Dad Bod - Kate Lily(ang.)

Dad Bod Lily Kate

Published by Lily Kate, 2017.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental. DAD BOD First edition. December 26, 2017. Copyright © 2017 Lily Kate. ISBN: 978-1386290018 Written by Lily Kate.

Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Page Dedication Dad Bod Acknowledgments Dad Bod 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 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Epilogue Author’s Note

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Acknowledgments W.A. for helping to make dreams come true! Virginia for your sharp proofreading eyes. Franci for your beta reading skills. All of you, readers—beta readers, ARC readers, bloggers, and the entire book community—each and every one of you are fabulous! And, of course, to the very best of friends... you know who you are!

Dad Bod I’M A SINGLE MOM. He’s a single dad. In theory, we should have something in common, right? Wrong. When I receive a phone call from my daughter’s school, I’m shocked to find my sweet little girl has been in a fight. Hauled to the principal’s office to straighten things out, I find myself sitting next to none other than my first kiss —Tyler Daniels—the man who’d taught me the meaning of trouble. After living the high life in NYC, he’s back in town to ruin me again. This time—the joke’s on him. I’m older and (sometimes) wiser, and after my last failed relationship, I’m in no mood to have my pigtails pulled. Not even when Tyler decides to try that kissing thing all over again. However, Tyler’s gotten a lot better at that kissing thing, and when one steamy kiss leads to the next, I suddenly find myself thinking about Tyler Daniels and his smoking hot dad bod at the worst of times. Even if his presence in my town will run my beautiful little inn right out of business.

When push comes to shove, however, Tyler Daniels and I are not cut out to be friends—and I’m not sure if we’re ready for more.

Chapter 1 MAGGIE “That’s them.” I look up from the pumpkin and gourd arrangement I’m perfecting, first glancing to Emily, then to the couple strolling hand in hand down the front steps of the inn. “What about them?” “They’re the ones I was telling you about.” Emily gives me a look that says I should be able to read her mind. “Earth to Maggie. The honeymooners.” “I think they’re sweet.” “Don’t even. There’s so much sweet going on there—” She waves a hand at the offending pair— “my gums hurt just looking at them. I feel like I’ve eaten a pack of Sour Punch strings and washed it down with a Pixie Stick.” I watch as the young couple stops to nuzzle one another, and there’s a slight pang in my chest. “Yeah,” I finally agree. “That much sweet doesn’t last.” “Now there’s the cynic I know and love.” Emily grins, then swipes a misshapen gourd from my pile. She holds it to the crotch of a scarecrow and cackles at me. “What do you think?” I pick up a tuft of hay and toss it in her direction. “We have customers walking around!”

“I know, I know.” Emily replaces the gourd, then straightens and adjusts the scarecrow’s attire. “What do you think of the display? I vote it’s our best yet.” “Best display yet!” Julia yells from across the street. While Emily and I manage the inn, Julia runs the only bookstore in Harp’s Haven. She’s out front planting her fall garden, her flannel shirt ballooning around her body as she waves to us, then wipes her hand on a pair of dirty jeans. “You ladies outdid yourselves this year.” “Thanks, Julia!” I wave back, surveying our handiwork. Julia’s right; it really is a gorgeous display. The inn itself is beautiful, and to say this business has been a labor of love would be an understatement. Over the last six years, Emily and I have grown closer than sisters, and the inn itself has morphed from a struggling motel into a flourishing bed and breakfast—a destination for locals to escape for a weekend of pampering and a space for tourists to flock during the crisp fall months of northern Maine. “Stand next to the scarecrow,” I instruct Emily. When she does, I hand her a broomstick. “Great. Now do that cackle-laugh thing again.” “You think I’m the witch?” Emily raises her eyebrows, but she can’t resist a small cackling chuckle. “What does that make you?”

I bite my lip in thought. “The tin man.” “I don’t think so.” Emily gives a pointed look at my torso. “You’ve been blessed in the chest area, and he’s flat as a board.” “I was talking about his heart.” “You’ve got a heart. All you need is courage,” she says. “You’re more like the cowardly lion.” “I’m not cowardly!” I argue, shifting to arrange the fresh corn stalks in our seasonal display. Fall is almost here, despite the last warm fingers of summer holding on—the odd eighty-degree day making me sweat through the tank top and shorts I’ve worn to work outside. “I have courage.” “You have plenty of courage,” Emily agrees. “But you’re a weenie when it comes to men.” “I’m not a weenie.” “Stop shredding the corn stalks; I’m just messing with you. What’s next on the list?” I pull out my never-ending list of To Do’s and mentally cross off fall decorations. “Carve pumpkins with Mila?” Emily clasps her hands together and rubs them. “I can’t believe we’re on pumpkins already. Seems like Labor Day just passed.” “It did, last weekend,” I say. “But if we don’t put the Halloween decorations up early, we don’t get to spend enough time with them before Target shoves the Thanksgiving and Christmas crap in our faces, and Halloween’s my favorite.”

“You used to love Christmas.” “Well, I don’t anymore. Remember?” I grin at her. “I’m the busty tin man, and I have no heart. Now, let’s grab the pumpkins before we have to meet Mila’s bus. I picked up seven.” “Seven pumpkins? My hand is gonna cramp.” “Buck up, buttercup.” I pat her on the back. “What are you going to carve? Don’t tell me—” “Naked men are out again?” Emily is, without question, the fun one out of the two of us. Where she’s funny, I’m responsible. While she’s beautiful with all her curves and big blonde hair, I’m medium-thin with wavy brown hair and a pair of boobs slightly too big for my body. She’s warm and welcoming, and I’m...well, I have perfected the art of keeping people out of my space bubble. “What’s your choice for movie night?” Emily asks. “Are we going romantic comedy?” I look at her, and we both break out into laughter. “Horror it is,” she says. “Think anyone else will join?” “We’ve been doing these movie nights for so many years, and we’ve never had company.” “Who knows?” Emily says, waggling her eyebrows. “Tonight could be the night.” “Right.” I take the broom from Emily and sweep the front path free of decorating debris.

“That’ll be the day.”

Chapter 2 MAGGIE “For movie night, I’m thinking ghosts,” Emily says, as we walk through the inn. “What say you, Maggie?” “Please, mom, please?” Mila hops along with us, spinning in circles. “Just once can I stay up with you guys and watch, too?” “You can watch a scary movie with us when you’re older,” I tell her, clasping a hand around her arm and re-directing her down the hall. “Ugh! How old do I have to be? I’m almost thirteen.” “No, you’re not,” I say. “You’ve got a long way to go, sweetie.” “Your teenage years will be fun,” Emily says over Mila’s head. “Do you hear that attitude? And she’s only ten.” “I’m not ten,” Mila says with a giggle. “I’m in first grade.” “What are you then, fifteen?” Mila pokes Emily on the arm. “I’m six, almost seven.” We part ways when we reach our apartment doors in the staff section of the inn. As managers, we both live on the premises so we’re available to handle anything that comes up. It’s a little

unconventional for raising a child, but it’s worked out perfectly. Mila might not have a father in her life, but she’s got me and Emily. Emily’s family moved to Harp’s Haven our senior year of high school. After graduating and sliding into college life, we’d run into each other at the bookstore buying weepy romance novels after tough breakups. It’d taken mere minutes to recognize a sister in heartbreak; we’d grabbed a drink together that very evening, and the rest is history. The night Mila was born, Emily held my hand. When I had no place to go after, she helped me find a job at the inn. When Mila got her first teeth, Emily took the night shift and held Mila for a few hours so I could get some sleep. She’d been there not only for me, but for Mila. The three of us could hardly be called friends; family would be a more appropriate term. Emily blows a kiss to Mila before unlocking her door. “Sleep tight, Mila-moo. Maggie, I’ll meet you downstairs. I’m getting into some yoga pants, and then I’ll start setting up the movie in the lounge.” Mila and I work through our bedtime routine, including two chapters of Harry Potter that I read aloud after teeth brushing time. When I finish the second chapter of The Sorcerer’s Stone, I glance up to find Mila begging for one more.

“Come on, it’s time to sleep,” I tell Mila. “You have school in the morning.” “School is dumb.” “This is only your first week. How can it be dumb already?” “Rebecca moved away. She was the only one who liked me, and now there’s nobody that’s nice to me in class.” My heart aches as she complains of this yet again. She’s complained nightly since the school year kicked off, and I wish there was a way I could go to school and make friends for her. Not that I’m the Rico Suave of friends by any means, but I hate that my baby is lonely already. There’s plenty of time to feel lonely once we become adults. “Maybe they’re scared, too,” I offer. “Why don’t you invite some of the girls to sit with you at lunch? Or even the boys?” She wrinkles her nose at the last option. “I’d rather sit alone than sit with boys.” “Yeah, me too.” I bring her sweet head against my chest and feel her eyes close as she rests there. There’s a warmth in my heart, and I feel suspiciously close to happy. To whole. To the family I’d wanted us to become. “You’re really not going to let me watch the movie?” “Only when you’re old enough to sleep in your own bed afterward,” I tell her. “Your nightmares

keep both of us awake.” “But you like sleeping in my bed.” “Come on, it’s time for you to get some rest; no more arguing.” I run a hand over the gorgeous brown hair on Mila’s head, smoothing away the baby wisps around the edges of her pink cheeks. “Sweet dreams,” I whisper as her eyes finally close, even though she’s faking it. “I love you.” I slowly walk out of the room, shutting the door behind me. Carrying the baby monitor I still keep on hand just in case Mila needs something, I lock the apartment door and make my way to the lounge. Emily and I manage the Lilac Inn, a gorgeous little cottage set in the rolling Maine countryside, wrapped by a small town on all sides. While Emily and I are the blood, sweat, and tears of this place, Claire Vanderlin is the owner and financier behind it. Claire lives in New York, while Emily and I live on the premises. We both have two-bedroom apartments on the main level, next door to one another. I had been wary to raise a baby surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the inn, in addition to the long hours I put in working here. But, it has been nothing short of a blessing for all of us. Mila has grown up with a network of friends as good as family: she’s learned to make a bed from Lelia in housekeeping, and she’s been fed gorgeous,

healthy food from Jax, the stunningly handsome chef who brings more business to the inn than any specials or promos we run. Mila learned to read next to Luca, the Italian immigrant who works reception when he feels like it, and she plays with the children who come and go through town. “Luca,” Emily says, interrupting my train of thoughts as I arrive in the lounge. “How about you earn that payroll and start up the popcorn machine?” Luca doesn’t bother to look up from the paper he’s reading. The only sign that he’s heard her is the slight raising of his eyebrow. “Fine, I’ll do it,” Emily huffs. “You can’t figure out how to work the thing anyway.” As she stomps away, she turns and mutters over her shoulder. “Why did we hire him again?” “His pretty face,” I joke. “Customers seem to love it.” Emily blushes. The customers aren’t the only ones who seem to love Luca’s face, or the way he speaks in a soft, husky voice. I secretly believe Emily’s harbored a crush on the man since the day he stepped foot in this country. “Right,” she says. “If only he weren’t such an asshole, maybe he’d be able to catch a girlfriend.” “Let me remind you,” I point out, “that you’re the one who offered him a job before you knew his last name.”

“You should’ve stopped me!” Emily snarls, kicking the popcorn machine when it doesn’t turn on and glaring at me out of the corner of her eye. “I fell for that naive foreigner act. Maybe if Luca actually worked, I wouldn’t have to put in overtime!” She hollers the last word, and I give her a stare of my own until she tones it down. “What?” She shrugs at me. “It’s true.” I can’t agree, however, since my view of Luca is tainted by the fact that he’s an absolute doll around Mila. It’s like he reserves all of his softspoken words and tender smiles for the little girl who’s grown up clinging to his leg during hide and seek. And when Luca practices his English during lulls in his shifts, Mila sits with him at reception and learns the words right along with him. “Shit, stupid piece of popcorn,” Emily continues with her tirade until I lay a hand on her wrist. She glares at me. “This thing is worthless! It’s not popping a single piece of corn.” I reach over her shoulder into a cupboard and grab a bag of the microwave stuff. “That’s why we bought these.” “Yeah, but I wanted the movie theater style,” she sulks. “This tastes like cardboard.” “It’s healthier,” Luca adds, finally deigning us with his words. “The machine is all butter.”

“Butter is a staple with popcorn,” Emily hisses. “You know, for all of us who aren’t skinny-ass Italian models.” Luca gives the briefest of smiles, lighting his face for the first time all evening. He transforms in an instant from a beautifully serious statue into something brighter, if only for a second. Apparently, it’s one second too long for Emily, who promptly loses her ability to speak. “Come on, Juliet,” I say, grabbing Emily’s arm and pulling her into the communal lounge. “Movie time. Leave Romeo alone.” The lounge is filled with squashy couches and oversized chairs, along with a few beanbags and fluffy blankets strewn on any available surface. Pictures taken here at the Lilac Inn—Christmas parties, New Year’s toasts, Halloween costumes— line the walls. They smile fondly down on us, creating a warmth that’s been cultivated over the years. Emily settles into the couch and, once I’ve grabbed the popcorn and sprinkled our customary dill pickle salt on it, I join her. The hour is spent in a state of perpetual adrenaline rush as the horror movie rolls into high gear. When Luca stands suddenly behind the reception desk, Emily flies onto my lap and clutches my neck.

“Don’t scare me like that,” Emily growls at him. “You horrible monster.” Luca merely strolls toward the restrooms while Emily and I return our attention to the television. The climax of the movie approaches and Emily’s hand finds her way onto my arm, squeezing tighter and tighter as the last surviving female makes a move toward the basement. “Don’t do it,” Emily whispers. “Don’t go down there, Brittany...” “I can’t watch,” I say, but I don’t make a move to cover my eyes. “How can she think this is a good idea? Everyone who’s gone downstairs ends up dead!” The music intensifies, the glow from beneath the door in the film brightens. The night grows darker, the female’s arm shakes as it reaches toward the handle. My own palms are slick with sweat, and Emily is cutting off circulation to my bicep. She reaches for the knob, turns it, and— The front door to the Lilac Inn bursts open. “Hello?” The screams that follow are sure to wake several of our guests. We’ll definitely have noise complaints in the morning, which will result in us comping several breakfasts, and in turn annoying both Luca and Jax. Jax is kept busy enough in the kitchen with paying customers, let alone those with a free meal ticket.

It’s only once we’re done screaming that I realize the horrible shrieking sounds are coming mostly from me. Emily stopped screaming a few seconds ago, though apparently my heart kept pumping and my blood kept racing, and I kept right on screaming. “Sorry,” the distinctly male voice says from the doorway. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to check in. I knocked, but I didn’t think anyone heard me.” By the time Luca rounds the corner with a hand on his heart—probably terrified that a mass murderer had walked through the door and wiped us all out—the situation has stabilized. Though it’s not lost on me that Luca first looks to Emily and, once her safety is ensured, his eyes sweep over to me. Flattering. In the awkward silence that lands over the four of us, I pull myself onto a shaky pair of legs and make my way to the entrance. As I wobble, the man, whose face is still shadowed by the night, speaks in confusion. “This is the Lilac Inn, correct?” “Yes, it is, and I’m Maggie. I run this place along with...” I trail off as I catch sight of Emily staring at Luca. “Emily.” “Did you say your name was Maggie?” There’s a hint of curiosity to the man’s voice that has me turning around slowly to face him. He raises his

eyebrows, a cocky little smirk turning up the sides of his mouth, as he continues. “As in... Margaret Marshall?” The way the last name is emphasized, along with the use of my seldom-spoken first name, has me on instant high alert. I continue my spin to face him, dragging my eyes away from Emily, to land on another face that is surprisingly familiar. Too familiar. “Holy shit,” I mumble. “What’s wrong?” Emily finally senses there’s more happening than her infatuation with Luca, and joins my side. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” “Tyler?” I ask. The name triggers Emily’s memory—she’s never met Tyler personally, but she’s heard his name plenty over shared bottles of wine and tears. She faces him with renewed surprise. “Tyler Daniels?” Tyler Daniels steps out of the dark entrance and into the warmly lit lobby. Once there, the light hits his face and sends spirals of confusion flooding through my bones. A long time ago, I thought he might be half-god—based mostly on his looks, but also on the things he could do with his tongue. I’m disappointed to find he’s so much worse now.

Instead of the lanky, almost-handsome boy that’d left town nearly a decade ago, there’s a fullon man standing before me. A gorgeous specimen of broad shoulders, curly dark hair, and that teasing little smirk he’s already flashed one too many times. He’s dressed to the nines in a dark blue suit and brown leather shoes, rounding out his polished look. Thick, dark lashes brush his cheek as he gives me a pleased grin, teeth brightening up the room once more. Even his face, which I’d first thought was clean-shaven, is covered in a slight stubble that inches the whole businessman look a notch toward sexy. Something that is not helped by his lack of tie and the slightly open shirt he’s wearing, along with the dark wisps of hair peeking from the top of it. The man is no longer halfway to godlike. He’s the real deal. Except, I’m pretty sure he’s closer to Hades than he is to Zeus. “What are you doing here?” I ask, forcing my tone to remain polite. “I never thought we’d see you back in Harp’s Haven.” “I didn’t have plans to come back,” he says, “but maybe I should have.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Emily looks at me like I’ve grown two heads. I’m not sure why I sound so snappish, but there’s this attitude I can’t seem to shake. Maybe it’s

because the last memory of Tyler Daniels that I have is the image of his taillights burning away from the scene of an incredible kiss. “Do I smell popcorn?” Tyler glances over my shoulder, keeping his voice falsely light. “Movie night at the Lilac Inn?” “What’s it matter to you?” I ask, waspish. “You probably wouldn’t want to stay for it, anyway.” “How about I get you checked in,” Emily suggests, hurrying over to the reception desk. “Maggie, you can finish watching people get murdered while I help this nice man out.” Emily leaves me standing in the lobby studying Tyler Daniels. He watches me back with equal intensity. It appears neither of us are willing to break our staring game. Tyler’s gaze pierces me with gleaming pools of moonstone, the most interesting mix between gray and blue. I don’t realize I’ve fallen into them until he steps close to me, bringing with him a scent of expensive cologne and fresh fall air. Not until Emily snaps her finger and forces me to return to my senses, do I look at her. Tyler, however, continues to stare. “Your friend called me a nice man,” he murmurs, his hand reaching out to brush a piece of hair from my face. “Never thought I’d hear that one.”

I’m too mesmerized by his closeness to think of a witty retort. I know I’ll have one later when I’m trying to sleep at three in the morning and replaying this encounter a hundred and one times, wishing I could run to his room, pound on his door, and spew all of my smart and funny comebacks in his face. In reality, I’ll lay in bed feeling my face burn to bits, wishing I could die of embarrassment. “Hey, earth to you two,” Emily says from the reception desk. “If you don’t hurry, I’m going to make Luca check you in, and he’s not nearly as friendly as me.” Tyler and I hold in a battle for one final moment as something flickers through his eyes. At first, I thought it would be dislike, or something similar, but I’m surprised to find it’s not. There’s an almost frustrated, wistful glance that has me wondering what Tyler can possibly be thinking. I know what I’m remembering, and those thoughts are warming me in all sorts of places I’d prefer remained on lockdown and ice cold. My breath comes out in a weird gasp, and this draws a pleased smile from Tyler’s face. “It’s really good to see you, Margaret Marshall,” he says in that deep, tender tone I used to love. “I’ve missed you.”

Chapter 3 TYLER I can see her standing outside my door. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know that I can see her, but the way Maggie’s pacing outside of my room, I’d have to be dead not to notice. Not only is the floor shaking, but there’s the little-known fact that my blood pressure spikes through the roof every time Margaret Marshall steps within ten feet of me. Which is one of the reasons we fell apart in the first place. I’d been a senior in high school when she’d been a sophomore, all starry eyed and young and beautiful. Anyone in this town who had a blip of testosterone in their blood had noticed Margaret Marshall. She’d had the softest brunette waves that fell in tangles down her back, and sweet little freckles dotted across round, full cheeks. Not to mention the curves she’d developed sometime around her sixteenth birthday that could cripple a teenage boy. Stomp, stomp-stomp...stomp. Margaret’s friend, Emily, put me on the second floor of their inn, and I’m fairly certain that if someone is occupying the room below me, they’ll

be shaken awake by the tremors radiating from Maggie’s footsteps. She’s got her hands clasped behind her back and her lips are moving at a hundred miles an hour. It looks like she’s mumbling something, or practicing a speech she’s too scared to give. I halfway wonder if she’s outside my door for a reason, or if she makes a habit of pacing the halls around here nightly. If that’s the case, I might just join her. It’d be nice to catch up with Margaret, to see where life’s taken her since we split ways. As Margaret paces, she tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear, and I’m already feeling body parts react that should have no business standing to attention. That ship sailed a long time ago when she opted to stay home in Harp’s Haven for college, while I felt the pull to leap into New York and explore. I’d left. She’d stayed. End of story. Family, a house, children...that’s what Maggie had wanted. Parties, cash, The City...that’s what I’d wanted. And that’s how we’d left things. I glance down at my watch, an expensive Christmas gift from work, and realize I’ve been watching Maggie pace for a solid thirteen minutes. I either need to buck the hell up and ask her what’s going on, or get my ass in bed. This peeking through the peephole and watching doesn’t fit my style.

I gave up the practice of chasing women a long time ago. Ever since the only one I wanted turned out to be the one I couldn’t have. My ego was frail back then, and I’m not sure it’s improved all that much; I don’t enjoy being rejected—and, as I figured out later in life—I can’t be rejected if I don’t play the game. Maggie’s pacing continues until I force myself to look away. It’s painful to shed my pants, slide under the covers, and pull the blanket up to my chest knowing she’s out there. I try to sleep, but it doesn’t come for hours. I’m feeling edgy, angsty. It’s only when sleep crawls onto the horizon and pulls me under that it hits me. For the first time in years, I’ve been tempted to chase. I still want Margaret Marshall just as much as I did the day I left town.

Chapter 4 MAGGIE “I’m such a chicken.” “I’m sure it’s not that bad.” Jax pours a piping hot mug of coffee and slides it across the counter to me. “What happened?” I wrap my hands around the ceramic mug, admiring the handmade design of it, and sigh. “The guy staying on the second floor—business suit, you’ll see him—is an old boyfriend of mine. He wandered into the inn last night, and I acted like a moron. I couldn’t think of a thing to say back when he got all suave on me, and I probably just stared at him and drooled.” “Doesn’t sound so bad.” Jax raises an eyebrow, looking like the cover model for GQ. He’s the sort of man who always looks like he’s just rolled out of bed after having the best sex of his life. He’s got this blond-brown mix of ruffled hair and dark brown eyes that are warm and gooey like the chocolate cake he’s famous for baking. “You have to understand, Maggie, that it takes a lot to turn us guys off. He’s probably feeling flattered right now.” “You’re no help. You never have to worry about these things.” His eyes crinkle as he smiles, and he shakes his head. “You’re one to talk, Miss Maggie.”

I can’t help but smile back. Jax and I have a solidly business friendship that rarely crosses the line to personal chitchat. But, in times of dire need, I go to him for a male perspective. Though he’s pretty to look at, Jax is also quite reserved and, unsurprisingly, fully invested in his work. As am I, which means the two of us get along well. I don’t mess with his kitchen, and he keeps the good food coming; it’s a match made in heaven. “Don’t you have a cake for me to test?” I ask, leaning over the counter. “I smell chocolate.” “Your nose is broken.” I narrow my eyes at him. “I pay your bills, mister—don’t hold out on me.” “I bring business to your inn.” He sets down the towel he’s holding and leans over the counter, our eyes meeting in a staring match of wills. “You think they come here for the beds?” He shakes his head. “They come here for the food.” I roll my eyes. “You know the women lunch here for a glimpse of your face; it has nothing to do with your food.” To anyone walking by, it might look like we’re flirting—heads tilted together, eyes narrowed, hovering on the precipice between playful banter and serious discussion—but we both know better. I’m simply negotiating for cake. Jax is like a brother to me and Emily, and a doting uncle to Mila.

He backs away slowly, not quite admitting defeat. But he does disappear into the kitchen to retrieve a fluffy brown two-tier cake with chocolate ganache dripping down the sides. My mouth waters. “Can I get it a la mode?” I beg. “I’ll be your slave forever.” My heart thumps faster at the sight of cake. There’s simply nothing more fulfilling for breakfast in my mind. It’s good for the soul, it’s great with coffee, and it’s fresh from the oven. I’m practically panting in anticipation. I’m not proud of it, but I’m even more uncomfortable when I look to the right and find Tyler Daniels standing there, watching the interaction. He has a crooked grin frozen on his face, as if he were halfway on his way to a smug retort when he caught me salivating over a handsome man holding cake. I briefly wonder if he heard the part where I offered to be Jax’s slave for life. Good, I think, narrowing my eyes at him. Tyler’s face unfreezes somewhat, and there’s a distinct look of annoyance in its place. Extra good, I think, since the last thing I want is for Tyler to think I’ve been waiting for him all these years— saving all my drool to salivate over him. It’s a good thing Tyler can only see the glare on my face, however, because inside, my feelings for him are more complicated. I don’t want to be happy

to see him, but my heart disagrees. It thumps just a little too loudly at the sight of his sleep-worn face, his complex, gray-blue eyes, and the smart-fitting suit that places him in the upper one percent as far as I’m concerned. The microwave dings, and Jax pulls the cake slice out and artistically plops a generous serving of cinnamon ice cream to the side. “Voila,” he says, sliding the cake expertly down the counter so it lands in front of me. This shakes me from my staring contest with Tyler as I react, throwing an arm out to catch the still-spinning plate. Except something goes utterly, horribly wrong. I’m so flustered that instead of catching the plate, I somehow manage to upend the whole thing and send the cake flying the rest of the way down the counter—without the plate. The beautiful concoction of chocolate and ice cream lands with a splat inches from Tyler’s fingers which, I notice, are clutching the bar so tightly his knuckles are an unhealthy shade of white. “Ooops,” I say, cowering under the wrath of Jax. “Five second rule?” “Can I help you?” Jax snarls at Tyler. “Need something for breakfast? Or will you throw it on the floor, too?” “It’s not on the floor,” I say, and slide down the counter to retrieve the cake. I pitifully scoop it all

back onto my plate, finding myself tucked almost between Tyler’s arms as I do. “Coffee—to go, please,” Tyler says, and his words sizzle over my skin. He’s already showered this morning. His hair is still slightly damp, and I can practically taste the scent of him—all fresh and minty, with a hint of whatever expensive cologne men from New York use. I could lick him based on that scent alone. Theoretically. Jax, bless his soul, has returned to cut another slice of cake. He places this one in front of me, removing the pile of mush and dumping it into the trash with a grimace. He hates wasting food, and I don’t blame him. When he spends hours on a cake, every crumb costs a pretty penny. “I’m sorry,” I apologize again as Jax reaches for the ice cream. I eye the chocolate mess on the counter. “Can you toss me the wash cloth?” Jax rinses the cloth under the water and throws it in my direction. Somehow, however, I get distracted in the two seconds since I’ve asked him, and my reflexes aren’t fast enough to recover. I reach for the flying washcloth, but I’m too slow. It sails right over my shoulder and hits Tyler Daniels straight in the forehead. “Oh, my God,” I murmur, staring in horror at the damp cloth now dripping water over Tyler’s face. “Your hair! I’m so sorry.”

Tyler merely pauses for a moment, raises a hand, and peels the damp—and thankfully clean— washrag from his head. My fingers reach up of their own accord, smoothing his hair down, patting his face with my sleeve in a clumsy attempt to dry him off. “Coffee’s on me, mate,” Jax says, placing an extra-large Styrofoam cup on the counter, shooting Tyler an apologetic smile. “Sorry our girl can’t catch.” “Our girl?” Tyler murmurs into my ear, a sardonic smile landing on his face as his eyes turn to steel. To my surprise, he seems more concerned with Jax’s statement than he does his flattened hair. “Um,” I flounder. “It’s nothing. I’m so sorry about your hair.” Reaching up, I once again attempt to fluff Tyler’s hair into the ruffled look he had going before. “I hope you’re not running late for something.” “Don’t.” Tyler’s hand snakes out and catches my wrist. His eyes land on mine with absolutely no give to them. No sign of friendship or light banter this time around. “Thanks, but you’ve done enough.” My gut sinks a few notches as Tyler reaches around me, carefully avoiding physical contact, and retrieves his coffee. He raises it in a nod of thanks

to Jax, and then turns and strolls from the dining room without looking back. “Remember...” I turn to Jax slowly, unable to even glance at the new piece of cake sitting before me, and wrinkle my nose. “When I told you about feeling like a chicken because I made a fool of myself in front of my old flame?” A light blinks on in Jax’s eyes. “That’s him.” “Yep.” “What’d you do that’s more embarrassing than this?” “Well, yesterday when he walked into the inn, we had this little tiff. He was all smooth and cool, and I looked like a moron.” I sigh, my face flaming with the memory. “Of course, I thought of all these super funny retorts while I was in the shower, and I wanted to use them on him. I almost knocked on his door.” “Aw, Maggie.” “Seriously,” I say with a dissatisfied nod. “I paced up and down the hallway for like fifteen minutes before I decided to give up on it.” “Fine. You’re a chicken. Is that what you want to hear?” I’m sure even my ears are red by now. “I just had this great image in my mind—you know, where Tyler opened the door, and I hit him with all the witty things I should’ve said in the moment.” “And you chickened out.”

“No, I simply realized that wouldn’t be very professional of me. He’s staying at my inn; I owe him professionalism.” “Right. Which is why you were so professional just now.” “I was flustered.” “Who is he to you, anyway? Why’s this bothering you so much?” I open my mouth to respond, but before I can do so, Emily calls me to the front desk. “You’ve gotta see this, Maggie.” My appetite has somewhat recovered by now, and if I don’t get a move on, my ice cream will melt before I get a taste of it. So, I grab my plate of cake and my mug, and I meet Emily at the front desk. “What is it?” “Oh, thanks.” Emily steals the plate and slides it in front of her. She’s halfway through the slice before I can tell her it’s mine. I note the concerned pout of Emily’s face between bites of my cake. “What’s wrong?” “I’m annoyed! What just happened with you and Jax?” “Uh, nothing? Morning chitchat over coffee?” Emily looks up, her eyes narrowed on mine. “Well, whatever happened, it scared Tyler away, and we lost about three months of business.” “What are you talking about?” I pause, trying to let this sink in further, but it doesn’t get very far.

“I don’t understand.” “Tyler registered for a three month stay. Said he’s here for business or whatever and couldn’t bear to stay with his mother.” I roll my eyes. Mrs. Daniels is not hard to get along with, but Tyler could never handle living at home, so I’m not surprised. “And?” “And he just cancelled as he stormed out of here!” Emily pummels the cake more furiously into her mouth. “He announced all stiff and quiet that he’d be checking out early.” “How early?” “After the weekend.” “So what? Let him go. We’re not hurting for business.” “We don’t want to make a habit of running away well-paying clients. He booked the most expensive room in the house.” “We’ll get someone else to fill it.” Emily narrows her eyes at me. “That’s not the point. We all know you and Jax are just friends...except Tyler, apparently. If that’s the reason he’s checking out early, maybe you can correct his thoughts on it.” “Why does it matter to Tyler who Jax is to me?” “Seems to me like Tyler got jealous back there and doesn’t want to see you fawning over someone that’s not him for the next three months.”

“I’m not fawning over anyone, except that slice of cake you stole from me.” “Would it kill you to set the record straight with him?” “I don’t owe him an explanation!” My voice raises, and it takes me a second to cool down. “It’s not like he ever explained himself to me.” “Is that what this is about?” “No.” I sulk. “I’m over the past.” “Right. Which is why you’re reacting completely logically over this.” Emily punches a few things into the computer before she stands and sighs. “Please talk to him.” I cross my arms, feeling like a petulant child. I want to stomp my foot, but that’s Mila’s job. However, since she’s off at school, I figure I can absorb a little of the whiny attitude that appears when she doesn’t get her way. “If he doesn’t want to stay here, I’m not going to force him to keep his room booked.” “Honey, this inn isn’t your business, alone,” Emily says. “It’s our business, and Claire’s. So, put your emotions aside and act in the best interest of the stakeholders.” There’s a tingling at the back of my neck that has me wondering if there’s more to the story than Emily’s letting on. I size her up more thoroughly and decide she’s holding out on me. “What am I missing?”

“Nothing,” Emily says, but her eyes flash away. “I just think we should work on retaining customers, not running them away.” “Fine!” I raise my hands. “I’ll mention something to him before the weekend.” “I’ve arranged for chocolates on his bed and warm lavender hand towels to be delivered to his room,” Emily says. “Maybe you can deliver the towels tonight...personally. With an apology.” “I think I’ve thrown enough towels in his face for one day.” Emily’s mouth cracks open. “Okay, what?” “It was Jax’s fault.” “Was not,” Jax calls back. “I tossed the rag to Maggie and she ducked. Ducked!” “I don’t see why it’s so important, anyway,” I tell her, leaning against the front desk. “He’s just a warm body sleeping here and paying us money. Any other warm body is one and the same. If it’s not him, it’ll be someone else.” “I think you’re being irrational.” Emily crooks an eyebrow up. “I think you can’t resist Tyler Daniels’s warm body, which makes you scared. You’re going to let him run away so you don’t end up sleeping with him.” She hisses the last part, and I visibly recoil. “Sleeping with Tyler? No. He’s not on my To-Do list.” “Admit it, you just thought about it.”

I open my mouth to argue, but it’s true. The thought of Tyler Daniels with no shirt on, possibly holding a piece of chocolate cake, is the sexiest thing I can imagine. “That’s exactly why it’s best for him to not stay here.” “Would it be so bad?” Emily asks. “I mean, you’re clearly still crazy about the guy. And you haven’t had sex in what... six years?” At this, Jax’s eyes widen, and I feel the color returning to my cheeks. Loudly, I hiss at him, “This is none of your business. Go back to cooking.” Emily coughs. “I think—” “Enough of what you think.” I reach over Emily to answer the phone that’s just begun to ring. “Hello, Lilac Inn this is Maggie.” I hesitate a moment, hearing a familiar voice that I can’t quite place over the line. “Wait, my Mila?” My pulse freezes as the secretary from Mila’s school announces herself along with some alarming news. “No, that can’t be right...sure, I’ll be right there.” As I set the phone down, I feel my brow furrow in confusion. Emily, like the brilliant friend that she is, forgets all about the inn and immediately turns her concern to Mila. “What’s wrong? Is she okay? Why do you look so confused?” “Mila’s fine,” I say slowly. “I think.” Emily blinks. “Then why are you looking like a ghost?”

“The principal’s secretary called to tell me that Mila’s been in a fight.” “Like, a fist fight?” Emily asks. “That’s impossible. Mila’s the sweetest thing this inn has ever seen. And we have cake.” Emily holds up her empty plate, and Jax sees it as a sign for a refill. Despite his faux-annoyance at feeding us, I secretly believe he enjoys nothing more than the insatiable appetites of Emily and myself. But this time, even Jax looks concerned. “Did you say Mila was in a fight?” he asks, strolling over to join us. “That’s impossible.” “That’s what I said!” I agreed. “But the principal needs me to come down there and deal with it—whatever that means.” “Did she win?” Jax asks. “I bet she won. She’s a sweet thing, but she can hold her own.” “That’s not important.” I glare at him. “What’s important is that Mila was allegedly in a fight! I mean, who would fight with my baby? Someone else had to have started it.” “I bet she won,” Emily agrees over my shoulder with Jax. “The girl is an athletic marvel, and she’s only six.” Jax nods proudly. “I taught her how to throw a punch.” “Why would you ever do that?” I ask, turning to him. “She’s cut off from you. All of you.”

“I’m kidding,” Jax says. “Though I did teach her how to throw a football.” “Go,” Emily says, steering me toward the door. “We’ll hold the fort down. And remember to breathe. I’m sure it’s fine—it’s probably all a misunderstanding.” “Misunderstanding,” I say, thinking of Mila, and Jax, and Tyler. “A morning of misunderstandings.” “Mila first, then Tyler,” Emily says. “We’ll sort this all out.”

Chapter 5 MAGGIE Sort this all out, my ass! I fume on the way to school. What’s it to Tyler if I’m involved in a happy, healthy relationship? I’m not, of course, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t be. If things had worked out differently with Mila’s father, maybe I would be in some sort of a relationship, even if it wasn’t a perfect one. Did he really think I’d wait around for him all this time, especially after he left without a word and no follow up contact? The thought makes me irrationally angry, and I have a moment of weakness while I picture dumping those lavender hand towels on his head this evening. Taking a deep breath, I focus on the road, and on Emily. She’s right about the business side of things. I shouldn’t be doing things to send our customers running. And if I had done something wrong, I might feel bad about it. In this case, I didn’t, and that’s what bothers me. I hate having to grovel for Tyler’s business over something that’s really not my fault. Except for the towel. I can scrounge up an apology for the wet cloth to the head.

But, I’ll try to get him to reconsider staying for Emily. With gritted teeth, I’ll deliver those hand towels and ask Tyler Daniels—the guest of our inn —if there’s anything I can do to change his mind. It should be easy to focus on business; after all, I am a professional. My Bluetooth signals an incoming call, distracting me for the moment. I answer with a grimace. “Hey, mom, what’s up?” “That’s how you greet your mother?” Mrs. Marshall has, without a doubt, perfect etiquette. My simple pleases and thank-yous will never be enough to impress her, but today she doesn’t have time to dwell on me. “I’m hearing rumors about Mila. Are they true?” “What rumors?” “Did Mila get in a fight at school this morning?” I nearly careen off the road. “Mother! How can you possibly know about that?” There’s dead silence as I ease the car back between the yellow lines. “Well,” she says with a dramatic sigh. “I suppose that’s to be expected.” “What is that supposed to mean?” “I’ve warned you about this—about Mila falling in with the wrong crowd. She doesn’t have a strong father figure, you know, and that’s just not right. A young mother needs a husband, and a little

girl needs her father. I know you thought your father was strict, but at least he was there for you.” “Thanks, mom,” I say, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel and doing my best to tune out the familiar argument. “I wasn’t aware of your thoughts on the matter.” “Sarcasm is not a pretty look on you, Margaret.” “Are you ever going to call me Maggie?” “I named you Margaret for a reason; it’s a beautiful name.” “It’s old-fashioned.” “It’s elegant and understated.” “If only I’d inherited those same qualities, huh?” I ask, knowing my mother wishes I was more of a Margaret. Ironically, the name sets off butterflies in my stomach because the only other person who seems to use it still is Tyler. “I know, I’m a bit of a letdown.” “Self-deprecation is a crutch, Margaret. It’s not funny, and you know I don’t like it. I refuse to indulge you.” “Well, I don’t like you always criticizing my parenting style! Mila is a wonderful, loving girl, and we’re doing just fine on our own. We don’t need your input on every decision in our lives, and we most certainly don’t need a man around—Mila has plenty of great influences in her life.”

“The inn is temporary, Margaret. They are not your family no matter what you say. One day, you’ll move on, or they’ll move on, and you’ll be all alone. Again.” I grit my teeth and hover my finger over the hang-up button. “I have to go, mother.” “Are you at the school now? If Mila’s been fighting...” “Goodbye, mother.” I slide from the car, annoyed at how much my mother’s phone calls and visits get to me. A long time ago, I realized that I would never be her ideal picture of a daughter, so I gave up trying. I focused on becoming me—Maggie Marshall—instead of the glorified Margaret my mother had pictured. I’m happy with the outcome, but my mother is still struggling to reconcile her dreams for me with the reality of who I am. After my father’s death, her meddling only grew worse. It’s been over ten years since he passed away. His loss was hard on both of us, and my mother’s way of coping seems to be taking control of my life. As I sign in at the school office, I’m doubly upset by the way my mother refers to the inn as if it’s this fickle thing—a place that might not be around tomorrow. Years ago, the inn was the only place I found that’d hire me, let me work and live in the same location, and support myself and a new baby. All because of Emily and Claire.

The inn has been more to me than a job, and the people who work there are more than friends. Hence the reason my mother’s insinuations that it won’t last are hurtful; it breaks my heart to think things won’t always stay the same. If I could freeze life today—the way it is now— I would. I would eat Jax’s food forever while Emily directed troops from the front desk. I’d want Mila to wiggle her way up to the reception desk and learn English words with Luca while he scolds her intermittently for answering the phone. I’d want Lelia to fuss at Mila for jumping on the freshly made bed, and then watch as the two used lavender-scented towels like face masks, making Mila giggle and grin with impish delight. This isn’t how I’d pictured family life. I’d pictured the house, the husband, the pack of kids, and the loving warmth that went with it. But life took unexpected twists and turns, and here we are. It helps to focus on the positives as I drag myself toward the principal’s office. This is the same school I attended years ago—Westley, the elementary school that feeds into the high school where I’d met Tyler Daniels, trouble-maker extraordinaire. I’m in the middle of working myself up over the memories this place holds when I reach the principal’s office and poke my head into the waiting room. I’ve been here before, and I know

the receptionist, Shonda, quite well. She’s got skin the color of a latte and a sense of fashion straight off the New York runway. The woman’s nails are a work of art in themselves, and if I ever have a real date, or an event that requires dressing up, I might pay the principal’s office a visit. “Hi, Shonda, I’m here to see...” The sound of a throat clearing stops me dead in my tracks. I turn slowly and come face to face with a familiar build. “Tyler?” “Well, look who it is.” Tyler doesn’t bother to stand, instead surveying me with a critical eye. “What brings you here, Miss Marshall? Is it still Marshall? Or are you married, now?” “Do you two know each other?” Shonda asks, raising a beautifully manicured fingernail as she sweeps it around the room. “Extensively,” he says. “I can step out if you need a minute,” she says, glancing between us. “I have no problem with you staying,” Tyler says. “There’s no hard feelings from me.” “Really?” I step forward, all of the stress from my mother, the inn, the news of Mila fighting at school bubbling up, and suddenly, I’m ready for my own fight. “Because it didn’t look that way when you stormed out of the inn this morning.” “I didn’t storm anywhere. I walked quickly; I had places to be.”

“Where, school? Aren’t you a little old to be sitting in the principal’s office?” “I could say the same for you, Margaret.” “Margaret?” Shonda raises her eyebrows. “I always thought of you as a Maggie.” “I am a Maggie,” I tell her. “It’s just this...this man seems to be stuck in the past. He’s a little slow on the uptake.” “A little slow?” Tyler rises to his feet. “No, I don’t think so. I know exactly who you seem to think you’ve become, Maggie, and I don’t like it. What happened to the Margaret I used to love?” “Yep.” Shonda stands, hikes a superfashionable purse up her shoulder, and trots out on a pair of heels that send her height skyrocketing to the moon. “That’s my cue to leave. Have fun, y’all, and please don’t throw things. Principal McNeal hates when the children throw things.” “We’re not children!” Both Tyler and I say this at the same time, causing the three of us to all freeze and look at one another. “Well, this is awkward.” Shonda gives us one last look as she closes the door behind her. “Bye.” “I’m not a child, anymore, Tyler,” I tell him, my voice thin icicles. I can see them pricking at his cool exterior, but I don’t care. Better to clear the air now so we know where we stand. “Please don’t treat me like I am one.”

“I can see you’re not a child.” Tyler pauses, gives a glance toward my chest, my hips, and if I’m not mistaken, it seems to halt his breath for a minute. Finally, he returns his focus to my face. “But you haven’t let go of our childhood mistakes.” “You weren’t a child when you left.” “I was in college! It’s not exactly the time men are known to make their best life choices.” “Yeah, well cry on someone else’s shoulder. I’m here for my daughter, not to argue with you.” This seems to startle Tyler. “Your daughter? How old is she?” I cross my arms. “Did you really not know?” “I tried not to pay attention to what happened at home once I’d left.” “Obviously.” I wave a hand. “Mila is almost seven years old.” “Seven?” He hesitates. I can see his brain calculating. “That would mean...” “She’s not yours,” I say shortly. “I’m positive. I...dated someone else after you, which is none of your business. Why are you here, anyway?” “My daughter.” His answer isn’t the one I expected, and though I’d prepared for a fight, this one shook me. “Excuse me?” “My daughter, Jessica. That’s why I’m here today.”

“But last night...” I pause in confusion. “You didn’t—” “I didn’t have her with me because she stayed at my mom and dad’s. It’s the first time we’ve been home since she’s been born, and my mom insisted her granddaughter spend the night.” There’s a hole inside me, and it’s growing bigger. Memories I’d long since tried to erase come flooding back. “You left because I told you I wanted to settle down.” “No, Maggie—that’s not why. Please, don’t think that.” “We dated, we slept together, and then suddenly, you weren’t there anymore,” I tell him. “You left the day after I told you I loved you.” Tyler’s face contorts in pain, and I almost feel sorry for him. But I’m too preoccupied trying to understand the timeline of events. “You can’t imagine how many times I picked up the phone to call you.” “Well, you didn’t.” To be fair, I add to it before he accuses me of the same thing. “And neither did I.” “So...are you married?” he asks. “Mila’s father, is he...does he work at the inn?” “I’m unattached. Jax, the chef, is just a friend.” A throat clear interrupts us. This time, it’s coming from a wide-eyed man whose pinched forehead says he’s unamused by our too-loud

arguing. “Am I interrupting something?” he asks pointedly. “The girls are waiting.” He backs into the office and leaves me in the lobby with Tyler. Our previous conversation is left dangling in the air as I work through what the principal just said—the girls. “Did you get a phone call about your daughter fighting?” I ask slowly, thumbing toward the office. “Was he talking to both of us?” “I did,” Tyler says, sounding puzzled. “But Jessica is an angel; seriously, I don’t know where she learned her manners because it’s not from me.” “No, Mila is an angel,” I correct. “She’d never pick a fight.” “It wasn’t Jessica,” he says, his eyes flashing as he steps forward. “I guarantee it.” “The Daniels family that I know tends to be stubborn,” I say. “Could she have inherited that part of your personality?” “The Marshall genes that I know are impossible to please. Could your daughter have that quality?” “Don’t talk about Mila like you know her!” I’m back to yelling at him, wondering why we keep yoyo’ing between hot and cold. “You haven’t been around to meet her.” “There’s one way to settle this,” Tyler says, gesturing with mock politeness toward the door behind me. “After you, princess.”

I give him the eyeroll to end all eyerolls, but I move forward. I’m worried my blood pressure has been through enough for one day, and with Mila having only one parent, I have to take care of myself. If I died, my mother would want custody of Mila, and I’m not subjecting my daughter to the same criticism I went through during my formative years. Plus, I don’t want to fight in front of my daughter—or the principal. I’m red-faced and feeling hot all over, wondering how much Principal McNeal heard. “Good morning, Principal McNeal.” I give a tight smile and offer my hand for a shake. “How are you?” “I’m, ah...fine.” Principal McNeal reaches out and tentatively grasps my hand. At this awkward greeting, I’m newly convinced that he heard everything. If I had any doubt, it’s obliterated by the curious stare he gives Tyler as he follows me into the room. “Please,” Principal McNeal says, addressing Tyler and I as if we’re the children here, while our daughters look on with large eyes—eyes that, I now see in Jessica, are mirror images of her father’s. “Take a seat.”

