2

      Aaron stood on Cheyenne and Dylan’s doorstep, next to the baby stroller parked on the porch. Waiting for someone to answer his knock, he heard Cheyenne’s voice from inside the house. “Mommy’s here, Wyatt,” she cooed.

      A few seconds later, she swung open the door and did a double take.

      Aaron had imagined she was holding Presley’s baby, but she wasn’t. She must’ve said what she did as she left him in the other room.

      “Aaron! I wasn’t expecting you.”

      He hadn’t planned on coming over—until he ran into Presley at Ted Dixon’s signing. Ever since he’d learned she was back, and even before that, he’d been hoping for an opportunity to apologize for his behavior the night her mother died. He hadn’t been able to deal with the level of emotion involved. That kind of tragedy carried him back to his own mother’s death, something he avoided at all costs. But he felt bad for being such a callous jerk and would never forget how frightened he’d been when Presley went missing right after she left his place and didn’t turn up for several days. He blamed himself for everything that happened in the interim; he knew she’d been through a lot. Whatever she’d experienced was so awful that neither Cheyenne nor Dylan would talk about it. For a long time, he’d wanted to tell Presley he was sorry, but she hadn’t given him the chance. Whenever he asked for her number, Cheyenne told him she didn’t have a phone. And Presley never called him. Even in the two weeks she’d been home, she hadn’t tried to reconnect. If not for his customers at the auto body shop alerting him, he would’ve had no idea she was back in town, not until he ran into her at the signing. Dylan hadn’t mentioned it. Dylan rarely talked about Presley in Aaron’s presence.

      “Dyl home?” he asked because Cheyenne was still blocking the doorway, and he didn’t know how to inspire a warmer welcome. He’d guessed Presley would be stopping by to pick up her baby. Wyatt had to be somewhere if he wasn’t with his mother, and this was the logical place. The stroller confirmed it.

      His sister-in-law began to fidget. “Dyl?”

      “Yeah. Your husband and my big brother—remember him?” Presley couldn’t assume he was merely looking to get in her pants if her sister and his brother were around when he spoke to her. That would make the contact legit. Then maybe they could strike up some of their old camaraderie, and he could walk her home and offer an apology, since things had gone badly at the bookstore before he could work his way around to what he’d really wanted to say.

      Cheyenne ignored the sarcastic jab. “Of course he’s here. He’s watching TV.”

      When she glanced past him, at the drive, he realized why she was reluctant to invite him in. She didn’t want him here when Presley arrived. But Cheyenne was too polite to make it any more obvious. With a pleasant smile, she stepped back. “Come on in.”

      He understood that she didn’t feel he’d treated her sister right. He hadn’t been the best for Presley. But he’d never hurt her intentionally. And he wasn’t the same person he used to be. Why did they think only she could change?

      When Cheyenne grabbed a sweater off the hall tree instead of following him toward the living room, he stopped. “Where are you going?”

      “Nowhere.” She waved a hand. “I’m just taking Wyatt for a walk.”

      “It’s cold and dark.” It had also been raining an hour ago and could rain again. Spring usually came early in Gold Country, but the first week of March had been a week of full winter.

      “We won’t go far.”

      A dark-headed little boy toddled out of the living room, holding a rubber block, the corner of which he had stuffed in his mouth.

      “This must be Wyatt.”

      There was another pause on Cheyenne’s part, but he understood why. She didn’t want anything, or anyone, to come between Presley and her recovery, and that included him. “Yeah. That’s Wyatt, her pride and joy.”

      It was motherhood that’d changed Presley. Aaron felt certain of it.

      Wyatt stared up at Aaron with round eyes the color of melted chocolate—just like his mom’s.

      “Cute little bugger,” he said. “Seems big for his age. Kind of surprising coming from a half-pint like Pres.”

      “Presley says his father was tall.” Cheyenne moved as if she planned to sweep the baby into her arms and head outside, but Aaron was closer and stooped to pick him up before she could.

      “Hey, you,” he said. “What a chunk you are. Doesn’t look like you’ve ever missed a meal.”

      The baby pulled the block out of his mouth and gave him a gummy smile that revealed several Mini-Chiclet teeth. “Ma-ma-ma!” he chanted, hitting the block with his free hand.

      Aaron shifted his attention to Cheyenne. “Doesn’t seem to be afraid of strangers.”

      “No. He’s a happy, trusting little guy.”

      When Aaron used the baby’s own fist to tap his nose, Wyatt gave an infectious belly laugh and tried to shove his toy into Aaron’s mouth.

      “That’s okay, dude,” Aaron said, twisting his head. “That block’s got more than enough spit on it already.”

      “Aaron? That you?” Dylan called, and Aaron let Cheyenne take the baby.

      “Yeah, it’s me.”

      “How’d it go in Reno? You find the right location?”

      Aaron walked into the living room to see Dylan sprawled on the couch, his hair wet. He’d worked late and must’ve just showered. They were slammed with business, which was another reason Aaron thought it was time to open a franchise. “Nothing I’m in love with. I’m considering Placerville instead.”

      “I wouldn’t go there.”

      “It’s closer, only forty miles away.”

      “But it’s a smaller market. When’d you get back?”

      Aaron fell into one of two leather side chairs