fur, her cheek resting on the cat’s back.

“You had gymnastics. Your mom’s rule is baths before bed after activities.”

“Maybe tonight we can skip baths,” Aubrey said brightly. “Rules are made to be broken. Right, girls?” She winked at Sienna, who managed a crooked smile.

“A bath will relax them, and they’ll sleep better,” he said, trying to catch her eye, get her to present a united front.

“Auntie Aubba said we can skip,” Ginger said.

“Your parents put me in charge and I say you’re taking baths.”

“You can’t make us. You’re not our dad. Our dad is gone. This is our house. We own it. Now we make the rules.” Sienna was getting wound up, scaring herself, testing the limits.

He opened his mouth to say something firm, but Aubrey spoke up. “Have you girls ever seen a cat dive?”

The twins’ eyes zipped to Aubrey.

“If you take your baths, I bet I can get her to dive for you.”

“Really?” Sienna asked.

“Really. Scout loves water. We have lots of adventures in lakes and rivers.”

“You’re kidding,” Dixon said.

“I never kid about Scout the Adventure Cat, do I, girls?”

“Never,” Sienna chimed in. He noticed the little girl’s eyes were the same shade of blue as her aunt’s. They had the same noses and straight, red-blond hair, shiny as spun bronze. “Come on, Ginger.” Sienna bounded off the bed and headed out the door.

“Great diversion,” Dixon said to Aubrey. She’d shifted the girls’ attention away from the impasse. “Would you mind managing the bath? I should check messages. I turned off the sound so the girls wouldn’t hear anything upsetting before they knew. I likely got a call from the funeral director.”

“No problem.”

Aubrey headed after the girls, and Dixon tackled the machine, which had a message from the mortician, as well as tons from friends offering condolences, food and help, their voices full of shock. Rachel had done her job.

He’d torn off the note with the appointment time at the mortuary, when shrieks drew him down the hall to the bathroom. Were the girls fighting?

As soon as he walked in the door, he got hit in the crotch with a cup of warm water.

“Whoops, accident,” Aubrey said, but she’d clearly done it on purpose. The girls burst out laughing, which, no doubt, had been the point.

“It’s a water fight, Uncle Dixon,” Sienna explained.

“I can see that,” he said. There was an inch of water on the floor and the bath mat was soaked.

“Get her back,” Ginger said, holding out a plastic measuring cup brimming with soapy water.

“Hit me with your best shot,” Aubrey said, giving him the same grin she’d delivered on the cliff in Mexico when she’d dared him to jump.

“You look pretty wet already.” Her hair dripped appealingly, her shirt clung to her breasts.

Don’t stare. There are children here. Despite himself, he flashed on a memory of that night, carrying her back to her room, dripping wet, her silk dress all but transparent.

Forget that. Don’t think about that.

“You look like you peed your pants, Uncle Dixon.” Sienna pointed gleefully.

“Splash his legs so it looks like he was wading,” Aubrey said, clearly working to stay cheerful for the girls’ sake.

Sienna tossed a bowl of water at his slacks. Both girls squealed with delight at the results.

The bath was supposed to relax the girls, not hype them up, but he was glad to see smiles and hear laughter, even if it had a hysterical edge.

Giving in, Dixon sat on the wet floor, drenching his backside, too. The steamy air smelled like the cherry of the girls’ soap mixed with the spice of Aubrey’s perfume.

He found himself studying Aubrey. She was as strikingly pretty as when he’d met her at the wedding, with an expressive face, full mouth and remarkable eyes. Arresting. That was the old-fashioned word for her brilliant blue gaze, which stopped you in your tracks, made you want to raise your hands in surrender.

Arresting? Jesus.

His gaze shifted to her body, shapely and athletic. Her deep tan and sun-streaked hair were evidence of hours spent outdoors. Damn. A sigh escaped his lips.

The sound made Aubrey look his way, catching him still staring.

Luckily, Ginger broke the spell. “Scout picked up a block from the bottom of the tub, Uncle Dixon. Can we show him?” The question was for Aubrey.

“I think Scout’s done for the night,” Aubrey said. The cat sat on the padded toilet seat wrapped in a towel, fur fluffy, eyes closed in an expression of serenity. “So are we, right?”

Dixon held out a towel for each girl, then took two more from the shelf, handing one to Aubrey before he kneeled to sop up water from the floor. She did the same and their hands met in the middle of the room.

Dixon met her gaze, and received a sexual jolt.

Aubrey’s eyes lit up, as if she’d gotten the same charge. “We crashed, girls,” she said, clearly covering for the high-voltage moment.

He remembered her as a very physical person. She touched you when she talked, as if to ground herself, fingers brushing your hand, squeezing your upper arm, patting your back. That was how they’d ended up dancing at the wedding. She’d kept touching him, coaxing him, until the next thing he knew he was on the dance floor. And he hated dancing.

Earlier tonight, when she’d stopped him with a hand so she could glop goo on the girls’ ice cream, her touch had somehow steadied him for the task of telling the girls the terrible news. At least that was non-sexual. There was no place for sex here. Not in their situation, and certainly not around the girls.

Now Aubrey launched into a camp song about a frog that required her to bug out her eyes, stick out her tongue and make a gulping gargling sound during the chorus.

The girls were transfixed. The woman knew how to have fun, for sure. He’d seen that in Mexico.

Eventually, they herded the girls to their room, and Aubrey challenged them to see who could get into their pajamas first.

Afterward, tops mis-buttoned, bottoms inside out, the girls argued about who’d won.

“I’d say it was a tie, wouldn’t you, Dixon?” Aubrey said.

“I won,” Sienna insisted. “You just don’t want Ginger to cry.”

“It was a tie,” Ginger said, tears the size of jelly beans shivering in her brown eyes.

