“Dax Vaughn. I’m crashing your birthday dinner, if that’s all right.”

  “Sure, sure! Carol always makes enough for an army. You look like you can handle a few servings of lasagna.”

  “It’s a favorite,” I say honestly.

  “Happy birthday, Dad.” Becca loops her arms around his neck, and he gives her a hearty hug.

  My dad wasn’t much of a hugger, but I feel a pang of loss anyway. His birthday would’ve been next month.

  “You wouldn’t believe the grandfather clock I saw at the antiques store the other day…,” Becca starts. Len gives her his full attention, rapt as she describes the clock in full detail.

  I walk around the room admiring the many ticking contraptions. I wonder where Becca got the impression she wasn’t valuable, or that her ideas weren’t appreciated. I can tell that her mother, spontaneous like Becca, supports her. It’s clear that her clock-obsessed father adores her.

  “Is this what you do for a living, Len?” I ask when he and Becca wrap up their conversation.

  “Hobby, mostly. I work as a salesman at an appliance store. Been there, oh, I don’t know, forty years now.”

  “This is intricate.” I point to the clock on the wall, metal gears on the outside, hands circling a made-to-look-rusted face.

  “That one I made from scratch,” he shares proudly.

  “Is it for sale?” When he doesn’t answer, I turn to face him. He blinks, startled.

  “No one’s ever asked me that before.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Told you, Dad. They’re amazing.” Becca palms her father’s shoulder. His cheeks grow pink from embarrassment.

  Ah. That’s where her self-doubt comes from.

  Before I can make an offer for the clock, Carol shouts down from the kitchen that dinner’s ready.

  “You think I can cook?” Becca asks me as she walks toward the stairs. “Wait’ll you taste Mom’s lasagna.”

  She leaves the room before her dad and I do, and he shakes his head as he watches her go. “She’s so much like her mother. Incredible,” he says with obvious appreciation.

  “Yeah. I thought that same word about her.”

  Just so I don’t forget he’s the man who supplied half her DNA, he snaps his shoulders back and, though he’s shorter than me, manages to look me dead in the eyes. “You’d better have figured that out if you’re here with her.”

  I dip my head in acknowledgment. “Yes, sir.”

  He nods curtly and gestures for me to walk ahead of him.

  There are three people looking out for Becca, then. I smile as I climb the stairs toward the heavenly smells of tomato sauce and warm garlic bread.

  Chapter 20

  Becca

  Watching my family interact with Dax is sort of fascinating. Now, keep in mind the last time I brought a guy to the dinner table, I was sixteen years old.

  Dad can’t stop talking to Dax about bar ownership, and once Dax mentioned owning two places, something extraordinary happened. Tad stopped imitating an asshole and started talking to him.

  “You own two bars?”

  “Yeah.” Dax grabs another slice of garlic bread—not that I’m counting, but it might be his fourth—and drags it through the sauce on his plate.

  “And you can take a vacation. Must be nice,” Tad grunts.

  Correction: His assholery is still intact.

  Dax, chewing, raises his eyebrows and remains quiet.

  “What my husband means to say,” Lara interjects, “is that he hasn’t been able to work any less than sixty hours a week since he opened Grand Lark. He would love to take a family vacation.”

  “Dax, would you like more lasagna?” my mom offers.

  “No, thanks, Mrs. Stone. I’ve nearly eaten what could’ve been your leftovers as it is.” He winks at her, and I swear to you she blushes. Then he loses that boyish chagrin and speaks directly to my brother.

  “It’s within your ability to take a vacation. Ownership doesn’t require your living there.”

  Tad’s eye tics and his smile is anything but polite. “You don’t run thirteen rental cabins. You run two bars. There’s a difference.”

  “A big one,” Dax agrees. “But you don’t have to sacrifice all your time if you don’t want to.” As Tad turns an interesting shade of red, Dax continues explaining. “The trick to being able to walk away is actually walking away. Trust the people in your employ to do the job while you’re gone. Trust that they know what they’re doing. That they can handle the tasks you assign them. After all, it was you who trained them. If you don’t trust them to do the job you hired them for, why did you bother?”

