"Randi?"

Her eyes fluttered until they refocused on him. Regret fractured the air between them, then she stomped out the last of his hope. "You're welcome to make an offer."

Glancing away, he fought to control the low quakes of desperation, of helplessness, deep in his gut. "What about half?"

"Half of what?"

"Half to me and half to whomever you have lined up?"

"Who said I had anyone lined up?"

"You indicated as much earlier. Besides, why else would you go against your mother's wishes? Someone has offered you a deal too sweet to pass up."

Her squared shoulders lost their stiffness, curling inward like a protective shield. "I think it's time for me to go." She dug into her purse and pulled out a stack of papers. "Here, read for yourself."

Britt took the papers. "What's this?"

"A copy of my mother's will. I sense you don't fully trust my word on this. Normally, I wouldn't care a flying fig. But, in this case, I believe you deserve to see for yourself."

Unfolding the papers, Britt scanned the lines of legal jargon until he reached the clause that discussed the property. Each word ripped at him like the cutters of a chain saw tearing through wood.

Barbara hadn't kept her word. Her land, the wolves-none of it was protected.

When he lifted his eyes, the world around him blurred into one indistinct background. Dammit, why hadn't he seen this coming? Barbara had been scatterbrained at times, jumping from one project to the next. But it had never occurred to him that she would leave something this important for another day.

He held out the papers for Randi, but she was gone. A door slammed in the distance, and he spotted her wrapping a seatbelt across her chest. Jogging down the steps, he caught up with her before she could turn the ignition.

"Where are you going?"

"Home. Why?"

Britt almost said, "There's something I'd like to show you." But he couldn't take her to the wolves. The fewer people who knew about them, the better. Besides, given her disinterest in her mother's environmental causes, he doubted she would appreciate the rare treat, or grasp the importance of his work. Like so many others.

The Jeep's engine snarled to life and the fan pushed a wave of cool air out the open driver's side window. Randi's unique scent floated on the current, tunneling into his senses. He could breathe her in all day and never tire of her scent. Bold woman mixed with a hint of jasmine.

"I'd like to try and persuade you to hold off on selling your property."

"For how long?"

Britt hedged. "Until I can raise the funds to meet your asking price."

"From your brother?"

Jonah's billions were no secret in Steele Ridge. His brother's wealth had saved the town when it was on the brink of bankruptcy. But it still rankled that she thought he needed to ask his little brother for money.

Britt considered the potential price tag for the Shepherd property and had to concede Jonah might be his only option if he wanted to save the wolves. He just couldn't stomach the asking, the owing, or the debt that would go far deeper than financial. Who knew? He might have a miracle still left up his sleeve.

"No, I'll be doing this on my own."

"I don't have that kind of time." Regret crept into her expressive eyes. "I'm sorry." She began backing up.

Her choice of words puzzled him. Up to this point, he'd assumed her decision to sell had more to do with disinterest and the need to move on.

"What kind of time do you have?"

The vehicle slammed to a halt. "Pardon?"

"Time. How much can you give me?"

She stared at him a moment before asking in a low voice, "Why do you want this land so badly?"

Sweat pebbled between his shoulder blades. How could he explain his interest without giving up the wolves? An explanation she would believe. He could tell her that it would make a nice, contiguous addition to the ten thousand acres of Steele Conservation Area, but he didn't think that would earn him any extra time points. So he stuck with the truth.

"Keeping the land in its current, natural state was important to Barbara. After all she's done for me-did for me, I owe it to her to preserve what she loved."

Shifting her attention to the distant tree line, she gripped the steering wheel as if it were the only thing grounding her in place. Or maybe it was a handy substitute for his neck.

"You have until the end of this week." She stabbed him with a warning look. "No more."

Britt's heart plummeted like the ever-changing temperatures on Mt. Everest.

Five days.

That was all the time he had to develop a relocation plan for the wolves. He'd been putting away every cent he could for the past decade and had managed to save a respectable amount. But it wasn't anywhere close to what he needed to purchase Randi's acreage.

So relocation was the only answer.

