“Let’s go, Emmy!” Nick called from the foyer.

“Three minutes!” I yelled back.

Shit.

I needed thirty-three minutes.

I was running late to Rowen Cleary’s birthday party because I’d been so consumed with wrapping her gift that I’d lost track of time and had hopped into the shower an hour behind schedule.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I muttered to myself, swiping on my makeup. On the bright side, at least I was dressed. Picking an outfit was often my most time-consuming process.

“Sorry,” I told Nick after I climbed into his truck, thirty minutes later.

Grabbing my hand, he laced his fingers with mine and brought them to his lips. I loved the soft scrape of his beard against my skin. “It’s okay. We don’t have to be there until three.”

“What? You told me two thirty!”

He just kept grinning. “You’re notoriously late, Wife. And it’s going to take us a while to get there.”

“The drive is five minutes. Do we have to go into town for something?” I asked. We had already bought the beer and wine. Rowen’s present was in the back. What else did we need?

“We’ll need the extra time to walk. You’ll see,” he said.

Nick was not wrong. We parked and had to walk down the entire length of the gravel drive to the farmhouse. Cars were lined up along both sides all the way back to the paved county road. Apparently, the whole town of Prescott had been invited to a six-year-old’s birthday party.

“Wow,” I said as we reached the house. The garage was open and full of people, and through the farmhouse’s windows I saw that the house was packed too.

“Gigi has a tendency to go overboard,” Nick said. “Jess told me yesterday that she’s been decorating all week. He’s pretty happy she’s going back to work soon. Then the parties will go back to their normal level of over the top. Not this fucking insanity.”

I wouldn’t classify the party as insane but it was certainly festive. The party was princess themed with an abundance of pink and purple decorations scattered throughout the house and garage. Balloons. Streamers. Banners. Gigi had even found a couple life-size princess cardboard cutouts to set up by the present and cupcake tables.

The guests were decorated too. All of the women were wearing crowns or tiaras and the men were given pink beer cozies. Rowen was in a full princess costume complete with plastic heels and satin gloves.

Wandering through the house and garage, Nick and I made our way through the crowd while he introduced me to the many guests. Thankfully, years of galas and parties had prepared me for just this moment. I could finally put my name-memorization skills to use in Prescott.

Unlike the kidnapping anniversary party from a month ago, Nick stayed close to my side all afternoon and evening. If we were walking around, he’d hold my hand. If we were standing, his arm was around my shoulders so that I could wrap my arm around his lower back and tuck my hand in his back jeans pocket.

Jess and Gigi had both visited with us briefly, but with the chaos of the party, we mostly stayed in the kitchen with Silas, Maisy and Beau. The birthday girl herself darted around the house, smiling brightly and leading around the puppy Jess had bought for her.

“How do you do it? Teach a whole room full of kids like her all day, every day?” Beau asked.

“I drink a lot at night.” I laughed.

“She’s got a gift. Some of the stuff she thinks up to do with those kids is fucking brilliant,” Nick said. “Those kids are lucky to have her. Wish I would have had a teacher like that.”

Pride swelled in my chest and a wide smile spread across my face. “Thanks, Nick,” I whispered.

He pulled me closer into his side and leaned down to kiss the top of my head.

“You know, I used to come in and teach forest fire safety classes. I haven’t done one yet this year. We could plan a visit for your kids,” Beau offered.

“That would be amazing!”

“I bet you could talk Nick into joining me too. Bring out the old ‘Stop, drop and roll.’ Make a bigger class of it. Fire safety at home and outdoors,” Beau said.

Nick nodded. “Good idea. Just wish I would have thought of it first. She’s going to be all pissed later that I didn’t.”

“If you come to teach my class, I promise to only be mad for a day or two,” I said.

“Deal.” The smile on my face was giant. I couldn’t wait to see the look on my students’ faces after spending an afternoon with Nick and Beau.

“So when are you two gonna have kids?” a man asked.

I didn’t recognize the voice so I searched the room, trying to determine who had just asked an extremely personal question to a stranger. My eyes landed on an older man standing on the other side of the kitchen. He was staring at Nick and me, waiting for a response.

“Oh, Seth. Butt out,” Maisy told him.

I was instantly grateful for her interjection. It gave me time to think of a way to politely dodge his question.

The Prescott residents were all about one another’s business. Prying came with the territory, and at times it felt more intrusive than the New York paparazzi and gossip columnists.

Nick and I still had a lot to overcome. We were a long way from adding children to the mix.

“Ignore him, Emmeline,” Maisy said quietly. “He means well but he’s one of the meddlesome old men in town. They thrive on gossip and drama.”

