Darius heard her, no doubt about that.
She knew by the way his big body went dead still, by the sudden sharp intake of his breath.
Run away, run away fast! shouted the internal voice of smart, practical, everyday Ava, who knew better than to issue blatantly sexual invitations to a man she’d always promised herself she would never be foolish enough to fall into bed with.
But she didn’t run away. Not immediately.
Instead, she compounded her own idiocy by turning fully toward him and looking him straight in the eye.
He gaped back at her, his expression pure deer-in-the-headlights. Clearly, she’d surprised him.
And not in a good way.
So then. In spite of what he’d said seventeen years ago, the last thing he really wanted was for her to finally say yes to him.
Her heart beat a sick, limping rhythm under her ribs as she accepted the fact that she’d just made a complete fool of herself.
Dear God, please let me sink right through this floor this very instant.
But God didn’t come to her rescue and suck her beneath the surface of the earth. The world kept on turning. Behind her, Janice continued scheduling volunteers—and Dare Bravo stared at her like she’d just sprouted horns and a long, forked tail.
Behind her, Janice dismissed the group. “All right, everyone. Happy Thanksgiving. See you all next Monday.”
Ava wheeled and made a beeline for her daughter. She had Sylvie in her coat, wool hat and mittens in seconds flat. Then, with a cheerful wave and a “Happy Thanksgiving!” she got the hell out of there.
* * *
“I don’t see why you won’t come with us.” Kate Janko ate a bite of mashed potatoes and gazed reproachfully across the dinner table at Ava. “The weatherman’s promised no more snow until next week. The roads will be clear for the drive tomorrow. Ava sweetie, everyone will be there.” There was Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, where Ava’s parents, her brothers and their families would all be attending a big Janko family reunion over the coming Thanksgiving weekend.
“Mom, I’m sorry, but I can’t,” Ava said for the umpteenth time. “I’ve got a closing on Wednesday and an important open house on Saturday. It’s just not doable.”
“You work so hard, honey.” Her mother cast a wistful glance around Ava’s dining room, with its gorgeous built-in cabinets and art glass chandelier. Ava was proud of the cozy two-story bungalow she’d bought when she first returned to Justice Creek from California. It might not be large, but she’d restored it meticulously, keeping true to its Arts and Crafts style. “I just don’t see why you can’t take a few days off and be with your family for Thanksgiving.”
“Gramma, we just can’t,” Sylvie piped up. “We’re having Thanksgiving at Annabelle’s aunt Clara’s house. And then Saturday night, I’m going for a sleepover at Annabelle’s house.”
Kate frowned. “Aren’t you a little young for sleepovers?”
Sylvie puffed up her thin chest. “Annabelle’s too young ’cause she’s only six.” Every s had a soft, sweet little hiss to it. Sylvie had lost two front baby teeth, one in October and one just two weeks ago. “But I’m seven, and that is old enough.” She glanced Ava’s way. “Mommy said so. Right, Mommy?”
Ava hid a smile and gave her daughter a nod.
Kate opened her mouth to voice further objections. But Ava’s dad, Paul, put his hand over his wife’s. “Looks like our girls are staying home for Thanksgiving, Kitty Kat.”
Ava’s mother turned her hand over and gave her husband’s fingers a squeeze. They shared a glance both tender and fond. They still called the double-wide at Seven Pines home. And all you had to do was look at them together to know they still lived on love. “Well, I wish you would change your mind,” said Kate as Paul reluctantly took his hand back and both of them picked up their forks again.
“Sorry, Mom. But we just can’t get away.”
“We’ll miss you,” said her father.
“We’ll miss you, too,” Ava dutifully replied.
“May I please be ’scused till dessert?” asked Sylvie. “I ate everything, even my broccoli, and it was gross.”
Biting her lip to keep her expression appropriately serious, Ava turned to her daughter. “That you ate your broccoli is excellent. Broccoli is very good for you.”
“It doesn’t taste like it’s good for me. Chocolate tastes like it’s good for me.”
Ava bit her lip harder. Grandpa Paul made a faint choking sound as he tried not to laugh. Gramma Kate swatted him under the table.
Ava said, “Sylvie. What do you do when you don’t like the taste of your food?”
“I eat it or I don’t eat it,” Sylvie replied obediently. “If I don’t eat it, I don’t get dessert. But I’m not s’posed to say that I don’t like it because that is rude.”
“Very good. And saying that your broccoli is gross is the same as saying that you don’t like it.”
Sylvie wrinkled her nose but conceded, “Yeah. I guess so. I s’pose I am sorry.”
Ava nodded. “Excellent. You are excused. Clear off your place, please.”
Sylvie beamed a giant smile, displaying the wide gap where her baby teeth had been. She jumped up, grabbed her plate and trotted through the arch to the kitchen.
As soon as she was gone, Kate lowered her voice and asked, “Did you hear about Nick Yancy?”
Ava didn’t know Nick well. He was in his early twenties, a sweet cowboy and something of a star in the local rodeo. In the last few months, Nick and Jody Bravo, one of Darius’s half sisters, had become friends. Jody swore it was only that—friendship. But everyone thought Nick wanted it to be more, even though he was six or seven years younger than Jody.
And the bleak expression on her mom’s face alarmed her. “Did something happen to Nick?”
“Tractor accident,” said her father somberly.
“Oh, no. When?”
“They found him just this afternoon. The story is that a spring locking pin failed. He got crushed in a rollover. They rushed him to Justice Creek General but he died on the way.”
Ava pushed her plate away. “Now, that’s just all wrong.”
Her mom nodded. “He was a fine young man. They haven’t said yet when the service will be. I’m guessing this weekend sometime. We should be there.” Ava’s mom and dad had gone to school with Nick’s stepdad. “But we have the Idaho trip...”
