Home is where her heart is

When Presley Christensen returns to Whiskey Creek with her little boy after two years away, she has completely changed her life. She’s made peace with her past and overcome the negative behavior that resulted from her difficult childhood. Now she’s back in the small town that was the closest thing to “home” she ever knew—the town where she can be with the sister who’s her only family.

There’s just one catch. Aaron Amos still lives in Whiskey Creek, at least until he moves to Reno to open a branch of the Amos brothers’ auto body shop. And no matter how hard she’s tried, Presley hasn’t been able to get over him. Seeing him again makes the longing so much worse. But she hopes she can get through the next few months, because she can’t fall back into his arms…or his bed. She’s come too far to backslide now. And there’s a secret she’s been guarding—a secret she’ll do anything to protect.

PRAISE FOR THE WHISKEY CREEK NOVELS OF

NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR BRENDA NOVAK

“[The characters’] heartwarming romance develops slowly and sweetly. The sex is fantastic, but the best part is how Simon and Gail tease and laugh as they grow closer.”

—Publishers Weekly on When Lightning Strikes

“Novak delivers a lively, sparkling series debut…romantic gold by a superior novelist.”

—RT Book Reviews on When Lightning Strikes

“It’s steamy, it’s poignant, it’s perfectly paced—it’s When Lightning Strikes and you don’t want to miss it!”

—USATODAY.com’s Happy Ever After blog

“In this sensitive, passionate, and heartbreakingly poignant second installment of her Whiskey Creek series, Novak masterfully explores what happens when a woman whose entire life has been consumed by playing a variety of roles casts off her suffocating masks and, with the support of an unexpected lover, embraces who she was, is and can be.”

—RT Book Reviews on When Snow Falls (2012 Reviewers’ Choice Winner and Nominee for Book of the Year)

“With a great supporting cast of characters Novak fans have come to know quite well, When Summer Comes is a magical addition to the already heartwarming Whiskey Creek series.”

—Fresh Fiction

“[Home to Whiskey Creek is an] engrossing, character-rich story that takes a hard look at responsibility, loyalty and the results of telling (or concealing) the truth.”

—Library Journal

“Rate [Home to Whiskey Creek] A+ for story and writing…. The book scores as a winner on many levels.”

—Yahoo! Voices (Mary Beth Magee)

“Affecting, painful, sometimes funny, but ultimately satisfying, this engrossing tale of love and forgiveness takes on real problems and gives its characters the strength and compassion to come through with flying colors. Real people—with all their virtues and vices—live in Whiskey Creek, and Ted and Sophia will be two more you’ll be glad to have met.”

—Library Journal on Take Me Home for Christmas (Starred Review)

Come Home to Me

Brenda Novak

www.mirabooks.co.uk

To my father.

Although I lost you when I was barely twenty,

your love has carried me through.

Dear Reader,

I’ve heard from so many of you requesting a story about another one of Whiskey Creek’s “Fearsome Five”—the five hell-raising brothers who are “bad boys” on the outside but have tender hearts underneath. So I’m excited to present you with Aaron’s story. (He’s the brother of Dylan from When Snow Falls, which won RT Book Reviews magazine’s Best Contemporary Romance Novel of 2012).

I love making my characters earn their happily-ever-afters, and these two characters—Aaron and Presley—do just that. Although they both have troubled pasts, they dig deep to overcome their problems and build something with their lives, and it was enjoyable for me to watch them realize just how much in love with each other they are. Another Amos brother falls to the right woman! Yay!

I’ve really enjoyed writing stories set in this fictional town. Since this is my sixth Whiskey Creek book (not including the prequel novella), the town is feeling very much like home to me. I hope it’s feeling as comfortable and familiar to you—and that you’ll look forward to returning to Gold Country for Eve’s story in The Heart of Christmas, which will be coming up next.

I love to hear from my readers. You can write me at P.O. Box 3781, Citrus Heights, CA 95611, or contact me via my website at www.brendanovak.com, where you will also be able to enter my monthly draws, learn more about this series and the other books I’ve written, or sign up to participate in my annual online auction for diabetes research. Together with my generous supporters, I have raised more than $2 million for this cause so far, and I’m hoping to keep pushing forward until we have a cure for my son, as well as all the other people who suffer from this terrible disease.

All the best,

Brenda Novak

WHISKEY CREEK Cast of Characters

Major Characters

Aaron Amos: Second-oldest Amos brother (one of the “Fearsome Five”); works with Dylan and brothers at their auto-body shop. Had a relationship with Presley Christensen.

Cheyenne Christensen: Helps Eve Harmon run Little Mary’s B & B (formerly the Gold Nugget). Married to Dylan Amos, who owns Amos Auto Body.

Sophia DeBussi: Jilted Ted Dixon years ago to marry investment guru Skip DeBussi—later revealed as a fraud. Mother of Alexa. Reconnected with Ted and now engaged to him.

Gail DeMarco: Owns a public relations firm in L.A. Married to movie star Simon O’Neal.

Ted Dixon: Bestselling thriller writer.

Eve Harmon: Manages Little Mary’s B & B, which is owned by her family.

Kyle Houseman: Owns a solar panel business. Formerly married to Noelle Arnold.

Baxter North: Stockbroker in San Francisco.

Presley Christensen: Former “bad girl” who left town two years ago and has just returned. Mother of Wyatt.

Noah Rackham: Professional cyclist. Owns Crank It Up bike shop. Married to Adelaide Davies, chef and manager of Just Like Mom’s restaurant, owned by her grandmother.

Riley Stinson: Contractor.

Callie Vanetta: Photographer. Married to Levi McCloud/Pendleton, veteran of Afghanistan.

Other Recurring Characters

The Amos Brothers: Dylan, Aaron, Rodney, Grady and Mack.

Olivia Arnold: Kyle Houseman’s true love but married to Brandon Lucero, Kyle’s stepbrother.

Joe DeMarco: Gail DeMarco’s older brother. Owns the Whiskey Creek Gas-n-Go.

Phoenix Fuller: In prison. Mother of Jacob Stinson, who is being raised by his father, Riley.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

1

Aaron Amos was in the bookstore, too. Presley Christensen could tell by the prickle that skittered up her spine. Maybe she’d subconsciously recognized his voice amid the babble of the others, or there really was such a thing as a sixth sense, because when she turned and glanced across the crowded room, she confirmed what her body had already told her. He was standing off to one side, looking right at her.

It’d been two years since she’d seen him, and almost the same length of time since she’d shared his bed. But it felt like much longer. Her pregnancy and the first eighteen months of her son’s life had been hard, harder than anything that had come before—which was saying something for a girl who’d lived out of a car or a motel for most of her childhood.

Although she’d known when she decided to return to Whiskey Creek that she might bump into Aaron, and had tried to prepare herself for that moment, her eyes locked with his as if he held a high-powered magnet that drew them there against her will. Then it was all she could do not to stumble back; the sight of him hit her like a blow to the chest.

Damn it! Her reaction—the way her breath jammed in her throat and her stomach knotted—was ridiculous. Why couldn’t she get over him?

Gritting her teeth, she jerked her gaze away and slipped behind the people standing in line to get Ted Dixon’s autograph. She was a big fan of Ted’s work. Once she’d moved to Fresno to start over, his thrillers, along with a lot of other novels, had helped keep her mind occupied so she wouldn’t fall back into her previous lifestyle. And after she found work at the Helping Hands Thrift Store, which was the best job she could land with so little education, books—second-hand, mostly—had provided the only entertainment she could afford. They’d especially been a blessing after Wyatt was born and she was up walking the floor so often with a colicky baby.

Still, Ted was local. It wasn’t as if she wouldn’t have another chance to see him. She’d wanted to come but probably wouldn’t have if not for the urging of her sister. Cheyenne had insisted on watching Wyatt so Presley could get out for a few hours. She said it was important for her to take a break. And Presley was grateful. After the effort she’d put into cleaning her small rental house, getting settled and finding the perfect retail space to lease for her new yoga studio, she’d been eager for the chance to clean up and feel like something other than a mom.

But that was when she’d believed, as Cheyenne and Cheyenne’s husband, Dylan, had believed, that Aaron would be a hundred and forty miles to the northeast. He planned to branch off on his own and open a franchise of Amos Auto Body, the collision repair shop he owned with Dylan and his other brothers. According to Cheyenne, he’d been spending a great deal of time in Reno looking for the best location.

“Excuse me.” She pressed against the closest bookshelves in an attempt to squeeze past two men who were deep in conversation.

“Presley!”

She’d been so intent on her escape that she hadn’t even looked up, but this caught her attention. Kyle and Riley, two of her sister’s closest friends, were standing there. Ted Dixon, the author, belonged to their clique, so it was no surprise to see them here. If she searched hard enough, she’d likely find a handful of the others who’d hung out with Ted since kindergarten.

“Hello.” She managed a smile, although her heart was pounding. Was Aaron, at this very instant, threading his way through the people standing between them?

There wasn’t any reason he should feel uncomfortable approaching her. Maybe they hadn’t kept in touch while she was gone, but there’d been no expectations along those lines. Their former relationship hadn’t involved any commitment or obligation. They’d partied a great deal, and they’d had the hottest sex she’d ever experienced, but as far as he was concerned it was all in fun. They hadn’t even had a fight when she left. The death of her mother and the knowledge of her pregnancy had set her off on a self-destructive odyssey that led her to an abortion clinic in Arizona. She’d felt sure that ending her pregnancy was what Aaron would want if he knew about it, which was why, when she decided to keep the baby, she didn’t feel she owed him anything, even notice that Wyatt was his.

“Chey told me you were moving back,” Kyle said. “How long have you been in town?”

She checked behind her, but at only five feet two inches tall she couldn’t see over the people surrounding her—and it was so packed she couldn’t see through them, either. “Just a couple of weeks.” She paused to be polite, but she wasn’t about to hang out and talk for more than a quick second, not with Aaron ten feet away and possibly closing the distance between them. Unfortunately, she couldn’t leave. Ted had already signed and personalized her book, and there was a huge line at the register.

Riley spoke before she could actually say the goodbye that hovered on her lips.

“It’s great to have you home. You look amazing, by the way.” He gave her a low whistle. “Must be all that yoga.”

Presley felt too anxious to enjoy the compliment—or to tell them that yoga had done a lot more for her than help her get into shape. That would prove to be too long a discussion. “Have you ever been to a class?” she asked instead.

Kyle and Riley exchanged a look. “Can’t say I have,” Riley drawled with a smile that told her he probably wouldn’t, either.

“Once I get the studio open, you’ll have to give it a try,” she said.

“If you’ll be there, I’ll do it,” Kyle volunteered.

Presley hadn’t expected either of them to flirt with her. When she’d lived here before, she’d always had the feeling that they considered themselves too good for her. They’d been popular and well-adjusted from the beginning; she’d been a lost and lonely outcast who’d made some very poor choices. She might’ve been flattered at how her reception had changed, but she was too worried that she was about to be confronted by Aaron. She didn’t want to speak to him. It made no difference how many times she told herself that he wasn’t the right man for her, that their relationship had been unbalanced and unhealthy; she couldn’t stop longing for his smile, his laugh, his touch.

Not that the difficulty of getting over him should have come as any surprise. Her whole life had been a series of struggles.

“Great. I should be open for business in another week.” She had to open soon. She couldn’t go without income for much longer. “See you there.”

She could feel their eyes on her as she moved away, could tell they were startled she’d brushed them off. But with Aaron in the room...all she wanted to do was melt into the background. Just the sight of his perfectly sculpted face, which was almost too pretty despite the scar he’d gotten in a fight, was enough to drag her to a place of weakness and craving.

He was like the crack cocaine that’d taken control of her life before. She had to avoid him as avidly as all the other things that had nearly destroyed her.

It wasn’t until she stepped through the curtain and into the dark storeroom where Angelica Hansen, owner of Turn the Page, received her inventory that Presley relaxed. She’d reached safety, a hidden corner where he’d be unlikely to look for her. Once Aaron left, she’d pay for her book and get out of there.

But when she turned, intending to peek out at those in the front of the store, she collided with his hard, unyielding chest as he came through the curtain.

He grabbed her before she could fall over the stack of books at her feet, drawing her up against him. “What are you doing back here?”

Breaking his hold before the smell or feel of him could erode her resolve, Presley stumbled, which sent the books flying. She was lucky they didn’t trip her as they almost had before. “I...needed room to breathe. It’s so...crowded out there. I thought I’d wait here for a few minutes, until the line was shorter.”

His eyes narrowed slightly at the way she’d scrambled out of reach so quickly. Or maybe it was her reason for seeking the storeroom that gave him pause. Did he think she was trying to steal Ted’s book?

Or had he figured out the truth? He’d always been perceptive—too quick-witted for his own good...and hers. He was the sensitive Amos brother, the one who’d taken the loss of his mother and everything that’d happened after her suicide the hardest. But he didn’t comment on the fact that she was still backing away.

“I heard you moved into the old Mullins place two weeks ago,” he said.

She had to tilt her head to look into his face. “I did.”

“Then...where have you been?”

Was he asking why she hadn’t contacted him? “I’ve been busy.”

“That means you’re never home?”

Her stomach muscles tightened again. “You’ve dropped by?”

“I didn’t bother to knock. I never see a car in the carport.”

“I don’t have a car anymore.” She’d sold her new Hyundai several months ago so she could get out from under the payments and save enough to be able to lease a studio. She would’ve stayed in Fresno and kept saving to give herself a bigger financial cushion—would’ve opened her studio there, too—but when she found some strange marks on Wyatt, she was afraid his home day-care provider was mistreating him and decided to return to Whiskey Creek. Her sister had offered to help with child care, and once Aaron had told Cheyenne and Dylan he was relocating, going home was finally a possibility.

