The sound of a generator sputtering to life woke Mary Clare from a sound sleep. She rubbed her eyes and blinked a few times. The small pop-up skylight above her bunk bed in the camper came into blurry focus. A few flies dangled in a cobweb a few feet above her head. Ah, the trailer. The motocross track. The bonfire.

The kiss.

A warmth coiled low and deep, reminding her of every reason why Jesse was a bad idea.

Mary Clare pushed up on her elbow, wondering about the other man in her life. The one sleeping in the bunk below hers. Leaning over the edge, she frowned at the empty bed. Where was Henry? His sheets were in a ball in the center of the bed. His favorite stuffed puppy, the one he normally tucked under his nose, was abandoned on his pillow. Her heart expanded.

Man, she loved that kid.

She squinted at the clock on the microwave but couldn’t quite read the glowing red numbers from here. Henry was probably outside wolfing down a bowl of cereal with his cousins. She should really get out there and help her sister-in-law but her head was pounding. Undoubtedly she’d had a few too many beers, unwilling to let the night end with Jesse. Sitting there with a beer in her hand had seemed an innocent way to stay up half the night chatting by the bonfire. Sharing kisses.

Flopping back onto her bed, she pressed her palm to her forehead. The memory of Jesse’s hot mouth on her own sent a new thrill coursing through her. What had she been thinking? The last thing she needed to do was have her life entangled with Jesse’s.

She had a kid.

She had responsibilities.

She…

Live in the moment. His words came back to haunt her. This wasn’t the beginning of a relationship. A complication. This was two consenting adults enjoying a nice long kiss—there were those butterflies again!—by the campfire. Nothing more. Jesse had assured her of that. The words that had meant to ease her worried mind last night now made her a little sad. But how could things be any different?

The door of the trailer opened, letting in a stream of sunshine and spotlighting a million little floating fuzzers, snapping Mary Clare out of her head. She had a way of overanalyzing everything.

“Everyone decent in here?” Jesse called from the doorway, stopping before coming all the way in. When she didn’t answer he said, “Are you dressed? I have coffee.”

Frantically she combed her fingers through her bedhead hair, wondering if she could disappear into a hole. Or perhaps squeeze through the narrow skylight. She dragged her index finger quickly under each eye. Since she didn’t wash her face last night, she probably looked like a raccoon with her mascara smeared under her eyes.

“Um, yeah.” Mary Clare sat up and bumped her head on the low ceiling. “Ow.” She rubbed her head vigorously with one hand and clutched her Rugrats sheet to her chest with the other. She wasn’t sure why, considering she was wearing a T-shirt.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” A corner of Jesse’s mouth quirked, apparently amused she had slept on the top bunk like some kid at summer camp. Funny, because she felt about fourteen right now.

“Turn around.” She held the sheet up, partially covering her face.

Jesse furrowed his brow. “Okay.” He did as she instructed, his T-shirt stretching across his broad shoulders as he set the carrying tray with coffee on the counter. Heaven help her, she would love to run her hands over his strong back, down his… She mentally shook her head. He’d never think of her romantically again after he saw her with bedhead and sleep in the corners of her eyes.

“Can I turn back around yet?” She heard the smile in his voice, and if he had been closer, she would have thumped him in the back of the head.

“No, hold on.” Mary Clare peeled back the sheet and kicked her feet free. She twisted her body and felt for the ladder with her toe. She found it and cautiously planted her foot on the top rung. Once she was certain she wasn’t going to go plummeting to the floor, she climbed down the rest of the way quickly.

She wished she’d had time to brush her teeth and clean up a bit before facing everyone this morning. Well, before facing Jesse. Such was the life of camping. She grabbed her hoodie from the bench and slipped it on. At the very least, she needed another layer to face him first thing in the morning without her bra on.

Yanking up the zipper on the jacket, she said, “Okay.”

Jesse turned around, a dark brow lifting a fraction in assessment. With heat flooding her cheeks, she wanted to flip up the hood and disappear.

