Beckett stayed behind at the barn to talk timelines and materials with the crew. At sixty-eight, Calvin Finestra considered himself to be in the prime of his life and had no intention of retiring. He climbed around on scaffolding like a man twenty years his junior and liked to take his wife of forty-four years line dancing every Friday night.

“It’s good to see your brother so happy,” Calvin told him.

“Carter? Yeah, Summer seems like she was just what he was missing.”

“When are you getting yourself a woman?” Calvin asked, a twinkle in his brown eyes.

“When I find one that puts the stupid smile on my face like Summer does to Carter,” Beckett told him.

Did he want to settle down someday? Of course. Eventually. He was a family man at heart. He’d bought a five-bedroom house for God’s sake. But none of the women he’d ever dated had felt like Pierce family material. Well, of course, there was Joey.

One very brief make-out session eight years ago after Jax disappeared to the West Coast had left them both confused and guilty. They had vowed to pretend it never happened. Joey Greer, with her long chestnut hair and long, strong legs and wild stubborn streak was as close to a Pierce as you can get without the DNA. But she would always belong to Jax, whether she wanted to or not.

Beckett was impressed with Jax’s commitment. He had fully expected his younger brother to head back to L.A. long before now. Joey’s frosty feelings hadn’t thawed an inch toward him, but Jax was still sticking.

A glance at his watch told him he should get moving if he wanted to avoid seeing his mother and Franklin. He said his good-byes to Calvin and the crew and headed back toward the house.

Standing between the construction on the barn behind him and the renovated farmhouse, Beckett was struck by the changes to the land he had known his entire life. Memories of growing up and running wild with his brothers lived side-by-side with the progress of today.

His brother would be married and a new generation would grow up on Pierce Acres. A smile pulled at Beckett’s lips. The change in Carter from when he first came home from Afghanistan wounded and scarred to now was nothing short of a miracle. The impossible healing came first from the land and the people of Blue Moon, and then from the nosey blonde who loved the shadows right out of his brother.

But not all change was good.

He wouldn’t think of a world without John Pierce as better than before. His father had showed him how to be a man. Everything Beckett learned in his life from farming, to women, to how to lead, all came from his father. A legend in Blue Moon, his death had created a vacuum. One that Beckett had to step up and fill before he was ready.

Still mourning his loss, Beckett had worked side-by-side with his mother to keep the farm going. And when their neighbors showed up day after day to lend a hand, drop off a casserole, or just sit quietly with his grieving mother, he had learned the meaning of community.

His love for Blue Moon was as wide and deep as his love for his family. And so, instead of moving away and joining a successful law firm like most of his classmates, he had come home and planted his roots. And had never once regretted it. He owed this town a debt of gratitude and hoped that one day his feet would fill his father’s shoes.

A giggle and flash of red caught his attention. A little girl with bouncing red curls dashed around the side of the little barn, looking over her shoulder.

She turned her head just in time to avoid a collision with Beckett’s legs.

“Hi!” she said cheerfully.

“Uh, hi. Who are you?” Beckett asked, scanning the yard for an adult.

“I’m Rora,” she announced proudly.

“Roara?” There was something unsettlingly familiar about her.

“Uh-huh. What’s your name?”

“I’m Beckett.”

She brought a finger to her lips and shushed him. “Hi, Bucket! I’m hiding. Do you wanna play? You can hide, too.”

Beckett crouched down next to her as she peered around the side of the barn.

“Here he comes,” Rora whispered with excitement.

“Aurora, come on. I don’t feel like chasing you,” Beckett heard resignation in the voice of a young boy. “Let’s go back to Grampa, okay?”

Beckett frowned. Had the farm been invaded by a family of strangers?

The little girl chose that moment to jump around the corner. “Boo!” she shouted.

Her roar turned to a squeal as her victim gave chase. She dashed back to Beckett, her tiny legs a blur. “Bucket,” she shrieked. She raised her arms high and without thinking, Beckett swung her up.

The boy half-heartedly jogged around the side of the barn and stopped short when he recognized Beckett.

“You again?” Beckett said. It was the boy from his guesthouse. Which meant …

“Van, this is Bucket,” Aurora said, patting his shoulder. “He was hidin’ with me.”

“Your name is Bucket?” the kid asked.

“It’s Beckett. And you can stop judging, Van.”

“It’s Evan,” the boy told him.

Aurora rolled her eyes. “Dats what I said. Bucket ‘n Van.”

“So let me guess. Your mom,” Beckett said, tickling Aurora’s belly and making her giggle, “and your captor are the same person.”

“Gia,” Evan confirmed.

“And your grandfather —”

“He’s not my real —”

“Yeah, kid. I got it. Who is he?” A feeling of dread was beginning to claw at his gut.

“Franklin Merrill,” Evan answered.

“Shit.”

The little girl in his arms gaped at Beckett. “You said ‘shit,’” she said.

“I’m not taking the blame for that one,” Evan said. He shoved his hands in his pockets and headed for the house.

“Bucket, shit is a bad word. You shouldn’t say it,” Rora admonished him.

“Sorry, shortcake. I meant to say sugar. Hey, kid, wait up,” Beckett called after Evan.

Evan paused and scuffed the toe of his sneaker in the dirt. “Hurry up, Bucket,” he said with a deadpan face.

“Are you guys here for dinner?” Beckett asked, still carrying the little girl.

