River let out a shuddery breath, like she’d been holding it for too long, and Lanie realized that she really did care what Lanie thought of her.

It’d been easy to resent River from the moment her dead husband’s name had left the younger woman’s lips. But it was another thing to hold on to that resentment given the facts. Which was also making it hard to hold back the other emotions vying for space in her brain.

Self-pity. Sorrow. Regret.

Shame . . .

And suddenly she wanted River to have her damn ring back. If she could do that, locate it in the single box of Kyle’s things she had in storage, then she could absolve herself of the entire situation. She could walk away knowing she’d done the right thing since Kyle couldn’t. It’d be over, the entire nightmare. She was very close to the end of her contract and basically done with all the heavy lifting. All she was doing now was making sure everything was in place and running smoothly. She could do that from anywhere, including Santa Barbara.

She could get the hell out of Wildstone and never look back. “We’re both off the day after tomorrow. You up for a road trip?”

“If there’s food involved. Why?”

“We’re going to get your ring back.”

And maybe then she’d also get her life back.

LATE THAT NIGHT, Mark came to Lanie’s cottage. He had her backed to the wall with his hands inside her clothing and his mouth on her throat when she stopped to sniff him.

He pulled back slightly. “What?”

“You smell like chocolate.”

“Just made cupcakes with the girls for school tomorrow,” he murmured and went back to kissing her neck.

Which felt great, but . . . “There’re chocolate cupcakes to be eaten?” she asked.

He stilled and then pulled back again, a light of amusement in his eyes. “They’re for school.”

“But you smell like chocolate. It’s making me hungry.”

He dropped his forehead to her shoulder, then smoothed her clothes back into place and grabbed her hand, tugging her to the door.

“What are we doing?”

“I know better than to try and seduce a woman whose mind is on something else,” he said and brought her to his truck.

“You have the cupcakes in your truck?” she asked.

He cupped her face and kissed her, and then belted her in. “No.”

“But—”

He shut the door on her nose and then slid behind the wheel. This time they did things in reverse. Store first—because according to Mark they’d burned the first batch of cupcakes and had only the exact number they needed. Gratified with store-bought brownies, they boogie-boarded under a full moon, racing for the right swells, laughing and competing like they were teenagers, trying to knock each other off.

Well, she tried to knock Mark off, but he was solid as stone on his board and couldn’t be budged. However, she was not solid as stone and he took her down and into his arms. He had her wrapped around him and was kissing her when a wave washed over them both.

They came up sputtering and laughing, and when they were too cold to keep going, they warmed each other up beneath a blanket of stars.

The next day she was buried with work, determined to make sure she finished her contract with her best work when River rushed past her to the bathroom for the hundredth time that day. “You okay?” she asked the blur that was a very pregnant River.

“I’m fine. It’s my bladder and the baby’s tap-dancing on it.”

As soon as the bathroom door slammed, the main phone line rang. This always happened. Lanie looked around. She was the only one at her desk. Dammit. She grabbed the phone. “Capriotti Winery, how can I help you?”

“I need to talk to my daddy.”

Lanie immediately recognized Sam’s voice and she twisted to see the clock. Ten o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday. “Hey, Sam, it’s Lanie. Your dad’s at work. What’s wrong?”

“I forgot to bring cupcakes and it’s my turn for Make-New-Friends Day.”

Once again Lanie looked around for someone more qualified to handle this problem. “Um . . .”

“Daddy helped us make them last night, but we forgot them this morning.”

Lanie stilled and flushed as she remembered Mark showing up smelling like warm chocolate and her trying to eat him alive before he’d taken her to the beach. They’d stayed up way too late. He’d probably been exhausted this morning and she felt at least partially responsible.

“We called Daddy’s work, but they didn’t like that,” Sam said.

“You called his cell?”

“No, ’cuz this is an emergency. I called 9-1-1 and asked real nice and everything.”

Lanie winced. “Okay, let’s not bother them again. What time do you need the cupcakes?”

“Right after lunch. They’re in the kitchen next to Great-Uncle Jack’s special sippy cup that we’re not allowed to use ’cuz it’s got adult juice in it, the kind that makes him wobble when he drinks too much of it.”

Lanie had to laugh. There were no secrets in this place. “Got it,” she said. “I’ll bring them to you.”

“Thank you! Love you!” Samantha yelled in enthusiasm.

“Um . . .” While Lanie struggled with the ease of those words being flung at her and her own difficulty in saying them back, she realized with a short laugh that Samantha had already disconnected so it didn’t matter that she was completely emotionally challenged.

Okay, then.

She went to the kitchen and found Mia fixing the big fancy Keurig with Uncle Jack hovering over her.

“Hurry up,” he said. “You millennials, you take forever to mobilize. No one’s ever lit a fire under any of your asses.”

Mia stopped working on the Keurig and gave him a long look. “You know, it’s okay if you’re old so you hate all of us twentysomethings, but then next time you can’t figure out how to fix your electronics, you don’t get to ask a millennial for help!” And then she walked out past Lanie, muttering about how sometimes she just had to remind herself that it wasn’t worth the jail time.

Uncle Jack went palms up. “She’s so sensitive.”

Lanie didn’t care about any of that. What she did care about was the plastic container containing the cupcakes. It was opened and filled with . . . a few chocolate crumbs.

The cupcakes were gone.

“Were they yours?” Uncle Jack asked from behind her. He belched and patted his gut. “’Cuz they were amazing. All this time I thought you could only make PB&J sandwiches. You’ve been hiding a secret talent.”

“Oh my God,” she said, horrified. “You ate the girls’ school cupcakes!”

His face fell. “Are you sure?”

She picked up the empty container and waved it around. “I’m pretty sure!”

“Shit. Fuck. Damn.”

Uncle Jack had been listening to his George Carlin tapes again. “I thought Cora took away your cassette tape player.”

“She did. I bought another on eBay.”

“Forget that. You need to make more cupcakes,” Lanie said urgently. “And fast.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”