Savannah guided Jamison’s hands as he slid a cookie sheet into the oven. “Be careful of the racks and the sides.”

He pushed the metal sheet onto the rack, let go, and jumped with excitement, almost knocking his head into Savannah’s. “I did it.”

“You sure did.”

“You’re a star.” Misty held up her hand. “High five, dude.”

He slapped her hand. “Thanks for the recipe, Aunt Misty. Oatmeal chocolate chip is Bailey’s favorite.”

Misty laughed and crouched in front of Jamison, gripping his arms. “She’s going to fall head over heels for you, buddy. Girls love it when you do special things for them.”

He wrinkled his nose. “She’s not my girlfriend. And it’s just a playdate.”

“If you say so.”

“Mommy.” Jamison turned. “Can I bring some to school for my class?”

“You bet.” She anticipated his next question. “And I suppose you’d like to take some out to Deputy Corwin.”

A spark of fear touched Jamison’s eyes, and his smile evaporated. He thought about it for a second, screwed up his face in a torn expression, and said, “Not really.”

Surprised, Savannah said, “No? Why not?”

“He wasn’t very nice to you the other day. And he was really mean to Mr. Ian.”

Misty lifted her brows at Savannah.

“That’s very true.” She ruffled his hair. “Go play until the cookies are done.”

Jamison bounced out of the kitchen toward his room, but stopped before he reached it, calling, “Mom? Can we bring cookies to the new neighbor too?”

“New neighbor?” Savannah and Misty said in unison, meeting each other’s gaze.

They met Jamison at the picture window, where he looked at an old beater of a truck sitting in the driveway reserved for the tenant next door.

“When did that show up?” Misty asked. “It wasn’t there when I got here, was it?”

“No.” Savannah put her hands on Jamison’s shoulders and steered him toward his room. “Let’s see how many cookies we have before we go promising them all away.”

With Jamison settled on his floor, deep in a fantasy scenario starring his Star Wars action figures, Savannah pulled the door almost closed and returned to Misty’s side. The storm had passed through over the last two days, dumping record-setting snowfall. But the day broke with clear blue skies and sunlight sparkling off the fresh snow like pixy dust. Savannah used to love this time of year. Now, she hated everything about Hazard.

Okay, everything but seeing Ian in the diner every morning. He’d become her reason to smile over the last few days.

“Have you seen anyone yet?” she asked. “Maybe it’s just a maintenance guy.”

“No. But judging by those boxes in the back of the truck, I’m betting it’s a new mucker moving in.” Misty heaved a sigh and crossed her arms. “I’m disappointed our waitress fell through. I was looking forward to another single girl our age in town.”

“Yeah,” Savannah agreed. “I was looking forward to having a female neighbor for a change.”

Lyle pulled in at least half his workers by offering an employer-sponsored work visa for the first year. He got cheap labor for people who needed a way into the US, mostly from Canada. But as soon as they’d completed their year of service, the majority of them left town. Savannah didn’t know if they went back to Canada or moved on to find other work in the US, but she didn’t care either. Mining was a hard job, and the pay sucked until the three-year mark, when they got their first substantial raise. Even then, they moved slowly up the scale, with the lifers being the only ones who made a decent living wage. Bishop was a cheap sonofabitch on top of a mountain of other shortcomings.

And that just meant the caliber of men in town also sucked. Drifters, lowlifes, drinkers, druggies, felons… She prayed whoever moved in next door wasn’t a young partier, a creepy old man, or a criminal.

“I shouldn’t have to worry about who’s moving in.” She clenched her hands into fists and glanced over her shoulder to make sure Jamison was still playing in his room before adding, “I should be on my way out of this place. Just when I didn’t think I could hate Hank any more.”

She shook her head and stared out the window, willing someone to come out of the duplex next door so she could put at least one fear to rest. “Just the other day, Lyle was bitching about how Hank had to spend so much time saving the world, he couldn’t be expected to feed Jamison a decent meal. Now he’s supporting Hank in a custody battle? With Hank’s schedule, he wouldn’t see Jamison any more if he had custody than if I were to bring him here twice a month. I swear, everything is such a battle with him. Every damn thing.”

