Crew snuck another glance at Harley as they pulled into her parents’ driveway. They’d chatted comfortably throughout the drive, and he was reminded all over again why he’d always loved her. She was funny, smart, and caring. If only she wasn’t caught up in her stupid Mr. Darcy quest. Curse that girls’ camp she went to every summer where they made their Jane Austen Pact; Harley’d seemed to come home more convinced every year that she had to marry an imitation Mr. Darcy. Crew shuddered. Darcy had been a pompous stiff. Harley would never be happy with someone like that. She was passionate, fun, and brilliant.

Crew couldn’t be something he wasn’t, but he could be the man who loved Harley. And someday, somehow, he’d get her to see how much he loved her and see him as more than a dumb cowboy with no aspirations in life.

He scowled as he thought of the stuffy suit with the English accent back at the airport. What dumb kind of luck was it that she walked off the airplane with that loser? He brushed it off. It didn’t matter. She was here now and this was his chance to get her to see him, to see them together. He’d been praying for this chance for a long time. Nerves assaulted his stomach. He might need some more prayers.

He pushed the button to kill the motor and looked over at her. She was staring at her house. It was a nice two-story farm-style house—not as nice as his house, but construction was his industry.

“Harley?” he asked.

She turned toward him, her dark eyes bright. “I don’t know if I can do this, Crew.”

His heart rate sped up a notch. Do this? Be with him? The fact that she was considering it was the best news he could’ve hoped for. “We’ll just take it slow, sweetheart.” He reached over and put his hand on top of hers where it rested on the console. Dang that console. He wanted to pull her into his arms.

She nodded hesitantly, turning her palm over and linking their fingers. “You’ll stay by me?”

“Of course I will.” Happiness rushed through him. She wanted him? This was amazing. All thanks to Ryker asking him to pick Harley up from the airport. He said a quick prayer of gratitude to the Lord too. Were all his dreams of Harley finally loving him in return about to come true?

“Thanks, Crew. You’ve always been there for me.” She wiped away a tear with her free hand.

Crew wanted to crawl over the console and take her in his arms. He’d show her exactly how he was going to be there for her.

“I just love …” She paused and sniffled, and Crew’s heart threatened to beat out of his chest. Could she truly love him as much as he loved her? “… him so much.”

Him? Wait. What? Hadn’t she been about to profess her love to Crew? Who was “him”? She’d said she wasn’t playing at the Jane Austen Pact anymore. Had she already found someone? His stomach got queasy. “You do?” he managed weakly.

She squeezed his hand, then pulled hers free. “Of course I do. He’s my daddy.”

The air whooshed out of Crew. Her dad. Oh, man. Crew was a selfish jerk. He’d been so caught up in his dreams of Harley loving him he’d dismissed what she was going through. But he had to admit it burst his bubble to realize she hadn’t been talking about the two of them at all, not even for a second. He forced himself not to overthink it. She was here for her dad. Crew was the one who’d gotten his hopes ratcheted up so quickly.

“Wait there,” he said.

He jumped down from his truck and hurried around, opening her door. She stepped onto the running board and he wrapped his hands around her trim waist and lifted her down. When her feet were on the ground, he knew he should release her, but he couldn’t do it. She smelled so good—like vanilla ice cream—and she looked even better. She glanced up at him with those big brown eyes framed with dark lashes. Her skin was smooth and naturally tan and her hair seemed to have a mind of its own with those dark curls framing her face and trailing down her back. His eyes dipped to her wide, straight lips, definitely one of her many assets and so beautiful in their uniqueness. A lot of the older people said they were Julia Roberts’s lips, but Crew knew they were all Harley.

“Crew?” she asked.

“Yeah?” His voice went all husky.

She tried to back up, but she had nowhere to go, so she bumped into the side of his truck. “You’re acting really weird.”

Crew’s hands dropped away. He kept thinking they were having romantic moments and she thought he was acting weird. “I’ll get your suitcases.” He stepped back.

“Thanks.” She didn’t walk away, though he’d thought she would.

He lifted her two huge suitcases and her smaller carry-on down from the back seat, then shut the truck door. “You okay?” he asked.

