A homecoming to remember

As temporary guardian of her sister’s two children, big-city magazine columnist Jenna Gardner is forced to face her past. She isn’t in Mirror Lake for long before she realizes that everything has changed. And it’s not her past throwing her off-kilter now—it’s handsome next-door neighbor, Dev McGuire. Though Dev gets under her skin, he quickly proves himself an excellent father figure for the children. Soon he’s encouraging Jenna to believe in second chances. But it’ll take a leap of faith to believe that her future just might be in Mirror Lake after all.

Jenna’s heart skipped a scheduled beat as a pair of amber eyes locked on her.

At some point in the past twelve hours, a startling transformation had occurred. The heavy growth of stubble that had shadowed Dev’s face had been removed, enhancing the clean lines of his chiseled features.

In faded jeans and a dark green T-shirt that accentuated broad shoulders and muscular arms, Dev looked like a man totally at ease in his surroundings.

And way too attractive for her peace of mind.

Jenna stopped.

“Do you need some help?”

He’d noticed the heel of her shoe stuck in the sand.

“I’m—”

“Fine,” Dev interrupted. “I think you made that clear yesterday. But at the moment it looks like you’re…stuck.”

A large hand curved around her ankle. The unexpected touch caught Jenna off guard. And sent an equally unexpected jolt of electricity running through her.

“If you’re going to stick around for a while, you should think about getting something a little more…” With another small tug, Dev set her free. “Practical.”

KATHRYN SPRINGER

is a lifelong Wisconsin resident. Growing up in a “newspaper” family, she spent long hours as a child plunking out stories on her mother’s typewriter and hasn’t stopped writing since! She loves to write inspirational romance because it allows her to combine her faith in God with her love of a happy ending.

A Promise of Home
Kathryn Springer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

The heavens declare the glory of God;

the skies proclaim the work of his hands.

Day after day they pour forth speech;

night after night they display knowledge.

There is no speech or language

where their voice is not heard.

Their voice goes out into all the earth,

their words to the ends of the world.

—Psalms 19:1–4

To my editor, Emily Rodmell,

for your attention to detail and commitment

to excellence (and also for smiley faces

in the margins during the revision process).

It is a blessing to work with you!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

“Please follow the highlighted route—”

Jenna Gardner tapped the tiny screen on the GPS and silenced the voice of her invisible navigator once and for all. Not only because the high-tech gadget seemed to be as confused as she was by the tangled skein of roads winding around Mirror Lake, but because Jenna was tempted to take its advice.

She wanted to follow the highlighted route right back to her condo in the Twin Cities.

“You passed it, Aunt Jenna!”

A panicked cry reminded her that going home wasn’t an option. Not for awhile, anyway.

Jenna glanced in the rearview mirror. Once again, she experienced a jolt at the sight of the two children in the backseat.

Silver blond hair. Delicate features. Wide blue eyes.

Jenna had met Logan and Tori for the first time only three days ago. The children were practically strangers.

Strangers who were the mirror image of her younger sister, Shelly, as a child.

For a split second, Tori met Jenna’s gaze. Then she buried her face in the tattered scrap of pink flannel that doubled as a blanket.

Jenna pressed her lips together to prevent a sigh from escaping.

One step forward, two steps back, she reminded herself. The five-year-old girl was adjusting to the idea of having an aunt the same way Jenna was getting used to the idea of having a niece and nephew.

“You have to turn around,” Logan insisted.

“Are you sure?” Jenna tipped her Ray-Bans down and tried to peer through the hedge of wild sumac that bordered the road. “I don’t see anything.”

“Uh-huh. It’s back there.” Logan, the self-appointed spokesman for the two siblings, nodded vigorously.

Under the circumstances, Jenna was willing to give the boy the benefit of the doubt. She put the car in reverse and began to inch backwards.

In Minneapolis, a dozen horns would have instantly chastised her for the move. But here in the north woods of Wisconsin, the only complaint Jenna heard came from a squirrel perched on a branch near the side of the road. More than likely voicing its opinion on her presence rather than her driving skills.

She spotted a wide dirt path that could have been—if a person possessed a vivid imagination—a driveway.

Pulling in a deep breath, Jenna gave the steering wheel a comforting pat as she turned off the road. Her back teeth rattled in time with the suspension as the vehicle bumped its way through the potholes.

Logan leaned forward and pointed to something up ahead. “There it is.”

Well, that explained why Jenna had driven right past it.

She’d been looking for a house.

The weathered structure crouched in the shadow of a stately white pine looked more like a shed. Jenna’s gaze shifted from the rusty skeleton of an old lawn mower to the faded sheets tacked up in the windows.

Oh, Shelly.

Why hadn’t her younger sister admitted that she needed help? Why hadn’t she accepted Jenna’s offer to move in with her after Logan was born?

Throughout her pregnancy, Shelly had claimed that she and her musician boyfriend, Vance, planned to marry before the baby arrived. But when Jenna had visited her eighteen-year-old sister in the maternity wing of a Madison hospital, there hadn’t been a ring on Shelly’s finger. Not only that, she’d been alone. Faced with a choice, Vance had decided that a gig at a club in Dubuque was more important than being present for the birth of his child.

Shelly had made excuses for him—the same way their mother had made excuses for their father every time he’d walked out the door.

While Jenna was pleading with Shelly to return to Minneapolis with her, Vance had sauntered into the room. The guy might have been a mediocre guitar player, but his acting skills were nothing short of amazing. He’d apologized to Shelly for not being there and promised that she and the baby could travel with the band as their “good luck charms.”

When Jenna had asked her sister if she was willing to sentence her child to the nomadic lifestyle they’d experienced while growing up, Vance had turned on her. Accused her of being a troublemaker. He’d convinced Shelly that Jenna was jealous of their relationship and didn’t want them to be happy.

The stars in Shelly’s eyes had blinded her to the truth. She had embraced Vance—and turned her back on her only sister.

Jenna hadn’t seen or heard from her again. Had no idea where Shelly was or even how she and Logan were doing.

Until last week.

She’d been sitting at her desk, sipping an iced vanilla latte and working on her next column for Twin City Trends, when she received a telephone call from a social worker named Grace Eversea.

It didn’t matter how gently the young woman had tried to break the news, each piece of information had punctured a hole in Jenna’s heart.

A house fire. Shelly in a rehab center for prescription drug abuse. Seven-year-old Logan and Tori, the niece Jenna hadn’t even known existed, in temporary foster care.

As the children’s closest relative, Jenna had been asked if she would be willing to help. She could think of a dozen reasons why she shouldn’t get involved and only two—very small—reasons why she should.

Forty-eight hours later, after being granted a temporary leave of absence from the magazine, Jenna had packed her bags and driven to Mirror Lake, a small town where people knew each other’s name and each other’s business.

The kind of place she had deliberately avoided for the past ten years.

Her plan had been to take her niece and nephew back to Minnesota. But when Jenna met with Grace Eversea, the social worker had explained it would be in Logan and Tori’s best interest to remain in familiar surroundings for the time being.

Jenna could see the wisdom in Grace’s suggestion—especially after learning that Tori and Logan had run away when they’d heard that she was on her way to Mirror Lake to meet them.

Jenna and the children had already spent several days at the Mirror Lake Lodge at the invitation of Abby and Quinn O’Halloran, the couple who owned the charming bed-and-breakfast, but she didn’t want to impose on the newlyweds’ hospitality any longer than necessary.

Until Shelly returned, Jenna decided that her only option was to move into the cabin where the family had been living before the fire. She’d been assured there had been only minimal damage to the interior and the local fire chief had pronounced the structure safe and sound.

But now, looking at the place her niece and nephew had called home, Jenna wasn’t sure she agreed with either description.

“Are we getting out, Aunt Jenna?” Logan ventured.

