Ashley brushed her fingertips over the framed Serenity Prayer on her old bedroom wall. God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change… According to her mother, Grandma Winnie had stitched it after Ashley’s alcoholic grandfather had abandoned her with two-year-old Cheryl.

On the whole, the Thompson women had rotten luck when it came to men.

Hand on the frame’s smooth glass, Ashley whispered, “Never get serious, never spend the night, and never say I love you.” Pia had rolled her eyes at Ashley’s rules for relationships. But they’d worked just fine until she’d broken all three at the same time.

She sighed and turned away from the picture. Technically, she’d never told Smith she loved him. But she’d thought it. She felt it, and that was enough. The heartbreak was the same.

As she had a little over a week ago, she glanced around the room one last time before hitting the lights and heading for the stairs. This time, though, she didn’t have to wrestle with her suitcase. She’d left everything at Smith’s for fear of alerting him to her plans. He might try to convince her to stay—and she just might be weak enough to let him.

Or he might not try to stop her at all. Her heart knew which one was worse.

She skipped the broken tread and turned toward the kitchen. As she walked past the grandfather clock, she stopped in her tracks.

Then she did a double take.

A man sat in her grandmother’s front parlor, and he looked enough like Smith to be almost identical. If it hadn’t been for the impeccable three-piece suit he wore, she might have believed he was Smith.

He stood and smiled. “Hello, Ashley.”

She realized her mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut. “How’d you get in here?” She didn’t bother asking who he was. He was obviously one of Smith’s brothers. And since the oldest Salvatierra brother was a Venezuelan drug lord, this could only be Juan. The lawyer.

He walked toward her, and her sense of unreality grew. He was so like Smith, yet so unalike with his expensive suit and clean-shaven jaw. Smith usually kept a bit of scruff there. At the thought, an ache shot across her heart.

Stop thinking about him.

He held up a key. “I know your hiding place.”

It took her a second to realize he’d answered her question. She snatched the key from his fingers. “Your brother tells me it’s a crime to enter a house that doesn’t belong to you.”

He grinned, his handsome face lit up with obvious delight. “This is better than I could have imagined.”

What was he talking about? She frowned, ready to give him a piece of her mind, when the back door squealed. A second later, Smith appeared in the doorway. His hair was wet, and he’d changed his clothes.

“Ashley.” His gaze found his brother, and he frowned. “I told you no earlier than ten.”

Juan shrugged. “I like to be early. Besides, I wanted to meet my future sister-in-law.”

Ashley jerked. “I’m not—”

“Juan’s just leaving,” Smith said, an edge in his voice. “Aren’t you, Juan?”

“Oh, I think I’d rather stay and watch how this unfolds.” He leaned toward Ashley and said in a stage whisper, “I predict a lot of groveling.”

“Juan.”

Juan laughed and held up his hands. “Claro.” He turned to Ashley and withdrew a long, skinny envelope from an inner pocket in his suit jacket. “This is a copy. I have to file the original with the county, but I’ll mail you the final paperwork next week.”

She took it. “A copy of what?”

For the first time, Juan’s expression became serious. Ashley suppressed a shiver. Like his brother, this was clearly not a man to cross. He nodded toward the envelope. “That’s the deed to the Murray store. Dean Lacy expresses his deep regret over his actions. He was more than happy to transfer full ownership to you once I pointed out how much the courts frown on parents with a sexual assault conviction having visitation with their children. I might have also mentioned something about Texas having the strictest animal cruelty law in the country. Mr. Lacy was eager to comply with my requests.”

She turned to Smith and found him staring at her. “I don’t understand,” she said.

“I can explain,” he said.

Juan crossed the room and stood next to him. Side by side, the resemblance was uncanny. He patted Smith’s shoulder and murmured something in rapid Spanish. Smith frowned and answered in the same language. Before he left, Juan shot her another grin.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Ashley. Felicidades.”

