Of all the things Jackson was not prepared to see after a longer-than-usual day at the office, it was his ex-wife standing behind a stove.

His stove.

He froze in the process of pulling his computer case off his shoulder and blinked, waiting for the moment of déjà vu to pass.

Nope. It was definitely Madison, dressed in jeans and a simple blue sweater, stirring something that smelled amazing.

He watched as her hips moved in time with George Strait’s “Check Yes or No,” humming softly, her pitch just slightly off in that way he’d found so endearing at one time.

For a moment Jackson let himself go back in time. To remember how it had once been—this feeling of coming home. Country music playing, a warm kitchen, and knowing that someone you loved was there to soothe away all the pain of the day.

As though sensing a gaze on her, she turned slightly, and the warmth in her familiar blue eyes nearly took his breath away.

“Hi,” she breathed.

“Hi.”

They stared at each other for several moments.

He was only vaguely aware of soft footsteps behind him, then, “Hey, Mad, before I forget—Oh. Hi, Jackson.”

Jackson tore his gaze away from his ex-wife and looked at Mollie. Dressed in cropped black yoga pants and an off-the-shoulder gray sweatshirt, blond hair in a messy knot, she looked perfectly at home.

Probably because she was home.

The present came crashing down around him. He and Madison were divorced. She’d told the world that he’d had an affair—multiple affairs.

And Mollie had believed her.

All of the anger rushed back in as he met Mollie’s blue eyes, so like her sister’s and yet entirely, uniquely Mollie’s.

“What the hell is going on here?” he asked, glancing back at Madison.

She wiped her hands nervously on her apron. “Mollie and I had dinner plans, and we thought—”

Mollie pointed warningly at her sister. “You thought.”

“I thought that it would be nice to stay in. Cook.”

“At my place,” he said flatly.

She shrugged and gave him a small smile. “You have to admit, it’s pretty hard to beat this kitchen. Shame to not use it.”

“Playing the domestic card, Maddie? Really?”

Her eyes glinted for just a moment, and he knew she was pissed that he’d seen right through her little scheme.

But he didn’t have time to deal with Madison right now. He had more important things to take care of.

He set his laptop bag on the counter, ignored Madison altogether, and headed toward his bedroom, grabbing Mollie’s biceps as he passed and dragging her with him.

“Good to see you too, roomie,” she cooed after he’d pulled her into his bedroom and slammed the door.

He ignored her sarcasm. “What is that?” he asked, pointing in the direction of the kitchen.

Mollie crossed her arms. “That would be Madison Burke, the love of your life.”

So she was trying to piss him off.

“What the fuck is she doing here?”

“Exactly what she said. Dinner. And what’s with the surprised routine? I texted you about this, precisely so we could avoid this whole soap opera scene!”

Jackson swore softly but vehemently, punching his fist into the palm of his other hand. “My phone died. I didn’t have a charger. Fuck.”

Mollie winced. Well, this is unfortunate.

“Your sister lives in fucking Houston, Mollie. Dear God, please tell me she still lives in Houston.”

“Sure,” Mollie said gently, “but she’s allowed to visit. And judging from the tension in the room when I walked in, you don’t seem to be all torn up about it.”

Jackson’s temper ignited again at being caught in a vulnerable moment—one of those rare quiet moments where he allowed himself to go back. To pretend . . .

“Get her out of here,” he muttered.

“No.”

“No?” he said, his voice lowered. He took a step closer, daring her to argue.

“I live here too,” she said, lifting her chin.

“Barely!” he shouted.

Mollie’s eyes lit with anger now as well, and she crossed her arms. “Either I live here as a roommate and am allowed to have my sister over for dinner, or I’ll find my own place.”

For some reason, the thought of her moving out—leaving him—sent a ripple of panic down his spine. It wasn’t like he needed Mollie. Hell, like he said, she’d only been here a short while, and they’d been awkward for days. But he didn’t think he could watch someone else he cared about walk out the door.

“Madison can stay for dinner,” he said slowly, reluctantly. “But swear to me this isn’t one of her manipulative schemes. That she doesn’t have some bullshit plan I’m about to walk into.”

Mollie held out her hands. “If there is a plan, she hasn’t told me about it. I’m not a part of it. Swear.”

He searched her face, then nodded. “I believe you.”

She blinked. “You do?”

“Yeah, because that’s what friends do. We believe each other,” he said, pointedly referring to their argument about his cheating scandal. He didn’t know why he couldn’t put it behind them, but damn, it ate at him.

“Don’t,” she said, her tone sharper than usual. “I’ve apologized. You have to drop it. It was a misunderstanding on Madison’s part, and it escalated, and—”

“Hold it right there,” he said, lifting a hand. “Your sister didn’t misunderstand the facts. She deliberately manipulated them to make herself look better. So that she could be the victim in the divorce.”

