It was late Sunday afternoon, and Dylan and Rowan were watching Finn as he opened the top of the tank that held one of the batches of cider. It had been a long process for Finn to even get to this stage, as he’d started out by selecting only certain varieties of apples from the early August harvest he thought would be optimal for taste. Then the apples had been pressed, the juice fermented with active yeast to turn the juice’s natural sugars into alcohol. From that stage, he’d moved the cider into the current tanks to mature for anywhere from a few weeks to months, depending entirely on the flavor Finn was seeking.

Today’s batch they were sampling had been maturing for six weeks already in preparation for their entry into next weekend’s annual Blossom Falls Harvest Festival contest for Best Cider. The winner would be featured in several reputable magazines, including one of the West Coast’s finest culinary magazines, something that could really help their company get off the ground.

Finn poured cider into three small tumblers and held one up to the early evening sun to analyze the color before bringing it back down. He inhaled the aroma as if savoring it before finally taking a drink. He sighed and looked expectantly at Dylan and his brother. “Well?”

Now, Dylan wasn’t new to the tasting process. When he first arrived, Finn had wrangled him into trying several different varieties, and all of them at this stage had been dry and sour, the sugar from the apples all eaten by the yeast and turned into alcohol. So he wasn’t that excited about trying this one. Rowan seemed to be of the same opinion as he stared at his glass. Not that that first sip had been terrible, but he’d been expecting it to be naturally sweet like the cider he drank as a kid, so the dry unsweetened flavor had been a shock.

But this was his business now, too. And this was part of the process. He tipped his glass to Finn. “Bottoms up,” he said and took a drink, waiting for his mouth to pucker.

His eyes widened. No pucker, no dryness. Actually it was pretty good, a tiny bit sweet but also tangy.

“I thought this batch wasn’t back sweetened,” Dylan said, referring to the process Finn used in the other batches of adding a non-fermenting sugar to the dry brew to get the ultimate flavor he was seeking.

Finn’s smile widened. “It wasn’t.”

Rowan, braver after Dylan’s experience, threw his back, too. “Wow. That’s a helluva lot better than I expected. What’s different?”

Finn laughed. “I used some of the heirloom apples from the old orchard, the apples that aren’t pretty enough for selling on the market. They’re in their unaltered state verses a lot of the varieties available now that have been engineered for looks and high yield. Heirlooms have high natural non-fermentable sugars that aren’t converted to alcohol, leaving a sweet flavor. Mix that with a selection of other varieties and you have this.”

Dylan had known that Finn was a bit of a nerd when it came to farming and anything horticulturally related, but here it almost sounded like a mix of both science and art, which was impressive.

The familiar jingle from Dylan’s pocket told him that his agent was calling. “I’ve got to grab this,” he said to the brothers and ducked outside. “Hey, Larry.”

“I wanted to check in with you, see how things are coming.”

“You mean since I last saw you, what? Five days ago?”

“What can I say? I worry about you, kid.” Larry paused and Dylan waited, knowing there was more. “Plus I was hoping that you might have changed your mind about performing with Roxie out in LA. We think it will do wonders in pushing your next album.”

Dylan rubbed the back of his neck, trying for patience. No matter how many times he’d told his agent that he wasn’t interested in pretending he and Roxie were still a thing, regardless of the frenzy it might send the tabloids into, the guy couldn’t let it go. “I don’t see it happening, Larry. Besides, if I don’t keep my focus, there isn’t going to be another album to sell.”

“Well, keep it in mind. I know that Roxie would love to have you back in the night’s lineup.”

He’d just bet. At least for the promotion opportunity it would provide her. But seeing as how she’d already been seen out with the same bass player who he caught her with that night, he doubted she’d be heartbroken. “Sure, Larry. I’ll talk to you later.”

Dylan pocketed the phone, ready to return to the barn when a plume of dust in the distance told him the Montenegros’ next visitor’s arrival was imminent.

Tessa was coming home.

He almost hadn’t believed it when Finn told him about her decision. From what he’d heard, Tessa’s visits home had been getting rarer and rarer, usually only saved for holidays and special events, what with her new life in the city and this job of hers. She had apparently become a city girl, which was the last thing he ever would have expected for her.

The blue Subaru came into view now, and he could make out Tessa’s dark hair as she turned the car into a spot next to the house. He’d be lying to himself if he said the sight of her didn’t bring an odd tightening feeling in his chest, an excitement that he repressed since he knew that those emotions were what got him into trouble ten years before. She was Finn’s sister, an old family friend, and nothing more. There couldn’t be anything more.

