He straightened, every hackle he owned standing on end, as she continued. “After Mark died, they contacted me, expressing deep grief at their loss of him before they could make amends. Asking to see the girls.”

  Appealing to her compassionate, motherly heart. He gritted his teeth. Remained silent.

  “At first I refused, but then they started talking about grandparents’ rights. In Colorado—and elsewhere, I’ve discovered—grandparents have the right to visitation if their son or daughter who parented the child has died.”

  “No way the courts would give irrational theorists visitation rights.” The words tore through him, and out. He wished he could have been a sounding board back then, even though he had been on the other side of the world and hadn’t known her.

  To offer advice, or use his connections to get her help, if need be.

  There was no room in either of their lives, or time, for him to be getting emotionally involved, he reminded himself. Not with her, her children, or her situation.

  “They seemed to be over all of that. They were so rational on the phone, and in letters...”

  It took all Ezra had not to grab her and the girls up and take them to his mom’s house.

  “I didn’t want to take a chance on the court ruling in their favor, so I suggested that instead of forcing them to file for rights, I’d agree to visitation willingly, as long as we all went through professional mediation first. Which we did.” She glanced behind her, and then back up at him. “They appeared to the mediator and social services specialist to be caring, rational people. So I introduced them to the girls. We met for lunch, that kind of thing. Eventually I let them take the girls for a playdate, following the guidelines we’d all established. They couldn’t take the girls for more than two hours, they had to have cell phone access at all times, and they couldn’t leave the Blue Larkspur city limits.”

  That sounded reasonable to him.

  “So they had a right to be here on Saturday? Looking for you?”

  Had he so grossly overreacted?

  He wanted to believe he had, but his gut—and Theresa’s reaction to her daughters’ news—told him different.

  She shook her head, and he asked, “When did things start going wrong?”

  “After the first playdate. Claire was afraid to go to bed in case the blast came while she was asleep.” She hugged herself with both arms, her brow creased beneath the few loose strands of long dark hair that had escaped from her off-center bun.

  “I tried to talk to them, to explain they were hurting the girls, but they got belligerent, told me I was going to send the twins to their death, too, along with Mark. I ended up telling them they couldn’t see the twins anymore. They said they’d sue for rights, and I threatened to get a restraining order against them, testifying about their bunker filled with guns and ammunition. I was so upset I just blurted that out, going only from what Mark had said, but it seemed to work.” Her brown eyes wide and imploring, she seemed to be asking him for something.

  He wasn’t sure what, but knew he wanted to give it to her, whatever it was. Knew, too, that he was in no position to allow this woman to rely on him for more than a few fun outings.

  Not only was he army all the way, and leaving as soon as he got his next assignment, but he most definitely wasn’t a family man. Any of his siblings could vouch for that one. While most of them had stayed local after their father’s duplicity was exposed, devoting their lives to making up to the community for their father’s sins, Ezra had split.

  Along with Dom and Oliver.

  “And then on Friday, I saw them parked down from the girls’ school. And now I hear they were here, at my house, on Saturday?” She shook her head. “They’re making me as paranoid as they are...building up this whole conspiracy theory that they’re watching everything we do, investigating the best place and time to take the girls and hide them away in their bunker for the rest of their lives, indoctrinating them until they won’t be able to think straight, either.”

  Maybe she was a little bit right about being paranoid. Her theory, while understandable, was a bit far-fetched. And yet he understood it, too, which meant he couldn’t completely discount it.

  “Have they tried to get in touch with you directly?”

  She nodded. “They called yesterday and then again earlier today. They left a message.”

  He asked to hear the message.

  She played it for him.

  The expression of concern seemed completely appropriate, given that their son had died and they were clinging to what was left of him. He told her so.

  She nodded again. “I know. I was telling myself to calm down, but now I hear that Eric told the girls I was wrong about there being no imminent nuclear blast?”

  Yeah, he didn’t like that, either. But the Fitzgeralds had left the kids alone as soon as they knew Theresa was busy. Maybe they’d come to the front door, to try to work something out with her, and, after their knock went unanswered, they heard the twins in the back and hoped to find Theresa there?

  “Have they threatened to take your daughters?” he asked. Families, as much as a pain in the butt as they could be sometimes, were also sacred. Grandparents wanting to be a part of their grandkids’ lives was understandable.

  “No. Just to go to court for visitation rights until I threatened to counter the motion with the request for a restraining order. That’s how Mark got rid of them in the past. They never bothered him again after that. He said that they’d feared losing their bunker and their stash more than they’d loved him.”

  “That’s somewhat comforting,” Ezra said slowly. “Did you get the feeling, when you made the threat, that it still carried the same weight?”

  “I did until recently.” She shook her head, and he waited for the bun to topple. It didn’t. And neither would she, he realized. “I’m probably just overreacting.”

  He mostly agreed with her. “Probably,” he offered. “But just to be safe, do you mind if I put a word in with the chief of police?”

