Give In To Me: The Boots and Hearts Series, #1

One

The traffic light turned from yellow to red, and heart about to break through her rib cage, Cailey stepped on the gas. If there were any surveillance cameras at this intersection, she was getting a ticket for sure.

One with a hefty fine.

Slow down! Hailey barked, grabbing the armrest on the passenger side door as Cailey whipped the car around a corner. You’re going to kill us both, and you’re no good to Caleb if you’re dead.

"They lost him, Hail. Her white-knuckled hands clamped around the steering wheel, her body vibrated with the force of her anger and fear. In a crowd of fifteen thousand people."

She never should have let Sebastian take Caleb to a hockey game. He may be his biological father, but until recently, Seb hadn’t had anything to do with her son.

I get it, Hailey said. But he’s with Ryan now, and he’s safe.

Thank God!

Thank God her brother’s best friend had been working an afternoon paid duty at the Senators’ preseason game. Thank God an arena attendant had found Caleb wandering alone and brought him to the control center. Thank God he was safe and sound and with someone who knew him.

Her chest squeezed tight as another wave of panic gripped her. Jesus! The things that could have happened. She didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to think about the dangers, the predators, the sex traffickers, the sick and depraved.

She didn’t want to think about how scared and alone Caleb must have felt. He was four years old for fuck sakes. How could Sebastian let this happen?

Stupid question. Easy answer.

A defenseman for the Montreal Canadiens, Seb had been on the ice. His puck bunny girlfriend of the month had lost Caleb. Had paid so little attention to the small child she had in her care and custody, she hadn’t seen him leave the wives’ suite.

Christ. She probably hadn’t even noticed he was missing yet.

Bitch!

Fucking irresponsible, professional hockey player chasing, wannabe trophy wife, bitch.

Another sharp turn and she pulled into the players’ lot at the Ottawa Senators arena. Going too fast, she had to jam her foot on the brake to avoid crashing through the parking gate.

A uniformed police officer approached the window on Hailey’s side as she lowered the glass. You Cailey Heffner? he asked.

Yes, Hailey replied, keeping things simple to avoid the which sister was which conversation.

All right, go ahead. He signaled to the attendant to open the gate, and Cailey shot through as soon as she had enough space to clear the swinging arm.

There. Hailey pointed to an empty spot.

Cailey pulled in, punched her finger against the ignition button, and grabbing the key fob out of the center console, she shoved her door open and threw her body out of the vehicle before the engine even died.

From phone call to parking lot, it had taken seventeen minutes to get here.

Longest seventeen minutes of her life.

Worse than giving birth. A thirty-three-hour ordeal she never wanted to go through again.

She slammed her door shut. Hailey did the same before hurrying around the front fender to catch up, and strides in sync, their long legs ate up the distance to the players’ entrance.

The glass door opened as they neared. Ms. Heffner? the gray-haired woman in the red Senators’ vest asked, her head swiveling back and forth between Cailey and her sister.

Yes, Cailey said, used to the curiosity and double takes that came with being an identical twin.

This way, please. As an eternity flew by one second at a time, they followed the woman down one long corridor after another until she paused in front of a solid metal door. Here we are. Her knock rivaled the harsh thumping of Cailey’s heart, and when the door opened, her ticker stopped altogether as her eyes roved over the electronic equipment, security monitors, and people in the room.

It didn’t start back up again until her gaze landed on Caleb, sitting in Ryan’s lap.

Maman! he cried, and legs trembling, she flew across the floor, oblivious to everyone and everything but her kid’s sweet face. As she scooped him into her arms, her vision blurred, her eyes filling with tears while she crushed him tight to her chest.

Nose buried in his soft brown hair, she breathed him in, filling her lungs to capacity with the scent of him.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God!

She’d almost lost him. Again.

She choked down a sob, her rib muscles aching with the effort to control her emotions. If anything ever happened to him, she wouldn’t survive it. Yeah, fuck that—she wouldn’t want to survive it. He was her everything. Her boy. Her baby. Her reason for living.

