“I feel the same way about marriage and kids,” she said and exhaled. “At least, I think I do. Part of me does have some regret.”

  “You’re still young,” he remarked. “You have plenty of time to do the marriage and kids thing if you want.”

  “I suppose. Just have to meet the right guy. So,” she said, shifting the subject, “is Joss your real name?”

  “Joseph,” he supplied. “But only my mom ever called me that.”

  “What was she like?”

  “Her name was Louise,” he replied. “She was kind and had a soft voice. She used to sing to me and Hank before we went to sleep. But then Grant and Ellie came along, so the lullabies stopped. I still remember she used to sing this one song, ‘You Are My Sunshine.’” He smiled, and she could see the memories in his eyes. “I loved her a lot.”

  “So, you’ve lost both of the women you’ve loved?”

  His brows rose a fraction. “Poor me, huh.”

  “Oh, it’s sympathy you want?”

  His mouth curled at the edges. “Right now, no—I don’t think so.”

  There was no denying the flirtatious edge to his words. He wasn’t hiding it and she wasn’t denying it. But they were words with nowhere to go. He said he didn’t hook up casually anymore and she wasn’t about to start.

  “Is this a close-proximity thing?” she asked curiously.

  “What?”

  “Whatever this is,” she continued and waved a hand vaguely. “I’m not really your usual type, am I?”

  He shrugged. “I wouldn’t think I was yours, either?”

  She laughed a little. “You’re not,” she replied, amazed that she was having such a candid, open conversation with someone she hardly knew. And yet, there were times, like right in that moment, that she felt a connection to him that was quite powerful. “I usually date book nerds or teachers or professors. Although I went out with this IT guy once, but that was a few years ago. I only asked because sometimes people feel a certain way through circumstances. Let’s just say we were stuck on a desert island and were the only two people there—regardless of looks, money, education, even baseline attraction. We’d be drawn to one another simply because there was no one else around. Survival of the species and all that. Instinct really, pure and simple.”

  “Last I looked—” he reached out to grasp her hand “—we weren’t on a desert island.”

  “I know,” she said, and looked to where their hands were now linked. “I was using that example for analysis. The thing is, I don’t want to be in something that’s about convenience or because you’re bored or lonely or whatever. And I know I’m probably jumping the gun here, but I just want to get it all out in the open. I find you incredibly attractive,” she admitted, hot now from head to toe. “Which doesn’t mean I’m going to jump your bones or anything,” she said, waving her hand, “even if I’ve thought about it.”

  “I’m flattered,” he said quietly, his green eyes darkening. “And, Marnie, this isn’t about proximity. Maybe it has crept up slowly this past week, but that doesn’t make it mean less than one of those instant attraction kind of things. And frankly, I’m not a fall in fast kind of guy. With two kids, I can’t afford to be.”

  That was obvious. He was successful, organized and in control of his life. Much like she was, Marnie suspected. At least, for her, on the surface. In that moment, her hand enclosed in his, her heart beating so strongly it was hard to draw breath, she felt as out of control as she ever had.

  “This is all kind of new territory for me,” she admitted. “In fact, simply talking to a man like you is kind of new.”

  “A man like me?” he queried. “Do you mean blue collar?”

  She shrugged, knowing she should probably remove her hand from his, but was also terrified of losing the connection. Particularly since his thumb was drawing tiny circles on her palm. “That’s not what I mean...not really. It might come out sounding that way, but being around you makes me all hot and bothered so I get all...inarticulate.”

  He chuckled and the sound warmed her down to her toes. “Didn’t the professor types get you hot and bothered?”

  “No,” she admitted. “Turns out I’m new to this hot and bothered thing.”

  He stood, still smiling, and dragged her to her feet. “Since we’re confessing—you’ll be the first doctor I’ve kissed.”

  Marnie’s temperature skyrocketed and she shuddered in a breath. “You’re planning on kissing me?”

  He moved around the table and drew her closer. “Only if that’s okay with you.”

  He was so tall, and without heels, Marnie had to tilt her head to meet his gaze. She fought the urge to run her fingers through his hair to feel if it was as silky as it looked. “It’s okay,” she muttered, feeling small and delicate as one arm moved around her and the other held her hand between them.

  She’d been kissed before, many times, but she’d never anticipated a kiss more than she did in that moment. Her lips tingled and her belly rolled as a wave of desire thrummed through her blood. Marnie felt a surge of something else rush through her—something she couldn’t quite define—something that wasn’t only about desire. Feelings of love. She thought the words for a fleeting moment and then dismissed them. She wasn’t going to start thinking—no, imagining—that it was more than some chemical reaction to his obvious good looks and great body. She didn’t have time for real feelings. Attraction and sex she could handle. Hell, she wanted it. Why couldn’t she have a fling with Joss Culhane? Why couldn’t she feel what it was like to have hot and meaningless sex? Other people did it. And she was as flesh-and-blood as the next person.

