Iris Googled allergy-friendly ice cream shops in the city for Dylan, and was happy to find one within walking distance. They left the hotel and strolled through the warm Salt Lake City night, a cooling breeze stirring her skirt around her thighs and caressing her bare arms. Except for bathing suits, she wasn’t accustomed to showing this much skin. Modesty had been drilled into her head from such a young, impressionable age that anything less was nothing short of scandalous. Her mother had been practically Victorian in her ideals. Iris could have easily rebelled, she supposed, but it had seemed safer to avoid her parents’ ire and assimilate. She’d never been the rebellious sort.

Even now, when not a single person was around to judge her, she heard that miserable, biting voice in the back of her mind preaching, forever preaching. Sin, sin, sin, everything had been a sin to her mother. Sometimes Iris had wondered if breathing was a sin.

Elijah Vance was sin incarnate.

He had to be, because surely only the devil could make her body react this way from a single look. When she’d found him staring at her in the elevator, what she’d seen there in his eyes had caused every nerve in her body to light up. Jacob had looked at her that way sometimes—it was pure sultry lust. But Jacob had made her shut down, made her want to cover up and get away. Elijah made her want to slip out of everything that kept her skin separate from his.

God, why? Nothing had changed. He was supposed to hate her. He should be the last person on earth she wanted to press herself against, but that’s all she could think about. Everything about him drew her attention. She noticed him rub his palms on his jeans as they walked and imagined how it would feel if he took her hand. He’d done so at the Red Rocks show, seemingly without a thought as he tugged her up on the stage. With him at her side, she’d almost felt like she belonged there.

More shocking than anything else, she was wet. With every step, she felt it, the dampness in her panties, only that scrap of cotton separating her most intimate place from the breeze. The boys talked excitedly about what flavor ice cream they wanted; all she could think about was their dad’s hands . . . big, graceful, long-fingered musician’s hands. Under her dress. On her body. Doing unspeakable things.

Nothing wrong with fantasizing—she wouldn’t let herself feel too guilty about that. It wasn’t as if those hands would ever be on her. Last night they had probably been on some other woman’s body, doing those unspeakable things, no matter what Talia said.

It couldn’t possibly be jealousy that was burning Iris up inside. She wouldn’t let it be that. Why should she care what Elijah Vance did? She still had to decide if it was something Heidi should know about.

As they entered the ice cream shop, he held open the door for her, and one of those hands brushed her back as she walked ahead of him, so lightly and briefly she thought she could have imagined it. Chills skittered up the back of her neck, making her scalp prickle. But as soon as they were in the building, she was on duty, confirming that Dylan couldn’t possibly get tree nuts in his selection. She never left home without his EpiPen in her bag, but you could never be too careful. The horror of the one time she’d had to use it was always close to her, and always would be.

After placing their orders, they ate on the walk back, Iris’s strawberry gelato heaven in her mouth. To her surprise, Eli had ordered the same thing. Iris wasn’t sure why, but she had figured his tastes would be more exotic. The boys walked several paces ahead of them, quiet in their own bliss.

“This was a good idea,” Iris told him, trying not to watch his spoon slide from his lips as he took another bite. He nodded his agreement, not replying. Something was going on in that dark head of his, she knew it. “Sounds like you guys had fun today.”

“We did.”

He walked close, his arm a mere inch away from brushing hers. Her skin seemed to reach out for that touch. She had to concentrate on keeping her steps straight and not veering into him. Madness. “I probably would have had more fun with you than with Talia.” Dammit, that sounded bad. She should have said the boys, or you guys, not you.

She didn’t look at him, but she saw him glance at her in her peripheral vision as she took another smooth, cold bite of sinful gelato. Surely it was the reason for the chill bumps on her arms. “You look like you had a good time.”

“Oh, I did, yeah, but she pushed me into this. It wasn’t my idea at all. The last thing I need is a style makeover.”

“She can be pushy.” And he could brood so effectively.

“You should have warned me,” she said, finally giving in and bumping his arm with her elbow.

“Did I really need to? You’ve met her.”

“I guess you have a point there. I just didn’t expect . . . this.”

“It means she likes you a lot.”

Iris shrugged. “Not sure how I managed that.”

“Maybe because we can smell fake a mile away.”

Now, she did look at him. “You think I’m fake.”

