NEVER IN MY WILDEST DREAMS

ERIKA KELLY

NEVER IN MY WILDEST DREAMS

Erika Kelly

ISBN: 978-1-955462-31-0

Copyright 2024 EK Publishing II LLC

All rights reserved.

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are used fictitiously or are a product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by River Briar Designs

Formatting by Serendipity Formatting

Editing by Michelle Fewer

Editing by Sharon Pochron

Editing by Olivia Kalb Editing

Proofreading by Karen Hrdlicka

Contents

Titles by Erika Kelly

Acknowledgments

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

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Epilogue

Excerpt of The Deeper I Fall

About the Author

Titles by Erika Kelly

The Calamity Falls series

The Bowie Brothers

KEEP ON LOVING YOU

WE BELONG TOGETHER

THE VERY THOUGHT OF YOU

JUST THE WAY YOU ARE

The Cavanaugh Sisters

IT WAS ALWAYS YOU

CAN’T HELP FALLING IN LOVE

COME AWAY WITH ME

WHOLE LOTTA LOVE

YOU’RE STILL THE ONE

The Renegades (Hockey)

THE DEEPER I FALL

LOVE ME LIKE YOU DO

TRULY, MADLY, DEEPLY

NEVER IN MY WILDEST DREAMS

Standalone

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU

The Wild Wolff Village Serials

KISS ME SLOWLY

ANYWHERE WITH YOU

BABY I’M YOURS

Have you read the Rock Star Romance series? Come meet the sexy rockers of Blue Fire:

YOU REALLY GOT ME

I WANT YOU TO WANT ME

TAKE ME HOME TONIGHT

MORE THAN A FEELING

Get PLANES, TRAINS, AND HEAD OVER HEELS for FREE! I hope you’ll come hang out with me on Facebook, TikTok, Twitter, Instagram, Goodreads, and Pinterest or in my private reader group.

Dedication

A shout-out to the romance author community. I wouldn’t be here today without the generosity of authors who are always willing to share their knowledge and offer their support.

Acknowledgments

To Superman, you are the love of my life.

Thank you, Sharon Pochron, for always, always being there.

Erica Alexander, you have the patience of a saint! Thank you for your friendship and support.

Thank you to Melissa Panio-Peterson for always having my back and for being the voice of reason.

Melissa Martin, you are the absolute best! I don’t know what I’d do without you.

To Karen: maybe one day, I won’t be racing to the finish line when I send you my manuscript. Thank you for being endlessly patient and kind!

Michelle, thank you for combing through my tangle of words and smoothing everything out!

Thank you, Olivia, for jumping in at the last moment. I appreciate you so much!

And thank you to the readers, bloggers, reviewers, and all my author friends who make this job so richly rewarding and worthwhile.

Chapter One

TWO YEARS AND SEVEN MONTHS AGO

Booker Hayes left the morning meeting with a playful shove, a few slaps on the back, and a chorus of approval from his colleagues.

“Fuck yeah, man.”

“You’re taking me out to dinner with this year’s bonus.”

“How do you score a deal this big and be so damn handsome, ya fucker?”

He smiled and headed straight for his office. He had to call his client and let him know about the deal he’d negotiated for him.

He’s not going to believe it when he hears the final number.

Closing the door behind him, he pulled out his phone, but his thumb didn’t push the Call button.

Because he had a predicament. While it was his job to represent his clients in business, legal, and PR matters, he was also a man. With a conscience. And his gut told him this deal might not be in Ginty’s best interests.

So, you present it and hope he doesn’t ask for advice.

Without a doubt, Ginty’ll be blown away. At thirty-two, the hockey player was at the top of his game. Not many had the endurance to play eighty-two games a season and most got sidelined with injuries. Over time, small ones compounded and became major ones. Ginty’d been lucky.

Of course, he expected a good deal. Just not the one Booker got him. It had taken a few months of negotiations, but in the end, he’d knocked it out of the park.

Telling him about it was the easy part. But he knew his client. Ginty would ask his opinion—that was the kind of relationship they had.

His advice, though, would go against the best interests of the agency.

Conflicted, he strode to the window and gazed twenty-two stories below at the rush of traffic on Fifth Avenue.

The door flew open.

He didn’t even have to look to see who’d barged in. Only his boss wouldn’t knock.

Slowly, Booker turned. He dreaded the steely-eyed look he’d see, the singular focus. Marcus was a legendary sports agent. Feared by owners, coaches, PR teams, and marketing managers, he’d scored the highest deals in the history of sports management, and he cultivated that spirit in his firm. It was the reason they were the biggest in the industry, with billions in revenue.

Booker was just as driven—which was why he’d gotten the coveted job straight out of law school—and he loved it. He thrived on negotiating the best outcomes for his clients.

Morning sunlight glinted on his boss’s hundred-thousand-dollar watch, a gift from a Hall-of-Famer quarterback. “You make the call?”

“Not yet.”

His boss tensed. “Is there a problem? You got him ninety million over five years. Highest cap hit in the league.”

Booker gave a curt nod. “No trade, and no movement.”

“Issues?”

“None we can’t overcome.” Booker’s stomach twisted.

“Then, why haven’t you made the call?” His boss held his gaze, firm, steady—and lethal.

But Booker wasn’t intimidated. Because he knew Marcus’s other side. Countless times, he’d taken Booker out to dinner and invited him into his home. The man was more than a mentor. He was like a father to him.

So, talk to him. Tell him. “You remember Ginty’s first year at Boston College? When his brothers moved into his house and smoked pot all the time?”

Marcus stood still as a boulder, his expression and every muscle drawn tight as a drum.

But that was what made him a great negotiator. He’d taught Booker to do the same thing. “He almost got kicked off the team because he couldn’t pass the drug test.”

Still, not a single muscle twitched on his boss’s face.

“The dollars are good, but I can’t shake the fact that Boston’s wrong for Ginty. His family’s going to bring down his performance and his career.” He watched the tension in his boss’s features harden, his lips pulled into a taut line. “It’ll end up bad for him—and us.”

“Fuck his family. Time kills deals. Close it right now.”

You’d think I’d be used to it now. The way Marcus could take him out for dinner, fill him with brilliant advice, treat him like a son, and then in the office, turn brutal.

His boss ran the largest sports agency in the world. He had to think about the bottom line. But underneath that, at his core, he was a good man. He would play devil’s advocate, and that was what Booker needed to help him see this situation clearly.

He knew without a doubt if he closed this deal, they’d make him a partner. And he wanted it so badly it consumed him. In a shop like this one, with literally hundreds of agents, it was like winning the lottery.

He wanted it, but… He shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “It’s a good deal, but we shouldn’t ignore this issue.” The older man radiated a force—an insistence—that made it difficult to hold on to his train of thought, so he turned away. He needed space to think this through.

“His personal issues don’t come into play when we’re negotiating a contract. He didn’t choose our agency because he was looking for a father or a priest. He signed with us to get him the best deals. Which you’ve done.”

Booker wanted the partnership. Of course, he did. But not at Ginty’s expense. “You remember his mom’s hit-and-run?” Not only had she stolen her son’s car, but she’d hit a kid on a bike. “Ginty got arrested. His dad uses him like an ATM.” The more he recounted, the more confident he became.

“Booker.” Finally, his boss’s tone softened.

See? He’s a good guy. He gets it.

“I appreciate your concerns.” The man came around the desk. “But this is not your decision to make. Our job—our obligation—is to secure the best deals for our clients. You’ve done that.”

Booker bristled. “My job is to be his adviser. We help manage our clients’ careers.” He didn’t want to give up a deal this good, but he knew right from wrong, and if Ginty asked for his opinion, he had to give it.

“I hear you,” Marcus said. “I get your concerns. But at the end of the day, our clients hire us to get them the best contracts and the best endorsements. And Ginty? This is probably his last one. You know better than anyone the dangers of hockey. He could be off the ice tomorrow. The best thing you can do for him is to make sure he’s financially secure.” His big hand cupped Booker’s shoulder. “And that’s what you’ve done. Now, get him on the phone and tell him about the deal. I want his signature on that contract by noon.”

Phone still in his hand, Booker glanced down at Ginty’s name on the screen. “I’m going to let him know about the deal.” And then, he looked his boss in the eyes. “But if he asks my advice, I’m going to give him my honest opinion. Because I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do that.”

His boss’s spine went ramrod straight. “You do that, and I’ll fire you.” And with that, he strode out of his office—leaving a chaotic energy that had Booker’s head spinning.

He didn’t mean it. He couldn’t. He’d been Booker’s mentor from that first interview.

Would he do it though? Would he actually fire me?

Automatically, he skimmed his contacts and found his dad’s number.

But one second later, reality slammed into him.

Dad’s gone.

I can’t talk to him.

I can’t get his advice.

His stomach plummeted, and his heart squeezed so hard it hurt. It never got easier. His dad had been gone years now, and he was still the first person Booker wanted to talk to. And every time he remembered the loss, the hurt nearly dropped him to his knees.

He lowered his head and closed his eyes. In that moment, he could see his dad’s ruddy cheeks, that gentle smile. And he knew exactly what advice he’d give.

Can you live with yourself if you lie to Ginty just to get that corner office?

That was all it took for the uneasy feeling to go away.

No. I can’t.

Pulling up Ginty’s number again, he hit Call. As he waited for his client to answer, his stomach churned, and his heart raced. I’ll fire you. Marcus had never talked to him like that.

After several rings, the call finally connected. “It’s Ginty. Leave a message.” But it was just a recording.

“Hey, man. I’ve got some news on that contract. Give me a call.” It was probably a good thing his client hadn’t answered. He didn’t want to talk to him in the office.

Better to make the call from home.

Grabbing his briefcase, he started for the door. In case things went sideways, though, he should probably take the signed baseball from his first deal, the puck that got Ginty’s team into the playoffs, and the brass scale of justice his dad had kept on his desk throughout his entire career as an attorney.

Well, wait. He had to play this carefully. If he took anything, Marcus would notice. Best to leave it. If things went south, he’d have George grab them.

But his gaze lingered on the scales, and he snatched it up and stuffed it in his briefcase. It was the only thing that really mattered.

As he and his mom had sorted through his dad’s belongings, she’d asked him to take whatever he wanted. That was the only thing he took. Tarnished, dusty, and given to his dad by his father, it encapsulated the character of the Hayes men.

Another blow struck him right in the solar plexus.

I’m not a Hayes man.

The truth sent a prickling sensation down his spine.

But he wasn’t going to think about that now. He had to handle this situation with Marcus.

His boss had drawn a line in the sand, and Booker knew from experience the man never walked it back. He either followed orders, or he’d be punished.

Even if Marcus didn’t fire him—though he certainly might—he’d pull the partnership, just to make a point.

Glancing at his laptop—owned by the firm—he wondered if he had anything incriminating to delete. Nope. He didn’t live his life like that. Any transmission sent, any correspondence—everything he did was aboveboard.

He pulled his overcoat off the hook and headed down the hallway.

Vaguely, he heard someone call his name, but he didn’t break stride. Only after the elevator ride, when he reached the marble-floored foyer, did the voice get stronger.

“Booker.”

He spun around to find George hurrying toward him, out of breath. “Jeez, I thought I had to tackle you. Were you fired?”

“No, why?”

“Because Marcus stormed over to his assistant and told him to ‘put a file together on that Detroit kid.’”

Something cracked inside him. “Fuck.” Marcus would actually do it. He’d fire him.

Any hope he had of staying with this firm died in that moment.

“What’s going on?” George asked. “Why’s he taking your prospective client?”

“He wants me to do something I can’t do. And if I don’t, he’ll fire me.”

George’s eyes went wide. “So, you’re quitting?”

“I haven’t decided, but it looks like I’ll have to.”

“This is about Ginty, right?” George asked. “The whole Boston thing?”

“Yeah.” He should’ve known his colleague would put the pieces together. They’d known each other eleven years—through college, law school, and now Elite.

George’s gaze dropped to his briefcase. “If you’re not quitting, then where’re you going?”

“I have to talk to Ginty, and I can’t do it in the office. But now that I know Marcus is making a grab for the guy I’ve spent the last year developing a relationship with, I don’t think I can stay here.”

“No, you can’t.” A wicked grin cracked his friend’s features. “This is it.”

“What?”

“We always talked about going out on our own. Remember that ethical agency we formed in our law school focus group?”

“Yeah, but we’re not ready. Neither of us has made partner yet. We’re too green.”

“You just landed a ninety-million-dollar deal.” George smiled. “No one’s thinking you’re green.”

“Landed it—and then advised against it.”

“Which is how we’ll stand out. How many players have gotten screwed over because of their agencies? Because of greed? Your clients are loyal to you because you care about them.”

“Maybe, but I still think I should make partner first.” And he did have a standing offer from a firm in LA, so he could make his name there.

“Anywhere you go, it’s just going to be the same thing. Come on, Booker. Let’s take our shot.”

“I’ll think about it.” He had a lot to consider.

“Don’t sit on this too long. We’ve got to act fast. If you get fired, you’ll get a severance package, and then you’ll have to abide by the non-compete. If you quit, you can take Ginty with you wherever you go. And you can sign the Detroit kid before Marcus wins him over with his bullshit campaign.”

“You make good points, but I need time.” Marcus had hired him right out of law school. He’d taught him everything he knew about this business. I wouldn’t have a quarter of the success if it hadn’t been for him.

“Okay, but just listen to me,” George said. “Right now, you have the advantage. It wouldn’t cross Marcus’s mind that you’d leave him. And not just because he keeps dangling that partnership, but because he’s made himself out to be your mentor.”

The back of Booker’s neck prickled. Made him out to be? “What do you mean?”

“He does it with everyone. It’s part of his schtick.”

Booker’s chest tightened. As far as he knew, no one else from the agency spent the weekend with his family on Martha’s Vineyard. No one else had visited Marcus’s wife in the hospital last summer.

“Like any good agent, he’s got the ability to read us, to figure out our weaknesses. And then, he takes advantage of it.”

Marcus had hired him months after his dad had passed. Not long after he’d learned the truth of his paternity. He couldn’t have been more vulnerable.

Fuck. He’d fallen for that shit, hadn’t he?

“Look, Christmas is in two days,” George said. “Take some time off, think about it, and I’ll call you on the twenty-sixth.”

“You do realize, if I leave, the partnership goes to you.”

“See, that’s all bullshit. He says it’s a meritocracy, but it’s a cult. You do what he wants, you get rewarded. You go against your conscience and get Ginty’s signature, you get the corner office. Marcus thrives off power.”

“How do you see him so clearly?” And why don’t I? He didn’t like that he could be so easily manipulated.

George smiled. “The first client he stole from me, I bought his line about needing a seasoned vet to handle someone that big. The second client…it didn’t sit right. The third sent me into a tailspin. But I wasn’t about to leave the top agency in the world, so I had to adjust my attitude. I don’t want to do that anymore.”

“He never took any of my clients.” Until now.

“We have different vulnerabilities. He knows how to play me. Also…” George grinned. “Don’t forget Caleb and Andreas went out on their own last year. They’ve got the office space, the LLC. They’ve even got the printers, for God’s sake. All we have to do is walk in and arrange the plants on our desks. And most importantly, we can take our top clients with us right away. Four of us are stronger than two.”

“You’re very convincing.”

“I know.” George laughed. “Happy holidays.”

“Yeah, same.” Booker continued across the lobby toward the revolving doors. He felt sick to his stomach. George had peeled off the veneer of mentor and father figure, exposing an ugly truth. He didn’t like that his boss had so easily figured out his vulnerabilities, but he liked even less that he’d fallen for it. It made him feel weak.

So, maybe George is right?

If I take control of the situation, no one can play me.

But no, he couldn’t act rashly because his feelings were hurt. He needed more time at a gold-plated firm before he could go out on his own. Probably best to take the open offer from the LA firm.

Once outside, the brittle, icy air slapped him in the face. With the towering buildings blocking the sunlight, New York City in the winter could be bitterly cold. After hailing a cab, he slid inside, gave the address to the driver, and brought out his phone again. He needed advice.

He watched the stream of pedestrian traffic. A woman pushed a double stroller, a thick scarf wound around her neck. A power couple dressed in suits and expensive shoes bent their heads down against the wind. A cluster of school-age kids wearing uniforms talked animatedly.

The world marched on, and he couldn’t have felt more alone. I have no one to talk to.

It was in moments like this that he missed his high school friends the most. How many times did they solve the world’s problems by hanging out and shooting the shit?

They probably thought their best times together were snowboarding glaciers or BASE jumping. He smiled when he thought of the not-so-great time they’d tried to skate on the frozen Snake River. He’d tried to warn them about moving water, but they were having too much fun to listen. He’d gone along with it anyhow because he’d lived for the adrenaline rush.

Until it all came crashing down around him.

But really, his best memories were of them hanging out. Sitting around a bonfire, talking about everything and nothing at all.

Since then, he’d gone to college and law school, worked at Elite Sports Management, but he’d never had a group of friends like that.

By the time he got back to his apartment, he was pretty set on taking the LA job. He’d put too much time and money into the Detroit golfer to lose him to Marcus. And he would. Why would anyone trust their career to a guy at a start-up boutique agency when they could have Elite?

He’d be damned if he’d let Marcus nab him.

He didn’t want to leave New York, but it would take months of interviews to find a new place, and he needed to be settled right away.

“Morning, Mr. Hayes.” The building’s concierge did a decent job of hiding his surprise at seeing him home this early. “Hope you’re going somewhere warm for the holidays.”

The last thing on Booker’s mind was Christmas. With his mom out of town, he’d figured he’d work straight through. But now, Marcus might stop by or call him into the office. He’d probably invite Booker over for Christmas dinner—just to keep the pressure on.

He had to think, and he couldn’t do that here. He needed to get the hell out of the city.

And he knew just where he wanted to go.

Decision made, he said, “Just the opposite.”

“You going skiing?” the concierge asked.

No one knew about his cabin in Wyoming. Not even his mom.

He cracked a grin. “I’m going to smoke cigars in front of a fire.”

Completely and totally alone.

Chapter Two

When his wipers couldn’t keep up with the onslaught of snow, and the tires spun with no traction, Booker knew it was time to give up. He’d been lucky enough to grab the last flight before the airports shut down. He’d even convinced the employee who was closing the rental car office to fill out the paperwork and get him on the road.

But here’s where my luck ends.

East Coasters thought winters were rough, but they’d never seen one in the Tetons. Snow dropped in a steady sheet, making the roads impassable. He had a trunk full of groceries, and he’d have to abandon most of them.

After he cut the engine, he shoved his hands into gloves and plonked a wool hat on his head, tugging it down over his ears. Then, he grabbed his duffel and as many grocery bags as he could carry and got out of the car.

Wind whipped his cheeks, the sting making it hard to keep his eyes open.

A man could die out here.

He was exhausted, and all he wanted was to crash on his pillowtop mattress with his down comforter. He wouldn’t even bother making a fire. He’d drop into a deep sleep.

And enjoy the perfect solitude.

He’d texted Marcus to let him know he’d be taking a few days off, but that his number one priority was Ginty. Which meant—after he stopped playing phone tag with his client and actually had a conversation—he’d be free from messages, calls, and the crowded, slushy streets of New York City.

Through the white-out blur, his cabin appeared, giving him that last boost of energy he needed to get inside. He’d deal with the rest of his groceries in the morning.

A heap of snow blocked the doorway, so he had to set everything down and use his hands to clear it. Fucking hell. But he got to work, imagining that comfortable bed and the warmth of his comforter.

By the time he’d carved out a passageway for himself, he was sweating, and his fingers were numb. He pulled out his key, pushed open the door, and dropped his bag. Since there was no heat—from the vents or the fireplace—he left the groceries right there on the floor. He untied his boots and kicked them off. The blizzard hid the moonlight, but it was a clear shot straight to the bedroom.

As he headed there in the dark, he yanked open the buttons of his jeans and kicked them off. And then, finally, at the foot of his bed, he shrugged out of his coat, peeled off his sweater and long-sleeve shirt, and stepped out of his boxer briefs. Jesus, it was cold. He couldn’t wait to get under that thick, down comforter.

As always, he was glad he’d left the bed neatly made. He liked this place to feel like a refuge with clean sheets and no clutter.

But when he pulled back the covers, something didn’t feel quite right. It didn’t feel like the bed was neatly made. He was beyond exhausted, though. So, whatever it was, he’d deal with it in the morning.

For now, it was lights out.

* * *

The plane jolted, and Lorelei Calloway reached for the armrests.

I hate turbulence.

But wait. This isn’t an airplane. No, she was on a yacht. With choppy seas.

And then, she bounced so hard it startled her awake.

Her eyelids flew open, and she jerked up, but she couldn’t see anything in the darkness.

She took a second to orient herself.

I’m in the cabin.

I’m safe.

And yet… The hairs at the back of her neck went up. She sensed a presence.

Tension plucked her nerves. Her exposed foot was ice cold, so she pulled on the comforter. It didn’t budge, as if a heavy weight was resting on top of it.

Fear ripped down her spine.

Holy shit.

Someone’s in this bed with me.

Her fear was confirmed when she heard an exhalation of pure satisfaction.

She leaped out of bed, feeling for the flashlight she kept on the nightstand. Her hands closed around the cold metal, fingers not cooperating as she tried to flick it on. “Who’s there? Who the hell is here?”

“What the fuck?” a deep, growly voice asked.

Fingers shaking, she finally got the switch to move. The narrow beam of light hit the wall, zigzagged across the bedroom, and landed on her bed.

Oh, my God!

What should have been an empty expanse of sheets and blankets was taken up by a man. There’s a stranger in my bed.

She jerked the light up to his face to find him staring at her. “Get out,” she shrieked. “Get out of my cabin right now.” She grabbed her phone but remembered there was no service thanks to the blizzard.

When he sat up, the duvet fell, exposing a large, bare chest. Was he naked? Shielding his eyes with a hand, he shouted, “Who the fuck are you?”

Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

There’s a man in my bed.

Her scalp bristled, and her heart leaped into her throat. “I live here.” She knew she sounded hysterical but come on. How could she protect herself?

“No, you don’t.” He leaned over, patting the floor. “I own this place.”

What if he was reaching for a weapon? She dropped to her knees, swept her hand under the bed, and whisked out the bat she’d stashed there. When she popped back up, she brandished it at him. “Out, motherfucker.”

Totally unfazed, he stuck his hands inside a sweater and threw it on over his head.

“I’m serious.” Her hands shook and sweat broke out on her forehead. “Get out of here or I’m calling the police.”

“That’d be great. I’d appreciate it. They don’t like squatters around here.”

Why was he being so calm about all this? And also, that was a very expensive cashmere sweater. “I’m sorry if you got caught out in the snowstorm, but you can’t stay here.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.” He eyed her with such resolve that fight-or-flight kicked in.

If there wasn’t a storm, if she wasn’t thirteen miles from town, she’d run for her life.

“You realize I can grab you by the scruff of your neck and toss you out, right?” he asked.

She slammed the bat on the mattress, just an inch away from his thigh. “Try me, fucker.”

“Okay, Hellcat. You don’t believe it’s my place? How about the Hermès body gel in the shower? Or the size thirteen running shoes in the broom closet in the kitchen?”

Hm. She had noticed those things. And that shower gel was so amazing, she’d used it all up. “So? You could’ve been snooping around while I was sleeping. Maybe you dated the person that owns this place.”

“Jesus Christ.” He fell back onto the pillow. “I just want to sleep.”

“Even if you do own the cabin, you don’t get to come in here whenever you feel like it. It’s not my problem you got caught out in the storm. I’m paying good money to rent this place. Now, get out.”

He stared up at a ceiling he couldn’t see in the dark. “I don’t rent this cabin out.”

“Well, obviously, you do.” She lifted an arm before dropping it to her side. “My money’s going somewhere.”

He sighed, hiking himself up on an elbow. He looked exhausted. “Listen, I don’t give a damn what your story is. I just want you out of here.”

“I’m paying twenty-five thousand dollars a month for this place. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Twenty-five grand, huh?” He pretended to be impressed. “This place is worth that much?”

Rude. “And for my privacy, yes. It’s worth it.” She’d noticed it didn’t have the usual features of other places she’d rented. No folder of things to do and restaurants that delivered. Or a welcome basket. But she hadn’t cared about any of that. It gave her all the luxury and privacy she needed.

“Well, I don’t know who bamboozled you, but that money’s not going into my bank account.” He looked at the flashlight and made the gimme motion with his hand.

“Not a chance, buddy.”

“Technically, it’s mine. But I’m getting out of my bed to find my boxers, so unless you want my dick and balls swinging in the wind, you’ll hand it over.”

The whole situation was unnerving, and she wasn’t about to let down her guard. “You’ve got nothing I haven’t seen.” Moving around the bed, she flashed the light onto the floor and watched him scoop up his black boxer briefs and jeans.

She looked away as he got dressed, the shush of fabric the only sound in the cold room. She needed her robe and her slippers, but she didn’t dare give him the advantage by losing her focus.

Once he was dressed, he headed out of the room. Oh, thank God. He’s leaving.

“Look, an owner doesn’t have the right to take shelter in a rental property.” It had to be in the contract somewhere. She set the light and bat down to throw on her robe and slide her feet into her slippers. Then, she hurried into the living room to make sure he left.

But she found him on the couch. “What’re you doing?”

He had his eyes closed, his elbow cocked, and the back of his hand on his forehead. “I’m sleeping.”

“Not in my cabin, you’re not.”

“It’s my cabin. And yes, I am.” His tone was growing impatient. “It’s minus twenty outside, the roads are closed, the airport’s closed, and my car’s probably buried under snow right now.” He pulled his parka up to his chin. “I’m sleeping. And if you don’t like that, you can make a plan of your own.”

She’d always thought this place had unusually big furniture, but seeing him stretched out like that and taking up all the space made her understand why.

If this is his place.

He wasn’t giving off creepy man or serial killer vibes but that didn’t mean much.

What do I do? It wasn’t like she could drag him out the door. And she sure as hell couldn’t close her eyes knowing a big, muscular man was under the same roof. If only she had Wi-Fi so she could talk to her manager about the situation. Maybe she’d given her the wrong address?

Wait. He’s not a fan, is he?

While she’d stayed away from town and avoided delivery drivers, she’d run into people on her walks. The paparazzi could have found out where she was living. They were relentless about things like that.

Dread slithered through her when she recalled the picnic she’d taken to the lake. That guy who’d kept watching her. She’d been so freaked out, she’d packed up and left.

But had he recognized Lorelei Calloway, the singer? Or was he just creeping on a woman alone in the mountains? God, what if he’d been scoping her out this whole time? Maybe he had a deer blind and watched her through a telescopic lens. Did he peer through her windows?

She knew from a decade of experience that unhinged people came in all forms.

But wait. She’d dyed her hair and given up her signature red lipstick, just so she wouldn’t look like her pop star persona. He couldn’t know it was her. Right? No one would.

“You’re not going to sleep, are you?” His voice was muffled by the coat covering his mouth. “Fuck.” He got up abruptly, that big muscular body as agile as a gymnast. “Let’s go.” He strode back into the bedroom and opened the closet door. “Get in here.”

Icy fear grabbed her lungs and squeezed. Was he going to lock her in there?

“Oh, cut it out. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m proving this is my cabin.” He wrested the flashlight from her hand, knelt on the floor, and punched in the code to open the safe. “Okay? We good?”

He pulled out some paperwork, an old watch, and a file folder. For one moment, he stared at the watch, his fingers closing around it. And then, he tossed everything back inside, slammed it shut, and handed her the flashlight.

“How does that prove anything?” she asked.

“No random dude seeking shelter from the storm’s going to know the combination to a safe.”

As he stood, she studied him, trying to pick up threatening energy but failing. Only when she realized he was waiting for her to step aside so he could get out did she finally step back.

“You okay now?” he asked.

She didn’t know what to say. No way could she fall asleep knowing there was a strange man here with her. Even if he did own the place, that didn’t mean he was a good guy.

The man dropped his attitude. “Look, I’ve had a shit day. I’ve been traveling since noon, and all I want to do is crash. I want to sleep on the fucking mattress that I personally carried from the delivery truck to my bedroom because the drivers weren’t allowed to ‘climb stairs,’ and they decided the one step up to my porch was considered a stair. I want to cover my freezing balls in that comforter that cost almost as much as this cabin.”

It was a nice comforter. “What’s the brand?”

Irritation flashed across his features. “Of what?”

“The duvet.”

He sighed. “Frette. Now, can we both go to sleep?”

See, now that was more compelling proof than anything else he’d offered. Only someone who’d bought it would know the designer.

Also, a dangerous man wouldn’t have waited for her to step aside. He wouldn’t go out of his way to make her feel comfortable. But mostly, she didn’t see any other choice but to let him sleep here. So, she gave him a tentative nod.

His stern demeanor didn’t change, but the slight twitch around his eyes clued her in to how relieved he was. Turning, he left her alone in the bedroom that had given her so much peace these last few months.

But now that the terror had downgraded to a milder fear, her instincts were coming back online. Because it wasn’t the body wash, shoes, safe, or the brand of duvet that told her this guy wasn’t a threat. It was her gut. Having worked in an industry filled with predators—hell, she’d been propositioned as a tween—her spidey senses were on point.

“Hey.” The man reappeared in the doorway. “How’d you get in here anyway? There are only two keys, and I have them both.”

Her gaze cut away. Because that drove it home. “I broke in.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Come again?”

“No, no. It’s not like that. My mana—” Oops. If he knew she had a manager, he’d ask questions. And if he didn’t already know who she was, she wasn’t about to reveal her identity. “I needed a place to go, so a friend rented this cabin. She told me where the key was, but I couldn’t find it. So, I broke the window.” She tipped her head toward the kitchen.

“Huh.” He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. “Look at that. I didn’t have to break into my own cabin at all. I wonder who should get the bed?” Still, he walked away. She could hear him flopping down on the couch and arranging the coat over himself. “I’m going to have sweet dreams about my cigar cutter that’s in the second drawer to the left of the stove and my stash of Pappy Van Winkle bourbon in the top cabinet over the refrigerator. Both of which I’ll be enjoying tomorrow afternoon in front of a roaring fire.” He exhaled with satisfaction. “Alone.”

Okay, fine. He was the owner.

“Hey, Hellcat?” he called.

She poked her head out of the bedroom. “What?”

“What address did your friend give you?”

“I don’t remember. It was nearly three months ago.”

“You’ve been living in my house for three months?” He popped up. “Did you drink my bourbon?”

“No, of course not. I didn’t use anything that looked like the owner’s personal stash. Just the toilet paper, napkins, and paper towels. Stuff like that.”

He looked horrified. “We have no toilet paper?”

“Relax. Your throne’s intact. I’ve bought more.” In fact, she’d stockpiled it. The fewer deliveries, the less chance someone would figure out who she was.

“Thank you for acknowledging that it is, in fact, my throne.” Lying back down, he closed his eyes, his features relaxing.

It might be a weird observation to make at the moment, but the man was gorgeous. And unbelievably well-built. Even in the sweater, she’d noticed his bulging biceps. Also, judging from his clothes and that fancy watch on his wrist, he was well-off. “I’m open to the suggestion I might’ve got the wrong address.”

“It’s not hard to do out here.”

Oh. She’d expected a snarky comeback. She wasn’t prepared for him to be nice.

“The cabins are far and few between here in the Tetons.” He rolled onto his side, hiking up his knees and resting his cheek on his hand. “Now, go to sleep.”

“Okay, but you keep your hands off me now.” She said it like a joke, but really…

Are you kidding me? How am I supposed to fall asleep with a strange man in the cabin?

“Yeah, there won’t be any of that.” He settled deeper into the leather cushion. “You’re not my type.”

He…

What?

Did he just say I’m not his type?

Of course, he was seeing her at her worst. It was the middle of the night, he’d startled her out of a deep sleep, and she was wearing oversized clothes. Not to mention the coffee stain on her sweatshirt. But she wasn’t an unattractive woman. She was friendly.

Well, maybe a little less friendly after the hits she’d taken this year.

Ugh. Let it go. She’d accepted who she was a long time ago, and she knew she wasn’t Mr. Slick’s type at all. No matter how many stylists and makeup artists worked on her, how expensive her designer clothes and jewelry were, no one had ever called Lorelei Calloway sexy.

She was girl-next-door pretty. She was happy and fun.

But she was no sexpot.

The reminder drove a spike of awareness into her chest, making her body sting.

That’s why Landon chose Cissy. Her former friend was warmer, earthier…raunchier. She gave off lazy days in bed vibes. Meet-me-in-the-bathroom-for-a-blow-job energy.

Cissy was tall and slender—she had a model’s physique. She could throw on jeans and a T-shirt and look chic whereas Lorelei needed the right clothes to dress a body like hers.

I’ve got boobs and a butt.

Stop it. Just stop it right now. What did she care about this stranger’s opinion? He didn’t have to find her attractive. One of them would be gone tomorrow, and they’d never see each other again. For now, she was freezing, and she really shouldn’t be staring at a sleeping man.

She hurried back to the bedroom and dove under the covers. But she was wired and anxious, and there was no way she could fall asleep. Racked with shivers, she curled up like a little pill bug.

When she closed her eyes, she retraced the flashlight’s beam across the stranger’s broad shoulders, the big, round biceps, and the powerful thighs. She’d only ever been with her ex, so she didn’t have experience with other body types. Landon was lean. Scrawny, really, next to this man who took up the entire couch with his tall, muscular frame. And that jaw. He could be a movie star. No, he was an athlete. A hot quarterback.

You’re not my type.

No, she wouldn’t be. A guy like him would date the head cheerleader. The class president. The gorgeous CEO. Together, they’d make a power couple.

She’d once read that girls who grew up without fathers had self-esteem issues. How can you love yourself when your own dad rejected you? Even though she knew the truth now—that her mom had kept her from her dad—it didn’t erase beliefs that were imprinted into the fabric of her soul in childhood.

A melody entered her head. As she lay there, the eight-bar loop playing on repeat, random words popped up.

Imprint. Tattoo.

A child’s eyes. No, a man’s eyes.

Looking for daddy in another man’s eyes.

Yes. Inspiration compelled her to sit up and reach for her guitar. She didn’t want to lose the train of thought, the arrangement, so she started humming, and when her voice splintered the perfect silence of the cabin⁠—

She remembered.

There’s a man out there. Sleeping.

Chapter Three

Just like that, Lorelei was yanked back to reality. The cold seeped through the layers of her robe, and she settled back under the covers.

Wide awake, she could only wonder what she was supposed to do about this situation. One of them had to leave and, now that the shock had worn off, she could see it had to be her.

Clearly, he owned the cabin. When she’d come here, she’d been frantic. She’d been on the run, thinking the paparazzi had discovered that her family lived in Calamity. Her dad was such a good man, and he’d finally found happiness with his girlfriend—the last thing she wanted was to sic the press on him. So, she’d called her manager and asked her to book a safe place for her to stay.

She was supposed to use a code to unlock the door, but it didn’t have a box like that. It was a keyed entry. Worse, when the first delivery arrived, the driver was confused about the address. She’d had the same guy the whole three months, so he knew to bring things here now.

But if she was living in the wrong cabin, that meant the owner of the rental was simply collecting her rent. Of course, they lived in Florida, but shouldn’t they be checking to make sure she wasn’t destroying the place?

As soon as she had Wi-Fi, she’d talk to her manager. They’d figure it all out.

Of course, if he owned the place…was it really fair for him to be on the couch? She thought about his exhaustion, his long day of travel, his desperation for sleep…come on. He should take the bed.

Oh, brother.

Grabbing the flashlight, she threw off the covers and slid her feet back into her slippers. As she headed into the living room, a sound hit her ears—oh, God. His teeth were chattering. What had she been thinking, making him sleep out here with no heat? He could die.

This place didn’t have extra bedding, so really, neither of them could sleep out here. They just couldn’t.

She approached the far end of the couch. “Hey.” Why was she whispering? The whole point was to wake him. She flicked on the flashlight and shined it in his face. “Hey.”

He groaned in misery, shielding his eyes with a hand. “Look, I get that you’re worried. I don’t blame you, but I don’t know what else I can do to assure you I’m harmless.”

Well, that was unexpected. She’d figured he’d yell at her, tell her to leave him alone. Instead, he understood her fears.

She nudged his feet, covered in wool socks. “Get up.”

“Why?” He looked around. “What’s wrong?”

Good Lord, this man was gorgeous. Those high cheekbones and strong jaw, and that mouth…did men even have sensuous mouths like that? And that growly, rough voice?

Hot.

She was positive he was good in bed. She could just tell.

With Landon, sex had been easy. They’d learned everything together, and he didn’t take what he wanted like she was certain this man did.

She’d never been manhandled. She’d never been used. And she hadn’t known she wanted that until this moment. Not in a demeaning way, of course. But a man who craved her, who had to have her. Someone desperate for her.

Sensation coursed through her. An awakening.

A revelation.

She’d thought Landon balanced out her ambitious, driven nature with his go-with-the-flow attitude, but her body’s reaction to this stranger told her she needed something entirely different. She needed more than her ex could offer.

A shiver racked her body that had nothing to do with the freezing temperatures.

Flustered, she rolled her eyes. “I can’t sleep when you’re making all this noise out here.”

“What noise?” He looked around as if an entire counsel of judges was watching him. “I’m sleeping.”

“Yeah, well, your teeth are chattering, and it’s keeping me up.” She flounced back into the bedroom. “I need my beauty sleep, so you better get in here.”

“In the bedroom?” He sounded confused, bordering on alarmed.

“The only way to shut you up is to get you under the duvet.” She kicked off her slippers and crawled into bed. Lying on her back in her robe, she drew the thick blanket up to her chin. She’d keep the flashlight in her hand, just in case he made a move.

His body filled the door frame. “You want me in the bed with you?”

“It’s the second-to-last thing I want in the world.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “What’s the last thing?”

“Waking up to a frozen cadaver on the couch.”

“Fine. But remember, this was your idea.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get too excited. I’m building a pillow wall between us so there’s no excuse for one single part of your body to touch mine.”

“That’s real nice of you,” he said dryly. “Considering you’re squatting in my house.” Pushing off the frame, he moved to the bed. He stood there a moment, studying her. “Are you sure?”

“It’s inhumane to leave you out there.”

“I’m not arguing.” He sat on the edge of the mattress, his back to her. “Thank you.”

She liked the sincerity in his tone. “Of course. I mean, it is your house.”

He swiveled around. “So, you admit it?” Shifting his legs under the comforter, he nestled his head on the pillow. “Fuck, it’s cold.”

“I know.”

“How long has the heat been out?” he asked in his deep, rumbly voice.

“Since this afternoon.”

“Good thing I’ve got a generator. I’ll fire it up in the morning.”

“Oh, thank God.” She tried to settle in. Did a few breathing exercises. But nothing was going to get her past the fact that she was sharing a bed with a strange man.

Think about something else.

She thought about the last text she’d gotten from her mom before she’d lost Wi-Fi. It was a selfie she’d posted on Splashagram with her latest boyfriend, suggesting Lorelei join them for Christmas in Positano.

She’d ignored it because her mom didn’t care about seeing her daughter. It was an attempt to not only cover up the horrible press she’d gotten for the lawsuits against her—and replace them with a handsome lover and luxury travel—but also to let Lorelei know she was flourishing. Look at me living my best life, traveling with a gorgeous lover.

Instead of apologizing for the horrible things she’d done, she was letting Lorelei know how grand life was without her.

Her brother and sister had cut off their mom. They said their lives were healthier without a toxic parent. Lorelei was coming to understand that.

She missed them. She missed her dad. He texted regularly, asking how she was and when she was coming home. He didn’t think Lorelei needed to hide from the paparazzi. She was creating more speculation and keeping herself in the news by not making a statement or returning to the spotlight.

But she couldn’t do that. She just wasn’t ready to go back to the world.

What would she do? Where would she live?

All she’d done her entire life was build a platform of happy, fun pop music. But she wasn’t that happy, naïve woman anymore. Landon, Cissy, and her mom had sucked the joy right out of life with their lies and deception.

So, what could she write about now? Did anyone think she could actually get on stage and smile and do her choreographed dance moves like her world hadn’t come crashing down around her?

Every memory, every song she’d ever written—everything was attached to the three people who’d hurt her. They were such an integral part of her life, her success…they’d all been inseparable.

Landon and Cissy had replaced her dad and siblings.

And there you have it.

The absolute truth.

They’d been family to her.

While she’d been nothing more than a paycheck to them.

Mr. Slick rolled onto his back. “You’re not going to sleep, are you?”

“No.”

“Look, I could tell you I’m not going to hurt you, but that isn’t going to make things better.”

“It might make it a little better.”

After a moment, he said, “I swear to God, I’m not going to hurt you.”

He said it with such sincerity she found her body relaxing just the slightest bit.

“So, you’ve been here three months.” He punched the pillow to give his head a lift. “Do you work remotely?”

She appreciated his attempt at conversation. It helped that he cared enough to try and reassure her, but she didn’t want to give him even a hint of who she was. She’d keep it vague. “I’ve taken a leave of absence.”

“You got fired?” He asked it plainly, simply. Not a hint of judgment.

“No, nothing like that. I just needed a break. I’m not sure if I’m in the right…profession.”

“Ah, okay. A midlife crisis.”

“Awesome. I’m not your type, and I look middle-aged. You’re great for a woman’s ego.”

“I’m a total stranger. What do you care what I think?”

While he made a good point, her entire career was based on people liking her. And once they did, she had to turn fans into fanatics. That’s a lot of work.

Since paparazzi stalked her and fans recorded her in restaurant bathrooms, she had to keep fit and look her best. The one time she’d gone to the beach with friends thinking no one would recognize her, a photograph had gone viral of her with stringy hair, chapped lips, and red eyes. It was only because she’d gone swimming in the ocean, but the tabloids made up some ridiculous story about Landon leaving her for an older movie star.

“Sadly, I’m not built that way. And knowing I’m not your type makes me want to put on makeup and blow out my hair and strut around like a peacock.”

He chuckled. “I think males are the peacocks. We strut to get the attention of the sexiest hens.”

“Are you a veterinarian?”

“No.”

“A zookeeper?” she asked.

“In some ways, but no. I don’t work with four-legged animals.”

“Okay, Slick. What do you do?”

“Slick?” he asked.

“I noticed that fancy watch, the Moncler snow boots. You probably get your hair trimmed every two weeks.”

“I can stretch it to three.”

She couldn’t see his grin, obviously, but she could hear it in his voice. “A little particular, are we?”

“It grows out funny.”

“Cowlick?” she teased.

“No, I don’t have a cowlick. Look, I travel a lot, and the last thing I want to think about is my hair.”

“So, you’re a pilot?”

He chuckled. “No.”

“I don’t even want to know what you do for a living.” Because I don’t want to tell you about me.

“What do you want to know?” he asked.

“What your alter ego’s doing in his parallel life.”

“His parallel life?”

“Yes. It says so much more about you.”

“Okay. I’m the center forward for the Los Angeles Chargers. What about you?”

“Well, you’ve got the body for it, but think about what those cleats would do to your pedicures.”

He burst out laughing. “The Chargers are a hockey team, and I don’t get pedicures. Now, it’s your turn. What’s your alter ego doing?”

She’d had three months to dream about her next move. Without financial restraints, she could do anything she wanted. Which made it that much sadder there was nothing she’d rather do than write songs. “I think she’s living on a farm.”

“A farm? You mean with pigs and chickens and shit? Do you have any idea how hard that life is?”

“Fine.” He was probably right. “It’s a flower farm. Do you know the band Blue Fire?”

“Of course. I’ve seen them in concert.”

“Did you know they have a studio on a flower farm?” She’d recorded her fifth album there. The band spent most of their time in Montana, where they were raising their kids, so they rented out their Long Island property to recording artists. It was a beautiful retreat.

“So, you run a flower farm? Do you have a dozen children? Make your own bread?”

Warmth spread through her at the canvas he’d just painted for her. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“And what do you do in this life? Must be the total opposite.”

Well, he was certainly sharp. She’d give him that. “You know, since we’re only going to know each other for a few hours, do you think we could gloss right over the details of each other’s real lives?” She hoped he didn’t try to press for more information.

“You got it.”

“I’m sorry, I just…” How did she explain it?

“We’re good, Hellcat.”

Relief swept through her. She didn’t have to worry about him selling a story about his crazy encounter with Lorelei Calloway.

She nudged him with an elbow. “And I’m only twenty-six.”

“Okay.” He made it sound like he was humoring her.

“Oh, you’re just awful. Am I that unattractive?”

“You realize I can’t see a damn thing, right? I have no idea what you look like.”

Good point. “So, then it’s just my voice that makes me sound like an old lady?”

“I’m six seconds away from a coma. I can’t hear anything but my body screaming for sleep.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll stop talking. But you know what? You’ve just given me something to add to my list.”

“List?” he asked.

“You know, for the end of the year.” She’d been thinking about hers for a while now. “What’re you leaving behind, and what’re you taking into next year?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You know how people come up with a power word for the year?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s similar except you think about what you do that’s not working and commit to leaving it behind, and you think about something that is working and decide to focus on it going forward.”

“Give me an example.”

Maybe she’d spent too much time alone, but she loved his deep, rough voice. Actually, it wasn’t rough at all. It was sexy. It was the kind of voice that told a woman to meet him in the bathroom and drop her panties. Or that said, “Yeah, just like that,” when a woman went down on him.

“You haven’t figured it out yet?” he asked, making her realize she hadn’t answered.

She’d gotten lost in her fantasies. “No, I have.” Something about this man awakened a part of her she’d long neglected. It was good. Really good. “I’ve worked too much, and it cost me important relationships, so I’m leaving behind the pressure I put on myself to succeed, and I’m taking with me the ability to pay more attention to the details of my life.”

“I like that.”

“What about you?” she asked.

“I’d have to give it some thought.”

“That’s fair. What about your power word? Do you have that?”

“No,” he said. “How about you start? It’ll get me thinking.”

The first word that sprang to mind, she crushed, but only because it would make her look bad. Then again, she could say whatever she wanted. She’d never see this guy again. “Revenge.”

“Uh, you know, maybe I will sleep on the couch. Take my chances with hypothermia.”

She laughed. “No, don’t worry. You’re not the target.” Did she really want her life to hinge on what three shitty people had done to her though? “I don’t want to take negativity into the new year, so I’m going to change it to Reinvention. Your turn.”

“I have no idea.”

“Well, you should think about it. Did you know people with goals are ten times more likely to succeed?”

“Not that exact statistic, but sure. It’s something I talk about to the people I work with. Not sure I’ve done it for myself in a long time.”

People he works with? Was he a therapist? “Well, there you go. Now’s your chance.”

“If I answer your question, will you trust me enough to fall asleep?”

She smiled. “You know, I just might.”

“Fine. My power word is…Shift. No. Advance. No, wait.”

Maybe she could help him. “What’re you trying to get at?”

“I want to advance my business, but in a way I can live with.”

“What about Boundaries?”

“That’s good.” He sounded genuinely pleased. “I like that.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t get into the part about growing your business. Hm. Let me think.”

“No, it’s fine. Boundaries is good.”

“Yeah, I don’t really go for half-assed. We have to nail it. What about Balance instead? Balance making a profit and staying true to your values.”

He didn’t respond.

Ugh. Why was she pushing this total stranger? He wanted to sleep, not play word games.

But then, he said, “Yes. That’s exactly it.”

Despite being in a freezing cabin with a total stranger, pleasure spread through her. She’d helped him in some way, and that felt good. “Okay, now, what’re you leaving behind?”

“The weak security of my cabin.”

She laughed. “I mean, I did have to smash a window.”

“That aside, I’ll leave behind my gullibility and take with me a total focus on growing my business my own way.”

That was a slightly different take than her situation, but close enough to make her feel a stitch of connection to this serious stranger. “I get that.”

“Good. Does this mean you’re comfortable enough to set that flashlight down now? Because the last thing I need is for you to brain me with it because my leg accidentally touched yours.”

“How do I know that’s not your plan? Get me to set it down so you can make your move?”

“Well, that answers that question. All right. So, of all the places in the world, why did you rent a cabin in Calamity?”

She set the flashlight on the nightstand. He might come off all brusque and gruff, but he was a good guy. As badly as he needed to sleep, he wasn’t willing to leave her wide awake and full of fear.

Yeah. Good guy.

“I was visiting some people here when my life fell apart. I just needed a break, and my friend found this place.” She’d leave it at that. That was enough of an answer without enabling him to connect the dots. “What about you? Do you always come here for Christmas?”

“Never.”

“So why this time?”

He shifted. “I have some decisions to make.”

“Well, look at that. We’ve got something in common.”

“Too bad it’s the wrong place to come.”

She got a whiff of his scent—expensive shampoo, clean clothes, but also something she couldn’t identify. “What does that mean?” Something deliciously masculine.

“You’ve been here three months. Clearly, it’s a shit place for decision-making.”

“Excellent point. You should totally leave first thing in the morning. In fact, why wait? Go now.” She couldn’t suppress her grin.

“That’s one take. Here’s another. You’ve had three months, and you haven’t gotten anywhere. Sounds like it’s time to move on to a new location.”

Here’s a fun fact: I never bantered with Landon. “Given the blizzard out there, I don’t think either of us is going anywhere. So, I’ve got a great idea. How about I solve your problem, and you solve mine?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but your track record at problem-solving isn’t all that good.”

“First of all, Slick, I’m not here to solve a problem. I’m here to…” She was going to say heal, but that wasn’t the core issue, was it? She was trying to figure out her next move. Who am I once I go back out into the world? Just thinking about it got her muscles tensing up. “Okay, fine. You’re not wrong. I suck at solving my own issues, but I’m probably great at solving them for other people. Isn’t that how it works?”

“Okay. Let’s give it a go. Me first. What did you hate about your job?”

“Nothing.” The word hurtled out of her mouth. And she sat with it for a moment.

She’d been torn up over her identity, thinking she needed to change what she did.

But she was the one who’d built this career. It was her talent. If anyone needed to leave the music industry, it was her ex and her former best friend.

And if she really did love her job, what was she accomplishing by hiding out? She wasn’t healing. She was punishing herself.

Maybe even more than her ex, it was the press that kept her in the cabin. The barrage of questions they’d ask. The humiliation. The people she’d trusted and loved most had made a fool of her.

But she hadn’t done anything wrong. They had. She could hold her head high.

She thought about her dad’s advice. Maybe she couldn’t write happy, lovey-dovey songs anymore, but her fans loved her because she was honest and real. Because she had the gift of articulating a universal experience through lyrics.

Maybe—just maybe—once she healed, a new voice would emerge. A new narrative would take form in her lyrics. Maybe she just needed to wait for the wounds to scar over.

“So, why are you taking a leave?” he asked.

“Because I worked too much. It was so all-consuming I lost sight of all the other things that matter.”

“You didn’t pay attention to the details. So, you need balance?”

“And I need to redefine myself. Because…” She hated to say it. It made her look weak. Stupid. Two years ago, she was Time’s Person of the Year. She had more number-one songs than any other pop or country artist in the world.

And yet, she was so sheltered she’d lived her life in a bubble.

Which had popped.

Leaving her exposed, lonely, and very, very afraid.

When she didn’t immediately respond, he said, “I can’t solve your problems if I don’t know what they are.”

There was such authority in that voice. Such confidence. It made her want to tell him everything. “Because the people I loved most in the world betrayed me.”

Chapter Four

In the perfect stillness of the dark room, the heavy weight of emotions she’d been carrying lifted. Because she’d only talked about the situation to her manager and her dad.

And she needed to talk about it.

“Well, then.” His deep voice cracked the stillness. “My advice is to take the time you need to heal.”

“Really? I didn’t expect you to say that.”

“And then, you get back out there and kick some ass. Because at the end of the day, the ones who fucked you over are just bad people. And there’s not a damn thing you can do about that. But they will get what’s coming to them. That’s guaranteed.”

“I know, I know. The best revenge is living a great life.” She’d heard that one plenty of times.

“Yeah, I don’t give a damn about revenge. The only thing that matters is me. What I’m doing, how I’m feeling. And I’m not about to stew in bitterness or negativity. When you get screwed over, of course, you’re going to be hurt for a while. That’s good. It’s fair. But after a few days, you’ve got to get out there and self-correct. Get yourself on the right track and ignore the people who screwed you over. Wipe them out of your mind. They don’t exist. Because—bottom line—you’re the only person responsible for the quality of your life.”

“You know, for a stranger who broke into my cabin in the woods, you give excellent advice. You’re right. It’s up to me to find my happiness.” Yes.

Screw Landon and Cissy. Screw her mom. Screw the press.

She needed to take all of it out of the picture. It had nothing to do with her new direction. “Okay, now it’s my turn. What do you hate about your job?”

“Nothing. I love my job.”

“Wait a minute. That’s not a second thing we have in common, is it? Did we just become best friends?”

He chuckled. “Well, before we start braiding each other’s hair, I have to qualify my answer. I love aspects of my job, but I hate the lack of authority over my decisions.”

She wished it wasn’t so dark. She needed to see him, read his expressions. “I mean, that’s probably true for everyone, right? It sounds like you need to go out on your own. Work for yourself.”

“I think you’re right. Because if I go back to work for someone else, then I’m not following my own advice. I’m responsible for the quality of my life. And what am I doing if I’m not serving my clients in an authentic way? If I’m only using them for my commission?”

Okay, so he wasn’t a therapist. Someone who makes commissions—so, a salesman? A rush of affection made her pat his arm. “I think we just helped each other.”

“Yeah, Hellcat, I think we did.” He turned onto his side, his big body making the mattress shift. “Now that we’re best friends, you can explain why your sweats have figs on them.”

“Figs? That’s not…” She thought about the design. “They’re not figs. Besides, I thought you can’t see anything.” She had no idea what he was talking about.

“Can’t miss those bright purple figs.”

She’d arrived at the cabin with the contents of one carry-on bag and a tote stuffed with pens, notebooks, a sweater, and a pair of ballet flats. She’d had to order a lot of things, and she hadn’t paid much attention.

“They’re either that or pussies with seeds.”

“Pussies?” Lorelei was in the music industry, so she was used to raunchy language and behavior, but she’d never used that word in her life. And this man seemed so…cultured, polished. “Do you mean kitty cats or⁠—”

“Pussies. Vaginas.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Hey, they’re your sweats.”

“You think I’d buy clothing with vaginas on them?” She threw back the covers and flicked on the flashlight, stretching out the fabric to get a better view of the deep purple tear-shaped pattern. “That’s not—” Wait. Was it? “No, it’s just a pretty design.”

He tapped the bits of green. “Then how do you explain the leaves?”

“Those are not leaves.” But once her perspective shifted, she saw the pattern in a whole new way. “Oh. Wow. They’re figs.”

“No shit.”

“Why did I buy sweatpants with figs on them?”

“That’s a question only you can answer.”

Laughing, she flopped back down. “My mind is blown.”

“It’s not that weird. It’s probably some botanical line.”

“No, not because of that.”

“What then?” he asked.

“Because you’ve never seen a pussy before.”

He barked out a laugh. “What?”

“If you think the inside of a fig looks like a pussy, then you’ve obviously never been down there before.” She was having fun, so she pushed it a little. “Look, you work a lot. Your personality’s a little, you know, flat. It’s okay if you’re a virgin.”

He chuckled. “Two things. First, my bedroom skills are on point, and second, I’m trying to get you comfortable enough that you’ll fall asleep. A conversation about sex is going to have the opposite effect.”

“You brought it up.”

“In a different context. Hey, have you been using my new grill? I just had it delivered in June. Haven’t used it yet, but it’s dope.”

“Oh, okay. We’re closing out the vagina talk. Got it.” She turned off the flashlight and set it on the nightstand before sliding under the covers again. “The listing said the grill was off-limits, so I assumed it might be considered a fire hazard. Besides, I wouldn’t even know how to use it.”

“I can show you tomorrow.”

Huh. She thought he’d make some crack about how it was so simple a five-year-old could do it. She hadn’t expected such patience. Kindness. “That’s nice of you, but since I’m leaving tomorrow…” If they still didn’t have Wi-Fi, she wouldn’t be able to get the address of the place she’d actually rented. She’d have to go back to her dad’s.

“We’ll see how it looks in the morning.”

“Well, how long can a storm last? It’ll pass over.” Her dad would come and get her. She’d learned that about him.

“Doesn’t work like that out here. Resources go to Calamity and Wild Wolff Village. The mountains get dug out last.”

“What’re you talking about? How long could it take?” Not only didn’t he want her here, but how long could she keep her identity hidden?

“No idea. Could be as long as a week.”

“Of us snowed in together?” Alarm rang through her body. “What will we do for food?”

“I brought plenty.”

“Oh, God.” Of course. “You’re spending Christmas here.” What had she been thinking?

This is bad. This is so bad.

If he has a wife, kids…and I’m sharing a bed with him? No way. “Are you married? Do you have kids? Because if you were my husband, and I found out you’d slept in the same bed with another woman⁠—”

“Whoa. Slow down. I’m not married.”

“Well, you didn’t come here to spend Christmas alone, did you?”

“Yeah, actually. I did. My mom and her boyfriend are traveling, and there’s no other family.”

“What about a girlfriend?”

“I’ve never seen a vagina before, remember? How can there be a girlfriend?”

“Plenty of couples don’t have sex before marriage.”

“Hellcat, there’s no one, okay? And I agree with you. If I had a wife or girlfriend, I wouldn’t share a bed.”

She eased back down, covering herself with the duvet. “Even if it meant dying of hypothermia?”

“I said I wouldn’t share a bed. I didn’t say which one of us would be on the couch.”

She laughed. “‘Heads-up, hon. There’s a dead body on the couch. But the good news? I didn’t share a bed with her.’”

“Trust me, my wife would rather hide a dead body than know I slept with another woman.”

“Your imaginary wife’s a jealous one, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

She grinned in the darkness like a fool. “Well, at least you got snowed in on vacation.”

“I’m not on vacation.”

“But Christmas is the day after tomorrow. Everyone’s off.”

“My job doesn’t work like that.”

What does he do for a living? It was killing her not to know, but she didn’t want to open that door, so she let it go. “Are you going to get into trouble?”

“Yes. I was supposed to close a deal today. My boss said if I didn’t do it, I’d be fired.” He sounded bitter.

“And there’s no Wi-Fi, so you can’t tell him about the snowstorm.”

“He won’t care. He won’t understand me going anywhere before getting the contract signed.”

“This is awful. I’m so sorry. I guess you didn’t check the weather before you came out here?”

“Sure, I did.” He paused. “Right after I buckled in on the plane.”

“So, what’re you going to do?”

“There’s nothing I can do. Getting all worked up won’t give me Wi-Fi.”

“That’s a good attitude.” In the dark, she felt bolder than she might’ve if they’d been face-to-face. “If your boss hadn’t threatened to fire you, who would you be spending Christmas with?”

“Probably my boss.”

“Not your mom? You don’t spend it as a family?”

“We haven’t in a while.”

“I guess you guys don’t get along?” she asked.

“No, we’re fine.”

“Is it the boyfriend? You don’t like him?”

“He’s all right.” His legs shifted under the blanket. “I could probably give him more of a chance.”

She liked a man who was willing to admit his faults. “But?”

“But he’s not my dad.”

Oh, no. A flurry of anger rushed through her. “Your mom cheated with this guy?”

“Calm down, Hellcat. It’s not like that. My mom’s been alone a long time. I’m glad she found someone.”

“Then, why wouldn’t you want to spend Christmas with them?”

“Let’s just say I’m working on my feelings toward her. But I’m glad she has this guy. I want her to be happy.” There was something funky in his tone. He didn’t sound begrudging or angry. It was more like he was conflicted.

“Or how about this? You hope someday you’ll want her to be happy?” She said it softly, quietly.

“Yeah.” A moment later, he said, “That works better.”

“Life is so complicated.”

“It’s still going to be complicated when you leave this cabin.”

“Says the man hiding in a cabin over Christmas.”

“Hey, I’m not hiding. I’m here to make a big decision.”

“Well, let’s hope the power comes back on sooner rather than later.”

“Yeah. I do need to get ahead of this situation with my boss. I’ve got a snowmobile, so if it goes on too long, I’ll head into town.”

“It better not go on too long. We’ll run out of food. You came out here alone, so I know you didn’t buy enough for two people.” She’d never been trapped in a snowstorm. “And what if the generator runs out of fuel? How long can we go without heat? And the water—what about showering?”

“We won’t run out of anything.” His hand found her arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “As soon as I picked up the car, I stopped at the grocery store. I got there right when it was closing, so I ran up and down the aisles tossing random shit into my cart. I bought way too much. And I’ve got a massive propane tank, so it’s not going to run out. We’re good. I promise.”

“Oh, thank God. I did start to spiral there, didn’t I?” She laughed it off.

“It’s understandable.”

He’d done it again. Surprised her with his response. Landon would’ve teased her for overreacting. Cissy would’ve rolled her eyes and called her a drama queen. For the first time, she could see the role they’d cast her in, and how she’d willingly played the part. She was the artiste, the creative one who couldn’t function in the real world.

Once assigned, she’d stuck to it. Because they’d reinforced it with their inside jokes.

The revelation made her extremely uncomfortable. “Well, that’s a relief.”

“So, you’re good?” he asked. “Can you sleep now?”

This exhausted man had been willing to sleep on the couch. He’d stayed up to put her mind at ease. He’d been kind and considerate. “I think I can.”

Before she could even roll onto her side and put a pillow between her legs, his breathing evened out. In the quiet of the spacious bedroom, with snow falling and wind whistling through the trees, she felt safe and cocooned.

She didn’t have much faith in her judgment anymore, not after an entire year of being played.

But maybe this was her first test.

Don’t prove me wrong, Slick.

Chapter Five

A familiar song woke Booker up.

He couldn’t place it, so his brain kept processing. He didn’t listen to pop music, but this one was used all the time on social media reels and commercials.

What is it?

But then, the more alarming question hit him: who the hell’s singing?

He opened his eyes and blinked against the gray light filtering into the freezing cold bedroom.

Ah, right. He wasn’t in his apartment. He was in the cabin.

And that was when it all came rushing back. Why he was there.

Marcus had threatened to fire him.

When he remembered his boss’s tone, his chest tightened. That hard, vicious expression was unlike anything Booker had ever seen from his mentor.

At least when dealing with me.

Man, even during his worst years as a teenager, when he and his friends were absolute hellions, his dad had never talked about kicking him out.

See, there you go again.

Marcus isn’t your dad.

You fell for his game.

The sting of humiliation had him flinging back the covers. Sucker.

It was all just business.

That’s all it ever was.

Fuck, it’s cold. A fleeting thought crossed his mind—why did I wear jeans to bed?—before he remembered the hellcat.

The bat she’d slammed onto the mattress, the fierce determination in her eyes.

She’d awakened to a strange man in her bed.

Strange naked man.

And she hadn’t cowered.

She’d come at him with a bat.

Even though she must’ve been terrified, she’d fought like a warrior. Hopefully, he’d eased her mind enough that she’d fallen asleep. He’d conked out before her, so he didn’t know.

She hadn’t revealed her whole story, but he’d gotten to know her some. Three months was a long time to hide away from the world—no matter what had happened to her. Sure, he felt bad for her, but he also hoped she was singing as she packed.

Because he needed time to himself. First, he had to talk to Ginty. Get the situation worked out before Marcus inserted himself.

Or had his boss already done that? Booker had left town without getting Ginty’s signature. He wouldn’t be surprised to open his phone and see a termination letter from HR.

Fear gripped his spine. If that happened, he’d get a severance package. He wouldn’t be able to touch his clients or the Detroit golfer for a year.

Nope. Not going there.

Nothing’s going to happen until Marcus knows for sure Ginty’s not going to sign.

That buys me some time.

He had at least until the day after Christmas.

Damn, he was glad Hellcat wanted to keep things vague with each other. It was a small world, and if she was in sports at all, she’d recognize his agency, his boss, and his athletes.

He set his feet on the wood floor—Jesus fuck—the cold bled right through his wool socks. He had to get the heat on. A blizzard like this was the reason he’d bought the largest capacity generator and propane tank. Teton winters were rough.

He’d get that done, make some coffee and breakfast, and then figure out what to do about Hellcat. Though, really, what could he do? Without Wi-Fi, she couldn’t find the correct address of the cabin she’d rented. For now, he was stuck with her.

He headed out of the bedroom, stopping cold when he found her dancing.

In her puffy blue robe, fuzzy slippers, and a wool hat with fur earflaps, she was shaking her ass and hopping around as she whisper-sang.

Yeah, he was fucking cold, and yeah, he wanted to start shoveling a path to the shed, but he couldn’t stop watching her.

This woman had taken the worst kind of hit, and yet, look at her. She had a joy as big as the sun radiating out of her.

She might think the people who fucked her over had won something, but she was a powerhouse of a woman. She’d not only recover but she’d kick ass. They’d better watch their backs with this one.

Leaning against the doorframe, he folded his arms over his chest. She didn’t dance like a woman at a club. Her moves were more… choreographed? He wasn’t sure how to describe it, but she was confident, strong, and sexy as fuck.

What was that expression about dancing like nobody’s watching? That was Hellcat.

Except I’m watching, and she doesn’t know it.

Not cool. “Hey.” As he crossed the room to grab the gloves he’d left on the floor, she swung around and gasped.

She clapped a hand to her chest. “Oh, my God. You scared me.”

Their gazes locked, and for one moment, it felt like time stopped. He’d only ever seen her in the dark, her features heavily shadowed from the flashlight. So, it was startling to see her face for the first time. She was…lovely. Dark hair, blue eyes, and pink lips. “Sorry.” He snatched up his gloves to find they’d frozen solid.

“I was trying to warm up.”

“A fire might be more effective.” He tipped his chin toward the big stone hearth.

“Maybe.” She grinned. “But it’s not nearly as fun.”

It would take some time to dig out a path to the generator and even longer for the place to heat up. “I’ll get one started.”

“That would be fantastic. Thank you.”

He glanced at the clean grate. “Either you haven’t made one yet or you’re extremely clean.”

“Yeah, well, about that… I don’t know how.”

“You rented a cabin in the Tetons for the winter, and you don’t know how to make a fire?”

“I didn’t plan on staying this long.” She sounded defensive, but also, a little deflated.

And it pissed him off that he’d made her feel bad about it. “Well, let me show you how.”

“Really?” She joined him at the hearth. “You don’t know how many times I thought about trying, but I didn’t want to risk burning the place down.”

“I appreciate that. Because if you hadn’t opened the flue, you’d have had some problems.” He reached inside for the lever. “See this?” When she came closer, he got walloped by her scent.

It was powdery, feminine, and sweet, and it kicked his arousal into gear.

Fucking hell.

“What’s a flue?” She peered up the chimney, completely unaware that his body had gone haywire from her proximity.

“It’s a duct that brings in oxygen to feed the fire and removes smoke and gasses.” He’d turned brusque. Almost rude. But he couldn’t help it.

Those pink lips parted as she looked up, and her tongue peeked out to lick the bottom one.

Desire churned, heating his blood and making his skin tingle.

His body’s reaction didn’t make sense. Usually, he hooked up with professional women who wore high heels that showcased toned legs and silky blouses and tight skirts that accentuated curves.

But Hellcat wasn’t wearing makeup. Her body was covered with a puffy robe and baggy sweatpants. And she wasn’t telegraphing a sultry invitation.

She sat back on the stone bench. “Show me how you do it?” A hint of chocolate scented her breath.

He shifted the lever, opening the flue. “I hope you prefer dark.” Had she dug through his grocery bags?

“Dark?” When her gaze snapped over to him, she must’ve realized how close they were. She looked a little surprised, but also…her eyelids went a little lazy. Her mouth softened. “Are you talking about the flue?”

“No.” He laughed. “Dark chocolate. I didn’t have time to look through the flavors. All I know is I don’t like milk or white.”

“Oh.” Pink flooded her cheeks, and she wiped the corners of her mouth. “Sorry. I was so hungry. I’ll order you more.”

“Of all the things you found in my grocery bags, you chose the European chocolate caramel bar because you were starving? Why not the eggs? The bread?”

“Well, because I’m not stupid. That was some good stuff.”

That smile tilting the corners of her mouth sent a rush of want through him. It knocked him sideways. Make the fucking fire. “Do you have newspapers or something?”

“Um, no.” She glanced around the living room, her gaze landing on the dining room table. “But I have cardboard boxes.”

He hadn’t noticed before, but it was covered in cellophane-wrapped baskets. “What’s all that?” A stack of boxes lined up against the wall.

“It’s what I’ve been living on.” She said it like she thought it was hilarious, but he could tell it embarrassed her.

“Gift baskets?” The cabin was outside the range for most restaurant and grocery delivery services, but she could easily drive into town for takeaway or weekly shopping.

“Yeah.” She still wouldn’t look at him. “I don’t cook, so… Anyhow, the baskets have been fun.”

“There’s a gourmet store in town. Harley and Lu’s. They have prepared foods.”

She rallied with a smile. “They don’t deliver this far, and I don’t have a car. But also, I’ve had a strict diet most of my life, and I used to watch people eat decadent and fattening foods and wonder what it would be like to have no rules. I mean, to be able to eat whatever I want? Just gorge myself? How fun is that?”

So…religious background? Pageant girl? “I get that. I’m pretty strict, too.” For him, though, it was a habit left over from his hockey days. “Well, I’ve got groceries, so I’ll make us eggs, toast, and bacon.”

