# Serenity Harbor

RaeAnne Thayne

In the town of Haven Point, love can be just a wish—and one magical kiss—away...

Computer-tech millionaire Bowie Callahan is about the last person that schoolteacher Katrina Bailey wants to work for. As far as she can see, he’s arrogant, entitled and not up to the task of caring for his young half brother, Milo. But Kat is, especially if it brings her closer to her goal of adopting an orphaned little girl. And as her kindness and patience work wonders with Milo, she realizes there’s more to sexy, wary Bo than she’d ever realized.

Bo never imagined he’d be tasked with caring for a sibling he didn’t know existed. Then again, he never pictured himself impulsively kissing vibrant, compassionate Katrina in the moonlight. Now he’s ready to make her dream of family come true...and hoping there’s room in it for him, too...

Praise for New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author RaeAnne Thayne

“Romance, vivid characters and a wonderful story; really, who could ask for more?”

—Debbie Macomber, #1 New York Times bestselling author, on Blackberry Summer

“Entertaining, heart-wrenching, and totally involving, this multithreaded story overflows with characters readers will adore.”

—Library Journal on Evergreen Springs (starred review)

“A sometimes heartbreaking tale of love and relationships in a small Colorado town.... Poignant and sweet.”

—Publishers Weekly on Christmas in Snowflake Canyon

“This quirky, funny, warmhearted romance will draw readers in and keep them enthralled to the last romantic page.”

—Library Journal on Christmas in Snowflake Canyon

“RaeAnne Thayne is quickly becoming one of my favorite authors... Once you start reading, you aren’t going to be able to stop.”

—Fresh Fiction

“RaeAnne has a knack for capturing those emotions that come from the heart.”

—RT Book Reviews

“Her engaging storytelling...will draw readers in from the very first page.”

—RT Book Reviews on Riverbend Road

Serenity Harbor

RaeAnne Thayne


www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Donald and Janice Thayne, two of the best people I’ve ever had the pleasure to know.

I love and miss you dearly.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

Dedication

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

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

“THAT’S HIM AT your six o’clock, over by the tomatoes. Brown hair, blue eyes, ripped. Don’t look. Isn’t he gorgeous?”

Katrina Bailey barely restrained from rolling her eyes at her best friend. “How am I supposed to know that, if you won’t let me even sneak a peek at the man?” she asked Samantha Fremont.

Sam shrugged with another sidelong look in the man’s direction. “Okay. You can look. Just make it subtle.”

Mere months ago, all vital details about her best friend’s latest crush might have been the most fascinating thing the two of them talked about all week. Right now, she found it tough to work up much interest in one more man in a long string of them, especially with everything else she had spinning in her life.

She wanted to ignore Sam’s request and continue on with shopping for the things they needed to take to Wynona’s shower—but friends didn’t blow off their friends’ obsessions. She loved Sam and had missed hanging out with her over the last nine months. It made her sad that their interests appeared to have diverged so dramatically, but it wouldn’t hurt her to act like she cared about the cute newcomer to Haven Point.

Donning her best ninja spy skills—honed from years of doing this very thing, checking out hot guys without them noticing—she pretended to reach up to grab a can of peas off the shelf. She studied the label intently, all while shifting her gaze toward the other end of the aisle.

About ten feet away, she spotted two men. Considering she knew Darwin Twitchell well—and he was close to eighty years old and cranky as a badger with gout—the other guy had to be Bowie Callahan, the new director of research and development at the Caine Tech facility in town.

Years of habit couldn’t be overcome by sheer force of will. That was the only reason her stomach muscles seemed to shiver and her toes curled against the leather of her sandals. Or so she told herself, anyway.

Okay. She got it. Sam was totally right. The man was indeed great-looking: tall, lean, tanned, with sculpted features and brown hair streaked with the sort of blond highlights that didn’t come from a salon but from spending time outside.

Under other circumstances, she might have wanted to do more than look. In a different life, perhaps she would have made her way to his end of the aisle, pretended to fumble with an item on the shelf, then dropped it right at his feet so they could “meet” while they both reached to pick it up.

She used to be such an idiot.

The old Katrina might not have been able to look away from such a gorgeous male specimen. But when he aimed a ferocious scowl downward, she shifted her gaze to find him frowning at a boy who looked to be about five or six, trying his best to put a box of sugary cereal into their cart and growing visibly upset when Bowie Callahan kept taking it out and putting it back on the shelf.

Katrina frowned. “You didn’t say he had a kid. I thought you had a strict rule. No divorced dads.”

“He doesn’t have a kid!” Sam exclaimed.

“Then who’s the little kid currently winding up for what looks like a world-class tantrum at his feet?”

Ignoring her own stricture about not staring, Sam whirled around. Her eyes widened with confusion. “I have no idea! I heard it straight from Eliza Caine that he’s not married and doesn’t have a family. He never said anything to me about a kid when I met him at a party at Snow Angel Cove or the other two times I’ve bumped into him around town this spring. I haven’t seen him around for a few weeks. Maybe he has family visiting. Or maybe he’s babysitting or something.”

That was so patently ridiculous, Katrina had to bite her tongue. Really? Did Sam honestly believe the new director of research and development at Caine Tech would be offering babysitting services—in the middle of the day and on a Monday, no less?

She sincerely adored Samantha for a million different reasons, but sometimes her friend saw what she wanted to see.

This latest example of how their paths had diverged in recent months made her a little sad. Until a year ago, she and Sam had been—as her mom would say—two peas in the same pod. They shared the same taste in music, movies, clothes. They could spend hours poring over celebrity and fashion magazines, dishing about the latest gossip, shopping for bargains at thrift stores and yard sales.

And men. She didn’t even want to think about how many hours of her life she had wasted with Sam, talking about whichever guy they were most interested in that day.

Samantha had been her best friend since they found each other in elementary school in that mysterious way like discovered like.

She still loved her dearly. Sam was kind and generous and funny, but Katrina’s own priorities had shifted. After the events of the last year, Katrina was beginning to realize she barely resembled the somewhat shallow, flighty girl she had been before she grabbed her passport and hopped on a plane with Carter Ross.

That was a good thing, she supposed, but she felt a little pang of fear that while on the path to gaining a little maturity, she might end up losing her best friend.

“Babysitting. I suppose it’s possible,” she said in a noncommittal voice. If so, the guy was really lousy at it. The boy’s face had reddened, and tears had started streaming down his features. By all appearances, he was approaching a meltdown, and Bowie Callahan’s scowl had shifted to a look of helpless frustration.

“If you want, I can introduce you,” Sam said, apparently oblivious to the drama.

Katrina purposely pushed their cart forward, in the opposite direction. “You know, it doesn’t look like a good time. I’m sure I’ll have a chance to meet him later. I’ll be in Haven Point for a month. Between Wyn’s wedding and Lake Haven Days, there should be plenty of time to socialize with our newest resident.”

“Are you sure?” Sam asked, disappointment clouding her gaze.

“Yeah. Let’s just finish shopping so I have time to go home and change before the shower.”

Not that her mother’s house really felt like home anymore. Yet another radical change in the last nine months.

“I guess you’re right,” Sam said, after another surreptitious look over Katrina’s shoulder. “We waited too long, anyway. Looks like he’s moved to another aisle.”

They found the items they needed and moved to the next aisle as well but didn’t bump into Bowie again. Maybe he had taken the boy, whoever he was, out of the store so he could cope with his meltdown in private.

They were nearly finished shopping when Sam’s phone rang with the ominous tone she used to identify her mother.

She pulled the device out of her purse and glared at it. “I wish I dared ignore her, but if I do, I’ll hear about it for a week.”

That was nothing, she thought. If Katrina ignored her mother’s calls while she was in town for Wyn’s wedding, Charlene would probably mount a search and rescue, which was kind of funny when she thought about it. Charlene hadn’t been nearly as smothering when Kat had been living halfway around the world in primitive conditions for the last nine months. But if she dared show up late for dinner, sheer panic ensued.

“I’m at the grocery store with Kat,” Samantha said, a crackly layer of irritation in her voice. “I texted you that’s where I would be.”

Her mother responded something Katrina couldn’t hear, which made Sam roll her eyes. To others, Linda Fremont could be demanding and cranky, quick to criticize. Oddly, she had always treated Katrina with tolerance and even a measure of kindness.

“Do you absolutely need it tonight?” Samantha asked, pausing a moment to listen to her mother’s answer with obvious impatience written all over her features. “Fine. Yes. I can run over. I only wish you had mentioned this earlier, when I was just hanging around for three hours doing nothing, waiting for someone to show up at the shop. I’ll grab it.”

She shut off her phone and shoved it back into her little dangly Coach purse that she’d bought for a steal at the Salvation Army in Boise. “I need to stop in next door at the drugstore to pick up one of my mom’s prescriptions. Sorry. I know we’re in a rush.”

“No problem. I’ll finish the shopping and check out, then we can meet each other at your car when we’re done.”

“Hey, I just had a great idea,” Sam exclaimed. “After the shower tonight, we should totally head up to Shelter Springs and grab a drink at the Painted Moose!”

Katrina tried not to groan. The last thing she wanted to do amid her lingering jet lag was visit the local bar scene, listening to the same songs, flirting with the same losers, trying to laugh at their same old, tired jokes.

“Let’s play it by ear. We might be having so much fun at the shower that we won’t want to leave. Plus it’s Monday night, and I doubt there will be much going on at the PM.”

She didn’t have the heart to tell Sam she wasn’t the same girl who loved nothing more than dancing with a bunch of half-drunk cowboys—or that she had a feeling she would never be that girl again. Priorities had a way of shifting when a person wasn’t looking.

Sam stuck her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “Don’t be such a party pooper! We’ve only got a month together, and I’ve missed you so much!”

Great. Like she needed more guilt in her life.

“Let’s play it by ear. Go grab your mom’s prescription, I’ll check out and we’ll head over to Julia’s place. We can figure out our after-party plans, well, after the party.”

She could tell by Sam’s pout that she would have a hard time escaping a late night with her. Maybe she could talk her into just hanging out by the lakeshore and talking.

“Okay. I guess we’d better hurry if we want to have time to make our salad.”

Sam hurried toward the front doors, and Katrina turned back to her list. Only the items from the vegetable aisle, then she would be done. She headed in that direction and spotted a flustered Bowie Callahan trying to keep the boy with him from eating grapes from the display.

“Stop it, Milo. I told you, you can eat as many as you want after we buy them.”

This only seemed to make the boy more frustrated. She could see by his behavior and his repetitive mannerisms that he quite possibly had some sort of developmental issues. Autism, she would guess at a glance—though that could be a gross generalization, and she was not an expert, anyway.

Whatever the case, Callahan seemed wholly unprepared to deal with it. He hadn’t taken the boy out of the store, obviously, to give him a break from the overstimulation. In fact, things seemed to have progressed from bad to worse.

Milo—cute name—reached for another grape despite the warning, and Bowie grabbed his hand and sternly looked down into his face. “I said, stop it. We’ll have grapes after we pay for them.”

The boy didn’t like that. He wrenched his hand away and threw himself to the ground. “No! No! No!” he chanted.

“That’s enough,” Bowie snapped, loudly enough that other shoppers turned around to stare, which made the man flush.

She could see Milo was gearing up for a nuclear meltdown—and while she reminded herself it was none of her business, she couldn’t escape a certain sense of professional obligation to step in.

She wanted to ignore it, to turn into the next aisle, finish her shopping and escape the store as quickly as she could. She could come up with a dozen excuses about why that was the best course of action. Samantha would be waiting for her. She didn’t know the man or his frustrated kid. She had plenty of troubles of her own to worry about.

None of that held much weight when compared with the sight of a child who clearly had some special needs in great distress—and an adult who just as clearly didn’t know what to do in the situation.