Her world didn’t turn if he wasn’t in it.

Ne sois pas triste, Maman.

Cailey sniffed, her arms tightening. I’m not sad, baby. I’m crying because I’m happy to see you. Are you okay?

I’m hungry. Can we go home now? he asked, switching to English automatically while trying to wriggle free.

Dans une minute. The way she’d taught him to speak their second language, if she spoke to him in English, he responded in French and vice-versa. Sure, their conversations might sound odd to outsiders, but he’d been bilingual by the time she’d enrolled him in kindergarten.

Another set of arms engulfed them, Hailey hugging them both at the same time. Come here, you little monkey. She wrestled Caleb away from Cailey, planting a solid smooch on his cheek as he scrambled into her arms. Your mother needs to talk to Ryan for a minute. Want to wait in the car with me?

Eager to leave, his head bobbed up and down in rapid acceptance of the plan, and Hailey set him on his feet. He immediately started to remove the new hockey jersey he wore over his John Deere hoodie, and too big for his small frame, he ended up tangled in the Canadiens emblem, both arms stuck in the air.

Here. Ryan intervened, rectifying the situation with a quick one-handed tug on the hem of the white and red jersey.

Merci, mon oncle. Sprung free, Caleb grinned at the man he called uncle. A permanent fixture in the Heffner household, Ryan Callahan was considered family by everyone.

He ruffled Caleb’s already messy curls. You remember what I said about staying with the adults the next time you go somewhere new.

His hand capturing Hailey’s, Caleb nodded again, his expression turning solemn. He knew he’d made a mistake. Cailey didn’t need to hammer the point home here and now, but later tonight, after his bath, when they were cuddled in his bed with a book, her son was getting a talking to.

See you tomorrow for dinner? Hailey asked, leaning in to kiss Ryan on the cheek. Mom’s been asking for you.

Hell yeah. He made a show of rubbing his hand against the bulletproof vest he wore over the dark police shirt covering his impressive six-pack. I’m working nights tomorrow, but I wouldn’t miss Leanne’s lasagna for anything.

That’s because you’re a food whore. She rapped a knuckle against his stomach. Ow. All about the dramatics, she shook out her hand.

Abs of steel, baby. He tapped his finger against the metal plates protecting his vital organs.

Hailey snorted, but before she could respond, Caleb asked, C’est quoi une whore, Coco?

Never you mind, Cailey interjected, shooting her sister a glare. For whatever reason, Caleb had called Hailey Coco from the moment he started talking, and the name had stuck. It’s not a nice word. Say goodbye to Ryan, and Coco will take you outside to the car. I’ll be there in a minute. Okay?

Okay. He flew at Ryan, who picked him up to return the pint-sized hug.

See you tomorrow, kiddo.

Oui, à demain. A quick kiss and a second squeeze later, he landed back in Hailey’s arms for safekeeping.

Rizzo, can you walk these two out?

Sure. A female police officer got to her feet as Hailey once again put Caleb down, and free at last, he bolted for the door.

Hey, little man, you’re forgetting your jersey.

I don’t want it, he replied, twisting the knob on the door, and using his full weight to yank it open.

Wait for me, Hailey shouted, grabbing the car’s key fob out of Cailey’s hand before disappearing into the hall after her fast-moving nephew.

Be right back, the female officer said, hitching up the heavy gun belt on her slim hips as she followed behind.

The door closed with a loud snick and left with the man she considered a second brother, Cailey let her tears fall while her anger bubbled to the surface.

Caleb’s fine, Ryan said, pulling her into his solid chest and wrapping her in a comforting embrace. Nothing happened, and the attendants are trained to spot young kids wandering around on their own. Trust me, Cails. He wasn’t alone for long.

But—

No buts. He put some space between them and wiped away her tears with his thumbs. Don’t borrow trouble you don’t need. He’s safe and back with you. That’s all that matters.

