HER SON IS NEXT

Someone is trying to take everything from widowed mother Fiona Fitzgerald Cobb. Their method? Fires, like the one that left her little boy fatherless—and destroyed Fiona’s dreams—two years earlier. Could the attacks be linked? Fitzgerald Bay firefighter Hunter Reece vows to keep Fiona and her son safe. He wasn’t able to save her husband—his best friend. This time, he won’t let Fiona down. Especially since the handsome man she’s known all her life has a secret…one that will make him risk everything to save her.

Fitzgerald Bay:

Law enforcement siblings fight for justice and family.

STEPHANIE NEWTON

penned her first suspense story—complete with illustrations—at the age of twelve, but didn’t write seriously until her youngest child was in first grade. She lives in northwest Florida, where she gains inspiration from the sugar-white sand, aqua-blue-green water of the Gulf of Mexico, and the many unusual and interesting things you see when you live on the beach. You can find her most often enjoying the water with her family, or at their church, where her husband is the pastor. Visit Stephanie at her website, www.stephanienewton.net, or send an email to newtonwriter@gmail.com.

The Widow’s

Protector

Stephanie Newton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind

is steadfast, because he trusts in You.

—Isaiah 26:3

For Ilise—encourager, brainstorm partner, friend

A special thanks to my friends,

Becki Reeder and Joe Reeder, Firefighter/EMT with Bay County Fire Rescue who are

so generous with their time and expertise.

As usual, Joe tells it like it is and then

I make up stuff that goes along with my story.

It was great fun working on this project

with authors Shirlee McCoy, Valerie Hansen, Rachelle McCalla, Lynette Eason and

Terri Reed. A special thanks goes to our editor, Emily Rodmell, who had the unenviable task

of keeping us all in line!

Special thanks and acknowledgment to

Stephanie Newton for her contribution

to the Fitzgerald Bay miniseries.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

DEAR READER

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

ONE

Fiona Cobb sliced open a box of books in the storage room of The Reading Nook. This was the last box, and by the clock on the wall, she had exactly twelve minutes before she had to leave to get her son to school.

Thankfully, Betsie, who owned the Sweet Shoppe two doors down, had stopped by half an hour ago to see if Sean wanted to taste test her new cinnamon rolls. Her son had bounced out of the storeroom after Betsie with a constant stream of conversation, their two dark heads nearly touching as he pulled Betsie close for a six-year-old secret. Quite the lady’s man, her Sean. Fiona shuddered as she imagined what life would be like at sixteen.

Ah, well, with four brothers—three of them cops—and a passel of cousins who were firefighters, she had plenty of experience with alpha males.

Fiona loaded her arms with the stack of books on gardening in preparation for the Happy Diggers Club meeting. In April in Fitzgerald Bay, everyone’s mind would be turning to spring flowers, even if they were still buttoning up their winter coats in the early morning hours.

In fact, someone nearby must be burning a fire this morning to take the chill off. She carried the books to the round display table near the front window. The Happy Diggers tended to be early and she wanted them to have plenty of books to browse through…and buy on their way out.

She glanced at her watch. Betsie had saved her skin again. Five minutes until she had to pick up Sean to walk him to school. Maybe enough time for one more stack of books?

If possible, the smell was even stronger back here in the storeroom. Most people loved a fire, but for Fee, a burning fire wasn’t cheerful and the aroma of smoke wasn’t reassuring. All it did was remind her of what she’d lost. A husband, Sean’s daddy, a happy united family.

She looked up. A curl of smoke came through the vent in the ceiling. For a few seconds, she stared at it, frozen.

Smoke in the vent meant fire—not the warm your hands kind of fire, but real life-stealing fire.

Fiona grabbed her cell phone, pressing the numbers 9-1-1. She ran out the back door, looking both ways down the back alley. Smoke poured through the seams of the building over the Sweet Shoppe. She ran down the alley, toward the back door. Oh, dear God, please, not again. Please.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“Fire. At the Sweet Shoppe on Main Street. I think there are people trapped inside.” More smoke swirled in the alley behind the confectionery as she hung up the phone.

“Sean!” She pounded on the door. She couldn’t hear anything. “Betsie!”

A faint yell came from inside. Oh, God, no. They were still in there. She reached for the door handle. It wasn’t hot, but the door wouldn’t budge. She pulled again, putting her foot against the wall on the other side. It wasn’t moving. “Betsie!”

Her phone rang in her hand. She fumbled it, nearly dropping the handset before she answered it.

“Fiona! There’s something jamming the lock. And there’s fire blocking our way to the front door.” Betsie’s voice was calm for Sean, but there was the edge of panic lacing it. Fiona saw Hunter Reece’s familiar old navy blue truck slam to a stop down the street and in the distance, finally, she could hear sirens.

She looked at the solid wood door. Even if she had the tools, she wouldn’t be able to get it open in time. The small storage room window was their only option.

“Bets, open the window. If it’s painted shut, find something that you can break it with. I’m going to get something to stand on.” Fiona looked around the alley. A couple pine fruit boxes were stacked behind the market. She wasn’t sure they would take her weight, but it was all she had to work with.

“Okay, okay. I think I’ve got something.” Betsie coughed. “Sean, it’s gonna be okay. Mommy’s right outside waiting for you. Fiona, stand back.”

The window burst out in a shower of glass. A can of shortening came rolling to a stop at Fiona’s feet. “Great job, Betsie. Okay, you’re going to have to hurry. Get Sean up there, fast.”

She stuck the phone in the pocket of her slacks and stacked the fruit cartons one on top of the other next to the window. Climbing on, she stripped off her jacket and threw it over the ragged edge of glass on the bottom of the window. Sean’s head appeared in the opening, his small face streaked with soot and tears. “Mommy!”

“Stretch your arms out, Sean. You can do it.” Tears streamed from her own eyes. He was still her baby.

Strong, steady hands gripped her waist, stabilizing her balance. Hunter. Thank God.

“Come on, Sean. Just a little farther.” Her boy extended his arms as far as he could. She could barely touch one hand.

“Mommy, I can’t reach you!”

From behind her on the ground she heard Hunter’s deep voice. “You can do it, L.J. Just a bit farther.”

Hearing Hunter’s words and the nickname, Sean’s little face hardened into determination and his fingers closed around hers. She gave one huge jerk as Betsie pushed from the other side. Sean slammed into her and she tumbled back.

Hunter’s arms closed around her as she caught Sean against her chest. She pulled him tight against her, feeling his solid weight. She couldn’t get a breath in, but she didn’t care. He was safe.

The fire engine wailed to a stop down the block at the end of the alley. Thank you. Thank you, God.

