“Ah...fine,” she lied and swallowed the dryness in her throat.

  “Coffee?” he asked and moved past her, leaving the scent of some subtle cologne lingering in his wake. Or maybe it was just laundry detergent off his clothes, or crazy male pheromones. Whatever it was, it struck her hard—like a frying pan over the head—and she realized she hadn’t had a reaction like this to a man in a long time. The truth was, she’d been hibernating since her last failed relationship—declining offers to date, avoiding social invitations, holing herself away in her lonely apartment to lick her wounds in private.

  Looking back, she should have had more sense than to get involved with another professor at college—particularly one who had a reputation for dating his students. But it was hard to deny what she wanted—and Marnie had wanted Heath. For a while it seemed as though he’d wanted her in return. They dated, attended family functions together, planned on moving in together—all the usual things. And then he cheated—once, twice, three times. Looking back, she should have bailed the first time it happened. But she’d forgiven him. She’d buckled under the pressure from her friends and taken him back. Until the last time. Her mother’s death, finding Patience Reed—it had been exactly the lifeline she’d needed to get out of Dodge and avoid the pity from her friends and colleagues who knew exactly what Heath Sutton was like.

  “So, yes? No?”

  Marnie got her thoughts back onto the present. “Ah, sorry, what?”

  “Coffee? Or tea?” he repeated, clearly bemused at her state of distraction.

  “No, thank you,” she replied and managed a step forward. “I’ll never get to sleep if I have caffeine. Not that I’ll probably sleep anyhow—I’m not good in strange beds and I—” She stopped midsentence and managed a brittle half laugh. “I’m doing it, right? Talking too much?” It was her go-to response, her way of keeping a lid on her nerves or anxiety.

  He didn’t reply, and instead opened the refrigerator to withdraw a bottle of water. “Here,” he said, pushing the bottle across the benchtop.

  She took the drink and stepped back. “How long ago did your wife pass away?” she said, taking a seat at the table.

  He looked up, meeting her gaze, clearly not expecting the question. “Eight years ago.”

  “I’m sorry. She must have been so young.”

  “Twenty-three,” he replied.

  Marnie wanted to ask more questions. She wanted to know about his family. About his connection to her grandmother Patience, and her cousin Abby Culhane. But she stayed silent, sipping on the bottled water.

  “So tell me, why have you come to Cedar River?”

  His blunt question startled her, and her eyes widened instantly. “I...took a job here.”

  “One you’re overqualified for, correct?”

  She managed a shrug. “A little.”

  “You’re from California?” he queried. “Teaching jobs in short supply there?”

  “I wanted a change of pace,” she fibbed.

  “Well, you’ll certainly get that in Cedar River.”

  “That was the plan,” she said and shrugged lightly. “Well, I’m really tired, so I think I’ll go to bed. Thank you again for your hospitality.”

  “No problem. I’ve left a fresh towel out for you in the bathroom.”

  “Oh, well I—”

  “There’s a lock on the door,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “In case you were wondering. And you can jam a chair under the doorknob in the bedroom if you’re worried.”

  “I’m not worried,” she shot back quickly.

  “Good,” he said. “You don’t have any reason to be.”

  Because I’m not interested in you in the slightest.

  He didn’t say it, of course. He didn’t have to. The words were there, though, in the tone of his voice and the stiff-backed body language. Marnie had felt invisible to male attention in the past, but never quite so much as in that moment. She was relieved, of course. And put at ease.

  And maybe, just maybe, a little bit hurt.

  “Well, good night,” she said and left the room without a backward glance.

