GRACE WOULD BE so proud of her. Raina opened the oven, the fragrance of bubbling mozzarella, basil, and tomato sauce seasoning the kitchen. She donned hot pads and pulled out the sizzling pan of lasagna, setting it on the stovetop.
See, she could open the fridge and concoct something wonderful too. Just like Grace Christiansen.
And just like Grace, she had a beautiful man to cook for. She peeked toward the door, then the clock. Maybe she’d misheard Monte.
She covered the casserole with tinfoil to retain the heat, then walked over to the kitchen table and blew out the flickering taper candles. The smoke twined into the family room, leaving behind an acrid scent.
Outside, night bled through the windows, her porch light glowing like a beacon against the swirling snow.
Maybe she should cover the Caesar salad —
Footsteps outside; then the door handle turned. Monte came charging in, closing the door behind him, stamping his feet on the mat. “The cold will take a man’s skin off.” He turned and smiled at her, chasing away the knot in her gut.
“Hi. You’re late.” She didn’t mean for it to come out that way —an accusation —but clearly he read into her words because he frowned as he shrugged off his jacket.
“Yeah, and —? I was working, Raina. A man has to do that.” He hung the coat on the rack behind the door.
“I’m sorry. I just meant I was worried.”
“Don’t worry about me, sugar.” He winked at her, his scowl gone. “You just worry about supper. Wow, that smells good.”
She grinned as he crossed the room.
How had she landed such a handsome gentleman? Wide shoulders under a cream sweater tapering down to a thin waist, a pair of crisp jeans. He came up to her, caught her face in his cold hands, lifted it to his. His hazel eyes held hers. “Miss me?”
She nodded, and he pressed a kiss to her lips, something solid and urgent as if he’d been waiting all day to kiss her.
She kissed him back and tasted the faintest hint of something tangy —beer? —on his breath. But his eyes seemed clear and she guessed she’d imagined it.
“You are so pretty when you’re wearing an apron.” He winked again, then moved past her into the kitchen.
“Lasagna.”
“I love lasagna.” He leaned over the stove, lifting one edge of the tinfoil. “My mother used to make us lasagna. Never did meet a woman who could compare.” He smiled, a hint of challenge, maybe even delight, in his expression. “Until now, hopefully.”
Her heartbeat quickened. “I didn’t follow a recipe —it’s something I learned from Grace Christiansen. She has this ability to open a refrigerator and just . . . cook something. I’ve always wanted to do that.”
“Let’s hope it tastes good.” He laughed and tweaked her cheek as he walked into the other room. “By the way, I know about you and Casper.”
She was lifting the casserole dish with the hot pads when he said it and didn’t know why the comment strummed unease in her. She brought the casserole to the table.
Monte was looking through the mail at Liza’s rolltop desk, his back to her.
She frowned at him, trying to shrug away the invasion of her privacy. Probably he was just killing time. “That was a long time ago.”
He didn’t look at her.
“Really, Monte. Casper is . . . he’s just a friend now.”
He put the mail down, came up to her. “I know.” He looked at her, his eyes calm, cool. She felt his hands at her waist and realized he was untying her apron. Then he tugged it over her head and tossed it to the floor near the stove.
She went to retrieve it, but his hand on her arm guided her to the chair he’d pulled out for her. “Sit. I’ll get it. Do you want a Coke?”
She nodded. “But I can get it —”
“Sit.” He moved toward the fridge. “I got it.”
She sat, her hands folded in her lap, watching as he picked up the apron, wadded it onto the counter, then retrieved two cans from the refrigerator. He stopped as he closed it to consider the pictures tacked under magnets —pictures of Liza and Raina and one of the dragon boat team from last summer. She’d forgotten about that.
They wore matching lime-green shirts, grinned at the camera, paddles in hand. In the picture, Casper’s hand touched her shoulder, a shine in his eyes under his crazy red bandanna.
If she wanted to, she could too easily return to the smells of summer, the triumphant warmth of the sun, the moment before everything dissolved with a positive pregnancy test.
