He put a hand on her shoulder. It was warm and solid and strong. “I promise.”

  For a moment, she thought he might pull her close, like he used to when they were still teenagers. She’d always had to be strong, even then. Always was better at helping other people carry their burdens than she was at sharing any of her own. Even with Michael, strong as he was. Nicole wondered for a desperate moment what it might be like to let herself lean on him. Just for a minute, a second. She was so tired, and she knew that he’d be there if she did, even with everything that was between them.

  Nicole realized that she was leaning forward, that his arm was almost around her, and she jerked back, shaking him off. “I’m sorry.”

  Michael was silent for a moment, his hand still stretched out towards her. Then it clenched into a fist, and he dropped his arm to his side. “You don’t have to apologize.”

  “No, I do. We agreed to keep things professional. I realize this is awkward because of our history, but you’re already doing me a huge favor. I don’t want to take advantage of that.” She took a few steps away, needing space and some distance between them. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m okay.”

  “It’s all right if you’re not,” he said stiffly.

  “I am,” Nicole insisted. She would be. She had too many people relying on her to let herself fall apart. “I just want to get back to my life. You worry about catching whoever is behind all of this.” She nodded to the computer.

  Michael looked at her for a long moment. He nodded. Then he strode to the door.

  When he reached it, he hesitated, turning back to her. The look he gave her had heat rushing down every fiber. “Send me that email.”

  That wasn’t what he’d started to say, Nicole was sure of it. But she nodded. He turned and headed down the hall to his room.

  Nicole gently shut the door, resting her head against it for one moment. She was not going to be stupid. She was not going to let herself fall for him again. Taking a deep breath, she went over to the laptop and forwarded the email to Michael. Whatever else was going on between them didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that he was the best at what he did. More than that, it was Michael. When he gave a promise, she trusted him.

  6

  The next morning hit her like a hangover. She woke up gritty-eyed and sore, with the promise of a headache not far on the horizon. Nicole turned, smooshing her face into the pillow for a moment, and groaned. Fear, anger, and the whole mess of emotions that being around Michael stirred up, had her up half the night, tossing and turning. She’d finally dropped off some point after two. She fumbled for her phone on the nightstand, rubbing her bleary eyes until the numbers came into focus. Seven a.m. She usually never slept past six, but she supposed that when you were on the run for your life, you got to sleep in a little.

  The prospect of pulling the blankets over her head for another five, ten, minutes was oh, so tempting. But impossible. Kind of like Michael, Nicole thought, and then frowned, pushing that aside with a vengeance. She’d known it was going to be hard, being around him again, especially with them holed up together in this cabin. She just hadn’t counted on how hard it would truly be. Nicole thought of the moment the night before, when he’d tried to offer her comfort and support, and she’d had to force herself to step away. She was going to have to be careful around him, even more than she even anticipated. Keep things polite, but professional. Because anything more was just a slippery slope, and there was nothing waiting for her at the bottom if she fell.

  But first, she was going to have to get up. Grant was probably already up and running around somewhere, and she didn’t want Michael to feel obligated to entertain him. Besides, if she wanted coffee, she was going to have to get out of bed.

  Actually...Nicole eased herself up, fatigue aching in every muscle, and sniffed. She could smell coffee. And pancakes? Pushing the blankets back, she shuffled towards the door. The warm smell of pancakes drifted through the hall, and she heard the low tones of Michael’s voice and Grant’s giggles from downstairs.

  Nicole headed down the stairs, following the sound of her son's voice, and Michael’s steady murmurs to the kitchen.

  Michael and Grant were standing side by side at the long island, and the counter before them was a clutter of bowls, flour, and broken egg shells. Michael was prepping a frying pan as Grant stirred a large blue mixing bowl. There was the hot sizzle of butter coming from the pan.

  “Not too much,” Michael was saying, his deep voice low and patient. “If you stir the batter too much, the pancakes turn out tough.”

  Grant nodded, his ten-year-old face serious. “Right.”

