"No," he says. "The girl thing is related. To the other stuff."

The family stuff.

"So are you going to tell me who this chick is, or what?"

"Tempest."

"Tempest?" I stare at him blankly, trying to rack my brain to put a face to the name, but failing. You'd think with a name like Tempest, I'd remember her, but I'm coming up short.

"Tempest Wilde," he says, his brow wrinkled. "Killian was gone when it all happened, I think, but I'm pretty sure you were around then, still in high school. Her parents were grifters. She was only here one summer."

"Her parents stole all that money from people," I say. I still can't place the girl, but then, I didn't know her. Everyone in town knew about the family afterward, though, about what a no-good thieving bunch they were. Of course, everyone knew our family was no good, too. "I don't remember her."

Silas nods. "You have no reason to," he says. "But anyway, that's who I'm seeing who I'm with. Fuck, that's not what I mean. We're not dating. We're... together."

"She's your girlfriend?" I tease, unable to stifle a grin.

I expected a vehement fuck you in response, but Silas shrugs, and looks down at his feet. "No. Not just that. I'm going to marry her."

Oh, hell. I can't do anything to prevent the smile that comes across my face. "Shit. Congratulations! I feel like we shouldn't be drinking beers. I think I have some scotch."

Silas laughs, the sound light, something I'm not used to hearing from him. "Nah," he says. "I don't even know when we're going to do it. Or how, or anything. It's just, you know, in the future."

"Well, I'm glad you finally found someone to put up with your bullshit," I joke. Except a pang of jealousy hits me, and I realize that's crazy. Me, jealous of someone choosing the whole ball-and-chain thing?

"So am I," Silas admits quietly. But there's not a hint of sarcasm in it. He says it wistfully, and I'm glad for him. "Anyway, that's not what I have to talk to you about. That's just the background for it."

He explains the whole thing. Tempest isn't a regular girl. She's a damn con artist who's been scamming rich assholes people who don't deserve to live, much less have bathtubs full of cash out of their money and giving it to people who deserve it. A Robin Hood thing.

"They were working in Vegas," Silas explains. "All over, really. But Vegas, recently."

"And that's where you hooked up with her again," I piece together.

Leave it to Silas to settle down, but not with a regular girl. He has to go and find a damn con artist.

"She's not trying to scam me," Silas says, as if he can read my mind. "She's retired. Well, she's going to retire."

"One last job?" I ask, quoting every heist movie I've ever seen.

"Yeah, so about that..." Silas' voice trails off.

"If you say, 'I have a plan...'"

Silas grins. "It's not my plan," he says. "It's theirs. But it's a good one."

27.

Autumn "You're glowing," June says. She pours the contents of a bowl-chunked up apples and cinnamon and sugar-into a pie crust.

"You made that crust yourself, didn't you?" I ask, avoiding her comment. I'm lying on my stomach on the floor in June's kitchen, tinkering with a racetrack of little Stan's so he and Olivia can send their toy cars speeding around the track again and again.

"I did," June says. "Which has zero to do with what I was just asking you, you know. I want the dirt."

"I can't give you the dirt." I hand Olivia a car and watch her race it down the repaired track. I pull myself off the floor and onto a barstool at the island in the middle of June's kitchen. "It's not fit for little ears. I'll dish later. Am I the only one around here who isn't basically a chef?"

June points her wooden spoon at me. "I've offered to teach you, missy. And you know I'm dirt-deprived. You'd better make good on that promise. As soon as Cade gets here and can watch the little ones, I want to know all the gory details."

"Not gory," I say, laughing. "Juicy, but not gory."

"Wait, what did you mean that everyone is basically a chef?" I watch her layer a piece of dough onto a pile of apples that looks much too large to fit in the pan, her hands flying as she crimps the edges. She looks up at me. "Does he cook? Has he cooked for you?"

"He cooks," I confirm dreamily. I can feel myself grinning like a complete idiot, but I'm happy. More than happy. "He's cooked for me. Really well."

June makes little slices in the top of the pie before adding decorative pieces of dough to the top: little leaves. Of course she has an infant and a toddler and runs a bed and breakfast and adds decorative leaves to the top of her homemade apple pie. If she hadn't become the closest thing I had to a best friend in this town over the past two years, I'd totally hate her.

She raises her eyebrows. "It looks like cooking isn't the only thing he's good at," she says, the corners of her mouth turned up.

I suppress a giggle that seems to rise up involuntarily from my throat. "No," I agree. "Cooking is definitely not the only thing he's good at."

She slides the pie into the oven and turns back to me. "What are they teaching these young boys now?"

Heat rises to my cheeks, and I know I'm flushing.

Images flash in my mind, one right after the other Luke's mouth on my breast, his tongue swirling around my nipple.

Me straddling his face, lying across his body, my lips wrapped around his cock.

Luke, lying naked in my bed with his body stretched out and his head on my pillow, explaining how to cook a souffle just before I slide my hand down his body, wrap it around his cock, and give him cause to shut right up.

"Wow, you really are smitten," June says.

"What?"

"What, says the woman staring off into space at the mere mention of her boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend," I insist, shaking away the images in my head, still distracted by thoughts of Luke. I can't exactly help it. He's an incredible distraction.

June smiles, her head cocked to the side. "You sure about that? Because you're awfully smitten for a fling. And you're not seeing anyone else."