Jenna realized she hadn’t moved.

“Of course we are.” Forcing a smile, she slid out of the driver’s seat and went around to open Tori’s door. “You’re first, Button.”

A corner of the blanket dropped, unveiling a pair of periwinkle eyes that stared back at her with guarded apprehension.

Jenna recognized the look of someone who no longer trusted easily, and her heart wrenched. Within the space of a few weeks the little girl had been separated from her mother and then from Kate Nichols, the foster care mother she’d become attached to, before being placed in Jenna’s care.

“It’s okay, Tori.” Logan patted his sister’s hand and the sweetness of the gesture pierced Jenna’s soul.

How many times had she comforted Shelly when they were growing up? Protected her from danger—both imaginary and real?

Jenna mentally pushed the thought away. Her life was different now. She was different now.

She reached for the buckle on the booster seat but Tori shrank back.

“Don’t wanna get out!”

Jenna hesitated, wondering if the little girl was remembering the night of the fire. Once again, the reality of what she’d agreed to flooded through her, eroding her confidence. She wasn’t a child psychologist. She wasn’t even the type of person that small children flocked to.

When it came right down to it, Jenna knew she was everything that two traumatized children didn’t need.

But right now, she was all they had.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Jenna summoned the bright, confident smile that had taken her from proofreader to Twin City Trend’s most popular columnist.

Tori leaned over and whispered something in her brother’s ear.

“She’s afraid of wolves.” To his credit, Logan didn’t laugh.

Jenna bent down and looked her niece in the eye. “You don’t have to worry about wolves, sweetheart. They stay away from people.”

Tori’s gaze fixed on something over Jenna’s shoulder. “Even that one?”

That one?

Jenna whirled around and felt her knees buckle.

An enormous animal, its shaggy coat a mottled patchwork of grays and browns, was slinking down the shoreline.

Keep going, keep going.

Almost as if it had heard Jenna’s silent plea, the creature paused for a moment and lifted its nose to the wind.

The wedge-shaped head swung in their direction.

Jenna’s breath gathered in her lungs as the animal changed direction and started to lope toward them.

* * *

Devlin McGuire had just finished unloading the last of the gear from his SUV when he heard a muffled shriek near the lake.

Definitely human. Unmistakably feminine.

Mirror Lake, both the town and the small body of water it had been named after, didn’t attract many tourists in the summer but Dev had noticed lights in the windows of the vacant cabin next door the last time he’d been home.

He had hoped his new neighbors would have moved on by the time he returned, but apparently they were sticking around a little longer. Soaking up some sun and enjoying the peace and quiet of the lake.

Something Dev would have appreciated himself right about now.

Shouldering his canvas backpack, he took a step toward the cabin. Less than ten yards away, a shower with hot water waited. And a porterhouse steak in the freezer…

Another shriek. This one sent a flock of crows swirling into the air like smoke from a black powder rifle—and carried a distinct edge of panic.

Dev decided the porterhouse could wait a few more minutes.

Making his way through the narrow strip of woods that separated the two cabins, he caught a glimpse of a vehicle parked in the driveway. As he stepped into the clearing for a better look, he stopped short at the sight that greeted him.

A young woman sat on the hood—the hood—of a sleek, charcoal gray Audi, peering down at something…

Oh, no.

At the base of the front left tire, Dev spotted a large animal stretched out on the ground.

Adrenaline surged through his veins and carried him forward. He sprinted across the yard, boots crunching over the patches of sun-scorched grass.

The woman’s head jerked up.

A shimmering curtain of silver blond hair parted to reveal the kind of face that ordinarily graced the cover of celebrity magazines. Porcelain skin. High cheekbones. Big blue eyes that, if it were possible, seemed to get even bigger when he skidded up to the car.

“What happened?” Dev ground out.

“It…it just came out of nowhere—”

Tourists.

Dev wasted a precious second to scowl at the woman. “How fast were you going, anyway?”

“Fast? I wasn’t…I didn’t hit it. I was—” A low growl snipped off the rest of the sentence and the woman skittered backward.

Dev dropped to his knees and the shaggy head snapped around, fangs bared around the object locked between its jaws.

Relief mixed with the adrenaline as Dev came face-to-face with a pair of intelligent, albeit guilty, brown eyes.

“Violet, no. Drop it.”

“Violet?” the woman squeaked.

“That’s her name.” Dev held out his hand and received a soggy shoe with a ridiculously high heel in return. He scrubbed a thumb over a tooth mark in the leather, winced when it didn’t come out. “I’m sorry she scared you. Violet might be the size of a Volkswagen Bug, but she’s harmless.”

“It…it looks like a wolf.”

Which explained why she’d taken refuge on the hood of her car. Sort of.

“Your average timber wolf doesn’t wear a collar.” Dev buried his hand in the thick ruff of fur around the dog’s neck and jingled a pink, heart-shaped tag as proof.

“I thought she was going to attack me.”

Dev arched a brow. “So you threw a shoe at her?”

“I didn’t throw it. It…fell off.” She was glaring at him now, not Violet.

Dev was getting the distinct impression that the blame had somehow shifted from the dog to its owner.

Violet bumped his arm, her pink tongue unfurling in a cheerful doggy grin, content to let him clean up the mess she’d made. Typical.

Dev buried a sigh and reached out his hand to help the woman down.

She didn’t move.

It occurred to Dev that he probably looked a little…rough. A razor hadn’t touched his face for over a week and his camo fatigues had been washed in a spring—

The breeze shifted and Dev saw the straight little nose twitch.

—And dried by the campfire.

Yup. Now she thinks you’re a serial arsonist.

He scraped up some of the manners that had gotten a little rusty from lack of use.

“I’m Dev McGuire.”

“Jenna—” Her lips compressed as if she regretted revealing that much information. “Just…Jenna.”

Dev wondered what he could say to reassure her that neither he—nor his dog—were a threat.

“I live next door.”

Eyes as blue as the forget-me-nots scattered along the shoreline fixed on a point beyond his shoulder, as if she were gauging the distance between the two places.

Now she moved. Away from him.

Dev’s lips tipped in a rueful smile.

Apparently that wasn’t it.

Chapter Two

Jenna stiffened.

Was he laughing at her?

When she’d seen the animal hurtling across the patch of lawn like a furry twister, Jenna automatically slammed the car door to protect the children inside.

Which left her on the outside.

Faced with a decision—one hastened by the knowledge that the size and weight of something didn’t necessarily reduce its capacity for speed—Jenna had vaulted onto the hood, sacrificing a shoe in the process.

So maybe she’d reacted—okay, shrieked. Once. Or had it been twice? But not very loudly. And only because the beast had pounced on one of her favorite Kate Spades as if it were a juicy T-bone steak.

Jenna had been trying to figure out a way to get back inside the car when he showed up.

Her heart had almost stopped at the sight of the man in camouflage emerging from the woods that bordered the property.

Jenna sneaked another look at Dev McGuire and what she saw didn’t exactly put her mind at ease.

The man looked as unkempt as the wolf-dog-public nuisance now sitting sedately at his feet.

A swatch of sable hair, carelessly combed by the warm breeze skipping off the lake, had fallen across his broad forehead. Underneath a heavy growth of stubble, the features were lean and defined, a pleasing clash of sharp angles and rugged planes. Tiny lines fanned out from eyes that should have been hazel or chocolate brown, not a pale amber that reminded Jenna of clover honey.

“I can replace the shoes if necessary.” Dev McGuire broke the silence that had fallen between them and shot the dog a wry look. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to make…ah, restitution for damages.”

Jenna didn’t doubt that for a minute.

“That’s not necessary.” She replaced her shoe and slid off the opposite side of the car.

Dev looked amused, as if he’d guessed that she wanted to keep her distance. Between him and his dog.