  Michael tilted the pan, sliding the butter around, and then nodded to Grant, who poured out a dollop of batter, very carefully. It hissed as it hit the skillet. “Good. That’s enough,” Michael said, and Grant immediately tilted back the bowl. “Good job,” he said, and Nicole held her breath, not wanting to disturb them, watching through the doorway as her son beamed.

  A bittersweet ache blossomed under her breastbone. Grant never complained about not having a dad. He adored his grandfather, and she’d always told herself—she’d let herself believe—that was enough when it came to male role models in her son’s life. But the sight of her little boy standing next to Michael, the stern lines of the big, tough ex-SEAL’s face softening as he looked down at her son, and Grant giggling as Michael stepped back and then smoothly flipped the pancake, made something lurch in her heart. Nicole had to force back the rush of regrets and what-ifs that crowded her mind, thick and vicious.

  She hadn’t thought she made a sound, but Michael looked up from the skillet, right at her. Nicole ran a hand through her tangled hair, wishing she’d taken a moment to brush it out, to splash some water on her face and tidy up a bit. Too late for that now. Brazening it out, she gave him a bright smile. “Good morning.”

  “Mom!” Grant beamed over at her. He was wearing a giant NY Mets T-shirt, a gift from his grandfather. Her father was a die-hard Mets fan, and was doing his best to convince Grant they were the best baseball team ever. “Michael’s showing me how to make pancakes. He said I didn’t have to call him Mr. Rinaldi since you guys are friends,” Grant informed her. “He said he knows how to make the best pancakes ever.”

  Nicole glanced at Michael, smiling until it hurt. “I remember.”

  “Come over here.” Grant set the bowl down, and it wobbled on the counter as he hurried over to grab her hand to lead her to the table. “You sit here, okay? We’ve got breakfast covered. It’s our treat. Michael said we should do something nice for you, and I had the idea to make you breakfast. The pancakes were his idea.”

  “That’s very sweet, baby.” She planted a kiss on his forehead.

  “Here.” Michael poured a cup of coffee, stirring in the barest drop of cream and one sugar, and brought it over to her. Nicole told herself that there was no significance, none, in the fact that he still remembered how she took her coffee ten years out. “I wanted to let you know,” he added carefully, “I sent the email about...the haircut,” Michael glanced at Grant, “to the person who we thought should know...where we got that haircut.”

  “Thank you,” Nicole said, trying to make it clear she wasn’t just talking about the email. The nod Michael gave her told her that he understood.

  “What person?” Grant asked, so promptly it had Nicole wondering why she even tried.

  “Just one of Michael’s friends who wanted to make an appointment,” she said, taking a sip of coffee.

  Grant frowned at her over the edge of the bowl. “You know how when you’re not being honest, your nose does this scrunchy thing? That’s why you always lose when we’re playing Go Fish,” he informed her.

  “How’re we doing on batter?” Michael asked, heading back over to the stove before Grant could say anything else. Nicole shot him a grateful look.

  Nicole watched Michael and Grant, Michael surprisingly patient as he talked Grant through pouring the batter and watching for bubbles, showing him how to carefully flip the pancakes. It was surprisingly sweet, seeing him give Grant a cautious pat on the shoulder as the boy set the tray of pancakes on the table. She couldn’t help feeling moved at the happiness on her son’s face as he eagerly drowned his pancakes in syrup, chattering away excitedly about his upcoming birthday party and the battleship Lego set that his grandparents had promised to “surprise” him with. Her son’s exuberance was nothing new—and it was something she’d always cherished. But the surprise was the way Michael listened to her boy—really listened—and asked him questions. Nicole had always known that Michael would be good with kids, but seeing it...

  She was in trouble. How was she supposed to keep her heart hardened around that?

  “Can I play outside after breakfast?” Grant asked, face smeared with syrup and pancake crumbs. “I was thinking Michael could come with me,” he added when Nicole hesitated, and gave Michael his most calculated, adoring look. “If he wanted to.”

  Nicole glanced over at Michael, who had frozen, coffee mug halfway to his mouth. “I don’t know, honey. Michael might need some quiet time. After all, he has had a big morning.”