“Lyle’s the worst kind of— No.” Misty held up a hand. “Hank is the worst kind of bastard. But Lyle is right up there in Hank’s asshole.”

“I’m so tired,” Savannah admitted with a sigh. “I’ve been fighting so long, sometimes I just want to throw my hands up and yell Uncle. Imagining another thirteen years of this… God.”

“Don’t give in. That’s what he’s counting on, wearing you down.”

“And driving me into bankruptcy. I don’t have a rich daddy paying all my legal bills.”

“If he throws another wrench into the works and you find you have to stay, I’d really like you to consider moving in with me. I know neither of us can do it now, but I could have those second and third bedrooms cleared and sanitized in two weeks, tops, if I knew you and Jamison would be in them. I’d stuff everything into the barn and add extra locks so Jamison didn’t get into anything and hurt himself.”

Savannah smiled at Misty. The thought was sweet and generous, but hardly realistic. Misty’s father had died over six months ago. He’d been an eccentric man, an inventor of silly, strange, mostly useless gadgets. Only one of those inventions had sold, but it had given him enough money to raise Misty alone and live out his life on his small ranch following his useless passion of inventing. It hadn’t been enough to leave anything for Misty. Anything but a house where he’d hoarded furniture, appliances, equipment, supplies, books—you name it. Anything that caught his eye—whether bought, found, or scavenged.

Now, Misty worked extra shifts to keep her head above water and spent her spare time slowly moving through the junk to clean out the house in hopes of selling it one day. And she made a little extra by selling some of her father’s bizarre junk online.

“I’ve seen that barn,” she said, teasing Misty. “There’s no room to stuff anything anywhere.”

“You underestimate me.”

“No,” she said with a sigh. “No, I don’t. I have no idea how you deal with everything.”

“We do what we have to.”

Amen. Savannah nodded, but her tension skyrocketed as she wondered if she’d be able to do what she’d have to do if Hank was granted custody of Jamison.

“You’re not going to lose him,” Misty said, reading Savannah’s thoughts. “I’ll steal him myself before that prick gets him. My Aunt Carmen has a cabin in the mountains outside Coeur d'Alene. He’d never find us.”

“Oh,” she sighed with a whimsical little laugh. “A hidden cabin in the woods. You know you’ve hit bottom when that sounds heavenly.”

Maybe it’s time to run.

The thought crept into her head again, and her heart picked up speed.

“You know I’ve been dreading your move to Missoula,” Misty said, “but I hope you also know I’d do everything possible to support you if you choose another way out.”

Like running.

The unsaid words hung between them.

Savannah gave Misty’s arm a squeeze. “I do know. Thank you.”

“I want what’s best for you and Jamison. You both deserve peace, security, and love in your lives. And you certainly aren’t getting any of that here.”

Savannah released a breath, her heart growing heavy. She returned her gaze to the window but let her eyes blur over the blue sky and white mountains. It wasn’t that she didn’t think she could do it. Savannah had already walked away from an abusive man, something she’d never imagined she’d have to face. And she’d walked away from their marriage, something she’d never dreamed she’d have to do. And—if the custody arrangement had been settled with the divorce—she would have taken Jamison and settled a few hours away and faithfully brought him to see Hank every two weeks.

But she didn’t have confidence in her ability to disappear. At least not from a man like Hank. He would come after her armed with his fury, his unscrupulous methods, his law enforcement connections, and his father’s nearly unlimited resources.

“If it was just me,” she told Misty, “I’d already have changed my name and my appearance. I’d have gotten a new passport, a new driver’s license, a new digital life—however the hell one goes about doing that. But I would have figured it out, and I’d have vanished from the face of the earth as Savannah Bishop. I’d have moved somewhere completely different—Hawaii or Europe or Central America—and started all over. But it’s not just me.”

“I know,” Misty said, her voice heavy with the same futility plaguing Savannah.

She thought of her beautiful gem of a boy in the next room. He didn’t just need her, he trusted her, loved her, looked up to her. She couldn’t let him down.