He hesitated. “How do you get around without a car?”

“For the most part, I walk.” Chey’s house was down the street and around the corner from hers. Her studio was two blocks in the other direction, along with the rest of downtown, making it easy to get wherever she needed to go.

“The exercise has obviously been good for you.”

She wished that compliment didn’t evoke the pleasure it did. But during the past two years, she’d judged everything by how much he’d like what she was doing, how she was changing herself. She supposed the desire to finally be admired by him was too powerful to overcome. “The owner of the thrift shop where I worked introduced me to yoga. That made the difference, more than anything else.”

“Flexible and toned.” His teeth flashed in an appreciative smile. “You look better than ever.”

“Thanks.” There were other things to explain the physical improvements—like her strict eating habits—but she didn’t want to engage him in any more conversation than she already had. He wouldn’t care what she was doing with her life—not after he realized they weren’t going to pick up where they’d left off and fall into bed.

“How have you been?” he asked. “It’s been a long time.”

And she’d felt every painstaking minute of it. She couldn’t count how often she’d almost broken down and called him. Only the risk that he might find out he was Wyatt’s father stopped her.

“Fine.” She wiped sweaty palms on her jeans. “You?”

“Hangin’ in.”

He seemed to be faring well. He’d put on a few pounds, nicely filling out his large frame, which he’d needed to do. He’d been muscular but too wiry that last year when they’d been seeing each other. According to Cheyenne and Dylan, he’d also quit using drugs. Now that she had the chance to see him, she believed it.

“Good,” she said. “I–I’m glad to hear it.” She wished he’d leave it at that, but he didn’t move out of the doorway, and she couldn’t go anywhere while he was blocking her in.

“I was shocked to hear that you rented the Mullins cottage. That place was a cesspool when they lived there.” He grimaced. “Talk about trashy people.”

“It’s taken some serious work to make it livable.” She’d rented the two-bedroom because it was cheap and centrally located. Fortunately, where the house was concerned, a little elbow grease could make a big difference. “It’s clean now. I just have a few things still to do.”

“Like what?”

“Paint the porch and fix the fence. Plant some flowers out front.”

He hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Flowers?”

“Anything wrong with flowers?”

“Sounds like you’re planning to stay for a while.”

“I am.”

“You weren’t that domestic when you left.”

She hadn’t had a child then, but she didn’t want to draw his attention to that, since he didn’t know he was the one who’d made her a mother. “It’s tough to be too focused on everyday concerns when all you care about is getting high.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He rubbed his jaw. “I take it you’ve changed.”

“Completely.”

“I can see that.”

No, he couldn’t. Not yet. He assumed the changes were superficial, that she’d eventually fall at his feet the way she had before.

“I would’ve helped you clean up the rental,” he said. “You should’ve called me.”

She cleared her throat. “It wasn’t necessary. I managed.”

His eyes became guarded and inscrutable. He was figuring out that the “changes” he’d noticed included an unwillingness to associate with him. “Couldn’t have been easy to get all that done, not with a baby.”

Tentacles of fear slithered around her heart and squeezed. This was his first mention of Wyatt. She had to be careful, had to handle his perceptions carefully from the start. Any hint of suspicion on his part could destroy her happiness. “No, but I could’ve had Wyatt’s father come and help. He would have, if I’d needed him.”

“Doesn’t he live in Arizona?”

Cheyenne had supplied everyone with this information, even Dylan. “He does, but he could come here. He has money, and he cares about Wyatt.”

“You’re in touch with him, then? He’s a stand-up guy?” He sounded hopeful, as if he wanted that for her. There was no reason he wouldn’t. To her knowledge, he’d never wished her ill, never done anything purposely to hurt her. He’d been too self-absorbed, but that was simply a byproduct of the fact that he’d never really cared about her, not like she’d cared about him.

“We don’t have a relationship beyond Wyatt,” she said, “but...he’s a great father.”

“That’s got to make a big difference.”

If Wyatt’s father helped out to any significant degree, she wouldn’t have had to clean the worst property in town in order to have a place to live but, thankfully, Aaron didn’t seem to make the connection. “It does,” she said. “And soon I’ll be earning good money myself.”

“As a yoga instructor, right?”

“And a massage therapist,” she added so no one would be surprised when she advertised her services. She wanted everyone to understand from the beginning that she’d be doing both. She needed all the legitimacy she could establish.

“How’d you get into that?”

“I met someone at yoga who became my roommate. He was a massage therapist.”

“He...”

“We’ve never been together, if that’s what you’re asking. Roger was gay. He paid half the rent and got me into massage.”

“I see. Do you have a license or...whatever it takes?”

“I did some yoga-teacher training. And I’m a certified massage therapist.” Luckily for her, a government grant had covered her schooling and Wyatt’s day-care expenses while she attended class.

“You’ve got big plans. When will you be open for business?”

“In a week, if everything goes well.” After she’d painted the interior of her studio and built her own tenant improvements, like the reception counter. She didn’t know much about construction but with the price of supplies she couldn’t afford to hire anyone, so she’d just have to learn. Dylan would do what he could, and Cheyenne would help when she wasn’t working at Little Mary’s B and B, but her sister and brother-in-law had their own lives, and she was in a hurry to get it done.

“Great.” He winked at her. “I’ll be your first customer.”

She knew he thought he was being charming, but she stiffened all the same. “Excuse me?”

He stared at her. “I said I’d become a client.”

“But...it’s not what you think.”

His smile faded at her affronted tone. “What do I think?”

“I’ll be running two legitimate businesses, Aaron. I don’t...I don’t party anymore. Or do anything else that might interest you.”

He scowled. “Because you know so much about what interests me after being gone for two years?”

“I know the only thing I’ve got that interests you. It’s all I’ve ever had. And I’m no longer willing to...to be one of your many sex partners. That’s not the life I’ve chosen for myself.”

“Many partners? Are we counting?”

She shook her head. “I’m not judging you.”

“How generous.”

That hadn’t come out right. She had no grounds to criticize anyone, and she knew it. “I’m not the same person I was, that’s all.”

A muscle flexed in his cheek. “You’re saying I took advantage of you before?”

He’d had a few brushes with the law, so his reputation wasn’t any more sterling than hers. The Fearsome Five, as he and his brothers had been called, were used to being blamed even for things they didn’t do—although she doubted that would continue. The last chief of police had recently been fired for misconduct; the new one didn’t seem quite so drunk on his own power.

“No.” She shook her head again for emphasis. “What happened before was entirely my fault. You never asked me to follow you around like a puppy or to crawl into your bed whenever I had the chance.” She laughed as she rolled her eyes. “It must’ve driven you crazy to have me hanging on your every word, your every move. I’m sorry I was so annoying.”

He didn’t laugh with her. “Yeah, that was pretty miserable.”

She could hear the sarcasm in his statement. He’d probably forgotten how much she used to irritate him, but she remembered. When her mother died, she’d instinctively gone to him for comfort, but he’d turned her away with a few sharp words for waking him in the middle of the night.

Still, she didn’t hold that against him. Not really. She just wanted the next man in her life to care a little more.

“I’m sure it was,” she said, taking his words as if he’d meant them literally. “But I won’t bother you this time around. I–I’m looking for other things.”

“So you’ve said.” Jaw hard, lips tight, he leaned one shoulder against the door frame. Obviously, he wasn’t happy with the way this was going. She could tell because of the badass attitude he’d adopted. It might’ve made her uneasy—that cutting glare made most people nervous—but she couldn’t imagine he’d get angry just because she preferred to keep her distance. He’d never wanted her to begin with. So why would it matter now if she refused to have any contact with him? He could have practically any woman he wanted. Even those who pretended to be too good for him sometimes cast longing glances in his direction.

“And what, exactly, are these other ‘things’ you’re looking for?” he asked.

“A husband for me and a great, uh, stepfather for Wyatt. A committed relationship.” Which counted him out. “So...if you’ll excuse me...”

He didn’t react. He was too busy searching her face with those hazel eyes of his. Maybe he was hoping to find the old Presley, but she hadn’t been lying when she said that person was gone.

When she stepped closer, indicating that she expected him to get out of the way, he shoved off from the wall and waved her past him with an exaggerated flourish. “Be my guest.”

Gone was the flicker of excitement she’d seen when he first addressed her. His expression had turned implacable, stony. But she had no reason to regret her words. She’d only done what she had to do. And she’d taken responsibility for the past, laid nothing at his feet.

“Thank you,” she said softly, and walked into the front, although it felt as if she were dragging her heart on the floor behind her.

Now she wouldn’t have to worry about running into him in the future, she told herself. They could both work to avoid each other—cross over to the other side of the street, if necessary. That would make the next few weeks or months, however long it took him to move to Reno, easier.

So why did her eyes sting with unshed tears and her throat feel like she’d just swallowed a grapefruit?

She was standing in line, face hot and pulse racing, when Kyle and Riley stopped Aaron as he strode toward the front of the store. They greeted him, and he responded, sounding perfectly fine. Her rejection hadn’t stung at all—which proved he’d never really cared about her to begin with. He’d used her, but the way she’d thrown herself at him made it equally her fault.

“Hey, Presley’s here,” Kyle said. “Have you seen her?”

She curled the fingernails of her free hand into her palm, praying she wouldn’t have to hear Aaron’s response. But there was no missing it. She couldn’t have kept herself from listening even if she’d had the power to do so.

“From a distance,” he said.

There’d been very little distance between them when he saved her from falling over those books, but she didn’t begrudge him a white lie. She just wished the line would move faster so she could get out of the bookstore.

“She’s opening a yoga studio one store down from Callie’s photography studio,” Riley informed him. “She’ll be doing massage there, too.”

There was an undercurrent in that statement, as if they all considered it pretty amusing. No doubt everyone was wondering if there’d be additional services she couldn’t advertise. But that was her fault, too. It would take time to live down what she’d been like before.

“One-stop shopping,” Aaron said dryly.

Assuming he was playing into those suspicions, Presley flinched.

“She’ll have no trouble coming up with paying customers,” Riley said. “Not the way she looks these days.”

“She looks about the same to me,” Aaron said, and moved away.

He was leaving. Presley’s internal “Aaron radar” tracked him to the door. Then, in spite of her efforts to keep her eyes on the person in front of her, she glanced over to catch a final glimpse of him—and found him looking at her again. This time his expression wasn’t inscrutable as much as it was bewildered. But that hurt-little-boy pout disappeared beneath a mask of indifference as soon as he realized she was watching, and he stepped out.

2

Aaron stood on Cheyenne and Dylan’s doorstep, next to the baby stroller parked on the porch. Waiting for someone to answer his knock, he heard Cheyenne’s voice from inside the house. “Mommy’s here, Wyatt,” she cooed.

A few seconds later, she swung open the door and did a double take.

Aaron had imagined she was holding Presley’s baby, but she wasn’t. She must’ve said what she did as she left him in the other room.

“Aaron! I wasn’t expecting you.”

He hadn’t planned on coming over—until he ran into Presley at Ted Dixon’s signing. Ever since he’d learned she was back, and even before that, he’d been hoping for an opportunity to apologize for his behavior the night her mother died. He hadn’t been able to deal with the level of emotion involved. That kind of tragedy carried him back to his own mother’s death, something he avoided at all costs. But he felt bad for being such a callous jerk and would never forget how frightened he’d been when Presley went missing right after she left his place and didn’t turn up for several days. He blamed himself for everything that happened in the interim; he knew she’d been through a lot. Whatever she’d experienced was so awful that neither Cheyenne nor Dylan would talk about it. For a long time, he’d wanted to tell Presley he was sorry, but she hadn’t given him the chance. Whenever he asked for her number, Cheyenne told him she didn’t have a phone. And Presley never called him. Even in the two weeks she’d been home, she hadn’t tried to reconnect. If not for his customers at the auto body shop alerting him, he would’ve had no idea she was back in town, not until he ran into her at the signing. Dylan hadn’t mentioned it. Dylan rarely talked about Presley in Aaron’s presence.

“Dyl home?” he asked because Cheyenne was still blocking the doorway, and he didn’t know how to inspire a warmer welcome. He’d guessed Presley would be stopping by to pick up her baby. Wyatt had to be somewhere if he wasn’t with his mother, and this was the logical place. The stroller confirmed it.

His sister-in-law began to fidget. “Dyl?”

“Yeah. Your husband and my big brother—remember him?” Presley couldn’t assume he was merely looking to get in her pants if her sister and his brother were around when he spoke to her. That would make the contact legit. Then maybe they could strike up some of their old camaraderie, and he could walk her home and offer an apology, since things had gone badly at the bookstore before he could work his way around to what he’d really wanted to say.

Cheyenne ignored the sarcastic jab. “Of course he’s here. He’s watching TV.”

When she glanced past him, at the drive, he realized why she was reluctant to invite him in. She didn’t want him here when Presley arrived. But Cheyenne was too polite to make it any more obvious. With a pleasant smile, she stepped back. “Come on in.”

He understood that she didn’t feel he’d treated her sister right. He hadn’t been the best for Presley. But he’d never hurt her intentionally. And he wasn’t the same person he used to be. Why did they think only she could change?

When Cheyenne grabbed a sweater off the hall tree instead of following him toward the living room, he stopped. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere.” She waved a hand. “I’m just taking Wyatt for a walk.”

“It’s cold and dark.” It had also been raining an hour ago and could rain again. Spring usually came early in Gold Country, but the first week of March had been a week of full winter.

“We won’t go far.”

A dark-headed little boy toddled out of the living room, holding a rubber block, the corner of which he had stuffed in his mouth.

“This must be Wyatt.”

There was another pause on Cheyenne’s part, but he understood why. She didn’t want anything, or anyone, to come between Presley and her recovery, and that included him. “Yeah. That’s Wyatt, her pride and joy.”

