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  Serena felt an unexpected tug of sympathy. Normally, she didn’t waste time lamenting what could have been. Loss was a part of life. Sometimes you’re the bug, sometimes the windshield. She nearly murmured her father’s favorite maxim. But she could tell by the deep creases in Austen’s forehead that this decision was weighing on his mind.

  “I’m not a keen observer of politics, but I have noticed that some people manage to come back after seemingly disastrous blows to their public image—Bill Clinton, for one. I guess you have to decide how much you want that life.”

  He might have said more, but the back gate swung open and the two women who had been at her house earlier that morning walked in together. Both looked hot and tired. Bailey waved toward the barbecue then headed for the house. Mia trudged their way.

  She walked straight to Austen. “Get it over with. Throw your hissy. I’m a busybody who had no right to interfere with your life. Yada. Yada.” She glanced at Serena. “Hi, again. Nice suit.”

  “Thanks.” The navy and tan one-piece with red piping around the deeply scooped neckline and plunging back was her favorite. “It’s old, but I normally swim in Lake Shasta. No chlorine to fade it.”

  She’d known Austen approved because he hardly took his gaze off her, unless he was interacting with his nieces and nephews.

  Austen took his sister by the shoulders. “You can fix my life after yours is back on track, Meeps. Not before.”

  She smiled sadly. “Good point. Sorry if I was out of line, Serena.”

  Serena grabbed a paper plate and served up two zucchini wedges, adding a dollop of her special sour cream dill sauce, and a serving of watermelon salad on the side. “No worries. Here. Your kids loved these.”

  Mia started to shake her head, but after a stern frown from Austen, she dropped her giant purse in a deck chair and took the plate. “Even Em?”

  “Even Em. And that salad is crazy good.”

  Mia picked out a hunk of fruit, pausing to examine it. “Is this feta cheese? Weird.”

  She popped it in her mouth and chewed. Her eyes went wide and she grinned. “Yummy.”

  She tried the zucchini next.

  “Where’d Bailey go?” Austen asked.

  Mia chewed and swallowed before answering. “She had to throw up.” She paused then added, her tone resigned, “Apparently her morning sickness comes in the late afternoon and evening.”

  Austen’s jaw dropped. “No, f—”

  Mia shoved her last bite of zucchini in his mouth. “No cussing, remember? Mom said so.

  He choked, chewed, and swallowed. “When? How? She’s only been back a few months. She’s not thinking about…”

  “They’re both over the moon excited and happy, Austen. This wasn’t planned, obviously, but they’re getting married in October, and it is what it is. If you have any thoughts on the matter, I sincerely advise you to keep them to yourself.

  “This time,” she added.

  Austen hated the resignation and defeat he heard in his sister’s voice. The Mia he knew was a scrappy fighter named Nitro who never gave up. This Mia seemed ready to throw in the towel at every turn. She’d let their folks talk her into moving home, despite the fact she loved the life she and Ed had created in Cheyenne. Past tense.

  The timing seemed crazy—impossible, even—that both their lives imploded at the exact same time. Maybe the coincidence was a twin thing? They’d always shared a special connection.

  “You want me to be happy for Paul and Bailey, don’t you?”

  Mia held out her plate for another helping. This time, Serena included a hamburger slider. No bun. The kids had devoured the little burgers in three bites.

  “I don’t care how badly you want to stand pat on your personal convictions, Austen, you will put on a happy face for Paul.” An order given in a voice that could have come from Mom’s mouth. Austen was too shocked to speak. “He’s the only one of us who has something good happening in his life right now, and we’re going to support that. Okay?”

  What’s wrong with Meg’s life? He pushed the question out of his head. Dumb question. Meg rocked every boat she ever got in. If not for tenure, she’d have been kicked to the curb by the university for her high profile, some said militant, stand on the rights of wolves.

  “Have they told the kids?”

  Since Mia was busy chewing, Serena spoke up. “I’d guess no. Kids this age don’t keep secrets worth squat. We’d have heard about it by now.”