“You’re such a baby,” Sienna said.

“No, I’m not. Daddy says you can’t be mean to me.”

“Daddy’s gone.”

“Stop saying that!” Ginger burst into serious tears this time and Dixon felt his own eyes burn.

“Please don’t cry,” Aubrey said. “We were having fun and laughing, remember?” She shot Dixon a look. What do we do now?

He had no idea.

“I can’t help it,” Ginger sobbed. “I forgot what happened. I think they’ll be here soon to kiss us good-night.”

“But they won’t be,” Sienna said angrily. “Stop thinking that.” She climbed up the ladder, got under the covers and turned her face to the wall.

Ginger cried quietly.

Dixon racked his brain for something to talk about.

“Is this your bedtime book?” Aubrey picked up Ramona the Pest from the nightstand.

How had he forgotten? “Yeah,” he said, taking the book. “Time to read.”

“Can Auntie Aubba do it?” Ginger asked.

“If she wants to.” He looked at her.

“I’d love to.” She smiled hesitantly.

“That’s the reading chair right there.” Dixon motioned at the tiny chair a foot from the bunk beds.

“You’re kidding.”

“Trust me. It’s the rule.”

She sat in the low chair, set the book on her knees, which jutted up to her chin, and opened it to the marked page.

She’d barely finished a paragraph before Sienna gave a strangled cry. “You have to stop. Make her stop, Uncle Dixon.”

“What’s wrong?” Aubrey closed the book on her thumb, bright red blotches on her cheeks.

“That’s not nice, Sienna,” Dixon said. She was upset, but that was no excuse to be mean.

“She’s trying to sound like our mommy,” Sienna said. “You’re not her,” she said to Aubrey. “Don’t pretend you are.”

“Your mom’s my sister. We sound alike, I guess.”

“Now my stomach feels sicker,” Ginger said.

“That’s probably all the junk food I let you eat,” Dixon said to ease the moment.

“I’ll let you finish.” Aubrey handed him the book, ducking his gaze, clearly mortified. “Night, girls,” she muttered, almost running out the door. She pulled it shut.

“No! Leave it open!” Ginger called. “We need the line of light!”

The door cracked. “Sorry,” Aubrey called from the hallway.

“You girls need to be kinder to your aunt,” Dixon said. “She lost her sister, and she’s sad, too. In the morning, I want you to say you’re sorry.”

Sienna didn’t respond, and he didn’t feel like pushing it.

“Now get some sleep,” he said. Sleep would help. But from the doorway, he saw both sets of eyes staring at him, wide-awake.

Please let them sleep, he silently prayed. It’s their only escape.

Their wide eyes still haunting him, Dixon headed for the living room to talk to Aubrey, uncertain how emotional she would be. He’d been startled when she’d fallen against him on the porch. She’d always had such a sexy swagger. She was more fragile than she let on.

They all were. He felt raw, like the skin beneath a blister, sensitive to the air. And the girls were on the brink of hysteria every minute. They would all have to be careful with each other. That was all there was to it.

* * *

HER VOICE HAD made the girls cry. The sting of that shame threatened to level Aubrey, but she forced herself to forget it, to stay busy. She wasn’t ready to sink into the sorrow that awaited her. She grabbed her roller bag to get settled in the guest room.

Except there she saw Dixon’s suitcase open on the floor beside the computer desk, and smelled his cologne. Of course he’d be here. He’d been staying with the girls.

“You can have this room.” His voice floated from the doorway, and she turned to find him leaning against the doorjamb.

“No, no. I’ll use the other bedroom.” She started to pass him, but he stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. “But that’s Howard and Brianna’s room. It might be difficult for you.” He held her gaze. She’d forgotten how intense his dark eyes were, how they pulled you in, turned everything else into a blur. At the wedding, it had been the way he’d looked at her that had convinced her to drag him onto the dance floor, then out to the beach, to get more of those eyes on her.

“I’ll be fine,” she said. She had to be.

“You sure?”

She blew out a breath. “Truthfully? I’m not sure about anything. For now, let’s go with fine.”

“I’m sorry about that nonsense over your voice. I asked Sienna to apologize.”

“There’s no need for that.” She threw back her shoulders, hating that Dixon had noticed her hurt. “I understand completely. Brianna and I went through that after Mom died. One of us would use one of her expressions and it felt like a sucker punch.”

“Still, Sienna was harsh.” He frowned. “They usually don’t pick on each other so much, either.”

“That’s normal. Brianna and I had a terrible fight when we got back from the funeral over a borrowed sweater. We were taking out our anger about Mom dying on each other. That’s what the girls are doing, I’m sure.”

“That makes sense.” His gaze gentled.

“It won’t last long. It didn’t with me and Brianna. In fact, we got a lot closer, leaned on each other more. We were all we had.”

“It must have been hell to lose your mother so young.”

“At least we were nearly adults. The twins are so little.” Her eyes stung, but she refused to crumble like she had on the porch. It was strange. They hardly knew each other, but they’d been forced into an intense intimacy.

“I hope Ginger and Sienna will get closer, too,” Dixon said.

“I’m sure they will. And they have you and me, too. And your mother.”

“She doesn’t visit much.”

Brianna had told her as much. “Actually, the last time I talked to her, Brianna said she wanted to look for our father’s relatives. He was estranged from his family.”

“Do you want that?”

“If the girls have more relatives, it would be good for them.”

“It would,” Dixon said.

“Maybe I’ll see what I can find. Later on...after we get past all this.”

“Sure.”

Standing so close, she couldn’t help but respond to how male he was—broad and strong, with straight, square features. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his chambray shirt, revealing muscular forearms. There was something sexy about that look.

Dixon was sexy, period.