She felt an unexpected pang of sympathy for Bowie Callahan, probably because her mother had told her so many stories about how mortified Charlene had been when Katrina had a seizure in a public place. All the staring, the pointing, the whispers.

The boy continued to chant “no” and began smacking his palm against his forehead in rhythm with each exclamation. A couple of older women she didn’t know—tourists, probably—looked askance at the boy, and one muttered something to the other about how some children needed a swat on the behind.

She wanted to tell the old biddies to mind their own business but held her tongue, since she was about to ignore her own advice.

After another minute passed, when Bowie Callahan did nothing but gaze down at the boy with helpless frustration, Katrina knew she had to act. What other choice did she have? She pushed her cart closer. The man briefly met her gaze with a wariness that she chose to ignore. Instead, she plopped onto the ground next to the distressed boy.

In her experience with children of all ages and abilities, they reacted better to someone willing to lower to their level. She wasn’t sure if he even noticed she was there, since he didn’t stop chanting or smacking his palm against his head.

“Hi there.” She spoke in a calm, conversational tone, as if she were chatting with one of her friends at Wynona’s shower later in the evening. “What’s your name?”

Milo—whose name she knew perfectly well from hearing Bowie use it—barely took a breath. “No! No! No! No!”

“Mine is Katrina,” she went on. “Some people call me Kat. You know, kitty-cat. Meow. Meow.”

His voice hitched a little, and he lowered his hand but continued chanting, though he didn’t sound quite as distressed. “No. No. No.”

“Let me guess,” she said. “Is your name Batman?”

He frowned. “No. No. No.”

“Is it...Anakin Skywalker?”

She picked the name assuming by his Star Wars T-shirt that it would be familiar to him. He shook his head. “No.”

“What about Harry Potter?

This time, he looked intrigued at the question or perhaps at her stupidity. He shook his head.

“How about Milo?”

Big blue eyes widened with shock. “No,” he said, though his tone gave the word the opposite meaning.

“Milo. Hi there. I like your name. I’ve never met anybody named Milo. Do you know anybody else named Kat?”

He shook his head.

“Neither do I,” she admitted “But I have a cat. Her name is Marshmallow, because she’s all white. Do you like marshmallows? The kind you eat, I mean.”

He nodded and she smiled. “I do, too. Especially in hot cocoa.”

He pantomimed petting a cat and pointed at her.

“You’d like to pet her? She would like that. She lives with my mom now and loves to have anyone pay attention to her. Do you have a cat or a dog, Milo?”

The boy’s forehead furrowed, and he shook his head, glaring up at the man beside him, who looked stonily down at both of them.

Apparently that was a touchy subject.

Did the boy talk? She had heard him say only “no” so far. It wasn’t uncommon for children on the autism spectrum and with other developmental delays to have much better receptive language skills than expressive skills, and he obviously understood and could get his response across fairly well without words.

“I see lots of delicious things in your cart—including cherries. Those are my favorite. Yum. I must have missed those. Where did you find them?”

He pointed to another area of the produce section, where a gorgeous display of cherries gleamed under the fluorescent lights.

She pretended she didn’t see them. Though the boy’s tantrum had been averted for now, she didn’t think it would hurt anything if she distracted him a little longer. “Do you think you could show me?”

It was a technique she frequently employed with her students who might be struggling, whether that was socially, emotionally or academically. She found that if she enlisted their help—either to assist her or to help out another student—they could often be distracted enough that they forgot whatever had upset them.

Milo craned his neck to look up at Bowie for permission. The man looked down at both of them, a baffled look on his features, but after a moment he shrugged and reached a hand down to help her off the floor.

She didn’t need assistance, but it would probably seem rude to ignore him. She placed her hand in his and found it warm and solid and much more calloused than a computer nerd should have. She tried not to pay attention to the little shock of electricity between them or the tug at her nerves.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, looking quickly away as she followed the boy, who, she was happy to notice, seemed to have completely forgotten his frustration.

CHAPTER TWO

WHAT WAS GOING on here?

Bowie followed the gorgeous woman with the sleek fall of honey-blond hair, listening to the steady stream of one-sided conversation she seemed to be having with his heretofore nonverbal little brother.

He felt as if he had just slid down a rabbit’s hole, into a bizarro world where it wasn’t at all out of the ordinary for a woman to take a strange kid under her wing in the grocery store and where a pretty smile could divert an out-of-control boy from a full-blown meltdown.

He didn’t know what to think. Who was she? And how had she managed to reach his brother so quickly and so efficiently?

He certainly hadn’t been able to pull it off in the three weeks since Milo had been dumped in his lap—the brother he never knew existed, from the mother he hadn’t seen or heard from in nearly two decades.

He was no closer to knowing how to avert the frequent meltdowns than he’d been the day he got that phone call from Oregon Social Services and flew immediately to Portland—despite extensive research and training on behavior modification.

Rabbit hole. That accurately described where he’d been the last three weeks, falling down one blind chute after another.

A month ago, he thought he had his world pretty figured out. He had a fantastic job he loved that offered the sort of challenges he craved. Maybe he hadn’t been completely thrilled about leaving the excitement and dynamic energy of Silicon Valley at first, but after his first few months in town, Haven Point had been growing on him.

The town was small but charming, with a vast lake and soaring mountains that offered an abundance of recreational opportunities for a guy who loved the outdoors. He had been thrilled to take on the challenge of overseeing all the research and development at the new Caine Tech facility in town.

If he ever stopped to think about it, he couldn’t help a spurt of pride at how far he had come, all through his own talent and drive—from a fifteen-year-old homeless kid on the streets of Portland to a major shareholder and the director of R&D at one of the country’s most influential and innovative tech companies.

And then had come that phone call less than a month before and the difficult decisions with which he still wrestled.

“Before she died, his mother named you guardian to your brother,” the social worker had said. “It’s not legally binding as you had no formal agreement.”

“How could we?” he had shot back. “I haven’t known where she was for years, and I certainly didn’t know she’d had another kid, twenty-five years after she had me.”

If he had known, he wanted to think he would have tried to rescue Milo, to find some kind of stable situation where his half brother could get the medical and therapeutic treatment he so obviously needed.

“You’re under no legal obligation to take custody of Milo,” the social worker had gone on as if Bowie hadn’t spoken. “If you refuse, he will simply remain in the foster system. You should be aware that he will probably end up institutionalized in a special school, as he’s been...difficult.”

And just like that, he knew his life was about to change. He couldn’t do it. He had spent enough time in and out of foster homes, between Stella’s brushes with the law or her frequent court-ordered rehab stints or those times when she simply disappeared for weeks at a time.

How could he inflict the same kind of life on another kid? Somehow warehousing him somewhere—out of sight, out of mind—didn’t seem the answer either.

Bowie’s skills with a computer had paid off handsomely in shares and patents with Caine Tech, and he had more money than one man could ever spend. Since he had the resources to provide a better life for Milo, how could he live with himself if he walked away and tried to forget he had a half brother tucked away in an institution somewhere?

He still wanted to think he had made the best decision, going through with the guardianship papers. That didn’t necessarily make it an easy one—nor did his almost unlimited resources help him find qualified caregivers who would stick, as the last few days amply demonstrated.

“You think those are better than these? Hmm. You might be right. These are from right here in Idaho.” The woman with the dimpled smile held out a clear plastic bag near the cherry display. “I need to fill this bag about halfway. Can you help me do that?”

Milo nodded with an understanding and eagerness that shocked Bowie, who had seen nothing similar in his own interactions with him.

“Thank you, Milo,” she said with an approving smile when she apparently judged she had enough cherries. “That’s perfect. My friends will really love these. Can you help me find the bananas now? Do you know what a banana is?”

He didn’t nod or smile or otherwise give any indication he understood, but he led her directly to the stacks of greenish-yellow bananas.

She followed him there and was reaching for a bunch when a girl with red braids and a couple of missing teeth raced over to them.

“Miss Bailey! Miss Bailey! Hi, Miss Bailey!”

Milo’s new friend beamed at the girl, who threw her arms around the woman’s waist. “Hannah Lewis,” she exclaimed as she hugged her back. “Hello! Look how tall you are! And your hair’s gotten long. It’s still such a beautiful color. Are you sure we can’t trade?”

The girl giggled and tossed her red braids. “I haven’t seen you in forever! Since last summer, anyway. Are you going to be back teaching this year? I hope so! Mrs. Chatterton, the lady who replaced you, is nice and stuff but not as nice as you. My brother’s going into the second grade, and he was so sad that you weren’t going to be his teacher. Maybe now you can be!”

For a moment, sadness flickered across the woman’s lovely features, but she appeared to make an effort to wipe it away.

“I’m afraid I’m not coming back to Haven Point Elementary right now.”

“Why not? Don’t you like being a teacher? You’re so good at it! I liked having my third-grade teacher last year, Mrs. Morris, and I learned my multiplication tables really good from her, but you’re still my favorite.”

Miss Bailey—at least he had that much of a name—looked touched. “That’s very sweet of you to say, Hannah. Thank you. I’m afraid I’m not back to stay, only for a month, for my sister’s wedding. I’ll be gone again before school starts up in the fall.”

“Oh. That’s too bad.” Hannah looked as if she wanted to say more, but her mother called her over with a smile and friendly wave at Miss Bailey. “I’d better go. My dad’s waiting in the van, and we told him we would only be a second. Bye.”

“Good to see you, sweetheart.”

She hurried away, and Bowie finally spoke. “You’re a teacher. That’s why you knew just what to do with Milo.”

She looked down at the boy, who was fully concentrating on trying to twist together three ties from the produce bag rack.

“I was a teacher. I taught second grade at Haven Point Elementary School for three years. Well, I guess I’m still a teacher. I’ve spent the last year teaching English in South America. I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself before I took off with Milo to buy cherries. I’m Katrina Bailey.”

“Bailey. Any relation to Mike, who runs the auto body shop?”

“That’s my uncle—and my stepfather. It’s a long story.”

He held out a hand. “Bowie Callahan. You’ve met my brother, Milo.”

She shook his hand, not bothering to hide the surprise in her expression. “Your brother.”

“Half brother. That’s an even longer story.”

“Well, Bowie and Milo, it was nice to meet you. I should go finish my shopping.”

He didn’t want her to leave suddenly. “Thank you for stepping in. Milo can be...difficult.” That was an understatement that didn’t begin to describe his obstinate sibling.

“No problem. Welcome to Haven Point.”

She started to push her cart away, but Milo raced after her and held out the tangled twist tie.

“Thank you,” she said, taking it with a soft smile toward the boy. “Goodbye.”

Milo didn’t return her smile—Bowie would have been shocked if he had, since he rarely did—but he wiggled his fingers in return, which Katrina Bailey seemed to find charming.

She pushed her cart away, reaching for a bag of green onions on her way. As she did, Bowie’s brain sifted through the information he had just learned from and about her, and he realized in an instant that she could be exactly what they needed.

If he were the churchgoing sort, he would have called her the answer to his prayers.

“Wait,” he exclaimed.

Katrina turned at his overloud call. “Yes?”

“Did I just hear you’re only in town for a month?”

“That’s right,” she said warily. “My sister is getting married in a few weeks.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance you might be looking for a temporary job while you’re in Haven Point.”

She stared at him. “A job.”

“I’m in the market for a temporary nanny.” He turned around, away from Milo, and lowered his voice. “As you probably figured out, my brother has some issues. He’s autistic.”

“He has autism.”

Right. People first, then the condition. He was working on remembering the correct PC terminology. “That’s right. He’s on the spectrum, apparently moderate to severe.”

“Apparently?” As he might have expected, she keyed in on that single word.

“That’s what the test results say, anyway.” He didn’t want to have this conversation in the middle of the produce section of the grocery store, but here they were and he felt he needed to be honest with her. “I only met Milo less than a month ago and don’t know anything about his previous history. He has no medical records, no school records. Nothing.”

Her eyebrows rose in clear skepticism. “That’s impossible. Was he raised in the jungle?”

