“You make me feel things I haven’t in a long time. I’m sorry, Jase. I can’t—”

He didn’t wait for her to finish. There was no way he was going to listen to the word can’t coming from her, not when she’d basically told him she wanted him. In one quick movement, he leaned down and brushed his lips over hers.

The moment was cut short when a dog barked—the sound coming from his house—and Emily pulled back. “You have a dog?”

“A puppy,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his jaw and trying to get a handle on the lust raging through him. “Ruby—my pup—was the runt. She was weaker than the rest and her brothers and sister tended to pick on her.”

“You rescue puppies, too? Unbelievable.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Tell that to Ruby.” She reached up on tiptoe, touched her lips to the corner of his mouth and then moved away. “You’re damn near perfect, Jase Crenshaw.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.” She shook her head. “It’s too bad for both of us that I gave up on perfect.”

* * *

Crimson, Colorado: Finding home—and forever—in the West

Always the Best Man
Michelle Major

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MICHELLE MAJOR grew up in Ohio but dreamed of living in the mountains. Soon after graduating with a degree in journalism, she pointed her car west and settled in Colorado. Her life and house are filled with one great husband, two beautiful kids, a few furry pets and several well-behaved reptiles. She’s grateful to have found her passion writing stories with happy endings. Michelle loves to hear from her readers at www.michellemajor.com.

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For Stephanie.

You have the strongest, bravest spirit of any mother I know and you inspire me every day.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Some women were meant to be a bride. Emily Whitaker had been one of those women. For years she’d fantasized her walk down the aisle, imagining the lacy gown, the scent of her bouquet and the admiring eyes of family and friends as she entered the church.

When the day had finally arrived, there was no doubt she’d been beautiful, her shiny blond hair piled high on her head, perfect makeup and the dress—oh, her dress. She’d felt like a princess enveloped in so much tulle and lace, the sweetheart neckline both feminine and a little flirty.

Guests had whispered at her resemblance to Grace Kelly, and Emily had been foolish enough to believe that image was the same thing as reality. Her fairy tale had come true as her powerful white knight swooped her away from Crimson, the tiny Colorado mountain town where she’d grown up, to the sophisticated social circles of old-money Boston.

Too soon she discovered that a fantasy wedding was not the same thing as real marriage and a beautiful dress did not equate to a wonderful life. Emily lost her taste for both daydreams and weddings, so she wasn’t sure how she’d found herself outside the swanky bridal boutique in downtown Aspen seven years after her own doomed vows.

“You can’t want me as your maid of honor.”

Katie Garrity, Emily’s soon-to-be sister-in-law smiled. “Of course I do. I asked you, Em. I’d be honored to have you stand up with me.” Katie’s sweet smile faltered. “I mean, if you’ll do it. I know it’s short notice and there’s a lot to coordinate in the next few weeks so...”

“It’s not that I don’t want to...”

Katie was as sweet as any of the cakes and cookies sold in the bakery she owned in downtown Crimson. She’d been a steadfast best friend to Emily’s brother, Noah Crawford, for years before Noah realized that his perfect match had been right in front of him all along.

Emily was happy for the two of them, really she was. But if Katie was pure sugar, Emily was saccharine. She knew she was pretty to look at but after that first bite there was an artificial sweetness that left a cloying taste on the tongue. Emily didn’t want her own bitterness to corrupt Katie’s happy day.

“You have a lot of girlfriends. Surely there’s a better candidate than me?”

“None of them are going to be my sister-in-law.” Katie pressed her fingers to the glass of the shop’s display window. “I remember the photos of your wedding that ran in Town & Country magazine. Noah and I don’t want anything fancy, but I’d like our wedding to be beautiful.”

“It will be more than beautiful.” Emily swallowed back the anger that now accompanied thoughts of her marriage. “You two love each other, for better or worse.” She took a breath as her throat clogged with emotion she’d thought had been stripped away during her divorce. She waved her hand in front of her face and made her voice light. “Plus all the other promises you’ll make in the vows. But I’m not—”

“I’m a pregnant bride,” Katie said suddenly, resting a hand on her still-flat stomach. She smiled but her eyes were shining. “I love your brother, Emily, and I know we’ll have a good life together. But this isn’t the order I planned things to happen, you know?”

“You and Noah were meant to be,” Emily assured her. “Everyone knows that.”

“Crimson is a small town with a long memory. People also know that I’ve had a crush on him for years and until I got pregnant, he had no interest in me.”

Emily shook her head. “That’s not how it happened.” It had taken Katie walking away for Noah to realize how much she meant to him, but Emily knew his love for his fiancée was deep and true.

“It doesn’t stop the talk. If I hear one more person whisper shotgun wedding—”

“Who?” Emily demanded. “Give me names and I’ll take care of them for you.” Since Emily had returned to Colorado at the beginning of the summer, she’d spent most of her time tucked away at her mother’s farm outside town. She needed a do-over on her life, yet it was easier to hide out and lick her emotional wounds. But it wouldn’t be difficult to ferret out the town’s biggest gossips and grown-up mean girls. After all, Emily had been their ringleader once upon a time.

“What I need is for you to help me take care of the wedding,” Katie answered softly. “To stand by my side and support me as I deal with the details. You may not care about the people in Crimson anymore, but I do. I want my big day to be perfect—as perfect as it can be under the circumstances. I don’t want anyone to think I tried to force Noah or rush the wedding.” She smoothed her fingers over her flowery shirt. “But I’ve only got a few weeks. Invitations have already gone out, and I haven’t even started planning. Josh and Sara had one free weekend at Crimson Ranch this fall, and I couldn’t wait any longer. I don’t want to be waddling down the aisle.”

“None of that matters to Noah. He’d marry you tomorrow or in the delivery room or whenever and wherever you say the word.”

“It matters to me.” Katie grimaced. “My parents are coming for the wedding. They haven’t been to Crimson in years. I need it to be...” She broke off, bit down on her lip. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter. I love Noah, and I should just forget the rest of this. Why is a wedding such a big deal anyway?”

But Emily understood why, and she appreciated Katie’s need for validation even if she didn’t agree with it. So what if Emily no longer believed in marriage? She’d picked a husband for all the wrong reasons, but Katie and Noah were the real deal. If the perfect wedding would make Katie happy, then Emily would give her a day no one would forget.