Chapter 6 TYLER The woman is beyond frustrating. I don’t know what it is about her, but from day one, from the first time I kissed Margaret Marshall, I’ve never been able to get her out of my mind. It’s as if she’s a part of my blood, the air I breathe, the world I live in— no matter how much time has passed. I can barely listen to Principal What’s-His-Face as he begins to explain the situation. My gaze is focused entirely on Maggie, halfway torn between how beautiful she looks when she’s razzed up—a hint of pink in her cheeks, the way her chest moves with each frustrated breath, the bright shine to her eyes that says she’s ready for a fight—and how hot she makes my blood boil. The principal clears his throat, and I snap to attention. I’m experiencing a moment of deja vu sitting here, remembering that one of the last times I’d been in this very office was the time I’d convinced Maggie to cut school and see a movie with me. It had been the first time she’d held my hand, and quite possibly, the very best day of my young life. It had made me antsy with desire just thinking about the way her skin had felt against mine, so soft and smooth, her touches gentle, yet

desperate...experimental, as we explored what it meant to fall in love. And...I’m gone again. I missed half of what the principal said, and judging by the way he’s glaring at me, he knows it, too. On top of that, the girls are bickering, so I force myself out of the memories and into the present. “She called me a country bumpkin,” Mila snaps. “I don’t even know what that is, but it doesn’t sound nice.” “It’s because you are a country bumpkin,” Jessica says patiently. “You’re from the country.” “Jess—” I say, and my daughter gives me a glare worthy of a teenager. I’m already dreading the years ahead, since it appears Jessica has aged twelve years in the last two. “That’s not a nice thing to say.” “She called me a know-it-all, first,” Jessica says. “Just because I answered the question right.” “You didn’t just answer one question right,” Mila says with a scowl. “You answered all of them right.” “Because I’m smart.” Jessica sounds proud of this, and I’m a bit uneasy with how aloof she sounds. I’ve tried so hard to make sure she didn’t inherit her mother’s mightier-than-thou attitude, but now and again, it still creeps in, and I’m painfully aware of Anastasia’s influence over her.

“You didn’t leave any questions for the rest of us to answer,” Mila says, shaking her finger at Jessica. “And because of that, you got extra stars, and we all have to stay inside at recess to do worksheets.” Margaret turns to look at me, ever-so-slowly, a slight smirk to her lips. I can read what she’s thinking: how on earth did troublemaker Tyler Daniels end up with the goody two-shoes, ubersmart daughter? Good question, I want to tell her. I have no clue. “Mila,” Maggie says, “just because Jessica answered the questions correctly, doesn’t mean you should snap at her.” “Only snitches answer all the questions correctly,” Mila says. “Nobody likes a snitch.” “That’s not what snitch means.” Jessica rolls her eyes, unfazed. “A snitch is a tattle-tale.” “Snitches don’t have friends,” Mila blurts out. “You know, if you’re mean, people don’t want to be your friend.” “Mila!” Maggie’s mad now, and her daughter senses this. “Come over here, please.” Mila backs off, but the damage is already done. Jessica pauses at Mila’s words, her mouth open. Her eyes, bright and confident, flicker, and I hurt for my daughter. I lean forward to interfere, but before I can say a word, Jess bursts into tears.

I’m on my feet in two seconds flat, my arms wrapped around her in half the time. “It’s okay, honey,” I tell her, running my hands through her hair. “She didn’t mean it.” Meanwhile, Maggie grabs Mila’s hand and drags her unceremoniously to the side of the room. I watch her eyes darken as she speaks firmly with her daughter. As I hold Jess to my chest, it’s impossible not to overhear their conversation. “I’m very disappointed you’d talk to anyone like that,” she says to Mila. “I thought you knew better. What’s the first thing we talk about at the inn?” “Be nice to every guest,” she says, sullen. “No matter what they say to you.” “School is no different,” Maggie continues. “You know that; I taught you better than this. What’s gotten into you?” “She keeps saying she wants to go back to the city because it’s more fun than here.” Mila looks over her shoulder at Jessica. “I like Harp’s Haven. If she doesn’t like it, why doesn’t she go back and leave us alone? She says it’s stupid and boring and nobody important lives here.” “Mila.” Maggie’s voice is incredibly sharp, and I sense this will not be the end of their conversation. “Please apologize. You know we welcome anyone who comes to our inn, as well as our town.”

As Jessica’s sniffs slow, and her tears stop, I have to wonder if Maggie is thinking about me in this whole scenario. For a minute, I feel guilty about making her work life more difficult. “I don’t like it here,” Jessica says, drawing my attention back to her. “Anastasia said I wouldn’t.” My heart thuds a little louder at the name Anastasia. Jessica has always called her mother by her first name, as odd as I think that is; Anastasia insisted on it. Probably because Anastasia wants to be a now-and-again friend to Jess instead of her mother. Maggie hears the name, too, and her back stiffens. It rings a bell for her, as I knew it would. “Apologize,” Margaret instructs, urging her daughter forward. “That is not the way we act in Harp’s Haven.” “Sorry.” Mila shuffles toward us, still scowling. “You can stay here if you want.” “I don’t know why you want to stay here,” Jessica shoots back. “You don’t have any friends, either.” “Hey,” I snap, as Mila’s lip trembles. “What’s the problem here, girls? If you’re both looking for friends, why can’t you get along? Why don’t you be friends with each other?” “She’s a country bumpkin,” Jess says, as Mila frowns.

“That is not nice, either,” I tell Jess. “Where on earth did you learn to talk like that?” “Anastasia.” Jessica sniffs. “She said I’d see a lot of country bumpkins where we were going, and that she didn’t know why you wanted to come back.” I want to throttle Anastasia in this moment. Give her a good shake until she wipes away the attitude that’s rubbing off on our daughter. It’s half the reason I moved us back home, even if it’s temporary. I had hoped with some time away from the city, Anastasia’s half-hearted visits every other month would lessen the impact on these sorts of lessons. Hopefully, in that time, Jessica could ease up and learn to enjoy life a little. To let her drive to succeed relax a bit while she’s just a kid. She’s growing up so fast, and I just want to stop her. To rewind a bit, and keep her young and playful and innocent. “Apologize,” I growl to Jess. “And if I hear you saying that again, you’re grounded.” “Sorry,” she fires to Mila. Principal McNeal is sitting with a stunned expression on his face, watching this unfold. As the moment finally fades to a quiet end to the conversation, he struggles to gather himself and leap back to attention.

“Well,” he says, sounding gruff, as if he’d just woken from a nap. “It sounds like we’ve made some progress here today, but we can’t have the girls fighting like this in class.” “Of course not,” Maggie and I say together. “Whatever consequences you decide for the girls will be fair, I’m sure,” Maggie adds. “We’ll also continue this discussion at home.” “I believe that’s a good idea,” Principal McNeal says with a stern look at me and Maggie. “It seems like some of these issues are stemming from other things going on in your home lives.” “Jessica and I just moved here,” I tell him. “As you know. And, like Maggie and Mila, we’ll continue the discussion at home.” “I think the two of you should set up a playdate,” Principal McNeal suggests, looking as if he should be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for the idea. “A few hours to allow the girls to get to know one another better.” There’s a long silence. The girls are in a glareoff, and Maggie opens and shuts her mouth a few times before she responds. “But—” she finally starts, and the second I sense her starting to argue, I turn toward the principal and grin. “I’m happy to do so if Margaret agrees,” I say, turning my grin to Maggie. “I think it’d be great for the girls.”

Not to mention, it’d be great for Maggie and myself. Clearly, we have some unresolved issues, and I’m dying to get to the bottom of what makes Margaret Marshall tick. “Fine,” she says, clipped. “We’ll figure something out.” “Great!” Principal McNeal clasps his hands together and smiles, as if he’s solved world hunger. “Now, let’s get the girls back to class. I think a homework session with the girls working together over lunch will be a great way to kickstart things.” I can feel Jessica bristling at the suggestion, and I squeeze her shoulder until she relaxes. I can sympathize with the way she’s feeling. How can we expect our kids to get along if we can’t? It’s not as if Margaret and I are big shiny examples of the way friendship works. “Excellent,” Margaret says, and then together, we say goodbye to the principal and walk the girls back to class. Once we’ve each had a private chat with our respective daughters, sending them away with stern warnings and chaste kisses to the forehead, I find myself alone with Maggie in the hallway. She looks awkwardly at her feet. I want to say something to lessen the discomfort, but I’m not sure what. I want to tell her I’d like to start all over again like it’s our first time, but I don’t. Margaret

looks like she wants to die on the spot, and I don’t trust myself to not make things worse. “So,” I venture. “When should we plan on that playdate?” Maggie raises her eyes to meet mine, and I spy something wrong. There’s a hurt there, deeper than anything she’s exposed to me yet, and it sends an ache through my gut. “Anastasia?” she asks in a quiet voice. “Anastasia?” Then, she spins on her heel and, without a backwards glance, leaves me standing in the hallway alone.

Chapter 7 MAGGIE “I understand your feelings,” Emily says, preparing the warm, freshly-scented lavender towels that we distribute nightly to our guests. It’s a tiny little human touch, an unnecessary pampering that our customers rave over. “But let’s backtrack for a second.” I sullenly pull my mug of decaf coffee closer to me and finally dig into the piece of cake that’s been waiting for me all day long. I’m depressed to find, however, that the cake tastes like mush—and it’s not a problem with the chef. It’s a problem with my taste buds, and I’m pretty sure they’re downright depressed, too. “No cake?” Emily asks, pulling it toward her. “This is serious.” “Anastasia,” I repeat. “I can’t believe it.” I haven’t been able to get her name, or her perky cheerleader’s body, out of my head all day. The image of the upperclassman—the woman who’d been a thorn in my side since the day Tyler Daniels first held my hand—who had apparently finally nabbed her man. She’d wanted Tyler since day one, and he’d chosen me. At least, he had, until they’d both

ended up in New York, and Anastasia had apparently mothered Tyler’s child. “I never met Tyler back then,” Emily says. “But the way you explained it, he asked you to go with him to New York, and you said no.” “Are you saying this is my fault?” I swivel to face my friend. “This is not my fault.” “No, but it was your choice to stay, and it was his choice to leave. You’re both equally at fault.” “Fault for what?!” “You weren’t together!” Emily says. “It’s not as if he left you for her. You were both single. If I recall correctly, you ended up with someone else about the same time he did...judging by the nearlyidentical age of your children.” “Yes, but mine was a rebound.” “And his?” “He didn’t need to rebound from me,” I say, bitter. “He didn’t love me.” At this, Emily groans. “What are you moaning about?!” “The man still loves you.” Emily looks over at my furious expression and waves a hand. “Don’t shoot the messenger. The man had it bad for you then, I’m sure—and he still does.” “I don’t believe it.” “You don’t have to. I’m just playing devil’s advocate. Can you really crucify him for dating

someone else? The guy was young and dumb. So were you. We all were at that age.” “Well, he hasn’t changed.” “Hasn’t he?” Emily shrugs. “I don’t know for sure, but it sounds like he’s raising a daughter as a single parent, just like you.” “How do you know for a fact he’s single?” Emily levels her gaze at me. “When I noticed he wasn’t wearing a ring, I asked around. Trust me —my sources are trustworthy.” “I believe you.” “Who knows? Maybe if the two of you could sit in a room long enough to talk without arguing, you might find you have something in common.” “Impossible.” “Great. Deliver these, then, please.” Emily shoves the tub of warm towels in my hands. “Tyler’s home. I checked. I’d appreciate you seeing if he wants to stay his allotted time instead of cancelling, but if you don’t feel like it, I won’t push you.” “Thanks,” I hedge, grudging. “Maybe you have a point, but I don’t want to hear it.” “Didn’t say you had to—I’m just giving you my thoughts. I’m good at that.” I offer her an apologetic smile and take the tub. “Would you mind checking on Mila? No books, no reading, nothing tonight. I meant it when I said her

bedtime is early. There’s no excuse for the way she acted today.” Emily sucks in a breath and shakes her head. “I’ve never seen you so upset with her.” “Well, Mila’s never acted this way,” I tell her. “And I don’t agree with it.” “Can you blame her?” Emily can barely hold back a cheeky grin. “I mean, there’s obviously something in the Marshall blood that reacts like dynamite to the Daniels family blood.” I purse my lips, but I don’t argue. I’d been thinking that very same thing. While Emily polishes off my cake and chortles at her own joke, I head down the hallway to face Tyler Daniels—praying he doesn’t give me a reason to smack him in the face with a lavender-scented towel. I’m on shaky ground as it is, uneasy at having to punish Mila— and not used to being the mean parent. I don’t think my nerves can handle much more. When I reach the outside of his room, I pause, my arms shaking. The tub isn’t all that big, and, since I distributed most of the towels already, the remainder really aren’t that heavy. But it feels like I’m trying to hold up the weight of the world as I shift my weight from one foot to the next. Two knocks on the door later, and it appears my nerves are unfounded. “Yes? Oh, Margaret.” Tyler immediately shifts into a straighter position as he appears in the

doorway, but his typical smile isn’t there tonight. “Can I help you with something?” I lose my words. I’d come here armed for another confrontation, but the way Tyler looks— beaten down and sad—I can’t bring myself to do it. “I brought over...um, sorry to interrupt, but we bring by warm towels for our guests, and—” “Thanks,” he says, and his voice is crisp. “I don’t need one.” “Are you sure?” For some reason, I find myself sticking my foot in the door as he begins to close it. “They’re incredibly soothing, and after the day you’ve had, I bet you could use a few minutes to relax.” A wry smile crooks his lips upward, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Do you run on commission selling this shit?” I feel my cheeks warming as I glance down at the towels. “No,” I mumble, “I’m just trying to do my job. Please don’t make this more difficult than it already is.” “Dammit.” He curses, running a hand over his face, looking more exhausted and aged than he did when he first opened the door. “I’m sorry, Margaret.” “No problem—long day.” “Jess won’t stop crying.” He looks weary at this, and in the background soft sobs radiate from the second bedroom of Tyler’s suite. “I’m running

out of things to say to her. Sometimes, I suck at this parenting thing.” “No, you don’t.” I don’t know where my conviction comes from, but deep down, I know the statement is accurate. I can see the love in his eyes when he talks about Jess. “Give her a break. You just moved to an entirely new—and vastly different —town, and it’ll take her awhile to adjust. Mila’s been having trouble making friends this year, so she’s struggling, too. I’m sure they lashed out at each other because they’re both scared.” “Mila has trouble making friends? What do you tell her?” “Advice. Not that it always works.” “What sort of advice?” An idea strikes me. “Why don’t you take a lavender towel and relax. Let me have a shot at talking to Jessica—woman to woman.” “No, you don’t have to do anything like that. I’ll go back in there and...” “Exactly.” I find my basket pushing itself forward into the room, stopping only when it bounces against a rock-solid chest. The thunk my basket makes against Tyler’s lean physique is impressive, and I look up in awe. “Most dads I know don’t look like you. You do know that, right? This...dad bod is, uh, unexpected.” Finally, I see that bit of sunshine I didn’t even know I needed. Tyler looks confused for a moment,

then throws his head back and laughs, and laughs; he laughs for so long that eventually, when he stops, he wipes the beginnings of tears from his eyes. The sobs from the next room have stilled and don’t resume immediately. “I needed that,” he says, recovering. “Thanks, Margaret.” I don’t know what I said that was so funny, but it seems to have lightened the mood and eased the tension lingering between us. “Why don’t you sit down like I told you to do, and let me into the room?” “Yes, ma’am,” he says. “You seem to have picked up this parenting business like a natural.” “You’re not so bad yourself,” I say, my hand reaching out for his arm as I guide him to the couch and plunk him down. When I realize this sounds too much like flirting, I add, “I mean, from what I can tell.” “I’ve gotta be honest, Margaret.” “Yes?” My breath hitches as his hands encircle my wrists and ease the basket of towels from my hands. His eyes twinkle at my reaction. “I don’t think I’m a lavender scented towel sort of guy.” “You haven’t had mine then. Sit down and close your eyes.” “I like where this is going,” he says. When I lean close, he whispers against my ear. “Pants on or

off?” “You’re a pig,” I say, though the image is all but unpleasant. “Shut your eyes.” As he does, I’m left to my own imagination, and the imagery there sends tingles all down my spine. I’m going to need to slap a lavender towel over my head pretty soon in order to calm my jets. To say my jets haven’t fired to life in ages would be accurate. I’m pretty sure there’s no fuel left in the tank, which is why I’m mystified at the effect Tyler has on me. My hands seem to reach of their own accord, as if drawn by magnets. Tyler shuts his eyes finally, and I take my time preparing the cloth. He looks tired sitting there, his lean, muscular body sprawled across the couch. He’s so tall and broad he makes the furniture feel small, and I imagine that if he were to put his hands on me and pick me up, I’d feel the same way. I shake the feeling off, focusing instead on the towel. “This is one of those little perks people seem to like,” I tell him, leaning over him as I gently rest it across his eyes. “A fun little addition to the turn down service for our starred guests.” “Show me the magic,” he says, that cheeky smile twitching his lips upward as I gently pat the towel down against his eyes. “I’m glad you use humor as a coping mechanism,” I fire back, wanting to pull my hands away, though I can’t seem to do so. “I came in here

thinking you needed some help, but I guess that was just an act.” I start to pull my hands away, relieved when Tyler’s fingers catch my wrist. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’ll stop.” An awkward stretch of silence follows. I debate telling Tyler it’s fine, that I don’t mind his teasing— that maybe, I even enjoy it. But that would give the wrong impression. With a start, I remember that my fingers are pressed gently onto the lavender towel as Tyler sits motionless beneath them. I ease my hands away and speak to his blindfolded face. “Do you mind if I go talk to Jessica?” The sobs have quietly resumed in the other room. Tyler tenses at the mention of his daughter’s name, then raises a hand and lifts the towel just enough to peek underneath. “You really don’t have to do that.” “I have no clue if I’ll be successful, but I’d like to give it a shot,” I admit. I truly mean it, too. Jessica’s probably having a tough time of things. I know from experience how difficult it is to play mom and dad, and I can only imagine Tyler’s struggling with the same feeling. Tyler gives a nod of confirmation, and I leave him on the couch and pad quietly toward the bedroom.

“Jessica?” I call from the doorway. “Do you mind if I come in for a second?” She peers up from her pillow. The room is pretty and pink, filled with an antique desk pressed against one wall and an ornate queen bed that’s the centerpiece of the room. An old, gorgeous trunk sits at the foot of the bed, stuffed to the brim with fluffy blankets and squashy pillows. “It’s me,” I add, taking a tentative step into the room. “You can call me Maggie. I’m—” “I know who you are,” she snaps, showing off a bit of the personality that rubbed Mila the wrong way. “You’re Mila’s mom. I met you today —remember?” I thought Mila had sass, but it’s nothing compared to Jessica’s style. If I stick the two girls side by side in a mental image, I picture Mila as the scrappy little first grader she is, compared to Jessica’s more cynical, seven-going-on-seventeen attitude. On the positive side, I am well versed in the language of sass. In addition, I know that more times than not, those toughest girls on the outside are most tender on the inside. It just takes a bit of digging and poking and prodding to see it. Jessica won’t make it easy, but I’m a stubborn woman, and I don’t plan to give up easily. “I’m going to take that as a yes,” I say, taking a few more steps into the room. “Can we chat for a

minute?” “I don’t want to chat.” “Well, you seem like you’re sad, and I want to help you.” “If my dad can’t help me, what makes you think you can help?” “For starters,” I tell her, “I’m a woman. Which means I was once a young girl like yourself, believe it or not.” “But you’re old now.” She sniffs, runs a hand over her nose, looking more like a child. “So you don’t know what it’s like.” I laugh heartily and walk over to stand in front of the mirror. “Honey, you don’t know how well I know what it’s like to be standing in your place.” I lean closer. “Damn, there’s another wrinkle. Maybe I am getting old.” When I turn around, I find Jessica’s mouth open in surprise. “You said a swear word in front of me.” “Sorry.” Strolling over, I test the waters by perching on the edge of her bed. “It’s not fun to move to a new place, is it?” She furrows her eyebrows. “What would you know about that? I thought you were from here.” “I moved here when I was about your age.” “From where?” “California.” Jessica perks up. “From a city?”

I give a smile and nod of my head. “Los Angeles.” Jessica’s eyes are calculating, and her cheeks are dry, a pleasant change from the traces of salt left behind by tears. “And did you like it here when you moved?” I shake my head. “Hated it.” “Did your mom move, too?” Her question sticks me in the gut a little harder than expected. “Yes, she did. And I’m sorry yours didn’t; I know that makes things extra tough.” Jessica tries for nonchalant, but she shrugs her shoulder. “She’s busy. We don’t see her that much.” I should’ve figured that to be the case, but the words still surprise me. “She works a lot,” Jessica adds, and I recognize the note of desperation there as she tries to spin a story. “She is basically famous. Sometimes, she takes me shopping and we buy fun things.” “What sorts of fun things?” “Makeup,” she says with a frown. “Sometimes clothes.” “Your mom must be nice,” I tell her, raising my eyebrow. “I don’t let Mila wear makeup yet.” Jessica looks down at her hands and clasps them together. “I guess.” I note that Jessica hadn’t worn any makeup today, nor had she worn particularly flashy clothes.

She looks like a normal kid who doesn’t know these things exist. “Do you like shopping?” I ask. She shrugs again. “My mom likes it.” “What else do you do with your mom?” She shrugs twice this time around. “My mom said she’d come for Thanksgiving.” “That’s coming fast! That’ll be fun to see her,” I say. “I bet you miss her.” A few more shrugs—if I don’t stop asking questions, the poor girl’s going to have whiplash. “Listen,” I say, reaching out to rest a hand on her little leg. “I have to let you in on a secret.” She looks up through thick lashes. “What sort of secret?” Jessica is a beautiful girl, but then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. Tyler is more deity than man, and Anastasia had been born with a head cheerleader’s body—perky breasts, slender little waist, bouncy blonde hair—it really isn’t surprising that Jessica is a stunning mix of them both. “Mila’s been having a hard time making friends in class, too, and she was born here. Sometimes it’s hard to make friends with other girls,” I tell her. “I don’t know why that is, but it’s true. I didn’t always have a lot of friends either.” “You have a lot of friends now.” “No,” I correct. “I have a few friends, and I keep them really close by.”

“Is my dad one of them?” “Well, that’s a long story,” I say, shifting uneasily. “Probably better if he tells you about it.” “Did you love him?” “He was a very good friend a long time ago,” I hedge. “I cared a lot about him.” “Is that why you were mad at him earlier?” “What?” “You guys were fighting today. We could hear you.” “We weren’t fighting,” I say. “We were catching up. Very loudly.” “It sounded like arguing.” “I like your father very much as a friend. That’s all.” “If you can argue with my dad, then why can’t I argue with Mila?” “I’ll tell you what,” I say. “You have a point. I should practice what I preach, huh?” Jessica gives a perfunctory nod. “Well, let’s schedule a date this Saturday.” “For you and my dad?” “What? No!” I can’t keep the horror out of my voice, despite the fact that the idea would be interesting—under different circumstances. “A playdate for you and Mila, except your dad and I will have to play nice, too. We can all work on getting along.” “My dad dates sometimes.”

“Well, that’s his business, not mine.” “Do you date?” I can honestly answer this one. “Nope.” “Then how did you get Mila?” “What?” “My mom and dad used to date, and that’s how they got me,” Jessica explains. “They loved each other, but it didn’t work out, so they didn’t get married. But they’re still friends.” “Yeah, well, I suppose I did date once, a long time ago.” “Are you going to date more to get another kid?” “You know what? One’s plenty to handle right now,” I say, searching desperately for a safer topic. Seems I’d tried to help out Jessica, and now I’m the one in need of a lifejacket. “What would you like to do for our weekend date?” “Mila won’t want to go.” “Of course she will! Why do you say that?” “Because she doesn’t like me.” “Do you like her?” Jessica bobs her shoulders. “I don’t have friends. They say I’m too smart.” “Believe it or not,” I tell her. “I used to be smart, too. I graduated first in my high school class.” Jess gives me a skeptical look. “What happened?”

“Hey!” I ruffle her hair, and this earns me a giggle. A giggle that’s been harder to earn than gold, and one I cherish ten times more. Once she settles back in bed, tucked under the covers in cute pink pajamas, my easy smile turns tighter. “It can be hard; I know that.” “How did you...” Jess clears her throat and starts again. “You have friends now.” “I learned that being right isn’t always the most important thing. I’m not a genius by any means, but I worked really hard for good grades. Doesn’t feel like it means a whole lot if nobody sits with you at lunch, though.” Jessica hangs her head a bit, and I can tell I’ve hit a nerve. “I promise you this. Mila would love to get to know you. She has crabby days just like you and I do, and maybe if we spend some more time together, it’ll help you get used to being in town.” Jessica wrinkles her nose. “I don’t want to get used to being here.” I hesitate. This reminds me I need to talk to Tyler about his lodgings while he’s in town, as per Emily’s request. Another conversation I’m not thrilled to be having tonight. “I know, and I didn’t want to either. But look at me now, twenty years later. I’m still here.” “That’s a bummer.”

“No, it’s not,” I say, and I realize I mean it. “I really enjoy life here. I’m not saying you have to stay, but I do know one thing. If you try to hate this place, you’ll find plenty of reasons to dislike it. But, if you try to find things you love, you might just enjoy your time here.” “Maybe I want to hate it.” “Then hate it—I don’t blame you. But I would think it’s more fun to give it your best shot.” I see Jessica’s eyes flash, and I know I’ve hit on her driving force. She took my statement as a challenge, and she’s wired not to give up. She’s wired suspiciously close to the way I work, which is why I understand how to get through to her. “Think about what you want to do this weekend,” I tell her, standing. “I thought it might be fun to go apple picking.” “Shopping,” she says quickly. “Great,” I say. “We’ll do one thing for our city gal,”—I point to her—“and one thing for this country gal.” I point to myself and grin. “Apple picking, shopping, and dinner. What do you think?” Jessica’s eyes brighten. “What does Mila think?” “She’s already excited.” It’s a white lie, but I’m going to do my best to make that a fact just as soon as I leave this room. “Just do me one favor this week.” “What?”

“Try and make things a little easier on your dad,” I tell her. “Boys—men—don’t always know how to handle us ladies. So, if you need to talk or something, feel free to come to me, too. My door’s always open.” “But sometimes I can’t help when I cry.” “That’s okay. Me neither. Your dad just worries about you.” Jessica pulls a blanket that I hadn’t noticed before closer to her chest. It’s ratted out and worn, almost see-through in places. “Thank you, Margaret.” “You can call me Maggie.” “Why does my dad call you Margaret?” I give a lost little smile. “Nostalgia?” “Good night, Maggie.” “Goodnight, Jess.” Shutting the lights off, save for the little nightlight near the door, I inch out of the room and pull the door halfway closed behind me. I peek through the cracked door and lose track of how long I stand there. It must be ten minutes at least because Jessica’s breathing turns into soft, even little waves, and eventually, I finish closing the door. “A crack, please,” a little voice calls from inside, and I jump to attention. “Leave it open a crack!”

“Sorry,” I whisper, and crack the door open. “Goodnight.” I tread softly back into the living area, feeling buoyed by my children-whispering abilities. One young girl successfully tucked to bed, the second on the way. I’m feeling pretty damn proud of myself. “Tyler,” I murmur, as I enter the living room. “I think she’s asleep...” I stop, realizing she’s not the only one. Apparently, I’m tucking in three people tonight, not including myself. Tyler’s in the same spot I left him on the couch, his mouth cracked open in a sexy little pout, and he’s breathing deeply, fast asleep. I tidy up the apartment for a quick second, retrieve the lavender towel and shut the windows, closing up the place for the evening. After turning down the lights save for one underneath the kitchen microwave, I grab the biggest, softest blanket from the arm of the chair and rest it gently over Tyler’s body. I can’t help but pause, breathless at the sight of him. It’s more than his looks or his charm. There’s something incredibly innocent about the way his lips twitch now and again into a smile, his eyebrows creased in concern. I find myself wanting to reach for him, run a finger along his jaw, trace over his worry lines, and whisper that everything will be okay...and that’s when I know it’s time to leave.

I step outside the room, close the door behind me, and jump when a voice sounds next to my ear. “So, did you sort things out?” Emily asks, waiting suspiciously close to Tyler’s door. “Is he staying here or what?” “I didn’t get around to asking him.” Emily frowns. “You were in there for quite a while.” “I talked to Jess for a bit. She was crying—poor thing had a tough day.” “And what about Tyler, is he your poor thing, too?” I roll my eyes, but I don’t answer. Instead, I head for the reception desk to hand the towel basket to Luca. “Oh, hell no, you are not walking away from me, woman!” Emily marches to catch up with me. “What happened in there?” “Nothing.” “Then why are you floating on a freaking cloud?” Emily gives me a shake. “Little hearts are popping out of your eyes.” “It’s just...I feel for him,” I say. “He’s a single dad doing his best. Jess has moved to a new city and is finding it hard to make friends. We have a date set up for Saturday to help everyone get along better.” “Are we talking about you and the Greek god? Or the two girls?”

“Both?” “Girl,” Emily says with a shake of her head. “You’d better watch yourself.” “What are you talking about?” “You’re falling,” she says, pulling me off to a little nook near the lobby. She meets my eyes, her gaze steady. “You were wrecked last time Tyler Daniels left town. I just don’t want that to happen again.” “I’m not going to let it happen. Things are different this time.” “Are they?” Emily asks, a surprising sharpness to her voice. “I’m just saying...consider yourself warned.” As Emily went off to ignore Luca, I let myself into my room and collapsed straight onto the couch. For the first time all day, I simply sat and rested. Is Emily right? Am I falling for Tyler already? The thought has my heart pounding. I’m in trouble.

Chapter 8 MAGGIE “What’s that smell?” “Cockiness.” Emily glares over the counter at Luca. “It just drips off of him, haven’t you noticed?” “I meant the butter. And the...is that popping? Who’s making popcorn at seven o’clock in the morning?” Luca pulled an all-nighter for us last night since Jenny, the other woman who helps on the night shift, called in sick. Luca’s packing up his things from the front desk, staunchly oblivious to the fiery daggers Emily is shooting at him from the dining room. “What’d he do to piss you off this time?” I ask, gesturing for a mug of coffee from Jax. “Smile at you?” “Basically,” she spits. “He told me I looked nicer than usual this morning, and he asked if I had a date.” “You are all dolled up,” I say. “I thought you had something special going on, too.” “What is that supposed to mean?” She’s still dissecting Luca’s statement, staring at him when Jax plops two mugs of piping hot liquid in front of

us. “Does he think I look like a turtle the rest of the time?” “A turtle?” “I just don’t understand it. Why did he say I look better than usual?” she fumes. “Couldn’t he have just said I looked nice and left it at that?” “Cream?” Jax suggests to Emily. “Shut it,” she says, sighing as she collapses into her hands. “Men! I tell you!” I shoot an apologetic smile to Jax, take the cream from him, and dump it into Emily’s cup. I like mine black; she likes hers the shade of snow. “Sorry,” I mouth to him. “I heard that,” Emily says. “Don’t apologize for them. Men, they’re...they’re pigs, I tell you! What am I supposed to look like at seven in the morning? If I wear pajama pants, I’m a slob. If I put on makeup, I must have a special date.” “Emily.” I put my hands on her shoulders and give her a little shake. “You’re wearing a sequined dress and high heels. You’ve put on mascara and blush and foundation, and probably a lot more that I don’t even know exists. There’s a fifty percent chance you’re wearing Spanx under your dress. What’s going on?” Emily frowns, peering at herself in the mirror behind the counter. Jax is frozen halfway between us and the kitchen, too terrified to offer input one way or another.

“Oh,” she says. “Fine. Sorry, Jax.” His shoulders relax. “You do look great today. Special occasion?” I shake my head at him. “Too soon, Jax.” Jax smartly decides to make another batch of coffee before the morning rush starts in the dining room, and he backs gracefully away. “What’s going on with you?” I ask Emily. “Did you sleep okay?” “I slept fine.” Emily must hear the snap in her voice because she rephrases. “Sorry. I’m just...embarrassed.” “Embarrassed?” “I don’t have a date,” she mumbles. “I just dressed up for fun.” “Why is that embarrassing? You look great.” I gesture at my slim-fitting yoga pants that I like to pretend are business casual, and the tidy longsleeved shirt that skims my torso. “I’m the one wearing pajamas.” “You look fine,” Emily sulks. “You look great in whatever you wear. I actually have to try to look good.” I catch a glimpse of Luca out of the corner of my eye, and suddenly, my tune changes. “Could your dressing up have anything to do with the fact that Luca worked all night and you knew you’d see him this morning?”

“It’s Claire’s Halloween party,” Emily admits, still sullen. “I thought maybe he’d go as my date. Just friends of course, but I need a man for the other half of my costume.” “Just ask him. I’m sure he’d say yes.” She cringes. “He asked if I was going on a date tonight, and I panicked. I told him yes. Spoiler alert: I don’t have a date.” “So? Tell him you panicked.” “I sort of made up someone named Mike. So, if anyone asks, I’m going on a date with Mike tonight. Who makes up a person? I don’t even know anyone named Mike.” “Right.” “Please, please, please cover for me.” Emily clasps her hands together, nearly upsetting her coffee mug as she begs. “And please, please, please be the other half of my costume.” “Are you asking me to be a man for Halloween?” “Sort of.” She cringes. “I know it’s sort of a sexy holiday or whatever, but I have an incredible costume, and—” “I’ll do it,” I say happily. “I have no desire to be sexy on Halloween.” “Really? Maggie—you are the best.” “When is she having it? I’m trick or treating with Mila on Halloween.”

“Uh—yeah, me too. I have my pillow case all ready for candy collecting,” Emily confirms. “The party’s not until the Saturday after Halloween. I know it’s a month away, but I needed to reserve a date. Also, you have an invitation. It’s on the desk, but I was hoping you’d go with me.” “Consider me your perpetual wing woman,” I say, and then sniff again, distracted. “I swear, I smell—” “The popcorn machine,” Emily says, peppy now that she’s got me secured as a date. “Why?” “I thought it was broken.” I stand, cupping my mug of coffee, and inch into the lounge behind reception. Sure enough, the machine is pop-poppopping away before my eyes. “Jax, did you fix this?” Jax pokes his head around from the kitchen. “No, and I have no idea why anyone needs popcorn at seven a.m. It’s ruining the breakfast ambiance. I’m going to have to cook a shitload of bacon to overpower the smell.” “You didn’t call a repair man?” I ask Emily, confused. She shakes her head no, and I call over her shoulder. “Luca? Do you know anything about the popcorn?” “Yes,” he says. “I do.” “And?” I prompt. “Would you like to tell me who you called to fix it?”

“I didn’t call anyone,” he says, giving a warm little smile toward Emily. She practically quivers under his gaze, and her sequins give an extra shimmer. “Okay,” I prompt Luca. “Who fixed it?” “Your boyfriend.” “I don’t have a boyfriend.” “Seems like it,” Luca says, raising his eyebrows. “You went into his room late last night, he came down here this morning and fixed this for you...Sounds like a boyfriend to me.” I stomp past Luca. “Don’t go spreading rumors —Tyler Daniels and I are not dating.” I find Mila swinging her feet on a stool at the kitchen counter, slurping up the last marshmallows from her bowl of Lucky Charms. Once a week, Jax allows her sugary cereal—the rest of the time, we agreed to feed her eggs or oatmeal and fruit. “Didn’t you have cereal two days ago?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at Jax. “Because I’m pretty sure I remember you convincing me to let you have it early this week.” “More coffee?” Jax reaches over and fills my cup while it’s still in my hands. “Don’t you have to get her to school?” “Aren’t you going to say it’s lucky I’m so cute?” Mila mimics, sending me a cheesy grin as she slurps the last of the multicolored milk. “Or else I’d be in trouble!”

I’m still half-dazed, wondering why on earth Tyler would’ve taken the time to fix my popcorn machine, especially if he’s not planning to stick around longer than a few nights. “Brush your teeth,” I tell Mila, “and get back here in five minutes or we’ll be late.” “Thanks, mom.” Mila leans up and gives me a smushy kiss on the cheek that I have to wipe off with my sleeve. As she jogs off, I call after her. “You’re lucky you’re so cute, or else you’d be in trouble!” “I can’t say no to her,” Jax says, when I round on him with an annoyed glare. “She’s too cute for her own good; she should come with a warning label, or an instruction manual—something. How can I say no to her?” I give him a look that says I’m thoroughly unconvinced that’s the case, then follow Mila back to our suite. I wait, staring out the window while she flicks toothpaste everywhere, startled to spot Tyler walking Jessica to the car. I lean closer, watching as Jessica stops briefly to examine the decorations. Tyler’s eyes flick up at the inn while he waits, and I leap backward, ducking out of his line of sight. “Why are you spying on people?” Mila has somehow snuck up on me, and now stands behind me, watching too. “I want to spy, too.”

“I was waiting for you,” I say crossly, ushering her out the door. “Move it or lose it, girlfriend— we’re going to be late.” “I wish Jessica wasn’t living at the inn,” Mila says with a pout. “It will make things weird at school.” “Lucky for you, we have a date with Jessica and her father this weekend,” I say. “Apple picking then shopping. Maybe that’ll help you two get along.” “No! We always go apple picking just you and me! Even Emily doesn’t come with us.” “Well, we’re changing things up this year.” “It’s not fair,” Mila argues. “It’s our thing.” “We have plenty of things, Mila. We spend a lot of time together. I love you, honey, but we have to think about other people too. Jessica just moved here, away from her mother, and she’s lonely. Would it kill us to spend some time with them?” “So what? I don’t have a dad. She doesn’t have a mom. It’s equal.” “That’s no excuse, Mila,” I say, though it aches to tell her this. “And you do have a father, and he loved you very much.” “Tell me the story again.” “We’re almost to school,” I say, the ache opening a chasm inside of me that I don’t have time to indulge this morning. “Later.” “Can’t you make it quick?”

I sigh, but Mila knows she has me in the crosshairs. Right or wrong, there’s a deep-seated guilt inside of me for the stories I’ve told Mila, but it’s too late to take them back. “I met your father at a get together—” “Fancy, like Cinderella?” “Not quite,” I tell her, “but that’s okay. We fell in love, I became pregnant with you, and we were both so excited.” “But then he got hit by a car.” “He wanted to meet you more than anything,” I tell her. “And he still loves you very much.” Mila sighs, kicks her feet, and stares out the window. “I guess we can go with them if you want.” “That’s really nice of you. If you feel like being extra sweet today, why don’t you ask Jess to sit with you at lunch?” “She’s a know-it-all.” “She’s just new here,” I remind her. “And at the inn...” “Everyone is welcome,” Mila parrots. “Fine. I’ll think about it.” “That’s my girl.” I kiss Mila on the forehead and walk her to the classroom. When I return, I slide behind the wheel and drive toward a deep corner of the parking lot, well away from any prying eyes, and rest my head against the steering wheel. And I cry.

I hate lying to Mila, but I don’t know what else to tell her. In reality, I met her father at a college party. I’d been mourning the loss of Tyler, and Mila’s father, John, had whispered a few nice things in my ear. He’d touched my hair and kissed my neck and made me feel wanted. We’d slept together—my first and only onenight stand—and he’d asked me to leave before morning. I’d dragged myself away, crying then, too. I cried harder when I found out I was pregnant. I cried hardest of all when I told John about the baby, and he asked me to terminate the pregnancy. I vehemently opposed, having discovered with startling clarity that I wanted my baby more than anything. Finally, I convinced John that I wouldn’t budge. His sullen agreement was accompanied by the promise not to bother him for a cent, and I had quickly agreed to his terms. Sixth months later, he had died. He hadn’t been hit by a car—he’d been driving the car, drinking, and crashed into a telephone pole. Probably whispering sweet things into someone else’s ear that night. He hadn’t wanted to meet Mila. But there’s no way I can bring myself to tell her that. I hate lying, but when she asks about him, I lose sight of what to say. I’m doing my best, I

remind myself, straightening up and wiping my tears with my sleeve. Enough crying for today. I’ve come to terms with these bouts of tears; once in a while, the memories become too much, and the world crunches a little too tight against me. Meanwhile, I’d accepted the consequences of my mistake with joy. It’d taken me some time to adjust to the idea of a new way of life—a baby in college!—but I’d never regretted having Mila for a second. For her, I wish I could make us into the family unit she craves. I know having everyone around her isn’t quite the same, and I can only hope and pray that I’m enough. Sometimes, it just doesn’t feel like it. My phone beeps me back to reality, and I answer, still stalled in the parking lot. “You’re not going to like this,” Emily starts. “The washer broke. I’m covering the front desk— do you want me to call Luca back to bring the towels, or...?” “No,” I say. “I’ll be back and run them to the laundromat. If you can get everything ready, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” “Have you been crying? You sound stuffed up.” “Yes,” I tell her. “Mila asked about him again?”

I nod, realize she can’t see me, and murmur in agreement. “I’m sorry,” Emily says. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing.” “I don’t know about that,” I tell her. “It doesn’t feel right, but...it’s the best option I can see.” “Come on, Maggie. Don’t be so hard on yourself; your family is complete as is. You just have to look at Mila to see that. I’ve never seen a happier little girl, and you love her enough for two parents.” “Thanks,” I tell her. Hearing another beep, I glance down at my phone before responding. “My mom’s calling. I’ll see you soon.” I start up the car and pull toward the inn, having no extra time to feel annoyed at the washer breaking. First the popcorn machine, then the washer—things are starting to crumble around the inn, and I don’t like it. “Mother,” I say, keeping an even voice. She’s one person who doesn’t need to know I’ve been crying. “How are you today?” “I hear Mila’s hanging out with the wrong crowd.” “What are you talking about? She’s six.” “These things start young, Margaret. You have to watch her carefully.” “Mom. I hope you didn’t call about my parenting skills again.”

“I heard about her fight, and I’m just concerned. She shouldn’t be getting so worked up at that age.” “Mom!” I take a few deep breaths to gather my words before speaking. “You can’t correct the mistakes you made with me by trying to parent Mila. She’s my daughter, she’s a wonderful girl, and you need to accept that.” “I just have experience raising a daughter, and I thought you might like some help,” she says, waspish. “Heaven knows I learned something the first time around.” “Maybe I should let Mila make all the mistakes she wants then,” I tell her. “Because they turned out pretty good for me.” “Margaret!” “What? I finished my degree. So what it took me six years? I run a business, and I have the most amazing daughter. Where did I go wrong?” “It’s just—” “If you bring up Mila’s father, I will hang up the phone. I’m in no mood today, mom.” “Things could have been different.” “Well, they’re not, and I have to get back to work,” I say, parking the car before I storm into the inn. “Have a great day.” “Yikes,” Emily says. “Tough morning?” “The towels,” I growl. “Please.”

There are about ten huge bags of towels and miscellaneous items that need washing shoved into my car as I head toward the laundromat. I’m fuming, torn between letting more tears leak down my cheeks and screaming profanities into the hollow of my car. I decide on the latter because I’m sick of crying. Which is why it’s unfortunate that Tyler Daniels pulls up next to me at the stoplight just as I’m finishing a string of very vulgar curses. “Wow,” he says, giving a low whistle through our open windows. “Colorful.” “Don’t mess with me, Daniels,” I warn him. “I’m in a mood.” “I wouldn’t have guessed,” he says, giving me a smirk that says my mood doesn’t intimidate him in the slightest. “What’ll I get if I can talk you out of your mood?” The light turns green, and I shake my head. “Eat my dust, Tyler.” I start to press my foot to the gas, but I hit the brake almost at once and align myself with Tyler’s window once more. “Oh. And thank you for fixing the popcorn machine.” Then I hit the gas and pull away from Tyler Daniels. This time, I’m determined to be the one not left behind.

Chapter 9 TYLER She is in a mood. A mood that has me thinking she needs to burn off some energy, and I’m just the guy to make that happen. Yeah, right. I laugh at the thought. I have more of a chance with the chef at the inn —some dude named Jax, who looks like a Ken doll —than I do with Margaret Marshall. At least, the way she’s been acting around me lately. I whip my car into the parking lot, a quick little Audi I leased for the next year. If I have to be stuck here in Nowheresville, Maine for the foreseeable future, the least I could do for myself was get a decent vehicle to kill time. A year. That’s how long it’d take to scout out the area, get all the legal shit squared away, and pop up a shiny new hotel. The board of directors at my company had thought this very location would benefit from a nice little hotel serving the hordes of tourists who flock here year after year. Lucky for them? I’m a local. At least, I was. I know the market they’re trying to hit—we called them leaf peepers, the people who slide casually into town during the fall rush of tourism, hoping for sights of quaint little storefronts and

piping hot coffees to a backdrop of sweeping color as the leaves begin to change one by one. Then visitor rush continues somewhat over ice skating through the winter months, snowball fights. and winter carnivals drawing small crowds, and into spring around our rainy season. We finish up with another round of tourists during summer, those looking for a little getaway from the city, sticky little carnivals for kids, or scenic hiking for romantic couples. Now that I’m back, I can see the reason Harp’s Haven has made it onto the map. It’s pretty here, and serene, and for folks like me who spend day after day toiling amongst the hustle and bustle of the big city, there’s something to be said for a little slice of quiet in our busy lives. Then again, I’m beginning to think I’m influenced by the way Maggie Marshall looks at me. Harp’s Haven has taken on a new challenge for me in the form of one woman. Margaret’s a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at any second. Half the time I’m sure she’s undressing me with her eyes, and the other half of the time I think she wants to shove a fork in my eye. I sit parked in a space outside of the local laundromat. It’s no coincidence I showed up here at the exact same time as Maggie. I could hear her clunker pulling into this spot from miles away.

