AVE FUN, SWEETHEART,” Liam said the next day, kissing Nicole’s forehead. “Thanks, Daddy!”

“Don’t go crazy with Grandma’s Amex, okay?”

“I won’t,” she said.

“This is a shopping spree, sweetheart. You can get whatever you want,” Louise said, giving Liam a cool look as she ran a hand over Nicole’s hair.

“Within reason, Nic.” He’d had to talk to her the last time there was a spree—they’d bought her a purse that cost eight hundred dollars.

“Darling, go out to the car, all right? Grandpa’s waiting. I have to ask your father something.” Nicole obeyed, regressing to age six and skipping down the hall. The elevator doors opened, and she blew him a kiss, which Liam caught. Baby Girl was happy today.

The second the elevator doors closed, Louise raised her chin, giving him the assessing, disapproving look he’d been getting since the first time he knocked on their door to take Emma to the movies. “Liam, George and I would like to talk to you about spending more time with our granddaughter.”

Liam felt a tightening in his gut. “Well, you do see her quite a bit already. Dinner once a week, Sundays, the occasional sleepover. Seems like a lot to me.”

“We’d like more. Every other weekend and at least once a week after school.”

“That’s…that’s not gonna happen, Louise. I mean, we love seeing you—” a lie “—but Nicole has a lot of school things going on. And she and I do things on the weekends, too, so we’ll just play it by ear, okay? But if something special comes up, you definitely talk to me.”

“She’s our only grandchild. Our only piece of Emma.”

It wasn’t a plea…it was an accusation, as if Liam had somehow caused Emma’s illness. And no matter how much they loved Nicole, Liam would always be the kid from the wrong side of the tracks who’d knocked up their princess. If there’d never been a Nicole—if Liam had simply been their late daughter’s husband—he doubted the Tates would have ever spoken to him again.

“I know that, Louise,” he said, as gently as he could. “And we moved back here to be closer to you.”

“We appreciate that, Liam. But we’d still like to have more time with her.”

He nodded. “Summer’s just around the corner. I’m sure Nicole would love to spend some time with you then.”

Her face tightened. “Also, we’d like to buy her a car for her birthday. A Mercedes. Excellent safety record.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why?” she snapped. “Liam, you never let us give that child anything! We wanted to take her to London last year, and you said no to that as well.”

“You wanted to take her to London for a month. During the school year, Louise. As for the car, no. She won’t even have her license until next fall.”

“Fine. You’re the father.” She spit the word like it was a curse.

“Thank you,” he said, forcing his voice to be pleasant. “If you could have her back by eight, that’d be great. It’s a school night.” If he said eight, they might make it before ten.

“Fine,” she repeated in a tone that was anything but. Without saying goodbye, Louise turned and went down the hall.

Liam stood there, waiting till she was in the elevator, then stepped inside his apartment. Locked the door. Unlocked it. Locked it again. Then he went to the sink, slammed on the hot water and lathered up. Fifty-five seconds. It was never enough with the Tates. He’d moved across the continent and gave them pretty free access to their granddaughter, endured their crappy WASP dinners and veiled insults, but it would never be enough. And yet they were his backup plan for his child. Who wouldn’t be a child much longer.

Hands washed and dried. Door locked. Jaw still clenched.

What time had he told Cordelia he’d pick her up? Well, how about now? Would now work?

Twenty minutes later, he pulled into her driveway, feeling slightly better. Cordelia’s church stood alone, no neighbors, just a few thick stands of trees. Though the church could definitely use some work, it looked nice there in the sunshine, little purple flowers pushing through the earth in clumps. A nice place to live.

He knocked on the door, which opened almost immediately. The chef, what’s-her-name, stood there, barely clothed. “Well, hello there, Liam,” she said, sliding one hand up the doorframe.

“Hi,” he said. He heard a deep woof, and the giant dog appeared, galloping straight at him, nose aimed for Liam’s crotch, but the cousin grabbed his collar. The creature barked again, wagged its tail, knocking something to the ground, and offered an enormous paw. Some watchdog.

