I sat on my bed at the inn and stared at the photo of Jetta. She’d changed her appearance quite a bit from her time in Georgia, but there was no mistaking I was looking at the same woman. I hadn’t yet figured out how I was getting her back to Atlanta, but I hoped tonight’s dinner would move me closer to an answer. Jetta was quite a woman. Strong, independent, rebellious. She appeared to know what she wanted and how she planned to achieve it. And damn it all—the more I was with her, the more I wanted her for myself.

This was a new experience for me. But in truth, all I could do was enjoy her company, learn everything I could, and hope this entire situation would have a peaceful resolution for everyone involved. I still needed to figure out where she’d hidden the lockbox she’d taken, but that might be something I’d have to deal with once I’d revealed my purpose here. I still held on to hope that I could convince her to trust me. I’d only known her a short time, but she’d already made that plan hard to execute.

I turned on my phone to check messages, and the screen informed me I had missed ten calls from Brandt. I groaned. “Son of a bitch. Give me time, asshole.”

I pushed the button to call him back and half hoped it wouldn’t go through. It did.

“Monroe! Why the hell haven’t you been taking my calls?” yelled Brandt’s voice.

“I’m in a canyon. Reception sucks and only works on rare occasion.” I knew he heard the exhaustion in my voice. I was tired. Of him.

“Do you have any updates for me?” His voice was calmer now.

“I do.” I hesitated. I wasn’t ready to divulge everything, so decided to be vague. “I think I’ve found her. If I can verify it’s her, I’ll take the next step,” I lied.

Her identity was not in question, but I still held my reservations on how much to involve him. Knowing Brandt’s type, he’d send his goons down to help and screw it all up. I needed to keep him in the dark until I was almost there.

“Well . . . that’s something anyway.” He huffed and sounded like a spoiled teen.

“This kind of thing takes a little time, but I will deliver. Just hang on until I can be sure I’ve got everything you need taken care of.” I hoped my reassurances would get him off my back for a while.

“I’d appreciate frequent updates,” he said, adding, “when you have cell service.”

“When I can.” I hung up.

The more I talked to him, the less I liked him. And that was saying a lot, considering I didn’t like him to begin with.

I buttoned up my blue dress shirt, leaving my sleeves rolled halfway up my forearms. I didn’t own slacks, but I’d felt certain the Mills family weren’t that formal, so my best pair of jeans would be fine. Once ready, I hurried to my truck, surprised at how anxious I was for the evening to start. I could have pretended it wasn’t because I was seeing Jetta again, but that would only have been lying to myself. I was very attracted to her, and while it wasn’t wise, I was enjoying this self-torture more than I should have.

I studied the small map Tristan had drawn for me. Havenwood Falls was a cozy little town, easily traveled from one side to the other in minutes. Finding Tristan’s home was easy, and I’d arrived with time to spare. Tristan lived in a nice house. Better than anything I can ever remember calling home. The ranch-style brick layout looked spacious, even from the outside. I stepped out of my truck and turned to see Jetta pulling in behind me. She wasted no time getting out of her Jeep and confronting me.

“Why are you here?” Her voice held every bit of the suspicion her words did.

“Dinner,” I said, as I held up a bottle of wine I’d picked up for Tristan’s wife Bianca. “Everyone I asked said Stone Falls was the place to buy a good bottle of Pinot. Were they right?”

She took a step closer, her eyes boring into mine. “Don’t try to change the subject. What are you up to?”

I put one hand on my hip.

“My, if we aren’t a little paranoid,” I said defensively. She was getting too close to finding me out, and I couldn’t allow that yet. I pushed down the urge to blurt the truth out and be done with it.

“I . . .” She balled up her fists. “I have good reason to be.” She grabbed my shirt collar and pulled me to her, nose to nose. “If you have even the smallest hint of nefarious intentions toward my family, I will end you.” She shoved me away and stomped into the house.

“Well,” I muttered to myself. “This should be fun.”

* * *

Tristan poured a second glass of wine and offered some to Jetta.

“No, thanks. I’ve had two glasses already,” she said.

She’d been quiet all evening, and that obviously wasn’t her normal modus operandi when in a family setting. Zoey had chatted excitedly off and on throughout the meal, the subjects ranging from school to the latest fashion trends. I listened attentively and smiled in what I assumed were all the right places. She was a sweet kid, and her enthusiasm for subjects she loved was infectious. She helped fill the awkward silences anytime the conversation included Jetta, whose replies were short and indifferent.

Bianca stood, gathering dishes. “Jetta, would you help me in the kitchen?”

Jetta nodded and stood, picking up her dishes and scooping up Zoey’s as she passed.

Tristan motioned for me to join him on the sofa. The living room, dining room, and kitchen were all connected in one large open floor plan. I glanced toward the back of the room, where Jetta, Zoey, and Bianca had gathered around the sink.

“Shouldn’t we help with the cleanup?” I’d always hated the idea that the kitchen was “women’s work.”

“Normally, I’d say yes, but that request to Jetta was code for ‘let’s talk in private.’ No way I’m interrupting that.” Tristan chuckled. “I value my life too much.”

I understood. “You have an amazing family, Tristan. You’re a lucky man.”

I meant every word. I’d never had a family, even as a child. He was blessed with something I hoped he didn’t take for granted.