I suppose I’m here out of curiosity more than anything; Margaret’s definitely feeling something for me, and I need to know what. It might be love and it might be hate, but so long as she’s feeling something, I’m not giving up. In the last decade, I haven’t found another soul who feels so much. Anastasia—my ex, if you can call her that—enjoys shopping and cars and parties and worthless shit. She likes things—things that I’d tried to give her for the sake of our family, but it had never been enough. So, the moment Margaret Marshall laid into me, her eyes ablaze, I could hardly focus on the world. I was too damn happy someone cared enough to yell. I can handle a fight, I can handle an argument, and I can handle the fact that Maggie might be the death of me. The thing I hate is bland indifference. Maggie doesn’t do bland. In fact, I’m itching for another fight right now. Or a kiss. Or whatever Margaret is willing to give me. The way she lead-footed her way out of the stoplight has me thinking something’s bothering her, and I have this burning desire to know what it is. Maybe I can help. Stop being an idiot, my brain tells me. You can’t fix everything. I close my eyes and grit my teeth, wondering if the little stunt with the popcorn machine had been a

weak attempt to begin the deeper repairs I owe Maggie. When I left, I’d needed to go, needed to get out of town, and I don’t regret the choice—I only regret the fact that it tore Maggie apart as much as it did me. Seems to me, however, that life’s giving us a second chance, and I’m more intrigued than ever by her. One foot steps in front of the other as I stride toward the front door of the laundromat, hoping I look the picture of confidence. On the inside, there’s a weird palpitation going on with my heart and a shudder across my skin that has nothing to do with the brisk outdoor air. “What are you doing here?” Margaret interrupts before I can overanalyze the nerves prickling at my spine. “Did you follow me?” “You didn’t seem fit to drive. The way you raced away from that stoplight...” Maggie scowls. “I hope you don’t think I’m going to be all gooey toward you just because you fixed my popcorn machine. I appreciate it, but—” “No gooiness necessary,” I say, biting a lip to stop my smile. “Just wondering if something was bothering you. You seem, uh, miffed.” “Yeah, I am!” She turns back to several bags of laundry piled on the floor next to her and resumes her pummeling of the sheets and towels into the

washing machine. “Everything is breaking around the inn.” “The washer this time?” “Gee, you’re a real Sherlock.” She stands, one hand on her hip and the other wiping her brow, as she faces me again. “How’d you guess?” One of these moods, I think, re-examining my approach. I can feel Maggie’s need for a punching bag, and who better than the man standing before her? I’m up for a challenge—I’m looking forward to it. “Maybe if you took better care of—” “I take perfect care of my equipment,” she says, her eyes narrowing at me. “Don’t you dare question the way I run my inn.” “So it is yours?” “Partially,” she spits, turning back to the laundromat. “Emily’s?” I press, when she doesn’t seem inclined to answer. “Yes,” she says shortly. “Is that all? Co-owners?” “Technically our boss is Claire—she fronts the money end of things, but she lives in New York, so she’s never around.” Maggie stops short, seeming annoyed at herself for spilling so much, and shakes her head and speaks again, more stiffly. “Are you enjoying your room?”

“Very much. Jess, too,” I add. “I also stopped in here to thank you for last night.” At these words, an older gentleman a few washers down perks right up and stares at us. “You’re welcome,” she hisses to me, then turns to the old man. “Oh, it’s not what you think, Charlie. Relax. It’s business for the inn.” Charlie raises his eyebrows, which appear to be stiff brooms of gray bristles, and moves a few more washers down and around the corner, leaving us in a semi-private row of the laundromat. Apparently, the Lilac Inn has enough laundry to buy out the entire damn place. Except for Charlie—whose piercing whistles are the only reminder that we’re not completely alone. “What’s gotten into you?” Maggie snarls. “I have a reason to be pissed. What’s your reason for being nice?” “Why are you pissed?” “My mother!” Maggie bursts before she can hold herself back. Her cheeks color red with embarrassment. “She is so critical about my parenting. Nothing I do is good enough. I didn’t care when it was all about me, but now Mila’s involved, and...it drives me insane!” I nod, extending silent sympathy. “Does anyone ever do that to you?” The question feels rhetorical, and indeed, she continues

without prompting. “Can’t she see that Mila is an amazing girl? No. I’m not doing enough because I didn’t get married. Now, I’m apparently letting Mila hang out with the wrong crowd—which is complete bullshit. Not to mention the fact that I work for an inn, instead of utilizing my potential and becoming a nurse like she wanted.” “Do you love what you do?” “Of course I do! The inn is home to me, and the employees are my family. I can’t imagine myself anywhere else, unless—” She stops abruptly, pulling me closer by her silence. “Unless?” “Nevermind,” she says, her ears coloring. “It’s stupid.” “Unless?” I prompt again. She eyes me, and I’m not sure what she’s looking for, but eventually she finds it. “I suppose if I ever got married I’d have to move out, move nearby, but that’s looking like a more and more distant possibility every day.” “Do you want to be married?” “I don’t know, what is this, twenty-four questions?” “I thought it would be nice to get married,” I offer. “I don’t think it’s in the cards for me.” It never has been, I suppose, but I don’t say that. I’d tried to get Jessica’s mother to marry me, but eventually, I’d had to give up. If the mother of

my own daughter didn’t want to marry me, then who the hell would? “It might be nice to find someone,” she admits. “But with Mila, I can’t take the risk of jumping in too soon. I don’t have time to date, and this town is so small. I know everyone here. You’d think if there were someone here for me, they’d have turned up by now.” I survey her wry smile, wanting to grasp her face in my hands and wonder aloud: what if I’d been here? She shakes her head, continuing on before I can find the words to express the thought, which is probably better for both of us. “For what it’s worth,” I say, not realizing that Maggie’s still talking, and I’ve interrupted her. “Your mother’s wrong.” “Excuse me?” “She’s wrong.” I clear my throat. “You’re a wonderful mom, and Mila is a great girl. All because of you. You don’t need to add to your family if you’re not interested; you and Mila are complete already.” Maggie struggles for a response, eventually giving up. She shoves the last of the fabrics into the washer. I follow her lead and drop the more personal note to the conversation, sensing I’ve made her uncomfortable. “I don’t mean to—”

“Thank you,” she says, her eyes flickering up to meet mine. “For saying that. Even if you don’t mean it, well...it means something to me.” “Of course I meant it.” My heart feels as if it’s cracking at the sight of her tear-filled eyes. Pools of shimmering green, as if whatever I’ve said has opened a dam that’d been seeing fissures arise for years. “Don’t cry, Maggie—what did I say?” “It’s nothing, I just—I guess I’m more sensitive than you remember.” She gives a sniff, a false laugh, and attempts bravery. “Don’t overthink things.” I follow her command and don’t stop, for a second, to overthink my next move. I brashly step forward, following my instincts, and raise a hand to the side of her face. I stroke my thumb over her cheek where a tear has slipped from her carefully protected facade, and brush it away. Her breath is stilled, halted, and I feel her tense beneath my fingers. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.” I take a step forward, and she moves back. A sort of dance. “But I want to kiss you.” She blinks, her eyelids closing, and several tears previously held in place dot her eyelashes. They’re like crystals suspended between us, and I want— need—to taste them, to press my lips against her eyelids so gently she’ll barely know I’m there. Then her cheeks, her neck, her lips.

Her acceptance isn’t a word, it’s a gasp, the most subtle sound. It slips from her lips like a moan, drifts to my ear like a breath, and by the time I can process her body arching toward mine, I’m burning with an onslaught of need. Still, I don’t rush her. I let my hand slip behind her head where her loose waves fall, and I weave my fingers through them. I stroke her hair, pulling her closer and closer until we’re aligned and her body is all but quivering for mine. “Please,” she murmurs, and finally, I combust. My lips meet hers, and unlike the fireworks I pictured, there’s a simple contentment. It’s as if we were made for one another, as if there’s nothing particularly surprising about this moment; as if this is what’s meant to be and always has been. I know for a fact that one taste won’t be enough, and I breathe her in, willing every detail to imprint on my brain. My hands explore, her curves softer now than they were before, her body thinner —probably from years of running around with the weight of the world on her shoulders. As my fingers sink into her hips, I can’t help the primal groan that escapes, a sure giveaway of my desire. I worry that it’s too much, that she can feel my arousal pressed against her, that the threat of more between us will push her back into her own little corner once again. Please, God, no, I silently beg.

I can’t have her pull away, not yet. Not without a fair shot. I needn’t have worried. She responds to me like a magnet, both of us pressing against one another and thirsting for more. My desires are completely reciprocated, at least on a physical level. It’ll be that damn emotional mountain that’s difficult to summit; it always is. For now, the physical is all we have, and it’s enough. My tongue slips between her lips and she welcomes it. The sweetness intensifies, and my brain sizzles, short circuiting with her scent. Then there’s a thud, a beeping, and a giggle from Maggie as we crash against the washer. “Ignore it.” She gasps at the thud and runs her hands through my hair, fisting it tightly. I have no intention of stopping for World War III, let alone the fucking washing machine— especially now that her hands have landed on me. If anything, I’m wondering how I can kick Charlie out of here and lock the doors. “Maggie,” I groan. “You taste incredible. And the way you feel...” My hands encircle her small figure, landing on her bottom as I pull her harder against me. Maggie’s lips crash back to mine, her hands pulling, tugging, exploring. We can’t get enough of one another, and it’s escalating quickly. She’s in a mood, that’s for sure, and I can match it, no

problem. If she just gives me a chance, if we can just try this one more time... “Damn,” I murmur as her legs wrap around me and I raise her, back pressed against the machine. “You are so sexy.” “Then shut up, Tyler.” I do as I’m told, and together we sink back into bliss. The warmth of the driers spinning and the vibrations of the washer against Maggie’s back send us spiraling into a whole new dimension. I’m crazed, unable to separate lust and love, want and need, desire and pleasure. On top of everything, she’s wearing yoga pants and a thin little shirt that leaves nothing to the imagination. Everywhere I touch her, I feel curves. I feel Maggie. My arousal is more intense than anything I’ve known before, and when I ease her against it, she sucks in a painfully sharp gasp. “Tyler,” she gasps, settling herself over me as her arms wrap around my neck. “Not here, we can’t—” I drown her words with a kiss, and it does the trick. Maggie forgets her arguments, and together we rock gently, our hands feeling one another, savoring every inch of skin, drinking in the intoxication of one another. “Where can we go?” I ask. “The inn? The girls are—”

“—at school,” she says. “But people at the inn will see...” “Who cares?” She considers this for a long moment, wriggling against me, her eyes closing at the delicate balance of pressure between us. Eventually she nods. “My car or yours—” The shrill ring of my phone interrupts us. “Ignore it,” I tell her. “Not important.” “What if it’s school?” I’m ready to tell her that anything at school can wait, but at the last second, I figure it’s easier to pull the phone out and check than it is to argue with her. “Look, it’s not school,” I say, easing it out of my pocket. It’s not school, the Caller ID confirms. It’s worse. I hit silence on the call, a horror rising in my chest as I realize what I’ve done. Maggie freezes, her supple body suddenly a rock in my arms, stiff and cold and motionless. “I’ll let you take that,” she says, finally breaking the terse silence. “It could be important.” “No, Margaret—please,” I say, sounding like a beggar. “I’m sorry—I didn’t know it would be her.” “Anastasia,” she says, noting the name on the caller ID. “It’s okay, you can say her name.” “Maggie, please. You don’t understand.”

“Sure, I do. You’ll just have to excuse me that I feel uncomfortable making out with a man who’s not mine to have.” “What?!” “I’m kissing you when your...girlfriend? Exwife? Lover?” Maggie’s voice is rising as she wriggles from my hands. “Interrupts us. Even if you’re not together; I don’t know you anymore. So much time has passed—whatever it was between us, it’s got to stop. We’re strangers.” “We are not strangers.” This comes out a cool, quiet statement that sends Maggie reeling with its sincerity. I let her down from my arms, but I place one hand over her shoulder against the washer, keeping her pinned between me and the machine. “Don’t deny you feel the same things I do.” “Chemistry?” she says. “Takes a lot more than physical chemistry to mean we’re not strangers.” “Anastasia is—we’ve never been together, not really.” “Obviously you were together at least once.” “Fine,” I snap. “That much is obvious. She’s not an ex-wife, she’s not an ex-lover, she’s not even an ex-girlfriend. She didn’t want me. Can you understand that?” My tone comes off sharp. It’s not easy admitting that I’ve been rejected by a woman I asked to marry me on multiple occasions. A woman I tried to make a life with for the sole purpose of

giving our child a complete home. I would’ve married Anastasia without loving her...for Jess. She wasn’t willing to do the same. “I see.” Maggie’s voice is an icicle. “She rejected you, so now you’re back to hand out the consolation prize?” She raises a hand over her head and does a congratulatory twirl. “Lucky me, do I get the T-shirt to match?” “It’s not like that!” With frustration, I realize how wrong the words sound. “Anastasia and I were never...I didn’t love her. I never have. She was a rebound from you, and then there was Jess. You have to understand.” “Sure,” she says crisply. “I understand.” “Margaret, please. I’m not involved with anyone else. I haven’t been seriously involved with anyone since—since you.” “Well, we’re not involved any longer,” she says. “That was a long time ago. It’s probably best if we leave it in the past. We both have children to worry about, Tyler.” “I know, but—” “You’re a good father.” Her voice softens like butter, like a warm cinnamon roll. “Whatever happened between us is between us. Not our kids. Not Jess. I know you care as much about Jessica as I do Mila, and so, for their sakes, I think it’s best if we just let things be.”

“How?!” I run a hand furiously through my hair. “Did you not feel that? The spark, the connection, the...whatever that was?” Her eyes flicker, and I know she’s on the verge of cracking, of letting me back in to explain. To soothe her, to convince her that all is right for us to be together. “I know you do.” I’m quiet now, inching closer. I take her hands in mine and hold them as if the world is ending. “Please, don’t keep me at a distance. Don’t you think this is worth exploring? If not for us, then for Jess and Mila?” “What do you mean?” “Are you fully and completely happy?” I ask her. “Wildly happy, like we were before?” She hesitates for a beat too long. “I’m happy. I love my life with Mila.” “And I love my life with Jess,” I tell her. “But I know there’s something more for me, and for you. I know this, Margaret. Please, don’t push it away before we give it a chance.” I can feel her on the verge of agreeing when my phone rings again, and I curse myself for not turning the damn thing off. Or better yet, throwing it in the washing machine with the laundry so it’d never interrupt us again. “You should really answer that,” Maggie says, separating herself from me. She ducks under my arm. “Something might be wrong.”

Neither of us need to look at the phone to know it’s Anastasia calling again. “Margaret—” “I think you should go,” she says, without looking up. “I’ll see you around.” “But—” She gives me a look that’s equal parts hurt and determined, and I know there’s no changing her mind this time around. Whatever we’d started here today is finished—at least for now. Turning, an anger flares inside me that I haven’t felt in years. Not since I agonized over the reason Anastasia wouldn’t marry me for the sake of our daughter. After the sting of that rejection, I hadn’t allowed myself to feel much of anything. Only now am I beginning to realize what a mistake it would’ve been to marry Anastasia when there was no love between us. Now that I’m back in town, my feelings for Margaret are returning stronger than ever. As I yank the door open, I hear a loud thunk that sounds like a kick of a machine, followed by a string of curse words. And then silence.

Chapter 10 TYLER The third time Anastasia calls, I’m flying back to the inn. I’ve already decided to blow off work today, which is best for the company as a whole. Better not to make decisions when I’m feeling completely irrational, which is a great way to describe my emotional state today. I’m a volcano ready to erupt, and I can’t tell if it’s the anger, the frustration, or the disappointment that’s on the verge of sending me spiraling into an explosion. “What?” I growl into the phone. “What can you possibly need that’s so urgent?” I truly don’t mean to sound like an asshole, but it comes off that way. Still, it’s hard for me to feel upset. Anastasia had her chance to make things right for Jess, and she passed it up. I’m having a hard time forgiving her, despite the fact that there’s no love lost between us. “What’s gotten into you?” she snaps right back. “I’m just calling to say hello.” “You never call to just say hi. Not even for Jess,” I say, going for the low blow. I’m in a sour mood, and it’s becoming harder and harder to shake. “What do you want?” “Your check never came for this month.”

I grip the phone in my hand, severely debating tossing the damn device out the window. The only thing it’s done for me today is cause problems. “I always send the check on the first of the month.” Her gum snaps. “Well, it didn’t come.” I have to pull over to the side of the road. The fury building up inside of me is making my vision blurry, and it’s not safe for everyone else on the road. “I can’t believe it,” I murmur. I’d gone for the throat when I’d made that crack about Anastasia not calling to talk to Jess, and it hadn’t so much as made her flinch. Hadn’t even bothered her for a second. “I’m telling you, it never came,” Anastasia says. “I’m not a liar.” “No, I suppose not,” I tell her. “Otherwise you’d have married me.” “What the hell’s that supposed to mean, Tyler? I didn’t call to bother you, so why are you all pissy at me?” “You didn’t call to bother me?!” I roar. “Well, maybe you should bother us a little bit more. Do you know how much Jess talks about you? I don’t know why the hell she does, but she thinks you’re some sort of a celebrity.” More gum snapping. “Are you listening to a word I’m saying?” I spit out. “She wants to hear from you. From her mother.

She fucking hates shopping, but it’s the only thing she wants to do these days, and I can only imagine why.” “She likes shopping. I take her all the time.” “You take her shopping because you love it! She can’t stand it,” I snarl. “You’d know that if you stopped to ask your daughter, or talk to her, but no —you swing by when you feel like it, a few times a year, and whisk her to the mall for the afternoon. You are her mother, Anastasia.” “Look, Tyler. I’ve never bothered you for custody. I don’t want custody. I didn’t even want to have a baby, and especially not with you.” Anastasia’s voice is strangely controlled—there’s no emotion, not even now, when we’re discussing our family. Or, at least, the broken pieces of it. “You said you’d pay me child support, and I’m just asking for what’s owed to me.” “I’ll send another damn check.” The thing is, she cashed the last one. I know she did, but she has a point. Despite my anger, despite all the frustration, she hasn’t bothered me for anything custody-wise, save for a monthly ‘child support’ check that’s bigger than most people’s payrolls. It funnels straight into her Chanel and Gucci budget. “Fine,” she says, and then hangs up. And that’s the end of that. The woman I thought I’d wanted to make my wife. The mother

of my daughter. I collapse onto the steering wheel, feeling the urge to punch something, to pummel, to destroy. One night of weakness, and I’d ended up with the greatest and the worst thing in the world. Oh, the irony. I’d never take any of it back. I love Jessica far too much for that. She’s the one who pulled me out of the dark days of mourning my relationship with Margaret, and brought about a new reason to live, to become a decent man, father, and person. I’d never take that back. But damn if the woman who called herself a mother didn’t piss me off. Not for my sake, but for Jessica’s. Would a phone call now and again hurt her? I see the light in Jess’s eyes deplete a little, year by year, as her mother’s visits grow fewer and farther between. I don’t care about the money headed toward Anastasia. It was part of the deal we’d made when she got pregnant. I’d raise the baby and provide child support to her—and that’s why I worked my ass off every damn day. If I ever couldn’t provide the money to Anastasia, I had a crippling fear she’d try to take my daughter back from me. To get even, if nothing else—and I couldn’t let that happen. Pulling back onto the road, I ease the car into traffic and struggle to get ahold of my frustration. Eventually, the anger fades to a sense of acceptance. After all, what more can I do? I need

to work, to care for my daughter, and to continue finding our way in this screwed up world. There’s happiness to be found here, I know there is—if only it weren’t so hard to hold onto. It’s like sand slipping through my fingers—there one second, gone the next. I can’t help but wonder if Maggie Marshall can be more. A rock I can hold onto, something strong and sturdy that won’t slip away when I blink. I park at the inn, shutting my phone off to avoid further distractions, and hightail it inside. I pause at the desk, note the surprised looks on Luca and Emily’s faces, as if I’ve interrupted something, and wait. “Can I help you?” Emily eventually stutters. “Mr. Daniels?” “Where’s your washing machine?” I growl. “It’s broken right now, sir,” Luca says. “It’s—” “I know it’s fucking broken, that’s why I need to look at it,” I tell them. When they don’t respond, I raise my eyebrows. “I’m good with my hands.” Emily looks a bit alarmed by this. “I’m not sure —” “I can fix it; I’m nearly positive,” I tell her. “Let me take a look. If you call someone else, they’ll take you to the cleaners for an estimate.” I can tell I’ve tapped into the logical side of Emily’s brain, and she battles with her frugalness. Eventually, the thriftiness wins out.

“I’ll show you,” she says, “but I’m coming with you.” “Fine.” The washer is tucked near the back of the building. We wind our way through the reception area, past the lounge with the popcorn machine, and then the kitchen. At the end of a small hallway that’s parallel the front lounge area, Emily stops in front of a closed door, fumbles with a key, and throws it open. There are two laundry machines, one of them with an out of order sign. “Nope,” Emily says, as I intuitively head toward it. “That one has been broken a few weeks. It needs to be fully replaced. We’ve been subsisting on this one ever since the other one pooped out.” Her choice of words makes me laugh, and it feels nice. A good distraction from the cluster of emotions I’ve been dealing with this morning. I can see why Margaret likes her as a friend, keeps her close as family. Emily’s pleasant to be around, there’s no other way to put it. “So, can you do it, Sherlock?” “What’s with you ladies and Sherlock?” I ask, kneeling down to pop off a panel. Emily laughs, the sound gleeful. “What’d you say to Maggie to get the Sherlock comment?” “Asked if her washer was broken—while we were standing at the laundromat.”

“That’ll do it.” Emily’s eyes crinkle in a grin. She hoists herself onto the other busted machine and crosses her legs. “What brought you to the laundromat in the first place?” “An accident.” “Right, right.” I tense, realizing that I’m not going to get very far if I don’t give Emily something to work with. “I needed to talk to Maggie.” “About what?” “Personal business.” “Her personal business is my personal business.” “And my personal business is my personal business.” I straighten, rest a hand on a hip as I study Emily. “Are the questions going to keep coming the entire time I’m working?” “Yep,” she says cheerfully. “So, you better work fast.” “If you’re going to sit around, why don’t you make yourself useful? I could use a toolbox.” She rolls her eyes. “So demanding.” But she leaves, gathers a surprising number of helpful tools, and displays them on the floor. “There.” “Thank you.” “You’re welcome,” she chirps. “So, why are you being so helpful anyway? First the popcorn machine, then the washer...” “I’m a giving sort of guy.”

“Yeah, sure. Do you give to everyone, or is it just Maggie?” She pauses, gives a dramatic flourish of her hands. “Or should I say Margaret.” “That’s her name,” I grumble. “She had no problem when I called her that before.” “Did you ever think she’s changed? In nearly the decade you’ve been away?” I grunt as I putz with the washer, spotting the problem immediately—the drain needs de-clogging. I take a break and scan the tools, finding the one I need before returning to work. “What I don’t understand is why you’re going through all this effort if you’re only going to be here a few days,” Emily continues. “I’d have thought you’d wanted to stay longer, especially since I gave you such a great deal on the room.” “You gave me a shit deal.” “Look at the suit you’re wearing,” Emily says, unapologetic. “You can afford it.” This makes me grin. At least we’re on the same playing field. I actually appreciate that Emily calls the shots as she sees them. Maybe, if I’m smart about it, I can get just as much information out of her as she’s trying to get from me. “I’ll stay for the full duration,” I amend. “I meant to tell you my plans changed again.” “Don’t do me any favors,” Emily says. “If you want to take off, I can get that room filled in no time.”

“No,” I say, turning growly once more. “I’m keeping the room. Jessica likes it here.” “Sure she does,” Emily says, not buying it for a minute. “What are your intentions with my best friend?” “Excuse me?” “You walk into this place like you own it— which you don’t, let me remind you—and start playing straight into Maggie’s heart. The woman might act like she’s tough, but if you hurt her...” “I’m not trying to hurt anyone.” “So, you’re not planning to bounce into town, drive Maggie to fall head over heels for you, and then hop right back to your fancy pants little condo in the city? Yeah.” Emily crosses her arms. “I did my research on you.” “What else do you know about me?” I’m nearly done with the washing machine already; it was a simple clog, but I hesitate. I’m not sure I’m ready to finish this conversation. “You love your daughter, and you seem like a good dad,” Emily admits. “You’re a ruthless businessman who owns a lot of shit and buys a lot of other shit.” I nod. “That’s basically it.” “I’m guessing, judging by how good you are with your hands,” she says, offering up an impressive eyeroll. “That you used to do construction or maintenance. Something handy.”

“I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty,” I say with a smirk. “You know how things go in Harp’s Haven; we fix our own shit. Lucky thing my dad taught me the ropes, otherwise I would never have gotten the gig as a handyman at my apartment complex when I first moved to New York.” “Until you bought the building,” she says, understanding. “Then began your huge-ass career as a real estate guy. You own apartments, land, and...hotels.” Her eyes narrow on me at the last word. I turn back to the washer, accidentally nailing my fist on the lip of the machine and cursing as it stings. “What about it?” “Why are you back here, Tyler? That’s the one thing I couldn’t uncover. Seems to be pretty hushhush over at the Daniels Corp.” “Look at that.” I give the washer a firm pat with my hand, pop the front panel back into place, and press the start button. Water gurgles out of the tank, and the machine is as good as new. “Looks like we’re done here.” “Fine.” Emily doesn’t press further, understanding this is as far as I’m willing to go. “But if you think you can swoop in here, mess with my friends, my family, or this town, you are so wrong, buster.” The threat itself makes me grin. It’s hard to take her seriously when she’s calling me buster. I

quickly realize that’s a mistake, however, when I glance at her face. She’s unamused. “I’m serious,” she says, stepping forward and poking a finger into my chest. “If you screw this up, you will regret it, Mr. Daniels.” I force myself to swallow and nod. “I understand.” “Great,” she says, all bubbles and smiles once more. “Thanks again for fixing shit around here.” With that, she bounces out of the room, leaving me alone with the washer and a bundle of new worries. Emily has a point, as much as I hate to admit it. If I want to start something with Maggie, I have to be damn ready to finish it this time. A creeping sense of unease slides over my shoulder, reminding me there are a few things I should come clean about to Margaret before we take things any further. Or, attempt to progress whatever happened in that laundromat. “Hey, Fletcher,” I say after dialing my phone and landing one of my employees. “I’m feeling much better—screw the sick day. Can we talk?”

Chapter 11 MAGGIE “Looks like you’ve got plenty to go around,” Emily says, peering into the basket where I’ve gathered the lavender scented towels for the second night in a row. “Dare I say you packed a few extra?” I can feel my ears warming. “Tyler’s in the most expensive suite. I thought I’d bring an extra for Jessica.” “That’s real thoughtful of you. Especially when I thought you might be skipping their room tonight.” “Why do you say that?” Emily kicks the washing machine and, as she does, I notice the rhythmic whirring happening inside of it. “Seemed to me like Tyler was making up for something today.” “He doesn’t have to make up for anything. The past is in the past.” “What about the present? More specifically, this morning—in case your memory is foggy. I hear you had a visitor at the laundromat.” I turn, lean against the purring machine, and face Emily. I leap away from it at once as the vibrations remind me of the steamy moment I’d

shared with Tyler earlier today in a very similar location. “Yes.” “And?” I flinch. “I don’t want to talk about it.” “What happened?” “He kissed me,” I blurt out. “And it was so great, Emily, you don’t even know. It was sexy, and hot, and sweet, and...” I run out of descriptions. “Then it stopped, and we went back to real life.” “Yeah, there’s more.” Emily’s not looking as surprised as I expected, so I flip the conversation and narrow my eyes on her. “What happened here is the next question. Did Tyler fix the machine while you grilled him?” “Essentially,” she admits. “And I think you should be careful.” My back goes rigid. “What do you mean?” “I just think...” she analyzes her next words carefully. “There’s a lot to Tyler Daniels, and I don’t think you should rush into anything.” “I’m not rushing anywhere,” I say, sounding excessively defensive. “The kiss didn’t mean we’re engaged. It just caught me by surprise, and I’d been having a tough morning already.” “And the rest of the day ended pretty lousy, too, didn’t it?” I fold towels, averting my eyes. “It wasn’t the best.”

“Look, you know I love you. I don’t even have any real reason to dislike Tyler. I actually like the guy, oddly enough, which has me scratching my head,” she says with a laugh. “But I love you, and I’m worried. He’s in town for only a short time, and I’m not—I’m not even sure what he’s doing here.” I frown, puzzling on this part of the equation. “I haven’t asked about his job. I guess it slipped my mind.” “Bet a lot of things slip your mind when your tongue’s down his throat.” “My tongue! Emily,” I chastise. “Oh, right—I forgot to ask him if he’d stay longer. I’m sorry.” “Guess what? You don’t have to worry about it,” she says with a smug smile. “I threatened to fill his room, and he recouped his reservation. He’s sticking around, at least through the New Year—I guess we’ll have to play it by ear after that.” “That sucks.” If Tyler left town after this weekend, I wouldn’t have to worry about what had happened between us—he’d be gone, just like before. “It’d be simpler if he just left.” “I’ve never known you to do simple.” I shrug in agreement and consider this, wondering if I’m really upset, or if I’m just worried, like Emily suggested. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I am jumping in too quickly. Or, I think, a new idea dawning—maybe this time around, I jump in with two feet. We could say

to hell with putting labels on things and spend the next three months getting to know one another, having some fun together. As long as I know he’s leaving, I can protect myself. “Don’t think it,” Emily says. “I can read your mind.” I raise my eyebrows. “It’s different this time.” “Is it?” This time around, I’m armed with the knowledge that things between us aren’t permanent. “With an end in sight, what’s the problem with seeing how things go? There’s chemistry between us.” “It’s a bad idea, Maggie.” “Maybe you’re wrong—maybe it’s a great idea. I can finally put to rest my issues with Tyler. We can part ways as friends. If things fizzle out, I’ll never wonder again what might have been.” “The spark won’t die,” Emily says. “We both know it.” “Thanks for your advice.” I lift the towel basket, buoyed by my new idea. “I’m going to drop these off and head to bed.” “Sure,” she says. “But if you decide I’m right, my door is always open. And I have wine.” I offer her a smile, but I’m a blur as I walk out the door, my mind hazy with indecision. I climb the stairs, my legs feeling like lead as I stomp to the second floor. I deliver the rest of the towels first,

and when my basket load is lightened significantly, I point my toes in the direction of Tyler’s door. Before I know it, I’m knocking on the wooden panel, and my heart is thumping. I have a halfapology in my throat, ready to call for a minor truce. For the sake of our girls, I tell myself. We’re two adults who should be able to get along, and I’ll start by taking the high road. I knock on the door a second time, easing slowly out of the fog as I realize they’re probably not home. I didn’t see the two come back after school, and there are no lights shining from under the door. I give a final knock, my heart sinking. What if I’d pushed him too far this morning? Jessica did tell me that her father dates. I’m sure there are plenty of women here in town just itching to reconnect with Tyler in a special sort of way. Maybe he found one of them for tonight and dropped Jess off with her grandparents. Or, maybe the phone call from Anastasia meant something. Maybe there’s more to the story than I imagined, and Tyler’s not as unattached as I thought. With a heavy pit in my stomach, I back away. By the time I return the extra towels to the linen closet and bid goodnight to a concerned looking Emily and Luca, I feel downright melancholy.

Mila’s just finishing up her homework with the help of Luca, and she trots behind me to our room, hopping in bed after brushing her teeth. Instead of climbing into my own bed, I follow Mila to hers and read three chapters instead of two. She’s sleeping halfway through the first. I snuggle lower and wrap my arms around my baby. Her heart beats against mine, and her breath blows soft puffs of air across my cheek, drying the last tears of the day.

Chapter 12 MAGGIE Saturday morning dawns bright and sunny, a perfect, crisp fall day that compliments my stormy mood. I’ve been plagued by doubt the entire week, having mostly avoided Tyler Daniels except in passing. It seems that we’ve come to some sort of a truce, yet some sort of a standoff. We greet each other in the morning, and we smile politely. And that’s about as far as we get. There never seems to be a great time to resume the conversation we ended at the laundromat, and the bravery I’d scrounged up the other night while standing outside of his door has disintegrated to dust. During one of our brief exchanges, however, Tyler had reminded me of his offer to drive everyone on our outing this weekend. Now this weekend is here, and I’m standing in front of my mirror wondering what I should wear. “Isn’t today about me and Jessica?” Mila sits on the bed, kicking her feet while I hold two different pairs of earrings. “I like the hoops.” “Me too,” I say, even though hoops aren’t my normal style. Hoops are a bit flashier, a bit bigger, a bit louder than I normally go with my jewelry. “Who do you want to notice you, anyway?”

“What are you talking about?” I twirl to face my six, going on sixteen-year-old, daughter. “Can’t I look nice for a change?” “You always look fine,” she hedges. “But you never spend so much time picking out your outfit.” “Maybe I’m trying to impress myself.” “Emily says people only dress up when they want attention.” “Well, maybe you need to not listen so carefully when Emily and I are having adult conversations.” Mila throws herself back on the bed, outfitted in cute little jeans and a bright pink sweatshirt with the name of her rec volleyball team on it. “Let’s go, already. I want an apple.” “It’s not just about the apples.” I fasten the second hoop and wade over to the bed, easing onto it beside my daughter. “This is about you and Jess spending some time together.” “Her name is Jessica,” Mila spits out. “And I don’t want to spend time with her.” “She’s a nice girl, honey. Just give her a chance.” Mila turns her sweet face toward mine. When she speaks, the sweetness turns to a cruel sense of mischief that makes me wonder what’s happened to my naive little girl. “Do you like Tyler?” “What? No. Of course not. Who said anything about that?”

“Jessica.” “What’d she say?” “That you guys want to date.” Mila reaches for me and plays with a stray curl that’s wiggled from my ponytail to dust the side of my face. “I don’t want you to date Tyler. That would mean I see Jessica all the time.” “Don’t worry,” I murmur, then pull myself away from her. “That’s not in the cards.” Despite the fragile nature of our politeness, Tyler had all the opportunities in the world to set the record straight. We’re living under the same roof. We take the same route to school. When he wants to find me, he does. Exhibit A: the laundromat. I can only assume that his standoffish attitude is due to the fact he doesn’t have an interest in pursuing any sort of relationship—particularly a romantic one. Too messy, too permanent. Tyler Daniels runs the other way when the C word —commitment—is broached. I fasten a necklace at the nape of my neck, another item I’d normally leave behind, and add a swipe of lipstick that’s slightly more red than my normal shade. Then I spritz my fancy perfume on, the one I reserve for special occasions, and take a deep breath. Despite all logic, I can’t help myself.

There’s something about Tyler Daniels that drives me crazy—for better or for worse. “Come on, mom,” Mila yells from the front door. “You promised me an apple cider and pie.” “I can’t believe I had to bribe my own daughter to spend the day with me,” I say, giving myself a once over in the mirror before sliding into a pair of boots thoroughly unreasonable for apple picking. I’m wearing my skinny jeans and the softest fall sweater I own, and the boots go up to my knees with a slight heel. Ridiculous. “You’re bribing me to hang out with Jessica,” Mila reminds me. “I’d go with you anytime.” I ruffle her hair. She scowls and surveys me with a look of skepticism. “You smell different,” she announces. “And you can’t walk in those shoes.” “I walk just fine,” I say, wondering since when I’ve felt the need to justify my fashion choices to a six-year-old. “And this is the smell of perfume.” “I don’t like it...” Mila warns, unsure. “Don’t get weird, mom.” I brush past her, locking the door and leading the way to the lobby. When we reach it, both Emily and Luca’s heads bounce up from behind the desk. Apparently, they’re getting along today. “Babe.” Emily lets out a low whistle. “You’re one hot mama.” “Babe,” Mila repeats with a giggle.

I raise my eyebrows at the two of them. “It’s nothing! You’re just surprised I’m not wearing yoga pants.” “I happen to think you look great in yoga pants.” The low, throaty tone comes from mere steps away. “Are you ladies ready? Jessica’s out front waiting.” I spin around, any normal response swallowed by my surprise at Tyler’s appearance. While I might’ve secretly dressed up for the event, Tyler has dressed down—and it’s everything I never knew I needed on a man. Worn jeans line muscular legs and ride low on a trim waist. His torso is outfitted with a luxuriouslooking soft gray sweater. It’s long sleeved with buttons at the top, a slight hint of chest hair curling from underneath. He looks entirely edible. “Mom,” Mila says. “Say something.” “Er, yeah, we’re ready,” I mumble. “Are you sure you want to drive?” “No offense,” he says, leaning closer, “but I don’t think your car can make it to the orchard.” I manage a nod, still struck off balance by this entirely opposite side to Tyler Daniels. The past week he’s been so sharp, so professional. This bright smile and crinkled blue eyes remind me of the sunny days we had many years ago. His rumpled hair looks as if he’s just rolled out of bed, and it’s blissfully different than the

carefully groomed style he wears during the week. And that damn sweater—I thought my shirt was soft, but his looks like a cloud. Before I know it, I’m leaning forward to examine it, not aware that my thumb and forefinger have grasped his sleeve and rubbed back and forth, feeling the material, until it’s too late. Mila reaches up and yanks my arm away. “Mom,” she says, one eye on me, the other on Jessica as the latter appears in the doorway. “You’re embarrassing me. Don’t touch people.” I look up, flushed, and retract my hand. “Sorry. Um, I guess we should head out?” Jessica wanders inside, watching us with curiosity. It’s all I can do to keep my face a blank slate. Underneath, however, I feel electrocuted, as if the short brush of my skin against Tyler’s sent a jolt straight through me. It’s a sizzle that stings long after the shock. Tyler doesn’t seem to have noticed. His face is mildly amused, but he shrugs and raises his eyebrows. “Let’s go.” Mila looks to Jessica. “Is your dad embarrassing, too?” Jessica bites her lip and looks up at Tyler. “Sometimes.” Tyler’s eyes flash to mine, a look of cunning hope there, and I have to catch my breath. This is the first sign of a budding friendship that I’ve yet to

see from the girls. I’m hesitant to rock the boat, and apparently, so is Tyler. “Come on,” Jessica instructs. “I get the front seat. We’re taking our car because it’s nicer. My dad says yours is a death trap.” I’m about to ask if Jessica is old enough to sit in the front seat, but before I can say a thing, Mila snaps back. “That’s not true,” Mila says. “And anyway, spending money on cars is dumb.” “You need cars,” Jessica says. “How else are you supposed to get around?” “They’re not a good investment.” Mila parrots all the logic I’ve used to explain why we can’t get a newer, nicer vehicle. “They cost too much money.” “Doesn’t matter,” Tyler says. “Adults ride in the front. And Jessica, you’re not old enough to sit up there anyway.” The debate is settled, and the next thing I know, we’re piled into Tyler’s shiny black Audi and headed for the orchard. During the drive, I’m all too aware of the close proximity between Tyler and myself. All I’d have to do is lean over, rest my arm against the middle console, and we’d make contact. The idea of brushing against Tyler sends swirls of heat all through me, my thoughts spiraling back toward the laundromat. If I close my eyes, I can still feel the weight of his fingers digging into my

hips, of my back pressed against the rough machine. The warmth, the vibrations, the... “We’re here,” Tyler announces, glancing over at me with a cheeky little smile. “Nice nap, sleeping beauty?” Apparently, I’d dozed off, lost in a world that will never—should never—happen. I quickly glance in the mirror, looking to Mila for signs that I’d murmured something embarrassing in my sleep. “Don’t worry,” Mila chirps, reading my gaze. “You didn’t drool this time, and you only had one snore.” “Sorry I dozed off.” I yawn. “I didn’t realize I was so tired.” “Girls,” Tyler says, turning to look at the backseat. “Do me a favor, will you? We need four bags for the apples. Ten dollars a bag. How much money do you need?” “Forty,” Jessica says promptly, while Mila is still digesting the question. “Very good,” Tyler says, opening his wallet. “Do you think you can buy us four bags? I’m going to talk to Margaret for a moment.” “Yes,” Mila chirps. “My mom has let me buy things before.” “Excellent,” Tyler says, handing a twenty to each girl. “Half for you, and half for you.” “Tyler, I can pay—”

“Go on,” Tyler instructs. “We’ll catch up with you in a second. Stay where we can see you.” The girls scurry to get out, flinging their car doors open and slamming them shut again, my arguments falling on tailwinds. I watch as both girls clutch twenty dollars to their chests like it’s their entire life savings. “I would’ve paid,” I tell Tyler, suddenly feeling too warm in the closed car. “You drove, you bought the apples—shopping is on me.” “Fine,” he says. I find no argument on his lips, but what I do find is a deep, bubbling question in his eyes. “Great.” “Tell me what you were worried about,” he says, nodding toward the backseat. “What are you talking about?” “You looked back at Mila as if you’d expected her to bust you for talking in your sleep or something.” “Tyler—” “You were thinking about me before you fell asleep.” “Tyler.” My voice is sharper this time. “Don’t be ridiculous.” “Then you’re telling me the way you moaned as you drifted off...” He leans in, his breath a spicy mix of peppermint and sweet, “had nothing to do with us?”

“My moan?” “I’ve heard it before,” he says. “It’s the sound you make when I’ve got my hands all over you.” “What makes you think I dreamt of you?” “Unless there’s someone else that’s made you feel the way I do...” “My, you’re cocky,” I tell him, reaching for the car door. “You left eight years ago and expected me to wait around for someone who wasn’t coming back?” “I’m back now.” “And is that supposed to change everything?!” My voice is getting a little screechy, and I take a calming breath as I look over to the girls, who appear to be chatting with one another as they inch forward in line. “I’m here only for my daughter. Not for you.” “Are we going to pretend nothing happened at the laundromat?” “It was a mistake.” “Right.” Tyler narrows his eyes at me, surveying my face, reading between the lines. “A mistake.” I do my best to hold my expression even so he can’t read a thing. “You can’t waltz in and out of my life whenever you feel like it.” “I know that.” “Well? Then what are you playing at, Tyler?”

“Tell me the truth.” He’s so close now his lips hover above mine. “Has anyone else made you feel the way I do?” “That doesn’t matter.” “The hell it doesn’t. It matters more than anything in this world. Answer me.” “It doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in you whirling into my life and then tap dancing back out when the spark dies down,” I say, but a hesitation comes through as my voice cracks. “Under different circumstances, maybe. But I’ve already been here with you before, and I know the ending.” “I’ve no plans to tap dance anywhere. I’m a different man than the boy who fucked things up last time.” This is the first time Tyler’s come close to admitting fault for what happened before, but it’s still not an apology. I can’t find it in me to let him off the hook this easily—not when he’d destroyed my heart so thoroughly the first time around. If Mila hadn’t come along, a welcome and lovely little baby who’d put me back together, I might still be lost. “I loved you,” I whisper. Tears prick my eyes. This is not going the way I’d hoped, and I swipe the tears away and focus on the anger. “How dare you bring back those emotions now.” “If not now, when?”

“Never! Don’t you understand? There is no future for us.” “I have never felt the things I feel for you with anyone else. It’s never come close,” Tyler says. “I might not have given us the chance we needed, and I’m sorry. I’ve never forgiven myself for that.” There’s a sadness as I offer a smile. “Well, I guess we both moved on.” “That’s the furthest thing from the truth, and we both know it.” “What about Anastasia? How does she fit into all of this?” Tyler’s hands fall to his lap, and he grips his knees. “Don’t bring her into this. The only reason she’s any part of my life is because she’s Jessica’s mother. For Jess’s sake, I’m trying to keep the avenue open for a relationship between them. Not that she wants it.” “She...” I hesitate. “She doesn’t want a relationship with her own daughter?” Tyler’s eyes flash over to me. “I’m not discussing this now. Not ever.” “Why?” “She’s Jessica’s mother. I swore I wouldn’t badmouth her no matter...” Tyler’s fists shake, his entire body trembling. “No matter how much wrong I think she’s done.” I lose Tyler for a moment to his fury. There’s an emotion in his eyes that I recognize, a similar

emotion I’d felt when Mila’s father told me he never wanted to meet his daughter. To see her. To hold her. Instead of anger, however, I’d broken. I’d curled even closer around Mila to ensure she’d never know the truth. Tyler, it appears, has his own way of protecting Jessica. His instincts are rooted in anger, while mine come from fear. My gut reacts first, pushing me out onto a limb. I reach for Tyler’s hand and clasp my fingers around it, feeling the warmth of him. “I respect that,” I tell him. “We can change the subject. I won’t bring up her name again.” “It’s fine,” Tyler says, still visibly struggling to dismiss his anger. “She’s a part of my life, no matter what. Forever.” “I know what you mean,” I whisper. “Mila’s dad didn’t want to be a part of her life.” “Where is he?” “Dead.” “Are you...” Tyler’s eyes flash with alarm. “I’m so sorry. Are you widowed?” I shake my head. “Never married. Not even close. I had just thought...assumed, I suppose, that he’d want to be a part of his daughter’s life.” Tyler gives a wry laugh. “Assumptions are painful.” “Dangerous,” I agree. “And foolish. I don’t assume anything anymore.”

Tyler looks at me, knowing the conversation has changed from our past to our present. “You assume I’m the same person I was. I’m not, Margaret. I’m different.” “So am I,” I say, offering a somewhat tender smile. “I’m not so naive this time around, which works out better for both of us.” Tyler’s jaw works, and he takes the pause to glance over my shoulder at the girls. “They’re fine,” he says. “Almost to the front of the line.” “We should get going. The apples wait for nobody.” Tyler’s hand snakes out, grasps my wrist, and holds me in place. “Answer my question.” “What question?” “Have you ever...” He pauses to swallow, as if this is the moment of truth. “Have you felt the same way about anyone else that you’ve felt about me?” I blink. “What does it matter?” “Was it me you were thinking of when you drifted off to sleep?” He inches closer. “If I’d let you sleep longer, is it my name you would have said?” “Tyler...” My voice is a breath. There’s not enough air in the car. My heart is thumping, my pulse pounding, my blood on fire. “Please, don’t —”

He takes my face in his hands—his strong, tender hands—and holds me suspended before him. “Answer me.” “No,” I whisper. “I’ve never...” “Was it me?” “Yes,” I say, and it’s practically a whimper. “But it doesn’t mean anything—” My words are wiped free as his lips meet mine. The most tender, gentle kiss. A touch of two souls, of a long-lost love and a hopeless future. A moment of truth and a moment of sadness as we linger together, my body frozen in place, and my heart unlocks just a bit more. “Tyler, we—” I pull back, struggling for the willpower to fight this moment, only to have the battle won for me. “Got the bags!” Two shrill voices screech as they pound against the window of the car. “What are you doing, mom?” Tyler’s hands drop from my cheeks, their absence felt like a ripped off Band-Aid. Before I know it, Tyler’s outside of the car, shoving his hands into his pockets and explaining that I had an eyelash stuck in my eye. I barely hear his explanation as I urge my legs to move and force my arms to open the door. Jessica seems to buy the eyelash bit, asking me if I feel all right.

I nod and thank her, but Mila isn’t fooled. She and I hang a step behind as Jess takes her father’s hand and trots on ahead. “I told you, mom,” Mila accuses, as her feet shuffle noisily on the leaf-strewn ground. “You dressed up for a reason.” “Mila.” “Do you like him?” Mila’s eyes crinkle as they meet mine. “You said you wouldn’t lie, mom.” “I don’t know,” I finally admit. “It’s complicated.” Her hand ensnares mine tighter. “Jessica told me they were going to move back to the city when her dad’s job here is done.” I’m surprised by this change of subject, and I let my daughter know. “Why should I be friends with Jessica,” she asks, “if she’s just going to leave?” I bite my lip, struggling for a response. I’m spared for the moment when the girls spot a haunted hay ride and beg for tickets. However, as we wander deeper and deeper into the orchard, and the leaves crunch louder and louder beneath my feet, I wonder if Mila’s words don’t mean something for me, too. Is it worth risking everything for a fleeting moment of happiness? I watch Tyler lift his daughter onto a hay bale and my throat closes up. A week ago, I would have said no.