“I know Hank’s been an asshole, but he’s still Jamison’s dad, and he wasn’t always such a bastard,” she said, as much talking to herself as to Misty. “Do I think he deserves to be a dad? Not the way he’s been acting the past few years, no. But I also don’t feel like I have the right to take Jamison’s father away from him completely. I don’t want Jamison growing up with the same holes in his life that I had. And ripping him away from everything he knows, changing his name, lying about his father and running to a place he’s never been?” She shook her head. “I can’t begin to imagine the damage that would cause a little boy. The thought breaks my heart.”

Misty nodded, her expression clouded with misery. “I never thought it would come to this.”

“And that’s a huge concern too—not knowing exactly what Hank—or Lyle—is capable of or to what lengths they’ll go if I leave Hazard, trying to escape completely. Hell, I can’t think about escaping Hazard permanently when I can’t even take Jamison to Splash Mountain in Missoula.” She exhaled, the stress heavy on her heart. “They have contacts throughout the state. Access to nationwide databases. The backing of law enforcement. Look at the petty, manipulative bullshit he pulls around here for absolutely no reason other than to mess with me. What do you think he’d do if I tried to take Jamison?”

Misty didn’t have an answer.

“I keep hoping Hank will wake up one day and stop fighting,” she admitted, feeling foolish and hopeless. “That he’ll finally realize we were just wrong for each other or find another woman and move on with his life. Let Jamison and me move on with ours.” She shook her head with tears pushing at her eyes. “But it’s obvious now, that’s not going to happen.”

To hide her tears, Savannah moved around the living room, picking up Jamison’s toys.

“We’ll figure it out, Savannah. You have Audrey and me…” Misty let the words trail off. Savannah didn’t have to look at her friend to know she’d just realized that Savannah’s entire pool of support consisted of an overworked attorney who lived three hours away and a well-meaning but resource-and-cash-poor friend. “I bet Mark knows something about getting a new identity. He told me he had to jump through some sketchy hoops to get into Lyle’s work-visa program.”

Savannah’s gut clenched. She dropped a sofa pillow and spun. “No. Absolutely not.” Misty’s boyfriend of three months was a great guy, but he wasn’t exactly the brightest crayon in the box. “Rumors spread like wildfire in the mines. You know that. Those guys gossip like high school girls. If that got back to Hank, or Lyle…” She trailed off, sucking a slow, terrified breath into her lungs. “Please promise me you won’t talk to Mark.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I won’t say anything.” Misty gripped Savannah’s arm and met her gaze deliberately. “But, listen, Savannah, if or when you are ready to take that step, you tell me, and I’ll find a way to get you what you need. We’ll figure it out together.”

Savannah covered Misty’s hand with her own. “Thank you.”

“How much cash do you have saved now?”

Savannah’s mind veered toward the hidden hollow panel in the depths of her closet securing her savings. She lived off her meager income from the café and cashed all the checks that came from the court-mandated child support Hank paid by way of a garnish on his paycheck. Then she squirreled the cash away in a secret spot. She’d been doing that from the moment she got the job at the café.

“Last count,” she said, “Twenty-one thousand four hundred thirty-two dollars.”

Misty whistled through her teeth. “Damn impressive, girl.”

“Thank God for Audrey’s tenacity. If Hank weren’t being forced to pay, I wouldn’t have a penny. And he wouldn’t give a damn how that affected Jamison.”

“I have no idea how you do it,” Misty said.

“Yes, you do. The same way you do. We scrounge, cut corners, and work our asses off. I know it sounds like a lot of money, but if I end up using it, that will be because I vanish. I can’t collect child support if I vanish. That cash would burn through my pockets.”

The oven timer dinged, and Jamison zoomed out of his room. “They’re done! They’re done!”

Misty laughed, her gaze following Jamison as he ran past them into the kitchen. “Even Karen doesn’t get that excited about cookies.”

Savannah helped Jamison through the process of moving the cookies from the hot pan to the cooling racks. Then, together, they finished off the dough with one more sheet of cookies.

Once they were in the oven, Jamison jumped, both fists in the air, yelled, “Yahoo!” and ran from the kitchen.

Savannah laughed, dropping pots and pans into the sink. “That kid is the freaking light of my life.” And she wasn’t about to let Hank take him. She glanced at Misty. “You’re working tonight, aren’t you?”

“Yep.” She sighed. “Eighth day in a row. Cha-ching.”