Britt's fingers curled into a tight fist and he lowered his head as frustration and sorrow welled up in him. The wolves had finally found a safe haven, one he and Barbara would have protected for years to come.

Now they had to be uprooted just when this batch of pups had begun to explore their surroundings. He would have to move them farther inside the conservation area and hope they would accept their new home. Which meant he'd have to tell Jonah.

Although the family called the large tract of land a conservation area, no long-term plans had been developed, or even discussed. The family had been focused first on bailing out the town, then on building a world-class training facility. No one had yet given a thought to the excess acreage, except Britt.

"Thank you."

She nodded and backed down the drive.

The jagged stones beneath his bare feet began to register. He stepped off the gravel drive and slid his soles across the grass before heading back inside his cabin. Doing a quick calculation in his head, he figured he had at least three to four weeks, maybe a little more, before the paperwork was executed and the new owner took possession. It would have to be enough.

Five days to plan, three weeks to implement. Months to worry. Wolves had a mind of their own. There was no guarantee that they wouldn't find their way back to the edge of Shepherd land, to the farmland they used as a corridor for hunting. To potential danger.

8.

"When did you eat last?" Aunt Sharon gave Randi a fierce hug upon her arrival.

"Probably breakfast." Although Randi couldn't actually recall what she might have shoved down her throat before heading off to speak with Britt. Maybe nothing.

"Have a seat while I heat up a bowl of chicken noodle soup." She closed the front door. "I made it yesterday, so it'll be good and fermented."

Auntie never served soup, stews, or chili the same day she cooked the dishes. She believed they tasted their best after a day or two of fermenting. Randi had to agree with her, but she wished her aunt would use a different word so it didn't sound like a lab experiment, with her niece as the guinea pig. Lord knew Auntie liked to mix things up with her recipes.

"Don't go to any trouble, Auntie. I'm really not hungry."

"What nonsense!" Auntie flapped her hand in the air. "With Glen gone and the kids scattered all over God's green earth, you're the only one nearby I can dote on. Now, turn on the TV. Wheel of Fortune's on in fifteen minutes."

Randi groaned. Wheel of Fortune turned her aunt into a screeching madwoman. Shouting out words and nonsensical phrases until she hit on the right combination. Then she crowed like a five-year-old for having beaten her unfortunate opponent to the finish line. Lord forgive anyone who solved the puzzle before her aunt.

The only time Randi had ever received her aunt's death stare had been the time she'd called out the winning puzzle first. She'd never made that mistake again.

Grabbing the remote, Randi hit the power button, then panned through the guide until she found the right channel. Directive accomplished, she joined her aunt in the kitchen to search for her favorite cookies.

Auntie made the best oatmeal and raisin cookies in all of Haywood County. Soft and moist and never-ending. Raisins on their own-disgusting. Raisins in oatmeal cookies-delish.

She went straight for the mouse-shaped ceramic jar smiling down from the refrigerator top. The mouse's blue chef's hat and red apron appeared as good as new. Not a single chip anywhere.

Drawing it down, she peered inside. Nothing. Disappointment made her shoulders sag. Replacing the lid, she set the jar back in place.

A low laugh sounded behind her.

"What's so funny?"

"Thirty years old, and you still go right for the Jerry jar."

As in the Tom and Jerry cartoon featuring a wily mouse forever on the run from the not-so-witty cat. Appropriate, given the number of greedy hands that had pounced on the cookie jar.

"Creature of habit. Besides, your cookies are the best."

Auntie nodded to a large Tupperware-type bowl on the counter. "I made two dozen oatmeal to take to the children's ward at the hospital. Help yourself to a couple."

Randi's mouth watered at the mere thought of fresh-baked cookies. "No thanks, Auntie. I'm not going to steal treats from sick kids." She grinned. "No matter how much I'd like to."

"Such a good, unselfish child." Auntie set a steaming bowl of soup on the table. "If it'll make you feel less guilty, I'll make up another batch tomorrow before I take it over."