Now, I’m not so sure.

Chapter 13 TYLER Leaves crunch beneath our feet, grass swishing over my shoes as I walk side by side next to Margaret Marshall. Greenery surrounds us, punctuated by red little gems hanging ripe from the trees, and together we pause as Maggie finds an apple she likes, studies the fruit with fascination, and plucks it with joy. I’m still staring at the curve of her ass in those tight jeans when she holds it up for me to inspect. “Uh, great,” I say, flustered. “Looks like an apple?” She scowls, bringing out cute little lines around her eyes. “It’s the perfect apple.” “What if there’s a worm inside?” “Must you ruin every moment?” She flips the apple around, surveying every shiny surface there is. “Look—no holes.” The damn apple isn’t what’s holding my attention, however. I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from Margaret’s face in order to confirm the absence of holes. The sun glints down, gentle and warm as it fights to hold onto summer, the chill of the wind giving hints of fall. The light bounces off Maggie’s red lips and glints off her eyes, her cheeks pink with exertion.

There’s a lightness to her step that I haven’t seen since I returned to Harp’s Haven, and she seems overjoyed at the simplest of things. “Ugh, how can you not love fall?” She holds a hand out as a few leaves spiral down from the trees. “It’s the perfect time of year.” I’m thinking a distinctly similar thought about perfection, but it doesn’t involve the weather. As Margaret marvels at the spinning leaves, I note the hair framing her face, a few pieces sticking to her shiny lips as she comes to a breathless halt. I want to brush that hair away and kiss those lips raw. “Taste,” she instructs, and I go rigid. “Uh...what?” She rolls her eyes, the pink in her cheeks deepening to red. “The apple.” When I don’t make a move to lean in toward her outstretched hand, she shrugs and brings the apple to her lips for a crunchy bite. Her eyes roll back in her head in bliss, and I’m wondering why this whole moment feels intensely intimate. There’s the glisten of sweet fruit juice on her lips, and I have the desire to taste... “Try,” she encourages, her voice softer as she extends her hand once again. “It’s delicious.” “Don’t you have to pay for that?” I cringe as soon as the words come out. Leave it to me to ruin the sexiest moment I’ve had in years by worrying about legality.

Maggie laughs and tosses her hair behind her shoulders. She sends me a wink. “I’m sure they’ll forgive you for one sample. How long has it been since you’ve been to an apple orchard?” I lean in, my hand coming to rest on the trunk of the tree behind her, enveloping the pair of us in our own little bubble. My teeth clamp down, snapping off a bite of the apple, and as I pull back, Maggie’s eyes widen. “Delicious,” I say, meeting her gaze and holding it there. I refuse to back away further. I’ve never enjoyed being closer to someone in my life—a sad, yet impossibly true fact. “But I bet this tastes better...” I lean in and hover mere centimeters away. I run my tongue along her bottom lip, closing my eyes at the sweet, fresh taste before diving in for more. I devour her, my mouth parting hers as my hand reaches for her waist and pulls her close. Margaret’s eyes widen, and then they close, sinking into the kiss. One arm curls around my neck while the other lets the apple drop from her hand. Her chest rises and falls, little breaths skittering across my cheek as she breaks the kiss and twines her hands through my hair. I’m intoxicated with her in my arms. Her breath is halting, short little gasps that instantly send my pulse skyrocketing. “Maggie...”

Her eyes look at me, soft and forgiving. I can feel her opening up to me, waiting for the proper apology. I have it prepared; I’ve waited for this moment. Taking a deep breath, I begin, only to stop mere seconds later when the shrieks of little girls sounds too closely behind us. I step back, reluctantly pulling my arm from the tree as Maggie shoots me a wistful look. “To be continued,” I murmur, as the girls crash through the orchard and pop up at Margaret’s side. “Margaret,” Jessica says, prepared to lodge a formal complaint with Mila’s mother. “Mila threw an apple at me. It almost hit my head.” “I didn’t throw anything at you!” Mila shrieks. “Don’t be a baby.” “How did an apple almost hit my head?” Jessica turns to Mila. “I almost died. You can die when things hit you in the head.” “You weren’t going to die from one little apple,” Mila says. “Plus, it wasn’t on purpose. I just wiggled the tree trunk a little and some apples fell out.” “Mila, apologize,” her mother insists. When Mila begins to argue with a whole lot of buts, Maggie gives her a glare that leaves no room for negotiation. “Even if it was an accident, you need to say you’re sorry.” “Sorry,” Mila says. “But I didn’t throw it at your head.”

“Nope,” Maggie says. “Try again.” This time, still sulking, Mila offers a more heartfelt response. “I’m sorry.” “Let’s go for a quick walk,” I tell Jessica, grabbing her hand. “Jess, it sounds like Mila didn’t mean to hit you with an apple.” “So?” “So, maybe she should have apologized, but I’m not sure you needed to tattle on her to her mother.” “I didn’t tattle,” Jessica argues. “I was just telling the truth.” “I know, honey,” I say gently. “But it was an accident. It’s not good for us to jump to hasty conclusions about someone else.” “But the apple—” “I know, but it didn’t hurt you. You’re fine, aren’t you?” I pull to a stop and clasp my arms over Jessica’s shoulders. “I don’t know the best advice to give you.” “What does that mean?” Jessica frowns. “You’re my dad. You’re supposed to know everything.” I sigh. “Unfortunately, I don’t. I’m figuring this out as I go, sweetheart.” “Yeah. I guess there are definitely some things you don’t know.” “Hey, now,” I say, “Watch it, little lady—I’m still bigger than you are.”

Jess leans into me, giggling as we come across a crumbling brick wall near the edge of the orchard. Together, we lean against it, and I pull her next to me, tucked against my arm. She won’t stay little for long, I remind myself. Already, the time has gone so fast. “Listen,” I tell her, kneeling so we’re eye to eye. “I love you more than anything, and I am just trying to raise a happy and healthy daughter.” “I know, dad.” “Well, back there, do you think you could’ve let the apple thing go? Mila was just trying to shake some apples down. Accidents happen. She wasn’t trying to hurt you.” “I know, but—” “Don’t you think it might be better to just forget about it and move on?” “She could have hurt me.” “But she didn’t mean to. And I don’t want you to get hurt, but sometimes when friends are involved, we have to give them the benefit of the doubt. We have to let things go.” She bites her lip, and I can see her contemplating this. “Mila’s a nice girl. She’s not perfect, and neither are you—even though I like to think so.” I offer her a wink. “Everyone makes mistakes, isn’t that right?” “I suppose.”

“Maybe next time, instead of running to her mom, you can try and talk about it with Mila.” “What do I say?” I shrug. “Depends. You could’ve said something about the apples falling too close to you. I bet Mila would’ve apologized and stopped doing it.” “Maybe.” “Think about it, honey, okay? I just think...friends are really nice to have. Mila’s trying to be yours, so why don’t you give it a go and try to be hers, too?” I raise my eyebrows, desperately wanting my daughter to find a connection, to find someone who makes her laugh, who listens, who brings out the fun in her—before she grows up into an adult and the responsibilities of the world crash onto her shoulders. “What do you think?” She pouts, but her eyes are bright. “I can try.” “That a girl.” I kiss her on the forehead. “What do you say we grab us a cider and wait for the other girls to come in?” “Actually...” Jess looks at her half-filled bag. “Maybe I can finish picking apples with Mila?” I try to play the cool dad, and not acknowledge the fact that my heart is pumping with happiness for her. “Sure, I think that’d be fine.” Jess runs off then, after wriggling free from my grasp, and I stay still for a long moment, watching as the blonde little girl and the brunette little girl

have a tense standoff, and then both relax as they trot toward the nearest tree. “Cute, huh?” Margaret says. “Jessica is really a nice girl.” “So is Mila,” I say, masking my surprise of her arrival. “I hope they can figure out a way to get along.” “Me too,” Maggie agrees, and her words are so quiet I’m wondering if she’s not talking about something else, lost in her own thoughts. “That’d be nice.” I pat the bench next to me, but Maggie gives a wry smile. “We should probably get going. Their bags are going to burst, and I don’t want tears when they lose all their apples.” The subtle rejection stings, but once again, I try to play the part of the cool guy. Standing, I shift my bag higher on my arm and then reach over to relieve Margaret of her bag. “Oh, you don’t have to,” she says, her eyes subtly impressed as I hold two bags in one hand. “Isn’t that really heavy?” “Nope,” I say, and that’s the end of that. We stroll through the neat little rows of trees together, lazily following the pitter-patter of little girl footsteps. As the girls dart to a parallel row, I look over at Maggie, seeing her gorgeous hair streaming behind her, a look of contentment shining over her face. Only a slight ray of concern tugs her

lips into a bit of a pout, and I ache inside, wishing I could erase all signs of worry. On an impulse, I reach for her hand and tug it to my side. “What are you doing?” she asks, more curious than annoyed. I take that to be a good sign, and I offer her my own happy smile. “Holding your hand.” She splutters a little bit, but she doesn’t pull away. Her hand is soft in mine, small, her fingers delicate little things that fit perfectly between my larger ones. Her brows furrow together as we continue to walk. “But...” she begins again, struggling for the right question. “Why?” “Because I want to.” “But...” “Do you have a problem with it?” I clasp her hand even tighter, not daring to look at her. “I just don’t understand.” “What’s there to understand? I’m holding your hand. You’re holding mine back.” “Couples hold hands.” “Friends hold hands,” I say, nodding ahead to where Mila and Jessica have grasped hands, as well. “I enjoy being close to you. You don’t seem to want to kiss in public, so I thought this might be a nice option.”

“Hold on, Daniels. Who said anything about kissing in private?” “Well, we’ve already done that.” “Who said anything about repeating it?” “Maybe I haven’t made myself clear, but I’m thinking about it.” “Do I get a say in this?” She raises our joined hands. “Of course,” I say, noting that her grip has become easier, more relaxed in mine. “But you haven’t pulled away. And, if you were truthful, I bet you’d admit to thinking about me naked, too.” Her silence all but confirms my theory. We stroll the rest of the way through the orchard in a strangely contented silence. I have to admit, I’d never thought handholding was a sexy thing. With Maggie, however, it’s so much more; her fingers tighten when she spots a perfect apple, and when she’s relaxed, her thumb moves unconsciously in soft little spirals over my skin. Eventually, I’m the one who has to let go—for my sanity. If she doesn’t stop with the little twirls and the squeezes of excitement, I’m going to be looking for the nearest hotel that comes with child care services and a playground. “What’s wrong?” Maggie asks when I pull away. Mila and Jess have claimed a picnic table and are currently counting their loot from the day. I step

around the corner of the hut, pulling Maggie with me. The girls can’t see us well from here, but we can see them just fine through the open window. “Margaret.” My hands are on her waist, the bags of apples set on the ground as I pull her body against me. “How long are we going to fight this?” “I barely know you, Tyler. What do you want me to say?” “My name is Tyler Daniels. I’m from Harp’s Haven originally, but I moved to the city during college looking for adventure. I found it; it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Now, I’m back. I’ve regretted losing the most incredible woman in the world since the day I left.” “I can’t just forget everything.” “I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to put it behind us and move forward so I can kiss you again.” “I don’t know you anymore.” Her eyelids flutter. She glances quickly toward the girls, finds them occupied, and then returns her gaze to mine. “What do you do? Why are you here? How long are you staying?” The real question, however, is scrawled across her face. Will you leave me again? That’s the truth she’s looking for. The answer I can’t give her because I don’t know it myself.

I hiss out a breath. “I’ll make sure things don’t end the same way they did last time.” A steely look forms in her eyes at this. “You’re not ready to make any promises.” “How can I? What do you want me to say? That I plan to stay right here and marry you?” My voice breaks. Maggie quivers in my arms, blinking back what looks like tears. “Oh, shit, I’m so sorry,” I say gruffly. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just—I want you so badly, and I don’t know what I can say that’ll make you believe me.” “I believe you want me, Tyler. I’ve always believed that,” she says. “I don’t believe you’re willing to do what it takes to have me.” “I wasn’t before. I am now.” She speaks in a flat, defeated tone. “You’re not convincing.” “What is it you want? Tell me, and I’ll give it to you!” “I wanted you to marry me last time! I was young and stupid and—” “So was I, and I wasn’t ready to be married.” “I probably wasn’t either, but I wanted to be. I wanted you more than anything—no matter what, above all, that has always been clear to me. I was ready to grow up and learn what commitment means; you weren’t. Maybe you still aren’t.”

“Has always been,” I repeat. “Do you still have feelings for me?” The silence is insurmountable between us. I’m convinced my heart has stopped beating. “I can’t let myself want that,” she says. “I’ve spent too long wishing for you to say these words, and it’s just...” “Too little, too late.” I inhale a shaky breath. “I get it.” My hands come off her hips, and I bend to retrieve the bags. Before I can, she stops me. “Wait.” She stands before me, her chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. “Tyler...” Her hands reach for me, tug me upward and lock me against her. She grasps for my face, my hair, and it takes me just a second to see the desperation in her eyes. The way she’s looking at me to prove her wrong. To prove that I need her as much as I know I do. If this is the challenge, it’ll be an easy one; after all, they say the truth always wins, right? It’ll take time, but I’ve got all the time in the world. My hands return to her hips and my gaze settles on hers —the only place in the world where it belongs. “I know your trust won’t come easy,” I tell her, my lips brushing lightly against hers. I harden at the sound of her moan. She doesn’t want to talk, she wants to feel—and I understand that. “Maggie, listen.”

Maggie doesn’t want to listen. She collapses against the wall, pulling me with her. I’m powerless against her, and finally, I give in. My hands slide over her soft curves, and I savor the feel of her everywhere. I smooth her hair, down her back, cup the gentle curve of her bottom. I’m having a flashback from the laundromat, and it’s grinding at my self-restraint. This time around is different. Emotion drips from every nip, lick, and touch. Our tongues tangle. I pull every little gasp from her lips with a tenderness that’s come from years of regretting my choice to walk away. I need to have her more than ever—to give her all I have and lay myself empty at her feet. When we separate, there’s a vacuum between us, a senseless void that I long to fill with another embrace. Now is not the time, nor is it the place, but around Margaret, my logic seems to be a little dysfunctional. “Maggie.” I cup her cheek and look into those pretty brown eyes, so sweet and hopeful. “I don’t know what you want me to promise you.” “I don’t know, either. It’s not only your fault; you asked me to go with you.” “Selfishly. Because I wanted the best of both worlds.” I pause, knowing the painful truth of it. “You just wanted me.” She blinks, more furiously this time.

“I won’t make the same mistakes I did last time,” I say, meaning every word of it. “I can’t promise you I won’t make other mistakes. But I am falling right back in love with you, Margaret Marshall, and I’m begging you to give us a chance.” Unable to speak, she nods, her hands resting on my chest. They’re so small there, so fragile. I wrap my hands around hers and hold them there. “I’ll think about it,” she says, finally making eye contact with me as she backs away. “I’m going to try.”

Chapter 14 TYLER If I’d thought shopping with one woman was difficult, I was wrong. Try shopping with three of them. I sit outside yet another endless fitting room, holding at least ten different bags of all shapes and sizes. Pink and purple, fluffy and bright, shiny and bold—no matter what style, the only thing these bags do for me is steal my man-card. It’s been difficult for me to focus on much of anything this shopping trip. After Maggie had disentangled herself at the apple orchard, we’d packed the girls into the car—trying desperately to keep the peaceful moments going between all parties—and headed to the mall. The shopping trip thus far has been a whirlwind of Maggie leading the girls from one store to the next and trying on everything from shoes to tiaras. I’ve mostly nodded along and prepared a few standard responses. You look beautiful worked well until Jess noticed I’d recycled it at three different stores and snapped at me for not paying attention. She isn’t wrong; my mind is occupied with the fleeting moments shared with Margaret at the apple orchard. What did that mean, she’d try? Had I hurt her so badly she couldn’t see the love I still have

reserved solely for her? I’d laid my soul bare with the truth: I am falling fast and hard for Margaret Marshall. She might feel it’s too soon, but I can’t help it. When I’d stepped foot into Harp’s Haven, I’d wondered if I’d see her. If I’d find Margaret married with kids, a happy little household that would torment me for years to come. In the years following our breakup, I’d blocked her out of my life on purpose. I hadn’t kept tabs on her whereabouts, thinking it would make for a cleaner break on both ends. I’d hadn’t stepped foot back in town, and every time my mother tried to mention her over the phone, I’d shut the conversation down. It hadn’t worked for a second. Probably, the best situation would’ve been for me to find Margaret happily married. That way, I couldn’t hurt her any more. But when I’d found her as a single parent like me, everything crashed back like a tornado. The feelings I’d banned resurfaced, hurtling over me and dragging me under with a vengeance. I’d only realized the truth after seeing her: I have never stopped loving Margaret. “Dad?” Jessica’s voice held a warning note to it. “What do you think? If you say: you’re beautiful, honey, one more time, I’m going to be upset.”

I surveyed Jessica, this time wearing a red dress. To me, it looked just like everything else she’d tried on. I struggled for a second, stammering with an appropriate response, but when I moved my glance to her face and saw the hope there, manifested in a bright smile, it wasn’t difficult to be sincere. “I think that dress is you, Jess,” I say. “You have to buy it.” “Maggie already bought it,” Jess says with a coy smile. “She said I needed to have it.” “Well, you do,” I tell her, standing. The bags crinkle with the motion, tissue paper scratching every which way. “Now let me give Maggie a piece of my mind about buying you all of these things. I told her I’d pay for it.” “Dad, no—” Jess grasps me hard and pushes me back. “Stay out, please,” she begs. “You can give her money later. I already told her you would.” “But—” “We’re running next door,” she says. “Please don’t come with us.” I sit, stunned, as Jess runs back to Maggie’s side, tugging on her shirt and pointing to the bright, unicorn-vomit-themed store next door. “Is this what it feels like to have a teenager?” I ask dully as Margaret steps outside the store to check on me. The girls are already buzzing over the mannequin in the window next door to us.

“Nah,” she says with a smirk. “This is what it’s like to have girls.” “Does it ever get better?” She gives me a squishy face, pointing at herself. “I don’t know, you tell me.” I laugh, waving her on to the next store and huddling back against the railing. Despite my armload of bags, I can’t find an ounce of annoyance in my bones. I find myself watching Jess, lit up like a Christmas tree, as she holds one shirt after another up and waits desperately for Maggie’s opinion on it. A single shake of the head or a nod from Margaret is enough to send Jessica into a tizzy of agreement. It dawns on me that I’ve never seen Jessica this excited about shopping...ever. Her mother takes her now and again, but Jess has never been thrilled about going. For Anastasia, it’d simply been something to do until she had to return Jess to me. And now that I think about it, Jessica usually didn’t come home with anything. I’d seen the bags in Anastasia’s hands when she dropped Jessica off, but Jess never seemed to acquire anything new. Those bags—none of them had ever belonged to Jess. I was just too stupid to realize it at the time. I feel a burning behind my eyes, a new frustration building inside my chest, and set the bags down. I rub my temples, trying to keep calm.

Even the few short hours Anastasia spent with our daughter weren’t about Jess—they were about Anastasia. I probably hadn’t noticed Jess’s lack of bags because I’d just been relieved she’d gotten time with her mother. I watch Jess with a new perspective, seeing she’s positively thirsting for attention from Maggie. So much that Mila can’t seem to get a word in edgewise. While Jess tugs Maggie in one direction, Mila wanders off to look at sparkly shit in a different section entirely. Jess is clinging to Maggie, and the image breaks my heart. Maggie is everything a mother should be —warm, loving, tender, selfless—and the fact that she’s spent about two hours with my daughter and has given her more attention and love than Anastasia ever has before, breaks me. I fluctuate between violent bursts of frustration and wild despair. My fingers flex over the straps of the bags as I pull them back to my sides. I can’t force Anastasia to love Jessica. Normally, I’m confident in my resolve to do the best damn job I can raising Jess alone, but today, it’s feeling like it’s not enough. By the time the girls are through, my arms are loaded with bags, and the smile on my face is a forced one. Inside, there’s a new heaviness. A new weight that I fear will never leave. I hadn’t known

what Jessica was missing before. Now that my eyes have been opened, they’re impossible to close. “Can I have a Cinnabun?” Mila asks, tugging on her mom’s arm. “Sure,” I say absently, not noticing Maggie’s frown. Jess is clutching Maggie’s other hand. “Cinnabuns are so unhealthy.” “Be a kid for once,” Mila says. “Who cares?” “I want to be healthy,” Jess says. “I want to live forever.” “Me too, but Cinnabuns make me happy.” There’s a fight breaking out beneath our noses, but I can’t seem to comprehend it, and neither can Maggie. She’s too busy watching me. “Here,” I say, forking over some money to the girls. “Get whatever you want. Treat day on me. You, too, Jess.” “Is everything okay?” Maggie murmurs as we settle in line behind the girls. “Did we shop for too long? I’m really sorry—you could’ve said something.” “No,” I tell her, meaning it. “You were great. Really. Thank you for everything in there with Jess. She really loved it.” “Oh, I had a blast,” Maggie gushes. “The girls didn’t fight once; they even got matching sweaters. Can you believe how good this day has been for them?”

She nudges me, but even her touch isn’t enough to shake the fog. “Seriously, Tyler, are you okay?” She tenses, leaning closer. “Is this about before? I meant what I said—I really will think about it. It’s not that I don’t want to try, but I have Mila to think about, and—” “I’m not upset,” I tell her. “At least, not about you. Thank you for today.” “Okay,” she frowns. After a long pause, she adds, “You can talk to me about what’s bothering you if you’d like.” “Thanks.” I offer her a sardonic sort of smile. “I’ll think about it.”

Chapter 15 TYLER “I need more time.” “We thought we’d have a decision a week ago,” Fletcher says. “What’s there to think about?” “There are options.” I lean across the conference room table and meet his gaze straight on. “We don’t have to build a hotel in town. The airport’s an hour away; what about putting something near there?” “Been done before.” “Because it fucking works.” I straighten and move myself to stand in front of the window with my back to Fletcher so he can’t read my face. “Who flies into this shithole and wants to drive an hour to find someplace to stay for the night? A little express hotel near the airport would be in high demand.” “I don’t think so.” Fletcher’s intent on busting my balls today. “What sort of person flies into this shithole at all? Nobody. Not unless they’re wanting to stay for awhile. It’s not exactly layover central.” “Then let’s consider building an apartment complex. Or long-term stay facilities,” I offer. “For people like me, stuck here on business.” “You’re the rare case.” Fletcher’s voice raises in annoyance. “I thought you’d have figured that

out. What about the cute little family who wants to get out of the city and stay for a weekend? Where are they going to stay? That little shack where we had to put you up?” “It’s not a shack,” I mumble, and then catch myself. “It’s not so bad.” “If it’s not so bad,” Fletcher says, “then why’d you suggest we look here in the first place?” “I didn’t suggest it,” I remind him. “The analysts found a gap in the market.” “So fucking fill it,” Fletcher says. “That’s what you do.” I spin around on my heel and rest my knuckles back on the table. “My company, my rules. I don’t want to build an inn in town, we don’t do it.” “But—” “It’s my company.” “There’s a board of directors.” Fletcher raises his hands. “That’s why I’m here. You asked me to be honest with you. I’m not going to bullshit you, and I think you’re making a huge mistake.” “Let me make a mistake.” “Then why am I here?” Fletcher is my right-hand man, that’s why. I don’t have to spell that out for us to both know it’s true. Without him, my company wouldn’t be where it is today. He’s one of the best lawyers in the business, shrewd and quick, ruthless and loyal. He’s never let me down, nor I him.

“Look, I’ll think about it.” I ease up on him. “You’re right; we came here for a reason. Give me some more time.” “Why do you need it?” Fletcher stands, snapping shut his briefcase. He’s a lanky guy, sharply dressed because I pay him through the nose. “Something’s going on here, and I don’t like it. What’s gotten into you?” I rest my hand against my forehead. I’m resistant to cancel the project entirely for several reasons. The first being that I’d no longer have a reason to camp out here, scouting the area, supervising construction, maintaining that hands-on leadership I claim to have. I’d also head back to New York, away from Margaret. I’m not ready for any of that. Second, there’s a definite business opportunity here. If I don’t snatch it up, surely someone else will. The only reason I’d pointed the analysts to this marketplace gap is because my roots are here. I know this town, I know the people, and I know what they want. I can bring down the competition with my eyes closed. Which brings me to my last point. Margaret. If I stomp around here, marching my corporate boots all over Harp’s Haven, it’ll hurt the Lilac Inn, and it’ll hurt them badly. It’ll make things rough for their inn, and if it shut them down, I’m not sure Maggie Marshall would ever forgive me again.

“Believe me,” I mutter. “I didn’t expect things to be this difficult.” “Well? What the hell is it?” Fletcher watches, his shrewd eyes focused on me. A lie will get me nowhere. “I don’t know, yet.” “Well, I can advise you wholeheartedly that you’re wasting a shitload of time and money,” Fletcher says. “Make your decision by the end of the month. November first, we should either be organizing contracts or you should have your ass back in New York where it belongs.” “Are you threatening me?” “I thought you hired me to tell you like it is.” Fletcher steps around the table and marches right up to me, completely unafraid. “You like my no bullshit policy, which is why I’m not so sure you’re fighting me for all the right reasons. Think about it, Daniels. Have I steered you wrong?” My fists are clenched by my sides, but he has a point. There’s a very good reason Fletcher’s not intimidated by my mood, and it’s because he’s right. He’s right across the board, and if the situation were reversed, I’d be saying the same things to him. I don’t make decisions with my heart, my hormones, or anything else—I make them by the book. I look at numbers, and I get the most from my money. The bottom line has driven me for years, ever since I took the first maintenance job in

that crappy old apartment complex. It’s not about to stop now. “November first,” I say in a gravelly voice. “Fine.” “Whatever shit you’ve got going on here,” Fletcher says, turning toward the door. “Get it out of your system, and fast. I’ll talk to you tomorrow; I have a plane to catch.” Without a backward glance, Fletcher storms out of the conference room I’ve rented at the town library. Apparently, this is the only place in Harp’s Haven where one can have a private meeting. Supposedly, the Lilac Inn has some sort of cozy meeting room as well, but something about holding a meeting there while my lawyer and I plotted the demise of that very inn felt sacrilegious. A major discomfort settles in my gut once the room is empty. The thought has been gnawing at me for the last few weeks. Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be a good answer to my solution. I have been racking my brain since the day I laid eyes on Margaret Marshall, and I’m still at a loss. I was supposed to live here for a year. That’d always been the plan. I like being hands on with my businesses: scouting locations, managing contractors, watching a construction go from blueprint to operational. Fletcher has never understood that about me; he says I’ve worked

hard enough to get to the top, let the grunts do the work. I tell him it’s in my blood. I built this company with my hands from the ground up. Little maintenance tasks at that first crap apartment complex until I saved enough money to rent it, then buy it. Then fix it up myself and flip it into the hottest retro apartment complex in my corner of New York. It’s the way I got through those early years of Jessica’s life—I had a small baby counting on me and no wife to care for her. Nobody by my side as I struggled to get a foothold in a brutal city. The only thing constant in my life had been work. Building, bringing new life to ghosted spaces, turning dilapidated creations into a new shade of their former glory—there is something incredibly fulfilling about seeing new renters settle into their unique space and make it their home. This is the reason I need to keep one hand in my business at all times. I always do some part of the work myself: help pour concrete, paint walls, put in cabinets—whatever it is, there’s a desperate need for me to leave a piece of myself in these buildings. Fletcher doesn’t understand it, but he’s accepted it. What he can’t understand is why I’m dragging my feet on a decision. It should be easy. I

plant myself someplace new, identify the market need, and get my ass to work. This waiting around business, debating what to do next—it’s not like me. Fletcher’s right. The need here is a family friendly hotel with all the amenities that Lilac Inn is too small to provide. We don’t need the frills—the lavender towels and popcorn night—we need child care, organized outings, a draw for tourists. We need a luxury resort at affordable prices that’ll blow Lilac Inn right out of the water. But the longer I stay here, the more I’m unsure of my business choices. Turns out, I like my stupid lavender towel. The coffee and food here is insanely amazing. Better than any pre-prepared shit that we’d serve at a more efficient space. The level of service here might not be considered polite and professional, but it’s intimate and friendly. How do we compete with that? I pack up my things and stomp toward the door of the library. Maybe I should just build the fucking thing. We’re all adults here, and it’s just business. As a selfproclaimed businesswoman, Margaret should understand. So far, I’ve avoided the whole what do you do for work conversation with her, brushing it off with an easy answer: I buy things. She seems to understand I don’t want to talk about it, and in true Maggie style, she respects my choice.

I just don’t respect my own choice. The longer I let this linger, the worse the chasm will be when I finally yank the Band-Aid off and come clean to Maggie. There’s no way she’ll take kindly to competition on her home turf, and I’m not ballsy enough to rock the boat yet. Therefore, I avoid the problem. “How was everything?” the librarian chirps as I storm through the main floor. “Did the conference room fit your business needs?” “It’s fine,” I mumble, forcing myself to slow down and pause. “Do I owe you anything for it?” “Owe us? Money? Oh, no.” She laughs. “Services here are free.” “Thanks,” I say again, stomping out the door. Maybe if someone here acted like a prick, it would make things easier. Unfortunately, it feels like everyone’s bound and determined to act so pleasant and friendly I feel like a permanent asshole. This town is making it hard for me to leave, and harder for me to stay.

Chapter 16 MAGGIE “I really don’t think it’s a good idea that you’re spending so much time with him.” My mother leans back at the tidy little breakfast nook in her kitchen. “How will that look to everyone else?” I scowl, reaching for a scone which prompts another look of annoyance from my mother. “I don’t care what others think.” “Apparently not,” she says, “or you wouldn’t be reaching for your third scone.” There used to be a day when I would’ve put it back, when I would’ve valued my mother’s opinions more than anything in this world, but that day has passed. It passed the day she cut me out of her life when I told her I was having a baby. Apparently, what others thought had been so damn important she hadn’t wanted to be involved with a daughter who’d gotten pregnant out of wedlock. My dad, had he been alive, would have supported me. He would’ve been the only person who could’ve changed my mother’s mind—he’d always been the only person to make her laugh, to see the light side of dark days—but unfortunately, he’d passed away several years before of a heart attack.

Eventually, after Mila’s birth she’d come around—somewhat. Even my mother had her limits, and she’d realized that if she continued to freeze me out of her life, she wouldn’t know Mila. For the sake of her granddaughter, she’d let me back in, and I returned, grudgingly cautious. “No,” my mother says, daintily slicing her scone into eighths before applying the slightest dollop of lemon curd to it. “You have never cared what others think.” “Is this why you called me over here this morning?” “Can’t I have breakfast with my daughter for no reason?” “Most people can,” I mutter. “I’m still scratching my head about what you need from me.” “I don’t need anything, Margaret,” she snaps. “I’m your mother. Have some respect.” It’s harder than I want to admit to keep my mouth shut, and the only way I can go about it successfully is to butter up that scone and shove it into my mouth. My mother watches with disdain. “If you know what’s good for you,” she says, eventually opening up the argument again. “You’ll stay away from Tyler and keep Mila out of it, too.” “It’s my business what I do with my daughter, thank you very much. And who I spend time with, for that matter, as well. I don’t have to explain myself,” I say with faux patience. “But if it’d make

you feel better, you should know it’s just business. Tyler and his daughter are staying at the inn, and it’s my job to make them feel welcome.” “Is it your job to take them to the apple orchard?” She sounds too innocent. “What about shopping?” I glower at her. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. It was for the girls.” “Fine. That still doesn’t explain why Mrs. Larson saw you cuddled up against Tyler’s chest,” she says, leaning forward as her voice descends into a hiss. “She said you kissed him.” My heart is pumping, but I refuse to let my embarrassment win out. “Where I plant my lips is my business.” My mother inhales a sharp breath. “Watch your mouth.” “What did I say?” She squints at me, unhappy. “I thought you were past this phase.” “What phase is that?” “I thought you were done looking for boys to fool around with. You’ve done that. Obviously.” It stings every time she brings up my relationship with Mila’s father. I would’ve married him if he’d asked, for Mila’s sake, but the question never came up. What we’d had could never be called a relationship in any true sense of the word.

“I didn’t come here for this,” I say quietly. “I will not discuss it. When I let you back into my life, into Mila’s life, we agreed to let the past be the past and start fresh. This year, things have been feeling less and less fresh, and I will have no part in it.” “You’re supposed to learn from the past, Margaret,” she warns. “And if you stumble down that same road, I’m sure as hell going to bring it up.” My mother never swears, so this little slip is a sure sign she’s furious. I don’t care; I can’t. We had an agreement, and she’s breaking it. I push my chair back and stand. “With all due respect, I’m going to leave now. When you’re ready to move on from this topic, you know where to find me.” “Don’t you walk away from me, Margaret!” I slip my light pink coat on, a dressier thing than I normally wear for a school drop off morning, but something I’d put on to make my mother happy, along with the little black dress underneath. My mother thinks yoga pants are sloppy, and I didn’t feel like giving her more ammunition against me today. “If you’re not going to think about yourself,” she shoots after me, “think about Mila. If she really is becoming friends with that little girl, what’s going to happen when Tyler yanks her back to the city?”

I freeze, knowing there’s a double meaning to my mother’s inquiry. Yes, Mila’s feelings are a concern, but so are mine. My mother must sense my heart is close to getting involved, or she wouldn’t be so furious with me. When my heart is involved, I make bad choices—the track record has spoken. When I don’t answer, she tries another angle. “What is he doing here, anyway? Have you asked him that?” “Of course I have,” I snap, but I don’t follow up because I have nothing to say. I’ve asked Tyler a time or two what it is he does, and he always has some piddly answer. I own things, he’ll say. I buy and sell things. As if I can’t understand more than that. I know he has plenty of money—that much is obvious. What he actually does is a much foggier question that he likes to avoid. “You can walk out on me, but you know what I’m saying is true.” My mother’s words follow me down the steps. “You’re not a girl anymore, Margaret. You’re a woman and a mother, and you can’t indulge every one of your whims any longer.” I turn, my furious gaze focused on her. There are no words that I need to say in order for her to catch my drift. “A man should support his family,” she says, implying Tyler doesn’t do that. “He should work

and provide for them, not sit around and diddle himself all day.” I gape at her language. My mother is in rare form today, and it’s all I can do not to break down and laugh. “Tyler doesn’t diddle himself all day, mother.” “Then what does he do?” she presses. “Does he go out in the morning and earn a living for his family? Can he provide for you and Mila?” “I provide for me and Mila,” I say, the volume rising as we reach the crux of the issue. “We don’t need someone to come in and swoop us off our feet.” “Sometimes, it’s nice to be swooped.” My mother says this bit quietly, and it’s completely out of character for her. “But there has to be something to follow up the whirlwind. Otherwise, it’ll leave you in pieces. Again.” I freeze right there on the spot, wondering if this is my mother’s way of offering me sympathy. If it’s her olive branch in trying to test out offering motherly advice for once, or if it’s something else entirely. I don’t have time to puzzle through it all now, however. My phone jars both of us to attention. I glance down at the number there, recognize the school line, and offer my mother a goodbye. The door is already slamming in my face.

Chapter 17 TYLER “What?” I grumble into the phone. “What happened this time?” I listen as the principal explains there’s been an issue with Jess’s behavior. When I press him for more information, he asks me to stop by the school as soon as possible. I continue to mumble, pulling myself from bed. I flopped down on the mattress after my meeting with Fletcher, feeling drained. I figured I had an hour or two of peace and quiet before he landed in New York and resumed pummeling me with questions. I pull on a pair of dark jeans and a red sweatshirt. Though I told myself I have nobody to impress around here, I can’t resist stopping by the mirror to glance at my hair. It’s a mess. A mop of dark hair curling in every direction, and the best I can do is run my fingers through it a few times. I race to school, keeping my eyes peeled for Margaret. I didn’t see her when I returned to the inn this morning, and Emily hadn’t offered me any clue as to her whereabouts. I grudgingly admire her loyalty. By the time I reach the principal’s office, I can’t tell if my mood has worsened or become

better. I’m a bit jittery, which is unlike me. I haven’t felt truly nervous in years—especially not while sitting in a principal’s office. It could have something to do with the fact that I’m the first, and only, person to arrive in the office. I stare at the door wondering who’ll walk through it. “You look like Medusa’s going to come through that doorway and take you down,” Shonda says, raising her eyebrows. “Is everything okay, Mr. Daniels?” “Fine,” I say gruffly. “Just thinking about work.” “I feel your pain.” At that very moment, the pair of legs I’d been hoping—no, praying—would walk through that door, make their entrance. Except instead of their usual yoga pants, these legs are bare, stretching up from a pair of simple black heels to the hem of a dress that’s the most alluring thing I’ve ever seen. My jaw must have dropped open because the secretary stands, raises her eyebrows at the two of us, and grasps her purse. “Yeah, I’m not doing this again,” she says to us. “If Principal McNeal asks where I am, tell him I needed a Coke.” With that, we’re alone. Margaret Marshall and me, back in the principal’s office. Last time we were here, she didn’t look like this. If she’d looked like this...

“What’re you staring at, Tyler?” she snaps, and there’s a frostiness to her voice that I hadn’t expected. “I’m wearing a dress—it’s allowed.” “Mmm.” “You’re looking at me like I’m a species on the Discovery Channel.” She shifts, somewhat uncomfortably, and tugs her dress lower on her thighs. “Stop that.” I can’t stop; it’s like every beat of my heart is coming more alive—faster and faster as my eyes drink her in, and if I look away, I might die. And here I thought Jess was the Drama Queen of the family. “You look...” my voice comes out scratchy. “Incredible.” “It’s nothing,” she says, dismissive. “I just had a breakfast—er, meeting...this morning.” I don’t like the way she hedges around the words breakfast meeting, as if she had to spin that lie at the last moment. My eyes lock on hers. “You’re lying.” “No.” “Did you have a date?” I stand, uncomfortable with how angry the thought of Margaret Marshall out on a date with another man makes me. I’m reacting on a basic, instinctual level, and all signs of my logical brain have disintegrated. “Is that why you’re dressed all sexy?”

“This isn’t sexy!” She gestures to her dress, which is a mid-thigh black thing that’s nearly painted onto her body. “I got it on sale for thirteen dollars at Target.” “I don’t care where the fuck you got it, you look sexy as hell.” I’m moving across the room before I can stop myself. “Did you have a date this morning?” “What’s it to you?” she whispers. I’m close enough to practically taste the mint on her breath. “We’re not together.” “The hell we’re not,” I tell her, though I know I’m being irrational. “You haven’t dated since Mila was born—yes, I know that—and now you choose to meet people? What about us? What about this? If you’re going to give someone a chance, why don’t you make it me?” “I had breakfast with my mother,” she says, an odd smile twisting onto her face. “How about that, tough guy?” My heart stops then and there. All of my bravado...for a breakfast with her mother. The look in Maggie’s eyes tell me she’s not lying; in fact, she’s quite amused. “But, I’m glad to know how you feel,” she says, brushing past me. “I’ll have to put on a dress more often. Just not at school,” she says, her eyes flicking toward the door. “You can’t seem to

control your language, and we’re in the principal’s office.” Almost as if he’d been called, Principal McNeal opens his door, sighs when he sees the two of us waiting on opposite ends of the room, and waves for us to come inside. “You’re back,” he says, announcing the obvious. “Because Jessica and Mila had a little run in today during math.” “A little run in,” I say, sounding almost gleeful. “Guess that means we’ll need some more bonding time together.” Maggie shoots me a deathly glare. “I’m thinking a canoe trip,” I announce to the group. “The four of us, all alone on the river, no place to escape. We’ll have to talk about things and work together. It might really help to clear the air.” Principal McNeal sputters a bit. “Don’t you, er, want to hear what they did wrong?” Maggie rolls her eyes at me, stepping forward to stand behind her daughter. “Yes, Principal McNeal, please.” “The girls wouldn’t stop talking during their exam. They received three warnings, which means they both got their tests taken away before completing them.” At this, Jessica bursts into tears. I’m forced to hide the brief glimpse of happiness I’d felt upon realizing that this little incident might make for an

excellent excuse to spend more time with Margaret. Maybe she’d even wear that little dress again if I switched out canoeing for a picnic. Yes, I feel like a horrible father to be thinking this at the moment, but I can’t help it. I know Jessica is a good girl. Whatever’s causing these tiffs between her and Mila will get worked out, and I can’t bring myself to feel upset with her. Moving is hard; I know that. Punishing my daughter won’t do any good when she’s already giving herself a harder time than I ever could. “What’s wrong?” I ask, finally freeing myself of thoughts of Margaret as Jess’s little arms snake around my neck. “It’s okay, honey. I’m not upset with you.” “I got in trouble,” she says. “My teacher never gets mad at me.” Over Jess’s shoulder, I see Maggie watching her own daughter with curiosity. Mila’s kicking the floor, eyes downcast, giving no sign she’s truly bothered by the reprimands. “It’s okay, honey. Do you want to come home with me today?” I ask her. “We can take some time off for the afternoon, and maybe we can talk to your teacher about re-doing some of the test.” “No,” she shrieks, nearly hysterical. “I can’t.” Her sobs come quicker now, her tears wet against my shoulder. Mila continues to drill her hole

into the ground as if she’s attempting to tunnel her way out of here with laser beams. Alarmed, I hold my daughter closer. “Jess, breathe. It’s okay. One bad grade isn’t going to ruin your life.” “In fact,” the principal says, unhelpfully. “Jess is doing excellent. Mila, however, could use a little help focusing during class.” Maggie’s lips tighten. “Of course. I’ll set up a meeting with her teacher.” “I think that’d be a good idea,” Principal McNeal says. “In the meantime, it’s probably best if we get the girls back to their teacher. I think keeping them in from recess today to catch up would be a sufficient consequence for disrupting class.” “Jess, are you sure you don’t want to take the day off?” I run a hand over her smooth hair, holding her against me. For some reason, I don’t want to let her go. I want to kidnap her back to the inn and cuddle up under a blanket watching silly movies and playing catch with popcorn. “I’ll give you a note if you want to come home. I’m sure the principal will understand.” When I use the word home, both Jess and Maggie stiffen. Maggie watches with interest as I struggle to keep my attention focused on Jess. “No,” she hiccups. “I want to go back to class with Mila.”

Maggie, myself, and our daughters excuse ourselves from the principal’s office and make our way to their classroom. When I lean down to kiss Jess goodbye, she’s already distracted pulling her spelling list out of her backpack, and Mila is groaning at the thought of missing recess. “What’s happening here?” Maggie asks, mystified, as they walk side by side into class. “Are they friends?” “I don’t know,” I say, equally unsure. I turn to face her, and change the subject back to us. “What are we, Margaret? Friends? More? I acted like a fool in there before, and I’m sorry. Just the thought of you spending time with someone else—another man...” “I don’t know, Tyler. What am I to you?” she asks. “Jealousy doesn’t mean you’re all in. It only means you don’t want someone else to have me. Am I an old friend? A distraction while you’re in town? More?” “I’m not going to leave things like I did last time.” “You’ve said that before,” she murmurs. Then she turns, stepping away with a light click-click of her heels. “Once you know what you want, we’ll talk.”

Chapter 18 MAGGIE I drive home, flushed and warm from the way I’d left things with Tyler. It’d been one of the hardest things to do, walking away from the conversation, but it was right. It is right, I correct —I cannot involve myself with Tyler until he knows what he wants. The risk for Mila, and for myself, is too high. My feet pull me into the inn, past the reception desk where Emily and Luca are holding up different paint chips and having a screaming match about the color blue, and haul myself to my room. I wash my face, change out of my dress and into my normal uniform of yoga pants and a T-shirt, and lean against the counter. The reflection in the mirror shows a tired woman, glassy eyed and pale, still jittery with nerves. The knock on the door surprises me, and I start, nearly smacking my forehead into the mirror before I gather my wits. “Who is it?” “Margaret, it’s me.” Tyler’s voice is soft, a question. “I was wondering if I could talk to you.” I pull the door open and find him standing back, giving me space. He’s wearing the same clothes from before, the sweatshirt and jeans unusually casual for weekday Tyler. “Sure, come on in.”

Tyler strolls easily into the room, giving me a wide berth. He glances around, finds the couch in the living room, and makes his way to it, easing into the seat without an invitation. Once there, he leans forward, resting his hands on his knees, and waits. I shift my weight from one foot to the next, leaning against the edge of the chair opposite him as Tyler turns his eyes toward the television. He’s staring at the blank screen, looking like his mind is a million miles away. “Maggie,” he says, almost pleading when he speaks. His eyes are hollow gems, watching me with an equal split of pain and truth. “I didn’t expect to feel anything for you when I came back. I knew I would, but I hoped I wouldn’t—I hoped I’d find you happily married with a pack of kids.” I blink, surprised. “Why?” “So I would have an excuse to avoid us. To avoid this.” He stands, his hulking frame equally intimidating and sexy. “I thought I’d figured out life these past few years. Jess and me—we were a team. Just the two of us. I had Jess and I had my work—that’s it. Simple.” “Life with me is complicated and messy,” I say. “I know.” “I’m not afraid of messy.” His eyes flash, but he doesn’t take the bait—his voice remains calm. “I’m slow on the uptake sometimes, Margaret—it takes

me awhile to figure out what I want in life. What I need.” My heart thumps. “Well—have you figured it out?” “If I ever settle down, I’m going to need a woman who challenges me.” He takes a step closer, his eyes deadly serious. “I will need a woman who loves my daughter like her own—who’s willing to be the mother Jessica deserves, but has never had.” I swallow as he moves closer still, closing the gap between us. “I will need a woman who loves me with a ferocity that’ll never fade,” he says, his hand reaching out, tentative, as he takes my chin between his fingers. “I need a woman who’ll destroy me if she ever leaves.” I clear my throat, unable to break our gaze. “You said if.” “What?” “You said if you ever settle down.” “Because as far as I’m concerned, there’s only one woman who can ever bring all of that to the table,” he says. “I’ve met plenty of women—not one has ever compared to the one who got away.” “I didn’t get away, Tyler. You left. I stayed. Simple math—our equation didn’t work out.” “Is it too late?” he asks, his eyes pained. “Just tell me if there’s not a chance. I’d rather know now than later. I know you’re cautious—you have to be.