“Close enough.” How else would a person describe Stella’s alternative, nonconformist, substance-loving lifestyle?

“Impossible or not, that’s the situation. Though his hearing is fine, Milo is mostly nonverbal, at least as far as we can tell. He can say no, but that’s it.” He didn’t tell her no was Milo’s favorite word and he employed it hundreds of times a day.

“He has obvious behavioral challenges,” Bowie went on. “We’ve seen a couple of specialists over the last three weeks and they place him somewhere on the spectrum, but exactly where is tough to say. I only know he’s a difficult kid. I’ve been through three nannies in three weeks. The last one quit yesterday.”

That was why Bowie found himself in the supermarket, dealing with a meltdown he couldn’t handle.

“I’m sorry. But I don’t see how it concerns me. I’m only home to visit my family.”

“I’ve hired a new nanny who is an autism specialist and is supposed to be the top of her field, but she can’t be here for three weeks. I’ll be honest with you, Miss Bailey. I can’t take three weeks off work right now, and I’m desperate to find someone to help with him.”

She arched one of those expressive eyebrows. “So you decided to accost stray women in the supermarket and offer the job to them?”

He had the oddest feeling Katrina Bailey didn’t like him, though he couldn’t figure out exactly what he had done. “Not just any stranger,” he pointed out. “A woman who instinctively knew the right thing to do with Milo, where everyone else seems to flounder—and a schoolteacher who has already been vetted by the school system.”

“I haven’t taught in the last year,” she replied. “How do you know I haven’t been in prison during that time?”

“Have you?”

She made a face. “No. But you just met me five minutes ago and have no way of knowing that.”

“I saw the way you interacted with that girl. Hannah. She said you were her favorite teacher. Besides, I watched you with Milo. You’re obviously well trained and more patient with him than I can ever be. You knew just what to do during one of his tantrums.”

If he hoped to flatter her into taking the job, he was doomed to disappointment. At his words, her features seemed to tighten. “Dealing with a child in the midst of a meltdown can be challenging, but really, you only need a compassionate heart and a willingness to focus on the best interests of the child.”

Was she implying he didn’t have either of those things? Bowie might have been offended if he wasn’t afraid she was right.

He was trying, Bowie reminded himself. Hadn’t he immediately flown to Portland, brought the boy back to Haven Point, spent time away from Caine Tech he could ill afford in order to find the best care provider for him?

He didn’t need one more thing to feel guilty about.

“I do want the best for Milo. You’re the first person in three weeks who instinctively seems to know how to manage him.”

“He’s a child,” she retorted, pitching her voice low, presumably so Milo didn’t overhear. He could have told her his brother wasn’t paying the least bit of attention to them. He had pulled more twist ties off the roll and was forming them into tangled shapes.

“He’s a child,” she repeated. “Not some new product under development at Caine Tech. He doesn’t need to be managed.”

He wasn’t sure how she knew he worked at Caine Tech or why she reacted so strongly to that particular choice of words. Right now, it didn’t matter. The only thing he cared about was convincing her to help him.

“It was only a figure of speech,” he said. “Look, I’m desperate here. What am I supposed to do? I can’t keep missing work and I also can’t take Milo to the office with me. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

She didn’t look convinced by his plea. If anything, her features turned even frostier. “I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”

He felt as if someone had just opened the doorway offering a light at the end of the tunnel and then slammed it shut again in his face.

“Not even for ten thousand dollars?”

She stared at him, her mouth slightly ajar. “Ten thousand dollars? You’re willing to pay ten thousand dollars for three weeks’ work?”

It probably wouldn’t be considered good business practice to admit he would be willing to pay much more than that, if only he could regain some semblance of control in his life.

“Okay. Twelve. But that’s my final offer.”

She looked dumbfounded, and for a moment he clung to a tiny sliver of hope that he might have a chance. In the end, she shook her head slowly, eyeing him like he had several loose screws.

“I said no,” she said. “I appreciate that you’re in a tight spot, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“You don’t have to answer right now. Think about it overnight. If you change your mind, you can find me at 4211 Lakeview Drive. It’s a big cedar-and-stone house right along Serenity Harbor.”

“I know where it is. But don’t count on me changing my mind, Mr. Callahan. I’m only in town for my sister’s wedding and to visit family. I have no intention of taking a temporary job.”

“Just think about it,” he said.

Before she could respond, a pretty redhead turned the corner of the vegetable aisle. He had met Samantha Fremont a few times since he came to town and found her nice enough, though he always left their interactions wishing he were better at small talk.

She appeared surprised to find him and Katrina talking together, then her carefully made-up features shifted into a bright smile.

“Hi, Bowie,” she said, her voice a little breathless, before she turned to Katrina.

“There you are!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been looking all over the store for you. You’re not finished shopping yet? What’s taking you so long?”

“I was just about to check out. We had a little...situation, but it seems to be under control now. Sorry about that.”

“No worries.” She turned back to Bowie. “I don’t know if you remember me, but we met a month or so ago at Snow Angel Cove. You work at Caine Tech with Aidan and Ben, right?”

Yes. And they were counting on him to deliver results, as soon as he figured out what to do with his brother. “I remember. Good to see you again.”

“I don’t know this little guy, though. Is this your son?”

Milo, who had reacted with uncharacteristic warmth to Katrina, gave Sam his blank, almost empty stare.

“This is my brother, Milo.”

“Hi there, Milo. My name is Samantha.”

With more of that odd affinity, he sidled closer to Katrina, who gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. Sam is nice. She’s my very best friend in the whole wide world and has been since we were just a little older than you.”

After a moment, Milo handed over another twist-tie creation. Samantha Fremont blinked in surprise at it for a moment, then accepted it gingerly.

“Um. Thanks,” she said, clearly at sea.

Katrina tugged her away.

“We have to go. We’re going to be late for a party. It was nice to meet you, Milo.”

She hadn’t said it was nice to meet him. Bowie told himself not to be disappointed by the omission.

“Think about it,” he said.

“I gave you my answer, Mr. Callahan. I won’t change my mind.”

As she walked away with her friend, he had to hope she was wrong about that. If not, he wasn’t sure how he would survive the next three weeks until the autism specialist could arrive.

* * *

KATRINA’S SHOULDER BLADES itched as she walked away from Bowie and Milo, and she was certain if she turned around, she would find one—or possibly both—of them watching after her.

This was what happened to women who didn’t mind their own business. They ended up having to turn down outrageous job offers they couldn’t for a moment actually be considering.

Sam waited only until they had headed for the checkout line before questions burst out of her. “What was that all about? What are you supposed to think about?”

“Nothing. That looks like the shortest line.” She headed for the checkout line closest to the door, waving at one of her mother’s friends as she went.

“It didn’t seem like nothing.” Sam gave a short laugh that didn’t sound entirely amused. She shook her head. “I turn my back for five minutes to pick up my mom’s blood pressure medication and come back to find you chatting with the hottest guy in town. I should have expected it. Good to see some things don’t change. You’re still the same flirty Kat.”

She wasn’t. The last year had changed her profoundly, in ways she couldn’t begin to explain to Sam.

“Did he ask you out?” Samantha’s voice had a strangely careful quality to it as she started pulling items out of the cart and setting them on the belt.

“No!” Katrina exclaimed, more sharply than she meant to. “No. It wasn’t like that at all. He’s looking for a temporary caregiver for his younger brother. That’s all.”

“Like a babysitter?”

“More like a nanny, I guess.”

“I still can’t believe that’s his brother, though I suppose they do look alike.”

Katrina wasn’t sure she completely agreed. They had the same color hair and eyes, though the boy’s skin was a shade or two darker and his mouth was different.

Not that she noticed.

“He seemed like a cute kid, though I don’t know what this is about.” Sam dangled the little twist-tie sculpture Milo had made for her.

“It’s a penguin. Can’t you tell?”

“No. Apparently you have to have an elementary education degree to fully appreciate the artistry.”

“Apparently.”

“No wonder the man wants you to be his kid brother’s nanny. You’re perfect for it—even though he only met you five minutes ago.”

She was still reeling from the dollar signs that had temporarily danced in front of her gaze when he mentioned the amount he was willing to pay. That would more than pay the rest of her legal costs in Colombia from her grasping attorney.

“I said the same thing. He knows absolutely nothing about me, yet he wants to hand over his brother to me.”

“How did all that happen in the five minutes I was at the pharmacy?”

She replayed the conversation in her head and still couldn’t quite make sense of it. “Milo is on the autism spectrum. He was in the middle of a meltdown in the middle of the produce aisle over some grapes. I was somehow able to divert his attention, and now Bowie Callahan apparently thinks I’m some kind of miracle worker. Anne Sullivan to Milo’s Helen Keller. It’s ridiculous, really.”

But twelve thousand dollars. How could she turn it down?

“You’re not taking the job?”

“I’m only here for a few weeks. I don’t want to spend my whole time taking care of some rich guy’s brother who has autism, no matter how cute he is. The brother, I mean.”

“Are you kidding? You should totally take the job. I would jump at the chance to work for Bowie Callahan.”

“Too bad he’s not in the market to hire a personal shopper or something. Especially one who specializes in women’s fashions.”

“If he needed my particular skills, I would figure out a way. I’m not the only one. Half the women in town are in love with the man. When Eppie and Hazel saw him for the first time, I was afraid they would go straight into cardiac arrest.”

Yet another reason she didn’t want to take the job. She’d had enough of good-looking men to last her a lifetime.

She had learned her lesson well after what happened in South America with that idiot Carter Ross.

“You’re totally going to do it. I can see you wavering.”

“I’m not,” she protested.

Before Sam could argue, the shopper ahead of them picked up his receipt and bag from the checker and it was their turn.

“Hey, Katrina!” The checker, an older woman with unnaturally blond hair and nicotine-stained teeth, beamed at her. “I thought that was you when you first came in earlier. My line was backed up and I didn’t have time to come find you to say hello.”

Her smile felt tight and forced. She genuinely liked Filene Harding, but their encounters were always a bit awkward. Katrina had dated Filene’s son a few times in high school, and Filene always acted as if they had a much closer bond than Katrina thought.

“Hi, Filene. How are you?”

“Good. Good. How are you, hon? I heard you’ve been in Mexico or some crazy thing like that.”

“Colombia, actually. A little village about an hour from Barranquilla.”

Filene didn’t seem to care about the details. “You know, it’s the funniest thing that you came in today. I was just looking at a picture of you at the prom with my Bryan the other day. You two were so cute together! I always thought so. I’ll have to tell him you’re back in town.”

Bryan Harding had been renowned for his octopus hands in high school. Once she figured that out after the second date, she tried her best to avoid the guy. “How is Bryan these days?” she asked to be polite, then could have kicked herself for encouraging the woman.

“Good. Good. He’s working construction with his brother. He was living with a gal, but they broke up a few weeks ago. She kicked him out, if you want the truth. I don’t know why, because they seemed so happy together. So now he’s back living in my basement.”

“Didn’t he have a little boy a few years back with some girl in Boise?” Sam asked.

The red-painted corners of Filene’s mouth turned up as she scanned their groceries. “He’s got two. Different mamas, of course. Six months apart. They’re the cutest little things. Spittin’ image of their daddy. You should see them.”

She doubted that would happen, since she and Bryan Harding didn’t run in the same social circles. They never really had, she supposed.

When she was about thirteen, Bryan had been one of the first guys who noticed she was finally starting to grow into her features and had begun to develop some curves. They had flirted a little, just in fun, and she sneaked out of the house to go to the movies with him a few times, until she figured out he only wanted to see how lucky he could get with StupidKat.

She supposed Bryan was the first in a long line of dumb decisions she had made when it came to the male of the species. No more. She was done wasting her time and energy on the players of the world.

“I’ll be sure to tell Bryan I ran into you,” Filene said as she rang up the last of their groceries. “You staying at your mom’s place while you’re in town?”