Fiona dug the phone out of her back pocket as Sean scrambled into Hunter’s arms. “Betsie, are you there?”

Betsie coughed into the phone. “It’s bad in here, Fee. The fire’s getting hotter and there’s no way my curves are squeezing through that window.”

“Hang on, babe. Hunter’s here and the fire trucks just got here. Get down on the ground, as low as you can.” She turned to look at Hunter, her eyes connecting with his steady brown ones. That was Hunter, strong and steady. Always there when she needed him. He nodded. “You just hang in there, Betsie.”

She didn’t have to say the words. Hunter knew. She jerked in a breath that was more like a sob as Hunter passed Sean back to her.

“Get him to safety. Let me work on the door.” Hunter was already sizing up the door with a metal crowbar he’d brought from his pickup. “Tell Liam we need the irons.”

“You don’t have gear.” Terror choked her words.

“I’m fine. Get him out of here, Fee.” He turned back to the building and slammed the sharp end of the crowbar into the small crack between the door and the wall.

Hitching Sean higher on her hip, she ran for the engine. The first firefighter swung off onto the ground, pulling up his hood and slamming his helmet into place. As he turned to look at her, his Fitzgerald blue eyes were unmistakable. Her cousin Danny.

“Betsie’s trapped inside in the back storeroom. Danny, there’s not much time.” She tried to catch her breath, failed.

“Don’t worry, cuz. We’ll get her.” He shouldered the ax and Halligan tool—the irons Hunter had asked for—before running toward the building, his partner Nate Santos close behind him.

The fire chief’s red truck pulled in as the other two firefighters began rolling hose to the hydrant.

Fiona stopped at the curb and just held on to her son, feeling his sturdy little body against hers. He was safe, thanks to Betsie. She closed her eyes, only to open them again as Sean squirmed his way to the ground, clearly not as traumatized as she was.

Her cousin Liam, the officer on A-shift, was talking into the radio. “Fire-Rescue One is on scene at a two-story attached building at a working fire. We’re hand-jacking a line, initiating search and rescue. We’re in offensive strategy, requesting the balance of the First Alarm and one ambulance.” He glanced to the side as his father strode up beside him. “Fire Chief Mickey Fitzgerald is Main Street Incident Command.”

Fiona looked down at her shirt. It was red with Sean’s blood. Where was he hurt? He was glued to the action as Liam passed the clipboard to his dad—Fiona’s Uncle Mickey—made sure the hose was run properly, and beelined toward her and Sean with a medical kit. “Sean was inside?”

At her nod, he dug a stethoscope out of the bag. Everyone on the small crew was cross-trained for medical response. Sean’s dad had been an EMT, too. “Is he having any trouble breathing?”

“No, not that I can tell. He—he has a cut from the glass.” Her gaze darted back down the alley, where Betsie was fighting for her life. As if to emphasize that fact, an ambulance stopped in middle of the street, the medics grabbing their trauma kits and running toward the fire scene.

“I can breathe good, but not when there was all the smoke. It was really smoky. My arm hurts a little.” Sean, clearly over the drama, dropped to the curb, where an ant was making its slow way down a crack.

On Main Street, the volunteer firefighters had arrived and begun to work at the fire from the other side. Hunter had told her once that a fire scene was like a well-choreographed dance. Everyone knew their part and when they all did it right, it was a beautiful thing. She couldn’t see it.

She couldn’t see anything. Where were they? They should have Betsie out by now.

A police cruiser came wailing to a stop on the street, blocking the small side street from people who wanted a closer look. Her sister, Keira, bailed from the car, a determined look on her pixie face, not quite panic, but close. “Fiona?”

“It’s okay. We’re fine. Betsie’s still inside. They’re trying to get her out.”

“I’ll be here if you need anything.” Keira drew in a deep breath and gave Fiona a quick, fierce hug. She ran toward Main to block off the area, keeping it clear for emergency vehicles.

“So it was really smoky?” Liam unbuttoned his turnout coat so he could sit beside Sean on the curb. He turned up Sean’s face. “How close were you to the fire, bud?”

Fiona didn’t want to hear this, yet every nerve ending seemed focused on Sean’s answer, the hustle and bustle of the fire scene fading into the background.

“Really close, just like you when you fight fires. Just like my dad did.”

“You were brave, too, just like your dad.” Hunter walked up behind them, and when she turned, his eyes were on hers, over Sean’s head. He looked so good to her, calm and competent. Safe.

“Betsie?” Fiona’s voice was hoarse and she cleared her throat. “Is she—”

“We got her. Medics are working on her.” He rubbed a hand through sun-shot brown hair and soot rained down. “The chief’s commanding the scene. Everything’s under control.”

He knew she would want to know the bottom line. Everything under control. She took a deep breath, thankful she was able, and said a silent prayer for Betsie.

Liam pulled a penlight out of one of his many pockets. “All right, Sean, open up and let me see those shiny teeth.”

Sean giggled and looked at Hunter. “I don’t have any in the front.”

“I know, ace. Come on, now. Let Liam have a look at your tonsils. He wants to make sure you’re okay.”

Sean obediently opened his mouth. One of the dangers of a hot fire was breathing in the smoke, not from lack of oxygen—it was obvious Sean was thinking straight—but from the danger of swelling.

“Okay, Fiona, I think his throat looks good for now. They’ll check him again in the E.R. just to be sure.” Liam took a look at the cut on Sean’s arm. “I’ll patch this up with some gauze, but I think it’s going to need S-T-I-T-C-H-E-S.”

Sean flicked accusatory blue eyes up to meet his cousin Liam’s. “I can spell. I’m in the first grade.”

Fiona laughed and ruffled Sean’s black curly hair. Thank God he was okay. He was still her little spunky, funny boy. “It’ll be fine. You’ll have a war wound to share at show-and-tell tomorrow.”

One of the paramedics rolled the gurney toward the ambulance. Betsie was buckled on it. Danny walked alongside, carrying an IV bag as the other paramedic breathed for Betsie with a bag valve mask—she’d inhaled so much more smoke than Sean. And she’d been so brave, getting him out.

Could Fiona survive if fire took another person that she loved? She watched as Danny helped load the gurney and slammed the door of the ambulance with her friend inside. All around her people were in motion. Firefighters tried to stop the flames from spreading. Cops directed traffic around the scene. Emergency medical personnel treated minor casualties.

She spun around. “I have to get Sean to the hospital.”

“I’ll drive you. I’m off duty all day.” Hunter dug in his pocket for keys.

Fiona pulled away, shook her head. “I need some time.” They’d been friends since childhood. He knew her, better than most of her family, probably. He would understand why she needed to get away from this.

