7

SIX HOURS UNDERWAY and no one had fallen overboard, they hadn’t driven into the eye of a hurricane, sharks hadn’t surrounded the yacht, no galley fire threatened to consume the ship, and he hadn’t spotted even a hint of a whale to capsize them.

No real reason for Ian to be standing on the uppermost deck, his hands gripping the rail as he stared out at the inky black sea. The moon hung enormous and stone white against the black palette, tracing a starlight path through the waves that rocked the ship.

In the distance, he could just barely make out the twinkling lights of the coastline.

Captain Gregory sat in his chair on the bridge—Ian had stopped in briefly to check on the weather conditions.

All clear, smooth sailing, not a hint of trouble. “All’s well, go to bed, sir.”

Who was he kidding? Ian hadn’t a hope of sleeping tonight—probably not for the next three days.

Below, on the main deck, he spied Kelley, good bosun that he was, doing a walk around the perimeter of the ship, perhaps one final check before retiring.

“No one is going to die.” It felt good to voice it, to speak the positive words out into the breeze.

“That’s good to know,” said a voice, and Ian turned to see Hayes climbing the stairs to the deck. The light from the whirlpool illuminated his face. He dipped a hand into the water, as if testing it. Probably Kelley would close it at the end of his patrol.

“What are you doing up?” Ian asked.

Hayes came over, stood next to him at the rail. “Oh . . . tonight’s story about us stealing Nessa’s boat. It was itching at me.”

Ian frowned.

Hayes leaned over the rail and stared out into the darkness. “I’ve thought about it for a long time now. We could have cost you your scholarship with our stupidity.” Hayes lifted a shoulder. “We shouldn’t have done that to you.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Yeah, but you worked hard, even then, and . . . well, I’m sorry that we sometimes got you in over your head.”

Ian shrugged, but Hayes’s words sunk in, grabbed hold. “I feel like I’m in over my head pretty much all the time these days.”

He didn’t know why he said that, especially to Hayes, who had beaten the odds and fought for every chance he got. Just because he had parents who could afford to send him to Stanford didn’t mean he’d had his meal ticket to the NFL punched.

“Who doesn’t? I’m one bad hit away from my knees giving out or my ankles getting sprained.” He indicated the brace he wore on his leg. “Every time I go out on the field, I think . . . is this my last game?”

“Really?”

“Sure. If I didn’t know that God had my back, I’d be a basket case every time I heard the ‘Star-Spangled Banner.’”

“What?”

Hayes drew in a breath then. “Yeah, uh, that’s why I came on this trip. A couple years ago, I hit bottom, and, well, there comes a time in a man’s life when he either has to get right with Jesus and ask for help, or go it alone. Our team chaplain told me to count it a gift when God is my only option, and . . . he’s right. I decided to refuse to believe anything but that God is good and he loves me. Doesn’t mean life isn’t insane sometimes, but I’m not in this alone. And I thought maybe you needed to hear that.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Mr. I-Always-Have-It-Together. You act like you never need any help. Sure, you’ll be glad to raise funds for others—and of course I’ll donate to your cause, Ian, but I could have done that over the phone. I wanted to talk to you. See how you were. You know, after this summer . . .” He lifted a shoulder. “Dex told me about the fire, and the fine.”

Oh. “No big deal. I’m fine.”

“Really? Because you look tired, man. And stressed. And maybe not sleeping?”

“I caused a fire that killed people.”

“No, a tragic accident occurred, and you feel responsible to fix it. Not unlike Katrina, my man. You need to get over this idea that you control natural events.”

Ian leaned down, staring at his hands. “My software played a role.” He shook his head. “It’s just . . . I feel like everything I do backfires. That no matter how hard I try, eventually it’ll turn into ash in my hands.”

Hayes said nothing.

“Like when I tried to help my niece, Esme. When my sister went into rehab, I thought, I’ll take her in. Actually, it was Sierra’s idea. But it was a good one. I’d made peace with Allison’s and Daniel’s deaths, or thought so, and I just wanted family, you know?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Everything was going so well, and then Esme met this local kid, Dante. Suddenly, I saw her entire future being destroyed. I pretty much made her choose between love and a college education.”