“For now,” she hedged as she swiped her debit card, ever mindful of the depleting balance in her account. “Thank you. See you.”

She scooped up one bag while Samantha grabbed the other and hurried out of the store.

She didn’t want Bryan to find her. Or any other guy, for that matter.

In a few months, she would have everything she never knew she wanted. Everything else seemed unimportant.

CHAPTER THREE

“THANKS SO MUCH for offering to host the party here, Jules.”

Julia Winston smiled, though it didn’t quite push away that subtle air of sadness that encircled her. “My pleasure, really. Especially since McKenzie is doing all the work. This house needs more parties.”

Julia lived in one of a handful of gorgeous Victorian mansions about a block off the water that had been built by early mining and business magnates, in the days when the area around Lake Haven had been an exclusive retreat renowned for the healing nature of the hot springs in abundance around the area.

Katrina had always loved this neighborhood. Steeped in history and beauty, it always felt graceful and elegant to her, even when she was a girl.

“How are you doing?” her mother, Charlene, asked Julia with a concerned expression. “How’s your mom?”

The town librarian gave a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She had lived here with her elderly mother until Mariah Winston had a stroke a few months earlier. Mariah was now in a rehab center in Shelter Springs, the same one where Katrina’s father had spent the last few years of his life.

“Fine. Every day she seems to be showing a little improvement. Or at least I would like to think so. It’s hard to be sure.”

Oh, Katrina remembered those difficult days after her father had suffered a debilitating brain injury after being shot on the job. How many hours had she sat by his bedside, watching for a blink or a facial tic or anything that might indicate the man she adored was still inside the shell lying on that hospital bed?

She squeezed Julia’s hand. “I’m sorry. Hosting a bridal shower is probably the last thing you felt like doing.”

“Not at all. I wouldn’t have offered if I hadn’t wanted to do it. I needed the distraction, if you want the truth. The house seems too quiet sometimes.”

“It’s such a lovely home. Every time I come here, I feel like I’m stepping back into another era,” Kat said.

Julia made a face. “Your great-grandma’s era, maybe.”

“I love it,” Sam declared. “You’ve got that classy, retro vibe going on. That’s really in right now.”

“There’s nothing wrong with old-fashioned,” Charlene assured Julia.

“I agree,” Kat said. “I wish I had been able to see Haven Point in its heyday.”

“Totally,” Sam said. “All those rich dudes coming here to soak in the hot springs. I’d be all over that.”

Before Julia could answer, Eliza Caine walked into the room. She looked around them as if wondering if someone else was hiding behind the grandfather clock in the entryway. “You don’t happen to have brought the guest of honor with you, did you? She’s fifteen minutes late, and that’s totally not like our Wynona.”

“She’ll be here,” Katrina assured her. “She called us before we left the house and said she had to help Cade with something.”

Samantha gave an inelegant snort with a distinctively naughty edge.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, young lady,” her mother, Linda, said, glaring at her only daughter.

“What? I didn’t even say anything,” Sam protested.

“Something at the police station,” Charlene said quickly. “I think one of the cases she investigated last summer when she still worked for the police department is going to trial, and he had some questions for her. She’ll be here soon. She said she was on her way.”

As if on cue, an old-fashioned doorbell chimed through the graceful entryway.

Kat was closest to it. She opened the door and was the first to hug her sister.

“Sorry I’m late,” Wynona said. “I didn’t mean to keep everyone waiting.”

“You didn’t,” Katrina assured her. “We just arrived ourselves.”

“Everyone’s in the back, if you’d like to follow me.”

Julia led the way through the house, filled with antiques and collectibles. It really was like a museum. How did Julia walk down for a midnight snack without worrying about breaking some sort of priceless family heirloom? she wondered.

This neighborhood was set on a hill some distance from downtown, but the huge screened sunroom Julia led them to offered spectacular views of the lake and the Redemption Mountains.

“Oh, look what you’ve done to this place,” Charlene exclaimed. “It’s absolutely stunning, Kenzie.”

McKenzie Kilpatrick, the Haven Point mayor and floral shop owner who loved nothing so much as throwing a big party—except maybe her husband, Ben—had pulled out the perfect bridal shower decor for Wynona. Though Wyn had been a police officer, she was a girlie-girl at heart, and the decorations reflected that, with large paper parasols in soft pastel shades hanging from the ceiling and heart-shaped balloons in the same shades in every corner.

“I had a lot of help. Katrina and Sam were here for several hours this afternoon.”

As maid of honor, Katrina probably should have handled many of the shower details. She had participated in the planning with Julia, Eliza and McKenzie via Skype and email, but it was a little hard to do much more from another country.

“I hope you didn’t go up on the ladder to hang those parasols, honey,” Charlene said to Katrina. “With your luck, you’d fall off and break something. Wouldn’t that be a sorry state of affairs, if you had a broken arm in a cast to go with your bridesmaid dress?”

She managed to refrain from rolling her eyes—which she wanted to think was a sign that she was indeed maturing at least a little bit. “Yes. Terrible.”

“Although, maybe if you had a broken arm,” her mother said tartly, “you would have to stick around home longer than a few weeks.”

As Katrina was well aware of her mother’s negative attitude about her return to Colombia, she opted to ignore that broad hint. “I’m going to go set this salad over on the table and say hello to Hazel and Eppie,” she said, then escaped before her mother could call her back.

She adored the two Brewer sisters, sisters ten months apart who had married twin brothers and spent their entire lives living next to each other. She and Samantha often said they wanted to grow up to be just like them, sassy and funny and full of spice.

She set the salad down and hugged each of them in turn. “How are my favorite troublemakers? What have you been up to while I’ve been gone?”

“Why, there’s our favorite world traveler,” Hazel said. “It’s about time you came back.”

“I’m so happy you made it in time for the wedding,” Eppie exclaimed.

Surely they knew she wouldn’t have missed Wyn and Cade’s wedding, no matter what. Even if she had been stuck in a tiny village on the Amazon River without a boat, she would have swum through barracudas to be here if necessary.

“Sit here by us,” Hazel insisted. “We want to hear every juicy detail. What sort of hunky guys have you been hanging out with down there?”

“I can picture you now, lounging around on the beaches of Rio or living it up in some penthouse apartment in Bogotá.”

For one moment, she could vividly picture Gabriela’s orphanage, where she had been spending virtually all of her free time when she wasn’t teaching English at the nearby secondary school. She saw the run-down facility as clearly as if she had just left—the peeling paint, the bare mattresses on the floor, the plain, dangling light bulbs overhead.

She had to get Gabi out of that environment, no matter what.

The dedicated staff at the orphanage tried to shower love on the children, but they had limited time and even more limited means to make a real difference.

Her heart ached all over again at the confusion and sadness in Gabi’s sweet face when Katrina had hugged her goodbye the week before. Though she wasn’t yet four, she had already been disappointed twice when previous adoptions fell through. Children with Down syndrome could be difficult to place in developing countries, especially when they already struggled with complicated medical conditions that could accompany that diagnosis.

Gabi would eventually need heart surgery for a congenital defect, which was highly unlikely in her current circumstances.

“Come back?” Gabi had whispered the plea in Spanish, her brow furrowed and her mouth twisted into a frown.

Katrina had kissed her cheek while running a hand over her dark hair. “I swear it,” she had answered, not at all sure how much the girl understood or believed.

She hated to leave her. Under other circumstances, she might have opted to skip the wedding and put the necessary travel expenses toward the ever-rising adoption fees.

But she loved Wyn dearly. Katrina was her maid of honor and couldn’t even contemplate missing her wedding to Police Chief Cade Emmett, who had been friends with their older brother Marshall and had been part of their lives as long as Katrina could remember.

She was here, right now, in Haven Point, at Julia Winston’s beautiful home celebrating Wynona’s upcoming wedding. She needed to be present, she reminded herself. As much as her heart might yearn to be with the child whose generosity and courage had stolen her heart, she wouldn’t ruin her sister’s wedding celebrations and this gathering with her dear friends of the Haven Point Helping Hands by pining to be somewhere else.

She pushed the ache away. “All right, girls,” she said to Eppie and Hazel, who hadn’t been girls for about seven decades. “Tell me everything that’s been going on around town while I’ve been gone. You two always know the good dirt.”

Eppie giggled. “Oh my. How much time do you have?”

“As long as it takes.”

They had only about ten minutes to visit before McKenzie Kilpatrick took charge and told everyone they should eat now so they could save their strength for the games to come.

Katrina suggested the Brewer sisters let her grab plates for them, an offer they accepted with alacrity. After she prepared their plates, she returned to the buffet line for one of her own. While she was chatting with Devin Barrett—McKenzie’s sister, whose stepdaughter had been in Katrina’s class—Lindy Grace Keegan took her spot next to Hazel and Eppie.

“There’s a spot over here,” Charlene called.

With a little inward sigh, Katrina manufactured a smile—she was becoming an expert at it—and made her way to the long table where her mother sat with several of their other friends.

“Everything is so delicious, don’t you think?” Charlene asked the table at large and received a positive response in return. “I’m especially loving this cheesecake. Who made it?”

Barbara Serrano, whose family owned a restaurant, raised her hand. “It’s a new recipe we’re trying out.”

“I’d say it’s a hit,” McKenzie said.

“I have got to get this recipe,” Andie Montgomery said. “Marshall would love it. You know how much he loves sweets.”

Andie, a widow with two adorable kids, was marrying Katrina’s brother Marshall in the fall. Kat had met her a few times the previous summer and thought her very nice but a little too quiet for the rambunctious Bailey family. She hadn’t known about Andie’s painful past until pieces of it slithered into town and threatened Andie, those cute kids and Wynona.

She still wasn’t sure how she felt about Andie becoming her sister-in-law as she didn’t know her well yet, but it was obvious Marshall adored her—and vice versa.

“You have to try this,” Charlene said, holding her fork just inches away from Katrina’s mouth. Her mother never seemed to remember she didn’t like cheesecake.

“No, thanks. You have it. I’m good with fruit. Thanks, though.”

“Are you sure? It’s delicious.”

“Positive.”

“I don’t know why you won’t at least have a taste. It’s not like you can’t afford the calories, unlike some of us. You’re so thin,” Charlene said with a sigh.

Her mother could win Olympic gold in fussing.

“I’m fine. Really. Look at all this food I’ve taken.”

“But how much of it will you eat?” Charlene countered.

Again, she wondered what her mother would say if she knew some of the interesting meals Katrina had eaten in South America.

“I think you look beautiful,” Barbara said with her kind smile. “What have you been up to? You went to South America with that sexy mountain climber who used to come into the restaurant with you, right? What was his name again? How’s he doing?”

Her mother’s mouth straightened into a thin line, probably from the effort it was taking Charlene not to spill out her own opinions about Carter Ross. Her mother had strongly opposed Katrina’s decision to go with him on his quest to climb the highest point in every country in South America.

It’s too dangerous. You aren’t serious with the man, anyway. Why do you have to go halfway across the world with him?

All valid points, Kat could admit now. At one point, her mother had even sworn she would never speak with her again if she left with him. Obviously, that had been a hollow threat. More’s the pity.

To her mother’s credit, she hadn’t uttered so much as an I-told-you-so after Katrina’s tenuous relationship with Carter barely survived two of the countries on the list. That didn’t make it any easier for Kat to admit her mother had been right all along.

“No doubt he’s fine, but I couldn’t say for certain. We went our separate ways several months ago.”

That was a polite way of sugarcoating the truth, she supposed. He had been an ass and she had been stupid. Her mistakes still stung, though not with the pain of a broken heart. She hadn’t wanted forever, she reminded herself. That didn’t prevent her from feeling betrayed when he had basically abandoned her in a foreign country without money, credit cards or her passport.

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t just pack your bags and come back home after you and he-who-shall-remain-nameless broke up,” Sam said.