  Mia high-fived Serena.

  To Austen, she said, “I like her.”

  So do I, but… lusting after perky breasts and shapely hips didn’t constitute a relationship. He couldn’t make any kind of commitment until he knew what he was going to do with his life. If he gave in to the pressure to return to Helena, the distance would surely kill their nascent connection because Serena was here for the long haul. She’d made that abundantly clear.

  He changed subject. “By the way, for the record, I’m not running for office in Marietta. If you think being the DA is such a great job, you go for it.”

  Mia laughed so loud she nearly choked on a bit of hamburger. “Me?”

  “Why not?”

  “You know why not. I have—”

  He shushed her with a swift waggle of his finger. “Don’t try to play the cancer card. You’re in remission and on the mend. You have the prosecutorial chops I sure as hell don’t have. You’d be great.”

  She crumpled her plate and shoved it into the nearby garbage can. “All I need is for one of my bald selfies to show up and I could kiss away half the voters. Nobody likes to think the person they’re voting for is sick and might die.”

  Serena put a hand on her arm. “We’re all going to die. I agree with Austen. You’d be great—not because I know anything about your credentials, but because I can tell you’re a fighter. You’re Mia ‘Nitro’ Zabrinski, right?”

  Mia blinked in surprise. The look she gave Austen crossed into Twinland. He could almost hear her silent, “You’ve never told any of your girlfriends about the Big Sky Mavericks.”

  To Serena, she said, “Austen doesn’t usually talk about his childhood. It’s like he’s ashamed of being a kid. He got a big head in high school—lettered in every stinkin’ sport and made All-Montana three years in a row in football… anyway, he made the teacher in charge of the year book—I can’t remember her name right now—change his nickname because he didn’t want the people at Harvard admissions to think he was a hawk. Can you believe that?”

  Serena laughed. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I can.” She moved the last of the burgers to a cool spot on the grill and turned off the flame. After she closed the lid, she said, “If you do decide to run, you’ve got my vote—as soon as I get registered in this county. I always go for the scrappy underdog.”

  Austen’s heart widened another few inches. He’d been in politics so long he’d forgotten genuine, positive people really existed. “Serena’s right, Meeps. You are a fighter. You have a dynamite record in Cheyenne. If you decide to go for it, I might consider sticking around to run your campaign.”

  The words were out of his mouth before he had time to think about what he was promising, but the look of surprise and the spark of interest in Mia’s eyes—a spark that had been missing for nearly a year—made him glad he’d said it.

  “You would? Really?”

  He let the idea percolate a moment. A local job would give him a reason to stay, which would get his family off his back. And one of his favorite parts of politics had been the campaign—strategizing, building support, watching his efforts play out in real time when his candidate won. “I would. I will. When do you have to file?”

  She grabbed her purse off the chair. “I don’t know. But I’ll find out.”

  Austen watched Serena’s gaze follow his twin up the steps of the deck and disappear into the house. When she turned to face him, she was smiling. “That was nice of you.”

  “Totally self-serving. Everybody has been on my case f
or months about going back to work. They seem to think playing cowboy is a waste of my very expensive education. Don’t go to Harvard unless you’re serious about working your ass off in a job that can chew you up and spit you out in a moment’s notice,” he added bitterly.

  She patted his arm sympathetically. “Poor Ivy League grad. I feel for you.”

  He pulled her closer, the heat from the grill adding to the fire building in his belly. “Can I tell you what I want to feel? And where?”

  She looped her arms around his shoulders. “Why don’t you show me?”

  “Get a room, you two. Jeesch.”

  Paul Zabrinski entered the patio area from the garage door. He paused to grab a beer on his way past the outside cooler then walked straight to Austen and Serena, who had stepped back, blushing like crazy.

  Why Austen was turned on by that straight-arrow blush made no sense, but it did. He was.

  “Thanks for watching the kids today. Mom and Dad needed a break,” Paul said.