Nodding, she took a deep breath, inhaling until her lungs reached capacity, and when she couldn’t hold the oxygen in any longer, she slowly let it go. Thanks, I owe you my life. Let me know when you want to collect so I can update my last will and testament.

He huffed a laugh and let her go. Don’t think I’ll be cashing in on that IOU any time soon. His dark eyes clouded over. Now tell me, what’s going on with Tremblay and the court case?

Cailey sighed. After four years of denying responsibility for his son, Sebastian Tremblay had applied to the courts for partial custody without even giving her the courtesy of a heads-up.

The bastard.

He didn’t want Caleb. Had only ever met him twice before today. Once in the hospital after a paternity test proved he was the father, and again last spring when his team played in Ottawa for the NHL semi-conference finals.

A professional hockey player, Seb only cared about himself and his career. Unfortunately, it had taken Cailey a while to figure out the truth. Young and stupid when they dated, she’d thought they were in a relationship.

She couldn’t have been more wrong. The guy had been an asshole, and when she told him about the accidental pregnancy…

He turned into an even bigger asshole.

He’d never been a part of Caleb’s life. Never provided financially for his kid. Never acknowledged him or contacted him. Until six months ago. Somehow, Seb’s mother got wind of a grandchild she didn’t know about—her only grandchild—and she wanted access.

Well, too fucking bad.

Caleb may have been the result of a poor decision to trust the wrong guy not to use an expired condom from a bathroom vending machine, but he was the best thing to happen to her. No way she’d let a bunch of strangers come in and destroy what they had.

Oh, fuck no. Nope. Not happening. Not while she had air in her lungs and blood in her veins. If Alice Tremblay wanted to meet her grandson, she could bloody well come to Ottawa and meet him in Cailey’s home. On her terms. Surrounded by her family.

Yeah, she refused to take Caleb to Montreal.

She refused to allow a stranger to have partial custody of her son.

And over her dead-fucking-body, would he be going any-fucking-where with Seb. Not on his own. Never again. Lesson learned on that one. She didn’t give a shit what the courts had to say about it.

No change, Cailey said. Seb’s supposed to be making regular visits to get to know Caleb before Judge Strickland makes any decisions. And for now, as long as the visits are in Ottawa, I’m required to give him unsupervised access.

And this is the first time he’s taken Caleb anywhere?

Well, it’s the first time he’s been back since May, so yeah.

It’s September.

Yep.

Two visits in the last three and a half months, and he takes a kid he barely knows to a hockey game he’s playing in? Why bother? It’s not like they’d be spending any quality time together.

I know, right? She shook her head. "Not only is it the worst place to get to know him, but Caleb has zero interest in hockey."

What an asshole, one of the surveillance guys muttered, no longer able to pretend he wasn’t listening.

Anything I can do to help? Ryan asked.

Can you charge Seb with child endangerment?

Technically, he wasn’t the one with care and custody.

What about—

No, Ryan shook his head. I can’t charge his girlfriend either.

But—

Caleb walked away on his own, Cailey. Happens to good parents all the time. There’s nothing I can do from a law enforcement standpoint.

How do you feel about being an accessory to murder?

Another in the group snorted, and Ryan grinned. I feel like life in prison might be a bit of situational overkill.

She crossed her arms and pouted. So—what you’re saying is—you’re not much help at all.

I wouldn’t go that far. He held up the mini jersey with Tremblay written on the back, Seb’s number underneath. A little intimidation and a lot of embarrassment can go a long way.

Ooh, I like it, Cailey said. Maybe you can goad him into a fight and then charge him with assault.

That would be taking shit a step too far, Rocky.

The door opened, and Officer Rizzo returned. Any sign of the girlfriend yet?

No, Ryan replied.

Should we send someone to the suite? she asked, her brow furrowing. Let her know Caleb is back with his mother.

No, Cailey said. Let her freak out when she discovers she lost her sugar daddy’s baby boy.

Evil. The officer propped her forearm on the butt of her gun. I like it.

Ryan shook his head. Remind me never to get on your bad side, Rizzo.