“Would you mind if I walked over and borrowed your car?” Her stomach tightened as she worked up a lie. Okay, a partial lie. Jamison often went to Bailey’s house if he wasn’t in school while Savannah was working. She tried not to use her back door too often, as it was currently her own escape from constant prying eyes and she didn’t want to lose that. But she needed to get out alone to follow Hank. “While Jamison’s at his playdate with Bailey, I wanted to run some errands, and I just want to do them without Nastimeister Corwin in tow. I’ll sneak out the back and walk over.”

Misty smiled. “Of course. Whatever you need.”

“Mommy!” His excited call from the living room interrupted. “Mommy, look!” His words were punctuated by the sound of his hand knocking on glass.

She and Misty returned to the living room and found Jamison at the window, vibrating with excitement and alternating between knocking and waving to someone outside.

“Mr. Ian,” he called through the glass. “Mr. Ian.”

An electric zing stung Savannah’s gut. She put her hand on Jamison’s shoulder and peered through the window to where a man stood in the street beside a tow truck from Mo’s Garage. He wore a navy-blue parka and a baseball hat.

“Honey, that’s not—” Savannah started. But Jamison cut her off with more yells and clacks against the window.

“Jamison.” She caught his hand just as the man turned toward their house. With his face hidden beneath the brim of a ball cap, Savannah couldn’t tell who it was, but Jamison was grinning and waving.

The man shifted, angling toward them. He pushed his ball cap up and smiled. It was Ian. He waved, then finished his conversation with Mo.

Savannah was still trying to figure out what was happening when Misty’s giddy voice pulled her attention. “Oh my God. Finally. Finally the universe is on your side.”

“How do you figure?”

“Duh.” She gestured toward the window. “Your new neighbor?”

Savannah shook her head, unwilling to buy into the connection between Ian appearing on her street to him being her new neighbor.

When she glanced back at the street, Mo’s truck had driven away, and Ian walked toward the other side of the duplex, shedding his parka and continuing to return Jamison’s incessant wave. Then he leaned into the truck, grabbed a box, and headed inside.

“Oh jeez…” she breathed, her eyes sliding closed. She had to live next door to the sexiest guy who’d come to town in ages? “I’m afraid I just lost a year’s worth of sleep.”

Misty burst out laughing, immediately connecting Savannah’s complaint with the very real tossing-and-turning problem a man like Ian could create for a woman.

Ian living on the other side of their shared wall. Sleeping…changing…showering with just six inches between them.

“Dear God,” she muttered.

Jamison, oblivious to the new turmoil, whirled and grasped her hands. “Can we bring him cookies?” he asked, bouncing on his toes. “Can we? Can we?”

Misty doubled over with laughter while Savannah dropped her head back and groaned.

She and Jamison layered cookies on a paper plate, and Misty said her goodbyes and left for work. Jamison ran to grab his jacket from his bedroom, eager to visit Ian, while Savannah gnawed on her lower lip over the new issues their neighbor presented.

She pulled her own jacket from a hook by the door and glanced out the window again, her gaze holding on the cruiser stationed out front. Hank had surely already been alerted to her new neighbor. Her visit next door with Jamison in tow would go directly to Hank’s ear. If nothing else, she should let Ian know what he was in for if he stayed in the duplex—the same thing others had endured while living there: constant scrutiny, no privacy, manipulation, and coercion, to say the least. Ian’s already tense relationship with the department after the confrontation at the café wouldn’t do him any favors.

“Ready.” Jamison popped up next to her, the plate of cookies in his hand, a big grin lighting his face.

The sight broke her heart a little. He yearned for a male role model. Craved positive reinforcement from a male figurehead. Instead of getting it all from his own father or even his grandfather, Jamison was searching for it in a stranger. A stranger who would soon turn his back on them like every other man in town.

“Come on, Mom,” he said, reaching for the door. “You’re so slow.”

Savannah covered his hand. “Hold on a sec. We need to talk.” She dropped into a crouch and searched for the right words. “You need to remember that Ian is an adult with his own busy life. He’s going to be working long days and will probably be really tired when he gets home. Just because we’re bringing him cookies doesn’t mean you can jump over there any time you want to visit. And you absolutely do not leave the house without telling me.” She gave him a stern look. “Are we clear?”

