Of course once he considered her “healed,” their lessons would end. Not something she wanted to think about. She supposed that her hunger for Clay meant she was ready for a real relationship. That she should look around and find a man to fall in love with. The thing was, she didn’t want to be with anyone but him.

The realization surprised her and made her uncomfortable. They weren’t involved. He was helping her. She wasn’t falling for him, was she?

As Clay led the pack in their final lap, she turned the concept over in her mind. No, she told herself as she walked over to the post she’d marked as the finish line. She was smarter than that. She knew Clay and liked him. He was safe and familiar. That was why he was her first choice for a sexual partner. She’d spent the past decade ignoring her sexual side and assuming being with a man was impossible. Of course it would take her a while to warm up to the idea. But she would get there. Her feelings weren’t about Clay.

The volunteers crossed the line one by one. Most of them tugged off their packs, let the weighted bag fall to the grass, then flopped down next to it, panting and exhausted. Clay stayed upright. He was breathing hard and sweaty, but not done in by the task.

“What else you got?” he asked with a wink.

“You’re saying I haven’t beaten you yet?”

“Not even close.”

She finished the workout with a stretching session and instructions for everyone to spend at least an hour a day on a stair-climber.

“Next week we hit the drill tower,” she reminded them. “It’s seven stories of stairs.”

One of the women raised up on an elbow. “Let me guess. We do it in full gear, with a hose on our back.”

Charlie grinned. “Not the first time.”

* * *

AN HOUR LATER, Charlie and Clay were settling onto a big blanket in the park for a late lunch. Neither of them had bothered showering so dining in a restaurant wasn’t the best choice. They’d settled on take-out sandwiches and a picnic.

Clay still wore the clothes he’d worked out in. A T-shirt and shorts. Despite the sweat stains on his shirt and the fact that he hadn’t shaved that morning, he looked good.

“Let me guess,” he said, sitting across from her. “You always have a blanket in your car.”

“Of course.”

“Along with a first-aid kit.”

She passed him one of the large sandwiches. He shoved straws into the drink containers.

“I’m not going to apologize for being prepared,” she told him. “Emergencies happen. I have training and if I’m first on the scene, I’m not going to be hampered by a lack of equipment. Before you ask, yes, there’s a fire extinguisher in my truck, as well.”

“Impressive.”

“Hardly. Everyone should carry one. It could save a life.”

His dark gaze settled on her face. “You’re earnest.”

“I’m also capable of beating the crap out of you.”

“You threaten me a lot.”

“I like threatening you.”

One corner of his mouth turned up. “There’s a famous philosopher who said that violence was the refuge of the unintelligent.”

“I’m guessing he also spent most of his school days with a wedgie.”

Clay laughed. “I like that you’re tough.”

“You say that because we’re practically having sex,” she said as she unwrapped her roast-beef sandwich. “But the truth is you like those little petite women with dainty feet and mouse sneezes.”

He took a bite of his sandwich and frowned. “Mouse sneezes?” he asked when he’d chewed and swallowed.

“Sure. They make this tiny noise that’s so delicate you have to ask if they sneezed. It’s annoying.”

“I don’t like mouse sneezers.”

“You say that now, but I know the truth.”

He shook his head. “Is this your idea of flirting? Telling me why I shouldn’t like you?”

“I’m not flirting. And you should like me. I’m great.”

“It is your modesty that first drew me to you.”

Charlie opened her bag of potato chips. “I’d throw one of these at you, but it would be a waste of junk food. A sin I never commit.”

They were in the town’s main park, close to the lake. Trees provided shade from the warm midday sun. There were people everywhere. Families, young couples, but Charlie felt that despite the crowd, she and Clay were alone.

She liked the way they laughed together, how they could tease each other. Being with him was easy. He was smart enough to be interesting but not so intelligent that he got on her nerves. He was funny and charming, but also kind. It seemed the older she got, the more she appreciated kindness in people.

She supposed if she were in a less mellow mood, she might have a crossing thought about them being seen together. One of the other volunteers could hint Clay was trying to get Charlie to take it easy on him. But she wasn’t overly concerned. Clay was the best in the group. Even with a good-size table tied to his back, he would still be the best at all the physical challenges. Well, assuming she wasn’t competing.

“Heard from Rafe and Heidi?” she asked.

“Mom said Heidi called to say they’d arrived and that Paris was beautiful. Otherwise, it’s been radio silence.”

“It’s their honeymoon. I guess that makes sense.”

Clay finished up his sandwich, then dropped the wrappings back into the paper bag. “Construction is finishing up on Mom and Glen’s new house.”

“That’s fast.”

“They paid for speedy service. I think they want to be on their own.”

“Is it strange having your mother fall in love?”

“Kind of,” he admitted, stretching out on the blanket and reaching for one of the cookies they’d bought. “I was pretty young when my dad died, so I don’t remember him much. Rafe’s the one who missed him the most. Shane has memories, but Rafe was hit the hardest.”

“Your sister has a different dad, right?” Charlie didn’t know much about the lone Stryker sister. She was a dancer of some kind and was estranged from her mother. Something Charlie could relate to. The estrangement, not the dancing.

“Right.” Clay bit into the cookie. “A one-night stand with consequences. We didn’t know very much about the guy. Nine months later, Evie arrived.” He stared up at the sky, then back at her. “She never fit in. That must have been tough for her. Mom was busy working and stuff. Rafe did his best to take care of the family, so Shane and I looked after her. We were only a few years older, so it’s not like we were qualified.”

