Rain battered the roof and lightning lit up against the darkened windows. Thunder a constant rumble in the toiling sky.

I was already rushing for the door after I’d heard the bell ring.

My jaw dropped a bit when I flung it open and found her standing there. Drenched. Chestnut darkened to mahogany.

Standing there in the rain looking like a second chance. A better day.

Four soaked paper bags were wrapped in her arms, precariously clutched to her chest like she could keep them from ripping apart and sending all the items contained inside from toppling to the ground.

“Rynna,” I finally managed when I processed she was really there, standing on my stoop. I widened the door. “Come inside before you get struck by lightning.”

She ducked past me, filling my senses with all that sweet, intensified with the soak of the rain.

Fuck. She was undoing me. Minute by minute. I let the door fall shut behind her. “Here, let me help you with that.” I took two bags from her.

“Thank you.”

“What are you doing here?” I finally asked, feeling the satisfied grin slide to my face, because I sure as shit wasn’t gonna complain.

She cast me a cautious smile. One that slammed me right in the center of the chest. Kind of the way Frankie annihilated me every time she looked at me a certain way. Though, this was different. Obviously. This was lust and want and confusion and every-fucking-thing I wanted more and more.

She hefted a shoulder. “I just thought I would do something nice for you.”

Nice.

My chuckle rumbled like a partner to the sky. “Nice, huh?”

She bit her bottom lip with a nod. “Yeah. It seems my neighbor is a little on the thoughtful side. I figured I’d return the favor. How does dinner sound? Of course, I might owe you dinner for the rest of my life.”

I dipped my head her direction, whispered at her ear, “Why’s that sound like the best damned payback I’ve ever been offered?”

She giggled and headed for my kitchen. “I see how it is. You want me when I’m baking for you.”

A growl slipped free, my eyes honing in on the slow sway of her delicious ass as I followed her. Voice lowered to keep my next words from little ears. “Oh, believe me, baby, I want you all the time. But you don’t actually think I’m going to refuse you cooking for me, do you? Especially considering I was just about to take out a frozen pizza to toss into the oven.”

Setting the bags on the counter, she looked back at me with a feigned gasp. “Blasphemy.”

I set the bags I was carrying beside them. “A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.”

Her expression went tender, and she reached up, cupping my cheek in one of those soft, soft hands. “And you should know I would consider it an honor that I get to help with that now.”

She peeked in the direction of the hall where we could hear Frankie playing, talking and squealing, living in her own blissful little world. “Is this okay? That I’m here? I don’t want to confuse her or rush you. I just . . . I wanted to spend the evening with you. With her,” she added quickly, like it might scare me away.

And fuck. Yeah. It scared me, just not the way she was probably thinking. I wanted it, I was just too scared to hope for it. But it didn’t matter, that anticipation was right there, strumming an escalating beat inside of me.

Savage and fierce. As fierce as the storm that rattled the windowpanes and drummed on the roof.

I threaded my fingers through hers, brought her knuckles to my lips. “What do you say we take it slow in front of her? Get her used to the two of us. She’s gonna have questions, and when she does, we answer them.”

She worried her lip, peeking up at me. “And what’s the right answer, Rex?”

Releasing her hand, I let my fingers glide into those silky locks of damp hair. That was all the contact I needed for my chest to tighten, for the things held within to go haywire. A disorder that was shifting into something new. I pulled her closer and set a kiss to her forehead, murmured against it, “We tell her we care about each other. Simple as that.”

Did she know that’s how I was feeling? Did she know every time I looked at her, another piece crumbled out from under me, my footing no longer my own?

I leaned down, my mouth barely brushing the edge of hers. “I want you here.” I inched even closer, the heat of her body lighting me up. “Really fucking want you here. In the end, I think that’s all that matters.”

I moved to grip her by the waist, and her breath caught as my fingers cinched around her, everything growing thick when I let my nose trace up the column of her neck.

That overpowering scent was back. Radiating from her skin. Sweet, sweet bliss. Cherry pie.

I groaned, and she exhaled, then we both froze when we heard the pound of little feet thunder down the hall.

I stepped back, putting space between us, and a rush of redness bloomed on Rynna’s neck.

Like she’d been caught.

It was so fucking cute.

Frankie skidded to a stop at the end of the hall when she saw Rynna in the kitchen. “Rynna! What’s you doin’ here?”

My daughter kicked right back into action, flying across the floor, jumping around in front of Rynna to grab her attention.

As if she didn’t already have it. Because Rynna smiled when she saw my kid. Smiled like it meant something.