For one second, she wanted to reach for him, go to bed with him, stop fighting so hard to keep her head above the waves of grief that threatened to engulf her. He would be her life raft. She would be his.

A soft sound escaped her lips. Dixon’s breath hitched and twin candle flames lit in his dark eyes, just as they had that night in Mexico.

When the band had quit playing, she’d kicked off her heels, grabbed Dixon’s hand and snatched a nearly full bottle of good champagne on the way to the beach, running, laughing, feeling lighter than air....

Now Dixon’s breathing shifted, he tilted his mouth closer.

Why not?

They could open up a sliver of time to escape, to hide out in each other’s arms.

“We have things to discuss,” Dixon said, flipping the switch, making them both blink in the sudden harsh light of reality.

It took her a second to adjust, but she knew he was right. This was no time to escape. “Let me put away my things, and I’ll meet you in the living room.”

She rolled her bag down the hall. Stepping into the room was almost too much for her. The space was full of Brianna’s happy energy, and it smelled of her perfume—Joyful, a perfect word for her sister. Every surface held framed photos of the couple and their girls.

She remembered Brianna showing her the room, gleefully dancing from item to item—the curtains and pillows she’d made, the antique bureau she’d refinished to match the headboard. She’d been so proud, so happy.

How can you sleep here, with Brianna’s lost happiness swirling like smoke, burning your eyes and searing your throat?

Aubrey braced herself against the bureau, closed her eyes and silently recited her mantra: you are stronger than you know. Trust your training. Trust your will. Trust your courage. The only obstacles are your own doubt and fear. Conquer yourself and you conquer all.

After a beat and a breath, strength poured through her. It worked. It always worked, and it always surprised her.

Fix this. First, the pictures. One by one, she turned them facedown. Next, the sheets. She got fresh ones from the hall linen closet and remade the bed. Finally, she misted the air with her own spicy cologne, overriding her sister’s airier scent.

Whew. Better. It’s just a room now, not Brianna’s cozy nest.

She gave the bathroom the same treatment, placing Brianna’s hair stuff under the sink and claiming the space with her own toiletries.

After that, she splashed water on her face and pulled her hair into the ponytail she wore for physical challenges. That seemed right. This was the biggest challenge of her life—coping with Brianna’s death and deciding what was best for the girls. With a last calming breath, she went to meet Dixon.

He was on the couch working on his laptop. When he saw her, he set the computer on the table and stood. “You all right?” he asked, searching her face so closely she felt...exposed.

“I’m fine.” She ducked his gaze and went to sit on the sofa. Rafe had given her space, at least. Of course, they’d rarely spent quiet time together. They were always doing something outdoors—kayaking, hiking, skiing or diving.

Dixon sat beside her, legs angled toward her, watching her face. She guessed you could get used to so much attention. It was like he really cared about her. It was probably just his way. He likely read the backs of cereal boxes, too.

“It’s all set with the Reno funeral people,” he said. “They’ll fly them to Phoenix tomorrow.”

“That’s good. How did you even know what to do?”

“A social worker at the hospital explained the procedure. It was mostly a blur. We’re due at the mortuary at nine to choose flowers and the casket and all. Just now, I called our minister and we’ll meet him at the church after that to plan the funeral.”

Flowers...casket...funeral. The words echoed in her head.

“We’re supposed to post the obituaries on the mortuary website so people can write their condolences. We’ll need to choose photos.”

“Photos...right.” She had to write her sister’s obituary. Obituaries were for old people, not young mothers.

“I figure we’ll have the funeral on Saturday.”

“Saturday...? Wait... What about the anniversary party? We have to tell people!” She started to get up.

“It’s done. I had Brianna’s friend Rachel call everyone. We already had caterers coming. It seemed smart to use them. We’ll take the words off the cake—” He stopped abruptly, his jaw muscle twitching, clearly struggling against sadness.

“That’s very...practical.” What else could she say? “Plus everyone was already planning to come.” She gulped. “I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“Me, neither. Believe me. My mother should be able to get here by Saturday. She’s on a cruise. I had to leave word for her.”

“Will she want to stay here?”

“She prefers hotels, which is better for all of us. I love her, but there’s always drama and it’s always about her.” Aubrey had enjoyed Lorraine at the wedding. She was lively and funny and full of stories.

“Is there anyone else we should notify?”

“She’ll get the word to our father. If we’re lucky, he’ll send a card. We don’t know any of his relatives.” Anger and hurt flared in his eyes. “Mom’s mother died three years ago. Grandpa’s in an assisted living place with dementia. There are cousins we don’t know.” He shrugged. “Everyone who needs to know knows. The rest can read it in the paper.”

“You’ve done a lot.” She’d barely accepted the news, and Dixon had been making arrangements. “I feel bad this has been on your shoulders.”

“I had a couple hours’ head start. You’re here now. We’ll do the rest together.”

“Right. So we have to pick photos and write the obituaries...” she repeated, trying to get up to speed, to contribute to the process. “What else?”

“Decide the music and who should speak and in what order.” He studied her face. “You look dead-tired. We can go over all the funeral stuff tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. It’s mostly jet lag,” she said. “I flew in from Norway early this morning for a meeting in L.A., then drove straight here.”

“No wonder you’re wiped out. Go get some sleep.”

“I’m too wired for that.” She smiled sadly. “But I could use a drink.” Her gaze snagged on the ice chest on the floor beside the table. She opened it and took out the champagne, melted ice dripping from the bottle. “Might as well drink this, right?”

“Why not? Sounds practical,” he said with a weary smile. “I’ll get glasses.”

She picked up the flowers. “I should put these in something.”

In the kitchen, Aubrey opened cupboards until she spotted a crystal vase on the top shelf. She was too short to reach it, but Dixon was plenty tall.

