Crystal doffed her coat and hung it on the hook on the side of the booth before sliding into the seat at The Arch and Vine in downtown Ribbon Ridge. “Sorry, I’m late. I got stuck in traffic coming from Newberg.”

Alaina, who was next to her on the bench, turned her head. “What were you doing there?”

“I needed to get a prescription filled, Miss Nosy, and that’s the closest Walgreen’s.” She blew a kiss at her bestie and looked over at Kelsey and Brooke on the other side of the booth. “What’d I miss?”

Brooke tucked her blonde hair behind her ear. “Not much. We were just speculating on what might’ve happened with Jamie after we left on New Year’s Eve.”

The server, a young guy with a pierced eyebrow and several tattoos and a wicked sense of humor, brought a pitcher with three glasses plus a sparkling water for Alaina.

“Thanks, Duke,” Alaina said, looking wistfully at the hard cider she couldn’t drink since she was pregnant.

“I’ve got buffalo tots on the way. You gals ready to order?” he asked.

They all put in their orders while Crystal poured the cider, then Duke left.

Alaina sipped her sparkling water and looked askance at Crystal. “So what did I miss on New Year’s Eve? You stayed there with Jamie Westcott?”

Crystal’s insides instantly heated and twisted as she sought to keep those lurid memories at bay lest she reveal anything. She shrugged, hoping her expression was as cool and aloof as she intended. “We hung out for a bit.”

Kelsey and Brooke both stared at her as if they didn’t buy it. Shit.

“What she’s leaving out,” Brooke said, “is that we all played pool—with Sean and Tori. Crystal kicked everyone’s ass.”

“With The Humiliator, no less,” Kelsey interjected.

Alaina’s brows rose. “Wow.”

Crystal pressed her lips together, still feeling protective about her new pool cue. “His name is Hugh now.”

Alaina’s eyes lit with mirth. “I see,” she murmured.

“It was awesome,” Brooke said, smiling. “Anyway, there seemed to be this undercurrent between her and Jamie.”

Hell’s bells. Crystal searched for a decent excuse. Or defense. Or whatever. “That’s just because we were the only single people there.”

“That’s true,” Kelsey said.

Alaina waved her hand. “Eh, Crystal’s at a lot of parties with a lot of single people, and I don’t necessarily get a vibe. Were they flirting?”

“Seemed like it,” Brooke said. She smiled at Crystal, but it faded as she perhaps realized Crystal didn’t look enthused about this conversation.

For crying out loud, if she acted like this was a problem, Alaina would just read more into it. “We probably did flirt a bit,” Crystal said. “Like I said, we were the only single people there, and we were drinking.” She summoned a smile and a little laugh for good measure.

“Speak of the devil,” Alaina said, nodding toward the door. “Look who just came in.”

Crystal darted her gaze in that direction as both Brooke and Kelsey turned their heads.

Jamie walked toward the bar and exchanged words with George, the bartender. He wore a dark wool peacoat, which he shrugged out of and hung on a hook on the corner of the bar before taking a stool at the bar. A burgundy V-neck sweater hugged his shoulders and reminded Crystal of his amazing biceps. Had she really looked for a measuring tape the other night so that she could find their circumference?

She jerked her attention away from him before she exposed what had really happened. Which was stupid. Her friends would never be able to glean the reality from her facial expression, even if she drooled while looking at him.

And if she thought about that night, about him, for too long, that just might happen.

Luckily, she had just the subject to distract all of them for a good while. After taking a long drink of cider, she smacked the glass back on the table. “Wait until you hear about my meeting with Darryl today.”

Kelsey curled her hands around her glass as her eyes grew animated. “Right, I forgot you were seeing him today. Do tell!”

“Hold on to your hats, because this is crazy.” Relieved her now-rapt audience had abandoned their former topic, Crystal launched into a retelling of everything she’d learned. With each revelation, everyone’s eyes widened a bit more.

Finally, Kelsey held up her hand. “This is batshit insane. The KKK?”

Crystal nodded. “Yep.”

Brooke shook her head. “Whoa. I’ve heard about the KKK in Oregon—there was a pretty big presence in southern Oregon in the 1920s, if memory serves.” She was from that area. “But I didn’t realize it was here too.”

Crystal pressed her shoulders against the wooden back of the booth. “Apparently it was everywhere in that time period—Oregon had the largest KKK presence west of the Mississippi.”

“That’s horrifying,” Kelsey said.