He made his way over to help her out. “So you made it,” he said when she climbed out, taking a second to pop open the trunk.

“I made it. How couldn’t I? Where is everyone?” she asked, looking up at the house and avoiding his gaze.

“Finn and Rowan are currently having a taste testing in the barn, Declan’s running some errands before his next shift starts at the firehouse but he’ll be here in time for dinner, and Daphne is inside getting dinner ready and watching out for your dad.” He lifted her heaviest suitcase from the back of the car.

“You don’t have to do that. I’m more than capable of getting it all in myself.”

“I’m sure you are. But Daphne would have my hide if I left you doing all the heavy lifting.”

“That’s probably true,” she said softly, as if conjuring a memory. “So. Has Dad really been as much a handful as Finn tells me?”

He paused. Joe Montenegro had been a father figure ever since Dylan first came to live with his aunt, never hesitating to include him in any of the family plans, welcoming him for dinner and any other events. Dylan owed him a lot. But…yeah. It hadn’t been easy these past few days, with Joe more cantankerous than usual over the fact he couldn’t do any of his usual chores and tasks by himself.

“I’ll take it by your silence that it’s affirmative,” she said.

He shrugged, choosing to remain noncommittal. His gaze dropped to the smaller bag stuffed with files, legal pads, and the corner of a laptop peeking out, and he nodded toward it. “What’s all that? I thought Finn said you were taking some vacation time.”

“Let’s just call it a working vacation.”

He paused so she could get in front of him before following her up the walk, very aware of the way her denim cutoffs clung to the curves of her lower body. Instead of drawing his gaze away as he should if he wanted to retain any control over his sanity, however, he took the opportunity to appreciate the pint-sized woman’s bold curves, the softness that was all too enticing.

Couldn’t hurt to look, right?

He was in the middle of a slow smile when she whipped her head around to glance at him, almost as if she was sensing where his thoughts were, and he quickly dropped the grin and looked straight ahead.

Look but don’t touch.

That was going to be a hell of a lot easier if he did a lot less looking—and a lot less getting caught.

Tessa was being ridiculous.

There was no way that heartthrob Dylan Jamison, a.k.a. Dylan Charles, had just been checking out her butt. She knew very well what her butt looked like, and rock star worthy it was not. At five foot two inches, she was half the height of all the willowy models he’d been photographed with over the years, making her legs stubs in comparison, and her butt cheeks undoubtedly doubly as soft. And yet…she’d gotten the distinct impression he’d been staring at more than just the back of her head.

Dylan’s eyes crinkled up as if trying to figure out what was wrong, not a sign of guilt in their brown depths, confirming that Tessa’s instinct had been wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time her instincts had been wrong where Dylan Jamison was concerned.

“Sorry,” she said, and grimaced, “I was trying to remember if I grabbed my cell phone, but”—she dug in her back pocket and pulled it out to keep up the pretense—“I’ve got it.”

His annoying smile gave her the impression he didn’t buy it. She turned back around and climbed the porch steps, anxious to get inside and away from his immediate line of vision. Opening the kitchen door, she was met with her dad and Daphne in the middle of an argument.

At seeing her, her dad smiled. Or attempted to smile. “Tessa, honey. I told those boys you didn’t have to come.”

“I know, but how could I resist the opportunity to spend some quality time with my dad? So, what are you two arguing about?”

Daphne rolled her eyes. “He wanted to carry the plates over to the table to set it and I refused to let him—”

“I’m more than capable—” he started saying from his seat at the kitchen table.

But Daphne continued speaking as if she didn’t hear him, “—even though he knows perfectly well he’s not supposed to lift or carry anything that weighs over ten pounds.”

They glared at each other for another minute before her dad grunted and picked up the newspaper and shook it out, then buried his face into it.

Giving a sympathetic nod to Daphne, Tessa headed over to her dad and placed a kiss on his whiskered cheek. “Good to see you’re still in good spirits,” she teased him.

“I’m going to take your bags up,” Dylan said, disappearing from the kitchen.

Tessa noted the crutches leaning against the wall next to her dad. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Considering I’ve been stuck in the house for the past three days with nothing to do, I’ve been better. The last thing I need is people mothering me—and that goes for you, too, honey. You know”—his tone softened—“I appreciate you coming out here, but like I told your brothers, there are more important things for you to be doing than nursing a grumpy old man. You’d be serving yourself better if you ate supper with us and then headed back home and to that job of yours. No sense putting it in jeopardy.”