“Yeah. I guess Grampa wanted to introduce us to his new girlfriend or something. He was acting really weird.”

The kid was smart and observant.

“Girls’ll do that to a guy,” Beckett warned him. “How do you think your … Gia will take the news?”

Evan shrugged. “She’s always worried about him being lonely and Phoebe doesn’t seem like a crazy person or anything. She’ll probably think it’s great.”

Beckett steered him to the side door and they entered the kitchen that was already full of people.

His mother and Summer were layering noodles, cheese, and sauce in two casserole dishes. Carter and Jax were passing out beers and wine glasses, while Franklin and Gia trayed up antipasto.

“Mama!” Rora chirped. “’Dis my friend, Bucket!”

Gia’s green eyes widened in surprise when she saw him holding her daughter. “Oh my God. Pierce Acres,” she said, smacking a hand to her forehead. “I should have known.”

She was wearing jeans today and an off-the-shoulder striped sweater that highlighted her curves without being showy. Her feet were bare and her hair was pulled back from her face in a wild ponytail.

He couldn’t stop staring at the line of her shoulder and neck.

“I take it you two know each other?” his mother, in a knit cardigan the color of blue bells, said coming around the island to give Beckett a kiss on the cheek.

Gia approached and plucked her daughter out of his arms. “Beckett is our landlord and he did the ribbon-cutting at my studio yesterday,” she told Phoebe.

Summer laughed from the other side of the island. “Small towns.”

“Miss Phoebe, do you know Bucket?” the little girl asked his mother.

“I do, sweetie. He’s my son.”

“Mama, Bucket said shit.”

The kitchen noise silenced except for Carter who choked on his beer.

“Did he?” Gia asked, looking at Beckett.

Rora nodded earnestly. “But it’s okay, cause he meant to say sugar.”

Phoebe burst out laughing.

“I have no idea what she’s talking about,” Beckett said innocently, snagging a beer. “Do you, Evan?”

He earned a smirk from the boy. “No idea,” he agreed.

“Five seconds with my kids and you’ve got them swearing and lying,” Gianna said accusingly. “I’m putting you in time out.”

Evan looked like he was going to argue the “my kids” statement, but held his tongue.

“Mama, Bucket’s too big for time out,” Rora argued.

“You’re never too big for time out,” Gianna said, grabbing Beckett’s arm and pulling him down the hall toward the farmhouse’s front door.

She waited until they were out of earshot of everyone else. “I’m really sorry about this. I had no idea my dad was bringing us here or that you’d be here. He just said he had a surprise.”

“Surprise, I’m moving in with someone.” Beckett snorted.

“They’re moving in together?” Gianna’s eyebrows shot up.

“I guess he didn’t get to that part of the surprise yet.” He took a long pull on the bottle.

“That seems kind of fast,” she frowned.

“They’ve been dating for six months,” Beckett grumbled. “We’ve only known for three. And that’s only because we caught him trying to sneak out of her bedroom one morning.”

Gianna bit her lip. “I’m trying not to laugh because I can see you’re upset by it. But …”

Beckett pictured Franklin’s pajama-covered legs flailing off of the porch roof. “It was a tiny bit funny,” he conceded.

“If I’m getting my signals correctly, you’re not happy about their relationship.”

He wasn’t happy with the way Gianna was looking up at him. She was standing too close to him. Those warm sea green eyes looked into him, her full lips parted just the slightest bit. A fiery tendril had escaped her hair tie to hang down her throat. He didn’t realize until it was too late that his fingers were tucking the wayward curl behind her ear and then brushing down the graceful line of her neck.

He felt her pulse rate ratchet up under the pads of his fingers. Her skin was warm, smooth under his touch. Her lips, the color of the pinkest rose parted even further. Under her spell, Beckett leaned down, leaned in until he could feel her breath on him. He brushed a thumb over her lower lip as he skimmed his hand over her jaw and neck. Soft, smooth, so alive.

Those stunning green eyes were heavy, her breath shallow.

An inch apart, swamped in her scent of soap and lavender, Beckett was lost.

A shout of laughter from the kitchen tore them apart.

Gianna sagged down on the bottom step. “I feel like I’m hyperventilating,” she gasped.

Beckett bent at the waist and braced his hands on his knees. “There’s not a milliliter of blood in my head right now.”

“Forbidden fruit,” Gianna said, fanning her flushed cheeks.

“Huh?”

“I want you because I can’t have you, leading me to almost devour your face with our families fifteen feet away.”

“Pretty sure I would have done the devouring,” Beckett countered.

“Not helping.” Gianna rose and straightened her clothing that didn’t need straightening. “We can totally fight this, right?”

“Totally,” Beckett shook his head.

“You’re shaking your head.”

“What?”

Gianna pointed at him. “You’re not nodding ‘yes.’ You’re shaking your head ‘no.’”

Beckett frowned. “Sorry. I’m just …”

“Yeah, me too,” she said, agreeing with his unspoken words.

Beckett leaned back against the front door, willing his erection to go away and his heart rate to return to normal. “Your kids are great,” he said, changing the subject.

“Don’t be sweet. I can’t resist sweet,” Gianna warned him.

“Your kids are monsters and I hate your face.”

Gianna laughed. “I hate your face, too. Your gorgeous, sexy face.”

“Gianna,” he warned her.

“I’m going to go make my monsters wash their hands. Are you staying for dinner?” She looked … hopeful.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“Good.”