But give me a hint, Margaret. Do I have a chance with you?” Even if I’d had an answer prepared, his expression would’ve given me pause. It’s as if all of his hopes rest on this question, as if the light in his eyes will blink out should my answer not be the one he wants to hear. “Don’t feed me a line,” he says. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I can’t hurt Jess. If you can’t see yourself getting involved with me, please spare me. Tell me now.” “Tyler, I can’t—” “I’m not asking you to marry me. Not yet,” he adds quickly. “We have a lot of catching up to do, and who knows if we’re still compatible. I have a fairly good idea the answer to that, or I wouldn’t be standing here now, pouring my guts out to you.” He offers me a smile. “Jess doesn’t have anyone but me. If I fall apart...” “I understand.” His hand moves to my cheek, and I step closer, closing the gap between us. “I understand perfectly.” “I know you do.” His hand slides down, cups my neck. “That’s why I’m telling this to you. I have already admitted I’m falling in love with you, and I’m sick of fighting it. I love you, Margaret. I need you. I don’t have a solution for...for everything just yet, but I’m willing to make things work. Whatever it takes.”

“No,” I tell him, and the light blinks out. “Oh, okay, well...” He retracts his arm and moves back, offering a flickering cough. “Well, I respect that. Thank you, er, for being so honest.” “No, Tyler,” I say, shaking my head. “I mean, no, I can’t tell you I love you. Not yet. I can’t pretend your mention of marriage doesn’t terrify me. I’m afraid for Mila. If she gets attached to you and Jess, and then something happens...” I hesitate to inhale. “The answer to your initial question is yes —there is potential. I care about you; I’ve never stopped, and that’s the problem. I have decadedeep feelings for you, and I need to sort through what that means for us now. You’re a different person than when you left, and I need to know this Tyler.” He lets out a huge breath, his chest expanding with the effort as he closes the space between us once more and pulls my face to him. He pauses on the precipice of a kiss. I hold back, staring at his lips instead of his eyes, afraid of what I’ll find there. “Are you going to leave?” “Leave?” “Why are you here, Tyler?” Tyler lets out a soft groan, stepping away from me and running a hand roughly through his hair. “I want an answer.”

“I’m here on business,” he admits. “I’ve been meaning to tell you the full story, but it never seemed like the right time.” “Right. You buy things. You said as much.” “Property. Real estate. Apartments—you name it,” he says, looking uncomfortable. “Hotels.” “You’ve done well for yourself, judging by the spiffy suits and the flashy car.” He offers a grim smile. “I got started as a handyman. Worked my way up, bought my first property, and you can guess the rest.” “So, you like fixing things. That’s why you’ve kept busy around here—the popcorn machine, the washing machine...anything I’m missing?” “I have other reasons for that,” he says, offering the first glimpse of a smile. “There’s a beautiful woman that’s hard to impress.” I bite my lip, refusing to let his charms lull me away from the conversation. “What’s in Harp’s Haven for you?” “We thought there might be an opportunity to build here.” “A little healthy competition,” I say, my throat going dry. “A hotel.” “I didn’t know you worked here, Margaret, and —” “And it wouldn’t have stopped Tyler Daniels, the business man,” I tell him. “I read a bit about

you. I know your reputation; you didn’t get rich on accident.” He doesn’t look surprised. “It’s just business, Maggie. The plans aren’t final yet.” “When were you planning to tell me any of this?” “Once I’d made my business decisions. Why risk upsetting you if we decide not to build here?” That does the trick and pushes me over the edge. “What the hell do you think I am, Tyler? Some plaything? What...you have until the end of the month to make your business decisions? Buying yourself time to fool around with me?” “Margaret, it’s not like—” “Am I supposed to just pretend you’re not prepared to fight tooth and nail to drive the Lilac Inn to the ground?” “The hell that’s what I’m doing!” Tyler says. “I didn’t come here to ruin you, or to ruin anything. If you’re a businesswoman, as I expected, you’d understand that.” “I understand perfectly, Tyler. It doesn’t mean I have to sleep with the enemy.” “I’m not the enemy! We can both have businesses that coexist in the same town. It happens everywhere. If I don’t move in here, someone else will do it, and they won’t give a flying fuck about your inn. At least I care.”

“Oh yeah?” I say, my voice rising. “And what happens if I fall in love with you?” Tyler blinks, steps back. “What if...” “What happens,” I say, stepping closer, my voice cutting to a whisper, “if I fall in love with you?” “I’m begging you to try.” His voice is rough around the edges, raw. “I won’t leave you again. I never promised anything back then. This time, I’m promising.” He closes the distance between us, his large hands taking my face fully between them. “Do you trust me?” His touch is the gentlest I’ve known, the most tender and sweet. I want him to touch only me, forever. “I don’t know.” “Give me a chance,” he says, easing forward, circling his hands lower until they’re pressed to my back, and he’s pulling me into him. “Give me time. A month. If you don’t like where things are going, I’ll leave.” “And if I do?” “You’ll marry me,” he says, firm. “I know what I want, and I’ve waited long enough to get it.” “And what happens if you run us out of business?” “That’s not going to happen, and we both know it,” he says, his eyes darkening. “The Lilac Inn can’t be replicated. I know that now, after seeing it. Even if we build here, it won’t end you.”

“Tyler—” “It’s just business, Margaret. It has nothing to do with our relationship.” “My business is my life—the inn is my home, my friends here are family. I can’t separate the two.” “Do you want me to tell them to stop?” He seems to genuinely be curious. “I—” On one hand, I want to demand he stop whatever he’s planning, but I don’t. I have too much pride for that. “No. Do whatever you want here...it’s just business.” “Where does that leave us?” “I-I’m not sure.” “Give me the month, Margaret. If you don’t want me around after that, say the word, and we’ll be gone. You have my word.” I blink back a sting in my eyes. “And what if that’s not what I want?” He leans in, his lips centimeters from mine. “Then, you’ll marry me.” “But—” “Please,” he murmurs, pain flickering through his gaze. “Give me a chance.” My returning answer is a kiss. A touch of the lips that signs an unspoken treaty between us. After today, the only thing that’s certain is that I need to try.

It might be the stupidest decision I’ll ever make, but I’m powerless to say no. If I say no, I’ll continue wondering what might have been, forever. My desire to play out the what if ’s with Tyler Daniels vastly outweighs my concerns about his business. The Lilac Inn can stand competition. My heart? That’s what I’m worried about. “I’ve missed you,” he murmurs into my mouth. “I don’t think I’ve ever stopped loving you.” The intensity in which he kisses me next drives us together, pushing away any lingering doubt, any fear that’s been pressing me to stay away. This is the adventure I’ve been dying to take, regardless of the consequences. So, I take with an intensity, a selfishness that’s uncommon for me. I take with wild abandon, with such thoroughness that I know if he leaves, I will break so chaotically that recovery will be a nearunattainable glow on the horizon. But I need to do this one thing...for me.

Chapter 19 TYLER I can see the second she breaks. The moment she snaps with a decision. The second she hurtles herself from the plane, praying her parachute opens and suspends her from a rocky, tumultuous landing. I am that parachute. As her hands fall on mine and her lips tease searching, soulful kisses, I’m fully aware how much this means to her. Everything leading up to this was an unwritten trial, and everything that follows will be, too. A test to see if I’m worthy of her and Mila, a test to see if I’ve meant what I’ve said. A test to see if I can love her as much as she’s fearful of loving me. Well, the answer is an easy one. I love her more than that. I know that, somehow, without proof. Without evidence, without any sign of logical thought—it’s as if my entire being, every particle from which I’m made joins against hers as we tumble into the bedroom and onto the mattress. I intend to ask her if she’s sure, but I can’t form the words. I’m too terrified it’ll shatter the illusion and send us spiraling to our own corners of the room. Instead, I close my eyes. I focus on the way her hands grip and pull, caress and search, ease and

comfort. When her fingernails dig into my shoulders, my eyes clench shut, searing everything about this into my memory. Ironically, she doesn’t seem the least bit afraid. I’m the one scared shitless today; I’m terrified something will shake her resolve. The two of us don’t make sense together—we never have. We just are, and I intend to prove it. Once the initial shock of the moment has passed, I pull myself out of a haze and study her. I have her pinned against her bed, her cheeks pink with exertion as she stares up at me with gleaming eyes. She tilts her head with curiosity. “What were you thinking about?” “I was—” “Actually—” she holds up a finger, interrupting — “I don’t want to know. Don’t talk.” I laugh as my hands reach for the straps of her dress, toying with them as I feel the smoothness of her skin beneath. “I’m only going to ask this once. Are you sure you want to do this? We can wait.” Her voice is small, but confident. “If we’re going to do this, I’m not going to hold back. A month?” “A month.” “Then Tyler, yes. Make me forget why we shouldn’t be together.”

Her name on my lips sets off a fury inside me, a pleasant buzz of adrenaline that sends the rest of me spiraling out of control. “I’m sorry,” I tell her, aching with need as I slide my hand under the hem of her dress, easing it up her pale thighs and resting it on her stomach. “I can’t do that.” “But—” she argues as my finger toys with the lace thong she’s wearing. “Tyler...” Her eyes close as she sinks away from her response. I run a finger over her, hissing when I feel just how ready she is. Her arguments turn into little moans of encouragement, sounds that drive me wild as she bucks her hips upward. I take my time, teasing and playing, until those little moans turn into a demand and her fingers reach toward me. I dip my finger gently inside of her, watching her face as the first touch nearly sends her writhing in bliss. “How long has it been since...” I trail off as her eyes close and her head falls back. “Not since Mila,” she gasps. “Priorities, you know how it goes.” My eyes must explode at her answer because she stills for a moment, watching me with a hunger in her eyes. “Don’t give me that look,” she snaps. “I’ve been busy.” I can’t help but laugh, while simultaneously wondering how the hell she’s gone six years without sex. Six years. Almost seven, if...I push the

calculations away and focus on the woman before me. With a new sense of focus, I snap her panties off, tearing them at the seams. “Those were expensive,” she mutters. “And they were for me,” I tell her. “Don’t deny it.” I press my mouth against hers, swallowing her arguments. It’s an easier, and infinitely more enjoyable, way to end a conversation. I can only focus on one thing at a time, and I plan on focusing on her. She sinks back into hot lava, malleable in my arms as I ease another finger in, gentle, testing the waters. It’s been so long for her, and I can sense this experience is almost new. Exploratory. She’s so intensely in tune with every one of my motions, soaking in every touch, every breath, as if this is her first time. “Is this...” I hesitate, my breath coming in a whisper against her ear. “In college, we...” “Tyler. Is now really the time to discuss this?” Her hips arch toward me, demanding more from my hand as she tugs at the waistband of my pants. “I finally fall into bed with you, and now you want to talk?” “I’m just trying to understand...if your first time was with me, and then you didn’t stay with Mila’s father, and—”

“Yes. I’ve been with two men—you’re one of them. Are you happy?” My chest constricts at the thought. “But—” “Are you trying to ruin this before we start?” “God, no! I’m trying to...to understand,” I murmur. “I’m surprised—you’re beautiful, Margaret. You could have anyone you wanted.” “I didn’t need anyone,” she snaps. “Can you stop talking before I change my mind about this? Please?” I laugh again, amused by how much fun I’m having. Sex for me has always been a basic need. An itch to scratch, if you will. When we were young, I was clueless—this time, things are different. I wouldn’t call myself a playboy, but I’ve had relationships—brief, physical ones—in New York. Like I said, an itch to scratch, nothing more. Though I’m always polite when it comes to sex, making sure the woman finishes before I do, I’ve never felt so fully invested in their satisfaction. If anything, today, I’m too consumed by the needs of Maggie to even remember mine. As if her pleasure is linked to mine, and only once she’s weak with bliss will I be satisfied. “What did you mean before?” Maggie whispers now, clinging to me as I ease my body against hers. “You said you can’t make me forget why we shouldn’t be together.”

I kick my pants off and align my body with hers, chest to chest, as my arousal presses against her through my boxers. “I meant,” I say, offering a necklace of kisses to her collarbone. “That I can’t think of a single reason we shouldn’t be together.” “Well, there’s the fact—” “So,” I interrupt, harshly. “I will one up you.” “Mmm?” My fingers have found her again, and she’s putty in my arms, almost humming with pleasure. “I will show you all the reasons we belong together.” “Oh, Tyler...” Her words dissolve into nothingness as I ease lower, brushing her dress to the side as my mouth finds her. She tastes heavenly, delectable, and I kiss her with every intention to never stop. To not stop until she shatters in my arms and rests there, letting me piece her back together. When her nails dig into my hair, I’m set to explode. I’m straining so thoroughly at my boxers I’m surprised I haven’t punctured a hole in them yet. And still, I’m so focused on Maggie’s reactions that I barely notice. To focus on her is to focus on myself, I realize with a jolt. To bring her happiness will set my stars in alignment, will put a bounce in my step and a lightness inside of me that hasn’t been seen in years. She is everything I need.

My next kiss between her thighs does the trick. She lets out a cry that has me wondering if reception can hear. I guide her through every wave of her climax, gritting my resolve not to bury myself in her and steal some of the pleasure for myself. But when Margaret finishes, shuddering, and whispers my name, I’m complete. I pull her through the last of the tremors, rolling her onto her side and holding her in my arms as she settles back to earth. She’s limp all over and breathing heavily, and I can’t help the rising sense of satisfaction. Of knowing that I put the look of ecstasy on her face. Knowing that when she murmured a name—it was mine. “I hope you know,” I whisper into her ear. “Now that I’ve heard you say my name like that, I’m dead set on making it the last name you ever say in bed. Forever.” She shivers against me. “That’s a big statement.” “I mean it.” Turning to face me, she spends the next few minutes looking into my face. I’m not sure what she’s searching for, but she seems to find everything there fascinating. In return, I study her. I trace the curves of her eyebrows and run my hand through her hair. Meanwhile, her fingers cascade

around the lines of my jaw, as if she’s painting this image to last. Cementing it into her mind. Easing onto my elbows, I look into her eyes. “I will prove to you, no matter how long it takes, that we have every reason to be together.” Her eyes swim with tears. “I’m sorry,” I murmur, alarmed. “Did I say something wrong?” She pulls me close, her lips against mine. She presses for me to give her more, to give her everything this time, but I hold back. Again, it’s about her—for now. My next motion silences her arguments, and from there on out, there’s nothing but the sound of her breathless pants until she calls my name again.

Chapter 20 MAGGIE I’m not sure how long we stayed in bed. It must’ve been the entire afternoon, but I can’t say for certain. The whole thing seemed like a dream, an alternate reality in which I’d become some sort of sex machine worshipped by none other than the likes of Tyler Daniels. Who happened to be a sex god himself. Even though we never actually had sex. Technically. I blush at myself, standing in my bathroom, as I struggle to make myself presentable in time to pick Mila up from school. I’m not sure I’ll ever know what came over me today, but I do know it wasn’t Margaret Marshall of Harp’s Haven in bed earlier. Margaret Marshall wears yoga pants and a messy bun. Her love life consists of romance novels and battery powered assistance. Margaret Marshall is a mother, a career woman, the breadwinner and bed maker and hand-wiper and chauffeur to Mila Marshall. Margaret Marshall was not the woman in that bedroom. That was...I blush again, reminiscing about one orgasm after the next. I’d lost count at some point. Three blurred into four, and was there a fifth? Not that it matters. The only thing that

matters now is the fact that my legs are jelly and my heart is pounding. And the fact that Tyler Daniels probably thinks I’m a nut. This afternoon, I’d turned into someone else. Maggie-the-banshee. I must have cried out from Tyler’s touches a dozen times. I remember begging, I think I growled at him, and I definitely made some demands. Possibly a few dozen threats against his life, trying to convince him to stop being so damn selfless and let me give him the same pleasure he’d given me. I’d tried to touch him, to take him, to return the feelings he’d given me, but he’d been firm in his denials. If I hadn’t gotten so limp with bliss, I might’ve fought back a little harder, but I’d been powerless to him. Mentally, physically, blissfully powerless. He’d given selflessly, looking satisfied only once I begged him to give me rest with a pleasant little whimper. Only then did he curl against me and, together, we drifted off to sleep. Now I’m stuck trying to make myself look less like a sex goddess. Apparently, my hair’s not cooperating, and there’s a new permanent flush on my cheeks. I know the second I walk out of here, Emily’s going to know. Luca and Jax, too, if they’re around. It’s not that I care, it’s just...I have to pick my daughter up. I have to put this afternoon out of

my mind, slip back into my yoga pants, and turn on the mom. Easing out of the bathroom, I’m painfully aware that my former undies are strewn haphazardly over the trash bin. I remind myself to snatch them up before I leave so Lelia doesn’t get any surprises when she comes to clean tomorrow. There’s a new soreness between my legs, a pleasant one, and a satisfaction I can feel all the way to my bones. I don’t think I’ve ever been so thoroughly sexed. Then again, I don’t have a huge resume in that regard, so it’s unsurprising. Tyler lets out a low whistle as I appear beside the bed. “Are you sure we can’t get Emily to pick up the girls?” I give him a suggestive glance, but I shake my head. “I don’t think it’s possible to get anything more from me today. But, if you wanted to change your mind about having a turn...?” I ease over to the bed, realizing that the whole sex goddess act isn’t entirely gone as I run my hand up his length and meet his gaze. He sucks in a sharp breath, closes his eyes, and is temporarily rendered speechless. “I guarantee you’d like it.” I tease, winking at him when his eyes flash open. “Or your money back.” At his expression, I laugh. “I’m kidding. Let me return the favor, Ty.”

“Ty,” he murmurs. “Haven’t heard that one in years.” My hand grips him, and I can’t think of a response. He’s larger than I remember, so big and strong all over, and for a brief moment, I wonder how it’ll work. If he’ll actually fit inside of me. I’m obviously a little out of practice. “It’ll work,” he groans, as if reading my mind. He’s watching my face, my amazement as I stroke him. “Believe me, honey. I’m counting down the days until I get you alone again.” “Days?!” There’s a horror in my voice that makes him laugh. I can’t seem to shake the fog though, and all I can do is repeat myself. “Days?” In a flash, he’s pulled me onto the bed, situating me over his lap. His length teases me, presses against the bare skin underneath my dress, and I let out a sizzle as I imagine pulling his boxers down and sliding onto him. Bliss. That’s the only thing on my mind. Until responsibility kicks in. “The girls, school,” I moan. “I need...” “I can feel what you need, sweetheart.” He moves against me, sending sizzles of pleasure across my skin. “But...” I’m panting, searching for an argument. He squeezes my hips, pressing me harder against him. My hands come to rest on his

shoulders and, before I know it, my fingers are digging into his skin, and I’m grinding against him. “Baby, baby,” he says, slowing me down. “You can’t make me finish without being inside you.” “But—” I seem to be stuck on that word. “But nothing,” he growls, nipping at my neck. “We don’t have enough time right now.” “When can we...?” I’m glad he can read my mind because the sentences are coming out completely unfinished. “My mom’s happy to have Jess for a sleepover,” he says. “Just tell me when. Five minutes isn’t enough to start what I have planned for you.” With a pain that threatens to rip me apart, I disentangle myself from him and step back. “How do you do that to me?” He raises his eyebrow, gestures to his boxers. “Look what you do to me.” I nod, admitting to the silent admiration I have for the view before me. The image is impressive. “I still can’t believe you didn’t let me have you,” I whine. “At all. I want you inside me—so badly.” “Honey, if all goes according to plan, we can have a lifetime of...” he pauses and waggles his eyebrows. The thought sends streaks of hot all over. Half the hot streaks are due to bliss, the other half are

nerves. I’m not ready to jump so fully into this. I’m not ready to give in to love, not yet. I’ll never recover if it doesn’t last. “I love you, Maggie.” Tyler’s face turns serious, his gaze focused on me. “Please, Tyler don’t say that—” A sob builds in my throat, and I turn away before he can see the tears pooling in my eyes. “I think you should go.” “Hey,” Tyler says, stopping me with one hand circling my wrist. He’s big and sturdy, and there’s no moving him. “Don’t doubt anything about today; it was perfect. And this is only the beginning for us.” He’s so intense that my breath hitches in my throat. The sob that’s been waiting to escape finally does, and as the first tears appear on my cheeks, I lean in to kiss him. And, again, I press my lips to his. I take, and Tyler gives.

Chapter 21 MAGGIE “Earth to Maggie,” Emily says, waving a slip of paper in front of me. “Do you need this?” “What?” “I just explained.” Emily stares at me as if I’m some strange form of alien. “Halloween party invitation. Claire’s. You agreed to go with me— ringing any bells?” “Oh, no, I don’t need it.” I sit back in my chair behind the reception desk while Emily and I wait for Luca to arrive. Mila’s doing her homework in the kitchen with Jax peeping over her shoulder to assist, and I’ve been lost in daydreams for the past...hour? Two hours? Who knows. “Are you happy or sad?” Emily presses. “Help me out a little.” “I’m...” “You’re catatonic is what you are. The last time I saw you like this...” She pauses. “You didn’t start that weird diet and workout thing again, did you?” “No!” “You were so tired and hungry you could barely talk. A lot like today.” “It’s not that.” My shy smile must give me away because Emily claps her hands to her cheeks and inhales.

“Oh, shit—I was wrong. It happened!” “What are you talking about?” She gives me shifty eyes. “Don’t get mad. Luca and I had a little bet going—” “You bet on me?!” “A friendly little wager.” She frowns. “I lost. I thought you’d hold off for at least a month before having sex with Tyler.” “I didn’t!” I respond too loudly, too quickly. “I didn’t really.” “What does that mean?” “Okay, we did a little bit.” “What does a little bit of sex look like?” With an intently muted voice, I tell Emily the broad scope of the afternoon events. I leave a lot to her imagination, but she gets the gist of it. By the time I finish recounting my tale, her eyes are wide and disbelieving. “Okay,” she says, suspicious. “You didn’t tell me everything; what’s wrong?” “He said he loves me.” “Oh, Maggie.” Emily’s face creases in concern. “Thanks.” Emily searches for the right words. “Look, I’m going to be frank with you. I think letting yourself have a little fun is a good thing. I’ve been encouraging you to date for years. And I know Tyler cares about you, which was why I was—and

am—excited for you. But what is he doing? Is he going to stay around?” “So he says.” “Do you believe him?” I consider this, consider the depth of Tyler’s eyes as he stared into mine and said it with unfailing certainty. Before I can verbally respond, Emily sees the answer in my eyes. “He might love you,” she says. “But what is he doing in town? Does he want his home to be in New York? Does he want to stay here—how will he run his business from here? Would you go with him if he asked...again?” “I don’t know!” I stand and grab a box of dry towels that need to be scented lavender and warmed. “Anyway, how do you know so much about him?” “Research.” She shrugs. “I don’t know the details, but I know he does something with real estate. I’m assuming that’s why he’s in town.” “He told me all about it,” I mutter. “They’re thinking of building, but nothing is final yet.” “If you ask him not to put a hotel around here, do you think he’ll listen?” I hesitate. “I don’t know.” “Because that would suck if he put a hotel across the street.” “We could hold our own!” I argue, knowing I might be naive. Tyler Daniels comes with a lot of

money, and a lot of money can build a very nice hotel. “Have a little confidence in us!” “I’m just saying—it makes me nervous having him around here.” “I have faith in the Lilac Inn; if Tyler chooses to put up some fancy hotel around here—we’ll be fine. Let him try.” “I think you’re just being stubborn. Tyler Daniels did not get where he is in business by making emotional decisions. He isn’t going to make a decision with his heart. And you know this inn is barely making enough as it is. If our revenue drops at all, we’re sunk. We will not survive a hotel being built here.” I hoist the towels up higher. “I have to get these ready to go out.” “Take your time,” Emily says with a sigh. “I’ll put Mila to bed tonight. She’s been begging for a sleepover.” “I’m just going to talk to him.” “Sure.” She raises her eyebrows, skeptical. “While you’re up there, just remember why he’s really here; he’s trying to ruin your business. Does that sound like true love to you?”

BY THE TIME I’VE DELIVERED all of the towels and find myself outside of Tyler’s door, I’m a literal and figurative mess. My nerves have continued all afternoon, and I’ve been fumbling things left and right. My sleeve is still damp, thanks to an unfortunate mishap with the towels. After we’d parted ways earlier this afternoon, I’d prepared dinner for Mila, helped with a little schoolwork, and managed the front desk with Emily. I’m hoping my clothing choice will signal to Tyler that I’m here on official business tonight— nothing more. As I raise a hand to knock on the door, I pray to the clothing gods that Tyler Daniels opens the door fully dressed. Despite my resolve, I’m not sure what I’ll do if he opens the door with no shirt. I needn’t have worried. The door flies open before I can knock. Tyler’s there, thankfully in a shirt and sweatpants, though this isn’t as much relief as I thought. The memory of what’s underneath is vibrant in my mind, ripe with possibility, and the fitted T-shirt shows off every one of those muscles that carried me away earlier this afternoon. “Margaret?” he asks, surprised. “I was—” “Sorry, I can come back later,” I say quickly. “Or not at all. I was just coming around with the

towels, and—” “I was coming to look for you.” He grins and raises an eyebrow. “Guess this is fate.” “Something like that,” I mutter, extending a towel toward him. “Here you go.” Tyler glances behind him, probably ensuring Jessica is out of hearing range, before he steps through and closes the door all but a crack behind him. “What’s wrong?” “Wrong? Nothing.” “You’re acting weird.” “Weird? No, I’m not.” “You’re all stiff, and...” He reaches his hands out and rests them on my shoulder, to which I flinch. A frown quirks his lips downward. “Is this about this afternoon? I thought you...” he glances around, lowering his voice further. “Didn’t you enjoy it?” “Yes, of course I did,” I say, my face reddening. “A lot. I just, I thought maybe we could talk about that, actually, if you’re feeling up for it.” “Come inside.” A smile brightens his face as he swings the door open. “But I need to ask a favor of you first.” “What is it?” “Jess?” he calls. “Maggie’s here to help.” The poor girl waddles out of her bedroom, her face a mask of disappointment and embarrassment. At once, I see why I’ve been summoned.

“Oh, you poor thing.” I drop the towels and rush across the room to disentangle her from the dress we picked out at the mall together. “Here, can you bend forward? Shift that way, honey—you’ve got your head through an armhole.” It takes several minutes before the dress is sitting prettily on Jessica’s shoulders, as it should. “There,” I exclaim, stepping back. “Does that feel better?” “I volunteered to cut it off of her,” Tyler adds unhelpfully, “but she said no.” “Why would you cut it off?” I ask. “It’s a new dress. Come here, Jess, let me show you how it works.” I take Jessica into her bedroom and gently explain the easiest way to climb into the thing. She practices twice more, finally beaming when she wriggles in and out of it easily. “Perfect,” I exclaim. “And you look darling in it.” “I’m going to wear it for school pictures,” she says shyly. “I really like it. Thank you.” “Of course. Anytime you want to go, let us know. We love to shop.” “Do you mean it?” “Absolutely! Do you need help slipping out of the dress?” Jess shakes her head, and I turn to leave. Before I take a step, my eyes land on a book at her

bedside. “Are you reading The Boxcar Children?” She nods. “By myself. Mila tells me you read to her at night, but my dad...” I move over to the nightstand and pick up the book gingerly. “I love these stories. It’s been years and years since I read one, decades, probably. I don’t know how I forgot to get them for Mila.” “She can borrow them when I’m done,” Jessica offers nobly. But it’s with excitement that she joins me at the bedside table and continues. “Do you want to read some tonight? You could read to me, if you want.” “Maybe one chapter,” I say, skimming through the pages. I catch a glimpse of the excitement in her gaze. “That sounds like fun.” We settle in, the scene distinctly familiar, yet also foreign. I’m used to reading to Mila before bed; I’m used to the way she smells, like baby powder and lavender lotion. I’m used to the way Mila claps her hands with giddy excitement or screams at the text when things don’t go her way. I’m used to my daughter. I’m not used to the soft strawberry scent of Jessica’s shampoo, or the way her clever eyes follow along as I’m reading, thoughtful on every page. I’m not used to the quiet pleading for one more chapter, nor am I used to the easy sound of her breathing as she drifts off to sleep midway through it.

I’m used to Mila, but as I stand and pull the covers to Jessica’s face, I’m drawn to the similarities between them. The soft curve of their smiles as they rest, their peaceful foreheads as they dream. I can’t help but brush a kiss against her hair as I stand and tuck her in, watching for a moment longer before I turn and flick off the light. The movement from the doorway startles me, sending my pulse off to the races as I clasp a hand to my heart. “You scared me. How long have you been there?” Tyler doesn’t respond until he closes the door firmly behind me. Even then, his response isn’t a verbal one. It’s a dark, brooding look in his eyes, and I can’t tell if he’s angry and upset, or merely confused. “Long enough,” he finally answers, and that’s it. That’s all I get from him, but I sense there’s more. An underlying message he’s trying to get across to me—one I can’t yet comprehend. I lean in closer, asking silently for more. He takes me then, hard against his chest, and crashes his lips against mine. Before I know it, we’re tumbling through the rooms. We bump against the kitchen counter and Tyler reaches out, just barely catching a chair before it clatters to the floor. He sets it right, and our bumbling journey continues as he holds me against him.

He doesn’t need to speak. I can understand in his silence that, unlike this afternoon, it’s his turn to demand. His turn to take, to need, to want. I’m surprised to find that I want this just as much as he does. There’s something so raw in the way he looks at me that I can feel his hurts. There’s a pain somewhere inside of him that I long to wash away, clearing room for the bright smile that I’m falling in love with all over again. He closes and locks the bedroom door behind us, still grasping for me. I like being needed so much. Tyler’s desperate, helpless, and it gives me a surge of power that I don’t take lightly. When he wraps me in an embrace, his breath is so ragged he can hardly speak. My arms wind around his neck and my legs around his waist as he carries me across the room and spreads me on the bed. The moonlight spills through and turns the room a shade of silver that’s ethereal. “You didn’t have to do that,” he says, pushing hair out of my face, his eyes admiring the way it drifts across the pillow. “I didn’t call you over here to put my daughter to bed.” “I’m sorry if I overstepped—she just asked for a chapter, and I couldn’t say no.” He swallows, his throat moving with the effort. Once again, he struggles to speak, opening his

mouth once, then twice, before he shakes his head and pulls off his shirt. It takes seconds before it reaches the floor, and mine follows a minute later. When he takes me into his arms and curls us together, however, I’m surprised. He pulls me tight to him, spooning, my back to his hard, strong chest. I can feel his erection pressing into me from behind through my yoga pants and his sweats, but he doesn’t seem intent to do anything but lie here in wait. “What’s wrong?” I finally ask. “Tyler, you seem —” “This is what she’s been missing. I knew it, I fucking knew it, and yet I didn’t do a thing about it.” “What are you talking about?” “A mother, dammit.” Tyler’s breath is hot against my neck. “I told Anastasia that my raising her alone wouldn’t be enough. Jessica needs a woman, a role model; someone to help with the things that I don’t understand. A mother,” he repeats. “I should’ve...I should’ve done something differently.” It’s difficult, but I worm around so I’m facing him. We’re chest to chest now, but he can’t seem to make eye contact with me. “It’s not your fault, Tyler. You tried, I know you tried your best. And Jessica is fine; she’s tough, she’s a wonderful girl,

and you are an incredible father. You can only do your best.” “My best isn’t good enough. You were there; you saw everything.” He runs a hand through his hair, staring at the ceiling. “She hasn’t been able to go to bed without me kissing her to sleep since—I don’t know, ever? I have to call her for a goodnight kiss if she ever sleeps over at a friend’s house. Then you come by, and suddenly...” “It’s not like that.” “You don’t understand.” “Tyler,” I say, firm, but soft. “Please, listen. I do understand. Look at me, Ty.” He starts to roll away from me, but I don’t let him go. I grab onto his arm, and he reacts, his fingers digging into the skin around my hips as he pulls me on top of him and our eyes lock. Another time, I’d be so distracted by the fact that I was straddling Tyler Daniels that I would lose my train of thought, but this time I feel too strongly on the subject matter to let myself shy away from an argument. “Look at Mila and myself,” I say, brushing a curl back from his forehead. “I am doing the best job I can to raise her. Believe me, I do understand —I’m a single parent, too.” He sighs, holding me closer against him, his eyes closing briefly at the touch of my fingers against his forehead.

“But you don’t have to do this alone. I learned that the hard way. I use Emily, and Luca, and Jax for support. Claire gave me a job here—she didn’t have to, but she helped me. Once upon a time, I would’ve been too proud to take any sort of assistance. But for Mila’s sake, I had to realize that I couldn’t do it alone. It’s not perfect—but is anyone a perfect parent?” “Mila’s father—” “He wasn’t from the area, and he had no intention of meeting her. His parents live across the country and have never met her, either.” “I didn’t know.” “It doesn’t matter, but yes—Anastasia is absent, and that sucks for you, and it sucks more for Jess. All Mila has are the memories I tell her of her father,” I say. “Memories that I’ve completely fabricated. Lies that I have to live with because that little girl...” I stop, having to clutch at my chest before continuing. “Because my daughter doesn’t need to know that her father wouldn’t have been there for her anyway.” Tyler’s jaw is hard set, and I can’t tell if any of this is sinking in, but I’m not giving up, yet. “This isn’t a competition about who has it worse,” I tell him, forcing a tight smile. “We’ve all got problems—we’re human. But I won’t let you berate yourself for doing the best damn job that you can. It’s all we have—it’s all I have,” I say, not

realizing the tears are streaming down my cheeks. “If we don’t have that, what do we have?” Tyler crushes himself to me then, pulling me hard to his chest, his lips locking fast against mine. He spins us over, tugging my pants off at the same time he sheds his. The fury has hit me, too, and I unhook my bra while I tug down his boxers. There’s a brutal rawness between us. The questions I came here to ask are all but a memory because, now, we need each other. We are all the other has. As if Tyler reads my mind, he rests against me, both of us fully nude—the feel of his skin against mine more satisfying that I could’ve imagined. I could lie here like this all night. “That’s where you’re wrong,” Tyler says, his husky voice startling me to attention as he rises on his arms and perches over me. He eases against me, his intentions clear as he waits for a sign that I want this, too. “I’m wrong?” My fingers grip around his waist and pull him closer. “What do you mean, I’m wrong?” He grits his teeth, pressing his length against my stomach, just slightly. I can hardly breathe—the motion, his eyes, his gaze, hold me captive. With a shudder, my fingers clench around him, and I attempt to press him into me, to take him—all of

him. To forget this conversation and lose myself in him. He resists, however, and he wins, holding back. “You have me,” he whispers. Then, after a long sigh, he presses gently into me, slowly, until I’m wrapped around him, and he’s resting his forehead against mine, and we’re entirely one. The connection between us is instant and, I’m afraid, lasting. A sob rises in my throat as he pushes my hair from my forehead, peppering my skin with kisses. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I love you—am I hurting you?” I shake my head, my vision blurred as I look up to find unmistakable emotion there. I struggle to return the feeling, but the words don’t yet come. Tyler, as usual, senses my thoughts. “Don’t say a thing,” he says, beginning to move slowly. “Just be here for tonight.” With a shaky breath, I nod. I exist here, fully focused on Tyler as he moves with painstaking caution, pushing and pulling as he brings us closer and closer together. I feel every inch of him with stark precision, and I sense every beat of his heart as we slip into a rhythm that’s uniquely ours. As his fingers roam, caress, explore, my lips find his neck, his chest, his stomach.

The intensity grows, burgeons into an inexplicable sensation of utter warmth, a wild frenzy as he thrusts faster, quicker, driving us both into a blackness where the rest of the world ceases to exist. For now, there’s only us. At the moment I burst, Tyler claims me with his mouth, drawing breath from my lips and pouring himself into me. We ride the last waves together, clutching onto the fingers of something that is rapidly fading away, even as Tyler eases off of me and pulls me to his chest. He holds me, and I shudder. Silent tears have left the pillow wet, and yet we don’t move, don’t speak, don’t budge. All that remains is the flow of our breaths and the beat of our hearts gently returning to normal. It’s hours later when I rise quietly and dress in my clothes. Tyler watches, an invitation to stay on his lips, though he doesn’t ever voice it. Wordlessly, I leave the room, closing the door behind me. I close the front door, too, pausing with a hand on the knob before slipping down the hallway. Emily wakes as I open the door to my apartment. She shuffles from Mila’s room and surveys me—my wild hair, my red eyes, my disheveled clothing. “Oh, honey,” she says, and I collapse in her arms. “I don’t know...”

“Sweetie, go to him,” she says. “I’ll take care of everything here.” I hadn’t known what I needed until Emily said it aloud. Then, with stark clarity, I realize she’d been right. With a nod and a grateful hug to my friend, I retrace my steps to the second floor. At the door, I pause, a hand on the knob. Once again, it opens without my prompting. Tyler’s there, wearing only a pair of shorts, a ragged smile plastered on his lips. He takes my face between his hands, his palms so large, yet tender, and kisses me hard on the mouth. Then, holding my hand, he leads me to bed. I slide in next to him and, still holding hands, we drift to sleep.

Chapter 22 TYLER I’m not sure I’ve seen a sweeter sight than that of Margaret Marshall first thing in the morning as she stumbles into the kitchen. Her hair’s all askew, and she’s rocking it like a first-place trophy. One of my shirts is haphazardly buttoned over her body, and her eyes are wild, as if she can’t remember her own name. I’d call that an accomplishment. It’s the best sex I’ve ever had, that’s for sure. “What the hell, Tyler?” she hisses, scanning the kitchen for any sign of Jess. “What were you thinking?” Suddenly, my whistling stops and my hand pauses over the bacon I’d been preparing to flip. “What?” “It’s seven fifteen! Why’d you let me oversleep?” “The girls have forty-five minutes before they have to be to school. Don’t worry—Jess is still sleeping. I’ll wake her up after you leave, since I’m assuming you’re not ready to announce we’re dating to the girls.” “I’m always up by six,” she cries, then lowers her voice. “Next time, wake me up! And no, I’m not ready to share this with the girls.”

“Next time?” I freeze, drop my flipper-thing, and stride across the kitchen leaving the bacon to burn. “Did I hear you say next time?” She scowls, though her face softens as my hands reach for her, cradling those sweet cheeks between my palms as I drag her face upward to meet mine. I press my lips to hers, lightly for now, easing her into the daylight. “Everything’s fine,” I tell her. “Emily’s watching Mila—she’s already up. Emily told Mila you were working. Emily actually just called to see if you were alive.” “And what’d you tell her?” Maggie snaps, a cute little smirk on her face. “That I was drooling on your pillow? You should’ve woken me, Tyler.” “Nah, I told her that you were comatose from amazing sex. Then, I explained in no uncertain terms that you were resting up for a third round.” I wink. “What do you say you make my prophesy come true?” “Tyler!” “Don’t make me a liar, Margaret Marshall.” She blinks once, agog. “You didn’t say that.” “No, but I did tell her you were alive and were eating breakfast with us. She said to take your time. Emily’s having fun helping Mila pick out her clothes.” She groans. “Mila’s not going to go to school in leather pants and a tiara today.”

I raise one eyebrow at her. “Do you own a matching pair of leather pants?” She picks up a napkin and crumples it into a ball before launching it at me. I dodge, and the napkin hits the frying pan where I need to flip the bacon anyway. “Nobody told me you were this irritable in the mornings,” I quip, fishing the napkin out and proceeding to flip the bacon. “You should come with a warning label.” Another napkin bites the dust as Maggie shoots it at me and scowls. By the time she’s done launching paper grenades in my direction, however, there’s a smile on her face. “You know we serve breakfast downstairs, don’t you?” she says. “Complimentary.” “From that chef.” “Jax?” she asks, and I must make a face at the name because Maggie’s reaction is immediate. “Oh, my—is Tyler Daniels jealous?” “What do I have to be jealous about?” I turn away and focus on the bacon which, unfortunately, doesn’t need to be flipped yet. So I look at it like an idiot and pretend I’m thinking hard, when really, I’m trying to not focus on the way Maggie looks at Jax. As if he’s her confidant. A friend and brother. I don’t want the brother part, but I want the rest of it. I want Maggie to come to me to talk, to run

her ideas and theories and dreams across the pillow as we fall asleep at night, not sift them out over the countertop with that stupid chef. “You know there’s nothing between Jax and me, right?” she asks quietly. “Never has been, never will.” “I know.” I smack at the bacon a little bit for lack of anything better to do. “But you seem to like him.” “Of course I do. He’s my friend. We’ve worked together for years.” “Exactly.” I spin to face her. “He’s been here for you and Mila when I should have been here.” “We both made our choices.” I hiss out a breath. I shake my head, gripping the stove and hoping I don’t tear it from the wall. “I should have been here. I didn’t know, didn’t realize what I’d left behind until it was too late.” “Mila has never been your responsibility. And we were young when we broke up—you wanted to explore the world, and I wanted to stay here— things happen. It is what it is, Tyler. Today’s a new day.” “But—” “Give yourself a little break.” She hesitates as she watches me ease the bacon onto a napkin. “You’re a great father to Jess, and you stayed by her side which was the right thing to do. I could

have gone with you—it was your right to explore the world. I would’ve held you back.” “You wouldn’t have held me back; I should have stayed.” “You could have,” she agrees. “Or I could’ve gone.” “Do you believe in second chances?” “I wouldn’t say we ever gave ourselves a fair first chance.” Margaret smiles. “Kids making out in the back of a car...that hardly seems comparable to what we have going here.” “But it sure as hell was fun. What do you say we do it again sometime?” She bites her lip. “Don’t back away from me now.” “Where are we going with this?” “You know exactly what I offered,” I tell her. “I want it all, Margaret—I want us to be a family.” “What about Jess? What about your company?” I’m spared from the hard-hitting questions by the sizzle of bacon and the slight cloud of smoke appearing over the toaster. The next few minutes are spent in a burst of teamwork as Maggie and I move as one unit around the kitchen, struggling not to burn the place down. “I have to wake Jess up,” I say, once we’ve got the plates settled on the table. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for breakfast?”

While I set the table, Maggie shakes her head. “I’m going to get dressed and find Mila. If she’s having Lucky Charms for the third time this week, then I’m going to add yell at Jax to my To Do list.” “What are you doing tonight?” I grab her wrist as she steps toward the bedroom door. “Do you want—” My phone buzzes, and I reach to pull it from my pocket. I mean to throw it down the toilet, but Maggie misinterprets my action as needing to answer the call. She leans in, gives me a peck on the cheek, and disappears into the bedroom as I fumble to silence the ringer. She reappears a few seconds later, gives me a calm smile, and heads straight for the door. “Maggie!” I follow her into the hallway. “You don’t have to go.” “I need to get Mila anyway.” She nods to the still ringing phone, now on its second call. “You need to answer. Bye, Tyler.” I watch her stride down the hall, letting the phone ring until the last possible second. Eventually, I answer it, and snarl a greeting. “What the hell do you need this early in the morning, Fletcher?” “We’ve found a site,” he says. “Cross the street from that shithole inn you’re staying at. You noticed the bookstore there? It’s up for sale; same

lady who owns the inn is looking to offload some of her properties, and that one’s a money pit.” “I’ll need to look into it.” “Hear me out,” he continues. “We build up a swanky boutique inn, charge a fortune to the leaf peepers and promise customized tours and whatever shit they eat up. We’ll have that little inn run to the ground within the year.” “I told you—” “I know what you told me,” Fletcher says. “But I did some digging. That’s what you hired me for, isn’t it?” My chin has a hard line to it because it’s true. Fletcher’s a bloodhound, and I hired him to pick up scents of weak businesses. Businesses fit for purchasing located in places ripe for growth. Together, we’re unstoppable. It’s not until today that I’ve regretted that decision. “Hold off on it,” I tell him. “Just for now. I want—” “We don’t have time,” he says. “We could get the foundation laid before winter if we move quickly. The workers can finish up the insides when the snow falls and we’ll have a brand new place by spring. You know how this works; we don’t have time to screw around.” “I need a few days.”

“Fine,” he says. “But if you don’t do it, somebody else will.” I hang up, fuming. Jess finds me that way a few minutes later when she tugs at my arm and asks what’s wrong. “Nothing, honey,” I tell her. “Let’s grab breakfast.” “Grab breakfast?” she asks. “But you cooked. Why’d you cook, anyway?” I can’t exactly tell Jess I had wanted to impress a girl, so I settle for an unlikely alternative. “I was bored.” “You’re never bored.” “Are you going to eat it, or not?” “The bacon’s burnt,” she argues, “and Jax makes good pancakes.” “Of course he does,” I growl. “Get your things then, and we’ll head down to breakfast. By the way, have you seen the bookstore across the street?” “Yes.” “Have you ever been there before?” “For school, once.” “Do you like it?” “Of course,” she says. “It’s a bookstore. It has books. Who wouldn’t like it?” “Exactly,” I mutter through gritted teeth as Jess disappears, confused, into her room. “And who

wouldn’t hate the guy responsible for tearing it down?”

Chapter 23 MAGGIE After leaving Tyler’s room, I take the stairs one at a time, leisurely running my hand down the railing as I notice photos on the wall I haven’t seen in years. There are fresh flowers on every available surface, replenished by Lelia every few days. I stop to sniff them, smiling and wondering how long it’s been since I’ve allowed myself any such luxury. Maybe Emily’s right. Maybe I’ve was overdue to relax, to let my hair down and have a little fun. My night with Tyler—while intense—had broken something in me. An uptight dam that I’d been holding onto for years. Plus, the sex had been incredible. My shoulders are less tense than they’ve been in years, and every time Tyler’s impish smile rolls through my mind, I get a shiver of pleasure. I hadn’t intended to slip up this morning, but I did, and it’s true: I am excited for next time. I’m humming something from the Sound of Music when I finally reach my door, unlock it, and fling it open. “Good morning, Mila!” Instead of the serene, cozy little apartment I expected, there’s a flurry of activity happening before my eyes. Emily’s running around, throwing up her hair while Mila looks as if she’s fixed her

own brunette locks with a fork. Mila’s wearing a tiara—as expected—but the rest of her little body is naked. “What’s going on?” I cry. “There are things...everywhere!” “Claire’s coming!” Emily stops for a moment before me. “She’s here, now. Luca called with the news. He’s coming in early to help.” “Claire?” I freeze at the name. “But she wasn’t planning on coming until November!” “Uh, exactly!” Emily says. “Now get your butt in gear and put on some decent clothes. And wipe that silly grin off your face and comb your sex hair,” she adds, quieter, as Mila disappears into her bedroom. “But first: how was it?” For that fleeting moment, I forget all about Claire’s sudden appearance. My head rolls back onto my neck as my eyes close in bliss. “It was incredible.” “I’m glad, sweetie. I do want to hear all about it, but—” “Claire—right,” I tell her. “Of course. The one time I stay out late...” “Hey, don’t regret it,” Emily says, grabbing my arm before I can sneak away. “You deserve to have some fun, and you seem really happy. Tyler was a gentleman?” “Enough of one,” I say with a wink.