She turned to ask for his help, but he was looking at the fridge photos. “This was before they got married.” He tapped a shot of Brianna and Howard at a picnic table. Brianna grinned at the photographer. Howard stared at Brianna with pure adoration. “They thought they had a lifetime together,” Dixon added gruffly.

Aubrey remembered the margarita-stoked conversation she’d had with Brianna when the girls were babies. I just want to get them through college, you know? she’d said. High school was too soon. I wasn’t ready. My core wasn’t solid yet.

You won’t get cancer, Aubrey had insisted. You live a seatbelt life, totally strapped in. Of all the words she could have chosen. Seatbelts hadn’t saved Brianna this time.

“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Aubrey said, unable to hide her sadness. “It’s like I lost half of myself. There was so much I should have told her.” I’ll be here more. I miss you, too. I’m sorry I let you down.

“I know what you mean,” Dixon said, his voice husky with emotion. “The last time I talked to Howard I bitched about a report he forgot to finish before the trip.” His eyes were watering now.

“You didn’t know it would be the last time.”

“Howard was the one who raised me after Dad left. I was ten. He was fifteen. I was wild as a kid.”

“You were wild?” He’d seemed like a straight arrow to her.

“Mom blamed me for Dad leaving. I’d been screwing up in school, getting in trouble, but after he left, I ran off the rails. Mom worked days and went out nights, but Howard stayed on me, kept me out of jail and in school. I owe him so much...” His jaw muscle worked. “Working at Bootstrap was a way to pay him back.”

“I’m sure he knew how grateful you were.” Her words seemed so hollow in the face of the pain Dixon was feeling.

“I can’t remember his voice.” Dixon forced the words out. “Or see his face. That’s what’s killing me.”

“I know what you mean. You feel so...alone.”

“Yeah. Alone.”

Then she remembered something from back when her mother died. “The voices and memories come back,” she said. “A grief counselor told us that the shock blanks out your brain for a while. Over time, it all comes back.”

“It does?”

“It happened for me in dreams first. After a while, the happy memories covered over how sick Mom was at the end, and that’s how I remember her now.”

“That’s good,” he said. “I’ll look forward to that.”

She could tell he was about to break down. So was she. “This is so hard.” Dixon must have sensed that she was crumbling, and pulled her into his arms, tucking her against his chest. They held each other tightly, as if for dear life, against the storm lashing them both.

Dixon smelled like citrus and starch, and his heart thudded steadily beneath her cheek, saying, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.

She rested against him, calming herself, breathing in time with Dixon, sharing the same sorrow, the same pain. They stood, swaying slightly, for a long time. Gradually, another feeling took over—this one more primal.

Desire.

She wanted him. Of all the wrong times to react like that. All the turmoil had her riled up, of course. Her emotions flitted like fireflies lighting her up here and there.

Dixon jerked, so she knew he’d been struck, as well. He let her go as if she’d scalded him. “We were getting glasses and a vase.” He cleared his throat.

She reined herself in, a little irked at how easily Dixon had backed off. He never let physical needs rule him. She admired that...and resented it, too.

“Could you reach that?” She pointed up at the vase.

Dixon retrieved it and filled it with water. She put the flowers inside, feeling his gaze on her as she worked. When she looked up and caught him staring, he colored, then moved to the cupboards. “I think the champagne glasses were...here.”

They were. When Aubrey reached in to help, she startled Dixon, who pulled back, knocking three glasses off the shelf. Aubrey nabbed two in the air. Dixon caught the third.

“Not bad,” she said, holding out her hand for his glass. When he gave it to her, she started an easy juggle, careful to compensate for the uneven weight of the flutes. A rush of pleasure hit her. She loved demonstrating a skill. Careful...watch it...easy...easy. She shifted her body to even the arc. Concentrate. Don’t get cocky. She juggled a few more seconds, then quit while she was ahead, catching the glasses one by one.

“Wow,” Dixon said.

She bowed, a faint surge of hope rushing through her. Life would go on. She would smile again, go on new adventures, learn new skills. Grief wouldn’t take her down for good. “I took juggling during my circus adventure last year.”

“You ran off with the circus?”

“I ran to the circus. Off-season. For training. I took juggling, trapeze, unicycle and lion taming.”

“In a cage, with a chair and a whip?”

“That’s the idea. The trainer was there, but it was still terrifying.”

“Is that your criteria for an adventure? Terror?”

“That’s part of the challenge, yeah.”

“Feel the fear and do it anyway?”

“In the end, yes. The secret is going in prepared. I read, talk to experts, take classes, and practice what I can. After that, it’s mostly self-doubt you have to conquer.”

He didn’t seem convinced.

“The trapeze scared me more than the lion. Trusting a stranger to catch you?” She shivered at the memory. “It was so worth it. The thrill of flying. I gave the girls an indoor trapeze set for their birthday.”

“I remember.”

“Did they ever set it up?”

“Not that I saw.” He seemed to be fighting a smile.

“What? You thought it was a bad idea, too? Howard’s a worrywart. The girls are gymnasts, for God’s sake. They know balance cold. I asked people on my blog about the right age for various skills.”

“You trust anonymous posters?” His lip quirked again.

“They’re not anonymous to me. They’re very knowledgeable. One of them told me about a quick way to teach kids to ride a bike. You put them on a slight slope so the momentum keeps them from wobbling, and, boom, they’re cycling. I’ll teach the girls while I’m here.”

Dixon didn’t react to her words, and she suspected he didn’t think her plan would work. She didn’t want to argue about it, so she was happy when he peeled away the foil from the champagne and popped the cork. A mist of bubbles drifted out.

