She was always his best friend’s girl...

But then their whole lives changed

Widow Cadence Grigg is slowly putting her life back together—and raising her infant son. By her side is her late husband’s best friend, Zach Cardenas, who can’t help his burgeoning feelings for Cadie and her baby boy. Though determined not to fall in love again, Cadie might find that Cupid has other plans for her happily-ever-after...

Raised in a small town on Vancouver Island, LAUREL GREER grew up skiing and boating by day and reading romances under the covers by flashlight at night. Ever committed to the proper placement of the Canadian eh, she loves to write books with snapping sexual tension and second chances. She lives outside Vancouver with her law-talking husband and two daughters. At least half her diet is made up of tea. Find her at www.laurelgreer.com.

Also By Laurel Greer

Sutter Creek, Montana

From Exes to ExpectingA Father for Her Child

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

A Father for Her Child

Laurel Greer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09133-6

A FATHER FOR HER CHILD

© 2019 Lindsay Macgowan

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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Time to accept he’d sound like a fool.

Swallowing in a last-ditch effort to regulate his tone, Zach admitted, “Sam called you Cadie. I wanted to be different.”

A squeak pitched from her throat. “Well, mission accomplished.”

“I didn’t mean it in a way that mattered,” he lied.

“I better check on Ben.” She shot to her feet and grabbed the baby monitor from its perch on top of a novel near the blanket, then hurried toward the house, too fast for him to try to catch her.

“Cadence!” he called.

His last-ditch effort worked, and she halted, turned back halfway to regard him warily. She closed her eyes for a second, and when she opened them again—damn, was that a trace of tears? Her knuckles tensed around the baby monitor. “It mattered to me.” And she disappeared into the house.

It had mattered to him, too. But as much as he knew he was special to her, that could never match the craving he had to matter the most.

To completely belong to each other.

* * *

SUTTER CREEK, MONTANA:

Passion and happily-ever-afters in Big Sky Country

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Sutter Creek! Readers of book one of the series, From Exes to Expecting, might remember Lauren catching a whiff of interest between Zach and Cadie. Well, her radar was accurate! The ski-patrol director has it bad for the single mom. And his on-the-job injury gives Cadie, a physical therapist, the perfect opportunity to solve one of his problems for once.

Touching his ex-Olympian body, though? Too tempting. Still healing from her rocky marriage, widowed Cadie is determined not to fall in love again—not even with the sexy, loyal man who’s been her rock since her husband’s death in an avalanche a year and a half ago.

Zach, who survived the fatal slide, is bound by the promises he made to his dying friend. But following through on his vow to take care of Cadie and her son makes it harder to preserve Sam’s memory, and Zach has to reconcile honoring his friend and his desire to love Cadie and be a father to Ben.

I would love to hear if Cadie and Zach’s journey through grief into love resonates with you. Find me on Facebook, Twitter and at www.laurelgreer.com.

Happy reading!

Laurel

For my parents, who modeled a love of reading

and let me consume books by the light

in the crack of the door—thank you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Introduction

Dear Reader

Dedication

Prologue

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

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Prologue

April

Zach Cardenas wrenched his key in the lock on the first-aid shack near Sutter Mountain’s summit and drew another line in his mental tally.

One workday closer to Whistler.

Not to forgiving himself, or Sam.

But he clung to the hope that making another figurative payment on the debt he owed would ease the guilt and grief wedged in his heart.

Or visiting the accident site will be one more reminder of how watching over Cadie means keeping one promise but breaking another.

Jamming his keys in the pocket of his ski patrol jacket, he erased the unwelcome thought. In a week he’d climb on a plane. He wasn’t one for countdowns, but honoring Sam’s final requests had become all-encompassing and couldn’t be realized until he and their buddies went on a memorial backcountry trip to British Columbia.

The ones who’d survived, anyway.

Lucky, the news had called them last spring. Zach scoffed. The reporters wouldn’t have chosen that description had they been the ones left desperately digging through snow for survivors, only to board the homebound plane with three fewer passengers.

Nor would they have framed him as a hero had they known about the argument he’d had with Sam the night prior to the avalanche.

Shaking off the memory before it picked off the half-healed scab on his soul, Zach turned his attention to his friend and supervisor, Andrew Dawson.

“Day’s done, Dawson. Hammond’s Chute beckons.” He motioned toward their skis, which were secured to one of the few metal storage racks that remained after the end-of-season cleanup. Fixing his helmet under his chin, Zach zipped up his ski patrol windbreaker, jammed on his gloves and waited.

Andrew jerked his head in agreement. He waved for Zach to lead the way to their equipment. “Let’s head out.”

If there was one thing that helped Zach forget, it was cutting into spring snow with freshly sharpened and waxed skis. The afternoon couldn’t have been more perfect. Swathes of white sliced into thickets of evergreens that arrowed down to the village of Sutter Creek, Montana. The sun still shone but it had dipped behind the mountain, leaving a welcome chill. He started toward the narrow entrance of Hammond’s Chute. Pausing briefly to gauge a good line, he took a breath and pushed himself over the lip. The regular pattern of the moguls took him back a decade to when he’d competed for the Canadian Olympic freestyle ski team in his early twenties. The rush of perfect vertical spiked his adrenaline. But the challenge was good—he needed to be in top form for when he headed home to heli-ski one of the remote ranges near Whistler.

He eyed a ridge on the edge of the run that looked decent enough to launch off. Following up a stretch of moguls with a good flip was an ingrained habit. The faint swoosh of Andrew behind him anchored him as he took the jump.

Weightless, like his stomach was free from gravity. Bend knees... Annnnd down—

An eerie snap, the unmistakable crack of failing plastic and fiberglass, filled his ears.