“If you ever do see a wolf, Just Jenna, I would recommend taking shelter inside the car.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jenna said stiffly. “I appreciate you coming over to get your dog, but don’t let me keep you any longer—”

“Can we get out now?” A small voice piped up from inside the car.

Jenna had been waiting for Tori to talk to her all morning but these weren’t exactly the words she’d wanted to hear.

She winced when her neighbor’s focus shifted to the backseat, where two small faces were framed in the window, noses pressed against the glass.

Jenna hadn’t forgotten about her niece and nephew, she just didn’t want to draw attention to the fact they were there.

She pinned on a smile. “In a minute, sweetheart.”

“When the wolf is gone?”

“It’s not a wolf. It’s just a…dog.” A very large, ferocious-looking dog. Named after a small, delicate flower.

“Oh.” A pause. “Can I pet it?”

Now that Dev McGuire had cleared up the mystery concerning what type of animal had scared her nearly to death, Jenna should have anticipated the request. One of the reasons Tori hadn’t wanted to leave the bed-and-breakfast was because she’d gotten so attached to Mulligan and Lady, Abby and Quinn’s dogs.

The O’Hallorans had encouraged Jenna to bring the children back anytime to play with their pets, but the generous offer hadn’t stemmed the flow of Tori’s tears. To her niece, the dogs represented something else she’d been forced to leave behind.

“I don’t think that’s—” A good idea. Safe.

While Jenna silently sifted through her options until she found the most tactful response, Dev McGuire reached out and opened the car door.

* * *

The two kids that tumbled out of the backseat were miniature replicas of the woman who held Dev responsible for her recent wardrobe malfunction.

“Hi.” Dev squatted down in front of the boy. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jenna advancing like a mama bear protecting her cubs. “I’m Dev. And you are—”

“Logan J. Gardner,” came the serious response.

Dev held back a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Logan J. Gardner.”

“And this is Tori.” Logan gestured to the blonde pixie hiding behind him.

When Dev turned his attention to the little girl, she dipped her chin and studied the toes of her scuffed sneakers.

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Tori.”

She peeked at him through a fringe of golden lashes. “Your dog is pretty.”

Violet tossed her head and preened as if she’d understood, even though Dev was certain no one had ever used that particular word to describe her before.

“Do you like dogs?” he asked.

Tori nodded shyly.

“Well, she likes kids.”

“For breakfast?” Dev heard Jenna say under her breath.

She stopped several feet away, hovering in the background like a Black Hawk helicopter, ready to swoop in and rescue her children at the first sign of danger.

Dev wondered what had happened to make her so suspicious.

Or maybe it was him she didn’t trust. The last two weeks, Dev had spent more time in the woods than polite society. Not that he was complaining—most of the time he preferred it that way.

“Violet likes to have her ears scratched. Right here.” Dev demonstrated and the dog growled her appreciation. Three pairs of eyes widened at the sound. “Don’t worry. That’s the noise she makes when she’s happy.”

“That’s what she did when she picked up Aunt Jenna’s shoe,” Logan whispered.

Aunt Jenna.

The relief that arrowed through Dev didn’t make any sense.

From the top of her shining hair to the tips of her pedicure, Just Jenna was not his type. She was beautiful, no doubt about it, but everything about her shouted high maintenance. Stylish clothing. Simple but expensive jewelry.

Not to mention she was still looking at him the way she would a ketchup stain on her white jeans.

Jenna reminded him too much of Elaina Hammond. His ex-fiancé had always insisted on having the “best” of everything. The relationship ended when they’d no longer agreed on what that meant.

“Can I pet Violet, Aunt Jenna?” Tori repeated. “Please?”

Jenna tossed the dog a dubious glance. Fortunately, what Violet lacked in looks, she more than made up for in doggy smarts. She thumped her tail a few times and wiggled her eyebrows, a veritable canine poster child for good manners.

Jenna sighed. “I suppose so.”

“Me, too.” Logan dropped to his knees in front of the dog, whose lips peeled back to expose a row of gleaming white teeth.

Dev heard an audible gulp.

“Don’t worry. She’s smiling at you,” he said. “Violet, meet Logan J. Gardner.”

The boy tentatively reached out a hand and his mouth dropped open in amazement when Violet lifted a paw the size of a snowshoe for him to shake.

“See? She’s very well trained,” Dev murmured.

Jenna turned one slim ankle to examine her shoe and Dev almost laughed.

Point taken.

“What kind of dog is she?” Logan asked.

“According to the vet, mostly German shepherd and husky.” Dev ruffled the dog’s ears. “I found her running loose in the woods last summer when she was a pup. It took a few days and two packages of hotdogs to get her to trust me. That’s how she got her name,” he added. “She was shy as a violet.”

Tori plopped down in the grass and Violet cemented their new friendship by swiping the girl’s cheek with her tongue. Tori drew back, giggling.

“See Aunt Jenna! She doesn’t bite.”

“Only shoes.” Dev tipped a smile at Jenna.

A smile she didn’t return.

“I’m sure Mr. McGuire has things to do today. And so do we.” Jenna glanced at the cabin and Dev was pretty sure he saw her…shudder?

Wait a second.

“You’re staying here?” The moment Dev had laid eyes on Jenna, he’d dismissed the notion she’d been staying in the cabin and assumed she had somehow gotten lost and ended up mistaking the long driveway for a road. It happened all the time in an area where the locals had a tendency to give out directions based on natural landmarks rather than official signs.

“We have to.” Logan sidled closer to his sister. “So our Mom knows where to find us.”

Dev had no idea what that meant, but for a split second, he saw Jenna’s composure slip. The flash of vulnerability an unexpected, almost startling, contrast to the confidence she wore with the same ease as her designer labels.

The speed in which Jenna had recovered from her initial embarrassment over their unusual introduction, restoring both her dignity and poise as swiftly as she’d replaced her shoe, told Dev she placed a high value on both.

But something also told Dev that Jenna was totally out of her element here. And not only because she looked like the type of woman whose idea of roughing it was a hotel where the guests were greeted by a valet, not an oversize mutt with a penchant for leather shoes.

Dev watched a chipmunk disappear through a crack in the foundation and imagined an entire colony of the furry little critters living under the porch. Not the kind of neighbors Just Jenna would choose if given a choice.

Then again, judging from the wary looks Dev had been receiving, she probably wouldn’t have chosen him, either.

Keep your eyes open, Dev, Jason had liked to say. God puts certain people in your path for a reason.

After several years of soul searching, Dev no longer found those words difficult to believe. Even if he did spend long periods of time in the woods to reduce the risk of it happening.

But why would God deposit a reminder of the life he’d walked away from—even worse, a strikingly pretty reminder—less than a hundred yards from his front door?

There could only be one reason that Dev could think of.

He was being punished for something.

“There’s a bed-and-breakfast about two miles from here,” Dev said slowly. “I’m sure you’d be more comfortable there.”

And, to be honest, so would he. One of the reasons Dev had turned his late grandfather’s summer cabin into a permanent residence was because it provided the solitude he craved. If the owner of the cabin next door started renting it out on a regular basis, Dev would have to buy the place in order to prevent an influx of tourists from invading his privacy.

“We were just there,” Tori piped up. “Abby has a dog named Mulligan, but he’s not as big as Violet.”

“We had to stay there because of the fire but Grace—she’s our social worker—told us it was okay for us to come back home now,” her brother added.

Dev’s attempt to make sense of the conversation was sabotaged by a single word. His gaze swung to Jenna.

“What fire?”

Jenna debated what—if anything—to tell Devlin McGuire.

For a girl who transferred the details of her personal life to print for hundreds of devoted readers each week, she was curiously loathe to share any of them with him.