“It’s weird to hear that pop and feel sad instead of happy,” she said. “It’s like when someone tells you a joke when you’re crying. It hurts.”

“Colorful way to put it.” Dixon filled their glasses and handed her one.

The champagne glowed golden, looking almost magical. “What the hell, it’s still champagne.” She raised her glass. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” he repeated, but he sounded sad, too.

Despite how bittersweet the moment was, Aubrey relished the bubbly sting and the warmth in her stomach.

“Shall we?” Dixon motioned toward the living room, and they returned to the sofa with their drinks and the bottle.

CHAPTER FOUR

“SO, ABOUT THE GIRLS,” Dixon said, getting right to the point.

Aubrey usually liked a direct approach to problems, but this was so important and so personal she wasn’t ready. The room seemed to close around her. She needed air and space. “Could we talk outside? Look at the stars?”

“We should stay close in case the girls need us.”

She blinked. “I didn’t think of that.” Her cheeks went hot at her thoughtlessness.

“No big thing. You’re not used to dealing with kids. I’ve had to learn.” He was trying to ease her embarrassment, but it didn’t help. He seemed so far ahead of her. She decided to jump in. “Do you know if Howard and Brianna had wills?”

“I’m not sure.” He thought for a few seconds. “We’ll need to look through their papers. The funeral director mentioned that. We need to know what insurance they had, close out their bank accounts, deal with their bills, all of that.”

“It’s a lot to think about,” she said, white noise starting up in her head.

“Tomorrow,” he said, sounding daunted, too. “But I wanted to tell you that I’ll raise the girls, so you don’t need to worry. I live here. I work at Bootstrap. I’m familiar with their routines. It seems the most logical.” He paused. “Do you agree?”

What he’d said made sense. Dixon had promised Ginger he’d stay forever, while the best Aubrey could offer was to stay as long as she could manage. Her plan before had been to leave Tuesday so she could do her Wednesday podcast, but if the ALT PR woman had set up a video podcast with a special guest, that could change.

Dixon was right, but some stubborn part of her wasn’t ready to agree. She sipped at her drink to buy time. Now the champagne tasted flat, as if it had been left out open overnight.

Scout, ever her wing-cat, jumped onto the back of the sofa and curled around her neck to soothe her.

Why can’t you take care of the girls?

There were practical reasons—she lived in a small apartment with a roommate, and she’d travel a lot more if she got the ALT sponsorship—but it was the deeper ones that bothered her more. Because I’m not maternal. Because I don’t have Brianna’s heart. Because cancer lurks in my genes.

She realized she’d let the silence hang too long. “That does seem sensible.” But her voice sounded as heavy as her heart felt.

“Then we agree. I’ll be the girls’ guardian.” Dixon sounded like he’d just saved a business deal he’d been afraid to lose. “This way there won’t be any disruption in their lives.”

“They lost their parents, Dixon. Their lives are totally disrupted.” How would they cope? Would Dixon do the right thing? What if Aubrey would do better?

“Nothing says I couldn’t work from Phoenix,” she found herself blurting. “I understand there’s an airport here.” The joke came out flat. Why was she pushing this? Dixon had offered up his life for the girls, relieving her of any worry or obligation.

But that was the problem. She should be worried. The girls were her family, and she’d just handed them over. She didn’t know everything Brianna wanted for the girls, but she wouldn’t have wanted that.

“What are you saying?” Dixon looked as confused as Aubrey felt. “You travel a lot, don’t you? How could you—?”

“Lots of parents travel. They hire nannies or bring the kids. They juggle their schedules.” Her mouth was so dry her lips stuck together, and there was that blasted golf ball in her throat again. “And you’re busy, too, Dixon. It’s already crazy getting the agency going in the new place, and with Howard and Brianna gone, you’ll be even busier.”

“We’ll adjust. The girls love the caregivers at Bootstrap. And if they have any problems, I’m right there.”

Not racing reindeer in Norway. She got his point. Still.... “Have you thought about what a sacrifice this will be? You’ll have no free time, no social life. You date, right?” There’d been the girlfriend at the girls’ first birthday party, but he’d come alone to the last three.

“Not at the moment.”

“Because you’re too busy, right? Now it’ll be worse.”

Dixon sighed. “Like you said, people juggle their schedules.”

“You shouldn’t be the only one. That’s my point. We have to be fair.”

Everyone feels like that. You learn together. Brianna’s voice in her head spurred her on. Scout began the tanklike rumble of her feline version of you-go-girl.

“What if we take turns?” she said. “You should start, since you know the girls better. I’ll have time to get my schedule in order.”

Her mind raced over what lay ahead. After the podcast, she had Primal Quest Camp the next weekend. It was a big deal to be chosen for the training for the premier adventure race in the West. ALT had been jazzed by how much visibility their products would get among elite outdoor sports people. Not long after that was Utah Adventure Fest, which would decide the ALT sponsorship once and for all. Sometime before that, she and her partner, Neil, had to schedule a trial run to shake down their equipment.

At the moment, all that effort seemed far away and totally beyond her. She felt like rabbits were jumping up and down on her diaphragm.

Dixon, meanwhile, filled his glass to the rim and topped hers, clearly preparing for a fight. He gulped half the glass—for courage?—then met her gaze. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do. In theory, it sounds fair.”

“But...?” She tightened every muscle, braced to defend her plan, herself, and the life she’d offered to share with the girls.

“But the girls are so young. They need people and places they can count on. They don’t have the resilience to cope with musical-chairs parents.”

“Musical chairs? Come on. Divorced parents work out shared custody and the kids do fine. They often thrive because they have the parent’s full attention when they’re with them.”

“We’re not their parents, Aubrey. They’re not bonded to us. That builds over time as they learn we’ll be there whenever they need us.”