A bolt of old fear struck somewhere deep in my chest. A warning that I’d crossed a line when I’d let Rynna into our lives. That I’d been begging for trouble. Taunting me with a reminder of that penalty I’d forever serve. Punishment for what I’d done. Did I think I was exempt?

Rynna knelt in front of my daughter, her expression soft, almost as soft as the way she brushed her fingers through Frankie’s wild mane of hair.

“I thought maybe you could help me make dinner. What do you think about that?”

Frankie’s eyes went wide with excitement. “Really? I gets to make dinner? Oh yes! Are we gonna make a Pepper Pie?” She threaded those tiny fists together, pressing her hands up under her chin in a plea. “Oh, please, let’s make a Pepper Pie!”

Light laughter fluttered from between Rynna’s lips. Those goddamned lust-inciting lips. I tried not to think about them wrapped around me when she tugged one of Frankie’s hands free and hooked her pinkie finger with Frankie’s tiny one. A team. “Did you think we’d make anything else? How about a shepherd’s pie and then a cherry pie?”

With that, Rynna peeked up at me. Searching for my reaction. My reaction that felt like I’d just had a fucking metal arrow speared straight in to my heart. It attached to something unseen, something buried, once thought dead, and plucked it out.

“That sounds like the best deal in the whole wide world!”

“Come on, let’s get your hands washed. We have a lot of work to do.”

Rynna sent me a wink when she picked Frankie up from under the arms, turning her attention fully on my daughter when she did. Carefully, Rynna squirted Frankie’s hands with soap and held them under warm water, rubbing and rinsing her hands together, two of them giggling at something silly Frankie said.

“Here we go . . . you sit right there.” Rynna hoisted her so she was sitting on the edge of the counter, steadying her with a hand against the belly. “Be careful, okay?”

“’kay,” Frankie promised, and Rynna went to work, pulling ingredients from the bags, talking to Frankie the whole time. “My grandma used to sit me right up on the counter when I was a little girl like you. Right up close where I could see and help.”

“Dids you like cookin’ with C’rinne?”

“I loved cooking with Corinne.” Something wistful seeped into Rynna’s tone. “I miss it so much. But it makes me happy that I get to teach you the same as she did me.”

“I likes you teachin’ me. Did you know I’m gonna be a painter? My grammy says I’m such a super good painter, like my daddy.”

Rynna glanced at me with a small smile. No doubt, my daughter was getting ready to spin into one of those conversations that jumped from topic to topic faster than a person could keep up.

“Is that so?”

“Oh yes! And I’m gonna get a puppy. I wants a puppy so bad.”

This time Rynna’s glance back at me was curious, searching, before she slowly turned back to the green beans she was running under the faucet. “You want a puppy, huh?”

“Oh yes. Oh yes, yes, yes.”

I sighed, trying not to show any frustration that was focused solely on myself. “Told you it’s not a good idea right now, Frankie Leigh.”

She started to pout, and Rynna was quick to hand her a bottle of cream and a measuring cup. “Do you think you could fill that up to that line for me?” she asked, running her finger along the one-cup indicator. She purposely redirected my kid like a pro.

“There you go,” she encouraged as Frankie carefully poured the cream into the bowl, and Rynna placed the bowl on Frankie’s lap. She took her hand and showed her how to whip up the mixture before she was back to rinsing something else. It was kind of amazing how the girl juggled three different recipes at the same time. Second nature. Right back to that graceful ease she’d shown me back at her place five nights ago.

I leaned against the far counter with my arms crossed over my chest.

Watching them.

Trying to keep that feeling reined. Trying not to get too far ahead of myself.

But I could feel it. Everything barreling that direction when I listened to the way Rynna spoke softly with my daughter. She gave her instructions, let her help, laughed as Frankie made mess after mess. The entire time, she was completely patient with a child I was well aware required a lot of patience. Rynna’s tolerance never slipped, and I swore, it wasn’t faked.

Swore she wasn’t putting on a show.

Swore this wasn’t some kind of pretense.

And fuck, it was terrifying.

As terrifying as it was perfect.

Because I wanted it.

I wanted her.

An hour later, the three of us were sitting around the table, sharing dinner, the best fucking shepherd’s pie I’d ever eaten.

I told both of them, too.

Frankie grinned, gave Rynna a high five.

“We dids it, Rynna,” she said, my kid so damned happy.

Maybe as happy as I was.

Maybe, just maybe, this was where we were meant to be.

That for once in my life, I’d been granted reprieve.

* * *

She slipped out the door with a peck and a reluctant goodbye.