Unfortunately, the children didn’t seem to share her reservations, forcing Jenna to question her initial impression of her niece and nephew. Maybe Logan and Tori weren’t quiet. Maybe they were simply quiet around her.

She decided to give their neighbor the condensed version.

“No one was hurt and it didn’t cause any major damage.” At least, not to the cabin itself. Jenna still wasn’t sure what lasting effects that night had had on her niece and nephew.

“And you were here at the time?” Dev persisted.

“Me and Logan were.” Tori looked down at the ground. “And our mom.”

“She’s in the hospital,” Logan said.

Dev’s eyebrows dipped together in a frown and Jenna knew what he was thinking. “Not because of the fire,” she said quickly. “She’s there…for other reasons.”

“Aunt Jenna’s staying with us until Mom gets better.” He looked at her for confirmation.

“That’s right.” Jenna masked her concern for Shelly, wishing she knew how long that would be.

She’d called the treatment center several days ago and asked to speak with her sister, only to be informed that Shelly wasn’t accepting phone calls.

Jenna hadn’t known where to turn for answers.

At Kate Nichols’s suggestion, she had contacted Jake Sutton, the local chief of police who’d been at the scene the night of the fire. All he’d been able to discover was that Shelly had rented the cabin at the beginning of the summer and kept to herself.

Strange as it seemed, especially given a small town’s propensity toward gossip, the police chief’s assessment had proven to be correct. Kate had made some inquiries, too, and none of her regular customers at the Grapevine Cafe knew anything about Shelly.

Including, it seemed, her closest neighbor.

“I’m sorry about your mom.”

The compassion Jenna heard in Dev’s husky voice was a confusing contrast to the man’s rough exterior.

But she didn’t need confusing. Not right now.

“Mom’s been sick a long time,” Logan said, a shadow passing through his eyes.

Tori bobbed her head in agreement. “She sleeps a lot.”

Jenna released a careful breath. It was the first time the children had said anything that hinted at Shelly’s addiction.

A part of her hadn’t wanted to believe it was true. The police hadn’t found any drugs on the premises, so Shelly hadn’t been taken into custody the night of the fire. But according to Grace Eversea, it had been the wake-up call Shelly needed to admit she had a problem and seek treatment.

“We’re asking God to make her better,” Logan said, his expression earnest. “He can do that, can’t he, Aunt Jenna?”

“Yes. He can.”

It was Dev McGuire who broke the sudden silence. Because even if Jenna had been certain of the answer, she was sure the word would have gotten stuck inside the lump forming in her throat.

For the children’s sake, she hoped he was right.

“Is there anything I can do?” Dev was looking at her now, not the children. The genuine concern reflected in his eyes threatening to sever the fragile hold on her self-control.

“I’m fine.” Jenna heard herself repeat the words that had served as an effective shield over the years.

And even though Dev nodded, she had the unsettling feeling that he could see right through it.

Watching him stride away, the dog loping along at his side, Jenna was struck with a sudden, inexplicable urge to ask him to come back. But she’d learned long ago not to ask anyone for help. Not her neighbors. Not her teachers or classmates.

Not even God.

Chapter Three

“I’m afraid, Aunt Jenna.”

Jenna felt a small hand slip into hers.

I am too, Jenna wanted to say. She was afraid of the role she’d taken on. Afraid she would somehow do the children more harm than good. But more than that, she was afraid of what would happen to Logan and Tori if Shelly didn’t return within the next few days.

“It’ll be all right.” Jenna said, a reminder to herself as well as her niece. She gave Tori’s hand a reassuring squeeze and worked the key into the rusty lock.

Stepping into the cabin was like stepping into the sauna at the fitness center. The air pressed in from all sides, making it difficult to breathe.

The first thing Jenna saw was the dark blister that marred the hardwood floor. According to the fire chief, Shelly had admitted that she’d fallen asleep on the couch with a cigarette in her hand. One of the embers had dropped between the cushions and started the cushions on fire.

Bile rose in Jenna’s throat as the truth sank in.

She could have lost all three of them.

“I smell smoke.” Logan stopped in the doorway, a worried look on his face.

“That’s because the windows are shut, sweetheart.” Crossing the room, Jenna stripped off the sheet tacked over the window and pushed it open. Immediately, a breeze from the lake began to filter into the room, caressing her face like a cool hand on a feverish brow.

“Better?”

Logan nodded and took a cautious step into the room.

Jenna had a feeling that erasing the acrid scent of smoke from the air would be easier than erasing the memories of the night the children had been removed from their home.

“I’m going to find Princess,” Tori said in a small voice. “She’s my favorite stuffed animal but I was afraid to ask the p’liceman if we could go back and get her. She might be hiding ’cause she got scared.”

“Come on, Tori. I’ll help you look.” Logan stepped in and took his little sister by the hand. They disappeared through a doorway off the living room, giving Jenna a few moments to explore the rest of the cabin alone.

Her heart sank as she surveyed the bleak interior.

From what Jenna could see, Shelly had made no attempt to turn the place into a home. There were no pictures on the walls. No personal touches that told her anything about her sister’s life.

Growing up, Shelly had been the outgoing one, unafraid of taking risks when it came to life—and love.

And look where it got her, Jenna thought.

The children’s last name was still Gardner, which led her to believe that Vance and her sister had never married. Where was he? Had he eventually grown tired of the responsibility of a family and walked out, the same way Jenna’s father had when she and Shelly were children?

She and Shelly had both felt the sting of his rejection. But while her younger sister had dreamed of finding someone to take care of her, Jenna had learned to take care of herself.

She’d never imagined those lessons would launch a popular magazine column, but that’s exactly what had happened. Jenna didn’t love the attention as much as she loved encouraging other women to become successful and independent.

Something she hadn’t been able to do for her own sister.

Jenna picked a towel off the floor and walked into the tiny kitchen. Unopened letters littered the table and the sink was filled with dirty dishes.

She turned on the faucet and the pipes rattled before spitting out a stream of rusty water.

Jenna closed her eyes.

What had she been thinking?

They were leaving. Now. Familiar surroundings or not. There had to be something to rent in Mirror Lake while they waited for Shelly to return.

This place…the aura of neglect and poverty. It reminded her of things she had spent years trying to forget.

Jenna followed the sound of voices to a bedroom only slightly larger than the walk-in closet in her apartment. The knotty pine walls appeared to be in fairly good condition, but a network of tiny cracks branched out from a central fault line in the plaster ceiling. Swags of cobwebs hung from the light fixture above her head.

Tori sat cross-legged on the frayed carpet, rummaging through a cache of toys stashed in a plastic bin at the foot of one of the bunk beds, while Logan was already unpacking the contents of his backpack.

Both the children looked up and smiled as Jenna entered the room.

Tori cuddled a stuffed dog in her lap. “This is Princess, but I think she looks like Violet, don’t you?”

Jenna didn’t want to think about Violet. Thinking about Violet made her think of Violet’s owner.

Her cheeks grew warm as she remembered the glint of amusement in Devlin McGuire’s eyes when he’d suggested that she take refuge inside of her car if she ever crossed paths with a real wolf.

Once they found another place to live, the chances of seeing her neighbor again would be slim. As humiliating as their first meeting had been, Jenna was no hurry for there to be another.

She moved to sit on the edge of the bed and her ankle connected with a solid object underneath the frame.

“Ouch.” Wincing, Jenna reached down and pulled out an unopened can of paint.

“That’s ours.” Tori flashed a shy smile. “Mom promised she would paint our room.”

“When she felt better,” Logan added.

Jenna glanced at the receipt from the hardware store taped to the lid. The paint had been purchased over a month ago. Shelly hadn’t been able to find the time—or the energy—to tackle a project that, given the size of the bedroom, wouldn’t have taken more than a few hours to complete.