His steps slowed to a halt. She stopped with him, heart thudding gently, glancing forward to make sure Dylan and Seger didn’t get too far ahead. Everything suddenly seemed magical, the city breathing around them, the mountains watching over them. Her knees went weak when she looked up into Elijah Vance’s green eyes, shadowed by his low-sitting cap. “The concern you have for my kids, Iris, I know that isn’t fake. Making sure Dylan doesn’t get anything that could hurt him. You stepped forward in that shop before even I could.”

She wanted to downplay it, insisting it was her job. Except it wasn’t only that. “I was at that birthday party last year,” she told him. “When Dylan went into anaphylactic shock. I guess someone didn’t get the memo, and there were macadamia nut cookies. I was there with him when his throat closed up. I’ll never . . .” She paused to draw a breath, to grapple with the building heat behind her eyes. “I’ll never forget the look in his eyes when he tried to breathe and couldn’t.”

Elijah had gone so still that his entire life seemed to have paused before her eyes. “Heidi never told me about this.”

Disbelief welled in Iris’s chest. “She didn’t?”

“Where the fuck was she?”

Oh God. Heidi had told her she called him! Had she really not bothered to let Elijah know about his son nearly dying? “She wasn’t there. I had taken him and Seger to the party myself. I had to stab Dylan with his EpiPen and take him to the hospital. I . . . I thought you knew about it.”

He exhaled forcefully, looking over at his son with anguish clearly written across his face. Dylan and Seger had paused to sit on a bench and finish their gelato.

“I’m so sorry she didn’t tell you,” Iris insisted. “I don’t know why she wouldn’t.”

“I do,” he spat, but didn’t elaborate.

“I felt so guilty. I should have double-checked the cookies. I was stupid. But I vowed that I would never make that mistake again.”

His gaze flickered back to hers. “It wasn’t your fault, Iris. You went there prepared when their mother couldn’t even be bothered. For that . . . I can’t thank you enough.”

“I swear, I thought you knew,” she said, her heart breaking for him. “And I have your number now. I’ll make sure you know whatever you need to know about your kids.” God, that could possibly cost her her job. But it was an injustice she couldn’t abide. This man deserved to know what was going on with his own children; he loved them so much. Iris remembered wondering, if Heidi called him, why he hadn’t come to check on his son. She’d even asked. Heidi had blown off the question.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice quavering with emotion. “For saving him.”

“I only did what anyone would,” she said lightly. But for the first time, Iris felt real, chilling doubt about Heidi slither through her veins. She’d been caught in one lie now. How many more were there?

––––––––

THAT NIGHT, HE WATCHED Dylan sleep.

Iris had offered to take them, but he hadn’t let her. Not tonight.

No one had told him. Hell, his own kids hadn’t even told him; neither of the boys had said a single word. Was that also Heidi’s doing, swearing them to secrecy? Eli could not even bring himself to imagine what that conversation had been like, manipulating innocent children into not telling their father something so important. What the fuck was wrong with the woman? Was it more ammo for her arsenal, painting him in everyone’s eyes to be a shit father?

His son had nearly died, and no one had told him. If not for Iris, no one ever would have.

Elijah thought he had run the gamut of emotions with everything Heidi had done to him. He’d loved her more than anything in the world once. Now he found the depths of his rage toward her knew no boundaries. If it weren’t for these kids, he would wish he’d never met her. The only good things that had come from her were these kids, and he didn’t want to give them back.

But she’d said it once, and she was right: no judge in their right mind would give him sole custody. It simply would not happen. Maybe the only person he really had in his corner was Iris, the one person he hadn’t wanted here in the first place.

Eli rubbed his hands together, then dropped his head into them, rubbing his face hard. He sat in a chair across from the bed—his bed, but he would let the boys take it tonight and crash in the other room. Or maybe he would crash right here. He couldn’t bring himself to leave them just yet. Soon, they would have a long visit with his parents, who scarcely got to see them, and then he would only have a handful of weeks left with them.

Dylan shifted and giggled in his sleep. Even in his dreams, he was happy, so maybe Heidi hadn’t fucked him up too much. He had to do better, be a more permanent part of their lives.

He could blame Heidi all he wanted for Dylan being with Iris when he had his life-threatening allergic reaction, but the fact of the matter was that Eli hadn’t been there, either. And a situation in which he didn’t know something so crucial about his sons’ lives should never take place.

It never would again.