“That’s life, man. We all have to make hard choices to get the future we want.” And when Hayes met his eyes, Ian had a sense that Hayes had his own story to tell. Maybe something to do with Vanessa and the way he’d suddenly turned his attention her direction. Not that Ian was complaining—the further Hayes stayed away from Sierra, the better.

“She ran away with Dante. Or I thought so until Dante’s body turned up. He was murdered.”

“What?”

“Yeah. But then we discovered that Esme was alive. She was just in hiding, and I pretty much became obsessed with finding her.” He pressed his hands together. “And that’s when Sierra walked out of my life.”

“I was wondering what happened between you two . . . I thought . . . well, the way you two were together, I guess I thought maybe you’d stubbed a toe over that employer-employee line.”

How about leaped headfirst? “Once. I kissed her. And then I swore not to do it again. And I didn’t.” Not until after he’d fired her, at least.

“Good man.”

“No . . . believe me. In my head, I was kissing her a lot. I’ve been in love with her since . . . well, it doesn’t matter, because I blew it.”

Hayes said nothing, waited.

“She believes that Esme doesn’t want to be found. And my obsession with finding her is only controlling and bossy and . . . well, invading my niece’s privacy.”

More silence.

“I’m just worried about her.”

“I get that, but it’s her life, man.”

Ian sighed. “A year ago, I started searching for the identity of a woman whose body we found in the same area as Dante’s. I was hoping that by solving her murder, I might find a fresh lead in Esme’s disappearance. But there’s been nothing. And . . . maybe Sierra’s right. Esme called a year ago and asked me to stop looking for her, but I couldn’t shake the sense that she still needed me. That it was simply fear talking. Now . . . maybe I need to accept her words for what they are.”

“I’m hearing regret.”

“No, you’re hearing a man who is ready for a fresh start. I’m selling the ranch and moving to Texas.”

“Wow. And what about Sierra?”

Ian shook his head. “She doesn’t want me. Once upon a time, I thought she did, but . . . I hurt her.”

“Big surprise there.”

“What?”

Hayes turned to him. “Ian, I love you like a brother, but you’re about the most controlling know-it-all I’ve ever met. You expect a lot from yourself—and your friends. You’re, in a word, obsessive. That’s great for business, but not so great in relationships. You need to loosen up, have some fun, and stop trying to be in charge of everything. I know you’re afraid of losing everything you love, including Sierra, but you can’t control everything. Not life, not people.”

“I’m not controlling—”

“When I came on deck, you were declaring to the wind and seas that all would be well. As if they would obey you.”

No, he was . . . okay, maybe . . . if he could . . .

“Listen, Ian, my friend. You might have been Sierra’s boss, but you can’t be the boss in your relationship. And I’ll bet that’s exactly what happened.”

Their second, and last, kiss whooshed back to him. The way he’d grabbed her up, had simply let his emotions unload. And sure she’d responded, but yes, he’d definitely been in charge in that moment.

He had also assumed they’d continue the search for Esme. Which accounted for his anger and abrupt rejection when Sierra said no.

So he’d practically ordered her out of his house. His life.

Ian stood up and laced his hands behind his neck. “Okay, I’m a bit controlling. But . . . someone has to be, or life is going to . . . well, people will get hurt. Die.”

He met Hayes’s eyes with a challenge.

“See, that’s your problem, dude. Yes, someone has to be in control, but it’s not you. That’s way too much pressure for something you’re only going to fail at.”

“Don’t religion me, Hayes. I know I can’t control everything. Last time I looked, God was in charge of natural disasters, like hurricanes.”

“Yes, he is. And I’m so sorry about your wife and your son. But let’s get down to the studs, here. You didn’t blame God, did you? You blamed yourself. And you should ask yourself why. Maybe it’s because, deep down, you know that neither of you are to blame. Allison and Daniel just died. And it’s horrible. But that doesn’t mean that God has abandoned you.”

Ian walked over to a deck chair and sank into it. Leaned back and stared at the stars. “You have no idea how much I wish that were true.”

Hayes turned, his back to the rail. “He’s not punishing you, either, Ian.”

“You’re right. He just doesn’t care.”

Hayes came over and dipped his hand again in the whirlpool. “He cares, man. More than you can grasp. And you might consider letting God take the helm. Just for a day. Let him prove it.”

