It was damn cold out, and Jack was grateful when he saw Elizabeth heading over to him with an insulated mug that had tendrils of steam rising from it.

“Coffee?” she said.

“Definitely.”

Something about her pale skin, reddened from the windburn she’d suffered the previous night, made his heart positively ache. He leaned on the shovel and watched her make her precarious way over as she tried to sidestep patches of ice. The delicacy of her movements made him want to pick her up and hold her close, carry her wherever she wanted to go. When she got to him, her smile was personal, and one of victory. Make no mistake, it seemed to say. I am a survivor.

It was something he already knew.

“I can’t believe you’re shoveling my sidewalk,” she said, handing him the mug. “I swear, you’re like this vision from heaven. You’ve been thoroughly decent, and I’ve been perfectly awful to you.”

“You haven’t been awful,” Jack said, mesmerized by her expressive blue eyes.

“Refusing to answer your questions? Not letting you into my house when you were kind enough to check up on me?” Jack’s heart fluttered at the way she wrinkled her nose in self-deprecation. “I’d say that’s pretty awful behavior on my part.”

“You’re looking out for your family,” he said. “No one can fault you for that.”

Jack had some experience in that area, and he knew it could take a toll.

“Here.” Elizabeth reached and took the shovel before he could stop her. “I’ll shovel while you relax for a minute.”

“Hell, no!” He tried to get it back, but she stepped away so he couldn’t. “I don’t mind shoveling, and I know you’ve had a rough night.”

Not to mention a rough life, he thought.

On the way back to the station from the accident scene, Jack had asked the guys what they knew about the Armstrong family. Sean Kelly knew Elizabeth the best; he said that in addition to bartending, she was the coach for the city’s girls youth hockey league. As the assistant coach for the boys team, Sean ran into Elizabeth at the rink on occasion. He said she was a natural with kids, beloved by the girls on the team, and that she herself had played hockey since she was young. Sean also said he got the impression things were hard for her and her brother financially, and that Elizabeth had once told him their mom was an alcoholic who’d run off and abandoned them sometime after their dad went to prison.

That had squeezed at Jack’s heart. And when he’d looked inside her house upon first arriving, he’d seen how the living room ceiling sagged from water damage. On the exterior, two windows were boarded up, meaning replacement windows were too expensive, and the house most likely hadn’t seen a paint job in Elizabeth’s lifetime.

She moved to the walkway leading from the sidewalk to her house and began to work.

“I actually like shoveling,” she said when he protested again, which Jack knew full well was quite the little white lie. No one liked shoveling in below-freezing temperatures. But he understood she was proud, and that she didn’t want some guy coming in and trying to fix things for her—even though she seemed like she’d benefit from being taken care of for a change.

“Doc Bauer’s great,” she said as she began.

“Isn’t he? We call him St. Nick because he’s kind of a saint. He started that whole clinic by himself and works nearly every day. Could have retired but wants to be useful.” He gulped the coffee she’d brought him, grateful for its creamy richness. “Good coffee. Thanks.”

“It’s not exactly fresh,” she admitted.

“It’s perfect.”

She paused in her work. “Did you say your name is Jack Barnes?”

His heart pounded. What did Elizabeth know? “That’s right.”

“So Josh Barnes is your brother?”

“He is,” Jack said. “You know him?”

“He’s dating my friend, Hayley March. She runs a Singles Night at the Sled Dog, where I tend bar.”

Jack made a mental note to ask Hayley more about Elizabeth. Like if she was single. That’s none of your business, he scolded himself. Don’t you dare go down that road.

Elizabeth’s compelling eyes scanned his face. “I haven’t seen you there at Singles Night.” She blushed as she said it. Adorably, and a little shyly. “I’d remember.”

“I’ve never been,” he said.

“You’re not single?”

“Oh, I am,” he said. “But a Singles Night just isn’t my thing.”

