The Moments We Made Ours

Book 2: Swift Rivers Series

by LJ Evans

Genres: Mystery; Firefighters Romance; Small-town Romance; Romantic Suspense; Friends to lovers; Second Chance Romance

Synopsis

A small-town firefighter faking forever…

BECKETT: Maisey’s always been more than my best friend. She’s the only woman who tempts me to burn down the walls I built around my heart. So when I’m called to a fire and watch her world go up in flames, I can’t stop myself from stepping in. A fake engagement is the only way to give her and her dad safety, a home, a chance to breathe again.

I swear I can keep my distance—until one kiss, one dare, and one taste undo me completely. Until our charade draws a stalker’s attention.

Now, I’ll risk my job, my future, and my life to keep her safe.

MAISEY: I’ve loved Beckett forever—before my scars, before I believed I wasn’t the kind of girl men keep. His proposal promises security, not love. But every stolen kiss makes this engagement feel dangerously real. I almost let myself believe I could finally be enough…

But Beckett doesn’t believe in forever, and as the threats surrounding us turn violent, I suddenly realize the biggest risk isn’t losing my heart.

A Swift Rivers standalone in The Hatley Family spin-off series.

Release date: February 25, 2026

Publisher: LJ Evans Books

Print pages: 440

Content advisory: See warnings on LJ Evans Books website

Sample

PROLOGUE

Maisey

 

FOURTEEN YEARS AGO

HIM: Where are you? Thought we were celebrating by finishing The Hunger Games in the tree house?

HER: Not tonight.

HIM: What? Why?

Minutes passed.

HIM: Maise?

More minutes passed.

HIM: That’s it. I’m coming over.

 

I wound the tire swing as tight as I could before letting go. The branches and leaves of the oak tree became a dark whirl as I spun, wishing with all my might that I could actually take off and sail somewhere else. Anywhere else.

In the shadowy twilight descending over our small town in the foothills of the Sierra Mountains, the crickets sang in full chorus, the frogs croaked their symphony by the river, and the chicken coops murmured with the soft rustle of the roosts settling down. Yet, I could still hear my parents over it all. The sound of their argument streamed through the screen door, reaching out to me like a specter stretching its hands.

My stomach clenched, as it always did when they fought.

It was the same argument—money.

At least, this time, it wasn’t about the boatload they were spending to fix me or the cost of my classes at the Western Riding School. Instead, they were arguing about the summer acting camp Chelsea wanted to attend. If she wasn’t allowed to go, I’d feel even more selfish than normal for hogging all the extra money our family had available.

Mom was trying to squeak out the funds, but Dad was digging in his heels. He didn’t want Chelsea to go, and it wasn’t just because of the exorbitant fee. Dad didn’t think it was healthy for my stunningly beautiful sister to want a famous life so badly that it had already carved itself into her soul.

I wasn’t one to judge. I already had things carved into my soul too.

Not the least of which was how ugly I was compared to her.

It was like, when we’d been born, she’d been granted all the beauty, while I’d been handed all the deformities.

The alarm on my phone went off, and I shoved my hand into the front pocket of my oversized hoodie to silence it, hoping Mom hadn’t heard. But that wasn’t to be my luck. The argument in the house stopped briefly, and the kitchen floor creaked as footsteps crossed the cracked linoleum.

Mom called out from the screen door, “It’s time to come inside, Maisey.”

“I know. I’m coming,” I called back.

She didn’t wait. She knew I’d come in. She knew I’d do the right thing.

Except today, I really didn’t want to.

I let the swing continue to unwind as tears leaked out and traveled down my cheeks. I didn’t want to go in. I didn’t want to put on the stupid facemask. I didn’t want to go from ugly Maisey to hideously freaky Maisey.

I’d thought I’d finally broken free of the reverse-pull headgear, only to be told today I had to go another summer wearing it. So instead of celebrating the trashing of the face mask with Beckett in his treehouse tonight and finishing our latest book, I’d be stuck inside again. Alone.

I’d been giddy at the idea of reading with Beckett at night for the first time since we’d started reading together four years ago. It had felt…romantic…hopeful… Which was stupid, because Beckett had never looked at me that way. We were friends. Nothing more.

Suddenly, the tire swing jerked to a stop, and the screech that tore from me was as horrendous as my mouth. My heart slammed against my ribs as I twisted around, panic flaring. The wild rhythm only quickened when I saw who it was.

Usually, I heard Beckett land after jumping over the barbed-wire fence that separated our two small farms on the edge of downtown Swift Rivers—or just Rivers, as the locals affectionately called it. But tonight, I’d missed the sound, too distracted by my parents’ argument and the mess of thoughts twisting through my head.

I had to look up—way up—to meet his eyes. Beckett had shot up nearly three inches over the winter, and the rest of him hadn’t quite caught up yet. He was downright skinny these days, despite the lean muscles he’d built from endless chores on his family’s goat farm and the long hours he put in at the Harrington Ranch, where his dad worked full time.

Beckett’s dark-brown hair was on the longer side, curling about his ears and around his neck. He was constantly pushing the floppy mass out of his eyes—deep, warm, chocolate eyes that rested under thick brows he’d gotten from his dad.

“Thought we were celebrating,” Beckett said. His voice had changed two years ago. Deep now, it sounded like a man’s voice, even when he still looked like a scraggily fourteen-year-old.

My body hadn’t started to change at all. When Chelsea had been twelve, like me, she’d already been wearing a bra and had started her period. My body looked like I was still eight. How was that fair? But then again, Chelsea would say it wasn’t fair that I hogged all our family’s money simply because my jaw stuck out too much.

Beckett studied me closely. And even though the sky had slid just beyond the hills, and the oak tree cast shadows over me, there was still enough light for him to see the glimmer of tears streaking down my face.

“Maise?” Worry coated his voice.

Beckett and Fallon were the only ones I didn’t mind calling me “Maise.” They said it softly, like it actually meant something good. Everyone else turned it into a joke. Once the kids in school found out it was the Native word for corn, they started calling me Corny the Deformed Corncob. And Chelsea calling me Cornlette hadn’t helped, no matter how sweetly she intended it. 

“I have to go inside, Beckett.”

And with that handful of words, he got what I meant.

“Shit. The orthodontist wants you to wear the facemask for longer?”

Beckett liked cussing these days. It was as if being a few weeks away from graduating eighth grade and moving on to high school had suddenly made it essential that he become familiar with every curse word in existence.

“Yep,” I said with an extra pop on the P. “Another entire summer where I’ll be stuck indoors after seven p.m.”

“You don’t have to be stuck inside, Maisey.”

Technically, I didn’t. No one said I couldn’t leave the house with the facemask on. The hideous contraption, slowly shifting my jaw into a more “appropriate” position, didn’t require darkness and solitude, but I didn’t want anyone to see me in it.

I didn’t even want my family to see it.

After I put on the mask, I hid in my room, where I devoured the books Beckett had helped me master, until sleep found me.

Beckett rested his hands on my shoulders, and even at twelve, even though my hormones hadn’t really found me yet, I felt something deep inside me swoosh at his touch. It had been that way since the very first time we’d touched. From the moment I’d stuck my hand out to help him up after he’d fallen out of a tree and landed in our yard. It felt like…coming home after a long trip. Like…I’d found the place I truly belonged.

But tonight, the gentleness I always received from Beckett only made the tears flow harder.

“Don’t cry, Maise. Please don’t cry.” His voice was thick, choked with emotions that mirrored mine.