He lifted out his hand, splashed water in Ian’s direction. It landed on him, sprinkling his skin, raising gooseflesh.

“Hey!”

“And maybe you should stop being so bossy around Sierra. See what happens.”

“I’m not the boss of her—”

“Try telling her that. Because I see the way she looks at you, Man of Steel. She’ll do whatever you ask.”

That eked out a smile. “We’re just friends. And barely that.”

Hayes shook his head. “Go to bed. I have fish I want to catch in the morning. And so do you.” He winked.

Ian couldn’t stop himself. “So, you’re not here because . . .” Oh shoot. “Because you have a thing for Sierra?”

Hayes was halfway down the stairs and now came back up one step, popping his head above the stairwell. “Are you kidding? There’s only one guy for Sierra, right?”

Ian gave a small smile, nodded.

“Dex,” Hayes said and lifted his hand as he disappeared down the stairs.

But Ian heard him laughing.

Very funny.

For a moment, the sunrise simply stopped her. Molten yellow along the horizon of the ocean, dragging a brilliant stripe through the dark magenta waves. Above, the vault of dissipating night had turned a vivid royal blue, the dawn turning the padding between firmament and atmosphere a wispy, gentle turquoise.

Moments like these, Sierra could almost reach out and touch God. Believe that he had stopped time, just for her, to give her a vision of tomorrow. Of hope.

Of grace.

She stood at the rail and drank it in, watching the waves ripple under the fingers of light. This is the day . . .

“You’re up early.”

Her breath caught, but the Texas drawl didn’t belong to the man she couldn’t drag her mind away from. Instead, she turned and found a smile for Dex.

He wore a pair of board shorts slung low and an open linen shirt. She took a breath, not sure what view might be more, well, enticing, and opted for another cleansing view of the sunrise.

Dex came to stand beside her. Only then did he frown. “Wait—is that—”

“I was loading chum into the cooler, and it spilled on me.”

All over her, down her pink shirt and onto her shorts. Yes, she smelled like a fresh catch of mackerel and sardines.

“You know, the deckhand could do that.”

“I know. I just wanted it ready in case you or Hayes—or Vanessa for that matter—wanted to get up early and fish. I wanted it to be—”

“Perfect. I know you, Sierra.”

He wore his sunglasses propped behind his neck and now looked at her with those aqua blue eyes, something of a twinkle in them, and she didn’t know what to say.

“If you want to fish, I can ask Kelley to come out and get you started.”

“I think I can handle it,” he said. “My family has been deep-sea fishing a few times. Noelly is an amazing fisherwoman.”

Oh. Of course she was. And she probably looked uh-mazin’ doing it too.

“I’ll make sure she’s set up,” Sierra said, suddenly aware of the smile playing on Dex’s handsome face. He hadn’t shaved, and the sunlight gleamed in the bronze and gold hues of his whiskers.

Oh boy.

“Would you like a cup of coffee? I’ll run to the galley—”

“Sierra, stop.”

When he said it like that, soft, with a hint of longing in his voice, it caught her so unaware that she froze.

She turned to him.

“Listen,” he said. Then he sighed, as if the bearer of bad news.

“What? Were the beds too hard? Maybe something you ate?”

He touched her arm, just for a second, then pulled away. “Stop. Everything is fantastic. It’s just that you’re the hardest-working person I know, and I think you should take a breath. Relax. Look at the view.”

She smiled at him. “I was looking at the view when you came up.”

“Right. But you don’t have to worry. We’re all going to have a great time—and we’re going to make sure that your PEAK chopper gets back in the air.”

“How did you know—”

“Ian told us all about the crash last night after you went to bed. He told us what the cost is, why we need to help out, and exactly the lives that will be saved. So, no worries, Sierra. Your job is done. Now it’s time to enjoy yourself.”

She didn’t know what to say.

“The sun will not cease to shine and the sky will be just as blue if you take the day off . . . and, I don’t know . . . fish with me.”

Fish. With Dex?

“The staff knows what they’re doing. In fact, you’re probably in the way. And I know for certain that your guests would enjoy themselves more if they knew you were having a good time.” He raised an eyebrow.

Oh.