  “No, it’s fine,” Michael said awkwardly. “I’d be happy to. If it’s okay with you, that is.”

  Grant’s eyes lit up. “Awesome!” He quickly downed the rest of his juice and scrubbed a hand across his mouth. “I’m going to go get changed.”

  Nicole looked down at her mug, swirling the contents, after Grant had rushed up the stairs. “You’ve made quite the impression.”

  Michael shrugged. “He’s a good kid.”

  She smiled. “I got lucky. He’s like Emma.”

  “And you.”

  That surprised her. “Thanks.”

  “You should be proud,” Michael said, a little awkwardly. “It can’t have been easy. Raising a kid like that, on your own. Especially after losing your sister. And being in school at the same time.”

  “It wasn't without its challenges,” Nicole said, automatically trying to make her voice light. She’d never liked drawing attention to her problems. She was supposed to be strong, wasn’t she? Shouldn’t that mean she could handle any challenge that came her way? “But Mom and Dad helped out a lot. And school...didn’t end up working out, but that meant I had more time to devote to Grant.”

  She saw the confusion cross Michael’s face. “You didn’t get your degree?”

  Nicole cleared her throat, taking a sip of her coffee to cover it. “No. But it’s fine. It all worked out,” she assured him. She threw in a smile for good measure, but she wasn’t really surprised when Michael didn’t buy it.

  “You worked so hard for that degree,” Michael insisted.

  “Yes.” She had. But then Emma and Colin had died, and she had gone from being an aunt and a sister to being a mother overnight. A grieving one. It had been so damn hard, trying to figure out how to care for a six-month-old, to help her own parents weather their grief, and settle Emma and Colin’s affairs, on top of classes and papers. At first, her professors and classmates had been sympathetic to her situation, but after a few weeks had passed, that patience had started to wear thin as she had to keep rescheduling tests and assignments, not to mention flaking out on her part of group projects. She’d already been struggling to hold it all together, thanks to her personal problems earlier in the year. The loss of her sister and addition of a baby in her life had forced her to prioritize what was truly important. Something had to give. School had been that thing, especially when she’d started to feel less and less comfortable there, among all those other students who acted as if acing a test or scoring a date were the most important goals anyone could have. Caught up in their little bubble of classes and parties, they’d had no idea how real life worked. As opposed to the people at the salon where she’d been working at the time, doing their bookkeeping. They were the ones who’d rallied around her. Brought over groceries. Babysat. Forced her to take a nap while they did all of her laundry. They’d helped her keep her head above water. “But life doesn’t always turn out the way we think it will.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” The look Michael gave her was dark and charged.

  Nicole swallowed and had to look away. “But it all worked out the way it should have. Grant is the best thing that ever happened to me. And it’s the reason Holly and Charlotte and I are so close. I’d been working part-time at a salon, doing their bookkeeping, before it all happened. When I decided to leave school, I stayed with the salon, taking on more of the office work so it could become a full-time job. Holly and Charlotte were working there, too, and they were so supportive and amazing. They didn’t even know me that well at the time, but they were there for me. We got so close that when I came into some money a few years back and decided to open a new salon, I couldn’t think of anyone better to partner with me.”

  “I—” Michael stopped. For a long, tense moment, he was silent. Then he stood and crossed over to the counter. “I have something for you.” He picked up a small cell phone, holding it out for her. “It’s a burner. Your friends have ones as well. In case you need to talk about...things.”

  “Shoes?” Nicole suggested levelly, trying not to smile. “Boys? Periods?”

  Michael gave her a flat look. “In case you need to talk. It’s safe to use that phone.”

  She took the phone, turning it over in her hands. “Thanks. I mean it.”

  Michael nodded. He looked like he was going to say something else, but Grant came rushing down the stairs just then, almost tumbling over his feet. He had pulled on jeans and sneakers, but was still wearing his gigantic Mets T-shirt. “Okay! C’mon!”