“And you don’t think I can do that.” Her mind jumped to the time Howard hadn’t trusted her to babysit the girls.

“I didn’t say that. Shared custody can also mean constant strife and confusion. I’ve seen it with friends, and hear about it with some of our clients.”

“We won’t be like that. We weren’t married. We don’t have built-up resentments. I live an active life. They need to see that, be part of it, learn to be open to new experiences.”

“They’re four, Aubrey. Give them a few years before they wrestle alligators or wing-walk a biplane.”

“I’m not saying that. Don’t exaggerate.”

“You can be their role model without being their guardian. You’ll visit a lot. Later on, you can take them on trips.”

She stared at him, breathing hard, fighting to be sensible, to not make promises she might not be able to keep.

“Look, we’re both upset,” Dixon said, sounding suddenly exhausted. “We want to do all we can for the girls, but we can’t get too ambitious, because if the plan flops, the girls will pay the price.” His eyes searched hers for agreement. “My plan’s easy. Yours is hard. How much of your schedule can you actually clear? Don’t things change a lot?”

All the time. Even before the ALT endorsement was a possibility, she’d been swamped. When she wasn’t on an adventure, she was planning one, or doing a podcast, booking guests, doing research, on and on. The simple promise she’d made to herself to visit more often would have been tough enough to manage without ALT in the picture.

And now she thought she could share custody?

The truth finally cut through her muddy thoughts. She was fighting Dixon out of guilt and ego, not in the best interests of the girls.

That was wrong.

The girls trusted Dixon. He knew them better than she did. He knew their routines. Aubrey could learn, but in the meantime, she would disappoint them, and they’d had more disappointment today than anyone should have in a lifetime.

“You’re right. You should be their guardian,” she said softly. “That’s best for the girls. I’ll stay as long as I can after the funeral.” She’d see if she could slow down things with ALT. Maybe they could use an adventure race later in the year to test the sponsorship. “Like you said, I’ll visit a lot. Take them on trips.” She would be a bright light, a shot of fun. She would open their eyes to the world.

“I think it’s the right thing to do,” Dixon said, sympathy in his gaze.

So why does it feel so wrong? She felt like she was letting everyone down—the girls, her sister, herself. Embarrassed by her emotions, she jumped up from the sofa. “I need water. You?”

“No, thanks.”

In the kitchen, she grabbed a water glass, then threw open the freezer door for ice. Spotting a bag, she tugged at it, which caused a casserole dish to fall out. Clumsy from exhaustion, she didn’t get out of the way in time and the corner slammed onto her foot. Her instep and toes shared the brunt of the blow. She yelped as pain shot through her, grabbing her foot.

Dixon was there in a second. “What happened?”

“A casserole attacked me,” she ground out.

“Let me take a look.”

She started to hobble toward the kitchen table, but Dixon swung her into his arms like he had that night in Mexico. For an instant, she felt the same thrill, her pain erased.

Dixon carried her to the sofa and lowered her to the cushion. He sat and set her injured foot on his lap, then clicked on the high-intensity reading lamp on the side table. He touched her instep, which had puffed up and was turning purple.

“Ouch.”

“Can you flex your foot?”

She did. “Ow. Damn. That hurts.”

“Doesn’t seem broken,” Dixon said, then touched her big toe.

“Ouch. Stop. You have no bedside manner.”

“It’s hard to know with toes. I’ll tape it and get ice for the swelling.” He slid out from under her injured foot and went to the kitchen.

While she waited, their time in Mexico filled her mind.

It had been a cliché—the best man and maid of honor hooking up after the wedding, but he was hot and she was totally into it. He chased her along the beach until she turned for the water and ran in, gasping at the cold, totally exhilarated, high on the ocean, the moment, the man. They were both in their wedding clothes and she carried most of a bottle of good bubbly.

Once they were chest-deep in the water, she wrapped her legs around him and kissed him. He had generous lips that tasted of champagne and cold saltwater.

They kissed until she began to shake from excitement more than cold. “Let’s warm up,” he’d said in that sexy voice of his, but she had a better idea. She ran toward the cliff, taking the steep stone path to the rocky ledge where they’d watched skin divers perform the night before.

It was scary as hell up there. The water seemed miles away, but she refused to be intimidated. She dared him to jump with her, never expecting him to do it. He was a serious guy, totally responsible, like his brother, except better-looking and with some sense of fun. She’d managed to captivate him, and that was a total rush.

“We’re drunk and we don’t know the bottom,” he’d said. He didn’t even sound like a wimp saying that. He had guts, but wouldn’t be goaded into proving it. That was very, very sexy.

When he winked at her, then jumped, she’d been so surprised, it took her a second to leap off, too. She pushed hard, running in the air to catch him, which was why she’d landed wrong, jamming her foot between two boulders near the bottom. She surfaced in agony, but hid it, proud she’d kept her thumb over the champagne bottle and hadn’t spilled a drop.

Dixon saw through her smile to her pain, and carried her in his arms to her room, as effortlessly as if she weighed nothing.

* * *

DIXON RETURNED WITH scissors, tape, a stretch bandage and a Baggie of ice. He taped her big toe to the one beside it and wrapped the bandage around the ice bag on her instep. “Feel okay?”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s the same foot, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” The ankle had been weaker ever since Mexico, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.

“I warned you it was too rocky.”

“Come on. You didn’t say I told you so then. Don’t ruin it now.”

“It was my fault you got hurt.”

“It was all me. I was trying to catch up with you.”

“Again, my fault.” She liked his teasing tone. It reminded her of how he’d been that night. “Though hanging on to that bottle probably didn’t help you.”

“I wasn’t about to waste expensive champagne.”

“How did you manage that anyway?”

“Sorry. That’s a trade secret.”