“I could be the wedding planner, and you can ask one of your friends to—”

“I want you,” Katie interrupted. “I’m an only child and now I’ll have a sister. My family’s messed up, but that makes me value the one I’m marrying into even more.”

“I haven’t valued them in the past few years.” Emily felt her face redden, embarrassment over her behavior rushing through her, sharp and hot. “Until Davey was born I didn’t realize how important family was to me.”

“When your dad got sick, you helped every step of the way.”

That much was true. Her father died when Emily was in high school. She’d taken over the care of the farm so her mom could devote time to Dad. Meg Crawford had driven him to appointments, cooked, cleaned and sat by his bedside in the last few weeks of home hospice care when the pancreatic cancer had ravaged his body.

It had been the last unselfish thing Emily had done in her life until she’d left her marriage, her so-called friends and the security of her life in Boston. As broken as she felt, she’d endure the pain and humiliation of those last six months again in a heartbeat for her son.

“You’re a better person than you give yourself credit for,” Katie said and opened the door of the store. The scent of roses drifted out, mingling with the crisp mountain air.

“I know exactly who I am.” Emily removed her Prada sunglasses and tipped her face to the bright blue August sky. She’d missed the dry climate of Colorado during her time on the East Coast. It was refreshing to feel the warmth of the sun without miserable humidity making it feel like she’d stepped into an oven.

“Does that include being my maid of honor?” Katie asked over her shoulder, taking a step into the boutique.

“Shouldn’t it be matron of honor?” Emily followed Katie, watching as she gingerly fingered the white gowns on the racks of the small shop. The saleswoman, an older lady with a pinched face, stepped forward. Emily waved her away for now. Shopping was one thing she could do with supreme confidence. Not much of a skill but today she’d put it to good use. “What’s the protocol for having a divorcée as part of the bridal party?”

“I’m sticking with maid. There’s nothing matronly about you.” Katie pulled out a simple sheath dress, then frowned when Emily shook her head. “I think it’s pretty.”

“You have curves,” Emily answered and pointed to Katie’s full chest. “Especially with a baby on board. We want something that enhances them, not makes you look like a sausage.”

Katie winced. “Don’t sugarcoat it.”

“We’ve got a couple of weeks to pull off the most amazing wedding Crimson has ever seen. You can be sweet. I don’t have time to mess around.”

“It doesn’t have to be—”

Emily held up a hand, then stepped around Katie to pull a dress off the rack. “It’s going to be. This is a good place to start.”

Katie let out a soft gasp. “It’s perfect. How did you do that?”

The dress was pale ivory, an empire waist chiffon gown with a lace overlay. It was classic but the tiny flowers stitched into the lace gave a hint of whimsy. The princess neckline would look beautiful against Katie’s dark hair and creamy skin and the cut would be forgiving if she “popped” in the next few weeks. Emily smiled a little as she imagined Noah’s reaction to seeing his bride for the first time.

“You’re beautiful, Katie, and we’re going to find the right dress.” She motioned to the saleswoman. “We’ll start with this one,” she said, gently handing over the gown.

The woman nodded. “When is the big day?”

“Two weeks,” Emily answered for Katie. “So we’ll need something that doesn’t have to be special ordered.”

“Anything along this wall is in stock.” The woman turned to Katie. “The fitting room is in the back. I’ll hang the dress.”

“Do I have to plan a cheesy bachelorette party, too?” Emily selected another dress and held it up for Katie’s approval.

Katie ignored the dress, focusing her gaze on Emily. “Is that your way of saying you’ll be my maid of honor?”

Emily swallowed and nodded. This was not a big deal, two weeks of support and planning. So why did she feel like Katie was doing her the favor by asking instead of the other way around? “If you’re sure?”

“Thank you,” Katie shouted and gave Emily a huge hug.

This was why, she realized, as tears pricked the backs of her eyes. Emily hadn’t had a real friend in years. The women who were part of her social circle in Boston had quickly turned on her when her marriage imploded, making her an outcast in their community. She’d burned most of her bridges with her Colorado friends when she’d dropped out of college to follow her ex-husband as he started his law career. Other than her mom and Noah, she had no one in her life she could count on. Until now.

She shrugged out of Katie’s grasp and drew in a calming breath. “Who else is in the bridal party?”

“We’re not having any other attendants,” Katie told her. “I’ll try on this one, too.” She scooped up the dress and took a step toward the back of the store. “Just you and Jase. He’s Noah’s best man.”

Emily stifled a groan and muttered, “Great.” Jase Crenshaw had been her brother’s best friend for years so she should have expected he’d be part of the wedding. Still, Crimson’s favorite son was the last person she wanted to spend time with. He was the exact opposite of Emily—warm, friendly, easy-to-like. Around him her skin itched, her stomach clenched and she was generally made more aware of her long list of shortcomings. A real prince among men.

Katie turned suddenly and hugged Emily again. “I feel so much better knowing you’re with me on this. For the first time I believe my wedding is going to be perfect.”

Emily took another breath and returned the hug. She could do this, even with Jase working alongside her. Katie and Noah deserved it. “Perfect is my specialty,” she told her friend with confidence. Behind her back, she kept her fingers crossed.

* * *

“What the hell was that?” Noah Crawford held out a hand to Jason Crenshaw, who was sprawled across the Crimson High School football field, head pounding and ears ringing.

Jase hadn’t seen the hit coming until he was flat on his back in the grass. He should have been paying more attention, but in the moment before the ball was snapped, Emily Whitaker appeared in the stands. Jase had done his best to ignore the tall, willowy blond with the sad eyes and acid tongue since she’d returned to town.

Easier said than done since she was his best friend’s sister and...well, since he’d had a crush on her for as long as he could remember. Since the first time she’d come after Jase and Noah for ripping the head from her favorite Barbie.

Emily’d packed quite a wallop back in the day.

Just not as much as Aaron Thompson, the opposing team’s player who’d sacked Jase before running the ball downfield. Jase brushed away Noah’s outstretched hand and stood, rubbing his aching ribs as he did. “I thought this was flag football,” he muttered as he turned to watch Aaron do an elaborate victory dance in the end zone.

“Looks like Thompson forgot,” Noah said, pulling off his own flag belt, then Jase’s as they walked toward the sidelines.