“That would be amazing. I mean, some of those are fruit baskets, but mostly, it’s just crackers and olive tapenade. Salami. Cookies. So, the idea of fresh eggs…yum.” She had a dreamy expression that got his attention.

Because it made him think of sex. How she would look if he was licking her⁠—

You gotta cut this shit out. He got up abruptly to grab some boxes. After stomping them flat, he tore off some pieces and headed back to the stone hearth. “The paper goes under the grate.” He kept a pile of kindling branches in a big basket, so he grabbed some of those. “These go on top.” Against the wall, he’d stacked a mountain of logs. “And then, these.”

She nodded like she was taking mental notes. “So, it’s a whole system. I would’ve just put the logs on and then tried to light them.” She gestured to the stack. “Looks like we’re good through the apocalypse.”

“I like chopping wood. It’s good exercise out here in the middle of nowhere. But yeah, it’ll keep us warm for a few days.” Wait—a few days? That’s not going to happen. She wouldn’t be here that long, and he had to get back to New York. At least, get into town where he had Wi-Fi. He couldn’t think with her in his space…dancing…laughing…smelling all powdery and shit.

He arranged the logs on top of the kindling, lit a match, and watched the cardboard light up. “I don’t know how long it’ll take to dig out a path to the shed, so if this starts to die down, just toss another log on, okay?”

“Okay. Sure.” She watched him as he headed into the kitchen to grab a shovel. “Can I help?”

“You know those grocery bags you were digging through? You can unload them.” He opened the kitchen door to find three to four feet of snow. At least it’s powdery. He was hungry, tired, and worn out from worrying about his career. If he were alone, he’d stuff his face with a roll or something. But he wasn’t. And he needed to get his roommate some heat and hot water.

So, he plunged the shovel into the snow and got to work. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. He liked using different muscles, liked letting his mind wander.

And guess where it went? Right to his career.

Sure, he liked George’s idea of going out on their own, but he learned a lot from Elite’s weekly meeting when everyone talked about their clients, contracts, and endorsements. Marcus sat quietly, listening as others offered advice, and they all hashed things out. Eventually, the boss would drop a nugget of wisdom—a work-around, a solution—something no one else would have considered because he’d been around for thirty-five years. And it was brilliant. Nothing Booker would’ve come up with on his own.

He and George—and the other two guys who’d already gone out on their own—had graduated law school together four years ago. Sure, Booker had some top-notch players on his roster, but he didn’t know the business inside and out the way Marcus did.

Okay, but you can’t work with him anymore. His boss didn’t throw tantrums. He didn’t make ultimatums. And the hill Booker had chosen to die on made him unfit for Elite.

That’s fine. He wasn’t like his boss. He couldn’t break bread with his clients, bring newborn diapers to their wives when they’d run out while their husbands were on road trips, bail them out of jail, and take their calls at three in the morning when they couldn’t sleep because of some trauma in their lives, and still see them as nothing but a commission.

They might not be friends, but he cared about their welfare.

While it was easy to say Ginty’s a grown man, and that he could deal with his family, that wasn’t the reality. The hockey star wanted a relationship with his parents and siblings. He held out hope they’d eventually love him for himself and not his money or connections. He needed an outsider’s perspective.

Bottom line, Ginty relied on Booker for more than contracts. He needed one person in the world who didn’t use him.

No, he couldn’t stay at Elite, but would it be any different at the LA agency? He doubted it.

By the time he reached the shed and turned on the generator, his muscles ached, and his stomach howled. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he found himself eager to get back to the Hellcat.

He found her singing quietly in front of the fire. Her eyes were closed, and she had a bag of breadsticks on her lap. In that moment, her features clear of tension and makeup, she looked perfectly content. And, well, blissful.

With her smooth, porcelain skin, an expressive mouth, and high cheekbones, she was a natural beauty. It was only when he keyed into the lyrics that he heard her pain. Okay, so clearly, music was a form of therapy for her.

She was really something. After going through trauma, she wasn’t self-medicating with substances or people. She was processing.

She’d said the people closest to her had betrayed her—not someone. So, what had happened to her? Who did this?

Who do I need to hurt?

“All set.” He started toward her.

His voice jerked her out of her peaceful repose. “Oh, yay. Can I take a shower?”

She really had no clue how things worked. “The place should warm up in half an hour, but it’ll take longer for the water to get hot.” He untied his boots and set them by the fire to dry.

“That makes sense. Well, thank you for doing it.”

“Of course.” He thought about the cost to her of letting him into her bed. It must’ve scared the shit out of her, but she’d done it anyway. She didn’t have to do that. Well, actually, she did. He’d have gotten hypothermia and frostbite. Still. He appreciated that she’d done it of her own accord.

He opened the refrigerator to get the eggs and found she’d neatly organized the shelves. “I’m making scrambled eggs. Unless you want something else.”

“No, no. That sounds great.” She sprang up. “What can I do to help?”

“You can grate the cheese.”

“Sure.” She came into the kitchen like she was ready to pitch in for an emergency, but once she opened the refrigerator, she just stared into it. “Wait, what do you mean? Isn’t it already grated?”

Since she was the one who’d unloaded the groceries, she should know he didn’t have any. “Pre-grated cheese has preservatives, so it doesn’t melt as well.”

“Okay, Chef. I didn’t know that.” She pulled out three wedges. “Which one?”

“I like Gruyère in eggs.”

“Oh, I like that one. They use it in galettes in Brittany.”

He found himself trying to connect the dots. Those fig sweats were expensive—definitely a cashmere blend—and she knew enough about a region in France that produced buckwheat crepes, and yet she used bags of shredded cheese and only ate food from gift baskets. He’d like to ask questions but knew she didn’t want to go there.

She pulled a knife from the block, noted the serrated edge, and put it back in. She tried a few others before she settled on a short one used for paring. And then, she started shaving bits of cheese off the wedge. “Is this small enough?” She picked up a few slices to show him.

“Sure, I can use that.” He spoke gently, careful not to embarrass her. “Might be easier to use the grater.”

“Oh, right. Of course. That’s what you asked me to do.” She glanced around. “All right. Just point me in the right direction, and then I’ll leave you alone.”

“That drawer right over there.” Since she’d lived there for three months, he figured she’d know where everything was. Even if she didn’t cook, wouldn’t she still have gone through the drawers to get the lay of the land?

As he beat the eggs with a fork and added salt and pepper, she held the block of cheese to the metal basket and got to work. “You have to be a serious chef to go through all this for some scrambled eggs.”

Her grin set off explosions in his chest. “It tastes better.”

“I think, for so long, food was just fuel, that I didn’t appreciate how things taste. Maybe these eggs will make me pay more attention.” She worked with intensity as if the fate of the world was in her hands. Her hair shimmied, and her fingers were red with cold.

He was so busy studying her, he failed to notice the amount of cheese she’d grated for just six eggs. “Whoa. That’s good. That’s more than enough.”

“Really?” She lifted the grater to reveal a mountain of it. “Right when I get the hang of it, you make me stop?” She seemed proud of herself. Rinsing her fingers in the cold water, she grabbed a dishtowel and dried off. “Now what?”

“Coffee?”

“Sure.” She sorted through a basket of pods. “Which flavor do you like?”

“Flavor?” He glanced over to see a machine. “What the hell’s that? It’s not mine.”

“No, I bought it.” She laughed. “You said flavor like I replaced your gourmet cheese with Velveeta. Or swapped your jeans out for polyester stretch pants.”

He had sounded pretty offended. “That tracks.”

“Well, I needed coffee, and this seemed the easiest way to go.”

“How do you drink it at home?” he asked.

The natural pink in her cheeks deepened. At first, he thought she wouldn’t answer, and he felt like a dick for making her feel somehow inferior for her preferences. But then, she tipped her chin. “I drink whatever someone’s making.”

“Got it. You don’t need coffee to survive.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Huh. Was she a doctor? So busy she didn’t have time to take care of herself—maybe grabbed coffee from a pot in the break room? “Well, I’ve got a French press.” He reached for the cabinet and opened it. “Top shelf, if you can grab it.”

She pulled down the glass container. “Yes, this is what my—” Her jaw snapped shut, and she cut him a look. “This is what we use at home. I just don’t know how to work it.”

“Just heat some water, okay?” He didn’t have a kettle, so he handed her a small saucepan. “Here.”

“This is way more complicated than pods.”

“Maybe, but they’re nowhere near as rich as the coffee you get from grinding your own beans.” He stepped away from the stove to reach for the bag she’d left on the counter. “I get this from Calamity Joe’s, a coffee shop in town. You’ll see the difference.”

She filled the pan and set it on the stove, firing up the burner.

“After I get the bacon going, I’ll show you how it works.” He got another skillet out and set the slices on it. His stomach grumbled at the familiar scent.

“I know, right?” She laughed. “I’m starving, too.”

He grabbed a stick of butter and cut off a tablespoon. It sizzled and popped in the skillet. He poured the egg batter and reached for a handful of cheese, dropping it in.

“I’ll be honest with you. I have someone who cooks for me, and I don’t know why I’ve never paid attention. But watching you… I mean, I know it’s just bacon and eggs, but your attention to detail makes it seem like an art form.” She stood beside him, watching him stir, and when she smiled at him, the strangest thing happened.

Something fluttered in his chest—like a flock of birds scattering at someone’s approach. It was so bizarre that he ruined the moment by saying, “Put the bread in the toaster.”

“Um, I don’t think I saw any.” She checked the refrigerator and the empty grocery bags. “Did you leave it in the car? I can go get it.”

He eyed the round loaf of crusty sourdough bread tucked into a paper bag and realized she must’ve been looking for a bag of sandwich bread.

Quietly, he pulled the serrated knife out of the block and set it on the counter. It only took her a moment to connect it with the paper bag. “Oh. Duh.” She found the cutting board under the sink and sliced paper-thin slices. They crumbled and fell apart.

Setting the knife down, she turned to face him. “Sir, I can’t cook to save my life, and I’m going to ruin this beautiful breakfast you’re making.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He appreciated her total honesty. “This’ll take me ten minutes, and I like cooking. Go warm up by the fire.”

She glanced out the window. “It’s still coming down.”

“It is.” He didn’t like that crease between her brows. “You worried?”

“I guess I am. I didn’t grow up with snow, so I’m not used to it. But it’s the remoteness that’s scary. If anything happened…it’s not like the fire department or paramedics could get out here.”

“I’ve got a snowmobile, so there’s nothing to worry about. And a propane tank that won’t run out this century. We’re not trapped, and we won’t run out of anything.”

“Okay.” She hiked herself up onto the counter, watching him cut thick slices of bread and drop them in the toaster. “Did you build this place or buy it?”

“I bought it, but I’ve made a lot of changes over the years.”

“Oh, cool. Like what?”

“Well, it’s on the Historic Register, and the prior owners had given up on getting the council to approve modifications. I got it for a great price because it had fallen into disrepair.”

“How did you get it renovated then?”

“I convince people for a living.”

She smiled. “No kidding. You got under my covers last night.”

Chapter Six

“Hey, now.” Booker checked her eyes to be sure she was okay with it. “I was invited.”

“I’m kidding.” The sparkle in them confirmed it. “You were incredibly thoughtful. I know how exhausted you were, and you stayed up until I felt comfortable enough to fall asleep. Seriously, I appreciate that.”

He quit stirring the eggs to grab jam from the fridge. “In any event, the place was practically uninhabitable, and I presented plans that honored the integrity of the original structure and used sustainable products.”

“It’s absolutely gorgeous.”

“Worth twenty-five thousand a month?” he asked.

“Oh, hell, no. I mean, where’s the folder giving you coupons for local pizza parlors? You could at least have shampoo and conditioner dispensers in the shower.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for my next guests. Oh, wait. I won’t have any.”

“Ha ha. You put all this work into it. Why don’t you come here more often?”

“I don’t have the time.” But he got her point. “It helps to know it’s here. That if I need an escape, I’ve got someplace to go.”

“Like now.”

“Yeah. Exactly.” Although, this time, it had been a big mistake. He never should’ve left the city before talking to Ginty. Christmas or not, his boss wouldn’t let this one go.

Shit. Fuck.

He needed to get into town.

“I get that more than you know. I travel a lot for my job, and every town or city I’m in, I look at real estate. I try to picture myself living there.”

“Have you found a place?”

“Nope. Mostly, I knew there wasn’t an escape from my life. It was just a fantasy.”

That was an odd thing to say. Even someone like Marcus, who ran a global agency with more than three thousand clients, spent time at his cottage on Martha’s Vineyard. Who wouldn’t be able to get away for short breaks here and there? It didn’t make sense, and it made him more curious than ever.

“I don’t know. Maybe I just haven’t found a place that wowed me. In any event, this is the first time I’ve had nothing to do. And it’s been fun. I’ve watched all kinds of tutorials on wreath-making and gardening…flower arranging. I even took French for beginners.”

“Everything except cooking?”

She laughed. “That’s exactly right. Hey, it’s a rental. I didn’t want to burn the place down or buy equipment I’d never use again.”

“And out of all those classes, what did you like doing?”

“Literally nothing.” Again, she laughed, but he could see the frustration in the way her fingers gripped the counter.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, let’s see. I’ve tried writing a book.” She shook her head. “That was a whole lot of staring into space. I’ve learned how to knit.” She tipped her head to the dining room where he noticed a wicker basket filled with yarn.

“Hated that, too, huh?”

“Hated it. But I’ve binge-watched all the shows people talk about. I’ve read probably a hundred books and⁠—”

“What kind?”

“Of books?” She smiled, letting him know she liked the question. “Oh, everything under the sun. And that’s another thing. I used to read all the time as a kid, but the busier my life got, the harder it was to concentrate. I can’t tell you how many times I’d pick up a book, but I was so distracted I couldn’t see the words on the page.” She shook her head. “I found success in my career but lost any sense of myself outside of it.”

He could relate. “Three months is a long time to live alone. You’re not bored yet?”

“I’ve been enjoying the solitude. And bored isn’t the right word. I’m restless. I’m itching to do something, but I haven’t defined what it is I want to be doing. Like…this next step feels important.”

“And you can’t go back out there until you’ve figured it out?

“When I think about going ‘home,’ I get this weird feeling. Like someone’s holding the back of my shirt. I think I have some more hibernating to do.”

Why did she put the word home in quotation marks? Did the people who betrayed her sabotage her career somehow? But as much as he wanted to wear his lawyer hat and figure it out, he also had to respect her request for privacy.

The toast popped up, and he handed her a knife. “If you go back, are you afraid you’ll get caught up in the same bullshit?”

She skipped the butter and slathered only the raspberry jam. “You know, I hadn’t thought about it like that. But yes, I think you’re right. As soon as I go back, I’ll be swept into my old life, and I’ll go back to being so busy I’ll forget everything I got out of my time here.”

“Unless you swerve. Stay in the same business but change lanes. But trust me, I get it. It’s hard to reinvent yourself when everyone sees you a certain way.” Are you giving yourself advice? Or her? He should be careful not to blur the lines.

“That’s so true.”

He scraped butter over his toast and then served the eggs. “Grab your bacon, and let’s sit by the fire.” Shoving napkin-wrapped cutlery into his back pocket, he took his plate to the hearth.

“Thank you.” She eyed her food like a child would a giant slab of cake. “This looks amazing.” After a big bite, she closed her eyes and chewed. “Oh, my God. I haven’t had real food in months. I can’t believe how good it is.”

“Everything tastes better when you’re starving.”

“Maybe, but I’ve never had better eggs. Learning to cook is already on my list, but now, it’s bumped up even higher.”

“What else is on this list?”

She set her fork down. “Besides reinventing my career? I need to figure out where I want to live and buy a new house. I mean, really, everything’s in play.”

Divorce. The husband took the house. Sounded like they were in business together, and he took that, too? Or she chose to walk away. But she didn’t want him to know, so he shut down the speculation. “That’s a lot. You know…” A lot of his clients faced a similar situation. “You might be trying to fix too many problems at once. It could be the reason you’re not ready to get back out there.”

“It does feel overwhelming.”

“Think of all the steps it took to get where you are today. Nothing happens overnight. So maybe, like you said, identify your goal first, then figure out the steps to get there. If you break it down into smaller steps, it might feel less daunting. Why not start with something fun like house hunting? Play around on the real estate sites. See if a state, a town, or a particular house grabs your interest. Don’t worry about a career change or learning how to cook just yet. If money’s not an issue, you can take one thing at a time.”

Her blue eyes sparkled. “I like that idea.”

“Also, another thing that helps is flipping the script. Instead of saying I’m overwhelmed, say I’m excited about my future. Because it’s your story to write. You can do or be anything you want.”

The yearning in her eyes revealed the depth of her struggle.

“I used to be an athlete,” he said. “And I can tell you the single biggest predictor of success is your mindset. Your ability to control your thoughts.”

“But when I’m freaking out, I can’t control them.”

“I know. It’s hard. But again, you break it down into steps. Start by identifying the anxiety. Then, tackle it to the ground. Because it isn’t based on reality. It’s based on fears, on a feeling of powerlessness. Right now, you’re anxious about which direction you want to take. That’s based on fear. When you rephrase it and say, ‘I’m excited about this new direction,’ you feel empowered. And that’s when you can start moving toward your goal.”

“I see that. I really do.”

“Think about a quarterback who’s got nine seconds left in the fourth quarter, is looking for a receiver who’s open, and has four men running at him, determined to knock him on his ass. If he panics, he’s going to find himself at the bottom of a pile. If he’s confident, if he’s looking only for an opportunity, he’s going to win.”

She nodded. “Failure is not an option.”

“That’s right. The only way he can win that game is to screen it all out, stay focused on his goal, and throw the ball exactly how he knows how to do it. And the same thing applies to us. We’re not going to have the success we want until we can control our thoughts.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“It’s a habit. It’s something you practice every day. It’s listening to the voice in your head, and then changing it. Try it.”

“Right now?”

He nodded. “Say it out loud, the thing you tell yourself while you’re brushing your teeth or tearing the cellophane off your gift basket.”

She laughed. “Good one. Okay, well, that’s easy. I have no idea what to do next. I can’t get back out there until I have a game plan.”

“Now, flip it.”

She squeezed her eyes closed, her forehead creased in concentration. “For the first time in my life, I can take the time to try new things and figure out who I am outside of my career. I’m excited about the possibilities.” When she opened her eyes, she had a grin of disbelief. “You know, it kind of worked. I felt this weird shift inside me, like a space opening.”

“It does work. Now, be conscious of it all the time. You control your thoughts. Don’t let your fears control you.”

“All right. I’ll try it.” Her smile faltered. “Well, wait. See, there, it happened again. That little sting of fear.”

“Okay, what’s the block?”

“I’ve only ever done one thing. What if I’m not good at anything else?”

“That’s a fear-loaded question. And it’s limiting you to one possible outcome. When you tell yourself you’re not good at anything else, you shut the door to your own potential. The truth is you can apply the skills that make you good in your field to any number of things. When you focus on the negative, you’re living in fear. And that paralyzes you.”

“It does. I see that.”

“So, ask yourself what else you might be good at. Think in terms of possibilities, of hope, instead of doom.”

“Oh, I love that so much. Where did you get this from?”

“It’s from all the sports therapists I’ve worked with.”

“What sport did you play?”

“Hockey. If you’re on the NHL track, sports therapists are part of the program. You have to get your head in the right place. It’s every bit as much a mind game as it is a physical one.”

“You said you used to be an athlete.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t love telling this story. “I got drafted in my senior year of high school.”

“Oh. That’s amazing. How long did you play?”

“Not a single day. The night before I was heading for training camp, I got an injury that took me out of my sport permanently.”

“Are you serious?” Her features squeezed in horror. “That’s awful.”

“Yeah. So, I’ve been where you are. I trained for one thing in my life. Nothing else. And when it fell apart, I had to reinvent myself.”

“What did you do?”

He smiled. “I swerved.”

“It couldn’t have been that easy.”

“No, it wasn’t. But I was determined.” For several reasons. One, he was built that way. But two, he wanted to prove something to his former friends. He was not going to fail. He wasn’t going to be some loser while they played in the NHL. As it turned out, Cole was one of the best forwards of all time, Declan coached the Renegades, and Jaime was their goalie. “I knew, with my training and experience, I could do a lot of things. I could be a sports therapist or a trainer.”

“Or a coach.”

“Exactly. I just had to figure out which path to take. And that developed over a lot of years.”

“See how the universe works? Of all the people whose cabins I could’ve broken into, it happened to be yours. I know it sucks for you that I’m crashing your getaway, but you’ve given me hope. You’re absolutely right. There are a million things in my industry I could do.”

She probably didn’t realize how transparent her emotions were, but her lack of enthusiasm told him what she thought of the other jobs. “You didn’t ask me if I like what I’m doing now. If I miss hockey and drown my sorrows in vodka every night after I get home from work.”

“Oh, I saw you in that sweater, Slick. You’re not drowning your sorrows in anything but the gym.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, okay. But the answer is that I like what I do. The skills I needed to become a good hockey player transferred into my career. The dedication and self-discipline, the thinking on my feet… And it turns out I’m happier with intellectual challenges than I am with physical. My point is to keep your mind open to possibilities, stay positive, and screen out other people’s expectations. Because at the end of the day, you’re the one who has to live your life, and you might as well do it happy and fulfilled.”

“If you’re not a therapist, it’s time for a career change.” She set her breakfast down and reached for him.

He shifted his plate away, wrapping his free arm around her. She buried her face in his neck and whispered, “Thank you for talking to me. I needed someone’s voice other than my own.”

A prickly heat spread through him. “You’re welcome.” This show of affection seemed unwarranted.

“Why do you smell so good?” She lifted her head, putting their noses a breath apart.

“I don’t. I haven’t showered in twenty-four hours.”

When she released him, her eyes were glistening.

“Look, I don’t know what those assholes did to you but don’t let them keep you from living the life you want. Here’s another thing we have in common. After my accident, my friends disappeared. We’d been together since kindergarten, and not one of them showed up at the hospital or called to find out how I was. In some ways, that was harder than losing my dream of playing hockey.”

“Are you serious? That’s disgusting.”

He nodded. “But I used that betrayal. Part of what drove me to excel was the need to show them up. And I did.”

They’d reached out over the years, but he hadn’t taken any of their calls. Fuck them for only making the effort when he was in a position to help them. Most recently, Jaime had the brass balls to show up at his apartment—right when he needed an agent.

He was glad he hadn’t been home that afternoon. Because he wouldn’t have been as nice as his mom had been. But enough about those assholes. He got up and brought his plate to the sink. At the window, he glanced out. “I’m going to split some more logs for the fire.”

“I was wondering when you were going to get around to it.” She came up behind him and set her empty plate on the counter. “You’ve only got enough to last the next three winters. Come on, Slacker. You need at least a year or two more.”

Her soft, feminine scent washed away any thoughts of his former friends and his concern about Marcus’s threat. It had him imagining peeling off her robe, hitching up the hem of her shirt, and gliding his hands up her warm belly, filling his palms with her tits. Were they small and pert or heavy and full?

Arousal got him half-hard, and he moved away from her. “I’ve got to work off some energy.” The blizzard was slowing down, and he was going out there. He’d shovel away this lust, even if it meant carving a path all the way into town.

He’d left his boots by the hearth, and on his way over to them, a thought struck him. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Why don’t you have a tree?”

“Thanks for thinking I can take down a mighty pine with my bare hands.” She flexed her biceps.

“You know I have an axe, right?”

“Even if I did, it’s not like I’d go out there and try to chop down a tree.”

“Nobody said you had to take down a ten-footer.”

“I’m just not in the mood.”

Well, moods changed. “Go on and check the water. Should be warming up by now. You can shower while I’m doing man-work.”

“You’re not going to cut down a tree, are you?” She got up, standing so close, he could smell the laundry detergent in her clothes. The faint scent of shampoo. She had a creamy complexion, and he wanted to see the flush of arousal pinken her cheeks.

He wanted to see her lips soften and part and her neck arch.

He wanted to know what sounds she’d make. Would she be loud, throaty? Demanding? Or would she whimper and sigh?

“If you’re really going to do this,” she said with a pleased grin. “Then, I’d better start making some decorations.”

“Sounds good.” He shoved his feet into the boots, and his hands into the still-damp gloves.

Damn, this woman intrigued him. She had a chef, she’d reached the pinnacle of success in her career…she didn’t know how to grate cheese. The puzzle was missing too many pieces for him to see a clear picture. Maybe she’d been an Olympic figure skater. To get to that level, her whole life had to be about training. Maybe she was an actress with a staff who managed her life.

It struck him just how narrow his world had become. He worked eighteen-hour days and rarely took vacation time. To be worthy of his commissions, he had to be available to his clients any time of the day or night. It was so all-consuming, he didn’t have time for social media or TV shows. And he wouldn’t recognize the latest pop or movie star if he fell over them.

As he headed for the back door, he realized something else he didn’t have time for. Friendships. Relationships. He hung out with his colleagues, but he didn’t think of them as friends. They joked around, bitched about difficult clients, and grabbed drinks every now and then. He didn’t date. He had hookups or went out with a woman as a plus-one to a wedding or an event.

He grabbed the axe from the utility closet and stepped outside. The realization hit him at the same time as the frigid air. Hellcat was the first woman he’d had an actual conversation with in a very long time. And he liked talking to her. Liked her.

Trudging through thigh-deep snow, her mischievous smile popped into his mind, setting off sparks under his skin.

The air froze in his nose and throat, but he kept going. He wanted to find the perfect tree for her…

What the hell?

He shook his head. Find the perfect tree? First of all, she didn’t even belong there. Secondly, he’d come there for a break. Not to be obsessing about some woman.

Well…too late for that. He was preoccupied with her. What the hell was it about her that caught his interest?

He’d been around enough women to understand his body’s reactions. With Hellcat… She did something to him. Made him feel soft things he’d never felt before.

Was this why people got married? Because they found one person who got under their skin?

Probably. But this situation wasn’t like that. After this, they’d never see each other again. Weirdly, though, he had the sense Hellcat was a game-changer kind of woman. That if he spent more time with her, if she lived in his world…

Just find a damn tree. The air was sharp and cold, the pine trees creaked, and the boughs hung dangerously low, weighted with a foot of snow.

The silence filled his ears like water, creating pressure. He’d never felt loneliness so acutely as in that moment. The animals were hiding in burrows and caves, his mom was somewhere on an island with the man she’d probably marry one day, and his colleagues were finishing up work so they could either meet for drinks or get home to their families.

The weird thing was, the whole reason he’d come there was to be alone. To get away so he could think.

But he knew the reason for this preoccupation. Of course, he did. It was the way he clicked with Hellcat. He hadn’t done that with anyone since his hockey friends.

The same guys who’d taught him that friendship was situational. Once you flew outside of each other’s orbit, you clipped the connection. Same’s true for Hellcat. Once he left, they’d forget all about each other. It’s situational.

A branch cracked, and snow came tumbling down. And that was when he found it. The perfect tree.

He pictured Hellcat’s expression when she saw it. How joy would spread across her features, how her eyes would light up. And there really wasn’t anything he wanted more than to do that for her.

It wasn’t lost on him that he was thinking about this stranger’s happiness when he could be sitting next to the fire with a cup of coffee, deciding on his next move.

But it was okay. He’d figured things out.

Situational, remember?

He wouldn’t get invested.

Chapter Seven

Was it weird that she felt safer with a total stranger in the cabin than she had before he’d shown up? Sure, finding a naked man in her bed was terrifying, but now that she’d gotten to know him, she felt way less vulnerable as a woman alone in a cabin in the forest.

Even weirder was he’d awakened a part of her she hadn’t known she’d neglected. Her sexual side. Thank you, Slick, for bringing that one to my attention. Since she’d only been with Landon, she’d assumed skinny-jean-wearing artsy guys were her type.

Wrong.

Holy moly.

She’d never reacted to any man the way she did Slick. With his big body and deep voice, his confidence and competence…he was just so masculine. Everything he did made her hot.

She could totally see the hockey player he once was in his muscular frame and commanding tone. He was grumpy and gruff and cursed like a sailor, but he looked out for her and didn’t make her feel stupid for not knowing how to make a pot of coffee or grate cheese.

And, yes, she knew it was ridiculous to be this successful and yet have so few skills. The irony was he thought she lived off processed foods, when in reality her private chef used only the finest ingredients and made her the most amazing coffee she’d ever had.

But he didn’t need to know the truth about her. She’d be leaving soon.

Her heart squeezed at the idea of walking away from him. Which was stupid. Obviously. She didn’t even know him. But she liked the way he made her feel. The excitement, the attraction… She could sit on that counter and watch him cook every meal for the rest of her life and never get bored. That cashmere sweater hugged his rounded biceps, tempting her every time they flexed. She wanted to run her hands across those broad shoulders and down his flat stomach.

And his ass in those jeans.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Now, she knew where the phrase “tight as a drum” came from. Yeesh, she was getting all stirred up just thinking about it.

But let’s be honest. It was so much more than physical attraction. She liked him. Plain and simple. She felt a connection to him that was equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

Terrifying because… She’d lost her ability to trust. And not just other people, but herself. An entire year of the people closest to her cheating right under her nose? Come on. How could she have missed the signs?

The people in her world wanted to touch fame and have access to her money, so they gave her what they thought she wanted. She and Landon and Cissy used to laugh about it all the time because it was obvious when people sucked up to her.

She’d thought they were the only people who loved her for herself. The only ones she could count on.

Turns out, they were the cruelest users of all.

An image dropped into her mind of Cissy coming down the stairs with a big, pregnant belly.

The punch to her gut had her doubling over.

After staying with her dad, brother, and nephew for a little while, she’d gone into town for ice cream. The server had recognized her and spread the word to his friends. Since she didn’t want the paparazzi to infiltrate her family’s beautiful life, she’d gone home to Nashville. But she’d found Landon and Cissy had been living there. When she’d tried to kick them out, he’d said he’d talked to a lawyer who’d suggested they had a common law marriage, so he was entitled to half her net worth—including the house.

But that threat didn’t compare to hearing the creak on the stairs and watching Cissy come down them with her pregnant belly.

Her ex and her former best friend were having a baby.

It was devastating. Within seconds of finding out, she’d texted her manager for the address to this cabin. And she’d run.

She didn’t remember a single moment of the journey, but when she didn’t find a lock box, she’d become frantic to get in. Almost as if a horde of villagers had been chasing her.

She had to seek shelter because she knew the moment she left the cabin and reentered the real world, she’d see pictures of the happy family. Landon holding his baby. The vision hit like a rock to her spine, the pain shooting through her entire body.

But hiding didn’t change the reality. They had a baby. They were a family.

She’d meant nothing to them.

She wasn’t sure how to get over that, but what else could she do but take it one day at a time?

When she heard a commotion outside, she hurried over to the back door, opening it to see the top of a Douglas fir. “Oh, yay. You got it.” She stepped aside to give him room.

He brought it straight through to the living room. “Where do you want it?”

She clapped her hands over her mouth. “It’s magnificent.” The scent of pine filled the cabin. “And it smells so good. But how will it stand?”

“I made a base for it.” With the toe of his boot, he tapped the planks of wood he’d nailed to the bottom. “It won’t last long since it doesn’t have water, but maybe I can figure something out.”

He was just standing there, waiting for her answer, so she hurried to the corner of the room and unplugged the Tiffany lamp. “Let’s put it here. That way, we can see it right when we come out of the bedroom.”

He looked at her strangely.

“What?” What had she said? She realized a moment too late she’d made it sound like they were living together, like boyfriend and girlfriend. She sounded delusional. He probably thought he’d wake up to her wearing an apron and smeared lipstick, her eyes wide, and a kitchen knife behind her back. Oh, God.

Mortified, she focused on the clumps of snow that had fallen off the branches and landed on the floor, melting into little pools. “I’ll get a towel.” She rushed out of the room. “You need anything?”

“I’ll take a dark roast if you have it. Thanks.”

Oh, shoot. He hadn’t taught her how to use the French press yet. “But you don’t like my pods.”

“As long as it’s hot, my frozen fingers will like them just fine.”

“I have some hot chocolate ones. Would you rather have that?”

“Coffee.”

“Okey-dokey.” Fortunately, he wasn’t being weird about it, so she could just let it go.

He knows what I meant.

And he chopped down a tree for me. She’d resigned herself to missing her very first Christmas, but Slick had delivered it to her. How incredibly thoughtful and kind.

Make the coffee. She sorted through the basket, setting aside her favorite, Mocha Creamy Caramel. All these flavors would make him cringe. “How about Jelly Donut?” she called, just to see his expression. “Doesn’t that sound good?”

“I didn’t buy any donuts.”

“No, I meant coffee. It’s really good.” She bit back her laughter.

“If you don’t have dark roast, I’ll pass.”

“Are you sure? Because Macaron Dream’s delicious, too.”

He recoiled as if he’d just touched squirrel poop.

She was grinning so hard it hurt. “Oh, wait. I’ve got one you’re going to love. Caramel Vanilla Delight.” She grabbed the pod and waved it at him.

As he sat on the hearth untying his boots, he gave her a slight shake of his head. “No. Thank you.”

“I’ve never heard a thank you sound that painful. Like you’re having your wisdom teeth extracted.” She finally released her laughter. “I’m kidding, Slick. Hang on.” At the bottom of the basket, she found several labeled Deep Roast. That’s close enough. She popped the pod into the machine and hit the switch. “No cream or sugar, right?” she called.

“Nope.”

While it gurgled, she faced him. “I didn’t mean it like that, you know. I know this is awful for you, and I don’t think for one second we’re playing house and having a merry Christmas together.”

He pulled off his boots and set them by the fire. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“When I said we can see the tree when we come out of the bedroom, I didn’t mean it like we’re a couple.”

“I wasn’t thinking anything like that.”

“You made a funny face, so I know you were thinking something.”

He looked her right in the eyes. “I was thinking about what happens in the bedroom before a couple comes out of it.”

“Oh.” Heat rushed up her neck. “Right.” There was no mistaking his darkly sensual look, and it sent a hot burst of desire spiraling through her.

But I’m not his type. He’d said that last night.

“Coffee’s ready.” He tipped his head toward the counter as he peeled off his socks.

She pulled down another mug for herself and dropped her caramel pod into the machine. This man confused her, aroused her, and thrilled her. Yet if she’d met him outside this cabin, would she have even given him the time of day?

He was assertive, blunt, and unapologetically himself. And she liked it because he knew his own mind. His powerful presence made her feel safe. Like if they were on a sinking boat, she could cling to him because he’d be the one to survive.

And boy, did she need that. Not the saving. Just the clinging part. She lowered her head as a wave of emotion crashed over her. She wanted to step into his arms, be enveloped in his strength, and have him whisper, You got this.

But he was a stranger who didn’t want her in his cabin. He’d come here for some time alone. Not to babysit or offer therapy to a pop singer who’d lost her identity.

“You okay?” he asked in that deep, rumbly voice.

“Yeah, of course.” She forced a smile.

“One thing about me. I don’t like bullshit.” He washed his hands in the sink and then dried them on a dishtowel. “I’m not that guy who gets upset when women cry. I’m not put off by shows of emotion. So, if you’re having a hard time, you can tell me about it. I won’t freak out.” He reached around her for the coffee, cupped both hands around the mug, and took a swig. Lifting it, he grimaced. “Thanks.”

She laughed. “You hate it.”

“It’s not as strong as I like my coffee, but that doesn’t matter. It’s hot. Now, come on.” He pulled scissors from a drawer. “You can tell me what’s on your mind while we make some decorations.”

She watched him grab a few bags of popcorn from a cabinet, peel off the plastic, and drop one into the microwave. “Garlands?”

“Yep.” He pulled fishing line from a cabinet in the laundry room.

“Hang on. I’ve got something fun for them.” She grabbed the bags of pastel-colored marshmallows that had come in a basket. On her way to the fireplace, she looked around the room to see what other supplies they might have. Her gaze landed on the stack of boxes. “How about you handle the garlands, and I’ll make some paper snowflakes?”

“Sounds good.” He grabbed some kindling, and in a matter of seconds, had fastened fishing line around the sticks to create a star. He held it up. “The tree topper.”

She broke into a smile. “I love it.” As she headed to the table, the microwave beeped. She pulled out one bag and threw in another. “How many do you think we’ll need?”

“I don’t know. Five? Six?” He settled the ornament on top of the tree.

After she got the microwave going, she grabbed paper from his printer and scissors from the knife block and sat at the dining room table. She folded the paper diagonally to form a triangle. After a few more folds, she trimmed the pointed end and then began snipping patterns.

Between the scents of popcorn and pine, the muted sounds of a snowstorm, and the snapping logs in the fireplace, a contentedness spread through her.

This.

I want a life like this.

Simple, quiet. Meaningful. Not the big showy Christmases she’d had with her mom where the intention had been to wow the guests with catering staff and extravagant décor.

“Those look great.” Carrying the fishing line over, he joined her at the table.

“Thanks. This is fun.” She reached for a new sheet of paper. “Hm. Let’s see. You negotiate well, you don’t take crap, you don’t make fun of my faults and weaknesses, and you do crafts.” She pointed the scissors at him. “You’re a kindergarten teacher.”

“Can’t stand kids, so that’s a hard no.” Before he sat down, he dumped two bags of popcorn into a bowl and set the next one in the microwave.

“What? How can you not like kids? What’s not to like?”

“Probably only child syndrome. I didn’t grow up with siblings, so didn’t develop a tolerance for them. But also, I’ve dealt with enough of my clients’ kids to know I’m not having any. Now, come on. What were you thinking as you looked out the window and saw a mountain of snow?”

“Just that, if we were on a sinking boat, I wouldn’t know how to save us.”

He looked up from stringing popcorn. “Are there life jackets?”

“I don’t know. How would I know that?”

“You’d find out as soon as you boarded. If they didn’t tell you, you’d ask where they keep them. They’re either on the bow side, the starboard side behind the console, or under the gunwale caps in the hull. But don’t worry. You’d have time to find them. And even if it does capsize, it might still float.”

“See, you know all that. I don’t.” She snipped off the tip of her folded paper. “I’m really good at my job. I know what I’m doing, and I feel—well, I felt—confident. But take me out of that world, and I’m useless.”

“Isn’t that true for all of us? But also, from what I’ve heard, you’ve used it as an opportunity to learn shit. Just this morning, you learned how to make a fire.”

“And grate cheese.”

“See that? Think of all the things you’ve learned these past few months.” He flashed her a grin before he got up to put another bag of popcorn in. When he came back to the table, he tore open the bag and added it to the bowl. Once settled, he took a sip of his coffee and scowled. “I’m not drinking this shit. I’ve got some good beans in the car.” He got up and headed for the door. “I’m going to bring in some more groceries.”

Before he could step outside, she called, “Do you need help?”

“No, you keep working. I’ll be right back.”

As soon as the door snicked shut, she broke into a smile. A warmth from deep within spread and flickered. There was something about this man that just…worked for her. She couldn’t explain it.

How could she feel so comfortable, so at ease, with a man she’d known less than twenty-four hours? She didn’t know, but somehow, he offered her hope. Being with the same man for a decade—there was nothing new. Nothing to be discovered.

With Slick, she was uncovering new sides of herself, new feelings. And she loved it because it meant the same held true for her creative side.

There’s more for me than being a singer/songwriter who tours the world.

Been there done that.

Now, for the first time, she felt excited about her future. Being with Slick had cracked her open, making her see she had a whole treasure chest of possibilities inside her.

She was so happy to hear his footsteps crunching in the snow, she dropped the scissors and ran to the door. The moment she opened it, a blast of Arctic air hit her square in the face, but she didn’t care. He stood there, tall, strong, powerful, his arms loaded with bags.

“Here.” She reached for them, but he pushed past her and entered the cabin.

“I got it.” He stomped his boots in the entryway, dragged the soles on the coarse mat, and then headed into the kitchen where he dumped the bags on the floor.

She peered into them. “Did you leave any food on the shelves?”

“There wasn’t much to begin with. People hear about storms, and they stock up. I grabbed whatever shit I could find.”

She pulled out a wheel of Brie. “You got some good shit.”

He grinned. “I like food.”

What do I even like? Until this past summer at the music festival when she’d treated herself to the Singing Baker’s luscious pastries, she hadn’t paid attention. In the cabin, she’d indulged her secret fantasy of gift baskets.

She’d given loads of them throughout her career—to people around the globe who helped make her tours go smoothly—and she’d always wanted to know what those breadsticks and cookies tasted like.

Turns out…meh. They sure didn’t compare to Slick’s scrambled eggs.

“You’re doing it again.” His voice cut through her thoughts.

“Doing what?”

“You get this crease.” He rubbed a finger between her eyebrows. “Right here. You’re overthinking again.”

“Hey, I’ve been alone for three months.” Her breath came out all soft and breathy. Which was weird. She didn’t get all flustered around men. But this man…with his blond hair and green eyes…this man stole the air right out of her lungs. “You don’t want me overthinking, then don’t leave me alone with my thoughts. Keep me busy.”

“All right. You put the groceries away while I make the coffee.” He strode out to the dining room table and grabbed his mug, dumping the dark liquid into the sink. “You’re going to see the difference in about ten minutes. Grinding your own beans releases the oils. Hands down, it tastes better.”

“I believe you.” Her chef used to make it for her every day. “So, who taught you how to cook?”

“My dad was a foodie, so we ate well. Whenever we traveled, he’d look up the good places to eat. And I don’t mean Michelin-starred restaurants. I mean food trucks and little holes-in-the-wall.” He stopped and rubbed her forehead again. “What did I say?”

She liked that he read her so easily. It meant he paid attention. He cared. “No, it’s nothing. It’s just that I’ve traveled a lot.” Around the world, in fact. “But I was always watching my weight or rushing somewhere.” Mostly, they’d had meals delivered to the tour bus or they ate room service. “I missed a lot of opportunities to try some interesting food.” She could do that now. Instead of holing up in a cabin in the woods, she could travel. She’d research museums and restaurants and all the things that made towns and cities unique. “You learned to love food from him, but what about actually cooking? Those seem like two different things.”

“My dad cared about every bite of food that went into his mouth.” He got this look, like he’d slipped away, lost in a sweet memory. “He wouldn’t buy me store-bought cookies. We’d make them together.”

“So, maybe it was less about cooking than spending time with his son.”

He stilled. Lowering his wrists to the counter, he gazed out the window at the snowy landscape. “You’re probably right about that. Even as a little kid, I’d stand on a chair and dump the chocolate chips into the mixing bowl. I’d beat the eggs and shred the cheese for my dad.” His jaw slammed shut, and he swallowed. His gaze cut away.

He kept talking about his dad in the past tense, and that broke her heart. She turned to him. Cupping his cheek, she brushed her thumb over it, as if she could soothe away the painful emotion. “Sounds like he was a wonderful dad.”

“Yeah.” He twisted away from her and pulled down two clean mugs from the cabinet. “He was.” Finally, he looked at her. “Sugar? Milk?”

“Yes, but I got it.” She grabbed the milk from the fridge. “Can I ask what happened to him?”

He pushed the handle down slowly, smashing the ground beans to the bottom and leaving the liquid isolated above. “He died.”

“I’m so sorry. You were obviously close.”

“Yeah.” He lowered his chin. “I miss him. He was a good guy. He taught me to be a good man.”

“Oh, believe me, I can see that. Last night, you could have easily made me sleep on the couch.”

“Hypothermia, remember?”

“Listen, Slick, you were so exhausted, you could’ve fallen asleep and not given me a second thought. But you didn’t do that. You stayed awake until you knew I felt comfortable with you.” She gestured to the living room. “For goodness’ sake, I’m squatting in your home, and you got me a Christmas tree. So, when you miss him, just remember he’s still inside you. You’re the man he wanted you to be.”

“That’s…” Stepping back, he lowered his head between his arms. “Fuck. That’s really nice to hear.”

“I’ll bet he’s the reason you’re so competent. Was he the kind of dad who knew what to do in a crisis? Was he the handyman in the house? Dripping faucet… Dad? Spider on the wall. Dad!”

He grinned. “Yeah, he was.”

“See, you’ve got that part of him, too.”

For a moment, he seemed lost in thought. Then he said, “Growing up, I had a friend who came from extreme wealth. He had nannies and chefs and drivers and pilots. A whole staff.”

Heat rushed up her neck, and she dropped her gaze. That’s me. He’s describing me.

But his tone held no judgment. “So, one day—I must’ve been thirteen? Fourteen? Something like that—my dad told me I couldn’t go out with my friends until I folded the laundry, and I got pissy with him. I asked why we didn’t hire someone to do our chores like Cole’s dad did. And my dad—he never got ruffled. He just spoke his truth quietly and firmly. Anyhow, he told me that while we could afford a housekeeper, he never wanted to lose touch with his own life. He wanted to make his own meals and water his own plants.”

“But if he’d hired someone to do those things, he’d have had more time to be with his family or pursue a hobby.”

He broke into a shy grin. “I played hockey, remember? I was my dad’s hobby. But I get what you’re saying. He just believed the reason society was spiraling out of control—conglomerates, bad politicians, crime, entitled attitudes—was because we kept moving further from the things that matter.”

“Explain.” Because he was talking about her. She’d thought the only thing that mattered was her success. How many people downloaded her song. Whether she won the Grammy. How many people bought tickets for a show. So, chores like cleaning a toilet? Grating cheese? Who cared whether she hired someone to do it or bought a bag of shredded cheddar at the grocery store?

Her mom had trained her to believe someone else did the trivial stuff so that she could concentrate on what mattered: Success. Money.

“Okay.” He made a fist. “This is the core of your life. Fucking, eating, bathing, interacting with friends and family. If you’re doing that, you’re tethered to your essential humanity. The further away from that you get…” He made circles around the fist with his other hand, slowly moving out. “The more you’re focused on money, fame, success, fancy cars, houses, jewelry, the less tied in you are to your values and morals. You start to care less about being a good person, spouse, parent, and employee. You lose sight of the whole reason we’re put on this earth together.”

“That’s powerful.”

“You can’t really lose your essential humanity when you’re washing dishes and getting stains out of your pants. If you think you’re too good to clean a toilet, then you obviously believe the person you hire to do is somehow beneath you. And that’s just not true. If you strip it all away, we’re all human beings who fuck, eat, bathe, and create relationships with friends and family.”

“I’m the person your dad was talking about.” She made a fist. “I didn’t have any of this. The only thing I cared about was my success.” Awareness struck like a flash of light. “And that’s how the people closest to me could betray me. I’d completely lost touch with the core of my life.”

“Well, I think it’s more that it explains how they could betray you. They lost their core. Or they were just born rotten. But anyhow, to answer your original question, I cook because it’s something my dad and I did together but also, because I want to stay grounded and attached to the things that matter.”

And yet, he wasn’t with his mom for Christmas, and he didn’t have a girlfriend or wife. “Well, as someone who’s very much not in touch with her own life, I can promise you, I’ll take your dad’s advice to heart.” She touched him again, though she needed to stop doing that. “Your dad sounds like he was a good man.”

He had an almost panicked expression. “Except, he wasn’t really my father.”

Chapter Eight

The words flew out of Slick’s mouth. His eyes went wide, and he dropped his gaze to the floor.

Whoa. She gave him a minute before saying, “I’m not sure I understand.”

He shook his head. “I’ve never told anyone. Well, except George.”

“George?”

“My colleague.” He waved a hand dismissively. “After my dad died, I had to handle some affairs for my mom. And while I was digging through paperwork, I found adoption papers. They were never filed, so I asked my mom about it. She said she met my dad when she was pregnant.”

“And they never told you?” That was wild.

“My dad treated me like his own from the start, so they never saw a reason to.” He poured the coffee into the mugs.

“What about the adoption papers?”

“They never saw a reason to file those, either. She said I was his son, and that was all that mattered.”

“Wow. That must’ve rocked your world.”

“Yeah, it did. My relationship with my mom hasn’t been the same since.” His shoulders sagged. “I guess that’s on me.”

It was obvious he carried a lot of guilt about that. “When did this happen?”

“A couple years ago.”

“Well… that’s big news.” She poured her milk and two teaspoons of sugar into her mug and stirred. “I don’t know how anyone would process that.”

Should she tell him about her similar experience? That she’d lived a lie most of her life thanks to her mom, her boyfriend, and her best friend? It sliced through her again, and she had to wonder if it would ever stop. Would it always feel like ripping off scabs?

But no, the more she told him, the easier it would be for him to put the pieces together, and she couldn’t have that. “If you hadn’t found those papers, do you think she ever would’ve told you?”

“No. In her mind, we were a family. She said they didn’t want to tell me something that would make me question my identity.”

“But your identity is in question. I mean, no shade on your mom, I get where she’s coming from, but you’re a grown man. You have a right to know the truth.” Calm down. Her getting worked up over it certainly didn’t help him.

“That’s exactly my point. But she said, ‘When should we have told you? At ten? Twenty? When you graduated from college? When was the right time to say this to you?’”

“And the answer is before I sorted through documents and found adoption papers.” She needed to stop. It was none of her business. “I’m sorry. She’s your mom. It’s your relationship, and I need to stop⁠—”

“Don’t.” The word shot out of his mouth like a dart. “Other than George, I haven’t talked about this with anyone, so it’s good to hear someone else’s perspective.”

She nodded. “Well, obviously I get pretty worked up over any kind of deception. She could’ve kept it a secret, and you might never have found out, and that would’ve been fantastic for her. But the thing is, what is a relationship without honesty? I’m sorry, but it isn’t real if there isn’t transparency. And out of respect for you, they should’ve sat you down when they felt you were old enough to understand and told you the truth.”

“I agree.”

“I mean, if only to hear your dad’s answers. It’s not the same to hear it from your mom, who might be trying to make you feel better. Her words don’t matter nearly as much as his. She took that from you.”

His lips pulled into a taut line, and the muscle in his jaw popped. Leaving his mug on the counter, he headed toward the back door, jammed his feet into running shoes and his arms into a fleece jacket, and slipped outside.

Leaving her sick to her stomach.

Had she just told a total stranger that his mother screwed him over? That the father he lost had treated him with disrespect?

What is wrong with you? Projecting her issues onto him wasn’t fair. It was a sensitive subject for him. She shouldn’t have been so aggressive.

I’m a self-involved idiot. And the longer she stayed in isolation, wallowing in self-pity, languishing in her identity crisis, the worse it would get.

Dammit. What had she done?

* * *

Fuck, it was cold. But he needed it. Needed the wake-up call.

It was the nature of his job to be on-call twenty-four seven, but a consequence of that was ignoring his personal life.

Instead of acknowledging his anger, he’d avoided his mom.

He didn’t want to deal with the fact that his dad wasn’t his biological father. It wasn’t just a ripple in the fabric of his life. It tore it apart at the seams.

It changed his entire reality.

As he stared out at the snow-covered forest, he shoved his freezing hands into his pockets. But he wasn’t seeing sunlight glistening on snow.

He was seeing his dad’s expression when he scored his first goal as a six-year-old. Where the other parents shouted, pumping their fists, his dad had remained quiet, his whole being radiating pride.

He remembered it vividly, his shock at getting the puck in the net. The way he’d immediately swung his gaze to the stands, seeking out his dad. The patient, encouraging man who’d taught him to skate.

He saw him parking along the Snake River, getting out of the car, and making his way down the hill to the boulders where Booker and his friends sat with the police after one of the guys had fallen through the ice and nearly died of hypothermia. The other parents were angry, yelling, flipping out. But Booker’s dad moved quietly through the chaos, grabbed him, and hugged him so hard, he could hardly breathe.

“I’m going to guess you knew a river wouldn’t freeze,” he’d said in Booker’s ear. “Make your own damn decisions.”

And his dad’s ravaged expression when Booker had awakened in the hospital after the injury that ended his NHL career before it’d even begun. His dad slept in a chair, never leaving his side. Not even to get a coffee.

A hand touched his back. “Come back in. It’s too cold out here.”

Ripped out of his memories, he hadn’t fully landed back in the now. So, head down, he skirted around her and went inside. The generator was working, warming the cabin up. He went back to the counter, but his coffee had cooled.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

And that brought him fully back. “No, don’t be. You’re right.”

“Even if I was right, I had no business attacking your parents.” She gave a helpless shrug. “I guess I’ve been alone too long and forgot how to interact with humans.”

“Not at all.” He drank the coffee anyway, and it was fine. Warm enough. “Every time I see my mom’s name pop up on my phone, I ignore it. I tell myself I’m in the middle of something. Or when she asks me to come home for Christmas, I tell her I can’t. That I’m working on a deal.” He shook his head. “But honestly, I haven’t dealt with the fact that my childhood was a lie. And it’s been easy to put all the blame on her because my dad’s gone. How can you be angry at a dead man?”

Okay, that was some heavy shit.

But it was good. It was a relief to get that out in the open.

Hellcat opened the microwave and pulled out the last bag of popcorn, ripping it open and adding it to the bowl. It mounded the top, a few pieces dropping to the floor. She looked like she was busy, like she wasn’t paying attention, but he was starting to figure her out. She was giving him space to talk.

Other than George, he didn’t open up to anybody. With his clients, he was the advisor, the counselor, the bondsman, the valet, the lawyer.

He surrounded himself with people who needed him but didn’t care enough to ask him personal questions. Because he wouldn’t risk it again, getting close to people and finding out he was more invested than they were.

Self-fulfilling prophecy? Probably. But it was better than going through the hurt all over again, finding out his friends didn’t give a shit about him.

Getting close to people required deep conversations.

And he didn’t want that.

Because I never want to think about the fact that the man I admired and loved lied to me.

That my childhood, my family, was fake.

But Hellcat brought it up, and now it was there, lying exposed out in the open. And now, he had no choice but to face it.

“You’re right.” The jagged-edged words scraped his throat.

She was crouched on the floor, picking up popcorn, and she got up slowly, as if any sudden movement might shut him up.

“Truth is, I’m stuck in that moment.” He leaned his back against the counter and held onto the cold tile. “When I found the papers and confronted her. When I found out the truth.” He could remember vividly that sensation of losing his footing on the slippery fiberglass edge of a boat. And he’d been shutting his mom out ever since. “I’m avoiding her because I don’t want to hear what she has to say.”

“She’s your mom. You know she loves you.”

“And she’ll do anything to protect my feelings. I need to hear it from my dad. He wouldn’t sugarcoat anything. If I could look into his eyes, I’d see the truth.”

He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with a stranger. Maybe because he’d never see her again. But more likely because he trusted her. Which didn’t seem logical, but still.

Hellcat…she seemed real. Maybe with his friends he was naïve and not paying attention to the signs of true friendship, but he was hyperaware now. And this woman cared.

“You did.” She said it softly but firmly. “You looked right into his eyes, and you saw his pride and his love. The reason you were blindsided is because he did love you like his own son. If he didn’t, I guarantee you would’ve felt it. Maybe you couldn’t have put your finger on exactly what was wrong, but your gut would’ve told you something was off.”

His heart raced, and his skin prickled at the memory.

I love you. His dad said it to him all the time. I’m so damn proud of my boy.

He blinked away the sting of tears. Not once in his life had he doubted his parents’ love or the closeness of his family.

“What did your mom say?” She came closer to him. “How did she explain it?”

“She said they came from a small town in Upstate New York where everyone knew each other, and she didn’t want me to grow up with a stigma around me. They didn’t want it to come out in conversation somewhere or for some kid at school to say something. So, they moved to a small town in Wyoming where no one knew them.”

“Well, from everything you say, your dad was a good man. If he chose not to tell you, it’s not because he wanted to deceive you. He had to truly believe you were his son. And your mom…I can only guess she was worried it would change your relationship if you knew. That you’d see him differently. Maybe they just wanted you to feel down to your bones that you were his son.”

“And I did.” He didn’t even know the weight he’d carried all this time until her words lifted it. He wanted to reach for her hand and tug her up against him. He wanted to plant his mouth over hers and kiss her. Desire burst hot and fiery at the base of his spine, and he grabbed the bowl of popcorn. “Let’s get busy. This tree’s not going to decorate itself.”

They settled back at the table, him threading the fishing line through the popped kernels while she used the tip of the scissors to jab holes in her snowflakes.

“Okay,” she said. “Rapid fire questions: favorite TV show. Go.”

“I don’t watch TV.”

“That’s not how you play this game.” She rolled her eyes. “And, seriously, in your entire lifetime, you’ve never watched television?”

“Honestly, no. I’ve either been hanging out with my friends, playing hockey, studying, or building my career. But you can tell me yours.”

“The first two seasons of Ted Lasso, but it doesn’t matter if you don’t watch TV. Okay, favorite pet?”

“I never had one.”

“What? With your idyllic childhood? I pictured a dog, a cat, a picket fence, and family dinner at six o’clock.”

“You’re close. I had the picket fence, and wherever I was, no matter what I was doing, I had to come home for dinner. Then I could go out again.”

“That’s sweet. Why no pets?”

“Because of hockey. I could only get one if I took care of it, and I played hockey, so it wasn’t possible.”

“But you wanted one?”

“Sure, I did. In fact, I had this idea in my head of my buddies and I living on the same street. We’d have babies at the same time, so they could grow up together and be as close as we were. We’d have barbecues and picket fences and dogs. I pictured us standing together at the rink watching our kids skate.”

“You’re trying to break my heart, aren’t you? What happened? How did friends so close wind up so far apart?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Huh.” She looked out the window. “If only we had the time.”

“I told you. I got injured, and I never heard from them again.”

“If only there was a way to tell the story with more words…”

“Yeah, yeah.” He’d told her about his dad. Might as well tell her about his friends. “It was the summer after we graduated from high school, the night before I was supposed to leave for training camp. One of my friends got some bad news. He was supposed to play hockey in Canada, but his parents told him they had to sell the ranch that had been in the family for generations. So, he texted, asking us all to come over. He wanted one last night together before we all went in separate directions.” The memory of his accident rustled up the familiar panic, and he swiped it away.

I’m good. I’m safe.

It was tucked far away in the past.

Except it wasn’t. Not really. Because every time he opened the door, the memories came spilling out, as containable as water.

Cole pulling out the keys to his dad’s Piper Cub. The excited look in Jaime’s eyes—it’s on.

The dread churning in his gut as they flew to the top of the cliff, armed with a case of cold beer.

Sitting around the bonfire, watching Jaime get that wild-eyed look before shouting that he was going to BASE jump. Cole joining him.

“You don’t have to do it,” Declan said quietly.

Three of them putting on their gear. Jaime tossing a parachute into his lap.

Three of them standing on the ledge. Him screaming internally. Don’t do it. Stop.

Jaime turning back around. “Suit up, man. Come on. One last time.”

That helpless feeling as he got ready. He couldn’t stop them, and he sure as hell didn’t want to join them.

As it all unfolded in his mind’s eye, his gut twisted and squeezed.

Because they did it. Three of them jumped. And for thirty seconds, Booker was alone up there. He scrambled to think of another way down. But there was no other way.

So, he stopped thinking and jumped.

That jerk of his parachute, the familiar glide, the rush of cool air in his T-shirt and shorts.

And then, the violent twist of wind. The ground hurtling at him way too fast.

He’d done it plenty of times before. He knew. He absolutely knew what was about to happen.

The crash. His legs crumpling. The searing, ungodly pain.

“Hey.” A warm hand landed on his thigh. “Are you okay?”

“Of course. Fine.”

“No, you’re not.” She cupped his cheeks and made him look at her. “You look like you were watching a horror movie.” Her fingers scraped through his hair.

“We went BASE jumping.”

“The night before you were going to start playing professional hockey, you jumped off a cliff with no parachute?”

“No, there’s a chute. And we knew what we were doing. It wasn’t our first time.” He cleared his throat. “They all had good landings.”

“But you didn’t.” She placed a hand on her chest.

He stared at it, thinking of how many times he’d pushed her away. She was a touchy-feely woman, and he made her feel like he didn’t welcome it. It was just the opposite. He found comfort in her touch. He needed to stop pushing her away.

“I didn’t. About ten seconds before I landed, I hit turbulence. Landed pretty hard. One of the guys raced home and got his truck. They loaded me in it and dropped me at the ER.” He took a moment. Because saying it out loud would sound so bad. “And that was the last time I ever saw them.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Her disbelief held a note of outrage.

He liked that she was offended on his behalf. “Wait, I take that back. I have seen them once. Last year, our coach died, and we saw each other at the funeral. After, we met for a barbecue.” He’d wanted to show them he hadn’t been affected by their abandonment. “But it was bullshit, so I left. My time’s important, and I’m not giving it to them.”

“I mean, were they total, callous assholes? If so, good riddance.”

“No. Remember, the guy who texted us that night quit hockey to stay home to help his family out.”

“Okay, so how could they blow you off like that?”

“I’ll never know why they didn’t bother to check on me in the hospital, but after that? My parents moved us back to New York pretty quickly. They didn’t even put the house on the market before they packed up and left.”

“Can I ask what happened to you?”

“A lot of broken bones. Everything would’ve healed just fine, but it was the calcaneus that ended my shot at hockey.”

“The what?”

“It’s the heel bone. It’s serious because it not only gives you support as you walk, but it connects your calf muscles to your foot. That’s how you push off to take a step forward.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Yeah. I had physical therapy for a while, but you never get back your normal foot and ankle motion. I’m fine. I can play sports and work out, but I’ll never have the flexibility or range of motion to play professional sports.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Nah. It was my fault.” He smiled because it was true. He didn’t blame his friends for it. “I didn’t follow my instincts. If I had, I never would’ve left home that night. In any event, I went from the hospital to our new place in New York. That’s how quickly we moved.”

“They wanted to get you the best healthcare?”

“No, they wanted to get me away from my friends. My mom always hated the wild shit we did. But my dad would remind her where we lived. That extreme sports were the draw to living in a mountain town like Calamity.”

“Until that night.”

“Exactly. After that, he happily got us out of there. But anyhow, like I said, never heard from any of them again.” He shrugged “Out of sight, out of mind.”

“Are you sure that’s why? I could see it happening with one guy, but not all of them. You know what I mean? What are the odds all of them were self-involved assholes?”

Declan wasn’t. Cole was a cocky son of a bitch, but he wasn’t selfish. “I didn’t think they were. But...” There you have it.

“Something’s off there. The guy who gave up hockey to help save the family ranch? That doesn’t sound like a guy who’d bail on his good friend. Did you ever ask them about it?”

“I asked my mom about it once, thinking maybe the hospital sent them away. She just said, ‘I guess they moved on. Out of sight, out of mind.’ So, I never brought it up again.”

“I mean, speaking as a total outsider, something’s fishy about that story. If it still bugs you, you should look into it.”

“Maybe.”

A log snapped, and sparks flew out. Finished with the garland, he stood up. “Let’s get this on the tree.”

They brought their supplies to the hearth, and together, they started from the top and wound the long strand of popcorn all the way around. When they ran out of length, they stood back to take it in. It didn’t reach the bottom.

“I can make more,” he said.

“No, we have cats.”

“Cats?” What was she talking about?

“Yeah, let’s pretend we have to leave the bottom bare, so the cats don’t eat the popcorn.”

He laughed. “Fuckin’ cats.” Whatever she wanted. It was her tree, after all. He’d be leaving the moment he could get out.

A pang of disappointment struck his chest. He didn’t want to leave her. He liked this woman, and that wasn’t something he’d experienced in a very long time.

Like what exactly?

You don’t even know her.

“Okay, now, let’s hang my gorgeous snowflakes.” She dangled a bunch of them off a finger.

As they worked together, he said, “Okay, your turn. Favorite pet?”

“Guess what? I’ve never had one either.” She sounded sad about that. “Seems like we have a lot in common.”

“What would you want if you could have one?”

“I don’t know. Unlike you, I didn’t have a picket fence life, so I didn’t grow up around people who had pet hamsters or cats or…bearded dragons.”

“Did you want a picket fence life?”

She got up on her toes to reach a high branch. “Deeply. Painfully. But it was probably because I didn’t have play dates and proms and stuff like that, so the thing I was shut off from became a big deal to me. Now, you…I’ll bet you were Homecoming King.”

A picture formed of him and the guys in a party bus, their dates shrieking with laughter as they worked the poles. There was a before and an after. And as good as his life was now, he couldn’t ignore the longing for the time when his happiness was embedded in knowing he had the rock-solid foundation of his best friends.

“Come on. You can tell me.” She kept tossing the string, hoping it would catch.

He came up behind her, taking the ornament from her and hanging it where she wanted. Into her ear, he said, “No, I wasn’t.” He was close enough that he got to watch goosebumps pop up on her arms. For a moment, they both stilled. He breathed in her sweet, feminine scent and let the heat from her body sink under his skin.

“No?” Her voice sounded breathy, almost shaky.

But this flirtation wasn’t going anywhere, and he was stirring up trouble, so he stepped back. “One of the guys in our group, he was the popular kid in school. He was friends with everyone. The rest of us pretty much just hung out with each other.” He watched her for a moment as she set an ornament on a branch and then leaned back to make sure she liked the placement.

She took it off and set it somewhere else. He was about to tell her not to take it so seriously. It wasn’t like they were having a real Christmas, but he stopped himself. He didn’t want her to be anything other than who she was.

The heat from the fire gave her skin a pink glow, and she looked so pretty and fresh. He figured they were around the same age, but she had a wonder about her that turned his jadedness on its ass. He’d seen the worst of things through his clients—domestic violence, toxic families… You name it, he’d dealt with it.

She set the last snowflake on the mostly barren tree. “I didn’t make nearly enough.”

“You made plenty. I just picked a massive tree.”

“I see what you did there.” She grinned. “You flipped the script.”

“You catch on quick.”

She examined their work. “It needs color. Between the white popcorn and white snowflakes, we really need to spruce this baby up.”

“Ah, shit. I forgot the marshmallows. Sorry about that.”

“That’s okay. We’ll make hot cocoa and eat them instead.”

“But to make it up to you, I’ve got another idea.” In the utility closet just past the kitchen, he found his dad’s tackle box. He hadn’t used it. Not once.

He just didn’t come out here enough. He’d have to do something about that.

Popping the latch, he opened it. Looking at his dad’s flies sent him spiraling back in time to the weekend they’d gone camping, and a storm hit out of nowhere. They’d stood across a ravine, watching jagged bolts of lightning. The sky above them was blue, but that ominous black cloud moved swiftly toward them.

In a calm voice, his dad had said it was time to pitch a tent. They wound up playing cards while hail pelted their nylon shelter.

That was his dad. Calm, kind…all while being a partner in a law firm. And, as far as he knew, his dad had never compromised his integrity or his morals for the sake of the firm.

Booker sat on a bucket of salt and closed his eyes.

And he saw his dad’s gentle smile. I love you, Dad.

But I really wish you’d told me the truth. Given me a chance to look into your eyes and get answers to my questions.

When he was little, his dad would carry him on his shoulders. On hikes, he’d grip his dad’s hair with one hand and reach for branches with the other. He could feel it so keenly, the rocking of his hips, the pure contentment of being on his dad’s solid shoulders. He could see the sun-dappled leaves.

Damn. He wished he’d never brought it up with Hellcat, because it was on the surface now, and he couldn’t ignore it.

He missed his dad, for sure.

A hand touched his knee, and his eyes flew open.

Hellcat knelt beside him. “Was that your dad’s?”

The dusty box had to be over twenty years old. “Yeah. He loved fly fishing.” He unlocked the lid and flipped it open. “And he was obsessed with making lures.”

“I see that. They’re absolutely gorgeous.” She reached out, her fingers hovering over one of the compartments. She gave him a questioning look.

“Of course.” He forced a laugh. “They’re not sacred.” Though, to him, they kind of were.

She picked one up. “What is this?” Her fingers brushed the dark gray feathers. The iridescence shimmered in the overhead light.

“That’s starling skin.”

“What?” She dropped it back into the box.

He bit back his laughter. “Here.” He picked up another one and offered it to her. “This was one of his prized possessions.” She hesitated to touch it, but he gave her an encouraging nod. This one had black feathers laced with lines of neon purple.

“It’s not skin, right?”

“No, of course not.”

“Oh, okay.” She ran the feathers over the palm of her hand.

“It’s jungle cock.”

She flung the lure. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I know it’s special to you. It’s your dad’s cock.”

It landed on his lap, and he burst out laughing.

“I mean, it’s not your dad’s actual cock.” Flustered, her eyes went wide. “Oh, my God. Whose cock is it?”

Chapter Nine

“Why do they use cocks to lure fish?” Hellcat looked horrified. “Surely, there’s a better way. I mean, are there animals out there walking around without penises just so people can fish?”

“Stop.” He couldn’t catch his breath. “Man, you like saying that word.”

“Excuse me. You made me touch a cock.”

That sent him laughing even harder. “It’s the feathers from a gray jungle fowl called a jungle cock. But you can’t use real ones anymore, so this is all synthetic.”

“Well, why didn’t you say that?” Color stained her cheeks. “So, I didn’t touch actual starling skin?”

“No, that was actual skin. But the cock is just feathers.”

“Now who likes saying cock?” She pulled back. “Okay, I’m bowing out of this project. You can fondle the cocks and skin.”

“That’s fair.” He closed the box and followed her out. “How about I hang these on the tree while you shower? The water should be warm by now.”

“I would love that.” That crease formed between her brows. “But will there be enough for two of us to shower? I have to wash my hair and shave and everything.”

“Probably not.”

“Oh, well.” She flounced away from him. “I guess we’ll just have to shower together.”

And that was his tipping point. He’d fought hard not to let her scent give him wood. He’d overcome his lust when she’d fanned the feathers over her palm—even when he’d imagined her doing the same thing to his actual cock.