She took Sean’s hand and started for her car, making it about three steps before she remembered that her keys were in the storeroom at The Reading Nook. She took a deep calming breath through her nose and blew it out through her mouth—in her opinion the one good thing she’d learned in labor and delivery class. She turned back around.

Hunter’s slow smile spread across his face, showing that one dent in his left cheek. He held out his keys to her. “Take mine.”

Sometimes he knew her so well she wanted to punch him. Instead, she snatched his keys and gave him a quick hug. “Thanks.”

“No problem. But hey, didn’t you tell me yesterday you were prepping for Garden Club? I can stick around if you want and we’ll trade back tonight.”

Garden Club. She’d completely forgotten it. She chewed the corner of her lip. “I owe you already. If you have to deal with Garden Club I’ll owe you dinner.”

“Especially if Mrs. Davenport shows up. She always brings lemon squares and I hate lemon squares.”

Fiona laughed, for real this time, and lifted her son into her arms—grateful, so grateful—to be standing here with him in the sun. Her eyes locked with Hunter’s. “This…just brings back so many memories, you know?”

“Yeah.” He did, if anyone did. He was the one who’d been there for her in the days after Jimmy died. He was the one who’d continued to come by, when even her family thought she should be beyond it. He grieved for Jimmy, too.

She put Sean in and buckled him in. “I thought when the fires stopped after Jimmy died that it was over. Now we’ve had two in two weeks.”

“We’ve had other call outs in the past two years. What makes you think these are different?”

She shrugged. “A feeling, I guess? We’ve had brush fires, fires started by faulty heaters. A fire from a cigarette left in the bed. Not this kind.”

He narrowed his gaze. “Did you get your hands on incident reports, Fiona Cobb?”

“My uncle is the fire chief. My dad is the police chief. This kind of stuff is Sunday dinner conversation. Come on, it’s not that hard.” She walked around the front of his truck.

He walked to the near side and stood opposite her. “I don’t know if this fire’s different. But I promise you, I’ll find out.”

She nodded, her throat tightening, threatening to close up on her. But she managed a small smile for his sake.

If the arsonist was back, Hunter was going to be right in the line of fire.

* * *

Hunter walked Mrs. Davenport to the front door of Fiona’s bookstore. She was the only one of the ladies of the Garden Club who had run the gauntlet of emergency vehicles to get to The Reading Nook. He suspected she’d come more for the gossip than gardening club. News of the fire had spread more quickly than the flames. Fiona’s phone had been ringing like crazy.

At the door, Mrs. Davenport turned back to him with a sudden crafty gleam in her eye. “You should probably take that plate of lemon squares over to Fiona when you leave here.”

He had to smile at her transparent maneuvering. “Thanks for stopping by, Mrs. D. I’ll be sure to let Fiona know you were thinking about her.”

With one more pat on his shoulder, she was out the door. She’d been his third grade Sunday school teacher. And when his dad had lost his job, he’d caught her leaving bags of groceries on the front porch. He would never forget her kindness. If one of the challenges in a small town was that everyone knew each other’s business, maybe that was also one of the blessings.

A haze of smoke lingered over Fiona’s cheery tables of books. It would be a while before things were completely back to normal, but Fiona would manage. She always did. She kept everyone coming to the bookstore for one activity or another, even using the empty apartment upstairs for scrapbooking. The little store was a hub of activity in their small town, with Fiona its warm center.

“Hunter, you in here?” A gruff voice called from the back room. Mickey Fitzgerald walked into The Reading Nook through Fiona’s office. The fire chief headed toward the counter, taking off his helmet and rubbing his gray hair with one flat hand. Coordinating the effort between the Fitzgerald Bay firefighters and the volunteer companies that rolled when they sounded the alarm was a complex job. But today’s effort had been successful. “Liam told me you were helping out Fiona while she’s at the hospital with Sean. Is he okay?”

“Thanks to Betsie’s and Fiona’s quick thinking, he’s going to be just fine. Can I do something for you, Chief?”

“I’d like to get your opinion on something if you have a minute.” Fiona’s uncle, still strong and fit enough that he sometimes filled in when they were short a man, was uncharacteristically subdued. “B-shift will be on tomorrow and I want you up to speed. I know the cops are going to be taking a look at this, but firefighters know fire.”

“Sure.” Hunter followed Mickey down the block and into the back door of the Sweet Shoppe, the one he’d torn down just a few hours earlier to get to Betsie.

Black sooty water dripped off every surface, the stench of smoke and fire permeating the rooms. Hunter looked around the small shop. The firefighters’ fast attack on the fire had not only saved Betsie’s life, but also saved the rest of Main Street.

Danny Fitzgerald, the fire chief’s younger son, shoveled debris onto a tarp. “Got an extra shovel on the rig for you, pal.”

Hunter looked at the shovel and then down at his hands. “Aw, gee, Danny, I would, but I just got my nails done.”

“Nice job on the door this morning.” Nate Santos looked up from where he was pulling wallboard.

Hunter walked toward the front of the shop, but looked back at the guys with a grin. “Anytime A-shift needs my help, I’m happy to oblige.”

Danny held up the shovel again.

“Except for that.”

Nate Santos elbowed Danny. “He’s too good for that kind of job now that he got promoted.”

“You got that right, Santos, but I’ve always been better than you. I’ll show you when we haul hose next week in training.” Hunter threw the words over his shoulder as he followed the chief.

“Loser buys lunch.” Santos pulled off another sheet of soggy wallboard and tossed it into the growing pile on the floor. The cooling building popped and creaked. Every surface that might hide a smoldering ember had to be breached. The ceiling tiles and wallboard were the first to go.

Hunter looked back, grinned. “Deal.”

Photographs would’ve already been taken and bits of wallboard and ceiling collected for testing. He wasn’t sure what the chief wanted him to see. Mickey Fitzgerald waved him to the ruined remains of a glass display counter, along with the A-shift officer, Liam. “Over here.”

On the surface, Hunter saw a board with melted plastic on it. Some wiring ran out of it. He glanced up at the chief, a knot of nausea settling in his stomach. “Remote detonator?”

“Yeah. And it was wedged right where there was plenty of fuel. This place went up in a hurry.”

Liam took off his gloves and tucked them under one arm. “We pulled another one of those from the crawl space above the storeroom. There was some insulation up there that kept it smoldering, which is why that side of the shop burned slower. All in all, they were lucky to get out with their lives.”

Hunter tried to keep his mind on the rational, keep the emotional out of it. But they were talking about a six-year-old boy. “The arsonist could’ve called from anywhere. I’m sure these are burner phones, but we can try to get serial numbers off them and find out what we can from the call logs.”

The chief nodded and pulled another evidence bag from his pocket. “This one came from the Sugar Plum.”