  For a guy who just finished up eight to ten hours on the job, the man looked surprisingly buoyant and chipper. He smiled at Serena. “Good to see you, Serena. How are you settling in? Everything okay at the house?”

  “Yes. Just fine, thanks. But I was wondering if we could talk sometime soon?”

  “Sure. What about?”

  Serena hesitated but Austen sensed the moment she decided to go for it. “I’d like talk about buying your ranch. I know the place isn’t on the market, but have you ever thought about selling? I’d be interested. It fits my needs, and I like the location,” she added.

  The look she gave Austen made him want to grab her hand and head back to the ranch right this minute.

  Paul appeared slightly taken aback. “Sell the Jenkins’ place? Hmm. I don’t know. Let me talk it over with Bailey. I’m pretty sure she has no desire to live there again, but… that’s the kind of decision we need to make together.”

  He seemed to brace for the worst when he looked at Austen and said, “In case Mom didn’t tell you, Bailey and I set the date. The first Saturday in October.”

  “Better sooner rather than later, by the sound of it.”

  He’d intended the words to come out as a joke, but Paul’s expression said he didn’t appreciate the humor. “Yes. We’re pregnant. We’re thrilled. If you have a problem with that, we’re going to clear it up right now. Bailey doesn’t deserve any more of your crap.”

  Austen held up both hands. “All I ever wanted was the best for you, Paul. Serena pointed out that I’m not necessarily the best judge of what’s right for somebody else—especially since my life is off the rails.”

  The black and white lines Austen had used to guide his actions were looking grayer and less distinct every time he had to cross one. But judging by the smile on Serena’s face, that was a good thing. The kind of thing that might pay off handsomely tonight. “I’ll apologize to Bailey when she’s done throwing up,” he added.

  The fight went out of his brother. Paul had always been the peacemaker of the family. They shook hands and gave each other a one-arm, manly hug.

  With a jaunty whistle, Paul dashed up the steps, but he stopped and called out, “Oh, by the way, Austen, I met with Sheri Fast today to set up the books for our new Outdoor Rec classes and she told me there’s been a break in your case. You should give her a call.”

  My case. My so-cold-it’s-arctic case?

  “Who’s Sheri Fast?” Serena asked.

  Austen watched his brother disappear into the house. Well played, little brother.

  “Remember the day we met… I mentioned my former friend-with-benefits who wanted more…”

  “Than you were able to give,” Serena supplied. “I remember that well. I take it she’s also an accountant who works for you and your family.”

  “For Paul, yes. When Bailey came home and found out her parents’ business was nearly bankrupt, Paul asked me to get in touch with Sheri and see if she could help them out.”

  “Did she?”

  He ran his palm along the curve of her waist. “Child’s play. The company’s bookkeeper left a paper trail a mile wide. They arrested the woman in Reno after she shot and killed her husband.”

  “Oh, my, gosh, that’s awful.” She connected the dots more quickly than most. “The woman who used to live in my house? The man who’s pants you borrowed?”

  He nodded.

  She moved a bit closer.

  His fingers brushed the underside of her breast. “Very sad. Jack was Bailey’s dad’s best friend.”

  “Is their company out of business?”

  He took the spatula from her hand and turned her so their fronts were nearly touching. The warm grill and cooler evening air temperature added an exotic flavor mixed with delicious smells. He was hungry—starved—for her.

  “You’d have to ask Paul. Or Sheri. I’m not privy to all the details, but I think Paul’s new Outdoor Recreation venue is a bone he intends to throw to his future father-in-law.”

  When he pulled her against him, she leaned back. “Not so fast… no pun intended. You said you and this Sheri person dated. Fairly recently, right? And she’s working on your case. Does that mean you two are still involved, professionally?”

  “The last thing she told me was my case is almost as hopeless as I am. So, despite what Paul thinks, I doubt the breakthrough is anything major.”

  “But you’ll call and ask.”

  “Of course. Are we done talking? Can we go home now?”