He pitched to the left. The world tilted. No, no, no. He focused on the mogul ahead as he tried to balance on his lone unbroken ski. He hit the center of the mound of snow and launched.

Uncontrolled. Too fast.

The green of the trees blurred with white and blue as he vaulted sideways and somersaulted. Sickening vertigo twisted his insides, singed his throat. He’d spent half his skiing career upside down. This was not that.

He hit the snow like a bent, human slingshot. Fire ripped from his knee to hip and tore a scream from his throat. He flipped forward and yelled again as he began to slide down the hill. The cold burn of snow scraping against his face kept him from completely blacking out from the inferno engulfing his left side.

Get on your back.

Roll.

Floundering, fighting the knives slicing into his body, he obeyed his instinct and flailed onto his back. Head pointed downhill, he squeezed his eyes shut against the bluebird sky. Holy mother. The mounds of snow jerked his body. His leg seared as if he were bouncing down a coal bed instead of a steeply pitched hill.

“Zach! Hang on!” Andrew’s shout broke through the buzzing in his ears.

Trying to stop himself, Zach banged his right arm on something hard and the inferno spread to his biceps. He struggled to get air into his lungs. He had to stop. Had to be okay. His parents and sisters would kill him if he was seriously injured. And Cadie... Her sweet face filled his mind and he forced his limbs to relax as he rocketed down the slope. He wouldn’t get hurt as badly if he could just stay loose. But the jolts to his body, rattling his joints and lashing fire along his leg and arm, made it damned hard not to go rigid.

Was this what his friend felt when the avalanche swallowed him?

With pain closing in on all sides, Zach refused to give in to the encroaching black.

I can’t leave Cadie alone. Sam already did that.

Chapter One

July

“Who stuck you with construction detail? You’ll be lucky if you’re done by opening day.”

Kneeling next to eight zillion pieces that theoretically made up a free-weight rack, Cadence Grigg ignored her sister Lauren’s abrupt announcement. She glared at the sheet of illustrated instructions next to her on the floor. Driving rock music, chosen by the receptionist who’d arrived a little while ago and was happily setting up the front desk, pumped from the built-in speakers and muffled Cadie’s curses.

Easy assembly. As if.

Lauren shifted on her feet and cleared her throat. With her blonde hair plaited into two sweaty French braids and body clad in workout clothes, she must have just finished up at the membership-only gym that adjoined the physical therapy facility of Sutter Creek’s new wellness center. “Bit of a mess in here.”

“Thanks, tips.”

“I’m just saying...”

You’re just saying you think I’m taking too much on.

Nerves danced in Cadie’s chest. Irritation, too. Maybe once this place was up and running, her family would finally stop thinking of her as the grieving, pregnant woman she’d been when her husband died eighteen months ago. They would see her as the competent single mom and professional she was. But getting upset wouldn’t help her cause. She inhaled, taking a hit of latex-and-rubber construction smells. New paint, new floors, new possibilities. For her family’s venture, and for Cadie.

“It’s progressing nicely,” she said.

“Uh...” Lauren’s gaze flitted from the stacks of boxes of exercise and therapy equipment to the half-assembled massage table crowded against a mirrored wall. “I’m sure you have a vision.”

“I meant the rack is progressing nicely,” Cadie ground out. She waved a hand at the chaos that she’d somehow turn into a functioning PT clinic before Evolve Wellness opened in ten days. “But I’ll deal with all this, too.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” She jabbed a finger at the opaque glass wall that separated the exercise space from the reception area. “Treadmills are going there. Pulley systems and exercise benches adjacent. And all those boxes are going to fill the treatment rooms. You should see the stuff I’ve ordered, Laur. My old boss wouldn’t even know what it is, it’s so up-to-date.”

“Sounds great,” Lauren said warily.

“No, it sounds like you’re accusing me of overextending.” She took a centering breath and started screwing one of the rack’s support pieces onto what looked like part of a shelf.

Lauren knelt on the opposite side of the pile of metal pieces. “It is a lot...”

“And I’ve got it under control.” She’d finish setting everything up, even if she had to bring her eleven-month-old son Ben’s playpen and put him to bed here for the next ten days.

“It’s not that you can do it, it’s when. I don’t want you to burn out before Evolve even opens.”

“I’m not delicate, Lauren.” Her jaw tensed, making her molars creak. “Ben’s in daycare three days this week. And my staff is pitching in.”

“But—”

“Evolve was my idea.” She’d been working out of borrowed space since Sam’s death, and she was more than ready to be in charge. She’d proposed the facility—a place where physical therapists worked alongside practitioners of massage, reflexology, Reiki and other holistic methods—to her dad as a new branch of their family’s company. Wellness complemented AlpinePeaks’s high-end ski-resort business model, but nonetheless, her dad had put a lot of faith in her plan. “And I will make it succeed. Starting with finishing this stupid rack.”

She lined up another shelf piece on the support bar. The holes weren’t flush. Grrr.

“It’s backward,” Lauren murmured.

Cadie’s neck burned. “I knew that.”

So much for being competent. She could name the six-hundred-plus muscles in the human body, but stick her with furniture assembly and she became illiterate.

Flipping the piece around, she jammed a screw through the now-aligned holes. “I can do this myself.”

“Yeah, right. I’m never going to forget that IKEA shelf that you managed to turn into a wooden spider.” Lauren held out her hand. “Let me look at the instructions.”

“Worry about your own office. And stop being a mother hen.”

Wincing, her sister retracted her hand. “Crap. Sorry. I wasn’t going to do that anymore.”

“I know. You’re trying. Sometimes.” Cadie sighed. “Were you sneaking in a gym visit before the grand opening?”