How many other promises had her sister broken along the way? And at what age would Logan and Tori stop believing them?

“We can paint it and surprise Mommy, can’t we, Aunt Jenna?” Tori’s voice tugged her back to the present. “It’s pink. Me an’ Logan’s favorite color.”

“It’s your favorite color,” her brother muttered.

“You said you liked it!” Tori thrust out her chin, daring him to disagree.

“No, I didn’t.” The tips of Logan’s ears turned red. “I said it was okay if you liked it.”

Jenna recognized the small sacrifice her nephew had made to keep Tori happy, and something stirred in her heart.

It looked like she was going to have to make one, too.

Because like it or not, for now, the children had told Dev McGuire the truth.

This was home.

* * *

With a flick of his wrist, Dev released the line on his fishing pole. Sunlight sparked off the lure right before it sliced through the gleaming surface of the water and disappeared. He turned the handle on the reel and immediately felt a tug of resistance.

“I think we’ve got one,” he told Violet.

The dog barked her encouragement, tail waving like a victory banner as Dev set the hook and brought in a bluegill the size of his hand. Not bad for the first cast of the day.

As he removed the hook from the fish’s mouth, a furtive movement in the reeds caught his eye. Violet noticed it, too, and immediately set off to investigate.

“If it’s black with a white stripe, leave it alone,” Dev called after her. “Remember what happened last summer. You lost in the first round.”

And Dev hadn’t been able to so much as look at a glass of tomato juice since.

Violet ignored him and plunged headfirst into the cattails.

“Hey!”

Her quarry—a barefoot, towheaded boy—scrambled out the other side.

Logan J. Gardner.

So. Just Jenna had actually stuck it out for a night. If Dev were a gambling man, he would have bet she’d packed her Gucci bag and headed to a five-star hotel before a person could say complimentary facial.

Violet barked at the pint-sized trespasser, who stood rooted in place, shoulders hunched, his cheeks red with embarrassment at having been caught spying on the neighbors.

“Don’t pay any attention to Violet.” Dev cast out his line again, acting as if there were nothing at all unusual about discovering a boy lurking in the reeds at seven o’clock in the morning. “Hide-and-seek happens to be number two on her list of favorite games.”

The tension in Logan’s shoulders eased a little. He reached out and gave the dog’s nose a tentative pat. It was all the encouragement Violet needed. She retrieved a piece of birch wood floating in the shallow water and dropped it at the boy’s feet.

Dev shook his head. “Fetching sticks is number one.”

With a sideways look at Dev, Logan dutifully picked up the stick and threw it. Violet sprang forward, massive paws churning ruts in the sand as she chased it down the shoreline.

Logan shuffled closer, pushing his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts. “Did you catch anything yet?”

“Just getting started.” Dev tried another spot further from the lily pads. “Do you like to fish?”

The thin shoulders rolled in a shrug. “My friend Jeremy does. He said he’d teach me this summer, but I don’t know if I’d be any good at it.”

But he wanted to try. Dev could see it in Logan’s eyes.

“There’s one way to find out.” He held out the fishing pole.

Logan eased a look over his shoulder.

A look Dev instantly recognized. He’d been that age once upon a time.

“Does your aunt know you’re over here?”

Logan suddenly became absorbed in watching an emerald green dragonfly fanning its wings near his feet. “She said I could go outside.”

Dev took that as a no. He should have known Jenna wouldn’t approve of her nephew venturing down to the lake alone. Or crossing the property line.

But apparently Jenna didn’t know that one had to be specific when it came to small boys.

A memory somehow managed to slip through a tiny crack in the wall surrounding Dev’s grief.

When he wasn’t much older than Logan, Dev’s father had given him and Jason some leftover wood from one of the construction sites. He hadn’t told them not to use it to build a ramp. And he hadn’t told them not to ride their bicycles off the end of said ramp.

Dev had tried to point that out on the way to the emergency room while Jason sat in the backseat, cradling a broken arm. Unfortunately, his father hadn’t appreciated his logic.

You’re the oldest, Devlin. I expect more from you.

Those words had become a familiar refrain while Dev was growing up, playing in the background while he was being groomed to take over the family construction business. Dev didn’t mind. He’d embraced the challenges—and the advantages—that came with being the oldest son of Brent McGuire.

In college, Jason had chosen a different path. One that had had Dev shaking his head in confusion at the time. If only he’d had the opportunity to tell his brother that he finally understood.

“You’ve got another one!” Logan’s excited cry jerked Dev from the past with the same urgency as the fish tugging on the end of his line.

Dev set the hook and turned to Logan. “Do you want to bring it in?”

“Sure,” the boy said eagerly, his previous hesitation forgotten as he reached for the pole.

“Reel it in nice and slow…” Dev instructed as he bent down to retrieve the net.

Logan shot him a panicked look. “You should take it now. It’s going to get away.”

“No, it won’t. You’re doing great.”

“Look how big it is!” Logan’s eyes grew wide as Dev knelt down on the dock and scooped up the fish.

“Here you go.” Dev carefully removed the hook from the bluegill’s mouth and dropped it into a bucket of water. “It’s definitely a keeper. I’ll put it on the stringer so you can take it home.”

“Really?”

“You catch it, you keep it.”

Eyes shining, Logan squatted down to admire the fish. “Maybe we can have it for lunch.”

“Maybe.” A smile lifted the corners of Dev’s lips. If only he could see Jenna’s face when she saw the catch of the day.

“Logan?”

Dev glanced over his shoulder at the sound of a familiar voice behind them.

It looked as though his wish was about to come true.

* * *

Jenna’s heart skipped a scheduled beat when Dev McGuire turned around. At some point in the last twelve hours, a startling transformation had occurred.

The heavy growth of stubble that had shadowed the angular jaw was gone, enhancing the clean lines of Dev’s chiseled features. The bright morning sunlight coaxed out hints of bronze in the sable hair that Jenna hadn’t noticed before.

In faded jeans and a dark green T-shirt that accentuated broad shoulders and muscular arms, Dev looked like a man totally at ease in his surroundings.

And way too attractive for her peace of mind.

Jenna stopped, suddenly reluctant to venture any closer.

“Look at the fish I caught, Aunt Jenna!” Logan shouted, jumping up and down on the dock like a pogo stick and pointing to a metal bucket near his feet.

“I wanna see it, too!” Tori broke free from Jenna’s hold and scampered toward her brother.

It was a conspiracy, no doubt about it.

Jenna picked her way down to the shoreline, the heels of her shoes sinking into the spongy ground with every step.

“Hurry up, Aunt Jenna!”

Aware that Dev was watching her approach, Jenna grabbed the wooden post on the end of the dock. The narrow platform jutting over the water hadn’t looked quite so precarious from a distance. As Jenna gingerly stepped onto the first section, Violet decided to join her.

The dog, marinated in lake water and coated with a fine layer of sand, lowered its shaggy head and barked at her.

Nice to see you again? Get off my property?

Jenna had no idea what Violet was attempting to communicate, but she was hesitant to take another step until she knew for sure.

“Violet, no.” Dev strode toward them. “Look out, Jenna. She’s going to—”

Shake.

That must have been the word Dev had been looking for.

If only he would have said it faster.

Chapter Four

Jenna jumped backward to avoid the shower. The heel of her shoe found a weak spot in the weathered boards and opened a space for her entire foot to go through.

She attempted to wiggle free before Dev noticed her dilemma.

“Do you need some help?”

Jenna tried not to groan.

He’d noticed her dilemma.

“I’m—”

“Fine,” Dev interrupted. “I think you made that clear yesterday. But at the moment it looks like you’re…stuck.”

Unfortunately, Jenna couldn’t argue with the assessment. She was stuck. Stuck in the kind of town she’d spent the majority of her life wanting to leave. Stuck in a cabin that let more mosquitoes in than it kept out, instead of her condo with its enclosed balcony and manicured lawn.