  When his mouth touched hers she was swept up and away. He knew how to kiss. He knew how to hold. He knew that his large hand sitting gently in the indent at the small of her back was both arousing and reassuring. He knew that at first, the gentle pressure of his mouth on hers was all she needed. All she wanted and could handle. Until the seconds ticked by and her body ached for more. He still held her hand, linking their fingers in a way that was so darn erotic it defied belief. And then the kiss deepened, and his sinful tongue rolled with hers and she was utterly and completely lost.

  She moaned and as their tongues met again, a deep rush of heat surged down low and she instinctively pressed her hips toward him, in compliance and need, in a vertical dance as old as time.

  Ruined for life. That was what she thought as the kiss continued, as his mouth teased hers, as the hand on her back urged her gently toward him, and she knew without a doubt that one kiss would never be enough to satisfy the throbbing need pulsing through her blood and over her skin.

  “Wow,” she said when he lifted his head and met her quivering gaze.

  “I should probably leave,” he said, his breath ragged. “Even though it’s the last thing I want to do right now.”

  It would have been easy to ask him to stay—to ask him to spend the night and make love to her. But despite how much her body craved release, Marnie knew she would regret the decision. Dreaming she could handle a casual hookup while she was in his arms and her lips throbbed from his kiss was one thing; living the reality was another thing altogether.

  “Yes, it’s probably for the best.”

  He pulled back and gently released her. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Sure,” Marnie said, feeling the absence of his touch the very moment they parted.

  “Thanks for dinner,” he said, stepping back.

  She nodded. “Ah, Joss... I had a nice time.”

  “Me, too,” he said. “I’ll call you.”

  Marnie smiled, then remembered that they’d agreed to go on a date and wondered if he’d mention it. But he didn’t. Maybe she should? She was about to gather her courage when he spoke.

  “Goodnight, Marnie. Sweet dreams.”

  He left quickly and Marnie watched him walk down the street through the front window, her lips still tingling from his kiss, her heart suddenly aching, and feeling more alone than she imagined possible.

  * * *

  By late Saturday afternoon, Joss had had almost twenty-four hours to think about his stupidity.

  Worst decision ever...

  Best kiss ever...

  Of course, it couldn’t possibly have been the best kiss. He was just thinking that because it had been too long since he’d hooked up with anyone and he was horny. End of story. That was all it was.

  Still, he wasn’t indiscriminate...and Marnie had the most amazing mouth.

  Tired of thinking about it, he was pleased when Hank showed up around four as it took his mind off things. He grabbed a couple of sodas and joined his brother in the living room.

  “He called again,” his brother said. “Left a message.”

  Billie-Jack.

  “You gonna call him back?” Joss asked.

  Hank shrugged. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think it would be easier just to meet up and get it over with, like Grant did. But I’m not sure I want to see him.”

  “Not surprising,” Joss remarked. “Considering what he did. Or didn’t do.”

  Eighteen years later, he still didn’t understand why their father had left Hank in a truck as it caught on fire. Thank God Jake had the foresight and good sense to follow the truck on his motorcycle, knowing that Billie-Jack was drunk behind the wheel. Jake had arrived just in time to pull Hank from the wrecked truck, but his twin had still received burns to 30 percent of his body and spent years in and out of hospital.

  “Grant talked to him about it,” Hank said and shrugged again. “He said he couldn’t remember much about the accident. Shock, maybe. I don’t know.”

  “It’s no excuse,” Joss said irritably. “I’ve got two kids and if they were trapped in a burning vehicle, I’d do whatever I had to do to get them out—even if it meant giving my life. That’s what you do for your kids. He was just too drunk to know any better.”

  Hank looked at him. “What’s eating you?”

  “Nothing.”

  His brother knew him better than anyone. “Spill.”

  “I did a dumb thing last night,” he admitted.

  Hank’s brow hiked up. “What was that?”

  He swallowed. “I made out with Marnie.”

  His brother grinned. “That’s it?”

  “For a woman like her, that’s enough,” he replied, thinking that he’d behaved like a complete ass and if she’d asked him to stay the night, he would have. And then it would have been an even bigger mess.

  “Are you gonna see her again?” Hank asked intuitively.

  “I’m thinking about it.” He laughed humorlessly. “That’s the kicker, isn’t it? I don’t date—we both know this. Dating makes everything complicated.”

  “But?”

  “But the girls really like her,” he replied.

  “Do you like her?”

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  He tried to think of as many as he could. “She’s only in town for six months.”

  “Plans can change,” Hank said.

  “Well, I guess. She’ll be Clare’s teacher.”

  “She’s not your teacher, so I don’t think that matters.”

  Sometimes he hated his brother’s relentless logic. “She’s just come out of a bad relationship.”

  “How long ago?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not sure. A few months.”

  “So, not exactly rebound stuff?”

  “Well, no,” he replied. “But she’s really not my—”

  “You’re not going to say she isn’t your type, are you?” Hank asked and rolled his eyes. “Really? Lara was, what—smart, funny and kind? This woman seems to have similar qualities, correct?”

  “Yes,” he admitted. “Your point?”