Funny, how a lack of money, credit cards and passport could impact travel plans. Even after all that had been remedied with help from the embassy in Bogotá, something had kept her there.

“I didn’t really go down to South America for him. He was the excuse, not the reason,” she said, which had been one of the points of contention between her and Carter. He’d wanted her undivided attention.

“Once I was already there, immersed in other cultures and getting to know the people, I found I really enjoyed the adventure of it. Except for the years I was in college in Boise, I’ve never lived anywhere else but Haven Point. I decided this was a good chance for me to travel the world a bit, see what might be out there beyond the border of our little town.”

“That’s easy,” Barbara Serrano said with a laugh. “Shelter Springs starts about three miles north of us. But take my advice, don’t bother going there unless you absolutely have to. The natives aren’t very friendly.”

She laughed along with the rest of the Helping Hands. The rivalry between the two towns was ever-present.

“I know what you’re talking about,” Hazel said after the laughter subsided. “When Donald and I were first married, we spent a year in the Philippines while he was stationed there in the air force. Best year of our marriage, even though we lived in base housing surrounded by mostly Americans. I adored going to the street markets, trying the cuisine, seeing how other people lived. I missed my hometown and my family but loved seeing a different culture. It opens the mind.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

“I hope, like I did, you’ve learned a little more about the world and a whole lot more about yourself.”

She smiled warmly at Hazel, the first person who seemed to truly understand her experience these last nine months.

“I have,” she said.

“Tell them about your latest wild hair,” Charlene said, her tone sharp but her eyes filled with concern.

Her mother was strongly against her plans to adopt Gabriela. She thought Katrina was acting on a whim, jumping into something for which she wasn’t prepared. Instead of being excited, as Katrina had hoped, her mother was full of dire predictions about how she was limiting her future options by taking on this lifelong responsibility to a stranger at a time when she should be looking to settle down and have children of her own.

She could only hope Charlene’s opposition would fade when she had the chance to meet Gabi, to look into those dark eyes and see the life and joy and possibility in them.

“Is this about what happened in the grocery store with Bowie Callahan?” Sam interjected. “That was the craziest thing.”

The entire collection of shower guests seemed to perk up, merely at the man’s name. She would have found it amusing if she hadn’t felt a subtle little shiver rippling through her insides.

“Now, there’s someone I wouldn’t mind packing along in my truck on a world tour,” Hazel said with her sly, lascivious grin.

“He is one fine-looking man,” Lindy Grace Keegan purred.

Yes. Katrina wholly agreed. Which was all the more reason for her to stay away from him. Her decision-making track record around fine-looking men was dismal at best.

“What happened with Bowie Callahan?” Charlene asked, eyes wide. “I had no idea you even knew the man.”

Thanks for that, Sam. She aimed a sharp look at her friend, who gave her an apologetic shrug.

“I don’t know him. Not really. I met him today after I had a bit of a situation with his younger brother.”

“Bowie Callahan has a younger brother?” Barbara Serrano looked shocked. “Now, there’s something I didn’t know—and here I was under the impression I knew everything that went on around this town.”

“He does. His name is Milo and he’s very cute. Around five or six years old, I would guess.”

“Six,” Eliza chimed in.

“He’s very cute,” Samantha said. “Though he seems like a handful. He was having a fit in the store and Kat headed him off, so now Bowie wants to hire Katrina to be Milo’s nanny for a couple of weeks while she’s in town. He apparently offered her a boatload of money. Can you believe she said no?”

“Tell him I’ll do it for free,” Hazel said, with that grin again.

“Why on earth would you turn him down?” Wyn asked.

“I came home for your wedding, not to solve a family crisis for some rich, self-absorbed executive I don’t even know.”

She instantly regretted her words, spoken more harshly than she really intended. They seemed to fall on the shower guests like a sudden cloudburst.

“You don’t have to be rude,” Charlene said, clear reprimand in her voice as if Katrina were eight years old again and had eaten something that wasn’t on her approved ketogenic, antiseizure diet.

“Bowie is actually a very nice man, which you would know if you’d spent more than a few minutes with him,” her mother said. “Why, the very first week he was in town, he stopped to help me load my groceries.”

“And he gave a sizable donation to the fund-raiser for a new library,” Julia offered in her quiet voice.

“For what it’s worth, I’ve always found him very nice—and Ben and Aidan have nothing but good to say about him,” Eliza put in.

“They all went to school together,” McKenzie added. “You should hear some of their stories about their time together.”

When the entire formidable force that was the Haven Point Helping Hands ganged up on a person, it was like being steamrolled by an avalanche.

“Okay, okay. I get it. The man is a saint. That still doesn’t mean I want to spend my limited time home babysitting his kid brother.”

Just like with Milo and his behavior issues, sometimes the best strategy was simple diversion, and she quickly changed the subject. “Now, isn’t it about time for some delightfully off-color wedding shower games?”

Wynona groaned, but Hazel and Eppie giggled. “Yes,” they chimed in unison.

McKenzie jumped up. “You’re right. We have tons to do, people. Better get to it.”

Katrina managed to avoid the topic of Bowie Callahan and his brother again until the shower was over and she was helping her sister carry presents out to her SUV.

“That was great,” she said as they walked out into the sweet-smelling air from the honeysuckle and snowberry that grew in abundance on Julia’s property.

“I’m so glad we were able to work it around your schedule so you could make it. It wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun without you.”

“You’re only saying that because Sam and I made the best wedding dress out of toilet paper.”

“It was a work of art. I hope my real one looks half that good,” Wyn said. “I especially loved the row of toilet paper roses across the shoulders and adorning your veil.”

“What can I say? I’ve always looked good in Charmin.”

They both laughed, but Wyn’s smile slid away too quickly. “Hey, I hope you’re not turning down that nanny gig because of me.”

“You mean because I flew six thousand miles to come home and spend a little time with you before your wedding?”

“Yeah. That.” Wynona smiled. “I just mean, if you can work around the schedule thing with the wedding, do it. Bowie seems like a nice guy in a tough spot, at least from what everyone said in there. And the money would definitely come in handy with all your legal expenses, wouldn’t it?”

Wynona, at least, supported her efforts to adopt Gabi, and so did Cade. Her brother Marshall hadn’t said much about it—but then, he didn’t say much about anything.

“The money wouldn’t hurt,” she admitted. “But I can’t just duck out of helping you with wedding prep. I’m the maid of honor!”

“Don’t worry about that. McKenzie has whipped all the Helping Hands into a frenzy, getting things ready for the big day. You know how she is. Between her and Mom—and Andie, who did all the wedding invitations—I’ve hardly lifted a finger for my own wedding. I feel more than a little guilty about it, if you want the truth.”

She nudged Wyn with her shoulder, so happy her sister and Cade were ready to start their life together. “You’ve been a little busy, finishing up your master’s program and starting a new job at children’s services in Shelter Springs.”

“You’re right. That’s a lot of change in a short time.” She paused, clutching her arms as if she were suddenly chilled, though the evening was warm. “What am I doing?”

The sudden panic in her voice shocked Katrina. Her older sister always seemed so together. During those long months after their father was shot on duty and incapacitated, Wyn had been a rock. When Katrina had wanted to quit her last year of college and come home to take care of Charlene, Wyn refused to let her. Instead, Wyn had been the one to move back to Haven Point, taking a job in the Haven Point Police Department.

She might not sew as well as Samantha or be as good as McKenzie at throwing together a beautiful celebration, but she knew her sister and what she needed.

Katrina gripped Wyn’s hands tightly, there in the shadow of the beautiful Victorian house, with its gables and turrets.

“Stop it. Right now. You’re marrying an absolutely wonderful man—one who adores you and cherishes you. A man you have loved most of your life. You’re going to marry him, make a life with him, build a future, and it’s going to be beautiful. That’s what you’re doing.”

Wyn drew in a shaky breath, then another until the look of panic receded from her gaze.

“You’re right. You’re right. I don’t know what happened there for a moment. I think with the shower and all the gifts and everything tonight, the whole thing suddenly seems more real.”

“You haven’t had much time to soak in all the changes in your life. Last summer you were a police officer and Cade was your boss. Until a few weeks ago, you were in Boise finishing your degree. Now here you are, about to start the most exciting chapter of your life with your sexy police chief.”

“You’re right. You’re right.” Wyn gave a breathy laugh. “Oh, I can’t wait. Thank you for the pep talk. Promise me you won’t tell Mom or Cade I needed one.”

“Pinkie promise,” she said.

“Back to what I was saying about Bowie. I trust you to do what you think is best, but I don’t want you to worry a moment that you have to spend every moment that you’re home with me. Everything is under control for the wedding, and we’ll have plenty of time together after you adopt your sweet Gabi and bring her back to Haven Point. I’ll be the best aunt ever. You wait. That girl is going to be so spoiled.”

She had no doubt about it. Eventually even Charlene would have to come around and accept Gabi.

How could she not?

CHAPTER FOUR

“ARE YOU SURE you’re good for a little while?”

Lizzie Lawson, the teenage neighbor girl who had helped Bowie out a few times in a pinch, nodded and placed a hand on Milo’s head.

“We should be fine. Right, Milo?”

His brother didn’t pay her any attention. He was too entranced by the big golden retriever that had accompanied Lizzie. The dog—she had called him Jerry Lewis—had a blunt, friendly face and seemed extraordinarily patient as Milo petted him.

“You said you needed about thirty minutes for your conference call, is that right?” she said.

“Give or take a few minutes.”

“No problem. We’ll go for a little walk on the lakeside trail. Milo, you can hold the leash if you want.”

His brother didn’t smile, but his eyes did widen with excitement. This was Lizzie’s third time keeping an eye on Milo for Bowie when he had work obligations he couldn’t escape. She seemed very dependable, and Milo tolerated her as much as he did anyone, especially if she brought the dog along to help entertain him.

If only she could help him out for longer periods of time, but she already had a job working in McKenzie Kilpatrick’s store. Besides that, an hour or so with Milo was probably as much as a teenage girl should be expected to handle, no matter how well recommended she came from McKenzie.

He crouched down to Milo’s level. As usual, his brother avoided looking straight at him, his attention focused exclusively on the dog.

“Milo. Bud. Look at me.” His brother’s gaze danced to him for an instant, then quickly away. Bowie supposed he would have to be content with what he could get. “Listen to what Lizzie says. Got it? Nod if you understand me.”

Milo nodded, though he didn’t stop petting the dog.

“All right, kid,” Lizzie said. “Let’s do this. Here’s the leash. Hold on tight now. Got it?”

Milo clung to the leash handle as if his life depended on it and trotted after the retriever with Lizzie bringing up the rear.

Bowie watched them go, aware of the familiar tangle of his emotions. He was in so far over his head with Milo, all he could see above him was darkness and uncertainty. If this autism specialist didn’t work, he wasn’t sure what he would do. He hated the idea of putting Milo in some kind of facility somewhere—avoiding that had been the entire reason he had agreed to become his guardian—but he couldn’t completely rule out that might be the best option, down the road.

He didn’t have to worry about that right now, though, when he had people waiting for him. He tried to shift focus from Milo-worry to work-worry, aware the next few weeks were crucial for several of the projects he was spearheading at Caine Tech.

This conference call with one of their major vendors in Asia was vital. If they didn’t iron out some of the problems now, the ripple effect would completely screw their production schedule.

Thanks to the chaos with Milo, it felt like weeks since he had been able to fully focus on work—not a good situation when he was only just finding his way with his team at the new Haven Point facility.

He knew just whom to blame for this frustration. His mother.

An image of Stella the last time he had seen her flashed across his mind. He had been fifteen, almost the same age she had been when she gave birth to him. A child raising a child. The problem was, he eventually grew up. His mother had not.

Growing up with Stella had been tumultuous at best, a nightmare much of the time.

Guilt dug under his skin at the thought. He didn’t hate his mother. He never had, even after he had escaped the chaos. Yeah, she had been flighty and irresponsible, self-absorbed, emotional and totally without willpower.

