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  His black brows crash together. “He make you pay for it?”

  Jaw tightening, I shake my head. “The rat bastard owed us.”

  Seth strokes the underside of his lip with his thumb. “Yeah, Tony owed us. Is he still around?”

  I shake my head. “He moved away not too long after he got out of the hospital. Got caught with some barely legal chick, and her family ran him out of town.” That still hadn’t stopped people from thinking my brother and Seth were criminals. But, whatever, we’re from the wrong side of Forrestville. Where the yards are small, houses are smaller, and crime is huge.

  But Gardner’s Auto Repair is the best damn shop in the Piedmont area, so all those good people from the right side of the track—like the Oaks neighborhood—hold their noses while they open their wallets.

  I gaze at Seth once more. With his fitted slacks, deep plum-colored button-down, and gelled hair, he could fit in with those people, if no one knew it were him. He carries himself like one of those people—all confident and full of swagger.

  Full of crap.

  “What’s on your mind, Rowan?” he asks.

  You’ve moved on. You have a life. Even after prison you have a life, and I’m still here. Still piecing back the fragments of my existence. But I can’t admit that to him. I shrug. “I’m tired.”

  He reaches out and I flinch a little. His hand cups my cheek and his thumb begins to rub the top part of my cheek. “You don’t have to be so brave, you know,” he says. “Her death hurt me, too. Yeah, she was suffering, but it still hurt. It hurt us both. I can be here for you, if you let me.”

  I don’t move, even as his hand coasts down my cheek to my jaw and then around my neck to rub the sore muscles. My lashes flutter closed in response, but I force them open. Dangerous things happen around Seth and me when I close my eyes.

  “Close your eyes,” Seth whispers into my ear. He drags his lips across my jaw and I shiver. I’m lying nude in his bed with his equally naked body covering mine. We’ve never gone this far before, but I love Seth. I want to be with him forever.

  I close my eyes and smile. “How’s this?”

  “You’re such a very good girl,” he teases, nipping at my throat. His hands cover my breasts and I arch into him. My eyes fly open.

  His obsidian gaze is hot. “Close your eyes, or I’ll move my hand.”

  “Don’t you dare,” I snap. I squeeze my eyes shut.

  “Love you, Rowan, even when you try to be all bossy,” he says with a dark laugh, and then his lips wrap around my hard nipple.

  I moan his name.

  “Thank you,” he says, pulling me out of my head.

  My face heats and my heart races. It’s a damn good thing he can’t read my mind. “For what?”

  “For being with her when I couldn’t.”

  Unable to withstand the gratefulness in his gaze, I move away from him. My skin is hot and tight, and I can still feel where he touched me. “Leftovers are in the fridge. Nothing’s changed, really, so you should be able to find what you’re looking for.”

  Another smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t worry, Rowan, I’ll be gone tomorrow afternoon.”

  Pain claws my heart, ripping it to shreds. I can’t deal with him leaving again. It’s stupid and futile. “I’m not worried. Besides, I have to work.”

  “I’m spending the night.”

  That again. “I don’t think so.”

  His smile gives way to a serious frown. “Still my fucking house. I grew up here, you didn’t,” he reminds me.

  “It used to be your house, but you chose to move away. Remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember,” he growls and yanks his dog tags out from underneath his shirt and holds them out. “But apparently your memory is shitty, because it was a judge who made me leave.”

  Now, this I can handle. Better his anger than his remorse and gratitude. I whirl away and stride to my bedroom, tossing over my shoulder, “Not dealing with your bullshit, O’Connor. Crash in your old room and then be out of here before I get home tomorrow night.”

  Chapter 3

  Seth

  The door slams shut with enough force to rattle the plates in the kitchen cabinets, but I refuse to go after her. I refuse to play her game. She wants me angry. She wants the excuse and justification to keep me at a distance.

  When we were younger, she had me wrapped around her little finger. Not exactly a bad thing when the two of you are in love, but the shit she just pulled—I’m not letting her get the upper hand again.

