What the hell was he doing? Dalton popped the cap off another beer and stared across the lake to the cabin next door to his. Shadows in her window caught his attention.

“What’s she like?” Cannon asked.

“She’s nice.” He took a deep drink and savored the bubbling burn as it moved down his throat. She was nice. Nice to look at. Nice to be with. Nice to talk to. Nice to kiss.

“Is this already a thing between you two?” Bowie pulled up a chair and sat next to Dalton.

It seemed funny they were sitting on a sheet of ice in the middle of a lake, but that’s where they were. How crazy was it that he left a woman happy to share her warm cabin—and most likely her bed—for the company of two dudes, a six-pack of beer, and a case of frostbite?

“Are we a thing? I don’t even know what that is. Do I like her? Yes. Is it going to get serious? No. She’s leaving.” His voice sank on the last word.

“You say that like it bothers you.” Cannon tossed a piece of cardboard onto the ice and sat on top of it. “She says she’s leaving, but so did Sage. That woman had nothing but an exit plan when she arrived. Maybe you can change Samantha’s mind.”

“You’re forgetting the details. Sage was unemployed. Samantha owns a PR company or runs it or works there. I don’t know exactly. All I know, is her life isn’t here in Aspen Cove.”

“You kiss her?” Now it was Bowie’s turn to ask the stupid questions.

“What am I, fifteen? I don’t need a year to get to first base.” He’d rushed straight for first, but held off stealing second and beyond.

The brothers looked at each other. “I guess that’s a yes,” Cannon said. “Since you’re our brother and all, we’re looking out for you.”

He cut them a sharp look that dared them to argue. “Like you did for each other? No, thanks. One of you went from monk to married. And you,” he pointed to Cannon, “are running to catch up.”

“Don’t knock it until you try it,” Bowie answered.

“Not happening.” He’d given it a lot of thought over the last year. He’d seen the faces of the women who heard about his past. One moment they were sharing a beer, the next he watched their taillights fade into the distance, never to be heard from again. “Marriage. It’s not for everyone.” Newlyweds surrounded Dalton. Like a bad case of the flu, no one in Aspen Cove seemed to be immune. “Can’t believe my mom ran to the altar again. I never thought that would happen—and not with Ben. Your dad is great, but he has an ugly temper.”

Cannon laughed and then slapped his hand over his mouth. “He only has an ugly temper when he drinks, which he no longer does. He’s never hit a woman until Sage, and that was an accident.”

Dalton cringed at the memory of that day when both Cannon and Sage showed up to Bea’s funeral sporting black eyes. “Still, most people don’t forgive and forget, but my mom did.” He hoped he could get there someday. He craved the day when he could look at any person and see the good in them without trying to figure out their angle first. He wanted a day to come when people could see him for who he was, not the crime he committed.

Bowie nodded his head while an “Ahh …” left his mouth. “Samantha doesn’t know about your incarceration.”

“No, and I’m not telling her. If she were staying, it would be a different matter, but she’s not. It’s not like I’m Charles Manson and get off on killing people. It was a one-time event.” He considered Lucy’s advice and spoke it out loud. “I’m not going to strip down and blurt out I have herpes.”

Bowie leaned back too far, and his chair tumbled, sending him to the ice. He scrambled up. “You what? Who the hell gave you herpes?”

Dalton let out a growl that could frighten a bear. “I don’t have herpes. It’s a figure of speech.” He explained the conversation he had with his parole officer.

Cannon shook his head from side to side the whole time. “I definitely would not use that one again. If I were a girl, I’d much rather you be a felon than have an STD.”

Bowie grabbed another beer. “I don’t know. Take the proper precautions, and it’s no big deal.”

“So is this where I get the brotherly talk on safe sex?” Dalton finished his beer and tossed it into the plastic bag they’d set out for trash. “You know I’m older than you, right?”

Bowie handed him another. “You’ve got me by a month.”

“Still makes me older.” He lit the stove they’d set up to cook hot dogs. It wasn’t more than a Sterno can on a stand, but it worked. He glanced back to the shore and wondered what Samantha was up to. What was she doing? What was she eating? Most likely sitting in front of her big screen TV, eating fruit and chocolate, since that was what filled the bulk of her cart.

“As for safe sex … no glove, no love, brother,” Cannon said with a chuckle.