She started to nod but then shook her head quickly, fidgeting with her purse strap. “I just don’t know if I can face this. My daddy’s one of the strongest men I know, and to see him dying …” She blinked and looked away from Crew.

He released the suitcases and gathered her close. For the first time since he’d seen her today, he didn’t have any romantic intentions. He just wanted to be there for her, comfort her. “It’ll be okay,” he murmured against her hair, the soft curls tickling his nose.

“Will it?” Harley sort of glared up at him, and he remembered how much she hated empty platitudes and how much he loved her feistiness.

Crew gave her a gentle smile. He would protect her and stand by her side, even through something as horrible as this. “Okay, you’re right, it’s going to suck, but we’ll get through it.”

She pulled back from his embrace much sooner than he wanted her to, and straightened her shoulders. Grabbing her smaller suitcase, she said, “Time to face the bookie.”

Crew chuckled. It was one of her dad’s sayings, and it always made him laugh because he didn’t think Clint Redland had ever gambled.

Harley plunged ahead of him toward the porch. Crew picked up her huge suitcases and followed. He’d follow this woman anywhere. Too bad she didn’t want him to.

* * *

Harley paused on the front porch, staring through the sidelights of the front door. She couldn’t see much past the entryway and wide staircase, but she hated how scared she was to go inside. If someone had told her two days ago that she’d be terrified to walk into her childhood home, she would’ve had a good laugh at them.

Crew stood quietly by her side. She appreciated his support, even if he did stir her up in ways she didn’t want to think about, would never allow herself to think about. When he’d held on to her waist after he lifted her down from the truck and stared at her with those beautifully blue eyes, she wanted to swoon. Yet Crew wasn’t hers and never would be.

She glanced up at him. He was a lot bigger than she remembered, and more handsome, but the way her body had always reacted to him was the same and—she needed to tamp it down now.

Crew slowly pressed the door handle down and swung the door open. “Life’s easier if you just put one foot in front of the other.”

Harley tried to smile up at him, but tears were clouding her vision. It was one of her daddy’s sayings—he had about a million—but this one in particular he’d say when she was worried or scared to face the unknown.

She nodded to Crew and pasted on a brave expression. He gestured with his arm, his eyes full of understanding and sympathy. Walking in front of him, she took a deep breath and smelled not only Crew’s tantalizing cologne, but home—fresh bread baking, Pine-Sol, and the faint scent of horse and leather that her mom tried to eradicate with the Pine-Sol. But Harley was glad you couldn’t scrub that out. That was her daddy, and she prayed that scent would never leave.

On each side of the entryway were formal rooms: the office, and a living room that Mama called her “celestial room,” where nobody but visitors they didn’t know or like very well went into. Her daddy’s office was too quiet and tidy for Harley’s liking, the huge mahogany desk and bookcase all freshly dusted with carefully stacked papers.

She set her carry on and purse by the stairs, and Crew did the same with her other suitcases. She glanced up at him and he offered her a smile, then put his hand on the small of her back and directed her past the entryway toward the large living area that made up most of the main floor. She wished she didn’t react to his touch so quickly. It was like a two-stroke motorcycle that went vroom loudly anytime you touched the throttle.

They cleared the entryway and the house opened up with large windows and a combination kitchen, dining room, and living area. Her mom was in the kitchen to their right and spotted them immediately. She shrieked and ran at them, dropping what she was doing. “My baby girl!” Then her arms were around Harley and she knew she was truly home now. They hugged and hugged and Harley didn’t try to hide the tears streaking down her face. She’d missed her mom, and she needed her so much right now.

Her mom released her and gently dried Harley’s tears with her apron. Harley was taller than her mom now, but it didn’t matter; her mom was still the nurturer. They looked a lot alike with the long, dark, curly hair, olive skin, and dark eyes. Her daddy used to brag that both of his children took after his “better half.”

“Daddy?” she whispered.

Her mom took her hand and led her into the open living room. Harley glanced back and noticed Crew was watching her carefully. She was glad he didn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable, but then he’d grown up here as much as she had, being best friends with Ryker and the two of them always at one of their houses.