He glanced at her. “I don’t think Mom ever dated much. It’s been years. I told her no one expected her to live like a nun.” He chuckled. “Something Rafe didn’t appreciate when she moved here and fell in love with Glen.”

“It worked out. Now they’re going to have their own place.”

He nodded. “Shane’s house is nearly done, too. He’ll be moving in with Annabelle. She’s making him crazy. She wants to wait to get married and he wants that ring on her finger.”

“Typical guy. It’s all about possession.”

“He’s kind of in love with her.”

“Annabelle is great. But Shane isn’t going to win the argument. She’s tough.”

“Despite being a mouse sneezer?”

Charlie thought about her petite friend and laughed. “I can’t remember hearing Annabelle sneeze. I’ll have to get back to you.”

“Hello, Chantal.”

Charlie wanted to issue a sternly worded letter to the universe. Wasn’t she supposed to have some kind of sixth sense that warned her when danger approached? Shouldn’t clouds have appeared to block the sun? Or maybe birds could have suddenly taken flight. Anything to give her a half second to prepare before her mother appeared.

She looked up to find Dominique was indeed standing next to their blanket. Even more startling was the fact that her suit-wearing mother was dressed in jeans. Jeans with a silk blouse, but still.

“Hello, Mother.”

Clay scrambled to his feet and wiped his hands on the side of his T-shirt. “Mrs. Dixon,” he said, holding out his hand.

Dominique looked him up and down very thoroughly. “Who are you?”

“Clay Stryker.”

They shook hands, then Dominique sank gracefully onto the blanket and looked at her daughter. “You’re still avoiding me.”

Charlie held in a groan. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you do.” She returned her attention to Clay, who had settled next to her. “My daughter does not appreciate my sudden return to her life.”

“Why were you gone?”

“I wasn’t gone. Chantal left.”

“Children tend to do that. It’s a cycle-of-life thing.”

Dominique dismissed that with a wave of her delicately formed hand. “I had a career and those who needed to see me.”

Charlie found the conversation fascinating. She had the sense that Clay and Dominique were equally matched. Gifted with a kind of perfection that those stuck in the normal world could only experience vicariously.

“Now you need Charlie?”

Dominique’s gaze narrowed. “Who are you and why are you here?”

“I’m Clay.”

“I’m aware of your name. You’ve already mentioned it once. You’re avoiding my question.” She turned her sharp gaze on her daughter. “Who is this person?”

A question Charlie didn’t know how to answer. The truth was impossible. She would rather cut off an arm or a leg than give her mother that kind of power.

“I’m the man your daughter is seeing,” Clay said quietly.

Dominique’s expression shifted to pure confusion. “Excuse me?”

“We’re involved.”

Clay spoke with a certainty that made Charlie want to offer him a kidney. Not that he was telling the truth, but still. It was nice. Like she’d thought before. Kind.

Dominique glanced between them, then tossed her head back and started to laugh. The high sound cut through the afternoon and reminded Charlie of all her uncomfortable days in high school when she’d been too tall, with large feet. Awkwardness had followed her like a stray dog she couldn’t shake.

Clay finished his cookie and reached for his soda. “What’s so funny?”

“You and Chantal? Why would someone like you be interested in her?”

Charlie felt heat on her cheeks. Had the speaker been anyone but her mother it would have been a toss-up between a verbal evisceration and a hard punch to the jaw. As it was, she could only wish to be struck by a meteor.

“You really don’t know your daughter, do you?” Clay asked. He leaned across the blanket and lightly touched Charlie’s knee, then turned his attention back to Dominique. “There’s the usual. Smart and funny. She’s a part of this town, which I admire. She’s brave, which speaks to her character. She doesn’t take crap from me, and I like that a lot. She’s the kind of woman who gets under your skin.”

Charlie knew he was protecting her, which she appreciated. The words had just enough truth that Dominique might believe them, without going over the top. Had he gone on and on about her beauty, they all would have known he was lying. But this was different.

Dominique glanced between them. “How interesting,” she said, her chin coming up. “If what you say is true, I must be in the way. If you’ll excuse me?”

She rose with a fluid grace that spoke to her years of dance, then glided away without looking back. Charlie felt the first whispers of guilt, but quieted them.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said when they were alone.

“I wanted to.” He reached for another cookie. “You really do take after your dad.”

“Mostly. Although she was the tough one, so I get that from her.”

“She’s lonely.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s true.”

“Because I don’t want to have to feel bad for her. She bugs me. Ever since I was a little kid, the whole world had to rotate around her. My birthday parties were scheduled around her performances. If she was tired, we had to be quiet. When I was seven, she told me to stop growing. That if I got too big, I would never find a man. She resented my dad for caring about me and when I told her about the rape, she didn’t believe me. She said I was wrong to lead a boy on and she hoped I’d learned my lesson.”

Clay shifted so he was sitting across from her. He took both her hands in his. She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

She did, her gaze locked with his.

“You’re not that girl,” he told her. “You’re strong. You can take care of yourself. So it’s okay to trust people again, Charlie. You have the experience to recognize a jerk now. You didn’t before, but you’ve grown up. You have friends and a community. You’re not alone. You made those choices—no one else. Be proud of yourself.”

“I am,” she murmured. “Mostly.”

“Your mom really is lonely.”

She winced. “Don’t make me feel sorry for her. I like it better when I’m slightly annoyed and she’s four thousand miles away.”

“She’s family.”

“Want to trade?”

“She came here for a reason.”