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And then one day he’d been at a backyard barbecue with a bunch of their friends. He’d heard Julie laugh. He’d looked up to find Julie towing a delicate blonde across the lawn to meet him. “This is my sister, April. I made you two dinner reservations at a restaurant on the river. Don’t argue.”

“Ignore my sister,” April said in a voice as easygoing as sugar on toast. “I’ve been doing it for years.” And then April had looked up at Nate with Julie’s gray eyes and Julie’s wide smile.

Only she wasn’t Julie. He didn’t work with her. And April had won a bout with cancer, but wouldn’t be able to have children.

“Oh, I don’t know.” He’d given April a soft half smile. “I think your sister is onto something.”

* * *

“SO HERE’S HOW it’s going to go,” Julie said firmly, trying not to flinch when Duke dropped his head to her injured shoulder again. “I’m taking a couple of weeks off to see what kind of dad you’ll be.” That was a bluff. She wanted Nate to sign over custody of Duke to her tonight. The papers were in her backpack.

“A couple of weeks?” Nate’s dark gaze drilled for the truth. “How did you get that much time off?”

“It’s a combination of bereavement and vacation time,” she lied. Why wasn’t he focusing on what was important? Why wasn’t he squirming out of being a dad? “I’ve booked a room at the bed-and-breakfast in town.” For one night. When she’d walked into the church, she’d doubted she’d need to stay at all.

Nate drew back as if he’d gotten a whiff of dirty diaper. “Why don’t you stay with me?”

“With...” Nate’s offer jammed words in her throat. He should have been saying there was no reason to stay. That he didn’t want to be a dad. “Not a chance.” Bunk with the enemy?

Duke yawned. It was nearly eight o’clock, past his bedtime. Julie was spent, too, more energy draining every minute.

Nate placed a tentative hand on Duke’s wild curls. “He’s really... I can’t believe it.”

“Up.” Duke, being April’s kid and having never met a stranger he didn’t like, reached for Nate and fell forward in that all-in way of his. He’d leave with the mailman if Julie didn’t watch out.

He’d leave with Nate if Julie didn’t watch out.

Nate caught him, placing Duke on his hip as if he’d been carrying rug rats around all his life.

The town council, mayor and Flynn spoke softly on the pulpit. The last of the attendees filed out the door with friendly smiles their way. Julie’s hopes for a deep stab of revenge and a tidy wrap-up of loose ends went out with them.

“I tall.” Duke gazed around, yawning. He dropped his head to Nate’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

Nate stood very still. His lips were pursed, but his jaw worked, as if he was wrestling words that wanted to be given voice.

Julie gave him time to reject the little boy in his arms, time to stand by his rote words from years gone by.

Seconds ticked by and still nothing.

“Give me his jacket,” Nate said finally, settling Duke closer. “I’ll walk you out.”

CHAPTER THREE (#u93cfa53e-af90-59b1-9de3-bf5d9987b2bd)

“YOU DIDN’T HAVE to follow us over.” Julie’s tone was as nippy as the evening air.

Nate deserved the cold shoulder for the choices he’d made regarding April. Deserved, yes. Enjoyed, no.

This was not how he’d envisioned seeing Julie again. Oh, he’d imagined her trying to rip him a new one. And he’d imagined himself standing and taking it. But a kid...

It wasn’t that he didn’t like kids or didn’t spend time around them. In fact, he’d just returned from a weekend with his sister, Molly, and her toddler. But one of his own? The answer should be no, thanks.

Julie undid the straps on his son’s safety seat.

He wanted her to hurry. He wanted to have his son in his arms once more. It made no sense. He wasn’t like Molly or even Flynn. He hadn’t longed for a child.

He stared up at the stately forest green Victorian that was the bed-and-breakfast, and Harmony Valley’s only hotel. “Have you checked in yet?”

“No.”

Unable to wait any longer, Nate edged Julie aside and picked up Duke.

“Want bed.” Short, sturdy arms wrapped around Nate’s neck.

Nate hugged him closer, drinking in the smell of toddler—sweat and dirty clothes and the essence of his son.

Julie had moved to the rear of the red SUV. She unloaded an open bag of diapers with a tub of wipes stuffed in it. A dinosaur-print bedroll came next, followed by a duffel bag and a backpack. She closed the hatch, groaning almost as much as the hinges on the hatch. Was she recovering from the flu?

“Let me carry those,” Nate offered.

“No,” Julie snapped, but it was a weary snap.

“Juju.” Duke leaned toward her, small arms outstretched, near tears. “Want bed.”

“Soon.” Julie slung the duffel over a shoulder (a sharp intake of breath), held the bedroll under an arm (a wince) and clutched the bag of diapers in her hand (looking like she might topple).

“Let me help you.” Nate lowered Duke to the ground and snagged the backpack.

Wailing, the toddler staggered dramatically to Julie and latched onto her leg.

“Duke.” Julie looked like she wanted to wail, too.

Without a word, Nate took the duffel, bedroll and diaper bag from her.

The front door opened. Leona Lambridge, the original proprietor of the bed-and-breakfast, stood in the doorway. Her thin-bladed features were sharper than surgical knives. She wore a simple navy dress that cast the gray in her tightly bound hair an eerie blue. She stared at them—an overloaded sheriff, a spent-looking aunt and a hysterical child—clasping her hands as if it helped her withhold verbal judgment.

Leona wasn’t a people person. Why she’d opened a bed-and-breakfast was a mystery to Nate.

Julie knelt, gathered Duke with her left arm and muttered, “The music from Psycho is playing in my head.” Cop humor. Meant to diffuse stress.

“Pay no attention to my grandmother.” Reggie, Leona’s granddaughter, edged past the old woman and hurried down the stairs to greet them. “I’m running the Lambridge B and B now.” Poor Reggie. She had to be working her fingers to the bone. She looked thin and haggard. Her long brown hair listless and her pert nose less than pert.

“She’ll run it until something better comes along,” Leona quipped. “She’s left me once already.”

“Your patrons missed me when I was gone.” Reggie took the diaper bag from Nate and smiled hard at Julie. “She’s friendlier than she’d like you to believe.”

Having known Leona a few years, Nate withheld comment.

Reggie scowled at him when he didn’t back her up. “Grandmother has friends in town. She’s retired. It’s not like I have to force her out of the house.”