Chapter Two

      “We knew there was some bad blood between Mandy’s father and your family from a long time ago, but she never talked about it and, well...”

      “Considering the way her father went out we never brought up anything about him, so all we know is that there was bad blood.”

      What sweet Maeve Teller had tried to say diplomatically, her blunt husband, John Sr., finished.

      Livi had arrived in Montana on Saturday evening, to discover Seth had taken his wife and new baby to visit Lacey’s father in Texas. He’d left the keys to his cars and trucks for Livi to use—as well as the directions to the Teller farm—and promised to be back Sunday night. Tonight.

      Livi had actually been glad to have the Northbridge house to herself for a while. Along with the continuing bouts of nausea and the swollen fingers, she was so easily tired out these days that she’d been happy to go straight to bed.

      Unsure what kind of reception she might receive, and not wanting to risk an outright refusal to be seen, she’d arrived at the Tellers’ farm without warning at two o’clock. The door had been opened by a woman who looked to be her own age—Maeve’s nurse. She hadn’t even asked who Livi was. She’d merely said hi, and when Livi told her that she was there to see the Tellers, the woman had invited her in without any questions.

      Small-town warmth and friendliness—it had made it easy for Livi to get to the living room, where an elderly couple was playing a board game with a little girl.

      Livi had introduced herself and offered the condolences of the entire Camden family for the loss of Mandy and John Teller Jr. The Tellers had asked how her grandmother was—GiGi was a well-known native of Northbridge—and after briefly updating them about her, Livi had explained that Randall had grown up as the best friend of Livi’s father and uncle, and that GiGi had thought of Randall as her third son. That having just heard about the accident that had cost Randall’s daughter her life and orphaned his granddaughter, GiGi had requested that Livi make this visit on her behalf.

      Though the Tellers admitted that they knew there was more to the story—that there had been, eventually, a very bitter parting of the ways between Randall and the Camdens—Livi’s sympathies had been accepted with grace. What followed was an hour with the Tellers and Greta. And also with the home health care nurse, Kinsey Madison, who was looking after Maeve, who had broken her arm, shoulder and leg in a fall, leaving her in plaster casts and a wheelchair.

      Livi learned that Maeve and John Sr. were both eighty years old. And while John Sr. didn’t have any disabilities that Livi could discern, she’d seen enough to know that he moved slowly and very stiffly, barely lifting his feet. So even he was nowhere near as agile as seventy-five-year-old GiGi or her seventy-six-year-old new groom, Jonah. In fact, the attentive nurse seemed to be subtly caring for John Sr. almost as much as she was caring for Maeve, so Livi understood why Greta’s parents had not left her guardianship to the elderly couple.

      Livi didn’t have any difficulty establishing rapport with the Tellers or with Greta, all of whom she liked instantly. And the more they all visited, the more Livi saw how much the Tellers doted on the little girl. They obviously loved her dearly.

      For her part, Greta—an outgoing nine-year-old with long blond hair and big brown eyes—had quickly warmed to Livi and was clearly dazzled by her fashionable clothes and hairstyle. She was so enthralled that Livi had removed the scarf she’d used as a headband today and gifted it to Greta, who was now sitting on the floor at her feet so Livi could tie it around the girl’s wavy locks the way she’d been wearing it herself.

      Even while she was pampering Greta, Livi went on chatting with Maeve and Kinsey. John Sr. wasn’t particularly talkative, but threw in a few comments from time to time.

      All in all, Livi thought it was going smoothly, that she’d lucked out, that this particular restitution would be easily accomplished.

      “You look beautiful, Greta,” Kinsey declared when Livi was finished and the nine-year-old looked to the nurse for approval.

      “I wanna see,” Greta announced, running from the room and bounding up the stairs to the second level of the old farmhouse, presumably to a mirror.

      With the child out of earshot, it seemed like an opportunity for Livi to say, “I’m not sure what Greta’s needs are, but we want to do whatever we can for her now and from here on.”

      “And you would be?” a deep male voice interrupted, coming from behind Livi.

      Maeve and John Sr. were sitting across from Livi and they both looked beyond her to the man who had just come in.

      Livi noted that John Sr. instantly scowled, while Maeve smiled and said, “This is Ms. Camden—”

      “Oh, no, I’m just Livi.”

      “Camden,” the man behind her repeated scornfully at the same time.

      Undeterred, Maeve smiled at her and said, “Livi,” to confirm that she would use her first name. Then she added, “Callan is an old friend of Mandy and John Jr.’s. He’s Greta’s godfather and now her guardian.”

      Livi froze.

      Callan?

      It wasn’t a common name.

      And it was the name of the man she’d spent the night with in Hawaii. The man she’d exchanged only first names with.

      The man who had run out on her.

      But it had to be a coincidence.

      It had to be...

      Then he came around into her line of vision.

      And everything in her clenched into one big knot.

      It was the same name because it was the same man.

      Livi didn’t know whether to slap his face or crawl away in shame.

      “Livi?” he said when he got a look at her face, his voice full of shock. His expression almost instantly showed embarrassment before confusion sounded, too, as he said, “You’re a Camden?”

      “You two know each other?” John Sr. asked.

      Neither of them answered immediately.

      Then Callan said, “We’ve met.”

      “Once,” Livi added, her gaze locked with his.

      Actually, they knew hardly anything about each other. They’d talked about why they were in Hawaii—her for a sales convention, him for a business meeting. Beyond that?

      They’d talked about the enormous sea turtle on the beach right in front of where Livi was sitting when he’d joined her without an invitation. About the weather. The hotel. The restaurants and food. The sites. About how beautiful the sunset they were watching together was.

      But they hadn’t talked about anything of any importance.

      And she’d had a completely different impression of him—as the businessman she’d assumed he was. Right now, he looked more like a cowboy, in faded blue jeans and a soiled chambray shirt that still managed to accentuate his broad, broad shoulders.

      The hair was the same, though—thick auburn, short on the sides and slightly longer on top, where it was carelessly mussed. Also the same was the model-handsome face, lean and sculpted, with a strong jaw shadowed with stubble around thin but hellishly sexy lips. His slightly longish nose was straight and narrow. His penetrating eyes as dark