Her legs felt heavy as she walked through the dining room and around the couch. Her daddy was sitting in a leather La-Z-Boy. That alone told her how awful he was feeling. The only time he ever sat down was late at night or on Sunday afternoon to watch a football game. He was a little pale and thinner, his short blond hair speckled with more gray, but he didn’t look like he was knocking on death’s door per se. “There’s my girl,” he boomed.

Harley felt a pang that he wasn’t picking her off the ground and swinging her around like he usually would, but at least he was here and she got to be with him before he left her for good.

“Hi, Daddy.” Harley bent down and kissed his weathered cheek. The hair of his beard was soft and blondish-red with streaks of gray. She knelt next to his chair and he grabbed her hand. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and she blinked quickly. He wouldn’t want her pity. He was too tough for that.

“What’s all this teary stuff about?” he asked. “Somebody dying?”

Harley reared back and her mom gasped. “Clint! You are the orneriest man … you big loot, you just stop it!”

Her dad grinned, and Harley felt all kinds of comforted. He hadn’t changed at all. “Oh, yeah,” he said, “forgot about my gloom and doom for a second.” He put his hand on Harley’s head and tousled her curls. “Sorry, it’s just so fun to tease that beauty of mine.”

“Well, stop it, you’re not funny.” But her mom was fighting a smile.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to sit around my last days of life watching everybody sniffle. Cry after I’m gone, not before.” He winked at Harley. “Or maybe don’t cry at all. Go take all that insurance money you’re gonna get and go on a cruise or somethin’. Buy yourself that big diamond ring I always wanted to getcha.”

“You are too much,” her mom scolded. “I’m finishing dinner. Ryker will be in any minute.” She turned to Crew, and her face broke out into a genuine smile. “You’re staying for dinner.” It was a command, not an invitation.

“Yes, ma’am. Can I help you with something?”

“I’ve got it. Gives me something to do rather than cuss him.” She pointed at her husband, then gestured Crew toward the living room. “Go sit down and keep him company. That’ll be more help than anything.”

“I can help, Mama.” Harley stood, but her dad held on to her hand.

“Let her do it,” he said. “She likes to keep busy.” The words were said with respect and affection, and Harley knew it was true. When Mama was upset, cooking was the balm she needed.

“Sit with your daddy,” her mama instructed. “You just got here. I’ll put you to work later.”

Crew took off his cowboy hat and walked toward them. Harley lost the ability to breathe as she took in all his glory with his golden, slightly wavy hair, that well-built body, and those too-blue eyes.

“Somebody’s finally noticed my boy,” her dad muttered so only she could hear.

Harley glanced sharply at him. “Hush, you.”

He laughed, and Harley was glad to hear the sound was almost the same—not quite as loud, but guttural and just happy.

Crew sat down on the couch and perched his cowboy hat on his knee. Harley couldn’t help but notice his muscular thighs under those nicely fitting jeans. He definitely wore his cowboy look with a manly flair that was all Crew.

“Go sit over there by Crew and tell me everything you’ve been up to, darlin’,” her dad instructed. “My little smarty-pants college grad.” He beamed at her with fatherly pride.

Harley walked toward the couch and sank into the soft leather, but Crew’s presence was just too much. He shifted closer to her and wrapped his arm around the back of the couch, brushing her shoulder and sparking a low smolder in her abdomen. Her dad’s grin said he heartily approved.

“Well, the biggest news—” Harley raised her voice so her mama could hear. “—is I got accepted to Cambridge for my MBA!”

Her dad’s eyes widened and her mom came running back from the kitchen like Harley knew she would. “My girl! A Yale business school graduate and now Cambridge.” She tugged Harley back up and hugged her and hugged her. “You’re brilliant and beautiful and the hardest worker and I’m just so proud!”

Harley laughed. “Thank you, Mama. I’m ecstatic about it too.”

Her mom finally released her, and she turned to her dad. He nodded, his eyes bright. “I’m right proud too, darlin’. Who would’ve known an old hick could produce such a shining star?”

“Thanks, Daddy.”