  Looks like the enemy wasn’t the only thing the military trained me to battle.

  I tuck my tags back into place and run my hands over my face. “She needs more time,” I mutter. It’s been years since I was last civil to her. Her reaction to me won’t change overnight. Hell, it might not ever change, but the more she pushes me away, the more I want to hold on tight.

  Exhaling, I move to the living room, plop my ass on the couch, and flip through the stations, finding a repeat of Band of Brothers. Score. And it’s a marathon. Double score. I love this show, and it’s enough of a distraction to keep my mind off of Rowan.

  However, there’s still the matter of the envelope Shaw gave me, but I’m not that interested in reading it. Besides, I’m pretty sure he’ll go over the paperwork at our meeting tomorrow.

  Pulling out my phone, I text a couple of my buddies and my commanding officer to give him a heads-up of what might be coming, then jump to my feet and stride to the back door. Grabbing my key along the way—just in case Rowan decides to lock my ass out—I head outside to get my duffel bag.

  I have time to kill, and it doesn’t look as though Rowan will be joining me again this evening. I haul my bag to my room and toss it on the bed, noting that nothing has changed—same comforter on the bed, same posters on the walls, and same pictures of Rowan and me. Honestly, I’m shocked this proof of our relationship still exists.

  Maybe there’s hope for us after all.

  —

  The next morning, Rowan is gone by the time I wake up. I glance at the clock, surprised at how late it is. Normally, I’m up at five thirty, but today I slept in and it’s almost seven fifteen. There’s a pot of fresh coffee on the counter, and the fridge is fully stocked. I fry up some eggs and bacon while I drink a cup.

  Then I hit the road.

  Shaw’s offices are located in downtown Forrestville, and it doesn’t take long to get there. Parking’s a bitch, though, especially with a truck the size of mine. I circle the block a couple of times before finding a space.

  As I walk inside, a receptionist greets me.

  “Hi, I’m Seth O’Connor and I have—”

  “Go right in. First office on the right.”

  The door to his office bursts open and Rowan walks out, a strange look on her face.

  “Good morning,” I say.

  She glances up at me, her strange look giving way to a glare. “I bet it is.”

  “You can’t even try to be nice to me?”

  “Why bother? You’re leaving. Again.”

  You’re leaving. Again. The words echo in my mind. If Rowan didn’t care or had really forgiven me like she claimed, then she wouldn’t have said that. She would have left it with a simple Why bother?

  “If I stay, will you be nice to me?” I ask.

  “Totally,” she snaps. “In fact, I’ll be Little Miss Sunshine if you stay.”

  She shoves past me, and I turn slightly to stare after her retreating form, grinning. She’s wearing faded jeans that showcase her ass, and a purple sweater that conforms to her body. I glance at her feet and grin. She still wears silver Converse sneakers. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say those were the same pair I’d bought for her.

  “Mr. O’Connor?”

  Dragging my attention from Rowan to Shaw, I nod at the man. “Ready when you are.”

  “Come inside.”

  We shake hands, and he indicates I should sit. I take out the envelope he gave me and
open it. “I wanted to wait until I met with you before I read through this.”

  “That’s fine. It’s a copy of Mrs. Gardner’s will.”

  Unfolding the packet of papers, I scan the first page and my jaw drops.

  “She left me everything,” I say, incredulous at her generosity. What the hell will I do with all this money? I already have everything I need with the Corps Savings in the bank from my tours in Afghanistan; my truck’s paid for, and my off-base apartment is a straight-up bachelor’s pad, complete with the requisite leather couch, Xbox, and a flat-screen that takes up an entire wall.

  Shaw nods. “Everything and then some. Of course, a portion of the life insurance policy is going to one Rowan Patricia Simmons.”

  My gaze jerks from the packet of papers to his face. “My grandmother left Rowan money?” Is that why she looked so pissed? I’d gotten money she thought she deserved? It’s an honest question, and while I don’t naturally assign the title of gold digger to a woman, I don’t know Rowan like I used to.