“I hate being me. I hate my jaw and my teeth and my parents fighting over the money I’m costing them.”

Beckett yanked me out of the swing and wrapped his arms around me. I was so short compared to him after his growth spurt that my nose ended up in his armpit. I didn’t care. He didn’t smell like the other stinky boys at school, who hadn’t figured out how to use deodorant yet. Beckett smelled like bonfire smoke and pine trees. Like some of my best childhood memories. Sometimes it felt like the only memories that really mattered were the ones made after he moved in next door six years ago.

“I refuse to stand by and let anyone, including you, hate on my Maisey-girl,” he growled.

And my sick little preteen heart swooped again. I loved it when Beckett called me his Maisey-girl, even though I wasn’t really his.

He’d actually been “going out” with Chelsea’s frenemy, Delilah, most of the school year. But after his dad’s fiancée had broken up with Kurt and taken off for South America, Beckett had broken up with Delilah and said he was over dating, just like his dad.

Beckett tugged gently at my plain, long brown hair. I wished I could wear it in the fishtail braid Fallon had taught me, but when I pulled it back, my jaw and teeth were all anyone focused on. At least with my hair down, I could hide behind it.

My second alarm went off, and it made me want to cry even harder. I didn’t ever want to leave Beckett’s arms. But the reminder warned me I was dangerously close to not putting on the facemask in time for it to do its job. My orthodontist told me that every minute I was late was why I had to wear it for longer than they’d expected. Except, I’d rarely been late. I’d been diligent for four years. Four years… It felt like a lifetime already.

“We can still camp out in the treehouse and finish The Hunger Games trilogy this summer. I don’t care about the facemask. You know I won’t laugh at you.”

“You haven’t ever seen me in it, Beckett. It’s so…” I shook my head. I couldn’t even explain it. With the front of it suctioned to my forehead, the contraption hanging down over my nose and mouth and hooking to my teeth, I looked like a robot gone wrong. A mistake not even fit for the Island of Misfit Toys. “It makes me even uglier.”

“You’re not ugly.” He said it fiercely, as if he were swearing. Like he meant it. “When I met you, it was your green eyes I noticed first. They made you look like…an avenging angel or something.”

I missed his embarrassment at the compliment in the midst of my self-indulgent whine.

“Guys don’t kiss eyes! They kiss mouths.” I waved at my teeth covered in braces. “And this hideous mouth isn’t ever getting kissed.”

“You’re wrong.”

I moved to brush past him, but before I got even a step, Beckett grabbed my arm and hauled me to him. The next thing I knew, he’d placed his perfectly formed, cupid-bow lips on mine. His mouth was warm and insistent, the pressure gentle and yet firm. Shock held me still, and then my body went limp.

Beckett was kissing me.

Beckett.

My Beckett.

He’d given me my first kiss.

And it felt so right. Sweet and gentle and perfect.

The world spun around me just as it had when I’d been on the tire swing, everything beyond us a blurry mirage. It was as if we were in a bubble where nothing could touch us. Where nothing mattered but this—the two of us, at twelve and fourteen, somehow finding our other half.

I couldn’t help the smile that started to replace the frown I’d been wearing since coming home from my appointment. But it was the smile that ruined everything because it allowed my braces to connect with his soft skin.

I felt him flinch.

Felt him try not to jerk back.

But I did it for him, wrenching myself free. My face flamed, and my insides rolled when I saw the blood that appeared on his beautiful lips. Lips I’d stared at for far too many hours in the last year as we’d taken turns reading aloud to each other.

He pushed a knuckle against the cut while his eyes remained locked on mine. I couldn’t read his expression. But I wasn’t sure I needed to.

Disgust. I was disgusted enough for both of us.

He’d done something nice and paid the price. More tears welled. The embarrassment would keep me in my room this summer more than even the stupid mask.

“Maisey, Mom is going to have a coronary if you don’t come in and put on your headgear,” Chelsea said, stepping out onto the small wooden deck at the back of our house.

The last thing I wanted was for Chelsea to find out about this embarrassing situation.

My overprotective big sister would flip out. She already thought my friendship with Beckett was weird.

I fled, whirling around and running up the trio of steps onto the deck, pushing past my beautiful sister with her wavy auburn hair and green eyes and perfect jaw and perfect figure. I ran through the galley kitchen to my bedroom just beyond it. I slammed the door and locked it but didn’t flip on the light.

My heart beat wildly again. Those heavenly few seconds with Beckett’s lips pressed against mine disappeared in a sea of humiliation.

Through my open window, my sister’s voice easily carried to me.

“What happened to make Cornlette take off like she’d seen a ghost?” She sounded mad. Like she always did when defending me.

“Nothing,” Beckett said.

“You’re bleeding.”

Silence.

“Did you kiss my sister?” she demanded, and when he still didn’t respond, she continued, “She’s a sixth grader, for heaven’s sake.”

It was the same baffled tone she used when he’d started reading with me when I was eight. Up until then, reading had been yet another thing Chelsea had done with ease that I’d struggled with. I wasn’t stupid, but my grades made it seem like I was.

Everything had changed the day I’d seen Beckett reading a book about horses. When I’d asked him about it, he’d started reading it to me, and then, he’d had me take a turn. He’d been patient with my mistakes and never once given up the way everyone else in my life did after a few bumbling sentences. Ever since then, reading had seemed fun, not only because of the books Beckett chose, but because it meant I had more time with him.

“I was just trying to help,” Beckett finally responded. “She thought no one would ever kiss her.”

“So it was, what? A pity kiss?” My heart fell. My cheeks, that had already been flaming, lit more. “Our poor little Maisey was sad, and you had to step in to help once again? You’re such a sap.”

My entire insides tightened at that word—sap. Beckett had sworn he’d never be a sap like his dad, loving women who didn’t stick.

“You’re such a bitch, Chelsea. You don’t have the first clue about what friends will do for one another.”

My stomach leaped. It wasn’t the first time he’d called her a name like that. It was the one thing Beckett and I fought over. He insisted Chelsea wasn’t the defender I’d always seen her as. But he hadn’t been around when I was five, and the kids on the street made fun of my weird jaw and teeth. She’d thrown rocks at them.

“If it means having to kiss a twelve-year-old, I don’t need friends.” Her tone sounded disgusted, even angry. “If it happens again—”

The rest of her sentence faded away as they moved deeper into the yard. All I could hear was a murmur of voices that sounded uncomfortably like my parents arguing.

When the hum stopped, I could imagine Beckett jumping from the boulder by the chicken coop onto the wooden fence post between the barbed wire dividing our yards. He’d leap like a superhero through the air, land gracefully on his feet, and still end up startling the goats.

And just like in my imagination, the bleat of the herd sounded through the air, followed by Chelsea’s feet pounding up the porch steps.

The noise unfroze me. I didn’t want her to know I’d overheard their conversation. I didn’t want her telling me that Beckett had only kissed me out of pity while warning me, again, that my crush on Beckett was going to get me hurt. She’d already told me kids at school made fun of me, not only for my looks, but because of the way I tagged after Beckett like a stray dog. Like the Hunchback in that animated movie, fawning over the Romani girl.

Beckett was kind to me, but that didn’t mean he was going to fall head over heels in love with me. No one would ever fall for the freak show who’d barely learned to read.

I grabbed the bag with my facemask in it and hurried into the tiny bathroom I shared with my sister.