“I am indeed. Those three women in there are the center of my world.” He opened the book he’d brought from the pawn shop. “I found something interesting.”

I sat next to him, both of us now facing the fireplace on the opposite end of the room, our backs to the kitchen. Tristan placed the book in my lap, opened to a specific page. A Celtic triskele rested above the description of its meaning. Below that were several paragraphs explaining variations of the symbols that had been found over the years.

“I ran across something vague, but it might explain that ring you were talking about. It also may have a connection to the ruins in the Andes mountain range that we’d discussed.”

“Those are connected?” I couldn’t believe my ears. The subject of the ruins had only come up because I’d noticed a painting in the pawn shop, and it reminded me of a favorite book I’d had as a child. I couldn’t even remember the name of it. I just recalled being fascinated with the chapters on volcanoes, ruins, and mountains in South America. Odd how that book was one of the few memories I had of my childhood. “What a weird coincidence.”

Tristan smiled. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence at all.”

“You don’t believe in coincidences?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Not in Havenwood Falls.”

My eyebrows drew together in confusion.

“Hey, guys,” Bianca interrupted. “How about we start a fire?”

“Sounds good. I’ll grab some wood from the bin.” Tristan moved to stand, but I stopped him.

“Please, allow me. It’s the least I can do for such an amazing meal.”

Bianca smiled. “That’d be very kind of you.”

Tristan pointed to the back door that led from the kitchen. “There’s a small shed just outside that door. You’ll find plenty of firewood in there.”

“Great, I’ll be right back.” I was happy for the excuse to get some fresh air. My head was spinning from the odd bit of information Tristan had given me. How did my tattoo and South American ruins connect?

I shut the kitchen door behind me and inhaled sharply. Havenwood Falls had clean, crisp air, and I greatly appreciated that. Even the air in the bars was less stale and putrid. I allowed myself another deep breath, and then I walked to the shed. The door was unlatched and slightly ajar. With caution, I slowly opened it. Then the smell of whiskey hit me, mixed with a floral scent that I instantly recognized as Jetta’s.

I leaned against the door jamb and crossed my arms. “Do you always sneak drinks in the woodshed?”

She jumped. “Damn you. You scared the hell out of me.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be skulking in your brother’s backyard.”

“I’m not . . .” She put her thumb to her temple and rubbed it. “I needed a break.”

“So your idea of a break is hiding in the dark, drinking whiskey, surrounded by dead trees. Lovely. I now know what to get you for Christmas.”

“You’re an asshole.” She threw back the last of her drink and sat the cup on a small pile of wood near the door.

I entered, blocking her only exit. “You know what I think?”

She shook her head. “I don’t care what you think.”

I ignored her. “I think you’re out here because you’re avoiding me.”

She huffed. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I’m just stating facts.” I continued to smile at her. She was so fun to rile up.

“You are in my way. Move.” She put her hands out to physically move me, then thought better of it. “Please.”

I couldn’t help it. I had to push her buttons. “So, you’re not scared of me at all.”

“Not a bit,” she countered.

“Then move me.” I stood my ground.

“What? That’s stupid. Just step back and let me by.” She glared at me.

Instead of stepping back, I stepped closer to her.

“Wrong way, moron.” She reached out and pushed me back one step.

I felt her tense up as her hands lingered on my chest. In the next moment, I had her back against the wall, my arms on either side of her shoulders.

“Why are you fighting this?” I whispered.

She looked up at me, and her hands slowly lowered to her sides. “I’m not fighting anything.”

Her eyes were focused on my chin.

“Can you look me in the eye and tell me you don’t feel anything between us?” I stared down at her.

She raised her eyes to mine and took in a shaky breath. “No.”

Her hands slid up my chest, and she hooked them behind my neck. I stepped closer, and she pulled me down to her.

When my lips met hers, a rush of electricity pulsed through me. My blood heated, and my skin became over-sensitized. Every touch made me crazier than the one before. I wanted to be closer to her. I needed to be a part of her in every way.

I slid my hands to her ass and squeezed. She pulled herself up, wrapping her legs around my waist. I pressed her into the wall and ground against her. I was consumed by my need for her.

She reached a hand between us and slid it down my stomach. Once she reached my waistband, I felt her pop the button of my jeans. I groaned into her mouth as I felt the jerky movements of her fingers working my zipper.

“Aunt Jetta? Are you out here?” Zoey’s voice drifted through the doorway.

Jetta gasped and pushed me away. “Oh no.” She hissed. “Zip your pants up. Hurry.” She worked to straighten her clothes.

I turned my back to the door and quickly buttoned my jeans.

“Damn it,” I muttered.

“Uh, yeah. I’m in here.” Jetta glanced at me quickly to be sure I was decent.

The door swung open wide, and Zoey stood on the other side.

“Hey, sweetie,” Jetta said. “We’re just, uh . . .”

“Getting wood for the fire.” I turned to Jetta. “Do you think one armload is enough? Or should we both grab a load?”

“Our fireplace is big, but it isn’t that big,” laughed Zoey.

“Good point, short stuff. Two loads would be overkill.” Jetta pulled her into a quick hug. “Let’s let Conrad handle that, and we’ll go find the cake your mom made.”

I grabbed a stack of wood and followed them into the house.