  She did take a shower, after locking the door because she could. She savored the lovely hot water and used her favorite shower soap before quickly drying off with the fluffy towel he’d provided. She slipped into fresh underwear and light sweats, and when she emerged from the bathroom the hall light was off and a lamp was on in the bedroom. She noticed a chair tucked discreetly by the door and lingered in the doorway for a second, listening to any sounds in the large house. She heard the faint hiss of a shower from the other end of the home and figured he must have an en suite bathroom. With all thoughts of him naked and showering pushed firmly from her head, Marnie closed herself into the bedroom. She didn’t use the chair as a doorstop because she knew there was no need. After everything he’d done that night to help her try and resolve her lodging issues, she found it a little hard to believe he’d be making any moves. Especially with his daughters sleeping right in the next room. She popped her laundry into a spare bag, aired out her damp shoes and then slipped into bed.

  And surprisingly, she did sleep. The bed was small but comfortable, and her many days of highway driving and motel rooms caught up with her. The result was that she didn’t stir until nearly eight o’clock. She could hear sounds coming from other parts of the house and took a few seconds to assimilate herself to her surroundings as she fumbled to find her glasses on the small bedside table. Marnie took in the room in a quick glance and then swung her legs off the bed. She changed into black slacks, sensible flats and a bright red sweater, brushed her hair and made a quick bathroom stop before she followed the sound of voices coming from the kitchen.

  She stilled in the doorway and watched the unfolding scene. Joss Culhane was standing by the stove flipping pancakes and his daughters were sitting on stools on the other side of the countertop, decorating the cooked pancakes with strawberries, icing sugar and maple syrup.

  “Good morning,” he said, his back to her, and Marnie wondered if he possessed some kind of sixth sense. “Are you hungry?”

  “Daddy makes the worst pancakes in the world!” the younger of the girls announced and Marnie remembered that her name was Clare.

  He swiveled his head around, offered a brief grin and then motioned to the spare stool. “Everyone’s a critic. How’d you sleep?”

  “Like a log,” she replied and slid in between his daughters. “Must be all this clean country air.”

  He nodded. “Beats the city smog, I imagine.”

  “Yes,” she replied. “But I come from a town called Bakersfield, which is small by some standards. It’s certainly not like LA.”

  “Wait until summer,” he said and pushed a coffee mug toward her. “The sky is so blue and the air so clear it defies belief.”

  “That’s because cold air is denser and moves slower than warm air. Which means it traps the pollution and doesn’t move it away as fast as warm air.”

  He stared at her. “Ah—okay.”

  Marnie immediately felt like a complete geek and realized she must have sounded like a know-it-all, as well. “Sorry—occupational hazard.”

  “Weather reports?”

  “Always having an answer to a question,” she replied. “Although, in this case, it wasn’t a question and I’m doing it again.”

  “Doing what?”

  She made a face. “Talking too much.”

  “I’m not sure that’s gonna change anytime soon,” he said and returned his attention to the skillet. “There’s milk in the fridge and sugar in the pantry if you need it for your coffee.”

  “I’m sweet enough,” she said and then wished she hadn’t because he was regarding her with a kind of amused disbelief and she felt heat rise up her neck once again.

  “Are you?” he asked.

  Marnie met his gaze over the top of her glasses with fake confidence. “Apparently.”

  Clare giggled. “I think I’m gonna like having you as my teacher, Miss Jackson.”

  Marnie smiled. “I think I’m going to like it, too.”

  “Daddy,” Clare said in between a mouthful of pancake. “Are we going to the ranch today?”

  “Not today,” he replied. “There’s more snow coming. Maybe tomorrow.”

  He passed her a plate with a short stack of pancakes and Sissy poured maple syrup over the top right before Clare dusted the plate with icing sugar.

  She took a mouthful of rubbery pancake and grimaced slightly, winking toward Clare.

  The young girl giggled. “Told you they were bad.”

  He looked at them both with a kind of pretend scowl that was so sexy she could barely manage to swallow her food.

  “They’re not so bad,” she fibbed and took another bite.

  “See,” he said and glanced at both girls. “Not so bad, after all.”