Her warning didn’t dim Jamison’s grin any. “Crystal.”

Damn, those freckles over his nose, the sparkle in his smile, his unrelenting hope. She ruffled his hair. “Kid, you slay me.”

When they stepped onto the porch, Savannah realized it was much nicer outside than she’d thought. The sun beat down and the snow insulated the area, creating a microclimate of spring bliss. Snow dripped off the eaves and melted over the sidewalks. The plow had come by earlier, and a strip of the road had been cleared.

Savannah left her mittens in her pocket and her jacket unzipped for the short walk. As they approached the strip of revealed asphalt in the street, Corwin looked over from his patrol car. He rolled down his window, smiling at Jamison. “Hey there, little man.”

Savannah glanced down at Jamison, saw the cookies, and realized the man thought they were for him. But Jamison looked right at Corwin, then turned at the road, continuing to Ian’s without a word. Savannah experienced a collage of feelings from pride to fear. When it was obvious Jamison wasn’t going to acknowledge the deputy, Corwin’s gaze turned on Savannah—and it was anything but friendly.

Sure, blame Mom. Everything is my fault.

“Karma’s a bitch,” she told Corwin.

News of this visit would go straight to Hank. Savannah was in for a real headache. She was feeling jumpy by the time they reached Ian’s door. She stood back as Jamison climbed the porch, much the way she did when he went door-to-door selling chocolate for his T-ball league.

Jamison shifted the cookies into one hand and lifted the other to knock. The door opened before his hand met the wood, and Ian stopped short, surprising all three of them.

“Well, hi there.” He looked down at Jamison with a curious expression, then his gaze made a quick sweep of Savannah.

She’d seen him just hours ago when he’d been in the café for breakfast. Over the last few days, they’d built a warm familiarity. But she swore the man got better looking every time she saw him. He was in the same jeans and long-sleeved waffle thermal as this morning and every inch of fabric showed off assets Savannah wished she could investigate intimately.

“Hi, Mr. Ian.” Jamison lifted the plate. “We brought you cookies.”

“I see.” His gaze flitted to Savannah again. “Is this one of those fund-raiser things?”

“No,” Jamison answered. “It’s because you’re our new neighbor.”

Ian planted his hands on his hips. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Heck, if I’d known fresh cookies came with this place, I’d have moved in last week.”

“They’re oatmeal chocolate chip,” Jamison told him. “My Aunt Misty’s recipe. The best ever.”

“Sold, partner, sold,” Ian said, taking the plate. “That’s awfully”—he looked at Savannah, and a little more smile reached his eyes—“hospitable of you.”

She returned his smile, too pleased he’d remembered their conversation from the day before.

And while they were staring at each other, Jamison crooned, “Ooo, a bat,” and slipped past Ian and into the house.

That broke Savannah’s concentration. “Jamison,” she scolded, “get out here. You don’t just walk into someone’s house uninvited.”

“Oh, it’s all right,” Ian said.

“He knows better.” She inched closer to the porch. “Jamison—”

“Look, Mom.” He stood in the doorway, holding an aluminum bat. His gaze jumped to Ian. “This is a big bat.”

“But it’s light, right?” He stepped back and opened the door wider to Savannah. “Come on in. I’ll put these in the kitchen.”

A spark of uneasiness nagged beneath her ribs. When she hedged, Ian disappeared in the direction of the kitchen with Jamison following like a tail.

“Jamis— Grrrr.” She was caught in an awkward place, moving forward only when neither Jamison nor Ian reappeared instantly.

She stepped into the duplex and closed the door to the cold air. The space was the mirror opposite of hers, which meant the largest bedrooms—her bedroom and his—shared a wall. Something she really shouldn’t think about.

“Just for a minute,” she said. “Jamison, come here right now.”

He appeared at the front door with a mitt and baseball.

“Jamison,” she scolded. “Those aren’t yours. You don’t touch things without permission.”

“Mr. Ian said it was okay.”

Savannah exhaled and glanced round, wincing at the paint job. The sheer intensity of the pink strained her eyes. The living room floor was draped with tarps, and a bucket of paint occupied one corner.

“Someone’s finally going to paint,” she said as he came back in. “I wondered how others could live with this color. They said they got used to it and didn’t even see it after a while, but somehow I find that hard to believe.”