“I’m not putting it in jeopardy. I’ve got my laptop and an internet connection, so I can still keep up with what’s going on at the office.”

“Well, don’t be getting it into that head of yours that I’m a complete invalid like that last daft nurse. I can pull my own shorts on and off without your help.”

“Noted.” Time to change the subject. “Something smells great. What are we having?”

Daphne smiled. “Salad with roasted garden veggies, garlic bread, and pasta carbonara.”

“You’re trying to fatten us all up, I see. Let me help set the table at least.”

“It beats the takeout we’ve had for the past couple nights,” Dylan said.

Tessa glanced up to see that in the space of time since he’d been upstairs, Dylan had changed into a clean, snug-fitting olive-green tee that enhanced the specks of gold in his brown eyes—not to mention the sinewy strength of his upper torso. She diverted her gaze and grabbed the salad, bringing it to the table.

The door opened and Finn and Rowan strode in, laughing at something as they stopped at the sink to wash up. “Hey, Tessa,” they called in greeting when they spotted her.

“What were you guys doing out there?” Tessa asked, looking over her brothers, who were covered in dirt and sweat, their hair plastered to their heads. She fanned her hand in front of her nose as a whiff of eau de sweat and dirt reached her. “Did we take up pig farming and no one told me about it?”

Instead of looking insulted, Finn smiled widely at Rowan, both coming to an understanding as they drew closer. “Now is that the way to greet your two favorite brothers? Come on, give us a big old hug,” Finn said, his arms outstretched.

She squealed and took a couple steps back only to be stopped by Rowan. “No. I was kidding. Don’t even think—”

“Boys. Enough,” her dad said just in time. “You are pretty ripe, so before you sit down to that table, you’re going to need to do a little more than wash your hands.”

Tess refrained from gloating as she watched her brothers mosey out of the kitchen, smiling dangerously as they passed. She caught sight of Dylan, who shook his head at her, keeping his laughter in check if the shaking of his shoulders was any indication.

By the time Finn and Rowan returned, Declan had arrived and was already seated at the table alongside her dad and Daphne. He was dressed in his navy-blue firefighter uniform, clean-shaven and his hair trimmed and styled, and Tessa smiled as she thought about how far Declan had come from his days as the town troublemaker to become the town hero.

“You should have brought everyone a sampling of your latest creation, Finn,” Rowan said, grabbing a beer from the fridge before sitting next to Dylan. “It’s hands-down better than this.”

“They’ll get a chance soon enough,” Finn said. “That is, if Tessa is still around for the Harvest Festival next weekend.”

It had been years since she’d been in town for the annual festival. It had been one of her favorite events growing up, entering the pie-baking contest with her mom and the potato sack race with whichever brother she could guilt into teaming up with, and later munching on hot cider donuts and caramel apples until her stomach ached. Good times. “I’ll try and fit it in my schedule. So what’s the new recipe you’ve been working on? Dylan poured me a glass the other night and I have to admit, it was better than I remember.”

“I’ve been working with some of the heirloom apples from the old orchard. I’m still perfecting things, but I think what I’ve got is pretty good,” he said modestly.

“It’s more than that. It’s amazing,” Rowan said. “You’re sure to be the winner.”

“Don’t go jinxing us,” Finn said, but she could see he was pleased. “It does have me wondering about expanding. The old Wallace place has been vacant for years, and their orchards date as far back as ours,” he said, referencing the property that sat empty on the other side of the Montenegros’ orchards. “It’s a shame to see the apples just go to waste. Dylan and I were wondering if whoever owns the place now might be interested in selling.”

Her dad considered it for a moment. “I think the place went to a sister who lives out in Pasadena. You might have luck checking with Jasper. He’ll know for sure.”

Dylan nodded. “I have an appointment with him tomorrow to talk about some other matters. I’ll see what he says.”

Other matters? She eyed him, trying to see if he was going to expand, but the talk was already moving on to something about meetings with suppliers. What kind of matters could Dylan have that needed the assistance of an attorney?

As if sensing she was observing him, he looked over and met her gaze. Immediately she felt that familiar flush of heat, and she ripped her gaze away, trying to pretend that nothing was out of the ordinary.

She wanted to kick herself. Why, after all this time, after everything she’d gone through when she lost him, was she still so susceptible to his charms?