“Listen, go change clothes and let’s see if we can catch a tuna, huh?”

Change . . . oh, the smell.

“Or, I could just throw you overboard, use you for bait?” He winked at her. “Although, the chivalrous side of me would demand I dive in and rescue you, so maybe that’s not the best idea.”

She laughed. “Maybe not.” But the image of Dex rescuing her had her heart thumping a little too wildly.

“I’ll get the rods set up,” Dex said.

Oh, what was she doing? But she’d seemingly lost her ability to speak. So maybe it wasn’t the worst idea, to spend the day having fun. If it meant her guests relaxed. And they were spending most of the day traveling, so . . .

She hurried down the hallway, into her tiny room. What to wear?

Despite her better judgment, she reached for the bikini top her sister had thrown into her bag. Nothing too revealing—more of a sports bra, really, the way it covered her, but it did leave her stomach bare. Her very white, very under-sunned stomach. But this might be her only opportunity to fix that. So she kept it on and grabbed an orange T-shirt to pull over it. Slid on a swim skirt, another of her sister’s suggestions.

She pulled her dark hair back with a lime green bandanna, grabbed a pair of sunglasses, and felt pretty sure she’d lost her mind.

When she emerged from her room, the smell of coffee in the gangway made her detour to the galley.

“Mornin’. I have eggs Benedict and fresh fruit on the way,” Cat said as Sierra poured herself a cup of coffee and another one for Dex.

She passed Noelly on the way out to the sun deck. “Would you like some coffee?” she asked.

“Kelley already offered,” she said and glanced behind Sierra. Sure enough, Kelley came bearing a cup of coffee on a tray.

He smiled at her. “Ma’am.”

“Morning, Kelley,” she said and headed to the back deck.

Dex was waiting for her, holding the two poles. He’d dragged the bait cooler to the back and was adjusting the dials on what looked like a radar screen.

“Fish finder. Tuna are usually found in warm current, which, according to the captain, we’re in, so now we just have to find the school of tuna and throw in some chum.”

Disgusting fish pieces sloshed in a bucket, far enough away so that it didn’t soak their feet. He was adjusting the radar. “The chum will attract the tuna to the surface.”

“Isn’t that cheating?”

“It’s like perfume on a pretty girl. Just turns their heads.” He glanced over and winked at her, then turned back to the finder. “Oh, I think we got ourselves a school. I’m throwing in the bait.”

He picked up the bucket and dumped it over the side of the boat.

Pieces of butterfish, squid, mackerel, and sardines floated on the surface.

“Yum,” Dex said. He’d turned his hat backward on his head and sat down, the fishing pole in his hand. “While we’re waiting, we’ll bait our hooks.”

He pulled out the line and indicated a heavy weight about three feet above the hook. “This is the egg weight. It keeps the hook below water, where the tuna are. Hand me a sardine.”

“What?”

“I’m kidding. I got it.” He kicked over the cooler, opened it, and pulled out a frozen sardine about as thick as his hand. “My father is a huge fan of deep-sea fishing. He has a 127-pound tuna mounted on our wall. He taught me how to bait a hook.”

She watched as he wound the fish around the hook, embedding the hook deep inside, hidden from a curious tuna.

“It’s all about patience. See, a tuna will swim by, take a look, watch the bait. Then, when it can’t wait anymore, it’ll hit on the bait and hopefully hook it enough for you to notice. You’ll start reeling it in, steadying until the line gets tight. And that’s when the fight begins! You’ll love it, I promise.”

She’d been so caught up in his description, she failed to see the tuna now surfacing to gobble up the chum. A silver and gray fish, bigger than her entire body, it seemed, snatched a bloody mass of fish.

“I saw one!”

Dex laughed, and she hated how much she liked it.

“Okay, now this is weird, but if you really want to be serious about catching a tuna, you need to wear gear.” He looked up, and she turned to see Kelley walking out to the deck carrying what looked like PEAK climbing gear.

“It’s a fishing harness, and it will help you hold onto the pole and fight the fish without wearing out.” Dex reached for the harness and climbed in, hitching it tight around his hips.

Kelley handed her the harness, but Dex took it, held it open for her.