“Yeah, couldn’t resist all the shiny new toys. And it was now or wait for tomorrow. There are only about two hours a day where I don’t feel like puking up my morning handful of soda crackers.”

“Can’t say I miss that part of pregnancy.”

“Can’t say I’ve figured out any part of pregnancy that’s worth it. Other than the endgame, I’m assuming.”

“It is. So are the looks I keep seeing Tavish give you. It’s like it’s Christmas morning every moment of his day.” Cadie would have given a lot to see that same look on Sam’s face when she was pregnant with Ben. All she’d gotten was fear and resentment.

She tried to keep a smile on her face but it wobbled.

I’m happy for my sister. I’m happy for my sister.

She’d repeat it until the envy receded. Because even if she’d wanted to risk falling in love again, she didn’t have the time. Ben kept her running for half her hours and the wellness center was turning that jog up to a sprint. Those two things would keep her perfectly fulfilled, damn it.

Lauren plopped down on the ground. “Zach showed up just as I was leaving. Said he was doing rehab.”

Cadie narrowed her eyes. Contemplating Zach Cardenas and his physical therapy—the PT he refused to let her be involved with—never failed to make her blood pressure rise. Sam’s best friend could definitely add Cadie’s main source of insanity to his excessively long list of accomplishments. Cadence’s, rather. For some reason, he always called her by her full name. Claimed to like it. And Lord, so did she. Her spine shivered every time the smoothly spoken syllables rolled off his tongue.

Argh! In a desperate attempt to derail her train of thought, she handed her sister the Allen key. “Here, you do the screws. I’ll hold the pieces together.”

Lauren peered at Cadie, suspicion written on her features. “I thought you didn’t want help.”

“Changed my mind.”

“Changed the subject, you mean.”

Cadie shrugged.

“Cadence Grigg.”

“Lauren Dawson,” she mimicked. “Hey, are you going to change your name when you get remarried?”

“Probably. And you did it again.”

“I asked you a question. Is that not allowed?”

“Not when you’re avoiding talking about something. You were the one who complained we needed to get back to acting more like friends. So why’d you get a look when I brought up Zach?”

Cadie sighed. “He’s just frustrating me. If I have to spend one more minute watching him compensate for his misaligned hips, I’m going to throw a medicine ball at his head.” She’d spent the last three months doing her best not to look at her husband’s best friend’s beautiful body as he rehabilitated his broken femur and arm with a colleague at her previous workplace, but she’d had enough.

“He did look out of whack.”

“He has this bee in his bonnet over finishing Sam’s film this fall. They’ve changed the focus from an extreme skiing feature to a documentary about the avalanche. The producer’s thrown in extra money to get Zach to the site where the slide occurred, given he missed the memorial trip in the spring, so he’s trying to speed things along. And he’s causing more problems than he’s fixing. I’ve been nagging him to let me help for months.”

Cadie held a crosspiece against the slanted top shelf, and Lauren started screwing a nut onto one of the bolts, a look of confusion on her face. “Zach would do anything for you, though.”

“Because of Sam, yeah.” Sure, she’d hit the six-month mark of parenthood and woken from her sleep-deprived haze to find Zach’s assets—especially his ass—irresistible. She’d slapped a “friends-only” label on the guy the minute she’d gotten together with Sam. But she was single now, and the edges on that label were peeling like the paint on her brother’s ancient truck. Thankfully, Zach hadn’t ever hinted at wanting to tear off the designation for good.

Lauren stilled her hand mid key-turn. “Just Sam?”

“Yes,” Cadie emphasized.

Lips pressed into a wholly unconvinced line, her sister went back to her task. “Well, no matter the reason, if you can make his therapy about doing you a favor, I bet he’d go for it.”

Interesting thought. And not a stretch, either. “It is partly about me. I want to pay him back for all he’s done for Ben and me since Sam died.” The guy had quit his job coaching the US Junior ski team to relocate to Sutter Creek when Cadie had moved home, for God’s sake. He’d gone to every one of her maternity appointments. Held her hand through most of the delivery and kept all her loose ends tied while she was struggling with a colicky infant. Every time Cadie had needed a hand, Zach had stuck his out to help, up until the point he’d broken his arm and leg during spring cleanup. The number of times he’d apologized for not being able to pitch in over the past few months...

Yeah. That was definitely why frustration ate at her every time she was around him.

It didn’t have anything to do with the way laughter made his eyes dance or how the bronze skin over his ripped muscles hadn’t forgotten he’d once been a competitive athlete. So the guy was nice to look at.

More than nice.

Downright mouthwatering.

But that was all objective. She couldn’t be interested in Sam’s best friend. Nor could she risk the bond Zach had with Ben over a momentary physical attraction.

“I doubt he’d agree that you owe him,” Lauren said. “The guy has survivor’s guilt written all over him.”

Letting go of the now secure shelf brace, she gnawed on one of her thumbnails. “I know. He insists he’s indebted to me.”

“Come at it from a professional angle, then. You need him for his reputation.”

“Huh. Hadn’t thought of that.” Nodding, she held a support rail for Lauren. “If Zach thinks I need to be his therapist to build credentials for the new clinic, he might play along.” Any publicity would be fantastic and with his gold-medal reputation—not to mention his overwhelming popularity as ski patrol director—he’d make the perfect poster boy for what her center could offer. Especially if she helped him heal faster using a combination of her PT and the other clinic services. And she could rest easier knowing she’d made a small dent in the pile of favors she needed to repay.

“How about I keep going on the rack and you go see if you can catch him before he leaves the gym?” Lauren offered.

