“About what?”

  “Are you suddenly, in the space of eight hours, going to realize you return my feelings?”

  “Cassie...” She could see he was wretched. He felt bad, of course he did—it must be mortifying to have to say no to a woman who was offering her love. But his words petered out right after that tortured “Cassie...”

  “I didn’t think so.” And she didn’t think she could spend one more night with a man who couldn’t love her. She was, she was beginning to realize, worth so much more. “It’s probably better if you sleep at your place tonight.”

  “I don’t want to leave you like this.”

  She softened. “It’s not your fault. You don’t love me. I’m still glad I got up my courage to tell you how I feel. I know what I want and I deserve a man who can love me, too.” She reached over, took his face in her hands. “I will get over you. But I thank you for the time we’ve had.”

  “Wait, are you dumping me?”

  “Hard to dump someone you’ve never actually dated.”

  “We dated.”

  “We’ve never had one single date. We’ve had sex.”

  “What about tonight? You were my date for the wedding.”

  “Please. You were a best man. I was a best woman. I do not recall you asking me to accompany you to this wedding.” She smiled once more. She was getting sick of her own brave smiles. She wanted to crawl in bed and pull the covers over her head and wail. “It was great, very convenient for both of us, and I got carried away. That’s on me. But if I let this go on, I’ll only hurt more. So goodbye.”

  “Do you want me to finish the house?”

  She shook her head. “I think I should find a contractor who is available full-time.”

  He stared at her as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Which wasn’t a big surprise, since she couldn’t believe she’d uttered those words. Now she’d pushed herself into her own worst nightmare. Not only did she not have Dylan, but she had no Dylan in a half-renovated house.

  Way to go, Cassie.

  Slowly, he got down off the barstool. He went to collect his jacket, slid it on. All the while every piece of her wanted to cling to him, to tell him she’d changed her mind, he could stay, work on her house when he had nothing better to do, anything.

  But from somewhere she found the strength, or the stubborn pride, to let him gather his things.

  At last he came over and put his arms around her. “I hope you get everything you want.”

  She hugged him back. “You, too.”

  After he left, she went to find the cat. She needed the comfort of one creature on the earth who loved her absolutely.

  22

  “OVER HERE,” DYLAN yelled, his skates racing across the ice. “I’m open.”

  Normally Adam was their top scorer, but today Dylan was a man with a mission. The cool thing about having played hockey with Max and Adam since they were in grade school was that they knew each other so well. With the kind of telepathic communication they seemed to have on the ice, the trio changed their usual strategy. Instead of feeding Adam the puck, they started setting Dylan up.

  And he came through. Driven by a kind of fury.

  He was unstoppable, everywhere at once. Adam and Max could barely keep up with him on the front line.

  Inevitably, they won their game against the Preoria Pirates by a wide margin.

  “Somebody took their badass vitamins this morning,” Adam panted as they made their way to the dressing room.

  “You’re getting soft. It’s all that newlywed sex. Bad for your game.”

  Dylan headed straight for the shower, scrubbing his scalp hard. When he came out, Max handed him a beer. He sat down on a bench, his towel wrapped around his waist.

  Adam pointed at his midsection. “Heard you went viral.”

  He could pretend not to understand what Adam was talking about, but these two knew him too well. The guys at the station had ribbed him unmercifully on his first day back. His new nickname was Betty, for Betty Grable. Or maybe Bettie Page. He patted his abs. “Thinking of getting the six-pack insured,” he told them. “For when Hollywood comes calling.”

  After he dodged a glove sailing at him from one bench and a smelly kneepad coming from the other direction, he took a long swig of cold beer. “How’s married life?” he asked Adam.

  “Sweet.”

  “Good. You picked a honeymoon destination yet?” Adam and Serena weren’t taking a honeymoon until after Badges on Ice, which was a good thing, seeing as Adam was their center forward and this was the year the Hunter Hurricanes were going to bag the league championship if they kept playing the way they had been.

  “She wants to go to Italy.”

  “Nice.”

  “We’ll do a cycling tour, rent a villa, relax.”

  He waited for the usual feeling of relief to wash over him, that no woman expected him to ride along beside her in a foreign country on a bicycle or to hang out in a villa, but instead he experienced a feeling of loss. Almost of envy.

  Which was crazy and disturbing. He wasn’t anywhere near ready to settle down. He was in his prime. One day, sure, he’d spend a couple of weeks in Hawaii with the new Mrs. Cross, but that wouldn’t be happening for a while. And everyone had better get on board with the program.

  “How are your wedding plans coming?” Adam asked Max.

  What were they? A bunch of girls drinking tea?

  Max didn’t seem to find the question unmanly. But then, he was from South America, so what did he know?

  “We’re getting married in Alaska. As far as I know, Claire’s grandmother and her friend who manages a hotel are organizing the whole thing. All we have to do is show up.”

  Adam nodded. Dylan waited for him to ask about the flower arrangements, but instead he said, “Did she get back okay?”