The setup was the same, but it wasn’t as melted because the fire at the inn last month hadn’t burned as hot. The sick feeling intensified.

Hunter reached for the board and turned the phone on its side. He found what he was looking for. He didn’t know this arsonist’s name, but he knew the signature—a curl in the wire leading to the vibrating electrode in the side of the phone.

It was the signature of an arsonist who had killed before. Brother, father, cousin, husband. This same arsonist had taken the life of firefighter Jimmy Cobb.

Anger iced into determination. The killer had gotten away once.

But not again. New evidence, new chance for Hunter to bring in this criminal. Hunter wouldn’t rest until this guy was behind bars where he belonged.

TWO

“I got six stitches in my arm.” Sean pulled his pajama top over his head and climbed into his fire-engine bed. “Jordan B. only got four stitches in his foot when he kicked that nail.”

“Very impressive. Is that what you’re going to show your class tomorrow in show-and-tell?” Fiona pulled up the covers to his chin, sheets covered with little fire hats and cute floppy-eared Dalmatians. Sheets that had been picked for a little boy with a firefighter daddy. They matched his fire-engine-red walls. “Or are you going with one of your Lego creations again?”

“I want to take Hunter and Liam for show-and-tell.”

She stopped in the motion of tucking his favorite stuffed elephant under the covers with him. “Hunter and Liam? Why?”

“Because Hunter rescued Miss Betsie and Liam helped me after the fire.” He gave her a look that said, duh, why do you think? “They’re heroes.”

“I see your point.” She tickled his chin and he giggled as she turned out the light and then remembered something from the fire that she’d been meaning to ask him. “Sean, why did Hunter call you L.J. today?”

“He calls me that sometimes. It stands for Little Jimmy. He says I remind him of my dad.” Sean’s voice was getting sleepy. “My dad was a hero, too.”

Fee closed her eyes. Unfortunately, Jimmy had been all-too-human. But Hunter had given her son something irreplaceable—a way to see his dad in himself. “Your dad was something special, funny and smart and brave—just like you. I love you.”

Sean mumbled an “I love you, Mommy.” Fiona leaned over and kissed him on his head.

Gathering up his dirty clothes and wet towel off the floor, she started down the stairs. Halfway down, she sank to a sitting position, dropped her head into her hands and let the tears fall she’d been holding in all day. She’d gotten used to one empty pillow, one missing piece of their family. She wouldn’t have survived another one.

When Sean was born, Jimmy had given her a tiny gold disc with Sean’s first initial and his birthstone to wear around her neck. She never took it off. She wrapped her hand around that pendant, as if by clutching it in her palm, she could somehow keep him safe. This fire had brought back so many feelings that she’d thought she’d buried.

Fear, doubt, grief.

A soft knock at the door jerked her head up. She swiped at her cheeks with the back of one hand, leaving the pile of clothes where she sat on the stairs. A quick peek through the peephole told her it was Hunter. He had his arm propped on the wall beside the door. The line of his body said he was as tired as she felt. She pulled open the door. “I have coffee made. It looks like you could use some.”

“Mrs. Davenport sent you some lemon squares.” The plate was in one hand. He held out her keys with the other. “And I brought your car back.”

“I don’t think so.” She pretended to consider him. “In fact, definitely no. I like the blue truck. It makes me feel tall.”

He gave an overdramatic sigh, but his eyes were serious as he studied her face. “You doing okay, Red?”

She didn’t meet his eyes, instead reached for the plate of lemon squares and headed for the kitchen, ignoring his question. “I really appreciate you taking care of things at The Reading Nook after I left with Sean. I knew the stores on Main probably wouldn’t open, but I was afraid one of the ladies might show up.”

“And you were right, but I think Mrs. D. just wanted to pump me for information.”

“About the fire? Do you know anything?” Fiona slid a cup of coffee to him.

He took a swig from the mug and reached for one of the brownies she put on the plate with the lemon squares. “I walked through the scene with your Uncle Mickey this afternoon.”

“And?” She kept pouring coffee as if his answer didn’t mean anything to her. As if her whole world hadn’t changed two years ago when an arsonist set fire to an abandoned building on the outskirts of town.

“We’re still analyzing the evidence.” He looked down at the coffee in his mug and she knew he wasn’t telling the whole truth.

“Tell me, Hunter. You’ve always been straight with me.”

* * *

He looked up, into the blue eyes he’d fallen in love with as a teenager. They’d been inseparable growing up, best friends from the fort-building days all the way through the growing pains of middle school, both swearing off dating in favor of crabbing from her family’s dock.

But somewhere along the way, things had changed for him. He’d realized that his red-haired playmate had turned into a red-haired beauty. His plan was to meet her at the dock and ask her to the freshman ball. That plan was derailed when she came running down the pier after school, starry-eyed because Jimmy Cobb, the cutest boy in school, had asked her to the dance.

She was full of dreams and he…just kept his mouth shut. Jimmy had been the kind of guy that everyone liked. Funny and irreverent, he was always up to something. And their inseparable twosome became three.

Hunter pushed away from the table and paced to the counter. So, technically, no. He wasn’t always straight with her. He’d buried those feelings long ago in favor of something more important. A friendship that had sustained both of them through some tough times. His dad’s inability to find and keep a job, her mom’s battle with cancer. Jimmy.

She walked up beside him, leaning one hip against the cabinet. “Come on, you know I’ll find out anyway.”

He turned his head to look at her. “I can’t say for sure, but—”

“It’s him. Oh, Hunter, why is he back now?” Terror streaked across her features. “Is it Sean? Is he after my son?”

Hunter put his hand over her two. “There’s no indication of that, Fiona.”

“I know, it’s a crazy thought.” Her eyes filled and she fled the room.

He followed her into the living room. She was folding a load of towels that had been left on the couch, her hands full of nervous energy. She’d always preferred to do something. He was the one who dwelt on things.

But she looked up from the laundry, her eyes filling again. “I can’t quit thinking about Betsie, how she looked on that gurney. She saved Sean’s life and now she’s fighting for hers.”

He picked up a towel and looked for a place to put it. The coffee table was covered in books. He shoved over some and made a place for his stack. “What happened today is even harder for you because of what you’ve been through before. But this new fire means new evidence, a new chance that the arsonist made a mistake.”

His eyes were on the picture on the mantel. The photo of his friend, Jimmy. “We’re going to find whoever did this and make sure he pays for what he did.”

“Before someone else gets hurt?” Fiona made room for a stack of hand towels next to her pile on the coffee table.

Hunter chose another towel to fold, the clean, fresh smell of the laundry wafting around him. He frowned. His towels didn’t smell like this. “How do you make these smell so good?”

She stopped midmotion. “What?”