Cadie scrunched her face—she really didn’t want her sister doing work for her, especially not when Lauren had her own office to set up ahead of her official switch from doctor at the local clinic to health consultant at Evolve. But the thought of Zach spending one more minute overdoing it and causing himself further injury chafed. “You go worry about your stuff. I’ll talk to Zach and then come back and finish before I need to get Ben.”

Lauren shook her head but she spread her palms in surrender and stood. “I’m not trying to take over, Cadie.”

“I know. But I’ve been working on this for a year and you’ve stepped in at the last minute.”

“You said you were okay—”

“I am.” Cadie rose and put a hand on her sister’s arm. “I’m pumped to get to work with you and glad you’ve found something that makes you happy. But I want to be able to put my stamp on things.”

A puzzled look crossed her sister’s face. “But given this is an AlpinePeaks project, we’re all involved in it.”

Yeah, they were, and their father and brother were, too. Technically more than Cadie, because she’d liquidated a good chunk of her shares in their family’s company to support Sam’s dream of becoming a world-renowned, extreme-ski film star. Had he known that attempting to achieve that fame would mean dying, would he have insisted on pursuing it so hard?

A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed it. Best not to answer that question. “I know you’re just trying to help, Laur. But let me take the lead. Please.”

A minute later she was heading through the atrium, passing the glassed entrances of the spa and the hallway to where various energy-healing practices would take place. She hung a left past a ceiling-to-floor waterfall and entered the fitness facility. Her footsteps were the only sound in the large space—odd to have a gym without some sort of loud music. Had Zach already left?

But a quick scan revealed him sprawled on one of the exercise mats across the room, chest rising and falling rapidly. His two-day stubble failed to hide the stark defeat marking the line of his jaw. Concern shot through her. Taking stock of potential physical reasons for his unrest, she skirted around exercise equipment as she headed in his direction. Sweat dripped from his forehead into the chestnut-brown hair at his temples. A stability ball and a set of small hand weights lay within arm’s reach. His crutches leaned against the pristine mirror. He’d lost some muscle mass since his accident. But not so much that he didn’t have women virtually lining up outside the door to his apartment, offering to take care of him.

As if casseroles and doe-eyed sympathy would magically heal him.

No, he needed rehab. Specifically, her skill set. Which meant no more salivating over the way his thin T-shirt was currently plastered to his perfect abs. Not if she wanted him as a client.

Business, Cadie. To get what she needed—and to facilitate what Zach needed—it was time to work some emotional sleight of hand.

* * *

Breathing hard from exertion, Zach flopped his head to the side, taking in the wonder that was Cadie Dawson in yoga clothing. Tight leggings hugged those perfect legs. Her curly brown hair was straightened today, captured in a ponytail. The curve of her waist, the strength in her arms... His hands bitched loud and long over not being able to slide under her shirt, to test the softness of her pale skin.

As was becoming more frequent, something mysterious flashed in her blue eyes. He’d assumed that, after all the time they’d spent together over the past seven years, he knew all her expressions. “Cadence. Hey.”

“This would be going a heck of a lot faster if you’d let me stick needles in you.”

“We talked about that. Not happening.”

She crossed her arms. “You must be tired. Your Canadian is showing.”

He wasn’t going to dignify her reference to his accent. For the love of God, British Columbians did not say “aboot.” That was an east coast thing. But she liked to pretend he did to get a rise out of him.

“Back to nag me?” he asked.

“I just want you to get better.”

“I thought you were pissed about my Whistler trip. About the film.”

“I am. I don’t think it’s worth risking your rehab in order to get the film done. It can wait. Sam’s not going anywhere.” She let out a dry laugh, the kind that covered her increasingly hoarse tone. Well, sort of covered it. The sound came out strident.

Zach pushed himself up to sitting, leaning more heavily on his left arm. His broken right arm had complicated his recovery, delaying his ability to get up on crutches. “I have to get it done. It can’t wait.”

“I’m aware,” she murmured.

You think you are. He’d confided in her enough for her to know how much Sam’s death weighed on him. But he hadn’t told her everything. Didn’t want to hurt her worse that she already was.

“Your time crunch is the reason I keep nagging you about trying new techniques,” she continued. “Dry needling, for one. And we could combine PT with some holistic methods from other center practitioners. You’re out of alignment from overcompensating, and you need to loosen those muscles. And the program you’re following isn’t getting that done. Not in time for you to be tromping across a glacier by October.”

He went through the painstaking motions of getting himself up off the ground. He winced as he limped the few feet to get his crutches. Why did she have to be here, seeing him hobble around? “I’m comfortable working with my therapist.”

Her throat bobbed. “PT’s not supposed to be comfortable.”

“No kidding.” At this rate he didn’t think he’d be physically comfortable again for the rest of his life. His doctor had assured him he should make a full recovery, but it sure wasn’t happening anytime soon. A cramp pulsed in his back and he straightened, had to breathe deeply to release the pain. He paused for a few seconds to take in another lungful of air before tucking his crutches under his arms.

“So why won’t you let me help you, then?” she pressed.

Ah, one more thing he and Cadie wouldn’t ever discuss. He’d literally held her upright for a good chunk of the first few months after Sam’s death. He’d watched her belly grow. Had been the first one to feel Ben’s kick on the outside. Had held the little guy for hours once he was born, letting Cadie get caught up on sleep after a rough labor, pretending all the while that the protective, paternal feelings clamoring in his chest were solely connected to fulfilling his promises.

Hell, Sam had begged him to watch over Cadie.

But he had to draw the line at having her massage his aching muscles. And having her as his physiotherapist would require just that. Yeah, he had no doubt Cadie would be the utmost professional during treatment. But he’d had his therapist’s thumbs pressing into his ass muscles more than once. And he didn’t want to know what his body would do if Cadie touched him likewise.