Emily’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, shit,” she whispers. “I haven’t seen you this excited about anything since Mila started sleeping through the night.” “Yeah, well...” I shrug. “Guess I didn’t know what I was missing.” “Mom!” Mila’s voice tears me away from my reminiscences with Emily. “Can you find me some pants?” “And, back to life...” I say, hightailing it into the bedroom to continue with preparations. “Mila, what happened here?” Her face crumples. “Sorry, mom. But I was trying to dress myself...” Her room is a tornado zone. Buckets are overturned, her bed is a mess, and her hair still looks electrocuted. I set to work, and fourteen minutes later we have a girl who looks ready for school. Her disaster of a room will have to be dealt with later, since the bigger priority is shoving myself into a business outfit that won’t look drab next to Claire’s impeccable power suit. Emily’s gone to her own room to prepare, and by the time I’ve managed to knot my hair in a bun, slip on a skirt and long-sleeved dress shirt, and dropped Mila off at school, I’m feeling marginally calmer. By the time I return to the inn, I’m forcing images of a shirtless Tyler Daniels out of my mind

and attempting to channel Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada. “She’s in the dining room,” Luca says, in one of his surprising full-sentence offerings. “They’re ready for you.” I nod a thank-you to him and skip past Jax who, I realize, has bothered to throw on a button up over his normal T-shirt and jeans for the occasion. He gives me a quick raise of the eyebrows and nods toward the back, to the cozy little table in the corner that Claire prefers. I make my way toward the snug little spot. It’s drenched in sunlight and has views that span across the nearby river and into the trees beyond. The fall colors are bright and popping this season, vibrantly setting the stage for beautiful lunchtime views. “Claire,” I say, greeting the older woman with a double kiss to her cheeks. “It’s so good to see you! Why didn’t you tell us you were stopping by? We would’ve prepared something a little more special to celebrate.” Claire waves a hand, her silver-white hair bright under the morning sun. Her blue eyes are paler than I remember, and her wrinkles are a bit deeper. Even her smile is a shade lighter than before, though a sense of contentment over everything gives her a more relaxed aura. “No need to prepare anything special for me,” she says, her voice distinct in its smooth raspiness.

“I like the day-to-day at this inn. It’s what guests like, too.” I take the seat next to Emily, which prompts Jax to bring over a pot of tea and dainty china cups all around. He flips over a timer to let the tea steep as the three of us ladies finish up with the formal niceties. “I won’t fool you by saying I’m just popping in to check on the business,” Claire says, stirring sugar into her second cup of tea. “I know you’re smarter than that.” Jax has brought over a nifty little breakfast spread, but my stomach is doing so many flip flops I don’t trust myself to eat anything except a bit of toast. “What does bring you here?” Emily, too, nibbles absently at some eggs as she waits for Claire to respond. The older woman takes her time, circling her hands around her teacup as she looks us in the eyes. “You girls know I trust you implicitly—hence the reason I hired you to run this place. It really is your inn, you know, I’ve simply supplied the financing.” “It wouldn’t be an inn without financing,” I tell her. “Emily and I would be running a barn without your help.” “Yes, well,” she says, and there’s a shake to her hand. “As you can see, I’m getting older. I have a lot of properties in town, and—”

Emily’s spoon clatters to the plate. “You’re selling the inn.” “No,” she says, and then rephrases. “Not yet.” Emily’s face goes pale, and I force myself to remain calm. We’d discussed this in the past, she and I. We both knew there would come a day when Claire couldn’t continue on with the inn, and we’d both agreed to work toward saving the funds needed to buy this place when the time came. The problem is that the time can’t be now. We’re years away from saving up enough—we thought we’d have at least five to ten more good years of Claire’s support before we had to worry about it, and by then, the missing difference could be covered with a loan. “The bookstore,” she says, nodding across the street. “I have an offer on it, and I’m considering taking it.” “But, Julia,” Emily gasped. “Will the new owners keep the bookstore?” “I don’t know. I’d hate to lose Julia; she’s such a wonderful employee. I feel so guilty, girls, but I’m getting older, and I can’t hold onto these properties forever,” she says with the slightest flinch. “My third grandson arrived a few weeks ago, and I haven’t been out to visit him yet. That’s not acceptable.” “I’m sorry, Claire,” I tell her, and I mean it. The woman has been a godsend to us, and she’s kind to

the bone. “We know how much you love this town, and your businesses, and we understand it’s hard to let go.” “I wasn’t planning to sell anything so early, and I hated to do it, but it just wasn’t pulling in a profit. To top it off, I’ve been feeling guilty about how much time I’m still spending working...” Claire’s hands fall open. “I’ll be seventy soon enough. I need to be sitting on a porch somewhere, not discussing buyouts over lunch.” I give her a smile. “You’re pretty incredible, I hope you know that.” She gives a quick shake of her head. “That’s not true, but you’re kind to say it.” “Of course you are,” Emily agrees. “And we’ll support your decision. Do you know who made the offer?” Her mouth puckers up. “I do, but I’m hesitant to say too much. I’m supposed to have a meeting this week with the interested buyers. I may very well say no to them, but I didn’t want you girls to be blindsided. If the offer is too good to refuse...I might say yes.” “And Julia?” Emily presses. “What will happen to her?” Claire considers the woman who runs the bookstore. “I’ve been wondering if we might not have an extra job for her here.”

I glance to Emily, and her look mirrors mine. We don’t have room in the budget for another employee, but I don’t want to upset Claire. “Maybe something part time with Lelia,” I offer. “We could start there, and see...” “It’s not your responsibility to fret,” Claire says. “Who knows if anything will happen at all? I’ve always kept you girls informed of my plans, and I wanted to be upfront with you both.” “We appreciate that,” I say, and Emily echoes the sentiment. “Let us know if we can help, or if you want us at that meeting.” “Thank you,” Claire says, pulling herself to her feet. Sure enough, she’s moving slower now than before, and I’ll have to remind Mila that next time she sees Claire, she can’t bowl her over with one of her normal bear hugs. “This place is sparkling. Thank you for the brilliant work. Oh!” She holds up her finger as if she’s forgotten something. “I noticed you had the popcorn machine fixed. I’m so glad—it’s been on the fritz for years.” Emily gives me a knowing stare, and it’s all I can do not to swallow my tongue. “Yep,” I say. “No problem.” Emily rolls her eyes in the background, but recovers by the time she speaks again. “Will you be staying with us on this trip? “I’ll be staying at the house,” Claire says with a wink. “You know where to reach me if you need.

Also, I’m hoping to see you both at the Halloween party.” “Of course,” I tell her. “We’ll be there.” Emily and I watch as she eases into her sleek Lexus. She waves before pulling out of the driveway. “She’s older,” Emily says. “Definitely older.” “Do you think the inn will be next?” “I don’t know.” I can hear the tightness in Emily’s chest. “I sure hope not. That could change everything.” “Poor Julia,” I say, glancing across the street. “I wish we could hire her on here.” “Me too,” Emily says. “Though it doesn’t help much if the inn goes next, does it?” Thankfully, the phone behind the reception desk rings, and without thinking, I reach over and answer it. “Lilac Inn, this is Maggie,” I say. “How can I help you?” “Maggie...” There’s an inhalation of breath. “Margaret Marshall?” “Yes,” I say, frowning and turning away from Emily. “Can I help you?” There’s a few quick breaths, and then the dial tone. “That was weird,” I tell Emily. “A woman asked for me and then hung up.” “Happens all the time,” Emily says. “They forget their credit card, or whatever, and then call

back.” As if on cue, the phone rings again, and this time, Emily answers. “Go shower,” she whispers. “You smell like a man.” I leave Emily to deal with the mystery caller, wondering who would’ve addressed me as Margaret. On the website, I go by Maggie. Someone I know? I wonder. “Yes, sir,” Emily says on the line. “We do have availability those dates.” It’s not until I reach the shower that I realize Emily called the person on the phone Sir. The voice I’d talked to was most definitely female. I shake it off and climb under the hot water. As I wash my hair and let my worries slide down the drain with the shampoo, I wonder if Tyler Daniels is also thinking about the next night we’ll have together. Though I hate to admit it, now that I’ve gotten the full view of Tyler’s smoking hot dad bod, I need more.

Chapter 24 MAGGIE It’s a few days later before I’m finally feeling back to normal. After several days of brief interactions and too-short glimpses of Tyler’s gorgeous smile, I’m ready to see him again. Alone. I’ve been thinking of Tyler Daniels during every waking moment and dreaming of him while I sleep. It’s all I can do not to reach out and grasp him every time we pass in the hallway. I don’t know what’s come over me, but it’s working; I feel more alive than ever. Luckily, we have a date tomorrow, thanks to the girls. The canoe trip Tyler promised if the girls didn’t get along is set for Saturday afternoon, and the fact that today is Friday has me whistling through my chores. “You’re peppy,” Emily says. “Anything to do with seeing Mr. Dad of the Year tomorrow?” I shrug. “Maybe, maybe not.” “I offered to stay with Mila last night if you wanted to go over there.” “I can’t always be the desperate one.” I hiss as I fold the laundry and Emily pours herself a second glass of wine. “We’ve barely had a chance to talk all week. How would it look if I showed up at his door with a bottle of wine?”

“Uh, like heaven?” Emily gives me a blank stare. “I mean, he’s a man. He’s probably thinking about what happened the other night and trying not to seem too eager to get back into your pants. You know, manners and shit.” “Manners and shit.” I frown. “I wish he’d just say that, you know?” Emily raises her glass. “Amen, sister.” “Is it...wrong of me to be enjoying this so much?” “What are you talking about? You’re both single, at least one of you has been on a sex fast for most of your adult life, and you guys have more chemistry than a high school science lab.” “Yes, but...don’t you think it’s dangerous? We both have kids involved. If things go south...what will it mean for Mila and Jess? Tyler could decide to return to New York tomorrow.” “He could.” “And then what?” Emily stares at me for a long moment. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of going with him.” “I’m not.” I hesitate. “I mean, not seriously. My life is here, my family, you’re here, my job...” “You’re seriously thinking about it.” I raise my eyebrows at her in answer. “You can’t leave us!” “I’m not! I just...Tyler is talking about marriage.”

“No wonder you’re whistling like Tweety Bird.” Emily cracks a smile. “Don’t look so dumbfounded, though, Maggie. You’re a catch—he’s probably not wasting any time because he’s thinking he wasted enough time over the last decade, so why not go for what he wants?” “Maybe.” “I mean, it’s not often a man gets another chance at a woman he let slip through his fingers.” She stands, tossing a stray sock onto the bed as she drains her wine. “Why don’t you go over there tonight? I’ll kick back and watch a movie with Mila.” “Uh, he has Jess,” I tell her. “And it’s not happening. We don’t need to rush things.” I don’t realize I’ve drifted off into a daydream until Emily snaps her fingers. “Earth to Maggie— I’m folding all the towels, here, while you’re in LaLa land.” “Sorry.” “It’s fine! I just want you to be careful. Make sure he’s going to stand behind what he says; if he makes you fall in love and then breaks your heart again...” “I know. That’s precisely why I’m not going to fall for him. Not so soon,” I correct at Emily’s stare. “We’ll see how long he can handle this town. If he doesn’t last a month, at least we’ll know we tried.”

“I think I hear Mila calling for you,” Emily says. “I’m going to head out. Let me know if you need anything.” “I told her to clean her room,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “I’m sure she’s trying to get out of it.” “Well, you know where I’ll be.” Emily strolls toward the door but, on second thought, she returns for the bottle of wine and a glass. She swipes them both up and waves the bottle at me. “Call if you need anything. You’re looking at my Friday night right now.” After locking up behind Emily, I head to Mila’s room, my arms folded across my chest as I steel myself to play the tough-mom-card. Mila’s upset because I wouldn’t let her go over to a friend’s house tonight because she hadn’t cleaned her room all week. I’d asked her to do so over one hundred and three times. She didn’t listen, which means she’s stuck home on Friday night, picking up books and Barbies and clothes instead of eating cake with her friend. I know, I’m horrible. “Mila?” I ask, my heart breaking as I see her sitting on the bed, soft sobs wracking her shoulders. “Mila, I’m sorry that I made you stay in tonight, but honey, do you understand why?” I inch over toward the bed, wanting to pull her close and apologize. Equally, I want her to grow into a mature, responsible adult who realizes there

are consequences to her actions. The only problem is that sometimes, playing the police-mom is hard. I’ve always hated being the bad guy. “Mila, you know I love you very much, right?” I put my hand on her knee and rub it back and forth. “No matter what, I’ll always love you. You can tell me anything. I’m sorry about Andrea’s house tonight, but we talked about this. You had all week to clean your room, and look at this mess.” Mila plays hard, a fact that I love about her, but it does have its downsides. Like the fact that the floor is invisible under the sea of stuffed animals, and I’d almost broken an ankle this morning stepping on a Barbie Jeep. I try to remind myself that she could’ve cleaned up instead of watching TV last night, or worked on it this morning instead of playing jokes on Jax over breakfast. She’d chosen not to, hence the reason we are sitting here on a Friday night. All the logic in the world, however, doesn’t ease the pain of watching my daughter cry. “Mila, I understand you’re upset about Andrea,” I continue, “but it’s important—” “It’s not about Andrea!” Her small voice arrives as a shriek. “I don’t care about Andrea’s house.” “Oh, okay. Well, then why are you crying, sweetie?” Mila shakes, trembling, her face scrunching into a pained little ball. It breaks all the resolve I have

left and, after kicking Barbie Jeep across the room, I scoot on the bed next to her. “Talk to me, honey. You know I love you. Tell me what’s wrong.” “This.” Mila reaches next to her on the bed, and I see a piece of paper sitting there. I missed noticing it in my single-minded focus on my daughter. “Our stupid test.” “Oh, honey. It’s okay. I already knew about that.” I pick up the exam with marks taken off from the day when she and Jess had gotten in trouble during the quiz. “You learned your lesson, didn’t you? One bad grade isn’t going to ruin everything.” When Mila doesn’t respond, I pick the paper up and study it. “Are you sad about this?” I press. “It’s okay. We’ll study together for the next one.” “It’s not the bad grade,” she says. She peers at me through watery eyes, a hopeless expression there that kills me. “I lied.” “About what?” “Do you promise you’ll still love me?” I wrap her in my arms. “No matter what. You’ll always be my baby, Mila. You can talk to me about anything.” “Jess didn’t want to talk to me. She was...she helped me on the test.” “What do you mean?” “She let me peek at her paper. I didn’t know some of the answers and Jess knew that, so she let

me look at hers. Then, my teacher caught us. Jess didn’t want to do it. She only got in trouble because of me.” “Oh, Mila.” I don’t know quite what to say. “Thank you for being honest. It’s okay—hey, honey, we’ll sort this out.” Mila’s sobs wrack her shoulders until her eyes are red and her voice is nearly gone. “I’m sorry, mom. I’m sorry.” “It’s okay, honey, it’s okay. But you’re not going to do it again, are you?” Mila shakes her head. “We’ll study harder for the next one, you and me. In the meantime, I think Jess might be owed an apology.” “Yeah, I suppose.” Mila nods. “Mom? Why didn’t she say anything in the principal’s office?” I give her a crooked smile. “Sometimes, friends watch out for each other. Being honest is important. But Jessica probably didn’t want you to get in trouble alone.” “Jessica is my friend?” “Sure sounds like it to me. But I do think you owe her an apology.” “Yeah,” Mila says, softly. “I guess so.” “I’ll tell you what. I’ve got some brand-new ice cream in the freezer. Let’s grab it and head on over there—we’ll bring it as a peace offering.” “What if Jess doesn’t like me anymore?”

“You can only apologize and try to be the best friend that you can be. The rest is up to her.” She considers this for a moment. “Ice cream is probably a good start. Also, she likes Jax’s chocolate chip cookies. Can we make some for her?” I pull her close and kiss her forehead. “Now you’re thinking like a great friend.” As Mila pulls away, excited, I catch my heart beating just a little bit faster at the thought of seeing Tyler tonight, if only for a few minutes. For Mila’s sake, I hope Jess forgives her and the two move forward and become friends. For my sake, I hope Tyler and I can be friends, too...or more.

Chapter 25 TYLER The opening credits to Cinderella roll, and I wonder—not for the first time—how an entire movie got made about a girl and her shoe. Sure, there are other lessons built in, but I can’t help wondering if Jess is getting anything from the flick except a desire for clear high heels, which I refuse to buy her. At the knock on the door, I roll off the couch and mumble to Jess to keep the movie rolling. As always, she hits pause on the remote. “You’re going to miss it, dad,” she argues. “You can’t miss it.” Can’t miss a movie I’ve seen a million times? Jess isn’t very girlish with her toys. She prefers Legos to Barbies and mysteries and science fiction to pony books and Baby Sitter’s Club stories. The only place her princess side comes out is with her taste in movies. I glance down at myself, deciding that old jeans and a long-sleeved sweater is fine for whoever’s knocking on my door on a Friday night at eight o’clock. My feet are bare, and I’m unshaven—I spent the day working from home, and it’s been a stressful one. Meetings from the time I dropped Jessica off until the time I picked her up, and still, I

hadn’t been able to budge Fletcher on his bookstore idea. “Well, hello, ladies,” I say, pulling the door open. “What brings you here tonight?” I can barely listen as Mila answers because I’m too focused on Maggie. She looks soft tonight, subdued, her lips a cherry red while her cheeks are a tickle-me-pink. The scent of freshly baked cookies lingers in the air, and it’s all I can do not to take Maggie into my arms and bury my face against her neck. “Mila has something to say to you and Jess,” Maggie says, blushing a deeper shade of pink under her already flushed face. “In case you missed it.” “Oh, er, sorry...long day at work.” I squat lower, so I’m eye to eye with Mila, trying desperately not to glance over her shoulder to the curve of Maggie’s bare legs in shorts, or the creamy color of her skin underneath her white tank top. “What’s on your mind, Mila?” She gives me a tight smile. “Um, Mr. Daniels...” It’s then that I realize something is wrong. Her eyes are red and her lips are dry. “Mila, what’s wrong?” “Jessica shouldn’t have gotten in trouble the other day.” The words spill from her lips, and I hear Jess move on the couch behind me. “It was my fault.”

“Come on inside,” I tell her, beckoning the pair into our suite. The place is starting to feel like home, I note. The fireplace in the corner has been lit, and with the smell of cookies hovering in the air, it’s perfect. A perfect picture. If only the girls were here to stay. “Now, what were you saying? This isn’t about the principal’s office, is it? We’ve already forgotten—” “It wasn’t Jessica’s fault,” Mila says. “It was my fault. I made her—” “Stop it!” Jessica urges. “Stop it right now, Mila.” I look over the girls’ heads at Maggie, wondering if she has a clue what’s going on here. She seems to be watching the scene with an almost pleased sort of interest, so I take her cue and let the girls talk. “I’m sorry—” Mila starts, but she’s cut off at once by Jess snapping. “Stop it, Mila. Don’t say anything.” “But—” “Mila!” The girls freeze in a standoff. Eventually, Mila speaks in a rush. “I looked at Jessica’s test and got her in trouble. She didn’t want to break the rules, and the only reason she’s sticking up for me is because she’s my best friend.” Jessica shakes her head the entire time Mila is speaking, up until the very last word. Then at once,

she pauses. “What did you just say?” “I said you’re my best friend,” Mila repeats. “You didn’t tell on me, even when I got you in trouble. You should have told Mr. McNeal I asked for help during the test.” “I let you look at my paper,” Jessica says. “It was my fault, too. I could have said no.” “But I asked you to let me look,” Mila shoots back. “You didn’t have to do that.” “But...” Jessica’s lip quivers. “But you’re my best friend, too.” “We made your favorite cookies,” Mila says. “Do you want to eat some?” “We’re watching a movie. Do you want to stay?” Mila looks to her mother. “I don’t know, I might have to clean my room—” “It’s okay,” Maggie says quickly. “We’ll do it tomorrow night. If it’s okay with Mr. Daniels, of course.” “The more the merrier,” I say sweeping my arm to include the television. “You’re just in time. Extra blankets are...well, this is your inn, so you know it better than I do. Fresh popcorn is on the counter, courtesy of the new handyman around here.” Maggie gives me a wry smile at this, but the sound of our girls bouncing off to the kitchen together to feast on sugar and snacks diffuses some of the tension and ramps up others.

“Well, that worked out,” I say, taking a few steps closer. “Mila is a great girl, you know. Not many kids would come clean.” Maggie shakes her head. “If Mila keeps one friend as loyal as Jessica all her life, she’ll be a lucky girl.” “Maybe they can stay friends for a long, long time,” I murmur. “And if they can do it, what about us?” “What are you talking about?” she asks. “Sure, we can stay friends. I mean, it’s harder to keep in touch if you live in New York, but we can probably do it.” “I’m talking about staying here. I’ve already told you I wouldn’t leave.” She squints, probably testing to see if I mean it. While she considers this, I consider other things. What would I do here? If I build a hotel across the street from the Lilac Inn, there’s a chance Margaret will be so pissed with me she’ll end things, and I’ll have stayed here for naught. But I also can’t sit on my ass and do nothing; I’d go insane. The girls are back and plunked on the couch before I can continue the conversation, staring at the TV as if it will start itself. I grab a few extra blankets and tuck them around the girls, each of them armed with enough cookies and popcorn to sustain a hibernating bear.

There’s only one other sofa in the place, a love seat, and I make my way toward it. “Come on, I won’t bite,” I tell Maggie. “We can share a popcorn bowl.” She hesitates, but there’s no other great seating in the place. “Come on, mom, sit down,” Mila says. “You’re holding up the movie.” Maggie makes her way over toward me, wraps a blanket around herself, and curls up on the love seat. “I’m ready.” I click play on the remote, and the movie picks up at the title sequence. Jessica asks me to rewind so Mila can see the full thing. From the opposite end of the couch, Maggie rolls her eyes, but I do so anyway, just because I’m relieved Jess finally has a friend. I inch closer on the couch to Maggie, but her body language is clear. Arms folded across chest, legs pushed across the couch toward me. I’m not certain if she wants to stay clear of me because it’s me, or if she’s simply trying to keep things hidden from the girls. I’m sincerely hoping it’s the latter. I play nice for the first twenty minutes of the movie, but once I’m convinced Mila and Jess’s gazes are glued so intently on the television they’ve forgotten the bowls of popcorn in their lap, I make my move. Maggie’s cold toes have pressed against

my leg since the movie started. I bring one foot onto my lap. Maggie reacts with a knee-jerk flinch, but I’m prepared. I hold tight, meeting her eyes as I begin to rub the foot on my lap. Her hair is still damp from an earlier shower, and the scent of her shampoo and lotion have been testing my patience since she walked in the door. She continues to resist for a moment, trying to subtly tug her foot away, but I keep the blanket over my lap and hold on tight until she relaxes, her glare fading into one of resigned enjoyment. Her head tilts back, her eyes close, and I watch the subtle flickers of movement across her face as I gently continue to stroke her soft skin, moving up her foot to her ankle, then to her calf. When I reach her thigh, Maggie’s eyes shoot open with a warning look, but I’m prepared for that, too. I nod toward the couch where both girls have nodded off, their heads resting against one another, and I grip her leg tighter. Maggie relaxes again, her face settling back into that blissful state as I continue the massage. Only when my hands flick a little too far north do Maggie’s eyes shoot open in alarm, then settle back into contentment when I ease into the safe zone. I can’t seem to take my eyes off her face. The way her hair falls around those soft cheeks, her lashes brushing across her skin in sweet little lines

—it makes me want to bring her into my arms and dust kisses down her neck before taking her into the bedroom to steal more intimate ones. I’m so focused on her face that at first I don’t notice the easy rising and falling of her chest, or the soft hisses of breath as sleep settles over Maggie’s features. I only notice her lack of response as my hands massage her thigh just a little too high, expecting the death stare that tells me to back off. The death stare never comes, but when I realize the reason why, I collapse against the back of the couch. “Perfect,” I mutter. I try to tantalize a woman with the exhilarating use of my massage skills, and I get a big pile of zzzz’s. I stand, determined to move Maggie into my bed and the girls to Jess’s room, but after a few attempts to unsuccessfully move them, I give up and tuck them gently underneath blankets. Instead, I retire to my bedroom. I won’t be able to sleep, not with Maggie spread out on my couch just paces away, so I hop in the shower and force myself to think about work. The work thoughts don’t stick around. In fact, the thoughts of Margaret come back so intense, so strong, that I have to cut my shower short. I angrily storm out of the shower, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to get any work done around here, let alone sleep, with thoughts of Maggie swirling around in my head.

I wrap a towel around my waist, open the bathroom door, and am startled to find Maggie standing in the doorway to my bedroom. The kitchen is visible behind her, and beyond that, the living room. “Er—sorry,” I tell her, backing into the private master bathroom. “Did you need something? I’m sorry if I woke you—” She steps through the door and closes it behind her. Then, with a determined look in her eyes, she clicks the lock shut. Only the glow from the bathroom spills out into the room, meshing with the silvery starlight spilling across the bed. “You left me on the couch,” she says, sounding annoyed. “I expected more from you after that massage.” “More?” I raise an eyebrow, keeping my voice down. “I tried to give you my bed, but you clung to that couch like it was a life preserver.” She flashes me a quick smile, and I halfway wonder if I’m dreaming when she asks, “May I?” I stutter forward, shutting the bathroom light off and cinching the towel closer to my waist as I stumble forward into the bedroom. I feel like I’m seventeen all over again and clueless about what happens next. “Uh, sure,” I mumble, watching those bare, long legs of hers as she climbs into bed. Her skin is pale against the sheets, though her face is radiant.

There’s a confidence in Margaret Marshall that wasn’t there when I left Harp’s Haven years ago, a particular beauty that comes from knowing what she wants—and going after it. “Surely you know what to do next,” she chides, laughing softly. “You’ve got a woman in your bed, Tyler Daniels. We’ve already slept together—this shouldn’t be a surprise.” “But—” I glance toward the bedroom door. “I can be quiet.” She raises an eyebrow in a challenge. “Can you?” Margaret...” I move across the room, hesitant. Every atom in my body is screaming for me to climb into bed next to her, but there’s one organ— my heart—that’s holding back. “You know I think you’re gorgeous, and I want nothing more than to climb in next to you.” “Then what are you waiting for?” “Something, anything.” I run a hand through my damp hair. “It should be obvious the way I feel about you.” I lean forward, so close my breath skims her cheek. “I’m not sleeping with you unless you have feelings for me.” “What sort of deal is that?” She hisses, still keeping her voice low. “Of course I have feelings for you, Tyler. I’m trying to keep this casual for you.” “There’s nothing casual about this,” I tell her, gesturing between us. “I told you I love you. I’ve

never stopped loving you.” “What am I supposed to do about it?” Maggie says, her eyes pleading. “We can’t follow you to New York. Our life is here.” “What if I stay? What if we build a hotel right across the street? You won’t be pissed that we’re competition?” The fire burns brighter in Maggie’s eyes. “Try.” “Excuse me?” “Try!” she shoots back, and then lowers her voice. “You can build your shiny buildings, or your corporate bullshit, but you can’t build the Lilac Inn. You can’t create what we have here, and I’d like to see you try. If you think we should be worried about you...” She pauses for a low laugh. “Good luck. You’ll need it.” I raise my eyebrows. Margaret is every bit as feisty as before. Smart and driven and gorgeous, and I’ve never wanted her more than I do now. There’s a burn in her eyes that’s passion for her town, her career, her inn. I’m selfish; I want it all for me. “How can I be more clear?” I bring myself over her on the bed, pressing her back until she’s resting against the pillows. “I want you more than anything.” “Then have me. I’m in your bed, I clearly want you, and you clearly want me.”

“No.” I ease back, my hands coming to rest on the sheets around Maggie. “I want you to admit you care about me and mean it. Admit this means something to you. If this is about sex for you, I’m calling the deal off.” Her eyes blaze at me, still heated from our talk moments before, but there’s a softness in them now. Her fingers reach for the edge of her shirt, and she’s trembling as she pulls it over her head. Next, her fingers reach for her shorts and she wriggles out of them, leaving her in a matching set of thin, lacy lingerie. If I hadn’t already been aroused, I would be now. It’s a valiant effort in self-restraint to keep my hands off her, but I’ve named my terms. I can’t back down now, no matter how tempting she looks. “What’ll it be, Maggie?” I ask quietly. “I’m not negotiating on this.” “Tyler,” she whispers, inching closer to me. “I’ve never stopped caring about you. And now to see Jess, and to get to know her...of course I care about you—both of you. But I can’t say—” “Don’t say anything more.” I cut her off with my mouth, pressing it against hers. Those teenage nerves are gone and my fears that this game is one-sided have vanished. I can feel how much she needs me, and it’s just as much as I need her. We tangle in a minor power struggle

as our lips meet and we embrace, and we wrestle for the top position. I win easily, looping one arm behind her and easing her onto the bed. Resting a hand on her chest, I let my thumb flick over her nipple. It silences her instantly. A gasp is lost in her throat as her eyes close and her back arches. I lean forward, my lips at her ear. I whisper, just barely audible. “You said you could be quiet.” She sets her teeth in a gritted line—another challenge. My hand covers her breasts, massages and teases until she’s pressed against me, the lace between us threatening to snap. I slide one hand behind her back and release her bra. Once that’s discarded on the floor, I lower my mouth, teasing, kissing, toying over her skin until her hands fist through my hair and yank hard. A single moan slips from her lips as I run a kiss along her inner thighs. With deft hands, I slide her panties down and discard them. Then I return to savor her, trailing kisses gently up her leg to her thigh, her stomach, her ribs. As she struggles to stay quiet, her breath turns to machine gun bursts, sharp and needy. I hesitate, her hands quivering against my hair, before finally, I press a kiss to her core. She sighs, an intimate, gentle sound, and relaxes, her trembling hands holding even tighter as she tugs my hair against my scalp. My fingers dig

into her hips as I demand more, faster and faster until she grits out a hoarse warning. “Stop.” I obey. “Up here,” she commands. “Now.” I’d argue, but I want her more than anything. Reaching to the nightstand, I grab for a foil packet. “But—” she frowns. “I’m on the pill, and last time—” “I figure it’s safer this way,” I tell her. “Just in case.” “In case of what?” “It’s just...safer.” “But last time...” “Last time, I don’t know—I lost control. I was just too desperate for you. It’s never happened before,” I admit. “But it’s just not worth the risk. I swore the day Jessica was born that I wouldn’t bring another baby into the world who doesn’t have two committed parents.” “Oh, Tyler—” “It’s not you; I trust you, but...” I shake my head. “It’s about the baby. Jess deserved more than she got.” “Tyler.” She blinks, pained. “She is so lucky to have you.” “Forget it. I didn’t mean—” “Quiet,” she insists. “You are the best father she could ask for.”

My heart thumps, and I feel an uncomfortable sensation. Too vulnerable for my liking. “Now,” she whispers in my ear. “Please.” Her small hands find me, then her lips press gently against my neck. As she guides me toward her, I recover and resume control, holding her naked body against mine. I inhale a deep breath of her, hardly believing this is reality. When we connect, I feel it with every fiber of my being. Easing into her slowly, I savor every second of it. My eyes try to close in pleasure, but I force them to open, meeting Margaret’s gaze as bliss fills her eyes with each gentle thrust. Our stares lock, intimate, and this completeness is seared into my brain, chaining us together for an eternity. No matter how long I live, I know this moment is critical. I have everything I need within arm’s reach. Everything I desire, everything I— She clenches around me, and my mind goes blank. My body reacts, primal, and I move against her, forcing myself to keep the pace slow, steady, despite her quiet pleas for more. “I’m not rushing this,” I grit out, easing entirely into Maggie. She gasps with the fullness of me, and somehow, miraculously, the perfect fit between us. “You feel incredible.” “I can’t...” she pants, a sob bubbling in her throat as she writhes against me, and it’s that jagged

breath of hers that pushes me to give her more. To give her all she desires, to take her, to have her, to make her mine. I move quicker, pressing in and out, the push and pull between us as equally sweet as it is brutal. I need this, want this, but I can’t let this moment end. It’s everything I need, everything I’ve desired, and as we race one another toward the shattering of our souls, I worry about the cliff that’s sure to follow. It’s a long way down, and I’m not falling alone. The frenzy builds and ebbs, rising until Maggie tightens again, her fingers tearing at the sheets as I swallow her cries. We reach the depths together, the waves raging around us, over us, through us, yet there’s a sense of calm. Of utter serenity, the eye of the storm, as Maggie’s eyes flick open and latch onto my gaze. We hold there, together, and I lose track of time. I don’t remember how long it is before she collapses into my arms and we drift off to sleep together. I hear the shower flick on sometime in the early morning hours, and raise to an elbow when Margaret comes out, moonlight drenching her naked body. She slips back into her lacy things, eases into her clothes. “One more thing,” she says, brushing a kiss against my forehead. “I think we should keep

things between us...quiet. For now.” “For now,” I promise. “But sooner or later...” “I know.” Then, without another backwards glance, she slips from the room and closes the door gently behind me. I lie awake for hours before I succumb to a shower and begin the process of cooking breakfast for the three sleepy girls beginning to rise in the next room. And, as three sleepy heads bob into the kitchen, following their noses toward the smell of eggs and coffee, it’s everything I can do not to pull Margaret into my arms and kiss her forehead. I settle for a gentle hand against her back as I pour her a cup of coffee, and the knowledge that she smells like me —my shampoo, my soap, my sheets—will have to be enough. Then she slips away to sit at the table with the little ones, smiling and laughing, her eyes catching mine above their heads. And this, I think, is how it should be.

Chapter 26 TYLER When Monday morning comes around, I find myself dreading it for the first time in a long while. I like to work; I enjoy it. For years, it’s been the only constant activity that keeps my mind busy. That stops my brain from wandering too far into places I don’t want it to go out of boredom. However, considering the weekend the four of us just had, it’s no surprise I feel differently this time around. I pull to the curb of Jess’s school, already disappointed that I haven’t run into Maggie yet today. I spent an extra few minutes stalling as I grabbed my coffee from Jax, but there was no sign of her. No sign of her in the school drop-off line, either. “Mila had to be at school early,” Jess quips from the backseat. “Is that who you’re looking for?” “Oh, er—yeah,” I say, embarrassed. “Say hello to her for me, will you?” “Say hello to her yourself!” She giggles. “Can she come over and work on homework tonight? I like to help her with math, and she helps me with art.” “Of course. Anytime.”

“Maybe Maggie can read us some more of the book,” Jess wheedles. “Maybe three chapters.” “You know the rule is two, and we’ll have to see if she’s available,” I say, though I’m desperately hoping she’s up for a visit. “We don’t want to bother the Marshalls too much.” “You like her, don’t you?” Jess asks, her eyebrows furrowing together. “Maggie?” “I like both Maggie and Mila.” “But you really like Maggie. Adult-like.” I’ve made a promise not to lie to my daughter if at all possible, so I nod. “I do.” “That’s good. I had fun this weekend.” “Me too,” I tell her. “Now give me a kiss before you’re late.” As I watch her head into school, I turn over the realization in my head. I do like Maggie. A lot. I mean, I’ve already told her I love her, but the thing is...it’s more. Every second I’m away from her feels like a waste of time. A bitter remnant of the minutes we spend together. Even being in the same room with her—knowing she’s reading to the girls while I’m preparing a bedtime snack—it’s nice. It’s comfortable, and homey, and it’s exactly what I’ve been missing. Exactly what Jess has been missing. I drive back toward the inn, wondering if Maggie will ever feel the same way. I believe her when she says she cares for me, but she’s holding something back. She’s cautious, and I don’t blame

her. Lucky for me, I’m patient when I want something badly enough. As I make the turn onto the road leading to the inn, the bookstore across the street catches my eye, and I stop the car early, pulling over to the shoulder to park. I sidle my way inside, noting it opened just minutes before. The shop is empty save for a woman behind the desk. “Good morning,” she chirps. She’s young and pretty, with a nice smile and a pleasant voice. “My name is Julia. Are you looking for something specific?” “Just browsing,” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Actually, I need two gifts for six-year-old girls. Could you point me in the right direction?” “Absolutely.” She hums an indistinct tune, wandering across the store and pointing me to a colorful shelf. “Are these for your daughters?” “Yes,” I say, then correct myself. “Well, my daughter and her friend.” “Lucky girls,” she says with a smile. “Books are the best gifts. I’ll leave you to browse, but let me know if you need anything else.” As she moves away, I’m overwhelmed by the peacefulness in the space. It’s quiet, just a bit dusty, but neat as a button and welcoming. Windows allow bright light to shine over the wooden floorboards, with random stepladders strewn before the shelves.

I peruse for a few long minutes, choosing several books at random that look like something Jess and Mila might enjoy. If nothing else, it’ll be an excuse for us to visit Mila and Maggie and deliver our gifts. I cringe, wondering what sort of man I’ve become—buying gifts for a little girl while hoping it’ll give me some quality time with her mother. Somehow, I suspect Mila will not be opposed. “Do you own this place?” I feign nonchalance as I bring my books to the counter. Julia scans one barcode. “Oh, no. Claire Vanderlin does—she owns half of this town.” “Doesn’t she own the inn? I’m staying there, thought I’d heard the name before.” “She sure does,” Julia says. Then, holding up the second book, she grins. “Great choices—your girls will love them.” I don’t correct her on the phrase your girls, instead trying it on for size. A family of four— Margaret, me, Mila and Jess. It sounds nice. “Do you get a lot of business in here?” I ask. “It’s quiet this morning.” A shadow crosses her face. “Not as much as I’d like. It’s such a beautiful little store; it’s a shame this place isn’t more popular.” “I agree. Say, if I wanted to get ahold of Claire, would you know how to contact her?”

“It’ll be eighteen dollars and two cents,” she says, then frowns. “Claire?” I clear my throat. “My company has funds to make a donation to a local business. My girls happen to love books—I was wondering if she’d be accepting—” “Oh, that would be so generous.” Julia cuts me off, giving me a bright smile as she packages the books in special gift wrapping. “Don’t tell her I told you this, but I think we could really use it. Someone called here the other day asking about Claire. I think they were interested to see if she’d sell the place.” “She isn’t selling, is she? Like you said, this place is gorgeous.” “Right! I thought the same thing, but...” she shakes her head. “I can’t deny the numbers in the books. Plus, Claire’s been mentioning retirement. If she wants to sell off a few of her assets, it only makes sense this could be the first to go...I’m sorry.” She stops abruptly. “That was too much information. I didn’t mean to whine.” I take the slip of paper with Claire’s number on it. “I’m going to see what I can do to help.” She smiles again. “Bring the girls with you next time. We have cookies for the kids!” I give her a wave, promising to bring the girls with me next time. Climbing back into the car, I sit and study the phone number for a second, debating

the next course of action. Once I take another step forward, it’ll be too late to step back. My phone jolts me out of my reverie, and I look down to find a number I don’t want to deal with. But if I don’t answer Anastasia now, she’ll just call back later—more irritated. “Hello?” I ask, clipped. “It’s her, isn’t it?” “What?” I lean back in my seat and scan the inn. A sinking sensation forms in my gut. “Hello to you, too.” “Don’t give me that bullshit,” Anastasia snaps. “The reason you’re back home is Margaret Marshall.” “What are you talking about?” “I heard her voice; I called the inn.” “Yes, she works at the inn. What about it?” “You’re fucking her.” “Anastasia.” My voice is hard. “I asked you to marry me a hundred times. You left me for good. You left us—me and Jess. You have a boyfriend, or at least, you did the last time I saw you. I remember vividly because you showed up two hours late to pick up your daughter because you were waiting for him.” “Don’t get any ideas about staying in that godforsaken town.” “What is it going to take?” “What is what going to take?”

“I want to move back. I want to move home, and I want to bring Jess with me.” I tell her, firmly. “She’s enjoying school here, and she has friends. My family is here. Don’t make this difficult.” “It’s because of her, isn’t it? You never stopped loving her.” “What will it take?” “You think a dollar amount will win me over?” Anastasia softens some, considering. “You can’t take my daughter away from me.” “I’m not going to stop sending you money, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Anastasia gives a horrified gasp, but it’s fake enough that she doesn’t try to justify it. “Think of a number,” I tell her. “Because if we have to go to court over this, you aren’t going to win.” Then I snap the phone shut. Before I get out of the car, I dial another number. “Claire,” I say, once a woman’s voice answers. “My name is Tyler Daniels, and we need to talk.”

Chapter 27 MAGGIE Halloween “When are you going to tell her?” Emily asks, straightening a pair of devil horns in the mirror. “You and Tyler have been dating what, a month now?” “A few weeks.” I zip up my orange jumpsuit and turn to face Emily. “Also, thanks a lot for ditching me for Luca tonight. After I agreed to be your date.” She makes a face. “Lucky for you, Luca volunteered. Otherwise, you would’ve never asked Tyler to the party. And anyway, don’t think you’re distracting me.” “Distracting you from what?” “Mila and Jess! They’re bound to figure out what’s happening between the two of you.” I survey myself in the mirror, costume and all. I’m dressed in an orange jumpsuit going as a prisoner, while Tyler Daniels has agreed to be my partner in crime at Claire’s Halloween party. He’s the cop. I’m the criminal. We drew straws. “I don’t know, I guess when we decide to make things official.” “How much more official do you need to make them?” Emily asks. “You’re all but living with each

other.” “That’s not true.” “Fine. You’re right. You sleep apart every now and again, but everything else, you do together.” It’s hard to argue with Emily because she’s got a point. Ever since that first Cinderella sleepover, the four of us—me, Mila, Jess, and Tyler—have been spending nearly every free moment we have together. It started with Mila and Jess collaborating on homework in the evenings. Once they finished their work, we’d usually sneak a few board games into the nightly schedule. Then a snack. Then story time, and finally, once the girls got too drowsy to walk, we’d carry them to their separate beds. First thing in the morning, they’d meet for breakfast. More often than not, Tyler would sneak in a kiss goodnight while the girls brushed their teeth that’d set my body on fire. Nightly, I had to drag myself away from him, crawling back into my own, cold bed—wishing he’d crawl in next to me. Except for those rare nights when the girls would sleepover at a friend’s, or at grandma’s, and we’d blissfully have the time to ourselves. “It’s for the best,” I tell Emily. “The girls are getting along better than ever before, and I get the feeling that it’s the first time either of them have had a real best friend. I don’t want to upset them with something like this before the time is right.”

“Are you sure this is about the girls?” Emily raises her eyebrows. “Because they seem to love spending every second they can together. I get the feeling that if you asked Mila whether she’s interested in gaining Jess as a sister, she’d fly over the moon with excitement.” “A sister?” I swallow. “I don’t know. Getting married is so...big.” “Tyler is head over heels for you. Where do you think this is going?” Emily clamps the curling iron to her hair. “He’s not keeping his feelings for you a secret—he wants to get married.” “I know.” “Have you said I love you?” “No.” I stick a hand on my hip, playing defensive. “He hasn’t asked me how I feel in a while.” “He shouldn’t have to ask. Does he keep telling you that he loves you?” “Yes.” It’s a grudging admission. “I know, I know. I should tell him it back. I think I love him, it’s just—” “You either do, or you don’t. Look, I’m all for taking things slow.” Emily gently unwinds the ringlet from the iron and surveys it critically, then she turns her eyes to mine. “I just want to make sure that you’re not being extra gun shy.” “I’m being cautious.”

“Tyler might wait for a long time, honey, but you’re going to have to give him some sign that he’s got a place in your heart.” Emily glances at me in the mirror. “I know you’ve been hurt before, but then again, we all have. If you are going to throw yourself into this relationship, you can’t do it halfway. It’s not only unfair to Tyler, but it’s unfair to yourself.” “I owe it to Mila to take things slowly.” “You’ve never taken anything this slowly,” Emily says with a chagrined smile. “Plus, you two are practically living married, minus the separate finances and the separate beds. You think Mila won’t be affected if things flop now? Guess again.” I consider this, conceding with a nod that Emily has a point. “Fine, I’ll think about it. Maybe tonight...” “Don’t say anything if you don’t mean it.” Emily sets down the curling iron and moves closer to me, hooking my costume closed in the back. “Just don’t ignore the way you’re feeling. Yes, it’s a good lesson for Mila to learn that she should be careful with her heart...but it’s also important for her to see that chances can pay off, and that real love is worth pursuing.” I swallow harder than I’d like because her words ring true. “These damn horns won’t stay put,” she says, bringing me back to reality as she adjusts her devil

costume. “Do you have any spare bobby pins?” There’s a knock on my door, and I point out the bobby pins with one hand while rushing to open the door with my other hand. “Hi, mom,” I say. “You’re early.” “And you’re...a prisoner.” Her frown says everything she doesn’t about my costume. “It’s a joke,” I tell her. “Tyler’s going as a cop, and—” “Where are the girls?” she asks. “I hope they don’t get any ideas seeing you dressed like this.” I roll my eyes. “They’re playing over in Jess’s room. Thank you for coming to pick them up.” “I’ll return them at noon tomorrow. Shall I come to your room?” she asks pointedly. “Or his?” “Mom.” “Where will you be spending the night?” she presses. “Together, I assume?” “I’m going to pick up Mila at your house in the morning, and Tyler will pick up Jess. It’s just a work party. Tyler’s been staying at the inn—he’s coming with me and Emily and Luca. It’s fun.” “So the rumors aren’t true?” “What rumors?” My mother steps into my room and closes the door behind her. I notice Emily goes stone cold silent in my bedroom, probably hiding from the wrath that is my mother.

“The rumors that you’re spending time together. Day...and night.” Her implication is clear, and there’s no real question to her words, so I don’t bother to deny it. “Do you really think you’re setting the best example for Mila?” I take in a breath of fresh air. “I asked if you’d be interested in watching the girls for a night, mom. Not lecturing me on how to spend mine.” “I am not lecturing you. I’m merely bringing things to your attention.” “What are you bringing to my attention? Mila and Jess are happy. Tyler and I are happy. We’re spending time together—is that what you want me to tell you?” “It’s not right, you gallivanting around town with him. He’s left you once before, and I watched you try to pick up the pieces for years. You’re my daughter, of course I care for you—and if you don’t want to heed my warnings, then fine. What about Mila?” I stay still, silent and stony. “She’s my granddaughter,” my mother continues. “She’s too young to know better. You should know better, Margaret—fool you once, shame on Tyler. Fool you twice, well, shame on you.” “It’s different. He loves me, mom, and I love him,” I blurt out, surprising myself with the admission. But once it’s out there, I know it’s true.