The cousin, meanwhile, looked like she was about to eat him alive. “So, how are you today?” she asked, giving him a slow once-over.

“Fine, thanks. Is Cordelia home?”

“She is. You guys are so cute,” she said. “Come on in.” She turned and walked inside. Liam followed, his eyes dropping automatically to check out her swaying ass, which was very nice, he had to admit, and outfitted for maximum attention—short shorts, even though it couldn’t have been more than fifty-five degrees outside. Or in here. Not the warmest place, this church. “So, Liam, I didn’t even know you guys were seeing each other, you naughty boy.”

“We’re friends,” he said.

“Friends with privileges?” she said suggestively, sweeping her hair off the back of her neck, then patting the couch. “Sit down, sit down, relax.”

He didn’t, though the white cat with the big head took her up on it. Liam looked around. He hadn’t seen a lot the other night, as Cordelia had practically dragged him up to her bed. Not that he was complaining. But there was lots of cool stuff here…an ornate, thronelike chair, a chandelier made of antlers, a statue of a scowling angel who looked ready to kick some sinful ass. “So, where is she?” he asked, feeling the cousin’s eyes still on him.

“Upstairs. When she told me—well, I’ll be honest, she was so cute and shy about it, you’d think it was her first date ever. Come to think of it, it might be. Anyway, I had to pry it out of her, because I thought that was you leaving our house the other day, and then when I saw you sitting together in the beer garden yesterday, I put two and two together.”

“Genius,” he said.

“Thanks,” she purred. “So at any rate, she still dresses like a tiny lumberjack, no clue, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, so I gave her a little help. Poor Posey.” She stretched hugely, arms over her head, arching her back. “You can thank me when you see her.”

Piece of work, the cousin.

“Posey! Your date’s here!” Also shockingly loud.

A door closed upstairs, and they heard footsteps. Tentative footsteps. Meanwhile, the cousin and dog both were eyeing Liam’s groin. Move it, Cordelia, Liam thought. One of these two is going to jump me any second.

She came into the room, and the dog burst into furious barking. Liam flinched. “Uh…hi,” he said after a moment.

“Hi.” She scowled. “Too much?”

At the sound of her voice, the dog fell into a confused silence, punctuated with whining. “Shilo, it’s me,” Cordelia said tightly. He growled, disbelieving, then barked again.

“You look so cute!” the cousin exclaimed, clapping her hands.

Cordelia did not look cute. She looked—well, crap, there was no other way to put it—like a kid who’d gotten into her mother’s stuff. That, or an underage prostitute. Her long, wispy eyelashes were coated with gunk, her eyelids smeared with purple. Hair was slicked down with some sort of product that made it look both greasy and stiff as the same time. Worst of all was her mouth, her beautiful, full lips smeared with oily red. If Liam tried to kiss that mouth, he’d slide right off. She wore an ill-fitting miniskirt and a shirt that was sheer (he had to give the cousin credit for something), revealing a black bra underneath. Tacky, but hot nonetheless. Just not…her. When Liam managed to look into her eyes, he saw that she was glaring at him.

“I liked you better before,” he said. “Personally.”

“Me, too,” she said. “Back in a flash.”

“I think you look great!” the cousin called. “Oh, well. So much for all my hard work.”

Ten very long minutes later, she was back. Hair damp but in its usual clumps. Sturdy jeans, couple of layers of flannel and fleece, engineer boots. Much better. “All set,” she said, grabbing her backpack. She barely looked at him.

“Have fun, kiddies!” the cousin said.

“Sorry about that,” Cordelia said as they went outside. Her face was pink. “I had a delusional moment I could look like a…”

“Prostitute?” Liam suggested.

She shot him a glance, then smiled. “I don’t know. Living with Gretchen, I kind of lost perspective. Since she’s all flowy and shiny and stuff. She said I just had to get used to it, but I could barely see with all that gunk on my eyes.” She had something in her hand—candy, it looked like, wrapped in wax paper, and she took a bite. That mouth of hers was even more distracting, now that she was chewing.