No dogs allowed.

But worst of all, it appeared as though Jenna was stuck with a neighbor who’d seen her in what could only be described as less than ideal—okay, humiliating—situations.

Twice.

“Don’t move—” Dev began.

Jenna moved. And winced when a jagged splinter thwarted her attempt to shake her foot free from the shoe.

Shaking his head, Dev knelt down and ignored her strangled protest.

Jenna tried to lean as far away from him as she could. But considering her foot was wedged between two boards, it wasn’t nearly far enough.

A large hand curved around her ankle. The unexpected touch caught Jenna off guard. And sent an equally unexpected jolt of electricity running through her.

“Hold still,” Dev commanded. “You’re as jumpy as a tree frog.”

A tree frog. Now there was something a girl dreamed of being compared to.

“What’s taking so long?” Jenna found her view blocked by a broad shoulder.

“I’m trying to decide which one to save. Your shoe or your foot.” Dev slanted a look at her, the amusement in his eyes a contrast to his solemn tone.

“That’s not funny.” But even as she said the words, Jenna felt a bubble of laughter rising in her chest.

What would her readers think if they saw City Girl, their favorite columnist, now? Jenna was relieved this particular moment in her life would never make it into print!

“You should think about investing in something a little more—” A gentle tug. “—practical.”

Jenna wanted to argue that this pair of shoes had been the source of inspiration for the most popular column she’d ever written.

“In the Right Pair of Shoes, A Girl Can Go Anywhere.”

“I mean, considering they’re practically stilts, I can see you get decent clearance,” Dev went on. “But they can’t possibly be comfortable.”

“They happen to be exactly right for where I live.” Jenna ignored the part about them being comfortable. “Concrete sidewalks. Foliage growing in pots. Parks with leash laws…” Her attempt to deny the humor in the situation was too much. She grinned down at him.

And Dev released her so abruptly that she almost lost her balance again. The laughter faded from his eyes.

“That might be true, but these things won’t last a week and neither—” He stopped, but Jenna knew what he’d been about to say.

Neither will you.

With as much dignity as she could muster, Jenna swished right past him on her impractical shoes.

If she wasn’t determined to do everything in her power to be back in Minneapolis as soon as possible, it would have been oh so tempting to prove the man wrong.

* * *

Dev watched his neighbor sashay down the dock and felt like a first-class jerk.

Sorry, God, but you know I don’t deal well with surprises.

Like finding out that Just Jenna had a sense of humor. Or the zap of attraction he’d felt when she cast that mischievous grin in his direction.

Dev hadn’t felt that tongue-tied since a black bear had wandered into his campsite one night and lay down on the end of his sleeping bag. While he was inside of it.

A cold nose nudged his hand and Dev looked down. Violet’s bushy eyebrows wiggled an apology.

“Only because I have to,” Dev said in a low voice. After all, it was his own fault for owning a dog the size of a skid steer. “But sit here—and try to stay out of trouble.”

Violet flopped onto her belly. Of course. Now she listened to him. Leaving the dog in an expanding pool of lake water, he went to join the group assembled at the end of the dock.

“Dev let me reel it in all by myself,” Logan was saying. The look of pride on the boy’s face made Dev smile.

“Mr. McGuire,” Jenna corrected her nephew.

“I don’t mind if they call me Dev. ‘Mr. McGuire’ is too formal for fishing buddies.” Not only that, every time Dev heard it he’d have to fight the urge to glance over his shoulder to make sure his father hadn’t materialized behind him.

Brent McGuire would have viewed a few hours of early morning fishing as a complete waste of time.

In fact, his father believed that until Dev returned to take over the helm of the family business, his entire life was being wasted. Telephone conversations had become thinly disguised lectures on duty and responsibility. His mother kept a running list of everything Dev was “missing.” It was the reason their relationship had been condensed to brief phone calls, spaced out over major holidays.

Dev didn’t regret moving to Mirror Lake. No one here cared about the gold plaque on his door or his family pedigree. The locals respected his desire for privacy and left him alone. Dev had decided it was only fair to return the favor.

His life might not be the way Dev pictured it, what he’d lost couldn’t be compared to everything he’d gained. The solitude, which in the beginning had seemed like a punishment, Dev had begun to view as a gift from God.

That’s why he couldn’t figure out why God had deposited a woman and two children practically outside his door. Especially a woman like Jenna, who looked as if she was dressed for a photo shoot and obviously preferred to see her fish breaded and served next to a side of coleslaw rather than swimming around in a bucket.

“It smells funny.” Tori, who’d pushed closer for a better view of the fish, wrinkled her nose.

For a split second, Jenna looked as if she were tempted to do the same.

Logan dismissed his little sister’s comment and looked at his aunt with a hopeful expression, waiting for her opinion.

“It’s very slimy—” Jenna caught herself. “Shiny. Very shiny.”

Logan beamed. “It’s a keeper, right, Dev?”

“That’s right.” Was it his imagination, or was Jenna looking a little, er, green around the gills?

“And I get to take it home.”

Forget-me-not blue eyes widened at Logan’s announcement.

No, definitely not his imagination.

“B-but—”

“It’s one of the rules of fishing.” Dev interrupted Jenna midsputter.

“Rules?” She gazed at him with open skepticism.

“Unwritten, of course.”

“Of course.”

“You catch it, you keep it,” Logan sang out.

“Exactly.” Dev checked a smile.

“That’s very…thoughtful…of you,” Jenna said in a tone that hinted it was just the opposite.

“Can you take a picture of it, Aunt Jenna?” Logan asked. “I want to show Mom.”

A shadow passed through Jenna’s eyes but she nodded. “Of course, but I think you should be holding the fish so she can see how big it is.”

“Can I hold it, too?” Tori wanted to know.

“I have an idea. Why don’t I take the picture and all three of you can pose with the fish?” Dev couldn’t resist.

“Okay!”

Jenna didn’t join the chorus. She sighed and pulled a slim black gadget out of her pocket, the kind that did everything but clean your house.

Dev held out his hand and she reluctantly dropped the expensive little piece of technology into his calloused palm. Dev stood patiently through the brief tutorial that followed.

“Now, how should we set this up?” Jenna squinted at the sun. “Maybe—”

“I think I can take it from here.” Dev lined up the shot. “Ready?”

Only two blond heads bobbed. In this instance, Dev went with the majority.

“Stand right there—Logan don’t drop the fish.” He took a step back and the trio came into focus. Logan with his proud, gap-toothed grin. Tori cheek to cheek with Violet, who’d managed to sneak into the frame. And Jenna, beautiful but somber.

Dev wondered what she was thinking.

She’s thinking that you’re going to drop her phone into the lake and cut off her only tie to civilization, an inner voice chided. Take the picture.

He snapped a few quick shots. “Okay, time to put the fish on a stringer so you can take him home with you.”

“His name is Fred,” Tori announced.

Everyone turned to stare at her.

“We’re not going to name it.” Logan rolled his eyes. “We’re going to eat it.”

Tori looked horrified by the thought. “We can’t eat Fred.”

“Toriiii.” His sister’s name rolled out on a groan. “That’s what you’re supposed to do.”

“But his family will miss him,” she wailed.

Logan sent a silent appeal to Dev for help.

“Sorry, bud. Your fish, your call.” No way was he going to weigh in on that decision. And one look at Jenna’s face revealed whose side she was on.

Logan heaved a sigh. “Okay. But just this once.”

“Just this once,” Tori agreed cheerfully.

No one believed her.

“Come on.” Dev grabbed the bucket and strode down the dock.