Mollie pressed her lips together as she thought this over. “She wouldn’t have done that. She wouldn’t have deliberately lied in all of those interviews.”

He laughed and ran a hand over the back of his neck before loosening his tie. “You really don’t know her at all, do you?”

“She’s my sister,” Mollie said quietly. “I’ve known her my whole life.”

“Look,” he said, tugging at the tie, noting that her eyes followed the gesture a little too closely. “I get that when you were young, Madison did you a solid when your parents went AWOL. But open your eyes, kid. She’s turned into a grade-A—”

Mollie was in his face in a second. “Don’t. Don’t you dare finish that sentence. Also, ‘kid’?”

They were toe to toe now, and although a tiny, rational part of Jackson’s mind registered the anger in her tone, another part of him—the man part—registered that she was correct. She was no kid. She wasn’t a young girl anymore. And with her just inches away from being pressed up against him, he was definitely aware that she was all woman. A gorgeous woman. Who, lately, had been able to light his fire just as adeptly as she could talk him down.

Shit. Is it hot in here? It suddenly feels hot in here.

His eyes dropped to her mouth, and he tried to keep his thoughts straight. Tried to remember why he was mad, why she was mad—

Mollie’s breathing quickened just a little, and he felt a surge of male satisfaction that he wasn’t the only one who seemed to suddenly be struggling to get enough air.

What the hell are you doing? This is Mollie. She’s far too young for you. And you can’t actually want—

But he did want.

Jackson couldn’t explain it, but right now he wanted nothing more than to put his hands on her. He wanted to lower his mouth, and—

There was a knock at the door.

Mollie jumped back a full foot, and Jackson bit back an oath.

“Yeah. What?”

The door opened a crack and Madison poked her head in. “Is everything okay? I just wanted to say that I can leave if you don’t want—”

She broke off, and the look of wide-eyed innocence she’d probably been perfecting in the mirror all day vanished for a split second as her gaze traveled between Mollie and Jackson.

Jackson had to give credit where it was due—though Madison’s gaze hardened briefly, almost immediately she recovered the sweet wounded-doe routine perfectly.

“I don’t want to be any trouble,” she whispered.

“Sure you don’t,” Jackson said, tossing his tie on the bed and shrugging out of his suit jacket. “I didn’t answer your phone calls, so you’ve upped your game and shown up at my fucking house. Good on you. You’ve got me. So let’s have it. What do you want, Madison?”

“I just want to talk to you,” Madison said, clasping her hands together and stepping into the room with a pleading look. “One dinner. Please.”

He closed his eyes. “If I do this—if I share a damn meal with you—then will you back off? You’ll quit with the calls, the texts . . . no more surprise drop-bys?”

She hesitated and then nodded once. “If that’s what you want . . . yeah, I’ll back off. I just need you to hear me out.”

Jackson ran a hand through his hair. A part of him wanted to tell her to get the hell out, but the other part of him remembered how much he’d once cared for her. Hell, was he no better than Mollie? Clinging too hard to a memory of a Madison that no longer existed? Had maybe never existed? And did he really want to be the asshole who couldn’t manage to sit through one dinner and hear someone out?

“Fine,” he muttered as he strode toward the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

Madison gave a quick sigh of relief before she turned on her heel and headed toward the kitchen, chattering happily about the new short rib recipe she’d perfected.

Jackson started to follow her out into the hallway, only to turn back at the last moment and glance at Mollie, who hadn’t moved.

“Coming?” he asked.

She pressed her lips together nervously before shaking her head. “I—my stomach’s bugging me a little. I think I’m going to lie down. See if it passes.”

Oh, hell no. “Molls—”

His ex-wife’s hand found his arm, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from rudely shaking her off. “She said she has a stomachache,” Madison said. “Let it go.”

Jackson ignored Madison, keeping his eyes trained on Mollie. She gave him an encouraging little smile, but it seemed forced. He searched her face, looking for any trace of the breathy, turned-on woman he’d seen before Madison’s knock had ruined the moment, but he saw only friendly familiarity. Which, once, had been enough. Once, the easiness of their relationship had been his rock. His center.

But now . . . did he now want more?

Hell.

Madison tugged more insistently on his arm. This time he did shake his ex-wife free. He was long past letting her lead him around.

He opened his mouth to say . . . what, exactly?

But then Mollie broke eye contact and he knew the moment was gone, although what the hell the moment had been, he didn’t have a fucking clue. He willed Molls to look back at him, but she refused.

Jackson shook his head and turned away.

A quick glance at the table showed that it was only set for two. Obviously Madison had planned it like this all along, and Jackson felt unbearably trapped. Not so long ago, this would have been his dream vision, but now it felt wrong. It felt all wrong.