  “You know the chief of police?” she asked, then shook her head one more time. “Of course you do.”

  Ezra let the comment go. “Do I have your permission to speak to him?”

  “Of course. Yes!” And then, after a glance that seemed almost shy, she said, “Thank you.”

  And suddenly there he was, standing there wanting to kiss her.

  Backing away, he confirmed the time he’d pick her up on Saturday and told her he’d see her later.

  No kissing. As far as anything intimately personal went, Theresa was off-limits.

  As soon as he’d switched back the car seats and was headed down the street, he put in a call to Chief Lawson, the man who’d been dancing so closely with his mother at his brother’s wedding. He didn’t mention Isa, though. And was grateful when the top lawman said he’d see what he could find out about Eric and Jennifer Fitzgerald.

  * * *

  Talking with Ezra had helped. Theresa stretched out in the tub in the bathroom attached to her bedroom, letting the bubbles soothe her as she listened to a popular New Age album and watched the candlelight flicker against the walls.

  She and the girls had had a fun night—baking cookies and using the new markers she’d bought them to draw on the whiteboard she’d mounted in the playroom the previous weekend, with one of their favorite animated films playing in the background. It had been the most just plain fun she’d had with them since Mark had died.

  It wasn’t because of spending time with Ezra earlier in the day personally. He hadn’t done anything anyone else couldn’t have done—just talking to another adult about her concerns regarding the Fitzgeralds had helped her step outside the situation and see how large it had loomed in her imagination.

  Consuming her.

  Instead of being a victim, she was drinking a glass of white wine and remembering how to relax. Pampering herself in the attempt. She hadn’t done that since Mark’s death, either.

  She wasn’t going to think about that. Or the past year’s worth of struggle. She was there to grab a few minutes of good feels and...

  Her phone rang.

  And her stomach sank.

  Grabbing the cell off the counter, wet hand and all, she wouldn’t let the dread seep through her veins. Wouldn’t...

  It wasn’t the Fitzgeralds.

  It was Ezra Colton.

  She answered before she could stop herself. And except for her head and the hand holding her phone, she promptly slid down to hide her nakedness beneath the bubbles.

  “Is it too late to call?” he asked, leaving her wondering if she’d sounded sleepy.

  As long as she hadn’t come across as aroused, she didn’t care. “No. The girls go to bed at eight, and I was just settling down for a few minutes to myself...”

  “I won’t keep you, then,” he said. “I just wanted to let you know that Chief Lawson is going to check into the Fitzgeralds for you. If nothing else, this will put them on police radar.”

  Okay, now the relief was because of him personally.

  Him and his Colton contacts. “Thank you.”

  “I also talked to an old buddy of mine and was wondering how you’d feel about having your house painted.”

  Jolting up so fast water sluiced around her, over the sides of the tub, splashing onto the floor, Theresa sat there barely holding the phone. Mouth gaping.

  The house needed several repairs, but the paint... It was the most crucial. If she didn’t get it done, there were going to be structural issues. And it was the most expensive thing, so the farthest down on her budget, too.

  How did you tell a man that you couldn’t afford to keep up your modest little home?

  Like a strong woman, that was how. “I can’t afford to have my house painted.”

  She worked hard, but with Mark’s lingering illness, there’d been so many medical bills. Things insurance didn’t cover. And his modest life insurance policy hadn’t done so, either. Another year and she’d be out of debt. Just one more year...

  “I’m offering to do it for free,” he told her. “I painted houses when I was in high school—it was my way of working my way out of the mess of crap my father had landed us in—and I just ran into this buddy I painted with. I mentioned to him that I might have a job he could help with, and he said he’d like to get back up on a ladder, too. Give us a chance to catch up.”

  “I cannot let you paint my house for free.”

  “You just said you can’t afford to pay for it.”

  “I can’t.”

  “So I’m hoping you’ll reconsider and let us do it for free. I’ve got three weeks left in town, and I’m going friggin’ bonkers just hanging around Mom’s place, a sitting duck for whichever Colton wants to stop in and save me from myself.”

  “I’d think your family would be proud of you—the job you do.”

  A dangerous job. One she didn’t want to think about.

  “Maybe. They’d be happier, though, if I came home and painted houses.”

  After holding her breath for a second, Theresa slowly let it out. Reminded herself of her recent foray into letting her imagination run away with her. But then she asked, “Is there a chance you’d consider that?”

  “Not one in hell,” he said. “But since I’ve committed to being here, and I’m already buzzing with claustrophobia, I’d appreciate it if you’d let me help you out. It’s what the Coltons do, helping others, so no one will give me a hard time about being busy.”

  “And your friend? He has nothing better to do, either? Or does he have a family he needs to escape, too?”

  “Nope. He’s a cop with a wife, two kids and a full schedule, but he wanted us to get together on Friday, and I told him painting was the only way.”

  “I don’t...”