You couldn’t if you tried, Sarg.

Detecting a hint of flirtation in the woman’s tone, Cailey took a closer look at the attractive blond.

No, Ryan said, correctly assuming the direction of her thoughts.

Why not?

Because… Hand on the small of her back, he gave her a gentle nudge toward the door. I’m already dealing with enough problems, he mumbled, low enough so only she could hear.

Yeah. She knew about the trouble he was having with his ex-girlfriend. The woman made Harley Quinn look sane. It’s been too long since we’ve seen you, Ryan.

I know. I’ll be over tomorrow. Promise.

Good. Hand on the knob, she opened the door. Don’t forget to kick some Tremblay ass.

You got it. And do me a favor, tell your no-good brother to get his vagrant ass home. Seriously, if he’s not back by Christmas, I’m taking applications for a new best friend.

An adrenaline junkie with a shortage of fear receptors, Aiden lived life on the edge. From swimming with sharks to free-hand climbing impossible rock faces to body-tumbling cliff jumps into the Andaman Sea, her younger brother pushed the limits on living dangerously.

After a messy break-up with his first real boyfriend, he’d quit university, upended his life, and moved to the other side of the world. At twenty-four, he lived a rambler’s life of adventure. And he had no intentions of dialing it back.

I’ll try. She shrugged. But you know how stubborn he gets. Not much they could do about his risk-taking if he wasn’t interested in listening.

Yeah, I know. Go take Caleb home. I’ll see you tomorrow.

Okay. Thanks again. She kissed him on the cheek. À demain. With a final wave to Officer Rizzo, Cailey made for the exit like she had an army of undead on her heels.

Home.

Home with Caleb—safe in his bed—was the only place she wanted to be.

Two

Nervous about the kids playing on his mid-size front-end loader, Dean kept one eye on the young duo as he talked to their parents at the next tractor over. He wasn’t worried about damage to the five-thousand-pound diesel.

No cute little girl in shortalls and pigtails could dent the metal or even scratch the paint with one of the pocket rivets on her Levi’s. But if one of them fell…

If the young lad tumbled headfirst out of the open cab…

God damn, he’d never forgive himself if a child got hurt at one of his facilities.

Here, Granger, you can drive, she said, pulling her younger brother onto the seat and wrapping her arms tight around his middle.

…and I’m fed up, Austin Brooks said, shaking his head, the dusty bill of his Brooks Farm ball cap shading his face from the afternoon sun. It’s been six weeks, and I’m still waiting for replacement parts from FFI.

Sorry to hear that. Yeah, Dean appreciated the man’s frustration. Nothing worse than a hundred and twenty-thousand-dollar piece of equipment sitting idle because it took forever to get the component needed to fix it.

FarmForce Industries sourced parts, materials, and labor from all over the globe in hopes of cornering a greater share of the market by keeping prices lower than their competitors. Unfortunately, the tactic didn’t often work in favor of the buyer.

Dean’s own philosophy happened to be the exact opposite. Morgan tractors were built to last. The principal he founded his business on, every single part he used, from cylinder head to driveshaft, was made in America before being assembled into the toughest farm equipment money could buy.

He didn’t settle for less than the best. Not ever.

It’s why his market share increased year over year. Also, why his profit margin didn’t. Made in America meant higher production costs, and he refused to cut corners to save a buck. Not when it came to his tractors.

I told you not to buy that foreign shit, Melissa Brooks said, hitching the baby she carried higher on her hip.

Momma! the girl yelled. You owe five bucks to the swear jar.

Austin snorted. Better keep a runnin’ tab, hon.

Stop! Melissa connected with a backhand to Austin’s bicep. I don’t cuss very often.

Yeah, you do, her daughter replied, a cheeky grin covering her innocent face.

Well, lucky for you, little miss Kris, because that swear jar is paying for your college education.

I’m not going to college, Momma. I’m workin’ the farm.