In his view, the pickings were slim in Golden Falls, with a male-to-female ratio of almost two-to-one. It seemed to Jack like all the good women had been snatched up while he was suffering through his ill-fated marriage to Jolene, his tempestuous high school girlfriend, in those first hard years after they’d graduated. She’d eventually done them both a favor by taking his money and running—literally. He’d come home from work one day and discovered their joint checking account empty, along with her half of the closet. He’d been granted a default divorce after publishing his intentions in the legal notice section of the Anchorage and Golden Falls newspapers and hearing nothing back.

These days, his relationships tended to be short-lived and were most often with women he met on the extended travels he took twice a year. He would squeeze entire relationships—beginning, middle, and end—into the span of a couple of weeks, skipping the bad parts … and plenty of good parts, too, he had to admit. Like having a woman who knew you well and could communicate with just a look or a touch. Like having someone to hold in his arms and dance with in his made-for-dancing living room, or to snuggle up with in front of the fireplace on long winter nights.

Most of all, he’d like to have someone to take care of and to have someone who’d take care of him if he needed it, both emotionally and physically. It had been difficult the other month to see his father stricken with pneumonia, hooked up on life support, without a wife by his side. A lot could be said about Bruce Barnes—and Jack had plenty to say—but he’d been devoted to Jack’s mom and cared for her with all his heart when she was dying from cancer. Bruce’s love for her had never been in question, and Jack knew his dad’s devotion had given his mom great comfort. He wouldn’t turn down the chance to experience that kind of love. There was something to be said for marriage and babies and everlasting love.

And Elizabeth was just … lovely. He admired her loyalty to her brother, her quick thinking in a crisis, not to mention her chin-up attitude, standing strong against the punches life threw her way. He suspected that if a man she trusted wrapped her in his arms, her toughness would melt. Soften. Allow her to let down her guard, which she probably desperately needed.

Oh, to be that man.

“…by now,” he heard, the tail end of whatever it was Elizabeth had said, and he snapped back to the moment.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I said I’d think someone would have scooped you up by now.”

“Nope. I remain un-scooped.”

She laughed, and her laugh was glittery like when the sun sparkled on a high mountain lake on a cloudless summer day. “I think your brother Josh has been pretty well scooped up by Hayley,” she said.

“It seems so, and that’s a good thing,” Jack said.

Since committing to Hayley a few months earlier, Josh’s entire demeanor had relaxed. Before Hayley had entered his life, there’d been a lonesome darkness in Josh’s eyes, a private trauma that Jack suspected resulted from the time he’d served in the military as a medic in Afghanistan. But now it seemed he’d made peace with his past and put it in its proper place.

Elizabeth gave Jack a considering look. “And how’s your dad?”

Jack nearly spit out his coffee. “You know him, too?”

“Yeah, I love your dad. He’s a great guy,” she said.

Her words were like a punch in the gut. “I didn’t realize you knew him.”

“Sure,” she said. “Bruce has been nicer to my family than just about anyone else in this town.”

Jack felt a headache coming on like a drill bit aiming for his brain. Elizabeth was wrong, on so many levels, about his dad. He had not been nicer to her family than anyone else in Golden Falls, not by a long shot.

“Is that so?”

She nodded. “Do you know about my father, Nate Armstrong? The dirty cop who went to prison?”

Jack flinched at her matter-of-fact description. “I’m familiar with the Nate Armstrong case, yes.”

“Did you know your father has gone to my dad’s parole hearing the last three times to speak on his behalf?”

Jack’s insides twitched. “Is that so?”

“That’s right,” Elizabeth said. “All the way to Oregon, on his own dime. He’s the only person from the police department who ever cared about my dad. Even though it didn’t help in terms of getting him out, it did always help my dad’s spirits. A lot. It helped me, too.” She paused. “It’s kind of lonely being the daughter of the town pariah, so having even just that one person treat him decently … well, it makes a difference.”