It was motherhood that’d changed Presley. Aaron felt certain of it.

Wyatt stared up at Aaron with round eyes the color of melted chocolate—just like his mom’s.

“Cute little bugger,” he said. “Seems big for his age. Kind of surprising coming from a half-pint like Pres.”

“Presley says his father was tall.” Cheyenne moved as if she planned to sweep the baby into her arms and head outside, but Aaron was closer and stooped to pick him up before she could.

“Hey, you,” he said. “What a chunk you are. Doesn’t look like you’ve ever missed a meal.”

The baby pulled the block out of his mouth and gave him a gummy smile that revealed several Mini-Chiclet teeth. “Ma-ma-ma!” he chanted, hitting the block with his free hand.

Aaron shifted his attention to Cheyenne. “Doesn’t seem to be afraid of strangers.”

“No. He’s a happy, trusting little guy.”

When Aaron used the baby’s own fist to tap his nose, Wyatt gave an infectious belly laugh and tried to shove his toy into Aaron’s mouth.

“That’s okay, dude,” Aaron said, twisting his head. “That block’s got more than enough spit on it already.”

“Aaron? That you?” Dylan called, and Aaron let Cheyenne take the baby.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“How’d it go in Reno? You find the right location?”

Aaron walked into the living room to see Dylan sprawled on the couch, his hair wet. He’d worked late and must’ve just showered. They were slammed with business, which was another reason Aaron thought it was time to open a franchise. “Nothing I’m in love with. I’m considering Placerville instead.”

“I wouldn’t go there.”

“It’s closer, only forty miles away.”

“But it’s a smaller market. When’d you get back?”

Aaron fell into one of two leather side chairs and propped his feet on the coffee table. The L.A. Lakers were playing the Miami Heat, and it looked like a close game. “Couple of hours ago. I promised Mr. Nunes if he gave us another day to finish his Land Rover I’d get Ted’s new book autographed for him.”

Dylan sat up. “You went to the signing?”

“For a few minutes.” He hadn’t gotten the book. The line had been too long. Then he’d spoken to Presley and ended up walking out. But he could go over to Ted’s later and pick up a copy.

“How’d it go?” his brother asked.

Why did Aaron get the feeling that this was a loaded question? Was there some underlying concern about him attending the book signing? “Fine. Why wouldn’t it?”

His brother forwarded through a commercial break. “No reason.”

“Because Presley was there?”

“Chey’s been nervous about the two of you running into each other,” he explained.

“Why?” Aaron asked. “What’s going on? Everyone’s acting as if we should be enemies. As if I’ll do something terrible if I get the chance. But I’ve never mistreated Presley. I mean...I wasn’t always as nice as I could’ve been, but I was never seriously out of line. We were friends,” he added with a shrug. “We had fun together. That was it.”

Dylan didn’t seem particularly swayed by this speech. “You know she’s had a rocky past. We don’t want her getting mixed up in the things she used to do, that’s all.”

“I’m one of those things? You’re blaming me for her drug use?”

Drawing up one leg, Dylan rested the hand that held the remote on his knee. “You partied with her a lot.”

“But it’s not like I introduced her to drugs, or even encouraged her to take them. She was a coke-hound. She would’ve partied with someone else if not with me.”

“Maybe, but you weren’t in the best place back then, either. It’s not like you ever discouraged her. You both played fast and loose. But whatever. That’s in the past. We’re hoping it’ll stay there. Life’s difficult enough for a woman trying to support a kid all on her own.”

Aaron frowned as he remembered his conversation with Presley at the bookstore. “She’s not doing it ‘all on her own.’ Wyatt’s father helps out, doesn’t he?”

Dylan made a sound of disbelief. “You kidding? She knew Wyatt’s father for...what? An hour or two? He was just some prick who took advantage of her when she was high and running from everything she didn’t want to feel. If there was any hope of finding him, I’d rearrange his face. But she’s not in contact with him, doesn’t know how to reach him. When I asked, she couldn’t even give me a name.”

“She told me he pays child support,” Aaron said tightly.

“Pride talking. She doesn’t want you to realize how desperate she’s been, that she’s barely getting by.”

“Why would she feel she has something to prove to me? I’ve never looked down on her.”

“She’s putting on a brave face, what else? People do that.”

“Not people who know each other as well as we do.”

“Things have changed, Aaron.”

That was the second time tonight he’d heard essentially the same thing. “To hell with change. Why does everything have to change?”

“Just let go of the past. The two of you aren’t good for each other—especially now that she has a child.”

The old anger welled up. “Wait a second. Who the hell are you to make that decision?”

Dylan shot him a dirty look. “Chey and I were here when you were together, remember? We know what the two of you were like.”

“So what? You have no right to tell me who I can and can’t see. Even after all these years, you’re still trying to be my father?”

Dylan paused the Lakers game. “Don’t start on that tired old argument—”

“I’ll start on it if I want to. I’ve had enough, Dyl. There’s only three years between us. It’s time you remembered that.”

Fortunately for Aaron’s peace of mind, Dylan didn’t deny that he had the tendency to be too controlling. “Old habits are hard to break, I guess,” he grumbled. “Anyway, when will you finally get past whatever you hold against me? We can go over my mistakes until we’re blue in the face, but that won’t fix them. The bottom line is this–Chey and I care about you and Presley. We want to see you both continue to—”

“What?” Aaron broke in, throwing up his hands. “Live our lives as you see fit?”

“Stay off drugs, if you want the truth, damn it!”

Aaron got to his feet. “I shouldn’t have come by.”

Dylan tossed the remote on the coffee table and stood up to follow him out. “Maybe you don’t want to admit it, but you have one hell of a chip on your shoulder. It’s time to grow up. Time to understand that I did the best I could. I was eighteen when Dad went to prison. Do you think I wanted to take his place? Hell, no! But I didn’t see anyone else who was willing to do the job. Were you going to do it? At fifteen?”

“Kiss my ass,” Aaron muttered, and that was all it took to snap Dylan’s restraint.

“Shit, you know how to enrage me like nobody else!” he roared, and smashed his fist through the wall.

Aaron felt his jaw drop. They’d gotten into some gnarly fights in the past, but he’d never seen Dylan lose control with so little provocation. This spat was minor in the overall scheme of their relationship. “Aren’t you overreacting a bit?”

“I don’t care if I am!” Dylan yelled. “You think you’re sick of a few things? Well, I’m sick of them, too—and tired of your damn resentment!”

Aaron didn’t respond. He just slammed the door on his way out.

It wasn’t until he was back at the rambler in the river bottoms where he’d grown up and still lived with his younger brothers that he cooled off enough to realize all the baby gear in the hallway and the stroller he’d seen at Dylan’s house were gone when he stormed out. Cheyenne hadn’t taken Wyatt for a walk; she’d taken him home to his mother.

* * *

When Cheyenne came back from bringing Wyatt to Presley’s and saw that Aaron’s truck was no longer parked in front, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“He’s gone,” she said into the phone. She’d used her cell to call Eve Harmon, whose family owned the B and B where they both worked, as soon as she left her sister’s. Eve was the only person in the world with whom she’d shared the truth about Presley’s baby. Even her other close friends didn’t know.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Eve said.

Cheyenne unzipped her coat. Thanks to the brisk walk, she wasn’t cold enough to remain bundled up. “At least now I won’t have to go back in and smile while we chat about Presley and Wyatt as if I’m not betraying my brother-in-law and my husband.” Because of Presley’s recent return, her name would definitely have come up if Aaron was still there.

“Are you sure Aaron has no clue that Wyatt is his?” Eve asked. “Or could it be that he suspects but prefers to leave the situation as it is?”

“I have no idea. I just know how hard it is for me to keep this a secret. Sometimes Wyatt’s paternity seems so obvious that I can’t believe Dylan hasn’t guessed.”

“Why would he? You told him Wyatt’s dad was some guy from Arizona, so he accepts it.”

She paused on the sidewalk. She didn’t want to go any closer to the house, didn’t want her husband to overhear what she was saying. “Is this you trying to make me feel better? Because pointing out how much he trusts me only makes me feel worse.”

“We’ve talked about this before. What else can you do?”

Dylan might be her husband but he was also Aaron’s brother, and for all the differences between the two men, they loved each other with the kind of ferocity that stemmed from surviving great hardship together. She had no doubt that Dylan would tell Aaron—eventually, if not right away. He wouldn’t be able to help seeing the situation from his brother’s perspective, just as she couldn’t help seeing the situation from her sister’s. She could plead with him, of course. Tell him that Presley had never had her life so together, that they couldn’t risk sending her into another tailspin like the time she’d run away from Whiskey Creek and gotten mixed up with a sadistic man. But that would only be effective for so long, until the loyalty he felt toward his brother prevailed.

“Maybe it would be different if Presley wasn’t a great mother,” Cheyenne said. “But she’s completely devoted to Wyatt. I feel terrible admitting this, but she’s done a lot better with him than I ever expected.”

“It would also be different if Aaron wasn’t so unpredictable,” Eve added. “But you have no way of knowing how he might react—whether he’ll be fair and reasonable or angry and overpowering.”

Cheyenne stared at the lights glowing from inside her own house. “He can be so large and in-charge. And he has more resources than Presley does. If they ever battled over Wyatt...” She shuddered at the thought. No one wanted to fight Aaron. But Presley would do just that. She’d never give up, not if she were fighting for her child. “How could I ever put my sister in that precarious a situation?”

“You can’t. Presley deserves some happiness. And she is happy these days, isn’t she?”

“Happier than I’ve ever seen her.”

“Then that’s proof you’re doing the right thing.”

“Still, if Aaron or Dylan ever find out...” She felt heartsick at the prospect, but she couldn’t open her mouth, couldn’t risk telling because of what it could destroy.

“You have to hope they don’t,” Eve said matter-of-factly.

“What a mess.” Someday what she and Presley were doing would not end well; the thought of that terrified her. “Anyway, I’m home now. I should go.”

“Okay. You’re on tomorrow?”

Cheyenne had recently scaled back her hours so she could help with Wyatt. Neither of them were quite used to her new schedule. “Yeah.”

“Then I’ll see you in the morning.”

As they disconnected, Cheyenne tried to push her concern into the back of her mind, as she’d done so far. But when she went inside and turned to hang up her coat, she saw the hole in the wall—proof that she couldn’t tell Aaron about Wyatt. He had an anger problem. That alone suggested they’d better not second-guess the decisions made two years ago.

“What happened?” she called out to Dylan. “Don’t tell me you and Aaron got into it again.”

There was no answer.

Unhappy with the damage that had been done to her house, Cheyenne hurried into the living room. Her husband sat on the couch with the TV on pause, holding his head in his hands.

“Dylan, what is it? He didn’t hit you, did he?”

She grew even more alarmed when he glanced up at her with a hollowness in his eyes.

“No, he didn’t hit me.”

“What made him punch the wall?”

Dylan shoved a hand through his hair. “Aaron didn’t do that. I did.”

“What?” She’d never known Dylan to do such a thing. Like Aaron, he had a temper. Heaven help any worthy opponent who pushed him too far. But he’d always been able to control himself—at least since she’d come into his life. Before that, he’d had a reputation for being reckless, even dangerous, but that was understandable. He’d felt he had to do whatever he could to survive, and to make sure his brothers did, too.

“I’ll patch it,” he said in an attempt to mollify her.

“I’m not worried about that so much as I am about you.” Sitting down next to him, she rubbed his back, trying to soothe him. “What got you so upset?”

“Aaron infuriates me. You know that.”

“But you can usually cope with it. What did he say or do to set you off tonight?”

His beard growth rasped as he rubbed a hand over his jaw. “I was trying to tell him to stay away from Presley, and he got belligerent, as he always does.”

The guilt she’d been feeling burrowed a little deeper. “Don’t fight with your brother over Presley. That makes me feel I’m the one who dragged you into it, because I’m so concerned about her.”

“There’s no need for him to screw up her life. If he loved her and was willing to step up and marry her, I wouldn’t feel like this. But...he doesn’t want anything she’s got to offer. Not now. She has a kid, and that’s entirely too much responsibility for him.”

Dylan adored Wyatt, felt protective of him. “Are you sure? That Aaron’s not ready for—” the way he looked at her made her adjust what she was about to say “—for someone who might be interested in a more serious relationship?”

“Hell, no. He’s never been able to maintain a serious relationship. What makes you think he could start now? I wouldn’t want him to get involved with Presley again, anyway. That’s all we need. You know how volatile he is, how their relationship could potentially affect ours.”

But Aaron wouldn’t ask permission. No one could tell him what to do; no one could make him see reason if he didn’t want to. If Dylan tried to step in, to influence him, Aaron could do exactly the opposite just to prove his autonomy.

“It’s too bad that she had to come back before he left,” Cheyenne lamented.

“I’d rather have her here in Whiskey Creek than depending on people she can’t trust to take care of Wyatt.”

Dylan had been as livid as she was when Presley found those marks on Wyatt. The owner of the thrift shop had let her bring Wyatt to work three days a week, but she still had to leave him on the weekends, because it was busier, and when she went to massage school at night.

“I agree Wyatt’s better off here,” she said, “but...”

“What?” he prompted.

But he didn’t know nearly as much as she did. “Having the two of them in town for even a month is too long.” She gave him a rueful smile as she checked his hand. He’d bruised and scraped his knuckles. “Do we need to take you to the hospital? Have that X-rayed?”

He shook her off. “No. It’s not broken.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. I’ve broken it often enough to know the difference.”

She mussed his hair. Although he was as tough as a man could be, there was a childlike innocence in the way he cared for her that formed the foundation of her happiness. “I love you so much, too much. Even when you punch holes in my wall.” She stood up. “Let’s wash off your hand before you get blood on the couch.”

“Chey?” He caught her wrist, pulling her back to him.

