Chapter 4
Rowan stood at the window longer than she intended, her fingers resting against the frame as she watched Wes’s truck pull down the drive.
Relief filled her, the feeling a surprise.
She hadn’t expected to feel the tension fade from her—not after everything that had happened on the road. But seeing Wes again had stirred up too much at once. Too many memories. Too many questions she didn’t have the energy to answer.
Space felt easier, safer.
Rowan pushed away from the window and headed for the door. If she stayed up here any longer, she’d start thinking too much, and that was the last thing she needed right now.
Voices drifted up from downstairs, low and familiar. The sound anchored her as she made her way down the hall and toward the stairs.
When she reached the bottom, Naomi stood near the couch, gently rocking a small bundle in her arms.
Rowan’s attention shifted instantly. “Is that—?”
Naomi turned, a smile breaking across her face. “Grace. She just woke up.”
Rowan crossed the room and leaned in, taking in the child’s tiny features. Four months old and already completely captivating.
“I’m an aunt again.” The words came out softer than she expected.
Naomi’s smile held, but something in her expression shifted. “For now.”
Rowan straightened. “What do you mean?”
Naomi was quiet for a moment, her hand moving in a slow steady rhythm along the baby’s back. Then she exhaled.
“It’s a long story. But the short version is that Grace’s mother, Sissy, showed up here a few months ago very pregnant, claiming to need help.
” She paused. “She was actually working for Richard Harding. Gathering information—security codes, camera locations, schedules. Anything she could use to help him get the property back.”
Rowan stared at her. “Richard sent a pregnant woman to spy on you?”
“He did. She disabled cameras. Filed false complaints with the county. She believed every word he’d told her—that he was innocent, that Sarah had turned everyone against him.
” She let out a short, humorless breath.
“She was wrong about all of it. When everything came out, the federal fraud charges came with it. She’d been filing for benefits under multiple names across different states.
They arrested her right after Grace was born. ”
Rowan looked at the baby. “And Grace?”
“Sissy had no family willing to take her. She grew up in foster care.” Naomi looked down at Grace, her expression going soft in a way that made everything else feel sharper. “She asked me. Said she didn’t want Grace going into the system.”
“And you said yes.”
“I said yes.” Naomi glanced up. “There’s one more thing. Richard is Grace’s father.”
Rowan closed her eyes for half a second. “Of course, he is.”
“Which means the Hardings want her.” Naomi’s voice dropped. “His brother. His mother. They’ve made that very clear. But Sissy is terrified of them. She’s seen enough to know they’d use Grace, not raise her. She doesn’t want them anywhere near her daughter.”
Rowan looked at her sister—at the careful way she held the baby, at the tension she was trying so hard to keep out of her face.
“So you could lose her,” Rowan murmured. “Either to Sissy when she gets out or to the Hardings before then.”
Naomi’s gaze dropped back to Grace. “I knew what I was getting into from the beginning. This was never meant to be permanent.”
“But that doesn’t make it easier.”
“No.” A faint smile formed that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It doesn’t.”
Rowan looked at the baby—at the small trusting face, the fist curled against Naomi’s shoulder—and felt something tighten in her chest.
She’d been calling home every week. Apparently not nearly enough.
Footsteps sounded behind them.
Caleb stepped inside. “Before I forget—Wes will be joining us for dinner tonight.”
The relief Rowan had felt upstairs vanished.
She hadn’t realized how much she’d been counting on that space until it was gone. Until the thought of sitting across from him, making conversation like nothing had happened, settled in her chest like a stone.
“Oh.” She forced herself to sound more cheerful than she felt. Acting 101. “Okay.”
Caleb studied her as if weighing whether to say more. “I figured it made sense, since he’ll be working with us and all.”
“Of course,” Rowan said. “Yes, absolutely. That totally makes sense.”
It did.
But that didn’t mean she liked it.
She could handle this. It was just dinner. Just a conversation.
Just Wes.
If only it were that simple.
Two hours later, Wes parked near the front of the house and cut the engine, the quiet settling in around him, interrupted only by the sound of a dog barking in the distance.
Remington lifted his head from the passenger seat. Caleb had insisted Wes could bring his dog, and Wes had been all in favor of that.
“Stay.” Wes reached for the door.
The dog remained in place as Wes stepped out, then circled around and opened the passenger side. The Doberman hopped down and paced to Wes’s side, steady and alert.
Wes grabbed the small bundle of flowers from the seat—nothing elaborate, just something he’d picked up in town—and headed toward the house.
The smell of grilled meat hit him, and his stomach grumbled.
For a second, he paused at the base of the steps.
Then the door opened before he could knock.
Naomi stood there, a baby tucked against her shoulder. “You made it.”
“Hope I’m not too early.”