“We’ll get ’em next time.” Liam Donovan, another teammate and good friend, gave Jase’s shoulder a friendly shove. “If our quarterback can stay on his feet.”

“This is a preseason game anyway,” Logan Travers added. “Doesn’t count.”

“It counts that we whipped your butts,” Aaron yelled, sprinting back up the field. He launched the game ball at Jase’s head before Logan stepped forward and caught it.

“Back off, Thompson,” Logan said softly, but it was hard to miss the steel in his tone. Logan was as tall as Jase’s own six feet three inches but had the muscled build befitting the construction work he did. Jase was in shape, he ran and rock climbed in his free time. He also spent hours in front of his computer and in the courtroom for his law practice, so he couldn’t compete with Logan’s bulk.

He also wasn’t much for physical intimidation. Not that Aaron would be intimidated by Jase. The Thompson family held a long-standing grudge against the Crenshaws, and hotheaded Aaron hadn’t missed a chance to poke at him since they’d been in high school. Aaron’s father, Charles, had been the town’s sheriff back when Jase’s dad was doing most of his hell raising and had made it clear he was waiting for Jase to carry on his family’s reputation in Crimson.

Jase took a good measure of both pride and comfort in living in his hometown, but there were times he wished for some anonymity. They weren’t kids anymore, and Jase had long ago given up his identity as the studious band geek who’d let bullies push him around to keep the peace.

He stepped forward, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked down his nose at the brutish deputy. “Talk is cheap, Aaron,” he said. “And so are your potshots at me. We’ll see you back on the field next month.”

“Can’t wait,” Aaron said with a smirk Jase wanted to smack right off his face.

The feeling only intensified when Aaron jogged over to talk to Emily, who was standing with Katie and the other team wives and girlfriends on the sidelines.

“Let it go.” Noah hung back as their friends approached the group of women. “She wouldn’t give him the time of day in high school, and now is no different.”

“Nice,” Jase mumbled under his breath. “Aaron and I actually have something in common.”

Noah laughed. “Katie’s asked Emily to be the maid of honor. You’ll have plenty of excuses to moon over her in the next few weeks.”

Jase stiffened. “I don’t moon.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Noah said as he gave him a shove. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Emily has her hands too full with Davey and starting over even if she wanted a man.” He gave Jase a pointed, big-brother look. “Which she doesn’t.”

“I’m no threat,” Jase said, holding up his hands. “Nothing has changed from when we were twelve. Your sister can’t stand me.”

“I get that but you’ll both have to make an effort for the wedding. Katie doesn’t need any extra stress right now.”

“Got it,” Jase agreed and glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to check in at the office before I head home.”

“How’s the campaign going?”

“Not much to report. It seems anticlimactic to run for mayor unopposed. Not much work to do except getting out the vote.”

“You’re more qualified for the position than anyone else in Crimson,” Noah told him, “although I’m still not sure why city council and all the other volunteer work you do isn’t enough?”

“I love this town, and I think I can help it move forward.”

Noah smiled. “Emily calls you Saint Jase.”

Jase felt his jaw tighten. “How flattering.”

“She might have a point. What are your plans for the weekend? Katie and I are going out to Mom’s place for a barbecue tomorrow night. Want to join us?”

Jase rarely had plans for the weekend. Juggling both his law practice and taking care of his dad left little free time. But Emily would be there and while the rational part of him knew he shouldn’t go out of his way to see her, the rest of him didn’t seem to care. If he could get his father settled early tomorrow...

“Sounds good. What can I bring?”

“Really?” Noah’s brows lifted. “You’re venturing out on a Saturday night? Big time. We’ve got it covered. Come out around six.”

“See you tomorrow,” he said and headed over to his gym bag at the far side of the stands. He stripped off his sweaty T-shirt and pulled a clean one from the bag. As he straightened, Emily walked around the side of the metal bleachers, eyes glued to her cell phone screen as her thumbs tapped away. He didn’t have time to voice a warning before she bumped into him.

As the tip of her nose brushed his bare chest, she yelped and stumbled back. The inadvertent touch lasted seconds but it reverberated through every inch of his body.

His heart lurched as he breathed her in—a mix of expensive perfume and citrus-scented shampoo. Delicate and tangy, the perfect combination for Emily. Noah had accused him of mooning but what he felt was more. He wanted her with an intensity that shook him to his core after all these years.

He’d thought he had his feelings for Emily under control, but this was emotional chaos. He was smart enough to understand it was dangerous as hell to the plans he had for his future. At this moment he’d give up every last thing to pull her close.

Instead he ignored the instinct to reach for her. When she was steady on her feet, he stepped away, clenching his T-shirt in his fists so hard his fingers went numb. “Looks like texting and walking might be as ill-advised as texting and driving.”

“Thanks for the tip,” she snapped, tucking her phone into the purse slung over her shoulder. Was it his imagination or was she flushed? Her breathing seemed as irregular as his felt. Then her pale blue eyes met his, cool and impassive. Of course he’d imagined Emily having any reaction to him beyond distaste. “My mom sent a photo of Davey.”

“Building something?” he guessed.

“How do you know?”

“I was at the hospital the day of your mom’s surgery. I made Lego sets with him while everyone was in the waiting room.”

She gave the barest nod. Emily’s mother, Meg, had been diagnosed with a meningioma, a type of brain tumor, at the beginning of the summer, prompting both Emily and Noah to return to Crimson to care for her. Luckily, the tumor had been benign and Meg was back to her normal, energetic self.

The Crawford family had already endured enough with the death of Emily and Noah’s father over a decade ago. Having been raised by a single dad who was drunk more often than he was sober, Jase had spent many afternoons, weekends and dinners with the Crawfords. Meg was the mother he wished he’d had. Hell, he would have settled for an aunt or family friend who had a quarter of her loving nature.

But she’d been it, and lucky for Jase, Noah had been happy to share his mom and her affection. With neither of her kids living in town until recently and Meg never remarrying, Jase had become the stand-in when she had a leaky faucet that needed fixing or simply wanted company out at the family farm. He’d taken the news of her illness almost as hard as her real son.

“I remember,” she whispered, not meeting his gaze.

“Every time I’ve been out to the farm this summer, Davey was building something. Your boy loves his Lego sets. He’s—”

“Don’t say obsessed,” she interrupted, eyes flashing.

“I was going to say he has a great future as an engineer.”

“Oh, right.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze dropping to the ground.