  While she ate the world’s worst pancakes, sipped her coffee and listened to Joss interact with his daughters, Marnie’s gaze strayed over to him. In jeans, loafers and a long-sleeved black Henley T-shirt that did little to disguise his ridiculously perfect physique, and with that damned beautiful hair a little tousled, he was so attractive that her furtive glance quickly turned into an all-out, unchecked, blatant stare.

  The kind that could get a grounded, independent girl from Bakersfield into all sorts of trouble!

  Chapter Three

  Joss hadn’t had a woman in his house for eight years. At least, not one that wasn’t a relative or a babysitter, or the mother or grandmother of one of his daughters’ friends. And he certainly hadn’t entertained one over breakfast.

  He kept his dating life simple—no commitment, no promises and no sleepovers.

  No problem.

  Except, he suddenly had a problem and she was sitting in his kitchen, chatting to his daughters as though it were the most normal thing in the world. He’d had his fair share of hookups and one-night stands over the last few years. He was no saint, but he wasn’t a player, either. He’d been a good husband, faithful to his wife. He’d been faithful to her memory in those first years after she died. Even after he began dating—if it could even be called that—he didn’t lead anyone on, didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.

  And besides, the woman in front of him eating his pancakes wasn’t his type. Still, now that he’d seen her out of the shapeless coat a couple of times, he could appreciate her curves, and the red sweater added color to her complexion. She also had nice eyes behind the glasses.

  Joss met her eyes with his own and held her stare, and she quickly dropped her gaze. He saw the flush on her cheeks, though, and figured his instincts were right—she was checking him out.

  “Okay, girls,” he said and was forced to clear his throat. “Dishes in the sink when you’re done. And you have two hours of internet time this morning.”

  The girls left the counter quickly, with Sissy rolling her eyes at him because he was the most uncool father in the universe and didn’t understand that she needed at least six hours of social media time every day. But he had rules, and even though she didn’t always agree, Sissy usually stuck to them.

  “They’re such lovely girls.”

  He looked at Marnie, who was still sitting at the counter. “I’m lucky.”

  “I don’t know about that,” she said and got to her feet, grabbing the plate and mug. “Looks more like good parenting than luck.”

  Joss placed the skillet in the sink. “Thank you.”

  She moved around the counter. “No, thank you—for breakfast and letting me stay here last night. But I should get going and let you get on with your day.”

  Of course, he’d expected her to bail. Wanted it, really. Except for the fact that she had nowhere to go and they both knew it. “Ah—where do you plan on going?”

  “Honestly? I don’t know,” she replied. “But I can’t intrude on you any more than I already have. I’m sure I can rent a car for a few days and find a hotel, even if I have to stay in Rapid City.”

  “You could, certainly,” he said and shrugged. “Or, maybe you can stay here and hang out with the girls while I go back into the workshop and check out your car.”

  “You want me to stay here with your kids?” she countered. “Without you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Isn’t that risky?” she asked. “I mean, I could be a serial killer.”

  Joss filled the sink with hot water. “Are you a serial killer?”

  Her mouth flattened. “Well, no, but you can’t know that.”

  “I know you’re leasing a house that I own and have impeccable references,” he said. “I know that you’ll be Clare’s new teacher next week. I’d say you’re pretty low in the risk department, Marnie.”

  It was the first time he’d said her name. It was a nice name. Unusual. Soft. Womanly. Like she was. It suited her. She was close and her perfume swirled around, clinging to him for a few seconds and immediately shutting off the part of his brain that was determined to not find her attractive. Because that would be stupid. And he’d never considered himself to be a stupid sort of guy.

  “Well, I suppose I could hang out for a while,” she said quietly. “Until you get back. I’ll try the hotel and the B and Bs around town again and see if any have had a cancellation.”

  “Sure,” he said, nodding. “I’ll probably be gone until after lunch, so help yourself to whatever you want.”

  She looked at the sink. “At least let me clean up the breakfast dishes.”

  Joss instantly took a step back. “Be my guest. I’ll let the girls know I’m leaving.” He asked for her number and she quickly obliged and within seconds they’d stored numbers into their cell phones. “I’ll get Sissy to show you around and I’ll be back later.”