“My towels smell like towels. Yours smell good.”

She stared at him like he’d just grown two heads. “It’s called fabric softener, Hunter. Stop trying to change the subject.”

“If only it were that easy.” He put the last towel on the pile and stood, dropping a kiss on the top of her head before walking toward the door. He turned around.

He couldn’t answer every question, but he could tell her one thing with certainty. “I promise you—he’s not getting away this time.”

* * *

Fiona walked down the hall toward Betsie’s hospital room with a handful of gerbera daisies that reminded her of Betsie’s bright style. She’d dropped off Sean at school and thankfully, she hadn’t had to haul in either her cousin Liam or Hunter for show-and-tell. At Betsie’s room, she paused. Voices drifted out through the partially open door.

One of the voices was easily recognizable as her brother, Douglas, Fitzgerald Bay’s police captain. The other sounded familiar, too. She’d practically grown up at the precinct. She tried to place the voice.

Her brother said, “And you don’t remember anyone in particular coming into the Sweet Shoppe more often, maybe slipping into the kitchen area?”

Betsie’s response was too low for her to hear.

“Is there anyone who works for you who might have a reason to get back at you? Any disgruntled employees?”

Fiona almost pushed open the door then to tell them what a crazy question that was. The Sweet Shoppe was such a success because Betsie was so sweet. Her candies and baked goods were the icing, so to speak. Fiona had her hand on the door when the next question stopped her.

“What about Hunter Reece? Has he been in your place much?” The cop, whose voice she now recognized as Nick Delfino’s, tried for a nonchalant tone, but failed. Fiona’s knuckles whitened on the vase of flowers she held.

Nick had joined the Fitzgerald Bay police department a couple of months ago. “Do you know if Hunter was aware that you and Sean often had breakfast together before school while Fiona prepared her shop for opening?” he continued.

Fiona pushed open the door. “I imagine that Hunter knows a lot about my schedule considering that he’s one of my best friends.”

“Fee, you need to stay out of this.” Her brother had the grace to look at least a little embarrassed as Fiona crossed the room and placed the flowers on the windowsill.

“I disagree. If you have any questions, I’ll be happy to answer them since I was there.” Fiona looked from one cop to the other.

Her brother looked at Nick and jerked his head at the door. “Betsie, if you think of anything else, just give us a call. I’m going to leave my card right here on the table.”

“I will, Douglas, thanks.” Betsie’s voice was low and hoarse, but she was sitting up in bed, obviously feeling better, her brunette curls in artless disarray around her face.

Fiona shot her brother a we-will-talk-later look as he left the room with Nick Delfino right behind him. She knew Hunter didn’t have anything to do with the fire at the Sweet Shoppe, but the fact that the cops—brothers or not—were asking questions about him brought something back to the surface that she’d really tried not to think about. The arsonist was most likely someone they all knew and possibly liked. No stranger in Fitzgerald Bay would have the kind of access needed to pull off these crimes.

With effort, she put the disturbing thoughts away, for now. “I’m so glad to see you sitting up, feeling better. I was so scared.”

Betsie nodded, her fingers sliding along the edge of the white hospital sheet. “The doctors said another couple of minutes and I wouldn’t have made it. Hunter saved my life.”

“And you saved Sean’s life. Bets, I can never repay you for that.”

Betsie reached for Fiona’s hand. “You don’t have to. When I moved here from Georgia, I didn’t have anyone. You and Sean are my family.”

Fiona squeezed her hand. “You know we feel the same way. And we’re going to rebuild, don’t worry.”

Her friend nodded. “I know. It’s one of the things I love the most about Fitzgerald Bay. We don’t let each other down.” She reached for the glass of water sitting on the bedside tray and sipped from the straw, wincing as she swallowed.

“I’ve got to get to work anyway, so I’m going to leave and let you get some rest. I’ll be back to see you again.” Fiona walked toward the door, the questions that she’d pushed aside crowding her mind again. She knew Hunter wasn’t responsible for the fires. But who among their friends—acquaintances—neighbors—was?

“Fee.” Betsie’s hoarse voice stopped her. Fiona turned back. “We’re going to find who did this.” Underneath Betsie’s soft Southern accent was the steel that had helped her move to another state and build a successful business.

Betsie would know how much it hurt to have the arsonist responsible for Jimmy’s death out there, free to set fires.

Fiona tried a smile, but didn’t quite pull it off over the determination. She nodded. “Yes, we are. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that happens.”

* * *

The twenty-four-hour shift Hunter was responsible for started at 7:30 a.m. Hunter liked to be there early enough to hear the locker room chatter before he got the official report from Liam Fitzgerald.

“It was endless last night, man.” In the locker room, as Hunter changed into his uniform pants, Danny Fitzgerald changed into his street clothes.

“At least you didn’t get bored.” Hunter looked up from his locker.

“Not bored. I’m starving, though. Oh, and 4213 Chestnut Street is out of town and their alarm system is malfunctioning. We were there three times yesterday. What can you do, though? You gotta go.”

Danny was right. They had to go, regardless of figuring it was a false alarm. “Maybe they’ll get home today.”

Danny’s grin flashed white. “Nope, they’re on a cruise to the Bahamas. I talked to their neighbors, who were also a little annoyed to have the fire department on their front lawn at one in the morning.”

“Nice.” Hunter buttoned his uniform shirt over his T-shirt.

“You’re gonna have fun.” Nate Santos laughed from the other side of the room.

“Copy that.” Hunter made a mental note to see if Liam had already called the alarm company. “See ya, Danny. Nate.”

Hunter glanced at his watch—just enough time to catch the chief before the guys got here and started the equipment and apparatus check.

The chief was in his office, pictures of the scene at the Sweet Shoppe spread on his desk. He hung up the phone as Hunter came in. “What’s up, Hunter?”

“I was hoping there was some word on the evidence from the fire yesterday, sir. Is there anything you’d like me to follow up on while I’m here today?”

The chief gathered the photos and closed the file. “No, nothing new. Cops are investigating. I’ll let you know when I hear from them.”

It wasn’t like Fitzgerald to shut out Hunter, but he wouldn’t push. Most likely, the chief was just preoccupied. “Yes, sir. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Brennan Fox called in sick again.” The chief looked up from the folder. “I’m going to ask Danny to fill in for Brennan. So you’ll have to keep the probie with you.”

“Yes, sir.” Lance Woods, the new probationary firefighter, had been paired with the more experienced Brennan Fox. Hunter frowned. Brennan wasn’t the type to blow off work without a good reason. “I’m going to check in with Brennan, too. This is the third time he’s called in, right?”

The chief turned around in his chair and slid the arson file into the credenza behind his desk. “Yep. Let me know what you find out.”