She balanced on his shoulders as she stepped in. He hitched it tight for her, then inserted the pole in the rigging in front. “Keep your weight back as you reel in.”

“What if the fish pulls me in?”

“Aw, darlin’, I won’t let that happen to you.” He winked again, and she had the strangest urge to look over her shoulder, see if Ian might be looking.

Not that it mattered. She had every right to spend the day fishing with Dex, even flirting with him if she wanted to. As long as it didn’t cross any lines.

Which, of course, it wouldn’t. Because she was a professional. And, the help.

Even if Dex did make her feel like she might be a guest on his fancy fishing show. He showed her how to cast, then let out her line until the weight dragged the hook down to the right depth. He locked her reel, then did the same with his rig.

They stood there, the sun warm on her skin, waiting, watching the poles bob in the water.

“Do you fish a lot?” she asked him as she reached for her coffee.

“When I can. Dad likes to rent boats, and he’s got a few friends who take us out.”

“You don’t have a boat?”

“Ian’s trying to get me to buy this one,” Dex said. “What do you think?”

“Um . . . sure. It’s a great boat. But why is he selling it?”

He pulled on the pole, jigging it in the water. “I think he feels guilty about the people who lost their homes in the fire. He’s trying to raise more capital, short of selling a company.”

Oh. “Yeah, that sounds like Ian. He’s always trying to fix things.”

Dex looked over at her. “He says the same thing about you. He was always raving about how you were the best assistant he’d ever had.”

“I tried. I loved working for him.”

“And yet, you quit.”

She glanced at Dex. “I was fired. And then, yes, I might have quit, but . . . Ian is—was—I don’t know, obsessed with finding his niece, and I am . . .” She swallowed. “Pretty sure she doesn’t want to be found. And that obsession took up all the room in his life. I couldn’t be a part of that anymore.”

“He’s a little at loose ends without you.”

She mimicked his jigging. “I can assure you, he’s fine. He doesn’t need me.”

Dex made a funny noise of assent, and might have said “good.” But his word was lost on the sudden yank on her pole. It nearly knocked her off her feet, and had it not been strapped in, the pole would have ripped right out of her hands.

“You got a bite! You need to set the hook—start reeling in! Kelley, get over here!”

Dex was scrambling to unhook his pole from his harness and now handed it over to Kelley, who had appeared from whatever shadow he lingered in.

She had planted her feet and was leaning back just like Dex had told her to. Now, she began to reel, and the pole bent nearly in half.

“Reel in a little, then stop and pull back—it’ll release the tension and you can reel up the slack. You’ll work the fish in closer.”

She did exactly that, but her back and arms screamed from the labor.

Next to her, Kelley was reeling in Dex’s empty line. He reached the hook and pulled it in, then set it aside.

She reeled hard, pulled back, and let out an involuntary groan.

“Hang in there, champ,” Dex said. Then he stepped right up behind her, put his arms around her, and grabbed the pole. “C’mon, together now.” He pulled back on the pole. “Reel hard!”

She obeyed, keenly aware of Dex’s arms around her, the strength in his chest and arms as he worked the pole with her, as they fought to bring the tuna to the boat.

She got a glimpse of the fish through the blades of water and gasped.

“This is a huge yellowfin, Kelley. Get your gloves on,” Dex said.

Kelley leaned over the edge, wearing thick yellow gloves and ran his hand down the line.

The tuna surfaced, fighting, and Kelley pulled on the line, yanking it toward the boat.

The fish thrashed and nearly pulled Kelley in. The line released, and with it, the power of the tuna. It jerked Sierra forward and she screamed.

Dex’s arms closed around her and held her fast. “Gotcha,” he said. “Don’t let go of the pole!”

She shook her head.

But her screams had caused a commotion from behind her, and a moment later she spotted Hayes, gloved and leaning over the side, grabbing her line. “We need the gaffs!”

Kelley ran to get the gaffs—returning in a second to shove one of the long poles with the dangerous hooks into Hayes’s grip.

“Can you reel?” Dex said into her ear, his arms still clamped around her.

She nodded and kept fighting, even as the fish swam behind the boat, its fin slicing the water.

“C’mon, baby,” Kelley said. “Just a little closer . . .”

Hayes held the line as she reeled it in, steadying it. “Now, Kelley!”