She waited for the kitchen door to slam and his footsteps to fade before holding up the envelope. “What’s this about? Why did he congratulate me?”

Smith looked toward the porch, where the driveway and his brother’s departing car were visible. “He’s enjoying this entirely too much,” he muttered.

“Enjoying what? Smith, what is this about?” The envelope wasn’t sealed. She opened the flap.

“Wait.” He came to her. His gaze searched hers, and his throat worked.

He’s nervous. The self-assured, commanding police chief was nervous.

“I saw Pia’s text,” he said. “You’re leaving.”

Surprise jolted her. “Why would she text—” Almost immediately, she realized what Pia had done. Ashley sighed. “She wanted you to see it. She knew I didn’t have my phone.”

A smiled played around his mouth. “Then I owe her one.”

“Smith—”

He grabbed her hands. His fingers folded around the envelope she still held. “I asked for Juan’s help because I didn’t know how else to show you.”

“Show me what?”

“How much I love you.” Before she could react, he rushed on. “The Murray store is yours. Dean signed it over. He’s leaving town, Ashley.”

She was still reeling from his confession. “Leaving? What—”

“I know you hate Prattsville, and he was part of the reason you hated it. Well, he’s gone. You can make the Murray store a workshop or a storefront. Whatever you want.” He looked around the parlor. “I’m giving you this place, too.”

“What?” She shook her head. “Smith, that’s not necessary.”

“Hell yes, it is.” He moved his hands to her upper arms. “I know the Murray place might hold bad memories for you after…” Anger flashed in his eyes, and he made a visible effort to rein it in. “…after Dean. If you want, we’ll turn this place into a store. Or we can fix it up and sell it. The choice is yours. And if you want to go back to Los Angeles, we’ll go there, too.”

She caught her breath. “You hate big cities. You’d be miserable there.”

“I’d be happy. I’d be happy anywhere you are.” He shrugged. “Deuce will have to get used to pooping on concrete, but we’ll make it work.”

She laughed. At the same moment, she realized she was crying. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “You’d move to L.A. for me?”

His gaze grew intense. “I’d move to the fucking moon for you.”

She threw her arms around his neck. He caught her and lifted her against him. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear. “Don’t leave me, Ashley. And if you have to leave, take me with you.”

“I’m not leaving,” she said. The parlor walls blurred through the sheen of tears obscuring her vision. She pulled back so she could see his face. “I don’t want to go back to L.A.”

“But your work. It’s the only place you can get acting jobs.”

She shook her head. “That’s not entirely true. The night we saw that play, it made me realize what I love about acting. And it’s not the money or the fame. It’s connecting with an audience. I can do that right here. Or at least in San Antonio.”

Happiness beamed from his eyes. “So it’s a long-distance relationship you’re proposing.”

“I think you can handle the commute.”

He stroked her cheek. “Yes, but I don’t know if you can. You have something of a lead foot, remember?”

“Officer, are you going to ticket me?”

He pulled her hips against his. “It’s chief. And I might have to do a strip search.”

“Sounds like abuse of power to me.”

“No,” he whispered. “You hold all the power when it comes to us, sweetheart.” He paused. “Marry me?”

Her heart grew so big she worried it might swell from her chest. “Yes,” she said. “Oh yes.”

He bent his head and gave her the gentlest, most reverent kiss.

She pulled back so she could catch her breath. “What did Juan say before he left? He spoke to you in Spanish.”

A smile entered his eyes. “He said ‘don’t fuck this up.’ He has to take care of some business involving Catalina, and he won’t be around for a few weeks.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Juan will handle it. The Salvatierra men are pretty good at managing difficult women.”

She punched his shoulder. “You—”

He laughed and kissed her again. When they broke apart at last, he rested his forehead against hers. “You still haven’t said it, you know.”

She drew back, confused. “Said what?”

His smile was tender. “I love you.”

Oh. In her mind, she tossed her rules out the window.

“I love you, Smith Salvatierra. I love you, I love you.”