“Well,” he said. “You have your own special thing.”

She looked up in surprise, dropping the candy on the driveway. In a flash, she picked it up, gave it a quick glance, and took another bite.

“Really?” Liam asked.

“Shush. My college roommate sent me this fudge. It’s from Z. Cioccolato. In San Francisco, okay? Best stuff ever.” She held it out. “Want a bite?”

“Pass.”

“Your loss.”

Now her lips had just a little chocolate on them. Liam found himself getting a little…aroused. More than a little, actually. “So, your cousin lives with you?” he asked, trying to focus on something else.

Cordelia groaned. “For the moment. She’s between mansions right now.”

He laughed. “She looks a lot like your mom, doesn’t she? More than you do.”

She gave him an odd look. “I’m adopted.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah. My brother, too.”

“Well, that I did guess, since he’s what? Vietnamese?”

“Yep.”

“And what are you? Ethnicity-wise?”

“I don’t know. It was a closed adoption. So, where are we going?”

Hint taken. “Um…” Right. He should’ve thought of that. It’d been a while since he’d been on…well, it wasn’t really a date. Whatever. “Where do you want to go?”

She thought for a moment. “I have to check on something, and you might like to see it. Want to come?”

“Sure.”

“Let me get Shilo. He can come with us, if that’s okay.”

“Sure.”

She ran back into the church, opened the door and called her dog, who galumphed out, baying joyfully. “My truck?” Cordelia asked, as the pony-size dog whirled in circles next to her.

“We can take my car,” Liam said. He opened the back door for the dog, who leaped right in, then seemed to fall unconscious. He was too big for the backseat, so his head drooped to the floor, nose almost touching.

“I thought you might have your motorcycle today,” Cordelia said as she buckled up. “It’s so nice out.”

“I don’t ride it much anymore,” he said.

“Since the accident?”

He gave her a sharp look. “Who told you about that?”

She grinned. “You did, biker boy. When you were under the influence of pain meds.”

“Right. After you broke my rib.” He started the car and pulled out of her driveway.

“Cracked. And don’t worry, you swore me to silence. Take a left at the stop sign.”

“So tell me, Cordelia, have you always sucked at baseball?” Liam asked, and she punched his arm.

“I almost got a hit the other day,” she said. “It was very close.”

“Wow. So exciting.” He grinned as she smacked him again.

“We can’t all be perfect like you, Liam. Heard you had four hits against Oasis.”

“It’s true,” he acknowledged.

“Good. Glad you’re having fun. Go left here.” He obeyed. “Where’s your daughter today?”

His smile dropped. “With her grandparents.”

“And how are they? With her, I mean?”

And so Liam found himself telling Cordelia an edited version of the Tates’ demands, the endless stream of gifts and overindulgences. It was…nice, having someone to talk to. He’d made a few friends since moving—Allan the lawyer was a pretty good guy, but obviously it was a little weird with the whole Taylor-belt stuff. Rose, the bartender, had a killer Harley and brought it in for a tune-up and flirted without coming onto him, which was fun. The girls at the bakery were friendly.

But Cordelia…maybe it was his link to her parents, but she felt…safe. And she listened. It had been a long time since someone really listened like that.

“Up here on the right,” Cordelia said, pointing. “Just pull in and stop, okay?”

An endless rock wall bordered a sloping lawn. There was a house up there, though Liam could only catch glimpses of it through the trees, which had started to bud out in earnest. A giant Victorian, from the look of it. Shilo, who’d been sleeping, perked up, pushing his giant head between the front seats to see where they’d stopped. A huge set of arching, wrought-iron gates with the words The Meadows spelled out on top marked their destination. Cordelia hopped out of the car, opened a metal box, punched in a code, and got back in the car. The gates swung open, and Liam drove in. Stone driveway. Very nice.