“We’re friends. It would be weird,” he hedged.

“But I’ve worked with friends before—” She took a deep breath. “Okay. You’re resistant to letting me help you. But how about the other way around?”

“Huh?”

“If you signed on as a client and my ideas work, you could talk us up to some of your friends in the ski world. Or even just locally. Since you moved here, you’ve wrapped most of Sutter Creek around your pinky in less time than it used to take you to rotate through the air eight times.”

“Three times,” he said with a smirk.

“What?”

“I only did 1080s.”

She let out a single ha. “Whatever. Point being, your fan club will listen to you.”

Rocking forward onto his crutches, he stared at the ground. Fan club. Not quite. But he’d done what he could to fit in—he didn’t see Cadie leaving any time soon, so neither would he.

“I’ll talk Evolve up no matter what,” he promised.

“I need more than that, Zach.” Vulnerability cracked through her matter-of-fact expression and the breach ripped straight to his core. “I need you to be my client. And if you want to be ready to shoot that video come the fall, you need me, too.”

I need you to take care of them, Zach.

The words weren’t so different. Memories slammed into him, raising bumps on his skin. Echoes of biting wind and blisters stinging his palms and his exhausted arms shaking under the weight of Sam’s broken body. And returning to Colorado and holding Cadie instead. She, at least, had given him something to focus on instead of his grief.

But as always, he’d focused on her a little too much.

Zach swallowed against the fist of guilt clamped around his windpipe.

The fact he’d been falling for Cadence since the day he and Sam met her in a Steamboat Springs bar was moot. She’d only ever had eyes for Sam. That made it a hell of a lot easier for him to keep his second promise to Sam: not to let Cadie or Ben forget Sam. Which meant getting that video done and memorializing Sam on film. And since switching to Cadie’s care would accomplish that... Damn it.

He’d have thrown up his hands if it weren’t for his crutches. “I give in. I’ll call my current therapist tomorrow, tell him I’m switching into your care to start dry needling.”

Her jaw dropped for a second. Then a brilliant smile spread across her face, lightening her blue eyes so that they resembled a clear winter sky. “Seriously?”

His brisk nod failed to shake out the dread building in his stomach. “You know me, and you’ve watched me ski enough to know my body. This is the right change to make.”

She paused for a second, seeming to puzzle how to get around his crutches, before going on her toes and flinging her arms around his neck. “We’ll start right away. Meet me in the pool at one tomorrow.”

He gripped the handle of his left crutch and let go of his right to give her a cursory pat on the back. Just like his sisters.

As if.

Hugging his sisters was nothing like hugging Cadie. Hugging Cadie was all about her soft breasts pressing into his chest and the smell of cherries he always caught whenever he was within a few inches of her hair. The sense that this woman’s arms held the secrets to happiness.

Not for you, idiot.

Steeling his body, he took hold of his right crutch again. And, thank God, she backed away, too.

“I really think this is best for you.” The brightness in her eyes faded a fraction. “But before I take you on, you need to promise me something.”

He dragged a hand through his hair. What was one more promise to tangle in all those he’d made to Sam already? “What’s that?”

“I’ll do everything I can to get you healthy in time to go on your filming trip. But if you’re not ready, you can’t go.”

He inhaled sharply as his gut clenched. “Deal.”

She’d better get him rehabbed in time. Because no matter how ready—or not ready—he was, when the helicopter lifted off to take the filming crew into the backcountry, he’d be on it.

Chapter Two

Meet me in the pool at one tomorrow.

Cadie cringed as yesterday’s instructions to Zach echoed in her head. What had she been thinking? She floated in the shallow end of the public aquatic center and watched him amble along the pool deck toward her, supported by his crutches. Shirtless. Showing off a perfect sprinkling of trimmed hair leading down abs that could grace a fitness magazine. Her skin tingled and not from the water kissing her limbs. Yeah, the pool had been a brilliant move. If only she could change history, go back to when she was three and not learn how to swim. Then she could throw herself in the deep end and be done with it. Drowning sounded way smarter than taking him on as a client.

Nice choice of words, Cadence.

Her mental sarcasm landed like a boulder in her stomach. For one, this was her choice, and a necessary one. She could truly help Zach and, in doing so, could boost Evolve’s reputation. And she needed to start doing all that without thinking of crappy death comparisons. Sorry, Sam.

Lacquering on a smile, she waved at Zach, who slid into the water and crossed the pool with long, muscled strokes. He stopped a yard or so away, close enough that she had to tilt her chin a little to keep her attention on his face. He was a good six inches taller than her own five-seven. The height difference held so many possibilities. If he were healthy he’d be able to pick her up and—

She pinched her thigh under the water. He’s your client. Your best friend. Do not screw that up. “Ready to work?”

He nodded curtly.

“We’ll start with walking back and forth across the shallow end and work up to a jog.” The pool wasn’t too crowded—a parent-and-tot class occupied the splash pool and a dozen-odd people were swimming laps in the deep end.

“Uh, sure.” Following his gaze was a challenge. It seemed to land on her tank swimsuit for a second and then everywhere but, darting from the waterslide to the diving platforms and settling somewhere on the wall behind her. “Walking. Okay.”

She raised a brow. “Quite the conversationalist today.”

A faint rosiness bloomed on his cheeks and he rumpled his already disheveled hair, dampening the strands with his wet hand. “I...”

Way to make your client feel self-conscious, idiot. “Zach. Deep breath. You’ve done this before.”

“Right.”

Ri-ight. She loved the way he drew out his vowels sometimes. His voice had become her touchpoint when she’d been in her darkest moments. Blaming herself and Sam and the universe.