“I know five is young to commit to a profession,” he added with a smile, “but Davey is pretty amazing.” Something in her posture, a vulnerability he wouldn’t normally associate with Emily made him add, “You’re doing a great job with him.”

Her rosy lips pressed together as a shudder passed through her. He’d meant the compliment and couldn’t understand her reaction to his words. But she’d been different since her return to Crimson—fragile in a way she never was when they were younger.

“Emily.” He touched a finger to the delicate bone of her wrist, the lightest touch but her gaze slammed into his. The emotion swirling through her eyes made him suck in a breath. “I mean it,” he said, shifting so his body blocked her from view of the group of people still standing a few feet away on the sidelines. “You’re a good mom.”

She stared at him a moment longer, as if searching for the truth in his words. “Thanks,” she whispered finally and blinked, breaking the connection between them. He should step away again, give her space to collect herself, but he didn’t. He couldn’t.

She did instead, backing up a few steps and tucking a lock of her thick, pale blond hair behind one ear. Her gaze dropped from his, roamed his body in a way that made him warm all over again. Finally she looked past him to their friends. “Katie told me you’re the best man.”

He nodded.

“I’ve got some ideas for the wedding weekend. I want it to be special for both of them.”

“Let me know what you need from me. Happy to help in any way.”

“I will.” She straightened her shoulders and when she looked at him again, it was pure Emily. A mix of condescension and ice. “A good place to start would be putting on some clothes,” she said, pointing to the shirt still balled in his fist. “No one needs a prolonged view of your bony bod.”

It was meant as an insult and a reminder of their history. She’d nicknamed him Bones when he’d grown almost a foot the year of seventh grade. No matter what he’d eaten, he couldn’t keep up with his height and had been a beanpole, all awkward adolescent arms and legs. From what he remembered, Emily hadn’t experienced one ungainly moment in all of her teenage years. She’d always been perfect.

And out of his league.

He pulled the shirt over his head and grabbed his gym bag. “I’ll remember that,” he told her and walked past her off the field.

Chapter Two

Emily lifted the lip gloss to her mouth just as the doorbell to her mother’s house rang Saturday night. She dropped the tube onto the dresser, chiding herself for making an effort with her appearance before a casual family dinner. Particularly silly when the guest was Jase Crenshaw, who meant nothing to her. Who probably didn’t want to be in the same room with her.

Not when she’d been so rude to him after the football game with her reference to his body. He had to know the insult was absurd. He might have been a tall skinny teen but now he’d grown into his body in a way that made her feel weak in the knees.

That weakness accounted for her criticism. Emily had spent the last year of her marriage feeling fragile and unsettled. Jase made her feel flustered in a different way, but she couldn’t allow herself be affected by any man when she was working so hard to be strong.

Of course she’d known Jase liked her when they were younger, but she hadn’t been interested in her brother’s best friend or anyone from small-town Crimson. Emily’d had her sights set on bigger things, like getting out of Colorado. Henry Whitaker and his powerful family had provided the perfect escape at the time.

Sometimes she wished she could ignore the changes in herself. She glanced at the mirror again. The basics were the same—blond hair flowing past her shoulders, blue eyes and symmetrical features. People would still look at her and see a beautiful woman, but she wondered if anyone saw beyond the surface.

Did they notice the shadows under her eyes, the result of months of restless nights when she woke and tiptoed to Davey’s doorway to watch him sleeping? Could they tell she couldn’t stop the corners of her lips from perpetually pulling down, as if the worry over her son was an actual weight tugging at their edges?

No. People saw what they wanted, like she’d wanted to see her ex-husband as the white knight that would sweep her off to the charmed life she craved. Only now did she realize perfection was a dangerous illusion.

She heard Jase’s laughter drift upstairs and felt herself swaying toward the open door of the bedroom that had been hers since childhood. Her mom had taken the canopy off the four-poster bed and stripped the posters from the walls, but a fresh coat of paint and new linens couldn’t change reality.

Emily was a twenty-eight year old woman reduced to crawling back to the financial and emotional safety of her mother’s home. She dipped her head, her gaze catching on a tiny patch of pink nail polish staining the corner of the dresser. It must have been there for at least ten years, back when a bright coat of polish could lift her spirits. She’d had so many dreams growing up, but now all she wanted was to make things right for her son.

“Em, dinner is almost ready,” her mom called from the bottom of the stairs.

“Be right there,” she answered. She scraped her thumbnail against the polish, watching as it flaked and fell to the floor. Something about peeling a bit of her girlhood from the dresser made her breathe easier and she turned for the door. She took a step, then whirled back and picked up the lip gloss, dabbing a little on the center of her mouth and pressing her lips together. Maybe she couldn’t erase the shadows under her eyes, but Emily wasn’t totally defeated yet.

Before heading through the back of the house to the patio where Noah was grilling burgers, she turned at the bottom of the stairs toward her father’s old study. Since she and Davey had returned, her mom had converted the wood-paneled room to building block headquarters. It had been strange, even ten years after her father’s death, to see his beloved history books removed from the shelves to make room for the intricate building sets her son spent hours creating. Her mother had taken the change easier than Emily, having had years alone in the house to come to terms with her husband’s death. That sense of peace still eluded Emily, but she liked to think her warmhearted, gregarious father would be happy that his office was now a safe place for Davey.

Tonight Davey wasn’t alone on the thick Oriental rug in front of the desk. Jase sat on the floor next to her son, long legs sprawled in front of him. He looked younger than normal, carefree without the burden of taking care of the town weighing down his shoulders. Both of their heads were bent to study something Jase held, and Emily’s breath caught as she noticed her son’s hand resting on Jase’s leg, their arms brushing as Davey leaned forward to hand Jase another Lego piece.

She must have made a sound because Jase glanced up, an almost apologetic smile flashing across his face. “You found us,” he said and handed Davey the pieces before standing. Davey didn’t look at her but turned toward his current model, carefully adding the new section to it.

“Dinner’s ready,” she said, swallowing to hide the emotion that threatened to spill over into her voice.

Jase had known her too long to be fooled. “Hope it’s okay I’m in here with him.” He gestured to the bookshelves that held neat rows of building sets. “He’s got an impressive collection.”

“He touched you,” she whispered, taking a step back into the hall. Not that it mattered. Her son wasn’t listening. When Davey was focused on finishing one of his creations, the house could fall down around him and he wouldn’t notice.