Kelley reached down and hooked the tuna by the gill. Hayes hooked it by the other gill.

Then Dex reached around her to grab the free line, and together they heaved the monster fish onto the boat.

It thrashed on the deck, not at all subdued by the gaffs, ripping free of Hayes’s and sending Kelley into the side rail. Kelley backpedaled, hooked his foot around Dex’s leg, and ripped him off-balance.

Dex, one arm still around Sierra, crashed onto the deck.

Sierra fell on top of him.

The tuna stilled, finally spent.

And Sierra couldn’t help it. She laughed. Something full and high and freeing, so freeing. She pushed herself off Dex, sat in the brine of the sea now flooding the deck, and looked at the tuna.

Tiny yellow spikes lined its tail on both sides, its body slick and silver. It was still breathing, barely.

“I caught that,” she said as she looked at Kelley, then Hayes and Dex. “I caught that.”

Dex had sat up, grinned. “Yes, yes you did.”

Only then did she see Ian standing just a few feet away. He wore a sleeveless tank and a pair of sport shorts, his feet in flip-flops. And, on his head, a baseball cap.

Still, it wasn’t enough to shade his eyes. Or the look of—well, she couldn’t place it. Not anger, really, but definitely shock. And maybe concern? Or . . .

No. Because his mouth was clamped shut and he wasn’t exactly looking at her but at Dex. And something flashed through his eyes she’d never seen before.

Envy.

Her mouth dried. No, that couldn’t be right.

“Look what I caught,” she said.

Ian looked at her then, for the first time, really, and his mouth made a sort of tight smile. “Yep,” he said as he nodded. “Look what you caught.”

Then he flashed one more cryptic look at Dex and walked away.

“You did what, bro?”

Pete nearly didn’t hear Gage over his own grunting as he lifted the bench press bar up, his arms burning, his muscles shaking. Thankfully, Sam reached out and helped him maneuver it back onto the rack.

He needed a tough, bracing workout to escape the memory of Jess’s response to his proposal. “I proposed,” he said as he sat up and grabbed a towel. He ran it over his face, pushing back his long hair. He really needed a haircut.

Maybe he’d add a shave and a stiff slap of reality. “It just happened. I went over to her house to see if she was okay after our rappel and . . . I don’t know, it just slipped out.”

His shirt was sopping, so he pulled it off and threw it over a nearby rack. The Mercy Falls gym marinated a number of different odors this afternoon, from sweat to muscle rub to deodorant and steam from the nearby shower. Not his favorite thing to do on a Saturday, but he’d needed something to work off the haze of frustration.

“Wait. ‘Will you marry me’ just slipped out?” Sam had stepped around to take Pete’s place on the bench. “How does that happen? I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask Willow to marry me for three months.”

Pete took his place at the head of the bench to spot for his brother. “I was just trying to tell her how I felt.”

“And ‘I love you’ wouldn’t have worked?” Sam reached for the bar.

Gage bent over the glute-and-ham raise machine, his hands behind his head, doing a monster number of reps. “Exactly. But more importantly—what did she say?”

Pete reached out and steadied the bar as Sam brought it up.

Silence, and even Ty shut off the treadmill.

“She didn’t say no.”

Sam eyeballed him.

“Fine. She asked if she’d been in a coma, had missed the dating part.”

And even he had to grin when Gage collapsed laughing. “Dude—what did you expect her to say?”

“She kissed me.”

And that shut the laughing down. “Really? Jess kissed you?”

Inhaled him, really, and had it not been for the fact that he was trying to be a different man . . .

No. He was a different man now. Ever since . . .

Well, ever since meeting Jess. But especially since he climbed out of the hole in the ground and decided not to waste one more minute being the old Pete, the one who left broken hearts in his wake.

“I just want to do it right, you know? And . . . after what happened this summer in Dawson . . .”

Ty, who had taken a drink from his water bottle, came over and leaned against the weight rack. “This summer?”

Sam pushed up the bar and racked it. Sat up. Ran a towel over his dripping forehead and looked at Pete, waiting.

“Fine. Okay. I nearly got killed in a cave-in after the Dawson city fire.”

He knew that would elicit some response from Sam, who frowned.