  “Yes.”

  “How much?” I’m not asking because I want the money. Honestly, I’m more curious than anything.

  Shaw names the amount, and I blink. “She’ll never have to work again,” I mutter to myself.

  “Ms. Simmons donated half of it to Jailbirds to Jobs.”

  Jailbirds to Jobs? “What the hell is that?”

  “It’s a charity Ms. Simmons started a few years ago that puts convicts to work at your grandmother’s auto shop once they’ve been released. She personally works with their parole officers. Her organization has helped hundreds of people and has lowered the recidivism rate by 10 percent in this area. I know that might not sound like a lot, but considering the rate is normally close to 90 percent, it’s a wonderful reduction.”

  Wow. I always knew Rowan was smart as hell and had a soft heart, but this…a charity like this is beyond the soft-heart thing. Lots of people have intelligence and soft hearts yet do nothing to help others on such a large scale.

  “You seem to know a lot about it.”

  “I’m one of the sponsors of the charity, and I’m on the advisory board.”

  “What are my options?”

  Shaw’s face grows concerned. “Concerning Ms. Simmons’s inheritance?”

  “No. I could give two shits about her inheritance. I want to know what I’m supposed to do with all this paperwork.”

  Shaw’s face brightens. “Ah. That I can help you with.”

  We spend the next hour going over the details, and what the law requires me to do as the executor of my grandmother’s estate. Apparently, it’s a hell of a lot.

  “Can’t we get someone else?” I ask. “This might be more than I can do, given my occupation.”

  Shaw takes a sip of coffee. “I’m afraid not.”

  Mentally, I consider my alternatives and decide against any course of action that would label me a lawbreaker. I have a real aversion to breaking the law. Actually, I have a real aversion to prison. “Fine. I can get about two weeks off right now, but once that’s gone, I’ll have to come up on weekends.”

  “Mrs. Gardner informed me that you’re a helicopter crew chief in the Marines. Will we have to work around a deployment schedule?” Shaw asks.

  I shake my head. “No, my contract is up in eight weeks and then I’m out. For good.” Freedom. I can hardly wait. “But everything else, like paying off outstanding debts, can be handled electronically in the meantime, right?”

  “Right, of course.” Shaw sits in his chair. “We’ll take care of most of it, and if you like, give you a list of reputable agents in the area who can help you sell the residence and business for a fair market value.”

  “I don’t know if I want to sell them.”

  “It’s within your rights to keep or sell. The majority of my clients in your situation would sell and be done with it.”

  I eye him. “Like I said, I don’t know what I want to do.” Am I ready to part with those memories? Lately, I’ve been entertaining the thought of returning home to put down roots again. Well, as soon as Uncle Sam didn’t own my ass anymore.

  “May I make a recommendation on the business at least?” Shaw asks.

  “Recommend away.”

  “You should let the current manager buy it. She’s done an excellent job turning the place around, and—”

  She? The hairs on my arms stand at attention, and I place the packet of papers on the table between us. “Give me the manager’s name.”

  “Rowan Simmons.”

  Leaning back in my chair, I shake my head and fold my arms over my chest. “You’re joking.” Somehow my grandmother had failed to share this with me. Somehow I had to use this to my advantage. If I had to deal with the business, then that meant I had to deal with Rowan. She would be forced to be in my presence, and I’d have an excuse to stay at my own home. A win-win in my tactical playbook.

  “No. As I mentioned, the shop employs the majority of the former inmates in the Jailbirds to Jobs program.”

  “The hell you say. How is that remotely safe?” Damn, the woman thinks she’s invincible.

  “Mr. O’Connor,” Shaw begins, obviously ready to defend Rowan, but I wave him off and stand up.

  “Great meeting. I’ll go through the documents again and start the process to finish closing out her estate.”

  “And Gardner’s?”

  “I think I need to go down there and learn more about my grandmother’s business before I make a decision. Don’t you agree?”