Smiling encouragingly, she motioned for him to follow her. He complied. And as long as she kept her eyes fixed on the oversize lap clock on the wall, and her attention on counting their steps backward and forward, she could almost ignore the way the water swirled around his waist, drawing her gaze to the delicious V of muscle dipping below the ripples.

Good grief. Focus. And not on that.

She went to pinch her thigh and brought her elbow up, accidentally deflecting off his forearm.

“Ow.” He brought his other hand to his arm in an exaggerated gesture.

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry!” Heat flooded her face. Could she not do anything right these days?

“Cadence.” His thumb dragged along her jaw and she blinked long, trying to ignore the shimmering trail on her skin. “I wasn’t serious. You barely touched me.”

“I know,” she said, trying to throw a duh tone on the retort.

He moved his hand from her face to her shoulder. His pupils flared wide despite the bright pool lights and his mouth parted. Snapping it shut, he yanked his hand away.

“What’s the next exercise?” he blurted.

“L-lunges.” And thankfully his legs would be under the water while he did them, because the unyielding strength of Zach Cardenas’s thighs could make a nun renounce her vows. Neck heating, Cadie splashed her skin and silently begged the clock to tick faster. Why couldn’t she have stayed in her blissful, mothering fog, unaware of the perfect definition of his quads?

She worked him through a set of lunges and leg balances, filling the time with chatter about Ben’s attempts to climb the toddler-focused play structure Zach and her dad had built in the backyard a few weeks before Zach had taken his header down Hammond’s Chute. Her son was just figuring out walking, and many a face-plant awaited Ben in his immediate future. Hopefully Zach’s calming influence could moderate the daredevil tendencies her son had inherited from his father.

Before Ben’s birth, she’d been clueless about how much she could love another being. It consumed her, filled in all the cracks in her soul left after the earthquake that was Sam. His life, and his death. “Get this. I left Ben in his bedroom for all of a minute yesterday to answer my dad’s landline, and when I get back, he’s made his way to the bathroom and is holding on to the edge of the bathtub, crowing for ‘Baff!’ and trying to figure out how to climb in. He’s growing too fast.”

She tried to laugh but her heart cramped.

Zach’s lips curved in a forced smile. Good to know—she had him working to the point of not being able to comfortably talk. Either that or he didn’t like Ben growing up, either. Maybe both.

He finished up his leg balances and she rushed him into the next exercise. She held out two pool noodles. “Pink or orange?”

A hint of amusement warmed his eyes to a mossy green and he grabbed the candy-pink foam tube.

“Sure, leave me with the one that clashes with my bathing suit,” she teased, tucking the tube around her back and under her arms. Using the water as resistance, she took him through another thirty minutes of therapy. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice the series of half-moon indents on her leg from the number of times she’d dug her nails into her skin while he’d done push-ups against the pool wall. The effort it took not to stare at his chest made her pulse race.

Yeah, right. That effect is from the chest itself, not the effort.

After finishing a set of squats that made him flinch in a way she didn’t like, he glanced at the clock. “We done?”

“In the pool? Almost. Swim a few laps to cool down and then hit the showers. But I want you to meet me at Evolve. My office is still a disaster, but the table’s set up. And I want to work you through some physical manipulation.”

She kept a visual track on him as he pushed off from the bottom of the pool and headed for the other side, which was cordoned off as a lap lane. Did he depend on his left arm and right leg in the water as much as he did on land? She’d probably find some impressive knots of muscle in a few places. She knew how to loosen those.

The knots in her stomach were another story.

“Evolve in twenty?” she asked once they’d gotten out of the pool.

He grimaced and toweled off his hair.

His clear reticence sent the butterflies in her stomach even more atwitter than they’d been while trying not to stare at his pecs.

Client. Professionalism time. “Are you more sore than normal?”

“Nah.”

Ah, so he was in a constant state of pain, then. Stubborn man.

“Hey. Have a seat.” She pointed at the plastic deck chairs where they’d left their towels. He eased into one of them and she took the other. She made sure she had full eye contact with him before she continued. “We don’t have to do this today if you don’t want to. We don’t have to do this at all. I know I can help you. And successfully rehabilitating you will benefit Evolve. But if it doesn’t feel right to you for us to work together, you need to be honest about that. Our friendship is more important to me.”

He held her gaze, but his eyes were more guarded than usual. He’d definitely thrown up an emotional barrier of some sort. Sucking in a breath, he shook his head. With his hair still wet from the pool, the strands stuck together. One clump fell across his forehead. He pushed it back. “I should get my hair cut.”

Non sequitur much? And from her angle, the length flattered. Demanded to have fingers run through it. His nervousness, however, broadcast a clear “don’t touch” message.

“Seriously,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

Tipping his head back, he stared at the observation deck for a few seconds before reverting his attention to her. “I’m tired today. Can you give me something to do at home instead?”

His deferral hollowed her chest until emptiness tugged at her ribs. Tired? Or reluctant? Had he picked up on her attraction? Her stomach curdled. If she lost his friendship because she couldn’t get her freaking hormones under control, she’d never forgive herself. “I—I can do that to a point, but I want to work you through some range of motion exercises before I draw up a home program.”

He shrugged and stood. “I’m not going to screw up my recovery with one day of solo rehab.”

He’d been screwing up his recovery for months, but his mouth was too drawn to remind him of that. “You have a stability ball at home? And some two-pound weights? Draw the alphabet while holding those—I’m assuming you’ve done that before?” She paused until she got a brisk nod from him. “And tie a stretch band to one of the support posts on your back railing and do three sets of fifteen extensions per side.” She demonstrated the fly motion she wanted him to do.

“That’s wimpy stuff, Cadence.”