Jesse tugged a coffee cup from the holder. “I wasn’t sure how you liked yours. I got a bunch of sugars and creams.” Her eyes drifted to the pile of extras in the center of the tan corrugated drink tray. He peeled back the corner of his coffee lid and took a sip. “Me, I like it black.”

“You ran into town for coffee?”

“Of course.”

“I could kiss you,” Mary Clare said breezily, before realizing what she had said. Inwardly she rolled her eyes as she brushed past him and opened the small fridge. She pulled out her peppermint mocha coffee creamer. She held it up and smiled, careful not to breathe on him. She didn’t want to destroy whatever dignity she still had intact by knocking him out with her morning breath. She poured in the creamer, then slipped onto the bench behind a narrow kitchen table and took a long drink of the coffee. “This is good. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He looked at her above his coffee cup, the intensity of his gaze making her blush. “How are you this morning?”

“Tired. Someone kept me up late.” She stared down at her coffee, watching the liquid bounce as Jesse closed the distance between them. He sat next to her on the bench. His hair was slightly damp and he smelled of soap and aloe, a scent she was beginning to associate with him. He had obviously showered and she was mentally berating her sister-in-law who had convinced her that it wasn’t necessary to shower at the track. Wrong. Amanda had said she could throw on fresh clothes and shower tonight when they got back home. But that was hours from now. Ugh. She twirled a finger around a strand of hair, starting to doubt her hygiene plan.

“So, are you going to try to live in the moment?” Jesse cocked his head and stared at her.

She laughed to herself. At times, like now when she was obsessing over a shower, she was completely in the moment. Utterly and miserably in the moment. But that wasn’t what he meant. Considering his question, she took another sip of the coffee, enjoying the touch of peppermint mocha. “It’s hard to change.”

“Did you enjoy sitting by the bonfire?”

“It was nice. You did make me forget my worries for a little bit.” She traced the rim of her coffee cup with her finger.

“Let me take you out for dinner sometime soon. Let you forget your worries again.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t want Henry to get the wrong idea.” Her stomach twisted as she struggled with the very real conflict: to see a man she was genuinely attracted to versus making sure her son wasn’t hurt when another man disappeared from his life.

“It’s just dinner.”

“But…”

Jesse held out his hands. “You’ve been spending your whole life overanalyzing your decisions. As Dr. Phil would say, ‘How’s that working out for you?’”

She smiled. “You watch Dr. Phil?” she asked, finally getting the words out.

“My dad likes to watch it.”

His wide smile told her he felt no shame in that. “You really are a good guy.”

He arched a brow. “Because I sit through Dr. Phil for my dad?”

She rested her chin on the palm of her hand. “And other reasons.”

He set his coffee down. “Come on, live in the moment.”

“We’re not kids. I have a kid.” Even as she protested, a tangle of excitement coiled in her belly. She didn’t know how to throw caution to the wind. She couldn’t do this, could she? “No, it would send the wrong message.”

He shook his head. “Henry knows you have plans to go home when the summer is over. He’s a smart boy. He knows I’m friends with his uncle. Why can’t we be friends, too?” He trailed a finger across the back of her hand, leaving tingles in its wake. He leaned in close and whispered, “We can plan our dates when he’s having a sleepover at his cousins’. No one has to know. He won’t get the wrong idea. It’ll be our secret.”

“It went from dinner now to dates?” She kept her gaze steadfast, thoroughly enjoying the flirting.

Jesse shook his head, clearly amused at her expense. “I’ll take a dinner. Start easy.”

“Sneak out?” She planted her elbow on the table. Fun—what a novel concept.

“If you want.” A dangerous smile curved his lips.

“I never did that when I was a teenager. I was such a good girl.”

He slid out from the tight bench and stood. He planted his palms on the table, hovering over her. She looked up at his Adam’s apple. “Maybe it’s time you changed.”