The largest grower in Arizona, the fifth generation of the Brooks family farm supplied ten percent of all leafy greens produced for consumption in the United States. A legacy built over eighty years of working the soil, making the Brooks the equivalent of agricultural royalty around these parts.

Dean wasn’t a salesman, and he didn’t often meet with potential customers, especially on a Saturday. But if he could convert Austin to a faithful Morgan Tractors brand ambassador, the residual benefits of follow-the-leader sales could easily finance the Canadian market expansion he and Paige had been discussing over the last several months.

Granger likes this one, daddy.

Does he? Austin crossed the short distance to his kids. What does he like about it? He held up his hands, and his little boy took the leap of faith, throwing himself into his father’s arms.

The color, she replied.

Granger has nonverbal Autism, Melissa offered by way of an explanation Dean didn’t need. All he saw was a happy, wholesome, loving family. But Krissy always knows what he’s thinking.

That’s right, Krissy said. And orange is his favorite color.

Mine too, Dean replied, his smile wide. When picking the trademark color for his tractor lineup, there’d been no debate. The burnt orange of Sedona’s sandstone had been the hands-down winner.

Whew, it’s hot out here, Paige said, coming around a combine and joining their group. Paige Morgan. She held out her hand to Melissa first, and the two women shook.

Melissa Brooks, and this here’s Harper, she replied, referring to the baby in her arms. That’s my husband Austin with our son Granger. And up in the cab there is Krissy.

Hi, Krissy called out.

Nice to meet y’all. Paige grinned, and Dean would’ve bet his half of the business on his ex-wife knowing exactly who the Brooks were before she even approached.

We’re here to buy a tractor, Krissy said.

Well, we’ve got plenty of those, Paige replied. How about we get out of the sun, go inside, and find some ice cream while your mom and dad talk to Dean in the comfort of an air-conditioned office.

"That sounds amazing, Melissa said as Krissy scrambled down from the cab. It’s scorching today."

It’s not that bad, Momma. You just need to get out into the fields more. And wear a hat.

Paige laughed. We’ve got plenty of those too. Let’s go see what we can find, shall we? She swept her arm toward the showroom at the front of the factory building, and the entire Brooks family followed along like she was the pied piper.

Yeah, Paige had a gift. A consummate professional, a huge part of their success could be attributed to her killer business instincts. Dean designed and manufactured tractors, combines, plows, seed spreaders, mowers, balers, trailers, and more.

If it belonged on a farm, it could be found at one of his cross-country retail stores, and while most of their revenue came from the sale of farm equipment and add-on accessories, a significant chunk could be attributed to their merchandise sales.

Morgan Tractors T-shirts, boots, belts, ball caps—you name it—Paige put their brand on it. A marketing genius when it came to selling image, she sold the shit out of his. As business partners, they made an excellent team. As husband and wife? Not so much. Not for lack of trying.

High school sweethearts, married after college, they’d been living the dream. For about five years. Then they decided to expand their family and found they couldn’t. Not long after, the passion had died.

Yeah, they still loved each other, and for a while, their solid friendship, borne of mutual respect, had kept them together. Unfortunately, it hadn’t been enough. Not for him. And not for Paige.

As far as divorces go, theirs had left them closer than ever. A relief considering their mutual love for the company they’d built together. Morgan Tractors Farm Equipment Co. was their baby. One they’d nurtured into a highly respected multi-million-dollar corporation.

The only baby they’d ever have.

Correction. The only baby he’d ever have.

As if she sensed the direction of his thoughts, Paige grabbed his hand and gave a comforting squeeze before letting go to open the door. He beat her to it and pulled the glass pane wide to allow the Brooks to enter first.

Much appreciated, Austin said, passing into the large and much cooler showroom behind his wife. Mighty kind of you to take the time to meet with us on such short notice, considering we were just passin’ by.

Bullshit, Melissa tossed over her shoulder. We drove two hours to get here, Austin Brooks. Don’t you try to pretend we were just happening by. You’re not fooling anyone.

That’s ten bucks, Momma! Krissy shouted.

