Thirty minutes into the session with Ethan that afternoon, Finn had to face some facts.

First, Charlie was fantastic with Ethan.

She wasn’t truly tutoring at all, and he understood now why Mrs. Johnson wanted to bring her on full-time. She was like the freaking kid-whisperer.

He’d been watching them working from a chair with a direct line of sight, monitoring everything going on in the small library conference room. Although it really couldn’t be called working. Finn had never heard his son laugh this much at a library. Ethan had brought a book like all the tutors in the past had wanted him to do. The first thing Charlie had asked was if he wanted to read it.

Ethan had glanced at Finn. Finn had just shrugged.

“No,” Ethan had ventured. “I don’t like to read. It’s hard.”

Instead of listing all the accolades of reading, Charlie had taken Ethan’s book, put it on the carpet, and slid it with her foot all the way out of the room. Ethan had watched it go with wide eyes.

“No books?” he asked, looking back and forth between Finn and Charlie.

“Nope,” she said. “Not today. Like you said, reading is hard sometimes.”

Finn had taken his place outside the door and listened as Charlie got to know his son for the next ten minutes. She’d talked to him not like a teacher or a tutor, but as a person who found another person interesting. And Ethan had responded. His son, normally so silent around strangers, had opened up to Charlie about what he liked to do and play with.

Charlie had gotten some note cards and markers out of her bag, and the next thing Finn knew, she and Ethan were making their own book. One with just three sentences. But instead of trying to make him read it, she’d had him pick five words, and they’d drawn pictures above them. Pictures that would remind Ethan what the words meant.

By the time their session was nearing its end, Ethan had been able to read the sentences with no problems. Then they’d chosen a few others and drawn pictures with those. She was teaching him to associate the sounds of words with pictures and symbols rather than the letters that confused him so much with his dyslexia.

Moreover, she was making it fun. For both, it seemed. Charlie’s smile was as big as Ethan’s. She authentically loved what she was doing.

He’d been wrong in his judgment. She was talented and passionate in her chosen field. She seemed to have no hidden agenda whatsoever. That was the first fact he had to face, and he was more than happy to, especially since it meant Ethan might be able to get the help he needed.

The second was a little more disturbing.

There was something going on with Charlie that Finn didn’t understand at all. The whole crazy incident at The Cactus Motel this morning had him studying her from the moment she’d shown up. He’d admit, he’d been looking for evidence of something bad. Drug use, maybe. Not narcotics, but she wouldn’t have been the first rich girl to get caught up in the abuse of prescription drugs.

That would almost explain why she hadn’t been able to get back to her house and ended up at the Cactus when she’d been so close. Users couldn’t always help where they crashed. And if that was the case, at least she’d had the sense to get somewhere safe—safe being a hugely relative term in this case. The things that could happen to someone like Charlie in a place like the Cactus turned his blood cold.

But she hadn’t shown any signs of drug use whatsoever while she’d been with Ethan. No decreased attention span, no problems thinking clearly. No lack of coordination. The opposite, in fact. She’d been engaging Ethan while jotting down notes for the entire hour they’d been together, splitting her focus without ever missing a beat.

And while he could admit she might have changed in the almost eight years since he’d really known her, Charlie had never been the type to use drugs. The woman had way too much internal zest for life to need any sort of chemical help.

God, he’d loved her for it.

And that was totally not where he was going to allow his thoughts to go.

So probably no drugs. He’d still put his ear to the ground for any rumors that the town’s ex-princess was shopping for illegal substances, but Finn didn’t think that was the case.

But even if she wasn’t in trouble with anything illegal, there was other stuff going on with her that he couldn’t ignore. Stuff most people wouldn’t notice at all.

Like that nice silver BMW 3 Series she’d shown up in again today. Charlotte Devereux in a BMW was nothing new. She’d had one since before her sixteenth birthday, when her father had decreed it one of the highest-rated cars for safety on the planet. She had gotten a new, updated model every couple years. Finn had always been more of a four-wheel drive man himself, but he’d been impressed with the luxury of the BMW at eighteen.

The E92 coupe she was driving now was in good shape. When he and Ethan had met her out in the parking lot, none of the clutter she’d had in her car at The Eagle’s Nest last week had been present. The stuff she’d brought out from the Cactus hadn’t been in there either.

The BMW was clean and well-kept. It was also ten years old.

A ten-year-old BMW was still a nice vehicle. It just wasn’t what a Devereux would drive.

If that was the only odd thing that caught his attention, Finn would’ve let it go. But it wasn’t.

There were also the clothes she was wearing. Again, if he just glanced at the surface, nothing was wrong. Charlie’s clothes were neat, clean, and stylish.

And not a single stitch of it was designer. Finn was no expert on designer clothes, but the same was not true for Charlotte. When she was a teenager, she and her mom had taken multiple trips to both the East and West Coasts to go shopping. Admittedly, that had been more Mrs. Devereux’s passion than Charlie’s, but Charlie had never shied away from wearing the bounty she and her mom found.

So, looking at Charlie now, seeing her wearing a blazer he happened to know came from Target, since his sister, Wavy, had been admiring it a few weeks ago, once again Finn was once again at a loss. If Charlie wanted to shop at Target, there was nothing wrong with that. She just never really had.

He wouldn’t have thought anything about it if he hadn’t been looking at the situation as a whole: old car, off-the-rack clothes, seedy motel. What the hell was going on?

“Hey, Dad, we’re done.” Ethan came running out of the room, smiling.