  She nodded and Joss left the room, stupidly eager to get away from her and with no clue as to why. He’d called Mrs. Floyd earlier and spoken to the older woman for a few minutes, relieved to learn that she was on the mend. She would be staying with her son and daughter-in-law in Deadwood for a couple of weeks. It meant he’d have to cut short his working hours, but he’d do what he had to do. Joss headed for the living room and found his eldest daughter sitting on the couch, using her electronic tablet. He explained about their houseguest staying for a while longer and Sissy nodded agreeably.

  “Dad,” she said, “you know I don’t need a babysitter anymore, right?”

  “I know,” he acknowledged. “Just humor me, okay? And Clare needs—”

  “A mom,” Sissy said bluntly, cutting him off. “Not a babysitter. And you know what—I’d kinda like one, too.”

  He sighed, hearing the lecture for the third time in recent weeks. Sissy had been at him for the past twelve months to get married again. And Joss knew why. Three of his brothers had gotten hitched in the last couple of years and Sissy was old enough to notice how happy they were. She adored each of her aunts. It wasn’t hard to figure out that she and Clare wanted a woman permanently in their lives—all girls longed for a mother. But it wasn’t that simple. For one, he’d loved Lara with all of his heart and wasn’t sure he had room in it for anyone else. And two, if he did find someone, how could he be sure that she would be the mother his daughters longed for? What if he picked wrong? What if he allowed his libido to do the thinking and fell for someone who could possibly resent his kids? How could he be sure she would be the right...fit?

  He couldn’t. There was too much at stake. They were a family. A tight, unbreakable unit. Bringing someone else into that could potentially wreck everything they had...and he wasn’t prepared to risk his family.

  Joss clung to his patience, not about to get frustrated with his daughter for wanting a mother to call her own. “I hear you. Okay, honey? But it’s not something that can be made to order.”

  “I know, Dad,” Sissy said, sounding older than her years. “But it wouldn’t hurt you to date, either. And I get it—you loved Mom a lot. But it’s okay if you want to love someone else.”

  Joss’s throat thickened and he swallowed hard. “Thanks, kiddo, but for right now I’m happy just being a dad to you and your sister.”

  “But what happens when Clare and I grow up and leave home?” she asked, her expression tightening a little. “You’ll be alone.”

  “Well, fortunately for me that’s a few years down the road,” he replied, ignoring the way his insides twitched because his daughter was right. “But, I’ll take your suggestion under advisement,” he said and hugged her gently.

  He left soon after and drove the tow truck back to his auto shop. It was still snowing lightly, and there were a couple of dozers on the roads leading into town, so the trip took longer than usual. Which gave him plenty of thinking time—about his life, his kids, his family. And his father.

  Billie-Jack.

  Joss still hadn’t decided what he was going to do about his father. The old man had bailed when Joss was fourteen and had turned up again a couple of months ago—dying and hoping to reconnect with the family he’d discarded, before he passed away. Joss’s younger brother Grant had apparently made peace with Billie-Jack, but the rest of his brothers weren’t so easily swayed. And his baby sister, Ellie, wasn’t exactly the forgiving type, so he figured she’d be the last one to make amends, along with Hank, who had more reason to hate their father than anyone.

  Joss remembered the accident only too well. Billie-Jack had been driving drunk, with Grant in the back and Hank in the passenger seat. Inevitably, the vehicle had crashed, and while Billie-Jack and Grant had been thrown clear, Hank wasn’t so lucky. Only the fact that Jake had been following on his motorbike and was quick enough to pull Hank from the wreck had saved his twin’s life. But he was hurt badly. Along with the laceration to his face, he had burns to almost 30 percent of his body. Afterward, he’d spent years in and out of hospital, undergoing surgery and skin grafts. Billie-Jack was gone by then—having deserted his family in shame—and Mitch, who was the oldest, had full custody of all of them.