“I don’t know why you’re even asking, Balan. You and all your retired buddies will just make up a story when you meet at the café next week for coffee,” Nick said.

“You young kids.” Seth chuckled. “So sensitive these days. All right, all right. I get the hint. I’ll just tell everyone you’ve got ED and the Viagra isn’t working.”

The people in the kitchen burst out laughing and even Nick couldn’t keep a straight face.

Hours later and my smile hadn’t faltered. As a teenager, I’d loved attending social gatherings with my parents. But things were different now. Those fancy parties and pretentious dinners paled in comparison to a casual gathering with good people and honest friendship.

“You’re lucky to have such good friends,” I told Nick as we drove to his house.

“They’re your friends too, Emmy.”

I didn’t agree but I wasn’t going to argue. Maybe someday I would consider them friends. It wasn’t that I didn’t want them as friends, but right now, they belonged to Nick.

Though, I was excited to spend some time with Maisy and Gigi next week. Maisy had invited me to join them for their monthly girls’ night at the Prescott Spa. We were getting pedicures and drinking wine while they enjoyed a few hours of adult conversation without their kids interrupting. I couldn’t wait.

“Do you want kids?” Nick asked.

It wasn’t out of the blue but his question still managed to surprise me. During the party, I had been grateful when he’d dodged Seth Balan’s question. But it was one of those that once asked, it was difficult to ignore.

“Yes,” I said. “Do you?”

“Yeah. How many?”

“At least two. My mother was an only child and she always complained about how lonely her childhood was.”

“Let’s go for three,” he said.

What? Let’s go for three? Wasn’t this a hypothetical discussion? I didn’t realize we were talking about how many kids we were having together.

This divorce discussion couldn’t be stalled any longer. We were on different pages as to where our relationship was headed. Maybe not the end goal, but certainly the speed in which we were getting there.

I took a few deep breaths and worked up the nerve to start this discussion. This was going to cause a miserable fight.

“Nick, I’ve been wanting to talk—”

“What the fuck’s he doing here?”

I followed his gaze down the driveway to an enormous black truck sitting in front of his house. The vehicle was massive. Tinted windows. Chrome plating. Lifted frame. I would have to be hoisted into the passenger seat it was so tall.

“Who is that?”

“Stay here,” he said, parking the truck and jumping out. The door slammed shut behind him as he marched up to the man standing on his steps.

He was dressed completely in black. A chain hung from his front jeans pocket to his back. On top of his T-shirt, he wore a black leather vest covered with embroidered patches.

This had to be someone from his father’s motorcycle gang.

Given what Nick had told me about them, I was instantly nervous. I assumed that his association with the club was limited to family members but maybe I had been mistaken and this visit meant trouble.

As they talked, the visitor came down the steps to stand on equal footing with Nick. He was about the same height and had the same brown hair. Could this be his younger brother? It was too dark for me to compare their faces.

After another minute of talking, Nick relaxed and embraced the man with a quick hug and back slap. While Nick came to me, the man grabbed a duffel I hadn’t noticed and walked through the front door.

“It looks like we’ve got company for the night?” I asked when he opened the passenger door.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s your house. Should I go home?” I asked.

“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” he said and helped me down. When we got inside, the man had already helped himself to a beer from the fridge and was waiting for us in the living room.

“Dash, meet Emmeline Austin,” Nick said. “Emmy, this is my brother Kingston Slater.”

Brother. Right.

“Hello. Nice to meet you, Kingston,” I said, extending my hand.

“Dash. Everyone calls me Dash. Except Nick here when he wants to be a dick. Nice to meet you too, Emmeline.”

The similarities between Nick and Dash were many. Even if he hadn’t been introduced as Nick’s brother, I would have made the assumption. They had the same hair and body shape, though Dash had numerous tattoos on his forearms, and his face was covered with light stubble, unlike Nick’s full beard.

“What’s with the crown, princess?” Dash asked.

“Oh.” I blushed and yanked the tiara from my hair. “We were at a princess-themed birthday party.”

“A princess party? You sure know how to live it up, Nick.”

“Fuck off,” Nick said. “You know you could find somewhere else to stay tonight, asshole. There is a motel here.”

“No way. Me and Emmy have a lot to talk about,” Dash said, sinking into the couch.

“Emmeline,” Nick and I both corrected.

“I’m getting a beer. Do you want something?” Nick asked me.

“Wine, please.”

“What brings you to Prescott, Dash? Nick said you live in Clifton Forge, right?” I asked, sitting in the chair across from him.