“Is that bad?” Jase’s thick brows drew down, and he ran a hand through his hair, as if it would help him understand her words. His dark hair was in need of a cut and his fingers tousled it, making her want to brush it off his forehead the way she did for Davey as he slept.

“It’s not...it’s remarkable. He was diagnosed with Asperger’s this summer. It was early for a formal diagnosis, but I’d known something was different with him for a while.” Emily couldn’t help herself from reaching out to comb her fingers through the soft strands around Jase’s temples. It was something to distract herself from the fresh pain she felt when talking about Davey. “Building Lego sets relaxes him. He doesn’t like to be touched and will only tolerate a hug from me sometimes. To see him touching you so casually, as if it were normal...”

Jase lifted his hand and took hold of hers, pulling it away from his head but not letting go. He cradled it in his palm, tracing his thumb along the tips of her fingers. She felt the subtle pressure reverberate through her body. Davey wasn’t the only one uncomfortable being touched.

Since her son’s symptoms had first started and her ex-husband’s extreme reaction to them had launched the destruction of their family, Emily felt like she was made of glass.

Now as she watched Jase’s tanned fingers gently squeeze hers, she wanted more. She wanted to step into this tall, strong, good man who could break through her son’s walls without even realizing it and find some comfort for herself.

“I’m glad for it,” he said softly, bringing her back to the present moment. “What about his dad?”

She snatched away her hand, closed her fist tight enough that her nails dug small half-moons into her palm. “My ex-husband wanted a son who could bond with him tossing a ball or sailing. The Whitakers are a competitive family, and even the grandkids are expected to demonstrate their athletic prowess. It’s a point of pride and bragging rights for Henry and his brothers—whose kid can hit a ball off the tee the farthest or catch a long pass, even if it’s with a Nerf football.”

Jase glanced back at her son. “Davey’s five, right? It seems a little young to be concerned whether or not he’s athletic.”

“That didn’t matter to my in-laws, and it drove Henry crazy. He couldn’t understand it. As Davey’s symptoms became more pronounced, his father pushed him harder to be the right kind of boy.”

She pressed her mouth into a thin line to keep from screaming the next words. “He forbade me from taking him to the doctor to be tested. His solution was to punish him, take away the toys he liked and force him into activities that ended up making us all more stressed. Davey started having tantrums and fits, which only infuriated Henry. He was getting ready to run for congress.” She rolled her eyes. “The first step in the illustrious political campaign his family has planned.”

“Following in his father’s footsteps,” Jase murmured.

It was true. Emily had married into one of the most well-known political families in the country since the Kennedys. The Whitakers had produced at least one US senator in each of the past five generations of men, and one of Henry’s great-uncles had been vice president. “I didn’t just marry a man, I took on a legacy. The worst part was I went in with my eyes open. I practically interviewed for the job of political wife, and I was ready to be a good one.” She snapped her fingers. “I could throw a party fit for the First Lady with an hour’s notice.”

Jase cleared his throat. “I’m sure your husband appreciated that.”

She gave a harsh laugh. “He didn’t appreciate it. He expected it. There’s a big difference.” She shrugged. “None of it mattered once Davey was born. I knew from the time he was a baby he was different and I tried to hide...tried to protect him from Henry as long as possible. But once I couldn’t anymore, there was no doubt about my loyalty.” She plastered a falsely bright smile on her face. “So here I am back in Crimson.”

Davey looked up from his building set. “I’m finished, Mommy.”

She stepped around Jase and sat on the carpet to admire the intricate structure Davey had created. “Tell me about it, sweetie.”

“It’s a landing pod with a rocket launcher. It’s like the ones they have on The Clone Wars, only this one has an invisible force field around it so no one can destroy it.”

If only she could put a force field around her son to protect him from the curiosity and potential ridicule that could come due to his differences from other kids. “I love it, Wavy-Davey.”

One side of his mouth curved at the nickname before he glanced at Jase. “He helped. He’s good at building. Better than Uncle Noah or Grammy.”

“High praise,” Jase said, moving toward the bookshelves. “If you make a bridge connecting it to this one, you’d have the start of an intergalactic space station.”

Emily darted a glance at Davey as Jase moved one of the sets a few inches to make room for this new one. Her boy didn’t like anyone else making decisions about the placement of his precious building sets. To her surprise, Davey only nodded. “I’ll need to add a hospital and mechanic’s workshop ’cause if there’s a battle they’ll need those.”

“Maybe a cafeteria and bunk room?” Jase suggested.

“You can help me with those if you want.” Leaving Emily speechless where she sat, Davey gently lifted the new addition and carried it to the bookshelf. With Jase’s help, he slid it into place with a satisfied nod. “I’m hungry. Can we eat?” he asked, turning to Emily.

“Sure thing,” she agreed. “Grammy, Uncle Noah and Aunt Katie are waiting.” Her family was used to waiting as transitions were one of Davey’s biggest challenges. Sometimes it took long minutes to disengage him from a project.

Her son stepped forward, his arms ramrod straight at his sides. “It’s time, Mommy. I’m ready.”

She almost laughed at the confusion clouding Jase’s gaze. People went in front of a firing squad with more enthusiasm than Davey displayed right now. It would have been funny if this ritual didn’t break her heart the tiniest bit. Embarrassment flooded through her at what Jase might think, but the reward was too high to worry about a little humiliation.

She rose to her knees and opened her arms. Davey stepped forward and she pulled him close, burying her nose in his neck to breathe him in as she gave him a gentle hug. A few moments were all he could handle before he squirmed in her embrace. “I love you,” she whispered before letting him go.

He met her gaze. “I know,” he answered simply, then turned and walked out of the room.

She stood, wiping her cheeks. Why bother to hide the tears? She’d left the lion’s share of her pride, along with most of her other possessions, back in Boston.

“Sorry,” she said to Jase, knowing her smile was watery at best. Emily might be considered beautiful, but she was an ugly crier. “It’s a deal he and I have. Every time he finishes a set, I get a hug. A real one.”

“Emily,” he whispered.

“Don’t say anything about it, please. I can’t afford to lose it now. It’s dinnertime, and I don’t need to give my family one more reason to worry about me.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he nodded. “In case no one has said it lately,” he said as she moved past, “your ex-husband may be political royalty, but he’s also a royal ass. You deserve to be loved better.” The deep timbre of his voice rumbled through her like a cool waterfall, both refreshing and fierce in its power.