Her mom all but pushed her down onto the couch and she narrowly missed sitting right on Crew’s lap. As it was, her rear hit his thigh and his cowboy hat went flying. He grabbed her around the waist and settled her close to his side. Harley glanced up to see that her lips were inches from his chin. Her heart went all erratic and she had no one to blame but him. Why did he have to smell so good?

“I’m proud of you too, Harley,” Crew said in that deep, throaty voice she’d always loved. “You’ve made all your dreams come true.”

She nodded and pulled free of his embrace, scooting far enough away he couldn’t touch her, but she could still smell him.

Her mom stood there, staring at her like she should’ve stayed in Crew’s arms. She knew their moms had arranged marriage between them as toddlers, but this wasn’t the eighteenth century anymore. When she graduated from Cambridge, she wouldn’t need a man; she could travel the world all by herself. She smiled at the thought.

“When do you start?” her daddy asked.

“September. So I’ll be home all summer. I can stay until …” She bit at her lip and hated the silence that blanketed the room. She wanted her daddy to kick cancer’s rear and be around for thirty more years, but what if he simply wasted away and was still clinging to this world when school started? She couldn’t possibly leave then.

Her dad grinned as if guessing her thoughts. “I’m not holding you back, darlin’. If I haven’t gone to visit Saint Peter by September, you’ll go to England and not look back, you hear me?”

“Oh, Daddy.” Harley glanced up to see her mom crying again, and she teetered on the verge of tears herself.

Luckily, at that moment Ryker burst through the door from the garage into the kitchen. Harley jumped up and ran at him full tilt. He picked her up off the ground, swinging her around until she was dizzy. He smelled of horses and the outdoors and she’d missed him like crazy.

He pulled back. “Good criminy, little sis, aren’t you the prettiest girl in the world?”

She pushed at his shoulder. “Stop it. You’re only saying that ’cause we look like twins.”

“I don’t want to be pretty!” he protested. He winked at her. “I get enough women without being a pretty boy.”

“Ryker!” her mom reprimanded. “You stop being some womanizer or I’ll kick your hindside. You know I can.”

“Yes, Mama.” His voice was far from repentant. “What’d I miss? Mama’s actually not cooking something, so it must be big news.”

“My girl is going to Cambridge,” Mama announced.

Ryker’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? You did it! Your dream.” He lifted Harley off the ground again and when he put her down he kissed her forehead. “Dang if I ain’t a proud big bro.”

“Don’t say ain’t,” Harley and her mom said in unison.

She knew Ryker would be happy for her, but it meant a lot that he approved. He’d spent a lot of time scoffing at her “silly Jane Austen dreams.” Her immediate family were the only ones who knew that it wasn’t just the Jane Austen Pact but her need to experience the world and see it all, but Ryker never seemed to get it. He was one of the reasons she’d kept her true desires secret from everybody else in this small town.

He laughed, but then he took Harley by the arms, stared seriously at her, and shook her with both of his hands. Her teeth rattled.

“No Englishmen,” Ryker demanded.

“What?” Harley stared up at him. He wasn’t as broad as Crew, but he had to be six-four or -five and he was lean and looked awesome.

“You heard me. Go do your year in England, have the best time at Cambridge, but you are not marrying some stuffy Englishman and staying in that cold place.” He gave an exaggerated shiver.

“We’ll see.” She pulled away from him and winked, turning around to catch her dad’s eye and tease about how she was marrying Mr. Darcy someday. He’d just tease her back. She knew they all wanted her to come back to Wyoming someday, but her daddy had always been “proud as a peacock” for her success in school and her hard work and he was the only one who told her to go for her dreams, no matter where they took her.

But it wasn’t her dad she saw first. It was Crew, and the way his brows drew together and his fists were clenched made her heart thump strangely in her chest. He didn’t want her marrying an Englishman either, but nobody but her dad understood. They never had. No matter how much they loved her, they wanted her home with them. Harley loved being close to them, but she wasn’t letting herself or her girls’ camp friends down. Fate had directed to Camp Wallakee as a young teen and the Jane Austen Pact was firmly in place.