She looked up at Brock and jabbed a finger in his chest as he was standing far too close. “This is your fault. None of this would have happened if you’d just gotten the kids like I told you.”

 

 

 

Brock stared down into Harley’s bright green eyes, seeing the sparkle of anger that made her eyes light up and her cheeks flush. He liked this side of her, feisty and fierce, her finger pressed to his chest as she took him to task.

He’d always admired intelligent women, and Amy had been one of the smartest girls at Marietta High School, testing off the charts, and earning several full-ride scholarships to prestigious universities. But Amy hadn’t wanted to leave Montana. She loved Montana and Brock too much to leave either, so Brock and Amy both attended school in Bozeman, earning degrees together, graduating together and settling down on their new ranch, with Brock to work the ranch and Amy to work in Marietta in the commercial banking division for Copper Mountain Savings & Loan. She’d been on her way to work when her car was broadsided.

One of the neighbors, a fellow rancher, was first on the scene and the neighbor called Brock. Brock made it to Amy before the paramedics, and he was with her at the scene when she died. There hadn’t been time to transport her anywhere, and so Brock was always grateful he’d reached her quickly, grateful he’d been able to kiss her and promise to always take care of the babies, and raise them properly.

He didn’t know if she’d heard him. He didn’t know if she’d understood what he was saying, but in the eleven years since she’d died, he’d kept his promise to her. He’d always put the kids first, which meant he didn’t date or go out with friends, or screw around with his brothers.

No, he’d stayed here, on the ranch, focusing on work and the kids.

At times it’d been damn lonely. But Amy was the love of his life and impossible to replace. He hadn’t wanted to replace her, either.

But being alone for so long had made him a harder man. He knew he was tougher, colder, less affectionate than he’d been when Amy was alive. Amy had been good for him. She’d been his laughter, his best friend, his sunshine.

Staring down now into Harley’s face Brock keenly felt the loss of laughter and sunshine.

It’d been eleven years since he’d had a partner. He could use a best friend again.

Brock reached out and captured Harley’s finger, gently bending the finger, shaping her hand into a fist, covering her fist with his own.

Her hand was warm and small, her skin soft.

He liked touching her. Hell, he’d like to touch all of her. Celibacy had lost its appeal a long time ago. “We need to talk about last night, what happened upstairs,” he said.

He saw a flicker in her eyes before she dropped her gaze. “No, we don’t,” she whispered.

“We do,” he answered, wanting to kiss her again, needing to kiss her again, but not comfortable bedding her as long as she worked for him. But at the same time, once she left here tomorrow he didn’t know where she was going to go or what she planned on doing. “Tomorrow your replacement comes.”

“Yes.”

“Are you flying back to California, or staying in Marietta?”

“I haven’t thought that far.”

“Do you even know where you’re going tomorrow?”

“No.”

The twins suddenly raced into the kitchen, pushing each other as they rounded the corner. They skidded to a halt as they spotted him holding Harley’s hand.

 

 

 

Harley saw the kids’ expression as they saw their dad holding her hand and she broke free, moving quickly to the sink. “Just a little burn,” she said briskly, turning the faucet on and running her hand beneath the water. “It’ll be fine.”

Brock lounged against the counter. “You’re sure you don’t want ice?”

She shot him a swift glance. “It’s fine,” she said flatly. “But I do need to get a new pan and start fresh milk if we want that hot chocolate anytime soon.”

“Or maybe we just forget the hot chocolate,” Brock said casually, “and go into town for dinner and a movie.”

The twins looked at him, wide eyed. “But you hate movies,” Molly said.

“And eating in town,” Mack added.

Brock frowned. “I don’t hate movies or dinner out. We just don’t ever have a lot of time so we don’t go into Marietta much, but I thought it’d be fun to go tonight—”

“Fun?” Molly screwed her face up in horror. “Did you just say fun? Who are you? And where did my dad go?”

“Never mind,” Brock said, shrugging. “We can just stay here. Have a quiet night at home—”

“No!” Mack said.

Molly ran to Brock and flung her arms around his waist, squeezing him tight. “Just teasing, Dad. Come on, laugh. Take a joke. We want to go. We do!”

Brock’s lips curved in a crooked smile as he glanced from his daughter to his son and back. “I have a very good sense of humor.