* * *

On the way home from the track, Mary Clare glanced into her rearview mirror and squinted against the bright headlights on the vehicle behind her. She adjusted the mirror and studied Henry. His head dipped to the side, his seatbelt the only thing keeping him from tipping over in his seat. Saliva glistened in the corner of his mouth. Henry had a great time riding and hanging out with his cousins. He had never been happier.

And if Mary Clare was being honest, she hadn’t been this happy in a long time either, despite all the uncertainty.

Jesse had played an integral role in that. For both of them. He had been the one to teach Henry how to ride a bike. To teach her how to let go a little.

A long-festering hurt nudged her. Why couldn’t Chip have been attentive as a father…as a husband? She mentally shook her head. She had to get past this. It had been a year since the separation and she still let Chip get under her skin. She’d have to let things go like Jesse suggested. Forever, Chip would be Henry’s father. Forever, he’d be part of her life. She couldn’t let him to continue to frustrate her.

As she turned up her mother’s driveway, the headlights swept across the For Sale sign planted in the center of the yard. All the air whooshed from her lungs. Other people moved away. Her family didn’t.

Mary Clare’s gaze drifted across the wide porch of her childhood home. How many hours had she hung out there, reading a book? She had been in such a hurry to grow up. To get out of Mills Crossing. Now she was feeling sad because her mother planned to sell.

It would probably take a while to sell the house, she reassured herself. Long after she got Henry settled back in Buffalo. Something about that made her feel sad, too. When she and Henry came back to visit her brother’s house, they’d find other people living in this house with the large maple in front and the mud-caked attic window, the only window her mother couldn’t reach when it came to spring cleaning.

Mary Clare opened the car door. The dome light flicked on. Henry’s eyelids fluttered, but didn’t open. She gently nudged his shoulder. She had no idea how she’d carry him into the house. This was one of those times she wished she had a man around. Leaning across her little man, she unbuckled his seat belt.

“Henry.” She kept her arm in front of him to prevent him from tumbling out of the car. “Henry, we’re home.”

He struggled to open his eyelids. A line of dirt in the outline of his goggles marred his face. He really needed a good bath. She ran her hand across his sweaty head.

“Henry, come on. You’re too big for Momma to carry. You can climb right up the stairs to bed.”

Henry sat up sleepily and yawned. His head dipped back then snapped back up. He blinked slowly. “No shower?”

She ruffled his hair. “Nah. You can take one in the morning.” And then she’d throw his sheets in the wash.

Slowly he climbed out of the SUV, his eyelids drooping. She guided him by the small of the back. When they reached the door, he slipped his hand into hers. She opened the door for him and he slowed and looked up at her with his bright blue eyes. “I had tons of fun, Mom. Thank you.”

Her heart expanded. She didn’t think she could possibly love someone more than she loved her son. His shoulder bumped along the wall as he climbed the stairs. She stayed one step behind him, holding out her hands to catch him if he stumbled in his sleepy state. After a quick detour to the bathroom, he stripped out of his clothes, leaving them where they dropped, and he climbed into bed. His head hit the pillow and his eyes drifted closed.

Mary Clare pulled the covers up to his chin and patted his chest. “Night. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” came his sleepy reply.

Mary Clare strolled downstairs and found her mother dozing in front of the television. She knew better than to wake her up. Some nights, her mother slept on the couch. She’d never done that when Mary Clare’s dad was around. Planting her hand on the bottom banister, Mary Clare spun around it and climbed the stairs. She couldn’t wait to jump into the shower.

She grabbed her silk PJs and headed into the bathroom. She undressed, pulled her cell phone out of her jeans pocket and tossed it on the bathroom counter. She reached behind the shower curtain and turned on the hot water. She let out a long sigh and stepped under the stream.

Allowing the water to pour over her head, she reran the conversation she’d had with Jesse. Could she really let her hair down? Stop being responsible for every little thing, even if only for the summer? She squeezed a quarter-sized amount of shampoo into her hand. Then squeezed a little bit more.

See? She didn’t have to follow the rules.

