“My sister is good company,” he said and grinned. “I’m sure you’ll get her best tiny-town tour. By the way, I hope I didn’t upset you when I made that comment about your cousin.”

  “No.” She got to her feet. “I’m just a little overprotective. People always want to believe the worst of those who’re famous. And Shay has been through some tough times. But she’s working through it. Sometimes it’s hard, though, because the paparazzi are relentless. Whenever my family get together we’ve had helicopters over our houses with photographers trying to get a photo of her doing something scandalous. The truth is, Shay is one of the least scandalous people you’d ever meet. And one of the kindest.”

  “It’s true when they say fame comes with a price tag.”

  “For sure,” she breathed. “I’ve witnessed Shay being hounded by the press and she’s always polite and so generous with her fans.”

  “So, she’s the famous half of the band S&M?” he queried, smiling broadly.

  “The talented half,” Marnie corrected and took the coffee mug he passed. “There’s leftover mac and cheese in the refrigerator if you’re hungry.”

  “Will you judge me if I tell you I feel like ice cream?”

  “Not at all,” she replied. “What flavor have you got?”

  He opened the freezer. “Fudge Mint or Salted Caramel?”

  “Fudge Mint,” she replied and soon they were sitting at the table, a spoon each, sipping coffee and sharing a tub of ice cream. “I suppose you can eat anything you like and never put on a pound?”

  “Pretty much. You?”

  Marnie’s brows shot up. “You’ve got to be kidding. I’ve never been that lucky.”

  He shrugged. “No man likes skin and bones anyway.”

  Marnie tapped the spoon on the edge of the container. “Some do.”

  “The cheating ex?”

  “No,” she replied. “Despite what he did, Heath wasn’t that superficial. He said looks didn’t matter—which is probably a backhanded insult, anyway. But my sad story is that I got rejected by a guy in college because, he said, I was fat.”

  He winced. “Sounds like a jerk, then.”

  “He was. But no girl likes to hear that word.”

  “People who say things like that never realize how much harm they’re causing. But never forget that they’re jerks for saying it, and it’s normal to be upset by those comments,” he said.

  “That’s good advice.”

  “If my daughters are ever in a situation like that, I hope they talk to someone they trust about how they feel, and they learn to be kind to themselves.” His expression was intense.

  “I wish I’d heard this when I was a teenager...” she said and sighed. “My dad was more the ‘if someone is calling you fat, lose a few pounds, then’ kind of parent.”

  “You’re not serious?” Joss asked, looking incredulous.

  She nodded and shrugged. “I don’t think he meant to be unkind. That was just his way, I guess.”

  “Do you see him much?”

  She shook her head. “Not a lot. He left when I was twelve and got married again a couple of years later. We speak every few weeks, but it’s nothing deep or meaningful. What you said yesterday was probably right—I think he feels guilty, but I think he would still have made the same decision to leave. My mom—” she shuddered out a long breath “—she was troubled. She suffered with bipolar disorder and he said she was hard to live with at times. And I guess he believes he had his reasons for leaving, but...”

  “But that doesn’t make it hurt any less?”

  Her throat tightened. “Exactly.”

  “My father resurfaced a few months ago after nearly twenty years,” he said quietly, and then all she could hear was the faint tick of the clock on the wall and the gentle hum of the refrigerator. “He’s sick and wants to reconnect.”

  “Do you?”

  “I haven’t decided yet,” he replied.

  “So, what you’re saying is that we all have stuff going on in our lives?”

  He shrugged. “I’m saying that it’s okay to be disappointed in your parents. I’m sure my girls will have their fair share of disappointment in me as they get older.”

  “I doubt that,” she said and met his blistering gaze. “They adore you.”

  “They want me to get married again.”

  Marnie held the visual connection. “But?”

  “I’m not sure I have it in me,” he said. “I loved Lara. I still do. But kids see things easier than adults. They see an empty seat at the dinner table, I see a place where my wife used to sit.”

