Her father reached across the scarred maple table and took her hand in his rough, callused fingers. “I’m sorry, Bliss, really. I never wanted to hurt anyone. Not you. Not Margaret. Not Brynnie. Seems it’s all I do.” He frowned, patted the back of her hand and picked up his fork again. “But now it’s time to heal, to make some peace, to recognize the family that I have.” His lips pinched together. “I wanted you to be a part of it, to meet your sisters, to find out about them. This is a chance for all of us to finally be a family.”

“Of sorts.”

“Yes. Of sorts.”

Dear God, why did she feel like a heel? Someone had to make him face the truth. Now was one of the times she wished she really did have a sister or brother with whom she could share the burden of her father’s problems. But she did have sisters, didn’t she? Two half-sisters. Certainly they would add up to a whole one—Oh, for the love of Pete, this was making her crazy.

The sound of a truck’s engine rumbled through the air, and from the porch Oscar gave an excited “woof.” Bliss recognized the pickup from the day before and her heart did a little lurch when she spied Mason behind the wheel.

“Now what?” her father grumbled, looking over his shoulder and squinting against the sun rising over the hills.

“Trouble,” Bliss predicted.

“Young upstart pup, Lafferty. Always pushing.” He eyed Bliss speculatively. “You’d think with all he owns, he’d give up on this place.” His jaw hardened slightly and his eyes thinned in anger. “Then again, maybe it’s not the place that’s got him so interested. Maybe it’s you.”

“I don’t think so.” Bliss remembered how easily Mason had left her ten years before, but couldn’t drag her gaze away from Mason as he stepped out of the truck. Tall, lanky, hard-edged, with a walk that bordered on a swagger, he approached the front door. Tinted sunglasses shaded his eyes and a scowl etched deep grooves over eyebrows slammed together.

“I’ll get rid of him,” she said, wiping her hands on a dish towel and telling herself that she had the guts to face him.

“No way. He’s as sticky as hot tar.”

Bliss scraped her chair back and hurried to the front hallway just as he knocked. Yanking open the door, she faced him across the threshold and ignored the stupid, wild knocking of her heart.

A slow-growing smile wiped the grim expression from his face. “Mornin’, Bliss.”

“Hi.” Dear Lord, was that her pulse jumping in her neck, visible in the V neckline of her T-shirt? Great! What a fool she was. A naive, stupid fool. She and Mason had been in love once, or maybe it was even puppy love, but what they had shared, that hot flirtation, was long dead. Yet she couldn’t help the fluttering of her pulse or the urge to swallow against a suddenly dry throat. “Do you make it your primary objective in life these days to harass people?”