“Am I going to regret coming fishing?” He popped the top on his beer and listened to the hissing carbonation escape.

They both shrugged and said, “Probably,” in unison.

This was the first year in many that any of them had been ice fishing. Dalton’s time in prison and the accident that killed Bowie and Cannon’s mom and Bowie’s fiancée had stalled their lives for years.

At yesterday’s bonfire, they decided they had to do it now since the days were getting warmer and the ice would melt soon. They’d already wasted so much time.

Before they settled on a place, they drilled through the ice to make sure they wouldn’t end up wet by morning. The cove was always the last place to melt since it sat on the shady side of the lake, surrounded by walls of granite and aspen trees.

“Is it weird?” Dalton turned to Bowie.

“Is what weird?”

In the fading light, he could see Bowie’s scowl. He knew that Bowie couldn’t hear his thoughts, but Dalton wondered about lots of things. He’d been curious about Katie, her wealth, her heart, and their life together. Most of all, he wondered what it felt like to be a dad.

“Being a dad.”

The scowl turned into a smile. “Oh man, you have no idea what it’s like to look at a tiny human being and know she’s half you.”

Cannon slapped Bowie’s knee. “The bad half. Sad for you because babies have a no return policy. Good thing she’s half Katie, or Sahara would be in trouble.”

They took a package of hot dogs from the cooler and speared them onto sticks they’d found.

“You’re right. Everything good about Sahara comes from Katie. She’ll grow into the bad shit later when I teach her how to fight and protect herself.”

Dalton took a swig of his beer. “I’ll protect her. It’s what I do.”

They all sat in silence. “Maybe next time you can pull a different tool out of your box other than the fist of death,” Cannon said.

Dalton raised his right hand into the air. “But it’s so effective.” No one could argue with that.

How many women had cried over the death of Andy Kranz? How many let out a sigh of relief? How many wouldn’t have to find out something sinister lay under his smile because Dalton had killed him?

Bowie rotated his hot dog over the fire and glanced toward the shore.

Dalton could tell a part of him wanted to race across the lake to get back home to Katie and his daughter.

Bowie sat up tall. “You know what I can’t wait for?” He reached for a bun to cradle his charred dog. “I can’t wait to hear her first laugh.” He took a bite.

“Will that be soon?” Dalton knew nothing about babies. He knew they ate and pooped and slept. That was the extent of his knowledge.

“The book says it happens around three months. We’ll see.”

Dalton sat forward and took his dog from the flame. It was perfect, not charred like Bowie’s, or undercooked like Cannon’s. His was hot, sweating, and juicy.

“They come with a manual? When did that happen?” He squeezed a line of mustard on each side of the meat and took a bite. A good hot dog was almost as satisfying as a good kiss. Almost. He stared back to Samantha’s cabin. I’m such an idiot.

“They have this book called What To Expect The First Year.”

“Sounds like a riveting read.” Dalton continued to stare across the lake.

Cannon kicked at Bowie. “This asshole read the first tome too. It’s called What To Expect When You’re Expecting. I opened it up and took a peek. Made me want to tuck my Johnson away forever.”

Bowie eyed Cannon with a marksman stare. “You’re next, unless big brother over here knocks up number seven.”

Dalton choked on his food. “Number seven? I’ve never hit the target. No babies under my belt.”

Cannon impaled another hot dog onto a stick and let it sit on the flame. It took time for the small fire to cook, but building a blaze on ice wasn’t recommended. “I wouldn’t put can’t hit the target on your resume either. He was talking about her address. Samantha lives at 7 Lake Circle.”

“No, don’t reduce her to a number. She’s Samantha White.” If she were getting a nickname, he’d be the one to give it to her.

“Hard to believe she used to live here.” Cannon kicked back and lay on the ice facing the darkening sky. Thousands of stars flickered above them. The moon cast a glow across the white surface. A beacon leading to her door.

“I remember her mom,” Bowie said. “She was a classic battered woman. I came up behind her in the Corner Store, and she knocked over three displays trying to distance herself from me. I didn’t recognize it then, but in hindsight I see it now. I was big, and she was scared.”

Anger coiled inside Dalton. He knew that kind of fear. He’d lived it. His mom had lived it. Now he knew Samantha had lived it. She was more than the little girl from Aspen Cove who did well. She was a survivor. She was strong. He was weak because he wouldn’t survive another minute without her kiss.