“But whatever was going on around the turn of the century was likely on a smaller scale. Darryl was surprised to find it and is doing more research. Obviously, we want to be able to definitively say whether the group was responsible for the fire at Bird’s Nest Ranch.”

“Bastards,” Brooke muttered.

“And the leader of the group was actually mayor of Ribbon Ridge at some point?” Alaina asked. “Damn, that’s a story if ever I’ve heard one. You going to write this, Crystal?”

Crystal had expected her to ask, but she still didn’t have a solid answer. “I don’t know. It is an intriguing story.”

Alaina gave her a long, probing look. “I can hear the hesitation in your voice. You can do this. You should do this.”

“I agree,” Brooke said. “When I think of Dorinda struggling with her husband, him dying, her opening a brothel which burned down—” Her eyes widened. “If the KKK set that fire, they probably murdered Dorinda.”

That was the part that bothered Crystal most, of course. She felt a connection to Dorinda for some inexplicable reason, even though she barely knew anything about the woman. Somehow Crystal just knew her story should be told. Maybe she had her answer after all. “Yes. And people should know.”

Kelsey sipped her cider. “I don’t disagree, but what a horrible event to publicize about Ribbon Ridge.”

“Good point,” Brooke said.

Irritation climbed Crystal’s spine. “Are you saying we should just ignore that it happened?”

Kelsey reacted instantly, her head shaking and her eyes widening. “Hell no. You better believe I’m going to include this in the history project. History is history—and it isn’t all pretty.”

“True that,” Alaina said, raising her glass.

They all offered a silent toast.

“I have to say, I can actually see this as a movie,” Alaina said. “Obviously there’s a lot we don’t know, and I don’t want to sensationalize anything, but it seems like this part of Oregon’s history should be told.” She looked at Crystal. “Maybe this is why you’ve felt so passionate about Dorinda. Maybe this was meant to happen.”

Crystal resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Alaina was a great believer in fate and serendipity and all that nonsense. She always used their friendship as proof. Without one another, Alaina would likely be a drug addict like her mother, and Crystal would probably be married to her dealer. Yikes, that was a dark thought.

The buffalo tots arrived, and they all dug in. Brooke dipped a tot into the ranch dressing. “I could see this being a movie too. Does that mean you’ll produce it, Alaina?”

Crystal, pouring ketchup onto a small plate, became momentarily distracted by Brooke’s question and too much flowed out of the bottle. Oh well. She loved ketchup. It wasn’t like she wouldn’t use it all.

Alaina’s gaze strayed to the plate. “I don’t know. It’s Crystal’s project.”

Crystal sent her a grateful look. Kelsey had started all this with her history exhibit at the library, then they’d all jumped in to help. But it had been Crystal who’d really connected with Dorinda and had continued the research—with Darryl’s help, of course.

Brooke looked a little uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean to suggest it wasn’t.” She sent Crystal an apologetic glance.

“It’s okay,” Crystal said. “It makes sense you would ask Alaina about producing. That is her job, after all. Well, one of them,” she added with a laugh.

“So what all do you know about this KKK group?” Alaina asked before popping a tater tot into her mouth.

“Not much. Just that the Grand Cyclops was mayor and then his son was mayor at the time of the fire at Bird’s Nest Ranch. And the group stretched as far as Lane County, which is where that letter originated.” Crystal had started her tale with the letter, as Darryl had done.

“Right, that Dell Beatty asshole,” Kelsey said. “What did you say the Grand Cyclops’s name was?”

Crystal wasn’t sure she’d said. “Redmond Stowe.”

Brooke, who’d been taking a drink of cider, started to choke. Beside her, Kelsey lightly hit her back. “You okay?” They exchanged concerned glances.

Nodding, Brooke took a deep breath. “I’m okay. Did you say Stowe?”

Crystal’s Spidey sense jerked to attention. “Yeah.”

Brooke and Kelsey looked at each other again, their eyes widening in concert.

“What?” Alaina said, sounding slightly alarmed, which was how Crystal felt.

It was Brooke who finally spoke. “Stowe is Cam’s—and Luke’s, obviously—mom’s family.”

Well, fuck all. Crystal’s gaze strayed to Jamie at the bar. He chose that moment to look in her direction too, and they locked eyes for a moment. The edge of his mouth tipped up. It wasn’t a smile but a hint of…something. Heat flooded her insides, and she forced herself to look away.

“Maybe they aren’t related,” Alaina said.