I love him, and I don’t care who knows. “Things are different—we’re exploring how things go. We’re being careful for the girls.” “I can see I’m not getting through to you. I’ll pick up my granddaughter now, and her friend. Have fun tonight.” My mother moves toward the door and rests a dainty hand on the knob. “But just remember, he loved you then, too, and you loved him. That’s what made everything so hard.” Her words are like a stake through my chest, and I freeze—my heart pounding erratically—as she pulls the door open. “I’ll be back at noon. Have fun tonight,” she says. Then louder, she calls, “You too, Emily.” Emily pokes her head out of the room, her voice squeaky as she gives a sheepish wave. “Goodbye, Mrs. Marshall. Nice seeing you.” My mother waits outside for me to join her, and I do, once I catch my breath. We march down the hall silently. “I hope you know I tell you this because I love you.” My mother clears her throat as we come to a stop outside Tyler’s door. “I am only watching out for your best interest.” I barely manage a nod before the door is flung open and two giggling girls greet us with masks over their faces. Halloween was yesterday, and Tyler and Emily and I took the girls trick or treating first through the inn, then around town, as we

always do. After, we settled in for popcorn and snacks, and a slumber party that included an extra special treat for me. The girls have clearly hopped themselves up on sugar, and I turn to apologize to my mother, but she’s got a genuine smile on her face. As if the only time she’s truly happy is with her granddaughter. Mila snakes her arms around her grandmother’s leg and does a happy little dance, and even Jess offers a polite handshake and a smile. They’ll be sleeping over at my mother’s tonight, so the adults can enjoy the party. Even if the enjoyment has been slashed in half for me, and a heavy weight has fallen over my shoulders instead. “You look great,” Tyler says above the roar of the girls. He winks when he’s sure nobody’s looking, and I can sense the meaning behind it. I’d normally blush under his stare, or ogle the way his cop uniform molds around his biceps. I might even eye his handcuffs, suggesting subtly that they may come in useful later this evening—but I’m too distracted by my mother’s warning, by the confession I made to her not five minutes before. I love Tyler Daniels. I love him with so much of me that if he leaves this time, I’ll break. It will destroy me, and I’ll shatter. I tried not to fall in love with him, and now, it’s too late.

Tyler must sense the heaviness in my gaze because he wraps up the goodbyes with the girls and guides me through a series of kisses to Mila and Jess, along with the standard warnings to behave and go to bed on time. It’s with a bright smile that my mother ushers them away, completely oblivious to the way she’s turned my night upside down. “Hey,” Tyler says, once they’re gone. He pulls me into his room and shuts the door behind me. “What’s wrong? You’re looking far too sad on an evening where it’s just the two of us. I’ve been waiting forever to have you alone for this long.” “I know, it’s just—” “What?” “I love you.” I bite my lip, looking up to him. Tears pool in my eyes, giving away the frustration I feel. I can’t mask my feelings—I’ve never been able to, and now that I’ve fully realized them, I need to explain to Tyler. “I didn’t mean to tell you now; I thought I would wait, but—” “Why would you ever wait?!” Tyler pulls me to his chest, holding my head against him. “Sweetheart, I love you, too.” “What does it mean for us?” I beg. “We haven’t talked about work, or life, or—or where you’ll live. Are you going to rent a hotel room for the rest of your life?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to be with you,” he says, his voice soothing. “I love you, Margaret. I love you more than you can imagine.” And then my worries are carried away, something he does so well. He kisses them gone, draws the blackness from my mind. In the back of my head, somewhere, I know we have a party to attend, a friend waiting in my room, a boss who’s expecting us—but it vanishes. Before I know it, we’re in Tyler’s bedroom and he’s unhooked my costume and unzipped the front of my orange jumpsuit. His mouth is hot on my skin as we tumble together into a pile on the sheets. “The party,” I gasp. “Tyler, we’re going to be late.” “It can wait.” “But—” He sits on the bed and pulls me onto his lap, silencing me this time with a look. An expression that I’ve never seen before, something so tender my argument falls mute to the wayside. “The woman I love,” he begins. “Told me she loves me back. The party...can wait.” My hands, trembling, reach for his shirt. I unbutton the uniform slowly, my fingers savoring the feel of his warm chest underneath. “For a minute there,” I whisper, easing closer to him, straddling him on the edge of the bed. “I thought you were going to use your handcuffs on me.”

He groans. “That’s for later. Like you said, we have a party to get to.” “And later?” “Later, I’m going to take my time.” For now, we’re in a frenzy. Moments later my uniform is gone and Tyler’s shirt is undone, his pants lost. I stand before him as he sits on the edge of the bed. He reaches for me, but I gently guide his hands to my back, urging him to pull me close. “You can touch,” I tell him. “But this time, I’m in charge.” I back away just as quickly, lowering to my knees before him. I take him in my mouth, and as my lips close around his length, he throws his head back, his hand coming to nestle in my hair. There’s nothing like the control I feel, watching Tyler driven mad with desire, knowing that it’s me who’s responsible for his nonsensical groans and murmurs of pleasure. Only when he curses, begging for me to join him, do I agree. I climb onto him, feeling his delicious weight between my thighs as I sink down. I latch my arms around his neck and begin to move, driving the two of us until he can’t hold back. “Dammit,” he murmurs, gripping me tight. “What are you doing to me?” I don’t stop, riding him harder, faster, until he bites my name against my neck, digging his fingers

into my back as we climax together. I slow, purposefully drawing out every last wave, grinding my hips against him until he shudders and pulls me onto his chest, crumbling onto the bed. We’re both spent, panting, curled together. Finally, I laugh. “Cops and robbers,” I murmur. “That game has a whole new meaning now.” “Just wait until I break out the handcuffs.” He squeezes my hips, pulling me closer. “This is just me getting started.”

Chapter 28 MAGGIE “Nice.” Emily surveys us both as we reach the lobby. Her expression says everything. “Did you tell him you loved him, or did you just have sex because you felt like it?” I give her a cheesy smile. “I didn’t mean you had to tell him now.” She exhales, grumpy. “Anyway, call Luca. I’m ready to go.” “Don’t tell me you and Luca aren’t talking.” I roll my eyes. “You’re going to a party as a couple. This is going to be awkward.” “We’re talking,” she says, slowly. “I’m just annoyed.” “Why?” She scrunches up her face. “It’s embarrassing. Let’s go.” “Is this about me and Tyler?” I hold onto her arm. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing’s wrong.” She sighs. “It’s just not fair. I mean, I’m happy for you and Tyler, I really am.” “But?” “But I have been sending Luca hints forever! I had to beg him to be my date to the party.” She crosses her arms. “Then there’s Tyler, and he follows you like a puppy dog even after you’ve

pushed him away for weeks. I want someone to want me that much.” “Well, I’ll tell you what.” I link my arm through hers. “If Luca doesn’t get his shit together, someone else will come along and whisk you away. Who knows? Maybe one of Claire’s handsome— and very rich—friends will have his eye on you tonight, and it’ll make Luca snap to attention.” Emily considers this, then eventually sighs. “I hope not. Claire is old—her friends are probably in retirement homes.” “We’re her friends, aren’t we?” I point out. “We’re not old.” “I suppose not, but we’re her business contacts. Isn’t this a professional mingling sort of party?” I shrug. “Either way, we’re going to be late. I saw Luca head outside.” Emily gives one more tug on her horns, surveys my costume, and then yanks my zipper the rest of the way to my neck. “There we go,” she says. “Can’t have you popping out. That’d be criminal.” I roll my eyes again at her joke, and we head out. Julia from the bookstore is covering the front desk—she opted to skip the party and go for the time and a half holiday pay—and she’s standing in the doorway speaking to the boys. With the rumors of the bookstore possibly going out of business, Emily and I have been trying to include her as much as possible in scheduling.

“I’m so glad your girls like the books,” Julia is saying. “I told you to bring the girls to the store, but I’ve yet to see them!” “We’ll be back soon,” Tyler says, sounding rushed as his eyes land on me. “We should be going.” I shoot him a strange look. It’s as if he’s gone all jumpy, practically ignoring Julia’s presence at my arrival. “Okay,” I say, unsure. “Julia, if you have any questions, give us a call. You know how to reach us —otherwise, I’m sure we won’t be out late.” “Right,” Emily muttered. “Someone’s in a hurry to get to bed.” For quite possibly the first time ever, Tyler has the courtesy to look down at his feet. I avert my eyes, too, as Luca snorts with amusement. “Well, we probably should be going.” I make the same lame excuse as Tyler. “See you later!” “Have fun!” Julia’s either too polite to comment on the pile of awkwardness before her, or she’s completely oblivious. “Don’t rush back; I can stay as long as I’m needed.” “The girls should call my cell if they need anything,” I add as a last caveat. “But if they call here instead—” “I know where to find you.” Julia winks. “Really, it’s fine. Have a great time at the party.”

Tyler slides his arm around my shoulders, and we follow Luca—the most handsome vampire I’ve ever seen—and Emily out toward the car. I begin to relax at once. Tyler’s touch has some magical effect on my body that relaxes my worries and sends me to a calmer place. The weight of his sturdy body, the easiness of his gait, the nowfamiliar scent of his breath against my cheek as he leans in to kiss my neck—all of it eases some of the tension that I hadn’t realized built up in my shoulders. “Relax,” he says, nuzzling against me. “It’ll be fun. The inn won’t burn down, and the girls will survive a night away. Your mother though, she might be in trouble...” I laugh, letting my head rest against his chest as we climb into Luca’s car. I let my body huddle next to Tyler’s warmth in the backseat, finally feeling the rest of my tension ease as he snuggles me close. For a wistful moment, I want to ask Luca to turn the car around and drop us back off at the inn. I want my mother to bring the girls back, and I want the four of us to pop onto the couch at Tyler’s and fire up a Disney flick. We’d make the group trek down to the newly fixed popcorn machine, grab a basket of lavender towels for the girls, and make a night of it. “We don’t have to stay long,” Tyler whispers against my forehead, as if reading my mind. “And

I’ll watch Cinderella later, if that’s what you’re sighing about.” I laugh, soft against him, and welcome the kiss he offers with gentle lips. “I miss the girls.” “Me too,” he says, his hand reaching for mine as he squeezes. “Let’s put on a good face, enjoy the party for an hour, and if you really want, we can swing by your mother’s on the way back.” “No,” I say with a sigh. “The girls will kill us. I know their secret plan to stay up until all hours of the night.” “I was hoping you’d say that,” Tyler murmurs against my neck, his breath hot as his tongue snakes out and presses there, sending shivers down my spine. “Because I’ve been daydreaming of whipping out those handcuffs later...” “We’re here,” Emily says pointedly. “Time to stop making out back there. Tyler, you’re supposed to know better.” Tyler freezes. “Know better?” Emily’s face crinkles into a smile. “You’re the cop—you’re not supposed to fraternize with the criminal.” Tyler laughs, a deep belly laugh. Then he gathers me in his arms, plants a huge, wet kiss on my lips, and dips me halfway to the ground once we’re out of the car. His hand snakes through my hair and grabs tight, a dramatic display for everyone watching.

For me, on the receiving end of things, it’s just as sexy. Tyler’s other hand is at my back, and in spite of my orange jumpsuit, he’s making me feel as if I’m the belle of the ball. By the time he rights me, Emily, Luca, and a few other guests nearby give a slow clap of approval. “I guess you know how to make an entrance,” I say grudgingly. But the warmth on my cheeks gives away my excitement, and despite my prior misgivings, I lean against Tyler as we approach Claire’s house, enjoying myself already. “So this is where she lives?” Tyler wonders. “I thought you said she spent her time in New York.” “She does, most of the year,” I say. “But Claire’s from just down the street, and this was the first house she bought. I think she probably considers it home, despite the fact she spends about three weeks a year living in it.” “It’s gorgeous,” Tyler admires. “Or, spooky, I should say.” The house is both gorgeous and spooky. It’s an old Victorian, quirky in its design with lots of pointy peaks and bright colors around the outside, but quite stately and grand at the same time. Claire has been known to go all out on her decorations—she once had real reindeer in her yard for Christmas— and this time around is no different. The front yard has been converted into a cemetery, and as we wander through, I clutch

Tyler’s arm time and time again as ghosts materialize from nowhere. Frankenstein figures pop out of their graves and live persons in costume jump out from behind trees and offer us glasses of orange-tinted smoking champagne. “I’m going to have a heart attack,” I whisper to Tyler as we climb the front steps. “Claire’s double my age; I don’t know how she does it.” Another round of drinks is provided as we step through the front door, but I wave it off, still holding my untouched glass of smoking champagne. A man dressed as a skeleton instructs us to find our name tags on the table. “Sorry, I didn’t RSVP you—” I turn to Tyler, but he’s already located his name tag and is fastening it to his cop uniform. “You can call me Detective Daniels,” he says with a wry grin. I find my own nametag, left to ponder how Claire had managed to get every detail of the party perfect—including a nametag for a guest I hadn’t even RSVP’d—while I could barely manage to pull a comb through my hair and get Mila out the door with her lunch packed every morning. “Shall we?” Tyler swoops an arm around my back, and in the thick of the entryway, we temporarily lose sight of Emily and Luca. “Fancy a quick, private tour of the place?” “That sounds nice.”

Mostly, I want to keep Tyler’s arm around me and that low purr happening in my ear. The warmth of the house, each sip of champagne, the bustle of other adults having conversations that don’t center around homework and loose teeth—all of it is finally making me feel like someone I haven’t been in years. The carefree woman who dresses up for parties and laughs at crude jokes and drinks the second or third glass of champagne without worrying about a hangover in the morning. “Thank you for coming with me,” I murmur as we sneak up a back staircase. I’m guessing this isn’t on the formal tour of the house, but I’m too caught up in the moment to concern myself with such things. “It’s nice to get out and about.” “Next time, I’ll take you somewhere you can wear a pretty dress,” he says, his hand creeping lower and lower on my back until it reaches my bottom. He squeezes, pulling me tight against him in the upstairs hallway. “Not that I don’t think you look sexy as hell in that jumpsuit.” “Oh yeah?” I press against him, relieved Tyler’s managed to find the one dark, unoccupied hallway in this entire place. He presses against me, and I can feel his arousal through those police pants. “How sexy?” “I’m ready to leave when you are,” he murmurs, pulling my hips tight against him. “I

thought I’d be fine for a few hours after you visited my room earlier, but...” “I know what you mean.” My breath sounds ragged. “I can’t get enough of you.” “Let’s keep things that way.” Tyler leans in, his lips hot, sweet, tasting of champagne and mint, smelling of his familiar shower soap and expensive cologne. “God, I want you so badly. What do you think this is in here?” Tyler reaches for the knob behind me, twists, and the door opens into a bathroom. We stumble through, and before I know it, he’s lifted me onto the sink, not bothering to close the door, and spreads my legs. He pushes between them, taking my hands in his palms and stealing kisses from me, my breath barely surviving in the aftermath. My jumpsuit feels like paper between us, and I’m so tempted to tell him to unzip me and finish what he’s started. I can practically feel him debating the pros and cons of the exact same thing as he presses against me hard, the friction sending fissures of electricity over my skin. “I love you,” Tyler says, demanding. “I need to have you. Again.” “We shouldn’t,” I gasp as his hand reaches between my thighs and strokes. “Tyler, we’re in public.” “I don’t care,” he nearly growls. “If I lock the door—”

At that moment, there’s a shrieking in the hallway followed by the mechanical tone of a cackling witch. Strobe lights flicker on, brightening our near-union on the bathroom counter for the entire hallway to see. Tyler’s hand retracts at once, but he doesn’t bother to separate. If anything, he pulls me to his chest in an instinctive protective gesture and, startled, I have no problem burying my face in his chest. “Dammit!” a female voice shrieks. “They need a fucking warning on this house. I spilled my drink all over myself. That witch thing is stupid.” Tyler stiffens at the sound, though I can’t imagine why. “Stay still,” I murmur in his ear. “They won’t find us here.” This knowledge doesn’t seem to relax him. It only takes another second until I find out why. “Stand still, Anastasia—” This time, it’s the male voice that sends shivers down my spine. “I can’t help you if you’re flailing all over the place.” I turn, my eyes locking on Tyler’s as understanding clicks into place. Anastasia—that Anastasia. My eyes hold a question in them, but I’m too surprised to speak. Plus, I’d prefer not to be found dry humping on a counter with Tyler...by his ex. At my boss’s house. There’s a flash of fury in Tyler’s eyes, offset by a burst of apology, but there’s no time for me to

decipher either before Anastasia’s voice sounds again, and this time, it’s too close for comfort. She’s found us. “Tyler?” she says, this time in a measured, husky tone. “Is that you? Is that...her?” It’s a good thing I’m wearing a zip up one piece because my knees are still apart and my legs are wrapped around Tyler’s waist, my hands on his chest. It’s too late for me to take back the pose, so I proceed to freeze in place. “What are you doing here?” Tyler slips out from between my legs, moving to a more appropriate spot next to me. His arm never leaves my waist. “I got invited to a party,” she says. “So I showed up.” “I didn’t know you’d be coming,” Tyler says, and I can feel him trying to keep his cool. “How do you know Claire? And if you were coming to town, why the hell didn’t you ask to see your daughter?” To my surprise, Anastasia gives a tinkling laugh, though it doesn’t meet her eyes. “It’s always about Jess, isn’t it?” “Yes,” he snaps. “She’s our daughter. She wants to see you. Don’t tell me you’ve come all the way here and plan to head back without spending time with her?” “I have to get back tomorrow,” Anastasia says, just as snappy on her response. “Jesus, Tyler. I

didn’t come here for a lesson on parenting. Loosen up, will you? Introduce me to your girlfriend.” I wince slightly at the term, but when Tyler doesn’t deny it, my brain begins to turn it over. I suppose we’ve both told one another that we’re in love—doesn’t that make me his girlfriend? If nothing else, it makes us a couple, I think. Even so, we’re both adults—parents—and it feels odd to call him my boyfriend. He’d have been my boyfriend in college—now, the term seems inappropriate. “This is Maggie, my date,” Tyler says smoothly. “Maggie, this is Jessica’s mother, Anastasia. I believe the two of you met in high school.” “Of course we did.” Anastasia extends her hand across Tyler and offers me a shake. “I like your costume. Very fitting.” “Anastasia...” Tyler warns, but I wave him off. “You look nice,” I say, for lack of anything else to say. “Thanks,” she says, looking down at the itty bits of feathers that cover her privates, along with the glowing halo and the massive wings attached to her back. Apparently, she’s an angel. “I just threw this together.” I can barely suppress an eyeroll. She looks as if she’s stumbled off the Victoria’s Secret catalogue. There’s no way her outfit hadn’t cost a pretty penny and required some intense gluing and taping

to make sure nothing inappropriate pops out when she moves. “I’m surprised to see you here,” Anastasia says, her eyes flicking toward Tyler before landing on me. “I thought this was Claire’s party. A work event.” “I’m Margaret’s date,” Tyler says through gritted teeth. “She invited me here.” “I wasn’t asking you—I know why you’re here, Fletcher told me everything. That’s who I came with. Fletch, where the hell are you hiding? Get your ass over here. They’re done humping each other.” “Tyler,” the man standing behind Anastasia says. He’s dressed in a suit and flimsy little vampire fangs, and is obviously trying to sound confident. However, even I can hear the fear underneath. “I didn’t expect to see you here. You’re not usually one for parties.” “I see you’ve met Anastasia,” Tyler responds smoothly. “Are you two just screwing for fun, or does one of you need something from the other?” I suck in a breath, but from the brief look between Fletcher and Anastasia, Tyler’s hit closer to the truth than I’d expected. “I needed a lawyer,” Anastasia says, “and he volunteered to help. Things...escalated from there.” Tyler raises his eyebrows. “And somehow, you wormed out private information about my business

from my lawyer. Pillow talk?” Neither Anastasia nor Fletcher denied it, though Fletcher did cast a curious glance toward me. “So that’s her?” “Margaret,” Tyler corrects. “She is Claire’s right-hand woman.” “Me and Emily,” I correct, feeling stupid and pointless in this conversation. “We run the inn together. Claire’s essentially my boss.” Anastasia tilts her chin upward, surveying me carefully. “Ah. Not for long, I suppose?” “That’s enough,” Tyler snaps. “Enjoy your time here. We were just about to take off.” Tyler swoops me away from the situation before I can say goodbye. “Sorry about that,” he grumbles. “I’m ready to leave. Are you?” “Let me say hello to Claire, first,” I say, a bit alarmed. I tug on Tyler’s sleeve and pull him off to the side. “If this is about the way she acted toward me—I don’t care. I understand. Relationships with exes are...complicated.” “The hell they are,” he growls, his eyes scanning behind me as if he’s on the lookout. “Mutual respect—what’s not to understand?” “You know that’s not how it goes,” I plead with him. “There are emotions, and baggage, and—you have a child with her, Tyler. Listen to me.”

He’s still looking savagely around the room, like a bull about to charge. Finally, my hands find his face, and the coolness of my palms eventually calms him a few notches. “Earlier tonight,” I whisper, our foreheads pressed together. “I told you I loved you. I meant it, Tyler—I meant it with everything in me.” “I love you,” he says, gruff. “I’m just upset. I’m sorry.” “You can be upset. But don’t interrupt me, please.” I give him a quick smile before continuing with the more difficult piece. “When I told you I loved you, I meant every part of you. I love the part of you that sneaks into abandoned bathrooms to turn me on, even when we should be mingling with colleagues.” This earns the slightest of smiles from him, bolstering my confidence to continue. “I love the part of you that’s protective of me and the girls, even when there’s nothing to protect us from. I love that you’re an amazing father, and I love everything that comes with that—I might not love Anastasia, but I’ll deal with her because I understand.” “Margaret...” “You don’t have to apologize for her, or protect me from her. Just be honest with me, and talk to me. Don’t hide things from me, okay? I’m here for the long haul. The good and the bad and the ugly.

And the fallen angels,” I add as a joke. “Please, tell me you understand.” He roughly takes me in his arms, pressing a kiss to my mouth with alarming ferocity. As if he’s claiming me, in public, for the world to see—and though I first try to keep him at arm’s length, eventually I melt to him, not caring who in the world sees. When we part, his voice is gruff, demanding. “Say hello to Claire,” he says. “And then we’re leaving. I’m taking you home—we can grab a cab.” I squeeze his hand. “Thank you.” I find Claire over near a table with silent auction prizes—everything from free stays at the inn to a week of pampered vacation spent in this very house—and I feign interest in the prizes as Claire finishes up a conversation with an older gentleman I’ve never seen before. She catches my eye a minute later, excusing herself from him before making her way over to me. Claire catches me in a hug, her eyes twinkling as she surveys my attire. “I saw the two of you walk in here together,” Claire says. “And I couldn’t believe my eyes.” “Our costumes?” I ask, curious. “I didn’t think they were that special. I bought them off Amazon for twenty bucks.” “You and Tyler—a match made in heaven.” “You know Tyler?”

“Of course I do!” She gives a laugh. “We don’t have to pretend. I was going to ask him if I can make the announcement tonight—it’s sooner than I wanted, but I don’t see why I should wait. It’s excellent news, if I might say so myself.” “What news?” Her eyes cloud for a second. “Dear, I sold the inn.” “What?!” My heart sinks like a stone. “Claire, I thought—I thought the bookstore was getting sold off, not the inn. I thought...” I press a hand to my chest. “There’s no warning. I’m sorry, I can’t breathe. I know it’s your choice, but...” “I thought—I thought you knew. I’m so sorry...please, sit down.” Claire guides me to a chair. “I thought he must have told you. He requested I not say anything so he could break the news himself, and oh...damn. I’ve really screwed this one up, haven’t I?” “Who? What is happening with the inn?” “That’s the great news,” Claire says, now looking extremely confused. “Nothing is happening with it—I thought you’d be pleased. If anything, you’ll have more freedom and more financing than ever before.” “But...why? Who bought it?” “Why, him, dear...” Claire raises a hand and points across the room to a man making his way toward us. “Tyler Daniels.”

Chapter 29 MAGGIE The room tilts. I’m standing still, but somehow, everything is spinning around me, spiraling, and the room begins to lose focus. “Maggie,” Claire’s saying, when I finally pull myself out of the haze a few seconds later. “Maggie, are you feeling okay? Do you need to sit down?” “No, I’m fine.” I set my first, and only, unfinished glass of champagne onto the silent auction table and rest my hand there to steady myself. “I’m just—sorry, I was surprised.” “I’m so sorry—I do hope I haven’t gotten Tyler in trouble. He seems like such a nice man.” Claire frowns. “He did say he wanted to break the news to you personally, and I can’t believe I’ve ruined it.” “No, no, you didn’t ruin anything,” I say, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder and giving a squeeze. “It’s nothing you did. I’m just wondering how long it’s been since the, uh, deal went through?” Claire’s lipsticked mouth pinches in thought. “Let’s see. He first called me a few weeks back. I seem to remember we signed the paperwork not a week later, which would mean...oh, at least two

weeks now? Hence the reason I figured he’d have told you already. His ownership is effective at the beginning of next year—I assumed he’d want to begin getting things in order as quickly as possible.” I nod, force a swallow, and fall silent as Tyler pulls closer. He’s been dodging and ducking his way across the room at top speed, and judging by the stern set to his jaw, he knows exactly what’s happening between me and Claire. “Ladies,” he says, once he reaches us. “Thank you for the party, Claire—I was just about to take my leave with—” “You can save it,” I say, my voice hushed. “I know.” Claire’s face crumples in apology. “I’m truly sorry—I thought this was cause for celebration, and...” In a burst of emotion, I pull Claire to my chest and squeeze her tight. “You’ve been nothing but a wonderful employer to me, and a kind friend. Mila and I both love you. You’ve done nothing wrong— thanks, for everything.” “Maggie!” Claire squeezes my arm, holding me tight for a long moment until she catches the look in my eye, and then, without further ado, she lets me go. “Maggie!” This time it’s Tyler calling my name as I dip away from him, weaving through the guests.

I spin out of control past a goblin and a scantily dressed bunny, running head first into Emily as I reach the front door. “I’m going home,” I say. “Sorry. I’ll catch a cab —have fun.” “Is everything okay?” Her eyes widen. “I’ll go with you. Let me find my shoe, and grab Luca, and —” “Really, it’s okay.” I glance over my shoulder to find Tyler charging at us, breaking through the crowd, and I free my arm from Emily. “Trust me. I’ll find my own way home. Enjoy the party and tell Claire I’m sorry.” “What?” she exclaims, but I’m already gone. As I press out the front door, I hear her spin on Tyler and confront him. “What did you say to her?!” Tyler mumbles some response, enough of a response to get Emily to back off, I imagine, since he charges out after me into the night. I’m storming past the graveyard when he catches up, and I’m already flagging down a waiting taxi. Claire thinks of everything at her parties, including complimentary rides home. “Wait, please,” I say, ducking my head into the taxi as I feel a hand encircle my wrist. “Maggie.” Tyler pulls me from the cab, but I’m expecting it, so I brace myself. “Where are you going?”

“What the hell were you thinking?” I whirl on him. “Was everyone in on the secret except me?” “What are you talking about? Anastasia—” “Oh, don’t play stupid.” I cross my arms, backing away from the gorgeous cop before me. I’m aware how ironic this must look to anyone arriving at the party. “This has nothing to do with Anastasia.” Judging by the note of understanding in his eyes, clicking into place with the scene in the party, Tyler’s jaw clicks back and forth. “The inn.” “Yeah, the inn,” I practically spit. “When were you going to tell me you bought it?” “Why are you so upset? I thought you’d be happy.” “Happy about being the last person to know?!” I shake my head. “We’ve been spending every spare minute we have together for the last few weeks. I told you I loved you, Tyler. Why are you keeping things like this from me?” “I didn’t know how to tell you.” “Apparently Anastasia knew,” I say, and suddenly it makes sense. I jab an accusatory finger at his nametag. “No wonder she thought I was your date. The reason you had a nametag is because Claire invited you, and you just let me think I was taking you as my date.” “You were taking me as your date, Maggie—I wouldn’t have come here without you.”

“Why’d you buy it, huh?” My question takes him aback. “The inn?” “No, your shirt. Of course the inn.” “Because...” he stumbles for an answer. “It’s a good investment opportunity.” “Bullshit. I know Claire wasn’t looking to sell it —she was looking to sell the bookstore. Did you buy that, too?” At his noncommittal response, I simply shake my head. “Oh, no wonder. That’s how Julia seemed to know you. I thought she just liked you because you bought a few books there, but no.” I shake my head more firmly. “You bought the entire damn shop.” “It’s my money,” he says, his temper flaring. “What does it matter to you?” “Matter to me?” I screech back. “It’s only my place of employment, my place of residence—the place Mila’s spent every moment of her childhood. No, Tyler, I know you’re not stupid enough to think that this means nothing to me.” A moment of utter silence follows and then, in a pained voice, he says, “I had to do it.” I wait for him to explain, forcing myself to bite my tongue instead of lashing out like I normally would. “Fletcher, the man upstairs with Anastasia, brought the bookstore and its plot of land to the board of directors for my company as a possible

location to build a hotel. They would’ve gone for it, and I would’ve had my hands tied. I couldn’t have done anything to stop it.” “Isn’t it your company?” “It’s business. In business there are politics,” he explains, tight-lipped. “Things don’t work like that.” “I told you to go ahead and try,” I say, my voice a low murmur. “If you think you can compete with our inn, go ahead.” He takes the challenge gracefully. “We have more funds, more resources, more of everything. By buying the inn, we can grow together instead of competing for guests—” “You think you have more of everything,” I correct quietly. “I might be some country bumpkin, as your daughter would say, but I’ve run a successful, flourishing inn for nearly a decade with Emily. Believe it or not, I’m a businesswoman— you don’t have to explain these things to me. I understand competition.” “Then you’ll understand why I chose to buy the already successful, flourishing inn, instead of building my own next to it and running you out of business.” “I would’ve preferred to see you run me out of business. Admit it, Tyler, you would’ve made a different business decision if I hadn’t been

involved. You wouldn’t have bought the inn if you weren’t trying to win me over, would you?” His silence is enough. “No. You would’ve tried to squash us to the ground. Is that why Fletcher’s here? To try and convince you not to be an idiot? Am I in the right ballpark, or do I just not understand?” “Maggie—” “Answer me.” “Yes,” he says, and it’s a quiet roar. “Yes, okay? I felt bad. I see how much you love the inn, how Mila loves it. I couldn’t let them take that away from you no matter what.” “That’s a nice sentiment,” I say, my voice fading to nothing but a bitter remnant. “But I’d prefer you had confidence in me. You see, Tyler, Mila and I would be fine—we’re survivors. When things don’t go our way, we figure out a new way. We don’t just throw money at the problem.” “Maggie—don’t be unreasonable!” “I’m not being unreasonable!” I yank open the door to the cab. “I loved you because I thought you respected me, Tyler. My mind, my independence, my life. Mila and I don’t need you swooping in to save the day. I appreciate the thought, but we wanted a family. Partners in crime.” I cringe as I glance down at my jumpsuit. “I’m sorry, Tyler, but this isn’t going to work for me.” “Maggie, don’t go.”

I shut the door behind me, but the window is rolled down, and I can hear Tyler calling after me, even as I instruct the taxi to take off toward the inn. “This happened before,” I tell Tyler, as he leans in the window. “You took care of me, and then you left. And I was helpless.” The taxi begins to roll forward, and Tyler walks with it. Tears prick my eyes and my bottom lip trembles. “I won’t be helpless again.”

Chapter 30 MAGGIE I curse and roll over, planting a pillow solidly over my head. The sun is not welcome here this morning. Today should be a day of doom and gloom, of funnel clouds and high winds, of thunder and lightning—then, it might match my mood. Eventually, I roll over and force one eye open while glaring at the crack in the shades. That crack has never bothered me before—in fact, I’ve always sort of liked that it gives me a peek into the day ahead, but not this time. Mercifully, as if the god of the skies is listening somewhere, a cloud rolls across my window, dimming the sunlight. Good. With a sigh, I glance toward the mirror above my dresser, alarmed to find a strange person staring back at me. Then I realize it’s myself; a very pathetic version of me. I not only look like a complete and utter mess, but I look like a bona fide criminal. Mascara is caked on my eyes, and my orange jumpsuit is sprawled across my bed. It’s all I could do to crawl out of it and wiggle my way into bed in lingerie that was meant to be torn off by eager hands. Tyler’s hands.

I look down at my lacy new bra, the cute new set that I’d purchased just for the occasion, and begin to unhook it. I stumble my way to the shower, leaving the lingerie piled in an unwanted heap on the floor. Poor Lelia—I don’t even have the strength to clean up after myself today. I’ll warn her to leave my room alone. Warm water crashes over my shoulders, my back, my tired and worn legs. My muscles feel exhausted for no real reason. I suds up, feeling sore between my legs—remembering yesterday evening with a flash of heat. That’s all it takes to unleash the sobs—the same ones I thought I’d cried out last night. I’d finally let myself go. I loved him—probably love him still— and he just doesn’t understand. I can’t be dependent on him like before. For Mila. I steel myself to face more pain as I turn around and let my cracked makeup flow in rivulets, washing down my cheeks, black rivers over my breasts, my stomach, my thighs, until it disappears in a swirl down the drain. As I battle to squeeze shampoo into my hand and lather the hairspray from my locks, I fight back the bit of remorse I’ve been feeling since Claire knocked on my door last night. Emily had come to visit first, several times, but I’d sent her away. Then Claire had arrived,

apologizing through the door and begging me to talk to Tyler. I’d sent her away, too, though I felt guilty about ruining her night. I’d have to call her and apologize later, same to Emily and Luca—for leaving them in such a tizzy. I’m sure they’d left hundreds of messages on my phone, but I’d shut it off after Tyler’s eleventh missed call. He’d been the last person to knock on my door. A simple thing—two taps—and then a gentle call of my name. Margaret. I had feigned sleeping, holding in my sobs until his footsteps faded into the distance. Hot tears mix with shampoo, and I taste the combination on my lips as I rinse my hair. I have to pick Mila up shortly, and I can’t imagine my mother will let the sight of me go unnoticed. Mila will sense something is wrong, and I don’t want to upset her, either. My spine shoots rigid straight as I realize I might very well run into Tyler at my mother’s house. Surely, he’ll be headed there to pick up Jessica soon—if he hasn’t already. I can’t bear the thought of facing him yet, and I absolutely can’t handle the thought of a confrontation in front of my mother. Slipping out of the shower, I pick up the phone and flick it on, ignoring the missed messages and phone calls.

I hit dial on my mother’s contact. “Hi, mother. I’m going to be a little late today. Tyler might be coming earlier...” “You’re not together?” “Something came up, and I have to take care of a few things at the inn.” “Is everything alright, Margaret?” “Yes, gotta go.” I hang up and towel off. Still naked, I slide between the sheets and close my eyes, willing sleep to still my thoughts. Like last night, sleep is an elusive bugger, and after forty minutes of rolling around, I find myself staring at the ceiling, turning the same thought over and over in my head. Something Claire had said. “Listen to him,” she’d said. “It’s not his fault.” I can’t quite figure out what she meant by that —surely this is all his fault. He chose to swoop in and buy the inn right out from under our noses, and he chose to keep it a secret from me for weeks. He chose a path that he knew would hurt me. Still, there’s a tiny piece of my brain that’s wondering if I overreacted a teensy bit. Yes, he’d kept a secret from me. Yes, he’d pulled a Superman act that I didn’t fully appreciate, but hadn’t he done it out of the goodness of his heart? Hadn’t he been thinking of me and, more importantly, Mila, when he’d done it?

Finally, sufficient time has passed to make me late in picking up Mila. I’ve made up my mind. I will be an adult about this, and I will confront Tyler. I’ll apologize if I’ve jumped to any conclusions, and I will hear him out. Then, I’ll make my decisions. With my plan firmly in place, I dress in jeans and a sweatshirt, gather my purse and keys, and attempt a perky disposition as I scramble downstairs for a cup of coffee. I find Jax at the kitchen counter, as always, and at the sight of my face, he pulls an extra few shots of espresso and makes a specialty cappuccino. “Do I look that bad?” I ask him, wincing. “Emily is worried about you.” “Tell her I’m fine,” I say, “and I’ll be right back and explain everything. I have to get Mila.” “Maggie,” Jax says, hesitating. “I’m sorry.” “Really, it’s fine.” “For what it’s worth, he’s gone already.” “Who?” I feign innocence. “Tyler. He left early this morning.” “Oh,” I say, confused. “Okay, thanks.” A weight is lifted from my chest as I realize I won’t run into Tyler this morning. Not at my mother’s, not before I’m ready to talk to him. Maybe, for old time’s sake, I’ll come around with the lavender towels late this evening and suggest we talk. Maybe, there’s hope still.

Chapter 31 MAGGIE My mother and Mila are sharing tea and scones when I arrive at her house. Mila’s decked out in a long pearl necklace and has a pinky raised as she sips chamomile tea, and my mother is slicing the scone into bite sized bits and instructing her not to dunk it in the cup. I raise my eyebrows as I approach the table behind Mila, surprising her with a quick kiss to the neck. “Mom!” Mila squirms, sloshing a bit of tea over the side of her cup and onto the tablecloth. “That tickles!” My mother frowns at me, but ignores my interruption. “Mila, honey, set your tea down before you move around. You’re spilling all over the place.” “My fault, mom,” I say, not bothering to comment on the fact my mother is probably trying to instill something in Mila that hasn’t sunk into me. Manners? Class? I’ll never know because I don’t want to have this conversation. “Thanks again for watching the girls. I really appreciate it.” “Mila, honey,” my mother says. “Would you mind excusing yourself from the table and gathering your things? I want to talk to your mother for a moment.”

I feel the same dread I felt as a teenager when my mother would be waiting up, her eagle eyes watching as I pulled into the driveway two minutes behind my curfew time. Ready with a warning, a lecture, a threat. “Please excuse me,” Mila chirps, bustling up and out of her seat. As she runs out of the room, she pauses at the door. “Thanks for the tea, grandma.” My mother bows her head. “You’re welcome.” I watch, proud of my little munchkin. Once she’s gone, my mother turns to me, and says, “You’re welcome.” “Thank you?” I say, trying to remember if I hadn’t already thanked her. “I really appreciate you watching the girls,” I repeat. “It was very nice of you.” “I meant for instilling manners in her.” “You think Mila’s manners have nothing to do with me, her mother, the lady she sees every day?” “You didn’t exactly behave yourself like an angel when you were her age.” “I still don’t behave like an angel. Is that what this is about? Are you trying to turn Mila into your little angel?” I give a shake of my head. “Look, I think Mila is perfect—she’s my daughter, and I love her. But if you expect perfection, you’ll be disappointed.” “Are you talking about Mila?”

“I’m talking about anyone,” I say, pushing thoughts of Tyler away. For a brief moment, I thought he’d been perfect. Perfect for me, at least, and I’d been wrong—again. “I don’t want to have this conversation—” “You never want to have this conversation.” My mother lowers her voice as the sound of Mila getting her things together comes nearer. “Why not? Afraid of what you might find?” I stand, push my chair in. “Thanks again, mom. I’m sure the girls had fun.” “What about you?” “Excuse me?” “You asked me to host a sleepover so you could have one of your own.” My mother’s disapproving gaze meets mine. “Well, did you have fun at the party?” “It was fine,” I say, shortly. “Then why did Tyler pick up Jessica so early?” “How early?” “Seven. Said he had a flight to catch.” My heart thumps. “What?” “A flight. Hence the reason he picked her up at the crack of dawn—he apologized and said something had come up.” “Okay.” “You didn’t know.” A smug look settles on my mother’s face as she studies me. She must see something reflected back that tells her I’m not

ready for this game, however, because her expression falters. “Margaret? What happened?” “Isn’t this what you wanted?” I ask, quiet. “He’s gone now, so I hope you’re happy.” “Margaret.” I stand, pushing my chair in. “Thanks again, we’ll be going now—” “Margaret,” she says again, more firmly. “What happened?” “Why do you care? You’ve been rooting for this from day one. You’re right, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? You’re right. I shouldn’t have given Tyler a second chance,” I blurt. “I shouldn’t have fallen in love with him the first time, much less the second. It’s his fault I turned out to be a horrible person—that’s what you think, isn’t it?” “This has nothing to do with Tyler!” My mother stands, her chair scratching backward. “This has to do with you. You’re my daughter.” “Yes, I know I’m a disappointment to you.” To my surprise, my mother stops. Her mouth parts, and then nothing comes out. I shake my head, knowing I’d always been right, but not wanting her to confirm it so thoroughly. “I’m sorry,” I say, with a shrug of my shoulders. “I tried to be good enough for you, and it just didn’t work.”

Mila appears in the doorway, and a truce is called—as it always is—when she’s in the room. If it weren’t for her, I wonder if my mother would even bother inviting me for the holidays. “Bye, Grandma!” Mila bounces over and plants a kiss on my mother’s cheek before turning to grab my hand. “Ready, mom? Maybe me and Jess can play today. We got halfway through our game when her dad came this morning. He said they were going to her grandma’s house.” “Grandma’s house?” “You know, Tyler’s grandma—er, mom.” “We’ll see, honey,” I say, pulling her close to my side and holding on for dear life. “Let’s go home.” As we leave through the front door, I feel my mother following us, watching as we climb down the front path. And, as we slide into the car and pull away, she closes the door behind her.

Chapter 32 MAGGIE We drive back to the inn, and there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Never mind the now-day-old Halloween decorations that will need to be refreshed for Thanksgiving, or the Christmas decorations waiting for us in the closet. It’s a beautiful day outside, albeit cloudy, and normally I’d haul Mila, Emily, and anyone on staff outside to help decorate. Today, the idea of hanging Christmas lights is exhausting. Everything sounds exhausting. I just want to go back to bed and sleep until next Halloween, wishing for a redo of this one. Mila chatters nonstop as we enter the inn, and when she asks to find Jax for a cookie, I barely remember nodding and dropping her off at the kitchen. While she settles onto a bar stool, I make my way to the front of the inn and find Emily waiting, hesitant, at reception. I stand before her, sensing her unease as I rest my hands on the desk. “I’m sorry.” She relaxes, her shoulders curling forward as she stretches her arms across the desk, then decides that won’t work. Running around to the other side, she envelops me in a hug and pulls my head to her

shoulder. “Don’t apologize; we were just worried about you.” “Tyler...” I don’t need to finish. “He checked out first thing this morning,” Emily says, her voice painfully soft. “I’m so sorry. What happened last night?” I shake my head, my throat too constricted to speak. “Is it true?” she presses. “Did he buy the inn? Claire came by last night. She was worried about you, too.” “I’m sorry,” I whisper again. “I know I shouldn’t have ignored you both, but...” “Hey, we understand. We love you, you know that.” Those words, the words I’d longed to hear from my mother first, and then more recently from Tyler, stung. They stung in a way that hurt so good, a way that felt right. A way that made me wonder why love is such a fickle thing—so hard to find in so many people. I cling to Emily, the tears coming in torrents now, staining her shirt. “He’s gone,” I tell her. “He just up and left. I was going to apologize, and—” “Apologize for what?” Instantly on the defensive, Emily pulls me back to look at me. “I’m confused—I thought he hurt you.” “He did, but I overreacted, and—”

“You’re too kind, honey.” Emily pulls me back to her chest. “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be okay. I know it won’t be for a while, and in the meantime, just rest your head here and cry.” So, I do. I cry for some time, then retire to my room while Emily and Jax promise to entertain Mila for the day. I bring my phone with me, glancing at the blinking messages, and decide I can’t bear to hear his words again. Half-hearted explanations, a mangled apology—none of it changes the fact that he left. When the going got difficult, he left. That’s what Tyler does—he has fun until it’s not fun anymore, and then he escapes to his perfect little New York life. The life without complication, without messiness, without Mila and me. I should have known better, but I didn’t. I risked my heart again, and I lost it. I do a hard reset on my phone. I’ve started over before with a helluva lot less than I have now, and I’m positive I can do it again. As his messages, texts, his very contact information vanishes with the click of a button, I expect to feel a sense of relief. A sense of hope. A sense of...something. All I feel are the bitter dredges of a survival instinct, something telling me to go to sleep until

the pain is bearable. Squeezing the pillow to my chest, I turn off my phone, and I drift off alone.

Chapter 33 TYLER Two weeks have passed without a word from her. I’ve tried hundreds of times to get in touch with Margaret. I tried all the obvious ways first—calling, texting, emailing. No response. I can’t imagine she’s not getting her messages, so she must just be deleting them on sight, and I can’t blame her. I shouldn’t have left when I did, but at the time, it hadn’t felt like I had a choice. I realize how it must have looked to her in retrospect. I just never expected she’d shut me out completely. If I’d have known, I’d have waited longer, explained to her in person before acting in a rage and booking the first flight back to New York to take care of any business keeping me from Margaret. And now, it seems, I’ve done it. I’m back in New York, back to my life that should feel like it has everything, and yet, I have nothing. I couldn’t pull Jess out of school, so she’s staying with my parents in Harp’s Haven for a few weeks while I finish up my business here. It’s taking longer than I thought, and every day I spend here has me antsy, on edge. But if I don’t finish this

now, I’ll be looking over my shoulder forever, and I can’t have that. I came here to finish a job. So finish it I will do. As I wait in the conference room for others to file in, I glance at my phone, debating one more attempt to the front desk of the Lilac Inn. I already know how this phone call will go, however, since I’ve had it twenty times before...and counting. Either Emily will answer and hear the sound of my voice, then hang up immediately, or Luca will answer, hear the sound of my voice, and hang up immediately. I’ve been around this rodeo plenty. I even sent her a letter—a personal, handwritten note, but I doubt it ever got delivered to her room. If Emily’s screening her calls, I’m sure she’s screening the mail, too. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if Emily’s screening Margaret’s phone and deleting my calls and messages as they come in. “Good morning.” A man’s voice startles me from my thoughts. “Mr. Daniels, pleasure to meet you.” “Tyler.” I survey the young man’s bright eyes, the excitement and optimism bubbling through. “How are you, Seth?” “Very well.” Seth sits back in his chair, a bright, ambitious young man—the same sort of man I’d been upon arriving in New York City so many years ago. “I have to say, I was surprised by your call. I

thought you’d keep the company until the day they buried you.” “You and me both,” I say with a laugh. “Are you married?” “No, single.” I tilt my head to the side. “Let me know when you meet someone, and I’ll explain everything to you.” He laughs. “I don’t know, Tyler. I don’t think I could give it all up for a woman.” “Then you haven’t met the right one,” I say, and my voice comes out suspiciously like a growl. I try to recover with a forced laugh. “Just you wait. Give me a call when it happens, and we’ll talk.” With a hint of alarm, Seth nods. “Tell me more about the company.” “You have everything you’ll need in front of you.” I nod toward the thick packet I’d had my people send over to Seth’s office awhile back. He’s had plenty of time to review it, and we both know it. “The company’s growing and bringing in revenue like crazy. I’m selling it to you for a bargain. We both know that. I’m not here to negotiate; I’m here to sign the papers.” Seth leans forward. He’s a smart man, a young guy who invested in the right cryptocurrency at the tender age of twenty-one—a young man I know is in the market to buy businesses. I’m just hoping he’ll buy mine.