  She looked at her watch. “Oh, shoot. I forgot about my chores. I’ll be doing them with a headlamp—especially if any new babies have shown up while I was gone.”

  “Babies? Alpaca babies?”

  “Cutest little devils on the planet. Once you see one, you’re hooked for life.”

  He gave her bottom a little squeeze. “I raise cows in case you didn’t notice.”

  “Your foreman raises cows for you,” she said, saucily, just before she spun about and dashed to grab her beach bag. “You’re nobody’s cowboy, remember? You told me that the first time we met.”

  He didn’t contradict her, but her words bothered him more than he cared to admit. Yes, he’d broadcast his disclaimer for all to hear, but what if his was the proverbial Shakespearean protesteth too mucheth? The longer he lived on the ranch, the more time he spent with Serena. The more time he spent with Serena, observing the joy she got from working with her animals, the more he wondered what he’d been denying himself all this time… and why?

  He owned a ranch he left in the hands of others so he could do what? Dress in expensive suits, eat rich food, and drink too much? For what—the chance to elect someone of dubious moral character to a place of prominence in state politics?

  Why did he think that was worth his time and energy?

  He had no idea.

  Chapter Nine

  Getting away from Paul’s turned out to take longer than Austen wanted. When Serena went inside to say their good-byes, Mia ambushed her and dragged her into the master bedroom to reassure an overly emotional Bailey that she and Mia hadn’t come on too strongly at their impromptu tea party.

  Austen had no idea what was happening at this hen party, and he didn’t really care as long as nobody said anything to spoil his chance of spending another night in Serena’s arms.

  Paul was on the phone with his ex, so Austen decided to use the time to clean up. He washed the chlorine out of his hair in the outside shower, and then changed into the jeans and T-shirt he’d brought in his swim bag.

  When he carried his wet towel and damp trunks to the car, his nephews followed, arguing over who would get to drive the Beamer first.

  “I’m older, I’ll have my permit before you,” Hunter said.

  Mark shouldered his taller cousin, causing Hunter to stumble. “Uncle Austen’s been letting me drive the quad on his ranch. I’m a better driver than you are.”

  “Dodging cows maybe. You don’t know how to drive on streets.”

&n
bsp; “Do so.”

  Austen grabbed them with both arms. “Dudes, I lease this car. It’s going back to the dealer when the lease is up. Neither of you will be driving by then.”

  The two were still grumbling when Serena trotted up. “Girl stuff. Sorry.” She dropped her beach tote on the floor and slid into the leather seat beside him. “See you at school, guys.”

  Austen started the engine. The low, elegant rumble reminded him of what he did like about his life in Helena. Fast cars, influential people, feeling respected, important. He’d had goals, a highly focused agenda, and a definite purpose—even if the rationale behind his job was now suspect. What was it like to have a higher calling?

  “Did you always know you wanted to work with kids?”

  Serena’s head was back, her eyes closed. The cooler evening air made the locks of auburn hair that had come loose from her scrunchie and dance about her face and shoulders. “No. I was a history major until Mom took me aside one day and said, ‘You know, dear, sugar daddies come with all sorts of sticky strings. If you were hoping one would magically appear and provide for you, I wouldn’t count on it. Better to have a career that allows you to provide for yourself.’ The next day I changed my major.”

  He could almost see her light bulb moment, as his dad called it. That a-ha moment of illumination for him was the feeling in his chest that told him he felt things for this woman he’d never felt—or allowed himself to feel—before.

  She shifted in the seat to look at him. “What about you? Did you grow up asking Santa for Armani and a briefcase so you could play lawyer?”

  He laughed so hard she had to steady the steering wheel to keep the car from drifting onto the shoulder. “God, no. I wanted to be…” He had to think a moment. “I wanted to a be smoke jumper once, but I did some volunteer search and rescue stuff in high school, and cleaning up after a forest fire pretty much killed that idea. Our crew came across a smoldering cabin. Luckily, the people made it out, but their pets didn’t.”