“Not that I had a crappy childhood or anything. I’m part of a big military family and we look after our own, but my whole life I heard how much of a hero my dad was. And how much like him I am.”

  “Aha,” she said. He loved that he didn’t have to spell everything out for Cassie. She got it. Probably more than he was getting it himself at this point. His revelations were all so new.

  “Yeah.” He stared at the wine, deep red in his glass, and said, “My mom reminded me that my dad was about the age I am now when he was killed.”

  “I guess another aha would be redundant.”

  He nodded. “And then we had dinner with my uncle the retired fighter pilot and my cousins, and everybody’s in the army or the air force or the navy, and we’re talking military strategy and politics, and my uncle says how proud he is of me for the daring rescue. How I reminded him of my father. He raised his glass in a toast and said, ‘No guts, no glory,’ which is pretty much our family motto.”

  Her legs moved against his in a comforting way. “And you put it all together.”

  “I did. And I realized that I’m trying to live up to my dad’s example. But the only way I can do that is to die a hero.”

  She reached over, took his glass from his hand and put it on the table. Then she took both his hands in hers and came closer until she was in kissing distance, but her eyes were serious. “Your mother doesn’t want another dead hero.”

  “No.”

  “You have nothing to prove.”

  “No.”

  “I don’t want a dead hero.”

  “No.”

  “I think I’m—”

  And he kissed her, stopped her mouth before she could say anything more, force him to take in any more than he already had. He kissed her and let his mouth and body say all the things he couldn’t say.

  She melted against him, opening everywhere, every part of her. He felt it. Felt himself responding as he’d never done before.

  They never made it to the bedroom. They made love on the couch, with the lights on and their eyes open. It was raw, searing, and when she came, when her body convulsed around him the way he loved, he felt a kind of wonder that he was here and she was his.

  When she finally took his hand and led him up to bed, he felt lighter. A weight he hadn’t realized he was carrying had been lifted.

  He didn’t know much about the wishes of the dead, or if they even had them, but he had a feeling that his dad, wherever he was, would have more respect for a son who fixed his mother’s garage and made sure she was okay than some hothead who foolishly sacrificed his life to live up to an imagined ideal.

  And even if he was wrong about his father’s wishes, it didn’t matter. Dylan knew what kind of son he wanted to be.

  What kind of man.

  18

  WHEN CASSIE WOKE in the morning, she was alone in bed. She rolled out and put her feet on the floor. When she got downstairs, she smelled coffee and heard the sound of water running. She smiled hearing Dylan singing some horrible rap in the shower. She thought about joining him, but she didn’t have time, and besides, the coffee smelled so good. With no counters, she’d had to put the coffeemaker on the stove top. He’d left her one of the mugs she’d refused to pack away, and the milk and sugar. She doctored her coffee, then carried it back upstairs to dress.

  When she came down, Dylan was dressed, his hair damp and his own coffee in hand. “Good morning,” he said, kissing her.

  “Morning.”

  “Guess what day it is.”

  “The first day of the rest of my life?”

  He was in such a good mood it was contagious. “The first day of the rest of your life with granite countertops.”

  “They’re definitely coming today?”

  “Already checked. They’ll be delivered this morning. We should have them in by the time you get home from work.”

  “Which will be late. I’ve got operation whale rescue today.”

  “You know the first thing I’m going to do when those counters are installed?”

  “Make me a gourmet feast?” A girl could hope.

  He shook his head, coming closer, his voice as smooth as velvet. “I’m going to have you, buck naked on that countertop. You will be the gourmet feast.”

  At the involuntary sound she made, he stepped closer still, put a finger to the V of her white blouse, tracked the V so his fingertip grazed the top of her breasts. She felt her nipples harden, felt her heart speed up.

  “I have to go. I’ll be late.”

  He brought the finger up and chucked her chin. “You think about that all day. How I’m going to strip you naked and hoist you up onto that cool, smooth granite and lick every inch of your sweet, tasty body.”

  If she was already this aroused, he must be feeling pretty good, too. She let her hand drop, found the hard bulge in his jeans. Squeezed lightly. “We’ll both think about it all day.”

  * * *

  “GRANITE COUNTERTOPS,” Cassie muttered.

  “What?”

  “The whale. His skin, the wet, dark skin with those white patches, it made me think of granite countertops.”

  Earl looked at her strangely. And no wonder. “Okay. What else do you see?”

  Come on, she ordered herself. Focus. Your sex life can wait. And she was going to punish Dylan somehow for making her fantasize about those granite counters and what he was going to do to her on them.

  Their boat had pulled up close, but not too close. The whale was still here, still making those sad sounds. The waves were small in this protected cove, but the whale still hadn’t left. There were few food sources. Killer whales ate mainly seals and otters.

  She stared at the whale, really studied the gorgeous creature. “He’s got a slight depression behind the blowhole. Could indicate malnutrition. He’s probably not eating. He’s losing weight.”

  “Good.”

  Better than countertop comparisons, that was for sure.

