I’ll meet you in front of your office a little after six.”

She started to walk away but then turned back around. “And just to be clear, it’s not a date.”

He shrugged, broad shoulders relaxed. “You can tell yourself that if it makes you feel better, but you did fine at lunch.”

Sadie marched back toward him. “Lunch wasn’t a date, either.”

“We have kissed several times now.”

“You can’t take a non-date and make it a date.”

“We already did.” He reached out and brushed his hand over one of her coppery strands. “And there’s no reason to get nervous. Just talk to me tonight as you do your friends. Pretend I’m McKenna. That should make it easier.”

“Great. I’ll tell you all about the new fabric I found at the Bozeman flea market, and my last date with Paul, and the donors I’m considering.”

“Actually, I don’t need any more details about Paul. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t be into fabric, but I’d rather hear about every yard you bought, than more about your donors.”

“But I haven’t told you about the three I’ve selected.”

“I can’t wait for those details.”

Her lips twitched, hearing his sarcasm. It amused her, maybe because she’d been playing defense ever since he came to town. It was his turn to do some mad scrambling. “I still need to narrow it down to one, but I’ve time. See you around six.”

image

Rory did something he hadn’t done in maybe fifteen years. He left town and drove to Paradise Valley, taking the back roads from the valley floor to the foothills where the Douglas Ranch had been. The property had been on the market for years, but no one had wanted to buy a huge piece of land with such a gruesome history. And because they could survive without selling it, Rory had pulled it off the market seven years ago and it had just sat there, empty. Land without animals. Land without people.

Reaching the entrance to the ranch, Rory climbed out of the truck and unlocked the front gate before swinging it open and driving over the cattle guard back to where the house had been.

He didn’t go all the way back—he still couldn’t go there—but he went close enough that he could see the roof of the barn, and the shape of the hills behind. To his right was the cluster of poplar trees, his mother’s favorite, and not far from the road was the huge boulder that had been the site of the Douglas kids’ first clubhouse. It was where they’d jumped and climbed and played, with the big steep face becoming whatever they needed it to be—a sailing ship, a dungeon tower, a cliff rising from the ocean.

He smiled faintly at the memories, glad for the adventures they’d had. And there had been many adventures. Great adventures. Quinn had been the most athletic. McKenna the most imaginative. Tyler by far the best natured. Gordon was rough and tumble, all boy, even at five. And Grace... well at two she’d still been too young to join in the games.

Sitting in his truck, he said each of their names, and pictured them all, individually, as well as together. It was something he hadn’t done in years.