“Yep. Came ’cause I thought Nick might want to help me with a car. And I haven’t seen the fucker in months. He didn’t even come back for Christmas this year.”

I frowned, feeling guilty that I had kept Nick from his traditional holiday plans. That he’d stayed in Prescott for me, even though I had been in Italy. I hated that he’d missed time with his family because I had run away.

“What car?” Nick asked from the kitchen.

“Got a 1970 Plymouth Road Runner I’m restoring for a guy in Washington. I haven’t worked on one before but remembered you did back in the day. Thought you could help me get the timing right,” Dash said.

“I can do that. Where’d you leave it?”

“Hauled it up with me. Trailer’s by your garage.”

“Dash is a shit mechanic.” Nick grinned as he handed me my wineglass.

“Compared to you, everyone is a shit mechanic,” Dash scoffed. “Don’t listen to him, Emmeline. I’m fucking awesome. I’d change your oil any time.” He winked.

“Are you hitting on my wife?”

Beer sprayed from Dash’s mouth all over himself and the couch. Nick muttered, “Fuck,” and ran to grab a towel from the kitchen. “You’re married!” Dash shouted after patting himself dry.

“Yeah,” Nick said.

Dash stood from the couch and threw the towel in his brother’s face. “What the fuck, Nick? How could you not tell us? At least me? I would have come to the wedding.”

“Chill, Dash,” Nick said and sat down on the couch.

Dash muttered a curse under his breath and sat too, taking a few long gulps from his beer.

“Our wedding was nine years ago,” Nick said. “In Las Vegas. You were in high school. Don’t get all bent out of shape. I didn’t tell anyone, okay?”

“And in the last nine years, you didn’t think to mention you had a wife? Maybe bring her home to meet your family?”

“We were estranged,” I said. “I’ve been living in New York where I grew up. I only moved to Montana last fall, and now that I’m in Prescott, we’ve reconnected.”

“Uh-huh,” Dash muttered.

Nick gave me a puzzled look but I just shrugged and smiled, silently urging him to let it go. He would have admitted to leaving me in Vegas but I didn’t want him to have to explain our whole ordeal to his brother. He was off the hook for once. Some of those old wounds were starting to heal and I didn’t want them scraped open by hearing our history again.

“May I ask? Why does everyone call you ‘Dash’?”

Both men looked to one another and smiled. “My mom started calling me Dash when I was a little kid. Nick built me a soapbox go-cart and I may have disabled the brakes.”

“It was all we could do to get the little shit to wear his helmet.” Nick chuckled.

Dash shrugged. “I’ve always been an adrenaline junkie for speed.”

“Tell me more about this car,” Nick said.

For the next hour, the brothers talked about cars while I sat quietly, listening and enjoying my wine. I learned that the motorcycle club had a successful garage in Clifton Forge where Dash worked as a mechanic and Nick’s father was the manager.

I noticed that throughout the conversation, they always managed to steer clear of discussing club business. Dash mentioned their father briefly but Nick didn’t acknowledge it or ask more about his well-being.

But it was Nick’s passion for cars and mechanics that surprised me most. I rarely saw him this animated. When he talked about Dash’s projects and gave his brother advice, there was a fire in his eyes. I imagined I had that same light when I talked about teaching.

“Emmy,” Nick whispered, putting his hand on my shoulder and startling me awake.

“What? Oh. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Let’s go to bed,” he said, picking me up.

“I can walk,” I told him but closed my eyes and rested my head against his shoulder. I loved how Nick often carried me around. It made me feel like I was precious.

“Night, Emmeline,” Dash called.

“Good night, Dash,” I said. “Let’s get Nick to make us his quiche in the morning.”

“She’s a smart woman, Brother. Not sure why she married you,” Dash told Nick as we went upstairs.

“Me either,” he said. “But fuck I’m a lucky man because she did,” he added quietly, so only I could hear.

“Morning,” Dash said, joining Nick and I in the kitchen.

“Good morning.”

“Coffee.” Nick held a mug out to his brother.

“I forgot how comfortable that bed is in your guest room,” Dash said. “Might have to extend my trip by a few days.”

“Stay as long as you want,” Nick said.

After a delicious breakfast of quiche and fried breakfast potatoes, I followed the men outside to the garage.

In all my time at Nick’s, I hadn’t been in the building, and much like his fire station, the garage was pristine. Red tool cabinets and black metal shelves bordered the walls and there was a hydraulic car lift in the middle of the cement floor.

Sipping my coffee, I watched the men work from my perch on a tool bench. Dash was an apt student and Nick was in his element.