“Yes?”

“Does it ever make you...envious to see Wyatt?”

The gravity of that question gave her an inkling of what might be causing Dylan to act out. It didn’t have to do with Aaron. Not completely.

“Why would it make me feel envious?” She could guess, but wanted to draw him out. He rarely put a voice to his fears and concerns; instead, he expressed them in some physical act, by making love to her, going to the gym he and his brothers had set up in their barn or—tonight, anyway—punching a hole in the wall.

“We’ve been married for a while now and...no baby.” He studied her. “Despite how badly you want one.”

He felt he had to provide something she wanted that much. He wasn’t used to being unable to give her what would make her happiest. Since he was eighteen, he’d been taking care of the people in his life. He always took on added responsibility; it was just who he was.

“I do want a baby,” she admitted. “I want your baby. But if we can’t have one, we can’t. Nothing could ever make me regret marrying you.”

“What if it’s me—my fault? You wouldn’t resent it someday?”

“Of course not.”

“Because it’s got to be me,” he said. “You’ve never done anything physically damaging.”

“You think fighting might’ve hurt your...equipment?”

“If I had a dollar for every time I got kicked in the nuts...”

He’d started in MMA when his father, grief-stricken after losing his children’s mother, stabbed a man in a bar and went to prison. Dylan had had to do something to augment what he could earn from the family’s auto body shop, which wasn’t exactly a success back then. Without the money he made fighting, his younger brothers would’ve been split up and placed in foster care.

“If that’s the way it is...we’ll accept it,” she said.

“Accept less, you mean.”

“Accept reality.”

His troubled eyes met hers. “I should get checked out.”

She’d wanted him to see a doctor—until she’d gone to a doctor herself and learned that it wasn’t her. “No.”

He reared back. “Why not?”

“Because it doesn’t matter.” She laced her fingers through his. “We’ll keep trying. You like that part, anyway,” she teased, but he didn’t let her levity distract him. He didn’t even smile; he was too intent on the conversation.

“And if it doesn’t work?”

“We’ll adopt.”

“But thanks to your mother—or, rather, Anita— you’ve missed out on so much already. I want you to have your own baby. I want you to experience pregnancy and childbirth and see yourself in the child you’re raising. And I want your real mother, now that you’ve found each other, to see her family grow.”

“We don’t always get what we want,” she told him.

“That’s just it. You’ve had to settle for most of your life. I can’t bear the thought that you might have to settle now because of me.”

“Dylan, I can love an adopted child just as much. Anyway, even if we never get a baby, I’d give up anything for you.”

He stared at her as if trying to decide whether she meant it. Then he kissed her deeply, tenderly, and led her into the bedroom, where he made love to her as though everything was fine and they’d get beyond this. But she could tell when she started to doze on his chest afterward that he was wide-awake and staring at the ceiling.

3

Presley couldn’t sleep. And she knew why. But she refused to obsess over running into Aaron at the bookstore. She also refused to toss and turn all night.

Kicking off the covers, she got up, threw on a pair of holey jeans and a sweatshirt and lifted her baby from his crib. Wyatt stirred but didn’t wake when she put him in his stroller. She almost hoped he would wake up—otherwise, he’d be ready to play when she needed rest. A single mother had to sleep when her baby did or go without.

But he didn’t make a peep as she hurried down the street to her studio. There was so much work that needed to be done. She figured she might as well get started, take advantage of this time.

Once she let herself in and stowed Wyatt in what she planned to use as her massage room, where it was dark and quiet, she walked through the place, studying it with a skeptical eye. How could she make the studio more appealing on such a limited budget?

The little she’d had in savings had dwindled fast, and she was concerned that she wouldn’t be able to pay her rent. If she didn’t get enough appointments, she’d have no hope....

“What-ifs” churned like acid in her stomach, but over the course of her life she’d been through much worse than financial uncertainty. She could remember as a girl rummaging through Dumpsters, hoping to find a cast-off burrito or hamburger that might be edible. Her mother had taken off whenever it suited her, leaving Presley and Cheyenne on their own, often for days, without heat or even food if they were in the car.

Fortunately, those years were behind them. Pancreatic cancer had taken Anita, releasing those closest to her from the obligation of caring for her. Presley was taking a leap of faith by opening her own business, and fear sometimes threatened to paralyze her. But she could make it work. She could overcome anything as long as Wyatt remained healthy and happy.

At least here in Whiskey Creek she didn’t have to worry about his day-care provider hurting him. She hated that she was the one who’d left him vulnerable to that. But it wasn’t as if she’d left him to go off with some strange man so she could trade sex for money as Anita so often had. She’d had a legitimate job, and she’d kept him with her whenever she could. She’d do the same here. Otherwise, Cheyenne or a girl named Alexa, the fourteen-year-old daughter of Ted Dixon’s fiancée, would help out. Alexa wasn’t someone Presley knew well, but she seemed very sweet. Cheyenne was confident that she’d be nothing but kind to Wyatt.

A knock on the glass made her jump. It was after midnight, and she wasn’t expecting company.

It could only be Cheyenne coming to check on her, she thought. Cheyenne was trying so hard to be supportive. But when Presley turned, she saw Riley Stinson, Cheyenne’s friend whom she’d spoken to at the book signing, standing on the sidewalk in front of her store.

He waved. Then he blew on his hands to keep them warm as she walked over to let him in.

“Riley! What are you doing out and about at this hour?”

“I was on my way home from Ted’s and saw your light. Figured maybe I’d catch you working.”

“You did. Well, I haven’t really begun yet. But I intend to.” She glanced toward the street, where he’d parked. “Where’s Jacob tonight?”

Riley had a fifteen-year-old son he was raising, with a little help from his parents. Jacob’s mother wasn’t in the picture. She’d been sentenced to twenty years in prison for running down his next love interest with an old Buick just before they all graduated from high school. The last thing Presley had heard about Phoenix Fuller was that she was due to be released around the same time as Aaron’s father.

Presley wondered how Riley felt about his ex-girlfriend coming home at last, but she didn’t know him well enough to ask such a personal question.

“Jacob’s staying at a friend’s.” He whistled as he took in their surroundings. “So this is the new studio, huh?”

She felt herself flush. It wasn’t much to look at. But it was more than she’d ever had. “So far. There’s still a lot to do.”

“What do you have planned?”

“Repairing the drywall and painting, to begin with.” She folded her arms against the chill, wishing she’d brought a coat. Until Wyatt was up and no longer under a blanket, she was hesitant to turn on the heat, since she, and not her landlord, had to pay the utility bill. “After that I’ll create a reception area where I can book my appointments and clients can check in.”

She indicated the door leading to where Wyatt was sleeping. “That will be the massage room.” She also showed him the larger area on the other side. “This will be the yoga studio.”

“Nice.”

He seemed to approve, and that made her less critical. “There’s even a small kitchen in back,” she said, feeling some of the excitement she’d experienced in Fresno when she’d lain awake so many nights, dreaming and planning for her future.

“This space has everything you’ll need.”

“It’s a bit run-down,” she admitted. The shop had once been an antiques co-op. The individual co-op members rented booths in which they displayed whatever they could scrounge up to sell. From what Presley remembered, most of it was junk, and no one had done much to maintain the property.

“There’s nothing here a little work won’t fix,” Riley said.

“Work and money,” she added with a rueful smile.

“I’ve got some extra wood lying around my backyard. I’d be happy to donate it to the cause and build that reception desk you mentioned.”

She shook her head. “Oh, no! I wasn’t hinting for you to do that. I don’t have the money to pay you. Not right now. But Cheyenne told me you’re a good contractor. I’ll keep you in mind if things go well for me.”

He studied her. “Why not work out a trade?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Construction for yoga lessons?”

“No.” His grin slanted to one side. “Construction for massage.”

How had she guessed? “You don’t even know if I’m any good.”

“I’m willing to take that on faith.”

She might’ve thought nothing of his willingness to do so much work in the hope that he might like her massages, but she wasn’t used to that kind of generosity. She felt certain something had to be behind this, something other than what he’d stated. And because of the exchange she’d overheard at the bookstore, she suspected she knew what it was. Cheyenne’s friends—hopefully Aaron, too—weren’t aware of what she’d done when she took off two years ago. But it wasn’t a secret that she’d never been particularly circumspect. At times she wondered just where she’d be if she hadn’t had her sister to counteract her mother’s example. At least now, without the drugs, she could see herself as she wanted to be, as she could be, and thought she might eventually get there—if she stayed the course.

“I doubt you’d be interested in the type of massage I’m offering,” she told him.

He seemed taken aback by the flatness of her voice. “Because...”

She gave him a look that said he could stop pretending. “It’s just a massage, Riley. Nothing to get too excited about.”

His eyes widened. “I wasn’t expecting... I mean, I didn’t think you were offering anything more.”

Maybe that was true. Maybe it was her own insecurities that made it difficult to trust even a guy like Riley. But, to be safe, she figured she’d be better off carrying her own burdens. “I’d rather do the work myself. But thanks.”

“O-kay,” he said, drawing out the word.

When she didn’t soften her refusal or make conversation, he started for the door. “I’ll get out of your way, then.”

She couldn’t help going after him. “Wait, I’m sorry if I assumed the wrong thing. But that doesn’t change the fact that I have too many sharp angles for someone like you, so there’s no point in becoming friends.”

He lowered his voice as if to add gravity to his words. “Who says you have too many sharp angles for someone like me?”

“I do.”

“You barely know me!”

“And yet I know I’m not what you want. I could never be what you want. If...if that’s what you were considering.”

“I hadn’t decided. But...why couldn’t you be what I want?”

Because she’d made too many mistakes. Was too jaded. Too suspicious and distrustful and defensive. She had a sordid past, an unfortunate upbringing, too much experience. He deserved a girl who’d once been prom queen, not a one-time addict. “I might be Chey’s sister but I’m nothing like her.”

“The panther tattoo on your arm gave that away at first glance,” he said wryly.

“So...why are you here? Because you’re tempted to take a walk on the wild side? If so, you need to understand that nothing comes cheap or easy with me anymore. If you heard otherwise, it would’ve been true...in the past. But I have a kid now.”

“People change. And I have a kid, too. That’s partly why I’m interested in getting to know you. I understand what it’s like to be a single parent. Or have you forgotten?”

The silence stretched out as they stared at each other.

“I’ll build your reception desk tomorrow,” he said. “After I get some sleep. And you don’t have to pay me anything.”

She grabbed the door as it swung back. “Why would you do that?” she called after him. “What’s in it for you?”

“It’s called friendship, Presley. Maybe it’s time you became acquainted with it,” he said, and got into his truck.

* * *

Presley was up all night, plastering over the cracks and holes in the walls. Although intent on finishing before Wyatt woke up, she wasn’t quite that lucky. The baby monitor alerted her when he began to stir. It was early—not yet six—and she had another hour of repairs. So she took him out of the stroller, changed him and put him in the playpen she’d set up in one corner several days ago. But less than thirty minutes later, he was tired of his toys and getting hungry. She was just lifting him into her arms when Riley showed up, carrying a sawhorse.

“Cute kid,” he said as he let himself in.

Somehow, in her hurry to get started last night, she’d forgotten to lock the door after he left. It was fortunate that she lived in Whiskey Creek these days and not the dumpy neighborhood she’d had to brave in Fresno, or that could have been a much bigger deal. Here, a lot of people didn’t lock their doors at night—which was probably why Riley didn’t comment on the fact that he could stroll right in.

“Thanks.” She watched the muscles ripple under his T-shirt as he put down the sawhorse. He was good-looking, and he had a nice build. Maybe he wasn’t as breathtaking as Aaron. Few men were. But neither was he as troubled.

“No problem.” Dusting off his hands, he examined her work. “You’ve made some great progress.”

Presley couldn’t believe he’d really come back, especially so early. “What are you doing here?”

“You know what I’m doing here. I told you last night that I’d be building your reception area this morning.”

She shifted Wyatt to her other hip. “You’re either a really nice guy—or a glutton for punishment.”

“Are you asking me? Because if you are, I’m a really nice guy.”

Wyatt, interested in this newcomer, had stopped crying. She wiped the tears from his face as she said, “You’re still going to be disappointed when I won’t sleep with you.”

She refused to feel obligated, not when she’d warned him. She wouldn’t let anyone pressure her into making choices that were detrimental to her, no matter how grateful she felt for his friendship. That was the old Presley.

He put a hand to his chest as if she’d wounded him. She expected him to accuse her of being too brash. Cheyenne would never have blurted out something like that. But she’d been frank on purpose, to highlight the truth: she wasn’t his type.

Surprisingly, his response wasn’t what she’d predicted. “Who said you won’t sleep with me?”

She gaped at him. “I told you—”

“That you won’t trade sex for money. If I get a massage, I get only a massage.”

“That’s true.”

He nodded. “Then we’re fine. Because when we have sex, I don’t plan on paying you.”

He’d said that with a straight face, but she could see a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “When we have sex?”

“I’m not saying it’ll happen, so don’t get mad. I’m just not ruling it out. In other words, if we ever reach that point, I’m open to getting physical. In case you were wondering.”

She didn’t know how to respond. She’d accepted long ago that she’d never be able to attract the kind of solid citizens her sister did. So why was popular, handsome, someone-who-should-know-better Riley Stinson even giving her the time of day?

He chuckled at her stunned silence. “Don’t tell me you’re that easily embarrassed. You started it.”

She’d been trying to scare him off; she hadn’t expected him to say something equally shocking. “But...you’re my little sister’s friend.”

“What difference does that make?”

“I’m older than you are.”

“There’s two years between us. Two years hardly makes you a cougar.”

She jiggled Wyatt, who was getting fussy again. “It’s not just the age difference I’m worried about. It’s the other differences.”

“And those are...”