“Yes, sir.” Hunter walked into the hall outside the chief’s office. On the wall was his friend Jimmy’s photograph and plaque. He stopped in front of it, like he often did. Jimmy had been the real deal. Real husband, real hero. And while intellectually, Hunter knew that nothing he could’ve done would’ve changed the outcome of the fire that had killed Jimmy, he carried the weight of failure every day.

Firefighters take care of each other. They go in together, they come out together.

They don’t leave their partner.

He would die before he let what happened to Jimmy happen again. This arsonist would be caught and would pay.

Danny Fitzgerald, back in uniform, walked up beside him, stopped and looked at the wall where Jimmy’s picture hung. “He was a good guy.”

Hunter nodded. “He was. Thanks for filling in today.”

“No problem. I can use the overtime. I could also use a nap.” Danny looked hopeful as Hunter turned and walked toward the apparatus bay.

“Go for it.” Hunter paused and looked back. “After we equipment-check.”

The other two firefighters in their shift crew were waiting in the apparatus bay for them. Every day started with equipment maintenance and restocking anything that had been used on the prior shift. Because their department was small, their units were medical response units, with each of their firefighters cross-trained as EMTs. Some shifts staffed a paramedic, too. Each had their own duty in an emergency, though in a department as small as theirs, there was some overlap.

Blond-haired, blue-eyed Max Lavigne stuck his head from where he was repacking the kits. The paramedic on B-shift liked to talk about how lucky he was with the ladies, but Hunter had actually never known him to have a girlfriend. “Brennan call in sick again?”

Danny nodded his head. “Yep. Lucky you. You get me instead.”

“Hard luck, maybe.” Lavigne kept a straight face until Danny laughed and slapped him on the back.

Hunter hid his smile, settling into the routine, checking each gauge on the engine, with Lance following his every move. Growing up an only child, he’d been envious of Fiona’s relationship with her siblings. He’d dealt with way more than any kid should have to deal with. He’d wished for brothers. Now he had them.

The firehouse tones sounded. All the banter stopped as each man ran for his turnout gear. Hunter was swinging onto the truck less than two minutes later as dispatch announced, “Fire-Rescue One, respond to home alarm at 4213 Chestnut Street.”

Danny looked at Hunter and laughed. “Told you,” but he didn’t slow down as he settled into the seat on the opposite side. If anything, each of them was moving a little faster.

An arsonist was targeting their own. And they were the ones who stood between the arsonist and the people of their town.

THREE

The bookstore hummed with activity. It seemed that everyone wanted to come by and talk about the fire. Fiona didn’t want to talk about the fire. She slid a book into place on its shelf.

The fear lingered in the back of her mind as much as the smoky smell lingered in the air, but in the here and now, she couldn’t think about it. If she did, it could paralyze her. So instead, she focused on her business.

Mrs. Davenport had returned to look through the garden section. Fiona’s assistant, Merry, had five or six little ones for Story Time in the children’s section. The moms and nannies were gathered in a group of comfy chairs by the window pretending to look at books, but really just talking.

Fiona picked up a couple of Hollywood gossip magazines and dropped them off on the table next to those ladies, stopping to compliment Georgina Hennessy’s nanny, Delores, on her new hair color.

The scrapbookers were in the apartment upstairs cropping pictures. A year ago, Fiona had expanded to include a small selection of scrapbook materials in order to bring in new business. It had paid off. The crafters loved making a pot of coffee and sitting down for a few hours of serious scrapbook time. The dedicated space upstairs was perfect for crafting.

The chime on her front door rang. Nate Santos walked in, his typical toothpick clenched in his teeth. His black hair was a little mussed but in his FBFD T-shirt, he still drew a sigh from the moms sitting by the window as he walked in. She smiled a welcome. “Hey, Nate, you just getting off shift?”

“Yeah. I had breakfast at the Sugar Plum and thought I’d drop by to make sure you’re doing okay after the fire the other day.” He sauntered a little closer to the counter, pulled the toothpick out of his mouth and shoved it in his pocket.

They’d gone to high school together, but had run with different circles. He’d tried hanging out with Jimmy and Hunter for a while, but Nate had partied. Jimmy and Hunter would’ve rather been out on her little sailboat or crabbing with her at Aunt Vanessa’s, even in high school.

He picked up a book on golf courses around the country from the display by the register, looked at the cover and then put it down, finally making eye contact with her.

“We’re fine, Nate, trying to keep things as normal as possible, but it’s nice of you to come by.”

His fingers fiddled with a display of ink pens, picking them up and then replacing them as he wandered the length of her counter. “If you ever want me to hang out with Sean, just for some male bonding, I’d be glad to.”

Fiona wasn’t quite sure where Nate was going with this or what his motivation was. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but as sweet as it was for him to offer, he wasn’t exactly the kind of mentor she wanted for Sean.

“Luckily there’s no lack of males in my family. Sean’s got lots of guys around, maybe too many, when they get to butting heads.” She smiled again. “It’s really nice for you to think of him, though.”

Nate’s fingers stilled. “Nice. Right. Okay, I’ll be seeing you around, Fiona.” He shook his head as he walked toward the door, glancing toward the gaggle of women by the window who were openly staring at his muscular arms. He shot them a grin. “Ladies.”

Fiona rubbed a hand over her eyes. For the most part, she hadn’t had to fend off many advances over the last couple of years. Maybe the guys around here had figured she was still grieving or maybe they were scared of her cop brothers. Maybe Nate was just trying to be nice. Or maybe it was open season on the Widow Cobb.

Merry walked with the preschoolers to their moms and nannies in the front of the store. “Okay, mommies, we’re all finished. Today we did a project on the letter B and read a couple favorites by Sandra Boynton. We have the books we read today plus some others by the same author on the round table right over there. Let me know if you have any questions.”

The moms wandered off and Merry leaned on the counter by Fiona. “So.”

Fiona flicked her eyes up to meet her assistant’s pretty, brown, amused eyes. “So?”

“Nate Santos? He’s really cute.”

“Why is it that newly paired-off people always want other single people to get fixed up? I’ve known Nate since high school, Merry. He’s not my type. I’d tell you to go for it, except you’re off the market. My brother is a lucky man.”

Merry’s face lit up and she wiggled her ring finger so it caught the light from the display window. “Why, yes. Yes, he is. It’ll be official next month. I can’t believe it.”

“I can’t, either. I thought Douglas was a confirmed bachelor, way too set in his ways. I guess it just took the right woman.”

“Obviously.” Merry’s curls bounced as she laughed.

Fee reached under the counter and pulled out a stack of magazines and books wrapped with a blue satin ribbon. “I pulled these last night. I thought they might help with the planning.”