There was only one thing to do from here—pretend Beckett Romero had never kissed me at all. I’d put the entire memory in a box, lock it away, and forget it had ever happened.

And maybe in a few weeks, I’d be able to look at him again without embarrassment swarming through me like gnats on an apple core.

 

CHAPTER ONE

Maisey

 

FOURTEEN YEARS LATER

HIM: Are you coming to One-Eyed Frank’s tonight?

HER: Nope. I have leftover enchiladas and a new book calling me.

HIM: I need protection, Maisey-girl. Your protection.

HER: You’re six foot four and roughly the size of a barn. What kind of protection could I possibly provide that you couldn’t give yourself?

HIM: If I’m with you, other women stay away. I don’t risk offending someone and getting slapped. You’re protecting my cheeks from taking a real beating.

HER: It isn’t your cheeks but your ego that needs a beating.

 

PRESENT DAY

 

I opened my locker door and  stared at the woman who appeared in the mirror inside. I scowled at her. “You are not going to Frank’s.”

Especially not looking like this—like I’d just gotten off a twelve-hour shift that had started at seven this morning. With my plain brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, makeup all but worn off my long, narrow face, and in scrubs with unicorns on them, I looked like I was sixteen instead of twenty-six.

I locked my sage-colored eyes on the reflection. “Maisey Campbell, you will not go to One-Eyed Frank’s. He will not crook his finger, and you show up.”

It was a battle I’d been waging for two decades when it came to Beckett. Sometimes I won. Sometimes I lost. And every time I lost, it reminded me I was the same idiot girl who’d fallen for the heroic boy-next-door, who’d patiently taught her to read.

If he’d been hard to resist as a beanpole of a teen who’d shared his deepest, darkest wounds with me, it was impossible to resist the muscle-bound fire captain he’d become, especially with that perfect dimple in his right cheek and his confidence the size of the entire state of California.

I ripped the band out of my hair and tried hopelessly to fluff it up. It didn’t cooperate, especially without any of the multitude of products I usually used to help it. The strands had always been straight as a board and were a generic brown that no one asked their hairdresser to repeat. I’d tried highlights and different colors over the years, but it had ultimately ruined the fine texture and made things worse. So these days, I stuck with plain brown. I stuck with who I was.

Maisey the sidekick to two best friends.

Maisey the helper.

Maisey the nurse.

I’d never been hot Maisey, who had equally hot guys drooling after her.

I’d stopped expecting any sort of miracle like that in college. One too many “hot guys” had made it clear I should be grateful they’d “chosen me” for sex, but I shouldn’t expect anything more. I shouldn’t expect dates and romance.

Even still, I hadn’t given up on love and companionship the way Beckett had. I still felt like it was out there for me, somewhere, with someone. But I also wasn’t going to let some disappointing-in-bed guy make me feel bad about the hardly noticeable scars on my jaw from the surgery that had finally and permanently corrected my severe malocclusion.

I snagged my reusable water bottle off the shelf, shoved my bag onto my shoulder, and slammed the locker door. A horrifying screech escaped at the face that appeared in front of me.

“Holy potatoes, Meredith, you scared the hell out of me.”

Her face remained serious as she said, “I need you to cover Lisa’s shift tomorrow.”

Part of me groaned at the idea of working another shift, while another part of me was excited at the thought of being in Labor and Delivery. I’d loved working L&D at my first hospital after college. But when I’d joined Swift Rivers Community Hospital, they’d only had a job in the floater pool available, and due to liabilities, floaters rarely got to work in specialty departments.

“What’s wrong with Lisa?”

Meredith frowned. “She took off to Vegas with her new boyfriend and isn’t coming back. With that summer cold flying through the staff, the last thing we need is to be down another body.”

If Lisa was gone, it would mean a permanent position in Labor and Delivery had opened up. That vicious bitch, otherwise known as Hope, leaped through me, but she was just as likely to crush me as she was to give me what I wanted.

And as tempting as it was to say yes at the chance it would help me get the permanent job, I’d just worked five twelve-hour shifts in a row, instead of my usual three, covering for people at Meredith’s request. I needed a break and had planned on spending the morning on my horse at the Harrington Ranch, training for the Fourth of July show, and then binge-reading a new cowboy romance.

I sidestepped Meredith and headed for the exit. “Ask Wendy.”

“Wendy is going to a wedding. If you want the spot on the Labor and Delivery team, this is your opportunity to show you can handle it. Plus, you promised when I hired you that you’d pull every shift needed.” Meredith pouted.

I felt that old, familiar twinge deep inside—guilt at being the reason others didn’t get what they needed or wanted. My therapist had almost yanked the tendency out of me, but it still surfaced now and again. I inhaled deeply and let it out slowly before responding.

“That was three years ago, Meredith. I’ve proven my loyalty and my willingness to be a team player since then. I’ve proven I can handle any ward you’ve thrown at me. If the managers here don’t think I’m ready for a position in Labor and Delivery, perhaps I should consider looking for a job elsewhere. I hear County is hiring.”

“That isn’t what I said,” she backpedaled, knowing the hospital couldn’t afford to be down two nurses, and I felt another pang of guilt at pushing her. But damnit, I’d paid my dues.

As I headed for the door, I did something I rarely did—I made a demand on my own behalf. “I want the Labor and Delivery spot. If you and Becka can guarantee I’ll be the first person in line for the job, then I’ll cover tomorrow. Otherwise, find someone else.”

My heart was pounding, but I didn’t look back as I left.

A weird mix of pride and remorse surged through me. I’d earned the spot. I’d put in the time and done what I could to help the hospital, and yet I could still hear Chelsea’s voice in my head, telling me I was being selfish for demanding more. She wasn’t right, but she also wasn’t wrong. As a kid, I’d taken so much of our family’s time and resources that it had scarred my sister almost as much as it had scarred me.

Outside, I took a deep breath, surprised at the heaviness in the air. It had been nearly ninety today, normal for summer at the base of the Sierra Mountains, but the humidity was unusual. It had hung over the town for a week now, as if a storm was brewing somewhere out past the mountains, waiting to break. Or maybe that was just the thriller novel I’d finished last night getting to me.

The sky was still light, but the shadows were stretching toward my faded-blue pickup as I climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, hoping it would start. When it coughed to life, vibrating my seat with its deep shudder, I sighed with relief.

I just needed it to last a few more years, at least until a pay raise and more savings gave me some breathing room to purchase a car. And even then, I’d rather buy back my horse Dad had sold off first.

Even though it had happened over a decade ago, just thinking about how I’d almost lost Titan was enough to make my chest contract. My friend Fallon and her billionaire family had stepped in to save the day, buying my horse and letting me treat him as if he were still mine. I was even more thankful for that gift than I’d been for the college scholarship they’d given me, and I was overwhelmingly and deeply grateful for the funds that had let me graduate debt-free.

My phone buzzed, a welcome interruption to the spiral into my troubled childhood that threatened to ensnare me. But when I saw it was Beckett calling, I almost didn’t answer.

If I talked to him, I’d weaken. I’d head to Frank’s like he wanted.

Except, Beckett rarely actually called—he was strictly a texting kind of guy—so what if something was wrong? What if he needed help? 

I hit the accept button, confronting any request for me to show up head-on. “I’m not going. I’m dead on my feet.”

Loud chanting greeted me on the other end. “Maisey. Maisey. Maisey.”

Deep voices mingled in with a few female ones, and my cozy night at home all but disappeared. If all my friends were all at the bar, asking me to come, I’d never be able to say no.