But with a comment like that, and the visual it delivered, his dick went hard.

Because he could picture it—the water raining down on her skin, her nipples beaded, her hair streaming down her back. He could imagine lathering up her body, learning its curves, holding the weight of her breasts in his hands.

And squeezing their plump fullness.

“You should see your face right now.” She laughed from the doorway. “I can only joke about it because you made it clear I’m not your type.”

“I don’t remember saying anything like that, but trust me, if I did, it was to help you fall asleep.”

“Oh.” Her features shifted from surprise to awareness…to something unconsciously sultry.

She was imagining it, too. And that sent a wave of desire coursing through him. Was she picturing sucking him into her mouth, his hands at the back of her head? Or him on his knees, gripping her ass as he licked her into an orgasm that curled her toes?

Fuck yeah, he wanted to taste her. Wanted to feel her hips squirm and hear her cries.

But nothing like that would ever happen between them. “Hellcat, it was dark, remember? I couldn’t see a thing.”

“That’s a good point. Okay, I’ll just go shower.” She turned to go but glanced at him over her shoulder. “So, you are attracted to me?”

He wanted to answer, but he was still in that shower with her, his mouth sucking the water droplets off her tits, her soapy hands tugging on his cock. It was an impossible task, asking him to fight off an erection when he couldn’t stop the onslaught of images coming at him.

“If you’re going to wonder what I look like naked, you could at least wait until I close the door.”

His laughter broke the tension and got his mind out of the shower. “I’m sorry. I’m trying very hard here.”

“So, what is your type?” she asked.

He’d only ever gone out with a certain type of woman. But his reaction to Hellcat told him something new. “I guess I don’t have one.”

“Are you a boob man? Ass? Legs?”

“I don’t know how to answer that.”

“Because you don’t want to hurt my feelings?” she asked.

“Because I’m attracted to the whole package. I don’t think you’ll find a lot of guys who care about the size of a woman’s breasts. We want a woman who’s—” He shut his mouth, catching himself before he said something offensive.

“No, don’t. Don’t try to find a more polite way to say the truth. I really want to know.”

He gave her a curt nod. “Down to fuck.”

And there it was again, that unconscious response that softened her lips and stoked a fire in her eyes. This woman had not been fucked well.

“How can you tell? If a woman’s down to…fuck? I mean, lots of women have a…a come hither look in their eyes. How do you know the ones who just want a roll in the hay?”

“So, basically, you revert to cliches when you’re uncomfortable?”

She grinned. “Oh, just answer the question. When will I ever get these kinds of insights from a real man?”

“What about that shower?”

“The longer I put it off, the more hot water I get.” She leaned against the doorjamb and folded her arms in a stance that said, I’m waiting.

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it before.”

“We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Okay, fine. But the answer came when he thought about the last time he’d hooked up with someone. “There’s a look in her eyes. I can tell what she wants.”

She lowered her arms. “What does that mean?”

He had to give it more thought, but when he remembered scanning the club, one woman jumped out at him. She was a gorgeous blonde with a sculpted ass. But while he’d found her attractive, he’d quickly looked away. “She can be the most beautiful woman in the world, but if she’s got hope in her eyes, I’m not interested.”

“How can you tell? You’re seeing through the lens of your own experience, you know. Maybe she’s thinking about the hot dog she’s going to get from the food truck right outside the bar. She’s hoping he has enough mustard and relish.”

Of all the things for her to say… Hellcat made him smile. “It’s not like that.” How did he explain? “Some women have a guarded look. They’ve been hurt, and they’re hoping you won’t do it, too. They’re too complicated. That’s a pass. Others are out to seduce. They scare me. I don’t need maneaters.”

“Maneaters, huh? What does that mean?”

“It’s a woman who tags you as the one she’s going home with. She comes on strong. She’s going to show you the time of your life in bed.”

“What’s wrong with that? Isn’t that what you want?”

“She’s too frantic. Too aggressive.”

She shook her head. “You need to write a manual.”

“You asked.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I do want to hear. So, go on. No judgment.”

“Some women have a hopeful look, and I’m not going out with someone who wants more than I want to give.”

“I mean, you say that, but when you meet the right person, that’ll go right out the window. If there’s one thing you have no control over, it’s falling in love. It hits you right out of nowhere.”

“I’m sure that’s true for most people, but not me. I have a different vantage point. In my field, very few people have lasting marriages.” Professional athletes spent so much time away from home, they tended to lead separate lives from their spouses. Combine that with the celebrity aspect, and cheating was rampant among them. “My job is twenty-four seven, and my clients come first. If they don’t, I don’t make money, and I lose my job. It’s just not compatible with having a family.”

“So, you don’t date?” she asked.

“No. I’m serious when I tell you my life is consumed by my job.”

“Oh, come on. Even the president has a wife and kids. I mean, if you’re asexual, I get it.”

“I’m not asexual. And you asked if I date. I spend time with women, but I don’t date.”

“I don’t know what that means. Come on, we’re being honest with each other. Just saying it like it is. You pay for sex?”

He laughed. “No.” Fine. She wanted the truth, so he’d give it to her. “I’m looking to fuck.”

An involuntary shiver hit her body, and she sucked in a breath.

Desire roared through him. Because she’d just told him exactly how responsive she’d be in bed. That she didn’t want him to hold her hand and whisper sweet nothings. Well, maybe she did. But she also wanted him to fuck her into next week. “You asked for the truth.”

She fanned herself. “I know, but it’s the way you said it. Please tell me that’s how you are in bed, all commanding and hard?”

“Well, I’m not romantic and lovey-dovey, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Her eyes rolled back in her head. “Phew. All right. I’m going to shower. And it’s going to take even longer, so don’t come knocking.” She shut the door. “And if you hear screams, I promise I don’t need saving.”

He had tremendous restraint, but this woman was killing him. His cock was hard and throbbing.

You are not sleeping with this woman.

You’re not fucking Hellcat.

If he were home, he’d go to the gym. But he wasn’t, so…

Time to go shovel snow.

* * *

Hands against the cool tiled wall, Lorelei let the hot water stream down her body.

She couldn’t get it out of her mind. The length of his hard erection pressing against his jeans…the sound of his voice when he’d said, “I’m looking to fuck.”

Her body still tingled. Just like it did after a really good orgasm when her body still felt tremors.

This man would destroy her in bed.

She thought about Landon. His light touch and easy caresses. He was patient, so he got the job done. Maybe they’d been together too long—or maybe he just wasn’t into her—but there was no hunger in him. He’d never gotten her so excited she’d shiver.

Booker had seen her reaction. She was sure of it. He’d clenched his fists, and the muscle in his jaw had popped. He’d bit down on his bottom lip like he had to physically restrain himself from pouncing on her. Which, I mean, come on⁠—

Make me hotter.

Give me one night with this man, and I’ll be a changed woman.

Or, at least, she’d have a hard time walking.

She’d played it off like it was a big joke.

I’m going to get off in the shower now. Ha ha.

But no way would she do that. Not with him out there listening. Right?

No, of course not. I would never.

Desire spread through her in a hot rush. Then again, what if he did hear, would he storm in here and give her that feral look? Would he strip off his clothes, throw open the glass door and claim her mouth? Take her up against the wall…

No, stop. You’re not having sex with him.

God, no. Not when she had no idea how long they’d be stuck together. If things went sideways, it’d be disastrous. Neither had anywhere to go. They had to stop playing with each other.

I’m the one playing.

Not him. He hadn’t given her even a hint of innuendo.

And then, she remembered what he’d said. He can read a woman’s expression. She bet, when he looked at her, he saw wariness.

You’re not going to hurt me, are you?

Please don’t hurt me.

She got what he was saying. Of course, he’d see that. After what Landon and Cis had done, she wouldn’t be trusting anyone for a very long time. If ever.

But wait a minute. Was she feeling that way with him? She wasn’t fragile or worried or anything like that. In fact, there was only one thing he could see when he looked into her eyes.

Her need to be touched. To feel like a woman in the most primal way.

She needed a man to look at her the way Slick did. Like he wanted to devour her.

Maybe he’s exactly what I need.

The water started to cool down, so she quickly washed and conditioned her hair. It got even colder, but she had to shave. What if they shared a bed again, and his leg brushed against hers?

When she stepped out of the shower, she wrapped a towel around her body, and a second one around her hair, twisted it, and swung the tail down her back. While it seemed bizarre to even think about sleeping with a total stranger, her attraction went beyond anything she’d ever experienced.

It was just… she felt a real connection to him. Maybe because they had so many things in common. She didn’t know exactly, but on some level, she got him.

He came off all hard and cold, a heartless businessman with his fancy watch and designer boots. But she’d seen him stare at that tackle box. One hand on top of it, the other squeezing his knee as if he was holding back a tide of emotion.

The man felt things deeply.

He was genuine. He spoke the truth, even when it was difficult. And it was the only reason she could relax around a total stranger in her space.

Thanks to the generator, the cabin was comfortably warm, making it easy to shed her towels and get dressed. She set aside the puffy robe and chose leggings and an oversized sweatshirt. Sliding her feet back into her slippers, she headed for the door.

Right before she opened it, she glanced at the dresser. On top, she had an assortment of perfumes and candles. Even though she’d seen evidence of his attraction to her—without makeup, unbathed, and in a robe that made her look like a marshmallow—she couldn’t help wanting to…appeal to him.

So, she spritzed a tiny amount of her favorite scent on her wrists and rubbed them together. And then, just as she was putting the bottle back, she did one last blast on her collarbone.

Excited to see him, she hurried out of the room. She’d make hot cocoa—oh, wait. He wouldn’t like her pods. That’s fine. Maybe he could teach her how to make the real thing. They could sit by the fire with bowls of popcorn and mugs of cocoa piled high with whipped cream.

But when she came into the living room, she found he wasn’t there. She checked the kitchen. No, the cabin was empty. “Slick?” she called, though she didn’t know why. He wasn’t there.

She got a sickening feeling he’d left without saying goodbye. Doubts and insecurities spilled like paint from a kicked bucket, staining her self-esteem. She was too weird for him. Hadn’t he caught her singing and dancing that morning? She smelled funky from not bathing for two days. Oh, God. She closed her eyes when she remembered she’d talked about parallel lives and pretend cats.

Worst of all, he’d never met a grown woman who didn’t know how to use a flipping cheese grater.

But then, she remembered she had fourteen Grammys and millions of fans around the world. And that happened because she’d worked her ass off and became really good at her job.

I took music and singing lessons. I went to songwriting camps.

I’m proud of myself. And if some man with a nice jawline and a cashmere sweater doesn’t think I’m all-that, then that’s just not my problem.

It was only after her empowerment speech wound down that she noticed his leather duffel bag by the door. She glanced out the window and saw snow flying. She watched him shovel, moving fast, methodically, and he was just so…masculine. So strong. His wool cap was pulled over his ears, and his hands were covered in big, thick gloves. She wanted to tell him to come in. It was too cold to be out there, but she wasn’t his mother.

He wouldn’t want me telling him what to do.

Still, she watched him for a moment. He was working hard, almost furiously, and she couldn’t help wondering if he was working through some sexual tension.

I’ve got a better idea.

He could apply all that furious effort to her body. Ooh, she could just imagine his features red from exertion, his skin gleaming with sweat, as he pounded into her, giving her the powerful thrusts she never knew she craved until right this minute.

Her blood went hot. Lust pulsed in her core. This is not good.

Especially when his issues probably had nothing to do with her. This man had a life—and a job—that was under siege. He probably dealt with his problems by working out. Since he didn’t have a gym, he was shoveling snow.

He might be a revelation for her, but he wasn’t the one discovering his sexual side.

Maybe she was the one who needed to work off some pent-up energy.

She trudged back into the bedroom and peeled off her leggings and sweatshirt. In the closet, she changed into her blue ski pants, thermal undershirt, and fleece jacket. She grabbed wool socks out of the dresser drawer, pulled a scarf off the hook, and pulled on the beanie with the pink fur ball on top. Then, she covered her hands in gloves and went to grab her parka from the closet by the back door.

But when she stepped outside, the cold cut right through every layer as if she wore nothing but a nightshirt. Her cheeks burned. How could he stand it out here? What was he even shoveling? A path from the shed to the road?

Boy, he really wanted to get out of here.

And that pissed her off. Here I am fantasizing about this man, and he’s chewing off his arm to get away from me.

She grabbed a handful of snow, packed it, and then hurled it at the back of his head. It missed, of course. No surprise there. So, she moved closer. While his shovel scraped and heaved, she formed a bunch of icy projectiles and set them on top of a snowdrift. Once she had a good supply, she started lobbing them. Dammit. She kept missing. She crept closer, and finally, the fourth one hit the back of his head, exploding in a spray of glittery white crystals.

She dropped, clapping her hand over her mouth to suppress her laughter.

When she rose high enough to peer at him, she found him looking around. He didn’t see anyone, so he went back to work. In a rush of energy, she tossed another one. This one landed between his shoulder blades. She grinned so wide her cheeks hurt.

He slammed the shovel into the snow and surveyed the area. “Hellcat, if I were you, I’d head back inside. You don’t want to get into a snowball fight with a former hockey player.”

She popped up and lobbed another one. It hit his chin, exploding on impact, leaving crystals on his eyelashes and scruff. She ducked down again, waiting.

Should I go back inside?

How mean could he be?

Her body buzzed with excitement, and she didn’t want to make a move until she knew he’d gone back to work. After a few moments, she heard the scrape of the shovel, so she knew it was safe. He’d given up. Slowly, she stood.

Slick whipped around, releasing a snowball that hit her square in the face. She shrieked. “What are you, a ninja?” Quickly, she grabbed more from her pile and threw, but she was no match for his precision. One after another, the chilly missiles came hard and fast, completely overwhelming her.

She fought back, but her aim wasn’t nearly as good. Also, she’d run out of stock, so all she could do was grab handfuls of snow and toss them as he made a relentless march toward her. Snow stuck to her eyelashes, her hair, her face, and her clothes, and she’d never felt more exhilarated.

“Wait, wait. Time out.” She held one hand on top of the other in a T-shape. Still, a ball hit her forehead. “Are you nuts? This isn’t a death sport. It’s a friendly snowball fight—” Another slammed her right in the mouth. “This is what happens when you don’t have siblings. You don’t know how to play. Stop.” She was gasping for air, laughing too hard to speak.

And then, he came up to her. “You just said it was a fight.”

“A friendly one. It’s supposed to be playful.”

“Playful, huh?” He pretended to think about it, like the concept of play was a revelation. “Okay, so, you’ll stop, too, right?” He had a wicked gleam in his eyes, so she knew not to trust him.

“Of course. I’m nothing if not honorable.”

“Great. Cool. I’ll just finish shoveling.”

“To where? Yellowstone?” As he turned away from her, she snatched a handful of snow and yanked on the waistband of his jeans.

She should’ve known better. As if anticipating her, his arm came around and whacked hers away. With his other hand, he stuffed a snowball down the collar of her coat. Ice skittered down her back, and she shrieked, pulling the layers of clothing away from her body. It was clear, unless she stripped naked, she had no choice but to endure the cold until her body heat melted the snow.

Instead, she threw herself at him. She’d assumed he’d fall back into the snow, but the behemoth didn’t even budge. He lifted her into the air like she was made of feathers and tossed her.

He literally tossed her.

She landed on her back, sinking deeply. “Are you out of your mind?”

“I warned you about messing with a hockey player.”

“Former. And that was a lifetime ago.”

“Once a player…” He plopped snow onto her face. “Always a player.”

“I’m a woman. I’m not a dude comparing the size of my balls.”

“Oh, I know you’re a woman. You like to make that very…” He reached for her, hauling her up so fast and hard, she slammed against his chest. “Clear.” He dipped his face into her neck. “Did you put on perfume for me?”

“I know this is going to be hard for you to believe, but not every woman drops her panties for you.” I would.

I’d totally drop them right now.

With his face just inches from hers, her laughter faded. The intensity of his gaze kicked up the desire she’d worked so hard to suppress.

“You’re thinking about me naked in the shower, aren’t you?”

His features went rigid.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’re wondering what I did in there. If I touched myself while thinking about you.” Holy moly. She’d never talked like this before in her life.

But the fire burning in his eyes sent a sizzle through her. His gaze dropped to her mouth.

Is he going to kiss me?

Oh, God. Please do it. Kiss me.

Chapter Ten

Instead, Slick snuffed the fire out. “It’s too cold to be out here.” His breath came out in white puffs. “You’re shaking.”

Yeah, because I’m desperate for you to touch me. “That was pretty aggressive.”

He hunched a shoulder. “I was under attack.”

“Yeah, by a five-six woman who hasn’t lifted a weight in three months. I was hardly a threat.”

“Oh, you’re a threat, all right. The worst kind.” He tried to let her go. “Now, get inside.”

But she couldn’t leave the shelter of his arms. “I can’t move. I’m frozen solid.” She tucked her face into the crook of his neck.

“Fine.” Bending his knees, he lifted her, carrying her like a bride across the threshold and into the house. He set her gently on the couch.

“I can’t believe you did that. You’re the guy no one wants to play Monopoly with.”

As he unwound his scarf and pulled off his hat, he chuckled. “So, that’s why I can’t get anyone to play board games with me?”

“Yeah, that’s why.” She sat up to remove her wet gloves and coat. “I threw one little snowball. And I have the upper arm strength of a cockatoo.”

“There you go with cocks again.”

“Okay now, seriously. You’re the one who brought up cocks.” She pulled off the scarf and set it to dry by the fire. “I was only talking about a bird.”

He shot her a challenging look. “Cockatoo? Out of all the birds in the world, that’s the one that came to mind?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“You could’ve said Swallows. Robin red breasts.”

“Do you hear yourself?” She had to laugh. “You’re the one with the filthy mind.”

“Why do you think I had to go outside and shovel snow?” He sounded frustrated.

“Because we had a conversation about jungle cock?”

“No, because you invited me into the damn shower.”

“It was a joke.” Liar.

“Well, it was so funny that you just got reamed with snowballs.” When she removed her hat, he gave her a hard look. “You went outside with wet hair.”

“I was trying to get you to come back inside. You can’t shovel snow in this weather.”

“Well, I can’t be in here either.” He hung his parka on the hook by the door. “Talking about cocks and balls and naked women in showers.”

“Fine. I’ll watch what I say.” She headed into the bedroom. “Men and women can be roommates without lusting after each other, you know.”

“Not this roommate,” he muttered, flinging his beanie across the room.

As she changed back into her leggings and oversized sweatshirt, she realized she wasn’t being fair to him. He wasn’t the one experiencing some kind of sexual awakening. She was. And it was wrong of her to impose it on him when he was just trying to get through an unfortunate situation with a snowstorm and an unwanted roommate.

When she came back out, she found him stripped down to his jeans, a black Henley, and wool socks. He crouched by the fire, warming his hands.

“I’ve always been selfish.” She sat on the couch.

He cut her a look.

“The world revolved around me for years, and while I’m going through an identity crisis, it’s horrible of me to tease and flirt with you. You’re kind enough to let me stay here, and I appreciate that so much. I promise to stop making you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, yeah? You’ll stop saying the last thing I’d ever expect you to say? You’ll shut down all that sunshiney energy?” He got up, stood right in front of her, and braced his hands on the back of the couch.

Was he telling her she wasn’t being inappropriate, that he was attracted to her? It was hard to think when she was caged in like this.

“I try hard to do the right thing, Hellcat. I’m honest with my clients. I try not to step across an ethical line in a business that blurs it. I try to be a good man.”

She could smell the fresh cold snow in his hair, the laundry detergent in his shirt, and an unfamiliar scent that roused her libido. It was pine and woodsmoke, warm skin, and something unique to him.

He turned his mouth to her ear, so close, his hot breath sent chills skittering down her spine. “But in bed, I’m bad. Very, very bad.”

Her fingers lifted of their own accord and grazed his scruffy jaw. “Are you trying to scare me away? Because it’s having the opposite effect.”

“Trust me, you can’t handle me.”

She sat up, bringing their faces so close she could smell the coffee on his breath. “What does that mean exactly?”

“It means I take what I want.” He straightened his elbows, giving him enough distance to look into her eyes. “And good girls like you don’t want their plump little asses smacked.”

My ass smacked?

He’d spank me?

No one had ever done that. She’d kick them in the balls if they even tried.

Wouldn’t she?

She could imagine the red slap mark on her cheek, feel his fingers digging into her hips as he held her in place. She’d hike her bottom up, thrusting back to chase his dick because she was so desperate for friction she could hardly stand it.

He pushed off the back of the couch and headed into the kitchen. “You want coffee or hot chocolate?”

Yanked from her sexual haze, she was on fire. Head to toe, her entire body trembled with excitement. She wanted to taste his mouth and slide her hands under his shirt. She wanted to unbutton his jeans and pull him out, hold his hot, hard length in her hand.

Never in her entire life had she been so attracted to a man. But this one? He was the opposite of what she’d thought she wanted.

He was dark, intense, broody. Something volatile simmered just beneath the surface.

With her girl-next-door looks and lack of experience, she was not his match on any level.

And yet, the word cock coming out of his mouth was the most erotic thing she’d ever heard. She grew restless at the image of him big and thick, so erect it hit his flat belly. Need tore through her. She wanted him in her mouth, her hands on his ass. She wanted him inside her, filling her⁠—

“Which one do you want?” his deep voice jerked her out of her fantasy.

“What?” She started as if he’d heard her thoughts.

Which do you want? My cock in your mouth or your pussy?

Heat flashed across her body, making her burn.

“Hellcat?” He leaned out of the kitchen. “Coffee or cocoa?”

“Um...” She couldn’t even look at him. “Cocoa.” Get up and act normal. “Actually, I want to watch so I can learn how to make it.” This is good. She’d keep busy. Take her mind off sex. She got up and headed into the kitchen.

And since when is sex all you can think about?

It had never been a priority. It was fun. It relieved stress.

Well, wait. If she really thought about it, it was a way to connect to Landon. A moment of intimacy with him in an otherwise crazy day of business meetings and recording sessions that went on for twenty hours.

They had so little time together that when they talked, it was about business. How her interview went or what riff he’d come up with for a song. What their tour schedule looked like or the ongoing battle she was having with her producer.

Sex was the only time they connected outside of work.

Of course, it hadn’t been enough for him.

She could see that now. And really, how had it been enough for her?

It seemed another thing she and Slick had in common, valuing career over relationships.

If she’d been raised by a loving parent like her dad, she might’ve turned out differently. But she’d been raised by a money and status-hungry woman who’d pushed her to achieve.

She had to think about that.

“You want to grab the cocoa from that cabinet over there?” he asked.

She followed his gaze and found the box on the shelf. “Sure.”

“Scoop out half a cup and dump it into this pot.” He touched the handle.

It felt good to work, to stop thinking. The powder clumped, and half of it spilled onto the counter. “Sorry.” Quickly, she brushed it into the sink. “What next?”

He whisked the cocoa into the warming milk. “Add a cup of sugar.”

“An entire cup?”

“We’re not drinking it all at once. We’ll have enough to heat some up later.”

She wiped the cocoa powder off the measuring cup with a dish towel and then filled it with sugar. “Done.”

“Cool. Now, we’ll need two-thirds of a cup of hot water.” He’d already filled the kettle and it was starting to rumble. “Let me grab the vanilla.”

“So, what was the plan out there, Slick? Shovel a path to Calamity?”

“Just burning off some energy.”

“Sexual energy?” Dammit, Lor. What is your problem? “I’m sorry. I keep provoking you, and I have no idea why.”

“Maybe you like the idea of a swat on your ass.” He looked away, but there was no hiding that spectacular grin.

“No. That’s not…that’s not going to happen.” And it wasn’t. Of course not. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I swear, I’m not sex-crazed. Normally, I don’t even think about it.” Well, that wasn’t true. She took care of herself regularly. “You know, with men.”

He looked amused by her idiocy.

“Oh, man. I am just stepping in it. I’ve been alone way too long. I meant I’m out here alone so I’m not meeting men. I’m just reading romance books, and the sex scenes…” Really? You’re going to tell him you get off to smutty scenes? “They trigger reactions. You know?”

“No, Hellcat. I don’t know. Are you saying you don’t like sex with men?”

“No, I like it just fine. But I’ve only ever been with one person.”

His grin began at one corner of his mouth and took a slow crawl across his lips, blooming across his features. “Just one?”

“Yes.” She sounded as defeated as she felt. She’d just told Mr. Slick Butt-Whacker that she’d had one lover.

“Would that be the man who betrayed you?” He concentrated on whisking.

“Yes.” She couldn’t be that surprised he’d figured it out. She’d said the people closest to her.

“Fucker.”

She liked the way he said that. It gave her a feeling of solidarity, like she wasn’t so alone in this.

He stilled. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“Because I’m discovering something about myself.”

“I’m listening.”

“My ex was super easygoing. I always thought that was a good thing, a yin to my yang. But when you said, ‘Fucker,’ like a total thug, it made me feel protected. He never did that for me. When I’d get all upset about something, he’d listen, but he just wasn’t invested.”

Once, on her second album, her producer had changed the sound of a song so completely that Lorelei refused to accept it. He was an older man who thought he had authority over a teenage girl, but she’d taken it all the way down to the mat. She’d gotten the president of her record label involved. Ultimately, she’d won. She’d asked them to trust her instincts, and they had. But she’d gone through that whole process with her agent. Not Landon. Because her ex didn’t get fired up. He didn’t fight them with her.

He'd left her to handle everything.

“Isn’t it funny how I justified everything he did? Like when I got riled up about something, and he stayed calm, I told myself that he kept me sane. But really, he wasn’t an equal partner. What did he even bring to the relationship?” She’d mistaken an easy-going nature for apathy. And that was such a turn-off. Good riddance. “I’ll get the whipped cream.”

As she turned away, it struck her. That was the difference between the two men.

There was nothing apathetic about Slick.

It kicked up her libido all over again, because what would it be like to have sex with a commanding, take-charge man?

“You find it?” he asked.

She found the canister. “Yep. Right here.” She joined him at the stove and held it up to him. “I can’t believe you don’t make your own. Maybe I should call you Slacker instead of Slick.”

“That’s fair. Normally, I would, but this was meant to be a short trip.”

“You know that’s adorable, right? The big badass hockey player brings whipped cream for his cocoa on his little getaway?”

“It wasn’t for the cocoa. It was for the strawberries. In case they were tart.” When she grinned, he said, “I had a whole plan.”

“Cigars, whiskey, cocoa, and whipped cream. You’re a complicated man.”

“I don’t know what’s complicated about those four choices.” He tipped his chin to the living room. “I picked up a couple of books at the airport and figured I’d read by the fire.”

“That sounds like a perfect getaway. And I ruined it. I’m so sorry. Of all the wrong cabins to break into, I chose yours.”

He set the whisk in the sink and poured the cocoa into mugs. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be snowed in with.” Then, he picked them both up and headed back to the living room.

Warmth rushed through her. She stood there for a moment, the can in her hand, letting his words sink in before she followed him. “Did you mean that?”

He set the mugs on the coffee table and sat on the couch. His big feet landed on the table, and he tossed the cashmere throw across his lap. “I never say anything I don’t mean.”

She believed him. “Well, that’s really nice.” Popping off the lid, she squirted a mound of frilly whipped cream on top of each mug. Then, she settled in beside him.

He unfolded the throw and tossed some of it her way. “So, are you going to forgive fuckface?”

“My ex?”

“Is there any other fuckface?”

“No. There isn’t. And yes, I’m trying to do that. I want to forgive all of them.”

“But?”

“But I think the more important part is forgiving myself.”

“For what? You have no control over what weak, emotionally immature people do.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t paying attention.” He didn’t know her situation, that Landon had cheated on her with her best friend. The fewer details she gave, the better. She didn’t need him piecing it all together and figuring out who she was.

His hand landed on her thigh, and he gave her a shake. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Waste time scrolling through a catalog of memories to find clues you missed. Your recall is flawed, and trying to do a forensic analysis isn’t going to give you the answers you need.”

“True. But I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“That’s because you’re trying to put together a puzzle that has missing pieces.”

“Well, I don’t know how to stop.”

“Let me ask you this. If you did have all the pieces, and you could look at the whole puzzle, see a timeline of when everything happened, where you were at the time they were together, would that give you peace of mind?”

With her hands wrapped around the warm mug, she let the flurry of images fill her mind.

The time she’d gotten off a call with her manager and A&R team and come into the kitchen to find Cissy all flushed. She’d thought it was the hot, humid summer. But now she was thinking they’d just had sex.

On the tour bus, when she was sleeping—crashed out from yet another performance—did the two of them sneak into the hallway bathroom? No, that space was too small. Where then? Where did they have sex? Was it backstage while Lorelei did her meet and greet? In Cis’s bunk?

Even if they wrote up a list of every time and place and handed it to her, she still wouldn’t be able to let it go and move on.

“No.” She sipped her cocoa, the cool whipped cream a delicious contrast to the hot, creamy chocolate. “I wouldn’t.”

“Then, stop. The only thing you can control is you. If you think you had a part in it⁠—”

“I did. I absolutely did. I was so ambitious that I neglected my relationships.”

“Hey. You are not the reason they betrayed you. They could’ve made any number of choices, but they chose to lie and deceive you.”

“You’re right.”

“Did fuckface ever talk to you? Tell you he felt neglected? Did he say, ‘Hey, I miss you. Grab a suitcase. We’re playing hooky this weekend.’”

“Never. I swear I didn’t have a single clue he was unhappy.”

“Then, how could you fix things?” He sat forward, leaning toward her, his hand squeezing her thigh. “It’s not your fault.”

She nodded and gave him a faint smile. “Guess you’re not the only one who believed in something that turned out to be fake.”

He sat back. “Can I ask a question?”

“Sure.” She knew she sounded wary, but she couldn’t blame him for wanting more information. If she didn’t want him to figure things out, she needed to shut her mouth.

“Are all three people part of the same betrayal?”

“No. My mom’s is on a whole other level.”

“Your mom? This is why you said we have things in common?”

“Oh, trust me. You might not like your parents’ choice, but at least they wanted what’s best for you. My mom’s the most self-serving person you’ll ever meet.” She shook her head in disgust.

If he was shocked, he didn’t show it.

The lawsuits were all over the news, so she wouldn’t bring them up. Besides, that part was the least traumatic. “My parents divorced when I was six, and from that moment on, I was told my dad didn’t care about me. At the beginning of this year, I found out my mom lied about everything. Not only did he love me and want me, but he was the one who’d supported my dreams all along. I honestly don’t know if I can ever forgive her for what she did. I have siblings I’m just getting to know because they chose to live with my dad.” Frankly, once her mom recognized Lorelei’s talent, she’d had no use for her other two kids.

“I’m starting to see why you’ve been here for three months.” He wound the throw’s fringe around a finger. “Did she give you a reason?”

“Well, first off, I don’t think she meant to divorce him. I think she was trying to manipulate him. She wanted to move to a bigger house, closer to the city, and he couldn’t do that. She thought if she took his kids and left him with an empty house, he’d beg her to come back.”

“And he didn’t?”

“No. I asked him about it not long ago. He said he didn’t want his kids to grow up in a home where their parents didn’t love each other and blackmail was a way of life.”

“Did he know about the lies she told you?”

She noticed he hadn’t touched his cocoa. “Oh, God, no. If he had, he’d have done something about it. He thought…well, I guess he thought I was just like her.”

“So, where do you and your mom stand right now?”

“I don’t have anything to say to her. Even if I could forgive her—and believe me, I’m not there yet—I don’t want a relationship with her. It took me till my mid-twenties, but I finally drew a boundary, and I’m not going to put up with toxic relationships.”

“I guess that means she hasn’t apologized?”

“Oh, no. She’s the victim in everything. She’d never see herself as the problem. In her mind, she truly believes my dad’s awful and that she did the best thing in the world for me.”

“So, you’re just an ingrate?”

“Pretty much.”

“Classic narcissist.” He settled back against the cushion. “They don’t change, by the way.”

“Okay, you’re a therapist. You have to be.”

“That’s one of my hats.” He tugged his side of the throw over his lap. “You’ve been hit with a lot this year. It’s no wonder you need to step back and reevaluate. The question is, what’re you doing in this cabin when you could be getting to know your dad?”

She pressed a hand to her chest. “Ooh. Ouch.” Because I nearly brought the paparazzi to his doorstep, and he’s trying to raise my nephew. “I was living with him, but let’s just say my problems followed me to his house, and that didn’t seem fair.”

“Did he say that? ‘Hey, don’t bring your shit here?’”

“Oh, God, no. Just the opposite. He said not to worry about it. He could handle anything.”

“Your ex isn’t dangerous, is he?”

“No. It’s not that kind of trouble. My ex is harmless.”

“No. He’s really not.”

He was right about that. Affection poured through her, but she stopped herself from touching him. Maybe this was another thing they had in common? “Did someone cheat on you?”

“Never dated anyone long enough for that to happen.”

“I know you don’t date now, but surely you had a girlfriend in high school or college. Right?”

“Sure, I did. In fifth grade, Missy Tomlinson and I were a thing. She was hot.”

She grinned. “You realize if I had Wi-Fi, I’d be hunting her down. Let me guess. She was blond, skinny, and the most popular girl in school.”

“You could not be more wrong about me. Missy T, as we call her, could climb to the top of a tree as fast as a squirrel. She could stuff three hot dogs in her mouth at once, and we only broke up because she tried to beat me in a race by pulling my hair.”

“That bitch.”

“Exactly. I’d put my money on her being a professional wrestler.”

“She turned you off dating, huh?” The way they smiled at each other, their gazes locked, it rocketed through her.

“Nah, it wasn’t Missy. It was life. I was on the NHL path from the time I was a kid. And that’s serious stuff. Ten percent of kids make it to collegiate hockey. One percent of college players make it to the NHL. Most of the time, a coach can spot that kid right away.”

“And you were that kid.”

He nodded, staring into the fire.

“That must’ve been awful. To come so close and then lose it all.”

“It was awful. But in any event, when you train that hard, you can’t keep up your grades, spend time with friends and family, and have a girlfriend. I tried it a few times, and it was a shitshow. Then, I went to college, then law school…and now, I’m trying to make partner in my firm…I don’t have the time to devote to a relationship.”

Okay, he’s a lawyer.

That tracks.

“I don’t know. I’m not buying it.”

“Not buying what?”

“That you didn’t date because you were too busy. Athletes get married and have kids all the time.”

“Yeah, but it’s a choice. I know I can’t give a wife and kids enough time. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Oh, come on. Love doesn’t work like that. It isn’t convenient. Feelings can’t be locked in a compartment until we’re ready for them. Believe me, if you’d met the right woman, you’d have found a way to make time for her.”

“That’s fair. Okay.” He nodded. “I haven’t found the right one.”

“Well, of course, you haven’t. You walk into the bar, skimming over all the women, looking for the one who wants to toot it and boot it.”

He snickered. “Toot it and boot it?”

“You know, a pump and dump.” She thought about that one. “That’s gross. Let’s just say you’re looking for a drive-by.”

“A smash and trash,” he agreed.

Now, they were laughing. “A Waikiki sneaky between the cheeky.”

“What the fuck is that?” he asked.

“It’s from the movie 50 First Dates.”

“Never seen it. But I do like the bonus waffle.”

She was cracking up. “I have no idea what that means.”

“It’s a parting gift. Instead of kicking her out, you hand her a waffle.”

“A waffle?” She was laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe. “You hand her a frozen waffle? Do you at least toast it first?”

“Of course.”

“What if she prefers a Pop-Tart? Or a toaster pastry?”

“I’d give her a cinnamon roll if she’d just get out of my house.”

“You’re so mean. And I’m naïve enough to be the woman who takes the waffle and goes, ‘Do you have syrup?’ I wouldn’t have a single clue it was my parting gift.’”

Laughter erupted out of him. “I’d put the bottle in a bag⁠—”

“Some plastic cutlery⁠—”

“And a napkin.”

“I would die. I would literally die of shame. This dating world is not for me. Are men really that mean?”

“I don’t know. I’m not like that.” He had a thoughtful expression. “Actually, yes. I do know guys who’ve done that.”

“I don’t know which is worse, men who cheat or men who pump and dump and hand you a waffle. Relationships are hard and⁠—”

“You can’t control them.” He seemed surprised at what came out of his mouth. But after a moment, he settled into it with a look that said, I stand by that.

“That’s it right there, isn’t it?” It was so clear to her. “I want to be in a relationship. I love being in love. I’m born to be monogamous.”

But I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust again.

So, where does that leave me?

Chapter Eleven

“If you’ve only been with one man, how do you know?” Slick asked.

“Certain things are stamped on your soul. You’re born with a happy spirit. You’re born with a loyal heart. You’re born to love one person for your whole life.”

“Did you just describe yourself?”

“I think I did.” Wow, wow, wow. She needed a moment, so she got up and took her mug to the kitchen. Stage lights made it impossible to see individual faces in the crowd, but when the stadium lights turned on, suddenly, that mass of bodies became individuals. And in that moment, the lights went on, and she could see the very thing she’d been struggling with for three months.

Rinsing out her mug, she looked out the window to see the sky had lightened. Thankfully, the storm was moving on.

All this time, she’d thought she needed to reinvent herself. That she could no longer write about true love.

But she hadn’t been writing about Landon. She’d been writing about her soul. The true core of her.

It was never Landon.

It’s me.

Elation flooded her. Her mind cleared, and she could take a full breath for the first time in months.

“You okay?” He set his mug next to hers in the sink.

The whipped cream had melted, but he hadn’t taken a single sip. “You made that cocoa for me.”

He nudged her aside to dump the drink down the drain and rinse out his mug.

This man.

What a sweetheart. “You’re going to make some lucky woman a great husband one day.”

He gave no indication he’d heard her.

“If you can get your head out of your ass.”

Still, no sign he was listening. She gave an exaggerated sigh.

And he swiveled the faucet to spray her. With a shriek, she jumped back. “Hey.” At least the water was warm. “You did not just do that.” He laughed as she pulled the damp sweatshirt away from her chest. “I take back every nice thing I’ve said about you.”

“Good. And can you also stop trying to wife me up?” he asked, teasing.

“Of course, hon.” She grabbed the canister and squirted whipped cream in his hair. “My bad.”

His hand went to his head, coming away with a palmful of it. “You’re a slow learner.” Smiling, he leaned over the sink and rinsed it out.

Not knowing what he’d do as retaliation, she dashed into the bedroom to change out of the sweatshirt. Wasn’t it just last night she was slamming a bat on the bed? How could she have so much fun with a total stranger?

As she dropped the wet top onto the bathroom floor, she knew one thing for sure. She’d never felt this kind of exhilaration around Landon. And instead of waiting for payback, she remembered something she’d bought to do with her nephew.

As soon as she found another sweatshirt, she headed out to the dining room and sorted through the packages. Once she found it, she pulled it out and ripped it open, pulling on the skullcap and arming herself with Velcro balls. Then, she came up behind him in the kitchen and plunged the hat over his head.

“Hey.” He slammed the faucet off. But before he could say another word, she lobbed the balls at his head, where they fastened securely to the cap. Quickly, he ripped them off and went on the attack.

She’d left more balls on the table, so she snatched some up while he scooped up the ones that fell on the floor, and the game was on. She ran across the living room, ducking behind the couch, but the man was merciless. On his knees, he leaned over and threw one ball after another, so fast they bounced right off the Velcro. “You suck at playing.”

“Do I?” He leaped over the couch and grabbed more balls. “Or is it just too easy to beat your ass?”

She was ducking and trying to catch the balls in the air. “Why do you make everything a death sport?”

“Sounds like something a sore loser would say.”

She laughed so hard she couldn’t breathe, all while he kept firing away. “How does anyone have those reflexes?”

“Survival, Hellcat. I’m your man in the apocalypse.” He threw ball after ball at her head, chasing her around the table and across the living room. She snatched them off her head and threw them back until the air was a blur of neon yellow and green Velcro balls.

“If you’re trying to prove you’re not a washed-up old hockey player, you can stop now. I’m never playing with you again. You’re awful.”

“You started this with sabotage. Don’t be a spoilsport.” He grabbed her around her waist, lifting her, and her legs kicked out. “As if you’re any less competitive. You just prefer ambush tactics.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. And she wouldn’t have made it as far as she had with her career if she hadn’t been competitive.

As she started wriggling out of his hold, he hurled her up and over his shoulder. The cabin, the fire, the leather couches, everything was a blur as he stalked into the bedroom.

“What are you doing?” She was still laughing, so her voice came out strained and choppy.

He tossed her onto the bed. “I’m containing the hellcat.” Once she landed on her back, he climbed on top of her, clamping his hands around her wrists and pinning her to the mattress. With his feet across her ankles, he’d immobilized her. “Now, I’m disarming you.” He drew her arms over her head, locking her wrists together with one big hand. With the other, he peeled off his cap.

“Take mine off, too. Game’s over unless we’re both wearing them.”

“You’re not really in a position to call the shots.” He slid the edge of the cap under his knee and peeled off the balls, sticking them to her head until all thirty of them were on her. “You look ridiculous.”

She was alive, filled with happiness, and trying very hard not to make this sexual. Still, she arched her back and twisted her hips, half-heartedly trying to get him off her, but really, she loved it. She loved his touch, his closeness, and the gleam in his eyes. She loved that he was so muscular, so strong. She trusted him. She felt safe with him. “I’ll get you for this.”

“Will you, though?” His hold tightened.

She bucked hard, bumping her chest against his, and that was when their smiles faded.

Because he was right there. Those sea glass green eyes locked with hers, that dirty blond hair falling forward. She wanted to scrape it back with her fingernails. She wanted his weight on top of her, pressing her into the mattress. She needed him inside her.

This man would fill her. He would take her.

“Stop looking at me like that.” His deep voice rumbled with frustration.

“You’re the one pinning me down.” She couldn’t take it anymore. Her hips slammed up and ground against him, and she finally got to feel his very hard cock against her core.

His eyelids fluttered closed, and he moaned. “What are you doing to me?”

She took advantage of his weakened hold and wriggled her wrists free. Wrapping her hands around his neck, she finally let her fingers sift through that thick, silky hair.

“You don’t want this.” He ground the words out.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.”

“Fuck.” He claimed her mouth. This man didn’t play. He didn’t tease. He just licked inside and took possession. His tongue coaxed hers into play, and he kissed her with sensuous, luxurious strokes.

She couldn’t think. She couldn’t catch her breath. All she knew was that she needed more. So much more of him. Her hands skimmed down his back and grabbed hold of his ass. The hard, round globes clenched with each thrust of his hips, and she drew him up hard against her.

He tore his mouth away and pushed himself back onto his heels, pulling off his Henley and tossing it. “Take off Granny’s sweatshirt. Let me see all of you.”

Even as wound up as she was, he still made her laugh, but she reached for the hem, pulling it and the shirt underneath over her head. She thought she’d die if she didn’t feel his bare chest on hers. The moment she laid back down, he tugged the waistband of her leggings down. Restless and aching, she tried to toe them off, but they were stuck and tangled.

“Stop.” In a commanding tone that belied the tremble of his hands, he clasped her ankle and peeled off one leg. He kissed the sole of her foot, then licked a hot path up her calf. His touch plucked a chord, awakening every cell, every molecule, and making them sing. Once he reached the back of her knee, he kissed her there. Never taking his eyes off her, he lifted the other leg and removed the leggings, tossing them aside.

It made her wild that this big, strong, powerful, and commanding man could be so impossibly gentle. His gaze raked over her body with hungry eyes. “So, that’s what you’ve been hiding under all those clothes.” He cupped her breasts, squeezing and plumping them together. “I’m going to fuck these.”

A shudder went through her. “Yes.” The word came out strangled.

Slowly, he lowered one bra strap and then the other. He reached a warm hand into a cup. When she hissed in a breath, his gaze cut to her eyes, and he lowered his mouth to her nipple.

That first flick of his tongue had her toes curling. Leisurely, he licked and swirled, and it drove her wild. Which he knew because he kept watching her, studying her reactions.

He sucked her into his mouth—the heat, the suction…Fire raced along her nerves

When she arched her back, he reached behind her and, in one flick, unclasped the bra. “Take it off.”

Hurriedly, she pulled her arms through the straps and flung the bra over his shoulder.

“Yeah.” He pushed her breasts together. “Look at those tits.” He licked and sucked, greedy as a boy with two toys he wanted to play with at the same time. He made her wet and hot and so desperate she clutched fistfuls of the sheets.

He was just so…voracious. So hungry for her body. It drove her wild. She cupped the back of his head, held him to her, because she never wanted these delicious sensations to stop.

He was a total stranger, and he wanted her more than her boyfriend of a decade ever had. As he devoured her breasts, his fingertips trailed a path down her stomach and slipped between her legs.

When he swiped a finger through her pulsing, aching core, he said, “So fucking wet for me.”

Yes, it’s for you.

Only you.

Then, he brushed her clit, and her body went up in flames. She cried out, her hands gripping his back.

His head popped up, cheeks flushed, eyes wild. “Condoms?”

“No.” She almost shouted it, her bottom hitting the mattress. “Dammit.”

“I probably have some in my travel bag. Hang on.” He leaped off the bed like a gymnast and hurried out to the living room.

“Just in case your seatmate wanted a quick bang in the bathroom?” She was unreasonably jealous, but she couldn’t help it. She hated the idea that he’d planned on being with someone else. Hated the thought of him making another woman feel this desired.

She wanted to be the one who made him insatiable.

“Hell, no,” he shouted back. “You ever had sex on a plane?”

She wouldn’t tell him she’d had it plenty of times. On private jets. With a bedroom and comfortable mattress. But she knew what he meant. A hurried hookup in a tiny bathroom, biting his shoulder to keep from crying out so that half the plane wouldn’t hear them.

No, she’d never done that.

He stood in the doorway, tearing the packet open with his teeth, and grinning at her. “You jealous?”

“Now that I know what your tongue can do, yes. Very.” She sat up. “But wait. Don’t put it on yet.” She motioned him over. “Come here. I want to taste you first.”

His eyes flared. “Damn, Hellcat. You keep surprising me.”

She flicked a hand, urging him over.

He chuckled and pushed off the door, taking a leisurely stroll toward the bed. “From the outside, you’re apple pie, but inside, you’re nothing but cream and dark chocolate.”

When he straddled her, she wrapped both hands around him. “God, you’re big.”

He gave a pained smile. “No need for flattery. I’m a sure thing.”

“This is not flattery. My mouth is watering, I’m so hungry for it.” And that hadn’t happened before. She licked all around the head like he was an ice cream cone melting on a summer’s day.

He let out a shaky breath, and she looked up to see his tortured expression.

Desire surged, and a strange sense of power took hold. She wanted to drive him out of his mind. She wanted him to lose control.

As she ran her tongue up and down his length, getting him wet, he clutched the headboard, his body shaking like he was so excited he could barely stand it.

“Fuck, Hellcat.” That big hand reached for the back of her head and pulled her closer. “Suck my cock.”

It was obscene. It was lewd. No one had ever talked to her that way, and the thrill of it blasted through her. She opened her mouth wide, taking him in slowly—she had to get used to his size—and watching the utter abandon on his features as she savored the smooth hardness of him.

“Take it deep. Come on, all the way.”

She pulled him out of her mouth. “Do you have a list of instructions for me? Or do I get to play?”

Lowering his head, he shuddered. “Yeah, Hellcat. Play.”

“Bossy.” But she loved that about him, so she brought him back into her mouth. This time, he was nice and wet, so he slid right in. She took him deeper, opening her throat, and watching his eyes roll back in his head.

Letting out a shaky breath, he traced her lips with a thumb. “You look so pretty stuffed with my cock.”

Desire pulsed between her legs, and she didn’t know how much more she could take. Her body was hot, needy, the tension so intense she knew her release would be explosive. But first, she wanted him to lose control, so she sucked him, letting her tongue stroke him.

His head jerked back. “Fuck.”

She loved the powerful thrust of his hips. Loved that he told her exactly how he liked it. She wanted him to be real. Fully, totally, himself.

Because it was the only way she could let go and be her true self. Trust was everything.

He pulled out. “I’m gonna come.”

“You might be new to blow jobs, but that’s where this whole thing is leading.”

“As much as I want to fill that smart mouth with come, I want to fuck you. Isn’t that where this whole thing is heading?”

“Sure.” She feigned a look of disappointment. “For some reason, I thought you were closer to my age. My bad. Well, if we only get the one time⁠—”

“Oh, we’ll go again, Hellcat. It’s not even noon. We’ve got all the time in the world.” One hand gripped his thick cock, while the other cupped the back of her head, and with a punch of his hips, he was back inside her mouth. “Now, finish what you started.”

That wild look in his sea glass green eyes, the way his frenzied gaze was planted on her lips stretched around him, and the sounds of desperation he made undid her. She couldn’t take it anymore, so she reached between her legs and stroked her slick heat.

But the moment she found her clit, and her body sizzled, he whacked her hand away. “That’s mine.”

In retaliation, she let her teeth scrape gently over his pistoning cock.

“Fuck.” His hips punched, his hold on her head tightened, and the vein underneath his cock swelled. “If you’re not swallowing, now’s the time to let me know. I’ll come all over those pretty tits.”

She had him lodged in her throat, and she swallowed convulsively at the image he’d just painted for her. With a roar, he slammed into her. His features twisted, torn between ecstasy and agony, and the vein pulsed thickly with one release after another. Grabbing his ass, she held him tightly to her.

As his thrusts eased, his cries turned to pants. Slowly, he pulled out. And then, he collapsed onto his back, cocked an elbow, and covered his eyes with his forearm.

Her entire body throbbed with desperate need. She grabbed his hand and shoved it between her legs. “Gosh. I wonder how we can fill the time while you reload.”

He laughed. “Trust me, for what I’m about to do, you want me to catch my breath.”

“Because you’re going to have to figure things out down there? I could give you a quick tutorial.”

His arm covered his eyes, but his grin dazzled. “That’s okay. I’m good. I just need time to find out what you like.”

“I like to have orgasms.”

He laughed. “Sassy.”

“I hope you’re good in bed.” She tried to move his hand, but he refused to participate.

“You know, it really comes down to whether I’m motivated.”

“And what, exactly, motivates you?”

“Well, first, I like pussy.”

The spike of lust that hit her nearly shot her off the bed. “Well, that helps. Anything in particular you like?”

Rolling onto his side, he hitched up on an elbow and placed one hand on her belly. “Specifically…” His fingertips brushed a trail down to the juncture between her legs. “I like to hear you moan.” He dipped inside, leisurely stroking with two fingers. “I like to watch that smart mouth go all soft.” His thumb brushed her clit.

The jolt had her back arching off the mattress.

As he caressed her in slow circles, electric heat coursed through her, and her heart beat so wildly she could only take short, quick breaths.

“I like to see your tits jiggle.” He leaned over and kissed the hard bead of her nipple. “And now, I’m going to see what you taste like.” As he straddled her and shifted back, his hands glided from her breasts, down her stomach, all the way to the tops of her thighs. He spread her wide and lowered his face between her legs.

That first swipe of his tongue ignited a flash fire. “Oh, God.” The second had her hips twisting. And the third had her fingers clutching fistfuls of hair.

His tongue explored and teased, and when she moaned, when her fingers flexed, he stayed right there. He drove her to the highest peak and left her teetering on the edge. “Oh, God, oh, God, oh my God.”

Her body burned, her nerves sparked, and her eyes squeezed shut. The pleasure was so intense she lost her sense of time and place. She was nothing but delicious tension. And just when she didn’t think she could take another second, she exploded, her body spiraling across a sky blazing with stars.

It was unrelenting, one climax after another. She didn’t know what was happening to her, only that she existed in a state of pure bliss. And she didn’t want him to stop. She never wanted to come down to earth.

The aftershocks held her suspended in time and space, and she rode the wave to shore. Finally, her bottom hit the mattress, her fists unclenched, and she gazed up at the log ceiling and sighed.

“And one last thing.” His hands squeezed her thighs. “I like to see you come.”

“Mm.” Little tremors kept her smiling. “That was unreal.”

He lay down beside her, their bodies lined up but not touching.

She reached for his hand, but he didn’t respond. It lay limp and lifeless. “It’s okay if you want to snuggle. I won’t think less of you.”

“I don’t snuggle. Don’t take it personally.”

She couldn’t help but take it a little personally, but instead of dwelling on it, she chose to marvel that sex could actually feel like that. It might be her first hookup, but she’d never regret it. “You’ve ruined me for other men.” Except…he wasn’t responding. She glanced over to see the humor had gone. He’d shut down and gone serious again.

And now that the sex haze had worn off, she didn’t like that at all.

This is probably what he does.

After a hookup, he goes stone cold.

It’s how he delivers a message.

Just because it was great sex doesn’t mean anything’s going to happen between us.

It made her feel dirty and used, and she didn’t like it. She wanted to stay in her bubble. And to do that, she needed to get away from him. “Well, I’m going to grab my waffle now.”

Chapter Twelve

Lorelei got out of bed, threw on the granny sweatshirt, and headed out of the room. At the door, she stopped. She shouldn’t have done it. She should’ve kept on going, but she couldn’t help herself. She glanced at him over her shoulder and found him watching her like a predator.

So, she flipped the hem up, exposing her ass, and then continued into the kitchen.

He didn’t follow, and that was fine.

It’s not about me.

She knew he was as into it as she was. It was just that he shied away from intimacy.

This is a grown-ass man who’s never had a girlfriend.

Whatever. The sex had been great. In fact, it had healed some of the broken parts of her. And that helped her shrug it off and not be as upset about it. So, she’d make enough for two and bring it into the bedroom. He’d be hungry, too.

Just to see, she checked the freezer for waffles but found it empty. Too bad. That would’ve been funny. Instead, she’d put together the kind of charcuterie board her chef made for her when she didn’t want a full meal.

She cut wedges of cheese, opened a box of crackers, and put mixed nuts into a bowl.

What else? Her chef often put chunks of mango, dates, figs, and grapes, but Slick didn’t have anything like that.

Big, warm hands slid under her sweatshirt and cupped her bottom. “You think you can flash this ass at me and run away?”

“Oh, come on. You wanted me gone.”

He squeezed her cheeks, parted them, and wedged his hard cock in the crevice. “I said I didn’t snuggle. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you. Now, get on your knees.” He waved the condom in front of her face. “And put it on me.”

A torrent of lust crashed over her, and she dropped the bag of nuts, turning within the tight space of his arms. What was it about his commanding tone that made her libido soar? She did as he asked, trembling as she stretched the latex over his thick erection. She wrapped both hands around it and squeezed. “How do you want me, Slick?” On shaky legs, she stood up again.

He set his hands on her shoulders and spun her back around. “Brace because that ass is sexy as fuck.” He flipped up her sweatshirt, palmed a cheek, and reached around to stroke her a few times. “You’re ready for me.”

So ready. Desperate, in fact. “I could’ve told you that.” Every part of her body was hyper-sensitive, every sense heightened. She’d never been so acutely aware of the sound of her rapid breaths, the throb between her legs, and the heat from a man’s body.

And right then, she knew what it was about him that got her so wildly aroused. For so long, she’d been in charge of her career and all her relationships. Until this moment, she didn’t understand the toll it had taken on her. Her reaction to his commands told her just how badly she needed to give up control. And oh, did this man know how to make her feel good.

Tilting her hips, he lined himself up and rocked his erection against her core in a dance of push and retreat. He reached around, his fingers stroking her, his knuckle grazing her clit.

She swiveled her hips. “Come on.” Gripping the counter, she lowered her head and lifted her ass higher. “I couldn’t be more ready.”

“You think I don’t know that? You’re fucking dripping. I’m trying to get a hold of myself, so I don’t lose it the minute I get inside you.”

Me. This gorgeous, intensely masculine, bossy man was losing it over her.

She almost couldn’t believe it.

Sure, she was successful. She had a decent body and could rock a costume. But she’d always been the good girl. Wholesome. In a million years, she wouldn’t expect a man like him to go for her.

With him, she felt sexy, sultry. And she loved it. “I want to be so bad for you.” The moment the words slipped out, she regretted them. A dirty woman wouldn’t need to say something like that.

“You’re fucking perfect.” Grabbing hold of her hips, he pushed inside.

She couldn’t help but thrust back, burying him deep inside her. He filled her so perfectly, and the friction as he drove into her lit her up until she was sure she glowed like a night star.

He slid the palm of his hand from one breast to the other, stimulating her nipples and working her into a frenzy. “You’re so tight.” He fucked her hard and fast.

Her hair shook, her breasts bounced, and all she could do was hold on to the counter and slam back against his powerful thrusts. She was out of her mind, fully lost in this moment with him.

His hands clamped on her hips, and he used her body, yanking her against him in a brutal rhythm. She’d never felt so full, so aroused, in her life.

“Fuck, Hellcat. Fuck.” He reached for her breast, cupping it lightly, as if he wanted to feel the bounce in the palm of his hand. Each brush of her nipple against his skin drove her wild.

“You just gushed all over my cock.” He circled her clit. “So fucking hot.”

Her orgasm came roaring through her like a sudden storm, the intensity as bright and electric as a lightning strike. The hair at the back of her neck stood on end, and flashes burst behind her eyelids.

While she slowly calmed down, she tuned into his grunts, the clamp on her hips, and his short, powerful thrusts as he came hard and wild.

It was magical. Powerful. Intense.

And she wanted to stay here in this cabin with him forever.

When he finished, he slowly pulled out and draped his body over hers, wrapping his arms around her waist.

She wanted to turn around in his arms and hold him, but he’d made it clear he didn’t want that kind of connection. So, she rested her forehead on the cool tile counter, happy and sated. She’d take what she could get.

What?

Ew, no.

I’ve never settled for scraps in my life, and I won’t start now.

So, she straightened. Turning around in the circle of his arms, she clasped her hands around his neck and tucked her cheek against his chest. He held her lightly, clearly uncomfortable.

She tilted her head back and looked into his eyes and saw the struggle between wanting intimacy and recoiling from it.

She could almost hear a voice whisper between them.

What is happening?

Is this real?

No, she didn’t know this man. But on some level, she understood him.

He’d believed in his friendships. He’d never once doubted the truth of his family.

And both had turned out to be a deception. Like her, he had a hard time trusting.

And so, she let him go. She couldn’t change him. Couldn’t heal him. The only thing she could do was enjoy this time with him. She slipped out of his embrace. “Hungry?”

“Yes.” He reached for a cracker. “What’ve you made?”

“It’s a charcuterie board.” Was it not obvious?

“Looks great.”

In her mind’s eye, she compared what her chef served versus what she’d just thrown together, and she could only shake her head. She’d just dumped things onto a cutting board. It didn’t look appetizing. “You’re very nice.” She wasn’t feeling lighthearted enough to laugh about it.

He grabbed a handful of nuts and tossed them in his mouth. “How about I make us grilled cheese sandwiches to go with it?”

“Is this not enough?”

“It’s a good snack.” He pulled a skillet out of a cabinet. “But after that workout, I need more than crackers.”

“That’s fair. Sure, let’s make grilled cheese.”

As he sliced more of that crunchy loaf of bread, he said, “Grab the butter.”

“Oh, yay. You’re teaching me another life skill.”

“Turn the burner on medium-low. That way, we won’t burn the bread before the cheese melts. It takes patience.”

Seemed silly to get hurt about him not liking to cuddle. Once she left this cabin, she wouldn’t be Hellcat anymore. She’d be an entirely different person, swept into a life he wouldn’t understand. A man like him wouldn’t take a back seat to anyone.

The truth slapped her in the face like a wet fish.

The only reason she and Landon had stayed together for so long was because he had no spine. He was nothing more than an accessory in her life. She had the meetings, the calls, the tours, the buses—it was all hers. She was the star of the show, and he stood in the wings.

She understood it in a way she never had before.

And it eased the hurt just a little. Enough to breathe.

Enough to shake out her limbs and start to feel life in them again.

Slick would never know how much he’d helped her.

She couldn’t help wondering if she’d impacted him in any way.

Or would he even notice when she left?

* * *

Booker was not himself. He was on edge, jittery.

This had never happened to him before.

It was part of his role as a sports agent to act like he had his shit together. Why would anyone trust him with their career if his life was in chaos?

So, he kept his life clean. He had no emotional messes.

On the one hand, he was happy. As they lounged in bed eating sandwiches and devouring cheese, crackers, and nuts, he could admit he’d never felt more comfortable with another person.

So, why did he feel like he’d just knocked back a dozen energy drinks? He knew exactly how this would play out. He’d go back to New York, and she’d go back…wherever she belonged.

Maybe that was part of the problem. He liked her. He could see actually dating her—how crazy was that? But he didn’t really know who she was. He didn’t have enough details.

Yeah, that was it. A threat lurked just beneath the surface of his happiness—her ex barging in to win her back, finding out she was the wife of one of his top clients—something that would burst this bubble.

“Favorite food.” She lay on her side on top of the covers. Her plump breasts strained against the T-shirt she’d thrown on, and her rounded hip sloped down to a thigh covered in black leggings.

She was sexy as fuck and didn’t have a clue. When she’d asked what kind of woman he was attracted to, he hadn’t had the right answer. He did now.

It was an attitude. A woman who could abandon her inhibitions, lose herself in sex—that was hot.

It was Hellcat tipping her head back and crying out, wrapping her thighs around his neck and holding him in place as he licked her pussy. Telling him what she wanted and making sure she got it.

She sure as fuck let herself go. Her responsiveness drove him out of his mind.

They were good together—in and out of the bed. He shifted the blanket to cover his growing hard-on and forced himself to think about her question. “Pot de crème.”

“Are you serious? Pudding’s your favorite food?”

“It’s closer to a mousse than a pudding, but yes.”

“Slick has a sweet tooth. Huh. I love that.”

“What’s yours?” He picked through the nuts for a cashew, his favorite.

“It’s this avocado toast…someone makes for me. It’s got a poached egg and salsa, and it’s unreal. Delicious.” She pinched her fingers together and kissed the tips.

“Someone, huh?” Was her ex a chef? Maybe that was why she couldn’t cook. She relied on him.

“Favorite way to relieve stress.” Idly, she ran her fingers over his forearm.

The slow, rhythmic caress gave him goosebumps. “Fucking.”

She shot him a look.

“What? You asked.”

She squeezed his biceps. “I figured you’d say going to the gym.”

“Nah. That’s how I solve problems. All the mindless repetitions, the counting, it takes the pressure off and enables me to see more clearly. You?”

“It’s the gym for me. I used to go seven days a week.” She pinched her belly. “You wouldn’t know it now.”

“Still bitter about the muscle loss?” He got that. It was why, even when he traveled, he continued workouts.

“I am. How is it fair that you can be so diligent for so long, and then two weeks without training, you lose it all?”

She was an athlete. It was the only thing that made sense. Someone made her high-protein, healthy meals. She was singularly focused and preoccupied.

“Favorite person in the world to hang out with?” she asked.

“Used to be my dad.”

“That’s fine. If no one’s replaced him, you can still say him.”

“Okay, then. My dad.”

“Tell me about him.”

“He was smart as hell.” See how she did that? Get him to open up so easily? He didn’t know what it was about her. With her warm body stretched out beside his, her hair smelling like flowers, and the easy way she talked to him, it was like they’d known each other forever. If it wasn’t so ridiculous, his answer would’ve been her.

You’re my favorite person to hang out with.

“How could you tell?” She bit half a peanut. “Maybe you were young and dumb, and everything he said sounded smart. Maybe he wore sweaters with elbow patches, so he just looked smart.”

She cracked him up. “You have a weird way of looking at the world.” And eating peanuts. “But I can answer that. My dad read everything, and he remembered. You’d be talking about a soccer game, and he’d throw out some random fact. He could recite the ingredients in Cheerios because he’d read the back of the box as a kid.”

“My dad’s like that. I love it. You can ask him the most random question, and he’ll have an answer.” She popped the other half into her mouth.

“Before law school, he got an engineering degree at the Naval Academy, so he was fascinated by how things worked. I remember when our disposal wasn’t working, and the plumber said it couldn’t be fixed. We had to buy a new one. When my dad came home from work, he just stood there staring. About thirty seconds later, he gets his tool kit, lies down under the sink, and fixes it.” He smiled, remembering his awe. “I asked him how he’d done it, and he said, ‘I just broke it down. I tried to figure out what made it work.’ He kind of shrugged it off and said he’d gotten lucky that time.”

“But it wasn’t luck. It was his engineer brain.”

“Yeah. He read everything, watched documentaries. He just knew a little about everything.”

“You miss him.”

So much. “Yeah. He was an impressive man. He flew fighter jets.”

“Really? Like in Top Gun?”

“Exactly like that.”

“What was his call sign?”

“MOTO.” Again, he smiled. “For Master of the Obvious.”

“What? That’s mean. Why did they call him that?”

“He was the first in his family to go to college. No one in his world had done anything like the Naval Academy, and he wanted to fit in.”

“So, he tried too hard?”

“Yeah, exactly. He didn’t feel like he was as sophisticated as the other guys, so he compensated by explaining things.” Done with the sandwich, he set his plate on the nightstand. “What about you? Who’s your favorite person to hang out with?”

“You.”

Her unabashed honesty knocked him on his ass. Because he would’ve given the same answer had he not been so…

So what?

Afraid of getting attached to someone he’d never see again.

“Relax.” She rolled out of bed and reached for the cutting board. “It’s not hope you see in my eyes.”

“Yeah, what is it, then?” He tried to go for a teasing tone, but he still hadn’t found his equilibrium.

“You have a body made for flipping women over and ramming them into the headboard. You have this deep, growly voice that makes us spread our legs.” She got to the door. “You’re smart. Honest. Thoughtful. I like you, Slick. And I can’t help if that makes you uncomfortable, but I’m not going to pretend I’m anything other than who I am.”

“I don’t want you to be anyone else.” But she was gone. And he didn’t like it. “Where you going?”

“It’s time for dessert,” she called.

“I got your dessert right here.” But she wasn’t there to see him grab his cock. Which was a good thing. He could do better than relying on lame humor to hide his discomfort.

He collapsed onto his back, and instead of seeing the log beams crossing the ceiling, he saw her smile. What was happening to him? Why did he have this reaction to her?

She wasn’t exceptional. She wasn’t special.

A voice in his head said, Oh, but she is.

She’s magnificent.

Her smile was like sunshine, burning through his jaded layers. Warming his core.

It happened again. That tightening in his chest, the quickening of his pulse. Every time he opened the door to his feelings for her, a steel trap slammed shut.

Because she’s hiding something. Otherwise, they’d have exchanged names. Talked about their professions. He’d only gone along with it in case she happened to be involved in the sports world. He couldn’t risk word getting back to Marcus.

Oh, hey. It struck him that he hadn’t thought about work in hours.

That’s a first.

Well, hell. That got his gears churning. Had Marcus fired him today? He’d need Wi-Fi to find out.

No, that didn’t make sense. He wouldn’t do it while this deal is still in play.

I have time.

But he’d come here to figure out his next move. Not play with Hellcat.

And the only thing he should be doing was making sure his snowmobile was gassed up and that he had a path out of there.

Just as he sat up, she entered the room. “Where you going?”

“I need to clear more of the driveway. I want to park my car here. So the plows don’t hit it.”

“Plows? Are we going to get dug out?”

His gaze shifted away. “At some point. But by the time they get here, it’ll be too late. I should do it now.” If he saw that smile, he’d be a goner. But he heard a pop, and he found her opening the can of whipped cream. “That’s dessert?”

“It’s the topping for dessert.” She tossed a condom on the nightstand. “But you go on and shovel snow. Don’t worry about me. I’m good at playing all by myself.”

Chapter Thirteen

When he grinned, it cracked open a portal. Affection spilled out, warming him all the way down to the soles of his feet. He lay back down. “But that’s not nearly as much fun, right?”

“Not nearly.” The mattress bounced as she leaped onto it. Straddling his knees, she squirted a line of cream up his inner thigh. And then, with a seductive smile, this sexy, joyful woman slowly licked it off.

He’d never felt anything like this happiness, this…contentedness. Because it wasn’t just the physical stimulation. It was how very much he liked her. He wanted more of her.

More talking. More laughs. More sex.

As she licked her way up his thigh, she stayed seated on his knees, so by the time she got to his dick, she looked like a cat stretching, ass in the air. When she squirted the cold whipped cream over his cock, it went ramrod hard. After tossing the can onto the mattress, she grasped him at the base and went to town on him.

The pleasure of her touch combined with his affection for her combusted into an inferno of need and yearning. He wanted to knock her back and fuck her till they both came so hard they blacked out. He wanted to flip her over—just like she’d talked about—and take her from behind.

He’d smack her ass cheek just to see it wobble and hear her cry out. He wanted to feel her excitement gush all over his cock.

After licking him clean, she sucked him deep into her mouth. Hot lust streamed through him, and a sheen of sweat covered his skin. If he didn’t bust a nut soon, he’d lose his mind. “Ride me.”

The way this woman scrambled to comply turned him feral. Keeping her gaze locked with his, she sat up and pulled off her leggings and T-shirt, unclasped her bra, and tossed them all aside.

When she climbed back on him, he reached for those gorgeous tits, loving the way her hard pink nipples poked through his fingers.

She arched into his touch. “Hand me that condom. Quick, so you can get out there and shovel.”

He laughed and grabbed it. “You’ve got my number, don’t you?” She knew just how to break the tension and kick him out of his own head. And maybe that was why she’d broken down his barriers. Because she’d identified them.

