Claire tossed back a large swallow of Maxine’s moonshine, hoping it would warm her bones, as she took stock of all the work they had to do winterizing the North Cove Gardens. The savory scents from North Cove Bistro rode on the light breeze, making her stomach grumble in wanting.

Geographically, she was a South Cove Madam, but when Larkin had set her sights on being friends, Claire hadn’t stood a chance. She’d been indoctrinated to the North Cove Mavens before she’d realized what had happened.

And found her home.

Unlike most of her friends, she wasn’t originally from Cape Van Buren. She’d moved here to be with Jimmy after finishing college with her Master of Fine Arts. She was an artist deep down. Everything she did was better if she could make it beautiful. One reason she enjoyed her event planning so much.

She’d officially opened her own business just after Larkin’s baby shower, at the very strong urging of her friends, but when the opportunity to use her art and help the kids of Cape Van Buren arose, she leaped at the chance. Event planning paid her bills and fueled her creativity, but working at the Center fulfilled her in a way nothing else ever had.

One more sip from the moonshine, then it was time to work. This batch, made from Evette’s blueberries and Janice's edible flowers, went down smooth and easy like fresh fruit in whipped cream. Wicked good.

The North Cove Mavens had all arranged their Thursday to combine forces to prune the flowering bushes and wrap some of the more vulnerable perennials. A few pieces from the summer’s garden festival still held center stage. It had been another huge hit with the town, but to the Mavens’ great consternation, they’d had to share this year’s win in a tie with the South Cove Madams.

Maxine fought for a tiebreaker, but with her and Judge Carter on the outs, he refused to even make eye contact with her much less listen to her appeal.

Claire wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then handed Larkin the jar. “I can’t believe Blayne is getting out of this. We should just wait until she comes back.”

“And share the moonshine? No way. More for us.” Larkin took a sip herself. “It’s so good to be drinking again. I think the hardest thing about carrying baby Max was missing out on all the wine and moonshine.”

Claire forced a grin. She’d give anything to carry her baby to term. And she’d give up even more. Even Maxine’s moonshine.

“Are you okay?” Larkin paused with her pruning shears poised to cut a dying stem from one of the large rose bushes. Her eyes shot wide, and she dropped the scissors to the ground. With a horrified expression on her face, she wrapped an arm around Claire. “I’m so sorry. That was incredibly insensitive of me. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Claire shook her head. “You’re fine. Stop. I know what you meant.”

And she did. There were parts of being pregnant that she hadn’t liked. Which, now having her lost her baby, made her feel like karma had a hand in what had happened next. Jimmy had died at the hospital the day he’d gotten in the accident with Larkin’s first husband and little boy, Archer.

Claire had been heartbroken, unable to sleep, could barely eat. Panic attacks had kept her on edge for weeks. She’d never imagined that she could bear any more grief than losing the man she loved. Until she woke up to a horrendous pain in her stomach and blood all over her sheets, washing away every last dream she’d hoped to grasp on to.

At just under eight months, her baby had been stillborn. In a panic, she’d grabbed at the sheets, as if holding onto the telltale sign of death could somehow keep life from slipping through her fingers.

A silent wail of despair filled her head with the memory.

She bent to inspect a set of small bushes to give herself a chance to blink back tears before Larkin could see them. Her friend’s comment had been fueled by the innocence of happiness. Nothing more, nothing less. There was no reason for her lovely friend to feel guilty for basking in her own joy. She’d had enough sorrow herself.

That said, it was hard for Claire to watch her friends move forward with the life she’d been promised. She was sincerely thrilled for them but sad for herself. She was alone, by choice, and it was something she needed to come to terms with.

Larkin was the bravest woman she’d ever met. Her friend had found her way through the loss of her sweet boy, had trusted her heart, and prepared to risk it for love.

Claire couldn’t imagine doing that. She refused to ever put herself in a position again where she could feel that much pain. She’d heard the saying that it was better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.

And she called bullshit.

You didn’t know what you were missing if you didn’t have it in the first place, and when there was a chance it could be lost, not knowing was way better. Ignorance was bliss and all that.

“Promise you’re okay?” Larkin asked.

Pulling from her reserves and channeling Blayne’s feisty attitude, Claire jumped up, grin in place, and grabbed the moonshine. “Woman, I’m the one who helped you move on at the cemetery way back when, remember? I’ve already dealt with my shit. I am fine.”

And she was...as long as she didn’t think about the baby she’d never held in her arms or the man she never would again.