She shivered but didn’t stop walking out of the room. Reality kept her moving forward. Davey was her full reason for being now. There was no use considering what she did or didn’t deserve.

Chapter Three

“Is that you, Jase?”

“Yeah, Dad.” Jase slipped into the darkened trailer and flipped on the light. “I’m here. How’s it going?”

“I could use a beer,” Declan Crenshaw said with a raspy laugh. “Or a bottle of whiskey. Any chance you brought whiskey?”

His father was sprawled on the threadbare couch that had rested against the thin wall of the mobile home since Jase could remember. Nothing in the cramped space had changed from the time they’d first moved in. The trailer’s main room was tiny, barely larger than the dorm room Jase had lived in his first year at the University of Denver. From the front door he could see back to the bedroom on one side and through the efficiency kitchen with its scratched Formica counters and grainy wood cabinets to the family room on the other.

“No alcohol.” He was used to denying his dad’s requests for liquor. Declan had been two years sober and Jase was hopeful this one was going to stick. He was doing everything in his power to make sure it did. Checking on his dad every night was just part of it. “How about water or a cup of tea?”

“Do I look like the queen of England?” Declan picked up the potato chip bag resting next to him on the couch and placed it on the scuffed coffee table, then brushed off his shirt, chip crumbs flying everywhere.

“No one’s going to mistake you for royalty.” Jase’s dad looked like a man who’d lived a hard life, the vices that had consumed him for years made him appear decades older than his sixty years. If the alcohol and smoking weren’t enough, Declan had spent most of his adult life working in the active mines around Crimson, first the Smuggler silver mine outside of Aspen and then later the basalt-gypsum mine high on Crimson Mountain.

Between the dust particles, the constant heavy lifting, operating jackhammers and other heavy equipment, the work took a physical toll on the men and women employed by the mines. Jase had tried to get his father to quit for years, but it was only after a heart attack three years ago that Declan had been forced to retire. Unfortunately, having so much time on his hands had led him to a six-month drunken binge that had almost killed him. Jase needed to believe he wasn’t going to have to watch his father self-destruct ever again.

“Maybe they should since you’re a royal pain in my butt,” Declan growled.

“Good one, Dad.” Jase didn’t take offense. Insults were like terms of endearment to his father. “Why are you sitting here in the dark?” He picked up the chip bag and dropped it in the trash can in the kitchenette, then started washing the dishes piled in the sink.

“Damn cable is out again. I called but they can’t get here until tomorrow. If I lose my DVRed shows, there’s gonna be hell to pay. The Real Housewives finale was on tonight. I wanted to see some rich-lady hair pulling.”

Jase smiled. Since his dad stopped drinking, he’d become addicted to reality TV. Dance moms, little people, bush people, swamp people, housewives. Declan watched them all. “Maybe you should get a hobby besides television. Take a walk or volunteer.”

His dad let out a colorful string of curses. “My only other hobby involves walking into a bar, so I’m safer holed up out here. And I’m not spending my golden years working for free. Hell, I barely made enough to pay the bills with my regular job. There’s only room for one do-gooder in this family, and that’s you.”

It was true. The Crenshaws had a long history of living on the wrong side of the law in Crimson. There was even a sepia-stained photo hanging in the courthouse that showed his great-great-grandfather sitting in the old town jail. Jase had consciously set out to change his family’s reputation. Most of his life decisions had been influenced by wanting to be something different...something more than the Crenshaw legacy of troublemaking.

“I read in the paper that you’re sponsoring a pancake breakfast next week.”

Jase placed the last mug onto the dish drainer, then turned. “It’s part of my campaign.”

“Campaigning against yourself?” his dad asked with a chuckle.

“It’s a chance for people to get to know me.”

Declan stood, brushed off his shirt again. “Name one person who doesn’t know you.”

“They don’t know me as a candidate. I want to hear what voters think about how the town is doing, ideas for the future—where Crimson is going to be in five or ten years.”

His dad yawned. “Same place it’s been for the last hundred years. Right here.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know.” Declan patted Jase on the back. “You’re a good boy, Jason Damien Crenshaw. Better than I deserve as a son. It’s got to be killing Charles Thompson and his boys that a Crenshaw is going to be running this town.” His dad let out a soft chuckle. “I may give ex–Sheriff Thompson a call and see what he thinks.”

“Don’t, Dad. Leave the history between us and the Thompsons in the past where it belongs.” Jase didn’t mention the hit Aaron had put on him during the football game, which would only make his father angry.

“You’re too nice for your own good. Why don’t you pick me up before the breakfast?” Declan had lost his license during his last fall from the wagon and hadn’t bothered to get it reinstated. Jase took him to doctor’s appointments, delivered groceries and ran errands—an inconvenience, but it also helped him keep track of Declan. Something that hadn’t always been easy during the heaviest periods of drinking. “I’ll campaign for you. Call it volunteer work and turn my image around in town.”

Jase swallowed. He’d encouraged his father to volunteer almost as a joke, knowing Declan never would. But campaigning... Jase loved his dad but he’d done his best to distance himself from the reputation that followed his family like a plague. “We’ll see, Dad. Thanks for the offer. Are you heading to bed?”

“Got nothing else to do with no channels working.”

“I’ll call the cable company in the morning and make sure you’re on the schedule,” Jase promised. “Lock up behind me, okay?”

“Who’s going to rob me?” Declan swept an arm around the trailer’s shabby interior. “I’ve got nothing worth stealing.”

“Just lock up. Please.”

When his father eventually nodded, Jase let himself out of the trailer and headed home. Although he’d driven the route between the trailer park and his historic bungalow on the edge of downtown countless times, he forced himself to stay focused.

Three miles down the county highway leading into town. Two blocks until a right turn onto his street. Four hundred yards before he saw his mailbox. Keeping his mind on the driving was less complicated than giving the thoughts and worries crowding his head room to breathe and grow.

He parked his silver Jeep in the driveway, since his dad’s ancient truck was housed in the garage. It needed transmission work that Jase didn’t have time for before it would run again, and Declan had no use for it without a license. But Jase couldn’t bring himself to sell it. It represented something he couldn’t name...a giving in to the permanence of caring for an aging parent that he wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

He locked the Jeep and lifted his head to the clear night. The stars were out in full force, making familiar designs across the sky. He hadn’t used his old telescope in years, but Jase never tired of stargazing.

