Author: Jill Shalvis

“Go sit,” Leah said. “I’ll bring it to you.”

He didn’t sit. He stood there at the counter, shoulders tense, his mirrored sunglasses shoved up on top of his head, saying nothing as he stared into the display.

Heart aching for him and for Dee, Leah poured two glasses of sun tea and brought them to the table. Dee had pulled a ball of yarn and two knitting needles from her bag and appeared to be working on a scarf. She made beautiful blankets too and sold her wares at various local art and craft fairs as her health allowed. When it didn’t, friends sold them for her, as Leah had done last weekend.

Leah went back behind the counter and put together a tray of assorted goodies, bringing that to the table as well. Dee stopped knitting to squeeze her hand in thanks and made a token effort to eat some more of the tart.

Leah made her way back to Jack, still standing there at the counter. He shifted, the motion stirring the air with the scent of male skin and laundry soap.

“You okay?” she asked quietly.

“She needs food, and she won’t eat. I thought your stuff would be irresistible.”

“I meant your knee.” Leah wiped her hands on her apron and took a step back to eye his long legs. He’d been a Hotshot for years, one of the rural firefighters who jumped out of planes to fight fires in the mountains and on the plains, until a knee injury five years ago had sidelined him. He’d taken a job working for the Lucky Harbor Fire Department. Not nearly as exciting, she knew. “What happened?”

He shrugged dismissively. Guy code for “nothing.”

“Did you go see a doctor?” she asked.

He gave another shrug and turned to face her. “I need you to get her to eat.”

His voice was low and a little raw. But that’s not what got her. He’d asked her for something, for help, and he never asked lightly. Though it made Leah want to comfort him with a hug, she did an about-face and went back to the table. Sitting next to Dee, she nudged the plate of goodies closer to her as Jack’s phone rang.

“I’ve got to take this,” he said and strode out of the bakery.

The minute he did, Kevin leaped on him, tall enough on his hind legs that man and dog were nearly nose to nose. Jack ruffled Kevin’s big head and gave him a push.

Kevin slid to the ground and rolled over on his back, exposing his belly. Obliging him, Jack squatted low, stroking the dog into ecstasy as he spoke into his phone. Leah did her best not to look at his ass through the window, but it was hopeless. He had a great one.

Beside her, Dee set down the tart. “It’s like old times, the two of you.”

Not quite, but Leah knew what she meant. Back then, as the new girl, she hadn’t fit in, and Jack had been the only one to tolerate her. He’d allowed her to tag along after him and his friends, though he’d always sent her home well before they’d gotten themselves into trouble.

And oh, how she’d resented that. She’d loved trouble. She’d loved him, the way he had of making her forget her miserable home life, or how he’d make her laugh. He’d been far more than an escape from a rough childhood for her. He might have been two years ahead of her in age and light-years ahead of her in experience, but he’d been her best friend.

They’d kept in touch over the years with texts and emails. They’d talked when she’d needed a familiar shoulder to cry on. Jack had always been far more stoic though, but he’d done his own fair share of calling her just to “make sure she hadn’t fallen off the deep end.” Leah had usually interpreted this to mean he needed to vent, and she’d drag out of him whatever was on his mind. She’d treasured those calls the most, being needed by him. They’d come all too rarely because Jack didn’t like to need anyone.

“It’s nice,” Dee said.

Leah reached out and squeezed Dee’s hand. “It’s nice to be back.”

“You’re concerned about me. Don’t be. I’m going to be okay.”

“I know,” Leah said, and hoped to God that it was true.

Outside, Jack rose, one hand holding the phone to his ear, the other resting on Kevin’s head, which came up to his hip.

“I really didn’t want anything to eat,” Dee said. “But he wanted me to so badly.”

“He’s worried about you.”

“Well that makes us even, because I’m worried about him too. Did he tell you? He needs another knee surgery, just like what your grandma had, but he’s too stubborn to get it done.”

“No,” Leah said, her gaze roaming back to Jack’s broad shoulders. “He didn’t mention that.”

“He pushes himself too hard.”

“You know why,” Leah said softly.

“Yes,” Dee said. “I know why.”

Everyone knew. Jack’s dad had been a firefighter. He’d lived and breathed the job. And then he’d died on that job, becoming a local hero. What else was the boy of that hero supposed to do except become a firefighter as well and do his best to live up to the legend?