I couldn’t stop myself, I bolted right after her, snatching her around the wrist, unable to let her go. My kiss a demand as I pushed her against the outside wall. She whimpered, hands on my face, mine on her hips.

“I really should go,” she whispered.

“I know . . . but I don’t know how to let you.” I hoisted her up, those legs around my waist. She rubbed against my jeans, her pussy a tease. My dick pressed at the fabric, desperate for release. “Fuck, Rynna. What are you doing to me? Making me lose my mind. Have no control when you get in the room.”

She nipped at my mouth, kissing me, rocking against my cock. “The only thing I know is how desperately I want you. How desperately I want this.”

“What is it you want?” I barely managed. Groaning deep, I strained harder against her, wondering just how horrible of a parent I’d be if I stripped her right there and fucked her against the wall.

“This. You. Us. Frankie.”

At her confession, I froze, my heart going stone in the center of my chest before it started thudding. Thudding with possibility.

I pulled back to search her eyes through the darkness. The air was bogged down with humidity, the residual of the storm a wet mist coating our heated skin.

She stared back.

No reservations.

No fear.

Just blatant, unblemished hope. A beacon calling me out of the storm.

“I . . .” All the bullshit that still haunted my life stalled my words, the promise I wanted to give her freezing on my tongue. Because the last thing I wanted was to do her wrong.

Hurt flashed through her expression before it filled with soft understanding. Because that was just the way this girl was—flush with grace. Too good to be real. She edged back a fraction to search my face. Reluctantly, I released her, helping her slide down onto her feet.

I stood there, a shadow blocking all that light.

She tilted her head, her hand on the side of my face. “Do you still love her?”

My chest grew so damned tight I was sure it was going to explode.

“Your ex-wife?” she pressed.

That was the problem. Her hunch was off base. Thrown in the wrong direction. But when it came down to it, Frankie’s mother was the problem. That stupid fucking loyalty I’d clung to for far too long.

It lashed at me, a scourge of regret.

“Fuck, Rynna,” I whispered harshly, the ground swept right out from under me. “I—” I averted my gaze to the wooden planks, struggling to find the correct answer to her question. Because she deserved to know, and still, I didn’t know how to tell her.

Warily, I shifted my attention back to her and plucked out the only honesty I could find. “When it comes to Frankie’s mom? The only emotion I can process is hate.” I blinked, swallowing hard. My insides burned. Flames. Unrelenting hell. “But then I wonder if I have the right to hate her. Not when I was the one who drove her away.”

“She left you. She left Frankie. I don’t know the circumstances. But for that alone? I hate her. I hate her for the simple fact that she could possibly walk away from you two. If I had been given a gift like that, I wouldn’t ever have let it go.”

A soft puff of air escaped my throat, and I wound an arm around her waist and pulled her against me. I pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Rynna.”

Rynna.

Fucking Rynna.

Little Thief.

Trying to steal my heart.

* * *

Frankie squealed, clapping her hands as she dropped to her knees on our front porch. The tiny puppy scuttled toward her, jumping up on her chest, licking her face. “Daddy! Daddy! It’s a puppy. Look. It’s a puppy. It’s the cutest puppy in the whole wide world.”

She hugged the wiggling body against her probably a little too tightly, but the little ball of fur just went wilder, clawing up her chest to get closer to her face so he could lick her like he’d found his long lost best friend.

Unfortunately, Frankie was under the impression she’d found hers.

Shrieks of laughter rang in the air. “Daddy! He’s kissin’ me. He’s kissin’ me. I fink he loves me.”

The sight of it sent a rock sinking straight to the pit of my stomach.

My gaze cut to Rynna, who was standing there watching the two of them with an affected smile on her face. Her eyes were full of an emotion I wasn’t sure I was ready to recognize.

A lump formed in my throat. Heavy. As heavy as that rock that sat in the pit of my stomach. It only grew when Rynna edged forward and knelt in front of Frankie. Then she reached out and gently ran her hand over the puppy’s head, her gaze growing even softer as she looked at my daughter.

“He’s a golden retriever. What do you think we should name him?” she asked.

“How’s about Milo? Milo’s my friend at school who’s a boy and he’s so nice and this puppy is a boy so I finks we should name him Milo because he’s nice, too.”

Rynna didn’t even skip a beat at the ramble that fell from Frankie’s mouth. She just let her smile grow, glancing down at the puppy. He was currently on his hind legs thinking he could jump his way onto Rynna’s lap. “He is a nice boy, isn’t he?” she cooed, letting the puppy lick her face. “Milo it is, then.”