"You're too good to me. And your cookies are too yummy to pass up." She picked two cookies from the plastic container, then another three before closing the lid. A nicer person would have decided against snatching those last three, but not Randi. If not for her, the kids would've only gotten two dozen cookies to share. Now they were going to get more. No guilt at all.

Randi placed the cookies next to her bowl, then unwound the twist tie holding the cracker bag together. She crumbled two crackers into her chicken noodle soup and stirred them around before scooping a big spoonful into her mouth.

After the third bite, Randi's eyes started watering and her mouth burned. "Auntie," she croaked out. "Have you been experimenting again?"

"Why, yes. I added pepper jack cheese to make it pop." She dried her hands on a hand towel. "Do you like?"

Her aunt's hopeful smile forced Randi to check her reply. Never in a million years would she hurt this woman's feelings. Instead, she winked. "Popping accomplished." She stood and dove for the refrigerator. "A tall glass of milk will complement the soup nicely."

Auntie's eyes danced with mirth. "Help yourself, dear."

Five minutes later, the soup bowl and glass of milk sat empty, and Randi was busy blowing her nose. Adding the cheese turned out to be a nice touch-after Randi got over the initial shock. She actually loved spicy food, but it wreaked havoc on her sinuses.

"Thanks, Auntie. That hit the spot."

"Not too spicy?"

"No, ma'am." When Randi made to clear her place, Auntie waved her off, grabbing the dishes herself.

"Did you have something on your mind?" Auntie asked. "Or did you come over to keep an old woman company?"

"Fifty-eight isn't old."

"Someone should tell my body that in the morning." She sent Randi a sideways glance. "And you didn't answer my question."

"A little of both, I suppose." Randi broke off a section of her cookie and held it beneath her nose. When she detected no foreign matter, she shoved it into her mouth. "Hmm. Delicious."

Auntie slid into the chair across from her. "What's bothering you so much to make you run here for an ear and a cookie?"

"Mom's will."

"What about it?"

"Did she ever talk to you about the details?"

"Of course, we shared everything." Auntie frowned. "Has Virgil not met with you yet?"

"Yesterday." Randi decided to spare her aunt the play-by-play. "Do you recall Mom ever mentioning Britt Steele?"

Auntie sat back. She studied Randi's face long enough to set her nerves on edge. "She did. Quite often, in fact. Why?"

"A few days ago, Britt told me that Mom promised him right of first refusal on the property should I wish to sell." Randi waited for her aunt's acknowledgment or outrage. She got neither reaction. "But Mom's will made no mention of such an agreement."

Auntie shook her head in disgust. "Barbara never liked dealing with 'tedious paperwork.' Doesn't surprise me that she left this undone. Though it does disappoint."

"So it is true."

"I'm afraid so." Auntie reached across the table and grasped Randi's hand. "She thought you'd fallen out of love with the place, dear. Sometime last year she told me she'd tried to entice you out for a hike during one of your rare visits, but you had no interest in it. Not long after that she made the proposal to Britt Steele."

Randi recalled the incident. Her mother had invited her over for Easter brunch, which had been unusual, in and of itself, because Barbara Shepherd had never been much of a cook. If a hot meal had made its way to the table, she'd had her father to thank for the occasion.

But the real shocker had been her mother's confession about missing her and wishing they could spend more time together. Excited but wary, Randi had arrived on her mom's doorstep with a bottle of her restaurant's best wine and a box of her mom's favorite candy. Graham crackers loaded with melted marshmallow and a layer of creamy caramel-rich milk chocolate blanketed the entire concoction, creating chocolatey s'mores.

The moment her mother answered the door with a familiar vacant, harried expression, Randi had known their makeup luncheon had been sacrificed to the newest injured animal or environmental catastrophe. She'd ushered Randi into the house with instructions on when to take the meatless lasagna out of the oven. It was then her mother had encouraged her to go for a hike and explore her old haunts.

However, the only thing Randi had been able to decipher in those few minutes of rambling explanations was...again. She'd allowed her mother's persuasive words to work their way into her heart until she'd yearned for reconciliation. But her mother had let her down once more.