  Marnie’s insides contracted. She’d never known love like that. And suddenly, she experienced a deep-rooted envy of Lara Culhane. And she wondered, as she shared ice cream and conversation with Joss, if he could read that feeling from her expression. If he did, she would be humiliated, because she didn’t want Joss thinking she was swooning or pining or any of that nonsense. Because that was what it was, right? She was being swept away by the fact she was in his house, sharing meaningful conversations. He was nice and friendly and, frankly, gorgeous, and she was a flesh-and-blood woman who hadn’t had male attention since forever—no wonder she was hungry for it.

  “I think I’ll call it a night,” she said and got to her feet. “I had a nice day. Thank you for taking me with you guys to the ranch.”

  He pushed back in his seat. “You’re running away?”

  “Absolutely,” she admitted, coloring hotly. “It’s a defense mechanism.”

  “Against what?”

  “Against whatever is going on here,” she said and waved a hand between them. “Which is probably all in my imagination, but feels real, nonetheless.”

  His gaze held hers. “You’re not imagining it.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. God, she didn’t have conversations like this. She wasn’t sexy or flirtatious. She didn’t know how to be. Her head was already spinning from the fact he’d suggested they go out on a date. He wasn’t really interested in her—was he?

  “I’m not?”

  “No,” he replied. “I enjoy your company. I like talking to you.”

  And that was it. A gal pal...that was what he wanted? He’d already told her he didn’t have female friends... Perhaps he was turning over a new leaf and wanted to try her out, so to speak, to see if he could have a woman friend.

  “So, before,” she muttered, heat crawling up her neck, “when you said we should go out, you meant like, just to hang out? Not a real date?”

  “A real date? Are we talking about sex now?”

  She gasped, seeing the query in his expression, and thinking no man had the right to look that darn sexy. “Ah, no...of course not. I only meant that the word date usually has certain connotations attached to it. Like not splitting the check or holding hands or even kissing good-night...you know...that kind of thing.”

  Gawd, I wish a giant sinkhole would form under my feet.

  He was smiling and she spotted a tiny dimple in his cheek. Green eyes, ink, dimples...the man had the trifecta of hotness going on.

  “Yeah...it would be a real date,” he said. “But not yet. Not while you’re here and the girls are around. I don’t want to confuse things, okay? But who knows what the future might hold.”

  Kissing? In that moment, Marnie didn’t think she’d ever wanted to kiss anyone so much, not ever. She took off like her feet were on fire, afraid to hear any more, or to read any more into his words. So, of course, she had another sleepless night, and when she finally roused the house was empty. There was a note propped up by the coffee machine and a set of keys.

  Car and house key. See you this afternoon. J.

  Marnie looked at the note and relaxed a little. After breakfast she looked for something to do, but seeing as the house was neat as a pin, she ran out of chores by nine o’clock. Thankfully, Ellie texted soon after and by ten she was in town.

  “I’m so glad we’re doing this,” Joss’s sister said when they met up at a bakery for coffee “I needed a break from the ranch. Mitch is a tough boss,” she said and laughed. “Not that he’s really my boss, either. And he’s a great brother. I’m lucky, as all my brothers are wonderful. I asked Abby to snag us a lunch table at O’Sullivan’s, and she came through with a one o’clock reservation. I thought I’d show you the school and a few of the sights before we head there.”

  Marnie had a great morning with Ellie. The other woman was funny and chatty and they got along so well that by the time they headed to O’Sullivan’s she felt as though she’d made a solid friendship. Lunch was divine, and Abby came out to their table to say hello once the crowd lightened up, around two thirty. Marnie was immediately tense, but held on to her nerves. She wanted to talk to her cousin, and then felt a little guilty for using Ellie, or any of the Culhanes, as a conduit to connect with her cousin. But it couldn’t be helped. That was why she had come to Cedar River, after all. Not to make friends—but to find her family.