Monte returned and set a can in front of her. Sat down and smiled. “So what have you been up to today?”
Raina picked up the knife and drew it through the casserole, then reached for the flat spatula. “I cleaned Aggie’s house, then went over to the store and helped your grandpa clean and package a wire basket filled with old milk jugs he sold on eBay.”
He held up his plate for her. “This looks perfect. I’m so hungry. I drove from Duluth today, after spending the day at an estate sale.”
“How was it?”
“Fantastic. I sold a walnut dining room set for twice what it was worth, and —what is this stuff?”
He had cut a piece of the lasagna and put it in his mouth. Now he grabbed a napkin and emptied the bite into it. “That’s horrible.”
“It is?” She took a bite. The basil and tomato sauce sank into her tongue, perfectly seasoned, the eggplant decadent and rich.
She swallowed, not sure . . . “Did you get a bad piece?”
He made a face. “What kind of lasagna is this?”
“Eggplant.”
“Seriously?” He drank his Coke down. “Wow. Maybe we should just leave the cooking for the local pizza joint, huh?” He rested his hand on her arm, his eyes soft. “Nice try, though. Next time you decide to root around in the fridge, look for the peanut butter and jelly, okay?” He laughed. “How about if I order us a pizza while you throw this out.”
Raina watched him, her chest hollow, as he stood, pulled out his cell phone. She retrieved her hot pads and brought the dinner to the kitchen. Debated throwing it in the trash.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him in the next room, pacing, ordering.
Tucking the tinfoil around the pan, she opened the fridge and set it inside.
Not everyone liked eggplant, no big deal.
By the time she’d returned, Monte had dished himself a Caesar salad. “This is fantastic.”
Raina decided not to mention that it had come from a prepackaged bag. “Thanks for ordering pizza,” she said quietly.
“No problem, sweetie. That’s what I’m here for —glad to save the day.” He gave her a warm grin. “So what’s the latest on your search through Aggie’s things? Any more connections to Duncan Rothe?”
At her silence, he looked at her. “Raina?”
But she had tucked herself back in her moment with Casper, seeing his blue eyes, hearing his voice calling her brilliant.
“Raina?” Monte put down his fork. “You do know that anything you find at Aggie’s belongs to me.” He wiped his mouth.
She came back to herself, looked at him. “I . . . I haven’t found anything.”
He sighed. “Good. You’ll let me know if you do, right?”
For some reason, her upcoming trip with Casper suddenly felt . . . deceitful. “I did find a connection to Aggie and Naniboujou . . .”
“Really?” He leaned forward, touching her hand. “What kind of connection?”
Why had she said that? She tried to shrug it away. “I don’t know; I just . . .” She watched his fingers tracing her knuckles.
“Listen. I’m not stupid. I know Casper has some kind of reputation as a treasure hunter —the rumor around town is that he was trying to find Blackbeard’s gold or something down in the Caribbean. Now he’s back and he’s stirred up this Duncan Rothe garbage.” He took her hand. “You know it’s not true, right?”
She frowned at him, nodded fast because his eyes told her to.
“Good. I just don’t want Casper finding a reason to spend any time with you.” He squeezed her hand, maybe a little harder than he’d intended. “Not with my girl.”
The doorbell rang and he got up, met the pizza delivery, paid. Raina cleared a space at the table, his words sinking in.
His girl.
Monte’s girl.
He opened the pizza box on the table. “I’ll get us clean plates.”
Maybe she shouldn’t jeopardize anything with Monte by chasing after a silly rumor with Casper. After all, was his friendship so important that she needed to mend it? And what happened when he left on another adventure? She’d be here, building a life with Monte.
He returned to the table, set the plates on it. “Now this is dinner.” Scooping up a piece, he handed her the plate. “I’ll take you up on that movie tonight.” He put his arm around her and kissed her forehead. “Is that slow enough for you?”
She laughed, her voice just a little uneasy. “Yeah, perfect.”
A movie. A pizza. The perfect date.