Alcohol, drugs, men. She used all of them with regularity.

Milo’s early years apparently hadn’t been much different from his own. The social worker who had contacted him about Milo had pieced together enough information on his brother’s history to reveal that Stella had never really changed her ways. At the time of her death, she had been destitute, living on the streets of Portland with Milo, begging at street corners and high most of the time. Why his brother hadn’t been taken away from her years ago seemed to be a mystery to everybody in the system.

Bo slid into his office chair, catching a view out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the lake in the distance and the soaring mountains beyond.

He thought he had come so far in his own psyche. He hadn’t given much thought to his mother in several years, not since the private investigator he sent to find her came back empty-handed years ago.

He should have kept looking.

Again, guilt pinched at him—the familiar guilt of a son who loved his mother despite her failings and wanted more for her than the hardscrabble, free-living, moment-to-moment existence she insisted on.

He had no choice but to think about her now.

Milo—the troubled, silent, needy son she had given birth to more than twenty-five years after she had Bowie—was a constant reminder. The boy had his mother’s eyes. Their mother’s eyes. Mysterious, deep, dreamy.

With one last sigh, he shoved away the memories and forced himself to focus on the man he had become, someone far more comfortable in the safe, predictable world of technology than with the murky morass of his past.

* * *

“THAT WENT WELL, don’t you think?”

Bowie nodded at his personal assistant, the only person still linked into the video conference call. “Excellent. Sounds like with the information we gave them, they can iron out the supplier problems and be set to move into production by next quarter.”

Peggy Luchino shifted in her chair. She was plump and pretty, with long curly hair and eyes that always seemed to smile. In the two months since he had come to the Haven Point facility, she had taken him under wing—somewhat like the older sister he never had.

“Good work, Peggy. We never would have made so much progress if you hadn’t been there to keep us on track.”

“Thanks.” She gave a rueful smile. “Even so, it went longer than we anticipated. Sorry about that.”

He looked up at the clock above his desk and was shocked to realize he had been on the conference call for two solid hours. Amazing, how fast time went when he was solving a problem, making progress toward a goal. It had always been that way, since his first hacking attempts on a cobbled-together secondhand computer when he was eleven years old.

“Not your fault.”

“I’ll write up the transcript from the call and send you all salient info by first thing tomorrow.”

“Thanks. Talk to you later.”

When her image disappeared from the screen in front of him, Bowie stood, feeling a crick in his neck for the first time from being in one position too long. His stomach rumbled, too. He supposed he ought to grab some lunch before he dived in again.

As Bowie tilted his head from side to side to ease some of the tension in his muscles and ligaments, the gleam of sunlight on water caught his gaze, and he looked out the window at the lake rippling in a summer afternoon.

A quick walk out to the terrace would be just the thing to clear some of this murkiness out of his head, he decided.

It was only after he headed out into the hallway that the reminder of his responsibilities suddenly crashed over him.

Milo!

He had told the neighbor girl he would be on the conference call for only thirty minutes or so and it was now more than double that. Shit! He was the worst guardian on the planet. Every time he thought he was starting to figure out this whole being-responsible-for-a-child thing, something like this happened to remind him of his inadequacies.

Where were they? He rushed through the house, straining to hear any sound that might pinpoint their location, but heard only silence.

Nothing new there. That was one of the toughest things about having a brother who didn’t speak. On the numerous occasions when Milo had slipped away, Bowie had discovered it was tough to find him.

After a quick scan of the house didn’t reveal Milo or Lizzie, he remembered she had planned to take him for a walk on the shoreline trail. Was it possible something had happened to Milo? He had an odd fascination with the water, which scared the hell out of Bowie.

Surely he would have heard from Lizzie if his brother fell in. Someone would have contacted him, right? Unless Lizzie hadn’t been able to call for help because she had somehow gone into the water, too...

His mind racing with grim possibilities, he rushed out to the terrace, the last place he had seen them. Relief flooded through him when he spotted Milo at the water’s edge, poised to throw a small rock into the water.

Close on its heels was more concern when Bowie realized his brother appeared to be alone, with no sign of Lizzie or Jerry Lewis.

Bowie stalked forward and grabbed his brother’s arm. “Milo! You know you’re not supposed to be near the water by yourself! Where is Lizzie?”

“She left.”

He turned around sharply at the voice that most definitely was not the neighbor girl. Instead, he found the lovely Katrina Bailey sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs facing the lake, where she appeared to be keeping an eagle eye on the boy from beneath the shade of an umbrella.

He didn’t know how he had missed seeing her in his initial scan of the patio. She had been lost in shadow, he supposed, plus his attention had been focused on Milo.

Now, as she shifted into the sunlight, he couldn’t seem to look away. She wore a peach shirt and a pair of khaki shorts that made her legs look long and slim and tanned. All that silky wheat-colored hair was on top of her head in a messy, summery style that tempted a man to pull out the pins and see if it was as soft as it looked.

His heart rate, already high with anxiety over his missing brother, kicked up a notch, a reaction he found as unsettling as it was unwanted.

“What are you doing here?”

“Keeping an eye on your younger brother. Somebody had to.”

He knew the quick flash of guilt was completely appropriate. He should have been more aware of the time.

“Where is Lizzie? I thought she was watching him.”

Katrina gave him a cool look that left him in no doubt about her feelings toward him, which apparently hadn’t miraculously improved overnight. He wasn’t at all sure what he had done to deserve her dislike—okay, except maybe completely forget he had a responsibility to something besides his work.

“She left about an hour ago,” Katrina said. “She had to go to an orthodontist appointment.”

Crap. The girl had told him as much when he asked her to keep an eye on Milo. Like time itself, the memory had slipped his mind. He furrowed his brow. “That still doesn’t explain how you ended up here with him. Did she call you or something?”

He thought he saw a tiny hint of color bloom across her cheekbones, though he might have been mistaken.

“No. They bumped into me earlier when I was at McKenzie and Ben’s house, working on a few projects with her for my sister’s wedding reception.”

“Oh. You’re friends with McKenzie.”

Of course she would be friends with McKenzie Kilpatrick, who was married to his friend and the chief operating officer at Caine Tech. It didn’t surprise him a bit. In the short time he’d been in Haven Point, he had already figured out that all the women here seemed to run in one big pack.

They scared the hell out of him, truth be told.

“Yes. She’s close to my sister’s age and they were friends since school—which means we were friends, too.”

He liked both of the women Aidan and Ben had recently married. Eliza Caine and McKenzie Kilpatrick both seemed great. More important to him, they made his friends happier than he’d ever known them.

“We happened to be taking a break in the backyard when Milo and Lizzie walked past. He seemed glad to see me, and Lizzie could see that Milo and I knew each other. As we were talking to them, she kept looking at her watch and mentioned her appointment. I offered to keep an eye on him until you finished your call. I didn’t think you’d mind. We’ve been skipping rocks for the last half hour or so.”

“Sorry you were dragged into it. I should have kept better track of the time. Lizzie told me she had an appointment, but I was wrapped up in the meeting and it completely slipped my mind. Thanks for helping.”

“I’m glad it worked out.” She nodded toward Milo, who was paying them no attention. “I do think he’s getting a little hungry. I would have fixed him a sandwich or something, but I couldn’t figure out how to get in, and I thought you might worry if I took him all the way to my mom’s place.”

Her words weren’t necessarily barbed, but he felt the implicit criticism in them. What kind of ass locks his kid brother out of the house and then forgets him for hours on end?

Yeah. Bowie Callahan. That’s who.

“I didn’t even think about the door being locked. Sorry. Since Milo came to live with me, I’ve had to buy automatic locks and beef up security. He has a tendency to wander.”

That was only one of a million ways his life had completely changed in the last three weeks. He was still trying to process all the changes—and apparently wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

“Probably smart. You live on a lake. Anything could happen if he managed to get out.”

She didn’t have to tell him that. He had the nightmares to prove it.

“I’ve tried to explain to him that he can’t just take off, but I’m not sure how much he internalizes.”

As if sensing they were talking about him, Milo wandered over to them, apparently done with throwing rocks.

He barely acknowledged Bo but handed Katrina a rock from the lakeshore with as close to a smile as he ever managed.

She looked confused for a moment, then closed her fingers over it. “Oh, that’s a pretty one. Are you giving it to me to keep?”

Milo nodded, though he still didn’t smile.

“Thanks. I’ll be sure to find a great place for it.”

Milo nodded and pantomimed putting something in his mouth.

“You want me to put it in my mouth? I don’t think it would taste very good.”

That was one particular entry in the Dictionary of Milo that Bowie had figured out. “You hungry, buddy?” he asked.

Milo nodded and Bo felt a rather ridiculous sense of accomplishment.

“Want me to make you a sandwich?” he asked.

This time Milo shook his head vigorously and pointed to Katrina.

“Want me to make Katrina a sandwich?” Bowie tried.

Again Milo shook his head. Okay, so he wasn’t completely fluent in Milo-ese yet. He was working on it.

Katrina watched this encounter with an expression he couldn’t read on her lovely features. “I think he wants me to make him a sandwich.”

At this, Milo nodded his head vigorously. The little manipulator.

“Too bad. Guess he’ll have to make do with his boring brother. I’m sure you’ve got other things to do.”

“I don’t mind. I can make him a sandwich. In fact, if you have more work to do, I’m happy to stick around a little longer.”

He blinked in surprise. Now he was quite certain he hadn’t mistaken the color on her cheeks. She was blushing. He just couldn’t quite figure out why. What was he missing here?

“That’s very kind of you,” he said. “But you made it quite clear yesterday that you weren’t looking for a nanny job.”

“Um. About that.” She fidgeted. “I was actually glad Milo and Lizzie stopped by while I was at McKenzie’s house. I wanted to come over later, anyway, to talk to you.”

Bowie felt a tiny flicker of hope. Was it possible? Had she changed her mind? “Oh? Talk to me about what?”

She cleared her throat and looked out at the lake for a second before shifting her gaze back to his. “Um, I was wondering if you were still looking for someone to help you out with Milo for a few weeks.”

That flicker grew into a steady flame. He was almost afraid to let himself hope. He had three major projects at critical points in development at Caine Tech, each important to the viability of the new facility in Haven Point. He couldn’t continue to split his attention between work and his brother, since he wasn’t doing a good job of meeting his responsibilities at either end.

If she could help him over this rough patch until Debra Peters could arrive and start working with Milo, he might have half a chance of making this work.

“Yeah. Desperately. Lizzie is great to help me out in a pinch, but she appears to have a busier social schedule than a Kardashian. Are you really reconsidering?”

She shifted. “Maybe.”

Relief flowed through him. “What happened? The last time we spoke, you made it clear you weren’t interested in helping me out with Milo.”

“Circumstances can change, and so can minds.” She shrugged, still looking uncomfortable. “I can’t help you longer than a few weeks. You’re clear on that, right?”

“Yes. No problem. It will be perfect. The autism specialist I’ve hired will be here to start around then. If you can fill in the gap until she arrives, you’ll be saving my neck.”

“I mean it. My time in Haven Point is limited, and then I have...obligations in Colombia.”

What sort of obligations? She said she was teaching English down there, but he had somehow gained the impression it was a temporary gig. Maybe she had something more permanent lined up. Or maybe she had a man waiting for her there.

That particular idea didn’t sit well with him, for reasons he didn’t want to examine too closely. “Not a problem,” he answered.

“Good,” she said briskly. “Also, I might have errands to run while I help take care of the final touches on the wedding. As long as you don’t mind, I probably can take Milo with me on most of them.”

Based on his own experience shopping with Milo, he would rather have every single eyebrow hair plucked out one by one than take his brother into a store for any length of time if he didn’t have to. The grocery store meltdown the day before had been on the mild end of the scale.