Mitch’s face popped into her head. She hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings yesterday and had regretted the thoughtless words as soon as they’d popped out. Apparently, she wasn’t always very sensitive either.

But she’d also been surprised. He’d never played down what a playboy he was before, and she couldn’t understand why it was such a big deal now.

As for Jimmy. He knew how to love a woman. Gentle and quiet. He was always easy. No surprises.

No adventure.

The disloyal thought jerked her from the trap her brain had set as Maxine and Janice joined them.

“Damn Judge Carter better stay free and clear of me, I’ll tell you that right now.” Maxine said the word judge like she questioned its meaning and focused on chopping at a section of one of the bushes that made up the C for the initials of Cape Van Buren.

Janice grabbed the sheers from her friend. “When are you two going to make up already? Your little spat was cute at first, but when it starts affecting the rest of us, enough is enough.”

“I agree,” Evette added. “I never thought you much of a masochist, but this almost seems to be like pleasure-pain foreplay with the two of you at this point.”

Maxine’s face went hot. “He embarrassed me in front of half the town.”

Janice snorted. “You were selling moonshine while dating a judge. What the hell did you expect him to do?”

Red curls bobbing, Mitch’s mother put her hand out for the canning jar, and Claire didn’t hesitate. There was no getting between the ladies and their moonshine...or each other.

Maxine eyed Janice with censure. “You sure are enjoying that moonshine you think I should just give away, my friend.”

“Oh, I never said that. I just think you should be sneakier than selling it where the judge could find out.” Janice laughed. “The extra money goes a long way in my garden and our ‘howl at the moon’ nights on the Cape.

Larkin titled her head. “Didn’t Ryker say you guys had to stop those now that the Cape was opened to the town?”

Three sets of eyes with more spunk and wisdom than the oak trees of Maine had leaves turned toward her with a slow, measured slide.

“Never mind.” Larkin raised her hands up to ward them off.

Claire stepped between them all. “Can we get moving? I’m meeting Mitch at the Center at four, and we’ve barely two hours to get this done.”

Janice perked up like a moose on a willow trail. “What’s this now?”

Regret and panic caused a pounding at the base of Claire’s skull. “Don’t even. He’s helping me get ready for my program for the kids. A bit of an experiment.” Then she added with a frown, “And he has final say from a liability standpoint.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d like to experiment on that one,” Maxine teased.

Heat flushed through Claire’s chest. “Is it always sex with you?”

“That’s a dumb question,” Evette laughed.

Maxine took back her sheers and worked on shaping the bush in front of her. “A healthy sex life is imperative for a healthy mind and body. How do you think I’m still going so strong?” She slid her hands down her sides with a little shimmy and a wink.

“Ha! Then you better go make up with Judge Carter before it all goes to hell,” Evette said.

Janice cackled. “I never thought I’d see the day when we were trying to get two North Cove Mavens laid. Normally we try to keep this type of focus on one at a time.”

Claire choked midsip of the moonshine. “I do not need or want your help.”

“From what I hear, Mitch knows his way around—”

“Stop! Don’t say it. He’s your son, for God’s sake,” Claire begged, tipping the jar.

“Whoa, there. Save some for me.” Larkin grabbed at it.

Janice was so delighted with her joke, she could barely get her words out. “Please, I make no pretensions about my son and his sex life. He’s a grown man. I’d be disturbed if he wasn’t getting some. Like we are with you.” She pointed at Claire. “Hell, you can barely say penis.”

“Ohmigod. Not this again. I can say it just fine.”

All three women stared and waited.

“I haven’t been dating because I don’t want anything serious, not because I’m some sort of prude or afraid of sex.”

Janice’s gaze eased from teasing to disappointed. “Why wouldn’t you want anything serious?”

How could she ever make them understand?

She looked out over the garden grounds at all the beauty they created and nurtured, beauty that fed the souls of anyone who walked through the splendor, inspiring them to create something special themselves. The brick pathways led the way, the rope fences gave them boundaries and direction.

Just like her friends.

They all charged at life with such strength. Well, she was strong, too. Strong enough to know what she wanted and didn’t want in life. “I’ve had true love once. That was enough for me. End of story.” She grabbed the jar back from Larkin. “Let’s get to work.”

Mitch glanced over his resume one more time.

Just about ready to go. Once he finished this last project for Ryker, he’d have a pretty solid submission for the City Attorney position.

He leaned back in his chair. The Cape house office mirrored the programs room across the foyer, making it way too easy to imagine Claire there. They looked a lot different than the bold navy and eggplant colors that used to cover the walls. It all had suited Maxine, but the new look worked, too, and offered a new start, a new purpose.