Jack looked around at the decrepit house and at the rusty old sedan in the side yard, missing tires and hoisted on cement blocks, and then at Elizabeth’s SUV, damaged from the previous night’s accident. Speaking on Nate Armstrong’s behalf was the absolute least his father could do to ease this family’s suffering.  

“Elizabeth, do you have a piece of paper and a pen I could borrow?”

“Sure,” she said. “I’ll go get them for you, but I’m taking the shovel with me.” Her vivid blue eyes sparkled when she smiled. “You’ve done enough. You’ve done so much.”

Jack waited on her front stoop, drinking the last of the coffee she’d heated for him, trying to calm his pounding thoughts. He should have known a day like this would arrive that would force him to face the consequences of what really happened all those years ago.

Elizabeth returned to the door, pen and notebook in hand. “Here you go.” She said it cheerfully. “My brother’s going to be okay. He just needed some stitches in his hand, and other than that, Doc Bauer said everything else will heal on its own.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Jack handed back the coffee mug and took the pen and paper. “You said Chris Flattery towed your SUV back here?” She nodded. “I know a guy who can get this fixed for you. I’ll have Chris tow it out to his place.”

“That’s fine,” she said. “I probably can’t afford to have anyone fix it right away, but it’d be good to know how much it’s going to cost. Chris won’t mind towing it. His wife April is a close friend, and they’ve always been super to me. Chris lets me pay him in dessert instead of money.”

And she bakes? Jack had a real sweet tooth, although he didn’t let himself indulge very often. He had a sudden vision of Elizabeth in a warm kitchen—in his warm kitchen. He had a vision of them making a batch of cookies together, tasting the dough she scooped onto the edge of her finger and offered him. He’d pull her in for a kiss, taste her vanilla sweetness, and press her slight, feminine body against his … and then with every ounce of willpower he could muster, Jack tore his thoughts from the fantasy. Not gonna happen, he reminded himself.

To Elizabeth, attempting to sound normal, he said, “Oh, yeah? What do you make?”

“Usually my Butterfinger cookie dough cheesecake brownies.”

“Wow. Those sound positively sinful.”

“They are.” Her smile was flirty. “Sinful and delicious. A potent combination, don’t you think?”

I think I want you, he thought. I’ve been sinful, and you’re certainly delicious, and maybe we could be a potent combination.

It was not going to happen. Nothing could—or would or should—happen between them. But damn, he wanted it to.

He cleared his throat, forcing his thoughts back from the forbidden path on which they had set out. “Potent, yes,” he sputtered. Get a grip, man, he told himself.

“Do you know the Flatterys?” Elizabeth asked.

“I do, actually,” Jack said. “They live down the street from me. We’re not friends, per se, but we’re neighborly. They’re good people.”

“They are,” Elizabeth said. “He and April have saved my ass on more than one occasion.”

He wanted to ask how. Truthfully, he wanted to know everything about her—but it wasn’t his place to intrude into her life. He stepped off the porch, reluctant to leave the warmth of her gaze but having no reason to stay. She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed against the cold, and smiled at him. He knew it was another image he’d never forget.

“You take care now, Elizabeth, you hear?”

“You, too, Jack Barnes.”

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Jack found Chris Flattery’s number and called as he walked along the newly-shoveled path to the vehicle, making the necessary arrangements. Once back at the Bronco, he opened the driver’s side door and propped his foot on the runner so he could write on his knee.

He knew he could never make things right for the Armstrongs, but Jack hoped he could make them a little less wrong. He flipped open the notebook and felt his heart harden as he tried to think what words to use in the note he was writing to his father. Short, simple, and to the point, he decided.

This car belongs to Elizabeth Armstrong. Fix the damage for her.

That was all he needed to say.

Elizabeth Armstrong seemed like a great woman with a big heart. She was young, and beautiful, and she deserved a far better hand than the one fate—and his father—had dealt her.