After he tossed it to her, he clasped his fingers behind his head and pretended to be unaffected as she tore it open with her teeth.

“I think I do.” She stretched it over him. “But that’s only because I’m the same way.” Once it was securely on, she sank down on him, enveloping his cock in her slick heat. Her hands landed on his chest, and she rocked slowly.

He stopped pretending and reached for her, needing to get his hands on her ass and work him harder.

But she ignored him, sitting up and wriggling her bottom. “You’re so big, I feel you everywhere.” She let out a blissful sigh. “It’s so good.” She kept riding him at her own pace, like she was savoring every drag and slide. “Look at you.” She ran her hands across his shoulders and down to his biceps and then squeezed. “You’re so hot.” She caressed his chest, her fingers sifting through his hair. “My God.”

Jesus, this view—with her dark hair all tousled, her tits bouncing, and the flare of her feminine hips—it sent a roar of desire crashing through him.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Cupping her ass cheeks, he took over, moving her up and down his cock, thrusting up hard when he brought her down on him. “Fuck, yeah.” Every time their bodies connected, she’d let out a sexy little, “Oh.”

He’d never known it could be this good.

Her head tipped back, and she reached behind to set her hands on his thighs. Eyes closed, she rode him with abandon. His cock glistened as it slid in and out of her tight pussy.

Needing more, he jackknifed up, reaching for her breasts, and sucking a nipple into his mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck and bounced on him, so wild and reckless, she lost her rhythm.

He needed to get her there, so he tilted her hips until she gasped, letting him know he’d found just the right angle to rub her clit against the base of his cock. Crying out in utter abandon, she clutched fistfuls of his hair and writhed all over him.

Holding back was going to kill him, but he waited until she collapsed against him before flipping her onto her back and letting loose. One hand under her ass, the other braced next to her head, he powered into her.

His orgasm hit fast. It roared up from his core and exploded out of him. Cataclysmic. Gritting his teeth, he kept up his pace. Her fingernails dug into his shoulder blades, and she ground hard against him. He kept coming, one burst after another, his skin so hot he was on fire.

When he could finally catch his breath, he collapsed on top of her. They clung to each other. Their bodies slick, electrified, they panted in each other’s ears. And then, she shifted under him, reminding him of his weight.

As he settled beside her, she unconsciously molded herself to him, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

His heart stuttered.

He didn’t do the cuddly shit.

He fucked.

And then, he left.

He might engage in chitchat as he got cleaned up and dressed.

But he didn’t snuggle.

A simple nudge usually did the trick. They got the message.

But there wasn’t a single part of his body that could move.

Aftershocks pulsed through him. How many times had he come today? It had taken everything out of him.

Yeah, so, that’s why he couldn’t budge. He was exhausted.

It wasn’t because her hair smelled good. Felt nice, too, as it teased his chest like feathers. It wasn’t the press of her breasts or the memory of her cries. That look of ecstasy taking hold of her features.

It wasn’t any of that.

“I know.” She sighed. “No snuggling.” She rolled off him and got out of bed. “Be right back.”

The moment she left him, the cold air swooped in. Her absence left him with an acute sense of loneliness. Which made no sense. None.

Fuck it. He got up and joined her in the bathroom. Tossing the condom in the trash, he got a washcloth from the towel rack and saturated it with warm water. Standing behind her, his body so much larger than hers, he set his chin on her shoulder and gently rubbed between her legs.

Her eyes went soft, and she leaned back against him, wrapping one arm around his neck. Silently, they watched each other in the mirror. Emotions tumbled through him—a painful longing, a near-paralyzing fear, confusion…and an alarming flutter of hope.

Why did it have to end?

Why couldn’t they see what happened between them? He could go into town, take care of business, and then come back. Spend Christmas Day with her.

What if…?

When hope swelled so big it displaced fear, he brushed the hair off her shoulders and whispered, “Damn, Hellcat. You snatched my soul right out of my body.”

She turned within his arms and got up on her toes, giving him a sweet, intense kiss. When she pulled away, she sighed. “You’re a complicated man.”

But I don’t want to be.

It’s easy with you.

And he had a feeling the more time he spent with her, the less complicated it would feel.

But then, she patted his ass. “I need a nap now.” And she led him back to the bed.

As they slid back under the covers, he turned on his phone and plugged it in.

“That’s a good idea.” She reached for hers. “That way, we’ll know when the Wi-Fi comes back.”

“If it does, our phones are going to be pinging like crazy. You might want to turn off the sound.”

“I sleep like the dead.” She settled under the covers. On her side, one hand laying on the pillow, she smiled. “I won’t notice a thing.”

Staring into those beautiful blue eyes, her kindness radiating out and heating him like sunshine, he thought his heart would surely explode.

But as they lay side by side, tension crept in. He knew she wanted to touch him. Maybe rest her head on his chest. It’s just not my thing. He couldn’t sleep like that.

And so, he turned his back to her and punched his pillow up.

He didn’t want to be a dick. But he needed a quick nap.

Bullshit. At the very least, don’t lie to yourself.

He couldn’t sleep. Not while his mind was racing.

Because he could see a future with this woman.

And that scared the shit out of him.

Pinging sounds woke him. Dozens of them.

My phone.

Someone’s got an emergency. He needed to wake up, but he couldn’t open his eyes. He was nestled too deeply into an odd sensation of complete relaxation. And he wanted to savor it more than he wanted to help whichever client had gotten himself into trouble.

But each ping brought him closer to consciousness.

Come on. Wake up.

Answer the phone.

When he did, he realized he had his arm slung around a woman’s soft body, his face burrowed in her hair. They shared a pillow.

What the fuck? It startled him fully awake.

I’m snuggling.

He’d know her scent and the shape of her body anywhere.

Hellcat.

He was practically on top of her, their legs entwined.

How did this happen?

Worse, his body wasn’t in sync with his mind, because it wouldn’t budge even when he commanded it to get the hell off her.

But then, he remembered. The hope he’d felt before falling asleep.

That maybe they could make it work.

And he wouldn’t have to walk away from the sex, the laughter, this sizzling connection he’d never had with anyone else.

One more ping had him gently extracting himself and reaching for his phone. He needed to find out if Marcus had fired him.

He scrolled through the messages.

Marcus: Update on Ginty.

Mom: Merry Christmas, sweetie! It’s not the same without you. I really wish you’d come with us.

George: Hey, where did you go?

George: You make a decision?

He didn’t feel like responding to anyone. He was still in the cocoon, and he didn’t want to crawl out yet. Reality would drag him back soon enough.

For now, he’d block out the world. Go back to his hellcat.

When she woke up, he’d talk to her. Suggest they continue to see each other. With the way they got along, he was pretty damn sure she’d agree.

Just as he set his phone back on the nightstand, two incoming messages flashed across her screen.

Beau: Hey, sweetheart. Thinking about you.

Beau: Come home for Christmas?

Reality hit like a punch to the stomach, knocking him right out of the cocoon.

She’s not finished with her ex. Not at all.

I’m such a dumbass.

Why did he always do this? Get swept away in relationships that weren’t real? He’d known all along she was hiding out here. That she had a complicated life.

She’s been betrayed. She’s not ready for a relationship.

Neither am I. The moment his feet hit the ground, he’d be on the run. Catching up on clients, negotiating deals, and fixing the situation with Ginty.

He grabbed his phone, focused on the only thing in life he could control: his career.

And you know something? If I go to LA, it’ll be more of the same.

He didn’t know the culture of that agency. It could be worse than Elite.

No, he knew what he had to do. The only path that was right for him.

He tapped on George’s name.

Booker: Yes. I’m in.

George: Let’s go!

That familiar sense of purpose charged through him. He needed to make a game plan.

First up: talk to the other partners. Make sure their mission statement hadn’t diverted from what they’d talked about in law school.

Next: See if Ginty would come with him to a boutique agency.

And finally: quit.

Quietly, he got out of bed, picked his clothes up off the floor, grabbed his travel bag from the bathroom, and got dressed in the living room. His duffel remained on the floor where he’d left it the night before. He sat on the couch to shove his feet into wool socks and then his boots.

He contemplated his departure. Do I wake her up?

The image of her blue eyes blinking open, her smile when she saw him, nearly had him tearing off his clothes and running back to bed.

But no. That wasn’t the right answer for either of them. And it was time to stop pretending.

He had to leave a note, though. Condoms weren’t a hundred percent reliable, and he wasn’t about to bail on her if the unexpected happened. In the kitchen, he found a pen and paper and wrote her a note.

Hellcat,

I’ve got to get to work. I won’t be back here for a while, so feel free to stay. If you need me for anything, here’s my number.

He thought about the way she’d grated the cheese with such concentration. The way she’d laughed so hard she could hardly breathe during their snowball fight. And the way she’d ridden him with total abandon.

Her courageous spirit demanded he say something true.

Best Christmas ever.

Take care,

Booker

Where should I leave it?

They hadn’t cleaned the kitchen, the dining room table was littered with baskets and paper scraps, and the coffee table was covered with fishing line. He needed to put it where she’d see it.

He didn’t have tape, so he left it on the kitchen counter.

And then, he let himself out the back door, fired up the snowmobile, and headed for town.

And if he felt the invisible thread to her stretching and tightening…

Well, he reminded himself, it had all been a mirage.

Chapter Fourteen

TWO YEARS AND SEVEN MONTHS LATER

Booker slid the contracts into his briefcase and shut down his computer. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a vacation. Of course, this one was for a client, so it probably didn’t count.

His assistant passed by the office and did a double take. “Hey.” He came inside. “What’re you doing here?”

“Anita’s contract came in.” The pro golfer was a new client, and her number one priority was getting endorsements. She was fun, vibrant, and damn good at her sport, and he’d come up with a few angles for her. He’d already scored her a credit card commercial. “I’ll read it on the plane.”

“There’s only one flight a day to St. Lucia.” The older man checked his watch. “You’re not going to make it.”

“I’ll make it.” He might not. Wheeling his suitcase to the door, he said, “The car’s waiting.”

His assistant followed him to the elevator, stepping ahead to push the call button. “You want me to follow up with the Canadian kid?”

“No.” He needed to play it cool. Not come off frantic. “I’ll send another message when I get back. It’ll all work out.” Lies. It looked like he’d been ghosted, but he hadn’t come up with a game plan yet.

“What about the Canadian kid?” As if summoned by the biggest potential get of their boutique agency, George appeared out of nowhere.

“Still no response.” He’d been cultivating a relationship with the family for over a year, developing the kid’s natural ability. With the draft six months away, Booker had fully expected them to sign with him, but they’d suddenly gone silent. “Guys, it’s fine. I’m on it.”

“Go straight there from St. Lucia,” George suggested.

Good idea. “I can do that.”

“Great.” George checked the time. “I gotta go. My four o’clock’s here.” His colleague patted his shoulder. “Have a blast at the wedding. I’ll try to get there if I can.”

With a chin nod goodbye, Booker got on the elevator. All four agents were invited, of course, but as a boutique agency, they’d created strict rules to ensure they’d succeed. And they all agreed they couldn’t afford to shut down operations for a client’s wedding.

But, man, he wouldn’t mind the entourage.

Ever since Ginty had signed with the Renegades, Booker had been dealing with his childhood friends. One owned the team, another was the coach, and the third guy was the goalie. Typically, Booker handled business over the phone, but the few times he’d come to town, he’d had to meet them face-to-face.

He wouldn’t lie—it was tough to see their rapport hadn’t changed over the years. The three of them were still close. They’d all gotten married and had kids. The families hung out just the way he’d always imagined.

He dealt with them because of business, but this time, he’d have to hang out at a resort. They had a full schedule of diving, deep sea fishing, paragliding, and spa time. It would’ve helped to have George there.

Whatever. The focus was Ginty’s wedding. His client finally had all the happiness he deserved. A great career, and now, a fiancée who loved him for himself and not his money or fame.

As he headed out of the five-story Murray Hill brick building—a big change from his last job at Elite’s gleaming high rise on Park Avenue—the summer heat smacked him like a wet towel. As soon as he slid inside the town car, he was grateful for the blast of air-conditioning.

The driver took off the moment he closed the door. His grip on the wheel showed how anxious he was to get Booker to the airport on time. Nothing he could do about it now. He pulled out his phone to catch up on missed calls and messages and saw several from Ginty. He quickly called him back.

“Hey.” The hockey player hadn’t sounded that defeated in years.

“What’s up?” Booker tensed. “Everything all right?”

“It’s off. The wedding’s canceled.”

“What’re you talking about?” Whatever happened, Booker would fix it. Ginty had been seeing his fiancée for two years. A country music star, her career was even more high profile than his. She had plenty of money, so the fact that they were still together meant something to the hockey star. They were a damn perfect couple.

“My family sold the wedding details to the press. All the way down to Noa’s wedding dress.”

“How the hell did they find out?” They’d kept everything on the down-low. All the guests had to sign NDAs. “They’re not even invited.”

“Yeah, I’m on that. Believe me. I’m going to figure it out.”

Booker liked seeing this change in his client. In the past, he clung to his relationships with his parents and siblings, but after he moved to Wyoming to play for the Renegades, he slowly changed his perspective. He’d gone no-contact two years ago.

“Those fuckers.” They’d chosen July for a reason. Hockey season was approaching, and Noa was going on tour. Now was the only time they could do it.

“Yeah.”

“So, you’re rescheduling?” Booker asked. “Can you get your money back?”

“I don’t give a fuck about the money. I want to marry her. But no, there’re no refunds at this point.”

Ginty had paid for everything himself. The luxury hotel, the food, drinks, activities—no one had to give a thought to tips or extras.

“I’m sorry.” He meant it. Genuinely. “So, what’s the plan?”

“No plan. She’s leaving soon, and training starts next month.”

The couple had planned the wedding themselves. It had taken a year to get every detail in place. “Well, that’s bullshit.” No way would Booker let them give up. “We’re going to make it happen.”

“I’m not doing a courthouse wedding. Noa deserves to be treated like a queen. I want to watch her sashay her fine ass down the aisle. I want to kiss her in front of everyone and let the world know she’s mine.”

After all his family had put him through, Ginty deserved it. “I’ve got this. Let me plan something.”

“What do you mean?” his client asked.

“I’ll put something together for you. It won’t be as elaborate, but it’ll be good.”

“You know how long it took to put this wedding together?” Ginty asked.

“I do. But I can make something good happen.”

“It’s too late to swerve,” Ginty said. “A lot of people are on their way to the island right now.”

“Okay, maybe we can’t have all hundred and fifty people there, but we can have the people who matter most to you.”

“That would be my teammates and her sisters.”

“Then, it should probably be in Calamity.” His stomach tightened, and that familiar sense of dread washed through him. If he did this, he’d be responsible for contacting all three of his old friends. But he shoved all that nonsense aside. “Come on. Let’s do this.”

His client chuckled.

“What?” Booker asked.

“The maid of honor said the same thing.”

The bride’s friend was an even more famous musician. “Are you serious? Lorelei Calloway’s going to plan your wedding? You should’ve led with that.”

“She’s offered her place, but I didn’t take her up on it.”

“How many people can she accommodate?” Booker asked.

“It’s a huge property. Used to be a camp for, like, scientific study or some shit. Outdoor adventures. It sat on the market for years because it’s in the middle of a national forest, but I guess the remoteness was what she was looking for.”

“By camp, do you mean it has cabins?”

“Yeah, exactly. A lot of them. It’s got everything. Archery and skeet shooting ranges, a fly-fishing river, a spa, and a bonfire pit. This place is wild.”

“You’ve been there?” Booker needed to see this place for himself.

“Sure.”

“Well, what do you think? Will it work for a wedding?” A remote spread in the Tetons was a far cry from St. Lucia. “Does she have staff to help us pull this off?”

“She’s got people, yeah.”

If they had a venue, he was pretty sure they could pull it off. “So, are we doing this? Is this what you want?”

“I don’t know.”

“What’s stopping you?” Booker asked.

“Probably the fact that I’m so pissed at my family I can’t see straight.”

“That’s fair. So, it comes down to this. Do you want to put your wedding off and go through the planning process all over again?”

“Hell, no,” Ginty said.

“We can’t give you St. Lucia, but we can get you married. You down to do this?”

“When you put it that way? Yeah, I am.”

“Then, we’ll make it happen. Text me Lorelei’s number.”

“You’re fuckin’ amazing,” Ginty said. “Thank you.”

As soon as they disconnected, Booker switched his flight from St. Lucia to Calamity, Wyoming. And then he replied to Ginty’s text message.

Booker: Make sure you let her know I’m calling.

Ginty: Will do.

With stop-and-go traffic, it was almost a relief to switch venues. He never would’ve made that flight. He dialed the singer’s number.

It rang three times before a woman gave a breathless, “Hello?”

“Hey. This is Booker Hayes. Ginty’s agent.”

“Funny, he called you a friend, but okay, Booker Hayes. Are we doing this?”

The sound of her voice plucked a chord inside him, but he didn’t know why. Maybe it was the familiarity of her voice. He didn’t listen to pop music, but he’d certainly heard her songs. You’d have to live under a rock not to. “If you’re up for hosting it, then, yeah, we are.”

“I’m up for it, but it’s going to take a lot of work to get it set up in such a short amount of time. We’ve got the space and the beds, though, and I think that’s the important thing.”

“Cool.” He was curious to see this property. “What can I do to help?”

“I’ll let you know when you get here.”

Damn. He liked that. So many people wasted time pretending they didn’t want to bother you. Oh, nothing. It’s fine. I’ve got it. He liked people who didn’t fuck around.

“Right now, I’m in delegating mode,” she said. “I’ve been doing nonstop construction since I moved here, so I’ve just reassigned the guys. The guest cabin bathrooms haven’t been touched since the nineties. My dad and stepmom are heading to Idaho Springs to buy linens and toiletries and all the adult toys⁠—”

“Whoa. Hang on. Are we talking about the same event? I’m talking about Ginty and Noa’s wedding.”

She burst into laughter. Of course, he knew what she meant. He’d only been joking, but her response made him smile.

“Oh, my God. I meant bows and arrows. Skeet guns. Floaties for the pool. That kind of thing. Although now that you mention it, we could put together some goody bags for the guests. Not a bad idea. I like the way you think.”

“Yeah, that’s a pass on the goody bags. The guests can provide their own after-hours entertainment. It’s probably too soon to ask, but do we know how many guests we can expect?”

“Let me tell you something, Noa works fast. She’s canceled everything and reinvited the must-have people on their list. She’s thinking forty to fifty at the most.”

“Is she as upset as Ginty?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah. For sure. But mostly, she’s just protective of him and hates that his family would screw him over like this.”

“I like that. She’s just what he needs. How do you and Noa know each other?”

“I started out in country music, so I moved to Nashville when I was twelve. She and I were in the same music program together in high school. We drifted apart—hey,”—her voice got muffled as she talked to someone else—“you’re going to break it. Stevie, honey, no. Go see Grampa.” She came back on the line. “Sorry about that. It’s mayhem over here. Anyhow, we drifted apart because I went in a different direction, but we reconnected when I moved to Calamity and she started dating Ginty. I don’t have many people I can trust, but she’s one of the good ones.”

“Yeah, I get that. Once you hit a certain level of fame, you never know who wants you for yourself or your access.”

“Or money. But you can tell, you know? People think they’re so slick, but if you watch their expressions, you can tell.”

Slick. He hadn’t heard that word in a long time. Even after two and a half years, he still had a visceral reaction to it. It sent him back to the cabin. To Hellcat writhing beneath him. Her laughing. Dancing and whisper-singing. Fuck. He forced himself to snap out of it and return to the conversation. “What do you mean?” When the car finally hit Grand Central Parkway, traffic was at a crawl. But that was okay. He had plenty of time for the new flight. And he liked talking to her.

“I’ve learned to pay attention. People come on strong, and you think, wow, we’re really connecting. But it’s in the moments when they think you’re not watching that you see who they are. When they’re bitchy to the waitstaff, or when you look away and their smile disappears.”

“I know what you mean.” He wouldn’t tell her, but that was one of the ways he determined whether a potential client was a good fit. Everyone was friendly and on their best behavior when they wanted to sign with him, but it was how they behaved when they thought he wasn’t watching that mattered.

“And I want to give her a dream wedding. She deserves it. I don’t know how I’ll pull it off, but I’m going to.”

“Don’t forget I’m in this with you. I’m on my way to the airport right now, so as soon as I get to your place, we’ll divide and conquer.”

“I love that. Thank you. That makes me feel like we can really pull this off. We just have to make sure nothing gets leaked. The most important thing for this wedding is keeping it under wraps. Which is why I offered my place. Other than a deserted island, you can’t get more private.”

“That becomes dicey when we start hiring caterers, staff, and landscapers. Once we let the outside world in, the privacy’s over.”

“And that’s exactly why we’re doing everything ourselves. That’s why my dad and stepmom are on their way to Idaho Springs. They’re picking up tablecloths, sheets, blankets, soap dispensers…all the stuff. We’re not going to have any outsiders.”

“We’re cooking meals for forty people?” That didn’t sound feasible.

“I mean, if we have to. But I haven’t figured out all the details yet. I don’t know how well you know Calamity⁠—”

“I grew up there. I know it well.”

“Yeah, so, you know the locals couldn’t care less about celebrities,” she said.

“You just don’t want the paparazzi camping out in the woods with drones and flying over in helicopters.”

“That’s exactly right. It’s no secret I live here, and people are very respectful. Of course, it helps that I’ve retired and haven’t performed in three years, but still. I try to keep a low profile.”

“I got you. We’ll handle as much as we can ourselves. It’s just a wedding. A few nights. How hard can it be?”

“Well, we’re starting with nothing. Noa can’t wear her wedding dress because the designer shipped it directly to the resort.”

Okay, that was a problem. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“As soon as I get off the phone with you, I’m calling a well-known designer who lives in town. She makes dresses to die for. It’ll have to be off the rack, but hopefully, she can make quick alterations and turn it into Noa’s dream dress.”

“When you have a minute, make a list. That way, I can take some things off your hands.”

“Let’s forever remember this as the moment I fell madly in love with you. Thank you for that. Hey.” Again, she lowered the phone. “And this is why we can’t have nice things.” Her voice was muffled as she spoke to someone else. “Here, can you take this? Thanks.” She came back to him with an exaggerated sigh. “You sure you want to join my circus?”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

And strangely, he meant it.

Chapter Fifteen

Nice job making Stevie cry.

And for what? A broken plate?

As she rocked on the front porch, Lorelei sifted her fingers through her daughter’s silky hair. “I’m sorry, baby.”

She shouldn’t have yelled. Pulling off a wedding for her closest friend was important, but her daughter came first. Always.

Even since taking that pregnancy test, she’d found her purpose. Winning Grammys, touring the world, cutting endorsement deals…all of that had been great, but success was an insatiable gremlin. In the entertainment industry, it was fleeting. And to stay on top, an artist chased relevancy. Hitting one goal only fueled the need to reach the next. There was no end in sight.

At some point, it stopped being about artistry or creativity. If you wanted awards and sold-out stadiums, you sold your soul for them.

But with Stevie, she’d found true meaning.

Before, she’d had a team of people handling the parts of her life she didn’t think mattered. Now that she was a mother, they’d become essential. Nothing was more important than what she put in her child’s body or how she spent her time.

She thought of Slick. It had all started with him. The French press, the cheese, the cocoa. He’d never know how much he’d changed her life. Man, if he could see her now. Growing her own vegetables, cooking three meals a day, fixing toilets…

Between her dad and the internet, she’d learned to become self-sufficient.

“Mommy mean.” Her cheeks glistening with tears, Stevie stuck two fingers in her mouth.

“I was mean. You’re right.” Who cares about a stupid plate anyhow? She’d gotten a little too caught up in planning this wedding. Not that she regretted it.

Are you kidding? Noa had earned this happiness.

I’ll do anything to pull it off.

Thankfully, she couldn’t have a more perfect venue.

Everyone thought she was crazy to buy this big piece of land. But she’d looked at countless homes and properties and, while she’d seen some magnificent places, the only one that stood out was Paintbrush Ranch. Surrounded by national parks, it sat in a valley blooming with Indian Paintbrush flowers.

Comprised of a fifteen-thousand-square-foot lodge, twelve guest cabins, and quarters for the live-in staff, it had one hundred beds. Sure, it was a lot, but the moment she’d toured the place, an idea had formed. One that married this setting with her creative spirit.

For now, of course, it was just a dream. Nothing she’d ever share.

Because what was the point?

Right now, her life was about Stevie.

The greatest surprise she’d ever gotten.

She’d never know why Slick had disappeared like that, but it broke her heart every single day to know her child would never know her father. It had been so jarring to wake up feeling sated and happy, only to discover he’d left without a trace.

Her first thought had been, Well, I drove him outside to shovel more snow. Ha ha. But when she saw the empty space his duffel bag had once filled, her heart had shattered.

The Wi-Fi had come back on, and she knew he had work issues, so he probably had to attend to them. Okay, that’s fine. But why hadn’t he said goodbye?

It wasn’t like she’d expected anything to come of their time together. She’d known they’d never see each other again. But at the very least, couldn’t he have left a note?

Tires crunched over gravel, and her little girl scrambled off her lap. “No-No.” She toddled off the porch, dramatically lifting a leg and aiming for the step below as if it were a moving target. “No-No.”

Her friend came flying out of the passenger side and scooped Stevie into her arms. “I missed you, my little Twinkie.” She loved how her friend matched Stevie’s energy.

Her little girl scrunched her nose and shook her head. “I no Winkie.”

“Oh, come on. What are you if not a yummy little cake treat stuffed with sweet, creamy goodness?”

“I Yeevie. Pay pnano now?”

“Sure thing.” Her friend hitched the toddler on her hip and climbed the porch steps. “Someone’s got to make use of that thing.” She gave Lorelei a side-eye as she waited for Ginty to get out of the car.

“I play it plenty,” Lorelei said.

“Uh huh.” Her friend opened the door and went inside.

Lorelei followed her in. “So, how’d it go?”

“Oh, my God.” Noa crossed the living room, heading for the grand staircase. “Her store is the Disney World of wedding gowns. And let me tell you, I flew to Paris looking for dresses. I went to a hundred shops, but I’ve never seen anything like Knox Holliday’s gowns.”

“In other words, it went well.” Behind her, Ginty was reading the screen of his phone. “Booker just landed. So, while you ladies do your music thing, I’ll make sure his bedroom’s ready.”

“That would be awesome,” Lorelei said. “Thank you.” She’d heard a lot about Booker Hayes over the years. He sounded like a good guy. And from just that quick conversation with him, she could tell he had a take-charge, all-hands-on-deck attitude that she liked.

At the top of the stairs, Noa put the toddler down, and her daughter took off. Her baby loved the conservatory more than any other room in the house. It was in a different wing, down a stretch of hallway that bridged the former owner’s quarters with the main lodge.

Before she’d even moved in, she’d done extensive work to turn this place into a home. She’d reconfigured rooms to turn a massive dining hall into smaller spaces, and she’d created a gorgeous nursery and luxurious bedrooms in the hopes her family would stay with her.

She’d kept the industrial kitchen—just modernized it. If her dream ever became a reality, she’d need the multiple appliances, sinks, and counters it offered.

Once it was livable, she’d focused on the fun stuff. The lower level had a game room complete with pool table, pinball machines, a real bar from a historic hotel in Leadville, Colorado, a dartboard, and a dozen poker tables. She didn’t play cards, but her brother and his friends did. Oh, and there was also a wine cellar down there.

She’d even created a theater with a giant screen, comfortable chairs, a popcorn machine, and a soda bar. But it was the room they were approaching that Lorelei loved the most. It was mostly empty—she didn’t have a band, so why bother filling it with instruments she’d never play—but the music conservatory had a wall of windows that let the sunshine pour in and offered a backdrop of the dramatic mountain ridge. This room got her all stirred up every time she stepped into it.

Because it held her Bechstein grand piano.

Once in the room, Stevie raced from one end to the other, trying to catch the sparkles of sunlight reflected off the crystal chandelier.

Lorelei knew exactly what her daughter felt in this space: freedom.

Noa sat down and warmed up her fingers. She smiled. “Play with me.”

Lorelei joined her on the glossy black bench, a low hum of excitement gathering strength as her fingers hit the keys.

“Major,” her friend said as they ran through the pentascales together. “Minor.”

And then, Lorelei said, “Diminished.”

They practiced a bit more and, once they were ready, Noa launched into a song she’d been working on. Lorelei was familiar with it, so she added harmonies. Her friend bumped her shoulder and said, “Ugh. That’s so pretty.”

Still playing, Lorelei glanced over to check on her daughter. She was lying on her back, an ankle resting on a propped knee, trying to catch floating dust motes with her little fists.

This. This moment was everything. A glittery warmth spread through her. What more could anyone ask for? Her heart clutched with love for her daughter, this friend who’d become family, and this strange piece of land that had given her a home.

When Noa finished her song, she rested her hands on her lap. “Thank you. You have no idea what it means to us that you swooped in and saved our wedding. If not for you, his family would’ve won, and we would’ve had to wait to get married.” She reached for Lorelei’s hand. “You’re a good friend. I know it’s a huge deal, considering you’re not prepared for it.”

“You don’t need to thank me. I’d do anything for you.” Lorelei hugged her friend. “Besides, I want to do it. What’s the point of owning an entire camp if I’m not hosting wild-ass weddings for my friends?”

“At least we’ve got Booker helping. That guy’s amazing. I don’t know how he juggles all the things his clients ask him to do, but he’s a machine.”

“Well, that’s a relief. As soon as he gets here, the four of us will meet, and you can tell us what you want. Obviously, we can’t recreate St. Lucia, but we can make this a ton of fun.”

Noa’s eyes misted over. “You’re such a good friend. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” And she meant it.

She might never fully recover from what Cissy and Landon had done to her, but she’d learned a vital lesson. She was paying attention to her life and her relationships now.

Funny how easy that becomes when you’re not running a billion-dollar empire.

Her fingers moved across the keys, and she started singing. “It was the tattoo. That’s what I noticed.” Her daughter came closer. Stevie loved when her mom sang. “I had the same one, except it was different. His moon, my sun, our universe. When I’m alone, my ink is dark. When he stands next to me, it glows. And so it goes, the yin and yang, yang and yin⁠—”

“Yin yin,” Stevie shouted, clapping her hands.

“You like Mommy’s song?” When Stevie nodded, Noa’s hands went back to the piano, and the two of them sang their hearts out, inventing new lyrics and breaking into familiar, beloved tunes. It was the best feeling in the world.

They were interrupted by her phone buzzing in her pocket. She had so many balls in the air that she had to check it. “Hang on. It’s my dad.” She hit the button and said, “Hey. How’s it going?”

“Great.” In the background, she could hear people talking. “But we’ve hit a wall.”

“You guys don’t have to get everything done in one afternoon.” She felt bad that their to-do list was so long. “If you’re tired, come back. Or stay in a hotel and get more done tomorrow. You want me to make a reservation?”

“Lor, how old do you think I am? Just because I’m retired doesn’t mean a shopping trip wears me out.”

“You said you hit a wall.” She laughed. Her dad had retired in his forties. So, not old at all. “I thought it was too much. What’s the problem?”

“This store has ten of the same soap dishes, and Margot says we either get twelve of everything or we get a different theme for each cabin.”

Lorelei burst out laughing.

His voice went muffled when he said, “She’s laughing at me.” And then, he came back on the line. “What’s so funny?”

“Because I never imagined those words would come out of your mouth.”

“I’m just the messenger. Here. You talk to her.”

After a momentary whooshing sound, her stepmom came on the line. “It’s a wedding. I want it to be perfect. And I’m willing to go to five more stores until we get just the right soap dishes.”

“Maybe I will take that nap,” her dad called in the background. “Book the hotel room, Lor.”

“Margot, I love you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to my dad.”

“Well, to be fair, I think it was you coming back into his life,” her stepmom said. “But yeah, we’re good for each other. Now, do you want me to keep looking for twelve of the same soap dishes, or get a different one for each bathroom?”

The whooshing came back, and her dad’s voice rumbled in her ear. “And don’t settle for something you don’t want because you think I’m too feeble to go to another store.”

“Dad, I think we both know you didn’t really retire. You might’ve given Walker the mine, but now you’re running a shopping mall and a lodge. So, trust me, it’s not that I don’t think you can handle it. I just feel bad for making you guys run all over Idaho Springs for me. But to answer your question, I don’t think it matters. I just want the cabins to be gorgeous and luxurious. You know Noa and her people.” She teased her friend.

“Hey,” Noa said. “My people spit chew out the car window. They don’t care about a soap holder.”

“Well, there’s your answer,” Lorelei said to her dad. “There’s no theme for the cabins. Just get the best quality sheets, towels, and duvets.”

“That’s already done. All right, then. We’ll grab these, and then, I think we’ve got everything we need. We’ll stop for dinner and then head home.”

“Awesome. Thank you so much.” She disconnected quickly and scanned the text messages that’d been blowing up her phone. “Oh, for God’s sake. The Brothers Hope just bailed on the music festival. I’ve got to go into town.” Which sucked. Because she really wanted to be here when Booker showed up.

She wouldn’t lie. She’d liked what she’d heard about him from Ginty, but she’d also enjoyed their phone conversation.

She got up and reached for her daughter. “Come on, punkin. We’ve got to go.”

But the toddler clung to Noa. “Stay wif No-No.”

“Noa’s got stuff to do. She’s planning a whole wedding.”

“You’re darn right, Noa’s got stuff to do.” Her friend lifted Stevie and held her in the air like an airplane, swooping around the room. “We’re flying.”

Stevie shrieked, and Noa mouthed, “Go.”

“You sure?”

Noa rolled her eyes and continued the game.

Oh, well. She’d just have to catch up with Booker later.

Chapter Sixteen

Sunlight filtered through the pines bracketing the highway, and, with the windows open, Booker breathed in the fresh mountain air.

It felt good to be back in Calamity. It always did. Which, of course, was why he’d bought a cabin here.

He got a flash of Hellcat’s smile, bright blue eyes, and hair tousled from the fucking he was giving her. Her laughter struck a chord inside him that reverberated to this day.

Yeah, he thought about her a lot, but the memories came roaring back when he visited Calamity. Damn, he’d had a good time with her. Nothing like it before or after.

He couldn’t get over the fact that she never got his note. By the time he’d figured it out, she was long gone, and there’d been no way to track her down.

He’d hurt her. And it ground through him. He wished he could make it right.

Had she gotten back with Beau? He didn’t know the whole story, but the fucker had betrayed her, so he hoped like hell she hadn’t. Where had she wound up? Every time he visited Calamity, he found himself looking for her face in the crowd.

Stupid. Why would she stay? She had to be long gone.

This stretch of 191 from the airport to Lorelei’s Paintbrush Ranch had no traffic. There were no shops, no gas stations. Nothing.

This woman wants to be left the hell alone.

If he continued on a little ways, he’d hit the Gentry Mining Corp. And beyond that, Yellowstone National Park. But this stretch was all national park. Every now and then, he’d catch a flash of Calamity Lake through the trees.

His GPS had him turning off the highway and onto a narrow, dusty lane. He drove a mile through the woods before he hit a massive gate. There were cameras everywhere and no code for this place, so he texted Ginty. A moment later, the steel blockade parted for him.

He drove another half-mile until the woods gave way to a magnificent, green valley. He hit the brake at the rise in the road just to take it in. Sunlight turned the river molten silver as it snaked across the canyon floor and glinted off the copper gutters of the lodge.

From this perspective, he had a good view of the property’s layout. Front and center, facing the river, the stone and timber lodge stood two stories with a wraparound porch. Behind it were the outbuildings that included a large garage for ranch equipment, dormitory-style housing, a corral and stables, and then a cluster of twelve cabins tucked into the woods.

In the distance, a tractor kicked up dust. Goats tussled in a pen, and horses grazed and flicked their tails on a grassy knoll. Damn, it was a nice spread. He liked his cabin, but this place… He’d love to own a place like this. If he still had friends here, they’d fish, ride their ATVs, and smoke cigars around the firepit.

But he didn’t have friends, and it was time to get going. The sooner he pulled off this wedding, the sooner he could get to Ontario and find out what was going on with the Marchaud family. He parked in front of the lodge, grabbed his suitcase, and headed up the stone walkway.

“You made it.” Ginty pushed out the screen door and greeted him.

“This place is huge. Tell me she lives here with her roadies, band, producers, and everyone she’s ever known.”

Ginty laughed. “Nope. None of that.”

Padded rockers lined the long, wide porch, and colorful flower baskets dangled between the thick spruce fir posts. He filled his lungs with pine-scented air and took in the sound of rushing water.

Everything about this place screamed home.

He dropped the handle of his suitcase and gave Ginty a hug. “Sorry those fuckers stole your wedding.”

“Yeah, it sucks.” After his client gave him a few hearty slaps on the back, he pulled away. “But I can’t thank you enough for what you and Lor are doing.”

“Of course.” He reached for the handle. “We got this.”

“Come in.” Ginty ushered him inside the house. “Let me show you your room.”

“You get in touch with everyone yet?”

“Mostly. Guests’ll start arriving the day after tomorrow.”

Booker followed him across a huge living area with a massive stone hearth, a wall of bookcases, and multiple seating areas. Old timber beams crossed the two-story ceiling. “This place is ridiculous.”

“Right? If things had to go sideways, I can’t think of a better backup plan than this.” As they climbed the stairs, Ginty said, “Your room’s got a desk, so if you need to catch up on some work, you’re all set.”

“Nope. Did everything I needed on the plane.” Which wasn’t exactly true. He knew if he checked his phone, he’d see a dozen missed calls and countless text messages. But for right now, his priority was Ginty. “Soon as I settle in, I’ll meet with Lorelei.”

“She’s not here right now. She had to run into town.”

“Everything all right?” Booker asked.

“It’s not wedding related. She’s on a committee for the Wild West Days, and their headliner canceled.”

“Oh, shit. That’s bad.” As a kid, he’d loved that festival. “When is it?”

“It’s already started.” Ginty glanced at him over his shoulder. “But the concert’s not till Sunday.”

Oof, that was bad timing. The singer had a lot on her plate. At the top of the stairs, they walked side by side. “Why live on this remote piece of land but work on committees?”

“Celebrities aren’t a big thing around here, so the locals leave her alone. Basically, she wants her privacy but doesn’t want to live in hiding. And if anyone does try to fuck with her, she’s got insane security.” They stopped outside a bedroom. “This one’s yours. Lor wants us to get started on the plans without her, so come downstairs when you’re ready.”

“Will do.” He rolled the suitcase into the room.

Ginty lingered in the doorway. “Booker?”

He’d just swiped the screen of his phone to put out a few fires, but his client’s tone had him worried. “Yeah?”

“Thank you for this. You’re a good friend.”

He thought about what Lorelei said about how he referred to Ginty as his client. Mixing money and business with friends never worked. And yet…would he have thrown a wedding for any of his other athletes? Maybe. But given his reaction when he’d heard the wedding was off, he supposed he did feel…protective of Ginty. “No problem.”

“We’ll try to keep it simple.”

And there it was again, Ginty thinking he had to take up as little space as possible while his family grabbed all the real estate. Booker set the phone down and faced him. “Fuck simple. You only get married once, and we’ve got all the resources to make the wedding you and Noa want.”

The big, muscular forward’s eyes turned glossy. He lowered his chin, clearly struggling with emotion. And then, he grabbed Booker and gave him a bear hug. “How is it that I’m fuckin’ older than you, but you’re the one with your shit together?” He pulled back. “I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you. I wouldn’t have found Noa. And I wouldn’t be fucking thriving. You’re a good man, and I owe you my life.”

Panic kicked up in his chest. “You don’t owe me anything. You’re my client. I make money off you.” He grinned like it was all a joke. “Of course, I need you happy.” As he set his suitcase on the bed, he knew he’d sounded more mean than funny.

This was an emotional time for Ginty, and he wanted to be there for him, but he couldn’t blur the lines. He had to keep it professional. And hosting a wedding was just keeping his client happy to ensure he played well during the upcoming season. If he had a soft spot for the guy, it was because his family had fucked him over so many times.

That’s all it is.

But when he turned back to Ginty, he found the man smiling. “Who hurt you?”

“Fuck off. Now, get out of here so I can take care of my less needy clients.”

Ginty chuckled and left him alone to check his messages. He fielded a few issues and made sure his assistant booked his flight to Ontario.

Booker: I’ll need a car rental, too. And directions. They live in a remote mountain town.

Wise One: Already done. Will send directions to your phone right before you land so they don’t get lost under a mountain of messages.

Booker: Appreciate it.

Wise One: Johnson invited you to his wife’s birthday party. You were supposed to be in St. Lucia, so you couldn’t make it back in time, but I think you can probably fit it in now.

Booker: As long as it’s after Ontario. I’m about to meet with the bride and groom to come up with a plan. Shouldn’t be in town too long. A rehearsal dinner, a wedding, and then I’m gone.

Wise One: Party’s in Michigan so, yes, it would be on the way back from Ontario. Let me know.

Booker: Will do.

He headed toward the staircase, scrolling through text messages, when a sound broke through his concentration.

“Dat not nice.” It was a child’s voice. “I not bad.”

He waited to hear an adult, but when he didn’t, he peered into the bedroom. Actually, it was a nursery. A stunning trompe l’oeil depiction of a zoo covered the walls. A line of penguins waddled toward the window, a giant giraffe head leaned over a fence, monkeys swung from branches, and a little girl used an elephant’s trunk as a swing.

Across the room from a white bedframe was a built-in bookcase.

And a small child was climbing it. Adrenaline shot through him, and he dashed into the room, grabbing the kid around the waist and prying her stubborn fingers off the shelf.

“Hey, mans.” The little girl twisted in his arms. “What you doing?”

Good question. His heart pounded. “That doesn’t look very safe.”

“Stevie?” Noa came racing into the room. She came to a stop when she saw him manhandling the child. “What’s going on?”

“She was climbing the bookcase.”

“Girl.” Noa shook her head. “You were supposed to be getting your puzzle.” She took the girl from him. “You didn’t come here for it, did you?”

The girl pointed. “Dat my moof.”

They both glanced up to see a stuffed moose on the top shelf.

“Your mommy put it there because you threw it at your grampa, remember?”

“Gampa tooked my yolli away.” She said it angrily, but with her curly blond hair and red lips, it was pretty adorable.

“He took your lollipop away because it was breakfast, and you refused to eat your eggs. You snuck a lollipop out of the pantry instead.”

“I yike my yolli.”

“Child, you’ve got a lot to learn about self-discipline.” Noa shot him a look. “Thanks for the save.”

“No problem. I’m heading down to meet Ginty to talk wedding plans.”

“Yep. Let me find something to keep this one busy, and I’ll meet you down there.”

“You got it.” The house was quiet, so he wondered whose kid it was. Like her fiancé, Noa had fractured relationships, but she was close with two of her siblings.

The kid’s probably her niece.

Then again, he didn’t know much about Lorelei Calloway. Maybe she retired because she had a family. He couldn’t explain why his heart pinched at the thought of her being married. They’d had one conversation. It wasn’t like he knew her.

No, it was more that she reminded him of someone.

Hellcat.

Same energy, same boldness, same snark.

For the thousandth time, he wondered where she was. If he knew, he’d look her up, and if she wasn’t back with Beau, he’d reach out. Without thinking, he patted his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. He’d probably never have a chance to give her the note, but he held out hope.

He found Ginty at the dining room table. “Hey, man. That was quick. I figured you’d be wheeling and dealing.”

“I’m supposed to be at your wedding in St. Lucia. I’ve got all my business handled.”

“That right there…” Ginty stared at him for a moment. He swallowed. “That’s why I went with you when you left Elite. Everyone thought I was crazy to leave the top agency in the world.”

“And I’m sure Marcus came at you hard.” His old boss had tried to sue him, but fortunately, some of Booker’s Yale law school buddies were well-connected and shut Marcus down. He’d heard Elite had since changed the terms of its contracts. His former colleagues referred to it as the Booker Clause.

“Oh, yeah. Tried to make it sound like you’d done me a disservice. But all it did was reinforce what I already knew. I needed to be with an agent who made decisions based on what’s best for my mental and physical health. Not just my career.”

“Hey, guys.” Noa came down the stairs, the little girl on her hip. She set several brightly colored toys on the floor.

The girl wriggled free. “I pway now.”

Noa bent over, so she could look the toddler in the eyes. “Stay right here, okay, Stevie girl?”

But the toddler didn’t answer. She had her tongue out, legs crossed, as she pressed different shaped blocks into a plastic box. The circle dropped right in. So did the square. But when she kept trying to jam the triangular block into the star-shaped hole, Booker got on his knees to show her where it went. “See that? It slides right in.”

“Now, dis one.” She held up a semi-circle.

“You got this,” he said. “Go on. See where it fits.”

“Okay.” She tried the various shapes, smacking the block to get it to conform. Finally, she let out a dramatic sigh. “I can’t do it.”

“I know you can.” He flicked his fingers in a gimme motion. She handed it over, but instead of taking it, he traced her finger around the shape of it. “See how it has a straight line down here?” He slid her finger along it. “And this part is round?”

She ran her finger over the semi-circle. “Go here?” She smacked it against the rectangular hole.

Again, he took her finger and touched each side. “Straight line. Rounded top.” Then, he showed her the holes. “Which one has a straight line on the bottom and a rounded top?”

She put the box in her lap and counted the holes. “One. Free. Two. A hunnert.” And then she touched the semi-circle, ran her fingers over it, looked at the block, and said, “Dis one.” It slid easily inside. When it landed at the bottom, she gave him a grin.

Those chiclet teeth cracked him up. “You got it.” He held up a hand, and she slapped it. When he settled back in his chair, he found Noa and Ginty staring at him. “What?”

“Is there anything you’re not good at? You were drafted into the NHL.” Noa started ticking items off on her fingers. “You were number one in your law school class⁠—”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Every year, there’s a number one. And I never played in a single game.”

With a shake of her head, Noa disregarded his comments. “You’re handsome, charming, you’re the best agent in the world⁠—”

“I’m sorry.” Ginty reached for her hand. “Do I need to give you two a moment?”

“Oh, God, no.” Noa burst out laughing. “Can you imagine him putting up with my moods for even five minutes?” She pressed a kiss to her groom’s mouth. “You’re the only man in the world who gets me and loves me for all my chaos.”

Ginty cupped the back of her head. “I see beyond your chaos to the smart, creative, beautiful woman you are.”

“Baby.” Her voice went all soft and swoony.

Time to get the conversation back on track. But before he could say anything, he felt a tug on his jeans. He looked down to see the little girl holding a board puzzle. As she lifted it to him, pieces hit the hardwood floor. “I got it.” He pushed his chair back and stacked the pieces onto the board. “Here you go.”

“Sit wif you.”

“You want to sit on my lap?” He looked at Noa, hoping she’d intervene. Take charge. Wasn’t there someone who could watch this kid?

But the girl was already starting to climb him.

Chapter Seventeen

Uh, okay. Booker supposed if it kept her quiet, he’d let her do her puzzle on the table.

He settled her on his lap, and while she went to town yanking the pieces off the board, he focused on the bride and groom. “All right, you two, save the canoodling for nap time.”

“I nap?” The little girl twisted around to look up at him.

“That’s between you and your mom.” He picked up his phone and opened the Notes app. “I was talking to these two knuckleheads.”

“Nuck heads.” The little girl giggled.

And Booker’s heart cracked wide open. The matching dimples, the sparkle in her eyes… Damn, this kid’s adorable.

Still laughing, the toddler pointed to Noa. “You nuck head.”

“Nice,” Ginty said to him, but he was grinning, too.

“All right, no more cuteness. Let’s get to work.” He got a whiff of the girl’s baby shampoo, one of the most distinctive scents in the world. He’d spent loads of time with his clients’ kids, giving a bath or two while a wife was in the hospital giving birth. He’d played with them in the pool and tossed a football in the backyard. But he’d just never had any interest in having any of his own.

“Right, so.” Noa pulled a folded piece of paper out of her shorts pocket. “Here’s our confirmed guest list. We’re still waiting to hear from a few people.”

Booker unfolded it and scanned the mostly familiar names.

“We capped it at fifty,” Noa continued. “I don’t want to stress Lorelei out. She might have a hundred beds on this property, but she hasn’t upgraded all the rooms, and I’m not about to have her buy new mattresses and all that. So, between the twelve cabins, the bedrooms here, and the caretaker’s duplex, we can comfortably fit the people who matter most.”

That seemed manageable. “So, what are we looking to do? We’ll throw a rehearsal dinner, the wedding itself, and then a goodbye brunch the next day?”

Noa and Ginty shared a troubled look, but his client quickly said, “That sounds great.”

“Hey, come on.” He wasn’t a mind reader. “If I’ve got it wrong, let me know, and we’ll get it back on track.”

“No, what you described is perfect,” Noa said. “I’m disappointed because we had so many fun things planned, but we’re not on St. Lucia, and there’s no scuba diving here, so we’ll have to make the best of it.” She beamed at her fiancé. “At least we’re getting married.”

“And after hockey season, we’ll go to St. Lucia for our honeymoon and do all the things we missed out on.” Ginty kissed her hand.

“Hey, Mister.” The girl held up one of the pieces. “Wat dis one?”

“Well, let’s look at this shape.” Booker took it from her. “It’s the letter A. Do you see how it has two legs?” He traced her little finger around the edges.

“Dat not yegs.” She gazed up at him.

“Well, they’re kind of like legs. See?” He made the letter dance. “Look, it’s rockin’ out.”

She laughed. “It not wocking.”

“Oh, yeah? Watch it headbang.” He played with it, tipping it over and back a couple times as the girl giggled. “Now, tell me that’s not rocking out.”

The way this girl laughed with her whole body was a revelation. She had so much joy and sunshine inside her. But enough playtime. “Look at the puzzle board. Which of these shapes can fit two legs?”

It took the girl about two seconds to slap the letter in the right place. “Dis got yegs.”

“It does.” With her settled, he turned his attention back to the couple. Ginty watched him with a raised eyebrow. “What do you want me to do? Ignore her?”

“You’re awfully good with kids,” the hockey player said. “Sure you don’t have one I don’t know about?”

“Ha. No. That’s not in the game plan.”

“What does that mean?” Noa asked. “You’re not having kids?”

“Nah.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“It’s just not my thing.” He’d never had a pull to domesticity like so many people seemed to have, but he smiled at them to break the tension since Noa clearly thought he was a monster for not wanting two kids, a picket fence, and a swing set in the backyard. “Which is good if you’re my client because then, my entire life is about you. So, thoughts on the rehearsal dinner? What kind of food are we serving?”

The toddler’s gaze snapped to Noa. “I want hot diggity dogs.”

“We can roast hot dogs for dinner tonight,” the bride said. “Would you like that?”

The girl nodded with total sincerity. “And mashmallows?”

“For sure. We’ll do s’mores for dessert. Wait a minute.” Noa leaned over and cupped the girl’s chin. She looked from her to Booker. “That’s so weird. You two have the exact same color eyes.”

Ginty shrugged. “I mean, they’re green.”

“Yeah, but they’re not typical at all. I always thought you had an unusual color, that sea glass green,” Noa said to Booker. “But I didn’t really notice hers until I saw you two together.”

He didn’t spend much time thinking about eye color. “Okay, so food?”

“All business, this guy.” Noa laughed.

“As far as I know, Lor’s got food covered.” Ginty looked at his fiancée. “What’d she say?”

“Yeah, so, she knows these guys who run a bar and grill not too far from here,” Noa said. “She’s hired them to handle it all.”

The only place he knew of out here in the woods was a biker compound. “I thought she didn’t want to bring outsiders in?”

“These guys are different,” Noa said. “They know her, and they couldn’t care less about The Lorelei Calloway Band.”

Well, good. Food and drinks were major components he could strike off the list. “Now, where do you want the ceremony? Indoors, outdoors?”

“The weather forecast looks good, so we’ll do it outside,” Ginty said.

Nice, since the original plan had been to have it on the beach. “You have someplace in mind?”

“Not a clue,” Noa said. “There’re so many amazing places here—any of them would be perfect. There’s a lake, the terrace… Oh, there’s this little clearing in the woods. I’m not sure what the camp used it for, but it’s shaded with towering trees.”

“Okay,” Booker said. “We’ll figure that out.”

“We just have to think about my gorgeous wedding gown. I don’t want to drag it in the dirt.”

“Did you bring yours?” He was ready to tick one more thing off his list.

“No,” Noa said. “It was shipped to the resort, and they can’t get it to me in time. But Lorelei sent us to a boutique in Owl Hoot. We went there today and made a private appointment for tomorrow night.” She beamed a smile. “I can’t wait.”

“Okay, cool.” Booker pointed his phone at Ginty. “You’ll need a tux.” And then, he turned to Noa. “The only thing left to figure out is why you looked at each other when I said rehearsal dinner, wedding, and brunch. What am I missing?”

When his bride hesitated, Ginty stepped in. “We know we can’t recreate a week of plans, but since we’ll have fifty people here for a few days, we’d like to plan some activities.”

“But we can figure that out ourselves,” Noa said. “You have enough on your plate.”

“Nope. Since we’ve got food, drinks, accommodations, and a dress covered, I don’t have nearly enough.” He looked from Noa to Ginty. “You guys taste some cakes and let Lorelei and I handle everything else.”

Noa reached for his hand. “Thank you.”

“Of course—” he began.

But the little girl lifted the bride’s hand off him. “Hey, now. Mister my fren.”

Everyone burst out laughing “Okay, Stevie,” Noa said. “He’s all yours.”

And that was Booker’s cue to get out of there.

He just needed one more piece of information. “Any idea when Lorelei will be back?”

After waiting an hour for her to come home, he gave up and decided to tour the property.

As he hiked up the hill at a brisk pace, he could admit the anticipation was getting to him. They’d had a few more text exchanges, and she’d made him smile. Not many people could do that.

When he reached the summit, he set his hands on his hips to catch his breath. His thighs burned, and he’d sweat through his button-down, but damn, this view was something. The peaks of the granite mountains gave way to a pine forest. Beneath the treeline, patches of grazing land and a snaking river broke up the scrubby valley floor. Surrounding the lodge and cabins, he could make out clearings for the skeet and archery ranges. A dozen chairs circled the large bonfire pit.

Twilight cast a purple and orange glow over the valley, and it brought back memories of exactly this time of day in the summer when he and his friends would ride their dirt bikes, jump into ice-cold alpine lakes, and tear up the town with their skateboards.

Sadness crashed over him. He could see so clearly what his life might’ve looked like if he hadn’t gotten injured. If he’d played hockey, he would’ve stayed in touch with his friends. He’d have bought a place like this, and they’d have annual retreats there.

Man, would they love it. He could picture the four of them fly fishing with a cooler of beers and sandwiches.

Well. No sense dreaming of what might have been. He had a damn good life in New York, and when he needed a getaway, he had his cabin.

Ginty: Firing up the grill. Want hot dogs or trout?

Booker: Trout. On my way back.

Booker: Hey, why is the Wi-Fi so good out here?

Ginty: Lor’s got this place rigged for security. That includes Wi-Fi. Makes her feel safer.

Booker: Makes sense. Speaking of…is she here yet?

Ginty: She’s been back for an hour. Where did you go?

Damn. He’d missed her. That set him moving back down the hill.

Booker: Checking out the property. This place is badass.

Ginty: Sure is.

Booker: Too bad you don’t have more time. Could flip your scuba diving and massages to heli skiing, rafting, fly fishing…shit like that.

Ginty: That’s what I’m saying. Let’s have some fun.

He was right. It was only Booker who couldn’t stay.

Maybe if I push off Ontario, I could sneak in a few more days.

Of course, that meant more time with Jaime, Declan, and Cole.

A spike of anxiety had him stumbling over a tree root, but he caught himself before he toppled.

More time? Hell, he didn’t want to be around them at all.

And yet, how did he explain the strange pull, the stubborn sense of longing to be part of their group again?

Come on. Wasn’t that why he’d gone to Jaime’s after the funeral? To see if they could recover their childhood friendship?

It was time to get over that.

Everyone had moved on long ago.

Once he hit the bottom of the trail, he could smell the grill and see the smoke rising off the patio. His stomach grumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

It was pretty selfish of him to only think about his schedule. He hadn’t even considered that everyone had blocked off a week for this event. They might’ve lost a few days, but he could book some excursions. First, he’d talk to Lorelei—it was her place, after all. Maybe she didn’t want to host fifty people for five days.

His heart did a weird little jump when he thought of having another thing to talk to her about. What’s wrong with you? He didn’t know why he was reacting this way to a woman he’d never met, other than the fact that coming to Calamity did a number on him. He got all up in his feelings about his friends, his childhood…and his hellcat.

As he neared the house, he noticed a modern structure that didn’t fit the rest of the lodgepole design. It must have been a new addition.

Curious, he headed over and opened the door. Instead of a recording studio like he expected, he found a luxury spa. Wandering through it, he found massage tables and a river rock waterfall. Another room held an indoor pool tiled in various shades of blue.

When he opened yet another door, he was hit by the humidity from a bubbling Jacuzzi set into the stone floor. The domed skylight and full-size potted plants brought the outdoors into this magnificent space. A plaque on a towel rack explained the history of the hot springs. Damn, this place was outrageous.

He made a mental note to include a spa day for the guests. As he shut the door behind him, he heard a muffled shout. It sounded like banging. He stood still, listening. It wasn’t coming from inside, so he walked around the building to find a shed, and that was when the pounding grew louder.

“Hey! Anyone out there? Can someone help me? Goddammit!”

A tree had fallen, blocking the door. “I’m here.”

“Oh, thank God. I don’t know what happened. I heard this big crack, and when I tried to get out, the door wouldn’t budge.”

“Yeah, a tree fell.”

“A tree?”

“Yep.” He took a moment to assess the situation. It was too thick for him to drag away, but between him and Ginty, they might be able to do it. “Let me run to the house and see if I can get some help.”

“No, no. There’s an axe in here. If I drop it out the window, do you think you can cut it enough to get the door open?”

“It’s a whole-ass tree.” And she was damn lucky it fell where it did instead of a few feet to the left. “It’ll be a lot faster if I get help.”

“I know. I just don’t want any drama. If you go around back and look up, you’ll see a tiny window.”

“On my way.” He headed off, and just as he got there, he saw the axe drop to the ground. “Got it.”

“Thank you. I’m really sorry about this.”

“No problem.” Grabbing it, he hurried back to the front, braced the tree with his booted foot, and started hacking away. Splinters of fresh wood flew out. “You okay? How long have you been in there?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t bring my phone. Not that long. I was just checking to see if we have the bows and arrows and all the other stuff.”

“Did you find them?”

“Oh, yeah. This place is fully stocked. The last owner just walked away.”

“Does that mean you’re the current owner?” he asked, whacking the limb with the blade.

“Yes, sorry. I’m Lorelei. You don’t sound like Ginty.”

A buzz of excitement kicked up in his chest. “Nope. It’s Booker Hayes. Ginty’s agent.”

“Again with the agent thing. You know he views you as a good friend, right?”

He ignored that one. It wasn’t the time to explain the relationship between agents and clients. “You okay in there? Need some water?”

“I need to get out. And I’m so sorry for turning you into a lumberjack. It’s just that they’ve had enough trauma. The last thing I want is for everyone to come running over, freaking out that the hostess got trapped in a shed.”

“You might be overthinking this. It’s just another story to laugh about.”

“Oh, trust me. I overthink everything. You’re going to love working with me this week.”

Probably a good time to let her know the plan. “I’m only here for three days, but what do you think about hosting these guys for a little longer? If it’s too much⁠—”

“It’s not. And I want to. Noa’s my closest friend in the world, and I want to give her the best wedding I can. Besides, have you seen this place? It was made for events like this.”

“I have seen it. I’m jealous.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty amazing.”

That voice. Damn, it was familiar. “Not too remote for you?” But of course, he recognized it. At one point, she’d been the biggest pop star on the planet.

“Honestly, I think I have the best of all worlds. I get to live out here in the wilderness with all the modern conveniences and still be at Calamity Joe’s in twenty minutes. Plus, my family’s right up the road. It’s perfect.”

He continued hacking away. “Yeah, I can see that. It’s sweet.”

“Not many people would want to live this remotely, so if you don’t mind it, then I think we should get married. I’m not going to find anybody else.” She laughed.

Well, that answered that question. She wasn’t married with kids. “I do like it, but I live in New York, and I travel more than half the year. I take client calls all night long. I’d make a terrible husband.”

“But a great sports agent.”

“I try.” Arms aching, he stopped for a moment and wiped the perspiration off his forehead.

“Well, the fact that you’re doing this for Ginty…that’s a great friend. Oops. Sorry. Agent.”

“Pretty sassy for a woman trapped in a shed.” He went back to chopping. “You’ve got to understand the nature of this business. We get involved with our athletes. We know their families and their dirty secrets. It’s our job to keep them happy so they play well.”

“You’re telling me you’re throwing him a wedding so he can score lots of goals?” She sounded amused.

“And because he’s a good guy. Look, there’s a line you can’t cross in this business. That’s just the way it is.”

“Sorry to be the one to break it to you, but I think you crossed it.”

He grinned and lifted the axe, swinging it down. “Anyhow, since I’ve finally got your attention⁠—”

“Ha ha.”

“The bride and groom want to recreate their St. Lucia wedding, mountain style. What do you think of booking some activities for everyone? You’ve obviously got that spa, so if you don’t mind⁠—”

“Listen, Lumberjack. I didn’t build all this stuff for me. I built it for friends and family. And maybe something in the future.”

“Something?”

“I’ve got ideas. They’ll probably never happen. But a girl can dream.”

He wondered what she had in mind. She certainly had the money to turn her ideas into reality.

“You know how happy it’ll make me to see everyone sitting around the bonfire?” She sounded wistful. “I look out at all the possibilities, and I want to fill this place with friends having a great time. You know?”

His heart squeezed so hard, his arms jerked, and the blade landed near his boot. Breathing heavily, he stepped back.

“You all right?” she called.

“Yep. Just taking a break.” She didn’t know how well he understood her vision. That picture she’d painted? He craved it as much as she did.

“Your whole body’s vibrating, right?” she asked. “I know exactly how it feels.”

“Chop a lot of wood, do you?” He kept his tone light, but he was still shaken. Coming back to Calamity always unlocked the door in his mind that gave him a glimpse of the life he could’ve had if he’d just landed thirty seconds earlier.

If you’d jumped with the others.

They all had perfect landings.

It was me. I hesitated.

“Have you seen my fireplace?” Her voice brought him back to reality, and he appreciated it more than she’d ever know.

“Yep.”

“Well, then, that’s your answer. I chopped all that wood myself.”

“Don’t you have staff to do that for you?”

“Sure. But I like working with my hands. I like making pasta…getting my hands in the dough and kneading it. I like washing dishes. My mind wanders, and I solve all the problems in the universe. NASA should give me a call.” She laughed. “Is that weird?”

“Not at all. I’m the same way. My world is about making money and closing deals. I spend my life on airplanes, on the phone⁠—”

“Talking to clients who aren’t friends.”

He sat with that for a moment and couldn’t deny the truth. “Yes. So, I get it. I make my own meals, wash my clothes... I like to stay connected with the basics of life. Keeps me essentially human.” He noted she’d gone quiet. “You okay in there?”

“Yeah. Fine. You just remind me of someone I once knew. Are you about done? Because now I’m feeling guilty. I should’ve let you get help.”

“About three more whacks, and I can move this piece away. But don’t feel guilty. They’re out on the patio enjoying the sunset and grilling trout. I don’t want to bother them, either. Besides, this keeps me essentially human.”

Her laughter struck a nerve, sending a pulse of awareness through him. He stopped mid-swing, trying to place it. But once again, he reminded himself that Lorelei Calloway had the most familiar voice in the world.

Except…you don’t listen to her music.

Maybe she sounded like someone he’d once dated.

Focus. Get her out of the damn shed.

“Anyhow, I was only thinking about a rehearsal dinner and maybe a send-off brunch, but they’d like a week of activities just like they’d planned in St. Lucia. We’ve lost a few days, but maybe…I don’t know, say, five days?”

“I love that. Let’s do it.”

He was still rattled by the familiarity of her laugh, but he shook it off. “Perfect. Are we going to do bachelor and bachelorette parties?”

“Noa says they’ve spent their whole lives being single, and now, they just want to be together.”

“So, joint party?”

“Yes.”

“Makes sense. Between her touring and his hockey season, they have enough time apart.”

“Exactly.”

“Maybe tonight, after everyone goes to bed, we can sit down and plan some things. Ginty said you’ve already lined up a chef and bartender?”

“Yes, they run a restaurant not too far from here. They’ve agreed to do the wedding dinner, but I’m trying to convince them to do all our meals.”

“That would be great.” He’d finally chopped through one side of the tree. He set the blade on the ground and swiped his sweaty face with the back of his hand. “I’m done chopping. I’m going to try and push the tree away so we can get you out of there.” She was right about him being shaky. But it had more to do with the anticipation of meeting her than the exertion.

“Oh, thank God. They must think I’ve abandoned them.”

“I’ve got my phone. You want me to text Noa?”

“No, that’s okay. This will be a hilarious story for later. When I’m out.”

He squatted, using his whole body to move the log, but it didn’t budge. “Jesus, woman. You’re giving me a workout today.”

“I forgot you’re a suit. You probably sit behind a desk all day. Those poor hands. Will this be your very first callus?”

A laugh burst out of him. “You bring up a good point. I don’t want to hurt my soft hands. Maybe I should stop.”

“Hm, why does it sound like there’s nothing soft about you?”

Grinning, he lowered his head. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable if she didn’t intend the sexual innuendo he’d heard.

“Oh, my God. No, no, no. That’s not what I meant.” She mumbled to herself. “I meant that you’re all business. You know, a hard man. No soft spots.”

“You’re right about that. Nothing soft about me.”

“All right, you know what? I’m just going to stay here. You go back to the house and have a cocktail. Put some lotion on those hands.”

“And leave you locked in a shed with spiders?” he asked. “Possibly a raccoon?”

“You did not just do that. It’s dark in here.” A moment later, she shrieked.

“What happened?” He was ready to throw his shoulder against the door to break it down.

“I think a spider just crawled across my scalp.”

Her fear gave him the extra bit of strength he needed to drag the log far enough away to get the door open. “There. Come on out.”

The door flew open but smacked into the tree. She edged out sideways, climbed over the trunk, and then nearly rammed him with her head. “Check my hair.” She was bent over, running fingers through silky, blond locks. Her hands skimmed down her arms, and she stomped her legs.

“Hang on. You’ve got to stay still for a second.”

“Oh, my God.” She didn’t stop moving. “I didn’t even think about that. That tiny window at the back of the shed’s all dusty, so hardly any light gets in. What if there are, like, poisonous spiders?”

“I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. But honestly, spiders don’t want anything to do with you. You’re huge and scary.”

She stilled for a moment, hair hanging straight down. “Did you just say I’m huge?”

“To a spider. Jesus.” He just kept putting his foot in it, so he focused on the task at hand. He ran his hands through her hair, lifting it at the neck and checking the creamy skin. “Nothing. You’re good.”

“Are you sure?” She straightened, pushing the hair back from her face, and gazing up at him.

Shock ripped through him. “Hellcat?”

What the hell?

“Slick?” Her eyes went wide. “You’re Ginty’s agent?”

But he couldn’t answer. Shock had him frozen, his gears jammed. A tumult of emotions clashed inside him. Happiness, confusion…

Pure and utter relief.

She was his favorite person in the world, and he never thought he’d see her again. “What are you doing here?” And then, it clicked. “You’re Lorelei Calloway?”

It made sense, though, didn’t it? The discipline, the need to hide from the world, the consuming life that was all about her.

She was a Grammy-winning, accomplished musician.

“I’m so confused. How is this possible?” She scraped her hands through her hair, pulling it away from her face. “All this time…we’ve been connected by a thread…God.” The depth of sadness in her eyes didn’t make sense.

Until he remembered. “I left you a note.”

Her features hardened. “Uh, no. You didn’t.”

He had to convince her. “I did. I explained why I had to leave.”

“Well, I would’ve liked that, but I didn’t get it.” A child’s squeal rose above the low-level chatter from the terrace, and her eyes widened. “I have to go… I have to get back to the house.” She skirted around him.

“We can talk later,” he said to her back as she sprinted away.

He stood there sweating through his shirt, arms aching, and all the happiness he’d felt at seeing her again slipped through his hands like sand.

What the fuck just happened?

Chapter Eighteen

“How is this happening? It doesn’t even make sense.” Lorelei paced across the guest cabin, looking out the window but not seeing anything but Slick’s handsome face in her mind, his cheeks red from exertion.

Her dad leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, and Margot sat on the edge of the bed.

“I’m so confused. Out of all the people in the world, how is Ginty’s agent Stevie’s father?”

“It’s crazy,” Margot said.

“I can’t believe it.” Memories pelted her.

Him, coming in with a Christmas tree. Stringing popcorn on fishing line. He’d made cocoa for her when it wasn’t even something he drank. He’d been so kind. So generous. “He said he left me a note.”

“You don’t believe him?” Margot asked.

She thought back to that morning. It had taken her all of fifteen minutes to decide to get the hell out of there. She’d hidden long enough. Thanks to Slick, she had a purpose, a to-do list, and the determination to attack it.

“Honey?” Margot prodded.

“It’s not like I looked for it, and I left almost everything behind.” She’d been so sick of wearing the same clothes for three months.