“You know the owner?” he asked.

“I do. Vivian Appleton. She used to live here before she got too old.” Cordelia peered through the windshield at the house. “Man, look at those daffodils! They were hardly out last week!”

The house was massive and ornate, green with cream and blue trim. Dozens of windows, a huge set of double doors, curving front porch. And yes, hundreds, if not thousands, of bright yellow daffodils bordered the lawn, bobbing in the sun.

Cordelia leaped out of the car, opened the door for her dog, and ran up the granite steps that led to a stone terrace. “Come on,” she ordered. “We’ll go in this way. The front door sticks.” Her dog, clearly no stranger to the property, trotted off, snuffling the air with enthusiasm. Liam followed her up the stairs. “It’s empty, but it’s gorgeous anyway. The owner’s heirs are going to tear this place down, and I’m hoping to get the salvage rights.”

“Tear it down?” he asked. “Are you kidding?”

Cordelia turned. “I know. Come on, come on. You have to see the inside.” She typed in a code, then opened the door.

It was incredible. Everything about the house was ornate and…well, expensive, if in need of some care. The walnut staircase, the French doors, the leaded windows, plasterwork and ceiling medallions…it went on and on. Cordelia pointed out a few features, but she seemed almost as in awe of the place as he was, as if she were seeing it for the first time, too. The sun shone through a stained-glass window, pebbling the floor—and the dog, who’d come in with them—with color.

“Doesn’t the town want to save it as a museum or something?” Liam asked, gazing out at the expansive lawns.

“Believe me, I tried. But you know how it is around here. Can’t swing a cat without hitting some historical home where George Washington or Franklin Pierce had a snack. No money in the budget for one more.” She ran her hand along a marble mantelpiece. “Vivian was hoping one of her nieces or nephews would want to live here, but nobody does. A developer made them a huge offer for the land.” Cordelia sighed. “I get the impression Viv thinks that if she doesn’t leave them the estate, they’ll declare her incompetent, or just make her life miserable. Or just stop visiting.”

“What a shame.”

“I know.” She was silent for a minute, then brightened. “Want to see the caretaker’s house? A whole family used to live there, five kids, the caretaker and his wife, who was the cook.”

The cottage was a short walk farther back on the property and was shaded by an enormous spruce. Diamond-paned windows, a stone fireplace, a snug little kitchen. “Viv tried living here for a while,” Posey said, quite the tour guide, “but even that got to be too much once she had her stroke. Isn’t it cute? Imagine being the family who got to live here.”

It was so far from the types of places Liam had lived in as a kid that he couldn’t. A bedroom of his own, rather than a ratty couch that smelled like beer or an air mattress on the floor. A yard full of trees and flowers instead of old car parts. Parents who made meals instead bringing home fast food…when they brought home food, that was.

“It’s really nice,” he said.

“Come on, I’ll show you the grounds. They’re gorgeous. I hope they’ll keep some of the flower beds when they put in the McMansions.”

They went back outside, Cordelia pointing out the occasional rare tree or telling him what would grow where later in the summer. The whole place was like a park, Liam thought—graceful old trees, a gently sloping lawn, rock walls edged with old flower beds, even a stream. They walked, not touching, the breeze gentle, the sun taking the chill out of the air. The dog trotted around, venturing off, then returning, nosing Cordelia’s hand as if letting her know he was back. At the edge of the woods, two deer grazed. The dog barked once but didn’t give chase.

Liam’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out and looked at the screen. His jaw clenched.

“Problem?” Cordelia asked.

“No…well, the Tates just bought Nicole earrings. Two-carat diamond earrings. She sent me a picture.” He held up the phone for Posey to see.

She whistled. “Wow. Pretty.”

“Yeah,” he said. “But see, I don’t think a fifteen-year-old girl should be wearing five thousand dollars’ worth of jewelry, which is exactly why they’re buying these for her. I’ll tell Nicole they’re a bit much for high school, she’ll get mad, the Tates will tell her she deserves them, I’ll be the bad guy.”