“That’s low, Beckett, even for you.”

He laughed. A slow, deep rumble that I felt all the way down to the pit of my stomach. Dangerously delightful. Dangerously off-limits.

“Fallon and Andie are attempting to pull off a trivia win. They need you, darlin’,” Beckett taunted. “You don’t show up, and you’ll be the sole reason the Femme Fatales lose tonight.”

On the other end, I heard Fallon demand, “Let me talk to her,” and two seconds later, she came on the line, pleading. “We’re down twenty, Maise. Twenty. And I’ve got something big riding on this with Parker.”

I couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. “Stop betting sexual favors with your husband, and then you won’t have to worry about winning or losing.”

Her voice turned quiet and muffled, as if she was using her hand to cover her mouth so the others wouldn’t hear. “It’s not sex. Well… Not sex, per se. This is a very important bet. You remember what I talked to you about the other day?”

She’d been talking about having another baby. Her little girl, Lila, was just over two years old now, and Fallon had gotten it in her head it was the perfect time to start trying for baby number three. This time, one she and Parker created together, rather than one they’d adopted or the one she’d had with the loser who’d knocked her up.

I sighed. “I need to go home and change. I’m still in my scrubs.”

“No one here cares what you’re wearing.”

But I cared. I’d lived too many years of my life feeling like the ugliest person in the room not to at least try to look good before heading into a bar full of beautiful people.

“If you want me to come, then you need to give me a few minutes to clean up.”

Fallon let out an exasperated sigh. “Fifteen minutes, Maise! I need you.” The phone shuffled, and from somewhere in the distance came her muffled shout, “Intermission! Andie and I are waiting on our relief pitcher!”

There was a mix of cheers and groans on the other side of the phone.

Then, Beckett’s voice was back in my ear, tantalizing me. “I’m wounded, Maise. Wounded. Not only are you showing up because Fallon needs you, when you wouldn’t show up because I did, but now you’ll be playing for the wrong team.”

“It’ll do your ego some good to be knocked down a peg or two.”

“You have to beat us first.”

“We will.”

“I like your confidence.” I could hear the amusement in his voice before it dipped low. “Care to place a bet?”

My heart skittered, stomach swooshing, but I was glad my voice didn’t reflect it. “Nope. You know I don’t bet.”

“Someday, darlin’, that’ll change.”

“Today isn’t that day.”

He laughed, told me to hurry, and then hung up.

Twenty minutes later, I was back downtown, feeling just as tired as before but at least a little more put together. I’d slipped into a yellow summer dress to combat the sticky humidity, touched up my makeup, and pulled my hair half-up in a messy, beachy twist.

It was nearing eight o’clock, but Main Street was still humming with the kind of easy energy that made evenings here feel like they stretched a little longer than anywhere else. Cars edged the curbs where the shops and restaurants kept their doors propped open late, hoping to catch the last of the tourists drifting by.

Swift Rivers, built during the old Gold Rush days, still proudly wore its forty-niner heritage, with weathered wood siding, hitching post–style parking meters, and wrought-iron lampposts dangling baskets of bright blooms. Framed by snow-capped peaks, the whole town looked like it had been lifted straight from a movie set. And when night fell and the neon signs flickered on, they washed the Old Western streets in a kaleidoscope of color that felt part Nashville honky-tonk and part vaudeville magic.

When I was a kid, Swift Rivers had been like so many fading small towns, its storefronts emptying out as families traded mom-and-pop shops for box stores and theme parks. But then Fallon’s family transformed their ranch into a five-star resort, drawing the wealthy at first, and then the everyday vacationers. Now the place thrived through every season—skiers carving paths through the snow in the winter, hikers and rafters chasing sunlight in the summer.

I slowed for a laughing group of twentysomethings wandering across the street before turning into the Emporium lot. Part souvenir shop, part grocery, part pharmacy, it was Swift Rivers’s own homespun version of a box store. It had something for everyone, just like the town itself.

I locked my truck and joined the throng crossing Main to the bar. Music and people spilled out of Frank’s, stalling my feet as doubts winged back in. I wasn’t sure I had the energy required to put on my happy face and keep it there tonight.

But before I could retreat, a man emerged from the bar, and my feet automatically unlocked, moving toward him as if they had a mind of their own. I swore I could be lost in a sea of people, and my body would still gravitate to Beckett. It had been that way from the moment we’d met at six and eight years old.

Beckett studied me as I crossed the street, his look strolling down my body and back to my face, causing my heart to stop for several long seconds before restarting with a bang. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth, showcasing the dimple on one side and turning him from one of the most handsome people I knew to the kind of handsome the world idolized.

He rubbed a hand down his sharply angled jaw while his chocolate eyes twinkled at me.

“You look like a sunflower,” he said, his smile growing with each syllable.

I fought the old tick that insisted I draw my hair over my face whenever I was under scrutiny and tried not to blush at his compliment.

“How much have you had to drink tonight, Captain Romero?” I asked.

He chuckled, and if it had made my stomach flip over the phone, up close and personal, the vibration traveled through me like a lit fuse. All it would take was a simple touch, and I’d go off like a firecracker.

“Not nearly enough, Nurse Maisey. I think you should prescribe me at least two more rounds.”

I tried not to cringe at the name. Nurse Maisey sounded like a bad cartoon. Or like I was about to go all Nurse Ratched and lobotomize someone for standing up to me. While it was better than being called Corny the Deformed Corncob, it was a far cry from my favorite nickname—one I’d never admit to another living soul I still craved hearing.

Our shoulders brushed as we turned toward the bar, and I ignored the spark that came with the simple touch. I deserved a medal for all the years I’d pushed those feelings aside.

“So, who is it you need protection from tonight?” I asked. “Any of the repeat offenders?”

Growing up in a small town had its distinct advantages and disadvantages. Having only a limited pool of single people near our age was one of the downsides. Beckett had already blown through the majority of the local females, resorting these days to tangling with the tourists. His preferred M.O. was one night and one night only, and not just because he was a typical guy in his twenties who wasn’t ready to settle down. Beckett had scars from his childhood that made him determined to remain single for the rest of his life.

“Delilah is here,” he said with a frown. “But she’s been distracted by some hot influencer who is filming by the pool tables.”

If I hadn’t also struggled with keeping my feelings for Beckett at bay, I’d wonder why Delilah hadn’t given up hope of snagging him after nearly a dozen years of his denying her. But if she was focused on someone else tonight, it meant I wouldn’t have to play middleman while she flirted with Beckett and simultaneously ignored I existed.

Stepping into the bar, the noise and smells slammed into me, and my feet stalled once more. As if sensing my reluctance, Beckett snickered. His hand went to my elbow, preventing me from retreating, instead guiding me farther inside. My skin lit up from my elbow to my shoulder all over again. The heat spread through my chest, landing dead center in my heart. I wanted to hate it. Just like I wanted to hate my weakness for this man, but I couldn’t. The warmth was too enticing to hate.

“No backing out now, my Maisey-girl. Work is done and playtime has arrived.”

And his nickname, the my before it, did exactly what it had always done—had me secretly longing for my own playtime with him. Solo time in the dark with just our bodies twined, even if I knew it would likely end in the same humiliation as our ill-fated, tween kiss had. I wanted a happily ever after with someone, and Beckett wanted nothing to do with love and marriage.

It meant Beckett and I would forever be friends with absolutely zero benefits.