“Vast.”

He tilted his head as he peered into her face. “Isn’t that the case with most guys you meet? Not many people have been raised the way you were.”

“And Cheyenne turned out all right. That’s what you must be thinking. But you have to understand that Cheyenne is special. She could’ve been raised in any circumstances and survived them.” Somehow her sister had navigated their crazy childhood without ever screwing up. She’d left all the bad stuff to Presley, who’d tried everything once—and the most damaging things a lot more often than that. “She never made the mistakes I did.”

“Which makes you...what? A bad person?”

“Some people might see it that way.” His crowd typically did.

“Well, I appreciate the warning. But Chey says you’ve gotten your life under control.” He searched her face. “Is that true?”

Wyatt was struggling to get down, but she couldn’t let him because of all the tools and nails and wet plaster. “It is. I haven’t done anything wrong in two years.”

“And ‘wrong’ includes...”

“I haven’t had sex. I haven’t taken drugs. I haven’t even had any alcohol, other than an occasional glass of chardonnay.”

“Then I’d say your recent track record’s better than mine,” he quipped.

In what way? It had to be sex or alcohol; no one in Cheyenne’s group would risk the damage drugs could cause.

“But two years isn’t that long,” she argued. “It’s not enough time to be able to trust me.” Lord knew she didn’t trust herself. That was why she had to stay away from Aaron. With one touch, he could make her forget everything she was striving to be.

“Tell me this, what are you looking for in life?” Riley asked.

He was no longer joking, so she sobered, too. “Someone who’ll love me—for me—at last.”

That wasn’t something a girl usually admitted to a guy who was interested in asking her out. But she wasn’t a teenager anymore, and they were having an honest conversation. Why hide the truth? Presley had been trying to warn him off from the beginning. If this didn’t do the trick, he deserved whatever disappointment she proved to be.

To her surprise, her words didn’t seem to make him uncomfortable. He pursed his lips as he considered them. Then he nodded. “I’d like to see if I’m the right man for the job,” he said, and walked out to get more of his tools.

4

Aaron located what had to be Presley’s yoga studio from its proximity to Reflections by Callie. He had pictured the old antiques emporium as soon as Kyle and Riley mentioned it. But it was worth coming by to see how far along she was in the process of opening. He was curious about her and everything she was doing; he hadn’t been able to get her off his mind since running into her last night. So he’d told himself he’d swing by on his way to Reno. If she happened to be alone, maybe he’d stop and say something, get what he was thinking and feeling off his chest. It didn’t seem fair that she suddenly seemed to believe the worst of him. Not when he’d been convinced that she was one of the few people who truly understood him.

But then he saw Riley Stinson’s truck parked in front and he pulled over—even though she clearly wasn’t alone. She wasn’t open for business yet. So why was Riley hanging around?

He decided to find out.

The high-pitched whine of an electric saw cut through the air as he crossed the street, and he could see a ladder and some paint tarps through the wide storefront windows.

The door had been propped open for ventilation. For a moment, he stood at the threshold, watching Riley check the length of a piece of wood he’d just cut. Presley wasn’t around. Maybe she was in another room. That he was glad she was out of earshot, glad he had the chance to confront Riley alone, told him he shouldn’t be here. He’d been in a terrible mood ever since he’d encountered her at the bookstore. The fight with Dylan hadn’t helped and neither had the sleepless night he’d spent trying to convince himself that he didn’t care if Presley no longer wanted him in her life.

He’d let her go easily enough two years ago, hadn’t he?

Not that easily. He had thought about her a hell of a lot, at odd hours when it was late and the house was quiet. He’d missed her, missed the fun they used to have and the excitement she’d brought him in bed. But missing her didn’t really explain why he was so out of sorts. He should be glad she’d moved on. There’d been plenty of instances when he’d wished she would. He’d known all along that she cared more than he did, and that kind of thing never ended well.

“Hey!” he called.

Riley whipped his head around. Then he turned off the saw and lowered the goggles protecting his eyes. “How’s it going?”

Still no sign of Presley. “Where is she?” Aaron asked.

Riley didn’t ask who. That was obvious. “Had to take her little boy home. She was up all night, patching the walls in here, so I’m hoping she’ll catch a nap, too. But, stubborn as she is, she’ll probably come right back.”

He was talking as if he knew Presley well—but he didn’t. Not really. No one in Whiskey Creek, except Cheyenne, knew her as well as Aaron did. Like him, Presley had always been an outsider, someone regarded with distrust. He’d never cared much about what other people thought. He didn’t let their opinions bother him. But Presley hadn’t grown the same thick skin. “So you’re working alone?”

Using a measuring tape, Riley marked the board where he wanted to make his next cut. “For the moment.”

Aaron kicked a loose nail that’d fallen to the tarp back and forth between his feet. “I didn’t realize she’d hired you to build her tenant improvements. You didn’t say anything about it at the bookstore.”

“I didn’t know I’d be doing this.”

He sauntered closer, eyeing what Riley was building. “Receptionist’s station?”

Riley blew the sawdust from his hands, then brushed off his white T-shirt. “That’s right.”

“Does she have the money to pay for all this?” He gestured at the work that’d been done so far. Dylan had told him Presley wasn’t in a good financial situation. “It’s tough, being a single parent.”

“Tell me about it,” Riley muttered.

He and Presley were both single parents, but the similarity between them ended there. “You’ve always had the support of your folks, and a decent way to earn a living. She’s never had either.” Riley had also had a lot of other things Presley didn’t, but Aaron felt he’d said enough.

“She has Chey in her corner. And I’m hoping her yoga and massage businesses will be successful. But I’m not arguing with you. She’s in a tight spot, especially while her son is so young.”

Aaron jerked his head toward the saw. “Maybe you should let me finish up.”

Riley straightened, finally giving Aaron his full attention. “Excuse me?”

“It won’t be as nice as if you’d done it, but I can manage a hammer and nails—and it won’t cost her a cent.” Maybe that would make up for how he’d behaved the night her mother died; maybe it would finally ease his conscience.

Riley positioned the wood he’d prepped on the sawhorse. “There’s no need for you to take over. I’m not charging her.”

“Why not?” Aaron spoke before Riley could turn on the saw. “This may not be a big job, but it’ll take the better part of your weekend.” Wasn’t that a lot to ask of a mere acquaintance?

Riley shrugged and raised his goggles. “I don’t mind helping.”

The saw blasted again, forcing Aaron to talk above it. “Since when did you two become friends? When she was here before, you barely knew her.”

Riley’s blade bit through the two-by-four and the end dropped onto the scrap heap. “I knew her,” he said as the sudden silence rang in their ears. “I’ve hung out with Cheyenne for years.”

That didn’t mean he’d spared a glance—or a thought—for Presley. “So that’s it? You’re just doing a good deed?” Aaron met his gaze. “Or are you making some sort of play for her?”

Riley turned around to confront him, and the goggles came off again. “You’re acting a little...territorial, Aaron. Which I didn’t expect. According to Cheyenne, whatever you and Presley had when she lived here before is over. Was Chey wrong about that? Is there something going on between you two that I should know about?”

Aaron couldn’t say there was. Presley had told him, in no uncertain terms, that she wasn’t interested in getting involved with him again. But he didn’t see why that meant they couldn’t be friends. She’d needed his friendship once. “I’m sure Cheyenne would love nothing more than to see her sister with such an upstanding guy. Is that what this is about? Is she behind it?”

Riley scowled. “Aaron, there’s never been any trouble between us, so why are you trying to start it now? Chey’s not pushing me at Presley.”

“She just happened to catch your eye at the book signing last night?”

“Does it matter? I thought you’d moved on. If I remember right, I’ve heard your name linked with Noelle Arnold’s.”

Aaron had bumped into Noelle at Sexy Sadie’s once or twice and taken her home, but only because she’d let him know she wanted to sleep with him, and he’d had nothing better to do. He didn’t particularly care for her. He’d never been in love with Presley, either, but he liked her a lot more than Noelle. At least Presley was real, down-to-earth. Noelle was the most shallow, vain creature he’d ever met.

“Noelle and I are friends, that’s all.”

Riley picked up another piece of wood and began to examine it. “For your sake, I’m glad to hear that.”

Without a doubt, Noelle was the most hated person in town. That alone made Aaron feel sorry for her. But she didn’t seem to understand what she was doing to evoke that reaction, so there was nothing he could do to help her.

Still, he didn’t like Riley acting so superior. But maybe he had a right. He’d never screwed up the way Aaron had, that was for damn sure. “I don’t need you to warn me off. I’ll choose my own women.”

“Good. Enjoy Noelle all you want, because you aren’t what Presley wants anymore.”

“And you are?” he snapped.

Riley didn’t get the chance to respond. A female voice, shocked and slightly outraged, interrupted.

“Aaron...what are you doing here?”

He and Riley had been so focused on each other that they hadn’t seen Presley walk in. She came toward them, clutching the hand of her son, who was doing his best to keep up. She wasn’t wearing makeup, but going natural was a great look on her. With smooth, café-au-lait skin, wide brown eyes and a short, choppy haircut, she reminded him of Halle Berry.

He wasn’t happy that she’d probably heard what they’d said. But the only thing he could do was shrug and act as though it didn’t matter. Indifference could cover almost any uncomfortable situation—because it wasn’t uncomfortable if you didn’t care.

“I dropped by to see how the improvements are going,” he said.

Their eyes met. He wondered if she could tell that he wasn’t as emotionally detached as he was pretending to be. But she looked away before he could guess at her thoughts. “They’re going fine.”

Aaron made a point of gazing around. “Seems to me you could use some help.”

“I’ve got it.” Riley scowled at him. He no longer held a piece of lumber or any tools. He was keeping his hands free. Just in case?

“You’ve got the receptionist area under control,” Aaron said. “But that leaves the painting. If I help, it’ll go that much faster. I’ll run over to the paint store. What color should I get?”

Presley’s lips parted in surprise. “It’s Saturday. Don’t you have to work at the shop?”

“Not till Monday.” So much for his appointment with the real estate agent in Reno, but he could cancel. He’d already seen about all there was to see. The only thing left was to decide on a location.

“You don’t want to spend your time off doing...this,” she said.

Was it really so inconceivable that he’d make that kind of sacrifice?

Part of him felt he should get the hell out of there. He knew when he wasn’t wanted. But the other part refused to let her toss him aside so easily. He hadn’t meant to hurt her two years ago. Who’d been better to her? Certainly not Riley. Cheyenne’s friends had pretty much ignored Presley’s existence. She could forgive him that one night when he couldn’t face her pain without having to swim through a whole sea of his own, couldn’t she?

“Sure, why not?” he said. If she wanted to get rid of him, she’d have to tell him to go. But he didn’t think she’d do that. Her heart was too soft. And if Riley tried to force the issue, he’d be sorry he’d ever stuck his nose in Presley’s business....

Fortunately, Riley didn’t react the way Aaron expected. A smile suddenly curved his lips. “Yeah, why not?” he said. “Everything will go faster with an extra pair of hands.”

Presley seemed startled by his capitulation. “But... I don’t have the money to pay either of you! And I don’t want to feel I’m taking advantage. I can do this on my own. Really. I’d rather do it on my own.”

She’d grown cautious, protective, since she’d left Whiskey Creek, which made Aaron feel even guiltier for turning his back on her that long-ago night.

“There’s no need to do it yourself.” Riley’s smile widened. “We’re happy to help—aren’t we, Aaron?”

Riley was making it clear that he didn’t consider Aaron a threat. You aren’t what Presley wants anymore, he’d said. Was he cocky enough to think he could prove it?

Far be it from Aaron to resist a challenge. “Absolutely,” he said. “We’d never let you do this alone.”

Presley might’ve continued to argue, but Wyatt was trying to escape so he could play in the sawdust and wood scraps.

“You could get hurt,” she murmured as she struggled to restrain him. She looked tired. It was tempting to pick up the baby for her, but she’d been acting so skittish around him that he didn’t dare, not in front of Riley.

“Why don’t you take him home and let him play where it’s safe?” Aaron suggested. “We’ve got this.”

She glanced from him to Riley and back again. “But...”

“What will you be able to accomplish with him here?” Riley asked, throwing his support behind Aaron’s suggestion.

“I could put him in his playpen,” she began.

“Where he’d only last a short time,” Aaron said.

She sighed. “That’s true, but...”

“Go!” Aaron said.

Riley gestured for her to take off, too.

“I’ll do what I can to make it up to both of you,” she told them. Then, in spite of a crying and wiggling child, she somehow managed to pull a paint swatch and some cash from her purse. “Here’s the shade I picked out. If this isn’t enough money to cover it, I’ll reimburse you later.”

5

Presley hated leaving other people to do her work. She didn’t want to feel indebted to Riley or Aaron. Especially Aaron. But she was terrified that if Aaron and Wyatt had any interaction at all he’d suspect the truth. If Aaron hadn’t always been so vigilant about birth control, or if there’d been a specific incident when they’d noticed a broken rubber—which there wasn’t—he would already have questioned her or Cheyenne about the circumstances of Wyatt’s conception.

Fortunately, she had those two things going for her.

She’d made the right decision in not telling him, hadn’t she? Every once in a while, she panicked, wondering if she’d been crazy to make the choice she’d made. But she hadn’t gotten pregnant on purpose; there was no duplicity involved. And she didn’t expect child support or anything else from him. So how was the fact that she’d kept Wyatt hurting him?

It wasn’t. To her knowledge, he’d never expressed any interest in having a child. Indeed, his diligence in the birth control department indicated he didn’t want one. There were times he’d even said as much, when a friend married or had a kid. That meant she was doing him a huge favor by keeping the truth to herself. It allowed him to lead whatever life he chose without having to wrestle with his conscience.