“It was a freak accident—nothing I did, but . . . when they dug me out, I realized the first person I wanted to see—sorry, bro—was Jess. And that sort of hit me upside the head, you know?”

Gage nodded, probably thinking of his own come-to-Jesus moment when he realized he didn’t want to lose the one woman who believed in him, former congresswoman Ella Blair.

“So you came home,” Ty said. “And proposed.”

Gage climbed out of his machine. “What if Jess had been dating someone else? How did you know that she even still has feelings for you?”

“Oh, she has feelings for me, all right. And sorry, but I’m not going to sit around anymore, waiting to be with Jess. If she’s not married, she’s fair game.”

Sam got up and rolled his eyes. “Just because a girl kisses you doesn’t mean she loves you, Pete. Sheesh, of anyone, you should know that.”

“Not Jess. She’s . . . different. She . . .”

“Has reasons to be guarded,” Ty said quietly, meeting Pete’s gaze.

Pete nodded.

“So, what did you say in this eloquent romantic proposal?” Sam sat down at the sit-up bench.

Pete walked over to an elliptical. “That she was the only one for me. That she was my future. I don’t know. Stuff.”

“No pressure, then. Nothing epic or over the top,” Sam said between grunts.

“This from the guy who can’t figure out what to say.”

“Because you only get married once, hopefully, and you want to do it right,” Gage said. “If you don’t know what she’s going to say before you pop the question, you probably haven’t dated long enough. You don’t want to embarrass her.”

Ty sat down on the bench press, and Gage took over as the spotter. “You need to consider what she wants and what she needs,” Gage said. “Love isn’t about how she makes you feel. It’s about giving of yourself to her. And doing what’s best for her. Did you think about that at all? Because it sort of feels like this whole proposal thing is all about you.”

Pete expected that from Sam, maybe, but not Gage, the guy most likely to be mistaken for a surfer beach bum. “Thanks, Dr. Phil.”

“Did she tell you that she loved you?” Ty said, ignoring Pete’s sarcasm.

Ty’s question was a sucker punch that left him standing there unmoving.

He didn’t know how he’d recovered from Jess’s less-than-enthusiastic response.

“I told her that I wanted to . . .” Pete couldn’t say the word woo, so . . . “That I would wait. And propose right the next time.”

Gage gave him an approving nod. “Good. Jess deserves that.”

She did. And on further thought, maybe Pete had made it about himself.

“I do love Jess. And not only am I going to prove that to her but yes, I’m going to do what’s right by her,” he said, glancing at Sam.

Sam looked over at him, a small smile on his face, and winked.

Pete didn’t exactly know why, but warmth rushed over him. Because of it, he couldn’t help but add, “I’ll help you write a proposal if you need some help there, bro.”

Sam scooped up a towel and threw it at him.

Pete grabbed the handles of the elliptical and increased his speed.

He shot a glance at the news on the television screens attached to the walls of the gym. They were just finishing up sports, something about the Seahawks.

“Any news from Ian and Sierra and their trip?” Ty said as he maneuvered the bar back onto the rack, breathing hard.

“That’s a tough callout, hanging out on a yacht for the weekend,” Gage said.

“Be nice. Sierra has a lot riding on this. We all have other jobs—PEAK is her only gig.”

Sam’s reprimand shut them down. True, because Gage was in training to take the winter off to rejoin the world of free-riding. Ty helped run his father’s ranch. And Pete had his job as an incident commander with the Red Cross.

For now, at least. Because he was currently on leave and giving serious consideration to rejoining PEAK.

After all, if Jess eventually said yes . . . and she would say yes . . .

“Oh no.”

Ty’s exclamation made Pete look at him. But Ty’s gaze was on the television. “Turn up the volume!” he said. He sprang for the television.

They caught the tail end of the report, the words scrolling in a two-second delay.

“Damien Taggert, author of the most devastating Ponzi scheme in history, suffered a heart attack today in federal prison. He’s undergoing triple bypass surgery at Duke Regional hospital later tonight.”

Pete stepped off the elliptical and looked at Ty, who caught his gaze.

Gage was frowning at them both.

“Is that . . . ?” Pete started.

Ty nodded.

“I’ll go,” Pete said and headed for the locker room.