Monte sat on the sofa and patted the spot next to him. Raina settled in, drew her legs up. He smelled good —sandalwood and a hint of vanilla in his cologne. He reached around her, put his arm across her shoulders, pulling her to himself as he turned on the television and clicked on the pay-per-view movie choices.
My girl.
He pressed a kiss to the back of her head, then picked up his piece of pizza.
No, she didn’t need Casper or a silly adventure. Not when she had the amazing Monte Riggs.
Casper deliberately took the main road home from the Wild Harbor. Deliberately did not drive by Raina’s house. Deliberately did not wonder if she was spending her Friday evening with Monte Riggs.
And deliberately did not wish that instead, Casper and Raina might spend the evening bent over a game of Sorry!
Most of all, he deliberately kept his thoughts from straying too far ahead, to tomorrow, when he would show Raina that they could be friends.
To prove it, he prayed that tonight, as the temperature dropped to negative ten, she would be safe and warm. And find a measure of happiness.
He pulled up to the lodge, got out, and ducked against the bracing wind churning off the lake. Overhead, the night turned to pitch, and he smelled a storm in the air.
He stamped his feet in the entryway, then toed off his boots and headed upstairs to wrestle off his dress clothes.
What he wouldn’t give for summer —his cargo shorts, a T-shirt, and the feel of sand mortared between his toes. He put on said cargo shorts, adding a sweatshirt, and went back down to the kitchen.
The light of the refrigerator creased the wood floor as he searched for sustenance. With his mother home, he’d never have to tote home a cold, greasy burger again. He found a container of wild rice soup, heated it in the microwave, then plated it and headed to the den, where he heard the low tones of the television.
The paneled room, once his father’s resort office, had become the family retreat when his parents banished the television from the family room. At least they’d upgraded to a flat-screen; it hung on the wall surrounded by an assortment of hand-me-down furniture —a denim sofa, an oversize green velvet chair, a suede recliner. Magazines and newspapers were scattered across the top of a faded, dinged oak coffee table. The room smelled of popcorn and laughter, the family pictures on the far wall a history of their legacy.
Dressed in leggings and an oversize flannel shirt, her hair braided down one side, Amelia sat on the sofa with her legs stretched out, eating a bowl of dry Cap’n Crunch. Now this kid sister he recognized.
She glanced at Casper and moved her legs, making room for him on the sofa. “Hey.”
At closer inspection, it seemed red rimmed her eyes. He sat, picked up her feet, and put them on his lap. “Where’re Mom and Dad?”
“A hot date. Snowshoeing.”
Yeah, that would be a hot date to his parents. “Have you been crying?”
She ran her hand across her chapped, reddened cheek. Her smile appeared, wet and unsteady. “It’s just the movie.”
He glanced at the television. “Yeah, Transformers always gets to me too. So sad, the destruction of all those machines.”
A bare smile, then it vanished. She stared into her Cap’n Crunch. Sighed.
“I’m a pretty good listener.”
“I know. It’s just . . . it’s so embarrassing.”
He lifted one eyebrow.
She swirled her finger around in the cereal. “I fell in love with the wrong guy.”
A darkness stirred in him. “What kind of guy?”
“The kind of guy you think is perfect until you find out he was using you. Making a fool out of you.”
He kept his voice low, tamed. “What . . . kind of fool? What happened?”
She closed her eyes, bit her lip, looked away. Her voice emerged shaky. “It’s just . . . it’s so awful, Casper. I just want to forget it.”
He took her hand, a fist tightening in his chest. “Amelia, help a brother out here. What kind of awful? You didn’t . . . do anything you’d regret?”
“I regret everything!”
He sucked in a breath. “Do I need to track down this guy who hurt you and take him apart?”
Amelia looked at him, startled. Then a smile edged up one side of her mouth. “No. I mean . . . I only regret how stupid I was to believe that anyone like him could fall for me.”
A tear dripped off her chin.