  “Rob, are you getting some good stuff?”

  “Yep.” The camera operator hung over the side, filming the whale as it breached and rolled, as it blew a spout of water droplets from its blowhole.

  “I really hope this works,” Cassie said to Earl.

  “It’s worth trying.” After a long discussion, they’d decided to try luring the whale out of the harbor by playing recorded calls from its own pod. Hopefully, the juvenile whale’s mother was one of the voices on the recording.

  She watched, anxious and hopeful, as they waited for high tide, when it would be easiest for the whale to swim back out to sea.

  The scientists set up and everyone held their breath. The whale sounds were eerie, haunting. Even recorded, it was a sound that called to something elemental in Cassie. She thought for a moment of the mermaid in her bathroom. She supposed if she could choose any mythical creature, she’d choose to be a mermaid.

  At first, it seemed as though their whale was coming this way. Come on, baby, come on, she silently pleaded. But Phil had been right. The whale got close to the edge and something made it turn back.

  She and Earl exchanged troubled glances. It would die if it stayed in that cove.

  She became aware of another motorized boat coming their way. Some sort of pleasure craft. She didn’t pay it much mind, but Earl signaled and the other boat obligingly cut its engine. Perhaps thinking they were in distress.

  They pulled close enough for Earl to ask for a favor, and tell the two men in the other boat exactly what he wanted them to do.

  “What do you think, Harry?” one asked the other, who shrugged.

  “Sure. We caught our limit so the fishing’s over. Why not?”

  The other, smaller boat buzzed into the cove. This was going to be tricky.

  The tide was already beginning to ebb. They didn’t have much time.

  Once more Earl began playing the whale calls. Once more the young whale swam toward the cove’s mouth, but this time, the fishing boat came behind it. The whale seemed to hesitate. “Come on, baby,” Cassie cried aloud this time.

  And all of a sudden, like a cork coming out of a bottle, the whale swam through the narrow opening back out into open sea.

  A cheer went up from everybody on both boats.

  She was already working on her media release, since everyone loved a good-news story. She made sure to get correct spelling of the names of the two men in the fishing boat.

  As they all headed away, she went up to Earl. They could see the whale already disappearing from view. “Will he make it?” she asked.

  Earl put an arm around her shoulder. “We gave him freedom. The rest is up to him.”

  19

  THE FOLLOWING SATURDAY, the three women sat together in a downtown restaurant where they were meeting for brunch at Serena’s invitation. It was becoming a regular event. Cassie felt a little guilty about leaving Dylan, but he’d rented a sander to start refinishing the floors. He’d pretty much told her she was better off out of the house.

  After the usual chitchat, Serena said, “The wedding’s back on.”

  “That’s wonderful.” She knew Serena wouldn’t have returned to the relationship if Adam hadn’t faced up to his demons, and sure enough, she said, “Adam finally admitted he is having issues getting over what happened to me. I already knew he wasn’t sleeping, but he says he’s been having flashbacks and trouble concentrating. He’s seeing a therapist, who is already helping. Plus, we decided to do couples counseling.” She shrugged. “I guess if you start working on your problems before you get married, you’re going to have an easier time once that knot is tied.”

  “And you’re sure?”

  “I’m sure I love him and I believe in him. Yeah. I think we’re going to be okay. No more overprotective behavior. I told him I’m going away for the weekend before we get married. He started to ask where and then stopped himself. He said, ‘Okay, have fun.’”

  “That’s real progress.”

  “I’m so happy,” Claire agreed.

  “It really is true that problems are a lot more manageable if you share them.”

  “Had you canceled the venue?” She knew that Serena had lucked out on a cancellation at a gorgeous historic mansion that offered private functions. If she’d given that up, her choices at this point would be limited.

  “No. Luckily I hadn’t canceled anything. The only problem is that if you two still agree to be my best women, then we’re going to have to get dresses off the rack.”

  Since Cassie had never bought anything that wasn’t off the rack—quite often the sale rack—and she doubted Claire had either, she felt comfortable teasing her friend. “Sorry,” she said. “That’s not going to work for me. Without a custom gown I couldn’t possibly be seen at your wedding.”

  “And the handmade shoes to match,” Claire added with mock seriousness.

  Serena had a great laugh. And it was nice to see her looking relaxed and happy again.

  They agreed that the three of them would go shopping together as soon as they finished brunch and find two matching dresses that all three of them liked. She was so happy the wedding was back on, Cassie vowed that she’d pretend to like anything Serena wanted.

  Except, perhaps, a bustle.

  Friendship only went so far.

  But this was friendship of the best kind.

  As she tackled her spinach omelet she said, “Okay. Now that Serena’s all sorted out, I have a problem. And I would like to share it with both of you.”

  “Thank you. It will be nice for me not to feel like the freak for a while.”

  “I’ll sit in the freak chair.” She drew in a breath, knowing that once she said the words she couldn’t unsay them. “I’m in love with Dylan.”