 

CHAPTER TWO

Beckett

 

ELEVEN YEARS AGO

HIM: How about Island of Doctor Moreau?

HER: Yuck. No. I need something lighter.

HIM: I’ve suggested a dozen books. You’re up to bat.

HER: You don’t want to read what I do these days.

HIM: I absolutely can’t read porn with you, Maise.

HER: Romance books aren’t porn.

HIM: So why do you hide them from your dad?

HER: Because he turned purple when he saw the cover of my last one. I’m saving him from having a heart attack.

HIM: How about a bet? If you can show the romance book to your dad without blushing, I’ll read it with you.

HER: I don’t bet.

HIM: Bawk. Bawk. Bawk.

 

PRESENT DAY

 

I shouldered and elbowed a path  through the Saturday night throng, propelling Maisey with me before she could back out. The throng of people meant she was practically pressed up against me, and the scent of her washed over me. She smelled light and airy, as always, like the water lilies on the pond near our childhood homes. A smell I would forever associate with comfort. With home and acceptance and friendship.

Next to Maisey was where I always felt settled. At peace.

The two of us were more than friends and neighbors who’d seen each other through tough times. We were all but family.

And tonight, my job as her family was to ensure she let loose and had some fun that didn’t involve a book.  She wasn’t escaping Frank’s without a few drinks and some laughter.

While the rest of Swift Rivers had traded its rough edges for a bit of shine, Frank’s had stayed true to its roots as a hometown dive, where everyone knew each other and nobody minded the scuffs on the floor. The river-rock walls and oak-beamed ceiling carried the weight of a thousand stories, and the hand-carved chairs and nicked-up tables had seen generations of laughter, spilled drinks, and long nights. Aside from the modern touches—some updated wiring, a tin-tile backsplash that caught the light, and a few TVs humming in the corners—Frank’s was still the heart of the town’s nightlife.

“I come delivering your pinch hitter, ladies,” I said to her friends as we made it to the cowhide-covered stools we’d commandeered at the back of the bar.

Fallon rose and hugged her friend.

The two women were as different as night and day. With a vivacious attitude and flashing hazel eyes, Fallon was a striking blonde who commanded a room just by walking into it. She was a lightning bolt, while Maisey was the rolling thunder that accompanied it. Maisey’s brown-haired beauty snuck up on you, slowly surrounding you and lingering in ways that a sudden burst of light never could.

The women had been friends for as long as I’d known Maisey, helping each other through traumas that teenagers and young adults should never have to go through. Or at least helping each other as much as two independent people would allow anyone to help them.

“We had a bet, Wife, and you’re altering the terms with this last-minute team change,” Parker said, eyeing Fallon with a smirk. Even though he was retired, the dark-haired former Navy SEAL—with his broad shoulders and calm disposition—still had a look that screamed special forces. Sweeney, his mammoth-sized business partner sitting a couple of stools down, had the same unmistakable vibe.

Fallon stuck her tongue out at her husband. “You’re just afraid I’ll win.”

“Let them bring in Maisey. The sweet little thing only adds to the challenge,” Sweeney said, winking at the woman standing next to me and patting the empty stool on his far side. “I call dibs on her sitting next to me. It’s been far too long since her sunshiny light has graced me with its beautiful presence.”

It was far from the first time the black-haired, dark-skinned Hulk had flirted with Maisey in my presence. I swore, he almost made a game of it, each time hoping it would be the time she took a bite, so I wasn’t sure why his words brought a bad taste to my mouth tonight.

I glanced down at Maisey to see a blush coating her cheeks. Her yellow sundress was glimmering around her like sunrays, and the ethereal glow turned her into exactly the magnificent, avenging angel I’d always considered her to be. Strong and brave and ready to champion others. Like a fierce blow to the chest, it hit me just how right Sweeney was. She was one of the most stunning women I’d ever met, more so because her beauty radiated from the inside out.

“She’s fine right here,” I growled, practically shoving her onto a stool next to the one I’d been sitting on all night.

“I guess I can’t really complain about the change in players,” Parker said with a heated look directed at his wife. “Either way the cards fall, I’ll still be the luckiest man here tonight.”

Sweeney choked on his beer, and the woman sitting between him and Parker laughed.

Fallon’s hotel manager, Andie, was always a bit too buttoned up for my taste—too tailored, too precise, too everything. Her deep-copper hair was always twisted into a tidy bun, and she clung to business attire like it was armor. Even on a Saturday night, she’d shown up in tailored gray pants and a sky-blue silk blouse, both so crisp they looked fresh from the dry-cleaning bag. Yet somehow, that prim-and-polished image had the men under my command lining up to ask her out. As far as I knew, she hadn’t said yes to any of them, or anyone else, since she’d moved to Rivers.

“What can I get you, Maise?” I asked as Dee, the bartender, headed in our direction.

“Just iced tea, please.”

“No. Absolutely not,” I said, shaking my head. “You just worked an obscene number of days in a row. You need to blow off some steam.”

“I might have to go in tomorrow, so I need a clear head.”

Irritation with Meredith filled me. After three years, she still had Maisey rotating around departments, covering all the empty holes and gaps. But the one time I’d told Maisey she was being taken advantage of again, she’d bit my head off and told me to mind my own business.

Truth was, Maisey was perfectly capable of fighting for herself. I’d seen her do it, but it would take being trampled nearly to death before she’d take the stand. It was her nature to help first. To make everyone else’s lives easier, regardless of what it did to her own.

“You need at least one shot to even the odds,” I insisted, waving a hand between her and the group. “We’ve all had a couple. Your clear mind would give you an unfair advantage.”

Maisey tugged at a tendril of hair.

I didn’t wait for her to argue more. I simply ordered the group a round of tequila shots that Dee delivered with lime and salt. When Maisey’s tongue darted out to lick her hand before tossing back the shot, heat hit my gut, and visions of pulling her to me and replacing her tongue with my own filled me.

And that was just all sorts of wrong. I didn’t think of Maisey that way. Not ever.

It had to be the alcohol making me see and think things I shouldn’t. The alcohol and the long-assed time it had been since I’d had sex.

One thing was certain—kissing Maisey was not in the cards.

She was my best friend and nothing more. I wouldn’t sacrifice what we had for a night of pleasure that wouldn’t last beyond a few hours. I wouldn’t risk Maisey for anything. She was one of the best things in my life, just as she was.

When the trivia game resumed, I was grateful to replace tormenting thoughts of kissing my friend with smack talk, as the three of us testosterone-driven men battled it out with the three whip-smart women. We’d purposefully broken up the seating in guy-girl order so that we couldn’t share answers with our teammates. It left me with Fallon on one side, Maisey on the other, and an empty stool beside her.

As the night progressed, that empty seat became my nemesis. Several of the firefighters in my crew and a handful of other single men in town stopped by, using the stool as a perch to do their flirting with the women. One scowl from Parker had the guys leaving Fallon alone. And sandwiched as she was between two He-men and with her rejection-prone reputation following her, Andie only received a few shallowly placed offers, which left Maisey open to the remainder of the shots.

Our newest recruit, Leon, was one of the first, stammering out, “H-hey, Maisey. You sure look pretty tonight.”

The bad taste I’d had with Sweeney complimenting Maisey returned. I was about to give him a huge setdown and send him on his way, but all it took was one quiet, “Thanks, you look good tonight too, Leon,” from Maisey to send him running for the back with his pale skin turning the same color as his carrot-red hair.

It was Tejas who caused the most problems as he slid up to the bar to order a drink.