“Milo! I love Milo! I love Milo. Can I take him for a walk? Do you gots a leash?”

And the two of them? They disappeared, trotted alongside the road, Frankie screeching her joy, Rynna right there in case the puppy tugged hard enough to get loose.

Thirty minutes later, I watched as Frankie ran with the puppy nipping along at her heels through Rynna’s front door. Rynna stood on the same deck that had changed everything, hugging her arms across her chest and biting at her lip as she watched the two of them bound inside.

I’d held back, standing against the railing, unable to process what was going on inside me.

I edged up behind her. I could feel it. The chill that skated her spine, the way she shook as I released a breath against her ear. A few strands of chestnut rustled with the air and tickled my lips. “A dog, huh?” I whispered.

There was a swift intake of breath before she cautiously turned around to face me. “I . . .” She glanced back at the house. “I’m living here alone, and I thought I could use a friend. It gets lonely at night.”

She turned around to face me fully. Bewilderment twitched along her brow. “Do you not like dogs?”

A vice of grief wrenched up my insides. I was right. Ever since Rynna Dayne had come into my life, every old wound had been unbound, released from its confines, spinning and taunting me where they danced right under my nose.

“Of course I like dogs.” Could barely force it out through the hardness that ridged my lips.

Longing twisted through her features when she glanced back at the door, looking back at me like she was begging for me to understand. “I know you and I are new. But Frankie . . . I saw that puppy and the only thing I could think about was her. About how excited she would be. I . . . I wanted to give her something she didn’t have.” Rapidly she blinked, and tears threatened at her eyes. “I wanted her to love something that’s a part of me. Are you mad?”

I couldn’t hold back anymore. I jerked her against me. “Fuck, Rynna. Of course I’m not mad.”

I hugged her tight. Kissed the crown of her head. Wishing I could explain how it brought back memories I didn’t know how to deal with.

I was numb as I stood by the side of the road, staring blankly as the taillights disappeared in the distance. I tried to blink through the squiggle of red, neon lines that lit up against my bleary vision. It was like looking at the sun and then closing your eyes. Or maybe I just wished they were closed. But they were open wide, my gaze sucked down.

Down.

Down.

Missy dead at my feet.

I gulped around the vision, bile in my throat, agony in my chest.

Mrs. Dayne was there, her hand on my forearm. “Don’t worry. I’ve got her. You do what you’ve got to do.”

She picked up Frankie where she was laying on the gravel, face-down, barely able to process what was happening through the daze that clouded my mind. My daughter’s cries. Taillights.

What had I done?

What had I done?

A shovel.

Dirt.

Sweat on my nape.

I struggled for a breath, that numbness fracturing when I picked Missy up and carried her to the hole. I laid her in it.

I squinted, trying to see through the haze.

A shovelful of dirt.

Another.

A mound of nothing.

My girl. My wife. Gone.

They always were.

* * *

“You wants to be my bestest friend?” Frankie’s small voice slipped through the thin wall, muted just the same as the light. Rynna’s echoed back, so goddamned soft it penetrated to the depths of me.

“You want me to be your best friend?”

There was no answer, but my mind was conjuring a clear picture of Frankie vigorously nodding her head against her pillow. Could picture Rynna where she knelt on the ground beside her bed where she’d been reading my daughter her bedtime story.

Of course, because Frankie had again insisted.

“I’d like that,” Rynna murmured, and there was shuffling, what I knew was a tender kiss.

My heart fisted. There was a special kind of terror when things felt too right. Too good. That lulling calm before your life was demolished by a devastating storm.

“Good night, Sweet Pea,” Rynna said.

My ear was tuned to the movement in Frankie’s room as Rynna stood and flipped off the light. Her presence grew denser with each step. Could feel it swallow me from behind when she emerged at the end of the hall.

An avalanche of need.

A landslide of desire.

She edged around the couch. Since Frankie was safely tucked away in bed, Rynna curled up at my side. We were still being careful, easing Frankie into the idea of Rynna and me.

I wound an arm around her, pressed a kiss to her temple.

Milo yipped, and Rynna cooed, pulling him into her arms. She settled back into my chest and released a contented breath.

A breath that filtered through me like peace.

Like warmth and light.

Milo nudged my hand, and a restless sigh pressed between my lips when I looked down to find those huge brown puppy eyes staring up at me. He whimpered again, his snout damp, prodding at me. Relenting, I ran my hand over the soft, soft fur of his head.

My chest tightened and I felt another piece of me break.

God damn it.

Rynna snuggled closer. God damn it straight to hell.

Rynna.

Fucking Rynna.

Little Thief.