  The chandelier didn’t fall down from the ceiling. The waiters did not drop all their trays in unison, and the espresso machine continued to steam. Claire and Serena continued to regard her.

  She glanced from one to the other. “Well?”

  “That’s it? That’s your problem?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is not news. You’ve been going around with a glow all over you. You might as well carry a sign that says, I’m in Love.”

  Cassie put her head in her hands, messing up her hair, which was never far from messed anyway. “But it’s a disaster. I mean, look at me. I’m a normal woman who doesn’t work out as often as she should, forgets to get regular manicures and my beauty routine—well, I don’t really have one. And he’s Mr. June. Hundreds of women in Hunter probably leave their calendars on June all year.”

  The two other women exchanged a glance that she caught. “What?”

  Claire said, “I hate to break it to you, but it’s on the internet, too.”

  “Oh, great. Dylan’s abs are on the internet for any woman to ogle.”

  “They’ve kind of gone viral,” Serena said with a grin.

  Claire nodded. “My new accountant in Alaska has Dylan’s calendar photo as her screen saver.”

  “Alaska? His abs are in Alaska?” Oh, this could not be good news for her love-struck self.

  “Honey, Dylan probably has the most downloaded abs on the planet right now. I’m sure it’s doing wonders for local charity.”

  “And I’m sure it’s not hurting his already large ego, either.” She put her head back in her hands. She might as well just leave it there. “It’s worse than I thought. It’s hopeless.”

  After a moment Claire said gently, “Is there any chance he loves you back?”

  She raised her head. “Mr. Global Abs? Women from Hunter to Mumbai are drooling over him. What do you think?” Then she cried out in frustration, “Why him? There are tons of firefighters posing for calendars all over the world. Why is Dylan the one who goes viral?”

  Claire glanced at Serena, who they both knew had her calendar open to Mr. June. Well, it was June, but she’d already admitted that in her apartment it was always June. She leaned in and tried to explain. “You know how Hugh Jackman ends up taking off his shirt in every single movie he appears in? This is kind of the same thing.”

  Cassie stared at her. “You’re saying I’m in love with the Hugh Jackman of firefighters?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “It’s hopeless.”

  “He seems like deep down he’s a good man,” Claire said. “What if you tell him how you feel?”

  “I don’t know. I’m scared if I do that I’ll ruin what we have. I know he has feelings for me. I don’t know how strong they are. The one time I tried to say the words he cut me off. By kissing me. Like he knew what I was going to say and didn’t want to hear it.”

  Serena said, “You might think about waiting until your house is done.” When they both stared at her, she said, “I’m thinking it could be pretty awkward having him work on the house if for any reason he doesn’t return your affection.”

  Cassie appreciated that Serena could be so practical. And she was right. The only thing worse than life without Dylan would be life without Dylan in a half-renovated house.

  Although she couldn’t imagine her house without Dylan. He’d put in the bathroom and was working on the kitchen. How could she go into the bathroom and not think of him when that ’50s mermaid flirted from the wall? How could she go into the living room and not see him whistling while he pulled up that dirty shag carpet, revealing the gorgeous floors and gorgeous bits of himself when his T-shirt came untucked?

  The kitchen? She’d have to change the countertops. She could never enter it without thinking of the night she’d come home after the whale rescue and he’d been waiting for her. He’d ordered in dinner. And there were candles.

  And he’d spread her out on that counter and feasted on her exactly as he’d promised. The countertop had been cold and hard under her but that only seemed to add to the heat and softness of his mouth on her.

  Her bedroom? When she thought of all they’d shared together in that bedroom, well, she’d have to move down the hall.

  The truth was, she’d fallen in love with the house in the same way she’d fallen in love with Dylan. They went together in her mind.

  All she was going to be left with was Twinkle. The one burden in all of this she hadn’t wanted, but who was wound around her heart now the way she wound herself around her legs when she came home from work.

  She could see her future stretch before her. She’d become the eccentric cat lady. The stray-cat network would put out a bulletin that she was an easy touch. She’d end up filling her empty house and heart with cats.

  Spend her life savings on catnip and be found days after she died with a litter of newborn kittens in the folds of her baggy black clothes.

  While Dylan, of the world-famous abs, would go on to be the next Arnold Schwarzenegger.

  20

  THE BRIDESMAID DRESSES—or best women dresses, as Serena insisted on calling them—were surprisingly easy to find. They went into an upscale boutique where the manager knew Serena and immediately fussed over her. Once she understood what they wanted, she took them straight to a rack of evening and party wear. They settled immediately on Serena’s first choice. The matching dresses were a simple sheath design that fit where it touched. Devastatingly elegant and in a sophisticated blue. The kind of dress that a woman might actually wear again.

  Of course, Serena still marched them to her dressmaker, who made a few tweaks so the dresses fit so perfectly they might as well have been custom-made.

  Serena and Adam’s wedding day dawned as perfect as a day ordered by the ever-efficient Serena could be. Not a cloud in the sky, but a slight breeze so the air was fresh and cool enough that Cassie could rely on her makeup and hair to stay in place.