He just wished biology had been the only thing in play. That would have been easier to write off. But the largest part of what he felt for Finley had nothing to do with her physical appeal. He genuinely cared about her. He liked her more than he could afford to.

He wouldn’t let down his guard like that again. He had to count on himself because he wasn’t sure if he could count on her not to make another move.

When he reached the play yard, Finley shot him a bright smile. “Good morning.”

Equal parts infatuation and resentment roiled inside him. How could she look so happy after she’d wrecked his sleep for two nights straight? “Morning.”

Her oversized sweater had slipped off the edge of one creamy shoulder. Her hair was messy in a sexy way.

For the thousandth time, he wondered why she couldn’t have been a woman in her fifties, like what he’d been expecting, based on Ed’s age.

Or why couldn’t she have been plain?

Or have a personality as unlikable as Kat’s? Why?

On this first morning in February, a strip of misty clouds hovered at the base of the mountains. Above, green slopes reached upward to form peaks. Then more white clouds obscured the sky.

“Tire trouble?” she asked Dawson, the dog with wheels functioning as his back legs. Finley adjusted a harness strap. “There you are, darling.”

He licked her hand and rolled off.

Two dogs started barking over the same toy, and Finley quickly intervened, using nothing but her body language and a tsk sound. Making communication with animals look easy, she picked up the toy and placed it on a hook, putting it in time out.

Luke reached down and threw a ball for Arthur. Then another for Harry.

“I know that my suggestion that we try dating each other offended you,” Finley said.

He straightened and buried his hands in his jacket pockets.

“And I understand why,” she went on. “After thinking about it, it must have seemed like I had plans to use you in the short term because Chase isn’t here in the long term.”

He envied Chase with so much white-hot heat, he didn’t allow himself to say anything.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’d never use you. The truth is that I like you. And that’s why I wanted us to try dating. Simply that. I like you.”

After a few seconds passed, he said, “Okay.”

“Am I forgiven?”

“Sure.”

“Really?”

“Finley, yes. Drop it.”

“Pardon my uncertainty, but if that’s your forgiveness, it looks a lot like irritation.”

He looked right at her. “This is my forgiveness.”

“Thank you.”

He could make out each of her long eyelashes and the kaleidoscope of blue in her irises. He needed to change the subject, complete the hunt, and drive to Montana. “What are we going to do about the latest clue?”