  “Yep. I miss her like crazy. Think I’ll fly up myself next week. I’ll make sure I’m back in time for Badges on Ice.”

  “You’d better be,” Dylan warned.

  “Bring Claire,” Adam added.

  “How’s Cassie’s house coming?” Adam asked after another minute.

  The grinding sense of injustice he’d felt since he left her place after the wedding made him scowl. “I wouldn’t know. She fired me.”

  “What?” both men said at once.

  Then, at the same time, “What did you do?” and “Did you screw up?” echoed in his ears.

  “I didn’t do anything. And no, I didn’t screw up, okay? I got my real job back. I’m a firefighter again.”

  “That’s great that you got your job back,” Adam said, giving him the cop look, the one that probably made innocent men admit to crimes they’d never committed. “But why did she fire you?”

  “Because I’m not available twenty-four-seven to finish her house. She’s hiring somebody who is.”

  “Doesn’t sound like Cassie.”

  Max shook his head in silent agreement.

  “Well, that’s what she did. She fired my ass.”

  “Who’d she get in your place?”

  “I don’t know. We’re not exactly hanging out these days.”

  “So you did screw up.”

  Max nodded, as though he’d put the facts through his computer brain and come up with a definitive equation. “He screwed up.”

  “Look, it’s personal.” He was not going to announce that Cassie wanted more from the relationship than he had to give any more than he was going to ask Max what kind of icing was going to be on the wedding cake.

  At least one man in this shower room still had his balls intact, and he intended to keep it that way.

  * * *

  “MAYBE I SHOULD sell it,” Cassie said, looking around her. The house renovation hadn’t moved forward much since she’d told Dylan she no longer needed his services. She was trying. Going to demonstrations at Home Depot on setting tile and watching YouTube videos on how to install crown molding. But apart from the fact that what seemed simple in a hardware-store demo, or in a video, was never simple when she actually tried to do it, she didn’t want to renovate her house all by herself.

  “You can’t sell your house,” Serena exclaimed. “You love it.”

  “Not anymore. I see him everywhere. Every time I look at the kitchen counter I remember how we—” She cleared her throat.

  Serena smiled reminiscently. “We christened ours, too. That was a fun day in home renovation.”

  “Except that you still have Adam, and all I have is cold stone and memories I’d rather forget.”

  “We’ll find you another contractor.”

  “I don’t want another contractor.” She knew she was whining but she didn’t care. “How come you and Claire can find such good guys, and I go and fall for the Last Bachelor Standing?”

  “I don’t know how well he’s standing,” Serena said after a moment. “I think he’s hurting, too.”

  “Good. He broke my heart.”

  “I know.”

  “I was fine until he showed up.”

  “I know.”

  She scowled even deeper. “This is all Adam’s fault.”

  “I know.”

  Cassie had to chuckle at her own foolishness and Serena’s patient answers. “Of course it’s not Adam’s fault. He tried to do me a good deed.”

  “Well, don’t think he’s happy. He told me to tell you that as soon as he finishes installing the new windows in our place, he’s all yours. He feels terrible the way things turned out. We both do.”

  “I’ll be okay. I need to get past this. And I will.” Maybe. Or maybe she would finish the reno with a view to selling. Why not? According to those renovation shows she could no longer bear to watch because there was no one to make foolish bets with, she’d likely increased the value of this home. She could sell, find something else. Start again.

  And her next contractor would either be female or a happily married guy with a beer belly and a house full of kids.

  Twinkle was hanging around her constantly. She knew the cat missed Dylan. Who didn’t?

  She stroked the cat’s belly. “Maybe I made a mistake.”

  “Of course you didn’t. It’s a great house.”

  “No, I mean dumping Dylan. Maybe I should have—I don’t know, kept sleeping with him. At least I’d have a piece of him.”

  “You really love him.”

  What was the point in denial? She nodded. Miserable.

  “I think you did the right thing. Nobody wants half a man.” Serena put her hands out. “Even if it’s half of Dylan. It would be okay if you were both only interested in having some fun, but once you fell in love with him, there was no way you could be casual.”

  “Exactly.”

  She stopped stroking the cat and it bumped her hand with its head in protest. She went back to her task. To Serena, she said, “Shouldn’t you be with Adam? You two are newlyweds.”

  “He’s playing hockey. They’re playing one of their last games before the big tournament.”

  “Oh.” She did not want to picture Dylan on the ice, bashing a hockey puck around with the other overgrown boys.

  “Cassie.” Serena pulled up her appointment calendar. Which was kind of like a superhero pulling on their cape or picking up their special tool. “I’m freeing Adam up. You can have him next weekend and he’ll finish the rooms that are half-done. Then, maybe when you’ve had some time, you can figure out how you want to tackle the rest.”

  “No.” Cassie realized she did have one more option. “I have a good contractor who will drop everything and be here in a couple of days.”

  “Is he reliable?” A frown creased Serena’s brow.

  “The best.”

  “Did you find him on Craigslist? Because you know some of those guys—”

  “It’s my dad. He’s been dying to come up and take over and I was so determined to do this all my way that I told him I’d call him if I needed him.” She let out a breath and sat up, realizing it was time to end her pity party. “It’s time to call him.”