Both spaces were painted gray with lots of white and earth tones. The decor brought much of the outdoor seaside feel inside with subtle hints of the coast in the knotted pine wood shelves, nautical rope-edged throw pillows, and the random assortment of seashells that could be found throughout the house. It suited just about anyone who stepped through the Center’s doors.

As it should be. A home away from home for every one of them.

He closed out the files just as a knock sounded at the front door. Who the hell could that be? It was an open center. Anyone from town could walk on in until they closed at eight p.m.

Pulling the door open, he jumped to catch falling boxes from Claire’s arms. “Take these please.” She breezed right on past him while he juggled two boxes and a roll of paper. The scent of earth and the familiar sweet smell of moonshine followed in her wake.

She spun around with her arms out. “Let’s get started.”

There was something different about her this afternoon.

The last thing he’d expected was a carefree Claire after their last conversation. He’d already prepared his I’m-an-ass speech.

But there was a definite glow in her eye and a blush in her cheeks. He wanted to cup her face and kiss her senseless.

What the fuck?

What the hell about he-wasn’t-the-man-for-her did he not understand?!

With a mental shake, he moved toward the program room and set the supplies on her desk. “What’s all this?”

She stepped up beside him and nudged his hip playfully with hers. “This...” She took the roll of paper and unfurled it across the work table. “Is the first step of your lesson.”

He took in her sunshiny blond hair held back by a bandana, her jeans and work boots. The t-shirt she wore was stretched across her breasts in the way that made every man grateful for the invention of Spandex. It said “Celebrate in Color” with a rainbow of handprints all across the front, and he swore when he read it, he could hear her voice.

This woman continued to mystify him. She had strong values. A brilliant mind. Not to mention a far too saucy mouth that he wanted to do wicked things to. There was so much he didn’t know about her. She was everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

“Where were you?”

She scowled. “Weeding and pruning. Had I known being a North Cove Maven meant I’d have to pull weeds, I might have thought twice.”

Ahhhh, that was it. His mother had mentioned something about preparing the North Gardens for winter. The South Cove Madams took care of the gardens at the south end. She was still pretty sore about the results of the festival, so he’d been steering clear lately.

In a flurry, Claire set out colored pencils and pulled up a dreamy, meditative tune on her phone. “Here. Sit.” She grabbed his shoulders, pushing him into a chair.

But instead of releasing him, she kneaded into his muscles with a sigh, following the curve of his shoulder to his biceps, sending all sorts of signals to his dick that were in no way accurate.

“Are you okay?” he asked. Not that he minded, but this was so not like her.

She froze and blinked rapidly. “What? Of course.” On a snort, she let him go, then pulled up a chair. He missed the heat of her hands immediately, the ghost-print feeling left behind still humming along his skin.

Wait a second. “Look at me.”

Claire did as she was told. He could get lost in the deep crystal blue of her eyes if he were allowed. She grinned, taking him aback.

That wasn’t really like her at all. At least not with him around.

With a tap to his nose, she said, “You’re so pretty.”

He grabbed her finger. Pretty? What. The. Fuck. “You’re drunk. Moonshine?”

“The finest kind.” She saluted.

“Yeah, I know.” Too bad she hadn’t brought any with her to their lesson. It would make it a hell of a lot easier to work through her coping skills program.

She tugged at her finger. He resisted for a beat, then released her.

Studying his face, she sighed. “It feels good to be a little numb instead of just empty.”

His chest tightened with worry. “How did you get here? Tell me you didn’t drive.”

“I didn’t drive.”

“Claire,” he growled.

On a giggle, she said, “Larkin dropped me off. I told her you could take me home.”

Relief surged through him until she closed her eyes and bent toward him. Breathing in through her nose, she sighed again. “You always smell so damn good.”

Warning bells sounded in his head and warred with the desire to taste the lips curved so sweetly before him. She opened her eyes and held his gaze, her mouth hovering just inches from his. It would take no effort at all to lean in and take a sip.

He was parched.

His body tightened, and he shifted in the chair to make room for the over-eager reaction in his pants. God damn it.

As her focus drifted to his lips, she licked hers. His blood pounded in his ears. He needed to get a hold of his damn self and fast.

Clearing his throat, he grabbed a colored pencil, accidentally snapping it in half.

Claire jumped, then grabbed the two pieces from him. “Be careful. I am working with a budget here.”

And there she was. Bossy, sassy Claire.

“Okay.” She handed him another pencil. “What I want you to do is close your eyes then draw all around on this paper.”