Of course, if he found out, there was no guarantee he’d look at the situation so philosophically. That was what frightened her. She hated to even think of the possibility....

Wyatt, happy now that she’d let him loose to run around the house, started to empty his toy box.

“You little devil,” she teased when she saw the mess he was making.

He grinned up at her, completely unrepentant, and she bent to press her lips to his forehead. Then she dropped onto the lumpy sofa she’d bought from the thrift store where she’d worked in Fresno. “You’re a charmer, aren’t you?” she said as he babbled and played. “Just like your daddy. Headstrong, too,” she added, thinking of how willful they could both be.

“Mama!” He brought her his collection of cars, one by one.

Despite a long list of worries, Presley couldn’t help smiling when he trundled over without a car just to plant a kiss on her face. His kisses were wet and sloppy but, for her, they were one of life’s true pleasures. She loved Wyatt so much—and that was why she had to keep up her defenses where Aaron was concerned, no matter how intent he seemed on regaining her friendship.

Her cell phone rang. She tensed, afraid it might be Riley or Aaron with a question, but caller ID indicated it was Cheyenne.

With a yawn, she hit the talk button. “Hello?”

Wyatt tugged at her arm. “Pone, Mama? Pone?”

She smiled at his attempt to say phone. He was learning more words all the time. “That’s right, baby. Phone.”

“Presley? Hello?”

She could hear a certain amount of pique in Cheyenne’s voice. “I’m here. What’s wrong?”

“I just stopped by your studio.”

Oh, boy... When Cheyenne and Dylan had agreed to help her if she moved back, they’d indicated that the quickest way to lose their support would be to get mixed up with the wrong crowd again—and they considered Aaron and his friends “the wrong crowd.”

“I don’t know what he’s doing there, Chey,” she said, preempting her sister’s complaint.

“It looked to me like he was painting!”

Stifling a groan, she covered her eyes with one arm. “He came over this morning and offered. It wasn’t as if I asked him.”

“You could’ve said no! You told me you’d stay away from him. If he finds out...I don’t have to tell you I have a lot to lose, too.”

Cheyenne hated lying to Dylan. And having her and Aaron in such close proximity threatened them both with exposure.

But Presley hadn’t wanted things to turn out like this! She’d tried to make the situation easier on everyone by leaving town. She’d planned to stay in Fresno indefinitely and would have done so if not for what was going on at Wyatt’s day care. She’d lodged a complaint, knew the day care was being investigated, but those days of doubt and suspicion had shaken her trust.

“I tried.”

“You said that you told him you wouldn’t be spending any time with him.”

“I did!”

“Maybe you weren’t blunt enough.”

The look on Aaron’s face when she squeezed past him at the bookstore convinced her otherwise. “He understood.”

“Then why is he painting your studio?”

She couldn’t figure it out, unless... “I can only guess that finding Riley there made him...competitive.” He wasn’t used to being rejected or upstaged. Most girls couldn’t bring him home to their mothers and expect their mothers to be pleased, but women were inexplicably drawn to the edgy, take-your-chance aura that surrounded him. Aaron dared what most men wouldn’t. That, coupled with his good looks, made him almost irresistible. Although he didn’t seem to take his appeal too seriously, Presley had witnessed the female attention he received and had often been surprised that she was the one going home with him at the end of the evening.

“Maybe he wants to be the one to reject me.” She’d always felt he was more attractive than she was. And his personality? He could charm most people—or cut them with a glance. He wouldn’t like losing the position of strength he’d held with her.

“Isn’t that what happened the night Mom died?” Cheyenne asked.

“More or less,” she mumbled, but he hadn’t actually said or done anything to change the status of their relationship. Had she not been pregnant, and had she stayed in town, they probably would’ve gone on like before—partying and sleeping together, at least until he met someone else. But she hadn’t been satisfied being a placeholder, hadn’t been satisfied with knowing that he was restless and would eventually move on.

Then, in the midst of her quandary about what she should do to protect herself before she got hurt, she’d run out of time to decide. Once she found out she was pregnant, she’d had to choose quickly—have an abortion, as he’d likely prefer, or throw her whole heart into raising their child alone.

She glanced over at Wyatt. He was sitting on the floor, playing with a toy that had pop-up Sesame Street characters. His face lit up when he noticed her watching and he slammed Cookie Monster back into his cubby just to show her that he could.

She’d made the right choice, she decided. Wyatt could take all the love she had to give—and he had the ability to love her back.

“So why’s he still interested?” Cheyenne asked. “You’ve always said he doesn’t really care about you. Is it that he suddenly sees you as a challenge and that excites him? Or is he trying to save face? Maybe he wants to prove he can get you back in the sack—or he’s out to show Dylan and me that he’ll do as he damn well pleases.”

“I thought you liked Aaron.”

“I do. I love him to pieces. But you know how contrary he can be.”

“I can’t imagine he’d be willing to work that hard just to get me back in bed. He’s more of a take-me-or-leave-me kind of guy. That was the Aaron I used to know, anyway.”

“So, to be on the safe side, you’re going to reiterate that you’re not interested?”

“Of course.” She had no choice, not with the secret she was guarding.

“I hope you’re more effective than you were when you said he couldn’t paint your studio,” her sister grumbled.

“Riley was there, helping out. I didn’t want to tell Aaron he couldn’t do the same. What reason could I give? Why would it be more acceptable for Riley to help me than Aaron?”

“Riley’s not Wyatt’s father.”

“Exactly my point. That’s something we don’t want him to guess.” She rolled a ball over to Wyatt. “Speaking of Riley, you don’t sound surprised about finding him there.”

“I was surprised. At first.”

Presley leaned back. “And then?”

“He told me he wants to take you out, and it made sense.”

“Was Aaron there when he said that?”

“He was standing about ten feet away. I actually got the impression Riley was announcing his intentions for Aaron’s sake, to stake his claim or...or put him on notice.”

“You sound pleased.”

“I am. I loved it. After the way he took you for granted, don’t you?”

She supposed it did feel good that someone else might want her, and that Aaron was aware of it. She’d always suffered from low self-esteem. She couldn’t feel good about herself while making the kinds of mistakes she’d made. “How did Aaron react?”

“He dropped his brush,” Cheyenne said with a laugh.

“That’s it? He didn’t say anything?”

“Not a word.”

Of course he wouldn’t. Why had she even asked? Aaron wouldn’t feel threatened. He’d only befriended her in the beginning out of pity. He understood what it was like to be lost and alone; they both did. “I know why he’s helping,” she said, finally figuring it out.

“Why?”

“He feels bad about how he acted the night Mom died. This is his way of apologizing.”

“You think so?”

“That’s my guess. He can be sweet. Sometimes.” He could also be tender, especially in the wee hours of the night after making love, which was why sex with him was more fulfilling than with most men. Just thinking about the deep-down satisfaction he could provide made her feel bereft without him.

Don’t focus on that. He’s like smoke. There’s no way to grab hold of him for more than a few minutes, no way to keep him close....

“How can you let him off the hook so he’ll go on about his business?”

“By accepting his apology and assuring him that I have no hard feelings.”

“Fabulous. Do it right away.”

Wyatt was getting sleepy. Presley could see him rubbing his eyes. Thank goodness. She needed a nap herself. “If you’ll watch Wyatt later this afternoon, I’ll go over to the studio, thank Aaron for his help and tell him I don’t hold anything against him. That should do the trick.”

“What if Riley’s still there?”

“I’ll walk Aaron out.”

“Perfect. Of course I’ll babysit.” Her sister didn’t ask why she didn’t want to take her son along; she understood that Presley was afraid for Wyatt to be around Aaron. She’d seen Aaron’s baby pictures. They both thought Wyatt resembled him at that age. “How much will you have to pay him for painting?”

“Nothing.”

“And Riley?”

“He’s not charging me, either.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. Can you believe it? They’re working for free.”

“Well, not free,” Cheyenne said. “Riley wants to date you. Which makes me wonder about Aaron. Is it truly forgiveness he’s after? Or something that involves less clothes and more skin?”

Presley didn’t answer that question. She couldn’t even consider it without having her thoughts go places that weakened her resolve. “When will he be leaving town?”

“The date still isn’t set.”

Too bad. It would be so much simpler if she could mark her calendar, give herself a goal. She was about to say so when Cheyenne changed the subject.

“You know when...when you got pregnant with Wyatt?”

Her son squealed as he found the lever that revealed Big Bird. “What?” Presley said, returning her attention to their conversation.

“The night you got pregnant.”

“What night would that be? Aaron and I always used birth control. So I have no idea exactly when I conceived.”

“Whatever night it was...somehow it happened even though you were using a condom?”

Where was she going with this? “Yes. Condoms aren’t a hundred percent effective, Chey. That can’t come as a shock to you. You’re not suggesting I tried to get pregnant—”

“Of course not!”

Presley had always been afraid she might be accused of trying to trap him, since everyone knew she cared more for Aaron than he did for her. But she’d kept Wyatt’s connection to Aaron a secret, so that argument was irrelevant. Still, she didn’t want anyone thinking she’d tried to use him to give her a child, either. “Then what are we talking about?”

“Aaron’s obviously capable of fathering children.”

“Why would anyone assume otherwise?”

“They wouldn’t, but you got pregnant, despite trying not to. That suggests he has...you know, strong, competent swimmers.”

“You’re evaluating the potency of his sperm?”

Presley regretted her shocked tone when Cheyenne immediately backpedaled. “No, never mind. Forget it.”

She sat up. “Why would you have any interest in Aaron’s sperm?”

“Because he has the same genes as Dylan!” her sister replied, exasperated. “Why else?”

“The rest of the Amos brothers would have those genes, too.”

“But Aaron would be the most likely to cooperate with something a little...unorthodox—and the least likely to tell Dylan.”

Unorthodox? Presley wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. Switching the phone to her other ear, she stood and began to pace. “You’re considering artificial insemination.”

“Maybe.”

“With Aaron as the donor?”

There was a brief silence. Then her sister said, “I’m getting desperate, Pres. What we’re going through is affecting our marriage. I hate seeing my husband feel so bad about himself.”

“How do you know Dylan’s sterile? It could be you, couldn’t it?”

This pause lasted longer.

“Chey?”

“No,” she replied. “It’s not me. I’ve been checked.”

Presley sucked in her breath. As often as they talked—and she thought they shared everything—Cheyenne hadn’t mentioned going to the doctor. “Did Dylan go with you?” She couldn’t help wondering how he’d taken the news.

“No. I haven’t told him about it. I don’t think I ever will.”

So she’d made the appointment and driven to Sacramento on her own. Why hadn’t she asked Presley to go with her? Cheyenne had always been too damn private about whatever struggles she faced. She opened up only if she had no choice, which told Presley how concerned she was about this issue. “When did you see the doctor?”

“Last month.”

“And Dylan?”

“He hasn’t been checked, at least not officially.”

“There’s an unofficial way to do it?”

“There are kits you can buy online.”

“Seriously?”

“They have just about everything these days.”

“Wow. So he tested himself?”

“I tested him—without his knowledge. I didn’t want him to know...just in case. But now he’s talking about going to see his doctor. He mentioned it last night. And that means he’ll find out he’s infertile even if I don’t tell him. I’d rather wind up pregnant, if I can arrange it, so he can feel he did it. As if there’s nothing wrong with him...”

Cheyenne loved Dyl so much. She’d do anything to protect him, even concoct a daring plan like this. But she wasn’t a deceitful person. Keeping Wyatt’s true paternity a secret was enough of a burden for her. How would she cope with a much more personal secret?

“Dylan has been through so much, Chey. And he’s always managed. He can handle this, too. I think you’re selling him short.”

“It isn’t that at all! The question is why make him handle it? Why can’t I be his guardian angel for a change? He’s brought me so much happiness—I want to return the favor. If Aaron could lend me some sperm, Dylan would never have to cope with feeling inadequate. He won’t have to feel indebted, knowing how we got the baby, or jealous or disappointed, either. I mean, God, he deserves a break, right? Who deserves a break more than he does?”

“But using Aaron to get pregnant? That’s your solution?”

“Why not?”

“For starters, he and Dylan fight like crazy.”

“Doesn’t matter. Aaron would never tell a soul. I know he wouldn’t. He loves Dylan as much as I do. He’d do whatever was necessary to ensure Dylan’s happiness, especially if he understood what Dylan’s going through right now—how emasculating this is for him.”

Presley had to agree. Aaron had his issues, but he was loyal to the bone and, whether he’d admit it or not, he admired Dylan more than any other person on earth.

But there were as many reasons to reject Cheyenne’s idea as there were to consider it.

“Are you sure it’s time to resort to fertility treatments? It’s only been a couple of years. Maybe his sperm count will go up.”

“That’s highly unlikely.”

“How do you know?”

“I spoke to my doctor.”

“And?”

“She said there’s always a chance we could get pregnant, but in our case it would be slight. She suggested we look into alternatives.”

“Are there things you can do to increase that chance?”

“We’ve already done everything we can. We started trying for a baby almost as soon as we were married. The past six months, I’ve been taking my temperature and tracking ovulation. And I’ve never been on the pill. I was a virgin until I slept with him, remember? So it’s not as if we can blame the delay on the contraceptives we’ve used. If I was going to conceive in the usual way, it should’ve happened by now.”

“Maybe not—”

“I’m out of time. This is really upsetting Dyl. I want a baby, too, of course. Badly. But he’s feeling it was a mistake for me to marry him.”

Presley slid Wyatt’s toys closer to him with one foot. “I’m sorry about that, but there are so many risks when you’re using a known sperm donor.” Her mind was racing through them. “I mean, on some level, it makes sense to use Aaron. The baby will be closely related to Dyl and will look like him and all of that, so there’s a much better chance he’d never find out.”

