"Just say what you're feeling."

"The others...they didn't spark anything inside me." He tried to find inspiration in the blue mist flowing over the mountaintops in the distance. But everything that came to mind sounded so overdone. "I don't expect fireworks, but I'd like to experience some excitement or anticipation when I'm around my future wife. Especially in the honeymoon phase of a relationship. If I'm two weeks into seeing someone, I sure as hell want to feel something besides mild interest." Behind him, the silence lengthened. He released a self-conscious breath. "Told you I wouldn't be able to explain it well."

A slender hand curled around the back of his neck. "You articulated it perfectly." She tightened her hold. "I hope you find your spark."

Maybe I already have. The words trickled through his mind like a slow-burning line fire along the forest's floor. Could Randi really be the one? The one who would make him smile with nothing more than a sideways glance, make him stir to life with a single caress, make him think of the future with a whispered wish?

The trickle of awareness became a raging storm of certainty.

He snaked an arm around her waist, bringing her body flush with his, and kissed her. "Come on," he whispered. "Let's get back to the site before the sun sets. Making camp in the dark isn't much fun."

She nodded, and they spent the rest of the hike lost in their thoughts. Other than setting up the tent to air out and rolling out their sleeping bags, they'd done nothing else to make their campsite habitable before heading up the mountain.

Britt pulled two bundles of firewood from the back of his pickup and tossed them down next to the fire pit. Then he hunted the edge of the nearby woodland for kindling.

Meanwhile, Randi dragged the large red-and-white cooler from the truck and set it on the picnic table bench. As with many park picnic tables, initials from long-ago lovers were scratched into the thick layers of brown paint covering the surface.

Soon they had a roaring fire and brats sizzling on a cast iron griddle. With the sun dropping below the horizon, their comfortable June day turned into a chilly early-summer evening. Randi exited the tent, shrugging into a dark blue fleece jacket and carrying a long-sleeve flannel for him.

"Thanks." He accepted the flannel, marveling at the naturalness of this small domestic scene. Neither of them had to be told what to do, they just did what needed doing.

"I'll get the plates ready."

Britt knelt down to check the brats. Using a fork, he rolled the links onto their uncooked side and debated his next move. He didn't want to ruin their easy camaraderie, but he also had a compulsive need to know every detail about her.

"Would you rather sit by the fire or at the picnic table?"

"Either works for me. You decide. The brats will be another minute."

She brought over two folding chairs and set them up around the fire pit. "The fire feels nice."

"Got a plate or bun for me?"

A bun materialized over his shoulder.

"How do you like your brat?" she asked. "Plain or with all the fixin's?"

"All the fixin's."

He forked one of the brats into the bun and handed it to her. She traded him for an empty bun.

Removing the griddle from the grate, he set it aside to cool. If he'd been alone or with his brothers, he would have had a small pan of baked beans heating up as well. Somehow beans and second date didn't seem like a good idea. He'd settled for bringing BBQ chips and a tub of potato salad.

By the time he made it to the picnic table to load up his plate, she'd already buried his brat beneath a mound of kraut, sliced tomatoes, onions, and mustard. His mouth watered.

"Look okay?" she asked.

"Couldn't have made it better myself, thanks."

He added a couple spoonfuls of potato salad and a handful of chips to their plates. Grabbing their utensils and drinks, they headed back to the fire.

Hungry from a long day of activity, they dug into their food, making satisfied groans along the way.

"Back at your cabin," Randi said between bites, "I saw a half-completed application for the Anti-Poaching Foundation. I looked it up. Sounds like a great opportunity. What date are you shooting for?"

The brat burned in his stomach. "I've had seconds thoughts on the trip."

"You don't want to go now?"

"Timing's not right."

"Is someone in your family sick?"

"No, why?"

"Then the rest can wait."

"It's not that easy, Randi. Between my business, overseeing the training center's renovations, and now Jonah wants to build a wildlife research center in the conservation area, there's no time for assisting conservation efforts in another country."

"A research center? That's wonderful!"

Her genuine happiness for him made the whole thing finally feel real. He'd been dying to tell her since yesterday, but couldn't think of a casual way to bring up the topic.

"It is. Jonah's a good kid, and he's determined to make his entire family happy. But there's so damn much to do."

"Take it from me, the time will never be right." She swatted a fly off the rim of her bottle. "Set aside the time and go. You never know when life's going to throw you into a gut-twisting tailspin. I'm the perfect example of everything toddling along great, then bam. I almost lost everything in the time it took Pansy to unload in my yard. Don't wait, Britt."

No one, besides Evie, had ever taken an interest in ensuring his happiness. His family loved him and wanted the best for him. But no one had ever ventured inside his life enough to insist he make time for himself.

Britt reached over and drew her mouth to his. He slid his tongue along the rim of her upper lip, and she opened, giving him access. She tasted of beer and brats and heaven. It was a chickenshit way of conveying his gratitude, his growing affection. One day, he would find the right words. But not tonight. Tonight, he would show her.

When he eased back, she asked, "What was that for?"

"For giving me something to think on."

"I'll have to come up with a few more things to occupy your mind."

He laughed, and they settled into an easy silence while staring into the flames.

The fire died down, and Britt got up to add a few more logs. He took the opportunity to ask the question that had been stabbing at his curiosity for days.

"My turn for a question."

She sent him a don't-screw-with-my-serenity look. He ignored her.

"What happened between you and your mom?"

Her longneck slipped between her fingers, though she caught it before the bottle hit the ground. "Pardon?"