Brooke and Kelsey both stared at her as if she’d sprouted a second head.

Alaina rushed to say, “No, seriously! Back in Blueville, there were two families named Dick—yeah, Dick. Anyway, they weren’t related at all. And Blueville’s about the same size, right, Crystal?”

Crystal had been listening to the conversation but her brain had lingered on Jamie. More accurately, on New Year’s Eve. The way his mouth had just curved. He’d done that several times, usually right before he did something particularly fantastic to her. Hell.

She shifted on the bench and took another drink of cider. A good, long drink. “Uh, yeah, Blueville’s about the same size.” Small and judgmental-sized.

Brooke and Kelsey exchanged looks again and shrugged. “I suppose it’s possible,” Kelsey said. “But I doubt it.”

Crystal realized she could settle this. “Darryl did find a Stowe in Ribbon Ridge—Randy. I don’t suppose that rings a bell?”

Both Kelsey and Brooke exhaled. “That’s their uncle,” Brooke said, sounding resigned. “Well, that sucks.”

“Do you think they don’t know?” Alaina asked.

Kelsey blinked. “No idea. Not that it’s ever come up. ‘Hey, have I ever told you that my family is descended from a KKK leader?’”

They all stared at each other. “Uh, yeah,” Crystal said. “Awk-waaaard.” She drew the last syllable out, and they all nodded in agreement.

Alaina sipped her sparkling water and looked at everyone, half wincing. “Still, we have to ask, right?”

Kelsey straightened, sitting taller. “I think so. I can do it.”

Crystal’s gaze drifted to Jamie again. He was drinking a beer and chatting with the bartender. Damn, he was sexy. And young. Too young.

Only five years—or so, her mind argued.

Gah, he’d been in middle school when she graduated high school. He’d barely been driving when she and Alaina had been partying in LA. He was still in his twenties, while Crystal…wasn’t.

And why was that a big deal?

Because Tommy had been a year younger than her. Younger meant immature and so many other things she didn’t want to deal with.

“Actually, why don’t you let me handle it?” Crystal suggested, surprising herself. “It makes more sense for me to approach them. You’re both attached to that family now. I’m not. If they get upset or I piss them off by asking, no harm done.”

Kelsey tipped her head to the side. She didn’t look convinced. “But they know we’re all involved in this project. And they know I’m coordinating the history exhibit.”

“True, but let me break the bad news—if they don’t know, that is.”

Brooke nodded. “Okay. How do you plan to do it?”

Crystal slid a glance at Jamie. He was watching her again. Her body hummed with desire. Dammit. Maybe this was a bad idea.

No, she could do this without falling into bed with Jamie Westcott again. Not that doing so would be terrible…

Duke brought their dinners, and it was a few minutes before they got back to the conversation.

“So what’s your plan to find out about the Stowes?” Brooke asked.

Crystal had been thinking about it while they’d settled into their food. “Jamie and I hit it off the other night. I’ll talk to him first. Just leave it to me. I’m good with people, right, Alaina?” She smiled at her friend, who nodded.

“The best,” Alaina said. “It’s why I asked her to come to LA with me.”

That wasn’t true at all, but Crystal wouldn’t correct her. That would stay their secret.

Brooke looked over her shoulder toward the bar. “He’s still here. Are you going to talk to him tonight?”

“Might as well.” Or at least reestablish contact. Since she hadn’t replied to his texts, she ought to apologize—and not just because she was hoping to get information from him. In fact, she didn’t want to come off like she was only talking to him to find out about his family. Except she sort of was, wasn’t she? Hadn’t she planned to just play things cool in the event that she ran into him again before heading back to LA?

Yes, that had been her plan, but everyone knew what happened to the best-laid plans.

Best laid.

Her lips curved into a smirk as she recalled New Year’s Eve and the feel of Jamie’s rock-hard thighs between hers. Best laid indeed.

“What are you smiling about?” Alaina asked. Her eyes had narrowed almost imperceptibly, but Crystal knew her as well as she knew herself practically. She was scrutinizing—and trying to draw conclusions.

“Nothing, knock it off.”

Alaina didn’t look convinced, but she returned her attention to her salad.

Crystal looked over at Jamie and saw that he was eating too. She suddenly felt bad for not inviting him to join them. “Hey, you guys mind if I go join Jamie at the bar?”

All three women pinned her with an inquisitive stare.

She felt as though she had to clarify. “To advance our objective.”

“Right,” Brooke said. “Are you sure you might not be a little interested? He’s a really nice guy. And he comes from a great family.”