  Hank chuckled. “My point is that you’ve met someone you like, and you’re backpedaling at a hundred miles an hour. Why?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied. “It’s too fast. I’ve only known her a week.”

  “Then get to know her better. Ask her out, date each other for a while.”

  Joss rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m taking dating advice from someone who’s never had a serious relationship.”

  “That’s because I’m a nice guy and women always stick me in the friend zone,” Hank said with a grimace. “Damned irritating. You, on the other hand, are like catnip for women.”

  “I haven’t dated anyone seriously since Lara died,” he acknowledged, and his brother nodded. “That’s a huge step.”

  “You mean falling in love again?”

  He scowled. “I hate it when you’re right, you know that?”

  Hank nodded and grinned. “I always was the smart one.”

  “And that’s another thing,” he said, looking for excuses. “She’s like a genius or something. She speaks five languages and has a PhD. I’m a grunt who fixes cars for a living. It’s not exactly a match obvious to the world, is it?”

  “You’re an idiot,” Hank said and shook his head. “Does she like you?”

  Heat crawled up his neck. “I think so.”

  “Then ask her out.”

  “I sort of did already.” He shrugged. “I mean, we didn’t make firm plans, but she said she’d go.”

  “Then why are we having this conversation?” Hank inquired.

  “I don’t know,” he said on an exasperated breath. “After we kissed, I guess I freaked out.”

  “Since when have you been so afraid of girls?” Hank asked, laughing softly.

  “Never,” he replied. “That’s what’s freaking me out. I like her, okay,” he admitted. “I didn’t at first, but I’m realizing more and more that I like her a lot. You’re right, she’s smart and funny and great to talk to, and she’s got the most amazing mouth and her eyes are this incredible blue color and she has this calm sort of way about her that is so relaxing. But I don’t want to start something that might not go anywhere. I don’t want the girls getting attached to her if it doesn’t work out. And yeah,” he said unsteadily, “I don’t want to get attached to her if it doesn’t work out, either. And like I said, she’s just come out of a bad relationship and I don’t—”

  “I think you’re overthinking this. Just call her up and ask her out. Because if you don’t,” Hank said, raising his eyebrows, “you know some other cowboy in this town will.”

  And that, Joss thought, wasn’t something he wanted to happen.

  * * *

  At seven o’clock Saturday night, Marnie got a text message from Joss.

  Feel like breakfast tomorrow morning?

  She stared at the message. Was this their date? Breakfast? She replied after a few moments.

  Sure.

  Pick you up at nine-thirty. J.

  So, Marnie had a breakfast date. Or maybe it was more like brunch? Anyhow, she’d agreed to Joss’s invitation and then spent a ridiculous amount of time on her appearance the following morning. Black pants that fit snugly and that she’d always thought made her butt look good, and a red silky shirt she wore tucked in, with a belt, to highlight her waist. She wore her highest heels—a pair of black ankle boots she’d paid a fortune for and rarely worn. And dabbed on a little makeup—not too much because she didn’t want to look like she was trying too hard. She straightened her hair and wore her favorite earrings, and lastly added a long black wool coat that buttoned up the front, that she’d purchased at a clothing store in town the day she’d spent with Ellie. She added knitted gloves and matching scarf and paced up and down the hallway until he arrived.

  When he greeted her at the door at nine thirty Sunday morning, her insides fluttered at the appreciative way his gaze slid over her. He looked good, too—in dark jeans, a long-sleeved, white twill shirt that did nothing to disguise his broad shoulders, a sheepskin lined coat and cowboy boots.

  “You look great,” he said and his gaze lingered at her feet. “But you might need to rethink the shoes since more snow has been predicted for this afternoon.”

  “I’ve got that covered,” she said and pointed to a bag by the door. She picked up the bag and showed him the contents. “I ordered a sturdy pair of snow shoes from a store in Rapid City, just in case. I have a thing for shoes,” she admitted and grinned.

  “How many pairs do you have?” he asked.

  “Here?” she said and laughed. “As many as I could fit in my luggage. About fourteen pairs,” she admitted and returned his grin. “But back home—too many.”

  He laughed warmly. “So, are you ready?”

  She nodded and grabbed her tote, quickly locking up. “Where are we going?”

  “A real life honky-tonk,” he replied when they were in his vehicle.

  She eyed him curiously. “What’s that?”

  “A Western-style restaurant. There’s one not too far out of town and they serve breakfast until midday. If you like it, I’ll take you back there for dinner sometime.”

  True to his word, the restaurant was indeed a Western-themed establishment, right down to the gingham cloths on the tables, the wagon wheel light fittings and the peanut shells on the floor.

  She ordered an absurdly large triple cheese omelet with buttered sourdough toast, and he had some kind of mixed grill meal that was almost overflowing on the plate.

  “I don’t think portion control is important here,” she remarked once the waitress had delivered their food.

  He laughed softly and then asked more seriously, “How are you feeling about tomorrow? Nervous?”

  “A little,” she replied. “I haven’t started a new job for a few years.”