“Why me?” he asks. “Excuse me?” “You and I both know this deal is too good to be true.” Seth pushes the papers into the middle of the table, his eyes not bothering to glance at them. “Why me? You could’ve called up anyone with this offer, but you chose me, and I want to understand why.” He’s smart, Seth. Smart enough not to argue with the price, smart enough to leave negotiation off the table. It’s merely one of the reasons why I called him first. The other reason goes deeper than that. When I came to New York, I started in maintenance. I worked my way up the ladder. Seth was my replacement for the first apartment building I serviced. He knows what it’s like to work his way up from nothing. “Let’s just say that you remind me of someone.” I give him a wry smile. “I know you’ll take this company good places.” “This is about that apartment complex in Brooklyn, isn’t it?” “You did your homework,” I say, approving. “I signed off on your hire once I gave notice.” “I saw your name on all the work logs. I just hadn’t put two and two together.” Seth gives a bright, genuine grin for the first time. “Well, I’ll be damned.” “So, do we have a deal?”

“Where do I sign? He leans forward. “Any advice for me?” “Fletcher comes with the company. He’ll watch your back for anything related to the business.” Seth eyes me with caution. “I sense there’s a caveat to that.” I purse my lips. “No,” I say finally. “It’s just what I’ve said. He’s the best businessman around.” Understanding flickers in Seth’s eyes. “I see. Business comes first.” I pull out a pen and offer it to him. “Are we ready to sign?”

Chapter 34 MAGGIE A few weeks have lessened the sting of Tyler’s disappearance. The ache is still there, a burning hole in my chest that hasn’t yet scabbed over, but I know from experience that’ll take a while to heal. And when it does, it won’t disappear entirely. It’ll scab over, a pink little scar over the place where my unreturned love for Tyler is destined to live locked away safely behind my wound. “Mom!” Mila shrieks from her room. “Mom, can you come here?” I pull myself to my feet, setting the magazine down as my eyes flick toward Emily. “Barbie Mayday or Ken disaster?” Emily snorts with laughter. She reaches for a cookie and flips through a second magazine as her fingernails dry. “Both?” It feels good to laugh again, to sit around and eat cookies, flip through pictures of celebrities, and pop on a movie while I’m in my sweatpants. Emily has been good about being around a lot, keeping my mind free from the loneliness that creeps in at night. The times when I’m in my bed alone, feeling the cold other half that once had the potential to be so warm, are the worst.

That loneliness isn’t new, but it’s harsher. It’s a steel blade, battling back sleep and bringing forth memories. The memories are the worst. Tyler’s hands on me, his mouth at my ear, his words whispered so carefully it’s as if he’s next to me. When I open the door to Mila’s room and see Jess’s wide eyes staring back at me—there are memories there, too. Sweet ones, happy ones, and there’s a pang of longing every time Mila and Jess get together to play—quite often, for which I’m glad—but something is missing still. The four of us have turned into the three musketeers. And though the three musketeers are great, there are supposed to be four pieces to this puzzle, and we’re making do with what’s left behind. “Mom,” Mila says again, drawing my mind back to the present. “Jess’s mom was supposed to visit her for Thanksgiving, but she’s not coming.” “Oh, I’m sorry, honey,” I say. I’m not all that sorry about Anastasia—having met her, I can’t say I’m all too impressed with her personality—but I feel for Jess. To hope for something and be let down sucks. “Are your grandma and grandpa having something?” “A quiet meal,” she says, likely parroting back what her grandmother has told her. “They weren’t planning anything because they thought I’d be with my mom, but—”

“Can she come to ours? Please?” Mila begs. “Pretty please? It’s awesome,” she says, turning to Jess. “We have like, three tables piled with food. The whole dining room is decorated, and we get to drink apple cider and bubbly grape juice at night. Then we light a fire and decorate the Christmas tree once the grown-ups are done eating.” Jess’s eyes widen. “Really?” I find myself nodding, the memories, the promise of a family gathering warming the coldness that’s been shivering along my spine these past few weeks. It’s the distraction, the moment of good cheer that I need. To remind me I’m lucky—I have so much when others have so little. Before I know it, I’m joining Mila with the promises of a wonderful holiday. “If you’re interested,” I tell Jess, “I can talk to your grandparents and invite them. I know Mila would like someone to play with—it’s boring if she’s stuck around adults all day. Plus, we invite the guests of the inn, so it’s like a big party. It’s warm, and we roast marshmallows over the fire. We have every kind of dessert you can imagine, and...” I stop, feeling embarrassed. “Of course, if you’d prefer to keep it just your family, I’d understand.” She shakes her head. “Maybe you can talk to them?” “Of course,” I tell her, backing out of the bedroom as the girls continue to play. “I’ll call them

right now. We’d love to have you.” As I return to the living room, I’m left with the nagging thought that Tyler would love the party. He’d love the laughs, the cozy evening as we flick on Christmas music and set to decorating the tree. The past three years, we’ve gotten lucky with the first snowfall landing sometime post turkey dinner and pre-Christmas tree decoration. He’d love the finished product—the moment when we shut off all the lights except the tree and sit together as a little family, admiring the twinkle and glow while Bing Crosby croons in the background. We’d put the girls to bed after that, and we’d share a glass of wine, I imagine. We’d retire to our own bed where we’d make love until the moon rises high in the sky, and we’re both breathless with exhaustion. Then, we’d fall asleep in one another’s arms and rest, peaceful, until the morning sun returns. That’s what would happen...if Tyler loved me. But, he doesn’t, I think, shaking off the daydream. Though I’m lucky in many things, love isn’t one of them. This Christmas, I’ll be spending another holiday climbing into bed at night, alone.

Chapter 35 TYLER “It’s done.” Anastasia’s eyes crinkle as she opens the door. “What’s done?” “I’ve got the fund set up.” “What fund?” “You gave me a number,” I say to her, “and I met it. Now, I’d like you to sign this for me.” Anastasia glances down at a simple document I had my lawyer draw up for me. Essentially, it lays out a custody arrangement that allows me to move Jess to Maine full time. The part that’s not listed on there is the money—but we both know I’m good for that. I have plenty of money. What I need is freedom. “It’s like we discussed. You can arrange to visit Jess when you’d like; I won’t keep you from her. But you will sign over your parental rights completely.” I struggle to keep my voice even. “In return, I’ve set up a bank account with a million dollars. It’ll pay out an even sum every month until Jess turns eighteen. Child support,” I manage to spit out. Her chin tilts upward. “How do I know—” “I’ve met your terms, now you meet mine,” I tell Anastasia. “Otherwise, you won’t see another

dime from me until this is finished.” Anastasia’s eyes darken. “This is still about her, isn’t it?” “Of course it is.” There’s a moment of surprise when something flashes through Anastasia’s eyes, though it isn’t hurt. It’s annoyance, as if she’s lost a game I hadn’t known we’d been playing. “You never loved me like you loved her.” “No,” I find myself admitting. “I didn’t. And you didn’t love me, either.” She doesn’t dare argue with me because we both know it’s true. I would have married her for Jess, but never out of love. The only woman I’ve ever truly loved is Margaret. With an exhale, Anastasia grasps the pen and signs on the line. “I still think you’re making a mistake. You gave up your company, the city...for what?” I gape at her for a moment, but my expression fades as I realize a few years back, I had the same thought. The same mentality. For a moment, I feel pity. “For everything,” I finally answer. In a sudden burst of inspiration, I add, “thank you.” “For what?” “For making everything crystal clear.” I snap the pen against my palm, bouncing awkwardly on my toes in anticipation of my next move. With a last wave of gratefulness, I lean forward and brush

a kiss against Anastasia’s cheek. “I hope you understand someday.” She frowns, looking at me like I’ve escaped the looney bin. “When do the checks start coming?” My heart cracks somewhat, and I’m surprised at my reaction. Maybe it’s true that some people will never understand. “The first of every month,” I tell her. “There won’t be a problem.” “Great.” “Should I tell Jess to expect you for Thanksgiving?” “Oh, shit,” she says, her nose wrinkling. “I’m going to Paris. Can you cancel for me?” It’s the last straw. I turn, my shoulders heavy with all that she will miss in her daughter’s life, and I wonder if she’ll regret it later. When she’s old, and her beauty has left her and her travel days are behind her. “Goodbye, Anastasia.”

Chapter 36 MAGGIE Thanksgiving “Deck the halls with bells of holly,” Mila sings at the top of her lungs. “Fa-la-la-la-la—” “Boughs,” I correct, wincing as the shrill shrieking comes to a halt. “Deck the halls with boughs of holly.” “Really?” Mila’s nose wrinkles. “I think it sounds better the way I sing it.” Continuing on her merry little way, Mila grabs a small bag of tinsel from the storeroom where we keep our off-season decorations and carries them to the lounge. We’ve got a freshly cut evergreen set up in there, just waiting for eager hands to rest bells on its branches and stockings by the fire. The weather has cooperated, whipping up a chilly day outside, the threat of snow imminent. I pause at the front door, leaning outside to sniff. “Smells like snow,” I say, grinning as I turn back to find Emily balancing a tray of burnt orange goblets on one hand. “Need some help?” “Nah, just cracking open the bubbly a little early. Jax is putting the final touches on the turkey, so we should be good to eat in just a few minutes.” “Mila,” I call to her. “Wash up! Almost time for dinner!”

“But Jess isn’t here yet.” She appears in the doorway, a frown turning her lips upside down. “At school, she told me she was still planning to come.” I shrug, not allowing myself to think of Tyler. Today is a holiday—a pity-party free day for me. “Maybe her plans changed and her mother came to town.” “Her mom is dumb,” Mila says. “She never comes to town. Why does she have to come now?” “Mila,” I say sharply. “We don’t say things like that. Ever.” “Sorry,” she says, twisting her hands meekly before her body. “I didn’t mean she’s dumb, I just meant that it’s not fair. Anastasia never wants to see Jess. Today, I want to see Jess.” “We can’t be selfish,” I say, kneeling in front of her. “Thanksgiving is about being grateful for what we have. Just think—you get to see Jess almost every day. Sometimes, you get to see her a few times a day. Now, if her mother wants to spend the holiday with her, don’t you think it’s fair she gets to do that?” “I guess.” “Do you think you could try to be happy for Jess if that’s what happened?” I ask. “She’s probably very excited to see her mom.” Mila shrugs. “Probably more excited to see her dad. He should be coming back soon, too.”

My blood freezes and, despite my promise to myself, I wonder aloud. “What do you mean by that?” “He went back to New York to do some business things. That’s what Jess says. He’s coming back here, though, to live. That’s why she’s not too sad.” “To live...” “To live forever. Which is why I’m not sad either, and I guess Jess can spend today with her mom—since we’ll be friends forever.” Mila contemplates this in her six-year-old mind. “Forever is a long time. Thanksgiving is one day. Maybe we can have her over and show her the tree tomorrow.” “Sure, sure,” I say, standing, not hearing a word she said. Tyler’s coming back here to live? Forever? I press a hand to my chest as my breathing speeds up. His calls have dwindled somewhat, but they haven’t stopped. Every night at nine thirty he still calls and leaves a message. I’ve never listened to one of them—I can’t bring myself to hit the Play button, despite knowing I’m being ruthless and stubborn. It would hurt too much. I needed a clean break. I wonder if Mila’s misheard something, or if maybe his plan is still temporary—stay for a while, until Jessica finishes the semester. It’s tough to

switch mid-school year, I reason. Surely that’s what’s happening. Mila’s buzzing to wash her hands while Jax is shouting for all the inn to hear that the food is ready. “Come get it while it’s hot,” he yells. “I’m carving the turkey in four minutes, and if you’re not sitting down by then...” “Maggie?” Emily’s voice is soft. “Are you coming?” She finds me standing at the front door, the threat of snow dancing around us as the wind bites at my nose and licks at my cheek. Somehow, the frigid chill is fitting, and I welcome the painful gusts. “Y-yes,” I say, taking a step back. “Sorry, I was just thinking—” “Oh, there they are!” Emily chirps, waving a hand over my shoulder. “I was wondering if they’d show.” My heart nearly stops at her words, but the thump resumes once I recognize the car. Jess’s grandparents’ vehicle. “That’s them,” I say. I can’t seem to tear my eyes away, counting as everyone steps out. Her grandfather, her grandmother, Jess... The doors to the vehicle shut. I don’t know why I expected someone else to get out of that car—a large figure, maybe, dressed

in a perfect suit with a crooked little smile and a big, cocky stance. A man whose shoulders are broad and defined, whose stubble is rough against my skin. A man who isn’t here, I remind myself. “Maggie?” Emily asks. “Are you sure everything’s okay?” “Fine!” I manage in a falsely high voice as the company approaches. “Sorry, daydreaming for a moment.” “Don’t think about Tyler today,” Emily says, and I flinch. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help saying his name—he’s Jess’s father. You’re going to run into him again, so long as the girls are classmates and friends. I’m just trying to prepare you for that moment.” “Really, it’s fine,” I murmur. “Moment of weakness.” Emily doesn’t look convinced, but as the guests approach, our conversation fades to the background as we welcome the three newcomers into the warm inn, out of the cold, with big hugs and rosy cheeks. Mila spins around the corner, screeching with excitement as she envelops Jess in a hug. Jess, usually resigned, squeezes her right back, and the two girls dance giddy off to the dining room. “Thanks so much for having us,” Mrs. Daniels says. “We were going to do a small dinner at our place once...well, once our plans changed, but I

know Jessica was really looking forward to spending the day with Mila. And Brandon is very excited for some more of Jax’s cooking. It’s been too long since we stopped by for a bite to eat. Is your mother here, too?” “Actually, she’s helping out at church with her friends, but I assure you...” I pause dramatically with a grin at Tyler’s father. “Jax outdid himself this year. I’m sure you’ll be pleased with the meal.” Emily leads the way, and I can hear the sound of her seating everyone around the table, dishing out goblets of drinks, plates of eats, and endless rounds of side dishes and desserts. The noise beckons me, a friendly, familial call, but I hesitate for just a second longer. I stand in the front door and, before my eyes, watch as the first snowflake of the year swirls down in a lazy spiral, landing in a fat little puddle on my hand. I wait for more, anxious for a coating of white to blanket the earth. But it appears there’s no more snow in store for the day, at least for now. As I glance out at the empty road to the inn, I realize with startling clarity that nobody else will be coming to dinner.

Chapter 37 MAGGIE “I’m done!” Mila leaps up from her chair and glances around the table, begging the adults with silent eyes. “Anyone else done? Jess?” Jess looks to her grandparents, who give her the nod. With a grin, she jumps to her feet and follows Mila into the lounge area where we’ll spend the next few hours decorating the Christmas tree, munching on leftovers and piping Christmas tunes through the speakers. The adults remain at the table. Most of us have some version of dessert on our plates, whether it’s the homemade pumpkin pie with ice cream, some sort of cake in the shape of a cornucopia, or sugar cookies Mila helped Jax decorate for fall, it’s all wonderful. “I’ll get the fire started,” Jax says, pushing back his chair. “Did everyone get enough to eat?” I laugh. “If anyone walked away hungry, it’s their own damn fault.” A chorus of compliments to the chef breaks free as the adults separate into smaller groups, Emily and Luca and Lelia delving into a side story about Lelia’s weekend plans, while a few guests of the inn lean their heads together and marvel over the food.

Julia converses with a few other part-time staff at the inn, and I take the moment to sink back in the chair, listening to Mila’s shrieks of delight as she uncovers one ornament at a time, and then her murmured explanations to Jess about the story behind each one. My thoughts of Tyler have been pushed back some, thanks to the warmth I have built in here. Our home. There’s a lump in my throat as I look over to my co-workers, knowing my family might not be blood related, and also knowing that doesn’t matter. Tyler’s parents are among the inn’s guests marveling over the food. “I think we might head home,” Tyler’s mother says, standing first. “I’ll get Jess—” “She can stay,” I say quickly. “Mila would love the company. I can bring her back tonight, or tomorrow morning if you’d like.” “Oh, we don’t want to impose.” I wave a hand and wink. “What’s one more guest at the inn? Really, though, we’d love to have her. I’ve heard Mila’s Christmas ornament stories a million times—if Jess is up to stay, we’d love it.” “Let her stay,” Brandon says. “The kid loves it here.” “If you’re sure it’s fine,” Mrs. Daniels agrees. “I know she’d hate to leave now.”

“Let’s ask her,” I say with a wink. “I’ll call you later. Mila has a bunch of extra clothes and pajamas if she decides to sleep over.” We spend the next few minutes saying goodbye to Jess’s grandparents in between bouts of the girls dancing in excitement over the promise of a Christmas movie night and a sleepover. I walk them to the door and stand outside, waving and watching as they drive away. Even after they’re gone, I wait, listening, watching—for what, I can’t be sure. Snow? I sniff, but the scent that had hung heavy in the air earlier has now disappeared. Left is only the crisp, musty scent of fallen leaves and autumn colors. I fight back a wave of disappointment; I know not to expect snow on Thanksgiving every year, but I was hoping we’d make this year four of four. Still, the crispness feels nice on my face after the bubbling warmth of visitors, the crackling of Jax’s newly burning fire, and my fill of the best food in Harp’s Haven. “Mom! Come put on your hot dog!” I turn to head back inside. For years, the tradition is that I’ll place the hot dog ornament— my first ever ornament—onto the tree. Nobody else is allowed to decorate before I’ve nestled it between the branches. I haven’t thought about it for a while, but the ornament was a gift from Tyler. He’d bought it on a

whim as a souvenir for me, and for some reason, it’d held a special little place in my heart ever since. “One minute,” I call back. “Let me close up out here, and then—” My words dry up as the crunch of gravel beneath tires has me looking up, not believing what I’m seeing. A black car, an Audi, is pulling into the driveway. “Are we expecting anyone, Emily?” I call. “Do we have guests checking in?” She’s giggling, looking over her shoulder. “Don’t be an idiot, Luca.” Coming to a stop next to me in the doorway, she shivers and looks to me. “What’d you say?” I nod out at the parking lot. “Tell me that’s a guest checking in.” Emily’s bubbly attitude pops, and she clasps herself tighter in a hug against the cold. “We have one guest, but he requested a late check-in, and...that’s not a guest.” I don’t answer. “Maggie,” she says, slowly. “That’s Tyler. What’s going on? Have you talked to him without telling me?” “Of course not. I don’t know what he’s doing here.”

“I’m guessing he’s here to talk to you,” Emily murmurs, unhooking her arms from around herself and sidling closer to me. “Do you want me to send him away? I’d be happy to.” “No, his daughter’s here,” I say, gesturing helplessly behind me. “It’s Thanksgiving. He probably came to see her.” “I can walk Jess out,” Emily says. “You don’t have to do this—it’s a holiday, Maggie. You shouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable in your own home.” “The home he owns.” I watch the man who’s haunted my dreams for the last few weeks slide gracefully from the front seat. “I’m glad. I need to face him sooner or later for that very reason.” “But it doesn’t have to be today.” “I think it does. Can you do me a favor and stick the hot dog ornament on the tree so Mila and Jess can decorate?” “We’ll wait for you.” Emily clasps my hand. “I’ve got some marshmallows to roast and tinsel to hang first. And Luca’s working on the mistletoe...” Her face colors at the last word. “Sorry.” I give her a half-smile. “Do you mind if I do this alone?” “Of course not.” Emily reaches onto tiptoes and gives me a hug and quick cheek kiss. “We’re all right inside if you need anything. Anything, Maggie.”

With one final squeeze, she disappears, and I hear the quiet click of the latch on the door as it slides into place. Squaring my shoulders, I face out toward the parking lot, not meeting Tyler’s eyes as he glides toward the front porch. He moves with charisma, like he belongs in every space he occupies. The air seems to constrict outside, squeezing the oxygen out of it as that familiar smile grows nearer, filled with a twinge of concern that wasn’t there before. He meets the front steps head on, taking them slowly, savoring the space between us—a few steps closer, and we won’t be able to stand in silence, pretending this is all a dream. When he comes to a stop, it’s a foot away from me. Just close enough to be familiar, not close enough to be considered intimate. His eyes burn on me, but I can’t seem to pull my gaze from my feet. “Margaret,” he says, his voice rough. “I’m sorry.” I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. “Sorry?” My eyes raise to meet his, and it’s a mistake. There’s a rawness there, the joking in his smile long gone. The man before me looks worn, as if these last few weeks have been as much of a burden on him as they have been on me. Beneath the exhaustion there’s a peek of something else, a radiance that’s new, too.

“I’m sorry for leaving things the way I did,” he says, raising a hand. “I shouldn’t have—” “No,” I interrupt. “You shouldn’t have left us like that.” His eyes flash. “I wasn’t done talking.” I inch my arms into a crossed position and lean against the front post of the porch. I’m jittery and nervous. I hadn’t meant to snap at him, but I couldn’t help it. He’s apologizing for the same issue that’s already come between us before, and I don’t like the pattern. I nod for him to go ahead. “I’m sorry I left things the way I did,” he continues, “but you have to believe me when I say I tried to right things, Margaret.” I don’t trust myself not to give a sarcastic response, so I remain silent. “I stopped by your room that night I don’t know how many times—fifteen? Twenty? More?” He shakes his head. “I know I didn’t sleep a damn second knowing you were just down the hall from me, upset, and not letting me in.” “You kept a pretty big secret from me, Tyler.” “I did, but—” “It was something that involved me. When were you planning on telling me?” “I bought the inn because it’s a good investment, and I thought you’d be happy about it.”

“Why would I be happy about it?!” My fingernails clench tighter against my arms. “I’ve spent the last six years trying to bulletproof a lifestyle for Mila and myself. When she was born, I had nothing. No help—my mom didn’t want anything to do with us at the time; I was a pregnant college dropout. Do you think people wanted to hire me? No.” “I wish I’d known.” “You weren’t around to know, remember?” I raise a hand. “That’s the entire problem. You disappear when things get difficult. I should’ve known better this time, but I saw what an amazing dad you are to Jess, and I thought maybe you’d changed. Maybe you’d had to grow up when Jess was born, and you did—you have, in some ways. I guess just not when it comes to me.” “I didn’t leave!” “What do you call running off to New York for three weeks?” “You could’ve answered one of my calls. One damn call,” he says back, something breaking inside of him. “Do you know how much it pained me to be away from you? From Jess?” “Then why were you?!” I step closer to him. “We didn’t want you to leave! How is that hard to understand?” My arms are flailing, and Tyler catches one of them. “I understand that. Can you take a second to

try and understand me?” The plea in his voice gives me pause, as does the warmth of his hand on my cool arm. “I’m listening.” “I didn’t leave Harp’s Haven,” he says, his voice calming. “I was preparing to stay.” “Stay where?” At this, Tyler reaches into the pocket of his jeans, and I note he’s wearing that soft gray sweater I admired on him a few weeks back. He looks utterly amazing, sturdy and broad, warm and protective. From his pocket, he removes a few pieces of paper, neatly folded into a square. “First,” he says, unfolding one and handing it over. “The note I needed from Anastasia allowing me full custody to move Jess back here. I couldn’t move her from the state without this.” I look at the neat little signature on the line, the words that give Tyler the freedom to keep his daughter here. At home. “Then, there’s this,” he says, handing over the second sheet of paper. “The second point of business I needed to address.” My eyes bug out at a number on the sheet of paper. There’s a dollar sign in front of it with so many zeros following it that I’m rendered temporarily speechless. “What is this?” “I sold my company.”

“Why?! Tyler, you didn’t have to—I would’ve never asked...” I shake my head. “Why would you do this?” “I don’t have any interest being in New York presenting to the board of directors, nor do I have the desire to travel around, scout out real estate, and build up new properties.” “Then what—” “Here’s my last offering.” Tyler hands over a third sheet of paper. “It’s old and outdated, and I didn’t have that fancy paper you’re supposed to use.” My eyes scan over a document I haven’t seen since high school. “A resume?” Tyler’s lips quirk up in a smile. “Until I figure out what I want to do next with my life, in terms of career, I thought I’d see if the Lilac Inn was hiring.” “For what?” “Exactly what it says.” He brings a finger and points to the top line. “Handyman. Maintenance, whatever you want to call it. Think of me as a contractor for hire, but you don’t have to pay me. Give me a list of home improvement projects for the inn, and I’ll earn my keep.” “Tyler,” I say, my hands shaking. “You own this place. Don’t be ridiculous.” “I’m not.” He draws himself closer to me. “I realized coming back here the first time that I’d lost

touch of me. Who I am, my roots—whatever the hell you want to call it. Made me think about what I really want to do in life.” “What is that?” “I want to raise my baby girl to be a strong and independent woman,” he says, his voice level. “I want to have a family, a home, a wife. You, Margaret—I want you. I want to create a life together.” “Tyler, you can’t—” “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t feel, Margaret,” he says. “I know I was wrong to leave the way I did, but I tried. I tried to get you to listen, and you wouldn’t give me that. I’ve called you every night at nine thirty, just praying that each time would be the time you picked up. You never did—not once.” “I couldn’t. I have...” My lips tremble. “I told you, Tyler, I’ve been spending most of my adult life trying to make ends meet. Finally, the ends are meeting, and we have extra. Our life is full—me and Mila, we are a family. We’re enough.” Tyler’s face is frozen in a look of dismay, and his shoulders pull stiffly upward. “I understand.” “We have a home, and a career, and a life. A family and amazing friends.” I gesture to the inn around me. “Can you see how it would terrify me to hear that you, Tyler Daniels, bought this place?”

Confusion streaks through his gaze. “I thought you’d be relieved. Nobody’s going to tear down Julia’s bookstore anymore—I own that, too. With the profit from the sale of my company backing the Lilac Inn, we’ll be able to expand and compete with any competition. Hell, we’ll squash any competition before they set foot in town. I thought I was helping you, Margaret. I don’t see how this could be a bad thing.” “Sure, it’s job security,” I say, my eyes fluttering as I glance down at my feet. “So long as you like me.” “What?” He reaches out, his hand resting on my chin. “What are you talking about?” “We’re not engaged, Tyler, we haven’t made a lifelong commitment to one another. What happens if you decide you miss the excitement of the city? What if another woman comes along who’s more interesting than me, prettier, younger, whatever you want to say. What if you lose interest in me?” “Maggie—” I hold up a hand. “I have to watch out for Mila and myself. If you...if something happened between us and things went sour, I’d not only be out a career, I’d be out a family, a home, a life. It’s too much power to give one person, and I have to be careful—especially when it felt like I’d been blindsided. I don’t like change, Tyler, and that was a helluva change all at once.”

“Margaret.” His voice crashes over me, like waves on a rocky shore. “There is no one else— there won’t be anyone else. I want you—only you. I always have, and I always will. So long as you want me, I’ll be here.” I shake my head. “I don’t know, Tyler.” “Do you want me to sell the inn?” I blink. “No, Claire wants you to have it, and it’ll be good for the business to have some additional cash, and—” “Screw business, what do you want?” I swallow. “I don’t know.” “Can you think about it?” Tyler asks, stepping closer to me. “Can you forgive me for leaving the way I did, if I promise—and mean it—when I say I’ll never leave again? I’m moving back here, Margaret, and Jess is, too.” “I can try,” I say, my voice shaky. “I’m sorry, too. I know I was stubborn, and—” Tyler’s kiss swallows the rest of my apology. His hands raise possessively to clasp my face between his palms, holding me to him, warming me from the inside out. “Margaret Marshall,” he murmurs against my lips. “I love you more than you can imagine. Please, give me a chance.” I give a shake of my head. “You just came back here out of the blue—I don’t know what to think.”

“Give me time,” he says. “Until Christmas. My assistant booked a room for me under his name—” “You’re the guest arriving tonight?!” “I was worried if I called and got Emily, she would hang up on me. Again.” He gives a hollow laugh. “I’m sorry, it’s the last time I’ll do that.” “It’s fine, of course you can stay here, and Jess —Mila will be ecstatic.” “So will Jess,” he says. “She’s been keeping me updated on all you’ve been doing for her while I’ve been away. Inviting her to Thanksgiving...” His eyes soften. “Thank you. I mean that. If you never love me, I’ll always be grateful for what you’ve done for Jess.” “It’s nothing.” “It’s everything. You’re everything—my everything,” he says. “Give me some time. Let me stay here another month. Give me a list of projects to work on for the inn. You don’t even have to know I’m here if you don’t want. I’ll be a ghost, invisible, unless you decide you’d like otherwise.” “You don’t have to do that, Tyler.” I give a wry laugh. “You own this place, now. You don’t need permission to be here.” “I bought this place, but it’d be nothing without you, Emily, Jax, Luca, Lelia—come on, Margaret, I’m not a complete idiot. I might act like one sometimes, but I know Claire doesn’t run this place. You do. You make this place home.”

“Of course you can stay,” I tell him. “You don’t have to do projects, or whatever the hell you put in that brain of yours.” “I want to.” His face pinches. “I’ve been out of things for too long. It’d be good for me—it’s work I want to do.” I shiver. “Whatever makes you happy.” “Are you cold? Let me take you inside.” “Tyler,” I say, slipping my hand into his and holding him back onto the front steps. “Yes?” My breath fogs the air as I breathe, trying to put a finger on the words I want to say. Despite my arguments, my fears, my desire to stay away from him, I know that I can’t. My heart is thumping with his every touch, and my body is malleable against him. I need Tyler as much as he says he needs me. Before I can utter anything of the sort, the first real snowflake of the season falls. Bigger than the last one, and this time, it’s not alone. Chubby little flakes flutter down, the smell of snow swirling around us like a perfume. “Look,” I murmur, holding out a hand. “It came!” Silently, Tyler wraps me in his arms. My head comes to rest on his chest, and we stand together, glued in a motionless slow dance as blips of white begin to pelt down faster and faster, obscuring my vision as they land on my lashes.

I blink, laughing as Tyler kisses them away, his lips warm against my cheek. His mouth makes its way down to my neck, sending fissures of electricity through my body. Eventually, he makes his way back to my mouth, parts my lips, and our tongues tangle in a wild, hopeful lust for more. When we finally separate, the world around us has a dusting of white. He meets my gaze. “I love you, Margaret.” “I’m glad you’re back,” I finally murmur. “And I promise you, I’m going to try.” Tyler kisses my forehead mid-reply when the front door swings open. There are a few mixed looks from the staff of the inn, puzzled expressions as Jax spies us locked together, and Luca frowns. Emily is more optimistic, a faint smile quirking her lips upward, but it’s Jess who sums up the swirl of emotions best of all. “Dad!” she cries, flinging herself into a threeway hug with me sandwiched between father and daughter. “You’re home!”

Chapter 38 TYLER I’m not sure exactly what I’d expected, showing up like this—on a holiday no less—while Maggie is surrounded by her team of moral support, but I know what I’d hoped. I’d hoped she’d throw her arms around me, pepper my face with kisses, and draw me into the bedroom while confessing her love for me. That’s what I’d dreamed of happening. Not what I expected. I halfway expected Maggie would send Emily outside to greet me, then kick my ass to the curb. I’d probably known Margaret wouldn’t do that—if not for my sake, then for Jess’s. I’d thought Maggie might feign politeness for the crowd, and then dismiss me with the cold shoulder as darkness fell on the inn. I hadn’t let myself wish—truly wish—for this. The soft little touches, the hand-holding. The shared hot chocolate by the fire as Margaret kicks her legs into my lap and my fingers run along her calves, gently massaging, just like we’d done before our unfortunate break. Margaret is a woman of her word. When she promised me outside, under the first snowfall of the year, that she’d try—she meant it. I can see that with every one of the warm looks she sends my

way, and the way her hand brushes against mine as we ease decorations onto the Christmas tree. “I can’t believe you still have that one,” I say, when the night is sleepily drawing to a close. I point to the hot dog. “The first one I ever owned,” she admits. “I have a fondness for that little weiner.” We laugh, curling into one another and stealing a last kiss before the lights of the Christmas tree. Mila and Jess are off brushing the sugar cookies they’ve been inhaling from their teeth in preparation for bedtime. I hold out a hand to Margaret. “I hate to break the moment, but there are going to be some annoyed little girls if we don’t get reading to them.” “I promised them a movie,” she says, wincing. “Sorry. That was before...er, I didn’t know you’d be here.” I pull her close, brush a kiss to her forehead. “Tell me you’ll share a blanket with me, and I won’t mind in the slightest.” She crooks an eyebrow up. “You planning to finish that foot rub? If so, I think we can reach a deal, Mr. Daniels.” “At your service,” I tell her, swooping her cheesily off her feet. “Let’s get moving.” The girls decide on The Grinch, and before I know it, we’re halfway through the film and three girls’ heads are bobbing with dreams of sugar plum

fairies and snores that have no business coming from such little bodies. Mila snores like a bear, and Jess has fallen asleep on her arm, somehow drowning out the racket with her own sleep talking. Only Margaret sleeps quietly, her face a smooth, stunning picture of raw beauty. She showered before the movie, and her face is makeup-less and natural—my favorite. I’ve been staring at her for the last ten minutes before finally realizing I should start moving some bodies to bed. I begin with Jess, and then Mila, moving them to their pre-prepared sleeping quarters in Mila’s room. They’d opted to set up a tent on the floor tonight, and it’s a bitch trying to wiggle them in there, but eventually I succeed with only a few fluttering eyelashes in the process. Next, I look to Margaret and try to decide what my next course of action should be. We’re in her apartment, so I don’t feel right taking the bed while she takes the couch. But there’s definitely no room on the other couch for me to curl up and rest—I’m a tall man, and that thing is a love seat. I’m absolutely not leaving, not unless Margaret expressly asks me to go, so I opt for the same option as I had with the girls—bringing her to bed. She’s lighter than I remember, smaller, and I feel a hit of guilt as I realize all I’ve been putting her through these last few weeks. The stress—

wondering what’ll happen to her job, her life, her family. I shudder, resolving to never put her through anything like that again. Next time, from here on out—forever—I’ll be by her side. I’ll diffuse the obstacles where I can, steal the stress for myself, hold her close when there’s nothing I can do and the world throws us a curveball. At least we’ll be together. I get Margaret to the bed and cover her with the sheet, brushing some stray hairs away from her face. Outside the window, snow continues to fall and the branches of trees have begun to bend underneath the weight of it. I’ve never seen anything like it—the first snow, on Thanksgiving, brightening the world with an ethereal glow. But today of all days, I’m convinced miracles exist. Especially when Margaret’s voice calls to me. “Stay.” I’m halfway out the door, my hand resting on the knob as I prepare to shut it. “Margaret? Are you awake?” She rolls over, her eyes unmistakably glistening, reflecting the moonlight back at me. “Please, stay.” I close and lock the door behind me, sliding out of my sweater and jeans as I climb into bed next to her. I freeze halfway under the covers. “I didn’t mean to get undressed, I just—”

“Tyler.” Her hand reaches for me, lands on my bare stomach, and her skin burns against mine. “I meant it. I want to try. I want to go all in this time.” She’s the oxygen that fuels my fire, and this is the spark that sets me off. “I want you more than anything, Margaret. But if you’re not ready—” She leans up on her elbow and plants a hot, hard kiss on my mouth that draws my primal nature forward. My hand reaches for her face, pulling her to me, savoring the taste of her. “I’ve missed you,” I murmur against her. “God, I’ve missed you, Margaret.” “Me too,” she says. “Don’t you ever leave me again, Tyler Daniels, do you understand me?” I roll on top, cradling her beneath me. “I swear on my life, Margaret. I’m here to stay.” “Make love to me, Tyler,” she whispers, her eyes blinking closed as her hands reach for me. “Please.” I’m wild with need for her, and it’s everything I can do to undress her slowly, with painstaking caution, kissing every inch of her body en route. I taste the softness of her stomach, the curves of her hips. My tongue runs up her inner thigh, finally landing on her core. I bask in pleasure as her breath comes in gasps while I lick and tease, driving her toward a climax that she needs. “Tyler,” she gasps. “I’m close, please, I need you—”

“You’ll have me,” I growl, locking my fingers through hers. “Patience, sweetheart.” “Tyler!” She burns through her climax, the orgasm rocking her body with shudders. Her breath comes in gulps and her legs tremble. I hold her through it all, savoring the sweet smile on her face as her eyes close and her trembles quiet to stillness. “That’s just the beginning, honey,” I tell her. “I have a lot to make up for.” “You don’t have to make up for anything.” Her hands reach for my boxers and pull me closer. “I just want you.” I shed my boxers and, out of habit, pick up my jeans for my wallet. At the last second, I drop them to the floor. “What are you doing?” she asks, then understanding dawns on her eyes. “Oh, right— condom. Go ahead.” “No.” I return to her, holding over her, my arousal nudging against her entrance. “I am not going anywhere, Margaret. I’m here for good.” “I thought you were worried—” “The only thing I’m worried about is you not trusting me,” I tell her, grinning as her mouth parts in desire as I press into her, ever so slightly. “I’m not opposed to more kids. Say the word—I’ll put a ring on your finger, and we can get down to business.”

“Damn it, Tyler.” Maggie’s hips pulse upward, her back arching as her fingernails dig into the sheets. “Stop procrastinating!” With a devilish grin, I ease inside slowly, fighting back Maggie’s breathless pants. My fingers dig into her hips, holding her back, forcing her to feel every slow and tender movement. Every moment, every second. And then, once I’m inside of her, my own breath crushes out in a gasp, and I can’t handle the anticipation anymore. I thrust faster, matching Maggie’s beats with my own, driving the pair of us upward, wild—the snowstorm outside gaining fury as the heat inside burns bright, brighter still. The frenzy builds until Maggie’s eyes grow wide and her nails scratch across my back. Her fingers dig into my back as she pulls me close, and as I empty into her, she cries my name against my shoulder. I hold her to me as she lets out a short breath, halfway between a sob and a laugh. “I didn’t expect that sort of reunion,” I say, holding her to my chest. “But damn am I glad to be home.” “Me too,” she says. “I guess I really missed you.” “I love you, Margaret,” I whisper against her ear. “Thank you for giving me a chance.” “Happy Thanksgiving, Tyler. I love you.”

I press a kiss to her temple, thinking I hadn’t understood the meaning of grateful until I’d unwittingly stumbled back into Margaret Marshall’s life. “It’s the weiner, isn’t it?” I whisper against her ear. “What?” “The hot dog ornament,” I say. “That’s what won you over, back in the day. That’s what started this whole thing off.” She barks a laugh, then covers her mouth with her hand. “Yes, Tyler. It was the weiner that did the trick.” “Good,” I tell her, curling close against her. “There’s more where that came from.” “Are we talking about ornaments?” “Goodnight, Margaret.” She laughs softly. “Goodnight, Tyler.” Outside the snowstorm continues through the night, sending white flakes spiraling against the window. The moonlight casts a silvery glow over the bed, and finally, finally, I know where I belong. “Tyler,” Margaret murmurs, sometime later, her voice sleepy. “Mmm?” “Before, I told you Mila and I didn’t need anything more,” she says, her voice hesitant. “And I suppose that’s true; but, I want more. So badly.”

The pain in my heart eases, ever so slightly. “Me too, Margaret,” I promise her. “Me, too.”

Epilogue MAGGIE Christmas Eve Teeth have been brushed, Elf has been watched, and The Grinch has been read. The girls are tucked into bed and sleeping soundly, and Tyler’s bitten the heads off of the cookies left for Santa Claus. The glass of milk has been drunk and stockings are hung. We’re ready for Christmas. Tyler is tucked into my bed—our bed—waiting, I hope, with a treat that can’t be wrapped in a box. I climb from the shower, glancing at the calendar on my phone to make sure I’ve checked off everything I need to do for the inn. We’ve having a big Christmas bash tomorrow, and it’s been a month of planning. Of preparing menus and treats, decorations and entertainment, party bags and guest lists. It’s also been a month of toe-curling, spinetingling nights with Tyler Daniels, and soft-spoken mornings over coffee before the girls join us. Then those little feet patter out of bed and turn the day into a noisy burst of four. A little, unofficial family that came together on Thanksgiving without a hiccup. The girls have adjusted seamlessly—even better than expected.

Tyler’s been busy fixing up the inn, changing out all the washers and driers, repainting rooms in desperate need of an update, hammering, sawing, and generally making a racket. He seems to love it, and I have to admit—I love having him around. Slipping into a sexy, little red nighty I’d bought especially as a Christmas treat for Tyler, I check off the list on my Google calendar. All is set for tomorrow, I think, exhaling with relief. Until I spy a tiny little red dot in the corner from two weeks back. I bite my lip, thinking back, struggling to remember the last time I’d actually had my period. Not since... I gasp. Not since before Thanksgiving. “Holy shit,” I murmur, scrambling under the kitchen sink. I know I have some old pregnancy tests in here—Emily insists on keeping them on hand. I don’t know why since I previously hadn’t had sex for years, but now I’m grateful for her precautions. Quickly, I take care of business, humming an impatient tune as I set a timer on my phone. “Margaret?” Tyler calls. “I hope you’re getting naked.” “Yeah, one second,” I call back, aware I sound less enthused than he hopes. “Almost ready.” “Everything okay?”

I’m staring at the test, at the little symbol. I double check the box. Triple check. Quadruple check against the stick. There’s a knock on the door. I struggle to offer an explanation, but I can’t find the words, so instead, I just open the door and stand there— waiting. “You look incredible.” Tyler’s eyes scan me up and down. “Look, Margaret, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about first. I mean, you look gorgeous, but maybe—” “Wait.” I stick my hand on his shoulder, not sure if he’s the one trembling, or if it’s me. “I need to talk to you.” “What’s wrong?” I swallow. “Tyler, I swear to you—” “Margaret?” His face turns alarmed as he pulls me to his chest. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” I collapse against his chest. “You were right, and I’m so stupid—I’m so sorry, I just wanted you so badly, and I didn’t think—” “Hey, hey, what are you talking about?” “You didn’t—you haven’t been using condoms with me.” “And?” “And...” I step back, throwing the door wide open so Tyler can see the test on the counter. “I’m pregnant.”

Tyler’s face reacts first with shock, his mouth opening and closing in surprise. He spies the test, then my face, before worry clouds his own. “I swear I’m on the pill, and I—I guess I missed a few days before you came back because I was upset, but...I thought they’d have kicked back in again. I’m sorry.” “Thanksgiving?” he asks. “Probably,” I say with a sullen nod. “I don’t know—” “That’s incredible!” Tyler’s voice breaks as he clutches me to his chest in a bear hug that nearly cracks my ribs. “Margaret, I’m so—why are you crying? This is amazing news. Unless...do you not want more kids? I guess I always just figured—you love Mila so much, and...” “I thought you would be upset,” I whisper against his shoulder. “You said you didn’t want to bring another child into the world—” “—who didn’t have two committed parents,” he finishes. “But I’m committed, and you’re the most wonderful mother I know.” “Tyler—” “Wait. I had something I wanted to ask you. Before this news, this happy news,” he says, tripping over his feet as he moves toward the bed. He’s wearing only his boxers, fumbling around under the pillow before he turns to me with a wild

expression on his face. “I have had this since I came back to Harp’s Haven.” “Tyler, you don’t have to—” “This has nothing to do with you finding out you’re pregnant,” he says, easing himself onto one knee. “I love you, Margaret Marshall. You taught me the meaning of love, and I want to spend the rest of my life exploring it with you.” His hands shake as he takes mine in his. My feet have crept across the room, one hand resting on my stomach while the other hand sits in his outstretched palm. “Will you marry me, Margaret?” Tyler asks. “Will you make me the happiest man alive? Will you be the mother of Jess, and Mila, and the rest of our children?” “Are you sure? Tyler, you don’t have to—” “I didn’t make this ring appear from nowhere,” Tyler says, a wry grin. “I’ve had it for a while now. I’ve been waiting for the right time, and I was hoping you’d say yes tonight.” “I love you, Tyler,” I say, tears finally pricking my eyes as I realize what’s happening. “Yes, Tyler, Of course.” With shaking hands, Tyler slides a beautiful ring onto my finger. Once it’s there, in place—sparkling like the snow outside our window—he stands, brings me to his chest and fastens his lips to mine.

“Come on,” he says, gleeful. “I’m putting pants on, and we’re waking the girls.” “But, Tyler!” I laugh. “We can wait until morning!” “Nope.” Tyler’s looking like a child in his excitement, hopping around on one leg as he shoves himself into a pair of sweatpants. “They’re going to be sisters! Big sisters. We’ll be a family, Maggie, this can’t wait.” I laugh with him as he wraps me in a robe and drags me from the room. “Santa can’t top this one,” he says. “Though I’d like to see him try.” “Hey, one second.” I stop him at the door for one moment, one tender kiss. It lasts long, longer than I expect, leading us to tumble back into bed. By the time we manage to unlock our limbs from one another, giddy and breathless, I pull his face to mine and grin. “Merry Christmas, Tyler Daniels.” The End

Author’s Note Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the story! If you’re interested in more sexy, fun romance stories—stay tuned for the next book releasing in January 2018 titled AWKWARD! Read on for the synopsis!

Awkward LADIES, I know how things look from the outside. I’m rich. I’m a successful surgeon. I’m handsome. I should have women lining up from here to New Jersey clawing for space in my bed, but there’s one huge catch. I’m f*cking awkward. Every time I get a date, I spoil it. Asked if she’s pregnant? Check. Forgot her name? Check. Bought a meat lover’s pizza for my vegan girlfriend? Check, check, check. This is why my best friend, romance fanatic Allie Jenkins, has declared that she’s swooping in to save the day. She’s prepared a list of required reading straight from The Ripped Bodice, and I’m supposed to take notes, learn from the best, and put that shit into action. After all, practice makes perfect, right? Wrong. Allie’s volunteered to let me practice these shiny new romance tactics over a series of pretend dates—which leads to one giant problem. I’m falling head over heels in love with my best friend, and she thinks it’s all fake.

Just when I’m starting to get the hang of this thing called love, I can’t help but turn everything upside down, inside out, and all around awkward.

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*** Lastly, if you happened to enjoy the story and can spare five minutes out of your day, honest reviews at the retailer of your choice are always welcome and appreciated. Thank you so much in advance!

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Did you love Dad Bod? Then you should read Delivery Girl by Lily Kate!

Good things come in extra-large, smoking hot packages. Things like pizza. The very pizzas that I deliver for my dad’s restaurant, Peretti’s Pizza. It’s a temporary job, something to pay the bills until I graduate from school, but it does the trick. In fact, it's working quite well until Ryan Pierce of the Minnesota Stars decides to order a pizza from me, and life as I know

it turns upside down. You see, Ryan Pierce doesn’t just open his front door. He opens it buck naked. And suddenly, I’m not the one boasting the biggest, hottest package in the room. However, it’s what happens next that gives me butterflies whenever my phone beeps. Ryan starts to call, and then text, and then fifteen pizza deliveries and one fantastic night later, we’re friends with benefits. So when he asks me to be his fake girlfriend at his brother’s wedding, I’m happy to help. But the longer we pretend, the more I worry that this is one package I might not be able to handle. ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** This is a full-length, standalone romantic comedy with an HEA. It is intended for audiences 18+ due to mature content including romance, language, and ridiculously fun times.