“I guess that’s par for the course, being a dad.”

“Yeah.”

There was a little rock shed in the shade of some pine trees at the far end of the property. Cordelia fished out her keys and unlocked the door. “This was the pump house back in the day,” she said. “And voila.” She took out a blanket, spread it on the ground and sat down. “I come here sometimes for lunch,” she added by way of explanation. Shielding her eyes, she looked up at him. “Have a seat, biker boy. You look tense.”

He hesitated, then sat. The wind made a shushing noise through the pine trees, and a blue jay squawked. Cordelia was right. He was tense. His neck was so stiff it felt like he could barely move his head.

“Here. Put your head in my lap. Shut up, just do it.” Her face was pink again. Liam gave her a long look and felt the beginning of a smile. Any time Cordelia did something that might be construed as suggestive or, perish the thought, romantic, she got all pink. Aside from punching him (twice), she hadn’t touched him today, but there she was, blushing like she’d just popped the question.

For some reason, he found that ridiculously appealing.

He lay on his back and put his head in her lap. “Close your eyes,” she said.

“So bossy,” he murmured, obeying.

“Shush. Now just listen.”

“To you? Do I have to?”

“To nature, dummy. You’ll feel better.”

The wind rustled. Far off, he could hear a Harley with cut pipes tearing through the countryside. Took a while for the noise to fade. Birds chattered and twittered and whistled and whatever else birds did. Somewhere, a crow was clacking. Liam heard panting, then a thud, and a warm weight was suddenly against his side.

“Shilo likes you,” Cordelia said.

“I get the impression Shilo likes everyone,” he said.

“You’re right.”

He put his arm around the dog, who rewarded him by resting his head on Liam’s chest. He had to hand it to Cordelia…this was pretty nice indeed. The knots in his shoulders seemed to ease a little, and the sun was warm. He felt her fingers playing in his hair, and, shielding his eyes from the sun, he took a look. Sure enough, Cordelia’s cheeks were burning pink. Grinning, he closed his eyes again.

“So, this would be a big job for you,” he said, petting the dog’s solid side.

“Oh, yeah. It would be a real coup. Every salvage operation in New England wants the rights to this place, and Vivian is having a ball, stringing us all along.” There was a smile in her voice.

“So, salvage, that’s kind of an unusual job,” Liam said.

“I guess so,” she said.

“Why do you like it?”

She didn’t answer for a second. “Well,” she said quietly, “when you salvage something, it’s kind of bittersweet. On the one hand, you’re destroying something—a barn, a home, a business, and it’s sad, because there were so many stories that took place there, you know? When Mac and I take down a house, it’s almost…religious. All those artifacts, all those stories, all the feelings that happened there. But you can save the pieces, give them a new life. A new story.” She stopped abruptly. “Well. I sound like a dope. It’s a job. An interesting job.”

“You don’t sound like a dope.” In fact, her little speech had made his chest feel odd…not in the panic-attack way, but a warm pressure that made him feel a little wary…and a little drawn to her.

“Why do you do motorcycles?” she asked.

He looked at her again. “It’s the only thing I can do.”

“I doubt that,” she said.

“Well, aside from being a gigolo,” he said, sitting up and grinning at her. She didn’t smile back. “I was kidding,” he added.

“Mmm-hmm.” There was a small hole in the knee of her jeans, and she started pulling at the threads. Not amused, obviously. “You shouldn’t sell yourself short, Liam,” she said quietly.

Not what he expected her to say. He looked away after a second.

“I have a present for you,” she said and rummaged in her vast backpack. She pulled out a small object wrapped in cloth. “It’s old,” she added, handing it over. “I’ve had it for a while, and I saw it the other day, and…whatever.”

He unwrapped it slowly. It was a brass medal, imprinted with the picture of an old-fashioned motorcycle. Motorcycle Gypsy Tour, 1917. “Where’d you find this?”