But he would leave her to figure that out for herself. “That should be fine. Do you need a vehicle to drive? I’ve got several in the garage. You’re welcome to use any of them.”

“No. I left my car here when I went to South America last year, but it sat over the winter and needs some work. My uncle, er, stepfather has some loaners at his lot and says I can use one of those if I need it.”

“Take what you need from the garage. Milo likes the SUV, for what it’s worth, since it has a TV in the back. Now, about the salary...”

She blushed again, which he found utterly fascinating. “I’m fine with the amount you mentioned yesterday. More than fine. It’s completely ridiculous and entirely too much money for a few weeks’ work. But you’re desperate and I need the money, so I guess it’s a win-win all the way around.”

“Absolutely. I can even pay you in advance, if you want.”

Surprise flickered in blue eyes he suddenly noticed were the same shade of blue as Lake Haven in afternoon sunlight. “I don’t need the money right now, but I will before I go back to Colombia.”

Again that curiosity raced through him, along with a little uneasiness. She needed cash and she was going to Colombia. It wasn’t hard for his mind to jump to some obvious conclusions. Call him suspicious, but that didn’t sound like a great combination.

He had made a few assumptions about the woman, considering she’d taught at the local elementary school. Now he wondered if he should have run some sort of background check on her before he offered her a job caring for a vulnerable child.

After the chaos of his childhood, he had absolutely no tolerance for anyone involved in narcotics in any iteration.

No. He wouldn’t believe it. He was going to go with his gut on this one. Her father had been the much-beloved chief of police, and she had a brother who was an FBI agent. He had pieced that together after she told him who she was.

Whatever she was involved with in Colombia, he couldn’t imagine it had anything to do with drugs.

She obviously needed the money for something, but it wasn’t his business. He didn’t probe into any of his other employees’ personal lives.

“Half now, half when you’re done, then. That seems fair. Come inside and I’ll write you a check.”

Her eyes lit up with a raw sort of relief that she quickly concealed. “That’s fine,” she said. “Thanks. I appreciate it. And while you do that, I’ll make lunch for the hungry kiddo here.”

“Sounds good,” he said as he led the way into the house. “You should find plenty of options. I have a housekeeper who comes in three times a week to stock the fridge and prep some easy meals I can throw together.”

“That’s convenient.”

“Usually. Until I forget to add things to the list and end up having to go to the grocery store myself for a couple of items when they run out.”

He wouldn’t be sorry, even though he had been frustrated with himself the day before. If he hadn’t gone to the store with Milo, he wouldn’t have met Katrina and might be stuck for the next few weeks trying to juggle everything himself.

CHAPTER FIVE

KATRINA OPENED THE subzero refrigerator and took in the bounty of food that was entirely too much for one man and one small boy. “What kind of sandwich do you like?” she asked Milo.

The boy looked at the offerings inside the refrigerator for a long moment, brow furrowed, and finally disregarded the ham and turkey slices, instead pointing to a plain purple jar.

“Grape jelly. Good choice. A personal favorite. Do you want peanut butter with that?”

He nodded with an enthusiasm that made her smile. A boy after her own heart. “What else? You can’t have one without the other. Okay, then. Any idea where I could find the peanut butter?”

He nodded again and hurried over to a covered pantry door. Milo tugged on the door but couldn’t open it. When she joined him, she noticed the pantry door was fitted with a hook and eye latch that was out of his reach. Another safety precaution, she assumed.

She flipped the hook and opened the door. A quick scan revealed a jar of gourmet peanut butter on one of the shelves, along with an unopened loaf of bread.

There was more food in here than all the children in Gabi’s orphanage would eat in a week. Katrina grabbed the bread and the jar, then returned to the kitchen island.

Milo stood watching with interest while she laid out several pieces of bread and started spreading the peanut butter from edge to edge on each piece.

He craned to watch each movement while she finished spreading peanut butter. “Want to help?” she asked. “I would love it. Let’s wash your hands first. You always wash your hands when you work in the kitchen.”

He obviously wasn’t crazy about hand-washing, but he didn’t make a fuss when she squirted soap and helped him rub it around on his skin before rinsing while she sang the alphabet song through twice.

“That’s what my students at school have to do while they’re washing their hands,” she told him. “We’ll get a timer for you so you know how long to wash your hands.”

Something told her he would respond better to numbers than letters.

Milo was a complete puzzle. He obviously understood far more than he could communicate back. He could nod or shake his head to indicate yes or no, and she had watched him employ other rudimentary signs with Bowie to get his point across.

She wished she had more experience with language delays so she might know the best way to tackle his particular issues. If she had been his teacher, speech therapy and some sort of augmentative communication device would have been her first priority. A person had to be able to express his needs and wishes.

In her limited time here, she would have to do some research to figure out if she could help him.

“Okay, now that your hands are clean, I’ll grab a chair for you so you can help me with the sandwiches.”

He seemed eager to give her a hand—or maybe he was simply hungry and wanted her to get on with it. She couldn’t quite tell. But after she scooped out some jam onto the middle of a slice of bread, she handed him another knife and showed him how to spread it across the peanut butter. With his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, he focused on making sure a little purple smear covered the entire peanut butter landscape.

“That’s perfect,” she said. “Good job. Now, can you do a few more?”

He nodded and turned to the task with gusto after she scooped out more jam and plopped it onto the bread.

“You are one excellent PB&J chef,” she told him when they finished. “Now comes the fun part. Now we eat.”

She hadn’t had lunch either, and the humble sandwiches made with so much fierce concentration looked completely delicious.

To Milo’s plate, she added some baked chips she had found in the pantry and a couple of baby carrots from the vegetable drawer, and he attacked the food with the same enthusiasm he had thrown into making the sandwiches.

She was finishing the last bite of hers—every bit as good as it had looked—when Bowie came back into the kitchen.

Oh man. If she was going to work here for the next few weeks, she really needed to do something about the way her palms started to sweat and her breath seemed to catch in her chest every time she was around him.

He was just so darn gorgeous. It wasn’t fair that she should meet him now, when she absolutely didn’t have time for men.

“Sorry I took so long. I had four texts and a phone call from work that needed my attention.”

He set a check next to her plate and the amount still staggered her.

“Thanks,” she managed to say without sounding completely breathless, then folded the check in half and tucked it into the pocket of her shorts.

“I’m the one in your debt and we both know it,” he said. “You’re doing me a huge favor. I’m more grateful than I can say.”

She wasn’t so certain, but she didn’t argue with him. This arrangement would give her a desperately needed cushion in case her attorney came up with some other expensive fee she needed to pay before she could become Gabi’s mother.

He took in their plates and the jars still open on the island “PB&J. Looks delicious.”

“Milo and I made you a sandwich, too. That one on the work island is for you.”

Surprise flickered in his eyes. “That wasn’t necessary. I could have grabbed something. Heaven knows, Mrs. Nielson stocks enough food to feed half the neighborhood.”

“We were already making them for us. It was no problem to make one more. Milo spread the jelly, didn’t you, bud?”

Milo seemed to have gone somewhere in his head, or at least he wasn’t in the mood to respond.

“Thanks,” Bowie said after a moment. He looked surprised at the small gesture. Almost...touched, as if the courtesy was out of the norm for him. That was ridiculous. He had a housekeeper who did his shopping, for heaven’s sake. Bowie had to be used to women falling all over themselves to take care of him.

She found his reaction absurdly appealing.

Oh, she really hoped she wasn’t making a terrible mistake by agreeing to help him out. She couldn’t afford the distraction. Money wasn’t everything—or so she tried to tell herself, anyway.

She probably would have stuck to her guns and continued to refuse him, if not for the phone call she’d received that morning from Angel Herrera, the inaptly named attorney representing her in the adoption process. She had found nothing angelic about him from the moment they met. Though he had come recommended by the local representative from the Colombia national adoption agency, he was loud, abrasive, and made her feel stupid every time she talked to him, either because of her halting command of the Spanish language or because she struggled to understand the complicated and unwieldy international adoption process.

It didn’t help that he constantly seemed to approach her with his hand out.

The latest conversation had been the same. He had insisted he needed an extra two thousand dollars because of unexpected costs associated with filing some of the necessary paperwork.

She didn’t understand. How much could it cost to make duplicates of her adoption petition and run them to the adoption office? Did he have to cut down the trees and mill his own paper or something?

After working with him for three months, she was beginning to understand the meaning of the word extortion. Angel knew how desperately Katrina wanted to adopt Gabi, knew that she would pay any cost, try to conquer any obstacle.

She felt completely out of her depth, trying to negotiate the complex process and receive approval from two countries to bring Gabi to the United States.

Herrera made her feel like she was eight years old again, forced to repeat the second grade because of a combination of missed classes and the strong medication that mostly controlled her epilepsy making it tough to focus.

StupidKat. TwitchyKat.

The weirdo.

You can’t invite her to your birthday party. What if she has a fit or something?

No. I’m sorry. My mom says you can’t stay overnight because of your medical condition.

My nana says kids who have seizures shouldn’t be allowed in school with normal kids because you could hurt somebody.

She had spent most of her life trying to quiet those damn voices, with varied levels of success.

She didn’t want to continue playing Angel Herrera’s game, but she didn’t know what else to do. At least with Bowie’s help, she would feel a little more secure if the attorney came to her again with his hand out.

“Wow, that was a good sandwich,” Bowie said, wiping away a little grape jelly at his mouth with a napkin. “I haven’t had one of those in years. Thanks.”

“See? I told you,” she said to Milo. “You’ve got mad PB&J skills, kiddo.”

The boy just gazed at her, obviously not impressed with her assessment. Bowie, on the other hand, smiled for a moment, then looked uncomfortable. “Uh, I know this is a lot to ask, especially on such short notice, but I need to run into the office and sign a few papers that resulted from our meeting today. I was going to take Milo with me, but if I can avoid it, I would rather not. He doesn’t like it there.”

She thought about the check in her pocket and the peace of mind it provided. “I can stay with him the rest of the afternoon. No problem.”

“Are you sure?”

She ought to say no so he didn’t completely take advantage of her. Begin how you want to go on, right? But Bowie looked so relieved, she didn’t have the heart to disappoint him.

“Sure. I can stay until six. After that, I’ve got a thing.” She didn’t really. She just didn’t want him to think she had nothing better to do than get him out of a bind.

“Thanks. Hey, mind if I take that other sandwich you and Milo made? I’m still hungry, and it tasted delicious.”

“It’s yours.”

His smile was sweetly genuine and made her toes curl inside her sandals.

Oh, she did not want to be attracted to him. That was exactly the sort of thing that always seemed to lead her into trouble.

Something told her it was going to be a long three weeks.

* * *

BIG SURPRISE, BOWIE wasn’t back by six.

Katrina glanced at her watch for about the twentieth time in the last five minutes and tried not to let her annoyance filter through to Milo.

They sat on the floor of his bedroom with a whole fleet of little cars in every color scattered around them like little shiny insects. They were his favorite toys, apparently, at least judging by the purple race car that was obviously his favorite. Most of them looked shiny and new, but the purple one he pulled out of the pocket of his shorts was battered, dented in places with the paint worn off.

He lined all twenty-five cars on the floor, then drove the purple car through them, scattering the others in all directions.

“That purple car is tough,” she observed. “Does it have a name?”

He ignored her, driving it in circles around the carpet mat.

“What other car do you like?” she asked. “Do you like this blue race car or this red pickup truck?”

He looked at them briefly, then continued driving the purple car around the floor with a low humming sound that resembled a car engine.

He could make sounds. The afternoon had amply demonstrated that. So why couldn’t he form words? Katrina needed to know his background and any actual diagnoses so she could do a little research to find out the best way to reach him.

Yes, Bowie had hired her simply to be a nanny to the boy, not come up with an individualized education plan for him, but she was a trained elementary education teacher. It was second nature to her to want to find solutions.