“Yeah, well, until I have a more complete assessment of where you are, I’m not giving you more. Your swimming today demonstrated an acceptable range of motion for your right arm versus your left. But you’re still walking with a heck of a limp.”

He made a face.

God, how awesome would it be to kiss off that—That nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. “And meet me here tomorrow at 9:00 a.m. In the afternoon, we’ll meet at the Evolve gym. Plan for a month of two-session days. As long as you’re serious that you don’t have a problem working with me.”

“This is fine. We’ll be fine. I’m excited to work with you.” Jamming his crutches under his arms and slinging his towel over his shoulders, he smiled at her.

The false tilt to his lips made the emptiness spread from her chest to her stomach. She watched him as he disappeared into the locker room, wishing to the bottom of her heart that he was telling the truth. And knowing he wasn’t.

His health demanded she persist, though. She couldn’t watch him suffer anymore. But in helping him heal, she had to make sure she didn’t irreparably harm their friendship. She wouldn’t have made it through the last year and a half without him. And the year and a half to come, and the one after that... She needed him to be her rock then, too.

* * *

After showering off the chlorine, Zach made his way back to his truck and hoisted himself in. Proof of some progress, at least. A few weeks back he’d been stuck trading vehicles with Cadie because he couldn’t get into his pickup. She’d done him that favor, even though she didn’t owe him anything. And he’d switch to her care if it would make a difference for her career.

Gripping the wheel, he filled the cab with a string of profanity. Filthy enough that he half expected his Colombian-born, Catholic father to reach across the thirteen-hundred kilometer distance separating them to cuff the backside of the head. Didn’t matter that Zach was a grown-ass man of thirty-two—his dad was the best of fathers but hadn’t lost his strict standards for his children.

And it wasn’t like blue language was going to extract Zach from the tangle he’d agreed to.

Backing his truck out of the parking spot, he took a centering breath. Suck it up. No complaining. He’d follow through with the rehab. And with keeping his feelings to himself.

As he wended his vehicle through the streets of Sutter Creek—an attractive mix of the ski-town architecture Zach had grown up with in Whistler, along with some western elements for flavor—he gripped the steering wheel and hardened his jaw. He’d promised Sam he’d watch over Cadie and the baby for as long as they needed.

And for your own sake. He winced as his conscience prodded him with the truth. Yeah, selfish motivations painted a lot of what he did for Cadence Grigg. Because even though he wasn’t ever going to be able to tell her he loved her, he could sure as hell show her without words. Without hands, too. Cadie would have to touch him for rehab purposes. But he’d still keep his hands off.

If he ventured beyond their usual hugs, actually took the opportunity to savor her smooth skin under his palms... His groin tightened and he groaned. Time for a new train of thought. Maybe he could sneak into the lodge office and throw some paperwork around. His doctor had limited his hours and activities at work, but he did what he could to stay in the loop. Not nearly enough. The entire summer season would be burned by the time he was ready to return in full capacity.

A few minutes later he crutched toward his office in the bowels of the Sutter Mountain base lodge. He scowled at the smiling marmots painted on the ski-school side of the hallway. He did not need that level of saccharine cheer this afternoon. Those stupid animals could shove their joy straight up their cartoon asses. Must be nice, being a wall decoration and not having to worry about physio that wasn’t progressing fast enough or promises to your dead friend.

Choking on the thought, he gulped and tried to swallow the pain. Yeah, his left leg was bugging him and his right side had seized up like an overzealous boa constrictor, but at least he was alive. He had no right to gripe, not when Sam wasn’t able to gripe at all. And even if both his doctor and Cadie didn’t think he’d be ready, he’d figure out a way to get up that mountain to finish Sam’s project.

He shoved the office door with a little too much force. It banged into the wall with a metallic crash as the attached venetian blind reverberated with the impact.

The two occupants of the room startled.

Tavish Fitzgerald, Cadie’s brother-in-law-to-be, raised his tawny head from where he sat at Zach’s desk and shot Zach a questioning look.

At the closer desk, Andrew Dawson, Cadie’s older brother and Zach’s boss, spun in his chair. His reading glasses failed to hide the purple smudges under his eyes. His dark brown hair looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in a day or two. The classic parent-of-a-newborn look. Zach had seen it on his own face a few times after helping Cadie in the months after Ben’s birth.

“One of these days you’re going to owe me a door, Cardenas,” Andrew griped.

“I’m good for it.” Zach hobbled into the room and leaned against the edge of the long wooden top of the retro entertainment center they’d converted into a food-prep station. Better than easing into a chair and showing off his lack of grace and the degree to which his leg was pissing him off. He took in Andrew’s empty cup and the fresh pot brewing in the coffeemaker. “I take it the kid hasn’t figured out that ‘sunup’ means awake and ‘sundown’ means asleep?”

Andrew slid his glasses off and scrubbed his face with both hands. “Nope. He likes to tell us all of his woes from about two to five in the morning.”

“Brutal.” Zach propped his crutches against a nearby shelf and then reached across the narrow space between the desk and the wall to grab Andrew’s mug. Filling it from the carafe, he stirred in a heaping spoonful of sugar. “Here. Caffeinate.”

“Thanks.” Andrew grabbed the drink, took a long swig then coughed. “Right. Hot.”

Tavish snorted. “Sleep deprivation have you forgetting the basics of temperature, genius?”

“In about seven months this’ll be you.” Andrew pointed a finger at Tavish. “Just wait.” He eyed Zach. “What’s got you so cheerful today?”

“I—Physio problems. Thought I’d come in to get some work done—distract myself—but I see my desk is taken.” Zach tilted his chin at the mess of photographs and draft promotional materials scattered across his desk. “I’ll grab my laptop and go work in the staff lounge.”

