Katie was still petting the cat, staring down the driveway and asking herself a dozen questions about the enigmatic cowboy who had taken up residence in Tiffany’s carriage house when J.D. Santini’s Jeep roared into the drive. J.D., Tiffany’s brother-in-law and soon-to-be husband, was behind the wheel.

Katie stepped aside as the rig rolled to a stop.

“I’m sorry we’re late,” Tiffany apologized. Her face was flushed, her gold eyes bright as she climbed out of the Cherokee. “We went to the farm and the kids swam in the lake and . . . Well, we just lost track of time.”

J.D. stretched out of the rig. His grin was wide, a slash of perfect white teeth against a dark complexion.

“Don’t let her kid you,” he said, winking at Katie. “Stephen, Josh and Christina amused themselves and this one”—he slung his arm familiarly over Tiffany’s shoulders—“couldn’t keep her hands off me.”

Tiffany burst out laughing and nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. “Dream on, Santini,” she teased, but she wasn’t able to hide the sparkle in her gaze. She was, without a doubt, totally and gloriously in love.

Katie didn’t feel the least little bit of envy. She believed in love—for other people. It just wasn’t in her cards. “I haven’t been here long and besides, I got to meet your new tenant.”

“Luke? Hmm.” Tiffany frowned slightly. “He keeps to himself most of the time.”

The boys climbed out of the back of the Jeep and Christina, Tiffany’s three-year-old daughter, hopped to the ground. The minute her sandals hit dry grass she ran, black curls bouncing at her shoulders, plump little arms stretched upward to J.D., the man who was her uncle and was about to become her stepfather. “Piggyback ride!”

“Sure, dumpling.” J.D. lifted her to his shoulders. Christina giggled and clung to J.D.’s head and for the first time in a long while, Katie felt a touch of sadness that her son hadn’t yet met his father. In time. All in good time, she, told herself.

“Hey, Mom, what’re you doin’ here?” At ten, Josh had teeth that were still too big for his face, freckles that stood out and huge, deep coffee-brown eyes.

“Picking you up.”

“Already?”

“You’ve got soccer practice.”

“Not until five.”

“He can stay—” Tiffany started to offer but caught the quick shake of Katie’s head.

“Another time.”

“Okay, but at least come into the house for a quick glass of iced tea or lemonade. There’s something I need to talk about.”

“It sounds mysterious,” Katie said.

“Everything sounds mysterious to you. Believe me, this isn’t anything you’ll want to write in the paper.”