  Lara and I exchange glances as Tad and Dax regard each other like gladiators in a ring. Well, Tad looks like a gladiator. Dax is as laid-back as a sleepy lion on a sunny African plain. He doesn’t appear the least bit riled.

  “Who wants dessert?” my mom interrupts.

  “I’ll help with the ice cream,” Lara says, pulling Tasha out of her chair and into her arms.

  “Me too!” Kiera shouts, following them out of the dining room.

  My dad goes next, swiping our plates out from under our noses and vanishing as well.

  “Dax makes a good point,” I tell my brother, folding my arms on the tablecloth. Next to me, Dax doesn’t move a muscle. He’s still leaning back in his chair, regarding Tad.

  “Listen, Bec—” he starts, but Dax interrupts.

  “Why’d you hire her?”

  Tad’s eyebrows slam down. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re excused. Now answer my question. Why’d you hire her if you don’t let her do anything. Do you not trust her?”

  “You don’t know her like I do,” Tad says.

  “Excuse me,” I mutter. “I’m right here.”

  “I know she can cook like a five-star restaurant’s chef,” Dax says.

  “You know that because you scammed her out of a recipe you didn’t pay her for.”

  Dax, his energy harnessed, sits up. The words that follow are low and humming with warning. “Careful, Tad. She’s too smart to get scammed.”

  “He offered to pay for them. I was the one who said no,” I interject. Dax and Tad both glare at me like I spoke out of turn.

  “Them?” Tad asks. “You gave him more than one recipe? Are you crazy?”

  “Once more,” Dax says, his tone lethal. “Watch the way you speak to her.”

  “What are you going to do? Beat me up?” Tad waves his hands in front of his face.

  “No. But I will take her hand and walk her out of here. Maybe offer her a better job where she won’t be treated like shit on a daily basis.”

  “Yeah!” I agree, then snap my head around to Dax. “Wait. What?”

  “A place,” Dax continues, ignoring me, “where she’s appreciated. Where she can experiment with all the recipes she wants. Where she can run the place as she sees fit without the boss over her shoulder rerouting calls to his phone because he can’t let go of the smallest of details.”

  “Is that a fact?” Tad asks, standing from the table.

  “Your call.” Dax stands too and I feel my jaw drop.

  “She’s not going to move to Ohio to be with a guy she just met.” Tad sneers at me. “You’re not that stupid.”

  “Hey!” I stand up too, just as Dax’s arm strikes like a snake. He grabs a handful of Tad’s shirt and tugs. “Dax!”

  “Happy birrrr...” My mom’s singing trails off as she steps into the dining room, where she finds an interesting still life. Dax’s fist is wrapped in Tad’s shirt. Tad’s hands are wrapped around Dax’s fist. I have a hand on each of their arms in a futile effort to disconnect them.

  “Let go,” Tad says.

  “Tell Becca you’re sorry for calling her stupid,” Dax says, unfazed by the arrival of half my family.

  “Tad!” That’s Mom, still holding Dad’s blazing birthday cake.

  “Tad, seriously.” Lara gestures with the ice-cream scooper in her hand.

  “Really?” Tad swipes away Dax’s hands and mine and throws his arms in the air. “You’re all siding with him? This is bull... Bull,” he concludes when my nieces appear on either side of Lara’s legs.

  “Did you forget whose big day it is?” My dad holds up the festive paper plates and napkins I picked up when I bought the cake. “We’re celebrating, not fighting.” He levels a glare at Tad and then at me. “Now, what do you say to each other?”

  Tad and I exchange glances and at the same time mumble, “Sorry,” to each other. Len Stone has never stood for us arguing or bickering, and he’s not about to start.

  My dad slaps down the plates and napkins. “Dax? Tad?”

  Dax frowns in misunderstanding.

  “Do you also have something to say to each other?”

  Dax looks at me like my family has lost their minds. I’m not sure what to say, because I think they might have.