He laughed.

She grinned, happy she’d amused him.

He examined her leg, which gave her a thrill, until she realized he was studying the scabs showing below her shorts. “What happened here?”

“I was in a reindeer race.”

“You rode a reindeer?” His eyebrows shot up. It was fun to surprise him.

“You don’t ride reindeer. Well, maybe Norwegian cowboys do, but in a reindeer race you wear short skis and the reindeer yank you down an iced-over trail. It’s like a standing bobsled ride. Very intense. I’ve got the ice rash and bruises to prove it.” She shifted to one hip, unzipped her shorts and showed him the spot.

“Ouch.” A complicated look came into his eyes—sympathy, amusement and a wisp of sexual interest.

“The footage is on my blog if you want to see.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“Scout would agree. She bailed on me a hundred yards in.”

“Your cat was with you?”

“We don’t call her Adventure Cat for nothing. She loves to move.”

“And swim, right? Unusual for a cat.”

“Scout is totally intrepid. I found her on a hike in Yosemite, not far from the highway. She was sick. Someone had dumped her. She was terrified, hissing at this goofy retriever who’d cornered her.”

Dixon smiled.

“I nursed her back to health, and she’s been glued to my side ever since. My readers love Scout stories.”

“So what’s your blog like?” The amusement in his eyes made her wonder if Howard had mocked her career to him. Not that it mattered. She knew the value of her work.

“There are tons of outdoor recreation blogs. My niche is women. My tag line is ordinary girl on an extraordinary journey. The idea is to show women they don’t need to limit themselves. I talk about the scary parts and the mistakes, as well as the thrills and triumphs.”

“Yeah?”

“Take the reindeer race. I shrieked and fell, but I kept going anyway. That’s important for fans to see. Another time, I got lost in a Marrakesh marketplace, which is a very hinky place for a woman to be alone at night. I kind of panicked.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“Maybe, but the point is that I shared that with my readers. If an ordinary girl like me can do it, anyone can.”

“You don’t seem ordinary to me.”

Pleasure sang in her veins at his praise. “Your brother thinks I’m crazy.”

Dixon didn’t react to that, making her surer she was right about Howard’s opinion. “You’ve tapped into a market if you can make a living at it,” he said.

“I make enough from web ads to live on, but travel costs have eaten up my savings. But I got great news today. My meeting in L.A. was with ALT Outdoors.”

“That’s a big outfit.”

“I know. And they’re close to offering me a sponsorship, which I really need.”

“Yeah?”

“If I can’t afford to travel, I might as well hang up my kayak. An old blog is a dead blog. I need ALT to stay in business.” She crossed her fingers, her stomach churning over all that was at stake. “They’re looking to reach my demographic—single females, 18–35—so it’ll benefit them, too.”

“When will you know?”

“ALT’s sending a camera crew with me for an adventure race in Utah next month. I’ll use their gear and talk about it on camera.”

“Do you have to win the race to get the nod?”

“We have to at least place. Last year, Neil and I took sixth. It’s a challenging race, but not brutal.”

“So you dumped the boyfriend you brought to the party? Rafe?”

“What? Wait. Neil and I aren’t together. Neil’s gay.” She stared at him. She could tell by his tone he hadn’t thought much of Rafe. “What makes you think I dumped Rafe?”

“Did you?”

“We broke up, yes. And it was my idea.” Not that it was his business. “Why do you ask?”

He colored. “I don’t know. You were different around him.”

“How?”

“Subdued. Preoccupied, I guess. You kept tracking him.”

“Hmm.” So her concern had been noticeable. That trip had showed her they wouldn’t work as a couple. An hour into the visit, Aubrey was having a blast with the girls when Rafe sent her a text from across the room: How much longer? He’d endured the visit for her sake, but he had no interest in her family, not even after a year of being a couple.

Rafe had never said he wanted to get serious, but they’d been so good together, had so much in common, she’d assumed that was where they were headed. She’d spun a cotton-candy story in her head—a sweet and fluffy cloud that melted to nothing the instant her tongue touched it. She’d felt like a fool.

“How’d he take it?” Dixon asked.

“Fine. We’re friends.” Aubrey, on the other hand, had been devastated. She hadn’t realized how attached to him she’d been. It took her months to recover, scaring her so much she’d vowed to think long and hard before she got involved with another man.

Dixon watched her, reading between lines she’d prefer to stay invisible.

“What about you?” she asked. “What happened to the girl you brought to that one birthday party. She was a reporter. Bobbi? No. Tommi. I liked her.”

“Tommi. Yeah.” His eyes went soft.

She’d been pretty—dramatic features, dark hair—and mouthy and lively and ambitious. She’d figured Dixon would go for someone more settled, mature, sedate. Boring?

That wasn’t fair, but it was kinda what she’d thought.

“So what happened?” she asked him.

“She wanted to work for a bigger paper. She’s in Chicago now.” His eyes flicked away. He’d been hurt by the breakup.

“You wanted her to stay?”

“Yeah.” He smiled sadly. “We’d settled into a groove and I thought she was as content as I was.”

He’d made up his own cotton-candy story. “That’s kind of what happened with Rafe. I thought we had more than we did.”

Dixon nodded.

“So you were serious about her?”

“Sure. I was thirty-one. It was time to get married and have kids.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m thirty-four.” He shrugged, but he was smiling.

“And you’ll be locked down with the girls.” She suffered a jolt of guilt for hanging on to her own freedom, while he got trapped.

“It’ll happen when it happens. What about you? You plan to settle down?”

“Maybe. I don’t think that far ahead.” She didn’t know how much time she had, after all. The countdown to breast cancer ticked away in her brain.

“What about a family?”