Something caught his eye, and when he looked around the front of his truck everything in the world fell away except the woman standing in his front yard.

Emily.

He wasn’t sure where she’d come from or how he hadn’t noticed her when he pulled up. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her mom’s 4Runner parked across the street.

She didn’t say anything as he approached, only watched him, her hands clasped tight together in front of her waist. Her fingers were long and elegant like the rest of her. As much as he would never wish her pain, the fact that she wore no wedding ring made him perversely glad.

“Hi,” he said when he was in front of her, then silently cursed himself. He was an attorney and a town council member, used to giving speeches and closing arguments to courtrooms and crowded meetings. The best he could come up with now was Hi? Lame.

“I owe you an apology,” she whispered. “And I didn’t want to wait. I hate waiting.”

He remembered that about her and felt one side of his mouth curve. Her mother, Meg, had been an expert baker when they were kids and Emily had forever been burning her mouth on a too-hot cookie after school.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s true. You were good with Davey tonight. Before bed he told me he wants to invite you for a playdate.”

He chuckled. “I told you we bonded over plastic bricks.”

“His father never bonded with him,” she said with a strangled sigh. “Despite my brother’s best efforts, Noah has trouble engaging him.” She shrugged, a helpless lift of her shoulders that made his heart ache. “Even I have trouble connecting with him sometimes. I understand it’s the Asperger’s, and I love him the way he is. But you’re the first...friend he’s ever had.”

“He’ll do fine at school.”

“What if he doesn’t? He’s so special, but he’s not like other boys his age.”

“He’s different in some ways, but kids manage through those things. I didn’t have the greatest childhood or any real friends until I met your brother. I was too tall, too skinny and too poor. My dad was the town drunk and everyone knew it. But it made me stronger. I swear. Once I met Noah and your family took me in—”

“I didn’t.”

“No. You hated me being in your house.”

“It wasn’t about... I’m sorry, Jase. For how I treated you.”

“Em, you don’t have to—”

“I do.” She stepped forward, so close that even in the pale streetlight he could see the brush of freckles across her nose. “I haven’t been kind to you even since I’ve come back. It’s like the nice part of my brain short-circuits when you’re around.”

“Good to know.”

“What I said to you the other day on the football field about putting on your shirt.”

He winced. “My bony bod...”

“Had nothing to do with it. You’re not a skinny kid anymore. You must know...” She stopped, looked away, tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, then met his gaze again.

Something shifted between them; a current of awareness different than anything he’d experienced surged to life in the quiet night air.

“The women of this town would probably pay you to keep your shirt off.” She jabbed one finger into his chest. “All. The. Time.”

He laughed, because this was Emily trying to be nice and still she ended up poking him. “I’m popular at the annual car wash, but I figure it’s because most of the other men on the council are so old no one wants them to have a heart attack while bending to soap up a front fender.”

She didn’t return his smile but eased the tiniest bit closer. “I didn’t want you standing bare chested in front of me because I wanted to kiss you.”

Jase sucked in a breath.

“I wanted to put my mouth on you, right there on the sidelines of the high school field with half of our friends watching.” She said the words calmly, although he could see her chest rising and falling. He wasn’t the only one having trouble breathing right now. “That’s something different than when we were young. You make me feel things I haven’t in a long time, and I don’t know what to do about it. But it doesn’t give me the right to be rude. I’m sorry, Jase. I can’t—”

He didn’t wait for her to finish. There was no way he was going to listen to the word can’t coming from her, not when she’d basically told him she wanted him. In one quick movement, he leaned down and brushed his lips over hers.

So this was where she hid her softness, he thought. The taste of her, the feel of her mouth against his. All of it was so achingly sweet.

Then she opened her mouth to him and he deepened the kiss, threading his fingers through her hair as their tongues glided together. It was every perfect kiss he’d imagined and like nothing he’d experienced before. He wanted to stay linked with her forever, letting all of his responsibilities and the rest of the damn world melt away.

The moment was cut short when a dog barked—the sound coming from his house, and Emily pulled back. Her fingers lifted to her mouth and he wasn’t sure whether it was to press his kiss closer or wipe it away. Right now it didn’t matter.

“You have a dog?” she asked, glancing at his darkened front porch.

“A puppy,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his jaw and trying to get a handle on the lust raging through him. “My former secretary Donna had a female Australian shepherd that got loose while in heat. They ended up with a litter of puppies, part shepherd and part who knows what?”

The barking turned into a keening howl, making him cringe. “Maybe elephant based on the size of their paws. But Ruby—my pup—was the runt. She was weaker than the rest and her brothers and sister tended to pick on her. They kept her, but it wasn’t working with their other dogs. I went for dinner last week and...” The barking started again. “I need to let her out to do her business. Do you want to meet her?”

Emily shook her head and a foolish wave of disappointment surged through him.

“I need to get back to the farm. Mom thinks I was running to the store for...” She broke off, gave an embarrassed laugh, then looked at him again. “You rescue puppies, too? Unbelievable.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Tell that to Ruby.” She reached up on tiptoe, touched her lips to the corner of his mouth and then moved away. “You’re damn near perfect, Jase Crenshaw.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.” She shook her head. “It’s too bad for both of us that I gave up on perfect.”

Before he could answer, she walked away. He waited, watching until she’d gotten in the SUV and pulled down his street. Until her taillights were swallowed in the darkness. Then the silence enveloped him once more, and he wondered if he’d dreamed the past few minutes.

An increasingly insistent bark snapped him back to the land of the wide-awake. He jogged to the front door and unlocked it, moving quickly to the crate in his family room. Her fluffy tail wagged and she greeted him with happy nips and yelps. He led her to the back door and she darted out, tumbling down the patio steps to find her perfect spot in-yard.

He sank down to the worn wood and waited for her to finish, lavishing praise when she wiggled her way back to him.

“I’ve got a story for you,” he told the puppy as she covered him in dog slobber. “It’s been quite a night, Ruby-girl.”

* * *

Early Tuesday morning, Emily pasted a bright smile on her face before opening the door to Life Is Sweet, the bakery Katie owned in downtown Crimson. The soothing scent of sugar and warm dough washed over her as she automatically moved toward the large display case at the front of the shop.