Merry’s eyes widened. “Oh, you darling. I can’t wait to dig into these—on my lunch hour, of course.” She grabbed Fiona’s face and kissed her cheek. “It’s going to be so much fun to be sisters for real.”

Fee laughed. “I can’t wait for that, too. Christmas is going to be really fun this year.”

One by one, it seemed that the Fitzgerald siblings were finding their mates. First it had been Merry and Douglas, then Keira had started dating Nick Delfino. Just last month, her brother Owen had declared his love for his high school sweetheart, Victoria Evans, the innkeeper.

It was nice to have something good to think about. She pointed to a dress on the front of Bridesmaids magazine that made her shudder and grinned at Merry. “Just don’t make me wear an avocado-green bridesmaid’s dress and we’ll still be friends when it’s all over.”

One of the moms from Story Time came to the counter with a stack of Sandra Boynton books. “I don’t know how you girls do it, but you always seem to know what the kids are going to like. I don’t think we’ll get out of here without buying these.”

Fiona began ringing up the books. “Now that’s what I like to hear. Children who like to read.”

The door chimed again. Fiona glanced up. Today must be the day for firefighters in the bookstore. It was Brennan Fox. He and Jimmy had been on the same shift until Jimmy had died and when Hunter made the move to B-shift, so did Brennan. Regardless, the fire department was pretty small. There were only twelve career firefighters. “Hi, Brennan, let me know if I can help you find anything.”

He didn’t say anything, just nodded and headed for the back of the store. She didn’t know him that well, but he looked terrible. Circles under his eyes, his dirty-blond hair sticking up all over his head, and he had at least a three-day beard, something a firefighter wouldn’t be sporting on duty.

“Hope you enjoy those, Marianne. See you next week.” She handed the bag of books to the young mom, but watched out of the corner of her eye as Brennan poked his head into her storeroom before grabbing a couple books off the shelf. Another nosy information seeker?

Brennan walked toward her with two books in his hands. “I’ll take these.”

“Sure thing, Brennan. You doing okay?” She rang the first book—Parenting: Birth to Three—and put it in a bag. He didn’t look okay. His hands were shaking.

“Fine. I’m in a hurry though.” He glanced around the shop and back to her as she rang up the second book—Tough Times Survival Guide—and added it to his bag. He handed her a couple twenties and told her to keep the change before grabbing the bag and rushing out the door. Weird choice of books. She knew he was a single guy with no kids, so maybe the books were a gift.

Also weird—Brennan worked B-shift and Hunter was working today. She made a mental note to mention it to Hunter. Something definitely wasn’t right with Brennan Fox.

* * *

Max Lavigne pulled the steak pinwheels out of the oven. The other members of B-shift crowded around. Max stopped. “Dude. Back off. They’ll be on a plate in about one minute.”

“Aah, that smells good.” Hunter leaned forward, imagining that first cheesy-rich bite. He had finished his workout an hour ago and was starving.

“Where did you learn to cook like that?” The rookie, Lance, looking about twelve with his freckled face and curly brown hair, pushed his way into the crowd at the stove.

“My dad was a chef.” Max slid the first steak onto a plate as the tones sounded. With a sigh, Max pushed the steak again onto the pan and shoved the entire thing back into the still-warm oven.

Hunter stepped into his turnout pants, pulling them up and over his uniform pants as the dispatcher gave the details of the call and listed a downtown address.

Danny Fitzgerald pulled his suspenders over his shoulders and grabbed his coat and hat as he ran for the attack engine. “Never fails. Dinnertime, we get a callout. Why?”

“Builds character.” Hunter slid into his seat and pulled the headphones down over his head. The probie firefighter jumped on board as the big engine roared out of the bay, pulling in his arm just in time to keep it from getting smashed as they turned out of the bay and onto the street.

“Dispatch, Fire-Rescue One is responding. Can you repeat?”

“Fire-Rescue One, this is dispatch. Respond to a bomb threat at 214 Cherry Street.”

Shock slammed through Hunter as the dispatcher repeated Fiona’s address. He shook his head trying to assimilate the information, regain his mental balance. “Dispatch, is the house currently occupied?”

“The house is unoccupied, Fire-Rescue One. Repeat, the house is currently unoccupied. Fitzgerald Bay police are on site. State police also en route.”

He looked at the firefighter sitting directly across from him—Fiona’s cousin, Danny. Danny obviously recognized the address, too. Any hint of complaint or teasing had disappeared. His jaw had hardened into a determined line.

Horn blaring, they went through the intersection and pulled up in front of Fiona’s. Red-and-blue lights flared across the gray shingles of her Cape Cod–style house. The four firefighters barreled out into the driveway, only to be met by Douglas Fitzgerald. “No one’s going in right now. You guys are strictly precautionary.”

Hunter gritted his teeth and held his tongue. Danny, on the other hand, had no problem getting in his cousin’s face. “What’s going on, Douglas?”

The back door into the kitchen on the side of Fiona’s pretty house was splintered, hanging by a hinge. Tension wound tighter. What had happened here? At dinnertime, Fiona should be here with Sean, doing homework and eating spaghetti while one of her assistants looked after the shop. Where was she?

He tried to push past the line of police but Douglas held out his arm. “Hold on, Hunter, there’s nothing you can do. We’re waiting for the K-9 team from the state police. They should be here in a few minutes and they’ll be able to tell us exactly what we’re dealing with.”

Fiona came around the corner from the back of the house. She looked calm, but when she saw Hunter, she broke into a run, hitting him full-on square in the chest. He folded his arms around her, pulling her close. The guys in his crew were watching, but he didn’t care.

He murmured against her hair, “You okay?”

She nodded against his chest and then stepped away, her eyes damp, which told him she wasn’t okay at all. Far from it.

“Sean?” Hunter eased back, but kept within easy reach of her.

“He’s safe. My cousin Bridget took him to her house today after school.” She pushed her fingers through hair that was falling out of its usually neat ponytail, shivering even though she was wearing a blazer over her T-shirt and jeans. “I keep thinking about that. What if they’d come here instead? My hands are shaking. I’m a mess.”

Quickly he placed Bridget among Fiona’s many cousins. She was the school teacher—taught fifth grade at Sean’s school and had been providing after-school care for Sean since he’d started at Fitzgerald Bay Elementary. If they’d been home when someone broke in, it could’ve been bad. “Fiona, the dispatcher said it was a bomb threat.”

“Douglas didn’t tell you?” She shot her brother a look. “When I got home the door was hanging on its hinges like that. I called Douglas and waited outside.”

Fiona paced two steps away and back again, clenching her fingers nervously. “Douglas went into the house to make sure the intruder was gone. He found the device on the desk in my office. It looked like the detonator on a bomb.”