“How’d it go, sport?” he asked as if he hadn’t watched and listened to every single thing.

“I didn’t have to read a book.” Ethan’s face was about to split in two, he was grinning so hard. “We made our own instead with symbols. That was much more fun.”

He ruffled his son’s hair. “Making your own sounds pretty awesome.”

“And now I get to eat pie for lunch. You promised.”

At least Ethan wasn’t staring at him as if he expected Finn to go back on his word. That had been a pretty common problem when Finn had first gotten custody. Obviously, everyone tiny-Ethan had ever known had broken their word to him.

Finn would never be on that list. It was good to see that Ethan trusted him now without even thinking about it.

“You want to head on over to the Frontier? I’ll be there in just a minute after I talk to Ms. Devereux.”

“You can call her Charlie, Dad.”

Finn smothered a laugh. “Okay, I will. Tell Wavy I’ll be there in just a minute, and don’t bother Trey if he has a lot to cook. He has other things to do besides sit around and talk to you.”

His son flew out of the library as fast as his legs could carry him. Finn grimaced. He was going to hear about that from Mr. Mazille, the librarian, who was at least 130 years old and had worked there since Finn was born.

Charlie was packing the rest of her items into her faux leather tote bag as Finn entered.

The smile she gave him, so bright, open, and honest, took his breath away.

This was the Charlie he remembered. Excited and full of life and passion. This was the sort of vibrancy she’d always exuded.

And he hadn’t realized until right now it had been missing the last couple times he’d seen her. He’d been so caught up in his own anger, maybe even rightfully so, that he hadn’t realized how subdued Charlie had been.

“Finn, I think it went really well. I know you were listening in, and maybe some of my methods seemed a little odd, like throwing the book out of the room—”

He held his hand up to stop her. “Look, I learned very early in my Army career not to question methods if they get results. Hell, even if you were only doing it for the shock factor, it seemed to work.”

She shrugged. “Sometimes it’s better to just leave behind the status quo. Start with the unexpected. Part of Ethan’s problem now is not just his dyslexia or any other learning challenges, it’s his negative views of reading and his own abilities.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes, as he’s getting older he realizes he’s different from the other kids.”

“I’ll talk to Mrs. Johnson and write up my suggestions, but truly, I don’t think there’s any reason why, with a few out-of-the-box coping mechanisms and some hard work, he can’t be reading at his normal grade level by the end of the next school year.”

Finn closed his eyes, relief flooding his system. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard such good news.

Charlie stood and slipped the strap of her tote bag over her shoulder. “It doesn’t have to be me who works with him,” she added softly. “I know you were uncomfortable with me as his tutor. Honestly, anybody schooled in this methodology could work with Ethan successfully.”

“You don’t want to work with him?”

She shifted from one foot to the other, her gaze straying toward the table. “I’m just saying I understand if you want that. But,” she cleared her throat, “if you wouldn’t mind letting Mrs. Johnson know that it isn’t a professional issue you have with me, that would be helpful. Um, that sort of keeps me from getting other tutoring jobs.”

And just like that all the light and passion he’d seen on her face a few minutes ago was gone. It was replaced by something he’d never seen on Charlotte Devereux’s features before, especially not in a situation like this.

Defeat.

Even after everything, he couldn’t stand the thought.

“No,” he said. “I didn’t mean to insinuate I had any professional problems with you before. I would’ve talked to her immediately if I’d known it was keeping you from getting jobs.”

“Thanks.” She still wasn’t looking him in the eye.

“But I would like you to continue working with Ethan if you have time in your schedule. I’ve never seen him respond so well. Usually it’s like pulling teeth.”

Now she looked up. “Really? That’d be great because I have some ideas. He loves building and creating with his hands.” She rolled her eyes. “Sound like anyone you know?”

He gave her a half smile. “That’s what I’m afraid of. I was never the best student either.”

“You’re plenty smart. You were just never interested in academics. Ethan is too. As soon as we’re able to give him coping strategies to make reading easier, he’ll be fine. He may still be like you and not want to have anything to do with school, but not because it’s too difficult.”

“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that. Ethan has. . .struggled. He had difficulties early in his life.”

He didn’t want to go into the situation surrounding Ethan’s birth and first few years. Charlie had made it clear years ago he wasn’t good enough for her; that would just confirm it.

When he didn’t say more, she shifted her tote on her shoulder. “Well, I definitely think he’s got a bright future ahead of him. So, you can call Mrs. Johnson and we can schedule some sessions. I would suggest two to three times a week until school starts. Give us as big of a jump as we can get. I’ll see you later.”

He grabbed her arm before she could move any farther. Before he could think better of it. “Have lunch with us. My treat.”

God knew she looked like she could use a full meal.

He studied her closer, another piece of the puzzle joining the others. She looked like she needed a dozen full meals. She’d always been tiny, but curvy. Now she was tiny and almost. . . fragile.

“Finn.” She was preparing to say no; he could tell by her tone.

“You don’t have to eat pie for lunch if you don’t want to. That’s completely optional. You’ve got to eat, so it might as well be on my dime. I’m sure Wavy would like to see you.”

She studied his face for a long moment. He didn’t know what she was looking for. Hell, he didn’t know what he was with this invitation.

This was probably a bad idea.

Probably? Being anywhere around her was a bad idea. So why was he trying to talk her into it?

“Okay,” she breathed.

He wasn’t sure if it was relief or dread that filled him up.