  * * *

  DYLAN SHOULD BE on top of the world. The happiest guy in Hunter, if not Washington State. Maybe the entire lower forty-eight. He had his job back, and it was the job he’d been born to do.

  Ever since he’d gone home and realized how much he’d bought into a version of heroism that wasn’t even true, he’d felt calmer. Throwing himself into harm’s way was never going to bring his father back, and rushing into danger without a second thought was pure foolishness. He hoped he’d always go to the limit of his endurance to save a fellow human being from fire, automobile wreck or whatever disaster he was called out to, but he also hoped he’d be able to distinguish the sensible risk from the foolish one.

  He’d had a long talk with his captain after dinner at the fire hall. They’d sat over coffee and Len had suddenly said, “Do you know the serenity prayer?”

  “The one from AA?”

  “That very one.”

  “God grant me—wisdom? Patience? It’s something like that.”

  “It’s the first part that everyone remembers. ‘God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.’” He leaned forward. “That’s your job. You’ve got more courage than most men I know, but you need to figure out the serenity and wisdom parts.”

  Dylan nodded. He finally got it. “I feel like something changed inside me. I’m not blowing smoke, I really do. But it’s still going to be a test every time.”

  “One day at a time. That’s part of the prayer, too.”

  “You seem to know that prayer pretty well.”

  “Been going faithfully to AA meetings every week for the past thirty years. We all have our demons, Dylan. The strong man figures out what they are and learns to manage them.”

  He nodded. Humbled that the man he admired so much would take him into his confidence like this. “One day at a time.”

  “That’s right. One day at a time. It’s the same for all of us.”

  Besides having his job back and a new perspective on himself, his hockey team was poised to win the Badges on Ice championship. Adam had fought down his own personal demons with the help of some excellent performance coaching from the delectable Serena. Max was the kind of guy who always played at the top of his game—it’s how he was built. And the rest of the team was solid. Even if they didn’t win, they’d never played better or had more fun as a team.

  But Dylan wasn’t the happiest man in the lower forty-eight. He wasn’t even the happiest man on his block. He woke in the night reaching for a warm, willing woman who wasn’t there. He came up with a better plan for the layout of Cassie’s en suite, but he wasn’t the guy fixing up her house anymore. It wasn’t his business.

  She’d told him she loved him. Why did she have to say those fateful words? Why couldn’t she have left things as they were?

  And why did he have to miss her so much?

  23

  AFTER A PARTICULARLY eventful day of washing the fire trucks and appearing at the local high school as part of a community-awareness program, Dylan made a detour on his way home. He’d drawn up his ideas for Cassie’s en suite. If she was there, he’d give it to her. If not, he’d put the drawing in the mailbox. Of course, he knew from the time of day that there was a pretty good chance she’d be home.

  He felt his heart rate speed up a little as he headed down her road. He pulled into the drive, wishing he’d thought this through a little better. What was he going to say if she did open the door?

  He turned off the truck and jumped down, the sketch in his hand. As he headed for the door he was intercepted by the cat. She was more like a dog, from what he could tell—she knew the sound of his truck and ran to greet him. At the last minute, she seemed to remember she was a feline and that he hadn’t been around too much lately, for she stuck her tail straight up in the air and stalked past him before reversing direction and butting up against his legs.

  He knelt right down, hadn’t realized how much he missed the little girl. “Hey, Twinkle. You’re getting so big.” He lifted the cat onto his shoulder for the comforting sound of the warm, purring creature. Cassie was a lot less likely to throw something at him if he was holding her cat.

  He knocked on the door, trying to rehearse what he was going to say and realizing he didn’t have a clue.

  Just as well because when the door opened, it wasn’t Cassie standing there. It was an older guy with gray hair and a suntan wearing an old pair of jeans and a sweatshirt from the 1984 Olympic Games in L.A. It would have been a collector’s item if it wasn’t so stained and faded.

  “Help you?” the older guy said.

  “Are you the new contractor?”

  “Yep.”

  “I’m the old one.”

  The old guy looked less than impressed. “The one she fired.”

  “Uh, is Cassie here?”

  For a second he thought the door was going to slam in his face, but then a reprieve came in the form of a comfortable woman, as tanned as the contractor but a lot better dressed. And friendlier.

  “I thought I heard the door.” She looked him up and down with no attempt at subtlety. “We’re Cassie’s parents, and you are—”

  “I’m Dylan Cross, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He reached out and shook her hand. Then held his hand out to Cassie’s dad, who shook it briefly before saying to his wife, “This is the guy Cassie fired.”

  Cassie’s mom smiled. “Don’t mind him. He’s in a bad mood. He had to cut one piece of molding three times before he got it right.”

  Dad glared at both of them before stomping off into the interior of the house. The bump of feet on steps told Dylan, who knew the sounds of this house as well as he knew his own, that Dad was headed down to the basement. Hopefully not to load his rifle.