“And the service you hired to clean didn’t try to get in touch with you?” Margot asked.

She turned to her stepmom. “No. But the place was a mess. We’d made decorations and meals and cocoa. I don’t know that they would’ve noticed a note.”

“Do you think he’s lying about it?” her dad asked.

“I don’t know him to be a liar.” She lifted her arms and let them drop. “But then, we hung out for all of thirty-six hours. How well could I know him?”

And yet, even as she said the words, she felt resistance. She had known him. In some small way, he’d shown her his true self. She had a feeling he’d given her a gift he didn’t share with many.

“So, now what?” Margot asked.

“Now…” She turned back to the window, pressing her fingertips to the cool pane. “I have to tell him.” Tears blurred her vision. “How crazy is this? I’ve dreamed of giving Stevie a dad. But it was some guy who lived locally, who worked a nine-to-five job. It wasn’t a workaholic who lived in New York City.”

“Yeah.” Margot sounded concerned. “It’s complicated.”

“I don’t want to share her. She’s my daughter. My girl. The idea that he’ll take her from me⁠—”

“No one’s taking Stevie anywhere.” Her dad’s tone was firm. Implacable.

“Dad, he lives two thousand miles away. If he can prove paternity—which he can—then he has rights, too.”

“I think he has to sign an affidavit.” Margot read the screen of her phone.

Because of course, while Lorelei flipped out, her stepmom had looked up the legal process. She was so grateful for her. She was the most nurturing, kind, smart, creative woman Lorelei had ever met. “I mean, she’s his daughter. I can’t imagine him walking away. And then what? He’ll want fifty-fifty custody.” She pressed a hand over her aching heart. “What if he takes my baby away for half the year?”

Her dad pushed off the wall. “He’s not taking Stevie.”

“He could,” Lorelei said. “As her father, it’s his right.”

“First of all, we don’t know if he even wants to be a father.” Margot’s tone had steel in it, too.

She thought about what he’d just said about his schedule. I’d be a terrible husband.

He’d said the same thing in the cabin. He didn’t want kids.

Was it possible he’d walk away?

Why did that hurt just as much? She didn’t want Stevie growing up with a father who didn’t want her. What would that do to her?

“Stop.” Her dad came to her, enfolding her in his arms. “You’re making up scenarios in your head. Right now, none of them are real.”

“You’re right.” She breathed in his mountain man scent—pine and woodsmoke, a hint of spicy soap.

“Just know, we’re in this with you,” he said.

She fell against him, letting the fear wash over her because she knew her dad could take it. He’d stand with her through anything.

Margot joined them, her hand on Lorelei’s back. “We’ll take it one step at a time. There’s absolutely no point in jumping ahead to the what-ifs. It won’t get us anywhere. First, you have to tell him.”

When she’d figured out he’d left, she’d cursed him out for being a coward. Was he so afraid of their connection that he’d just snuck out the door? Then she’d wondered if something terrible had happened. Maybe he’d gotten bad news. Finally, she’d made peace with it—he’d given her so much in such a short amount of time.

“In any event, Stevie’s not even two yet,” her dad said. “No court is going to give him physical custody of a toddler who doesn’t even know him.”

She pulled away. “That’s true.” And it did make her feel better.

“So, whatever happens, it won’t be for a while,” her dad said. “If he does want to be involved, he’ll have to come here to visit.”

“That makes me feel better.” Lorelei didn’t know much about Slick, but she knew he had a strong sense of integrity. He’d do the right thing. Which meant… “What if, when she’s older, she wants to spend Christmas with him? What if he tries to buy her love with big presents?” So far, her little girl had grown up playing with wooden spoons and metal bowls, chasing dust motes in the conservatory, and sculpting bread dough. “What if he gets her a car for her sixteenth birthday? A condo when she goes to college? What if she prefers him because he spoils her?”

“All right, get it out.” Margot made a gimme motion. “All your fears and worries. Let them go.”

Yeah, let’s do that. Because they were coming fast and hard. “What if he gets married, and his wife wants to be a mother? What if they have another child?” These were all possibilities she’d considered as she’d nursed late at night or drove long distances. “They might want Stevie, you know? Who wouldn’t want her? She’s feisty and bold and fearless. He’s going to fall in love with her, and he’s going to want to spend time with her.”

“You said he’s busy,” Margot said. “He works all the time”

“Yes. Which makes it even worse. He’ll want to do the right thing and be a father, but he’ll be too busy to deal with a child, so he’ll hire a nanny, and then Stevie will be left all alone in the city. What if she misses me and is too young to understand that I didn’t send her away, that I actually want to be with her more than anyone else on the planet?” She looked between them. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Her dad gave a soft grin, but the skin around his eyes crinkled with worry.

“What else could happen?” Margot asked.

“She could love her dad more than me and choose to live in New York.”

“You’re right,” Margot said. “That is a possibility. But you know what else is? She could also love this life you’ve made for her so much that she never wants to leave. She’ll have grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins.” She gestured out the window. “And horses and goats and chickens and⁠—”

“Archery and snowboarding and dirt biking,” her dad said. “And there’s another possibility. He could decide to co-parent with you and move here.”

“There are no sports agencies in Calamity, but I get what you’re saying. There are a million possibilities, and I’m filling my head with the worst ones.” She sighed. “Well, it worked, Margot. You drained me of all my fears.”

“You feel better?” Margot asked.

“Yeah. I’ll just have to take it one step at a time.”

“I know it’s hard.” Margot rubbed Lorelei’s arm. “But one thing you have to remember, if he’s a good man, he’ll want the best for his daughter.”

And he was a good man. She believed that. “Okay. I’ll go tell him.” Lorelei headed for the door, and her parents followed.

“Now?” her dad asked.

She knew he was thinking about the wedding. “It’ll be worse if I wait.” She stepped outside.

The sun hovered right at the summit, leaving enough light to make her way back to the main house. The trees cast shadows, and a horse whinnied in the distance. She hadn’t thought to put on a sweater, so she rubbed her arms against the chill.

Her phone buzzed, and she checked the screen to find a text from Noa.

Noa: We’ve chosen the perfect venue for the ceremony!! Come to the barn.

She showed it to her dad and stepmom. “Of all the beautiful places on this property, they chose the barn? I haven’t even thought about renovating that dusty, stinky place.”

“It’s a great choice,” Margot said. “And we won’t have to do much. Let’s get a crew in there tomorrow to clean it out, and then we’ll transform it into something magical.”

“You think?” Lorelei couldn’t imagine it.

“Oh, absolutely. It’s too late to hire a wedding planner, but I can help you pull something together.”

“You sure you want to take that on?” Lorelei asked.

“I missed out on all the planning of my daughter’s wedding, so you bet I want to do it.” Margot grinned. “My mind’s already starting to come up with ideas. It’ll be beautiful.”

“All right then. Let’s do this.”

“When’s the ceremony?” Margot asked.

“I was supposed to talk to Booker tonight about a schedule of events, but I think that conversation might have to wait for another day.”

“It’s all right. We’ll get started right away. The question is, do you want to rent tables and chairs and a dance floor, or do you want to buy it all?”

“Whichever can get here the soonest.”

“Makes sense.” Margot squeezed her hand. “We’ve got this.”

As they approached the barn, her dad put his arm around her. “Don’t think for one second that he’s got all the power.”

“That’s an amazing thing to say, Dad.” She gave him a big smile. “I didn’t realize it, but that’s exactly what I was doing. That’s why I’m so afraid. But you’re absolutely right.” She turned into his arms, needing a hug before the confrontation with Booker.

Margot joined them, and the three held each other tightly. With the air scented with dust, pine, and the ghosts of animals once frolicking in the corral and bedding down in the barn, she savored this moment. The last one before her life changed permanently.

Could be for the better, could be for the worse. She wouldn’t know until she saw the look in his eyes.

Because even though he tried to be all stony-faced, she could read him.

As they reached the entrance, a crew of ranch hands hauled out bales of hay. “Really? A barn?” She said quietly, for her parents’ ears only.

“Did you have somewhere else in mind?” Margot asked.

“If I were getting married here, I’d do it outside.” She gazed up at the darkening sky. “An hour earlier, when the sky’s purple and orange.”

Her dad cupped her elbow. “You ready?”

“Yeah. I am.” With her stepmom on one side and her dad on the other, Lorelei drew in a breath and headed into the barn.

Right away, her gaze landed on Booker. He stood out with his height, his muscular physique, and that commanding air and presence that had made her feel so protected, so safe, in the cabin. He was talking to Ginty and Noa, gesturing around as if describing his vision.

“Oh, look,” Margot said. “Walker and Colt are here.”

Her five-year-old nephew pulled a rusty red wagon with Stevie happily seated in it. She was laughing as the boy picked up his pace. Her little thrill-seeker daughter had no sense of danger. And while the pediatrician had encouraged Lorelei to let her have experiences so she learned boundaries and limitations, it was easier said than done.

But just as she started toward the bride, groom, and her baby daddy—my God, how can this be possible?—her daughter gripped the edges of the wagon and started to stand. Colt was jogging now, turning back to laugh with his cousin, and didn’t see the bridle lying on the ground.

“Stevie.” On the move, she shouted, “Sit down.”

Everyone in the barn turned at the sound of her voice, except her daughter who was having so much fun she didn’t hear. Lorelei made a run for it, but she had to watch helplessly as the wheels hit the bridle. The wagon rocked, causing Stevie’s neck to jerk back. Her little girl tried to hold her balance, but her laughter turned to terror when she realized she couldn’t.

Ginty, her dad, Margot…they were all racing over, but it was clear no one was going to get there in time. And then, seconds before Stevie hit the dirt, Booker threw himself on the ground, arms outstretched, and caught her in his hand like a baseball in a mitt.

The barn went silent for one second before Stevie’s mouth opened wide, and she let out a shriek. Tears streamed down her rosy cheeks, and she held her arms out for her mom.

Lorelei grabbed her and held her close, one hand on top of her head. “You’re okay, sweetheart. Mr. Hayes caught you. You’re okay.” She was saying it more to reassure herself, but she was so damn grateful her daughter hadn’t hit the floor.

“You all right, baby doll?” her dad asked.

Stevie looked to her mom for confirmation.

“Does anything hurt?” Lorelei pushed her daughter’s hair off her face, but it was clear she’d only been shaken by the fall. As she soothed her little girl, she saw Colt with shame-stained cheeks and his dad kneeling, talking to him.

“Can you believe that save?” Ginty laughed, patting Booker’s shoulder. “He was a first-round draft pick at eighteen, and he’s still got it.”

Her baby daddy wiped the dust off his jeans, his eyes on the little girl. While everyone chatted excitedly about what happened, his gaze narrowed.

Her pulse accelerated. Perspiration broke out on her hairline.

Because he was figuring it out. He looked from Stevie to Lorelei and back again, clearly processing. Finally, his gaze settled on Lorelei, the hardness of it giving her a jolt.

Instinctively, she tightened her hold on her daughter.

He started toward her. So intense. God, she remembered that intensity. In the cabin, it had thrilled her. Now, it rattled her bones.

It was all going to come out. Here and now.

He stood before her. “How old is she?”

Chapter Nineteen

“One year and ten months,” Lorelei said.

He exhaled so heavily his shoulders slumped. He lowered his head.

She’d been specific for a reason, to get him over the finish line, and it had obviously worked.

“She’s mine.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Okay, Mommy?” Stevie patted her cheek.

“Yeah, baby. I’m okay.” What do I do? I can’t talk about this in front of her.

I don’t even know if he wants to be her father. He might fly back to New York and never talk to me again.

He’s done it before.

Her brother approached, his son at his side. “You okay, sweet pea?”

“I falled.” Stevie pointed at Booker. “But Mister saved me.”

“He sure did.” To dispel the tension—presumably for Stevie’s sake—her brother stayed upbeat. “Good catch. You play baseball?”

But Booker didn’t smile. His expression remained stern, his posture stiff.

“Hey, Stevie.” Her brother positioned his son in front of him. “Colt has something to say to you.”

The little boy gazed up with a sincere expression. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run with you in the wagon.”

“Das okay, Coltie.” Her daughter lunged out of Lorelei’s arms, and the boy grabbed her around the waist.

As they hugged, tears sprang to her eyes. She was a mess of emotions. As much as she wanted a daddy for her little girl, the reality of him—of this busy sports agent from New York—terrified her.

It’s not what I want for her.

Not even close.

“You ready for a bath now?” her dad asked. “Grandma got you those fun crayons so you can write on the walls.”

Stevie reached for her grandparents, and Lorelei watched as the trio left the barn.

She drew in a fortifying breath before crouching in front of her nephew. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt her. You’re a very good cousin.”

“I’m sorry.” The little boy had his chin tipped down.

“I know you are, sweetie. You were just having fun. It’s all right. I promise. She’s not hurt at all.” She kissed his forehead and brushed the damp hair away from his temples.

Her brother picked him up. “Come on. You can help me set up the s’mores.”

The little boy nodded, still too shaken to smile, and the two of them headed for the house.

Leaving her alone to face Slick. “Take a walk?”

He gave her a curt nod.

If this man was angry at her for not telling him about the baby, he was going to get a resounding slap upside his head. You left me, remember?

He turned to Ginty and Noa. “We’re set with the barn?”

“Yes,” Noa said, somber now. “Definitely.” She mouthed, “You okay?”

Lorelei nodded. They’d talk later.

She followed Slick outside. Night had fallen, leaving nothing but shadows and silhouettes. The sky blazed with stars.

At the other side of the corral, he stopped and turned toward her. “I left you a note.” Emotion pierced his hard tone. There was a hint of remorse, an apology.

“Okay, well, I didn’t see it.” What did he want her to do about it now? It didn’t change anything.

He pulled out his wallet and flicked through a few bills and credit cards. A moment later, he handed her a piece of paper.

Her fingers trembled as she unfolded it. Sure, part of it was residual adrenaline from her daughter’s spill. But also, the anticipation… All these years, she’d needed something from him. A hint of an explanation.

She blinked back the tears so she could read.

Hellcat,

I’ve got to get back to work. I won’t come here for a while, so feel free to stay. If you need me for anything, here’s my number.

Best Christmas ever.

Take care,

Booker

Okay, so? What did he expect?

That she’d throw herself into his arms and everything would be okay?

This piece of paper didn’t erase the countless nights she’d spent going over every detail of what she’d said, what she’d done, to drive him away. Imagining him thinking the worst of her.

She’s a grown woman—why’s she hiding in my cabin?

What’s wrong with her that she can’t get her shit together?

She can’t even grate cheese.

It didn’t take away the doubts and fears she’d lived with for two years as a single mom.

She reread the note, forcing her chaotic mind to concentrate, to pay attention. And when she got to his phone number, she had to read it three times before it sank in.

A ten-digit bridge.

To ask the questions.

To tell him about Stevie.

To not have been so painfully alone.

My God.

He hadn’t callously, carelessly walked away.

She sucked in a sharp breath. “This would’ve changed everything.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry you went through it all alone. I’m sorry you thought I didn’t care about our time together.” He sounded almost desperate. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you.”

Hearing those words… In some small way, they helped soothe the parts of her still abraded by fears and anxiety. She pressed the note to her chest. She’d had to be strong for so long. She hadn’t been allowed to fall apart. Since having a baby, she’d made all the decisions herself. Sure, she had family, and yes, they were amazing, but she’d had to decide how to discipline, what her child should eat, how to handle the crying at night. The weight of those decisions rested solely on her shoulders.

But he’d left his phone number.

He’d left the door open.

As if seeking more treasure, she read the note again. “If you need me for anything…?”

“Condoms are only eighty-seven-percent effective.” He had a tortured look in his eyes.

He knew. He got the significance of this situation, and she had to give him credit for that. He could’ve used the note as a pass. He could’ve turned defensive.

Hey, man. I tried.

It’s not my fault.

Instead, he’d apologized. She appreciated that so much. One thing, though, didn’t make sense. “How did you wind up with this if you left it for me?”

“I came back to the cabin a few months later⁠—”

“You did? You said you rarely went there.” Were you looking for me?

He had a stark look in his eyes. He swallowed. And then, he said, “I signed Ginty to the Renegades, so I’ve had to spend more time out here.”

“And?” She sounded demanding, but she didn’t want to guess anymore. She didn’t want to wonder. She needed the bare truth. “Were you looking for me?”

“Yes,” he whispered. But then, he turned to humor. “I was curious to see if you’d finally gotten your shit together.”

She shook her head. “Say it. Trust me, I deserve to hear you say it.”

He understood, she could see it in his eyes. “I hoped you’d still be there.”

“Okay—”

“And I was disappointed you weren’t.” The way he looked at her, the message he was sending…

No, no. She wasn’t ready to receive it. She shook the note at him. “Do you realize how unfair this is? I went through everything alone, and I didn’t have to.” Then again, would he even have been there for her? She knew the man in the cabin. Not the sports agent.

“I do. It is unfair. When I walked into the cabin, I expected to see the Christmas tree and the pans in the sink…I expected to see you. But it was clean. Like we’d never happened. And that…” He scratched the back of his neck. “I didn’t like it. I hated it. But when I saw the note still sitting on the counter… I wasn’t sure if you’d left it intentionally as a fuck you, or if you hadn’t seen it.”

This man was such a contradiction. Most of the time, he was all business, all serious and stern, but then, in moments like this, he was so open and raw and real.

His vulnerability opened a valve, allowing the anger to leak out.

Leaving her with the dregs of sadness.

“Where did you go?” he asked. “When did you leave?”

“That same day. Christmas. After I figured out you’d left, it took me all of fifteen minutes to get my shit together. The way you’d reinvented yourself and came out swinging… It inspired me. I was ready to get back out there.”

“But then, you found out you were pregnant.”

“No, it wasn’t like that. That makes it sound like it was a terrible curveball.”

“But it was a curveball.” He rested a boot on the bottom rung of the fence.

“It was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. My whole life was about me. I had an entire team working for my success. To the point that my mom hired people to do everything that took my attention off making money. I didn’t cook or clean or shop or drive. Well, you know that.” Briefly, she closed her eyes. “I can’t believe I didn’t know how to use a cheese grater.”

“Hey.” He tipped her chin. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. You did what you were raised to do.”

That was nice to hear, but the woman who’d lain awake at night wondering why he’d bolted still lived inside her. “Part of me thought you left because I was such a knucklehead.”

“No. I didn’t think that at all. I saw the text from Beau and figured you had a lot of unfinished business. Maybe you’d get back with him.”

“With Beau? Slick, Beau’s my dad.”

His gaze shot toward the house, but of course, her parents were already inside. “That was your father?”

She laughed. “Yes. My ex is Landon, and I will never get back with him. He slept with my best friend for a year. Right under my nose. So, no, there will be no reconciliation.”

“He called you sweetheart. Said he wished you’d come home for Christmas.”

“Yep. My dad. And if you’d stayed and asked me, I could’ve told you that.”

“True. But I needed to get back anyway. Thanks to you, I decided to leave my agency and start one of my own.”

“Oh, wow. That’s huge.” This mess wasn’t his fault. She could see that. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was just unbearably sad. “I guess we have a lot to catch up on.”

“We do, but tell me more about your pregnancy. You said it wasn’t a curveball.”

This was why she’d gotten so attached to him. He wasn’t asking how much Stevie weighed at birth or what Lorelei expected of him. He wanted to know how she’d felt about everything she’d gone through.

How do you hold on to anger, resentment…fear when you have a man who genuinely cares?

She found herself wanting to tell him. “I mean, I was in no way prepared for it, but…I don’t know how to explain. It was like this calmness settled over me, and I just thought, well, that’s enough of this life. One chapter ended, and I was ready for the next. Over the next six months, I learned how to drive and cook and clean. I even grow my own vegetables now. And everything you see here…” She gestured around. “This is my project. All the renovations, the upgrades. I’m doing all of it.”

“You’ve done a great job. Well, except for the barn. That place is rank.”

Her smile surprised her—that he could get her there in such a weighted moment. “Hey. We built a new, modern facility about a mile away. I didn’t want those big animals and all the ranch hands and trucks around our home.”

“I’m sorry. Go on. You found your purpose.”

She hadn’t said that, but he’d nailed it. “Yeah. Exactly. Having a baby changed my life. Stevie’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” Once the words came out, she froze. Because he’d get to know his daughter and see how amazing she was.

And he might take her away.

That terrified her.

“Stevie.” He said it slowly, as if testing the name. “Where’d you come up with that?”

“Stevie Nicks. What can I say? She’s an icon.”

“Yeah, okay. I get that.” But he was distracted, gazing into the darkness of the mountains. “We have a kid.”

“We do.” Only time could determine the choices he’d make, so she went with the truth. “And she’s fierce and strong and smart. There isn’t a day that goes by that she doesn’t impress me.”

He looked tortured. “I have a daughter.”

He didn’t want kids. Was he freaking out about how his life would change?

She wanted to reassure him that she didn’t need his help, that she had it all under control, but at the same time…Stevie deserved a father.

Ultimately, though, she kept her mouth shut because it wasn’t her choice to make.

It was something he had to figure out on his own.

But he surprised her when he said, “And you went through it all alone.”

Here she was worried about him freaking out, when he was concerned about her. “Not really. Margot, my dad, my brother, my sister, Noa…they’ve all been there for me.” While it was true—she had really good people around her—still, the core of her was so painfully alone. Even Stevie didn’t fill the gaping hole.

“It’s not the same as having a partner to go through it with you.”

It all came rushing back, how well this man understood her. How perfectly he could sum up a situation. “No, it’s not.” Something occurred to her. “Wait a minute.” She waved the note. “Why was this in your wallet? Did you know who I was when you came here?”

“No, of course not. I’ve kept it with me.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Just in case I ran into you.”

“Are you serious?” And that was it. The last remnant of anger and frustration drifted away.

“Like I said, I’ve got a few clients on the Renegades, so I come here a couple times a year.”

She didn’t remember what she’d told him, but she hadn’t owned a house there yet. “You didn’t know where I was from or where I’d wind up.”

This powerful confident man looked nervous. “I held out hope I’d see you again.”

Her knees nearly buckled from the relief sweeping through her. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that. The way you left…I thought you didn’t care. I thought⁠—”

He touched her arm. “I cared.”

She wanted to say, I thought about you, too, but she hadn’t seen him in two and a half years. Their intimacy was gone. She’d spent her whole life spewing her emotions in her songs and belting them out on stage, but since the betrayal she’d learned to be more careful. More protective. And really, the priority here was Stevie.

“So, what do we do?” she asked. “How do we move forward?”

“I don’t have a clue. But I think it’s best if we don’t tell anybody yet.”

She wasn’t sure why that disappointed her. Actually, she did know. For Stevie’s sake, she wanted a father who was so happy and proud to be her daddy that he’d shout it from the rooftops.

But, of course, this man had literally found out fifteen minutes ago.

“My parents know.”

“Okay, but other than them, let’s keep it to ourselves for now,” he said. “I don’t want anything to distract from the wedding.”

“That’s not going to be easy. Noa and I are close friends.”

“This is big, Hellcat. It’s going to put all the attention on us. I can’t do that to Ginty. Not after what his family’s just done.”

“If that’s what you want.” She didn’t like keeping secrets. Especially with her closest friend.

“It’s what I want.” He said it quickly. Adamantly.

And it rubbed her the wrong way. But for now, she’d give him grace. “Okay. But just so you know, if she asks me about it, I’m not going to lie.” She started off toward the house. “We should go. We’re doing s’mores.”

“Noa might’ve already figured it out.” He walked alongside her, close enough that their arms brushed. “This afternoon, when we were talking about the plans, she noticed that the kid⁠—”

“Stevie.”

“Sorry. Stevie has my eyes.”

She sure as hell does. “When she was born, they were slate blue. But then, they turned this unusual green, and I thought, oh, man, I’m going to look at this child every day of my life and be reminded of the man who taught me how to grate cheese.”

He smiled. “You’re really stuck on that.”

“I am. It was a turning point in my life.”

She supposed they needed to lighten the conversation—nothing could be resolved tonight—but she was dying to know what he was thinking and feeling. She had so many questions.

You won’t hurt her, will you?

Do you still not want kids?

But she wouldn’t ask any of them. He’d need time to figure it all out.

It was just… He was all business. His career meant everything to him. What if he decides to walk away? Her heart squeezed hard at the idea of her perfect little girl knowing she had a dad out there who didn’t want her.

That’s how I grew up.

And I couldn’t stand that for her.

She couldn’t take it anymore. She had to say something. “Slick.”

He stopped, waited.

“She’s a really good girl. I mean…the best.”

“Okay.”

“I know you just found out, and I’m not asking you for anything. Well, except one thing.” She touched his shirt. “Don’t hurt her.”

“You think I don’t know how important this is? Believe me, I do. The last thing I want to do is hurt her.”

“But you don’t know what you want. I can see it in your eyes.”

“No, I don’t. But I sure as hell don’t want to hurt her.”

They continued on, but her legs felt shaky and weak.

Because he said he didn’t want to hurt her.

That meant the possibility existed that he might not want to be in her life.

Otherwise, he’d have said, I won’t hurt her. She’s my daughter.

She was an absolute mess. She didn’t want to share her daughter, and yet, the idea of him walking away, knowing the impact it would have on her little girl…

It killed her.

Chapter Twenty

Booker had experienced three formative, life-altering moments in his life.

One was his accident and losing his ability to play hockey.

The second was finding the adoption papers.

And the third was discovering Marcus had preyed on his weakness, stepping into the role of father figure to win his allegiance.

Tonight, he’d added a fourth.

I’m a father.

That kid with the green eyes? The one who’d climbed a bookshelf to get a stuffed moose, who’d sat on his lap as he’d guided her little fingers around a puzzle piece?

That little girl is my child.

It didn’t compute. Refused to sink in.

The concept of a daughter didn’t apply to him. It wasn’t even in the realm of possibility.

Thankfully, he’d mastered the art of concealment. It wasn’t like he could show his emotions to his clients. So, no matter what was going on in his life, he stayed perfectly neutral. Ginty didn’t know how difficult it’d been to walk away from Elite. He didn’t know Marcus had threatened to ruin him.

So, he knew he was convincing as Margot talked about draping flowers, the placement of tables, and renting a dance floor. He knew his tone didn’t betray a hint of his inner turmoil as he pitched the idea of holding the ceremony on the terrace at twilight with the mountains as a backdrop.

No one could see the hive of bees buzzing under his skin. Or the way he fisted his hands and curled his toes to suppress the urge to run.

There was no snow to shovel here. No excuse he could give to go for a run.

Besides, even if he had a reason, he couldn’t leave.

Because Stevie was hopping like a frog. The light from the bonfire glowed orange on her skin, and she seemed perfectly content to be in her own little world.

He couldn’t stop watching her. Even as he threw out suggestions for the joint bachelorette and bachelor party, he was aware of the way she’d squat low to the ground, then leap. She did it again and again, oblivious to her cousin who was stacking rocks on the ground and then knocking them down with karate kicks.

She was talking to herself. Sometimes, she’d roll her eyes like she couldn’t believe her imaginary frog friend had said something so ridiculous. And as much as he wanted to run, he was tethered by this awareness of her. No, it was more than that.

It was affection.

Maybe because she’d insisted on sitting on his lap. Or maybe because he’d saved her before she hit the ground. Or the way her little fists had clutched his shirt, and she’d planted her face against his chest.

She had this wild energy and imagination, and she was his daughter.

“Okay, so I think we should conquer and divide.” Hellcat pointed to the bride and groom. “You guys do the cake tastings⁠—”

“Why do I get stuck with the boring stuff?” Noa asked with a happy gleam in her eyes.

“I know.” Hellcat feigned pity. “Sucks to be you.” She pointed to the groom. “You’re good to line up a tux and do airport pickups?”

“Yep.”

“Awesome. I’ll write up lists for the rest of us, and then…let’s have ourselves a wedding!” Hellcat stood, and while the others said goodnight and hugged, Booker escaped to his room.

The entire way there, he felt wired and anxious. He’d crafted a life that worked well for himself. He had everything under control.

And now this? Talk about throwing a wrench into his plans.

Closing the door behind him, he looked at his duffel bag and his laptop and knew he couldn’t do anything. Not even get ready for bed.

Fuck. There was only one thing he wanted to do. After all these years, he still had the impulse to call his dad. But since he couldn’t do that, what about his mom? He needed to let her know she had a grandchild. But she’d want to fly out immediately and bond with Stevie.

Especially since she thought she’d never have any grandkids. He’d made that clear.

He didn’t know who to call, and yet, there was only one person he trusted. So, he pulled out his phone and hit connect.

“Hey,” George said. “How’s it going?”

For all the plans he’d just finalized, all the business he should’ve been discussing, he blurted, “I’m a father.”

In the moment of silence that followed his announcement, his skin went cold, and he broke out in a sickening sweat. It was so…permanent. It required time. Time he didn’t have.

“I don’t think you’re joking.”

He stalked out onto the balcony, filling his lungs with the crisp mountain air. “No.”

“Wow. Okay. Then, I’m going to need a little more information.” His colleague’s tone was low, dire.

Booker scratched the back of his neck, watching the moon peek out of swiftly moving clouds. “Remember when Marcus threatened to fire me, and I took off for a few days?” He didn’t wait for a response. “I went to Calamity. I have a cabin out here.” He held on to the balcony railing to ground himself. “There was a woman in it.”

“Jesus Christ. Only you.” George chuckled. “Was she hot?”

“This has to be between us, do you understand?” He could confide in his colleague. Maybe the only person in the world he could fully trust. His mom had lost that distinction.

“I do. Go on.”

“It was Lorelei Calloway.”

“Either you’re on an acid trip right now, or you’re the luckiest man in the world. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know who she was. We didn’t exchange personal information. We had nicknames for each other.” He leaned over, looking at the terrace below. “I never thought I’d see her again.”

“Okay, hang on. You’re not fucking with me, right? No one knows about my Lorelei Calloway obsession better than you.”

“I’m serious. And of course, I know. Impossible not to.”

“Then tell me how the hell the world’s biggest pop star wound up in your cabin?”

“It was a mistake.” It wasn’t fair, but he didn’t want to retell the story. He needed to talk, so he gave the short version. “Her friend rented her a cabin, and she wound up in the wrong one. I’m rarely out there, so I didn’t notice.”

“Until you did.”

“Until I showed up that Christmas.”

“I have so many questions but go on.”

“We had a good time. I was even starting to think maybe we could stay in touch, see if it might go somewhere⁠—”

“Booker,” George nearly shouted. “You fell for someone? This is huge.”

It was, but he ignored it. “And then, she got a text message from some guy who wanted her to come home for Christmas, and I thought it was her ex trying to reconcile with her.” He couldn’t believe it was her father. “The guy hurt her pretty badly⁠—”

“I remember that. Her boyfriend and her best friend were screwing around behind her back. Imagine that. You’re on a tour bus, and these two are smiling at you, eating burritos with you, all while knowing they’re going to pound town in the bathroom while you’re sleeping.”

George could say it cavalierly because it was a story in the press, but for Booker—it was Lorelei’s experience. It tweaked his heart and made him want to hunt the cheaters down. “Exactly. And at the same time, I realized I couldn’t work for Marcus anymore. I saw the impact of betrayal up close. It wasn’t the right time for either of us to be in a relationship, so I left.”

“When you say you left, you don’t mean you ghosted her, do you? Because that’s not like you.”

“I left a note with my number, but she didn’t see it.”

“How could she not see it?”

“We’d made a mess. But, also, she left not long after me.”

“Okay, but you own the place. If she found out she was pregnant, she could’ve tracked you down.”

“Nope. The cabin’s owned by an LLC, and if you look it up, you’ll only see my attorney’s name.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. So, here I am, the best man, planning a wedding for my client, and she’s the maid of honor, and…it’s her.”

“The woman from the cabin.”

“And she’s got a daughter who’s two years old.” His pulse accelerated. He looked around, but he had nowhere to go.

“Shit.”

His mind raced. “I don’t know what to do. Do I sign away my rights? Do I have any rights? I doubt I’m on the birth certificate, and I’d probably have to take a DNA test. But what would be the point? I’m not father material. I don’t…I mean, what the fuck, George?”

“You can do anything you want.” As always, George had an even, calm tone. “You can walk away and never see either of them again.”

His heart rate quadrupled.

“But that won’t erase her. You can fly back to the city and drown yourself in work, but you’re always going to have a child in this world who knows her father doesn’t want anything to do with her.” George paused. “And that’s just not who you are.”

It all came crashing down around him. The panic left his body. “No. It’s not.”

“You’re freaking out, and I don’t blame you. And you can take some time to wrap your head around it. But you can’t pretend she doesn’t exist.”

He stuttered out a laugh. “I know. But man, I want to run. I want this to not be real.”

“Which is kind of funny, because your dad had the exact opposite reaction.”

A cold sting flushed through his body.

Shit.

Fuck.

George is right.

“It’s not the same thing,” George said. “But he found out his girlfriend was pregnant with another man’s child, and he jumped right in. He didn’t think about how it would impact his career. He loved your mom, and he decided to love her son, too.”

I’m an asshole.

Here I am trying to be the man my father was, and I’m talking about signing away my rights?

That’s fucked up.

He sat down in the chair. “That’s probably the smartest thing you could’ve said to me.”

“Well, I’ve known you since freshman year. Couldn’t scrape you off no matter how hard I tried.” George chuckled. “And because I know you, I know you wouldn’t walk away. You’re just freaking out.”

“I am.”

“Well, sure you are. Who wouldn’t be? You never wanted kids. Worse, you avoid relationships and only focus on things you can control. Like your career. So, it might be ironic. It might be karma. But you just got tossed a curveball, and nothing will ever be in your control again. You have a kid.”

“A daughter.”

“You’ve got a daughter, and you have to step up.”

“Step up how?” He braced his feet on the banister. “What does that mean? I live two thousand miles away. I work eighty-hour weeks. I don’t have time to be a dad. Not to mention, I like what I do. And I don’t want to give it up to move out here… And do what? Get a job at the local outfitters? You want me to run fly-fishing expeditions?”

“Yes. Let’s look at job listings. And while we’re at it, let’s buy her a prom dress, too. Maybe tomorrow you can go into town and visit a few car dealerships? Because at sixteen, she’s going to need a car.” George laughed. “Dude, you just found out. She’s two. Slow down and take it one step at a time. The only thing you have to do right now is spend time with her.”

“I’m leaving on Sunday.”

“Great. For the next two days, sit on the floor and build shit with her. Color with her. Whatever this kid does, just do it with her. That’s the only thing you have to do right now. Did you tell your mom yet?”

“No. She’ll want to come out here. I need a minute to wrap my head around this.”

“Look, you’re not used to asking for help. You’re the one who gives it. But your mom’s there. I’m here. Plenty of other people would be there, too, if you let them.”

“Yeah.”

“You know, asking for help doesn’t make you a weak man. Anyone would be freaking out in your shoes, so give them a chance to help you. Try it. You might be surprised at the result.”

“Are you done lecturing me?” he asked, grinning.

“Do you feel better?”

“I do. Thank you.”

“Good, now leave me alone. I’m having dinner with Kowalsky.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry.” He sat up, planting his feet on the ground. The quarterback was one of the biggest gets in the business. “You should’ve told me.”

“See, now, that’s the thing you don’t get. Friends take each other’s calls. That’s how it’s done.”

“You’re not my friend. You’re my partner.”

George laughed. “You keep telling yourself that. Talk later.”

“Later.” Now that he was alone, he grew restless again, edged out.

Because he knew, right down the hallway, there was a little girl with green eyes and wild blond curls who didn’t know she had a dad.

He needed to see her. Just a peek.

Pocketing his phone, he headed out into the hallway. Standing in her doorway, he listened to her steady breathing. The room smelled like clean sheets and baby shampoo. Maybe he could just go in for a second. He’d be quiet. He wouldn’t wake her up.

But as he approached the bed, he could see her watching him.

“Mister wead to me?”

He supposed he could do that. But should he text Lorelei? Ask if it was okay?

The little girl sat up. The nightlight was bright enough that she could sort through the books on her nightstand and choose the one she wanted. “Dis one.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?”

“Mister wead to me, I fall asweep.” She spoke with a sweet sincerity, her eyes wide and eager.

How could he refuse? “Okay, then. If it’ll help you get to sleep.”

She patted the bed. “Wead.”

And so, he stretched out beside the little girl, opened the book, and began reading.

Stevie snuggled up against him, the moose in her clutch.

Her little body was hot, and she fit perfectly in the crook of his arm. A knot formed in his throat, but he forced himself to continue.

Before long, her eyelids fluttered closed.

He should go.

But he found himself unable to budge.

So, he lay there and let it sink in all the way.

This is my daughter.

He touched her silky hair, ran the backs of his fingers over her plump, rosy cheek.

I’m a dad.

Breakfast was mayhem. Hellcat’s family laughed a lot. They ate a lot. And they never ran out of conversation. Ginty threw himself right in, which was nice since he didn’t have family anymore, and Noa shared her wildest stories from the road.

Booker sat quietly, watching Stevie. Her grandmother had set down a bowl of oatmeal with sliced strawberries sticking out of it. Apparently, the toddler liked being a dinosaur and growling while she munched on the berries.

He’d had a fitful sleep. His mind wouldn’t settle.

Should I take a paternity test? He’d already messaged his attorney, asking for the next steps.

He’d accepted that he had a daughter. But what did he do about it? He couldn’t live here, and there was no way Hellcat would move to New York.

Do I want her to?

No. Absolutely not. Some nights, he didn’t get home till three in the morning. Most weeks, he was on the road so often his apartment felt more like a hotel room.

That’s no life for a kid.

And yet…how would he get to know her if she wasn’t around?

But it wasn’t a possibility. Hellcat’s entire support system was here. Not to mention the time and energy she’d put into this property she loved so much.

Which left one thing: he’d visit every now and then.

That’s good. It didn’t stop his stomach from churning, but it was doable. He could visit.

A familiar name flashed on the screen of his phone, giving him a jolt.

Jaime: Heard about the new wedding plans. Looks like a good time. What do you think of a day for the kids on my ranch? Ice skating in my indoor rink, a trail ride. My mom and sister are down to host an ice cream sundae party. Parents are welcome, of course, but we’ve got childcare covered if your guests want some adult time. Let me know.

“What’s that?” Hellcat asked quietly.

He glanced up. “What?”

She sat in the chair next to him, her blue eyes filled with concern. “All morning, you’ve been handling work like a boss, but something just threw you off your game.”

How did this woman read him so well? It was uncanny.

Or maybe it was just that she paid attention.

The very idea warmed his body. He held up his phone. “One of Ginty’s teammates just offered to host the kids for a day.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Noa said. “That’s actually a good idea.”

“Who?” Ginty asked.

“It’s Jaime. He’s offering a day at his ranch for the kids. Ice skating, trail ride. Parents can come, but he’s covering childcare.”

Noa reached for her groom’s hand. “That would be perfect for the bachelor and bachelorette day.”

“It would.” Ginty gave him a chin nod. “Take him up on it.”

Hellcat gave Noa a look of surprise. “I’m not built like that.”

Noa laughed. “Me neither.”

“What do you mean?” Ginty asked.

“I’d be like, Are you sure?” Noa said. “You don’t mind? And you guys are all, Yes,”—she slapped the table—“do that favor for me.”

“He wouldn’t have offered if he didn’t mean it,” Ginty said. “And it makes sense for this event.”

“You know what?” Hellcat asked. “I’ve got a summer babysitter, and she’s amazing. Why don’t I hire her for the whole five days? That way we don’t have to worry about the kids running off or winding up in the pool without supervision.”

“Perfect,” Noa said. “I’m so excited. Okay, so do we have a final plan for the week?”

He and Hellcat never had that meeting, so he let her take the lead. He’d go along with whatever she wanted.

“Well, since this place was an actual camp, we can take advantage of all the activities. Skeet shooting, fly fishing, archery…all that kind of stuff. But also, I’ve got that massive kitchen. What do you think of doing a cooking competition?”

“Like Chopped?” Ginty asked. “I’m not sure we have any chefs here.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Hellcat smiled. “Booker’s a pretty good one.”

“How do you know that?” Ginty asked.

Gazes ricocheted around the table. Beau to Hellcat, Hellcat to Margot, Margot to Booker. It was almost comical.

“Okay, what am I missing?” Noa asked.

“You guys,” Hellcat said. “Relax. We met once before, many years ago.”

“You did?” Ginty shot him a look.

“Yes. Briefly. Anyhow.” Booker changed the conversation. “The couple who star in that Food Channel cooking show—Gridiron Grillers—live here. Xander and Lulu.”

“Xander Wilder, the quarterback?” Ginty asked. “I thought he lives in Dallas?”

“That’s where he plays, but they have a house here, too,” Booker said. “I can reach out, see if they’d be down to run it for us?”

“That sounds fun,” Margot said.

“And, of course, a spa day,” Hellcat said.

“Yes. Oh, this is so awesome.” Noa turned to her groom with a wistful expression. “I’m so bummed about the robes and slippers.” She turned back to the others. “We had them monogrammed for all the guests.”

“Maybe I can pull something off here. Let me look into it.” Hellcat added it to her list. “Okay, what else? I have a theater room, so we can do a movie night.” She looked at Booker.

“Popcorn, sodas, and candy?” he asked

“Yes. So fun.” Her blue eyes sparkled. “And adult onesies.”

Everyone burst out laughing.

“I would totally wear that,” Noa said. “And we’ll need blankets and pillows.”

“You should see her man cave.” Ginty turned his attention to Booker. “It’s got a pool table, bar, darts, card tables.”

“Ooh, a man cave.” Noa rolled her eyes. “Better stay away from there. Might chip a nail playing pool.”

“And you know my girlish aim,” Hellcat said. “I might throw a dart right at a man’s package.”

“How about we call it a game room?” Booker asked, smiling.

“Call it what you want, but we’ll be making good use of it,” Ginty said.

Margot got up. “I’m making coffee. Who wants some?” Hands went up, and she counted. “Got it.”

“All right, moving on,” Booker said. “For the joint bachelor and bachelorette party, what about a paintball competition?”

“Yes.” Noa clapped her hands. “Girls against boys.”

“You remember my teammates will be here, right?” Ginty asked.

“You remember that Lor and I went from absolute nobodies to powerhouses in the music industry, right?” Noa asked.

Ginty sighed. “So, you guys won’t be wearing skimpy halter tops and booty shorts?”

“Ginty!” Laughing, Noa whacked him.

“He’s not wrong,” Hellcat said. “I once had a snowball fight with a hockey player, and he destroyed me. He had no mercy.” She gave Booker a secret grin, and fireworks went off in his chest.

He remembered that fight. He remembered what happened after.

He remembered everything.

A little hand patted his thigh. “Mister?”

He looked down to find Stevie handing him a small red kid cup. “Yes?”

“Coffee, pease. Wif mashmallow.”

He looked around the table and found everyone watching him with amused expressions.

“Stevie likes to drink coffee with us,” Hellcat said. “Hers comes in the powder form in a little packet.”

Ah. Hot chocolate. “You want me to make your coffee?”

The little girl nodded, her abundant curls bouncing.

“How about you finish your breakfast first?” Hellcat asked.

“I not hungry.”

“If you’re not hungry, then you don’t have room in your tummy for coffee.”

The little girl looked from her mom to Booker, clearly hoping he’d side with her.

He took her little spoon, cut a wedge of strawberry, and scooped some oatmeal. “Let’s compromise. How about you take three bites?” He held it out to her.

She chewed like it was her job. Like she had an engine in her jaw.

“Good?” Booker asked.

She made a circular motion around her stomach. “Das good in my belly.”

For one moment, they held each other’s gazes, both smiling, and the connection cracked something open in him. Affection poured out.

He tried doing triage to stop the flood, but then the little girl giggled.

She fucking giggled. Her nose crinkled, her chiclet teeth were on full display, and it all just gushed out of him.

The hushed conversation broke through, and he turned to find them all watching.

“Okay, what is going on here?” Noa’s finger wagged between Booker and Stevie. And then, her eyes went wide, and her gaze snapped over to Hellcat. “Are they⁠—”

Hellcat shook her head firmly. She clearly didn’t want to have this conversation in front of the kid.

“Two more bites,” Booker said. “And I’ll make your coffee.”

Conversation resumed, and Stevie finished her oatmeal. When he got up to get the cocoa, Hellcat said, “The packets are in the pantry.”

“I think you know I don’t do packets.”

“Hey, Mister. Wait.” The little girl jumped to the floor and jogged over.

He was crouched over, searching for a pan, when she reached him. The position brought them eye to eye, and he took in her features—those eyes the same green as his, the red bow lips, and the little button nose. He stilled, just staring at her as it dawned on him that she was half him. Literally half of his DNA was in her. His mom, his grandparents, aunts, uncles…this child was his.

It gutted him that the man who’d raised him wasn’t in her genetic makeup.

But that’s not true, is it? That man—my dad—is in me. It might not be biological, but he left his imprint in my DNA. My dad lives on through me, and—if you’re in her life—now her.

And then, that sweet little girl broke into a smile. “You gone make me coffee?”

“I sure am.”

She reached out to touch his jaw. “Where fuzzy?”

“Fuzzy?” He didn’t know what she meant.

She cupped his cheeks with both her hands. “You soft.”

Her grandfather, her uncle, even Ginty had facial scruff. “Oh, that’s because I shave.”

“You shave?”

“Yeah, I don’t like beards. They’re itchy, and they get food in them.”

She nodded like she totally agreed. “I gon shave too.”

“One day, you might. But probably not your face.”

She rubbed her cheek against his. “I soft, too.”

He knew she just wanted to show him they both had smooth cheeks, but he had the impulse to hug her. He wrapped an arm around her tiny waist and held her loosely, lightly.

She might have a strong spirit and a feisty nature, but in reality, she was so helpless, so fragile. She needed people to look out for her, care for her. His protective instincts surged. And he understood it was so much more than survival.

Kids would be mean to her.

Boys would ghost her.

She wouldn’t get chosen for a team or a play.

Until this moment, he’d never really thought about what it’d been like for his parents to raise him, the constant fear they’d lived with over his survival.

He didn’t know what to do, how he could be there for her. He just didn’t know. “Let’s get you that coffee.” He let go of her to stand up, but Stevie clung to him, so he settled her on his hip. Together, they headed inside the pantry to gather the ingredients.

When they came back out, he found Hellcat at the stove with the milk and measuring cups. “Why did this little girl know where the cocoa was?” he teased.

“I told you. I make everything myself now.” She tipped her head to the dining room. “Except when I’ve got a house full of guests.”

“Does that happen often?” He poured the milk into the pan.

“Nope.” She measured the cocoa powder and tipped it in while stirring with a whisk. “I’m not sure anyone wants to drive out this far—especially in winter—so, we have holidays at my dad’s. That’s why I bought a place in town. I figured when she’s in school, it’ll be easier for playdates and after-school activities.”

“That’s smart.”

“Yeah. So…” She glanced over her shoulder. “Noa might’ve figured it out.”

“I guess it’s inevitable.”

“It might be better to tell people in advance. I don’t want anyone blurting it out and confusing her.” She tipped her chin toward their daughter. “Especially if you’re only here through Sunday.”

“I’m staying.” Once the idea popped out of his mouth, he knew it was the right thing to do.

“You mean for all five days?”

He nodded. “I can’t get news like this and then just leave.” At the thought of postponing the trip to Ontario, a jagged blade of fear cut through him—every second he wasn’t in touch with the Marchaud family, another agent gained the advantage.

But what choice did he have? Stevie had jumped to the top of his list of priorities.

He felt the weight of the child in his arms, the clutch of her fist in his shirt. “But also, I’m staying in her life. I don’t know what that looks like yet, but I’m not going anywhere.”

The tug-of-war between hope and fear played across Hellcat’s pretty features.

He wanted to reassure her, but he wouldn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.

Stevie patted his cheek to get his attention. “Mashmallows?”

“I’ll get them, sweetheart.” And with that, Hellcat walked away.

It was only her absence that made him understand the wholeness he’d felt when it was the three of them. He didn’t understand any of this. How—out of nowhere, the landscape of a man’s life could change so completely.

Hellcat came back with the open bag and dropped one marshmallow into the red cup. “Here you go.”

“Fank you, Mommy.”

“You’re welcome, baby girl.”

“I wish I could give you a better answer,” he began.

But she shook her head. “You did. You gave me the best I could ask for. I was afraid you’d leave and never look back.” She brushed her hand across her daughter’s cheek. “She’s precious, this girl. I don’t want her hurt. It’s like we’re born with these perfect souls, and then, every chip and crack changes us.”

“Makes us stronger.”

“Ideally. But look at us.” She glanced at the table with an affectionate smile. “We’re all hot messes.”

“And we found each other, so we’re a house of hot messes.”

“A team.” She grinned. “Team Hot Mess.”

“Let’s get my Scottish ancestry in there. Clan McHot Mess.”

She laughed, and the connection snapped and sparked between them—just like it had in the cabin.

“My coffee weady, Mister?”

Hellcat laughed. “Yeah, Mister. What’s the hold up?”

“Well, for starters…” He snatched the bag of marshmallows out of her hand. “We need more than one measly marshmallow.”

“Go for it.” She headed across the kitchen to a large whiteboard hanging on the wall. “Feel free to keep adding to this list. We’ll make daily supply runs into town.”

She added marshmallows to a list that included:

Phinny’s nice soaps

Coco’s hot chocolate mix

Those disc things for the skeet guns.

“They’re clay pigeons.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “What?”

“The discs. You’re going to need several cases of clay pigeons. Do you have the shotgun shells?”

“Shotgun?” She sounded appalled.

“What did you think skeet shooting was?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I never thought about it.”

“You shoot pellets at moving targets.”

“Oh. I don’t think…”

Both their gazes went to Stevie. If anything went wrong, if anyone didn’t know gun safety…all it took was a one-second mistake. “I’m definitely hiring my nanny to take care of the kids. Keep them busy and give the adults some playtime.”

“That’s a good idea. You do know archery uses actual bows and arrows, right?”

“Nope. We’re using Nerf arrows.”

He grinned. “Works for me.” He set Stevie down to pour the warm cocoa into her sippy cup. After screwing on the lid, he said, “You want to see if your grandparents want some coffee? I made enough.”

She took off like a rocket.

“What about the rest of the year? You said your nanny’s a teacher, but is she still around if you have meetings or…a date?” The skin at the back of his neck prickled, and he got a sour taste in his mouth. He’d never been jealous in his life, and he couldn’t believe he felt it now. He hardly knew this woman. They hadn’t seen each other in a couple of years.

Stevie came racing back. “Gamma gots coffee.”

“But I’ll take a marshmallow,” Margot called.

The delight in Stevie’s eyes as she waited for him to hand her the bag made him want to paint the sky with pink sparkles just to keep it there forever.

“What do you say, sweetie?” Hellcat called.

Stevie stopped so fast, she nearly toppled forward. “Fank you, Mister.”

“You’re welcome.” He lifted the pan. “Hot chocolate?”

“I’ll pass, but we can save it for tonight. She’ll want it when we have a bonfire.” She reached for a storage container, poured the cocoa into it, and then sealed it. On her way to the fridge, she said, “You can ask me, you know. It’s a fair question given our situation. You’ll want to know who’s around your daughter.”

He didn’t have to ask what she meant. “Fine.” He knew. “Are you seeing someone?”

“No. I have enough on my plate. Dating Lorelei Calloway is a whole thing, and I don’t want to deal with it when I’m raising a two-year-old, you know? If I meet someone organically, maybe. But I’m not doing dating apps or getting set up. Not right now. What about you? Still the eternal bachelor?”

“Yep.” He was about to say, I like it that way, but somehow, looking into her bright blue eyes and at the mouth he’d both tasted and fucked, the words died on his tongue.

He brought the pan to the sink and filled it with water. When she came to rinse her hands, he said, “I hope you know if I’d known about her, I would’ve helped however you needed.”

“I do know that.”

“And we need to sit down and figure out my share of costs. Including back pay.”

She shot him a challenging look.

He held up a hand. “I know you don’t need the money, but I am responsible for half of everything—and will be sharing it going forward.”

She seemed irritated. “Look, thank you for bringing it up—I get that we have to lay it on the table, but I think you know it’s not necessary. I don’t want or need your money. That will never be an issue here, okay? So, let’s put that conversation to rest.” And there it was again, that crease between her eyebrows. “What we need to figure out is so much bigger and more important.”

Her gaze went to Stevie who was trying to chew a whole marshmallow. Her cheeks had puffed out, and she had one end of the big white powdery ball sticking out of her mouth.

They both laughed. “You don’t mind that she’s eating that crap for breakfast?”

“Not at all. I’m not weird about what she eats. For the most part, she’s got a healthy diet, but I’m not going to deny her the fun stuff. Especially when we’re celebrating.”

“All right, let’s do this.” A chair screeched as Noa and Ginty got up from the table. “Thank you for an amazing breakfast.” She turned to Hellcat. “We’re heading into town to try on tuxes and have a private cake tasting, so text me if you need us to pick anything up. And don’t forget my appointment with Knox tonight. She’s closing the boutique for me. You’re coming, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Hellcat said.

“We’ve got our list.” Her dad waved his sheet of paper and got up. “So, we’ll head out, too.”

Margot and Hellcat exchanged a look he couldn’t decipher, but the singer nodded, and Margot cupped the little girl’s head. “Would you like to go swimming at the lake with Colt?”

Stevie clapped her hands together and grinned with pure glee. “I get my simmy.” She raced out of the room, her little butt waggling.

He thought it was about the cutest thing he’d ever seen. “Simmy?” he asked.

“Swimsuit.” Hellcat watched her parents hurry after the little girl. Once everyone had gone, she said, “Now you and I get to do the fun stuff.”

“Why do I think you and I have different definitions of fun?”

“Getting twelve cabins ready for guests isn’t your idea of fun? Come on. My parents left all the supplies outside each door. Today, we’ll be making beds and setting up bathrooms.”

“Yeah, definitely different ideas,” he grumbled.

She reached into a big drawer and pulled out the same Velcro caps and balls they’d played with in his cabin. She tugged hers on and tossed him his. They ran outside tossing balls at each other’s heads.

And for the former hockey player, it was on.

Chapter Twenty-One

Lorelei’s mind kept wandering. She was in this gorgeous boutique, surrounded by the most stunning wedding gowns she’d ever seen, breathing in a scent so unique, so feminine, she wanted to buy it by the gallon...

And yet, she was still in that cabin.

Watching Slick race away from her.

The vibe had changed so abruptly, she’d had no idea what happened.

And it scared her. Because she’d begun to buy into the idea of a family. Of Slick being a father. A real one.

He was a natural with kids. Noa told her how he hadn’t hesitated to help Stevie with a puzzle. That he was patient and thoughtful. And that was before he’d known she was his daughter.

He’d even said he wanted to be in Stevie’s life.

But the moment he got a work call, he took off. Left town.

To be fair, he’d told her countless times that work came first. But somehow, she just kept spinning some stupid fantasy about them as a family.

He was never going to be the kind of dad she envisioned for her girl.

God, and to think she’d fantasized about sleeping with him in one of those cabins.

“This is designed for waifs.” Noa stood in front of a mannequin. “Fairies.”

Lorelei snapped out of it. Noa deserved her full attention. She’d be here for her friend. “I don’t know if that means you love it or hate it?”

“Shh. Oh, my God. Don’t let her hear you.” Noa glanced around the bridal shop.

“Don’t worry. Knox is in the backroom finding shoes in your size.” Lorelei touched the fabric. “Do you like it or no? I think it’s gorgeous.”

The stunning tulle dress had a draped corset bodice with off-the-shoulder straps, a tiny little waistline, and a floral-print skirt. The back plunged low.

“I couldn’t put my little toe in this. I wasn’t this size when I was Stevie’s age.” Noa cupped her hands at either side of the dress’s waist. “Girl, I was born with a woman’s body. But yes, I love it. It’s just too much material for me.”

“I can see that.”

Noa eyed it wistfully. “I don’t want to look like a parade float.”

“What about this one?” Lorelei gestured to a fit and flare gown with a plunging neckline and illusion sleeves. The dress looked transparent but had a skin-colored insert and was decorated with three-dimensional flowers.

“It’s stunning. But I want to dance. I want to eat. And I don’t want to spend my night thinking about my belly or my ass or thighs. You know what I mean?” Noa sighed. “I loved my dress so much. It took me a full year to find just the right one.”

“Oh, trust me. You’re not leaving here until you find one you love just as much—if not more.” Knox Holliday breezed out of the backroom, a pair of white satin pumps dangling off her fingers. “That’s a promise you can take to the bank.” She set the shoes on a dais. “Okay, so you don’t like a ton of material, and you don’t want the fit and flare.”

“Yes.” Noa looked worried, like she’d insulted the designer. “It’s not that I don’t love this dress. It’s stunning. It’s just⁠—”

Knox held up a hand. “We’d be here all week if you pretended to love everything. I promise, the only thing I care about is finding the right one for you.”

As the designer moved around the purple velvet chaise, Noa mouthed, “How is she so perfect?” Lorelei could only laugh. Knox was a beauty, no doubt. But her real beauty came from deep within. She was a genuinely nice person who seemed happy with where she was in life.

Throughout Lorelei’s entire career, she’d been striving. No level of success had ever been enough.

Even while raising Stevie, she was driven to be the best mom, to learn how to be self-sufficient. When would she ever reach a place where she stopped trying so hard?

“You showed me a picture of your gown.” Knox led them to the back of the store. “But since it was custom-made, I can’t recreate it. It’s entirely the designer’s vision. So, let’s start with the basics. What do you love about a wedding dress?” She stood in front of a row of cubbies, each one housing a different style. Mermaid. A-line. Sheath. Ball gown. Fit and Flare.

“Wow.” Noa’s voice was full of awe. “I’ve slipped through a portal and entered a magical world. I love everything here. But, okay, you want me to narrow it down. I know I want ultra-feminine. I want tulle and froth and lace—all the fantasy wedding gown stuff—but I don’t want to look like a frosted doughnut. Do you know what I mean?”

“Of course, I do.” Knox squeezed the bride’s hand. “I’ve dressed every body shape you can think of, and you won’t leave here until you feel perfectly comfortable and as feminine and gorgeous as you are.”

Lorelei wanted to hug the designer. As a performer, her friend had encountered too many stylists and designers who were so used to slender women that they didn’t understand the frustration of feeling your belly stick out under a belt or waistline, or your shoulders strain against fabric. Noa had been embarrassed countless times by dresses and shirts that were too tight in the sleeves.

“What do you think about empire waistlines?” Knox pulled a gown off the wood rack.

“I love them, but they make me look pregnant.”

“Got it. But you loved that one, right?” Knox pointed to the first dress, the one on the mannequin.

“I do. It’s just too much material. I’ll look like a parade float.”

Knox smiled. “You forget I’m a seamstress. I can give you all the things you love about the bodice—the transparent sleeves, the flowers, the plunging neckline—and put it on a different skirt.” She pulled out a ball gown-style dress. “And I can add the same flower overlay. I won’t have time to make handmade cutouts, but⁠—”

“I’ll take it.” Excitement gleamed in Noa’s eyes. “What you described is exactly what I want.” She sighed. “I love it so much.”

“Wonderful.” Knox smiled. “Then, let’s get some measurements. Give me a second to get the dressing room ready.” She took off.

“That was fast,” Lorelei said.

“Yeah, because every stylist I’ve ever worked with has told me what doesn’t work. Knox told me what she can do to make it work. She’s my new best friend.” Noa’s gaze roamed the boutique. “I wish she could design my entire tour wardrobe.”

“Make your next record a wedding theme, and you’re all set.”

“Right? I’d wear a different gown each night.” She clapped her hands together, her head tipping back with the comical expression of an epiphany. “Wait a minute. How fun would that be?”

“I think that would be wild. You should totally make that happen.”

Noa grinned. “Want to do it together?”

Lorelei sat with that suggestion a moment, opening herself to the possibility. “You know, that’s a hard no. My touring days are over.” And for whatever reason, she’d always written songs alone.

“It is pretty grueling.” Noa looked troubled. “I hate that I’ll be gone so long.”

“Well, it’s hockey season, so it’s not like he’ll be around either. And you’ll still be able to visit him.”

“You never miss it? This life?”

“No.” And she could say that with total honesty. “I don’t miss life on the road. I don’t miss all the merchandising and pirating issues. I don’t miss any of the business stuff.”

“What about performing? You don’t miss the rush of an audience who adores you?”

Not even Noa knew about her little jaunts to the bar. She didn’t know why she kept it a secret.

No, wait. She did. She didn’t want the pressure. If anyone knew what she was doing, they’d expect more. Her manager would start generating ideas for producers, projects, and collaborations. The A&R rep from her old record label would fly out to listen to her, see what they could do to make her new songs more marketable.

Just thinking about it made her creative spirit shrivel. For now, she needed freedom. She needed space.

“I think, now that I have Stevie, I look back and see that none of it was real. They’re screaming for the idea of me. And I might’ve known that intellectually before, but when you stomp in mud puddles and walk around all day with dough in your hair and soothe an inconsolable baby, it just…it’s a whole new perspective on life and what matters.” Kind of like what she and Slick talked about in the cabin a couple years ago. “She adores me because of me.” But this outing was about Noa’s wedding. Not her deep revelations. “My daughter finds me delightful.”

“That’s because you are.” Noa kissed her cheek, leaving her in a cloud of her signature gardenia perfume. “So, I guess you said no to Jilly? I obviously did. It’s right in the middle of my tour.”

Lorelei had no idea what she was talking about. “Jilly Peterson?”

“Yeah, the producer.” Concern etched lines on Noa’s forehead. “Why? Did you have a bad experience with her?”

“No. Look what she did to Unbridled.” That was Lorelei’s first album to go platinum. It had the most requested songs at every concert she’d played around the world.

“Then, why are you looking at me funny?” Noa asked.

“Because I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The invitation. We all did a few lines from a song for a fundraiser, and now she wants us to perform it at the Grammys.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. We didn’t get together or anything. We didn’t even know who else was involved. We just recorded our bit on our own and turned it in. It was a few months ago.”

“I didn’t get an invitation. Not that I’m aware of.” Of course, between Stevie and renovations, she wasn’t exactly on top of her email. Even so, Jilly would’ve reached out. She would’ve made sure Lorelei got back to her.

“Well, that’s weird,” Noa said. “Why wouldn’t she include you?”

Shame flew up hot from her chest and spread across her cheeks. Her earlobes burned. “I retired.”

“Trust me. No one has forgotten Lorelei Calloway.” Noa said it firmly. “She knows you live out here in the woods with your baby girl. She probably assumed you wouldn’t do it.”

“Maybe.”

Noa pulled her into a hug. “You’re sad.”

“No, I’m not.” But she accepted the comfort. “I’m retired for a reason.” To be honest, she was more humiliated than sad. To be forgotten that easily stung. It hadn’t even been three years.

“I’m all ready for you,” Knox called.

“Come on.” She wrapped her arm around Noa’s waist. “Let’s see you in that dreamy dress.” When they got to the dressing room, she asked Knox, “What’s that scent? I’ve never smelled anything like it.”

“Oh, that’s Belle Starr. It’s a perfume my sister-in-law makes. It’s so good, we begged her to make a potpourri and candles. It’s lovely, isn’t it?”

“It is. Is it for sale?”

“Absolutely. It’s over there.” Knox pointed to a glass cabinet filled with accessories.

The moment Noa and Knox went into the spacious dressing room, her thoughts went right back to Jilly and embarrassment that the music industry could forget about her so easily.

And wasn’t that what she’d been saying? Unless you kept churning out material, kept touring, kept showing up on social media, you got lost under the endless talent that was hungrier for fame than you were.

After so many years of feeling important, it just sucked to not matter.

As she looked at the pearl necklaces and diamond tennis bracelets, the beautifully packaged bath salts, candles, and potpourris, she felt a tide of confidence coming in.

Because she wanted anonymity. She’d chosen it. She wanted to go shopping without getting mobbed. She wanted to take Stevie into town for ice cream and not get harassed by eager fans.

She liked her life. And she didn’t need a father for Stevie. She was a great mom, and she had her parents and siblings helping her raise her daughter.

She’d let Slick figure out his own role. She’d stay out of it.

Emotionally, too. She wasn’t going to weave some fantasy about a happy family.

She and Slick would not pick up where they left off. There’d be no romance.

It was all about Stevie having a dad.

* * *

Booker entered the house quietly. He was exhausted, hungry, and needed a shower after seven hours on airplanes. It had been a hell of a day.

Even as he climbed the stairs, his phone continued to vibrate in his pocket. As much as he wanted to ignore it, he couldn’t. A sports agent was never off the grid.

Ian: Hey, man. Any chance you can help me out? Just found out my bro’s been arrested. I’m on vacation with the fam. Can you handle it?

Booker: Yeah, of course. Details?

The basketball player gave him the precinct and information. It was late in New York, but he called the concierge service he used. Like a pro, the man answered immediately.

“Hey, what’s up?” The guy sounded like a stoner, but he was actually sharp and on the ball. And discreet.

Booker relied on him for just about everything. “I’m going to forward you some information. A client’s brother needs a criminal attorney in Memphis. I know Price is off for maternity leave. You got somebody else?”

“Yeah, of course. I’m on it.”

“Thanks, man.” He disconnected, and Booker knew without a doubt, the man would handle the situation. As he shut himself into his room, relief swept over him. He started to kick off his shoes and unbutton his khakis, but the knock on the door stopped him.

Hellcat? Man, he hoped so.

But when he opened it, he saw Ginty in a white robe, hotel slippers, and a stack of towels in his hands. “What’s up, princess?”

The hockey player chuckled. “Lor went all out. Have you checked your bathroom? She even has that hair mask shit. Makes your hair really soft.”

“Oh, good.” Booker touched his hair. “My ends have been so dry.”

“Fuck off. Hey, we’re going in the hot tub.” He offered a towel. “Want to come?”

No, he didn’t. But he never said no to a client, so he took one. “I’ve got a few calls to make, but I’ll catch up with you in a few minutes.”

“Everything okay?”

His energy flagged, so it wasn’t a surprise that Ginty could read that.

“Lor said you went to see the Canadian kid. How’d it go?”

Normally, he didn’t talk about other clients or prospects, but he and Ginty had a different kind of relationship. “I got five minutes of his dad’s time. Just enough to hear, ‘Thanks for all you’ve done to get us here, but at this point, we’ve decided to go with a bigger firm. You understand.’”

“What? That sucks. Anything you can do?”

“I told him there’s more at stake than money. That he needed to consider his son’s long-term career and his mental health. Most agents don’t give a shit about any of that. They want the commission.”

Ginty nodded. “I can speak to that. You saved more than my career. You saved my life.”

“Ginty?” Noa called. “You coming?”

“Just a second.” He turned back to Booker. “All you can do is present your argument. You’ve got no control over the decision he makes. If he makes the wrong one, I’m pretty sure he’ll be calling you not too far in the future. You’re the best, and I mean that sincerely.”

“Well, thanks. I appreciate it.” And he did. In fact, he needed to hear it.

“Clients are pains in the asses, aren’t we?” Ginty smiled.

“Some of them are.” Like the guy who’s on vacation and can’t be bothered to handle his brother’s arrest. He’d rather interrupt Booker’s scheduled break. “But most are great. Most are like you.”

“Yeah, at least things have settled down for me.” Ginty thought about it for a moment and then burst out laughing. “That’s a good one. My family sold our wedding information, and now we’re hiding out on this remote ranch, making our closest friends scramble to pull something together for us. Yep. Settled down, all right.”

“Baby?” Noa called, her voice rich with suggestion. “You want to see this lingerie I bought at the boutique today? I’ll model it just for you.”

Ginty’s eyes went fiery, and he snatched the towel back. “I take back the invitation. Things are about to get freaky.” He slapped Booker on the shoulder and headed off.

“Hey, have you seen Lorelei?” he called, leaning out into the hallway.

“Last I saw, she was putting the kid to bed.” And then Ginty bent his knees, lifted his bride into his arms, and ran the rest of the way down the hallway to the stairs.

Booker felt a weird tug in his heart that he’d missed out on reading to Stevie, and that shook him to his core. Because, sure, he’d read to his clients’ kids before. But that wasn’t the longing he felt.

It was to be part of the bedtime routine. With Hellcat and his daughter.

Almost like…a family.

Fuck my life.

You know what I need? Food. A beer. And a workout.

He’d go downstairs and grab something to eat first. But just as he left his room, he saw Hellcat heading down the long hallway that bridged to the main part of the former lodge. Curious, he took off after her. “Hellcat?”

She didn’t seem to hear him. It was only when she turned into a room that he saw the earbuds. By the time he caught up with her, she was playing a piano. He didn’t want to interrupt, so he stood outside and listened.

Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned against the doorway. Her voice was powerful, with a captivating depth of emotion. The starts and stops gave him the impression she was working on a song.

When she stilled, bent over the keys, she muttered, “You suck.”

She thought she was alone, and he was intruding on her privacy. “Hey.”

She started, her eyes going wide. “Slick? What’re you doing here?”

“I was looking for you.”

“Well, you found me.” She seemed rattled, almost guilty, as if he’d caught her rifling through his suitcase and pocketing his watch.

Dammit. He shouldn’t have followed her. “I’m sorry for interrupting you. It won’t happen again.”

Everything about her softened. “No, it’s not like that. It’s fine. I have no secrets.” When her gaze cut away, she laughed. “Well, I guess I do. I don’t know. If anyone hears me playing, they’ll start asking questions. ‘Are you working on new material? When’re you going to cut another record?’”