“No, you’ll go home and rest,” Andrew instructed. “Doctor’s orders. And mine.”

Zach scowled at Andrew, who was well practiced at flipping between buddy mode and boss mode. “How the hell is sitting and editing the policy-and-procedure manual not resting?”

“Anyone can do office work. Only you can get you better. And I need you sparky for opening day.”

“Oh, I’ll be on skis in plenty of time for a December opening.” And he’d be hiking along the avalanche site far before that, getting Sam’s film done.

“That’s not what my sister said,” Andrew threw back.

“Which one—the nosy one or the nosier one?”

Tavish snorted.

Andrew glared at his brother-in-law. “You wouldn’t be laughing if Lauren were here.”

“I’ll make it up to her.”

“Yeah, didn’t need to know that. But I meant Nosy Two, not Nosy One.”

“Cadence won’t be able to tell you my secrets anymore,” Zach grumbled. “Client confidentiality and all that.”

“Client?” Andrew asked.

Zach nodded.

“About time,” Andrew crowed. “Don’t know why it took you so long.”

And Andrew never would. What guy wanted to know that his sister was starring in a friend’s nightly fantasies? Not that Andrew had a leg to stand on there—he’d married Tavish’s sister, Mackenzie—but still. Time for the easy answer, even if it would make Zach sprout feathers and start clucking around the office. “She had to talk me into it. Needles aren’t my thing.”

“But skiing is,” Andrew said.

Zach lifted a shoulder.

Tavish ran a hand through his dark blond hair. “Lauren texted me. Told me I was supposed to help convince you for the sake of the new wellness center. Apparently they want you as a poster boy?”

“So goes the story.” Zach slumped and then straightened as he caught himself cradling his right elbow. Damn it. He really needed to stop favoring his injuries. His arm didn’t really hurt anymore. But his back sure did, from having thrown himself out of alignment by not taking it easy.

“I don’t buy it,” Andrew announced.

“Why?”

“As if the center’s going to be anything but successful. They already have a full slate of reputable wellness providers, and the promotions team has sold a ton of gym memberships and spa packages.” Andrew narrowed his eyes. “This is about Cadie somehow.”

Slapping the desk, Tavish got a “Eureka!” look on his face. “When she and Lauren weren’t talking to each other last month, it was all about Cadie’s independence. This is probably that, too.”

“You taking up psychology instead of photography, Fitzgerald?” Zach grabbed a mug and busied himself making his own beverage. He managed to do it while putting minimal weight on his left leg, avoiding the inevitable winces and tugs that came along with standing on his injured limb. Best not show Andrew how much Zach still needed his crutches.

“Um, if anyone’s going to know Dawson women, it’s Andrew and me.”

Zach kept silent. Yeah, Andrew and Tavish knew the Dawson women well. But so did Zach. And Cadie had been increasingly awkward with him since his accident. So if joining her client list could facilitate them getting back their once-easy equilibrium? Another reason to go along with her request. Even if it meant having to take cold showers every night.

“This project is Cadie’s baby,” Andrew pointed out. “She knows it’s going to succeed because the company name’s on it and people trust AlpinePeaks’s ventures. But she wants to be the one to make that happen. With the way she’s poured herself into it, I’m thinking she’s using it to prove herself.”

Tavish waved a hand at Andrew. “What he said.”

Zach’s heart panged and he needed to sit down. Not because of his aching thigh, for once. “That’s part of it.”

“What’s the other part?” Tavish asked.

“She thinks she owes me,” Zach said quietly.

Andrew’s dark brows rose. “So let her pay you back.”

“She doesn’t need to.”

“And when are you going to feel like you don’t need to owe her anymore?”

Zach blinked at Andrew’s pointed question. Was he that obvious? He didn’t make a habit of talking about the promises he’d made to Sam, but then, Andrew wasn’t stupid. “I don’t.”

“Why else would you move here, man?” Tavish asked.

Okay, so Tavish wasn’t stupid, either.

“I will cop to keeping an eye out for her. She was wrecked and pregnant and it seemed the prudent thing to do.”

“Big sacrifice,” Tavish mused.

He didn’t know the photographer as well as he knew Andrew—Tavish had been out of town up until recently—and the blasé observation made Zach blink.

“Sam was my best friend,” Zach explained.

Andrew’s eyes narrowed. “And Cadie is...”

“My best friend’s wife.” Oops. Zach hadn’t meant for that to come out so harshly. Time to backpedal, and quickly. Before either of his friends figured out how often he had dishonored Sam, picturing Cadie as his wife. Ben as his son.

And he didn’t have the will to force the fantasy back into the mental vault he’d built the moment he’d spotted Sam flirting with Cadie at that bar in Steamboat Springs.

He and Sam had both honed in on Cadie, who had been dancing with a friend that night, dark hair streaming around her bared shoulders—she’d been wearing a sleeveless top that was probably illegal a hundred years ago. An ill-timed visit to the john had meant Sam moved in on her before Zach had the chance. There hadn’t been a thing he could do about it then, and that was twofold now. He wasn’t going to throw another shovel of dirt on his dead friend’s grave by pursuing Sam’s widow.

“Pretty sure there’s a statute of limitations—”

Zach cut Tavish’s lighthearted statement off with a glare.

“—or not,” the guy finished.

“Yeah, not.” Andrew shot Tavish a disbelieving look.

Zach cringed. He’d come to the office to think about something other than Cadie, not to spill his guts to her brother and her sister’s fiancé. Unplugging his laptop and tucking it under his arm, he leaned on one of his crutches and moved toward the door in an awkward, hitching hobble. “Coffee klatch is over. I’m going to get some work done.”

But something told him that Cadie was going to be drifting throughout his brain, no matter what he attempted as a distraction.

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