  “He was actually kind of happy about the idea,” he said. “For some of the same reasons. No grief, and an excuse to hang out...”

  “Well...then...” She couldn’t believe she was actually considering it. The thought of having the huge worry off her mind was so tempting, and...

  “I’m taking that as a yes,” Ezra said. “I’ll come by tomorrow to get started. Don’t call if you change your mind,” he added, and while there was no laughter in his tone, she could tell he was teasing her.

  “You’re a good man, Ezra Colton,” she said softly, suddenly more aware of her nudity than she’d been in years.

  “Nah, I’m just not a vacationing type of guy, so hovering on the desperate spectrum.”

  She believed that, too, but his words didn’t negate her opinion of him at all. To the contrary, every time he opened his mouth, she was moved more.

  He talked about paint finishes, and then brands, asked about colors, and hung up as though he was no more than her hired help.

  Who was working for free.

  As she sat there in the cooling water, staring at her phone, she had to strictly remind herself that no matter how wonderful Ezra might seem in the moment—how wonderful he might be, period—he wasn’t wonderful for her. Not only was he only in town—a town he clearly didn’t want to be in—for just a month, but his job was super dangerous. She’d already lost her heart to one man who’d died.

  She couldn’t go through it again.

  Nor could she risk her girls getting too fond of him and having their hearts broken.

  Period.

  He was going to be around. The kids would be outside playing at least some of the time. She and Ezra were bound to run into each other—more than just an afternoon at a barbecue as she’d originally thought.

  She’d have a talk with them in the morning. Make certain that they understood Ezra was only a visitor in their lives; he was not even going to be around long enough to be a friend. They had to get that Ezra needed and wanted it that way.

  And Theresa had to accept that while her body had chosen that particular inopportune time to come back to life, Ezra was not the man to engage with in that way. She’d promised Mark that she’d seek out happiness again.

  Giving any part of herself to a career soldier who lived for dangerous assignments was not an option.

  Chapter 5

  Up at the crack of dawn on Thursday, Ezra did some cardio and was at the paint store when it opened. As small as Theresa’s house was, and with help, he’d have it done before the barbecue. He’d hoped to get to her place before she left—for no real good reason—but no one was home when he arrived.

  Considering their conversation the day before, and the fact that he hadn’t yet heard back from Lawson, he called her cell just to make certain everything was okay. He heard that the twins were at day camp—an indoor pool and gymnastics day—with strict instructions to counselors that Claire and Neve were not to go outside for any reason. Just a precaution. Probably unnecessary, but one of which he wholly approved.

  And then he told her, “I’ll be at your place all day, up on a ladder for most of it, and will keep an eye out in the area.” Enemy surveillance was what he did. He hoped there was no threat.

  But when it came to irrational theorists, trust was just plain stupid. Unrequited love, even in grandparental form, was an aggravator.

  He was probably just a soldier with too much time on his hands and looking for trouble where it didn’t exist—but looking didn’t hurt anyone.

  As it turned out, the day passed uneventfully, if you didn’t consider the peacefulness, the completely unexpected relaxation that slowly settled upon Ezra as he first scraped where necessary, and then rolled and brushed, rolled and brushed. How weird was it that he actually had fun moving his rented ladder around the outside of Theresa’s house?

  The physical exertion helped, too. He’d learned long ago that the best way to keep himself mentally alert and healthy was to exercise his body, expending energy before it built like nerve bombs inside him.

  And though he might have hoped to see Theresa and the girls at the end of the day, he had to take off before they showed up.

  After a quick shower, pulling on jeans and a gray T-shirt, he called her again, on his way to meet his fellow triplets for a bit of letting loose at The Corner Pocket, before Oliver left the next day. And he ended up sitting in his car for a couple of minutes after he’d pulled in, looking at the riverfront and listening to Neve tell him about hanging on rings that day and having bumps in her arms just like him—muscles, he realized. Theresa apologized for her six-year-old’s insistence that she had to tell him something and took the phone back the second Neve was done, leaving him no chance to respond to the remark.

  Rescuing him was more like it. What did you say to something like that?

  But he was smiling as he walked into the English-feeling pub, turning right to head straight for the billiards, finding his brothers—Dom with somewhat shaggy blond hair, and Oliver with his slicked-back blond hair and lean runner’s look. Both wore jeans and stood at their favorite pool table in the back, balls racked, three beers already on a small high-top close by.

  “Uh-oh.” Dom was wearing a knowing grin as he nodded.

  Seriously? “What?” Ezra’s tone had a bit of an edge. He was going to take Colton crap from his own triplet sibling now?

  “Nothing, just know that look.”

  “What look?”

  “The ‘a woman I know is making me smile’ look.” He glanced at Oliver, who gave a bit of a cynical shrug.

  “Whatever, dude, you break.” Ezra took a long cool swallow of beer and decided to whip Dom’s butt at the table. Winning was always a toss-up between the three of them, but Dom had just given Ezra a reason to want it more.