  Michael nodded and headed to the door. He paused, holding the door open as Grant rushed out. “Nicole. Last night—” He stopped. “We okay?”

  She very nearly smiled. It was probably the most minimal, man-grunt apology she’d ever heard, but for Michael it was practically Shakespearean. The truth was clearly, obviously, no, they weren’t, they hadn’t been okay for more than ten years. But this was probably as close as they were going to get.

  “Yes,” Nicole said, giving in. “We’re okay.”

  She closed her eyes, letting the smile drop away as the door closed behind him. She could hear Grant laughing already.

  On impulse, Nicole turned and jogged up the stairs. She needed to get her mind off Michael. To not think about him for one minute, or how there was nothing she could do except sit around and wait for the police to work all this out.

  Well, there was one thing she could do. Nicole turned on the laptop Michael had loaned her and forwarded the threatening email to Holly, adding, In case you want to break out those old reporter skills. Holly had gone to school for journalism, but when she hadn’t been able to find work as a reporter after she graduated, she ended up taking a receptionist job at the same beauty parlor where Nicole had been working at the time.

  Almost immediately, her burner phone rang. “Eagle Two to Eagle One,” Holly said in a dramatic stage whisper. “This is Eagle Two, accepting the mission. I should be able to sneak in a little online digging when Mr. Bossy’s not around. When did you get it?”

  “Last night,” Nicole told her. “Michael sent it on to the police already, and I contacted Angelica to let her know there was a threat against the shop. Just in case.”

  “Good,” Holly said, concerned. “And I’m happy to look into this. Seriously, please give me something to do.”

  “It’s only been a day,” Nicole pointed out.

  “Anything for a distraction right now,” Holly replied fervently.

  Nicole couldn’t help but smile. “Going well?”

  “Oh, it’s fabulous,” Holly huffed. “This apartment is nice and all, but the walls keep inching closer—not helped by the fact that the ginormous ex-jock I’m stuck with takes up all the oxygen in the room. I am currently hiding in the bathroom because it is the only place I can have five minutes alone, away from the super-hot ex-SEAL who apparently thinks ‘pregnant’ means ‘utterly incapable of doing anything for herself ever.’ Whenever I ask him anything about the case, he just tells me the police have it handled and then does everything short of pat me on the head and hand me a lollipop. You’d think the fact that I’m having a child would convince him I’m not a child, but apparently not. He is driving me up the wall.”

  “Yeah, well, we all have our own problems to deal with.” Nicole flopped back on the bed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

  “Going well?” Holly teased. Nicole didn’t answer right away. “Uh oh.”

  “It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

  “Which is what you always say when you’re not fine. Michael?” Holly guessed.

  “Yes. No.” Nicole let out a hard breath. “They made pancakes this morning.”

  Holly groaned. “Tell me about it. I want to hear every detail. My SEAL keeps trying to give me kale and acai berry smoothies. I’ve been dreaming about pancakes. Pancakes and melted butter and syrup and those links of breakfast sausage that you get in a diner that are probably made out of questionable meat.”

  “No breakfast sausage here. Just pancakes. I came downstairs and they were in the kitchen together, and Michael was teaching Grant how to make pancakes. It was…” Her heart squeezed again at the memory of Michael and Grant bent over the stove together.

  “That’s not good,” Holly said. “Let me guess—adorable family picture. And he’s there, right in front of you, and just as hot as he ever was. And your panties melted.”

  “My panties did not—” Nicole started, and then stopped. Because this was Holly. One of two people she could be really, genuinely open with. “It was just really sweet. Grant likes him. A lot, Holly.”

  “Which would be great, except it’s Michael Rinaldi,” Holly pointed out. “And I’d lay money that, pancakes aside, he’s still pulling the same ‘mission-only, emotions are for puny humans’ routine that he was when you were dating.”

  She winced. Maybe she had told her friends a bit too much about how things had gone with Michael. “To be fair,” Nicole said, feeling honor-bound, “I am 100% okay with Michael being mission-focused in this particular instance. That’s why I went to him in the first place.”