“I’ll find it for you online. Don’t worry.”

“Come on, Uncle Dale,” Alison said gently, taking his hand. “Let’s go into the living room and sit down. I’ll get it on my phone and cast it to your TV. You can eat in front of the show. How’s that?”

Dale shrugged off her hand and stalked off in his halting way into the living room.

Simon walked to the fridge and took out two beers, handing one to Alison.

“So Jodie just up and quit on you?” she asked. “Who does that?”

“Her daughter was diagnosed with cancer, so she’s moving in with her to help with the baby.”

“Oh, no,” she breathed. “What are you going to do?”

Simon shrugged.

“I can take care of myself,” Dale yelled from the living room. “No one needs to do anything with me.”

Simon and Alison looked at each other. Then Simon took his dad’s dinner to him in the living room, setting him up with a tray. “It’s spaghetti squash lasagna from Kelly.” He opened the container and cut it all up before handing his dad a fork. “Eat up.”

His dad got up. “I’m getting water.”

“I’ll get it,” Simon said.

“I can get my own damn water!”

When he’d vanished into the kitchen, Alison looked at Simon.

“I’m going to have to hire someone new to add to the team,” he said. “Maybe two someones.”

“He hates new people.”

As Simon well knew. They’d lost good caretakers because Dale couldn’t be nice.

A crash came from the kitchen.

“It’s okay!” Dale yelled out. “It’s just a glass.”

Simon tipped his head back and stared up at the ceiling.

“Hey,” Alison said, putting her hand on his arm. “I’m going to stay and watch Family Feud with him. Go up to the roof. Or anywhere. Take some time for yourself. I’ll get him to bed and make sure he’s settled before I go home.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask, and I want to.”

“Thanks,” he said with genuine gratitude, then slid her a look. “Is this because you don’t want to talk about you and Emma being partners?”

“Probably every bit as much as you don’t want to talk about kissing her.”

Touché.

EMMA STAGGERED TO the top of the third set of stairs and leaned on the roof door to gasp for air. The sun was just barely dipping down behind the bluffs in an explosion of glorious reds and purples. Just looking at it had her relaxing, which was when she realized she’d already caught her breath. The stairs were becoming easier and easier, as was walking, two things she’d never take for granted again.

Sure, she had lingering aches and pains that she knew might never go away, but maybe that was her penance for surviving. Maybe it was supposed to hurt a little. Along that vein, in a moment of insanity earlier, she’d signed up for a 5K in the fall. Three months away. She told herself it wasn’t about proving to Simon that she was back to herself because she was fine and didn’t feel the need to prove that to anyone, even him.

It was about proving it to herself.

With that, she stepped out onto the roof and found the man himself on the love seat, head tipped to the sky, eyes closed. His button-down was a midnight blue, untucked, sleeves rolled up. He’d been shoving his fingers in his hair again. Between that and the roughness at his jaw, he looked disheveled, sexy, and dangerous as hell to both her heart and soul. Feelings stirred, affection and desire both in the lead and tied for first place.

Scary.

A bottle of rum sat in front of him on the coffee table.

Emma walked over, but Simon didn’t say a word. She was trying to decide if he was asleep when he spoke without opening his eyes.

“You’re not out of breath.” His voice was low and deep like he’d been nearly asleep. “You’re doing better.”

She’d started getting up early in the mornings and walking. She told herself she was prepping for the 5K. She’d started with one square block, then slowly expanded. She was up to four blocks, which was exactly how far Jack Swanson lived from her.

But she’d not yet caught sight of him again. “If I’m doing better, it’s thanks to you.”

Simon shook his head, whether to say that he didn’t credit himself with her success, or he just didn’t need the thanks, she had no idea.

“I’m sorry about the other night,” he said.

Emma nodded, not that he could see it. “The only reason to be sorry is if you regret it, and in that case, I don’t think I want to know.”

He snagged her hand and pulled her down to sit beside him. “I’m not sorry for kissing you.” He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze until she looked at him. “Kissing you was . . .” He gave his head a little shake. “The best thing to happen to me in a damn long time.”

She smiled and he slowly smiled back. “You’re the highlight of my day, Emma.”

“Same.” She waited, hoping he’d make a move, or suggest they pick up where they’d left off the other night. Instead, he gestured to the bottle of rum in front of them. “Would you like a drink?”

“Rum makes my clothes fall off.”

This got her a slow and wistful smile, like he’d really enjoy seeing that, the stubborn, needlessly noble idiot.

“Are you and Alison really partners now?” he asked.

“Looks that way.”

“She’s lucky to have you.”

“She doesn’t have me. It’s not a personal relationship. Just business. That’s it.”

He gave a small smile. “You’re still serious about no personal relationships.”

She shrugged. “Actually, I’m feeling disturbingly open to one relationship in particular.” One she knew he was feeling leery of and worried about. So she turned to him, carefully tucking her legs beneath her since she was in a sundress. She looked into those deep hazel eyes and saw exhaustion, the kind of soul-deep tired one gets when their world isn’t right. She knew it. She recognized it. She’d felt it every single day after waking up from her coma, fighting her way back to the living. She’d felt it on the first day in the rehab facility where she’d met Hog. He’d been scared, not liking the lights or the slippery floors. Having a down day herself, she’d gotten out of bed and on her knees to hug the huge, shaking dog, and she’d never forget how he’d laid his massive head on her shoulder and drooled down her back while melting into her with relief. They’d been together every day since.