  “No,” Dax answers. “I don’t.”

  “Neither do I,” Tad snaps.

  Ha! Oh, this is too rich.

  Before another standoff can occur, I burst into song, a rendition of “Happy Birthday” that might be my best ever. Everyone joins in, except for Dax.

  Then it’s cake and ice cream and awkwardness for everyone except my nieces. They’re too plied by sugar and naïveté to be aware of how damn hard it is to be an adult.

  Dax

  In the passenger seat, Becca rests her head back and eyes me. She’s turning something over, but I don’t know what it is yet. I’m not great at reading her mind—or her expression.

  “For a while,” I start, because I’m not sure if she’s going to do a nosedive into this conversation, “I thought maybe you didn’t feel valued because your parents ran you down. After tonight I know it’s not them. It’s Tad.”

  “He’s his own creation,” she grumbles.

  “But they don’t stand up for you either.”

  She sits up in the seat and turns to address me. We’re on our way up the mountain. Soon she’ll be able to leap out of my Jeep and run away from this conversation if she chooses.

  “I don’t need standing up for. And what’s with you trying to strangle Tad?” she asks, her voice escalating.

  “I bet you’ve wanted to do that for years. You never had the support.”

  “It wasn’t your place, Dax.” Her voice is hard. Unyielding.

  In silence, we complete the climb up the mountain road. The rain has almost stopped, and the wipers on the windshield swipe intermittently. I reach cabin 7’s driveway and kill the engine. We sit in silence as raindrops fall from the trees, randomly tapping the roof.

  I unhook my seatbelt and wait for Becca to say more. She doesn’t.

  Guess it’s on me to let it go or keep going.

  Fuck it.

  “I know you’re not used to having a man in your corner, Princess, but that man is me.” For now anyway. “You brought me to your family’s home and—”

  “And you disrespected them!”

  “How?”

  Her mouth is frozen open while she tries to come up with a reason that’s not BS.

  “Because. Because you were...you were manhandling my brother.”

  “He insulted you.”

  “He always insults me!”

  I touch her arm and, in my calmest tone, agree with her. “I know.”

  Her shoulders slump. Not because she’s backing down. She understands why I did what I did. Not to show off. Not to usurp control at her father’s birthday dinner. In the days I’ve known her I’ve witnessed Tad undermining and overlooking her repeatedly. It pisses me off.

  “You’re too valuable to be disrespected.”

  She sighs before she asks the last question I expect her to. “What was that about you offering me a position at one of your bars?”

  Yeah, I didn’t really think that part through, but I was on a roll. Although honestly, what is there to overthink? If she wants a place to work out from under her brother’s thumb, I can provide that for her without issue.

  “It was what it was, babe. An offer for you to work at one of my bars.”

  “You’d just...hire me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And I’d…what, move to Ohio?”

  “You say that like you haven’t moved in and out of several states multiple times. Like you can’t leave. Like you’re tied down. You’re none of those things.”

  Her eyes go to the side in thought. “But I’d be working for you. It’s a commitment. What if I changed my mind in three months? In three weeks? What if I wanted to leave?”

  Her comment stings more than I expect.

  “I’m not sure a move to Ohio is the right one to make. I’m near my family now. It’d be hard to leave my nieces. I like reading them bedtime stories and hanging out with Lara. I like Grand Lark,” she continues justifying. “I like Tennessee—the mountains, the scenery. The vacation spot you picked to take a break is where I’m privileged to work every day. It’s a lot to give up, Dax.”

  “A simple ‘No, thank you’ would’ve sufficed.” Gritting my teeth, I let my stare soften out the windshield and realize my mistake. I was going for ten more yards, not realizing Becca had already quit playing the game.

  Our one-night stand may have shifted into a week, going on two, but for her the rules never changed. I wasn’t trying to change the rules. I was going with my gut.

  I like Becca. I like her a whole hell of a lot. I like hanging out with her, and I like having sex with her. I’ve scratched the surface of who she is and what she desires, and I’d like to keep digging.

  She doesn’t want me to.