“I ruined him,” Dee said.

“What? No,” Leah said emphatically. “No. Dee, you raised him well. You—”

“I fell apart when his daddy died.” She nodded at Leah. “Don’t you pretend otherwise. I fell apart, and Jack watched me. And now he doesn’t do relationships.”

“Dee,” Leah said, managing to find a laugh. “Your son has had more relationships than I have shoes. And we all know how many pairs of shoes I have. Too many to count.”

Jack had always been irresistible to the opposite sex. Maybe because he’d always been tall and built with that protective, chivalrous air. Or maybe it was that spark in his rich caramel eyes, the one that said I’m trouble and worth every minute of it.

In any case, Jack had had a way of getting himself into, and then smoothly out of, any so-called relationship with a girl without it ever getting ugly. He was what Leah jokingly labeled “a picker.” There was always some reason that he couldn’t take his relationships to the next level. Too clingy. Too ostentatious. Too crazy. She’d long ago decided not to obsess over what excuse he’d use to dump her, knowing there were too many to worry about.

Dee was shaking her head. “I’m talking about a real relationship, Leah. One that lasts long enough for him to bring her home to meet me. He avoids doing that.” She paused. “Well, except for you, honey.”

Leah’s stomach tightened. She and Jack hadn’t ever really gone there.

Except that once. That almost once.

“He’ll find the right woman,” she said quietly. “It only takes one.”

“But when?”

“Maybe he’s working on it.”

“He’s not.” Dee’s brow was creased in worry, and her voice wobbled. “He’s not working on it at all. And he’s going to end up alone, as I have. And who could blame him? Ever since his dad died, it’s all I’ve shown him.”

“Dee—”

“It is my fault, Leah. He won’t get too attached. I taught him that. I have to undo it before it’s too late.”

Her words grabbed Leah by the throat and held on. She wanted to say something, anything, like “it’s not too late” or “there’s lots of time,” but looking into Dee’s eyes, she knew that might not be true. Leah had a lot of faults, big, fat faults like running tail when the going got tough, pretending everything was okay when it wasn’t, and sometimes, late at night when no one was looking, she even ate store-bought cookies.

But she didn’t lie.

“I want to make this right for him,” Dee said quietly. Desperately. “I need to make this one thing right at least.”

Jack was a black-and-white kind of guy and not all that complicated when it came right down to it. He hated closed spaces—an endless source of amusement to his coworkers. He hated snakes. He hated green toenail polish.

And yet Leah could bank on the fact that he’d date anything blond and stacked, even if that stacked blonde lived in a small closet filled with snakes and wore green toenail polish.

She also knew he was the most stubborn man on the planet. He’d argue the sky wasn’t blue, and it took an Act of Congress for him to admit when he was wrong about anything. But above all else, he was extremely careful not to share his heart. Which meant that Dee couldn’t make this right. And yet there she sat, looking so worried and so heartbreakingly ill.

From the other side of the window, still on the phone, stood Jack, his posture giving away nothing.

But Leah knew he was worried sick too.

Kevin, now sitting on Jack’s big boot, was also looking worried. Worried that there wasn’t any food in his near future.

But Jack…

Damn. “He’s okay,” she said, hoping like hell that was really true.

“But how do you know?” Dee asked.

“Because…” And that’s when it happened, when Leah’s brain disconnected from her mouth. “We’re together.”

Dee went still.

So did Leah, still with shock at her own words.

“Wait,” Dee said slowly. “You and Jack…really?” she asked, as if she didn’t trust her own hearing.

“Uh—”

“Oh my goodness, honey.” Dee was looking like she’d just found out it was Christmas morning and Santa had come. “Oh my goodness!”

For someone who didn’t lie, this was a hell of a way to jump into the pool. Not a lie, Leah corrected.

A fib.

A fib told in order to give Dee the one thing Leah had to offer—a little peace of mind. Jack wouldn’t care. Probably.

Okay, he was going to care.

Unless…unless he never found out. Was that too much to hope for?

“You and Jack,” Dee repeated, a slow, warm smile creasing her face. A real smile, one that seemed to light her up from within. “I’ve hoped,” she said, “oh how I’ve hoped. But he’s always got some silly woman in his sights, and you’re never here, and plus you’re both so damn stubborn—”