"Like your mom, you're a good person. Both caring, smart, funny." He took a drink. "I've been trying to figure out what drove you apart."

"Britt, it's been a great day. I don't want to dampen it by talking about my mom."

"We had a deal, remember? Question for a question."

A deep sigh erupted beside him. "It's complicated."

"We've got all night."

"Our estrangement wasn't caused by any one thing." She set her plate aside. "It was more like a lot of small events that wedged between us, creating a gaping chasm neither of us could-or would-cross."

The indifferent tone to her voice made him want to pull her onto his lap and rock her to tears. Because no matter what control she had over her emotions right now, she needed to let go. To mourn her mother. To grieve for the mother-daughter relationship she secretly yearned for, but was now lost to her.

"What kind of events?" he asked.

"That counts as a second question." She sent him a steady sideways glance. "Are you sure you want to continue our question for a question game?"

Britt bit back a curse. He'd allowed himself to forget how her beauty masked a savvy businesswoman, one who knew how to barter and get what she wanted.

All in.

"I don't consider this a game," he said in a low voice. "I'm trying to figure you out, share with you. If quid pro quo is the only way I can achieve my goal, so be it."

Her expression turned guarded, and she returned her attention back to the fire. "Until I was about eight or nine, I enjoyed a full, loving family life. Then my mother got a position with International Wildlife Conservation and everything changed."

"Didn't she work before?"

"Oh yes, she'd always held a job. A single-income household wasn't an option for us."

"What was it about the IWC position that changed everything?"

"She traveled-a lot. When not at work, she volunteered. She rescued animals. She mentored college students." Randi broke off a dandelion leaf near her foot. "Her position with IWC triggered an almost manic need to save everything-except her family."

"Where was your father in all of this?"

"My father did his best to make up for my mother's absence. But some things, like braiding my hair or glamming me up for a school play, were beyond his skill set." She tore the leaf apart, bit by bit. "I miss him."

"How'd he die again? Barbara said something about a heart condition."

"Massive heart attack. My dad hated going to the doctor, so he ignored my repeated requests for him to get his swollen ankles and numb fingers looked at. One day he was at the dinner table and the next, he wasn't."

Not knowing what else to do, Britt smoothed his palm over her back in large circles. "I'm sorry, Randi."

She sent him a small smile. "It was a long time ago."

"But no less painful."

Dropping the shredded leaf bits, she asked, "What about your dad?"

He set his empty plate on the ground and picked up her half-full one. "Finish your supper while I share the Steele family saga."

"Are we setting caveats on answering each other's questions now?"

"Just this one time." He pointed to her food. "Eat."

She picked up her fork. "Yes, sir."

"The situation with my dad wasn't much different than what you experienced with your mom. Except for one thing. Your mom stuck around." Britt rested his arms on his knees and stared into the fire. "Not long after Evie was born, my dad started spending weekends at an almost uninhabitable cabin. Weekends turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Months into years. Every great once in a while, he'll make an appearance at a family function. But for the most part, he's cut himself from our lives."

"Why?"

"Nobody knows. Any time we ask him about it, he disappears again."

Randi reached out and clasped his hand. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. Everyone in the family is past it. I feel bad that Evie never had her dad in her life for any solid time. But I've tried to make sure she didn't feel the loss too much."

"You're a good brother." She rubbed her thumb over his knuckles. "I can't imagine how hard it must have been for you."

"Me? I had more time with him than my brothers and sisters."

"You became a father figure overnight. In ways you probably don't even realize, you lost parts of your youth."

"Maybe. Maybe I have a different relationship with my siblings than I would have had if my dad had stuck around. But given the same situation all over again, I'd take care of them as best I could."

"From what I can tell, the Steeles are a happy, good-hearted family. In large part due to you."

"The credit goes to Mom. She's the heart of the family. All I did was keep her kids from killing each other."

"I suspect you contributed far more to the family than curtailing death and dismemberment."

Britt leaned over and used his thumb to wipe off a dollop of mustard at the corner of her mouth. Without thinking, he licked it from his thumb. "And I suspect you redirected this conversation away from answering the rest of my question."

She snatched her paper napkin from beneath her plate and swiped it over her mouth, cheeks, and chin.

Britt sat back in his chair and stretched out his legs and waited.

"I held out hope for six long years, expecting that she'd get tired or fired and return to us." She rinsed down her brat with some beer. "Mom never did. Had I not known how good it could be, I probably would have adapted to the new regime." She stared hard at the bottle in her hand. "But I knew. I prayed and prayed and prayed for my mom to come back. But she put her job before her family, and I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive her for taking something so precious away from me."

Little wonder she'd detached herself from nature. In her mind, it was the reason she'd lost the close bond with her mother and it eventually broke apart her family. Britt slid his hand down her arm and curled his fingers between hers. "I know you might not be ready to hear this, but Barbara loved you."

Randi picked at her potato chips.

"She did," he insisted. "Every moment we had together that allowed for idle conversation, she spent those minutes praising your accomplishments."

"Britt, please. We've been through this." Absently she rubbed the pad of her thumb, hard, against his forefinger. "Other than knowing about Blues, Brews, and Books, my mother knew nothing of my hopes, dreams, wins, or failures. And honestly, knowing about Triple B was not impressive. The whole town's aware of my ownership."

In as conversational tone as he could muster, he recited the first story that came to mind. "On your eighteenth birthday, you spent the day visiting your top two universities rather than hang out with your friends."