“Aw, Sis.” Casper reached out, thumbed it away. “Listen, this guy’s an idiot if he didn’t realize how amazing you are. Beautiful and smart —it’s his loss.”
She wiped her chin with her arm. Shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. He’s a really nice guy. I just . . . I read into everything. He didn’t lead me on or promise me anything. I just thought that I meant something to him. But he walked away from me as if I were . . . junk.”
He read her face, and the expression arrowed inside, landing with devastating precision. “Yeah. I know how that feels.”
She blinked, catching her lip with her teeth, and considered him a long moment. “I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but . . . is everything okay with you and Owen?”
He looked at the television, watched Optimus Prime battle with another bot. “I regret the fight. And no —we haven’t talked since that day.”
She nodded, her mouth a grim line.
He eased the cereal bowl from her grip. Handed her the soup. “This is better than Cap’n Crunch.”
“Hardly. You’re just trying to steal my cereal.”
He laughed but then dug in. Crunched.
She picked up the bowl of soup and blew on it before dipping in her spoon and stirring it. “You loved her, didn’t you?”
He knew who the her was in that sentence. “I . . . Yeah, I think so. But not anymore. We’re friends now.”
Huh. That only hurt —well, just a pinch, really.
“Friends.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how you do that. Maybe I don’t know what love feels like, because I don’t think I could ever be friends with . . .” She sighed. “I hate love. I don’t understand it. Why does it hurt so much?”
He had nothing for that, his own throat tight.
“But maybe it was just infatuation. I don’t know, but I can’t seem to get Roark out of my mind.”
He understood that part too.
“How did you get over her? I mean, you two seemed so perfect for each other this summer, and then one day . . . nothing. What happened?”
Her green eyes met his with the power to unravel everything that flooded to the surface. He opened his mouth, aware of the fact that he might have Raina’s secret written on his face.
Owen’s baby. Even the adoption.
He stared at the cereal before the words scooted out.
“Casper?”
“She just . . . she didn’t really want me. I was her second choice.”
And that was it, wasn’t it? He’d never really voiced it, made it real, but the truth tumbled out, lay there, naked and raw before him.
He hadn’t realized how deep the thread of rejection ran, how it tangled his insides. He almost couldn’t breathe with the swift immensity of it.
Raina hadn’t wanted him once she realized she carried Owen’s baby. How blind did a guy need to be not to get that? She’d only told him a thousand different ways. Leave, Casper.
Probably she’d been hoping that Owen might come back. And Casper destroyed that, too, with his jealousy.
He hadn’t given his brother a chance to hear the news, to show up in his daughter’s life. And because of Casper, Owen would never have that chance.
No wonder Raina could walk up to him and declare herself a friend. Because she’d never loved him like he’d loved her.
As usual, he’d acted as a stand-in for one of his incredible brothers.
“Casper . . . that’s not true,” Amelia said softly. “Of course she wanted to be with you.”
“No, actually, that is the truth, and I’m an idiot for not figuring it out sooner.” He took a breath, fighting against the crushing knot in his chest that threatened to work its way up his throat. He laughed it away. “And really, why not? Because she had Owen, so why settle for me?”
Amelia lifted an eyebrow. “Seriously? Casper, you are sweet and funny and . . . I’d choose you over Owen any day.”
“Owen is dark and misunderstood. The perfect catch.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Owen has been nothing but a jerk since his accident. He’s arrogant and angry —”
“And the father of her child! Of course she wants him!”
Oh.
No.
Amelia’s eyes widened, her breath caught. She pressed a hand over her mouth.
Casper winced and scrubbed his hand down his face. “I . . . Wow, I really . . .” He made another face, looked at Amelia. “You can’t tell anyone, Amelia.”
“Raina is pregnant?”
He sighed. Swallowed. Shook his head.
“Did she lose the baby?”
He shook his head again, his expression as terrible as her response.
“She had a baby? Owen’s baby? I don’t . . . I don’t understand. Does Owen know?”
He shook his head again, apparently unable to form words, so he exhaled hard. “She gave the baby up for adoption.”