Honey, you better become a lawyer with all that education I’m paying for.

Austin grinned. Now come on, baby. You know I’d never try to fool you.

Pfft, she huffed, dismissing his claim, her smile as wide as his.

Well, since you’re here, Paige said, taking advantage of the situation. Would you like a quick tour of the assembly floor while Melissa and I get the kids their ice cream?

Oh man, that’d be great. Austin nodded. Hey bud, you wanna stay with your momma? The boy in his arms tightened his hold around his father’s neck.

It’s no problem if Granger wants to come too, Dean offered. We shut down the plant on weekends, so there’s no danger.

Austin cocked a brow. You don’t operate twenty-four-seven?

No, Paige replied. We prioritize work/life balance at Morgan Tractors. Our on-site assembly employees work a forty-hour work week Monday to Friday unless we have a big production rush. And even then, they have the option to volunteer for paid overtime at time and a half. It’s a win/win business model that works for us while keeping the extended Morgan Tractor family happy.

I like that, Melissa said, looking around at the uniformed salespeople assisting other customers. Too many greedy companies put profit ahead of family these days.

We agree. The Morgan motto might as well be family first, Paige said, her soft blue eyes landing on Dean.

Impressive, Austin replied, his easy-going manner masking the shrewd businessman he was known for being. In an industry where migrant workers were often taken advantage of, the Brooks Farm had an excellent reputation for fair pay, decent housing, and equitable treatment of their employees and seasonal staff.

Why don’t we go take that tour, and if you want to tell me what kind of part you’re waiting on from FFI, maybe I can help you out with some type of temporary solution? Dean offered.

Sounds good.

Can I come? Krissy asked.

Sure. Paige hitched her thumb over her shoulder toward the customer’s lounge. Melissa and I will cool off with a couple of sweet teas. Take your time.

The ladies departed, and Dean led the way to the back of the shop where the doors to the factory were. So, you’re planning on being a farmer like your daddy, huh? He swiped his pass and punched in his key code on the security panel.

Yep, I was born to work in the dirt, Krissy replied, nodding in total seriousness.

Don’t let your momma hear you say that, Austin warned his daughter, failing to hide his grin while shaking his head at the same time.

Pfft, she replied, sounding exactly like the woman who raised her. She already knows.

Two and a half hours later, the Brooks were decked out in Morgan Tractors merch and buckled into their GMC dually waving goodbye as they pulled away with Granger’s choice in tractors on a brand-new float trailer.

That went well, Paige said, dropping her hand and turning toward the showroom entrance after the happy family drove out of sight.

Thanks to you. Meaning every word, Dean fell into step beside her. He’d sold some farm equipment to a man in need, but she’d hooked Austin and Melissa on the Morgan Tractor brand by focussing on their similar values when it came to family and business. You were amazing.

We’re a good team.

He opened the door for her to enter, and together, they made their way upstairs to their private offices. The free VIP tickets to the festival were a nice touch. He dropped his weight into his leather chair, making it groan.

Two birds, one stone, she replied, leaning her hip against the edge of his desk, and crossing her arms over her chest.

How’s that now? he asked, curious about what she was already planning in her pretty blond head.

They’d be great corporate sponsors for next year’s festival. If we could show them—

Paige, he groaned. As the main collaborator for Sedona’s first-ever four-day Red Rock Music Festival, Dean was already up to his eyeballs in lawyers, meetings, paperwork, and preparations for the upcoming event.

He didn’t want to think about next year.

Not until he was positive the partnership with Sun Caster Entertainment would be beneficial for all involved. Can we just get through the next five weeks before we start making plans for next year?

Never hurts to start thinking ahead, Dean Morgan. Speaking of which, I found a decent warehouse near Toronto for the Canadian expansion. I think you should go see it. He groaned again, and she grinned. Listen, bucko. I gotta do something to get your ass out of that chair and out of this building. A little trip north could be exactly what you need to shake yourself out of this funk.

I’m not in a funk, he grumbled.

Well, you’re certainly brooding.

