Through the rain-drenched windshield, he made out a row of empty rocking chairs swaying on the front porch. Even though the cottages were closed up, Kevin had told him the B&B did a decent business this time of year with tourists searching for fall foliage, and the Roadster’s headlights picked out half a dozen cars parked off to the side. But Annabelle’s Crown Vic wasn’t one of them.

The Audi lurched in a rain-filled pothole as Heath turned into the lane that ran parallel to the dark lake. Not for the first time did it occur to him that setting off for the north woods based on information fed to a three-year-old from a woman who held a giant grudge against him might not have been his smartest move, but he’d done it anyway.

He hit the brakes as his headlights picked out what he’d spent the last ten hours praying to see: Annabelle’s car, parked in front of Lilies of the Field. Relief made him light-headed. As he pulled up behind the Crown Vic, he gazed through the rain at the darkened cottage and fought the urge to wake her and set things straight. He was in no condition to negotiate his future happiness until he’d had a few hours’ sleep. The B&B was closed up for the night, and he couldn’t stay in town, not when Annabelle might decide to take off before he got back. Only one thing to do…

He backed the Audi around until it blocked the lane. Once he was satisfied she couldn’t get out, he turned off the ignition, shoved Daffy Duck out of his way, and tilted the seat all the way back. But despite his exhaustion, he didn’t immediately drift off to sleep. Too many voices from the past. Too many reminders of all the ways love had kicked him in the teeth…every damn time.

The cold awakened Annabelle even before her alarm, which she’d set for six. During the night, the temperature had dropped, and the blanket she’d pulled over herself couldn’t ward off the morning chill. Molly had told her to stay in the Tuckers’ private quarters at the B&B instead of an unheated cottage, but Annabelle had wanted the solitude of Lilies of the Field. Now she regretted it.

The hot water had been turned off last week, and she splashed cold on her face. After she helped serve breakfast to the guests, she’d treat herself to a long soak in Molly’s tub. Yesterday, she’d volunteered to help with breakfast when the girl who usually worked the morning shift had fallen ill. A small but welcome distraction.

She gazed at the hollow-eyed face in the mirror. Pitiful. But every tear she shed here at the campground was a tear she wouldn’t have to shed when she got back to the city. This was her time to mourn. She didn’t intend to make a career out of being miserable, but she wouldn’t beat herself up for hiding out, either. She’d fallen in love with a man who was incapable of loving her back. If a woman couldn’t cry about that, she didn’t have a heart.