At the edge of the shoreline everyone, including Jenna, release a collective breath as Fred propelled himself into the deeper water with a graceful swish of his back tail fin. Along with the bluegill Dev had planned to have for supper that night.

Tori clapped her hands. “Fred’s going home.”

“I’m going to follow him.” Logan leaped to his feet.

“Wait for me.” Tori followed, chasing after her brother through the waves that lapped the shoreline. Violet tore after them, barking her approval.

Dev had a hunch his company was going to seem pretty boring from now on.

“They’re good kids.” Dev watched Logan pause to grab his little sister’s hand when she stumbled in the wet sand.

“They are.” There it was again. That brief flash of vulnerability Dev had seen in Jenna’s eyes the day before. “Sometimes I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep up with them.”

“Another reason to wear something more practical on your feet.” Dev couldn’t resist teasing her a little. Call him a glutton for punishment, but he wanted to see that mischievous smile again.

“I do have another pair of shoes.” Jenna’s chuff of indignation stirred a ribbon of silver-blond hair on her forehead. “I just didn’t think I’d need them. I didn’t plan to be in Mirror Lake for more than a day or two.”

Dev could relate. He’d arrived at his grandfather’s old fishing cabin for a weekend. Five years ago.

“So what made you decide to stay?”

Jenna was silent for so long, Dev didn’t think she was going to answer the question.

“My sister.”

It was a little unsettling to discover they had something in common. Jenna had come to Mirror Lake because of her sister and Dev was there because of his brother.

“This is a good place.” Dev watched a young bald eagle spin a lazy circle over the treetops. “Kids need room to roam.”

Jenna’s lips compressed, a sign she didn’t agree with him. “That reminds me. I’m sorry that Logan interrupted your day. I guess I need to have a talk with him about boundaries.”

Dev remembered the look of wonder on Logan’s face when he’d offered him the fishing pole.

“I didn’t mind. And he can fish off my dock anytime he wants to—”

Jenna was already shaking her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“It’s safe as long as he’s not down here alone. Even at the end of the dock, the water isn’t over his head.”

“That’s not it. I don’t want Logan or Tori to get too attached to…this place.”

“I thought Logan said they lived here.” From what the children had said the day before, he assumed their mother had bought it.

Jenna shook her head. “My sister rented the cabin for the summer. It’s temporary. When she gets home, I’m hoping I can convince her to move closer to me.”

From the expression on Jenna’s face, that day couldn’t come soon enough.

Why that bothered him, Dev didn’t know. Especially since he’d dropped a not-so-subtle hint that she wouldn’t last a week.

Tori skipped up to them and tugged on Jenna’s arm. “I found a spider on a tree over there, Aunt Jenna. Do you want to take its picture, too?”

Too?

Dev glanced at Jenna and saw twin patches of color underline the sculpted cheekbones.

“No thanks, sweetie.”

Logan joined them. “But it’s bigger than the one you found this morning.”

Dev had to ask. He just had to. “Did she scream?”

Logan thought about that. “A little.”

“It was in the bathtub,” Tori added. “And it was huuuge.”

“Aunt Jenna took its picture. She said it was so big that we could put a leash on it and take it for a walk around the block—”

“Why don’t you two go inside and get washed up?” Jenna cut in. “We haven’t had breakfast yet.”

As far as diversions went, it might not have been subtle but it was effective. The children headed toward the cabin. Dev grabbed hold of Violet’s collar before she included herself in the invitation.

“So. A spider.” Dev’s lips twitched.

“I’m sure you’ve seen them before,” Jenna said tartly.

“Not one that I could put a leash on and take for a walk around the block.”

Jenna whipped out her phone again and scrolled through the pictures, stopping at the close-up of a spider roughly the size of the designer dog Elaina had carried around in her purse.

Dev blinked. Okay, it was that big.

“What did you do? Throw your shoe at it?” He’d been kidding…until he saw the guilty look on Jenna’s face.

“You threw your shoe at it?”

“Yes, but I didn’t think I’d actually hit it.”

“I’m shocked.”

“So was I.” The husky laugh that followed packed more of a punch than Jenna’s smile.

While Dev was recovering from the impact, she veered toward the cabin. Tossed a smug look over her shoulder.

“And you said they weren’t practical.”

Dev closed his eyes, but there she was—engraved in his memory—ready to return at a moment’s notice.

So maybe Jenna wasn’t a clone of Elaina, but she was obviously a city girl.

There was no point getting involved with someone who’d made no secret of the fact that she couldn’t wait to leave Mirror Lake, the only place in the world that Dev wanted to be.

Jenna was right. Boundaries weren’t such a bad idea.

For all of them.

Chapter Five

“Helloooo!”

A lilting voice rose above the rattle of the ancient ceiling fan that paddled in lazy circles above Jenna’s head, dispersing humid air to every corner of the cabin.

The children, who’d been playing a lively game of Go Fish while Jenna washed the breakfast dishes, leaped to their feet.

“It’s Kate!” Logan shouted on his way to the door.

Jenna tried not to feel envious. Even though the cafe owner had gone out of her way to make Jenna feel welcome since she’d arrived in Mirror Lake, the children’s exuberant greeting was a painful reminder that Kate Nichols knew her niece and nephew better than she did.

The petite redhead scooped up Tori and anchored her against one slender hip. “How are you doing, strawberry shortcake?”

Tori giggled. “I’m not shortcake.”

“That’s right.” Kate’s clover green eyes twinkled. “You’re much sweeter.” She planted a kiss on the little girl’s temple and reached down to ruffle Logan’s bangs. “How are you doing, buddy?”

“I caught a fish this morning.”

“Well, that answers that question.” Kate winked at Jenna over his head.

“It’s good to see you, Kate,” Jenna said. Although she’d hoped to have the cabin looking a bit more presentable before anyone stopped over.

She’d planned to do some cleaning and then take the children into town to pick up some groceries. A quick inventory of the cupboards had yielded a few cans of soup and a box of macaroni and cheese. Fortunately, Abby had insisted Jenna take a basket of homemade cinnamon rolls and a quiche with her when they’d left the lodge, so breakfast had been covered.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call first.” Kate set Tori down on the floor. “We wanted to surprise you.”

We?

As if on cue, a young woman with a cap of cherry-cola curls trudged into the cabin, a colorful plastic tote gripped in each hand.

“’Morning, Jenna!”

Jenna recognized the visitor immediately. Zoey Decker and her fiancé, Matthew Wilde, were close friends of the O’Hallorans and had dropped by the inn to visit while Jenna and the children were staying there.

The couple planned to exchange their vows at the inn on Christmas Eve, and Abby was in charge of the event.

“Zoey.” Jenna greeted her cautiously.

“I hope we’re not too early,” Zoey sang out, and in the next breath, “Where do you want this stuff?” The question was directed at Kate, who pointed to the kitchen.

Jenna’s gaze cut back to the woman clearly in charge of the operation. “What’s going on?”

“A housewarming party,” Kate said.

“You provide the house, we provide the party.” Zoey swept past her with a grin.

Kate saw Jenna’s confusion and took pity on her. “We’re here to help you spruce things up a bit. Stanley Lambert, the guy who owns this cabin, is one of my regulars at the cafe and he let it sit empty for years. I figured if he hasn’t updated his wardrobe for forty years, chances are he hasn’t done anything to this place, either.”

While Jenna was recovering from the shock of the unexpected invasion, the screen door swung open again. Warm, blue-gray eyes peered at Jenna over an enormous picnic basket. The fingers of one hand fanned a greeting.

“Emma Sutton.” Kate took charge of the introductions this time. “This is Jenna Gardner—Logan and Tori’s aunt.” She smiled at Jenna. “You already met Emma’s husband, Jake.”

“Hi.” Emma flashed a friendly smile.

