“Better start.”

“Dillon, take this out for Cate.” Julia handed him a bag a child could’ve carried. “Her jacket’s in the mudroom. You come back soon.” She gave Cate a hard hug.

“I will. I hope you, all of you, come over to my place sometime.”

Julia waited until she heard them go out, heard the door shut before she let that inner sigh out.

Maggie just nodded. “Yep, our boy’s more than halfway gone.”

“What do you mean?”

“Past smitten, rounding third, headed for home, Red. Didn’t you see how he looked at her?”

“She’s a knockout.”

Now Maggie shook her head. “Men are just simpleminded about half of everything.”

“She dazzled him,” Julia murmured. “Not like any of the other girls—women—he’s had an interest in. This one will either break his heart or fill it.”

Outside, Dillon made sure they were well out of earshot. “You know the pizza that shall not be named? I keep one—hidden—in my freezer. For emergencies.”

“For pizza emergencies?”

“They usually happen late at night.”

“I can see that.” She glanced back toward the house. “I was going to stay an hour, maybe have some coffee, tea, whatever. They pull you in. This place, your family, they pull you in.”

“And before you know it, you’re wearing an apron and working dairy.”

“I’m not sure where making butter fits on my résumé, but I hope to work it in.” She took the bag from him, set it on the floor of the passenger seat. “I really would like to see the horses, well, everything. And take that ride.”

“Anytime.”

She circled around to the driver’s door. “I don’t think ‘anytime’ works on a ranch like this. Is there a day you’re not going from one chore to the next?”

“We try to slow it down some on Sundays.”

“I could make Sunday work.”

“Good. Around ten?”

“I’ll be here. With my riding boots on.” She hopped in behind the wheel. “I’m going to have a pizza emergency tonight. Don’t tell Gram.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

“See you Sunday.” He closed the door; she started the engine.

She drove down the ranch road smiling to herself. She’d made butter.

Then as she turned on the highway she began a series of tongue twisters to limber up for her afternoon work.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Her father came for Thanksgiving. Under Consuela’s watchful eye, Cate made her first pumpkin pie. While she’d never again use the phrase “easy as pie,” it turned out well.

Best of all, she walked Aidan down to her cottage, showed it off, showed off her studio before sitting with him in front of the fire.

They sipped whiskey after a long, happy day.

“I was going to feel guilty about nudging you to come back when I stayed in L.A. But it not only seems to be a good move for you, it feels like the right move.”

“I was ready for it. What they did, with this house, with the studio? It’s such a pleasure to live here, to work here.”

“You’re busy.”

“Right now? Just the right amount.” Thoroughly content, Cate curled up her legs.

Outside, the surf whooshed, and wind shivered through the trees. Inside, the fire crackled, and the whiskey went down warm.

“I’m starting an audiobook next week, and that’ll be the biggest project I’ve taken since moving from New York. It still leaves me time to spend with Grandpa and G-Lil, and get out some. I went riding a couple of Sundays ago at Horizon Ranch. That felt good—until the next day when my muscles reminded me I hadn’t been riding in a long time.”

“And how are things with the Coopers?”

“Talk about busy. They’ve expanded—a whole dairy business. Dillon says they’ll have some students come in over winter break. They train and work—and there’s a lot of work. Same in the spring and summer. And they hire help during those busier seasons. Sheriff—just Red,” she corrected. “Red’s there a lot since he retired, and pitches in. Did you know Deputy Wilson is Sheriff Wilson now?”

“Dad mentioned it.”

She studied her whiskey. Then her father. The years, she thought, just seemed to pile on more appeal when it came to Sullivan men.

“Since it’s just you and me, should we deal with the elephant in the room?”

“Which one?”

“She does seem to have an endless supply. The one where I’m hiding out here because I’ve had a nervous breakdown. One partially brought on by being dumped by Justin Harlowe.”

Her breath hissed out. Her own fault there, she reminded herself. And still. “I expect he’s having a hell of a good time feeding that one.”

“He’s getting some play trying to boost his series and its sagging third season.”

Irritated all over again, Cate shrugged. “He can get all the play he wants, and so can she. It doesn’t bother me the way it used to.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“It bothers me,” she admitted. “But not like it used to. I’m only bringing it up so it’s, well, dumped. Like I dumped Justin months ago. I agreed to keep the breakup quiet because he was going into the new season, and he asked me to. I’m sorry I did, but it doesn’t matter.”

Aidan studied her face. “Does he?”

“No. He doesn’t matter, and she doesn’t matter either.”

“Good. The rest will fade off, as it does. What about the calls?”

All right, she thought, get it all out of the way. “I haven’t had one in nearly a year. As promised, I’ve told you about them, about all of them since I promised. And I reported all of them to Detective Wasserman.”

“And no progress there?”

“What can they do, Dad? It’s a prepaid cell, it’s a recording. Months, even years apart. They’re not going to matter either. I’ve got my family, my work, my life. I want you to know that. Especially since you’ll be heading to London to shoot.”

“I was going to see about you coming with me until I saw how happy you were here, how happy Dad and Lily are. Their gain, my loss. But it’s not until February, so if you change your mind . . . Either way, I’m back here for Christmas and staying until after New Year’s. I want some time with my girl.”

“She wants time with you. How about saddling up and taking a ride while you’re here?”

“Three’s a crowd.”

“No. It’s not like that. We barely know each other. I don’t think he’s involved with anyone, but we’re . . .”

“Before you say ‘friends,’ I’ll point out you talk about your friend you barely know quite a bit.”

“Do I?” Maybe she did. Maybe she thought of him quite a bit, too. “I guess it’s a fascinating lifestyle. And the work ethic? Sullivans know about work ethic and passion for the work. I think it must take an innate kindness, and innate grit, to tend animals and the land the way they do.”