“Right?” he said, also grimacing at the room with a shake of his head. “How do you not notice this? It hurts to look at it.”

She resettled her gaze on him. All six-foot-two muscled inches. “I guess you got ahold of Mr. Baulder.”

“I did.”

Jamison knelt on the floor at their feet, fitting his hand into the mitt and tossing the ball to catch it. Savannah pushed her hands into her back pockets, uneasy with the nerves tingling in her gut. She hadn’t spoken to a man she was attracted to in so long that even after seeing him for four days in a row, her stomach still floated whenever they talked. “I guess that means you’ll be staying around awhile.”

He tilted his head, his brows pulling together.

“The one-year signing agreement,” she explained.

“Oh, right. That feels sketchy to me.”

“I think so too, but I guess it’s how he keeps his labor force from bugging out.”

“That right there tells me something’s wrong.”

“You’re intuitive,” she said. “But you still took the job?”

“No. I’ve lived with term agreements my whole adult life. I want to be free to come and go.”

“I’m confused.” She glanced around the living room. “You’re painting but not staying?”

“Pfffft. I wouldn’t paint if I wasn’t staying. At least for a while. This place was cheap, and when they agreed to let me paint, I took it.”

“Are you going to look for other work in town or…?” She cut herself off. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. I didn’t come over to grill you.”

“Doesn’t feel like a grilling.” He shifted on his feet and leaned one shoulder against the wall. “Feels like small-town hospitality.”

She laughed.

“I’d ask you to sit down, but…” He lifted his chin toward the empty living room with a smirk.

“Are your things coming soon?”

“I don’t have any. Everything I own is in the back of my truck.”

Okay…that seemed odd. “You travel light.”

“I’ve been in the military.”

“Ah.” She drew out the realization. “What made you settle here? Is your family close by?”

“Nope. Dad disappeared when I was a kid, and Mom passed away about six months ago.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” he said, a little subdued. “I like to hunt and fish and backpack. Thought this would be a good place to relax my first year out. Heard about the jobs available at the mine and thought I’d give it a try.”

She fished her mind for other places he could work, but since everyone in town kept their distance, she didn’t have any ideas. “Since that fell through, what made you decide to stay?”

“Mo.”

“Mo Barley?”

“Yeah. Met him in town. He’s a vet, we got to talking, and he hired me.”

“At the garage?”

Ian nodded. “I did a lot of mechanical work in the army. Felt like a good fit.”

Savannah smiled, tucked her fingers into the front pockets of her jeans, and leaned her shoulder against the wall, mirroring Ian. Jamison was content to toss and catch the ball over and over. He’d always been good at occupying himself, and he loved listening to adults talk. But Savannah was enjoying it too. This was the first decent conversation she’d had with a man in a damn long time. Initially, Ian seemed to have a lot of rough edges. But talking with him felt as comfortable as chatting with her coworkers at the café. It felt good. Better than it probably should.

“I think you’ll like working for Mo,” she told him. “He and his wife are good people.”

“That’s the impression I got.”

She smiled. “I’m glad you’re staying.” The words flipped a switch in her brain and her smile vanished. Her stomach chilled. “But, yeah, about that…” She glanced at Jamison, then back. “We should probably talk later.”

He held her gaze for an extended moment, silent and still. His gaze eventually lowered to Jamison. “Are you up for fielding some grounders?”

Jamison’s whole body stiffened, and he looked up at Ian as if he were a Greek god come to life. “Yeah.” Then his gaze jumped to Savannah. “Can I, Mom?”

She looked toward the road. “I don’t know. There’s still snow…”

But Jamison jumped to his feet, swung the storm door open, and ran to the porch with the mitt and ball.

Ian pushed off the wall, picked up the bat, and met her gaze. “It’ll give us time to talk.” He cocked his head toward the door. “Come on.”

Jamison was already running to the quiet street bordered by snow berms. Ian strode down the walk, and Savannah lost her train of thought as she watched. He moved with force and ease. His shoulders were wide and hard, stretching the thermal material. And, damn, this wasn’t the first time she’d noticed his amazing ass. Not the flat ass of a bean pole or the lard ass of a beer belly, but the high, tight ass of a man with muscle. She freed herself up at the diner every time he finished a meal just so she could watch him walk out.