I’m not brooding.

So, why are you in the office on a Saturday then?

Good question. One he didn’t have a decent answer for. Just catching up on some paperwork, he lied. Really, he was here because he had nowhere else to be.

Bullshit. She shook her head. You’re hiding.

I’m not hiding.

Dean…

He sighed, knowing where she was going and wishing she wouldn’t. Six months after their separation, Paige had started to date again. For his own reasons, he hesitated to do the same, and it bothered her. She wanted him to be happy. And he was. To the degree any man who valued family could be when incapable of producing children.

He had Morgan Tractors, his ex-wife-slash-business partner, his mother, his brother, and his sister. He had everything he needed. Except the ability to have a family of his own.

"Why are you here on a Saturday? he asked, hoping to deflect the conversation back to her. Don’t you have a date with that stock trader from Prescott tonight?"

I do. She nodded, checking the time on the pretty gold watch he’d given her on their first wedding anniversary. I came to pick up a pair of shoes I forgot in my office. She shoved her hip off the desk and held out her palm, making grabby hands with her fingers. Give me your phone.

No. Nuh-uh. Not gonna do it. He held up his hands in defense and rolled his chair away from the woman glaring at him. Fed up with his lack of a social life, she’d made him a profile on a dating site, and she liked to swipe right on women he had no interest in getting to know better.

Made for some awkward apologies.

Yeah, he’d already deleted the damn app. Twice. Didn’t matter. What Paige Morgan wanted. Paige Morgan got.

Phone, she demanded, and he scrunched his whole face into the equivalent of a frown as he fished it out of his back pocket and slapped it into her waiting palm. Not the least bit concerned by his attempt at communicating his displeasure, she went about her business.

A couple of quick jabs with her thumb, three rapid swipes left, and then the dreaded swipe right later, she handed the phone back. There. You’re not proposing marriage, Dean. Ask her out. Go on a date. Have some fun. It’ll do you some good. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. Just promise you won’t stay here and mope all night.

Fine. I promise. An easy pledge to make, considering he’d already planned to take his grandfather’s restored seventy-two Chevelle out for an evening cruise along Oak Creek’s scenic highway. No need to mention the passenger seat would be empty for the duration. You’d better get going, or you’re gonna be late.

She narrowed her eyes. You trying to get rid of me?

He grinned and told her the truth. Now come on, baby. You know I’d never try to get rid of you.

Three

Fresh from his bath and covered in a clean pair of Scooby-doo pajamas, Caleb took a flying leap, landing in the center of his bed. The whole thing rattled, and the headboard crashed against the wall, every loose nut and bolt tested to the limit.

Four weeks since they’d moved into the new house she bought, and she really needed to invest in a hammer. And some power tools. Which ones? She had no idea. She’d have to ask her dad.

Her breath caught in her lungs, and a sharp slice of pain cleaved her heart in two.

Fuck. She fisted her hand and rubbed her knuckles against her chest. Hard. It’d been three months since her father passed away, and she still expected him to walk through the door, a smile plastered on his face and a toolbelt around his waist, asking what needed to be fixed.

A familiar wave of grief gripped her, and she had to choke down a tsunami of raw emotions to keep from upsetting Caleb. He’d already had a rough day. No need to remind him of the grandfather he’d lost.

Yeah, Malcolm Heffner would never get to celebrate his only grandchild’s fifth birthday with balloons and a slice of carrot cake at her new dining table. Or tell her how proud he was of her for achieving her goal of home ownership.

He’d never help her put a piece of furniture together. Or bring his ladder over to replace the burnt-out lightbulb in the entryway. Or even grumble and curse while trying to fix the second-hand mower she’d bought.

Lesson learned on that one.

Never buy anything with a small engine from a teenager on a skateboard.

God! She wanted to talk to her dad so bad it hurt. How many times had she picked up her phone to call him before she remembered?

He was gone.

Inoperable stomach cancer.

One minute he was a rock. The foundation her family relied on. The next, he was in the hospital