  And she wouldn’t let anything derail that plan.

  Not even the fact she was in danger of falling for Joss Culhane.

  Chapter Seven

  On Thursday, two days after she’d moved into her new house, Marnie finally felt as though she was settling in. Sissy and Clare dropped in to see her every afternoon and she suspected they were a little sad she’d moved out. Joss had also stopped by a couple of times, mostly to ensure the utilities were all in working order.

  She was scheduled to start her job at the elementary school on Monday and was eager to get into some kind of life rhythm. She spent some time settling into the house, sorting through her clothes and selecting her outfits for the following week, and then ordered a few items online because she was missing some essential things from her wardrobe—like a down coat and sensible boots.

  Her cell pealed after five on Friday afternoon and she picked up immediately when she spotted Shay’s number.

  “All settled?” her cousin asked.

  “Just about,” she replied. “New job starts Monday.”

  “How’s the hot single dad?”

  “I don’t think I actually said he was,” she said, not mentioning his suggestion they should go on a date.

  “I can read between the lines.” Shay chuckled. “How’s the local recon going?”

  She briefly explained how she’d met Abby a couple of times. “She seems nice.”

  “And your grandmother?” Shay asked.

  “I haven’t met her yet,” Marnie replied and explained how she was working toward connecting with Patience Reed.

  “Just be careful, okay?” Shay warned her. “It’s a slippery slope when you start hiding things... Believe me, I know.”

  “Things will get better for you,” Marnie said, hearing the hurt in her cousin’s voice. “Maybe you need to take a break?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it.” Shay sighed. “Maybe I’ll come for a visit like I threatened. You can show me around your new town, introduce me to the locals. It might be all the inspiration I need to start writing some new material.”

  “I wish I could help you more,” Marnie remarked. “I feel bad for taking off right when you needed me the most. But with everything that happened with Heath and then the teaching position here came up and I—”

  “Of course, you had to go,” Shay assured her. “And I’m fine, I promise. I haven’t seen a photographer or reporter for a couple of days, so that’s a good sign. Anyway, I have to go, but I’ll call you next week.”

  The call ended and Marnie experienced a pull of longing for her family. And then, inevitably, a deep feeling of loss for her mother. She was still feeling a little blah and walked around the house, closing a couple of windows she’d opened a little earlier to let some fresh air into the house. Which turned out to be a bad idea, because the one in the living room got stuck and she couldn’t get it shut, no matter how hard she tried. She gave up after ten minutes and texted Joss.

  I have a problem. Living room window won’t shut. Do you have time to help out?

  Her cell pinged thirty seconds later.

  Okay. Be there soon.

  For a moment—albeit brief—she considered running a brush through her hair. But didn’t get a chance because Joss’s truck pulled up out the front of the house.

  “That was quick,” she said, moving down the porch steps as he strode up the path.

  “I was heading home, so I was just around the corner anyway,” he said. “What’s up?”

  She pointed to the front window. “I can’t get it to close. I opened it about an hour ago to let in some fresh air, but it’s jammed or something.”

  He hiked up the steps and had the window closed in a couple of seconds. “It should be fine, but I’ll get some WD-40 for the tracks.”

  “Thank you. Ah... I was wondering if you and the girls would like to come over for dinner? Just to say thanks for all your help and for giving me a place to stay. I... I made a huge pot of spaghetti sauce this afternoon.”

  “The girls are spending the weekend with their grandparents in Rapid City. I just dropped them off.”

  “Oh, okay. Well, you can still...” Her words trailed and she swallowed hard. “I mean, you probably have plans for tonight anyway, so that’s fine, I’ll just put it in the freezer and—”

  “What time?”

  She looked at him. “Huh?”

  “What time?” he asked again. “Seven?”

  Marnie’s skin prickled. “Yes, fine.”

  “See you then,” he said and turned, walking off without another word.