“I think you got it,” Dash said, giving Nick a clap on the back a couple hours later.

“Yeah,” he replied, wiping the grease from his hands with a red rag. “Do you want to take her out and see?”

“Fuck yeah!”

The engine roared to life as Dash eased the yellow Plymouth through the tall garage door. When he hit the road, the noise spiked as he sped off.

“What’s ‘Slater’s Station’?” I asked Nick, pointing to the huge sign that hung on the wall opposite me.

“Nothing. Just an old dream.”

“Tell me.”

“You know how I was working at that garage in Colorado?” he asked.

“Yes.” I nodded.

“Before that, I worked for my dad at the club garage where Dash works now. I learned early and it came naturally. So when I started in Colorado, the owner didn’t have much to teach me that I didn’t already know or I hadn’t learned from my certification classes. So instead of teaching me about cars, he taught me about running a business. Encouraged me to start my own shop. When I told him I was quitting to move home, he gave me that sign.”

“It’s a remarkable piece.” The huge stainless steel sign was shaped as a wrench and hung from the ceiling by two thick chains. The letters were cut into the metal in solid blocking.

“Yeah. He was a nice guy. Passed a couple years ago from cancer,” Nick said.

“I’m sorry. Why didn’t you start your own garage?”

“Money, mostly. Security. When I came up here, I was hoping Dash would come live with me and avoid the club. I wanted to have the stability of a paycheck. Starting a garage can be risky, especially in a small town where there’s already a good shop.”

I could see his point. The Prescott populace was nothing if not loyal. And if there was a garage in town where people trusted the owner, they would be reluctant to move their business to someone new.

But Nick wasn’t a stranger in town anymore. He was loved in this community. Prescott’s residents would support him if he started his own garage.

“You love it, Nick. I’ve never seen you this excited about your work. Why don’t you try it now?”

“I like the fire station. It feels good to be part of something that protects the community. My whole childhood was spent with guys who avoided the law and any type of authority. It feels good to embrace it instead of fight it. Plus, I get paid well and it’s fairly low stress most of the time.”

“But it’s not your passion.”

“No, it’s not. I enjoy the challenge of working on a car. It’s like putting a puzzle together. Making all the pieces fit.”

“Then do it.”

He shrugged. “Maybe someday.”

His deflection told me that he’d given that dream up ages ago. But I wasn’t going to stop encouraging him. I had abandoned one career path for another so I could pursue my dreams, and not once had I regretted my decision. It might take some time, but I was going to keep pushing until he had his dream job too.

Dash returned and we enjoyed the rest of the afternoon and evening together. I enjoyed the time getting to know Dash and seeing Nick interact with a family member. He was caring and affectionate and it was obvious he would like to see Dash more often.

“Thanks, Brother,” Dash said, shaking Nick’s hand as he was leaving.

“Any time. It was good to see you.”

“Glad to have met you, Emmy. Get this douche bag to bring you up to Clifton Forge one of these days,” Dash told me.

“Thank you.” The chances of Nick taking me to his hometown were slim at best.

“Dad’s always bitching about having too much custom work to keep up with. Bet he’d ship a few cars here if you wanted a project to tinker with,” Dash told Nick.

I was pressed against Nick’s side with my arms wrapped around his belt. With the mention of their dad, tension radiated through his body.

“No thanks,” Nick said.

“That’s what I thought. Maybe one day you two can work through your fucking shit so I can see you more than once a year.”

“You know how I feel about all your club business. My stance hasn’t changed.”

“I think you don’t know shit about my club.”

“True. Let’s keep it that way,” Nick said. “Drive safe.”

Dash shook his head and strode to his truck.

As he roared down the drive, I thought it was such a shame to end his visit on a sour note. We’d had such a nice Sunday together, working on his car, grilling steaks for dinner, laughing and sharing stories. Now the day felt tainted.

“Are you okay?” I asked as we watched his brother leave.

“No. I shouldn’t have snapped. He always plays the middleman between Dad and me. I wish he’d realize that I can’t be around the old man. Just give it up.”

“I think he just misses you.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I miss him too.”

“He seems nice. I guess when you told me your family was in a motorcycle gang, I pictured a much scarier version of a brother. Someone dark and menacing.”

He scoffed. “That’s what’s scary, Emmy. Everything in their lives appears normal until the minute they’re taking a pipe wrench to a man’s body or holding a gun to your head.”

I shuddered at the mental image and Nick knew he had me freaked. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said.

“Come on, Wife. Let’s watch a movie. It’s time you were introduced to Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.”

I had actually heard of that film before. Paul Newman and Robert Redford? He’d get no objections from me.