Rafe didn’t know what made him do it, but he followed Jillian the instant she slipped out of the ballroom. The white dress was like a damned beacon.

Hell, perhaps he owed her an apology.

Rafe found her with the last woman he wanted to talk to.

Rafe had done a good job of avoiding this supposed biological half-sister up to this point. He suspected she was making a point to avoid him, too. Hell, she practically scurried away from him whenever he got too close.

He stood where he was for a moment or two, shamelessly eavesdropping.

“Ari, sweetie, you ok?”

“I will be. Once my knees stop shaking. I hate this kind of stuff, Jilly. Where’s Lacy?”

“A couple more hours and we’ll camp out upstairs and have the butler bring us brownies. Travis was stalking Lacy around the ballroom last I checked. She’s hooked him good. ”

Rafe couldn’t deny that; Travis was acting completely stupid over that blonde doctor-thorn-in-his-side.

“Lacy’s not going to get serious over him, right? I really hope she isn’t. That would be really, really weird.”

“No kidding. Lean your head down, Ari. Catch your breath. He’s a nice guy, but those brothers of his...The cranky one tried to eat me today.” Rafe bit back a snort. One argument in the ER did not mean he’d tried to eat her. If she wasn’t such a bleeding heart with some of the treat-and-street patients, they’d not have had half as many arguments as they had.

She was too soft. Too easily taken advantage of.

He’d seen nurses like that before. They burned out quickly. She was too good of an ER trauma nurse for him to watch that happen.

“I saw you dancing with the governor. Talk about an intense guy. I think he’s worse than Chance. How are you holding up? Have you talked to Rage Old-&-Mean yet?”

Rafe snorted at the nickname she’d tossed at his head one day last week. It had gotten around the hospital far too quickly for his liking.

He wasn’t that much older than she was—a decade, at most. There was about that between her slightly older sister and his cousin Chance.

Not that that mattered, of course. But he’d keep that in mind next time she told him he was old and decrepit and they did things a bit differently now than they used to back in the Dark Ages.

The woman was creative, he’d give her that.

The two women settled onto a chaise lounge next to the ridiculously large pool.

Why did one couple need such a place? Rafe had to admit it was a gorgeous house, but Houghton Barratt apparently thought bigger was better in everything.

“No, I haven’t. I don’t need another brother, Jilly. I have five, as it is. And they are all a lot nicer than that man. Even Luc.”

“True. Luc’s one of the yummiest men alive. Hard to believe he’s related to Old-&-Mean.”

“Ick, Jilly. That’s my brother, remember?”

“Are you going to keep searching out the rest?”

Rafe paused. He hadn’t thought there would be more half-siblings still out there.

“I honestly don’t know,” Ariella said. “I’m not sure I should. He scares me, Jilly. What if the other children of that woman are even worse?”

He hadn’t meant to scare her. The girl had been through enough. She didn’t need to deal with his attitude, too. Rafe felt like a giant asshole for scaring her. She was young and vulnerable and his damned sister, for heaven’s sake.

“He scares most of the panhandle, sweetie. Nurses run for cover when he walks through the ER. And that’s just when he’s in a good mood. Which he rarely is.”

“What a wimp, right? I mean, I can dance with the governor of Texas and the mayor of Finley Creek, but saying hello to my own brother freaks me out. I’m a real weeny, aren’t I?”

He didn’t miss the hurt or the disgust in the girl’s tone. Why? Why would one so young, talented, and beautiful feel that way about herself?

“Hey! You’re one of the bravest people I know, Ariella Dawn Avery.” The intensity of the she-devil’s tone was damned hard to miss. “And don’t you ever forget that. Holden-Deane can scare hardcore Marines. And that’s just when he smiles. Which is strange, because you two have the same smile...A gorgeous smile, but much prettier on you.”

Rafe stepped out of the shadows, causing both women to jump. He winced internally, remembering the videos he’d just seen.

“Nice performance this evening, ladies. Jillian, I wasn’t quite finished.”

“Dr. Holden-Deane, I was.” Her words were stilted, reminding him of their last encounter at the hospital just a few days ago. He had to admit, he’d come down pretty hard on her and Annie Gaines. And with Annie being so ridiculously quiet, Jillian had jumped right in to defend. It hadn’t gone well, but Rafe wasn’t certain who the winner had been. Made he should just consider it a tie?

Maybe he should just make more of an effort with this woman, period. The little she-devil did suck the energy right out of him at times. At others, well, he felt more alive arguing with her than he had in a long damned time. “Mel and Ari worked their tails off to make tonight a success.”

Rafe looked at the dark-haired woman. She was taller than Jillian. But very thin. Healthy? She’d been shot not that long ago; he didn’t think it had even been three months yet, and the possibility for complications still existed.

Rafe couldn’t help himself from cataloging what he could see.

He could just make out the scar next to the strap of her gown. The note of concern he felt just pissed him off.

He didn’t want to care about a woman as part of his family ever again. It hurt too much to watch them die. “Ariella.”

“Dr. Holden-Deane.”

She was visibly nervous and for a moment he felt like an ass, frightening a woman who didn’t deserve it. But it was better to make it clear that he didn’t want her in his life now before either of them said or did something he would regret later. “I received your letter.”

His tone was as cold as he could make it and he saw the way she flinched and trembled. Saw the fire building in her self-proclaimed protector.

Rafe ignored Jillian for a moment, and focused on his sister.

“I...Jillian told me. I’m sorry to h-have bothered you. I won’t do it again.”

She looked about ready to cry at his harsh words. Rafe closed his eyes for a moment, feeling like he’d ripped the wing off a ladybug, or something. He was just about to apologize when Jillian blew up at him.

“Way to go, Holden-Deane, can’t help but be an asshole, can you?”

Sure enough, Jillian Beck, defender of the weak, stepped right in front of him—directly between him and his sister.

Rafe manfully tried to remind himself not to stare down the gap of her gown. Jillian Beck was definitely all woman under those FCGH scrubs she always wore. The white gown just proved that. “Jillian, can’t help but be in my face, can you? Always right there. Stay out of what doesn’t concern you.”

He deliberately kept his words cool.

“Jilly, he’s your boss.” Ariella squeaked behind her.

“So? He’s still a jerk. He’s always been a jerk. He always will be. He’s nothing like Marcus or Travis or Elliot or Chance. He’s a jerk. Even when he was a kid, he was an asshole. You’re better off not claiming him as sharing your DNA, Ari. Who would want to?”

“This is none of your business, Jillian.” Rafe knew what was about to happen and he winced. He hadn’t meant to argue with her again tonight. Or upset her so much. He saw the tears in those brown eyes of hers.

Tears he had caused.

“He doesn’t deserve to be connected to you. He’s nothing but an ogre with a pink stethoscope shoved up his larger than Texas ass!” She suddenly yelled the words at him, tear streaking down her pale cheeks.

Small feminine hands hit him hard in the chest—before he even realized it, Rafe was falling.

Right into the crystal blue waters of Houghton Barratt’s ridiculously large pool.