My second-in-command was dark-haired, tan-skinned, and had a reputation as the most charming firefighter at the station. He had a wide mouth that never shut up, earning him the Motor-mouth nickname with the crew, but he was also famous for popping out smooth lines that had women dropping their panties right into his hand.

“Maisey, it’s been far too long since you’ve been out,” Tejas said, leaning into her space.

Maisey didn’t notice. She was more focused on the trivia question on the screen above the bar than on Tejas as she responded. “I’ve been working extra shifts, covering for staff brought down by that summer cold winging through town.”

“Sounds like you’re long overdue for a good time,” he said, voice dropping low. “I know how to deliver a good time.”

I envisioned pushing him off his stool and barely stopped myself before biting out, “Back off, Motor-mouth. Maisey is here to spend time with friends, not get laid.”

She inhaled sharply and shot me a glare. “Since when is it your job to decide who ends up in my bed?”

Tejas chuckled, and my stomach turned to pure acid. “Trust me, Maise, you don’t want Tejas anywhere near you. You know that saying about an ego writing checks a dick can’t cash? That’s him.”

“That isn’t the quote at all, Captain, and I’ve never had one complaint lodged against my dick or my ego.” Tejas looked over Maisey’s head at me with a raised brow. “You offering Maisey an alternative?”

Maisey choked and turned a delightful shade of red that made me want to chase the color with fingers and tongue—What the actual fuck?

What was wrong with me tonight?

There’d been a brief period, after Maisey’s mom had died and before I’d graduated high school, where my teen hormones had tempted me to make something more of our friendship. But that had been a temporary pubescent insanity that had lasted no more than a handful of months, ending abruptly after the one horrible night that had solidified every belief I’d ever had about myself and relationships.

Maisey was my friend.

An attractive, sweet, caring friend.

I wouldn’t ruin twenty years of friendship to appease my dick for a single night.

When neither Maisey nor I responded, Tejas’s smile grew wider. He leaned in, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, and the intimacy of the move made me long to punch him in the face.

“If Romeo won’t man up tonight, Maisey, just remember, my door and my bed are always open to you.”

“Get out of here before I fire your ass,” I snapped.

Tejas’s expression grew smug and knowing as he picked up the pint Dee had slid in front of him and sauntered away.

“You’re taking the protective-best-friend gig too far tonight, Fireball. I can field my own offers,” she said.

“You want forever after, darlin’, and he isn’t someone who’ll give it to you. He’s got years before he settles down.”

I softly rubbed her arm, in way of apology for overstepping, and watched with sick delight as her skin pebbled. The goosebumps were completely at odds with the heat of the room, and the reason for it—the attraction it insinuated—landed yet another fierce blow to my chest. Sharp and fast and brutal.

“Sometimes, while waiting for forever after to finally show up, a woman deserves a fast, fiery moment of passion to tide her over.” Her eyes met mine, and the fire I saw there tore right through me, all the way down to my overactive libido.

I hadn’t seen that look in a long time. Definitely not since she’d come back to Swift Rivers.

The Maisey who’d returned home wore a bit of a mask, giving me a blank face more often than she showed her cards. She’d earned more scars while away at college, internal ones instead of the almost invisible one that lingered on her jawline, so I hadn’t taken it personally. But I’d also be kidding if I said I didn’t miss the Maisey who’d once worn her heart on her sleeve.

I tore my gaze from her heated one and ordered more drinks for the group.

I needed to cool off, to cool us both off and put aside this unwelcome barrage of thoughts and feelings.

While I didn’t want to think about Maisey sleeping with anyone, it was obvious I needed to get laid—and soon. In an effort to clean up my player image with the town’s bigwigs before it prevented me from getting my next promotion, I’d abstained for too long. That was the problem tonight. It had nothing to do with my friend and everything to do with my dick begging for action.

As the trivia round ended, Maisey slid off her barstool and headed for the restroom.

I kept an eye glued to the hallway she’d disappeared through, waiting to ensure she made it back unmolested. But when she finally returned, my discomfort only grew as I watched Leon, Tejas, and even a couple of tourists try to make their move on her. Every time one of them scanned her body in that flirty dress or even smiled at her, the viselike grip on my gut ratcheted tighter.

By the time she made it back to us and Sweeney shot her another flirtatious tease, touching her shoulder as she went by him, I was ready to start a fight. To pound a few faces into the ground.

And I simply didn’t understand it.

Protecting her wasn’t anything new, but what I felt tonight, the uncontrollable anger at any man who even looked at her, was absolutely new. New and uncomfortable.  

I needed to get the hell out of here.

When the trivia game ended an hour later, relief coasted over me, even with the men losing. I needed to walk Maisey home, have a long talk with my dick, and get my head on straight.

As Maisey leaned around me to whisper to Fallon, “You owe me. I get naming rights now,” I got another whiff of that uniquely Maisey scent. The normal comfort I got from it was replaced with a different reaction. One I felt all the way down to my balls.

Before Fallon could reply, Parker stood, grabbed his wife off the stool, and tossed her over his shoulder.

“Time I pay my debt, Wife.”

Fallon laughed, pounding him playfully on the ass.

“Have fun, you two,” Sweeney bellowed as they made their way through the crowd to the door.

“And with that sickening display of love, I’m out,” Andie said, gathering her belongings.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Sweeney told her.

“I’ll come with you,” Maisey said. As she reached for her bag, the look of hope that crossed Sweeney’s face had me grinding my teeth.

Two seconds ago, I was ready to duck and run, but now there was no way I was letting her walk out with him. I grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

“Nope. Not leaving yet, darlin’. You owe me one more drink.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t owe you anything.”

“Fair is fair. I asked you to come out first, and you turned me down only to show up for Fallon. You owe me a drink to soothe my hurt feelings.”

“As if that dead muscle in your chest could actually be wounded,” she huffed.

Even though my heart did have a thick layer of scar tissue built up around it, I could tell she immediately felt sorry for saying it. She’d witnessed firsthand how that stupid muscle had received most of its scars. Still, I wasn’t above using the guilt against her if it meant I could get her to stay, rather than walking out that door with a man who wanted nothing more than to take her to bed.

“You’ve hit me dead center several times tonight,” I said. “I’m not sure my ego can stand it.”

Seeing our debate was just getting started, Andie and Sweeney waved and made their way out of the bar before Maisey had even realized they’d left.

“Your ego could use a bit of trimming.”

I waggled my brows, lowered my voice, and said, “I promise, there’s nothing on me that needs trimming.”

She flushed, her pale skin turning a fiery red in that delightful way that suddenly tempted me to chase it with fingers and tongue.

“It’s always the ones who talk up their penises who are the biggest disappointment.”

I leaned over the bar, grabbed one of the plastic swords Dee used for cocktails, and plunged it at my heart. Dee growled at me to get my hands off her supplies while Maisey laughed.

The delightful sound was still reverberating through the air when Delilah slid into the stool Fallon had vacated beside me. I barely bit back a groan.

Del’s Saturday night outfit was the complete opposite of the business wear she wore during the week. The slouchy blue tank put her cleavage on display, tight black shorts barely covered the curve of her ass, and spiked cowboy boots added a few more inches to her height, putting her at nearly six feet. Her makeup was perfect, if a bit overdone for my taste, and her dark hair, dyed a deep mahogany, was teased and styled to accentuate her best feature—a pair of royal-blue eyes.