Lathering her hair until it grew sudsy, she wondered not for the first time how she had ended up here. This wasn’t supposed to be her. She was supposed to have the big house, the fancy car, the important husband. But was that really what she wanted? What would make her happy?

Mary Clare didn’t know anymore.

Tears and shampoo ran down her cheeks. For the first time since returning to Mills Crossing, she allowed herself to cry. Really cry.

All-dramatic-like-on-a-reality-show cry.

The water turned a touch cool and she twisted the handle, shutting off the flow. She ran a hand over her wet hair, grabbed the ends and dragged the water out. Enough. She was done feeling sorry for herself. She was going to do something about it. Take control.

She towel-dried her hair and wrapped the towel around her body. The cell phone on the bathroom vanity began to vibrate. She squinted at the display. Jesse’s name popped up. Her heart stuttered and goose bumps peppered her damp skin. She slid her finger across the display. “Hello?” It sounded more like a question than a greeting.

“Hey there.” His deep voice vibrated across the line.

“Hey.” Her heartbeat ratcheted up a notch, making it hard to hear over the bathroom fan. She flipped the off switch to the fan and clutched her bath towel closer to her chest.

“Want to go for a drive?” She heard the smile in his voice.

“When?” She leaned forward and used her fist to clear the fog from the mirror. Her eyes were red from her crying jag in the shower.

Not now, not now, not now.

“How about now?” Jesse said. She could almost see him running his hand through his hair, leaving it slightly disheveled.

“Now?” She looked down at her towel. Up at her messy, wet hair.

“Where are you?”

“I…uh…”

“Look out the window.”

“Which window?” She opened the bathroom door and the cool air in the hallway hit her skin. She stifled a little shudder.

“Your bedroom.”

“Okay.” Without stepping into her brightly lit bedroom, she reached around the corner and extinguished the light. A soft light filtered in from the streetlamp. Hugging the wall, she peered out the window. Jesse stood on the lawn, his hands in his front pockets. He looked both sexy and vulnerable at the same time. Something in her heart shifted.

Everything about him screamed nice guy, not the bad boy her brother had befriended in high school. How could she have pegged him so wrong?

Jesse turned and looked up at the window. “Are you there?”

“Yeah,” she said into the phone.

“I can’t see you. Are you hiding?” She could hear his voice both through the cell phone and the screen window.

She glanced down, making sure she was covered. “I’m not decent. I just got out of the shower.”

“Perfect timing, then. Throw some clothes on and get down here.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

She got down on her knees and peered over the window ledge. She felt more than a little foolish.

“I can’t leave Henry.” She watched Jesse pace on the grass near the sidewalk.

“Your mother’s home.” He tented his hand over his eyes and peered in her direction. “Am I right?”

“Yeah—” She hunkered down a little bit farther. “But my mom’s sleeping.”

Bright light blinded her. Mary Clare let out a loud squeal and dove onto the floor, clutching at her towel. Her mother stood in the doorway, her fist on her hip. “What are you doing?” She marched over to the window. “And why is Jesse standing on our front lawn?”

Mary Clare pressed her back to the wall next to the window and pushed to her feet. She swiped her wet bangs from her face and leaned over to see where Jesse was. Still on the lawn.

“He wants me to go for a drive with him,” she whispered.

Her mother seemed to consider this for a moment. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“It’s a drive, Mother.” Already the excitement of the moment was ebbing away.

“Your father always said that you’re a reflection of those you hang out with.” Her mother leveled a steely gaze at her.

“Are you suggesting Jesse’s not shiny enough?”

Her mother’s shoulders sagged. She held out her hand in the direction of Jesse. “He still drives the same beat-up old car. The last thing you need is to jump out of the frying pan into the fire. If you think Chip has money problems—”

“It’s just a drive,” Mary Clare repeated, growing angry. “Will you be here for Henry if he happens to wake up?”

“Of course I will. Where would I be going at this hour?”

“Thanks.” Hugging her towel closer, Mary Clare grabbed clothes out of her dresser, careful to avoid the window.

And prying eyes.