“You’re right on time.”
He held out the wildflower bouquet. “These are for you.”
Naomi blinked, clearly not expecting that. “You didn’t have to.”
“I know. I wanted to. My mom taught me to never show up empty-handed. Flowers are generally better received than my cooking.”
Naomi chuckled, and she shifted Grace to take them. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
Wes nodded then glanced at the baby. “She looks content.”
“For now. We’ll take it. She’s been awfully gassy lately.” Naomi stepped back. “Come on in.”
Wes entered, Remington following at his side.
“All our guests have already eaten, so it will just be family and friends tonight,” Naomi explained. “And when I say just, you know what that means.”
“It means you have a big family with lots of friends.” Wes grinned.
“Exactly,” Naomi said.
The next few minutes was a flurry of introductions.
Millie Anderson was Caleb’s girlfriend. Wes remembered her from church when he was growing up. She’d been several years ahead of him in school, however.
Then there was Sheriff Micah Sutherland, who was apparently dating Naomi.
Wyatt King, the youngest of the King brothers, was there, with his girlfriend Kori Hutchins, a lawyer in town.
Hadley Chase was also there—she was a King cousin and local veterinarian. And so was Max Kincaid, who helped run the kennel here on the property.
Ruby King—the matriarch of the family—apparently couldn’t make it. She had to take Luke’s children to some practices an hour away.
Then there were the dogs. Hamilton, Caleb’s husky. Good Boy, Naomi’s yellow lab. Thunder, Wyatt’s search and rescue dog.
Throughout all the introductions, Rowan stood on the far side of the room, a little apart from the others. Not withdrawn exactly but not fully engaged either.
Their eyes met. For a moment, everything else faded.
Wes held her gaze then looked away, giving her space she hadn’t asked for.
It wasn’t his right to ask her questions anymore. To expect her to open up.
To expect anything from her.
Caleb stepped inside from the backyard, a platter of meat in his hands. “Food’s ready. Let’s eat.”
They gathered around, chairs pulled out, plates passed. Steaks, baked potatoes, salad.
Wes sat across from Rowan, and general small-talk started at the table.
A few minutes into the meal, Naomi leaned her elbows on the table and looked at Rowan. “So . . . are we going to pretend we’re not all curious about what you’ve been working on?”
Rowan laughed, the sound easy and familiar. “You mean besides surviving a cross-country drive?”
“I mean the movie,” Naomi said. “You can’t drop that and expect us not to ask.”
Rowan lifted a shoulder. “It’s still early. A lot of moving parts. But it’s been good.” She smiled, just enough to keep it light. “Filming equals some really long days with a lot of waiting around pretending you know what you’re doing.”
A few chuckles traveled around the table.
“It’s being directed by Vince Furlough, right?” Sheriff Sutherland asked.
Rowan’s smile held, but Wes caught the flicker beneath it. “He’s the one.”
“That’s a big deal,” Naomi said. “He’s done some really popular movies, right? Like award-winning and career-defining.”
“He has. And this movie could be a big deal.” Rowan shrugged again. “Or it could be one of those things that sounds impressive until it isn’t. You never really know with these things. Hollywood can be very hit or miss, and sure bets aren’t always sure.”
Wes listened as Rowan kept the conversation moving. She turned the focus back on the others with practiced ease. She asked Millie about working at Refuge Cove, teased Caleb about his singing ability, and she even managed to draw a reluctant smile out of Sheriff Sutherland.
Anyone watching would’ve thought she was completely at ease.
Wes didn’t buy it. She was putting on an act for the sake of her family.
Just then, her phone buzzed. The sound was soft, but he saw the brief tightening in her shoulders before she reached for it. She glanced at the screen, just for a second, then flipped it face down.
She didn’t miss a beat. “Sorry. I promise I’m not that important.”
Naomi smiled. “I don’t know. It sounds like you’ve got people keeping tabs on you.”
“Or trying to.” Rowan’s tone remained easy. “Same difference.”
The conversation rolled on, but Wes’s attention stayed fixed.
Rowan was good. Too good.
The timing of her responses was on point. She had the ability to laugh at the right moments and to keep things moving so no one lingered too long on any one subject.
It wasn’t just natural.
It was controlled.
Intentional.
And every now and then, when Rowan thought no one was looking, her gaze drifted toward the window.
Like she was waiting for trouble to arrive.
Wes ate, but his focus stayed divided, tracking both the conversation and the subtle shifts beneath it.
Whatever was going on with Rowan, she was working hard to make sure no one saw it.
Just as dinner wrapped up, a low sound cut through the room. Then it grew louder and into a steady thrum.
Sheriff Sutherland tilted his head toward the noise. “You hear that?”
Wes did. It was a helicopter. And it was close.