“And you don’t want pressure.”

“Exactly. But I’m about to have a house full of people here, so if I don’t want questions, I better stay out of this room.”

Other than a piano, it had a beanbag chair and some toys. The room itself was nice. High ceilings, lots of windows, and wood-paneled walls. “Is this going to be your studio?” When she flinched, he realized what he’d done. She didn’t want to commit to anything with her career. “Sorry. I get it. You need the space to create. No expectations.”

“That’s exactly right.” As she took in the mostly empty room, her gaze turned wistful. “And at the same time, I want drums and percussion. I want session musicians to jam with me. I want all the fun parts and none of the bad ones.”

Here it is. Us in the cabin. It all came rushing back, this connection between them. He liked when she opened up to him, when they were real with each other. “And what are the bad parts?”

“The exhaustion of touring, the anxiety of dropping a record and waiting to see the world’s response. The haters who make fun of your voice, your style, your expressions, your body.”

“Do you think you’ll ever go back?”

“I’ll never tour again. I don’t want that life. None of it. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop the melodies, the lyrics…the chords from bubbling up. I don’t know if it’s habit or what, but I miss music.”

“You’re a songwriter. You just haven’t figured out what to do with it.

She gave him a soft smile. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“You can sell songs and stay behind the scenes.” But what she’d just said about jamming and session musicians told him she wanted more. “This used to be a camp. It’s got twelve cabins. You can build a studio⁠—”

“Gigi Cavanaugh has one. Calamity doesn’t need another recording studio.”

“You’ve obviously thought about it.”

“Yeah. But Stevie’s so little, and I…” She froze, her expression seizing in an alarmed look.

He knew exactly what she was thinking. Can I trust you? Or are you temporary? And he deserved that. He’d fucked up. “And you what?”

“I want her to come first. I don’t want to be annoyed when she interrupts me. I don’t want to be out of town during her recital. I want to be here and make music.”

“How does that look to you?”

Hope and yearning bloomed in her beautiful blue eyes. “I haven’t said it out loud, but I think I want this to be a retreat.”

He unfolded his arms. Interesting.

“I don’t want a recording studio because that’s stressful—getting the right sound, the right quality…nailing it. I want this place to encourage art and expression. I want people to come here and feel as wild and free as the wilderness surrounding them.”

“You should see your eyes right now, the way you light up when you talk about it. Sounds like you know exactly what you should be doing.”

“I think so.” She sounded hesitant.

“But?” What was he missing?

“I want it to be more than a retreat where bands come to work on their songs. I wouldn’t charge them for being here, but I’d like them to pay it forward. I’d like to have scholarships for artists who don’t have the money or the support to pursue their dreams.”

“And they’d get private lessons from successful musicians.”

She nodded. “Is that crazy? I haven’t thought it through, and please don’t tell anyone⁠—”

He rushed into the room. “It’s fucking brilliant. You’re brilliant.” Driven by that familiar connection between them, he reached for her.

But she pulled away, her eyes hardened.

And he felt like crap. It was time to talk to her. “I came here looking for you so I could apologize.”

“For what?” Her tone was guarded.

“I bailed on you this morning, and that was a shitty thing to do.”

She waved him away. “You needed to check on a client, and today was a good day to do it. Besides, I have plenty of help, and the guests don’t come till tomorrow.”

“No. Don’t give me a pass.” Now, he had her attention. “Yes, it was work, and yes, it felt important at the time, but I’ve had seven hours on an airplane to think, and I know I could’ve found another way to meet with him. The truth is… This morning with you, in that cabin…it was good.” They’d played and laughed, just like that Christmas together. “And it made me uncomfortable. I haven’t wrapped my head around this situation yet.”

“This situation? Do you mean your daughter? Stevie is not a situation.”

He held up both hands. “I know. But this is complicated. You’re not some hookup to me. You’re the woman I fell hard for in the cabin.”

“Not too hard if you could sneak off like that.”

“I left a note.”

She looked at him like he was a moron. “Do you think for one second I would’ve left a note after what we shared? You should’ve woken me up and said goodbye, and you know it. That note was a nod to your conscience. ‘See, I did the right thing.’ Well, to a woman who’d given you her whole self, that was not even close to the right thing. I didn’t expect a ring, and I understood we’d never see each other again, but⁠—”

“Well, I wasn’t, okay? I wasn’t fine with never seeing you again. I was ready to see if we could make it work. But then Beau sent you that text message, and I knew it was the wrong timing for both of us. And that note was a link—a way for you to contact me if you didn’t reconcile with your ex.”

“Really? Because that’s not what it said. And guess what? I can’t read between the lines. If you felt something as big as that, you should’ve communicated it.” Color stained her cheeks, and her eyes glistened. “You have no idea how much it would’ve mattered.”

He wished he could hold her. He wished… he would’ve done a lot of things differently. “I felt it then, and I’m feeling it now. And it scares me, okay? And so, when I got that text message this morning, I ran. Because being in that cabin, playing that game with the Velcro…” He made a circular motion around his head. “It stirred it all up again. You and me…and it just⁠—”

“Feels right.” She gazed up at him with a searching expression. As if she looked to him for a solution.

But that was the point: he didn’t have one. “I live in New York.”

Her features fell. “And we’re never going to be a happy little family.”

Since he couldn’t say the words out loud, all he could do was nod.

“A part of me wishes we could give that to Stevie.” She shrugged. “It just makes me so sad that she doesn’t get a daddy.”

“Now, hang on. I said I’m not going anywhere. I’m her father, and I take that seriously.”

“She doesn’t need a note from you, Slick. Take it from a woman who grew up believing she had a dad who didn’t want to be in her life.”

“But I’m going to be in her life. I want to.”

“Oh, come on. Let’s face it. You never set your phone down. You said yourself you travel half the year. I get that you’ll step up and be a father, but you know as well as I do, she’s not going to have the kind of dad you had.”

The dagger of truth slid right into his heart.

And it nearly dropped him to his knees.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Hellcat skirted around him. “Let’s go downstairs so I can catch you up on our plans for the week.”

He watched her head down the hallway, but his legs were tree trunks rooted to the ground.

She’s not going to have the kind of dad you had.

She’d flipped the script on him. All this time, he was working it out from his perspective. His career, where he lived, how he could fit in visits.

He hadn’t thought about what life would be like for his little girl without a dad here to tuck her in at night, catch her when she fell, and help her with her homework. Sure, she had a grandfather and an uncle, but nothing replaced a father in a child’s life.

He remembered the pride he felt spotting his dad in the crowds, and the conversations they’d had while driving to away games—things he wouldn’t have disclosed in any other context.

He understood right then he might never have taken risks if he hadn’t had the solid foundation of his father’s love. With it, he’d felt safe in the world. So invincible he could jump off a cliff.

Shame burned a hole in his gut.

When he got to the kitchen, he found her putting a container in the microwave. “Didn’t you eat tonight?”

“It’s for you.” She punched the buttons.

“How’d you know I haven’t eaten?”

“Your stomach’s grumbling so loud, it’ll wake up the whole house.”

“True.” He peered into the dotted glass. “What’re you reheating?”

“Noa and Ginty stayed in town for dinner, so it was just me and Stevie tonight. I made vegetable lasagna.”

“Sneaking in those veggies?” He pulled down a plate and grabbed a fork.

“I don’t sneak with her. She helps me in the garden, so she’s grown up eating raw carrots and tomatoes. Even broccoli. And I have conversations with her about the importance of food, what it does for our bodies. She’s good about it. That’s not to say she doesn’t prefer cookies and ice cream, but she’s never known a meal that didn’t have fruits and vegetables.”

“You’re a good mom.”

“Yeah, well. I know what not to do, so that comes in handy. The rest…I’m learning as I go.”

“I like your vision for this place. A retreat.”

“Me, too. Sometimes, you just have to get away. It’s hard to work at home with all the distractions. Your partner, your kids, the TV, the dog—every time you get interrupted, it stops the flow. And I’ve obviously got the room for it.”

“Not only that, but you get to be surrounded by the part you love the best. The music. Seems perfect.”

“Exactly. But, I’m not ready for it yet. Stevie’s too young. I don’t want her to take a back seat to the artists.”

“Well, hang on. You wouldn’t be catering to them, right? You’re just giving them a space.”

“They’ll need meals. It’s so remote out here.”

“Can you hire that out? Get a chef who wants to live out here and leave it to her to work out a fee for the artists.”

“Probably. But what about cleaning? I’m not sure I want strangers coming in and out. I wouldn’t feel safe.”

“Who cleans your house?”

“I have a woman who lives here.” Awareness broke over her features, and she smiled. “And her partner hates commuting to her job in Wild Wolff Village. I bet they’d love the opportunity to make more money and take on twelve cabins.” She gently poked him in the belly. “You’ve got an answer for everything.”

“That’s why they pay me the big bucks.” Impulsively, he grabbed her finger and brought it to his mouth for a kiss. Fuck, he liked this woman. Liked her smile and her sparkly eyes. Liked her strength and creativity. Her spirit. A yearning welled up so fast and strong, he nearly grabbed hold of her.

He wanted to show her with his mouth and his hands what she meant to him. Because he’d liked her a lot in the cabin, too, but this? Now? It was so much more.

So, when she abruptly pulled away, it jarred him. Ripped him out of the fantasy he was building.

Reminded him she didn’t feel the same way. Or even if she did, she wasn’t going to get involved with a man who ran away when his feelings started to overwhelm him.

A man who lived in New York and worked eighteen-hour days.

She headed for the counter. “Okay, let’s talk about the plans.”

When the microwave beeped, he pulled out the glass container of steaming lasagna. He lingered for a moment, keeping his back to her. She didn’t need to see his disappointment.

Mostly, in himself.

“The cabins are done, and I ordered all the supplies—overnighted them—so it should all come tomorrow. Since we don’t want anyone from the outside coming in, we can’t hire masseuses for the spa day, but I bought a ton of products for us all to try. Hair, skin, nails, stuff like that. It’ll be fun. Uh, what else?” Her pen skimmed the page of notes, stopping with a tap. “Right. The chef and his staff will be here in the morning. They’re going to make a cold lunch that’ll be available all day long as guests show up.”

“You’ve done a lot.”

“Yeah, I think we’re in good shape. The cabins look fantastic. It’s amazing what new duvets and towels can do.” She turned back to her notes.

He moved across the room and set his container down. This woman needed transparency, so he’d give it to her. “This morning, my partner texted to tell me about some chatter from our former colleagues at Elite. It sounds like the reason my prospect stopped talking to me is because my old boss is going after him, and it pissed me off. Not only because of the time and money I’ve invested, but because I viewed Marcus as a mentor. I couldn’t believe he’d try and screw me over.”

“That’s awful.”

“Yeah. But not as bad as bailing on you.” He pressed his lips together and shook his head slowly. “I just reacted. I headed to the airport before I’d even booked a flight. It was only during my seven hours of flying that I calmed down enough to realize how self-centered I am. I’m sorry. I’ll try—” He stopped himself. “No. Try is a cop-out. I’ve only ever had myself to worry about. Now that I have you and Stevie, I’m going to reconsider my priorities and pay closer attention to my reactions.”

“Are you for real?” She pinched the back of his hand.

Had he fucked up again? He thought back over what he’d said, looking for where he’d gone wrong. “What did I say?”

“First, you apologized. But second? You actually came up with a plan to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Who even are you?”

“I’m a flawed man who wants to be as good and decent as my father was. And my dad would never have run out on you when you needed his help. He would never think about himself and his career when a child’s self-esteem was at stake.”

Her eyes widened. “Wow.”

He cupped her chin. “What? Talk to me.”

“You already are that man. You don’t think your dad had internal struggles, too? He had to make adjustments and switch his priorities. The fact that you even care… I mean, God, Slick.” She threw herself into his arms.

Her hair smelled different, and yet, he would know this woman anywhere any time. There was just something about her that snapped into place, that made her…

Mine.

Hellcat is mine.

He’d known all along, hadn’t he? No one had ever fit him the way she did. Not before the cabin nor after.

Holy shit.

He held her close, inhaling her scent, aware of the shape of her, the absolute rightness of this woman. And just when he was about to kiss her, she pulled away.

Wiping her tears with her fingertips, she said, “Here’s the thing. We…we have something here. There’s no point in denying it. And it’s good, Slick. It’s really good.” She gave a slow shake of her head. “But there’s a little girl who needs us to be there for her. I might want to kiss you⁠—”

“You do? Because I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kiss someone more in my life.”

“Of course, I do. You think I don’t remember what it was like? No one has ever made me feel the way you do. I’ve never been so real, so exactly myself. I want you, Booker Hayes.” The wildness in her eyes flamed out. “But I can’t have you.”

Fuck. He wanted to challenge her—fight for them—but she wasn’t done.

“Not until you figure things out with Stevie. You live in New York. It was one thing in the cabin when I knew we wouldn’t see each other again, but do you honestly think it’ll go well if we give into this attraction and then…” She touched the fingertips of each hand together and then made an exploding motion. “I’m not built to have sex and then pretend like it never happened when you leave four days from now. And I certainly can’t handle having sex when you come to town. Don’t you get it? I’m a forever woman. When I give my heart, I go all-in. And you’re not that kind of man.”

Slowly, he stood. “Remember what you told me in the cabin? You said everything would change when I met the right woman. Well, you were right. I’ve met her. Hellcat, I want to go all-in with you.”

Her features softened. “Do you know what it even means? It means we live together. We raise Stevie together. It’s not you calling a couple of times a week. We’re not a stop on your way to Michigan. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Reality crashed over him. She was right. Everything she said…she was right. “I’m not in a position to leave my agency right now.”

“I’m not asking you to. I will never ask you to do something like that.”

“There are four of us, and we signed an ironclad contract because we anticipated these kinds of life changes. People getting married, having kids…needing to move out of the city. So, we agreed that for seven years, we have to live in New York and work out of the office.”

Her shoulders lowered in resignation. “I understand.” She motioned to his dinner. “I’ll let you finish.”

“Don’t go. Let’s…finish talking about our plans.”

“We have a big day tomorrow, and I’m beat. We’ll talk in the morning.”

As she walked away from him, his mind scrambled to fix the situation.

He could talk to his partners, explain the situation. Work remotely.

But how would that fix anything? He would still be on the road more often than he was here. He’d still take calls all night long.

He had to face the truth. His career was all-consuming.

It didn’t leave much for Hellcat and Stevie.

And he didn’t know what to do about that.

The guests were arriving in the morning, and he needed to be rested.

But he was wired, his mind cycling through a playlist of issues.

What he wanted to give Stevie and Hellcat but couldn’t.

About having all the guys here. With their wives and children. He’d get to hear their inside jokes and stories from a lifetime of being friends—the last thirteen of which didn’t include him.

And about his boss’s treachery. He replayed his conversation with Mr. Marchaud a dozen times.

“We appreciate everything you’ve done for our son, but we have to think about his future, and we think he’ll be best served by a more established agency.”

The man had given him all of ten minutes to pitch his firm—not just their clients but their ethics. And no, he hadn’t bad-mouthed his former boss. He’d win the hockey player based on his ability, not on shit-talking Elite.

His phone kept pinging, so he finally turned it off. He couldn’t talk out one side of his mouth about wanting to be in their lives while making no changes to the way he ran his business. He’d arranged time off for the wedding, so he would be fully present for it. He’d check his phone in the morning and at night.

Maybe small changes would lead to bigger ones.

One step at a time.

But mostly what kept him up was that he ached for Hellcat. For one brief moment, when he’d had her in his arms, the bright light of hope burned in his heart. He’d thought they could be together. That she felt the same way.

He hadn’t anticipated the giant obstacle she’d tossed in front of him. She didn’t want a friends-with-benefits relationship. Of course, he hadn’t thought of it like that, but he could see it from her perspective. The last thing she needed was to wonder who he was spending time with, wait for the phone to ring, or see pictures of him on social media and hold them up against the itinerary he’d given her.

She’d been betrayed. She needed someone she could count on.

Bottom line, there was only one way to win her heart and her trust.

One way to become part of this little family.

He reached for his phone and powered it up. Then, he tapped out a text message.

Booker: Need to carve out some time to talk to you tomorrow.

Before he could check his other messages, the phone vibrated. When he saw the name on the screen, he answered. “Hey. What’re you doing up?” It had to be one in the morning in New York.

George sighed. “The Banger’s wife called. He hasn’t been home in three days.”

“Ah, shit. You going to get Daryl on it?” Their concierge would hire a PI if necessary.

“There’s no point. When he’s gone like this, there’s no way to track him down, and his wife knows that. I’m just trying to talk her off the ledge before she jumps on social media and destroys his reputation.”

“I’ll never understand why people love drama.” And yet, his career was filled with it. “I don’t know why she doesn’t divorce his ass.”

“Who are we to get into other people’s business, though, right?” George asked. “She has her reasons. Anyhow, aren’t the guests showing up tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“Right, you won’t have time to talk to me. I’m up now, so, talk. What’s going on?”

When he signed his contract with his partners, he’d thought about George getting married and having a kid. He’d thought about Caleb’s parents needing his care in Florida. He’d thought about Andreas’s baby mama following through on her threat to move back to New Hampshire, where her family could help raise her son since he couldn’t be around as much as she needed.

He’d believed he was the only one who’d have no reason to breach the contract.

And now, here I am. “I need to make some changes.”

“This is about the kid, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. My daughter.” The word felt strange in his mouth.

“Can’t say I haven’t been expecting this.”

He sat up, setting his feet on the plush carpet. “Look, about the contract⁠—”

“Dammit, Booker. I knew this was going to happen. Look, we all agreed to seven years, and it hasn’t even been three. It’s too soon. They won’t go for it.”

“But you will?”

“I don’t even know your plan.”

He drew in a breath. “I want to work remotely.”

“Not going to happen. And you want to know why? Because Caleb will move to Tampa, Andreas will move to New Hampshire, you’ll go to Wyoming, and where will that leave our agency?”

“I hear you. I get it. But it doesn’t have to unravel us.” He got up and paced across the room.

“You sure about that? If you were an athlete, would you sign with a new agency that’s all over the place? Why would you choose the dude who lives in Calamity, Wyoming over Marcus’s Park Avenue, billion-dollar firm?”

George wasn’t telling him anything he hadn’t told himself. But he had to make this happen. He had no choice. “New York can still be the base. That’s where we’ll have our meetings. I’ll open an office here—at my expense—and I’ll be in New York for our weekly meetings. That’s something Caleb and Andreas might agree to.” In any event, he had to give it a try. He had to convince them. “I’m out of the office most of the time anyway. All of us are. That’s the nature of our jobs.”

“You know I’ll do whatever’s best for you, but don’t lose sight of the reason we worded the contract the way we did. We knew this kind of stuff would come up, and the point of the clause was to keep everyone focused on building the agency. It’s nearly impossible to compete against Elite, and we knew we didn’t stand a chance if we allowed ourselves to get sidetracked by life.”

“I agreed because I never thought I’d have kids, but here I am.”

“Is it kids or is it Lorelei?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “It’s both.”

“Whoa.” George sounded floored. “You’re really into her.”

“It’s more than being into her. It’s…” Somehow, articulating his feelings to George before he talked to Hellcat seemed wrong. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I know if I don’t give it my all, then I’ll never get a shot at something this good again.”

“Dammit, Booker.” George let out a rough breath. “You were the one who said we barely stood a chance to make it in the first place, that we’re doomed if we don’t commit one-hundred-percent.”

“I said that before I understood what Lorelei and Stevie mean to me.”

“Yeah, yeah. You know I can’t argue when there’s a kid involved. Okay. Bring it up at the next meeting.”

“It’s too far off. I need to prove to her I’m all-in. So, I’m going to call for an emergency meeting. I just need to know if you’ll stand with me.”

“Booker, you don’t even have to ask. I will always stand with you.”

He let out a breath of total relief.

“Unless we’re talking about bringing a cat into the office as a mascot,” George said. “I hate cats. Same for tuna fish. The day you ask me to break the ban on allowing tuna in the office, I will sit my ass down.”

He chuckled. “Understood.”

“So, yeah. Get everyone on a conference call and make your pitch. I’ll vote in your favor.”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate that.”

“You got it. Talk later.”

“Later.” He disconnected and turned to the balcony. He honestly didn’t know how the vote would go. He’d chosen to work with these guys specifically because the four of them were equally driven and put work first. He wouldn’t have joined if any of them had a different mindset. If they prioritized family life over building the agency, he⁠—

“You want to go all-in?” Hellcat’s voice sent a shockwave through him.

She’d heard his conversation. He scrambled to think what else he’d said. “Yes.”

“What do Stevie and I mean to you?”

Normally, he could read her. But just then, as she stood in the doorway wearing pajama bottoms and an old concert T-shirt, she revealed nothing.

But that’s because she doesn’t trust you.

You have to earn it. This moment mattered. It was the first step. Start with Stevie. “I know if I go back to New York, if I don’t make any changes, I’ll be marginalized in her life. I’ll be an idea of a father.”

She nodded.

“I can’t do that. I can’t live in the world knowing I have a daughter and not be her dad.”

“You say this right now because you just found out. But once you’re back at work, maybe you won’t think about her much at all. You have to understand how fragile a child’s ego is. Her dad’s love gives her wings. If she thinks he doesn’t like her—and trust me, if your dad’s not actively involved in your life, that’s the message a child gets—she’ll spend her life believing she’s not loveable.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“You told me what your career’s like. You said it doesn’t have room for a wife and children. That means she’ll become an obligation. I can’t stand the idea of her looking into your eyes and feeling unwanted.” She was her daughter’s fiercest protector—there was no doubt about it. But she was also a woman who’d been deeply hurt.

He wanted to make promises, wanted to reassure her, but he couldn’t see the future. He didn’t know what parenting would look like from two thousand miles away. “I need time to figure things out, but I hear you. I don’t want that for her, either.”

Her frown told him she didn’t like that. But he needed to be truthful. That was how trust was built. He moved closer, needing to bridge the distance. “The reason I’m still awake is because my mind won’t shut down. I keep seeing her first day of kindergarten. Her first skate. Her first home run. Starring in the school play. And I’m thinking about myself as the dad whose assistant orders flowers, who drops a grand on some over-the-top birthday present. The dad who visits her once a month or spends every other Christmas with her. A week in the summer. But none of it feels right.”

“No, it sounds awful for all of us.” She sounded defeated. “I can tell you from experience that every bouquet, every card, every expensive birthday present will just be a reminder that you don’t care enough to show up.”

That was it. He was done with the distance. In three steps, he had a grip on her arms. “I won’t do that to her. I don’t want to do that.” Couldn’t she see the sincerity in his eyes? Hear it in his voice? He didn’t know how to get through to her.

“You say that now, but once you go back to New York⁠—”

“I’ve already done that, remember? I left the cabin and went back to my life in the city. And even through all the chaos of quitting my job and starting my own agency, not once did I forget about you. Look at me, Hellcat. After being back here with you for two days, I’m already setting up a meeting with my partners to try and change the terms of our agreement.”

“I know.” She pulled away. “It’s just…I know you.”

What the hell did that mean? “Then you know I’m a man of my word.”

“But it’s not words we want from you. Can’t you see that?”

No, he couldn’t. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.” What was he missing?

“I want your heart.”

“You have it, Hellcat.” And she did. He knew it without a doubt. “You have my whole heart.”

“What does that mean when your heart’s got a moat and razor wire around it? You have to know you put people in categories. It’s how you try to control your feelings. And I’m telling you, Stevie’s going to know she’s in the daughter box.”

“You’re not making sense right now. She is my daughter.”

She shook her head in frustration. “Put it this way. Does Ginty know you just found out you’re a dad?”

“No. It’s his wedding. Not to mention, he’s a client.”

“That’s my point right there. Ginty’s a friend, Slick. A friend would be so angry you waited to tell him something this important. But you’re stuck back in high school when you found out you didn’t mean as much to those guys as they did to you. And I’m not blaming you—that would be awful. And then, your family—the core foundation of your life—turned out to be a lie. So, yes, you absolutely protect your heart. You’re afraid of investing completely in anything because it might just be a fantasy.”

What could he say? It all rang true.

“And it’s sad because you have the biggest heart of anyone I know.”

“You just said I can’t feel my heart.”

“Oh, you feel it all right. You just protect it. And that’s what makes you dangerous.”

“Oh, now, I’m dangerous?”

“To me and Stevie, yes. You know how you walked out on me⁠—”

“I left a note.” He was practically shouting now.

“No, I know that. But the reason you could leave like that was because you’d put me in a box. Woman I’m Never Going To See Again. Do you see how it protects you? If you had feelings for me, leaving would hurt. But if I’m someone you’re not going to see again, it’s no big deal.”

“I can see what you’re saying. But I’m not holding anything back with you. I’m not dangerous.”

“Really? You have no idea what that time with you meant to me. Even though I was squatting in your home, you would’ve slept on the couch in below-freezing weather. You gave me Christmas. You could’ve ignored me and smoked a cigar in front of the fire like you’d planned. You took such good care of me—and the way you touched me…”

“It was real, Hellcat. All of it was real.”

“Exactly. I believed we had something special. So, when you left without saying goodbye, it hurt. So deeply. It seemed like you were unaffected. That I was in it alone. And until you see what I’m talking about, you’re going to keep doing it. You’re going to give me and Stevie that big, beautiful heart, we’re going to fall madly in love with you, and then, something will happen. And you’ll walk away like we were nothing but acquaintances.” She waved a hand at him in frustration. “Forget it. I’ll let you get some sleep.”

“I don’t want to sleep.” He wasn’t sure if he sounded belligerent or petulant. Probably a mix.

“Well, honestly, Slick, I don’t know what else I can say to make you understand.”

He strode over to her and closed the door so no one would hear them. Then, he caged her in against the wall. “I’m not your ex.”

“I know that.” She let out a shaky breath.

“I’m not your mother.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“You didn’t have to. You’re painting me with the same brush. You just heard me say I’m meeting with my partners to change the terms of my contract, but you didn’t ask what my plans were. You didn’t want to hear them. You trusted your ex, your best friend, and your mom. They were your family, and they fucked you over. But I’ve never lied to you, and I’d never betray you. Never.”

He watched the battle play out in her blue eyes, and he didn’t know what to say to convince her, but he had to try. “You heard me tell George I’ll never have something this good again. That I need to prove to you I’m all-in. It took all of twenty-four hours of being back with you to figure that out. So, if you’re not painting me with the same brush as those fuckheads, why are you walking out that door?”

He saw the moment the battle ended, when the fight left her body. “Because I’m scared. I’m scared to trust you. With my ex, it threw me into a tailspin, and I lost myself. But I didn’t have feelings this big. Slick, you have the power to destroy me.”

“Why would I destroy the person who means the most to me? Why would I hurt the person who makes me the happiest I’ve ever been?”

She was struggling, wanting to believe him but letting fear win. He could see it play across her features and in her eyes. “Because you’ve been hurt.”

“Yes, I have. But I’m fighting like hell here to walk through it. To walk toward you and Stevie. Don’t put obstacles in my way. Give me a chance.”

“Oh, damn you.” She was staring at his mouth.

He might not have seen it in a while, but he knew that look. “You better stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” But her eyes had gone half-lidded. “We’re having a conversation.”

“We’re having two conversations,” he said. “One with our mouths, and the other with our bodies.”

“Well, I’m sorry you’re so stupid-hot. I can’t help my reaction to you.”

He grinned. “You think I’m hot?”

“You know I do.” She pressed her palms flat on his stomach—whether to keep him from coming closer or to bridge the distance, he couldn’t tell.

Then again, from the way she’d just licked her bottom lip… “And you can’t keep your hands off me.” He might’ve used a teasing tone, but he was painfully hard and wild with need.

“It’s not easy, no.”

He grabbed one and placed it on his chest so she could feel his thundering heart. “You feel that?”

She nodded.

“That’s what you do to me.” He looked into eyes that burned with yearning, and he didn’t see a shred of doubt or fear. His gaze traced a path across cheeks rosy with need and down to a mouth softened and ready to be kissed. “But I’m not going to kiss you.”

“No?” She sounded strained. “Not even one little one?”

“If I do…” God, he wanted her. He wanted everything with this woman. “There’s no going back.”

“That’s what I want, Slick. I want it all.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Everything changed in that moment.

Lorelei didn’t know the chains around her heart existed until they hit the floor.

She didn’t know the fear that held her hostage until she broke free.

And what a burden she’d carried. She’d thought the worst thing that had ever happened was her ex cheating on her with her best friend. Instead, it was her mom lying about her dad.

It was about growing up believing her dad didn’t want her.

Because that was the reason she’d stayed with a man who didn’t love her.

But this man? He looked at her with a desire so powerful she felt it coursing under his skin.

In that moment, everything became clear.

He’s mine.

And it was the greatest feeling of her life. Because Booker Hayes was magnificent. She’d caught a glimpse of it in the cabin, but she knew it without a doubt in that moment. And she’d be damned if she’d let him go.

And so, she bridged the gap. The moment her lips sealed over his, he took control. He licked into her mouth, his fingers flexing, tightening his hold. He kissed her tentatively at first, but when their tongues tangled, when her hands flattened on his back, he lost control.

God, she loved his hunger. It made her feel sexy and so very desirable. The kiss infused her worries and fears with lust, creating a volatile energy that had her body trembling and her fingers fisting his shirt.

His hands slid down her back, grabbing her ass and hauling her up against him. When she hitched a leg, he caught it under her knee, and they ground against each other.

Desperate to feel his warm skin, she yanked up his T-shirt and caressed her palm down his chest to his stomach. She reached under the waistband of his pajama bottoms for his hard, hot erection.

He shuddered, thrusting into her grasp.

She knew what he liked. She’d paid so much attention to the pleasure she’d brought him in the cabin that when she squeezed him, she knew exactly what he’d say.

“Fuck.” Never breaking the kiss, he bent his knees and carried her to the bed. He jerked down her shorts, taking her panties with them. “Take off your shirt. I need to see your tits bounce when I fuck you.”

His dirty mouth fired an electrical current through her. She pulled the T-shirt over her head, and when she reached behind to unclasp her bra, he lowered his mouth to her cleavage, pushing her breasts together.

As he nuzzled her, he licked a trail from one nipple to the other, his cock nudging at her opening. “I missed this. Never felt anything like it.” He slid a finger into her. “Yes. So wet for me.” He stroked slowly in and out, making her hips move restlessly, and when he found her sensitive nub, desire seared through her.

She clutched the duvet, and her head tilted back. She was drowning in lust. Her breasts ached, her nipples pebbled, and her hips chased his hand, needing more…deeper, faster, harder. The tension wound higher, reaching an unbearable pitch. She needed to come so badly.

But then, he dropped to his knees, dragged her to the edge of the mattress, and licked inside.

The moment she shielded her eyes with the back of a hand, intrusive thoughts cut through the pleasure. What if someone hears us?

What if my parents call?

And the worst: I will never recover if he breaks my heart.

But it all got swept away by sensations so delicious, so powerful, she slipped into a state of pure bliss.

It had been so long since she’d been touched, since she’d had relief from the unrelenting loneliness, that she let go of her control and allowed the flames of need to consume her.

Pleasure streamed through her, the tension so wild, so out of control, she nearly screamed for release.

And when his hand reached between his legs, when she saw the rhythmic jerk of his arm as he got himself off, her climax barreled through her. Untethered, she spun, spiraled, and soared. She rode one peak after another until she was left boneless and utterly spent.

He got up, turned around, and fell back onto the mattress. Once settled, he pulled off his clothes and palmed his erection.

But as her body cooled, anxiety crept in. “Did we just make a terrible mistake?”

“You’re asking me that now? While I can still taste you? While I’m still hard for you?”

“I just don’t want to complicate our situation with sex. And you know you have a way of bewitching me.”

“Oh, I’m the bewitcher? It’s not the way you laugh with total fucking abandon? It’s not your sassy mouth that always makes me laugh? It’s not the sunlight inside you that lights you up? If anyone’s to blame for this”—he wagged a finger between them—“it’s you, Hellcat. Trust me on that.”

A thrill shot through her. “Okay, I’ll take being so sexy, you go wild for me.” She reached for his hand. “I just want to make sure that no matter what happens between us, we’re good for Stevie.” She turned toward him. “You know?”

He turned, too, their gazes catching, locking. “I’ll do my part to make sure we are.”

“I should probably head back to my room.” Without even looking, she reached for her clothes.

“Stevie’s with her grandparents. But if that’s what you want.” Hunger burned in his eyes.

How awful would it be if they had sex, she got attached, and then, he decided to visit his daughter once a year? She’d hate him. And she couldn’t hate the father of her child. For Stevie’s sake, they had to get along.

He rolled onto his side, dipping his face into her neck. “But I want you to stay.”

She couldn’t help herself. She just wanted him so much. Her arms wrapped around him, her knee rested on his thigh, and that beautiful, strong, confident man cradled her.

He always seemed to know just what she needed.

Her mouth found his, and they kissed until they were forced to come up for air. His mouth was indescribably soft and warm, minty and welcoming. Their tongues did a sensual dance, but not once did he grope her or make her aware of his own needs.

He kissed her like they had nothing but time and nothing but each other, stoking a slow churn of arousal that grew into a desire burning out of control.

The connection between them was explosive.

How amazing would it be if she listened to her heart and let him in?

When she pulled away, scraping the hair off his forehead, she found him watching her with that intensity she loved so much. Because it held confidence. This man knew what he wanted.

And he wants me.

“Honest to God, why am I even fighting?” She softened. “It’s too late. I’m already in too deep.”

His handsome face hardened with lust, as he reared up and pressed her down onto the mattress. He climbed over her, knees braced at her hips, hands planted on either side of her head. “Open the nightstand drawer.”

With an arch of her brow, she pulled out a travel-size bottle of lotion.

“Now, get my cock nice and slick.”

She was shaking, so it was hard to twist the lid, but once she spilled some into her hand, she glanced up at him for the next instruction.

“I’m going to fuck your tits.” Sitting back on his heels, he cupped her breasts, pressing them together, and giving them a shake. “They’re bigger.”

“I know. I gain weight in my boobs.”

“My cock’s going to look great between them.” His hot, slick mouth engulfed her nipple, and his tongue bypassed teasing and went right for licking her into a frenzy. He sat up again. “Go on. Get me ready.”

“Well, now that you got me all hot and bothered, I want you inside me.”

“Not going to happen. I don’t have condoms.”

“In your travel bag.” She rocked her hips to get his attention. “Like in the cabin.”

“Nope. This was meant to be a short trip.” He grew impatient with her, so he gripped his very hard cock and gave it a few pumps.

Good God, could anything be hotter? “Okay, but surely you keep some in your wallet?”

“I’m not in college, and I don’t know how you imagine my life, but I’m not banging flight attendants or women I pick up in airport bars. And if you really want to know, I haven’t been with anyone since you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Are you saying I ruined you for other women?”

He grinned. “I’m saying you’re the only woman I want to fuck, but since we tend to make babies, and we’re not ready for another one, we’re not going to do that. Which means I’m going to need you to push your tits together.”

“Hm.” She rubbed lotion all over her breasts.

“That’s not how it works.”

“I’ve got a better way to make you nice and slippery.”

“Damn, Hellcat. I’ve missed you.” He kissed her, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, his chest lowering until he rocked against her. “This.” His mouth savored her, his tongue licking as if she tasted as sweet as nectar. “Us.”

She was breathless, tense with expectation and soft with need, and she couldn’t believe he was telling her these things. His honesty was everything. “Come here.”

He reared over her, grasping the headboard with one hand and guiding his erection to her mouth. “Get it wet.”

His biceps popped, and the muscle in his jaw ticked with anticipation, but she was in no hurry. She wanted to drive him wild. She gripped him at the base and then licked him up and down, her tongue zigging and zagging. She held his gaze and loved that his arms were trembling.

“Quit playing, Hellcat.”

“I don’t do anything half-assed. You asked me to get you ready, and that’s what I’m doing.”

He thrust, but she closed her mouth. “Woman.”

“What exactly do you want me to do?” She loved hearing him talk dirty.

He slid a hand behind her head, grabbed a fistful of hair, and with a fiery gleam in his eyes, said, “Suck my cock.”

Since there was nothing more she wanted than to taste him, she complied. Her lips parted, she licked them, and then…she clutched his ass and drew him in.

“Yeah, like that.” His eyelids squeezed tightly. “I named you Hellcat before I got to know you. If I’d waited, you’d be Hoover.”

She wanted to laugh, but her mouth was stuffed with him. She sucked him even harder, letting her tongue draw shapes along his hard length. He was primed, she knew that. She could feel the swell of the vein underneath the head, so she wasn’t surprised when he pulled out.

As her hands went to her breasts, plumping them, his hips reared back. He watched as his dick slid between the tight cleft of her cleavage. His gaze flicked to her, and when she licked her bottom lip, he let out a shaky sigh.

Sitting back on his heels, he squeezed some lotion onto his hand and slathered his dick until it was shiny. And then, he eased back in, pumping slowly and deliberately through the tight channel. “Show me your nipples.”

She spread her fingers just enough to let them poke through, and then, she squeezed, arching her back, desperate to have him inside her. “Tomorrow, I’m going on the pill.”

“Good idea.” He worked himself into a sweat, his gaze fixed on his cock, and she couldn’t help flicking her tongue at the head every time he grazed her mouth.

“I’m gonna come. I’m gonna fucking come all over you.” He pulled out, fisted himself, and pumped furiously. With a feral look in his eyes, he painted her breasts with his ecstasy. When he finished, he caressed her with one hand, while the other slid between her legs. A few strokes around her clit were enough to light her fuse.

Her back arched off the mattress, and her hips pumped against his hand as her orgasm burst from deep within, rocking her body, and making her writhe.

Once her ass hit the mattress, she stared up at the ceiling as her body pulsed. When he got up, she felt the loss of him. She felt vulnerable and raw. Totally exposed.

She wanted him back.

She wanted him to hold her.

She wanted to sleep in the same bed and cuddle up to him.

But he doesn’t like that.

A memory hit her. In the cabin, he said he didn’t snuggle, and yet, she’d awakened to him wrapped around her.

He didn’t snuggle to protect himself from getting attached. If he fucked a woman and walked out the door, there’d be no disappointment. No misreading the signs.

He came back with a warm, wet washcloth and cleaned her. Then, he pulled back the covers and got in the bed.

Should she leave? They hadn’t talked about spending the night.

He reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I can hear you.”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“In your head, you are.” He turned onto his side. “I’m not the most romantic guy, but maybe I took it too far.”

“Oh, come on.” She laughed. “You know I love it. All of it. I want you to be honest. I need your honesty.”

“Yeah, I get that. I figure it’s the only way to earn your trust.”

“Exactly. It’s the shadows in people’s eyes, the shuttered expressions, that make me uncomfortable. Your transparency makes me feel safe.”

“And that’s what I want. The safer you feel with me, the more depraved ways I can fuck you.”

“Has anyone ever told you your post-sex game is fire?”

He burst out laughing. “I can’t say I’ve had any complaints.”

“But then, aren’t you usually gone by now?”

“Excellent point.”

Ah, there was her cue. She started to get up. “Well, we’ve got a big day tomorrow, and I need to sleep⁠—”

Quick as a snake, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down to the mattress. “Don’t go.” All the humor had left his voice, and she could see him trying very hard not to plead. He swallowed. “You can sleep here if you want.” She could see the effort he made to lighten his tone. “I don’t snore. And I don’t hog the blankets.”

“Slick, I want to sleep with you. I just know you need your space.”

“I don’t want space. I’ve had a lifetime of space, and now I want you to crowd me. I want you to sit on my lap and leave your makeup all over my counter. I want your yogurt in my fridge and your underwear in my dryer.”

“But you don’t snuggle.”

“Apparently, I do with you. Now, can we go to sleep? We have a big day tomorrow.” They settled under the covers, and she curled up next to him, her arm across his chest.

“Slick?” She played with the silky hairs on his chest. “What happens if your partners won’t change the contract?” What happens to us then?

“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it.”

“You don’t seem worried.”

“That’s because right now, there’s nothing to be concerned about. They haven’t said no. One thing my dad always used to say is that we think we’re choosing between two options. In reality, there are a dozen other options we don’t see. We just have to leave ourselves open to them.”

“Okay. Then, I’ll try not to worry.”

“I’ve got George on my side, so at the very worst, it’ll be two against two.”

“Is that because George needs to change the contract, too?” she asked.

“No, it’s because George and I have each other’s backs. We met freshman year at Yale, went to law school together, worked at Elite⁠—”

“So, good friends.”

“Colleagues. Great colleagues.”

“You’re so weird. Ginty’s a client, George is a colleague… and what am I?”

“Mine.” His eyelids drifted shut and he wrapped an arm around her, tugging her close. “You’re mine.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

For the first time, Booker had silenced his phone and blocked out the world.

And spent the night spooning with Hellcat.

He didn’t recognize himself, and it made him smile.

Because it wasn’t half-bad.

But the chef and bartender were coming, so his hellcat had gone downstairs to get them set up. Since then, he’d been catching up on work. He checked on the player’s brother in Memphis and arranged a discreet tow truck for an athlete who ran his car off the road and plowed through a fence on private property.

“Dude, road head,” the football player had said. “You’re not gonna pass that up.”

Now, he was showered and dressed and heading downstairs. Because, frankly, he’d run out of excuses. Today, the guests would start arriving. Including his high school friends.

He shouldn’t be this anxious about it. Enough time had passed that it shouldn’t matter.

And even if they’d tried to stay in touch, it wouldn’t have amounted to anything. Booker had moved away. In any event, he had more important things on his plate than worrying about guys he hadn’t seen in nearly thirteen years.

He’d been so preoccupied with his thoughts that he only noticed the quiet as he crossed the living room. He checked the time. Shouldn’t they have a full house by now? Low conversation came from the kitchen, and he entered to find Stevie, her grandparents, and Hellcat.

Buds of happiness bloomed in his heart when he saw her holding a spoon to their daughter’s mouth. She was so pretty. And that blush reminded him she was well-fucked.

Which sent a surge of desire roaring through him.

She glanced up. “Oh, hey.” She stopped talking as they held a knowing gaze, her cheeks burning, and a smile brightening her features. “We’ve got a change of plans.”

Stevie ignored her because she was busy voicing a conversation between a fork and a spoon.

“Honey, come on.” Hellcat grew exasperated. “The sooner you eat, the sooner we can get to the festival.”

“Wild West Days?” Booker headed for the French press. “Aren’t the guests showing up today?” They’d planned a spa day.

Hellcat abandoned the spoon and got up, leaving her parents to deal with the preoccupied toddler. “Ginty’s teammates can’t come till later because they’re working the festival.”

“Working?”

“Yeah, he forgot about it because he was supposed to be in St. Lucia right now. It’s the travel hockey team’s annual fundraiser, and the team raffles off signed jerseys, sticks, and pucks. So, we’re going to meet everyone at the fairgrounds. It’ll be fun. We’ll spend the afternoon there, grab some dinner⁠—”

“Cone doggies!” Stevie shouted with glee.

“There won’t be any corn dogs if you don’t eat your lunch.” Her grandpa held the spoonful of yogurt to the little girl’s face, but she was distracted by Ginty coming in through the back door.

He clapped his hands. “Noa’s looking for a hat to match her outfit, so we should be ready sometime next week.”

Everyone laughed. “Let the woman have the right disguise,” Hellcat said. “Unless you want her to sign autographs instead of winning the baseball toss for the second year in a row.”

Ginty held up both hands. “Whatever makes her happy.” He clapped Booker on the back. “Hey, man. Had an idea. What if I called the Canadian kid’s family and told them my experience as a client? Might help.”

“What a good friend.” Hellcat had her gaze on Booker.

“I’ll tell them how your primary concern is your clients’ well-being and not the bottom line,” Ginty said.

“Let me see how it plays out, but I appreciate it.”

“One bite, okay?” Stevie’s grandpa said.

Booker headed to the table. “What kind of yogurt is that?”

Stevie looked to her grandpa, who said, “Vanilla.”

“Cool. You know what I like in my vanilla yogurt?”

She clutched the table as she swiveled her whole body back and forth to say no.

“Banana. It’s good. Want to try it?”

“No.” But her expression remained open and interested.

He shot Hellcat a questioning look. Is this okay? She nodded. He grabbed a knife and a banana from the fruit basket, and then sat down next to her. After peeling it, he sliced right down the middle and stuck the stalks in the bowl. “Now, you’ve got trees. And you know what dinosaurs do with trees, right?”

She lowered her face and gnashed the bananas. When she lifted, he spooned yogurt into her mouth.

“You like it?” her grandpa asked.

She nodded with enthusiasm and took the next mouthful.

“All right, I’m ready.” Noa burst into the kitchen. With her sequined jeans, platform wedges, and sunshine yellow tank top, she looked radiant.

“Way to make an entrance,” Margot said with admiration.

“Way to go incognito,” Hellcat said with an appreciative grin.

“There’s no hiding this personality.” Ginty came up behind his bride and wrapped his arms around her.

“She’s irrepressible.” Hellcat handed Booker a cheese stick. “Try to get her to eat this, too, and then, she’s all good.” She kissed her daughter on the cheek. “Grandma and Grandpa will take you to the festival, and I’ll meet you there. Does that sound good?”

“Hosey ride?” Stevie asked.

“Yep,” Hellcat said. “You’ll get a stagecoach ride, and you’ll visit the petting zoo.”

“I pet aminals?”

“Yes.” Hellcat smiled adoringly at her daughter. “Goats and sheep and chickens and cows.”

“Shickens?” Stevie kicked her legs out.

“But we can’t leave until you finish lunch,” her grandpa said.

She took a giant bite of the cheese stick. With a full mouth, she said, “I weady, Gampa.”

“Okay, sweetie.” Her grandpa wiped her fingers with a napkin while Margot grabbed the diaper bag. “Let’s go.”

“See you soon.” Hellcat pointed a finger at Noa. “Don’t you dare go axe throwing without me.”

“Wouldn’t consider it.” Noa hooked her arm through Ginty’s and followed the grandparents out the back door.

The moment they were alone, Booker popped out of the chair and scooped Hellcat into his arms. He kissed her like he hadn’t seen her in a month. And somehow, it felt like he hadn’t.

She scraped her hands through his hair⁠—

“Oh.”

They both straightened and pulled apart at the sound of Noa’s voice.

“Ginty forgot his⁠—”

The groom came in behind her. “I forgot my phone.” He looked between the three of them, obviously confused.

Guilt washed through Booker, and he didn’t know why.

He’s my client. My private life is none of his business.

“Are you two hooking up?” Noa asked.

“What’d I miss?” But it only took a second for Ginty to make the connection between his bride’s shock, Hellcat’s embarrassment, and Booker’s rigid posture. “No, Booker would never do that. He doesn’t date, but he wouldn’t sleep with your maid of honor.” He sounded certain of it.

In that moment, Booker knew. Even though he didn’t confide in Ginty, the man knew him. “We met a couple years ago.” He rubbed his chin. “It’ll be three years this Christmas.”

The room went silent.

“Wait, you’re Cabin Guy?” Ginty stepped forward, hands curled into fists. “What the fuck?” He moved toward him.

But Hellcat blocked him. “He didn’t know. I told you that. He was long gone when I found out.”

“Wait a fuckin’ minute.” Ginty shook his head in disbelief. “Stevie’s your daughter?”

The look of betrayal in the man’s eyes socked him in the stomach. “Yes.”

His client looked like Booker had traded him behind his back.

But he wasn’t just a client, and it was time to stop pretending.

Right then, it became clear as day. Everything Hellcat had been trying to tell him.

What hurt the most when he thought about seeing his old friends was knowing they had a special camaraderie. That they were living the life he’d imagined with cookouts and New Year’s parties, big family gatherings. He was shut out from that.

But it wouldn’t hurt if it wasn’t something he craved.

I’m the reason I can’t have the friendships I want because I remove the possibility.

Ginty was a great guy. He was loyal.

How many times has he asked to get a drink, to talk about real stuff?

And what have I done? I’ve shut him down. Kept him in the “client” box.

I don’t want to do this anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Booker said. “I didn’t want to distract from your wedding.”

“My wedding?” Ginty shouted. “You find out you have a kid, and you’re worried about my wedding?”

Just as Hellcat had anticipated, the man was angry. Booker stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Well, that, and I wanted to keep you in the ‘client’ box.”

“Why?” Ginty threw his arms up and let them flop back down.

“This is between us, right?” Booker asked.

“You’ve protected me from a family that sells the location of my wedding. You think I don’t know about discretion?”

It sucked to be yelled at—especially in front of the woman he was falling in love with—but Ginty had every right to call him out. “It’s not your issue. It’s mine.”

Everyone waited, and while part of him wished they could talk alone, another part knew Ginty deserved his honesty. “Jaime, Declan, Cole, and I used to be friends. I got injured⁠—”

“I know about the accident,” Ginty snapped. “Because I read about it.”

He gave a curt nod. He deserved that. “They took me to the hospital that night, and I never heard from them again.”

Ginty cocked his head. “Declan? He’s one of the best guys I know. He wouldn’t do that.”

“He did. Same with Jaime and Cole. And I guess friendships don’t hold the same meaning for me anymore. I tend to compartmentalize everyone.”

“And I’m the ‘client.’”

“I wanted you to be, but you wound up being more than that.”

“You’re fucking right about that. You’re planning my wedding, dickface.”

“He’s offering you friendship now, hon,” Noa said quietly. “So, maybe tone it down.”

Booker cracked a smile. “Well, to be honest, this is less about our bromance and more about trying to win her heart.”

Hellcat sucked in a breath, but Noa said, “I’m not sure I can forgive you for walking away from a woman you had sex with. Protection isn’t a hundred-percent reliable. If you’d left your number, she wouldn’t have had to go through it all alone.”

“I did. I left her a note.” He pulled out his wallet, found the note, and tossed it onto the counter. “She just never saw it.”

Their friends watched with wide eyes.

“And then, fast forward to now. I’m your maid of honor,” Hellcat said. “And he’s your best man...”

“I can’t believe that first day, when Stevie sat on your lap, you didn’t even know she was your child,” Noa said. “That’s crazy.”

“It is. I didn’t have a clue,” he said.

“So, what’re you going to do?” Ginty asked.

“From the looks of it, get on with making baby number two,” Noa said.

But her attempt at humor didn’t break the tension in the room.

Booker came up to Ginty. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. You’re a good friend. I’ve just had my head up my ass.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Ginty said.

“All right, we have to go.” Noa slid her arm through her fiancé’s. “We’ll talk more tonight.”

After they left, Hellcat asked, “But it’s not now?”

“What’s not now?” He tried to replay the conversation to see what he’d missed.

“Have you pulled your head out of your ass now?”

He shut her sassy mouth up with a kiss. “If I win you a stuffed animal at the festival, will you be my girlfriend?”

“Yeah, Slick. I’ll be your girlfriend.” She grabbed her purse. “But it better be a big one. The biggest.”

He shoved his wallet back in his pants. “There’s nothing small about me.”

“There sure isn’t.” They headed into the garage, and she clicked the remote door opener.

He got into the passenger side of her Land Cruiser and buckled up.

As she backed out, sunlight flooded the car. “So, those friends you told me about in the cabin, they’re Renegades?”

“Yeah. Declan’s the coach, and Jaime’s the goalie. Cole used to be the forward, but he retired, and now, he owns the team. Well, actually, I do, too. I just don’t want it, so I’m a silent owner.”

“Are you telling me the door is wide open for you to be back with your friends, but you’re rejecting it? The thing you want most in the world?”

He reached for her hand. “That’s not even close to what I want most.”

With a soft smile, she headed down the long driveway. “So, the next few days will be tough for you. You’ll get to watch them being best friends, telling their inside jokes, seeing their wives hang out, living the future you always imagined with them. And you’re going to feel like a total outsider.”

“Okay, let’s walk this back.” He grinned. “I’m the owner of an NHL team. Pretty cool, right?”

She laughed. “Oh, you big, strong, man with a tender heart. How can I make this easier for you?”

“You can’t. It is what it is.”

“This is going to be hard.”

“Yeah.” He wouldn’t lie about it. “But we were kids when I moved away. And you know, college, law school, busy job… Nobody did anything wrong.”

She set her hand on his thigh. “You know I can relate, right? I gave my love and loyalty to people who didn’t value it, and it made me shut down, too. I wasn’t going to expose myself to that kind of hurt again. But you know what? We’re not all cut from the same cloth. You and I, we love deeply.”

He did love deeply, thoroughly. He was a loyal guy. When he gave his heart, it was for life. He just had a hard time believing it could be reciprocated. So to hear her say she was built the same way... It cracked open the part of him that craved that kind of relationship.

“And it sounds like your friends were just good-times guys. There’s nothing wrong with that. They’re just not the right people for you. You need more out of your relationships.”

He wasn’t sure about that. Something wasn’t adding up. They weren’t good-times guys. At least, not that he remembered. “I like that, though. That you and I are cut from the same cloth.”

In the middle of the long driveway, she braked and leaned across the console, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and burying her face in his neck. “God, Slick. Of all the ways I imagined us running into each other, the things we’d say…none of it was as good as this. With the way you left, I thought I’d built it up in my head. But I didn’t. It’s real.”

The air in the car was charged with static electricity. “Yeah, Hellcat. It’s real.”

He’d thought he had a great life. A great job, top-notch roster, enviable apartment in New York. He got to travel the world, and he had money in the bank. He hadn’t seen how empty it was until Hellcat and Stevie filled it.

But the fact remained. He lived in New York. Hellcat wouldn’t live there, and his contract bound him to the city.

Maybe luck brought them to that cabin, but he’d need to pull out a miracle to keep them together.

Man, he hadn’t been to the fairgrounds in years. To the left, white tent flaps fluttered in a breeze as people dressed in Wild West costumes roamed from one stall to the next, checking out the jewelry, pottery, and artwork. To his right, rows of food trucks filled the air with scents of sugary fried dough, barbecue ribs, and kettle corn.

Two horses pulled a shiny red-and-black stagecoach past them. “When I was a kid, my dad and I used to dress up as gunslingers.”

“I wish I had a picture of that,” Hellcat said.

A child leaned out the window waving and smiling. In the past, he might’ve ignored them, not giving them much thought. But this time, he could imagine it was Stevie, and it jabbed at his heart. So, he waved back.

Because it would hurt his daughter’s feelings to look into the eyes of some detached, uncaring man.

“Did your mom dress up, too?” Hellcat asked as they passed a family dressed like homesteaders, the mom and daughters in long dresses, the father and sons in suspenders and dusty boots.

“Not that I remember.” Since Stevie was in a teepee with her grandparents and they didn’t want to interrupt the storyteller, they headed over to the Battle of the Brews tent to meet the bride and groom and some of the guests.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” she said. “Why not?”

“Just not her thing, I guess. But I don’t know. I stopped coming with them in middle school.”

“After that, you and your friends were the assholes terrorizing the crowds with skateboards and cutting in lines?”

“You have a terrible impression of us.” Us. He hadn’t said that word in a long time. “We weren’t bad kids.”

“Right. Just thrill-seekers.”

“We started out as a pack of boys, but as the years went by, more and more dropped out. They got girlfriends or decided to focus on band or football or whatever. Eventually, it was just the four of us because we made the hockey team.”

“I would never have dated you back then.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I was a good-looking kid.”

She grinned at him. “Who didn’t have time for me.”

The revelation struck right between the shoulder blades. That was the core issue. The one he needed to address.

She was told her dad didn’t have time for her, but her mom sure did. Her mom’s entire life was about Lorelei Calloway—and for all the wrong reasons.

If he didn’t get his partners to rework the contract, he’d lose her. He saw it clearly.

She needed to be his priority.

But how did he reconcile that with a career that demanded so much of him? “Is your mom’s last name Calloway?”

“Nope. We made it up.”

“So, you’re really Lorelei Gentry.” Would she change her name when they married?

Whoa. Way to leap ahead in time. He didn’t even know if she wanted that from him.

Come to think of it…had she ever said anything about a future with him? She’d said she wanted his heart but nothing about giving him hers. She wanted him to be all-in, but she’d never talked about her investment.

In fact, he couldn’t think of a single thing she’d said to indicate her feelings for him.

Oh, fuck.

You’re not doing it again, are you?

Thinking a relationship is more than it really is?

Chapter Twenty-Five

Outside the tent, a man dressed as a barkeep sold tokens. After buying a few, they left the bright sunlight for the shaded interior. The place smelled of hops and the sweet, almost fruity, scent of yeast.

Immediately, Booker scanned the crowd for the wedding party. The hockey team would spend the day at the raffle, shaking hands and taking selfies, but they’d work in shifts. Which meant he’d probably see some of his old friends.

That familiar buzz of anxiety hit his chest, but he pushed it aside. He had to stop letting it get to him. It wasn’t like they cared or even noticed. He was just yet another person they’d gone to high school with.

The noise level was loud as brewers talked animatedly about their particular blends, and people sat around the tables enjoying pints and bar snacks.

“There they are.” Hellcat spotted their friends and waved.

It was hard to believe no one noticed her. But he supposed, in her baseball cap, jean shorts, and Taylor Swift T-shirt, she looked unremarkable.

To everyone except him. Because no one else’s smile had the power to jumpstart his heart. No one else’s touch electrified him.

But then, she’d never been Lorelei Calloway to him. She was his hellcat.

He reached for her hand and clasped it.

Startled, she pulled her gaze away from their friends. It traveled from his eyes down to their joined hands and back up again. She broke into a smile that set off tiny explosions in his chest. “You just claimed me.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

She laughed, but she got up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m proud to be your girl.”

He grabbed the back of her neck, holding her in place. “Watch it.”

“Watch what?”

“Keep looking at me like that, and I’ll throw you over my shoulder and fuck you senseless in the car.”

A shudder went through her. “We’d have to remove the car seat first.”

He released her. “Way to kill the mood, Mom.”

“Sorry, Dad.”

The word had the pull of a magnet. Their gazes locked. Their bodies shifted to fully face each other. He could read it in her eyes, her worries.

Are you a dad?

Will you run?

Can I trust you with my daughter’s heart?

“Yes.” He blurted it out, though she hadn’t spoken. He just needed her to know he meant it.

But more proof of their connection—she let out a breath and gave him a faint smile as if she did understand.

“Part of me never left that cabin.” He intertwined their fingers.

“What do you mean?”

“From the moment I walked out the door, I’ve been on the move. I quit my job and signed the partnership with the boutique agency. I’ve been flying around the country trying to sign athletes to fill my roster and doing my share to ensure our agency succeeds. And yes, I want it for myself, but also, George believes in me in a way I’ve never entirely understood. And I’m not going to let my partners down.”

“What does this have to do with the cabin?”

“Somewhere inside me, I’m still there, living with you.”

“A parallel life.” She smiled, and he knew she was remembering her question all those years ago about what their alter egos were doing.

“Something like that. All I know is when I close my eyes in the shower or when I go to sleep at night, I see you dancing like you did that first morning when I got out of bed and found you in the living room. I can be in the middle of a meeting, and I remember you trying to figure out how to use the cheese grater.”

She lowered her chin. “I still can’t believe that.”

“I can tell you the color of your nail polish—pink—that’s how vivid the memories are. I remember the exact color of your hair when you sat near the fire eating your scrambled eggs. Everywhere I go, I find myself comparing perfume or candles or diffusers to my memory of your scent. I haven’t let you go. So, it might seem I’m moving fast, but I’m not. I bonded to you in a way I don’t understand, and that hasn’t changed. I still feel this.” He brought their clasped hands over his heart.

“Hey, guys.” Noa sashayed over, carrying two wooden racks. “You get one, and you get one. Now, go choose your flights, and then come over and join us.” As she walked away, she pointed to a brewer. “That one’s my favorite.”

He wasn’t there for the beer anyway, so they decided to go with the bride’s suggestion. They exchanged their tokens for six beakers of beer from Sawtooth Brewers, and then headed to the table.

They met the others at a long picnic-style table. Everyone was talking and laughing, and all he wanted was to be alone with Hellcat. There was no one he liked more than her. No one he’d rather spend time with.

A quick scan showed Declan with a toddler on his lap, seated next to his pregnant wife. Every now and then, the couple would look at each other, sharing one of those wordless conversations filled with understanding. What struck him was the way the coach blocked out the noise and distractions to lower his ear to his daughter’s mouth to really listen and talk to her, engage with her.

It drove home what both Ginty and Hellcat said. That Declan wasn’t the kind of man who’d blow off a good friend after an injury.

But also… I want to be that kind of father.

And he couldn’t do that while he lived two thousand miles away.

Declan coached an NHL team, so he traveled a good portion of the year, too, and he made it work. But his home base was here in Calamity.

Mine’s in New York.

What can I do?

The answer hit him. He set his flight down next to Hellcat. “Be right back.”

“Wait.” She touched his arm. “Where are you going?”

“I have to talk to George.”

Ginty laughed. “Those two are joined at the hip.”

Hellcat got that crease between her eyes and threw him a puzzled look. But he needed to pitch his idea, so he ducked out of the tent to find a quieter space behind it. He thumbed the call button.

“Hey, what’s up?” His colleague sounded rushed and harried.

Warmth spread through him at the thought that his partner would always take his call, but he met resistance when he considered thinking of his partner as a friend. Because at the back of his mind, fear lingered. It was a ruthless, competitive business and one day, George might fuck him over.

But that wouldn’t happen. He knew George. They’d worked and lived together.

George is way more than a colleague, and I’m an asshole for thinking anything else. “I figured it out.”

“I’m listening.”

“Partners need to be in the office for the first seven years.”

“Okay?” George sounded wary.

“But we never talked about associates.”

“Oh, no, you don’t. Come on. Associates get bonuses. You’re a partner. Partners split the commissions. You’re not working this hard to take a massive cut.”

“I will if it means I can be a father. I bring enough value that no one’s kicking me out of the firm. And it’s to everyone’s advantage to keep me in any capacity, so it’s the best of both worlds. I keep my career and live near Lorelei and my daughter.”

The line went quiet. A worker came out the back flap of a tent, loaded a few boxes onto a dolly, and then wheeled it back in. Across the fairgrounds, the Ferris wheel revolved, and the sound of chatter, laughter, and joyful screams filled the air.

“You there?” Had the call dropped?

“Yeah, I just can’t believe this. I don’t even know what to say. Dude, this is more than finding out you’re a father. You love this woman.”

“I don’t know about that.” He’d never been in love before, so he had nothing to compare these feelings to. His pulse pounded in his throat, and he paced away from the tent. “I have strong feelings for her. I want—I need to…” The boom of van doors closing had him jumping out of his skin. He walked farther away. “All I know is I can’t risk losing her.” But there was nowhere to go. Past the brewer’s tent was nothing but scrub grass. All the action was behind him. “I’ve never stopped thinking about her. Not once. There’s no one like her.”

“Well, yeah, it’s Lorelei Calloway. I could’ve told you that.”

Booker grinned. “You did. Many times.”

“But you’re willing to take a massive cut in salary for her?”

“What else can I do? She’s not going to date someone who lives two thousand miles away. She’s going to find someone here.” The truth squeezed his heart. “And that man will be Stevie’s dad. I’ll just be a father.”

No.

The word roared through him.

Hell, no

“Booker—”

“If I go back to the city, I’ll be a face on the screen of her phone. If I’m lucky, she’ll want to spend a week with me in the summer. And even then, I won’t have time for her. So, you guys either let me be an associate and work in Calamity, or I’ll quit.” Because he wasn’t losing his family.

Driven by his clarity of purpose, he stalked back to the tent.

“You’re not quitting.” George sighed. “Look, don’t lead with this cockamamie plan. Start with changing the terms of the contract. If you hit a brick wall, then…No. Booker, you’re not an associate. Jesus, man. You’ve got me completely turned upside down. Hang on. Let me look out the window because I’m sure it’s a dystopian world out there.”

“What are you talking about?”

“How long have I known you? Fifteen years? You’ve never dated anyone seriously. You never put a single relationship over your work, including your own mother.”

He lowered his head in shame. “Well, when you say it like that, I’m an asshole for still not forgiving her.” His mom wasn’t a pathological liar. She wasn’t selfish. His parents made a choice in a difficult situation, and maybe it was time to stop judging them for it.

“I mean, it was a zinger, but yeah. She’s a grandmother, so it’s probably time to make peace with that one.”

He thought about Ginty’s reaction that morning to finding out about Stevie, and he realized, in protecting himself, he’d hurt the people who cared about him the most. “You’re a good friend, George. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I really don’t.”

“Wait, what’s that sound?”

Booker tuned into his surroundings. “I’m at the fairgrounds. For the Wild West Days Festival.”

“No, it’s not that. Is there a heart beating in that tin can?”

“Shut the fuck up.” But Booker laughed.

“This is good. I’m happy for you. And I can’t wait to meet the woman who turned you from a reptile to a human.”

“You just want her autograph.”

“Well, yeah, I do. If I bring my concert T-shirt out there, do you think she’ll sign it?”

“Fuck off. I’ll see you on the call.” He disconnected.

“That was George?” Hellcat asked.

He spun around to find her behind him. “Yeah.”

She didn’t look him in the eyes. “Uh, Stevie’s here. My parents just brought her, so…”

“Yeah, Okay.” But before she could duck back inside, he reached for her and pulled her into his arms. “Hey, are you all right?”

“Yeah, sure.” But she seemed distant.

“I’m sorry I ran out of the tent like that.”

“What happened?” she asked.

“I came up with an idea I think will work.”

“So, you called George?” she asked.

“Yep.” He smiled. He’d never imagined putting anything above his career, but this woman—she was worth everything.

“I need to get back,” she said. “It’s pretty loud in there. It’s a little too much for Stevie.”

Something was bothering her, but she was heading back into the tent, so he’d have to talk to her when they were alone.

The moment he went inside, he saw what she meant. Fans gathered around their table to talk to the players and get autographs. It was chaos.

He headed for Stevie, who sat at the end of the table. There weren’t any free chairs, so her grandparents stood behind her. Jaime and Declan stood there holding their kids. They laughed and chatted easily, and fuck, if it didn’t hurt.

Bypassing them, he headed over to his daughter and crouched. “Hey, how’s it going?”

She released a dramatic sigh. “I bored, Mister.”

He glanced up at Hellcat. “Remember that stuffed animal you wanted?”

Finally, she cracked a smile. “You better win us the biggest.”

* * *

This was the first time her home was alive with activity, and Lorelei loved it.

After the festival, she’d helped the guests get situated in their rooms. Figuring everyone would’ve stuffed their faces with junk food, the chef had prepared a light buffet for everyone.

For the evening activity, they chose to do movie night. They indulged in snacks and drinks and tubs of buttered popcorn while watching The Hangover.

The night turned out to be so much fun. It was such a different vibe than her music industry events, where everyone was either trying to hang out with people who could advance their careers or become best friends with a celebrity.

With Noa and Ginty’s crowd, there was no agenda other than celebrating with the bride and groom. It was all about sarcasm, teasing, and hilarity as everyone got to know each other.

Except for Slick, of course. He played host. She knew how hard it was for him to be surrounded by the former friends who’d done him dirty.

Had they, though? Because while he was busy tending to everyone’s needs, she was paying attention to the guys. Declan, the team’s coach, was the quiet one. He watched Slick with intense scrutiny as if trying to figure him out. Cole, the retired hockey player who adopted two little girls and now had two more, was the life of the party. He had stories to tell about his movie star dad and the chaos of a family with four daughters, but he noticed Slick a lot. There was pain in his eyes, and she knew without a doubt he missed his friend.

And then, there was Jaime. The confident, rugged goalie kept trying to talk to Slick and was devastated when he couldn’t hold his attention.

She didn’t know the truth of what went down all those years ago, but she was positive wires had gotten crossed. These men missed him. They just needed to sit down and find out what had happened.

From the way he deftly handled spills and refilled glasses, no one would know Slick’s inner turmoil. With his charisma and witty one-liners, he was a man in charge.

God, he took her breath away. Where everyone else hung out in jeans or sweats, he’d come straight from his virtual meeting with his partners in a dress shirt and slacks, wearing that big, shiny watch on his wrist.

After the movie, they all headed into the game room for pool, darts, and karaoke. There, it was harder for him to avoid his friends without it being glaringly obvious, so he chatted. He was good. Polished. He knew how to work a room.

Could they see the tightness around his eyes? The way he jammed his hands into his pockets? The way his laughter was forced?

Or are those things only I can see?

“You’re giving stalker vibes.” Noa came up to the bar and hitched her bottom onto a stool. “I’ll take a Ramos Gin Fizz, please.”

“A what?” Lorelei had never been much of a drinker, so she didn’t know cocktails.

“It’s gin, heavy cream…an egg white. Orange flower water. You know.”

Lorelei laughed. “Why are you asking me? Ask the bartender.”

“I’m afraid he’s going to kidnap me and lock me in his room at the biker club and have his way with me.” Her friend grinned. “And I’m nearly a married woman.”

“You’ve been reading too many romance novels.” Well, to be fair, the chef and the bartender were big, muscular, tattooed men. They did look like they’d do just that. “They’re great guys. They’ve been so nice to me.”

“Yeah, about that,” Noa said. “How, exactly, do you know them? I get that they have a bar and grill up the road, but how often do you go there?”

It felt like the right time to confide in her. “I go a couple times a week.”

“To a biker bar? You don’t even drink.”

“I know. But they have live music. And sometimes between sets, I get up there and workshop songs.” She blurted it all out.