“In an old garage up in Tilton.” She tore another thread from her jeans. “It’s from the first Laconia Bike Week. You know, the big motorcycle rally up near Winnipesaukee.”

“Yeah, I know what Laconia is.”

“Oh, of course you do. Right. I just…figured you might like it.”

“I do.” He looked at her steadily. “This is a very good present, Cordelia.”

Her cheeks brightened. “Glad you like it.” The hole in her jeans was growing.

“I do.” He set it aside and turned back to her. “Come here. Give us a kiss.”

“You or Shilo?”

He laughed. “You can kiss your dog later.”

“Well, then.” She looked at him another minute, surrendered the attack on the jeans and just like that leaned over and kissed him into the middle of next week, all soft lips and sweet taste, and when she slid her tongue against his, it was like a bolt of heat straight to his groin.

“Thank you,” he said against that mouth, pulling her onto his lap so they fit together more closely. His hand slid up to cup her breast—black bra, as he remembered, oh, yes—and relished the small softness against his palm, and kissed her again, that lush, sweet mouth. He could kiss her for a month and not get tired of it.

She pulled back a little. “I don’t suppose you’re living the bad-boy cliché and have something in your wallet?” she whispered. “Something that’s not money?”

Liam laughed. “I actually do. I was hoping I’d get lucky today.”

She smiled, and Liam felt that warm tug again, in his groin and his chest. “Lucky you shall get, in that case,” she said, and with that, Liam relieved her of her fleece, and her flannel, and the rest of her clothes, and made love to her on the blanket, the pine trees shushing in the breeze.

The dog, he was happy to note, had found something else to do.

THEY SPENT MOST OF the afternoon at the estate, then hit a diner, where Cordelia put away a shocking amount of food before ordering two cheeseburgers to go for her beast. She fiddled with the radio on the way home, stopping on an old song from the 1970s. She sang along under her breath, looking out the window.

“Really?” Liam said. “Neil Diamond again? I thought you had to be over sixty to like that guy. Next you’ll be telling me you’re an Engelbert Humperdinck fan.”

“Engelbert is very underappreciated, but Neil is an icon. Now shush, biker boy. This is a great song. ‘I am, I said,’” she sang, a little more loudly. “‘To no one there…’”

He laughed and found…well, it wasn’t such a bad song after all.

When they got to her place, he walked her to the door. “I had a great day,” he said, and it was true. Maybe the first day since Emma had died and when he wasn’t with Nicole where he’d had a really good time.

“Me, too,” she said, and there was the telltale blush.

Shilo (named after, yes, a Neil Diamond song, she’d told him) pushed his giant head in between them. “Go ahead, Shilo,” she said, letting the dog in the house. “Um…you can come in, too. If you want.” Her face was studiously neutral.

A warning bell clanged in Liam’s head. Today had been great…but he didn’t want her reading too much into it, not when he could offer her so little. “I should probably go.”

“Okay. Well, thanks for lunch.”

“Thanks for the medallion. And the shag.” And for making me relax, and feel better, and finding me a one-of-a-kind gift, and taking me to your favorite place. And by the way, don’t fall in love with me, Cordelia. No one’s ever been glad they did that.

“You’re welcome.”

“See you around, then.” He almost hated saying it, the casual dismissal, but it wouldn’t hurt to remind her. This was a no-commitment fling. Friends with bennies. Nothing else.

He could tell by the look on her face the message had been received. “Hang on a sec. I almost forgot.” She went into the house and returned a second later, his leather jacket in her hand. “Thanks for this.”

Liam hesitated. “Keep it for a while. I have a couple.” Why’d you do that? the smarter part of his brain asked.

“I do have a coat of my own, you know,” she said, giving him an out.

“Well, hang on to it anyway.” He was an idiot. But the idiot was rewarded with a smile.

“Okay, biker boy. See you around.”

He wanted to kiss her. Instead, he reached out and punched her lightly on the shoulder. “See you around.”