She was classically pretty, and once upon a time, I’d fallen for it. But I wasn’t a thirteen-year-old boy with hormones raging any longer, regardless of the lack of self-control I’d had around Maisey tonight. Well over a decade had passed since I’d allowed myself to actually date Delilah, but the way she talked and acted, you’d think we’d just broken up last week.

I always handled her cautiously because I’d seen in brutal clarity what my rejection could do to her, which meant I was continually walking a fine line, keeping her at bay while trying not to wound her further.

“If you’d needed a third person for trivia, I would have happily played,” Delilah said, a small pout forming over her heavily glossed lips. “You didn’t need to pull Cornlette from her senior-citizen bedtime.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Maisey stiffen, and when I turned my head slightly, I watched all the lightness disappear from her.

“You know, funnily enough, Delilah,” Maisey replied dryly, “most senior citizens sleep less than the average adult, which means midnight is pretty normal for them. You must have meant to say toddler bedtime. But then again, you were never known for your ability to land an insult.”

My dick went semi-hard all over again. I loved it when Maisey defended herself. The rarity of it happening didn’t make it any less powerful.

Delilah’s mouth popped open before snapping shut again, and I had to fight back my laugh.

Maisey slid off the stool. “And with that, I really will call it a night.”

I reached into my pocket, grabbed some cash, and threw it on the counter to cover our tab. I called after Maisey, “Hold on. I’ll walk you home.”

“I’m good. No need for you to leave.”

As I started after her, Delilah put a hand on my arm, halting me. “Let her go. I have important news to share. News you’ve been waiting for.”

“I’m not letting her walk home alone.”

“What about me? Who’s going to walk me home?”

My stomach clenched, and that line I balanced on warred with me. “I don’t know, Del. Maybe your boyfriend.”

“Carter isn’t my boyfriend. You know that. We just use each other to scratch an itch now and then.”

She paused, as if waiting for a reaction she’d never get from me. I couldn't care less who she scratched her itches with, as long as it wasn’t me.

My eyes were still on Maisey, who was already at the door. I’d have to sprint to catch up with her, but there was no way I was letting her walk home alone in the dark with a few drinks in her and the tourists flooding the streets.

“Daddy is retiring.” Delilah’s words did precisely what she’d hoped, ripping my gaze away from Maisey and back to her.

“What? When?”

She smiled coyly. “Well, that is what I wanted to talk to you about.” She patted the stool I’d vacated. “Come on. I’ll buy you another shot.”

For two seconds, indecision warred. Fire Chief Nattingly's decision to finally step down from his post after nearly four decades was breaking news. It proved at least one of the rumors circulating through the town about the city’s leaders was true. After decades of service, the chatter was that the chief, mayor, and sheriff might all be ready to pass the baton to the next generation.

I’d been chomping at the bit for this moment to become a reality. In my eight years with the Swift Rivers Fire Department, I’d earned my bachelor’s and master’s, aced every fire service exam I could, and packed my resume with experience. I’d put in extra hours with the county fire marshal and even used vacation time to train at the CAL FIRE schools. I’d done everything I could to prove I wasn’t just hungry for the job, but that I was ready for it.

If it was true, if Nattingly was retiring, sitting next to Delilah might get me information I needed, but it would be at the cost of her thinking she’d gotten her hooks into me, and that wasn’t something I could afford. I’d played that game once and lost. We’d both lost.

When I glanced toward the exit, Maisey had already disappeared. My need to protect her overcame any remaining temptation to stay with Del.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I said, starting for the door again.

“They’re not going to hire you,” she called after me, and her words halted me once more. “And I know why.”

My chest tightened, the alcohol in my stomach turning sour. She would know. Not only because she still lived at home with her parents, but because she had an ear for gossip. An ear and a mouth that could spread news like a wildfire burning through dry brush.

I was also smart enough to know she was using this not just to get me to sit back down, but specifically to keep me from going after Maisey. Delilah’s beef with the Campbell sisters would likely live until she took her last breath.

“I’m not up for your games tonight, Del. If you got news you feel like sharing, I’ll hear about it tomorrow. Otherwise, I’ll figure it out myself.”

I didn’t wait for her response. I just jogged through the crowd and onto the street, determined to catch Maisey before she wandered too far on her own.

 

CHAPTER THREE

Maisey

 

ELEVEN YEARS AGO

HER: She left me taking care of the chickens by myself…AGAIN. When I asked if she’d be back to collect the eggs, she just shrugged.

HIM: You need to tell your mom she’s been sneaking out and not coming home.

HER: Mom’s been really preoccupied lately. I think she and Dad are having more than their usual troubles. And you know I can’t tell on Chelsea. She barely talks to me anymore. If I got her in trouble now, it would be the end of our relationship.

HIM: What relationship? The one where she uses your unjustified guilt to get what she wants?

Moments passed.

HIM: Don’t be mad at me for telling you the truth. We agreed we’d always be honest with each other.

HER: We’ll just have to agree to disagree when it comes to my sister.

 

PRESENT DAY

 

I cursed the disappointment that welled  through me as I made my way out of Frank’s alone and stood staring across the street at the Emporium where my truck was parked. I wasn’t really much of a drinker, and the couple I’d had tonight meant I was in no shape to drive. My apartment building was on the opposite side of town. I could walk it, but it was at least twenty minutes on foot, and I was even more exhausted now than I’d been before.

So instead of heading toward my apartment, I crossed the street, starting in the direction of the neighborhood behind the Emporium and my childhood home.

A voice rang out from the parking lot. “Hey, Maisey, hold up!”

I turned, trying not to wince as I saw the last person I’d expected jogging toward me. Carter Smythe had a finger hooked in the suit jacket he’d thrown over his shoulder. His shirt sleeves were rolled above his elbows, and his tie was loosened. These days, he was all slick businessman, the complete opposite of when I’d made the unfortunate mistake of going with him to the homecoming dance in high school. Back then, he’d been more of a blue-collar man in work boots and plaid shirts—at least that’s what I’d thought of him whenever he’d been at our house, hanging out with Chelsea and her crew.

Since graduating, Carter had turned his family’s construction business into a high-powered real estate development company. Smythe & Sons had a hand in almost every change happening in Swift Rivers, no matter the size, from the fancy new streetlights on Main Street to the entertainment complex being built just past my apartment.

He came to a halt a few inches from me, running a hand over his icy-blond hair and giving me a good look at the expensive watch slipping out from his shirt sleeve.

“You’re just the person I wanted to talk to,” he said.

Surprise shifted through me. Not once in the three years I’d been back in Swift Rivers had Carter looked me up. He hadn’t even acknowledged me. Not at Frank’s, not at Jack’s, the town’s favorite Italian restaurant, and not at the Emporium when we’d crossed paths shopping.

He chuckled. “I know. We haven’t really gotten a chance to catch up, but I needed to talk to you about your dad’s place.”

Wariness eased in. “What about it?”

“I wanted to make sure he considered my offer before the bank got its hands on it.”

The alcohol in my stomach turned nastily. “What do you mean, the bank?”

His brows lifted. “You didn’t know? They’re going to foreclose. He hasn’t been making the payments.”

I was spun right back to that horrible moment eleven years ago after Mom’s death, when I’d been faced with losing the home I’d grown up in. Dad hadn’t been paying any of the bills, hadn’t even known what bills to pay because Mom had always handled their accounts. If it hadn’t been for Beckett’s dad stepping in to help me sort through it all, we would have lost everything.

