Emily looked out the window at the solid darkness of the mountains blotting out the stars. She thought about young Ethan, running toward his father, his face alive with excitement and mischievousness. The slumbering ache inside her awakened as she remembered her brief motherhood.
And the way she controlled her grief was reminding herself that she’d taken control, that she was going to make a happy family life happen. She was already making good friends who could be like sisters to her.
Then Brooke launched into the story about spying on Steve Keppel and believing that Joe Sweet might be Emily’s dad, all for Melissa’s benefit.
“If you’re hesitant to talk to him outright,” Melissa said, “maybe there are hospital records you don’t know about. Were you born here?”
“San Francisco.”
“Oh.”
“Guess we’ll have to handle this with our own small-town ways,” Monica said dryly.
Emily saw Melissa press her lips together and look out the dark window.
“You know, Em,” Monica continued, “you could think about this from another angle, from people’s motivations. Maybe Joe would be thrilled to know he has another child, and you’re worried about approaching him for nothing.”
“Listen to Monica,” Melissa chimed in. “She’s always been good at reading people.”
Monica stared at her over the seat. “Is that a compliment?”
“Of course it is. You should go back for your master’s in psychology. Those were always your best classes.”
Emily couldn’t miss the hurt that flashed briefly in Monica’s eyes.
“I use my skills with people every day,” Monica said between gritted teeth. “What about you?”
“What do you mean? We’re twins; I certainly have people skills as well, and I use them.”
“From everything I hear, you’re only with people at work. Sounds to me like you lead a lonely life.”
Melissa stiffened. “That’s not true.”
“Okay, no squabbling, kids, or I’ll have to stop the car,” Brooke said mildly, looking into the rearview mirror to meet Emily’s eyes.
“I heard the guys mention a rodeo,” Emily said, changing the subject.
“The Silver Creek Rodeo,” Brooke said. “My family’s been running it for decades. You mean you haven’t heard about it?”
“I’ve seen the posters—who could miss them?” But Nate had never told her, and now that he’d confided in her, she understood why. But after all their intimacy, it was hard for her to still feel casual about him, which should be a blinking Caution sign for her to pay attention to.
“It’s only a few weeks away,” Monica said. “You can’t leave before then. It’s the highlight of early summer around here.”
“I’m a champion barrel racer,” Brooke said, holding up her arm to flex a muscle.
Monica laughed. “And so modest, too.”
Brooke continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Josh and I do a little team roping, although Nate and Dad often beat us. Emily, there’s even a baking contest. I’ll forward you the info.”
Emily nodded but figured she’d talk to Nate first.
As she was getting ready for bed, Emily heard her doorbell, and when she looked out the window, she saw Nate’s pickup in the alley. With excited anticipation, she wrapped a robe around herself to hurry down the stairs. After she opened the door, he stood looking at her, his expression so intense that it took her breath away. Then he swept her into his arms.
“Damn, but you looked so good tonight,” he said into her hair.
Between kisses, she laughed. “In my jeans and fleece?”
“In your robe, I don’t care. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I couldn’t wait—”
He slammed the door behind him and carried her upstairs. And then they were undressing each other, her tugging loose his shirt, him pulling free the belt of her robe.
“Emily.”
He said her name between a whisper and a groan, and her blood hummed with pleasure and need. They fell naked on her bed, and it was like a scene from a movie as they kissed and caressed and rolled about with abandon.
“I can’t get enough of the taste of you,” Nate murmured, exploring her body with his lips and tongue.
She lay there, quivering and feeling worshipped, gasping as he spread her thighs and with the torture of his tongue made her beg for him. When her orgasm practically shook her off the bed, he came up on his hands and stared down at her, dazed.
“I’ll be right back,” he said hoarsely. “In my pants—”
“Hurry,” she panted back.
He grinned down at her like a pirate anticipating plunder, all dark-haired and wicked-eyed. With a giggle, she pushed him away, and when he returned with the condom, helped him put it on. She