to hug him, kiss him, or clap him on the back. Then, without Kitty even moving her feet, it seemed, she and Dylan were propelled toward the back of the house and led to a couch in the large, skylighted family room.
The people already sitting on the long piece of leather furniture hailed Dylan and obligingly moved to create a scant seat. Keenly aware that sitting on his lap was no way to keep her distance, Kitty instantly took a perch on the couch arm, leaving the cushion to him. Though he slanted her a look from under his brows, a man whose name she couldn't recall distracted Dylan by dropping to the floor in front of him and starting up a conversation about some mutual childhood adventure.
Sylvia arrived to put a glass of white wine in Kitty's hand and pass a sweating bottle of beer to Dylan. The pregnant woman's gaze landed on Kitty's other hand, the one Dylan refused to release, even though she'd tried to slide it away several times.
Sylvia's gaze rose to Kitty's face. "Oh, my," she said.
Kitty tried not to wince. Of all the people in Hot Water, Tony and Sylvia probably knew Dylan best. All three had been high school pals, and Tony and Dylan had roomed together at Stanford. "It's nothing," Kitty said, feeling her cheeks flush.
"I'm just surprised," Sylvia said quietly. "Not that it's such a bad idea."
Whom was Sylvia kidding? "It's a terrible idea," Kitty whispered fiercely. "I know it."
As if he sensed her distress, Dylan looked up. His gaze flicked from Kitty to Sylvia and back. "Is something wrong?"
Kitty shook her head. "Of course not."
With a last look at them, he went back to his conversation. Tony wandered up, and soon several men were engrossed in a loud, good-natured argument.
Someone left his nearby seat and Sylvia snagged the free chair to position it beside Kitty. "Let's talk a minute," she suggested, settling her pregnant body with a sigh of relief.
Kitty composed her expression, trying not to appear guilty. "How's the pregnancy going?" she asked, hoping to direct the conversation away from why the town madam was holding hands with the town sheriff.
Sylvia gave a mock groan. "It's going too long. My mother told me to stop complaining, that elephants carry their babies for almost two years. Well, I feel like an elephant, and for the first five months I had the kind of morning sickness that defies any quantity of saltine crackers and raspberry leaf tea."
Kitty smiled, seeing right through the other woman's grumbles. "But then along comes a little one like Amalie."
"Yes." Sylvia smiled back. "It's God's reward." Her gaze narrowed. "Which leads me straight back to you, Kitty Wilder."
"Me?"
"Mmm. I meant what I said. You and Dylan. It's not a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all. He deserves some kind of prize after all these years. Maybe you can give it to him."
Kitty cast a swift look at Dylan. He was still deep in conversation with his old cronies, his face relaxed and his dark eyes alive instead of haunted. She turned back to Sylvia. "It's being home that makes him happy, not me."
"Maybe you can keep him here long enough to realize that."
Kitty shook her head. "Don't count on it."
Someone urgently called Sylvia's name and she rose from her chair. "Excuse me, I think I need to go be hostess." She paused, putting her hand on Kitty's shoulder. "Maybe you should be careful, then. Don't count on him." Her gaze flicked to Dylan.
"Of course not," Kitty answered, her spine straightening beneath the scarlet dress. "I'm a Wilder, after all. We don't count on any man."
With a last troubled look, Sylvia left. Sighing, Kitty remained lost in her thoughts until a burst of shared chuckles drew her attention back to Dylan and his circle of friends. Grinning, Tony leaned forward and muttered something for Dylan's ears only and he stilled, then threw back his head and laughed.
And laughed some more.
Kitty swallowed hard against the sudden ache in her heart. It was as if she could see the present as it should have been, would have been, if Dylan had stayed in Hot Water.
He'd relaxed his hold on her hand, but she left her fingers in the cup of his for another moment. She savored his nearness, simultaneously enjoying the bittersweet pleasure of what should be, and what could never be.
But then one of the Sutherland brothers approached, his gaze on Dylan, and when he was near