But that had long since changed. Before I went away to college, I’d set everything up online so Dad didn’t have to do much more than check that everything was going through. He’d been handling it just fine…

Or at least I’d thought he had been.

“I’m sorry you didn’t know,” Carter said, voice softening. “The bank won’t give him what it’s worth. You know they won’t. But I have ideas for that entire section of town, and I can offer him top dollar.”

“Maisey! Wait up!” From outside the bar, Beckett’s voice rang out.

Emotions swelled in my chest—happiness as I watched Beckett jog across the street toward me mingled with worry about the bomb Carter had just dropped.

Carter glanced in Beckett’s direction, and his lips formed a grim, straight line before he looked back at me. “I gotta go. But call me so I can explain what I have in mind.”

He slipped me a business card and was already halfway across the parking lot before Beckett slid in beside me. He darted a frown in Carter’s direction before turning a stunning smile on me. A smile that made me ache from my head all the way down to my toes.

Why did he have to be so handsome that it physically hurt?

“Heading to my place, I see,” he teased, nudging my arm.

I scoffed, “As if.”

He sobered. “Seriously, I’m glad you’re not driving. I don’t have any beds in the guest rooms yet, but you can have mine, and I’ll take the couch.”

After the city had changed its livestock ordinances, making it illegal for Kurt to keep his goat herd on their land, Beckett’s dad had moved out to Fallon’s ranch with them, and Beckett had taken over his childhood home. Since then, he’d slowly been remodeling it. So far, he’d gutted the kitchen, knocked down a few walls, and added a brand-new main suite that jutted out into the backyard. The work he’d done on the 1920s Craftsman had made Dad’s matching one on the lot next door seem more pitiful than ever.

My stomach knotted. If Carter was telling the truth, Dad had done far more than ignore the maintenance on the house.

I swallowed over the lump that had formed in my throat and said, “Thanks, but I’ll just stay at Dad’s. He got back from a month-long job earlier this week, and I wanted to check in on him anyway.”

Shoulder to shoulder, Beckett and I headed down the street into my old neighborhood, leaving the noise of Main Street behind. Crickets chirped, an owl hooted, and the rush of the river filled the air.

“What did dickhead want?” Beckett asked.

For a moment, I was tempted to tell him exactly what Carter had said, but then, I bit my cheek. If Dad had gotten himself into another financial mess, Beckett would want to help, just like Fallon would. But I wasn’t relying on my friends again. I was incredibly grateful for all they’d done for me growing up, and I refused to take more from them. I wouldn’t be my dad. I wouldn’t be an adult who had to rely on others, or a teenage daughter, to hold my shit together.

“Nothing important,” I answered with a shrug.

“You aren’t thinking of dating that imbecile?” I knew better than to think the growl in his voice meant he was jealous. Beckett would never want to date me. He’d never want a long-term relationship with anyone. His mother, his dad’s fiancée, and Delilah had all ensured it.

“And give Delilah even more reason to hate the Campbells? No.” It went deeper than that. After what had happened in high school, I’d never give Carter another shot at my heart. Delilah could have him. Although, everyone in town knew she’d drop him in a hot minute if it meant Beckett decided to ante up.

As we reached the end of the cul-de-sac, the sights and sounds of our childhood greeted us. The houses closer to downtown sat on small suburban lots, but the last three, belonging to Beckett, Dad, and the Helmers, were large plots from when the town had first been founded. Each stretched over five acres, long and narrow, with the houses close together at the front, and the lots growing wider the farther back they went until they crossed the river and climbed into the hills.

As kids, Beckett and I had spent our mornings helping with farm chores before tearing off to roam the land like it was our kingdom. We’d played along the riverbank, cooled off in its rushing water every summer, and chased each other through the hills in endless games of hide-and-seek. After Beckett and his dad had built a treehouse in the live oak that stretched over the river, it had become our secret haven. We’d spent hours reading there, and once I’d finally been freed of my nightly facemask, we’d lain shoulder to shoulder, watching the stars bloom across the sky.

Some of my very best and very worst memories had happened on this street.

“I’m surprised you escaped the bar without blood being drawn,” I said, shoving Beckett’s shoulder with my hand.

“It was a near miss,” he teased. “She nearly got a hook into me this time.”

Shock flickered through me. “Really? I thought you were never playing in that sandbox again.”

He made a disgusted noise. “Give me some credit, Maise. No, Del almost hooked me with news about her dad.”

“What’s up with the chief?”

“She says he’s finally going to retire.”

My feet ground to a halt. When I looked up at Beckett, the gossamer glow of the moonlight washed over his face, transforming him into a beautiful black-and-white drawing. A vampire hero. Dark and gorgeous. Mesmerizing. Hard to resist.

“That’s awesome news. Congrats, Chief.”

His smile turned triumphant.

“Stoney is going to put up a good fight for the job. He’s got me beat, hands down, in the experience category.”

“Stoney isn’t a leader, Fireball. You and I both know it, and so does Chief Nattingly.” His grin widened, exposing his dimple, and it turned him from vampire to superhero just like the one I’d nicknamed him for.

“The city council has to approve the candidate, and I’m not sure how many friends I have on it.”

I tucked my arm in his, and we continued walking.

“Well, Fallon has friends, and we both know she’d rather see you as the fire chief than Stoney.”

Like me, Fallon was only twenty-six years old, but her resort was the town’s largest employer and most prominent donor. It meant she held considerable sway with the city leaders.

We finally reached the end of the court where our family homes stood almost shoulder to shoulder. The cement pathway from the street to my dad’s steps was cracked and buckled from the roots of an overgrown oak tree. Clumps of dirt peeked out of grass that needed reseeding, the porch roof sagged slightly over the tapered columns, and one of the decorative shutters was hanging askew.

No sign remained of the perfectly maintained house Mom had taken so much pride in.

Next door, Beckett’s house gleamed. He’d painted it a pretty forest green that complemented the dark-brown shutters and stone foundation. The front door was a beautiful cerulean color that highlighted the four stained-glass squares built into it. His porch was in perfect condition, just like his yard. He’d replaced the grass with eco-friendly plants, giving the yard an English-cottage vibe.

The difference between the two houses was heartbreaking.

“She’d hate this,” I whispered before I could take it back.

I felt Beckett scouring my face for tears, but they were all locked up. I rarely cried over Mom anymore. I’d done enough crying the first summer she’d been gone that I’d foolishly thought it had drained me of tears forever. But life had proven me wrong, and Beckett had had a first-row seat to those times too.

“I’m almost wrapped up with the remodel on my place. I can start helping out here,” Beckett offered.

“I’m not sure he has the money to do anything right now, but I’ll talk to him.”

I didn’t have the guts to say he might not even own the house for long.

“Whose car is that?” Beckett asked, drawing my attention to the shiny red sports car parked across the street by the Helmer’s mailbox. It was so new it didn’t even have an official license plate yet.

I shrugged. “Probably holiday renters.”

When Mrs. Helmer had passed not long after her husband, their kids had come home and cleared out anything of value before listing the house on an online vacation rental app. Then, they’d promptly returned to the lives they’d built elsewhere. Dad griped about the traffic on the street sometimes, but for the most part, the guests came and went without him even noticing.

I stepped backward toward the house, careful not to trip over the roots peeking through the sidewalk.

“Thanks for walking me home, Chief Fireball Romero.”

“Don’t jinx it,” he huffed before adding, “Thanks for coming out tonight. I know you didn’t want to, but it was good to see your face, my Maisey-girl. It’s been too long.”