He tilted his head. “That’s it?”

“For now.”

Settling in his chair, he closed his eyes. The feather-light silk of her skin drifted over his knuckles as she guided his hand to the paper. Soft, fluid music floated about his head and mixed with her rich, intoxicating scent in a powerful combination. There was something incredibly seductive about the experience that had no place in what they were doing.

Scenes of sliding skin and soft moans of pleasure clouded his brain. What was he supposed to do again?

“Just move with me,” she said.

“Oh, I’ll move with you alright.”

“Mitch, if you’re not going to take this seriously, the deal is off.”

He snapped his eyes open and pushed away from the table. Air, that’s what he needed, and a little space. Distance.

Abandoning the task and Claire, he walked through the foyer and toward the porch off the back of the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” The disappointment in her voice was clear, but he had to take a second and get his damn body and mind back under control. He must be a glutton for punishment because no other explanation could help him understand why he wanted someone who so clearly did not want him.

No. Scratch that. He did not want. Did. Not. She was simply an enigma. A problem that needed to be solved.

A problem who followed hot on his heels.

He skirted around the large table and stepped to the railing along the west side of the outdoor living space that faced the town.

The sun was low in the sky, hanging just over the trees that edged the far border of Cape Van Buren. A cool breeze had picked up, carrying the scent of sea salt spray with it, and seagulls called from overhead. He loved the Cape. Especially now that the dark cloud caused by Ryker’s abusive father years ago had been lifted.

The Cape was a peninsula of richly-wooded earth wrapped in a great rocky shore along the coast of Maine. The Atlantic to the east and the town of Cape Van Buren to the west. It was home.

A home he wanted to help protect.

Claire joined him, sucking in a breath herself. It was impossible to resist out on the Cape. So fresh and clean without the pollution of man. He followed suit, filling his lungs.

“I felt like an ass.”

It wasn’t a complete lie; he had been uncomfortable with her instructions. Draw with his eyes closed? He could barely make a straight line with them open. His talents lay in social strategy, finding patterns and gaps, then filling them. Not beauty. He was never much good at that.

But if he were honest with himself, working with her was going to be harder than he thought. Claire Adams was a woman who required a light touch and a committed future. And they both knew he was not the man for either.

“Look, it takes a little time to trust in the process. I’m not here to judge your artistic ability or anything we may uncover. You have to let go of perfection in order to expose the mess.”

That’s what he was afraid of.

Her words made him restless, and he scratched at his chest. “You’ll need to set expectations with your young students, help them see that ahead of time. But with kids, I think they’ll trust you more naturally from the start than adults will. It’s when we’ve been touched by life that we find it difficult to trust in what we find around us.”

She studied his face. “Why don’t you let people see this side of you?”

He ran his hand along the railing. “What are you talking about? I’m myself all the time.”

“You’re on all the time. Fun-loving, thrill-seeking Mitch Brennan. But lately, I’ve seen a deeper, thoughtful side of you that I don’t think many know is there.”

“Well, they would if they bothered to look.”

She laughed. “You and I both know people are lazy. If you expect them to notice what you aren’t showing, you’re going to be deeply disappointed.”

“But you notice, is that it?” The fact he wanted her to was the problem.

“I’m beginning to. What’re we going to do with that?”

His heart drummed in his chest in a solid rhythm he swore he could hear as well as feel. What was she getting at? He could never risk hurting her. Only an ass would consider such a thing, and he was working really hard at not being one. But he was too much like his dad.

“On paper, I mean?” Her clarification filled his gut with the sour twist of being a fool. Of course. Her art program.

“Well, how about we use your ability to see people to actually handle going on a date.” He couldn’t help the sarcasm. Spending time with her wrapped him tighter than the rigging on Ryker’s sailboat. Trying to get her to loosen up was going to snap him in half.

Her brows shot up. “Did I say something wrong?”

“You? Never. Why would you think that?” He stepped back into the kitchen. “Look, I need to finish up some work for Ryker.”

She followed behind him. “You’re as moody as Blayne when she doesn’t get enough time on the rink, you know that?” She sounded offended, but he was too tired of fighting himself to really care.

“And you’re exhausting.”

Grabbing one of the cupcakes she’d made using Evette’s recipe from the fridge, she took a healthy bite, chewing like her life depended on it.

She was a stress eater. And he found it adorable.

Fuck. And just like that, his irritation rolled away.

What in the hell was he going to do with this woman?

“Give me that.” Snatching it from her hand, he took a bite of his own.

One way or another they were both going to get what they wanted.