Sutton. The police chief. Jenna searched the woman’s face but didn’t see a hint of judgment that she’d met Jake under less than ideal circumstances. He was the one who’d called Grace Eversea the night that Shelly had started the fire.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she murmured.

Emma set the picnic basket down on the scarred Formica table. “Logan and my son, Jeremy, have gotten to be good friends over the past few weeks.”

Logan’s face lit up when he heard the boy’s name. “Is Jeremy here?”

“Are you kidding? There was no way he was going to stay home once he found out where I was going. He’s unloading some things from the car.”

“Cool! I’m going outside, Aunt Jenna.” Logan dashed out the door, Tori at his heels.

“Jeremy is twelve and very responsible,” Emma assured her. “He doesn’t mind keeping an eye on Logan and Tori while we work.”

Kate frowned. “Speaking of work…where’s Abby?”

“I’m right here.” Abby O’Halloran breezed into the cabin, dropped a box into the lap of the lumpy tweed recliner and reeled Jenna in for a hug.

A hug. As if they’d known each other forever rather than just a few days. Then she stepped back and looked Jenna straight in the eye.

“How are you?”

Jenna opened her mouth, ready to give her standard response, but something in Abby’s compassionate gaze seemed to require an honest response.

“I’m…not sure.”

Abby nodded, as if that made perfect sense. “That’s why we’re here.”

Zoey parked her hands on her hips. “Where should we start?”

Jenna felt her control slipping. “Really…you don’t have to—”

“Of course we don’t.” Kate cut off her protest, her brisk tone matching her movements as she began to unpack an arsenal of cleaning supplies. “We want to. You move to a small town, you get the small town treatment.”

Jenna had already experienced that, and the memories weren’t pleasant ones. People had either ignored her family or gossiped about them, but no one had ever offered to help.

“Jake mentioned the fire didn’t do much damage, but we figured a few little touches might make you feel more at…” Emma’s voice trailed off.

For the first time, the visitors seemed to become aware of their surroundings. The dark paneling that shadowed the walls. The shabby furnishings. The scorch mark on the scuffed hardwood floor, evidence of what could have been a fatal mistake.

Forget the fact that she lived in a gated community with a waiting list that stretched into the next decade. Jenna was suddenly eight years old again, facing the girls that had drifted over to meet her the day she’d moved into the neighborhood.

She had invited them in to play, but the pigtail posse created their own game. They’d spent the morning poking fun at the tiny garage apartment. And at her.

The scenario continued through high school. Different towns, the same response. Being measured by her peers and found wanting. Old insecurities, the ones Jenna thought she had put behind her, began to creep in as Kate and her friends surveyed the cabin.

“It’s got a lot of potential,” Abby declared.

Emma saw Jenna’s expression and laughed. “Abby’s bed-and-breakfast needed three times this much work when she bought it. She welcomes a challenge.”

“Which explains Quinn,” Kate whispered.

Abby gave her friend a playful swat on the arm. “This from the woman who fell in love with my bossy big brother. Most people run in the opposite direction when they see Alex coming.”

Zoey must have noticed Jenna’s bemusement.

“They can be a little overwhelming, can’t they?” she said in a low voice. “The first time I met them, they bullied me into joining their knitting group.”

Abby heard her. “Bullied isn’t quite the word…oh, maybe it is. But you’ll get used to us,” she added with a bright smile at Jenna.

Jenna didn’t contradict her, even though she knew she wouldn’t be in Mirror Lake long enough to join a knitting group. Or any other kind of group, for that matter.

Watching the way the four friends interacted, with genuine affection and acceptance, Jenna wondered what it would be like to be included in their close-knit circle.

Other than a weekly cappuccino date with Caitlin Walsh, the image consultant Jenna had met while working on a special makeover issue for the magazine, the majority of Jenna’s time and energy were devoted to her readers.

The door opened and an adolescent boy walked in, balancing a bulky object on his shoulder. Judging from the smoke blue eyes and sandy brown hair, this was Emma’s son, Jeremy. He flashed a shy smile at Jenna before turning to Abby. “Where did you want this, Mrs. O’Halloran?”

Abby pointed to the floor. “Right over there.”

Jenna watched Zoey and Kate kneel down and unroll the hand-hooked wool rug. A butter-yellow border outlined a stunning bouquet of wildflowers in the pattern. The colors brightened the room—and completely covered the blackened area on the hardwood floor.

“This was delivered to the inn yesterday, but the order was wrong,” Abby explained. “It was too small for the library…but I think it might be just right for you.”

Tears stung the back of Jenna’s eyes and she blinked them away before anyone noticed.

“It’s perfect, Abby,” Emma said. “And the colors just happen to coordinate with the curtains I brought over.”

For some reason, the rest of the women smiled when she emphasized the word.

“How much do I owe you?” Jenna had read the home style section of Twin City Trends often enough to know that a custom designed rug this size would have cost a small fortune.

“It’s a gift.” Abby linked her arm through Jenna’s. “A reminder that God provides exactly what we need when we need it.”

Jenna didn’t know how to respond to that. It was something she’d often heard Caitlin Walsh say, but she’d never experienced it before. It was risky to wait. To hope that someone would notice her. That someone would…care.

“He does,” Abby murmured.

Jenna stared at her, afraid she’d voiced the thought out loud, but the other woman was already gliding away.

“We’ll have this place looking like home in no time,” Zoey said, a determined gleam in her eyes as she advanced on the dusty bearskin rug tacked to the wall.

“Okay, sisters.” Kate tightened the knot on the bandana covering her copper curls as if she were preparing for battle. “Divide and conquer.”

* * *

Dev tossed a piece of birch bark into the campfire and sat back to enjoy the shower of sparks as the flames consumed it. There had been a time when he would have scoffed at such simple entertainment. When he’d believed that a man who had time to sit by a campfire had too much time.

He took out his pocketknife and began to sharpen the end of a stick.

Violet, stretched out on a old trapper’s blanket beside him, lifted her head and stared into the deepening shadows at the edge of the woods.

Dev had a hunch he knew what—or who—had caught the dog’s attention.

For the past few days, Logan Gardner had been sneaking across the property line to play with Violet. And when he didn’t show up, Violet had been sneaking across the property line to play with him.

Dev figured it was only a matter of time until Jenna marched over to register a formal complaint.

“Violet.” He crooked a finger at the blanket, earning a reproachful look. The same one he’d seen the last time he’d given her a bath. “Stay.”

She flopped back down, her heavy sigh questioning the fairness of the command.

“Trust me—it’s for your own good,” Dev told the dog.

His, too. The less contact he had with Jenna the better. Dev had spent the last five years trying to simplify his life, and everything about the woman shouted complicated.

The fact that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her proved it.

“Hi, Mr. McGuire.” Logan slunk out of the woods a few seconds later, shoulders hunched as if he were unsure of his welcome. A coonskin cap, the kind sold at every souvenir store in the county, drooped over one bright blue eye.

“It’s Dev, remember?”

Logan shuffled closer, the faux raccoon tail swinging over one shoulder like a furry pendulum. “I smelled smoke, and I wanted to make sure you and Violet were okay.”

The anxious look in the boy’s eyes reminded Dev that he’d recently witnessed a fire, one that hadn’t been contained in a circle of stones. Jenna had claimed that no one had been hurt, but Dev knew from experience that not all injuries were visible on the outside.

Guilt tweaked his conscience. He’d been traveling a lot since the beginning of summer, but how could he have been ignorant of the fact there were two children living next door?

Other than the day he’d met Jenna, he hadn’t heard a peep out of them. Not even Violet had alerted Dev to their presence.

“I appreciate your concern,” he told Logan gently. “But it’s just a campfire. I usually cook my dinner out here in the evenings.”

Violet lifted her nose to sniff the raccoon tail and Logan giggled. “She thinks it’s real.”