“And I know Aaron’s medical history, know he’s healthy. Unless you think the drugs he took in the past—”

“No. He smoked pot now and then, but he didn’t do nearly as much crack as I did. He’s fine. But what about how Aaron might feel, looking at your child and knowing it’s his? Would he be able to handle that?”

“For Dylan’s sake? I think so. Aaron’s tough. Once he makes up his mind, there’s no changing it. He’d never go back on his word.”

But he was sensitive, too. That was what so many people didn’t understand about him—that his toughness protected a very soft heart. “He might regret it.”

“Why would he regret making his brother happy? We’d take excellent care of the child. And he can have other kids if he wants.”

Presley had made having a secret Aaron baby look easy. She hadn’t even meant to get pregnant, and here she was with Wyatt. No doubt that figured into her sister’s thoughts. “It would be a perfect plan if there was some way we could get Aaron’s sperm without him knowing,” she mused. “Like I did—by accident. But how could we ever do that?”

“We couldn’t. He’d have to go to a clinic and bank the sperm, and I’d have to go there afterward.”

“Without telling Dylan?”

“Yes, without telling Dylan!”

“Would a clinic do that?”

“Fortunately, we live in the most liberal state in the country when it comes to things like that. I asked an online doctor at one of those expert advice sites. According to her, there’s no law that a husband has to give his consent. She also said some clinics might demand it, but that I could find one that won’t.”

“And if you can’t?”

“Aaron has the same last name as my husband.”

“You’d have him pose as your partner?”

“Why not? I’d just need to go to a clinic or doctor that isn’t affiliated with the hospital where I’ll be giving birth. Otherwise, the fact that I was artificially inseminated would be noted on my chart, and one of the nurses could let it slip.”

“I can see you’ve put a lot of thought into this. But that brings up another point. What if Dylan found out? If not now, then later? In five or ten years? How would he feel about it?”

When Cheyenne spoke again, her voice was soft, defeated. “What am I doing? You’re right. That would be terrible. It won’t work.”

“And yet you can’t help going back to the possibility.”

“It would solve everything,” she said. “Using Aaron’s sperm instead of Dylan’s seems like such a...a technicality. It wouldn’t make any difference to me if I had Aaron’s child. Aaron’s so much like my husband. I love them both. And Dylan would adore a child. You’ve seen how he is with Wyatt.”

“He’d be a good father.” There was no question about that. “But...why not adopt?”

“That comes with as many risks.”

“True, but—”

“Anyway, I’m not opposed to it. I could see us adopting at some point. I just need Dylan to believe he gave me one.”

“To salvage all that male pride?”

“It’s the way he is,” she said defensively. “And I wouldn’t change him even if I could. Pride’s one of the things that carried him through the hard times, that gave him the determination he needed to soldier on. It’s—”

“You want to do this,” Presley broke in, going straight to the bottom line.

“If it’ll make Dylan feel better, I do. But I’m scared, too.”

Now that she wasn’t so shocked by the idea, Presley tried to be more open-minded. In a way, it did seem like a technicality that it wouldn’t be Dylan’s sperm. She’d want to save her husband the humiliation and anguish, too, if she had a husband like Dylan and that husband had a brother like Aaron. “I guess you wouldn’t be the first person to use a known donor.”

“People do it all the time.”

More knowledge gleaned from the internet? “Without the consent of their spouse? I still think that’s asking for trouble.”

“It’s not like I intend to sleep with Aaron, Pres. I won’t be cheating. Is it really that terrible to use, with the donor’s permission, some DNA that’s very similar to my husband’s? What Dylan doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”

Presley sat on the edge of the couch and massaged her forehead. She’d used almost the same logic. Which led to the same conclusion. “Unless he finds out.”

“He won’t,” Cheyenne argued. “Who’s going to tell him? Me? You? Aaron? None of us! It doesn’t have to be a big deal unless we make it a big deal.”

“If you do this, we’ll both have children by Aaron.” She chuckled, although it wasn’t funny.

“Maybe it’s time to tell him about Wyatt, since that could figure into his decision.”

“No. Absolutely not.” Cheyenne wanted to end the anxiety that keeping her secret created. But Presley wasn’t ready, wasn’t willing to trade a release of anxiety for what could happen if Aaron found out. “Not yet.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Wyatt’s too little. Maybe when he gets older, when he’s capable of making his own choices.”

“Okay, but...if I go to Aaron about this...donation, do you think he’ll demand we tell Dylan?”

“My bet? He’d rather Dylan not know. That way, it can’t get awkward between them.” The Aaron she knew wouldn’t want or need the credit. He was like that. Bighearted, magnanimous and sensitive to the delicate balance that made it possible to continue having a relationship with Dylan. Some people took home stray dogs or cats. Aaron took home stray people. She had a feeling he’d only befriended her initially because she’d been so isolated from the rest of Whiskey Creek. The night he’d sought her out at Sexy Sadie’s she’d been sitting in a corner alone. He’d walked over and said something about being her neighbor before inviting her to his table.

“I should talk to him, then?” Cheyenne asked.

“If you’re really convinced it’ll make things better for Dylan.”

“You wouldn’t mind if...if I also had a child by Aaron?”

“You felt you had to ask me?”

“Because of Wyatt I thought I should.”

“I have no claim on Aaron.” Wyatt and her baby would be half brothers instead of cousins, but why would that matter? “Our children can grow up together here in Whiskey Creek.”

“It’ll be a far nicer childhood than ours was.”

“No kidding,” Presley agreed with a weak laugh. She especially felt sorry for Cheyenne. She would’ve had a very different life if Anita hadn’t stolen her from her birth family. At least Anita was Presley’s real mother. “So when are you going to approach him?”

“I have to do it soon, before Dylan works up the nerve to go to the doctor, or there’ll be no point.”

Presley tried to picture her sister asking Aaron to donate his sperm. “That should be a very interesting conversation.”

6

Riley wasn’t there when Presley returned. Presley considered that a lucky break. Although she’d baked two apple pies, one for each of her helpers as a thank-you, it would be a lot easier to talk to Aaron if they had a few minutes alone.

Now she had that. Because she’d walked Wyatt over to Cheyenne’s before loading the pies in his stroller, she didn’t have the challenge of trying to restrain her son.

This is the perfect opportunity. Aaron’s just a regular man.

Except that wasn’t true. He meant the world to her....

Reminding herself that that was before and not now, she summoned her courage, swung open the door and leaned against it so she could wheel the pies inside. Aaron was wearing headphones, listening to music on his iPod while he painted, but her movements must’ve caught his eye. He turned and pulled the buds from his ears.

“You’re back,” he said as he climbed off the ladder.

Would he be glad to get the pie? It was the one thing she used to make for him. But Ruthie at Just Like Mom’s served good apple pie, too, so he probably hadn’t missed it any more than he’d missed her. “Where’s Riley?”

“He went to take care of something with his kid.”

The smile he flashed her reminded her that they were alone together on a Saturday night for the first time in twenty-six months. It also made her feel like she was clinging to a rock as the ocean tried to drag her out to sea.

Just hang on...

“Sorry I’ve been gone all day.” It was almost eight o’clock. She’d fallen asleep when Wyatt napped and slept for three hours. Then it’d taken longer to make the pies than she’d expected, since she’d had to scrap her first attempt. She rarely ate sugar these days, was rusty in the kitchen. And once she got the pies out of the oven she was further delayed while deciding what to wear. She’d tried on four different outfits and, for the first time since leaving Whiskey Creek, she even vacillated over her selection of panties, eventually settling on the sheer black bra and thong her friend Roger gave her for her last birthday (while he tried to talk her into “living again”).

Wearing lingerie was silly, since no one was going to see it. But what was the point of letting such beauty languish in the back of her drawer? Aaron made her feel sexy and young again—even if she couldn’t act on the desire he aroused.

“No problem. I’ve been busy, anyway.” He gestured at the work he’d done. “What do you think?”

She’d been rehearsing what she planned to say, had been so focused on it that she hadn’t looked at what he’d accomplished in her absence. But now that he’d drawn her attention to the walls, she was so impressed she couldn’t possibly start in on her “I forgive you, you didn’t owe me anything” speech. Not immediately.

“It’s beautiful!” she breathed, and meant it. She’d picked out a buttery yellow, one that reminded her of the sun. She’d wanted her studio to be uplifting and soothing, since both of her businesses dealt with stress relief. But he’d added a new element. The walls were the yellow she’d requested, but he’d painted the trim black—the baseboards, the doorframes and the window casings. It looked so stylish she almost couldn’t believe this was the same drab space she’d rented.

“I knew it would be nice,” he said, standing back to survey the effect.

She left the stroller in the middle of the room and moved closer to the wet paint. “Someone told you it wouldn’t?”

“Harvey down at the hardware store was pushing me to call you. He thought you should go with white trim, until I showed him the picture.”

“What picture?”

“The one I found in a magazine while I was waiting for him to help me.”

“What magazine? Martha Stewart Living?”

“A Ralph Lauren paint brochure.”

She pivoted to face him. “You bought designer paint? But...there’s no way I gave you enough money for that.”

“It came close,” he said with a shrug. “I’m not worried about the difference. I wanted it to make a statement, and it does.”

“I would’ve been happy with something much simpler. You’re already donating the labor. Why go to the added expense?”

He held her gaze. “It’s my way of telling you I’m sorry, Presley.”

So she’d guessed right. Apparently, she knew him as well as she thought she did, and since he’d brought up the subject himself, she no longer had to search for a way to approach it. “I don’t hold you responsible for anything, Aaron. How could I? You never made me any promises.”

“But the last night I saw you...”

“Don’t mention that night.” She shook her head. “I don’t even want to think of it.”

His expression grew even more sympathetic. “It was that bad?”

The days she’d spent with the man who’d provided her with drugs in Arizona were mostly a blur, and she was grateful for that. She could hardly believe she’d been through the degradation she did remember. “It’s over. There’s no reason to dwell on it.”

“I feel like it’s my fault.”

“Because you didn’t love me? You can’t make yourself love someone.”

Lines formed on his forehead. “It’s not as if I didn’t care about you. And your mother had just died....”

“That was my problem, not yours.” But she was lucky she’d survived those first few days after leaving Whiskey Creek, lucky that what she’d done hadn’t damaged Wyatt. Only after she’d decided to keep him had she found the will to fight for a better life, to look after herself for his sake. Without him, she might never have changed.

“Maybe if I’d reacted differently, you wouldn’t have taken off.”

She would’ve had to do something. “You reacted honestly. That’s more important. And you were right. I had no business bothering you in the middle of the night.”

He grimaced. “Except that when your world falls apart, you should be able to wake someone you’ve been...intimate with.”

“No. I understood the rules.”

“The rules?” he repeated.

“How you really felt about me. Moving on had to happen one way or another. How else could our...arrangement have ended?”

“More gently.”

He seemed to feel sincere regret, so she smiled in an effort to ease his conscience. “I’m okay,” she said. “Stronger than ever.”

With a jerk of his head, he indicated all the tools Riley had left behind. “And with prospects.”

“I’ve finally arrived,” she teased.

“So...are you going to date him?”

“I think so.”

“Really.”

“Is there some reason I shouldn’t?”

He raised his hands. “Of course not. Riley’s the best Whiskey Creek has to offer.”

She didn’t join in his sarcasm; she didn’t feel it was fair to Riley, who’d also done a lot to help her today. The reception desk was only partly finished, but she could tell it was going to be far nicer than anything she could’ve built. “Did he say when he’d be back?”

“Tomorrow. He’s bringing Jacob to help him finish up.”

“I’ll have to put his pie in the fridge, then. Or maybe drop it off at his house—if Cheyenne will let me borrow her car.”

“I’d let you take mine, but I don’t really care if he gets a pie.”

“You don’t like Riley? Since when?”

“He’s fine,” he said, but she couldn’t tell if his indifference was real or feigned.

She pulled the stroller closer. “I made you a pie, too. It’s not much but...I wanted to thank you for painting.”

When she tried to hand it to him, he made no move to accept it. He just stared at her as if he was still hoping to tear off the polite mask she was trying so hard to keep in place. “You used to like my apple pie,” she added lamely.

“I liked a lot more about you than your pies, Pres.”

Suddenly, she was no longer grateful they were alone. The same privacy that allowed them to talk without being overheard made other things possible, as well. The spike in her pulse suggested several alternatives—all of them physical—and she knew that would only enslave her again.

“That’s nice of you to say,” she responded.

“Quit being so damned courteous,” he snapped. “I’m not just stroking your ego!”

He was getting irritated, and she understood why. He didn’t see any reason they couldn’t resume the relationship they’d had before. But that was impossible. Even if she didn’t have Wyatt, why would she settle for someone who couldn’t love her?

She’d rather spend the rest of her life alone. “I should explain something.”

He placed both hands on his lean hips—the very picture of a disgruntled male. “What?”

“I know why you befriended me in the first place. I saw it on your face when you came up to me at Sexy Sadie’s. You deserve credit for that.”

“Credit for what?”

“For reaching out to someone who had no one else. My mother had cancer. Cheyenne was wrapped up in her friends. It was...a dark time for me, and I think you could sense that.”

“I didn’t view you as some kind of charity case, if that’s what you mean.”

“I’m not suggesting you weren’t honest in your friendship, just that you can’t help looking out for the underdog. But rescuing people doesn’t give them the right to grab on to you the way I did.” She pursed her lips, remembering. “I can see how it could be overwhelming, but you didn’t complain. You took my affection in stride and did your best to tolerate all the extra attention. So while you seem to believe you failed me, I’m here to tell you that you shouldn’t feel any guilt. No one else even tried to include me.”

“I’ve always hated the way you see yourself,” he said.

“You mean you hate that I can see the truth.” She caught his hand and made him take the pie. “Neither of us has much of an education, Aaron, but we’re not stupid. And I probably know you better than anyone. Who else has been more devoted to you?”