Crystal gave her a side-eye. “Except for that whole KKK thing.”

Brooke huffed out a breath. “Yeah, except for that. But that’s not them—not now anyway.”

“Hell no,” Kelsey said vehemently. “The Westcotts are the nicest people, and they do a lot for the community. Their dad, Sam, is the principal at the middle school. He runs a summer school for the children of migrant workers. A lot of them get pulled out of school in the winter to go home to Mexico and they fall behind. He makes sure they catch up in the summer. And their mom, Angie, helps with that. She’s the head secretary at the elementary school.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Crystal said. She could’ve used a summer school. “But really, you don’t need to sell Jamie to me. He is a nice guy. I’m just not interested. In anyone. Besides, I don’t even live here.”

“You’re here a lot, though,” Alaina pointed out.

“Just because of you and this research. When that project is over, I will likely be here a little less.” She arched a brow at Alaina. “Someone has to hold things down in LA.”

Alaina exhaled. “I suppose. Go on, then. Go sit with Jamie and ask him if he’s aware his ancestors burned down a brothel.”

“I wonder why,” Kelsey mused, staring at her plate for a moment. She looked up, focusing on the rest of them. “I mean, I wonder why they targeted the brothel. Was it just because it was a house of ill repute, or was there some racial motivation?”

“You saw the photograph of Dorinda,” Crystal said. “She was definitely Caucasian.”

“Sure, but maybe not all the women there were.” Kelsey picked up her fork and speared a cucumber in her salad. “Just thinking out loud.”

Crystal scooped up her plate with its half-eaten burger and stood. “Okay, then, wish me luck.”

She trekked across the restaurant to the bar. Jamie looked up as she approached.

She offered a tentative smile. “Hey. Mind if I join you?”

He stared at her for a second before blinking. “Sure.”

She set her plate on the bar and took the stool to his left. “Great.”

“I’m, uh, surprised. I thought you were ignoring me.”

She winced. “Yeah, I sort of was. I’m sorry.” She brushed her hair back from her face. “That was some night. I wasn’t sure what to say. I’m still not.” She felt the heat in her cheeks and wished she hadn’t pushed her hair back.

“It was an incredible night. I know exactly what to say: thank you.”

“Uh, you’re welcome?” She laughed softly. “And thank you.”

“Actually, what I really wanted to say is, when can we do it again?” He flashed her a wicked smile that curled her toes.

She chuckled, but when she looked into his eyes, she immediately sobered. He was serious. Her body reacted, pulling toward him as if they were magnetized. “Hey, George,” she called to the bartender. “Can I get another cider?”

He waved at her from down the bar where he stood pulling a beer from the tap. “Sure thing, Crystal.”

Feeling a bit nervous, she took another bite of her burger but promptly decided she wasn’t really hungry anymore.

Jamie took the last bite of his burger and pushed his plate a couple of inches away from him. “So you came over here to apologize, or was there something else?”

George brought her cider but didn’t linger since things were busy. She took a sip and scooted her plate away too. “Mostly to apologize. I didn’t want things to be weird. Or weirder anyway.”

“I didn’t think things were weird. Well, until you didn’t respond to my texts. Then I started to worry that I’d screwed up somehow. But that didn’t make sense because we hadn’t talked since the other night when I thought things had been anything but weird. Did I miss something?”

Damn, it was hard to sit here this close to him with his spicy, herbal scent and memories of the other night swirling around her. “The other night wasn’t weird. My not responding to your texts maybe created an awkward…thing. I didn’t want that.” She really didn’t. “I was just being a coward. Like I said, it was some night. I don’t usually behave like that.” Flashes of all the things they’d done zipped through her mind, and heat rose up her neck again.

“Me neither. That’s what made it so awesome.”

Okay, this conversation was going nowhere. At least nowhere she wanted it to go. She was supposed to be talking to him about his family, and yet all she could think about was jumping his bones again.

Focus, Crystal.

“I actually did come over to talk to you about something.” She turned on the stool, her hand gripped around her pint glass, and froze. He’d pivoted toward her too, his hazel eyes—with their long, dark, way-too-sexy lashes framing them perfectly—locking on her with laser precision. She’d looked into those eyes the other night as he’d stroked into her, driving her to a mind-melting orgasm. Her breasts felt suddenly heavy, and her core throbbed.

“What did you want to talk about?” he asked, breaking through her lust-addled haze.

“Sex.”