Hunter narrowed his eyes. “What exactly did it look like?”

“Douglas, can you please come here?” She crooked her finger at her brother, the police captain, who was in conversation with Danny. He walked closer and she held out her hand. “Let me see the photo.”

Douglas handed her a cell phone and she turned it around to show Hunter. He studied it for a minute, trying very hard to school his features so she wouldn’t know what he was thinking. Her brother knew exactly what this was, which was why he had called in the accelerant-sniffing dog from the state police’s Arson and Explosives Unit.

Hunter put his arm around Fiona. “Douglas was right to call in for reinforcements. We don’t want to take any chances.”

* * *

Two hours later, Fiona learned the house had been cleared by the Arson and Explosives Unit. There was apparently no accelerant used. Whoever left the device in her home just wanted to scare Fiona.

The guys from the arson unit were out on the lawn, talking fires with Hunter’s crew. He was standing beside her waiting for her to get up the nerve to actually walk in the door.

“You know, we can nail the door shut tonight and you can come back tomorrow morning when it’s light. No one’s going to think less of you if you don’t go in.” Hunter leaned against the wall beside the ruined door.

“I’ll think less of me.” Fiona took the rubber band out of her hair, slicked back her red hair into a smoother ponytail and took a deep breath. There was no way she was letting fear get the better of her. Of course, she was spending the night at her cousin Bridget’s with Sean—she wasn’t stupid.

She also wasn’t a coward. She was definitely going in to see the damage before she left.

The door hung on its hinges, but she pushed it open anyway. Her kitchen didn’t seem to be too bad, but she kept a box on the counter with bills and things that needed to be addressed during the week. The box had been upended, its contents scattered over the kitchen counter.

The living room was the same, as if whoever had come through was looking for something in particular. The expensive stamps from her grandfather’s collection she had framed on the wall were still there, but the books on the bookshelf had been thrown all over the room. She swallowed hard, smoothing a hand over her hair again.

Hunter was right behind her. She didn’t have to do this by herself, a fact she’d reminded herself of every single day since Jimmy had died. It was so tempting to wallow in self-pity, but that wasn’t her style. She’d loved Jimmy and she’d grieved. But wallowing wouldn’t honor his memory.

Surviving every day became a testament to his life. Knowing she had Hunter to help gave her the strength to get through some really dark days. He’d been there, just like he was right now.

Across the hall was the office. She stopped in the door, her hand to her throat. Everything from every drawer and every shelf had been thrown around the room. The detonator had been left in the center of her desk. Now there was fingerprint dust all over the surface.

She took two steps into the room and crunched glass. Looking down, she saw a photo of her, Jimmy and Sean smashed on the wood floor. She’d known in her gut all along and now she had proof.

This wasn’t just a random attack. This was personal and it was vicious.

She picked up the photograph from the floor. Glass fragments rained down around her feet.

She turned it so Hunter could see it and raised her eyes to meet his. “Do you still think there’s a chance I’m not a target?”

* * *

Fiona swept glass from the broken picture frame onto the dustpan while Sean built a castle with his Lego pieces on the floor in the hall.

“Why aren’t we going to Granddad’s today? It’s Saturday. Bridget said everyone was going for a cookout Saturday if the weather was nice.” Sean didn’t look up from his Lego creation, since his dragon was smashing into the wall where he’d stashed the princess.

“We have a lot to do, bud. Mommy needs to get all this cleaned up before work on Monday.” Truth was, she just couldn’t face all the questions. Cops and firefighters were the best, loyal to each other to the end. She loved them. But they were nosy.

She just couldn’t take it, not today. And the family had enough to deal with, without adding her mess on top of it.

“It’s messy in here. I want to go play.” Sean’s voice edged toward a whine.

Fee took in a deep breath. Patience. She had a list and the list didn’t include losing her temper with her six-year-old. “We can play here, Sean. We’ll have fun.”

He stomped to his Lego blocks and she had to resist the urge to stomp her way back to the glass she was sweeping. Yes, it was just as well that she had too much to do cleaning up here to go to the family dinner. She might growl at someone.

The doorbell rang. Sean popped to his feet. “I’ll get it.”

“Sean, wait—” Before she could get the words out, he was gone. She followed him to the front door, which he wrestled open.

“Hunter!” Sean immediately ran for his Lego masterpiece. “Come look at this!”

Fiona looked into Hunter’s eyes and shrugged. “The dragon’s attacking the castle. These are dangerous and exciting times if you’re a princess.”

“I’ll say.” He followed her into the house and closed the door. “So, is there a reason you’re not outside enjoying the warmest day so far this season?”

She stopped midstep. “My brother Owen called you, right?”

Hunter chuckled. “How’d you know?”

“I knew it had to be one of them and he thinks he’s the boss of me. He’s only three years younger than I am, but the way Mom used to tell it, he always thought he was in charge.”

“Yeah, I remember that time that Owen and Douglas had to rescue us when the boom broke on your little sailboat. They were really mad that we went outside the cove.”

“Yeah, but I was really glad to see them, no matter how mad they were. So, they told you to come and get me?” She could totally believe they would do it.

“Please, Mommy, please, Mommy, please.” Sean bounced at her feet like a jumping bean. He had way too much pent-up energy.

Fiona leaned on the broom. “I’m not going to win this argument, am I?”

Hunter shook his head slowly.

“I’d have to change my clothes.”

He looked down at her rolled-up jeans and soft leather flats. “We’re going to be out on the lawn for a cookout. I think you’re dressed fine. Just grab a sweater.”

She hesitated another minute. There was so much to do here, but maybe he was right. It was a beautiful day.

Hunter walked into the hallway and stooped to look at Sean’s Lego creation. “That is an amazing castle you’ve got going. Is the towel the moat?”

“Yeah, and there are alligators with big, giant teeth, see?” Sean moved the towel to show the plastic alligators he’d tucked into the folds.

“Awesome.” He pounded fists with Sean. “You wanna go get a jacket?”

Sean whooped and ran for his bedroom, a tower of Lego pieces skidding away from his fast-moving feet.

Hunter stood and his eyes connected with hers. The same exact way they’d connected thousands of times since they were teenagers, but this time it felt different. This time she felt something different.

Maybe it was just that she’d been watching him with Sean. Maybe it had been too long since she’d looked at a man with anything other than brotherly affection. Maybe she’d just totally lost it. He was her friend.

“Fiona?” Confusion clouded Hunter’s eyes.

“Let’s go!” Sean ran into the hall. Fiona snatched him up, holding him between her and Hunter.

She didn’t know what had just happened, but she couldn’t help but feel she was treading on unsteady ground.

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