Noa slapped her hand on the table. “You’re writing? Here I am thinking you’ve gone all Pioneer Woman, making your own bread and planting corn and knitting hand warmers, and you’re actually writing new material?”

“Yeah, but see, I don’t want to think about it like ‘new material.’ I don’t want to think about its ‘marketability.’ I just want the freedom to write songs with no objective.”

“Heard. Girl, I hope you know I’d never pressure you to do anything.” Noa reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I just want you to be happy.” She tipped her head toward Booker. “And obviously, he’s doing a good job of it. When do I get the whole story?”

“There’s not much to tell. I told you everything about the cabin and the way he left.”

“I cannot believe he’s Cabin Man. What a small world.” Her features tightened in concern. “It’s just…you guys are moving so fast. I know how much you want a dad for Stevie, but I don’t want you rushing into anything simply to try and make a family.”

“I get that, believe me.” But she remembered what he said.

It might seem I’m moving fast, but I’m not. I bonded to you in a way I don’t understand.

And he had. For her, he’d dropped the barriers. He was opening himself up, being real, honest.

“But that’s not the part that scares me. My biggest worry is that he lives in the city and never stops working.”

Noa nodded, leaning closer. “You know what me and Ginty went through. With our crazy schedules, we didn’t think we stood a chance. When would we even see each other? But we had a decision to make. We knew this kind of love only came around once. Soon enough, he’ll retire, and I’ll slow down, and then what will the rest of our lives look like if we don’t have each other?”

“That’s a really good point.” Although, with Slick’s job, he’d never slow down.

“It’s only a decision you and Booker can make, but the way that man looks at you…damn.”

Her senses sharpened, and she turned to her friend. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, honey, you delight him. He’s always watching you with this longing in his eyes, and he smiles at everything you do or say. I mean, you could fart, and he’d find it adorable.”

Lorelei grinned. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far. But yeah, it’s good between us. Really good.”

“Let me ask you something. Is the distance really the problem? Or is it something else?”

She let out a bitter laugh. “I’m not going to sit here and pretend I’m over what Landon and Cissy did to me. Thanks to them, I can’t help but look for red flags. Every time I get all up in my feelings, this alarm goes off in my body. Mayday, Mayday. Was that a red flag he just threw down?”

“Has he given you a reason not to trust him?” Noa asked.

“Just one. Maybe.”

Noa made a gimme motion.

“Remember what he said earlier, that he puts everyone in categories? Ginty’s a client. George is a colleague.”

“And you’re a hot piece of ass.”

“I know, right?” Lorelei tossed a balled-up cocktail napkin at her. “Can you be serious for five minutes?”

“Uh, I was very serious. You’re hot.”

“Yeah, no. At best, I’m girl-next-door cute.”

Noa reared back, then shook her head. “You do not let the media define you. You define yourself. Now, get back to the red flag.”

“This afternoon, at the fair, he left the tent to talk to George, and he said, ‘You’re a good friend. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I really don’t.’”

“That’s it? That’s what he said that made the lights flash and sirens go off?”

“I know. It sounds ridiculous. But he doesn’t call anyone his friend. And his tone was all soft and…I don’t know. All I can say is I know how he talks to people, and I’ve never heard that.”

“Are you saying he’s into his partner? That he has feelings for him?”

“No, no, nothing like that. It didn’t sound romantic. Just…I had one impression of him, and then, hearing him say that felt like a total reversal.”

“I’m not sure I understand. Are you saying you need him to be the version of him you’re comfortable with? Any deviation, and he can’t be trusted?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Lorelei laughed. “I guess I’m looking for red flags.”

“Sounds like it. Looking for them seems like a recipe for failure. Maybe, instead, you can trust your gut. What does it say about him?”

Oh, she appreciated that perspective. “My gut says he’s changing because of me. And that he can call George a friend now because he…” She wasn’t sure of the right way to say it. He likes me…? He feels great affection for me? It was way too soon for love, right? But when she spotted him across the room, she found him watching her. And there was no denying it. “He’s crazy about me.”

“He is. Did Landon ever look at you like that?”

“Landon didn’t even look at pizza like that.” And he didn’t look at Cissy that way, either. He was flat emotionally. Booker roiled with emotion, and she was sure he wouldn’t be able to knock down his walls unless he had big feelings for her.

That’s what my gut tells me.

And if he could do that, then she could be brave enough to overcome her trust issues.

Because he was trustworthy. His heightened sense of honor and integrity was proof enough.

“Well, I think you know what I’m going to tell you,” Noa said.

“Don’t condemn him for the actions of an ex?”

“Well, that, for sure. But I was going to say, talk to him. That’s a rule me and Ginty have. We don’t confide in our friends, and we don’t make up stories in our heads. We talk to each other. You want to know what’s going on with George? Ask him.”

How could she argue with that?

Chapter Twenty-Six

Out on her balcony, she took in the yellow lights of her cabins.

Noa’s sister was in one, and she was undoubtedly on the phone arguing with her baby daddy about child support. In another one, Ginty’s childhood friend was most likely playing video games. In the other ten, the couples were getting ready for bed.

One light blinked out. That couple had probably just slid their naked bodies between soft, clean sheets. She could imagine them talking about the day, sharing conversations they’d had. A sweet tuck of hair behind a wife’s ear, a gentle sling of a knee over her husband’s thigh…it would lead to a kiss, a touch, an intimacy.

Lorelei was starved for it.

And not because she was alone. No, it was because of the man down the hall.

Beneath the shallow level of doubts and fears, trust had already grown roots. In the cabin, when he’d had no reason to pretend—he hadn’t been trying to woo her, just the opposite, in fact—he’d shown integrity. That was the whole reason he’d left his fancy sports agency to start his own.

She knew his character.

And she knew his heart.

They were bound not just by physical attraction, but by life experience. They’d both been blindsided and had to rebuild their foundations in life. They understood each other.

But even deeper than that, where it was pitch black and you could only rely on muscle memory and gut instinct, there was an absolute certainty this man was hers. Call it kismet, call it whatever you wanted, but they were meant for each other.

She was safe with him.

And that right there—that was the scariest part of all.

Because she’d believed she was safe with her mom, Cissy, and Landon.

But she wasn’t a coward. And Noa was right about communication. So, now that the house was quiet, she slipped her feet into her shearling flip-flop slippers and padded quietly down the hallway.

His door was cracked open, light spilling onto the floor. As she neared, she heard his voice. “I get what you’re saying. And I don’t put my situation above anyone else’s. I’m just telling you what I’m willing to do for mine.”

It was funny how he could fill her with pride and lust at the same time. A man with his confidence, who knew his mind, who made decisions and stuck with them…

That’s hot.

There wasn’t a shred of uncertainty in his tone. “At the end of the day, if neither of my options work for you, I’m willing to walk away. But I’m taking my clients with me.”

Oh, no. This is bad. He can’t give up his partnership for us.

She entered the room, mouthing, “No, no. Don’t do that.”

Sitting on the bed with one leg on the floor, and the other hitched in front of his laptop, he glanced over and waved her in. He motioned for her to close the door behind her.

“All right, well, thanks for the call⁠—”

“Hang on,” a man said. “Let’s talk about this.”

Was that George? She wanted to meet the man Booker considered a true friend, the one person who always had his back.

He grinned. “Sorry, man, my priority just walked in the room.”

Oh, my God.

Did he just say I’m his priority?

“I’ll give the three of you time to talk it over.” Before she could reach him, he’d clicked out of the conference call. After closing the laptop and setting it on the nightstand, he held out his arms. “Park that ass on my lap.”

She threw herself at him, and he caught her, enfolding her in his arms. She kissed him, going in hot and hungry. She couldn’t believe she carried doubts when he’d never given her a single reason.

She couldn’t believe she’d held back. Every time he’d told her he was all-in, or that he hadn’t stopped thinking about her since the cabin, she’d clammed up.

And really, what was she so afraid of? That he’d cheat like Landon had? That things wouldn’t work out between them?

If it didn’t, well, that was life. I came out of that whole mess stronger, healthier, and happier.

But imagine never trying with a man like this. It would mean settling for less.

Because no one was better for her than this man.

She scraped her fingernails through his hair, climbed onto his lap, and rocked her hips up against his hard ridge. “I’m your priority?”

“What?” He tilted back, giving her a confused expression. “Oh, did you think I said priority? No, I said room service. My room service just walked in.” He grimaced. “How embarrassing for you.”

She laughed, clutching his shoulders as he rolled her onto her back. “What’s embarrassing is how into me you are. I mean, gushing about me on a conference call?” She made a face. “Kinda cringey.”

“I’m into parts of you.” His hand skimmed up her stomach and over her breasts to cup her throat. And then, he kissed her. Hard, deep, and with clear intentions.

She wrapped her legs around him and swished her hips over his erection. “Which parts?”

He rocked up and back, his cock stroking over her clit. “Your smile.”

Excitement sizzled through her. “Oh, that ole thing?”

His hand slid under the waistband of her pajama shorts, and he dipped a finger into her wet core. “Your voice.”

“Yeah. I get that a lot. It’s won me an award or two.”

“Sassy.” While he fingered her in deliciously lazy strokes, he kissed her neck, licking a sensitive spot. “Your happiness. No matter what’s going on, your spirit shines through.”

“That’s because you’ve only ever seen me around you. You make me happy.”

He lifted his head, the surprise reminding her how infrequently she shared her feelings with him. That was stingy and mean.

“My turn.” She noted the way her throat tightened, unwilling to let the words out.

She didn’t know why it was so hard to tell him. Well, of course, she did. Her ex had made a fool of her, letting her gush and say a million unabashed I love yous, all while he’d been secretly in love with someone else. The experience would forever be imprinted on her, but the only way to override it was to be bold. To open her heart to this deserving man.

She looked him right in the eyes. “My favorite part of you is your intensity.”

He crooked an eyebrow. “That’s a weird one.” His lips painted a trail to her cleavage. “Now, take your clothes off. I wasn’t done with my list.”

When he unbuttoned her top to expose her bare breasts, he gave one a shake. “Your tits.”

“Wait, that’s number three? Not my sense of humor? Not my wit?” She kicked off her flip-flops.

“No. Definitely not those.” He tongued her nipple, sucking it into his mouth. “Mm. Yeah. Your tits, for sure.”

“I love when you manhandle me. That’s my number two.”

“Good.” He reared up and flipped her onto her belly. She laughed as he pulled off her shirt. “Number three better be my cock, because that’s what you’re getting.” He yanked down her bottoms, smacking her bare ass before reaching into his nightstand drawer for a condom.

She kicked off her shorts. “I mean, it’s a good wiener, but it’s not my number three.”

“Did you just say wiener?” With protection in place, he leaned over her, his chest grazing her back. Hitching her hips, he slowly slid in. “Now, does that feel like a wiener?”

“No. And if I tell you you’re big and so, so hard, will you make it move faster?”

He chuckled, his breath hot in her ear. “Probably. Give it a go. Let’s see.”

“Oh, Slick.” She sounded out of breath. “You’re so big and hard.” Even while she sounded like a melodramatic actress, it was still true. He filled her completely.

“It’s never been like this before.” He kissed her cheek. “And I like it.” He pulled nearly all the way out, and then thrust back in, burying himself deeply inside her. “I like you.”

She could barely stand how good he felt, how desperately she needed the friction and the proof of his desire. “God, Slick.” She pressed her face into the duvet and arched her back, grinding her bottom against him. She loved his hunger for her.

He fucked her like he meant it, like he was telling her with his body exactly how much he wanted her. His finger dipped into her wet cove, finding her sensitive nub. Sensation exploded, making her hot and wild. Hiking up on her elbows, she met his thrusts. Her breasts shook, her hair fell around her face like a curtain, and she needed even more.

Abruptly, he pulled out and flipped her onto her back. He brushed the hair out of her eyes and slid back in. “Need to see you.” His greedy gaze took in her mouth, lingered on her breasts, slid down her stomach, and then locked on to the point where their bodies joined.

He lowered himself to kiss her sweetly, to lick into her mouth reverently. “You fill me, Hellcat. You make me feel whole.”

“Slick.” Her arms wrapped around his neck. “I feel the same way.”

“You do?” He sounded surprised.

“Yes. God, yes.”

He slammed into her. “Say it. I need to hear you say it. I need to know it’s real, and I’m not just making it up.”

“It’s real.” He was fucking her so hard now, he pushed her across the mattress. “It’s so real.” She clutched him, her ankles locking around his hips. She’d felt desire before, sure. But now, when lust collided with love, it turned explosive.

The seismic shift inside her body threatened to shatter her. Break her wide open, exposing a part of her she’d never seen before. Something soft, new. Tender. And, as much as it terrified her, she wanted to get to it.

Because it would make her vulnerable. And she’d wasted enough time thinking she needed to be tough, on her guard, and looking for those red flags.

But she couldn’t stop what was happening. She was unraveling. The bindings loosening. His breath gusted in her ear, and his grunts turned into helpless cries. They were merging, body and soul.

And it was exhilarating.

So perfect, hot tears streaked down her cheeks. She was crying out, barely able to withstand the pressure, the tension. And all it took to go up in flames was a tilt of his hips, a scrape against her clit…and then, she was flying.

Her head tipped back, her fingers dug into his skin, and her hips slammed up against him. Weightless, she soared across a universe of elation.

Slick pounded into her, losing all rhythm, all control. His hips swiveled as if trying to get closer, deeper. And when he came, he shouted her name. Lowering his head, his hands clamped on her hips and his thrusts tightened, shortened. Slam. Slam. Slam. His skin had a sheen of perspiration as his cries grew more desperate.

When he finally eased out of her, he fell to her side, pulling her into his arms as easily as if she were a rag doll. He kissed her cheek, licked the shell of her ear, and whispered, “Don’t leave me. Give me a chance to get it right.”

“You don’t have to do anything to keep me, Slick. I’m here. I’m all yours.”

The next morning, Lorelei watched him sleep.

Sunrise broke over the mountain, sending golden streaks into the room, landing on his strong back, his surfer blond hair, and a profile that accentuated his strong, masculine features. High cheek bones, a straight nose, and that mouth. My God. Full, expressive lips that conjured fantasies about long, deep kisses.

He’s such a handsome man.

Last night, they’d both set down their armor. They were going to make this work. And if she felt a trace of fear about their future, she knew it would disappear in time. Because he would prove himself trustworthy.

And even if he didn’t…

No, no. Don’t go there.

That’s stoking the embers of fear.

Don’t do it.

“I can hear you.” His voice was sleep-roughened and sexy as hell.

“Would it help if I hold my breath?”

“Sassy,” he muttered. “Your thoughts, Hellcat. I can hear you overthinking.” He rolled onto his back, drawing up the sheet.

She pulled it back down, and he grinned, grabbing his semi. “You want Stevie to walk in and see this?”

“Stevie’s at my parent’s house. You think I’d have sex with you if she were here?”

“Parents are allowed to have sex.”

“Not when Daddy roars like he’s wrestling a monster.”

He cracked one eyelid. “And Mommy shrieks like a banshee.” He yanked up the sheet.

She pulled it back down. “I like you naked.”

“And what if Noa walks in? I have a duty to my client. One look at my cock, and she’ll leave him standing at the altar.”

“That lil wiener?” She scrunched her nose. “I don’t think so.”

Tossing the sheet back, he rose, and in one agile move, straddled her. “I thought I fucked the sass out of you. Looks like I left a little bit behind.” He reached for a condom.

She smacked his hand. “There’ll be none of that when I have a houseful of guests, and the chef’s working on breakfast. Can’t you smell the bacon? It’s luring them onto the deck.”

He sniffed. “Sorry. All I get are your pheromones.”

“Slick.” She laughed and drew him to her. How can it be this good? Honestly, she had to stop bracing for the rug to be pulled out from under her.

“Now, tell me what you were thinking about.” He fell onto his back beside her, clasping their hands together.

“I mean, you basically told your partner you’d walk away from the agency.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, what would you do? Start your own in New York? I mean, you can’t base an agency in Calamity, Wyoming.”

“Why not? The Bowie brothers run a world-class training center for winter sports here, we’ve got an NHL team… It might even make sense. And what does it matter where my office is based when I spend most of my time traveling anyway? But look, I’m in a strong position. I pitched my idea, and we’ll see what they say.”

“Were they at least open to it?”

“Not really. They said they had difficult situations as well, but they were still honoring the contract. Basically, having a kid is the reason we put the contract in place to begin with, and if they can adhere to it with their personal issues, then why can’t I?” He turned thoughtful. “Caleb called last night because he couldn’t believe how far I’d taken it.”

“What does that mean? What did you say?”

“I told them the contract only applies to partners⁠—”

Oh, no. She knew where this was going. She closed her eyes. “You did not.”

But he ignored her. “So, I said I’d demote myself to associate.”

“Slick. No. You helped build the agency. You love what you do.”

He tipped her chin. “You’re going to have to trust me on this. I’m a problem solver. And every solution requires weighing the stakes. What’s the highest stake here?”

“Stevie.”

“That’s right. And if I don’t make changes, then I’ll see her a few times a quarter. The visits will be rushed, and I’ll be just some guy who passes through her life. We’ll never form the father-daughter bond she deserves.”

“I’m so glad you get that. When I was a little girl, it was all I noticed. Dads holding their daughters’ hands, carrying them on their shoulders, watching them in dance class. One summer, at songwriting camp, my roommate saw her dad walking toward her, and the smile on that man’s face? The way he broke into a run to reach her? It hurt like nothing I’ve ever felt. I want Stevie to have what I didn’t.” She squeezed his fingers. “I just don’t want you winding up resentful because you gave up the career you worked so hard to build.”

“Right now, we pool our commissions. That makes us cooperative and not competitive. So, if I leave the firm, they might feel like they’ve had a big enough hand in managing my clients that they’re not willing to let them go. But again, we’ll have to wait and see.”

“So…are you saying you’ll move here?”

“If this works out the way I want, I’ll be in the city at least one week a month, so I’ll hang on to my apartment. But one thing is nonnegotiable—I won’t do anything that jeopardizes my relationship with you and Stevie. I won’t compromise our family.”

Family.

He wanted to be her family.

“Is that what you want?” he asked.

“More than anything.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Half the guests opted for a spa day. The other half—Booker and his former friends included—had a great time outside playing games, drinking beer, and having a good time.

Hellcat: You’re missing a heavenly mud wrap.

Booker: Not my idea of heaven, but I’m glad you’re having a good time.

Hellcat: Could be. You never tried.

Booker: There’s a reason I never tried.

Hellcat: What if we got naked together and did it?

Booker: Still no. I’ll wait till you wash off the mud and then show you a better way to get dirty.

She sent a video of her wiggling her toes, shiny with pale pink polish.

Hellcat: Look how pretty! If you were here, we could get matching nail polish!

Booker: No one’s getting near my toes.

Hellcat: Except me, right?

Booker: Including you. You’ve got access to every other body part. My feet are off limits.

She sent a GIF of a child throwing a tantrum.

Hellcat: How’s archery going?

Booker: It’s fun. But the Renegades’ enforcer’s a wild man. Good thing you kept the kids away today or Stevie would be hanging off a tree with an arrow through her T-shirt.

Being out here with the guys, almost felt like old times. Same stupid jokes, same blood-sport level of competitiveness. Even when it was as simple as shooting an arrow at a target.

It was bittersweet, though. Because he was with them—just not part of their group. They didn’t turn to him when they shattered a clay pigeon. They turned to each other, slapping backs, laughing, and making fun of the way one of them squinted or the other one jerked when he pulled the trigger.

He’d missed out on a lot.

Hellcat: Let me know when Xander and Lulu arrive for the cooking competition.

Booker: Will do.

After a full day of bows and arrows, shotguns, and flag football, everyone changed into swimsuits to join the other half in the spa’s hot springs. Booker found it exhausting to keep up the friendly façade, so he headed into the kitchen to put the baskets together for the cooking competition. Not all fifty guests wanted to participate, of course, but they had enough for three rounds with four chefs competing at a time. It should be fun.

When he heard voices at the back door, he figured it was the chef and his staff. Then again, it could be Xander and Lulu.

His mind instantly shifted into agent mode. Xander Wilder was one of the best quarterbacks in the league, well on his way to earning a spot in the Hall of Fame alongside his dad and brother. Of course, he had an agent, but Booker never missed an opportunity to make a connection.

But when he turned to greet them, he found it wasn’t them.

It was Jaime and Declan.

His neck went hot, and his pulse rioted. “Hey.” He quickly schooled his features. “Forget your trunks? I didn’t bring any, so I can’t help you there.”

“No,” Declan said. “We’re hoping to have a beer with you.”

“I’ll have to catch up with you.” He gestured to the table. Of course, this kind of setup was the chef’s job, so he did have the time to hang out with them. He just didn’t want to.

He noticed Cole wasn’t around. He’d adopted two kids and had twins, so maybe he wanted to step away from owning the team. Booker was the only other one left. They had to know that wouldn’t happen.

“We just want to talk,” Jaime said.

He scrambled to think of an excuse, some work call he needed to make, but then, he realized he didn’t need to fake anything.

All these years later, he understood that no one had done anything wrong. He’d thought the friendship was more than it was—an immature miscalculation on his part. There was no fixing that.

“Here. Let me grab you some beers and set you up on the terrace. It’s a nice day.” He started across the expansive kitchen. “Have you been out here before?” Of course, they hadn’t. Why would they? They didn’t know Lorelei.

It wasn’t like him to get flustered.

“No,” Jaime said. “But it’s pretty cool that she owns one of the few privately owned properties inside the park.”

“And it used to be a camp, so it’s set up with all the activities.” He sounded like a fucking tour guide. At the rink or in meetings with them, he kept his composure. But alone with them, when they wanted to talk, it was different. He pulled open the refrigerator and instead of naming the choices, he gestured to it. “Help yourself.”

Once they chose their beers, he rummaged through the kitchen drawers, looking for a bottle opener. He stopped when he heard the hiss of carbonation as they twisted the tops off.

Get it together.

What’s your problem?

Instead of following him to the back door, Jaime leaned against the counter and tipped his beer. “Did your mom tell you I came to your apartment about three years ago?”

“Yeah, of course.” So, that’s what this is about? His guilty conscience?

“I tried to follow up.” Jaime swallowed, his cheeks flushed. The dude never could hide his emotions. “But I didn’t hear back from you. I need to apologize to you in person.”

“Nothing to apologize for. Come on, man. It was a long time ago. Besides, you didn’t make me come over that night, and you didn’t make me jump.”

Jaime set the beer down and pushed off the counter. “Yes, I did. You came over because I’d lost my shot to play hockey. It was a bad day for me, and you guys showed up. And that would’ve been fine, but I made the stupid decision to go BASE jumping the night before you were leaving for training camp.”

He shrugged. “My choice.”

“No.” Jaime was adamant. “I stole the choice from you. There was no other way down the mountain.”

“Look, man. It’s fine.” For some weird reason, he showed them his arms and legs. As if more than a decade later, they’d expect him to still be bruised and broken. He had no idea why he did that. “Everything’s fine.”

“Yeah, I know. You didn’t miss a beat.” Jaime’s gaze lowered to the floor. “You went to Yale, got a job at Elite right out of law school. You turned a shit situation into a great career. I get it. It all worked out. But we were best friends, and you never talked to us again. Even after Kurt died, you couldn’t stand to be around us.”

Anger ripped through his body. “I never talked to you again?” He shook his head. “That’s an interesting take, but okay.”

“What does that mean, ‘an interesting take’?” Jaime asked. “We’ve all reached out to you over the years, and you’ve blown us off. At the barbecue after the funeral, you said you were going to the bathroom, and you never came back. Obviously, you’re pissed. You can’t stand the sight of me. And I don’t blame you. I stole your hockey career from you, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it. I can’t change a damn thing, but I need you to know how sorry I am.”

“Apology accepted.” He gave them a look that said, Conversation over.

“If you’re so cool about everything, why won’t you look me in the eyes?” Jaime asked. “Why won’t you talk to me? To any of us?”

He thought of the festival, the guys and their wives at the table, kids on their laps. It fucking hurts, okay? But he’d never say it. “We’ve all moved on. We’re busy with our own lives.”

“You forget that we know you,” Declan said quietly. “We grew up together.”

“Okay?” What’s your point?

“You’ve changed,” Declan said. “At least around us.”

“And we want you back.” Jaime was losing his shit now.

“Oh, now you want me back? What can I do for you, Jaime? You need me to be your agent? What about you, Dec? Is there a player you want? You heard about the Canadian kid, right? And you want me to bring him out for a skate?” What utter bullshit.

“I don’t want anything from you,” Jaime said. “Other than your forgiveness.”

“And friendship,” Declan said. “We miss you. It’s not the same without you.”

Fuckin’ Declan. The quiet one. The real one. He always laid it out there.

Booker didn’t know how badly he’d wanted to hear those words, but the fact that they were pure horseshit turned them into gasoline for the fire raging inside him.

“We lost a lot of friends along the way,” Declan began.

He knew they were all thinking about Griffin, who’d quit hockey early on to get a job so he could spend time with his now-wife Stella.

“But they didn’t leave a hole,” Declan said. “It’s always just been the four of us.” He smiled. “You’re the smart one. You were the one who kept us from killing ourselves.”

Jaime nodded. “So true. I’ve never met anyone who could size up a situation that fast. I don’t know how you did it, but you could take in the scale and size and magnitude, figure out weight and velocity, the impact of gravity...” He tapped his head. “Brain trust.” But the smile faded, and he watched Booker for a moment. “What did you mean by ‘interesting take’? We’ve all tried to reach out to you over the years, and you’ve ignored us. What else could we assume but you wanted nothing to do with us?”

And that was the flame that ignited him. “When did you try to reach out to me? When I signed with Elite and Cole needed an agent? Or was that right before you signed with the Renegades and needed me to look at the contract? Or did I get it wrong? You wanted endorsements, right?”

Declan straightened. “Cole’s had an agent since high school. He didn’t need you for that.”

“You think I showed up at your apartment after ten years of no contact because I needed you to look at a contract?” Jaime asked, wild-eyed. “I fucking owned the team. I had my pick of agents and a staff of attorneys. Jesus, man. I came to apologize. You never fucking let me apologize.” Shouting, he ran his hands through his hair.

“How about when I was laid up in a hospital bed?” Booker was done playing this game. “Would that have been a good time? Or what about the year of physical therapy when I was in a strange city and didn’t know a goddamn soul? How about then? Think that might’ve been a good time to talk to me?”

It had never occurred to him they’d have a different perspective on what happened. That they’d be angry at him. That’s wild. “I never heard from you guys again. You didn’t visit me in the hospital, and you didn’t check up on me. The first person I heard from was Cole, and I didn’t care enough at that point to talk to him.” He moved to go around them, but they shifted, blocking his way.

“The hell we didn’t try to visit you,” Jaime said, always the emotional one.

“They wouldn’t let us see you,” Declan said. “Hospital security blocked us.”

Booker’s heart thundered. Was that true? “Bullshit.” He needed to get out of there.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Jaime’s hands hit Booker’s chest. “We saw you land. All of us stood there and watched it happen. Do you know what that did to us? Cole drove the truck, but I was in the back with you. You were in so much pain you blacked out.” Crimson red stained his cheeks. “You were my best friend, and you think for one second that I didn’t try to see you in the hospital? Do you know me at all?”

The truth glimmered like sunlight on a lake. He couldn’t deny it.

This rings true.

“After security blocked us, I came back the next day.” Pain flickered in Jaime’s eyes. “I snuck in, but when I got to your floor, your parents were sitting there. Jesus, Booker. Your mom was falling apart. She didn’t know if you were going to live. She told me to get out.” His voice broke. “She said, ‘If he dies, you’ll have to live with that.’”

“My mom said that?” That wasn’t like her at all. In fact, when she’d been with him, she was calm, positive. Encouraging.

“You think I’m making it up?” Jaime scraped his hands through his hair. “You think I don’t hear those words in my head every night before I fall asleep?”

“Since we couldn’t see you in the hospital, we went to your house, but you’d moved,” Declan said. “About six months later, we called your mom to find out where you’d gone. We asked if we could visit you. Figured she’d have calmed down by then.”

“What did she say?” What had his mom done?

“She told us you didn’t want anything to do with us.” The color washed out of Jaime’s features, and the starkness in his eyes drove home the truth in his story. “And I didn’t blame you. How could I?”

“When I asked her, she said you guys had moved on,” he said. “You guys wanted to have fun, and I couldn’t keep up anymore.”

“Fun?” Jaime practically shouted. “You think we had fun after you nearly died?”

“Cole was so wrecked, he gave up the NHL and went to Canada to play in the Juniors,” Declan said. “I played in college until my grandfather got sick. Jaime⁠—”

“Was a total fuckup,” Jaime said. “It wasn’t until I got my one-night stand pregnant that I finally got my shit together. None of us talked to each other until Kurt’s funeral. And even after that, it took a while for me and Cole to reconnect.”

He knew they weren’t lying, but to hear they hadn’t kept their friendship this entire time…well, he had to readjust the story he’d concocted, and it was going to take a moment.

“Did you really think we’d dump you in the ER, and then fuck off?” Jaime asked. “Go back to hanging out and forget about you?”

His mouth opened. Then, shut. Finally, he jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Yes.”

“I can’t believe you thought so low of me,” Jaime said. “Was I that much of a selfish prick?”

“No.” It actually sounded pretty lame now that they were airing it out.

“Then, what did you think?” Declan asked.

“I just told you. Out of sight, out of mind.”

Jaime went wide-eyed. “So, that’s what my friendship meant to you? Cool. Awesome.” He snatched his beer bottle, took a slug, and headed outside. “I’d rather get a fuckin’ mud mask than listen to this shit.”

That left him alone with Declan. “Tonight, when he’s in bed and thinking about this conversation, it’s going to hit him.”

“What is?”

“How we lost thirteen years.” Regret pinched Declan’s features. “He thought you never forgave him for ruining your life. You thought we stayed friends and forgot all about you. And all it would’ve taken was a simple conversation.”

Booker stood on his balcony overlooking the “hole,” as locals referred to a valley out here. The slant of the sun sent rays filtering through the pine trees that sloped down the hill. The air smelled of freshly mown grass and propane from the grill.

Laughter and conversation floated from the back of the house where the wedding guests gathered for drinks and dinner.

But he couldn’t get Declan’s words out of his head.

All it would’ve taken was a simple conversation.

Had his mom really done that? If so, she not only withheld the truth about his dad, but she’d flat-out lied about his friends. At a critical time in his life, she’d manipulated the story to her advantage.

For years now, he’d kept his distance from her. And Lorelei was right. It was because he’d never gotten to talk to his dad about the adoption papers. His parents had stolen one of the most significant conversations of his life from him.

And now, it turns out, his mom had ripped him from his friends—after he’d asked about them.

Fuck it.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and called her.

“Hey, sweetheart.” She answered on the third ring. “How’s the wedding going? How’s sunny St. Lucia?”

Fuck the pleasantries. “Mom, when I was in the hospital, did you talk to Jaime?”

“Well, hello, to you, too.” She stuttered out a laugh. “Honey, we’ve already talked about this. I told you I’d forgotten about it until I talked to Jaime in your apartment.”

“You said he’d visited, but you never said you told security to keep my friends away.”

“Are you blaming me for keeping away the boys who nearly killed my son? I don’t think you understand how many hours it took for a doctor to come out and talk to us and tell us the extent of your injuries. Do you understand how traumatic that was?”

“Okay, but what about later when they asked if they could visit, and you told them I didn’t want anything to do with them? You told them to stay away from me. That was six months later.”

“Booker, you were in physical therapy. Do you remember how grueling that year was? You think I wanted you back with those awful boys?”

“Mom, that’s not the point. I asked you why my friends hadn’t contacted me.” He’d been on the verge of tears. His voice had cracked. She had to have seen how upset he’d been.

“You did. I remember that.”

“And you lied. You said, ‘I guess they’ve moved on.’ You said, ‘Out of sight, out of mind.’”

His mom let out a breath. “I know that sounds like a terrible thing to do, but that accident cost a year of your life. You were applying to colleges.” Her tone grew more insistent. “You were just getting your life back on track. We didn’t want you pulled into their circle again. We knew if they came out to see you, you’d have been rappelling off the Empire State Building. And don’t try and tell me you wouldn’t, because that’s exactly the kind of thing you boys did with each other. You didn’t go out for coffee. You car-surfed.”

“That wasn’t your choice to make.”

“You were eighteen and living under our roof. You bet it was our choice.”

He didn’t agree, but there was no point in arguing the point. “And we didn’t do stupid things.”

“Snowboarding off-trail through the trees isn’t stupid? Look, we moved to that little town thinking it would be a safe place to raise you. And it turned out to be a nightmare because you chose a reckless group of friends, and we lost control over you.”

“You’ve got it all wrong. The reason we became good friends was because we weren’t reckless. Think about it. We didn’t get hurt until that night. And that wasn’t because of stupidity. That was turbulence. No one can control that or even factor it into a jump.”

“You have no idea what it’s like to wait for your child to come home at night, knowing the kinds of things you boys were doing. It wasn’t just skateboarding down our block. No, you guys took it to a whole other level by terrorizing the town. What did you call it?”

“Parkour.”

“On a skateboard.” Her tone got heated. “You didn’t just dirt bike—that would’ve been fine. You trespassed onto other people’s property and tore up their land. How many calls did we get from the police? Honest to God, Booker, the older you got, the more risks you took. You wait till you have kids before you judge me, and then, you tell me how it feels to know they’re jumping off a cliff with no parachute.”

An image hit of Stevie leaping, and his body clenched so tightly he saw spots in his vision. Electric fear jolted him. The thought of her riding a skateboard down the handrails of Town Hall had his pulse skyrocketing.

How many times had they fallen before they’d gotten it right?

“I will never forget when you tried to ice skate on the Snake River,” she said. “One of your friends got hypothermia. You were lucky none of you lost a limb or died. You have no idea what it was like for me.”

“You’re right. I don’t. But I don’t like lies. I don’t want you or anyone to manipulate the story of my life.”

“I understand that.” She calmed down. “I do. I just hope you understand why I did it.”

“I get that you wanted to protect me, but I don’t accept the lying. It makes me not trust you. And it’s the reason we don’t have much of a relationship right now.”

His mom was quiet for so long, he had to check his phone to see if the call had dropped. “I know you’re upset about the adoption papers, and I’m sorry.” She sounded like she might cry. “I don’t know how to fix it. I can only hope, if you ever have kids, you’ll come to understand our choices.”

He supposed it was time to tell her.

But before he could, she said, “You were everything to your father, and he didn’t want to do anything that would hurt the bond between you. We thought if you knew you weren’t his biological child, you’d question his love, and he didn’t want that. He wanted you to feel every minute of every day that you were his son and that we were a family. Your dad’s highest value was giving you the best childhood.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, you understand?” she asked. “Or okay, I don’t want to hear your excuses anymore?”

“I get it.”

“I’m not sure you do. Your dad and I talked about it so many times, wrestling with the decision, and I’ll tell you why we decided not to tell you.”

He held his breath, the anticipation almost painful.

“He was worried that every time he was angry with you or distracted by work or just in a bad mood, you’d see it through the filter of knowing he wasn’t your biological dad and think it meant he didn’t love you. That you were a burden to him. He wanted you to see through one lens and one lens only—that he was your dad, and he loved you unconditionally. But again, you can’t understand it until you have children of your own.”

In that moment, he felt a clearing in his heart. A healing. Almost like his dad was talking to him through his mom. For the first time, he understood. And again, it was thanks to Hellcat who’d explained that Stevie got her sense of herself from seeing her reflection in other people’s eyes. If he viewed her as an obligation, she’d pick that up.

Whereas if he loved her the way his dad loved him, she’d be invincible.

“I do get it, Mom.” He paused before dropping the bomb. “And maybe it’s easier to understand now that I have a kid.”

She laughed. “I wish.”

“No, I do.” He needed to sit down for this. He settled in one of the padded deck chairs. “Two Christmases ago, Marcus threatened to fire me, and I had a tough decision to make. So, I headed to my cabin⁠—”

“What cabin? You don’t own property.”

“I bought it with the money Dad left me.”

“You bought a cabin? Where?”

“Here. In Calamity.”

“I don’t understand. But we’ll come back to that. You have a child? A son, a daughter? How long have you known?”

“I was getting there.”

“You were taking the long way,” she said it jokingly, but he could hear her impatience.

“I have a daughter. She’ll be two in September.”

“A daughter? And I’m just finding out about this now?”

“I found out three days ago.”

“You better finish the story. A daughter,” she whispered in awe.

“Right, so, I got caught in a blizzard and had to share my place with a woman.”

“Okay, we can fast forward through this part. But why didn’t she tell you about the baby?”

“We never exchanged personal information.”

“I will never understand this generation. My God, I wouldn’t touch a man who withheld his name.”

“Mom, she’s Lorelei Calloway.”

“Okay, now I know you’re pulling my leg. Look, I’m sorry for the unintended consequences of the choices we made, but I promise you⁠—”

“I’m not messing with you. We only spent a day together, and she didn’t want me going back to the city and selling my story. Anyhow, fast forward to now, I’m the best man for my client⁠—”

“Ginty. I know. You’re in St. Lucia.”

“Actually, there was a change of plans. They’re getting married in Calamity in a few days. And we’re staying at the maid of honor’s house.”

“Who just happens to be Lorelei Calloway.”

“Yeah. And so, I got to meet my…” He swallowed. “My daughter.”

His mom went quiet for a moment. “You’re seriously a father?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s her name?” she asked.

“Stevie.”

“Stevie? Is that a family name?”

He settled back in the chair, resting his feet on the patio table. “No, she’s named after Stevie Nicks. From Fleetwood Mac?”

“Yes, I know Stevie Nicks. I’m just…I’m a grandmother. I wasn’t expecting that. But none of that matters. How are you? This must be overwhelming.”

“It is, but in a good way. She’s a great girl. At first, I wasn’t sure what to do—I even considered signing away my rights, but George asked me what Dad would do, and I just…knew.”

“You knew what?” His mom sounded wary. “Why does it sound like you’re going to drop another big one on me?”

“I’m going to move out here.”

“To Calamity?”

It was the fear in his mom’s voice that drove it home more than her words. Her concern for a grandchild she hadn’t met growing up in a town that drew extreme athletes to its rugged terrain made her motivations clear. His mom had never belonged in Calamity, with its wild-at-heart residents and inhospitable land. And the quiet life she was suited to with a husband and one child never panned out for her, thanks to his need for adrenaline-fueled fun.

“Why there? Lorelei Calloway can live anywhere in the world.”

“She’s got family here.” And he really couldn’t explain the stark beauty of the place to someone who preferred a big city. Calamity was a place that drew adventure-seekers. That wasn’t his mom. “And I like it.”

“Okay, well, I’ll come out there⁠—”

“No. Not yet. I just found out, and I need some time with her. Let me get through the wedding and figure out what’s going to happen with my job.”

“Okay.” His mom said it quietly. “I know you were always closer to your dad. He was better at accepting you for who you were. I couldn’t relate to your need for danger.” She sighed. “Well, he couldn’t relate to it, either, but he wanted to be there for you…with you. You chose such a brutal sport, and I had a hard time watching you get slammed into the walls.”

“The boards, but yeah, I know.” It was his dad who drove him to games. Even when he played travel hockey and had games in Washington and Idaho, it was his dad who drove the team van. “I love you, Mom.”

“But you don’t trust me.” She sounded defeated. Resigned. “I don’t think you’ll ever forgive me for keeping the truth from you about your dad.” She paused. “Then again, you’re a father now, so maybe you will.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Tonight, everyone was in the kitchen for the cooking competition. He wanted the bride and groom to have a great time, so he forced himself to put his conversation with his mom out of his mind.

At the various islands, Ginty, Noa, her sister, and Jaime’s wife, Grace, stood at their stations while the three judges sat in the banquette with pads of paper and pens.

After tasting each dish, they’d assign a number based on a scale of one to ten, with ten being flawlessly delicious.

The other guests stood in clusters, some picking at the hors d’oeuvres, others gathered at the makeshift bar where the bartender made cocktails, and everyone else listening to Hellcat, the MC, explain how the competition worked.

Every time Booker looked at her, warmth spread through him. It was just like in the cabin—when he recognized her on a level he didn’t understand—only so much deeper now because he knew her.

He loved her mind.

Her body.

Her smile.

He loved the way they needed to stay physically connected whether holding hands or a simple touch. After a lifetime of very little physical intimacy, he craved it—her—constantly.

He loved⁠—

He pulled in a sharp breath.

Say it. It’s okay.

He loved her.

I fucking love that woman.

It was such a simple thing, love. When you met the right person, it came effortlessly.

He couldn’t wait until the competition was over and the guests had gone to bed so he could have her to himself. But this night meant too much to her. She wanted Noa to have the best wedding possible, and she was loving every minute of hosting it.

He’d happily carry her train and let her shine for the rest of their lives.

She stood at the massive island. “You’ve got twenty minutes on the clock.”

“Why do they say that?” one of the hockey players near him asked. “Where else would time be counted but on a clock?”

“True,” someone said. “That always bugs me.”

Hellcat laughed. “Well, that’s what they say on the TV show, so that’s what we’re doing.” She turned back to the contestants. “Keep in mind, our chef put all the baskets together, so don’t go blaming us”—she gestured to herself and then the judges—“if you don’t know what to do with the ingredients.”

Lulu raised her hands with a comical expression. “I’m just here to eat good food.”

“All right, are you ready to go?” Hellcat asked.

“You know I can’t cook, right?” Noa pointed out.

Ginty gazed at her with affection. “I got you, babe.”

“Hey, no cheating,” Hellcat said.

“It’s our wedding,” Ginty said. “And my woman’s not going to lose.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Jaime said.

“I’ll let it go with the appetizers,” Grace said to Noa. “But it’s gloves off in the dessert round.”

Everyone laughed, and Hellcat glowed with happiness. “All right, open your baskets.” She read from the sheet the chef had given her. “You’ve got the winning stout beer from the Wild West Days Festival, edible flowers from Delilah’s hydroponic farm, corn tortillas, and crickets.”

Noa jumped back. “Oh, hell, no.” She shot Hellcat a horrified look. “Are you kidding me?”

“Yes. I’m totally kidding. Would I do that to the bride?” Hellcat picked one up and waved it. “It’s actually adzuki beans.”

“Oh, my God. I was literally going to walk away and never come back.”

“Don’t worry, babe, I’d burn the place down before I made you touch a cricket.” Ginty rubbed his hands together. “All right. Let’s do this.”

“And the clock starts…now!” Hellcat said.

“I don’t even know what to do,” Noa said. “What do I do?”

“Grab some corn, some avocado, and make that salad you like.” Ginty didn’t miss a beat. He dashed from the pantry to the refrigerator, grabbing ingredients. He chopped an onion like a pro and dumped it into a pan sizzling with oil.

“Holy patootie,” Hellcat said. “Ginty, you’re on fire.”

Meanwhile, Grace—the owner of the Singing Baker patisserie in Owl Hoot—was quietly singing a Lorelei Calloway song and taking her time to put her dish together.

With everyone watching the competition, Booker was surprised when Cole, Declan, and Jaime closed in on him.

“All right, what’s going on?” Cole, the former forward for the Brawlers and now team owner, crossed his arms over his chest and gave him a challenging look.

“What’re you talking about?” Booker wanted to watch his Hellcat.

“You’ve obviously got a thing for her.” Jaime said, without a trace of residual anger.

Booker appreciated that his old friend was so willing to let it go. He felt bad about the misunderstanding. He should’ve known better. He did know them, and they wouldn’t have blown him off like that. And to find out the three of them hadn’t reconnected until recently…it just made him sad. And, he supposed, this was their chance to fully reconcile.

To do that, he’d need to let them in. “Yeah. I do. We met a couple years ago but only found our way back to each other now.”

“You’re together?” Declan asked.

“You’re with Lorelei Calloway?” Cole sounded surprised.

Jaime laughed. “Fuckin’ Golden Boy. Of course, you’d wind up with a pop superstar.”

He’d forgotten about the nickname they’d given him. They’d thought everything had come easily to him, and maybe back then they were right. It sure didn’t feel that way now. “We have a kid.”

Their smiles flatlined.

“You have a kid?” Cole asked.

“Do you mean Stevie?” Declan asked. “She’s yours?”

“Yeah. She’s my daughter.” He didn’t think the guys did it consciously, but they shifted into a semi-circle, shielding him from the others.

“I’m confused,” Declan said. “Stevie’s almost two, and you just found each other again.”

He let them do the math.

Cole’s eyebrows shot up. “You just found out? Holy shit.” He cut Hellcat a look. “She didn’t tell you?”

“We didn’t exchange numbers.”

“But it’s Lorelei Calloway,” Cole said.

“I don’t listen to pop music, and she’d dyed her hair⁠—”

“She’s a good kid,” Declan interrupted, getting back to the point. “You got this.”

“I’ve got to make some changes, though.” Confiding in them, seeking their advice, came easily, naturally. Like old times. “I can’t work in New York and be a father to a child in Calamity.”

“No, you really can’t,” Jaime said. “It’s the little moments that matter the most. It’s not the big-ass birthday parties I throw for Kinny that make us tight. It’s all the times she gets into bed with me when she has a nightmare. It’s being home after school so she can tell me someone hurt her feelings. You live in New York, you’re not going to get those moments.”

“I’m trying to get my partners to let me work remotely, but so far, they’re not willing to change the terms of our contract.”

“Take over the team, man,” Cole said. “I’m a shit owner.”

“You’re not a shit owner,” Jaime said. “You’re just not as good as I was.”

Cole faked a punch, and Jaime blocked it. “Fucker.”

“We could use the help,” Declan said. “We’ve got deep pockets, but we can’t fill the stadium.”

They all must’ve thought of Kurt, their former coach and owner of the team, at the same moment, because their gazes dropped to the floor. They’d met him when they were kids trespassing on his massive acreage. Thinking they’d never get caught, they’d made a dirt bike course. What harm could it cause? But they didn’t know Kurt walked his property regularly. He kept tabs on every corner.

Instead of calling the police, though, he’d formed a Juniors Hockey team for them. He’d even formed the Renegades in the hopes they’d all play together.

He couldn’t have known Booker’s accident would send them off in different directions.

But maybe now, he and the guys could start talking again. Maybe if he moved here and spent time with them, it would lead to…friendship.

But right now, they were asking for his help. “Well, no shit you can’t fill the seats.”

They all shot him a look of surprise.

“We’re a great team,” Declan said. “We won a Cup.”

Jaime clapped Cole on the back. “He won a Cup. And then, he retired. Asshole.”

“What’re your revenue streams?” Booker asked. “Do you get all the money from parking and concessions?”

“No, we let external services handle that,” Cole said.

That was an easy fix. “Bring it all in-house. But also, I’ve been to some games. It’s not fun.”

“Hockey’s not fun?” Declan seemed shocked.

“Not at your stadium. You’ve got to appeal to your audience. It’s harder in a state like Wyoming, so you’ve got to work social media hard to make it look fun to be there.”

“We shoot T-shirts into the crowd,” Jaime said with a straight face.

They all burst out laughing.

“Wow. You’re a real visionary,” Booker said. “Hire a social media person⁠—”

“We have a PR team,” Cole said.

Booker shook his head. “I’m talking about someone who films the players as they enter the building or come off the bus. She can ask them questions like who’s your celebrity crush? What’s your guilty pleasure?”

“Why didn’t you think of that?” Jaime asked Cole.

“Hey, I took over from you,” Cole teased right back. “I’m just keeping the lights on.”

“Cole’s just a pretty face.” Jaime rolled his eyes.

With a serious expression, Cole said, “It’s true.”

“You’ve got to do more than that.” Booker loved talking about shit like this. “Have theme days, where you get everyone to dress up. Give a prize for the best fan costume. Do regular giveaways. And why aren’t you capitalizing on the whole outlaw concept? You need a bandit logo on your helmets. Your T-shirts should have a cool graphic. Also, what kind of streaming contracts do you have? If you’re not leading with the Cup, you’re not maximizing deals. That’s where the money is.”

“You realize you’re an owner, right?” Declan said. “You can step into the role tomorrow and be here with your family.”

The kick in his heart told him he’d like that. “Maybe one day. But I’m right in the middle of negotiations for some of my longer-term clients.” Not to mention the ones who’d trusted him enough to join a boutique agency. Like Jimmy Wilkenson. After a rough and unsteady career, Jimmy had left his agent and signed with Booker, who was close to getting him the best deal of his career. “Too many players rely on me. I can’t just walk away.”

“Well, it’s here for you,” Declan said. “When you’re ready.”

“You were born to own this team,” Jaime said. “You know how to brand and get endorsements… We could use all your skill sets.”

Clapping and whistles turned their attention to the competition. Grace had won the round, and Jaime dashed across the room to hug her. “My girl, bringin’ home the win! How much we win, baby?”

Booker smiled. Jaime had always been the competitive one.

“Next up is Declan, Walter, Sherry, and Hailey,” Hellcat called. She sent him a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

A fierce determination took hold. He couldn’t lose her—not only was she the mother of his child, but she was the source of light in his world. And it struck him: his solution was the Canadian phenom. Signing him could either give him leverage with his partners or launch his own agency based in Calamity. This kid was the biggest get in a decade.

As everyone gathered closer to find out what was in the next set of baskets, Booker headed outside. The cool night air washed over him, and the moon shone high in the sky.

Peace filled him, the kind of fulfillment he hadn’t experienced since he was a kid. His mom, his friends, Hellcat, Stevie…the only thing left to work out was his career.

His thumb hit the call button.

The father gave a clipped, “Hello?”

“Mr. Marchaud, Booker here.” He sounded positive. Confident. I’m here to win.

The silence, though, was not a good sign.

“I’d like to come out there and skate with your son. Now’s the time to think about what he needs to work on so when he gets to training camp, he’ll be ready. You’d be surprised how many of the free agents outskate the tenders and drafted kids. How does next Monday sound?”

“Booker.” The man sounded like he was hanging onto his temper. “You need to stop calling us. We’ve made our decision.

“Liam’s signed with an agency?”

“Not yet, but it won’t be yours. Frankly, we’re disappointed that after all the time we’ve given you⁠—”

Given me? I’m the one who provided your son with the best skates, hooked him up with the top coach in Canada, paid for private lessons, paid for his billeting, and gave you the advice he needed to get where he is today.

“—you haven’t had our son’s best interests in mind.”

He’d done enough sucking up. This man had crossed a line. “What the hell are you talking about? Everything I’ve done was designed to get your son exactly where he is today. He’s a top draft pick because of my guidance and help.”

“Marcus told us you left under an ethics cloud. That you withheld offers from your clients based on your own self-interests. We don’t want our boy’s clean slate polluted by that kind of behavior.”

“My behavior—” But the connection dropped. Dammit.

Booker tipped his head back and filled his lungs with fresh mountain air.

He’d gotten so caught up in Lorelei and Stevie and this wedding that he’d lost sight of his business. While he was distracted, Marcus had gained the advantage.

That fucker was not going to get away with this.

He needed to think. He needed to figure out a plan.

But it had to be later.

Right now, he had a wedding to co-host.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The next day was packed with activities for the joint bachelor and bachelorette parties. For early risers, they’d arranged fly fishing on the river. They’d grill the cutthroat, rainbow, and brook trout for dinner.

Not many had turned up, but the ones who mattered to him had. They stood near each other, him, Jaime, Cole, and Declan, and it sent Booker flying back to the best times when it wasn’t about rafting on a raging river or riding a dirt bike down a mountainside but about shooting the shit.

He liked this kind of camaraderie. The quiet of the mountains, the rush of the cold river, the rhythm of casting their flies. Every now and then, they’d take water breaks and talk about their families and jobs.

They didn’t get all caught up because they had the rest of their lives to do that.

And that night, as he lay in bed, Hellcat snuggled up against him, he knew deep in his heart they’d sewn the rift closed, and the absolute rightness formed a knot in his throat.

On the day of the rehearsal dinner, they had a champagne brunch followed by a trail ride up to a glacier. Booker stayed back because he’d wanted to spend time with Stevie, but he heard they’d had perfect weather and a great time.

When they returned the horses to the stable, everyone went back to their rooms to rest and shower before reconvening at the pool. That was his cue to leave his daughter with her grandparents for a bit so he could catch up with his Hellcat.

He stood behind her in the bathroom, watching the water droplets land in the white towel that covered her, and he couldn’t keep from smiling.

“What?” she asked, fresh from a shower and catching his gaze in the mirror.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, he kissed her cheek. “I’m not used to shacking up with someone. I like it.” He peeled back the towel, exposing skin rosy from the heat of a shower. “You know what else I like?”

Lifting her arms, she let it drop. “I might have some idea.”

Damn, he loved when she got all seductive like that. That sexy smile, those feminine curves. He filled his palms with her breasts and kissed her sweetly scented neck.

“Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, yookit.” Stevie’s feet pounded in the hallway. “Yook what Gampa gibbed me.”

He quickly snatched up the towel, and Hellcat had just enough time to cover herself before Stevie raced into the bathroom.

“Yookit.” When Stevie saw him, her eyes brightened. “Come on, Mister. We pway.” She held out a packaged pool float.

Kneeling, he examined the large flamingo head rising out of a pink ring. He lifted the brim of her floppy canvas hat to see her eyes. “Want me to blow it up?”

“Yes, pease.”

“Okay.” He stood. “Let’s do it outside.”

As they headed out of the bathroom, Hellcat said, “You better finish what you started.”

“Count on it.” He broke into a slow smile. “Pace yourself the rest of the day. Tonight, you’re all mine.”

In her pink and white-checked swimsuit with eyelet trim, Stevie stomped her little flip-flop-clad feet. “Pease, Mister? Pway wif me?”

There was zero chance he’d say no to that request. “You got it.”

But when they got to the pool area, Stevie noticed the kids playing in the sandbox and quickly ran over to them. The dads sat off to the side, letting the children do their own thing, but Booker wanted to be with his daughter.

So, he grabbed a water bottle, poured some in the sand and, together, they made cakes. With her already rosy cheeks, he was glad for the umbrella sheltering them. High altitude sun was no joke.

They played for about twenty minutes before she brushed the hair off her face with the back of her hand. Sand stuck to the sunscreen. “Mister?”

“Yeah, pumpkin?”

“I firsty.”

“I’ll bet you are.” He glanced at the other dads. “You mind watching her while I grab us some drinks?”

“Yeah, of course,” one of them said.

“Water good?” Booker asked.

Both men nodded in agreement.

“You got it.” As he got a handful of bottles from the cooler, he noticed Hellcat talking to the bartender. He and the chef had done an outstanding job with the food and cocktails so far. It made him happy to know these guys were right nearby. They were big, muscular bikers who might look menacing but seemed to have a soft spot for Hellcat.

She must’ve felt his eyes on her because she glanced over. When their gazes caught, a zing of excitement shot through him. They shared a smile, a secret knowledge of what they meant to each other.

Happiness rocketed through. But no, he was mistaken. It wasn’t happiness. It was even better.

It’s contentment.

I love this life.

I love everything about it.

As he approached the sandbox, he noticed Stevie playing with the other two kids. He heard the boy ask Stevie, “Where’s your daddy?”

Curiosity got hold of him. He had no idea how she’d answer that.

But she didn’t miss a beat. “He hasn’t found me yet.”

Oh, but I have, little one.

I’m right here.

For a man who never wanted children, he couldn’t believe the affection he felt for his daughter. And he barely knew her. Imagine a year from now. Five years.

He handed out the waters, and then sat with Stevie. Her sandy hands clutched the bottle, but she needed his help to steady it and bring it to her mouth. The liquid dribbled down her chin, and he wiped it with the bottom of his T-shirt.

He needed to talk to Hellcat.

It was time to tell his daughter he’d found her.

After a cowboy barbecue with steaks, brisket, and ribs, they held a quick rehearsal in the newly decorated barn. With the rented dance floor in place, they brought in all the guests for line dancing. Hellcat hired a local country band to perform, and the guests let loose.

Booker had his little girl in his arms, dipping and twirling. He didn’t know the first thing about country music dancing, but he was learning how to make his daughter smile, and there was nothing better than seeing her eyes sparkle and hearing her giggles.

When Hellcat joined them, the bond was electric. Somehow, they gravitated closer and closer until the three of them were in each other’s arms.

He’d gotten drafted into the NHL at eighteen, graduated first in his class from Yale, and got his dream job right out of law school with the biggest sports agency in the world, but nothing compared to this moment with the woman and daughter who’d burrowed into his heart so deeply, they’d become part of the fabric of his being.

This is what life is about.

When his little girl collapsed against her mom’s chest, Hellcat said, “Time for bed.”

The three of them left the barn and headed into the house.

After a quick bath, he wrapped her up in a towel, and she said, “Mister wead books wif me?”

“Yeah, of course.” He asked Hellcat, “Where did she get that from?”

“Mister?” Squeezing toothpaste onto the tiniest brush he’d ever seen, Hellcat smiled and said, “The Mr. Bennington books. Mr. Bennington Goes to the Park. Mr. Bennington Goes to the Beach. It’s a whole series about this very proper man who wears a suit while babysitting his niece. It’s hilarious and perfect because he’s always getting sand in his dress shoes and finding sticky lollipops in his pockets, but he’s the most wonderful uncle in the world. He hugs her when she’s sad and fixes the lamp she broke before her parents see it. It’s such a great series.”

He sat on the toilet lid and lifted Stevie onto his lap to comb her wet hair. “So, I’m the uptight, suit-wearing, prig?”

She tapped her chin, pretending to think about it. “Yes. That sounds about right.”

“I’m a prig?”

“Well, not under the covers you’re not.” She laughed. “Okay, no. You’re not a prig. But you can’t deny you’re all business.” She set her thumb on Stevie’s lower lip so she could get the toothbrush in there. “I really should keep you under the covers. You’re a lot more fun there.”

“Sassy.”

Once they had Stevie in pajamas, they climbed into her bed, sandwiching the girl between them.

“Wead, Mister.”

What once had been cute didn’t sit right with him anymore. “You know, there’s another name she could call me.” He wouldn’t force it, of course. If she wasn’t ready to tell their daughter—if she had reservations—of course, he’d wait.

And, honestly, he wasn’t sure which mattered more to him, hearing his daughter call him daddy or winning Hellcat’s trust.

All he knew was, in that moment, a lot hung in the balance.

He didn’t question Hellcat’s affection for him, but her trust issues ran deep. She might never overcome those betrayals. And, frankly, the only way to earn it was through time and his actions. So, if she wasn’t ready, he understood.

But he didn’t see even a hint of hesitation when she hugged her daughter close. “Hey, baby?”

Stevie glanced up at her mom.

“Want to know something?” she asked.

The toddler nodded.

Hellcat reached for his hand, and they entwined their fingers together, resting them on their daughter’s tummy. “You can call him Mister if you want. But you can also call him Dad.” She stroked her daughter’s hair. “Do you understand what I’m saying? He’s your daddy.”

Stevie gazed up at him in wonder. “You mine?”

His heart swelled so big he didn’t think he could stand it. “I’m yours, baby girl.” He kissed her cheek, filling his senses with baby shampoo and impossibly soft skin. “And you’re mine.”

In that moment, the pieces of his life rearranged.

He knew the elation of a perfect landing, the spike of happiness at getting the call he’d been drafted, and the high of signing a big-time athlete.

But forming a bond with his daughter, taking his place in this little family, calmed the chaos inside him.

It was a revelation to belong to something so permanent, so vital.

It became his highest purpose.

And he knew nothing had been—or ever would be—as fulfilling.

My family.

* * *

Finally, the wedding day came, and it couldn’t have been more perfect with sunny skies and a lovely breeze that rustled the trees and grasses.

Lorelei, her parents, her brother, Slick, and some of their friends got up extra early to decorate the barn. They hung gorgeous crystal chandeliers at varying heights. Margot had found them in an estate shop in town, and they added drama and sparkle to an otherwise basic room. Swaths of white gauze fabric draped in grand swoops from one beam to the next, along with strings of tiny white lights. Clusters of flowers wreathed the entrance and adorned the tables.

Since Noa was estranged from her mom, Lorelei and Margot stepped wordlessly into that role. They helped with her makeup and hair, got her into her dress, and hugged her a whole lot.

When it was time for the ceremony, Lorelei couldn’t wait to see her friend say, “I do” and join her life with the man of her dreams.

She and Slick walked down the aisle first, parting to take their places on either side of the flower-strewn arch. In his black tux, his blond hair neatly combed, he stood half a foot taller than Ginty. They had their heads together, talking quietly. He said something that made the groom break into a smile and pull Slick into his arms.

How does he do that? She guessed it was part of his job to be attuned to his client’s needs. Or maybe, underneath that businessman façade, he was a sensitive man who paid close attention to the people he cared about.

He knew what they needed to hear to relax them, heal them. He’d certainly done that for her.

The man was gorgeous.

Kind.

Smart.

And so damn good in bed, she was a rag doll when he finished with her.

Their bond grew stronger every single day.

But the best thing of all? She trusted him. She hadn’t thought it was possible to overcome her betrayals, but this man had never wavered in his transparency and honesty. From the moment she’d met him in the cabin until last night when he’d told her how Mr. Marchaud’s condemnation had gutted him, he’d confided in her and exposed feelings she knew were hard for him to handle.

Having his character called into question plucked at his powerful need to be a good and honorable man. He hadn’t decided how he was going to address the problem, but the fact that he could put it aside to be fully present for this wedding spoke volumes about the way his priorities had changed.

He caught her watching him, and emotion pinkened his cheeks. “You look beautiful,” he mouthed.

“You look hot,” she mouthed right back.

When the string quartet launched into the tune, “At Last,” Lorelei took her cue to start singing.

Everyone went quiet, turning in their seats to watch the bride enter.

Except…instead of the bride, a straggler slipped into the barn. Lorelei didn’t recognize her, and she might not have paid much attention except the woman didn’t fit in with the rest of the artsy crowd.

In a black pencil skirt, sky-high heels, and a silky blouse with a deep, flirty neckline, she was a stunner. Bright red lipstick and a thick mane of sleek mahogany hair showcased the face of a supermodel.

Even then, she still wouldn’t have paid much attention if the woman hadn’t brightened at the sight of Slick.

But she never would’ve lost her place in the song if Slick hadn’t lit up. He broke into a dazzling smile, one filled with surprise—and maybe even a little affection.

Lorelei quickly recovered, but she was rattled. She’d known his partners might show up—depending on their schedules—but he’d never mentioned anyone else. He didn’t have a sister or an ex, and this woman was definitely not his mom.

So, who is she?

She didn’t know all of Noa and Ginty’s friends, but Red Lips dressed like a high-powered New Yorker who shopped at Bergdorf’s.

When the guest settled into an empty chair, Booker’s eyes came back to Lorelei. They were filled with pride and soft with ever-present desire.

She’d overreacted. Of course, she had. The vestiges of betrayal would haunt her for the rest of her life. It had altered her DNA, and there would always be triggers, but she knew Booker would never cheat on her. She knew that.

Finally, the bride appeared in the doorway. With the lavender-tinged twilight as a backdrop, she looked other-worldly. Noa had pretty much raised herself, so she wanted a solo walk down the aisle. She had pockets stuffed with honeysuckle buds, and as she sashayed, she tossed them at the guests. Everyone laughed, and it wasn’t long before the barn had the lovely scent of the sweet nectar.

Right at the end, she ran into Ginty’s arms, and he held her tightly, lifting her off the ground and whispering in her ear.

Tears blurred Lorelei’s vision. Her friend had earned this kind of forever love. She was so happy Noa had found a man who was able to heal damage he hadn’t inflicted.

She felt Slick’s eyes on her, and when she looked over, he mouthed, “Us.”

Elation hit like a lightning bolt, and hot tears ran down her cheeks. She was overjoyed that she’d found the love of her life and that Stevie would have the best daddy in the world.

After the ceremony, they sat down for a buffet dinner. Grace made a stunning cake, but she couldn’t help herself and wound up making so many pastries they needed another long table to display them.

Lorelei was too excited to eat a full meal, so she stuck with hors d’oeuvres and loaded her plate with cheese, prosciutto, fruit, nuts, and crackers. Then, she searched the room for Slick.

And spotted him talking animatedly with Red Lips.

He had three partners, and they were all men. Caleb, Andreas, and George. Could she be a client? Maybe she worked for the Renegades—a publicist?

All she knew was this woman ran the world, crushing her opponents under that six-inch heel.

Who is she?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

As she approached, she saw Slick had set her napkin on the table, saving her a seat between him and Red Lips. That was really sweet of him. But still...

“Hey, handsome.” She kissed his cheek.

He whipped the napkin away, so she could set her plate down and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Lorelei, I’d like you to meet George Willet. One of my partners.”

She looked around the table for a man who fit the bill. Yale graduate, big, expensive watch…someone like Slick. But it was just the guys from the Renegades. And the straggler.

“I’ve heard so much about you.” Red Lips held out her hand. “I’m glad to finally meet you. Okay, fine. He told me not to bring it up, but I just can’t help myself. I was a Mini Callow. I admit it. I saw you in concert in Scottsdale. Well, and in Topeka—but only because I have an aunt who lives there, and she bought me tickets for my college graduation.” The woman blew out a breath. “Fine. I saw you at Madison Square Garden, too.” She laughed. “I’ll be quiet now, but I honestly can’t believe I’m sitting next to Lorelei Calloway.”

“I’m sorry. I’m confused.” She turned to Booker. “George?”

“That’s me,” Red Lips said. “Georgiana Willet.”

“You’re George?” Lorelei asked. “His partner?”

Chapter Thirty

“Okay, long story, but in law school, I did a test,” George said. “When I used my real name Georgiana—or Georgie as my family calls me—only a few people wanted to work with me—either other women or fuckboys. But when I was George, I got the achievers. And that’s all I wanted, you know? I wanted to be first in our class, but of course, this guy got it.” She reached behind Lorelei to pat Slick’s shoulder.

“It could’ve gone either way,” he said.

“No.” George shook her head. “You got it because your GPA was higher. Anyhow, I work in a male-driven world, so while people might take a call from George Willet, I’d have to convince them Georgiana’s worth their time.” She lifted a napkin to her mouth. “I’m babbling. Don’t underestimate how big of a Mini Callow I was. By the way, did you come up with that nickname or was it the fans?”

“The fans.” This woman was nice. Friendly. There was no weird vibe. So, why was Lorelei spiraling? She forced herself to sit down, but her body moved like she’d worked out too long and too hard. Everything ached.

“You look beautiful,” Booker whispered, his hand on her knee.

“Wait, so how long have you two known each other?” One of his friends wagged a finger between George and Booker.

“I think this is our fourth lifetime together…is that right?” George asked, laughing.

“Since undergrad,” Slick said.

“Pretty ballsy of you two to leave a top firm like Elite,” one of his childhood friends said. She thought he might be the goalie of the team.

“She’s the one with the balls,” Slick said. “I wouldn’t have left an established agency if she hadn’t pushed me.” He gave Red Lips a warm smile. “Best decision I ever made.”

Okay, what the hell is happening here? He’d only ever talked about George as his partner.

Except yesterday, she’d overheard him say, I don’t know what I’d do without you. Lorelei cut a look to Red Lips. Holy shit.

Her heart pounded, and she could only take shallow breaths.

George smiled, looking a little embarrassed. “Well, trust me, he’s been there for me more times than I can count. Remember junior year when that rugby player cheated on me? I was a hot mess, and I’m telling you, Booker would not let me fail. He came to my dorm room every single day and shoved a protein bar in my hand, dragged me into the shower, and made me go to class.”

“You smelled pretty bad,” he said, and George tossed a roll at him.

Everyone laughed.

But Lorelei was picturing that tiny dorm room. The single bed. Had they slept together?

See, that was the thing about Slick. He put people into categories. She believed him when he said he’d never had a girlfriend, but George might’ve been his friend with benefits.

He certainly didn’t look at George the way he looked at her, and she hadn’t seen him touch George.

He can’t keep his hands off me.

But still, have they been hooking up since undergrad?

That would be close to fifteen years. Panic gripped her chest and squeezed.

You need to stop making things up.

Talk to him.

By the time she’d tuned back into the conversation, the partners were reminiscing.

“I don’t snore,” Slick said.

“Uh, excuse me? Let’s not forget how many times we shared a bed.” George spoke to the others at the table. “First year of law school, my apartment flooded—and I mean, I came home to find a giant hole in my ceiling and two inches of water in my carpet. I had to sleep in his room for six months. Not only did he snore, but he sprawled. Total starfish, am I right?” she asked Lorelei.

What is happening right now?

Is she playing a game of Who Knows Slick Better?

Because she’ll win.

I can’t compete with a woman who’s known him fifteen years.

“And try sleeping with him in a car.” George talked animatedly. She was a storyteller. “We had to get to Syracuse University to talk to this basketball player, and we got caught in a pileup. We didn’t get hit, but we were still trapped for like thirteen hours.”

“It was a rental,” Slick offered, as if that detail mattered.

It didn’t. Fear had taken over her body and held it hostage. It gripped her throat and ransacked her mind. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t see the food on her plate.

“And tiny. Which, trust me, does not work for a sprawler.” George made a show of twisting her body and flailing her arms, making everyone laugh. She was lively and bold and awkward and extremely likable.

Of course, they’ve slept together.

He hadn’t mentioned it because it didn’t matter to him. He liked his partner. They were comfortable with each other. But he didn’t love her.