"I'm not smitten." I pop another apple slice into my mouth. Olivia wanders over and demands one, then little Stan follows suit, and I grab cheese sticks from the refrigerator to go with the apples. "Here you go, guys. Snack time. Smitten is for, like, sixteen-year-old girls. Not women my age."

"Smitten," June says, shrugging. "It's the most accurate way I can think of to describe your current state, what with all the daydreaming and mooning about."

I toss an apple slice at her and she laughs. "Mooning about." I snort. "Now you just sound like a grumpy old lady."

"I am a grumpy old lady."

"You guys are talking about mooning?" Cade walks into the kitchen and heads straight for June, planting a kiss on her forehead and squeezing her ass at the same time. Stan and Olivia run headlong for Cade, crashing into his legs, and Cade scoops them up in his arms. "Have you been helping cook? It smells like apple pie in here."

Cade sets the kids back down to play and they're off, running into the living room, Stan dragging Olivia behind him, the cars immediately forgotten.

"In the oven," June says as Cade scoops coffee grounds into a fresh filter. "I swear, you're going to die at an early age, drinking that at this time of day."

"I'm already far too old to die at an early age." He turns on the coffee pot. "And this old man got worn into the ground, getting up with the baby last night." He starts the coffee and walks behind June, sliding his arms around her.

"He let me sleep all night," June brags. "Nine whole hours."

"I thought you looked refreshed," I note.

"I'm not the only one looking refreshed," June says, eyeballing me.

"Is this a conversation I want to be part of?" Cade asks.

"No," I say immediately.

"I thought so. Where's the little minion who kept me up all night?"

"Keep your voice down," June warns. "She's sleeping. Like a log."

"She's a vampire baby, I swear. Sleeps all day, up all night." Cade sighs. "Why don't I go watch the other hellions so you can have this conversation I shouldn't be a part of?"

"See how nice he's being?" June says to me. "It's all an act just to get pie."

Cade snorts, slapping June on the ass as he turns to pour himself a cup of coffee. "Don't let her fool you," he says back. "It's no act. I'm nice all the damn time. This is a prime specimen, right here. Grade-A husband material."

"Get out and leave us alone, since I'm cooking for you and everything. Make sure the children don't destroy the living room."

"Yeah, yeah." Cade waves at her as he leaves, coffee cup in hand. "I'm requesting steak for dinner, though."

"What about you guys?" June asks. "Are you staying for dinner, or do you have other plans?" She practically leers, wiggling her eyebrows when she says other plans.

"I think Luke and I are... I think he's cooking for me again," I say as she laughs.

"Cooking. Oh? Is that what they're calling it these days?"

"Shut up."

"Everyone's in the living room, so now's the time," she says. "Spill it. He's hot, isn't he? The sex is totally amazing, and you're doing it like bunnies, and he has a big "

My phone goes off in my purse, and June laughs.

"Saved by the bell," I say.

"Is that your phone or your vi"

"Oh my God, you think I carry a vibrator in my purse?" I hiss, pulling out the phone and sticking my tongue out at her. I slide my finger across the screen. One text, from Luke.

Can't make it tonight. Something's come up. Call me.

"Is that from him?" June asks. "Is he sending you love notes? That's so adorable."

I roll my eyes and slide my phone back into my purse. "He's not sending me love notes," I say, sighing loudly. "And yeah, we're staying for dinner."

June's brow furrows. "Anything wrong?"

"I'm not sure."

28.

Luke I glance in my rearview mirror at the empty road, then reach between my legs for the cell phone I've wedged in there. Sliding my finger across the screen for the millionth time since I've been on the road, I verify that there's no signal. But I knew that already.

I called Elias after leaving Silas' place. He's in Hollywood with his girl, River Andrews, a big-time movie star. They're at some awards show tonight. When I called, there were people around, stylists or something. I told him I'd keep an eye out for him on television so I could see how stupid he looked in a monkey suit. He called me an asshole and told me he'd try to flip me the bird if he could.

I'd tried to call Autumn again before I left, but it went to voicemail. I left a second stupid message terse, short, not at all what I wanted to say.

What the hell do I want to say to her?

I'm the guy who fucks bimbos with big tits and small brains, girls who don't ask for anything more than a good time and no damn conversation. I'm the guy whose idea of commitment is a second beer. I'm not the guy who cooks dinners for some girl, playing with her kid, not wanting to leave in the morning after I fuck her senseless all night.

Every day I keep going with Autumn is another day playing this charade. At some point, I'm going to break her fucking heart. And I don't want to be that asshole.

I don't know if I can be still.

I'm afraid I can't stay still. I can't give her what she needs.

She deserves more than me.

Fuck, this is goddamn depressing, driving down a deserted road in a truck with just my thoughts for company. Time to think is never good, not in my book, anyway. It's one of the things I appreciate about smoke jumping or base jumping, rock climbing, snow boarding, hell, anything that floods your system with adrenaline the way that shit does.

Take smoke jumping, for instance. You jump out of a fucking plane, gear strapped to your ass, and it's just you and fate. Yeah, you've got skill and your gear and all that bullshit, but anything can go wrong. It's a dice roll.

And when you're in the air, freefalling, it's like white noise.

Pure adrenaline.

Everything in the world turns off, and you don't think.