The ambiance of the cozy bakery cheered her, even with the hellish morning of job interviews and application submissions she’d had. No surprise that businesses weren’t lining up to hire an overqualified, single-mom college dropout who could only work part-time hours and needed to be able to take off when her son had a bad day. Yet it felt personal, as if the town she’d so easily left behind wasn’t exactly opening its arms to welcome her back.

Life Is Sweet was different. With the warm yellow walls and wood beams stretching the length of the ceiling, the shop immediately welcomed customers both new and familiar. A grouping of café tables sat in one corner of the small space and the two women working the counter and coffee bar waved to her.

Katie pushed through the door to the back kitchen a moment later, carrying a large metal tray of croissants that she set on the counter.

“Should you be carrying pastries in your condition?” Emily asked with a laugh. Last weekend during dinner, Noah hadn’t let Katie bring any of the serving bowls out to the table on the patio or clear the dishes. In fact, he’d all but insisted she sit the whole time they were at their mother’s house. No matter what any of the women had told him about Katie and the baby remaining healthy despite normal activities, he couldn’t seem to stop fawning over his wife-to-be.

Katie rolled her eyes. “I would have never guessed your brother had such an overprotective streak. He wants me to cut back even more on my hours at the bakery.” She waved to one of the customers sitting at a café table, then looked at Emily. “I’ve hired a manager to run the front, but I’m still in charge of most of the baking. As long as my doctor says it’s okay, I want to keep working.”

“He’ll get over it. I’ll talk to him. Dad’s death made him funny about keeping everyone he loves healthy.” Her whole family had felt helpless when the pancreatic cancer claimed her father, and it had taken years for Noah to get over the guilt of not being around to help those last months.

When their mom had her health scare, Noah had returned to Crimson right away and remained at Meg’s side for the duration of her recovery. But losing one parent and being scared for the other had taken a toll on him, and Emily understood his reasons for wanting Katie to be so careful.

“I know, and I love him for it.” Katie sighed. “The morning sickness is done, so I feel great.” She put all but two of the croissants in the case. “I’m just hungry all the time. Can I interest you in a coffee-and-croissant break? They’re chocolate.”

“How did you know I need chocolate?”

“Everyone needs chocolate.” Katie set the remaining pastries on a plate, then poured Emily a cup of coffee and handed it to her. “You look like you’ve been through the job search gauntlet today.” She got the attention of one of the women working the counter and mouthed “Five minutes.” There was a line forming at the cash register so the worker gave her a harried nod. “Let’s go to the kitchen. More privacy.”

“You’re swamped right now. I’m fine.”

“Never too swamped for a snack,” Katie answered and picked up the plate. She led Emily through a heavy swinging door into the commercial kitchen. “I’m going to sit on a stool while you take my picture and text it to Noah. You’re the witness that I’m not working too hard.”

Emily snapped the photo, sent it to her brother and then pulled off a piece of the flaky dough. “Fresh from the oven?” she asked as she popped the bite into her mouth. She climbed onto a stool next to Katie, trailing her fingers across the cool stainless steel counter.

“The best kind.”

“If my brother becomes too much of a pain, I’ll marry you,” Emily said when she finished chewing. The croissant melted in her mouth, buttery and soft with the perfect amount of chocolate in the middle.

“Don’t distract me with flattery,” Katie answered but moaned as she took a bite. “What happened today?”

“No one feels a burning desire to hire the woman who publicly ridiculed the town on her way out.”

Katie made a face. “It was a well-known fact that you had no plans to stay in Crimson any longer than necessary.”

“Or maybe I got drunk one night and announced to a bar full of locals that I was too good to waste away in this...”

“Hellhole mountain slum, I think you called it.”

“Right. Classy.”

“And endearing,” Katie agreed, clearly having trouble keeping a straight face.

“I’m stupid.” Emily pressed her forehead to the smooth stainless steel, let it soothe the massive headache she could feel starting behind her eyes.

“You can make this better,” Katie said, placing a hand on Emily’s back. “Crimson has a long history of forgiving mistakes.”

“And an even longer one of punishing people for them.” She tipped her head to the side. “Look at how hard Jase has worked to make amends for trouble he didn’t even cause.”

“But people love him.”

“Because he’s perfect.”

“Why are you so hard on him, Em?”

Emily shook her head, unable to put into words her odd and tumbling emotions around Jase.

“You could work for him,” Katie said with a laugh.

“For Jase?” Emily asked, lifting her head. “What do you mean?”

“I’m joking,” Katie said quickly. “From what I can tell it bothers you to be in the same room with him.”

“That’s not exactly true.” Emily had really liked Jase kissing her. It had been easy to lose herself in the gentle pressure of his mouth. His hands cradling her face made her feel cherished. She’d wanted to plaster herself against him and forget she was alone, at least for a few minutes. She was definitely bothered by Jase, but not in the way Katie believed. “Is he hiring for his campaign?”

“No,” Katie answered slowly, as if reluctant to share what she knew. “His secretary retired a few months ago.”

“The one with the litter of puppies?”

“How did you know about that?”

Emily ignored the question. “Why hasn’t he hired someone?”

“He won’t say, but as far as I know he hasn’t even interviewed anyone for the position.” Katie took another bite of pastry. “There are plenty of people who would love to work with him.”

“Plenty of single women,” Emily clarified.

“He’s pretty hot,” Katie said, her smile returning. “Not as handsome as Noah, of course. He makes me—”

“I’m working on being a good friend.” Emily held up a hand. “But I draw the line on listening to you ruminate on the hotness of my brother.” She hopped off her stool and took a final drink of coffee. “Break’s over, friend. I just got a tip on a job opening.” She picked up the plate and walked it over to the sink.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Clearing my plate?”

“Asking Jase for a job.”

Emily straightened her suit jacket and smiled, pretending the nervous butterflies zipping through her belly didn’t exist. “I’m not sure, but when has that ever stopped me?”

She gave Katie a short hug. “Thanks for listening. You’re a pro at this whole supportive girlfriend thing.”

Katie returned her smile. “Good luck, Em.”

“I’ve got this,” Emily answered with more confidence than she felt. But bluffing was second nature to her, so she squared her shoulders and marched out of the bakery to get herself a job.

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