“Here.” Booker offered Lorelei a piece of his trout. “I caught this one just for you.”

Everyone was watching, so she smiled. “You sure about that? This exact fish is the one you caught?”

“I’d know it anywhere.” He kissed her on the mouth.

Right there. In front of everyone.

He kissed her.

“What is happening right now?” George turned to his friends. “You guys have known him a long time, right?”

“Since kindergarten,” the one with the movie star smile said.

“So, you agree Lorelei’s a witch or something, right? She’s cast a spell over Mr. Hard-Ass over here. I have never seen him like this with anyone.” George smiled. “And trust me, we’ve been through everything together.” George gave her a look that telegraphed, He’s a good guy.

Lorelei needed to get out of there.

She’d gotten so swept away in the romance, in the relief that she’d found Stevie’s father, she’d lost sight of the fact that she didn’t really know him.

They’d had thirty-six hours in the cabin, and four days here.

What in the world are you doing?

It’d be one thing if it were just her. But she had a daughter to think about.

She couldn’t go crashing into a relationship.

She needed time to find out if they were compatible beyond the bedroom. She didn’t even know what life would look like when he was working. Both in the cabin and now, he’d had time off.

But maybe this isn’t about Slick. Maybe it’s about George harboring a crush all these years.

As a sports agent, she was a shark. She knew how to come across as a goofy fan all while letting Lorelei know her place in Slick’s world.

Is she staking a claim?

I’m too frantic. I can’t tell.

“When he moves out here, you’re going to lose your partner in crime,” someone across the table said.

“We’ll still talk every day. Nothing will change.” George gave a reassuring smile.

Nothing will change. It hit like a punch to the stomach.

Slick would be in New York one week out of every month. He’d still travel with George. Would they share a hotel bed? Would they drink a little too much one night, forcing George to crash in his suite?

They’d share dinners and cab rides.

He’d be talking to Lorelei on the phone, and George would whisper in the background, toss one-liners into the conversation. Maybe he’d be in bed, while George was in the bathroom.

It was their habit to hook up when they were together, so why would it change?

After all, George was in a separate category.

Panic clawed at her throat. “Excuse me.” She got up.

“Everything okay?” Booker started to push back his chair.

She set her hand on his shoulder. “Stay. It’s fine. I just left my phone inside, and I want it with me in case Stevie needs me. Be right back.” As she wove her way around the tables, she glanced at Noa to make sure her friend was having fun. She and Ginty were laughing and talking to some guests. Happy, carefree. Wildly in love.

Her friend’s day had gone perfectly. Thank God.

She stepped outside to find the sun had gone down behind the mountain, filling the valley with shadows. Stevie was sleeping at her grandparents’ house tonight, which was good because Lorelei’s brain was revving. She needed to hide out in her room for a few minutes, pull herself together, but she didn’t want Booker to come looking for her.

Where could she go? She thought of her conservatory, but he’d think of that.

The kitchen was a hive of activity as the staff replenished platters of food. And she couldn’t cross it because if Chef saw her, he’d stop and ask her what was wrong. He’d try to fix the problem.

She didn’t even know if she had a problem. She hadn’t picked up a single negative vibe from George. Sure, maybe she was a shark in business, but Lorelei had enough experience with bad people in the music industry that she could recognize phony people.

Pull it together. Before anyone saw her, she headed down the stairs to the basement. The game room was big, and she needed four walls squeezing her in, holding her tightly, so she didn’t spiral out of control.

She slipped into the wine cellar. Perfect. No one would find her there.

Closing her eyes, she tipped her head back against the stone wall and did some slow breathing. It took a moment to notice, but instead of smelling like cool, dry air in here, she got a whiff of something masculine—soap?

That’s odd. And then, she heard bottles clanking together.

Oh, crap.

Someone’s here.

But before she could sneak back out, she heard a deep, rumbly voice. “Caught you.”

She turned to see the bartender, Jude, holding a case of the special pink champagne they’d bought. He lifted it. “This the shit you want for toasts?”

“Yes. Thank you.” She stepped aside to open the door for him.

“You didn’t even look.” He shook the case, so the bottles rattled. “I could have Coors Light for all you know.”

She cracked a grin. “I’m not sure this crowd would notice.”

“Oh, they’d notice. But it might be better than the pink shit.”

“The pink ‘shit’ is delicious.”

The muscular, tattooed biker made an expression of disgust. “Pink means fruity. Ya ain’t puttin’ fruit in my booze.”

“Fine. Next wedding, I’ll let you serve tequila shots.”

The scruff parted when he grinned. “Now, we’re talkin’.”

“Come on. Let’s get toasting.”

But he didn’t budge. Studying her, he rested the case against the wall. “What did you need down here?”

“I—um…” Her mind went blank.

“Did that motherfucker do something?” His biceps flexed, and his gaze hardened.

“No.” The word shot out of her mouth before she could consider his question. “He didn’t. I just…I met his colleague. All along I’ve assumed George was a man. But she’s a woman. And they’re close. Really close.”

“He fuck her?” Trust Jude to get right to the point.

“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him about it yet.”

These guys knew her entire story because she sang about it at their bar. Most times, before her set, she’d chat with them.

“You don’t like the idea of him working with someone he’s fucked?”

She let out a shaky breath. “It’s not the past I care about.” She couldn’t do it. After what Landon and Cissy had done right under her nose, she just couldn’t. “It’s about continuing to work with someone he’s slept with.”

“Seems to me, you got two choices. You either end things now because of something that might happen, or you give it your best shot, knowing your heart’s taken a lickin’ before and you survived.”

“You’re right.”

“Is he worth it?” Jude asked.

“He is, yes. Totally.”

Jude nodded. “Then, don’t condemn him before he does somethin’ wrong. Give him the benefit of the doubt. If he starts throwin’ down red flags, you walk.”

He made it sound so simple. “Thank you.” She got up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “You’re a good friend.”

He shrugged her off and headed out of the room. “Close the door behind you.”

By the time she got upstairs, Jude was gone. But he’d set her straight.

She had no reason to doubt Slick. He’d been loving and attentive to her and hadn’t shown a hint of anything but affection for his business partner.

Besides, it was time to do the toasts, and she wasn’t going to miss a single moment of her friend’s wedding.

This is Noa’s night.

With a fresh perspective, she stepped out into the cool evening air. She thought about the way he’d mouthed, “Us,” put his hand on her knee, and said, “You look beautiful.”

And the way he’d sat with Stevie in the sandbox. He’d been around his clients’ kids before, but he’d never been a father. For his daughter, he’d jumped right in. That showed his true character. A man who stepped up, not only meeting his responsibility but taking it so much further by jumping into the deep end of fatherhood.

As she neared the barn, she spotted movement in the trees. She knew right away it was George and Slick. They stood close together, her hand on his shoulder, as they had an intense conversation.

Lorelei was thrown back to that night at the music festival when she’d seen Landon and Cissy come out of the woods. The unquestionable intimacy between them. She’d known immediately they were sleeping together.

This time, that wasn’t what she was seeing. She didn’t see sex. She saw a closeness that only came after years of road trips, study sessions, and helping each other through breakups.

It was a connection born out of time and experience. Lorelei didn’t have that with him yet. They’d had fun in the cabin. They’d made a baby together.

But it wasn’t deep. It wasn’t solid.

How could it be? They hadn’t even known each other a full week.

She was sick to her stomach at how selfish she’d been. If she hadn’t met George tonight, Slick would’ve moved in, and they’d have played house. They’d go through all the growing pains of a new relationship in front of their daughter. And if it didn’t work? Stevie would be devastated.

She couldn’t do that to her girl.

“Booker?” someone called. “We’re ready for toasts.”

He had one last heated exchange before heading back into the reception. George was about to follow him when she caught sight of Lorelei.

“Hey.” George came up to her with a sad smile. “I’m sorry about that.”

For what? What did this woman have to be sorry about?

That I caught the two of you touching outside in the dark?

This was why Lorelei lived on this remote ranch. So reality wouldn’t creep in and scrape her raw all over again. “What happened?” she managed to ask.

“I tried. I really did. I know how much he wanted to move out here.”

Wait, he’s not moving here?

Embarrassment had her wanting to run away from this woman who knew more about Slick than she did.

It all just felt so familiar. Landon and Cissy sneaking around, sharing intimacies, lying to her face.

The secret smiles, the hushed whispers. Tonight, Booker had confided in his partner before sharing the bad news with Lorelei.

“My partners won’t agree to change the contract, and they won’t demote him to associate. They say if they do, it’ll be the end of our agency. We’re not established well enough yet to let these kinds of life changes pull us away from what we’re building. I’m sorry.”

So, he’s not moving out here. She felt like such a fool. “It’s fine. It wasn’t realistic anyhow.”

George’s eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean?”

“We had a good time in the cabin, and now, we’ve got a child together. We got carried away. I wanted Stevie to have a dad, so when Booker showed up in my life, it was like a dream come true. But his life is in New York. He can’t have a sports agency in Calamity.” She gestured around her. “On campgrounds miles away from town.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Booker charged over to them.

“I’ll, uh…” George gave him an apologetic look. “I’ll let you two talk.”

Booker reached her with a wild, bristling energy. For a man who only let go of control under the covers, this was way out of character. “We had a ‘good time’ together? We got ‘carried away?’”

“Be quiet.” She led him farther from the barn.

“Where the fuck did you ever get the idea that we’re having a ‘good time?’ I’m backing away from my career for you. I’m changing my life. I’m not doing that for a ‘good time.’”

“I know, but we got swept away. Listening to George’s stories, watching you talk to her just now—she has fifteen years with you. I have a total of six days. It’s ridiculous to think we could just fall into a relationship.”

“I don’t need seven days or seven years to know you’re the one. I knew in twelve hours. Are you telling me you don’t feel that? Dammit.” He tipped his head back. “Forget it. If George’s stories could make you question what we have, then I have my answer.”

She couldn’t think. Her mind was racing.

He waited but when she didn’t say anything, he jammed his hands in the pockets of his dress slacks. “So, let’s get clear on this. You’re okay with me going back to New York? Did I hear that right?”

“Yes. I have to be.”

His eyes were fiery, his neck muscles corded, and she’d never seen him wound so tightly. “You were with your shitbag ex for twelve years. Does that mean you knew him better than you know me?”

“I mean, of course.”

“He fucking cheated on you right under your nose. How well did you know him?”

“God, stop. I’m confused. I thought George was a man. Why didn’t you tell me she’s a gorgeous woman?”

“Because I don’t see her as a gorgeous woman. Do you see your brother as a hot man?”

“No, but you can’t tell me you never slept with her. You were eighteen when you met. You’ve slept in the same bed. Isn’t that what you do? Hook up?”

The fire petered out. His shoulders slumped. “Okay.”

Now, she grew scared. “Okay, what?”

“We’re nothing but two people who fucked during a blizzard.”

“And made a child together.” There, that was what she needed to focus on. That was the part that mattered. “We can’t rush into anything—and you can’t deny that’s what we’re doing.” It’s been four days. “We told Stevie you’re her dad. We thought you were going to move here and open an office, but George just said that’s not going to happen. Which means you’re going back to your busy life.”

“Sure. You’re right. You’re absolutely right. We’re moving too fast.” He turned away from her, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I was ready to give up my career—while I wait for you to catch up.” He gave a bitter laugh. “But don’t worry. This one’s on me. I saw the signs, and I ignored them.” He started backing away. “My bad.”

“What signs?”

He shrugged like it didn’t matter and started for the barn.

Frantic, she ran in front of him. “What signs?”

“You were never as into this as I was. It’s okay. I’ll spend time with Stevie before the brunch tomorrow, and then I’ll head out.”

“I didn’t say we had to break up. I’m not breaking up. All I’m asking for is time.”

“Sure. You got it. You’ve got all the time in the world.” He walked away.

And got swallowed up in the brightly lit barn with the happy, shiny guests.

Leaving Lorelei frozen with fear.

Too numb to feel anything, she followed him inside to make her toast.

But in the back of her mind, a refrain played on repeat.

What just happened?

What have I done?

Have I just lost the only man I’ve ever really and truly loved?

Chapter Thirty-One

Booker slept like the dead.

Amazing what a sleeping pill does for you.

He could not believe he’d almost given up his career for a one-sided relationship. Looking back, he’d seen the signs from the start. She’d never gushed about him the way he did her. She didn’t say, “You’re the one.” She hadn’t even said, “I’m crazy about you,” or anything like that.

He’d taken a pill last night because he couldn’t stop analyzing every conversation they’d ever had, trying to remember how she’d responded to him. And he couldn’t think of a single instance where she’d indicated she was in it for the long hall.

Was she into him? Absolutely.

Was she responsive to his touch? Hell, yeah.

But she hadn’t made any changes in her life. Not at all. He was the one downgrading his career.

Jesus, he’d almost given up the Canadian kid. For what? How long after he’d moved out here would it have taken to become obvious she was just phoning it in?

Even worse than losing the phenom as a client was ignoring the way Marcus had maligned his reputation. If he didn’t put a stop to that, it would ruin his career.

Well, no more of that bullshit. Because today, he was flying to Ontario to let the Marchaud family know the truth about why he’d left Elite. With Ginty’s permission, he’d explain his reasons for not pushing the Boston contract on his client.

After a shower, he packed up what little belongings he’d taken out of his suitcase when he’d checked into the Gentry’s lodge last night. And then, he shot a text to Beau.

Booker: Ready. Is she awake?

Beau: Been awake for an hour. Looking forward to seeing you.

The pain in his heart made it hard to type. This would be the last time he saw his daughter for a while. He’d keep up with her though. Talk to her on the phone. Find a time every day when he could either have breakfast with her or read her books at night. He’d align his schedule with hers, be consistent. And he’d come to town as often as he could.

It wouldn’t be the same. But it was the best he could offer.

Booker: You want me to come to your house or are you bringing her here?

Beau: Already here. In the Atrium.

His heart lurched to see his little girl.

Booker: On my way down.

But it was to say goodbye. And fuck, that felt wrong.

He was on the second floor, so he only had to jog down one set of stairs, push out the doors, and head to the back of this new, well-designed hotel. He passed a pool, a gym, and a large office space for guests.

In the indoor dining room, vines climbed the walls, flower baskets hung from the ceiling, and the scent of moist soil mixed with bacon and coffee. Only a couple families were up for an early breakfast, so it was easy to spot Beau and Stevie. He hurried over to them.

“Hey, sweet thing.” He sat down.

“I sawed a snake. And it goed—” Baring her teeth, Stevie made a claw with her hand and pawed the air.

Booker’s gaze cut to her grandpa, who was smiling. “It was a lizard, and it flicked his tongue.”

Since she didn’t seem traumatized by it, Booker said, “That’s cool.”

“It cool. Mister, I hungry.” She made a circular motion around her belly.

Still not calling me dad. She was too young to get it. That’s okay. He understood that.

But it really drove it home, what Lorelei said about rushing into things. His daughter had known him for five days. And most of that time, she’d been with her grandparents.

She needed time. They all did.

That part was fair. It was the other thing Lorelei had said—that she’d been so eager to have a father for her daughter she’d gotten carried away.

That gutted him.

Would he ever learn? Or would he just keep running the same play over and over?

At some point, he had to pay better attention, right? To see the truth instead of only what he wanted to see? “Well, then, let’s get you some food.”

She lifted her arms, and he loved the way she trusted him so completely.

Yeah, because you’re here.

She won’t trust you when you visit every now and then.

That’s not how it works.

He picked her up and carried her to the buffet table, her leg bumping against his back with every step he took. “What looks good, sweet thing?”

“Where Mommy?”

“She’s at home.” Another reason he took the pill last night was to stop wondering what Lorelei was thinking. She’d seemed carefree at the reception, dancing and laughing. He thought he’d known her so well.

Guess he hadn’t paid that much attention if he’d missed the most important part. She’s not in this with me.

“You not home?” Stevie asked.

The question startled him. Made his heart squeeze so hard it cramped.

He guessed she was used to seeing the two of them together, but that wasn’t going to happen anymore. “I live in New York City, and I have to go home today. That’s why I wanted to have breakfast with you. Because you’re very important to me, and I want to spend as much time with you as I can. Is that all right?”

Stevie nodded, but she was looking at the buffet table. She couldn’t understand any of this. Not for a while.

“What looks good?” he asked.

She pointed to where Beau stood. “Faffles.”

Her grandfather opened the waffle maker and set her breakfast on a paper plate. “You want one?” he asked Booker.

He’d save his appetite for the brunch. “I’ll pass. Thanks, though.” He reached for the tongs to place a few strips of bacon on her plate.

She scrunched up her nose. “Dat’s yucky.”

“That might be the first time I’ve ever heard that.” He chuckled, but he wasn’t feeling it. He felt like he was walking upstream. When he got back to the table, he went to set her down in her chair, but her legs tightened around his waist. He wasn’t complaining. He settled her on his lap, instead.

Beau set two coffee mugs down. “So, what’s the plan?”

“I’m heading to Ontario. I’ve got a situation there that needs to be handled. After that, I’ve got two new clients, so I’ll fly out to Florida to see one and then California for the other.”

Beau listened patiently. “I meant with your family.”

“My mom?” How did he know about his reluctance to let his mom back in? Had Lorelei told him?

“This family. Lorelei and Stevie.” Beau set his mug down. “You switched gears pretty quickly.”

He gave a curt nod. Not my choice.

Beau seemed to have a loose hold on his composure. “Well, that’s a shame.”

Stevie hummed, her bottom swishing, as she stuffed a piece of waffle into her mouth. She was in her own world, oblivious to the turmoil.

“It is.” Booker wouldn’t reveal the details to this man. It was between him and Lorelei. “But I’ll be in Stevie’s life. I won’t disappear.”

“But not Lorelei’s?”

“She’s, uh...” Sometimes, when he took a sleeping pill, it took him a few hours to fully clear the fog in his mind. He wasn’t quite there yet, and it was hard to find the right words to say, Your daughter doesn’t love me. Not the way I love her.

His hand went to his chest. Dammit, that hurt.

But it was true, and he had to accept it.

“She’s what?” Beau asked.

“We’re not on the same page.”

Beau nodded. “Huh. I thought you knew her. I liked that you loved her for who she is since everyone loves her for being Lorelei Calloway. Do you love her for who she is? Because, you understand, that includes the broken parts?”

“Of course. I didn’t even know who she was when I met her. But she doesn’t feel the same way, and I have to accept that and move on.”

The man sat back. “This is the first time you haven’t impressed me.”

The shock of those words reverberated through Booker’s body. He was struck dumb.

“But everyone has their stupid moments,” Beau said. “And I suppose this is yours.”

The drive to get to Canada, the ability to put Lorelei in his rearview mirror…it all came crashing down. Because the truth was plain. He was hurt, scared, and reeling from her rejection. From the loss of a future he’d dared to imagine. “Look, no offense, but I’m freaking out here.” Because he’d lost her. The only woman he’d ever loved. The mother of his child.

And he didn’t know what to do about it.

You can’t make someone love you.

Listen to her father. That’s what you should do. “I’m not thinking clearly. Can you just talk to me?”

“You understand that her boyfriend and her best friend had an affair right under her nose, right? For a year. So, I think you can give her the benefit of the doubt if she feels threatened when she finds out your partner’s a woman. One you’ve had many experiences with. Rightly or wrongly, from an outsider’s perspective, it sure looks like a friends-with-benefits situation.”

“It’s not. We’ve never seen each other like that.”

“Okay, but you walked away from Lorelei before you made sure she understood that. Can you understand the impact that might have on her? You say you want a future with her, but at the very moment you had a chance to prove your trustworthiness, you gave up on her.”

“Wait a minute⁠—”

But Beau raised a hand to shut him up. “Sure, you corrected her impression once, but can you imagine how upsetting it might be for her to know that every time you go to New York, you’ll be with the same woman you’ve been close to for years?”

“But I’ve never—” His jaw snapped shut. It didn’t matter what he’d done or how he viewed George. What mattered was how Lorelei processed the information she’d just received.

“Instead of reassuring her—through words and actions for as long as it takes her to finally trust you—you showed her you can easily walk away from her when you hit your first bump in the road. And I can promise you, there will be more. And they’ll be much harder than this one. So, stop taking stupid pills. This one is easily solved. Unless you don’t want to solve it?”

“Of course, I do. But that only works if they love you back. And you know what kept me up last night? Remembering all the times I told her how happy she made me, how much I wanted her, and not once did she say anything like that to me. So, the fact remains. She doesn’t feel the same way.”

“And how many times do you think she told her ex she loved him? All while he was involved with someone else. Think that might be a little humiliating?” Beau reached for his mug. “Well, it seems I’m the one taking stupid pills this morning.” He took a sip of the steaming coffee. “I thought you genuinely loved her.”

“I do. I love her.”

Beau looked him right in the eyes. “A man doesn’t walk away from love. A man fights for it.”

* * *

The moment the married couple set off on their honeymoon, and the guests packed up and left, Lorelei hightailed it to the conservatory. She needed to process.

So much confusion.

So much heartache.

While she warmed up, she thought about Stevie. Her parents were bringing her home, and she couldn’t wait to get back to the routine she loved so very much. She tried hard to stay focused on that, on the good in her life, the world she’d built…

But she couldn’t stop seeing Booker’s angry expression when she’d told him they’d gotten carried away.

They had, though. That was a fair thing to say, wasn’t it?

She hadn’t meant to push him away.

Forget warming up. Words came spilling out of her.

I can’t love you

I can’t want you

I just can’t

Because you cut and run

You don’t stay

You only see mirages

I am real.

I am love, I’m fire and pain

I’m bits and pieces, forever broken

Can you see them?

Instead of running

Can you heal them?

Love is staying

Love is working

Love is fighting

With each other and for each other.

I am real.

I am love, I’m fire and pain

I’m bits and pieces, forever broken

Can you see them?

Instead of running

Can you heal them?

When her mind went quiet, her fingers stilled.

The tight space in her chest opened a little, and she felt better.

“Hey.”

“Jesus.” She practically jumped off the bench. “Jude.”

His big body filled the doorway. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt. Just wanted to tell you we’re heading out.”

“Oh, okay.” She didn’t know why she was so flustered. Jude and the guys got to hear all of her workshopped songs. This one, though…it was just so personal. It was meant for her ears only. She got up and headed over to him. “Let me get my phone so I can pay you.”

“Later. Next time you’re at the bar.”

“I guess you know I’m good for it.”

He arched a brow. “We know where you live.”

She smiled. “Yeah, yeah. I’m shaking in my boots.”

He started to go, but then, he said, “It goes both ways, you know?”

“What does?”

“The staying. The fighting for a relationship.”

“Not with him. He’s got a history of doing this.” When he’d thought his friends didn’t care about him, he’d slammed the door and moved on. When his mom explained the adoption papers, he’d walked away from her. When he found out his boss’s true nature, he’d quit and never spoke to the man again.

“Yeah, but you said you’re broken. So’s he. We’ve all got baggage.” Jude watched her. “Is what you have worth fighting for?”

He’d punched right through her walls.

She’d been lying to herself, thinking she’d be happy to get back to her routine, being content with the life she’d built.

Who am I kidding?

Her heart needed Slick to be healed.

Her life needed Slick to be whole.

Her family needed Slick to be complete.

“Yes,” she said.

“You want him to heal your broken pieces?” Jude asked.

She nodded.

“Maybe you can do the same for him.”

* * *

Booker was waiting for his connecting flight when the call came in.

He smiled when he saw the three faces on his screen and got out of his seat before hitting Accept. “Hang on. Let me go somewhere private. I never know what’s going to come out of your filthy mouths.”

“Hey, man, we’re dads now,” Cole said. “We don’t talk like that anymore.”

“We sure the fuck don’t,” Jaime said.

“Watch it. There might be children around me.” Booker headed toward a remote section of the gate. He loved that they called. It was like their friendship hadn’t skipped a beat. “So, what’s up? Let me guess. Which one of you needs an agent? Who needs a contract reviewed?”

“Fuck off,” Cole said. “You’re lucky I wasn’t around when you said that.”

“Why, because you’d hurt me with your movie star smile?” Booker asked.

“I’m trying to remember which one of us has won a Cup,” Cole said. “Oh, right. That would have to be me. You never did get on the ice, did you?”

Jaime’s eyebrows shot up, and Declan said, “Low blow, brother. Real low.”

“What do you want?” Booker asked, pretending to be annoyed. “I’m about to board a plane.”

“You seemed off last night,” Declan said. “We wanted to see what’s up.”

“Shit.” He hoped he hadn’t ruined Ginty’s wedding.

But Jaime held up a hand. “You were fine.”

“No one noticed a thing,” Declan said.

“Except us.” Cole lost his smile. “Something happened between you and Lorelei. You went from lovey-dovey to steering clear of each other.”

Down below, on the tarmac, people in reflective vests loaded the luggage, but all Booker could see was the look in Lorelei’s eyes when she’d told him they’d gotten carried away. “Things fell apart.”

“How’s that?” Declan asked.

“My partners won’t change the terms of our contract, so I can’t work remotely.”

“And Lorelei doesn’t want to do long distance?” Jaime asked.

He wished it were that simple. But the truth was so much worse. “She doesn’t want me.”

Not enough.

She wanted a father for her child. Which she had. Nothing would keep him away from his daughter. But it would kill him to see his hellcat in love with another man. To hear about Stevie’s dad—who’d deserve the title more than he would if he was only dropping in for visits now and then.

“I’m sorry,” Declan said. “That surprises me. I saw the way she was looking at you.”

“Yeah, well, we rushed into things. The bubble popped. And now it’s time for me to get back to the real world.”

“So, what does this mean for your daughter?” Cole would ask that, considering the fact he had four of them.

“I’m not walking away.” He saw from their expressions that he might’ve sounded defensive.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Declan said.

“I’ll be there as often as I can. I’ll talk to her every day…” What else could he do?

“You could quit your job,” Jaime said.

“And do what?” Booker asked, his voice rising in frustration.

“You know what,” Cole said.

“You own the Renegades,” Declan said. “You work with us.”

“At the end of the day, you’ve got to know what matters,” Cole said. “And it’s not your career or money. It’s your family. Your daughter.”

“And the woman you love,” Declan said.

“She doesn’t love me.” Booker turned his back on the window.

“Maybe you haven’t known each other long enough for it to turn into the kind of love you want, but we all saw you together,” Jaime said. “If you walk away right now, it’ll never grow into something deeper.”

“But what if it’s one-sided?” he asked. “What if it’s not real?”

“Real is something you make,” Declan said. “It’s something you work on and fight for. If you walk away, you’ll never have a chance.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Driven to clear his name, Booker spent the flight working on his pitch to the Marchaud family.

This meeting was his last shot, and he had to nail it. He had to find a way to speak the truth without using derogatory language toward Marcus. It was critical to lead with the facts and not emotion. He’d share his perspective on agenting and why some of his most successful athletes chose to leave the bigger firms for the more advisory role he offered.

After that, he’d leave the decision in their hands.

He had a good argument. He felt confident.

And yet, nothing felt right. The seat was uncomfortable, the water tasted funky, and the words swam on the tablet’s screen.

Halfway through the flight, he figured out why. It took that long for the truth to worm its way up from the depths of his mind.

He’d walked away from his family.

His heart.

The absolute love of his fucking life.

He’d walked away from her.

Once he saw it, his partners, the Marchauds…everything else became background noise. And with every mile, the panic grew.

Because he knew her. Knew what she’d gone through. Of course, she’d freak out to learn that George was a woman.

And instead of reassuring her, instead of giving her the transparency she needed—I’ve never been attracted to her. I don’t see her that way—instead of easing her mind, he’d decided what they had wasn’t real, and he’d gone back to work.

As soon as he got off the plane in Ontario, he found the nearest empty seat and pulled out his phone. First, he called George.

She answered immediately. “Oh, thank God. I’ve texted you a hundred times. I messed it all up. I’m sorry. I was so nervous meeting my idol, and I couldn’t stop babbling, and I ruined everything. All I wanted was to let her know you’re a good guy and that she can trust you—I mean, you slept in the same bed with me as a teenager, and you didn’t make a move—but I made it sound like we were fuck buddies.”

That’s exactly what it sounded like. How could he have been so insensitive? His gut churned, and he felt sick to his stomach. What’s she thinking right now? He’d left her miserable and doubting his feelings. “It’s not your fault. It’s all on me. I did what I always do. I got my little baby feelings hurt, and I ran.”

He’d done it with his friends.

He’d done it with his mother.

And he’d done it with Marcus.

“It’s not baby feelings.” George got even more worked up. “Being kicked out of a friend group is one of those mile-markers in life, and I can’t even imagine finding out my dad wasn’t my biological father. But look at you. You’ve never let any of it hold you back. You just keep building your life and your career…I admire you.”

“I walk away. That’s what I do. There’s nothing to admire about that.”

“Everyone sees Booker, the smart businessman, but only a few of us get to see the real you, the man with a huge heart. And this time, with Lorelei, you showed her all of you. You fell in love. Of course you’re going to be triggered when it falls apart. Do you want me to go see her? I can set her straight.”

“No. I’m the one who needs to apologize. It was my job to earn her trust.” And if she’d let him, he would do just that. No more running. He would tell her as many times as she needed to hear that he loved her and that he knew without a shadow of a doubt there was no one else in the world for him.

“I shouldn’t have told those stupid stories,” George said.

“You’re right. I should’ve told them to her before she even met you. She needs transparency. I don’t think of you as a woman⁠—”

“Hey, now,” she joked.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know how you meant it.”

“But I should’ve told her everything, so she wouldn’t have had to make stories up in her head.”

“Okay, so what can I do?”

“I’m quitting.”

“No. Dammit, Booker. I told them this would happen if they didn’t let you work remotely, but they called bullshit. Said you had too much invested in this agency to walk away. But they didn’t see you with Lorelei and Stevie. You’re your best self out there.”

“I know.” The idea of going back to the concrete and steel world of New York City…it was unthinkable. In Calamity, he had wide open spaces where he could think and breathe. He had his friends.

Fuck. He had his friends back. He would never take that for granted.

And he had his daughter. There was no way he’d miss out on soccer games and dance recitals. No way some stepdad would be there to help her through her first breakup.

Not a chance.

“Are you going to start your own agency? Because there’s a noncompete clause.”

“If I were going to, I wouldn’t honor it. They can’t inhibit my ability to earn a living⁠—”

“Yeah, yeah.” George laughed. “I’m a lawyer, too. I get it. But really, what’re you going to do?”

What I was meant to do all along. “Work with my friends.”

“You’re going to take over ownership of the Renegades?” She sounded surprised.

“Yeah, I am.” A sense of rightness took over him.

All around him, passengers gathered, waiting to board. A man wolfed down a sandwich. A mom nursed her baby while she read something on her phone.

No one could see the monumental shift inside him.

“What’re you going to do about the Marchauds?” George asked.

“You know something? They can screw themselves. I gave them more time and commitment than any other athlete in my career. And then some dude comes along they don’t even know, and they buy into his crap when he bad-mouths me? They can go fuck themselves.”

For the first time, it became clear. As a kid, he’d suffered a trauma, and he didn’t have the maturity to call his friends out. Had he done that, he would’ve found out they’d tried to see him. That they still cared.

It had never been a mirage.

He’d iced out his mom over an omission. His parents made a choice. And whether he agreed with it or not, it didn’t affect the truth: his dad had loved him, and he’d had a pretty damn idyllic childhood.

No mirages there.

And yeah, maybe Marcus had preyed on his vulnerability after the loss of his dad, but that wasn’t a mirage. That was bad judgment during a rough time in his life.

“I’m done investing time in them.” He got up and headed to the desk to change his return flight.

Like Declan said, if he didn’t want a mirage, he had to give everything he had to the relationships that mattered.

“So, where are you going right now?” she asked.

“Home.” An electric warmth spread through him. “I’m going home.”

* * *

When she’d gotten the call from Slater Vaughn, the lead singer of Blue Fire, asking if she wanted to open for them at the Owl Hoot Summer Music Festival, Lorelei had answered with a resounding no.

She was exhausted from the wedding, devastated over losing Booker, and terrified she was irrevocably broken.

But then, as she’d headed into the conservatory to work on a song, the lights had gone off in her head.

For most of her life, she’d been driven to succeed in the music industry. Then, she had a baby and devoted herself to being a stay-at-home mom. She’d gone from one singular obsession to another.

Wasn’t it time to find a middle ground? Lyrics and melodies bubbled out of the eternal spring in her soul. They couldn’t be denied. And it was time to do something about it.

She could be a mom and fulfill her creative spirit.

So, she’d called him right back. She wouldn’t be the opening act—she didn’t have a band or a set—but she’d love to sing a few of her new songs. She’d finally reinvented herself, and she was ready to own it.

Now, she stood backstage at the amphitheater as the band finished its set.

“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Blue Fire!” the announcer shouted.

The audience went wild.

“Encore,” several people shouted.

“Come back, Slater fucking Vaughn,” someone called.

“We love you.”

The band headed offstage, handing off their guitars in exchange for the towels the roadies gave them to wipe the sweat off their faces.

Since they had very different styles, their paths didn’t cross much. Sure, they’d see each other at awards and festivals, but they’d only spent real time together at Gigi Cavanaugh’s recording studio here in Calamity.

“Still a heartthrob after all these years,” she teased the lead singer.

“Tell that to my six-year-old,” Slater said. “She told me she likes Cooper better.”

Cooper grinned. “Yeah, but that’s only because I slid her a lollipop when you weren’t looking.”

When Slater lunged for him, Cooper ducked, and everyone cracked up. “You laugh until you’re the one who walks on stage with a red lollipop sticking to your hair,” Slater said.

“I don’t know how you keep up with all this while raising your families,” she said, genuinely curious. Because she missed music and sneaking off to the bar or stealing a few hours a week in her conservatory wasn’t going to cut it.

“We all live on the same property in the mountains, so we raise our kids together,” Slater said. “We only tour every other year, and the rest of the time, we’re writing or recording. We make our lives as family-friendly as we can.”

“Otherwise, we’d quit,” Calix said. “Family comes first.”

“The only time we’re apart is for tours and retreats,” Derek said.

And there it was. Right there. Her heart pounded. “You ever think of doing one here in Calamity?”

“A retreat?” Slater’s gaze wandered to the mountain ranges surrounding the valley. “We haven’t but this place is cool. And it’s not too far from home.”

“Did you have someplace in mind?” Derek asked.

But the MC had just announced her surprise appearance, and the crowd had begun chanting, “Lorelei, Lorelei, Lorelei.”

She smiled. “I sure do.”

“You better get out there,” Slater said.

“We’ll be in touch, yeah?” Derek asked.

She answered with a smile because she knew she was going to make her dream come true. Knew it.

Waving to the audience, she crossed the stage to the piano. She didn’t have a speech, no choreography, just a hurricane of emotion she needed to work out. The crowd was going wild for her, but she had to block it all out and stay focused.

Once, it had been such a thrill. She’d mistaken the crowd’s adoration for love.

Now, she knew what real love felt like. It felt like her dad getting into her bed in the middle of the night after he’d heard her sobbing and hugging her until she fell asleep. It felt like Slick making a garland of popcorn for her when all he wanted was to be alone in his cabin. It felt like Stevie nursing in the rocking chair, her blond hair silver in the moonlight.

“Thanks so much.” She waved. “It’s been a while, so I appreciate that you guys still welcome me back to the stage. I’ve been working on a few songs. They’re different from what you’re used to, so you can let me know what you think.”

“We love anything you do,” someone shouted.

“Because we love you,” a woman called.

“That means more to me than you know.” As her fingers settled over the keys, roadies were busy getting ready for the next performance.

No, she didn’t have a band, and she didn’t have a set list, but she had her voice, her fingers, and a melody in her mind.

She shut out the noise, the crowd, and the expectations, and immersed herself in him.

Booker Hayes.

The love of her life.

The man she’d pushed away because she’d been too cowardly to trust him.

I can’t love you

I can’t want you

I just can’t

Because you cut and run

You don’t stay

You only see mirages

I am real.

I am love, I’m fire and pain

I’m bits and pieces forever broken

Can you see them?

Instead of running

Can you help heal them?

Love is staying

Love is working

Love is fighting

With each other and for each other.

I am real.

I am love, I’m fire and pain

I’m bits and pieces forever broken

Can you see them?

Instead of running

Can you help heal them?

From out of nowhere, her song took a new direction. One that felt so right, she closed her eyes and let the words flow.

If my scars map the loves I have lived

Then, I want you to be the destination

You’re my home.

Let me be yours

I know that you’re mine

I’m yours

And you’re mine.

There was absolute silence when she finished her song. But it didn’t make her nervous. She wasn’t writing for the fans of Lorelei Calloway. She was writing to understand herself and to fulfill her creative spirit.

She was about to get up, unsure if she wanted to share more songs with them, when someone shouted, “Holy shit.” And then, the audience broke into thunderous applause.

Her heart could barely contain the joy of knowing how much they loved her new material. But that wasn’t it, was it? That wasn’t the source of the joy.

The source was knowing her heart. Knowing she was a woman who could handle anything life threw at her and come out better, stronger, and more enlightened. It was knowing she’d found the one man—the only man—in the world for her.

She felt his presence as if he stood offstage, smiling at her, proud of her. She couldn’t help scanning the crowd for him, moving across faces with bright eyes and giddy smiles. But she didn’t see him.

That was okay. They’d find their way back to each other.

There was no doubt about that.

Just when she was ready to start her next song, her gaze snagged on a familiar face.

Landon. The child on his shoulders fisted and pulled his hair, his features red from a tantrum. Another child struggled to break out of his arms. Her ex looked haggard, and where the lowering sun glanced off the top of his head, she thought she saw a bald patch. Beside him, a very pregnant Cissy—her hair greasy and lank—shouted in his ear, her mouth in a snarl. He jerked away from her, but she yanked him back, pointing to her pregnant belly.

They looked miserable.

And really, who brought babies to a rock concert?

It was none of her business, so she went back to the piano and shared her heart with a couple thousand fans.

* * *

Turns out, there was a code for the gate. Only four people knew it, though.

Lorelei, Beau, Margot…

And now Booker, because Beau had given it to him.

He drove through, smiling like a fool. Ever since leaving town all those years ago, he’d been on a mission to prove himself worthy, to make his friends regret forgetting about him.

He’d accomplished everything he’d wanted. He had success, money…

Yeah, that was about it. Success and money.

What he didn’t have was friendships. Love. The good stuff, that was all here in Calamity.

But I’m back now. And finally, his head aligned with his heart.

He didn’t even know if Hellcat was back from the amphitheater yet. He’d caught her performance at the music festival, but he wasn’t sure if she’d hang around to see the next act.

If she wasn’t home yet, that was okay. He’d wait.

He had the rest of his life to win her back. And he’d do it. He’d never give up.

Their love was worth it.

When he reached the rise in the road, he noticed something new.

A white picket fence enclosed her home. That made no sense. When had she done that? He’d been gone a total of two days.

Moments later, he parked and got out of the rental car. Breathing in the pine-scented air, he headed up the walkway and rang the bell. Excitement had his heart spinning wheelies. He couldn’t wait to see her. More than anything, he wanted her to throw herself into his arms. He wanted to see her features light up, to feel the relief in her hug. He wanted her to welcome him home.

But if she wasn’t ready, he’d give her space. He’d buy a place not far from here. Or stay in her dad’s lodge. He’d be nearby, close enough to help her at a moment’s notice.

He’d earn her trust one moment and one deed at a time.

When no one answered, he turned the knob. It was locked, so he pulled out his phone to text her, but before he could hit Send, he heard her shouting.

“Moto. Moto. Dammit, Moto, get over here.”

Was she saying Moto—as in master of the obvious?

He followed her voice, and when he came around the side of the house, he saw a black, tan, and white furball racing in wide circles around the yard. Holding a leash in one hand and a dog biscuit in the other, Hellcat followed the puppy’s movement. “Look, Moto.” She waved the biscuit. “I have a yummy treat for you.” She stomped her foot. “And this is why I don’t have time for a damn dog.”

He grinned. “Not on your own, you don’t.”

She whipped around, her jaw hanging open when she saw him.

“Are you in a hurry to get somewhere?” he asked.

“No, I just got home. My parents will be here in half an hour with Stevie. What are you doing here?” Her dog whizzed past her. “Moto!”

“You named him Moto?”

“Yes.” Hope shone in those bright, blue eyes.

He couldn’t believe it. Not only that she’d named her dog after his dad’s call sign, but because she wouldn’t have done it if she hadn’t—“You forgive me?”

“Of course, I do. We just both got scared, you know? I told you I got carried away with the idea of having a father for Stevie, and you heard, This is all a lie. God, Slick, I couldn’t have shoved you out the door harder. Look, I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m an idiot. I know you didn’t sleep with George.” She reared back. “You didn’t, right? Not even once?”

“Not even⁠—”

“Don’t answer that.” She waved her hands. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t care what you did before me. I know you’d never cheat on me. I know you.”

The dog ran circles around their legs. They stepped closer together to get out of the path of the whirling dervish.

He grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Hellcat, I’ve never slept with George. I’ve never kissed George. I’ve never seen her that way. And even if you need to ask me ten times a day for the rest of our lives, I promise to answer you patiently and honestly. You never have to be careful with me. You can tell me when you’re worried, and when you’re overthinking. You can be real with me. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I can tell you she’s gorgeous, and you’re an idiot for not at least making out with her?”

“Trust me. She doesn’t want to make out with me any more than I want to make out with her.”

“But why? How? You’re both so hot.”

“I think we needed siblings more than we needed to hook up.”

“I love you.” She cupped his cheeks. “You’ve been so generous with your heart, and I’ve been stingy. With my ex, I felt like such a fool. Everyone knew what was going on except for me. The only reason no one said anything was because they wanted to be part of the Lorelei Calloway Band. But I’m not going to be stingy ever again. I’m going to tell you how handsome you are. How smart and clever. How good you make me feel. How kind and generous and loving you are. And how much I want you.”

The dog ran even tighter circles, forcing them to take yet another step closer.

“I love you, too. You’re the best person I know, and there’s no one else I want to spend my life with than you and Stevie and our five other kids.”

“Be careful there, Slick. You have no idea how much I want a big family. And where did you come up with five?”

“You can have six on the ice at a time, so we either have six kids or twelve.”

She laughed. “So, the man who didn’t want kids is good with a brood of twelve?”

“The idea of children doesn’t interest me. But I want a family with you.” He cupped her chin. “You make beautiful babies. Please make me more.”

Her grin was like a burst of fireworks in a midnight sky. It was an injection of joy straight to the heart. “My God. I didn’t know I could love someone this much.” She got that crease between her eyebrows. “But what’s going to happen with your career? I don’t want to hold you back from reaching any of your goals. I trust you to work with George—and any other woman. I really do.” Her eyes widened. “Of course, if you want us to move to New York, we can talk about that. Stevie hasn’t started school yet, so it doesn’t really matter where we live.” She glanced around her property, and he could read it all in her eyes.

“I love it here, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather raise our family. But sweetheart, I don’t care where I live as long as it’s with you. You’re my home. My happiness. My heart.”

“I’m such an idiot. To think I almost lost you.”

He shook his head. “Impossible. We’re meant for each other. And if winding up in that random cabin doesn’t convince you about that, then winding up in the same wedding party two and a half years later should.”

She laughed. “Oh, so Mr. Big Bad Businessman believes in magic, huh?”

“Now that I’ve met you, I do.”

Tears glistened, and she melted into his arms. “But what will you do here?”

“I quit my job, and I made an appointment with the attorney to take ownership of the team.”

Her features softened, and she pinched his hand. “Is this real? It doesn’t seem possible to have all my dreams come true.”

“With a love as big as ours, some hard work, and the help of a little magic, we’ll make our dreams come true. Together.”

Epilogue

Pink, blue, and white balloons bounced and bobbed in a light summer breeze as kids with Velcro beanies chased each other around the lawn, tossing balls at each other’s heads.

What started out as a baby shower for Declan’s wife had turned into a big barbecue when the guys got back from taking the kids to the lake for lunch. Most of the guests had left about an hour ago, but Booker’s friends and their wives stayed.

Of course, when Beau, Margot, Jessa, and Walker came by to deliver a gift for Hellcat, they’d wound up staying, too, since Colt had joined the pack of kids and there was no pulling him away.

“Your child needs some help,” Jaime’s wife said to him as she brought out a tray of cupcakes she’d just whipped up.

Everyone looked over to see the couple’s two-year-old son trying to place his hat on Moto’s head, but the dog kept darting and dodging.

“Well, that answer’s the age-old question,” Cole said. “Coordination isn’t genetic.”

Laughter broke out, the bonfire snapped and sparked, and the air was scented with smoke, pine, and fresh mountain air. With Hellcat on his lap, contentment seeped into Booker’s bones. He was a happy man.

“He’s not even two.” Jaime pretended to be offended. “And that dog’s feral.”

“Kind of like your daughter.” Phinny tipped her chin to one of Cole’s twins, who shouted like a Highlander racing into battle while pursuing the older kids with an armful of balls and pummeling them.

While the group cracked up, Cole sat back in his Adirondack chair. “That’s my girl.”

“Meanwhile, there’s our child.” Hellcat had her arm around his neck, her ass parked on his lap, as she pointed. Stevie, who’d been right in the thick of things all day, was lying on the grass, one ankle propped on a bent knee, as she blew the fluff off a dandelion.

“She’s taking a break.” His heart swelled with love for his little girl, the light of his life. “And she doesn’t give a rat’s ass what the other kids think of her.” He admired his daughter’s independent spirit.

“She definitely knows her own mind.”

He kissed her upper arm. “We make good babies. I can’t wait to meet this one.” He pressed his palm flat on her pregnant belly. He loved to feel the little guy move. Of course, at nine months, there wasn’t much room left in there.

Soon…

“Me, too. Blaze is ready to come out.” She gave him a mischievous smile. “I can tell.”

“Right?” They couldn’t decide on a name. She wanted Cash, for Johnny Cash, or Mick, for Mick Jagger. He wanted to name the baby after his dad. Dylan Hayes. It had become a running joke throughout the pregnancy. “As soon as I meet Thor, I think I’ll cry.”

Hellcat broke into a smile. “I can’t wait to show you the personalized night-light I got him. He’ll get to see his name up on the ceiling.” She made a sweeping motion with her hand. “Moose.”

Cracking up, he tightened his hold, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. They were a bundle of love, and he’d never been happier in his life. God, he loved this woman. She was everything to him.

“Lorelei?” Cole’s wife called. “Moto just ate the bag of marshmallows. Do you have another one?”

“And when she says ate the bag...” Declan held up the empty bag, torn to shreds from canine teeth. “She means it literally.”

“Oh, my God, that dog.” Hellcat started to get up, but he held on to her firmly.

“We’ve got plenty.” Rising out of the chair with her in his arms, he set her down and kissed her on the mouth. “I got it.” He got about halfway to the house when a shriek had him turning around, but it was just a couple of the kids landing in a pile and Moto licking their faces.

Booker took in the scene. His best friends in the world laughed and told stories around a bonfire. His daughter scissored her arms and legs as if making snow angels in the grass. And Hellcat was surrounded by friends and family and pregnant with their second child. She looked radiant.

And that was when it struck him.

Why the hell aren’t we married?

A year ago, right after he’d quit his job, Hellcat had started her retreat for musicians, and he’d taken over ownership of the Renegades. He got to work with his friends every single day. He even got to free skate with them a couple times a week.

It had been a hectic time, and now, she was about to bring their second child into the world. They just hadn’t had a chance to plan a wedding.

But the baby would come any day now, so when would they ever have time?

Enough putting it off.

Enough waiting.

The setting sun painted the sky purple and orange, and the evening light cast silver tones in Hellcat’s blond hair.

I’m putting a ring on her finger.

Before he grabbed the marshmallows, he ran up to their bedroom and slipped into the closet. A small section of the built-in cubbies was reserved for his shoes, but he didn’t remember which one held the blue velvet box.

Was it the black dress shoes? He shoved a hand inside each one and found nothing.

Oh, shit.

He didn’t remember. The hiking boots? That would make sense. They were the largest. But no, those were empty, too.

Well, hell.

He’d designed the ring nearly a year ago, and it had taken several months to find the right diamonds—they had to be the perfect quality and shape for the tiered design.

“Daddy?” Stevie stood behind him. “You gots the marshmallows? I’m hungry.”

His little girl had dandelion fluff in her hair and a smear of chocolate on her chin. She looked exhausted. “Come here, love.” He lifted her into his arms and settled in the gliding rocker Hellcat’s family had bought her at the festival that afternoon. It was meant for late-night nursing but was perfect for early-evening cuddling.

He hummed her favorite Lorelei Calloway song, the one that had her dancing across the kitchen while they cooked. Only, he slowed it way down. As he rocked, he stroked her hair, and she let out a satisfied sigh.

He’d done it. He’d been there for his little girl. He’d let her know every day—every minute of her life—she was loved. She was Daddy’s little girl.

With his daughter collapsed against him, he relaxed fully, and that was when he remembered where he’d put the ring. He’d slipped in through the kitchen door, hiked up the back stairs, and just when he’d reached his closet, he’d heard Hellcat calling for him. He’d planned on hiding the box in his hiking shoe, but he’d tossed it onto the top shelf just seconds before she’d found him.

“Daddy?” his sleepy daughter asked.

He would never get tired of hearing that word. “Yeah, peanut?”

“Can I have s’mores now?”

He laughed. “Of course, you can.” But before he got up, he shot Hellcat a text message.

Booker: Emergency in cabin twelve.

He glanced out the window to see the orange flames dancing in the firepit, the kids lying on their backs under a graying sky, all of them holding hands like a human chain, and Hellcat checking her phone. Gripping the arms of her chair, she heaved herself up and waddled over to the cabins.

With the ring in his pocket and his daughter on his hip, he hurried downstairs and tossed the bag of marshmallows to Declan, who caught it and told the kids to find sticks long enough for the fire.

“You got Stevie?” he asked his friend.

“Of course.” Declan reached for the little girl, and she went easily into his arms.

Booker headed straight for the cabins. Each step brought him closer to the love of his life. She’d left the door open, so he walked right in and found her in the yellow glow of lamplight.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “I checked the bathroom. The plumbing’s fine.”

“You’re gorgeous.” Damn, he couldn’t wait to marry her.

Her features melted. “Even when I’m the size of a whale, you still make me feel sexy and wanted.”

“Oh, I want you all right. I want you forever.” He dropped to a knee. “Hellcat, I can hardly remember when having a big career was my highest value. I can hardly remember the rush of a big bonus check. But you know what I do remember? How it felt that first morning in the cabin when I came out of the bedroom to find you dancing.”

Her features pinkened prettily. “It was cold.”

“And I remember the loneliness I felt when I got back to work. Even though I’d only known you a short time, I felt closer to you than I’d ever felt to anyone. With you, I’m my best self.”

She nodded. “Yes. I feel the same way.” Tears welled. “Exactly.”

“The bond I feel with you is so big, it knocked down my walls and gave me no choice but to pay attention to my heart, and even though I feel married to you in every way possible, I want to make it official. Lorelei Annabella Gentry, will you make my heart sing for the rest of my life?”

Big, fat tears spilled down her cheeks. “Are you kidding me? That’s the most beautiful proposal I’ve ever heard.” She pressed a hand over her heart. “Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes.”

He pulled the box out of his pocket and cracked it open.

She gasped when she saw the ring. “What in the world? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

After he slid it onto her finger, she held up her hand to take in the tiara-shaped taper of diamonds. The bottom was a straight line, and the top crested on either side to make it look like a crown. “It’s stunning.”

“You’re a queen, a goddess, you’re everything beautiful and powerful in this world.” He stood, pulling her into his arms and holding her tightly against him. “And I swear to God, I will work every day of my life to be a better man so I can love you and cherish you the way you deserve.” She threw herself into his arms, and they clung to each other. “I love you, Hellcat. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

He tipped her chin and kissed her lightly, sweetly, but his heart swelled with so much affection for this woman that the kiss turned deeper, ravenous. She clutched at him, frustrated by the big belly keeping them from aligning their bodies. Sweeping her off her feet and into his arms, he carried her to the bed⁠—

Shouting and chaos outside burst into the cabin. Moto raced in with a bag of chocolate bars in his mouth.

“Grab him,” Cole shouted.

“Don’t let him eat chocolate,” Declan called.

And then, everyone crammed into the cabin, coming to a comical stop when they found him carrying Hellcat like a bride over a threshold.

“Are you all right?” Phinny asked with concern.

Jaime swiped the bag out of Moto’s mouth and asked, “What’s going on?”

Hellcat cast Booker a questioning look, and he nodded. Hell, yes, we’re telling them.

He wanted to race up to the summit and shout it to the world. I’m marrying the love of my life!

“Well, two things. One…” She held out her hand. “We’re engaged.”

Everyone gathered around them with hugs, slaps on the back, and congratulations.

“I’m so happy for you, punkin,” her dad said.

“Oh, that’s a gorgeous ring,” Margot said.

“Stunning,” Jaime’s wife said.

While the women gushed over the ring, his friends clustered around him. No one said a single word, but he read every one of their expressions.

Good job.

Well done.

I’m happy for you, man.

“What’s the second thing?” Phinny asked.

Hellcat grimaced. “My water broke.” She beamed a smile at Booker. “You ready to meet Dylan?”

“You serious?” he whispered past the knot in his throat.

She nodded, and he kissed the tear that trickled down her cheek. “Thank you,” he said right before he kissed her on the mouth.

“Let’s go to the hospital,” Cole said.

“Who’s staying with the kids?” Declan asked.

He let the group figure things out, as he carried his fiancée into the house to grab her bag and get ready to bring their son into the world.

* * *

Thank you for reading NEVER IN MY WILDEST DREAMS! Do you want more of Slick and Hellcat?! Well, you heard the proposal—now, be there for the wedding! You’re going to swoon when you find out where they tie the knot!  https://BookHip.com/BJWSHQT

What’s up next in Calamity Falls? Everyone’s been dying to read about Trevor Montgomery, the sexy, kilt-wearing father of Cole, our beloved hockey player who adopted two little girls. Look for his Christmas love story coming November 2024!

And if you love a grumpy, tatted hockey player and want to see him fall head over heels in love with the spoiled socialite he’s forced to live with for a month, you’re going to love THE DEEPER I FALL! This one’s the first in the Renegades Hockey series!

Need more Calamity Falls, where the people are wild at heart?

The Bowie Brothers

KEEP ON LOVING YOU

WE BELONG TOGETHER

THE VERY THOUGHT OF YOU

JUST THE WAY YOU ARE

The Cavanaugh Sisters

IT WAS ALWAYS YOU

CAN’T HELP FALLING IN LOVE

COME AWAY WITH ME

WHOLE LOTTA LOVE

YOU’RE STILL THE ONE

The Renegades (Hockey)

THE DEEPER I FALL

LOVE ME LIKE YOU DO

TRULY, MADLY, DEEPLY

NEVER IN MY WILDEST DREAMS

Standalone

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU

The Wild Wolff Village Serials

KISS ME SLOWLY

ANYWHERE WITH YOU

BABY I’M YOURS

Have you read the Rock Star Romance series? Come meet the sexy rockers of Blue Fire:

YOU REALLY GOT ME

I WANT YOU TO WANT ME

TAKE ME HOME TONIGHT

MORE THAN A FEELING

Grab a FREE copy of PLANES, TRAINS, AND HEAD OVER HEELS. And come hang out with me on Facebook, TikTok, Twitter, Instagram, Goodreads, and Pinterest or in my private reader group.

Read an excerpt from THE DEEPER I FALL!

Excerpt of The Deeper I Fall

The taxi had left Phinny in front of the massive wood and iron gate guarding Kurt’s property. She should ring the buzzer, ask to be let in, but she didn’t want to go into that house yet.

She didn’t want to be here at all.

How could he do this to her? What had she ever done to cause him to be so cruel? She’d been six years old when she’d thrown a fit about visiting him. Of course she hadn’t wanted to leave her mummy and fly across the world to spend time with a man she barely knew. Why would he punish her for that?

And, really, what effort had he ever made to get to know her?

The sun beat down on her head, and cars roared by on the four-lane highway connecting the Tetons to the town she’d just left behind. A cool breeze rustled the sagebrush bushes and carried the scent of wildflowers.

I want to go home.

Of course, she didn’t have a home anymore. She had a house she shared with four strangers. She felt very much alone in her little room, but it was nothing like this. She wanted to call her mum, but she couldn’t deal with the rant that would surely follow the news about the contest. If she still had friends, she’d call them. Only a few months ago, they would’ve rallied around her and showered her with advice.

They’d probably tell her to flirt with the hockey boy until he was so besotted, he’d walk away from the competition. Then, she could sell the ranch and get on with it.

Never eat ramen noodles again! Ha ha!

But of course, they didn’t know she ate ramen now. They didn’t know anything about her life anymore.

And they hadn’t met Declan Cadell. Seriously, they didn’t make men like that in her world. He was big, tattooed, and rough-looking. If she’d run into him at the Tube station on her way home after a night of clubbing, she’d have been scared.

His dirty blond hair brushed the collar of his white dress shirt, and he’d rolled up the sleeves to his elbows, exposing the tattoos that covered his muscular arms.

He looked mean. He looked hard. He looked…

Delicious.

A shiver tripped down her spine. And just when she’d thought she’d read him all wrong, when he’d been sweet enough to hand over the ranch because it was the right thing to do, she’d talked about selling it and…whoo boy, he’d turned into the kind of man you don’t mess with.

And now here I am, stuck in this Cowtown for a month.

A month.

Pressure built behind her eyes, and she blinked back tears. Battling with more emotions than she could sort through, she wished she hadn’t checked out of the motel. She wanted nothing more than to hide under the covers and eat a packet of biscuits. But she had to stay here because Kurt had given her no choice, and now, she had to see this through.

She had to win, sell the ranch, and gain the kind of financial security that meant she would never again face the terrifying threat of not having enough money to eat or pay for a roof over her head.

Right, so let’s get going. Splashing around in fear would lead nowhere. She pressed the intercom button. Hitching her purse higher on her shoulder, she faced the gate, ready to stride on through. But it didn’t open. She pushed again, looking up at the security camera. “Hello?”

Nothing. A hawk soared overhead, and a cow mooed somewhere in the distance. All alone in a massive valley filled with hay bales, bison, and sage-covered meadows, she felt like a tiny speck of nothing. She pressed the buzzer again while checking out the area. On one side of the driveway sat a sturdy mailbox. On the other was a farm stand that looked like it hadn’t been used in years. With all the traffic on this road, she bet it had once done well.

Above the gate arched a heavy-gauge steel sign. Gongshow Ranch. A row of tiny wrought iron cattle meandered across the top.

That’s a weird name.

A humming sound drew her attention, and she found the gate slowly swinging open. Well, here goes. Grabbing the handle of her carry-on, she started the long trek to the house.

Fear poked at her, little jolts of electricity that made her pulse quicken. In the taxi, she’d quit her job—she’d had no choice. And while she had free room and board here, she still needed income. She’d only brought enough clothing and toiletries for a long weekend.

And what about my house? Did she pay for July or give up her room? She had just enough money in her account to cover rent and her share of utilities.

The biggest issue, though, was the auction. The foundation had already scheduled its first planning meeting, and Mrs. Lumley would be calling any day now, inviting her to run it again. It would just be a formality, though. They assumed she’d take the job—and they’d be correct. Only this year, Phinny needed a salary. That’ll go over well. But her circumstances had changed, and she had no choice.

She just dreaded Mrs. Lumley’s response.

Let’s not think about this right now. Jet lag combined with emotional exhaustion was a formidable force. It took every ounce of strength she had to keep walking.

After a bend in the road, the house appeared. Made of stone, wood, and gleaming tinted glass, it was an architectural feat of hip and valley roof and butted windows. A driveway cut through a large patch of emerald-green grass.

Heading up the stone pavers, she didn’t remember Kurt’s place being so…lush. For some reason, she’d had this image in her head of cactus and dirt, but the ranch was resplendent with healthy landscaping, well-tended outbuildings, and freshly painted barns and stables.

Lowering the handle of her carry-on, she lifted it up the stairs and stood in the shade of the porch. She didn’t know why she dreaded knocking so much. It wasn’t like Kurt would answer the door.

Oh. Her hand flew to her heart. She hadn’t anticipated that pinch. Over the years, she’d learned to stuff her sorrow and hurt under bravado.

Emotions were messy in the Crutchley house. One didn’t revel in them, and so she’d done her best to suppress the hurt and anger. She’d tried very hard not to think about Kurt at all.

But it hadn’t worked. Nothing had. All these years, she’d still waited for his call.

It was the real reason she’d stayed with Cameron so long. It had taken her a few months of bawling her eyes out, alone in a strange bedroom in a smelly old house, to come to terms with the truth. She never wanted to yearn for anyone the way she had her biological father. So, she’d stuck with someone she’d liked an awful lot but would never fall so in love with that she’d experience the same sense of anxiety, the hopelessness. That leap of her heart every time her phone rang, the flurry of excitement when the mail was brought in.

Anything from Daddy?

If she were honest, she’d spent more than half her life waiting for Kurt to show up with tears in his eyes, confessing how much he’d missed her.

But he hadn’t missed her at all. And nothing drove it home better than making her compete against one of his hockey boys for a piece of land that had been in the Grevers’s family for generations—and had nothing whatsoever to do with Declan.

Chin up. She knocked on the door. It was time to put all that useless hope and yearning to rest along with his body. At least she had a roof over her head for the next month—and it’s free. Exhausted, defeated, she’d had enough. So, when no one answered, she grasped the doorknob, ready to breeze in.

But it was whisked right out of her hand. And Declan Cadell stood there, so tall and imposing he took up the doorway. “Yeah?” That gravelly voice was as thrilling as it was frightening.

She rocked back on her heels. Good lord, the man took her breath away. Blond hair that looked like he’d run his hands through it, deep hazel eyes—more green than brown—and a generous mouth that made a woman think of long, slow kisses. “What’re you doing in Kurt’s house?”

“I’m staying here.” Spoken with the confidence of a man whose size meant he didn’t take crap from anyone.

Hold my Dom Perignon. “Nice try, puck chaser. But this is my father’s house, and I’m staying here.”

“Oh, now he’s your father? Well, let’s see, you haven’t set foot in this house in twenty years, and I always stay here when I’m in town…so, I’d say that gives me priority over you. Besides, I got here first.”

Frazzled, dead on her feet, Phinny didn’t have the energy to argue with this brute. “According to the terms of the will, I’m supposed to stay here, too.” Besides, she had nine hundred pounds in her checking account. Hm, she really needed to give up her room. Even if she left the furniture behind—she’d bought it at a charity shop anyway—at least she’d have money to buy clothes, toiletries, and food whilst here. “You were so nice in the lawyer’s office. What crawled under your skirt and bit your ass?”

He cracked a grin. “The princess has teeth.” Leaning against the threshold, he folded his arms across his muscular chest. “You know, I didn’t get why Kurt involved me in this game. Why he’d put the land that meant everything to him into play. It represents family, roots…his legacy.”

“I hope that’s the first trivia question because I’ve got the answer. To hurt me, that’s why.”

He shook his head. “If you think that, then you don’t know him at all.”

Of course, I don’t know him. How could I?

“I’d have gladly walked away, knowing it’s with his daughter, where it belongs, but the minute I heard you ask about a realtor, I knew why he picked me. Kurt knew better than to give this place to a spoiled little rich girl who cut him off because she didn’t like to get dirty. And he knew I’d honor his legacy and do right by every single ancestor who gave his blood, sweat, and tears to turn this land into what it’s become today. So, you can bet your ass I’ll do everything in my power to keep it out of your hands. See you at the Music Box in one month.” He shut the door in her face.

Mortification swept through her body like a flash fire. She hadn’t been prepared when her parents cut her off. It had taken a long time—okay, she still hadn’t adjusted to being flat-out broke.

But people liked her. They always had. Sure, she’d lost her friends along with her credit card and fancy address, but that had to do with her financials not her personality. So, to have this man think so little of her when he didn’t even know her…it wasn’t fair.

How does it make sense for me to own a cattle ranch in Wyoming?

She knocked again.

He opened quickly, giving her an exasperated expression. “What?”

“The will says I have to live and work here, so step aside, puck chaser. You’ve got a new roommate.” This time, she was ready for him, and she shoved her two-thousand-dollar Valentino Rockstud handbag inside to prevent him from shutting the door. “This place is huge, and there are plenty of bedrooms. Our paths won’t even cross.”

“You’re right. Because we won’t be under the same roof. There are plenty of outbuildings. Find somewhere else.” He lifted his knee and bumped the purse out of the way.

When she heard the lock slam home, she let out a frustrated growl. “What is the matter with you? You’re not his son, you asshole.” Exhaustion buckled her knees. She could curl up on that porch swing and sleep for days.

From here, she could only see the freshly mowed lawn, the driveway, and the meadowland on either side of the house. Fine. Leaving her luggage on the porch, she set off to find guest quarters. On her family’s country estate, they had several lovely cottages. She didn’t need a house the size of a lodge.

Nor did the puck chaser, so she had no idea why he was hogging it to himself. As she crossed the driveway, she noticed a silver bullet on wheels. She didn’t know why it surprised her that Kurt had an RV. It would be perfect for a man who preferred his own company and liked to camp out for weeks all alone.

There it was again. That stab of pain.

She might not remember much, but she would never forget the last phone call her mum had made to him.

She doesn’t want to spend her summers on that ranch.

She doesn’t like fishing.

For God’s sake, Kurt, she’s a little girl.

She hates going to visit you.

True, she’d pitched a fit about going, but she hadn’t wanted to hurt him. Her mum shouldn’t have been so cruel. And as she’d gotten older, she’d always wondered why he hadn’t said, Okay, I’ll go there.

We’ll rent a house in the south of France.

I’ll take her on a cruise.

We’ll go to Disneyland.

He could’ve done any number of things other than give up on her. After that call, he’d stopped holding her mother to the custodial agreements.

Ugh. Why am I dredging all this up? Striding past the RV, she headed around to the back of the house where she found an impressive barn. Further out, she saw a bunkhouse where the hands lived. Sheds, a stable. A corral. But no guest house anywhere in sight.

Well, I’m not living in a barn. So, the only possibility was the bunkhouse, but surely no one expected her to sleep with a dozen cowboys.

All around her, the ranch was quietly bustling. A truck in the distance kicked up dust as it headed down a lane. Sounds came from the barn, and a couple of workers in jeans and cowboy hats led their horses into the corral, their expressions somber.

There might be plenty of outbuildings, but she couldn’t stay in any of them. She stormed back to the house and banged on the door.

This time, when the puck chaser answered, she didn’t give him a chance to speak. “You’re not the boss of anything. We’re on equal footing, so step aside. I’m staying here.”

He blocked her way with his big, hard body. “Wrong, Princess. I claimed the house.”

“And where do you expect me to live?”

He pointed toward the silver bullet. “Have a nice night. Oh, since you’re probably jet lagged, you don’t have to report to work until tomorrow morning. But be in the barn at five-thirty.”

“Are there even clean sheets in that thing?”

“Look, Princess, nobody’s holding my hand here, either, okay? We both got the news about the will at the same time. I got here quicker⁠—”

“Excuse me, but I had to check out of the motel.”

He shrugged like he couldn’t have cared less. “I got to the ranch manager first. The house is mine, and I found out what work needed to be done and chose what I wanted to do. I suggest you do the same thing.”

All the fight drained out of her. He’s right. She had been expecting everything to be laid out for her. Someone would show her to her room and serve her meals.

Just as she’d lived her life up until ten months ago. “That’s fine, but you might want to leave the door unlocked because I’ll probably be back for supplies.”

“Not gonna happen.”

Once again, he shut the door in her face.

What a dick. Grabbing her luggage, she headed back down the steps and over to her new home on wheels. It looked dusty and…sad. Did it even have air conditioning?

What is my life?

There’re hundreds of millions of dollars waiting for me on the other side of this nightmare, so buck up. She could do anything for a month.

Used to city living, she filled her lungs with the crisp, clean mountain air, and it calmed her. She’d come here figuring she’d inherit some money. With it, she’d planned on moving into a better flat and having a nest egg. But with this kind of money, she could start a philanthropy of her own. She didn’t have many talents or skills, but she had a way with people, of encouraging even the grumpiest old cuss to donate his island or his castle for a week. She put together such great auction items, the patrons fought each other over them.

It’s the one thing I’m good at.

Twisting the metal doorknob, she pulled it open and dragged her suitcase up the stairs. The place smelled of must and hot leather, but it wasn’t too bad. The kitchen area seemed clean enough. It was small, obviously, but she didn’t need much space. She wheeled her carry-on to the back where she found a horseshoe-shaped couch.

Looking around, she didn’t see anything more than a kitchen, a table and banquette, and a couch. No bedroom?

Okay, whatever. That’s fine.

Sunlight streamed through the windows. There are no curtains. That might be a problem. But whatever. She’d just have to make the best of it. Exhausted, she dropped her purse on the floor, set her suitcase against the wall, and collapsed on the couch.

Wait. She had to be up at five. She found the energy to plug her phone into the outlet and set the alarm.

Tomorrow was a new day, and she’d kick its ass.

About the Author

Award-winning author Erika Kelly writes sexy and emotional small town romance. Married to the love of her life and raising four children, she lives in the southwest, drinks a lot of tea, and is always waiting for her cats to get off her keyboard.

https://www.erikakellybooks.com/

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