Before taking off with Carter, she had actually been working on her special education certification. Probably because of her own learning difficulties, she had always been drawn to the children who struggled more than their classmates. While she cared for all her students, Katrina found a greater degree of satisfaction in helping those who had to work harder to learn.

It was one of the things that had first drawn her to Gabi when Katrina first decided to volunteer at the orphanage near the school where she found a job teaching English after she had been stranded in Colombia. Some of the children had been apprehensive around Katrina, but Gabi had come right up to her, handed her a flowering weed she’d plucked from the garden and started jabbering away in a combination of Spanish and her own Gabi-speak. Katrina had fallen in love instantly.

Now she watched Milo make sounds with the car, then hold another car, headlight-to-headlight, against the purple one as if they were talking to each other.

He had receptive language skills, he could make sounds and he understood the concept of language. Why didn’t he speak? What she really needed was a long conversation with Bowie so she could figure out how best to help his brother during her time with him.

As if her thoughts had conjured him, she suddenly sensed movement by the door, and she glanced up in time to see Bowie walking into the room.

Again, her stupid heart rate kicked up a notch and her palms went clammy with nerves. Her thoughts seemed to scatter like those cars Milo had plowed through.

Her instinctive reaction to him both embarrassed and dismayed her as she rose to her feet, needing to be on a little more equal level.

So the man was gorgeous. She wasn’t in the market for gorgeous anymore, especially since it usually came hand in hand with arrogance and conceit.

His mouth twisted into a regretful frown. “I told you six and it’s half past. I’m sorry. I was helping one of the software engineers work out a problem and we both lost track of time. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Somehow she doubted the veracity of that particular statement. Most gorgeous men of her acquaintance seemed to think the world existed for their convenience—though, okay, that might be a gross generalization. She didn’t know Bowie Callahan well enough to automatically make that assumption.

“It was fine this time,” she said. “We had fun, didn’t we, Milo?”

The boy ignored both of them, busy lining up all his cars again in the same carefully ordered row.

“How did it go?” Bowie asked.

With a careful look to make sure Milo was still occupied, she rose and walked out into the hallway, out of earshot.

“Fine, for the most part. He seemed happy to have me there for the first few minutes and then ignored me most of the afternoon. We had one meltdown when I tried to have him leave his car out with the other toys when he had to use the bathroom, but we made it through.”

“He doesn’t do anything without that stupid, manky purple car. I tried to give him a bunch of new cars with no luck. That’s still his favorite. I don’t have actual proof of this, but I’m guessing he loves it because Stella gave it to him.”

“Stella. Is that your mother?”

“Yeah. That’s Mom.”

A hundred questions flashed through her mind at his sudden hard tone. Why did merely the mention of his mother’s name upset him? And why hadn’t he known about his brother until the last few weeks?

“I’m puzzled about why he doesn’t speak,” she said slowly. “Do you know what sort of speech therapy he’s had in the past?”

Bowie shook his head. “That seems to be the big mystery to the specialists we’ve seen. To be honest, I’m not sure whether he’s had any therapy. Knowing Stella, I highly doubt it.”

Katrina frowned at the bitterness in his tone. What sort of history did those seemingly casual words conceal?

“What about since you became his guardian?”

“I have an appointment next week with one in Shelter Springs but was thinking about postponing it. I’m thinking maybe we should wait until the autism specialist arrives before we start any intensive therapy, so she can be involved at the outset.”

The frustration and weariness in his voice pulled at her. She could only imagine how difficult it must have been for him to take over guardianship of a child with Milo’s kind of developmental challenges.

“It makes sense from an outsider’s perspective,” she assured him.

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” He smiled, and she was vaguely aware of her toes curling again.

Oh, good grief. She had to get out of there.

She looked through the doorway at Milo, who was now jumping his purple car over all the others like Evel Knievel was behind the wheel.

“What time do you want me here in the morning?”

“I have a staff meeting first thing. Would eight work?”

She mentally scanned her calendar, which took all of about half a second. “That should work great.”

“Thank you.” He smiled again. This time she forced her toes to stay firmly planted inside her shoes. “You can’t imagine the weight you’ve lifted from my shoulders.”

She thought of Gabi, fragile and needy—and now a few steps closer to their new life together. “This is a mutually beneficial arrangement,” she said.

“I hope we can continue to keep it that way.”

They could, as long as she managed to hold on to her perspective. She was doing a job here, that was all. She didn’t want to become embroiled in their lives, to let herself care for the troubled Callahan brothers.

Keeping both Milo and Bowie at arm’s length over the next few weeks just might be the hardest thing she’d ever done.

She made her way past him, back into the boy’s bedroom. “I’ll see you in the morning, Milo. I have to go home now.”

That seemed to catch the boy’s attention. He looked up from his cars and she saw confusion flash in his eyes for a moment, followed quickly by disappointment and frustration and what looked like the genesis of a meltdown.

“I’ll be back tomorrow to play with you all day,” she said quickly in an effort to check the tantrum before it could begin. “I have a job for you while I’m gone. See if you can pick out all the vehicles that are the same color as your favorite.”

He looked stymied for a moment, then picked up another purple car and a third one.

“That’s an excellent start,” she said, pleased. “Good job.”

“We’ll look for more purple cars in a moment,” Bowie told him. “We can come back later, but first we have to walk Katrina out to her car and say goodbye to her. That’s the polite thing to do when you have a lady over. Come on, Milo.”

She thought the boy would ignore him, but after a moment Milo climbed to his feet, tucked his favorite car in the pocket of his cargo shorts and hurried over to them.

When they were nearly to the door, Bowie made a low exclamation. “I totally forgot. You walked over here earlier. We’ll give you a ride. Or, as I said earlier, you’re more than welcome to use something out of the garage.”

“Not necessary,” she assured him. “I left my car over at McKenzie’s house in Redemption Bay, which is only a five-minute walk from here along the lake trail.”

“We really wouldn’t mind driving you.”

“I’d rather walk. It’s a lovely evening and I need to stretch my legs a little.”

That answer didn’t appear to his liking. To his credit, Bowie didn’t argue. “Your choice, I suppose. Have a good evening, then.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you in the morning. Bye again, Milo.”

The boy didn’t wave but did appear to nod his head. She decided she would take it. Water lapped against the shore and birds twittered through the branches above her as she hurried along the path that wound through sweet-smelling pine trees. She hadn’t lied to him. She did like to walk and she adored these beautiful summer evenings along the lake—with the sun beginning to sink beneath the Redemption Mountain Range, casting long shadows.

Mostly, though, she needed a little distance from the entirely too-attractive Bowie Callahan and his brother.

* * *

KATRINA PARALLEL-PARKED about a block away from Point Made Flowers and Gifts—never an easy task, but made much more challenging because the somewhat battered sedan she was borrowing from her stepfather during her stay had a loosey-goosey power steering system that swam a little more than she liked.

“Here we are. Are you excited?”

Milo, fiddling with the strap on his booster seat in the back, didn’t answer. Not that she expected him to. Katrina was quickly discovering it was one thing to understand the challenges of autism in academic terms and something else entirely when dealing with it for hours at a time.

She and Milo had been together nonstop for the last three days and had finally settled into a routine of sorts. In the morning, she fixed him breakfast, they did a few basic chores around the house like washing the dishes or emptying the trash, then they took a long walk, either around the lake or along one of her favorite easy trails along the Hell’s Fury River.

After lunchtime, she would read to him while he played cars—though she wasn’t entirely certain if he truly enjoyed the stories or merely tuned her out to do his own thing. She insisted he rest in his room for a little quiet time, then they would take another walk or go to a nearby park or merely sit on the patio overlooking the lake and throw pebble after pebble.

He seemed comfortable with their routine, and she was leery about messing it up. This was the first time she had brought him along to a gathering like this, but McKenzie had scheduled a meeting of the Haven Point Helping Hands to finish Wyn’s wedding favors, and Katrina didn’t know how she could avoid it. She was the maid of honor, after all.

“Don’t worry. It’s going to be fun, especially since there will be other kids your age there.”

She crossed her fingers on the steering wheel. She’d yet to see Milo truly interact with others his age. Twice when they had gone to the city park, other children had been playing there, but they seemed much younger than Milo. He had largely ignored them all while he made a road in the sand for his purple car.

As was typical, he didn’t respond to her assertion and she couldn’t tell how much he understood. She had adopted the philosophy the first day that his level of understanding didn’t really matter. She would simply talk to him all the time about everything: her thoughts, concerns, Gabi, the awkward situation at her mom’s house. He didn’t appear to be bored, and she had to think that exposure to words and more words had to be beneficial.

“I need your help carrying some things in,” she told him after she unhooked his booster. It wasn’t really true, since she had only one salad and a few stray supplies Kenzie had asked her to grab, but she also had learned early that Milo seemed to like being helpful.

She handed him the small bag of craft supplies, picked up the salad, then took off for McKenzie’s store, Point Made Flowers and Gifts.

Downtown Haven Point seemed busier than Katrina had seen it in a while, bustling with tourists and locals alike. Since Ben and Aidan had moved a new Caine Tech facility to town, new stores and restaurants had begun to open up in the previously shuttered businesses in town.

It still wasn’t as busy as nearby Shelter Springs, which suited her just fine.

Before they crossed the street, she reached down to take Milo’s hand. He tried to wriggle his hand free, but she held fast. “You have to hold my hand while we cross,” she told him, her voice firm. “Then you can let go.”

He gave a heavy sigh but kept his hand in hers until the moment they reached the sidewalk on the other side, then he yanked it free, though he stayed close to her side.

Despite Bowie’s warning that first day, Milo hadn’t yet tried to wander away from her.

Bowie.

Katrina tried not to match Milo’s heavy sigh of a few moments earlier. She had worked in his house for three days and had seen him maybe a total of thirty minutes that entire time, basically five minutes in the morning as he headed out the door, then five minutes in the evening prior to her leaving for home.

Her face still felt hot and her stomach a tangle of nerves whenever she saw him, but she was working on it. Honestly.

Ten minutes a day didn’t give her much time to figure out a guy, which was probably a good thing in this case. She didn’t need to know anything about him, other than that he worked hard and wanted the best for his brother—whatever that might be.

When they reached the door of McKenzie’s store, Milo hung back a little and seemed wary about going inside. He was nervous, she realized. Had she done that to him, with her talk about other children?

“Hey, buddy,” she said softly. “You don’t have to play with the other kids if you don’t want to. It’s just fine if you would rather stay close to me the whole time.”

His shoulders seemed to relax at that, and she gave him a reassuring smile. “Let’s do this,” she said, then pushed open the door.

Inside McKenzie’s store, the scent of cinnamon and vanilla swirled around and a furry greeter instantly padded over to them.

“Hey, Rika,” she said to the elegant cinnamon-colored standard poodle who came to investigate the newcomers to her domain.

Milo, she saw, did not look nervous around the dog. No surprise there. While he might be apprehensive about children and other humans, he had a deep and abiding love for anything furry or feathered.

“Milo, this is my friend, Paprika. She is McKenzie’s dog. Remember McKenzie? You met her the other day over by the lake.”

The boy nodded and reached a hand out to pet the dog. He smiled a little when his fingertips found the texture of her curly, wiry hair.

“She feels funny, doesn’t she? Poodles don’t have hair like other dogs, you know, the long, sheddy sort. They were originally water dogs and the curly hair helps them dry off faster. Just like in people, curly hair has to do with genetics and the shape of the hair shaft opening.”

“Do you really think he understands anything about genetics or hair shafts?”

She glanced over to find Linda Fremont watching her from beside the counter, wearing her usual sour expression. She tried reminding herself to be patient with Linda. The woman had things tough after her husband died young. She had raised Samantha while running a small business by herself.

Despite her gruff exterior, she had also been as kind as her nature would allow toward Katrina at a time when other parents in town hadn’t been nearly as welcoming. Because of that, Kat generally gained a lot of practice biting her tongue around her.