Amelia just blinked at him. Again.
Then she stared at the television screen, her expression blank.
“Amelia —”
“I heard you. I’m just trying to wrap my brain around the idea that we have a nephew —”
“Niece, actually.”
She looked at him. “A little girl. Owen’s little girl, somewhere out there in the world, and we’ll never see —” She closed her eyes for a second. “That’s not right.”
He set down the cereal. Leaned back, his head against the wall. “That’s what I said, but Raina . . .”
“I can’t believe her. How could she do this? To us. To Mom and Dad. You know how much they love Tiger and are looking forward to Ivy and Darek’s baby. The thought that they will never know they have another grandchild . . .”
“It’s her prerogative —”
“No, it’s not!”
“Yeah, it is. She’s the mother —”
“And Owen is the father!”
“But he doesn’t know that.”
Amelia closed her mouth, gathering in his words. Then, “She never told him that she was pregnant?”
“No. And now it’s too late.”
Amelia set down the soup. Pressed the meat of her hands into her eyes. “And I thought falling in love and having my heart broken when Roark cheated on me was tragedy enough.”
Huh? “He cheated on you? Okay, so remember that bit about me tracking him down, taking him apart?”
She got up. Handed him the bowl.
“Where are you going?”
She rounded on him, nonplussed. “To talk to her, of course. To tell her that she can’t do this —”
He grabbed her arm. “It’s done, Amelia. We can’t make her choices for her. We have to accept it.”
Her mouth tightened into a dark line, her eyes stormy. “This is so utterly selfish of her.”
“To her defense, Ames, she believes it’s for the best for her child. She looked devastated in the hospital —absolutely overwhelmed.”
“You saw her in the hospital?”
“And Grace agreed with her.”
“Grace knows?”
“Yeah. Raina lived with her while she was pregnant. I told Raina that we’d all help her, but she’s probably right. Owen isn’t going to be overjoyed with the knowledge that a one-night stand netted him a daughter. It’s not like he’s going to show up and suddenly become father of the year. She had no choice —”
Her eyes widened, and it stopped him cold. “You still love her.”
Her declaration stilled him. He shook his head, then again. Frowned.
“Oh, my . . .” She knelt in front of him. “You totally do because you’ve already forgiven her.”
“Because I had to. Because if I didn’t, she’d keep creeping into my head at night, and . . . Don’t judge me,” he said a little sadly. “But now you see why we have to be friends and nothing more. I can’t love her anymore. At least not like I used to. Now I’m trying to love her the way God wants me to.”
But she had pity in her eyes. “Why are you so crazy about her?”
Why . . . ? The question pinged inside him, bringing up all the feelings, the sweet memories of last summer. He came up with one word. “Belief. She believed in me. Made me feel like . . . when she looked at me, I could save the world. I was someone . . . valuable.”
He looked away, wrinkling his nose, wishing he could take those words back.
Her voice turned soft. “I have this feeling that Raina didn’t reject you because she didn’t want you. She rejected you because she did, but she knew how wrong it was to want you and have Owen’s child. She rejected you because of shame.”
“I don’t think so.”
She touched his face. “I wish you could see what an amazing guy you are.”
He caught her hands, pulled them away from his face. “Not so amazing, Sis. Trust me on that. Especially since I’ve added ‘can’t keep a secret’ to my list of failings. You have to swear to me that you won’t tell Mom and Dad.”
She sat back on her haunches. “Oh, don’t do that to me.”
“I have to, Ames. You have to promise. She is trusting me with her secret.”
“She doesn’t deserve you or your friendship.” Then she sighed, held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.” She crossed her heart and poked at her eye in the classic children’s gesture.
He reached out and grabbed her in a hug. “That guy is a fool.”
“Mmm-hmm,” she said.
He put her away from him then. “You really loved him?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
She picked up the cereal bowl. Considered it for a moment, then stood.
“Where are you going?”
“To the kitchen for more cereal.”
He took the remote. “You might as well bring the entire box.”