  Wisely, Shaw keeps his mouth shut and nods. I say good-bye and stride away from his office, determined to find out what the hell’s been going on.

  Rowan

  Seth stands in the middle of the lobby of Gardner’s, looking sexy in a dark shirt that stretches over his broad chest and darker jeans that highlight his powerful thighs. The full lips I used to kiss all the time are set determinedly in a straight line. The dark stubble on his sharp cheeks makes him look dangerous.

  A delicious thrill runs through me, but I ignore it and him. I have to.

  Get it together, girl. You’re mad at him, not lusting for the fool.

  Turning my attention back to Mrs. Hernandez, I smile. “We’ll put you on a payment plan, okay?”

  She breathes out an obvious sigh of relief. “Thank you so much, Rowan. I don’t know how I could pay the bill, with Val in”—she swallows, embarrassment coloring her pretty face—“you know where.”

  “You always pay your bills—everyone knows that about your family. So I know you’re good for it,” I say brightly, and Mrs. Hernandez smiles proudly. I’m not lying. Mrs. Hernandez always pays her bills, even if it means she has to work three jobs to do it while her oldest son, and the secondary breadwinner of the family, is in prison for auto theft.

  I can feel Seth’s eyes on me, burning a hole in my head. Thankfully, he’s not the type to come charging in and demand I make Mrs. Hernandez pay on the spot.

  A throat clears, and my stomach flips. “Rowan. We need to talk.”

  Then again, I have to remember that the type of guy he used to be is gone. “Just a minute,” I mutter, then force myself to be cheerful once more. “Why don’t you go talk with Linda, and she’ll work out a plan with you?”

  Mrs. Hernandez nods, following the direction I’m pointing to the desk in the back.

  I turn to face Seth, but now he’s not paying attention. Instead, he’s taking in the shop, the fresh paint, the shiny equipment, and its cleanliness. His grandmother had been ill for a while before she died, and the place had gotten run down without her. But when I took over, I made it look as good as it did when she and Mr. Gardner first opened it.

  Along the walls I hung old pictures of them. They’re young, proud, and obviously in love. I think the place looks great, but Seth might not agree. He might hate everything I’ve done to his grandparents’ shop, but it’s working. We’re in the black and making money, instead of losing it—even while supporting my Jailbirds to Jobs employm
ent nonprofit.

  From what Shaw said this morning, Seth is entirely within his rights to sell the place and my home. His home. Whatever. But he also said that he would encourage Seth to sell Gardner’s to me.

  Seth’s hot glare makes me take a step back.

  Yeah, he’s sooo open to selling this place to me, which sucks, because I feel like Gardner’s is mine. I’ve worked my tail off since I took over, and battled customers and vendors who tried to take advantage of me because I’m a woman and therefore apparently unable to make a decision without a man.

  “Can we talk now?” he asks.

  “Sure.”

  Seth searches the shop. “Privately?”

  My eyes grow wide. “Okay,” I say, wary as anything. I really don’t want to be alone with him, but if he’s going to bitch me out, then I’d rather he do it in private. “We can talk in my office.”

  “Lead the way,” he says, and then follows me.

  The door is already open, but I step to the side to let him in, and close it behind us. Immediately, Seth fills the entire space as he takes off his coat. Despite my best intentions, my mouth runs dry at the sight of him removing such a safe piece of clothing.

  “Why in the hell are you employing convicts?” he asks, not bothering with small talk. Honestly, it’s better this way. No need to pretend that we actually have anything to say to each other—at least anything that’s civil. Still, my heart pinches painfully in my chest.

  “That’s none of your business,” I snap.

  “One, your safety is my business, and two, since I own this place, who you employ is my business as well.”

  “Here we go again. First it was the key under the rock and now it’s whom I employ. You don’t have the right to tell me what to do.”

  “As the owner I have the right to fire your ass.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “You are such an asshole.”

  “I can be,” he says in a voice that gives me pause. “Or I can be very accommodating.”

  “Like selling Gardner’s to me?” I ask, wanting to get the issue out of the way.