“I’m not the type,” she said. “When we were little, Brianna played house and I played Lara Croft.”

Dixon smiled. “People change.”

“Not that much. I’m not built for it. Mom said I was like our father, who was a total outdoors guy.”

“Outdoor guys have kids.”

He wanted more of an answer, so she gave him one. “It’s too easy to screw up with children. So much can go wrong.”

“Life is risk, Aubrey,” he said softly. “There are no guarantees.”

“You’re right. There are car wrecks and cancer.” The harsh words burned like a brand. “I’m not as brave as Brianna.” Her sister had been scared of cancer, but she’d married and had children all the same. And look what happened.

She swallowed hard, suddenly overcome by her sister’s tragedy.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you.”

“It’s okay. Everything reminds me.”

She remembered the last thing her mother had said to her before she died. Her mother had pushed herself out of her morphine fog to look straight at Aubrey, fire in her eyes: make your mark, Aubrey. Carry on for me. Don’t hold back.

Her mother had always claimed not to regret having had Aubrey and Brianna, but she’d given up the life she’d loved for them.

“How’s your foot? Need an aspirin?” Dixon asked.

“It’s fine.” She thought about Mexico again, relieved to change the subject. “It was fine that night, too.” She tilted her head, challenging him. “I didn’t need an X-ray.” Citing stats about untreated foot breaks, he’d wanted to take her to a hospital.

“Your ankle was the size of a watermelon.”

“More like a large peach. I wasn’t in that much pain.”

“Correction. You couldn’t feel that much pain, thanks to Tylenol 3 and champagne. That was a crazy stunt. I don’t know why I did it.” There was fondness in his tone.

“I do,” she said. They locked gazes and the air tightened, holding them, suspended, not breathing.

“Yeah. That.”

As if a starting gun had gone off inside her, sexual desire shot through her, like the adrenaline surge she experienced before a new challenge.

What was it about Dixon? He was not her type. He was serious, steady, careful...boring. It had to be the glint in his eye that said he could be tempted, that she could tempt him. Aubrey alone.

At that moment, she was glad to feel something besides sadness and exhaustion. In the back of her mind, cold shadows loomed—her sister’s death, her nieces’ fear and loss—but in the golden light of this room, with the sizzle of champagne in her veins, and this man looking at her that way, she was free of all that.

Behind the burn of desire in Dixon’s gaze, she caught flickers of the grief waiting to ambush him, too, but for now, he was drinking her in, wanting her, and that sent a flare from her belly to her brain, lighting her up inside. They were in this together—playing hooky from hell.

The seconds stretched, their breathing loud and uneven. She shifted her wrapped foot to the floor and leaned closer to him, fingers reaching across the back of the sofa to touch his. “Why did you leave me that night? Really?”

“It was late. You were hurt. I was drunk.” He paused. “By the way, did you throw something at the door after I left?”

“Yes. The ice bucket. I was mad.” She paused. “It was more than that, the reason you left.” She’d seen it in his face.

He didn’t answer right away, then seemed to see she wouldn’t back down, so he spoke. “Earlier that night, I’d made a decision and I wanted to stick with it.”

“What was it? To go celibate?”

Dixon laughed. “No. Howard asked me if I was happy. I realized I wasn’t even close. I made plenty of money, but I didn’t love my job or my life.”

“You managed property, right?”

“Yeah. I ran some major office complexes. But what I did didn’t matter. I spent my evenings and weekends hunting down distractions—parties, clubs, sports, women. I wanted more.”

“So having sex with me in a luxurious suite made you feel like your life had no meaning?” She’d joked, but she was still hurt. His rejection had stemmed from a lecture from his judgmental brother.

Dixon laughed, a big boisterous sound that made her smile. “That didn’t come out right. You were injured. You were being a good sport about it, but you were suffering. You could have been killed. That sobered me. We were following a script—best man and maid of honor hooking up after the reception—and it didn’t feel right. I knew if I was going to change my life it had to start then.” He blew out a breath.

“I should be offended, but I’m not.” He’d gotten to the heart of it all. She had been playing a part, following through on her dare, and her ankle had hurt like crazy. “At least I was tempting,” she said. “Even though I reeked of seaweed and had an ankle the size of a watermelon?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I was tempted. I hit the lobby and started back up until I realized the codeine had probably knocked you out by then.” He studied her, his gaze heating up again. “I wanted you, Aubrey. Badly.” His eyes settled on her mouth. “I still want you.”

He gripped the fingers she’d extended and pulled her close enough to feel his breath on her face. Her heart was beating so hard her ribs hurt. Electricity and desire poured through her, washing away everything else.

Their mouths met. His lips were warm and firm, and he tasted of champagne again. All they needed to complete the memory was cold saltwater.

He braced her head, guiding her onto her back, still kissing her. Once she lay flat, his lips moved more urgently, his tongue seeking hers. Her head began to spin.

He broke off, pressing his lips against her throat. “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know, but it feels like that carnival ride—the centrifuge? The one where you’re plastered to the side of a drum and they drop the bottom and you know if they stop the ride, you’ll hit the ground like a stone.”

“So we want to keep going?”

“We do.”

This was exactly what she needed—to get lost in the arms of a man who would meet her intensity with his own.

She lifted her hips against his erection. His eyes closed in response, and when they opened, there was fire there. He seized her mouth with his own, covered her with his body. They moved against each other, slowly, but hungrily.

Aubrey was totally lost in the moment when Dixon froze. He raised his head to listen.

She listened, too, and heard crying. One of the girls was sobbing.

Dixon sprinted for the girls’ room. Aubrey followed, limping on her bruised foot, which throbbed again.

When she arrived, Dixon was sitting beside Ginger on her bed. “I want my mommy,” she wailed, her cheeks wet with tears.

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