She was going to need to toughen up if she had any hope of surviving the next week.

“So tomorrow,” Daphne said later that night to Dylan as they walked the short distance to her place. “Big day.”

“It should be.”

“Have you given any thought as to what you’ll do if you find out the little girl is Brick’s daughter?”

His aunt was the only person he’d trusted with the information. It had seemed appropriate that she should know, considering if it was true, she would also gain a niece. Dylan had weighed the possibility of confiding in Finn, but he wanted to be sure of the relationship before he did so, feeling that if it was all a sham, it might be less painful to him the fewer people who knew.

“If it’s true, I’ll put together a support plan for her where she’ll receive money every month to help her and her mom cover the bills.” According to the private investigator he’d hired, Elle’s mom was a single parent who worked double shifts at a diner in Santa Rosa just to support her daughter, while also squeezing in a couple courses at the community college. Even with the doubles, they were two months behind on the rent, and the only reason they hadn’t been kicked out was because the old lady who owned the place had a soft spot for the duo. Dylan figured they deserved some good in their life and he could offer them that.

“That’s not quite what I meant,” his aunt said, keeping her attention on the road and the rocks and dips that could make the walk treacherous. “If she is your sister, have you thought about what that would mean to her? To you? You’re going to need to decide how much you want to be in her life. If you decide you want to be a part of it, you can’t just go and disappear, whether your accountant sends them that check or not.”

“When I get to that bridge, I’ll be ready to make that decision. And how about you?” he asked, glancing over.

She sighed and looked up at the stars. “I’ll be there as much as she’ll want me to be. Just like I was for you.” She was quiet for another moment. “I know you didn’t know your dad and that’s entirely his fault. He had big dreams, big ambitions, and sometimes he couldn’t see beyond himself and his needs to those around him. He’d always been that way and I suppose being the apple of my mom’s eye didn’t help much in grounding him. But when all’s said and done, he was my brother and I loved him, and I would want to make sure that his daughter was as well looked after as his son.”

“She’d be lucky to get to know you,” he said, pointedly refusing to discuss his old man. Brick Jamison had been selfish when he took off on Dylan and his mom, plain and simple. He didn’t deserve any more space in Dylan’s mind.

She wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him in for a second before releasing him. “I was the lucky one when it came to you.”

“That’s not what you were saying back when I was collecting bullfrogs that summer.”

“I don’t know how you managed to keep it a secret for as long as you did. If I hadn’t finally noticed my good China disappearing and gone looking for it in that room of yours, I can’t imagine how much longer that stench might have stuck around.”

“I think it was November before the swampy smell disappeared.”

She chuckled. “Well, if your sister is anything like you, we’re going to be in trouble. From the sound of it, traveling all that way to sneak backstage at a concert to see you, she might actually be more trouble.”

They were silent for the next few minutes until they reached the cottage. “You’ll let me know when you find out?”

“You’ll be the first person I call.”

She nodded, assured, and continued up the stairs to her small but tidy porch with a million-dollar view of the valley. He’d offered multiple times to do her place up right, give her at the very least an extra eight hundred square feet and a kitchen that didn’t look like it hailed from circa 1965, but she’d refused him every time. This was her home, she’d said, and she didn’t need any fancy doodads. Just more time with him.

“Now, go on. I can see myself inside. And try to stay out of trouble,” she added.

“Trouble? You’re talking like I’m some sixteen-year-old punk. What kind of trouble could I possibly get in?” he asked innocently.

“Don’t make me spell it out for you. Just…be mindful of your actions, okay?”

She was clearly losing it, but he wasn’t ready to push it and have her spell out whatever it was she thought she knew.

“Okay. I’ll be mindful. Good night, crazy lady.”

“G’night.”

When Dylan reached the Montenegros’ farmhouse a few minutes later, he stood outside looking up at Tessa’s window, still alight from the lamp by her bedside.

He wouldn’t feel guilt for what he did when he left all those years ago. He couldn’t. Not when he knew that he’d done it for her own good. If he hadn’t, what might have become of her waiting all those years for a guy who didn’t deserve her? Would she be as successful as she was now? Or would she have become like that shell his mother had become after years of waiting for a man who never came back?

Tessa had been better off without him back then. He was sure of that.

Still…

He looked up at the stars, no doubt the same stars that had been above them that night. What would have happened had he kept that door open? Where would he be? Where would she be? Would they have made it?

Would she still think he was worth waiting for? He’d never know.