“You don’t seem so devoted anymore.”

If he only knew. She let her gaze linger on his lips. He had the softest lips. “You’ll get over it. By tomorrow.”

When she added that and laughed, his jaw tightened. “There you go again.”

“I’m joking! Take your pie home and enjoy it. And please realize that I’m grateful for the work you did today, even though you didn’t owe it to me to begin with. You’re under no further obligation. You’ve already done everything that could be expected of you.” She stepped away from him. “Go find another bird with a broken wing to patch up.”

“You don’t need me anymore.”

“I don’t need you anymore.” But, God, did she want him.

He didn’t move. “I don’t understand why we can’t be friends.”

“Because, where you’re concerned, there’s no middle ground for me. I can’t be friends with you, not without wanting to rip off your clothes.”

“See? Nothing’s really changed.” His eyes slid over her, making her supremely conscious of her black lace underwear. It wasn’t difficult to figure out why she’d worn them—or why she felt warm when she recognized the heavy-lidded look on his face. She’d seen that look before, knew what it meant.

“Was that so hard to admit?” he asked.

“No, it was entirely too easy. That’s the problem. After spending the night together countless times, we’re so conditioned to being with each other in that way, it’s the first thing we think of when we see each other. But it might be a bit harder to explain to Riley, or anyone else who wants to legitimately date me, why I’m still having sex with you.”

“He’s not your boyfriend.”

“So?”

“So I don’t believe what we do should be anyone’s business but our own.”

Once again Presley could feel the pull of that powerful and tenacious ocean of need. But she couldn’t allow herself to be ripped away from the rock of safety “no” provided. “Just walk away while you can do it with a clear conscience, okay? Now’s your chance,” she said, but she knew he wasn’t going to when he set her pie aside, slipped his arms around her and brought her against him.

She didn’t resist but neither did she respond when he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.

“It’s been a long time,” he whispered.

All the bones in Presley’s body felt as if they’d dissolved on contact. But she refused to lose this battle; she wanted to be tough, defiant, unmoved. “I’m not interested.”

The warmth of his breath fanned her face as his lips moved over hers again. “You’re interested, all right.”

Her body tingled as the memories returned—Aaron naked above her, Aaron suckling her breast, Aaron hooking his arms under her knees as he drove inside her. “How can you tell?” she asked, but she shouldn’t have spoken. The quaver in her voice only confirmed his words.

He buried his nose in her neck and took a deep breath. Then he put his mouth on the tender skin there, but she stopped him before he could leave a mark. “I can taste it on you,” he said. “I can even smell it.”

She swallowed hard. “So? I can tell you want me, too.” The truth was apparent; she could feel his arousal against her abdomen.

“I’m not the one trying to deny it.”

Her mouth watered for a deeper kiss so she could obtain some satisfaction. But he kept his mouth a fraction of an inch away and didn’t move his hands to any of the places that were throbbing in anticipation.

“We had fun,” he said. “There’s no reason it couldn’t be like that again.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “No.”

“Fine.” A second later, he let go of her and recovered his pie.

“You’re just going to walk away?” she asked.

A devilish grin slanted his lips to one side. “You had your chance. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Presley stayed where she was, gripping what had been built of the receptionist’s desk as his steps receded. Not until he was gone did she remember her conversation with Cheyenne. Her sister was going to ask him to donate sperm so she could have a baby. Presley had planned to prepare him, to give him some advance warning so he could think about how he wanted to respond. It wouldn’t be an easy decision. While she wanted her sister to have a baby, she also wanted Aaron to be sure he was willing to play a role.

She’d gotten too distracted to mention it, but she wasn’t about to go after him. Not right now. Although she’d survived their encounter, her confidence was badly shaken. If he hadn’t stopped touching her, if he’d slid his hand up her shirt instead of letting go, would she have been able to deny him?

Chances were, she would’ve dragged him into the back room and showed off her sexy underwear. She knew how much he liked lace panties—and she knew she’d never looked better in them, which certainly wasn’t helping. She felt she finally had the kind of body he could admire, so vanity was working against her, too. That was the downside to the improvements she’d made. While they boosted her self-esteem, they didn’t do a lot for her resistance.

“You have no willpower,” she muttered. “Not when it comes to Aaron.”

She needed to stay away from him in the future—and pray he left for Reno soon.

* * *

Damn it! What the hell was he doing? He’d received Presley’s forgiveness, knew she didn’t hold anything against him. He had her pie in his passenger seat to prove it. So why had he stirred up those dying embers? Why couldn’t he leave well enough alone?

Because he’d missed her. And he still wanted her. Although he’d slept with several women since her, none of them had brought him the same level of fun, comfort or satisfaction.

But why would he do anything to threaten her chance of catching a great guy like Riley—someone who, if he married her, would treat her like a queen?

What she’d said was true. That night when he first approached her at Sexy Sadie’s, he’d simply been trying to include a lonely woman, someone he’d seen around town for several years but who’d never quite fit in. Thanks to her mother, she was so battle-scarred that she made most people uncomfortable. But he could relate to someone who elicited distrust and hesitation. He had his own detractors, and there’d been a time when his circumstances weren’t a whole lot better.

She didn’t need him anymore, though; she’d said as much. He should be glad she was doing so well on her own. Instead, he was screwing with her head because she was screwing with his and she wasn’t even trying. She was giving him what he’d always assumed he wanted—for her to be happy and strong and less needy, less clingy. There’d been times when he’d thought he’d suffocate beneath her adoration. So why did he suddenly feel bereft now that she’d decided she was done with him?

She’d gone too far. Did she have to cut him off completely? He could understand if she had someone else in her life, but she didn’t.

“It’s confusing,” he told himself. Somehow it had been easier to move on when she wasn’t around, easier to make himself believe he wasn’t missing out on anything. Seeing her again, especially seeing her looking so healthy, reminded him of the details that made her unique, all the little things he’d pushed into the back of his mind. Her laugh. Her quirky sense of humor. The way she could roll with the ups and downs of life without growing bitter. Even some of her insecurities were endearing because she was so damn honest about them. He’d spent more time with her than any other woman....

He turned up the radio, hoping the pounding of his subwoofer would soothe his restlessness, or at least distract him. He didn’t like the way he was feeling. He wasn’t accustomed to jealousy, but he was pretty sure that was the emotion picturing her with Riley evoked.

Are you going to date him?

I think so.

Why wouldn’t she? Riley was universally admired. After college, he’d started his own contracting business, which was successful, of course. He’d never been picked up by the police, never gotten into a fight, never been thrown out of a bar. He’d messed up by getting a girl pregnant back in high school—not the best girl to put in such a vulnerable position, as it turned out—but he’d redeemed himself by raising the child and proving to be a devoted father.

“Forget Presley,” Aaron grumbled. “You won’t be living here much longer, anyway.”

But it was impossible to forget her when he could smell the pie she’d baked. So instead of going home, he drove to Jackson and went to a drive-through to get a plastic fork. Then he pulled over and dug into the pie. He was determined to eat as much of it as he wanted before his brothers got hold of it. After all, he was the one who’d spent his entire day painting, and he’d done a damn fine job, too. He deserved some of the most delicious pie he’d ever tasted, since he wasn’t going to get what he really wanted from Presley....

He was jamming another bite into his mouth when his cell phone vibrated against his leg. He thought it might be one of his brothers, or maybe one of his friends wanting to head out for a drink. It was Saturday night, after all. He wasn’t in the mood for the usual weekend revelry, but what good was it going to do him to sit around by himself?

Straightening his leg so he could get his phone out of his pocket, he checked caller ID. The number wasn’t in his contacts.

“’Lo?”

“Aaron?”

Noelle. Recognizing her voice, he turned down the radio. Music blared in the background as it was. Where was she? Sexy Sadie’s? “Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

He swallowed what he had in his mouth. “Eating.”

“You could do that here with me. I’ve got a plate of wings, and a seat with your name on it.”

He didn’t ask where “here” was. “How’d you get my number?” Sometimes they hooked up if they bumped into each other, but those occasions were few and far between, and he’d been careful not to let the relationship become more than that.

“Your brothers are at the club having a drink.”

Damn it! They knew better than to give out his number. He guessed whichever brother she’d gotten it from was drunk—or wanted her to leave him the hell alone.

“You should come join us,” she said.

He tapped his leg. “I’m not in the mood.”

“You’re not in the mood to see me?”

If only he could go back and talk to Presley, convince her to let him touch her again. That was what had him so worked up—what he really wanted. But he refused to be the kind of jerk who’d push for that if she didn’t want it, too. “I’m busy.”

“Eating?”

He didn’t answer.

“I have some more modeling pics to show you,” Noelle added with a suggestive giggle.

He hadn’t been particularly impressed with the last set. She was getting too carried away with surgeries and Botox and liposuction. Although she put every dime she made into improving her appearance—and charged the rest—in his opinion she’d actually looked prettier before. That was partly what he liked about Presley. She was so natural. She looked as good without makeup as she did with it. “Not tonight. I’m tired.”

“Come on! You can’t be that tired. I’ll make it worth your while....”

She wanted a man in her bed. And because he’d been crazy or drunk or stupid enough to accommodate her a few times, she was coming back for more.

Setting the pie aside, he leaned back. “You said my brothers are there?”

“All of them except you—and the one who doesn’t like me.”

She meant Dylan. But there weren’t many people who did like her, including her own family. Getting pregnant by her sister’s boyfriend, and using that pregnancy to wrangle a wedding proposal, had sealed her fate. Aaron prided himself on being more forgiving than most. He kept telling himself that whatever she’d done in the past was her business. But he had yet to find anything redeeming about her. “Dylan’s taken, anyway. Maybe Grady would like to see your pictures.”

“You don’t care if I show them to him?”

Her affronted tone made him nervous. The first time she asked to come home with him, he’d warned her that he wasn’t interested in a relationship. He’d reminded her since. The fact that he wouldn’t give her his cell phone number should’ve made that abundantly clear. But Noelle couldn’t stop herself from pushing too hard for whatever she wanted. “Noelle, we’ve been over this.”

“Never mind,” she snapped, and ended the call.

With a sigh, Aaron put his phone on the console, closed the plastic container that held Presley’s pie and started his truck. At this point, he knew for sure that he didn’t want to go to Sexy Sadie’s.

When his phone buzzed, indicating an incoming text, he almost ignored it. He suspected it was Noelle sending him the equivalent of a rude hand gesture. But he couldn’t keep himself from glancing at the screen.

Noelle hadn’t texted him; Cheyenne had.

Putting the transmission back in park, he picked up his phone.

Is there any chance you could get away sometime tomorrow to meet me in Sutter Creek? I need to talk to you in private. Please don’t mention this to Dylan or anyone else.

His sister-in-law was probably trying to act as mediator. Even after two years of dealing with him and Dylan, she didn’t realize that their arguments never lasted long. He’d see Dylan at the shop on Monday, and they’d go on as if nothing had happened. But Cheyenne loved her husband so much, she had to try and make them talk it out every time they had a disagreement.

You don’t need to get involved, he wrote back. Dyl and I are fine.

This isn’t about Friday.

Then what’s it about?

I have a favor to ask.

Of me?

What could that be? Dylan provided everything she could possibly want. Dylan would walk through fire for her.

I’d rather not put it in writing.

I won’t apologize to Dylan. I didn’t do anything.

I’m not asking you to apologize.

Then what on earth could it be?

Can you come see me now?

No. Dylan’s home. I can’t get away until tomorrow afternoon. I’ll tell him I have to help Presley and meet you at JB’s Steakhouse in Sutter Creek, if you’re willing.

This was turning into quite a mystery. His sister-in-law had never approached him in such a clandestine manner.

Another thought occurred to him.

Does this have anything to do with Presley?

Absolutely nothing.

I won’t talk to you about her.

He was adamant that she and Dylan mind their own business.

I promise.

Why are you being so secretive?

You’ll understand once I’ve had the chance to explain. I’m nervous about this. I’m only doing it because I trust you. Next to Dylan and Presley, I trust you most in the world.

Now she was making him nervous. What could it be?

He came up with a few alternatives, but didn’t like any of them. Especially the ones that had to do with catastrophic illnesses. Did she have cancer?

Maybe she’d received bad news from her doctor and couldn’t tell Dylan....

What time? he texted.

Dylan’s planning to work on the deck he’s building in back. He should be well into it by three. Will that work?

That’s fine. Meet you at JB’s.

I’ll text you if anything changes.

Sounds good.

Thanks, Aaron. I really appreciate it.

He had to try to clarify one last time.

And this has nothing to do with Presley? You’re not going to warn me off?

Didn’t Dylan already do that?

He tried.

This has nothing to do with her. But let me point out that you don’t really want Pres, or we wouldn’t say a word.

He sat staring at her last line for probably fifteen minutes. How did she know that when even he wasn’t sure?

7

JB’s was a traditional steakhouse with branding implements on the wood-plank walls and a bar along the right side. The interior was darker than the average restaurant, particularly in contrast to such a bright, sunny afternoon, and the candles sitting on the tables did little to offset that.

Aaron stood at the entrance for a second so his eyes could adjust. Then he spotted Cheyenne in a corner booth, looking like she was about to step in front of a firing squad. Her agitation heightened his own anxiety as the hostess hurried over from where she’d been rolling silverware into napkins. This was between meals—not a busy time of day, even on a Sunday.

“Would you like a table?” she asked.

He pointed at Cheyenne. “My party’s been seated.”

She waved him past her. “She said she was expecting someone. I left a menu for you.”

With a quick thanks, he strode across the restaurant and took the seat opposite Cheyenne, who offered him a fleeting smile. “Thanks for coming.”

“No problem,” he said.

She slid his menu toward him. “Would you like to order first?”

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