“Might want to move your patrol car.” Ian’s words snapped Savannah out of her lust-filled thoughts, and she found him talking to Corwin, who’d stepped out of his vehicle. “Wouldn’t want to dent that spiffy paint job.”

“Holy shit,” she muttered under her breath. Corwin slanted an angry look at Savannah before speaking into the radio on his shoulder and dropping into his car again. She’d bet her next paycheck this event was being translated straight into Hank’s ear. “Just what I don’t need.”

But Ian and Jamison were already in position in the street, and her son was so excited to have someone to play ball with, he couldn’t stand still.

“Okay,” Ian called to Jamison. “Watch the ball and keep your mitt on the ground.”

As Savannah made her way to the street, Ian tossed the ball in the air and tapped it with the bat. The ball bounced, then rolled along the wet asphalt toward Jamison. He stopped the ball with his mitt and grinned like he’d hit a home run.

“Good job,” Ian said. “Now aim for my hand.”

Jamison’s grin faded. “Won’t it hurt without a mitt?”

“Nah, my hands are like leather. Come on.”

When Jamison hesitated, Ian glanced over his shoulder at the cruiser, then turned back to Jamison with “I warned him. If he doesn’t move, it’s his own fault. Toss it.”

Jamison looked at Savannah.

“You’re better than you think,” she encouraged.

Jamison hauled his arm back and threw the ball straight to Ian. The leather slapped Ian’s palm, and he laughed. “Whooo-we. You’ve got an arm on you, kid. Ready?”

Ian coached Jamison through a couple more grounders. Once they’d found a rhythm, he turned to Savannah, his expression curious. “So, what’s with the surveillance?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, exhaling her stress over the topic. “That.”

He hit another grounder to Jamison. “There’s either an inordinate amount of crime in this sleepy little town, or you’ve got a problem with your ex.”

“Can you guess which?”

He grinned.

She glanced at Corwin’s vehicle. “Unfortunately, my problems with him also seem to become the problem of anyone who’s nice to me.”

He didn’t respond, just encouraged Jamison with “That’s it. Good job.”

She lowered her voice. “I think it’s only fair for me to tell you that if you decide to stay in the duplex, he’ll make trouble for you.” The guilt of how this affected those around her felt heavy in her chest. “I’m really sorry. I—”

“You stopped apologizing for your ex a long time ago, remember?”

Her air leaked from her lungs. “Seems to be a hard habit to break.”

“Would help if he wasn’t such a prick.”

Savannah laughed, and the load on her shoulders lifted.

Jamison’s next throw went wild, and Ian lunged left. The leather slapped his palm just a foot from the cruiser’s rear window. Savannah’s breath caught.

“Whoa,” Ian said with a grin. “That was a close one.”

He was quick, agile, athletic. And damn, that smile of his, one she didn’t get to see often enough, was so sexy.

“Okay,” Savannah said. “I think that’s enough for today. My nerves are fried.”

While Jamison complained and danced in the street, begging Ian for just one more grounder, Ian asked Savannah, “What’s your ex so afraid of?”

“Losing control.”

“Hasn’t he already lost it?”

Savannah cut a look at the patrol car. “Does that look like freedom to you?”

Ian studied the car for a long, quiet moment. “My mom always told me you can’t control what others do; you can only control how you react to it.” He tossed the ball a foot in the air and caught it as Jamison ran toward them. “Why do you stay?”

“Sometimes there’s too much power holding you down to have control over how you react.”

“That’s just flat-out wrong.” A slow, sultry smile lifted his lips and heated his eyes. “But I’m feeling damn lucky you’re staying put next door.”

He held her gaze, thoughts churning behind his eyes. If they were anything like the ones rolling through her own head, the two of them should erupt in a fireball of spontaneous combustion. Savannah hadn’t had thoughts like this in years. The raw power of them made her shaky.

Luckily, Jamison ran up to them, breaking the tense spell. His face was flushed, eyes sparkling, grinning ear to ear. It was the happiest Savannah had seen him in months.

He looked from Ian to Savannah, vibrating with excitement. “Can we paint now?”