  “You want me to stop coming for you, gorgeous?” I’m done doing this in my head. Fun as it is to argue with myself and not come up with any answers, it’s time to behave like a grown-up.

  “What’s that mean?” she asks quietly.

  “I’m persistent. Pursuing you. I can shut that down if you like. I check out next week. I can lob this ball into your court and see you when you want to be seen. In other words, I can stop coming for you.”

  “See me when I want to be seen?” Her eyes flash like I’ve hit a hot button and, hell, I probably have.

  “I know you don’t like absolutes. That you avoid firm ‘yeses’ and ‘nos.’ That you prefer to show up when you want to and make decisions minus the committee.”

  I point to myself, because lately I’ve been telling her my vote.

  “I’m giving you the chance to do that.” I put my hand on her leg to let her know I’m serious. “No strings. It’s how we started at the beginning, when I brought on the rain. You want to go back to that, babe, just say the word.”

  Chapter 21

  Becca

  So. Many. Thoughts.

  What words? “Fuck you”? I might say those words.

  An out! Take it, take it, take it!

  Is that dart of pain actually fear? Loss? Do I miss him already, even though we’re sitting side by side?

  I’m not sure which response to grab onto. Especially since they’re blowing around inside my head like lottery balls.

  The truth of the matter is, I was both flattered and frustrated when he stood up for me with Tad. On the one hand, it was embarrassing—which I’m not accustomed to feeling. He put me in a situation I couldn’t control.

  Plus, I don’t like the way Dax accurately pegged my family dynamics. When you can’t hide behind your own facade, where can you go?

  Not to Ohio. That’s for damn sure.

  I’ve never had an offer as tempting as it was terrifying.

  I blew a lot of smoke just now and Dax called my bluff. If I don’t want any part of his offer, then he’ll retract it, no questions asked.

  Now he’s looking at me with a patient expression, waiting for me to make the call. Me and no one else.

  “Sounds great,” I force out. I also force a smile, hoping he buys that I’m as nonchalant as I hope I look. “I don’t want to invade your personal space, but I don’t want to avoid you either. If you’re okay with us continuing what we have until you leave, I’m game.”

  If I was hoping to elicit an argument from him, I failed. He gives me a nod that feels really, really final.

  “Sounds good to me, Princess. If you’re staying tonight, you might want to hustle inside before this rain picks up again.”

  “Yeah. Good call.” Still smiling, I climb out of the Jeep and meet Dax on the porch. He unlocks the door and opens it for me. A second later the sky opens again.

  “So...” I say once we’re inside. “Now what do we do?”

  His big shoulders shrug. “Whatever you want.”

  The vibe in the room isn’t our usual crackling sexual tension. There’s something else lingering—something forced. Like both of us got what neither of us wanted.

  “Maybe I should head back to Tad’s house and try to smooth things over,” I say, testing the idea of leaving.

  Dax doesn’t comment.

  “I should reassure Lara that I’m not angry. She’s married to my brother, but she’s also my friend.”

  More silence from Grand Lark’s hottest guest. Dax moves to the fridge, opens a beer, and takes a few long guzzles.

  “Do you have an opinion?” I ask.

  “Yeah.” He rests the beer on the counter between us.

  “Would you like to share it?” We might be on the brink of an argument, which would be better than...whatever this is.

  “Not my place. You drew a boundary line in the Jeep. I respect it.”

  It’s not fair, but he’s not wrong. I did draw a line. He told me to speak up if I wanted to resume our one-night-stand status. I did, and now here we are. I can’t expect to entwine him in my family drama or my personal life if I’m walking away in a few days.

  “Well. If it’s all the same to you, I think I will head back to the house, just so they know everything’s fine. I don’t want there to be any ill will or anything…” I trail off.

  “Makes sense.” He takes another slug of his beer.

  “Do I leave my things here? I’m planning on coming back.”

  “Good.”

  That word loosens some of the tightness in my chest. I round the counter and kiss him goodbye—a brief peck, but walking out still feels like the wrong call.