  Marnie had over an hour to cancel. Over an hour to think about what she was inviting. Or suggesting. Or simply thinking. By the time seven o’clock came, she was changed into fresh jeans and a pale blue shirt and had tied her hair up in a ponytail. She wasn’t going to look as though she was trying...not a chance. She had the spaghetti sauce simmering, the pasta almost cooked, crusty bread in the oven and music playing in the background. Nothing soft and dreamy or even remotely romantic. It wasn’t a date. It was dinner. Between friends.

  He arrived a couple of minutes past seven, removing his jacket as he crossed the threshold. In jeans and a dark polo, the tattoo peeking out from the edge of the sleeve. And his hair... Oh, sweet heaven. It should be illegal for a man to have such beautiful hair. He had a bottle of wine in his hand and she managed a smile.

  “Ah, dinner’s nearly ready,” she said and took off down the hallway.

  “The place looks good,” he said once they were in the kitchen. “Very homey.”

  Marnie glanced at the few knickknacks she had added. “I bought a few things in town the other day, when I was with your sister. She took me to the antique shop near O’Sullivan’s. And we visted the museum and art gallery. It was fun.”

  “Yes, she said you guys had a nice time.”

  “Ellie’s good company.”

  He placed the wine on the countertop. “She said the same thing about you.”

  Marnie grabbed a couple of glasses and he quickly opened and poured the wine.

  “I like your hair,” she said and then wanted to kick herself for being so obvious. “I mean, it looks...you know how it looks.”

  He laughed softly. “I had it cut a few months back. My brothers were on my case about how long it was getting. Jake in particular,” he added and grinned. “No doubt because he’s always preferred that military crew cut.”

  “Do you have a picture?” she asked, instantly curious.

  He nodded and grabbed his cell, flicking through the photographs, and showed her one of himself with his daughters. And yes, he had long hair, tied back at his nape with a thin leather strap. “So you’re sexy with short or long hair,” she said and sipped some wine. “Although, I can’t believe you gave in to peer pressure and chopped it off.”

  He shrugged lightly and grinned. “Sexy, huh?”

  Heat blotched her cheeks, but there was no denying it. “You don’t need me to tell you that.”

  He chuckled. “You know, I thought Ellie might have persuaded you to go to Rusty’s tonight.”

  “She tried,” Marnie admitted. “But I’m a bit of a homebody—not really a drinking and dancing kind of person. What about you? I thought you said you kicked your heels up on the weekends you didn’t have the girls?”

  His expression narrowed. “I don’t recall actually saying that. And heel kicking isn’t really my thing.”

  Marnie met his gaze straight on. “I meant... I thought... Well, you’re a single guy and you can do what you like.”

  “I can, you’re right. I’ve screwed around,” he said bluntly. “A few years after Lara died, I had more one-night stands that I can remember. It’s not something I’m particularly proud of, nor do I want my daughters to think random hookups with strangers is a way to make you happy. It’s not. But I’m not that guy now, just so you know.”

  She didn’t respond. Instead, she dished out some food and they spent a companionable hour or so talking about neutral things—like music and movies and their work. It was an easy, comfortable conversation and she relaxed more as the time ticked by. Or perhaps it was the food and the wine that made her more at ease. Whatever, she wasn’t going to overanalyze every feeling and emotion she had at every turn.

  “And you were never tempted to work on the family ranch?” she asked, once the meal was eaten and they were on their second glass of wine.

  “Not really. Mitch is the rancher. And I like running my own business.”

  “You didn’t get to go to college?”

  He shook his head. “No. As soon as high school was over, Lara got pregnant and college was off the table.”

  “Do you have any regrets?” she asked softly.

  “About getting married so young?” he queried and then sighed. “Not consciously. I wouldn’t trade being married to Lara or having the girls for anything. A college degree couldn’t take the place of...” His words trailed off and he met her gaze. “I didn’t mean that it doesn’t have value. It just wasn’t my journey, I guess.”