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  He loved her.

  But he’d blown his opportunities to tell her. And if he said anything now she’d only see it as a sham, a way to keep her there and help him with Truman or ease his grief. She wouldn’t believe that he’d been too stupid to realize what his feelings toward her actually were until it was too late.

  “Truman?” She knocked on the door.

  Only Abby answered.

  Something cut into his hand. He opened his fist. He’d crumpled her check almost into a ball with his grandmother’s heart pendant in the middle, poking through the paper.

  * * *

  BECCA MANAGED TO hold in the tears when she left, just like she’d managed not to hug Flynn. Truman hadn’t come out of the shower to see her go. He hadn’t said a word. She’d felt Flynn’s disappointed gaze on her as she climbed into the motorhome.

  He’d asked her to stay, but she knew it was only because he needed someone to care for Truman. If he had any emotions behind his request, he hadn’t expressed them. Oftentimes the people who were with you when a loved one died were a security blanket. She certainly didn’t want to fulfill that role with Flynn.

  And so she drove slowly out of town. The two-lane, eucalyptus-lined highway softened beneath her unshed tears. The sun flashed between the massive trunks and leaves like a too-bright strobe light.

  Becca didn’t know where she’d go other than north. She wanted to get as far away from Flynn and Harmony Valley as she could.

  She was so distracted, she didn’t see the pothole until it was too late.

  The motorhome pitched and shuddered. Dishes rattled in the cupboards.

  Someone said, “Ow.”

  Someone other than Becca.

  Becca pulled over onto the narrow shoulder of the road and turned the motor off. She walked back to the dinette set and peeked underneath the table.

  A small, tear-streaked face peered back at her. He was rubbing the top of his head.

  “Truman, what are you doing here?”

  “I want to go with you. I’m going to be motherless soon anyway, and I like you. You tuck me in at night and make me snacks. Can’t I choose you, like Grandpa Joey chose me to be his grandson?”

  Becca wanted to say yes. She loved Truman as if he was her own. But it wasn’t right. Kathy had an addiction she was trying to beat. When she’d come to the hospital last night she’d told Flynn she was fighting her demons for Truman.

  Becca sighed. “Come out from under there.”

  Truman crept out, careful not to hit his head again. His apology was evident in his face. “Are you mad because I left Abby behind? I didn’t want to do it, but I didn’t want Uncle Flynn to be alone.” He sniffed.

  Becca hugged him. “He’d much rather have you. You’re his wingman, remember?”

  He drew a shuddering breath. “If we go back, will you stay?”

  “No, sweetheart. No.” Staying meant dealing with everyone and their grief. It was easier to pretend it didn’t hurt.

  Becca picked up her purse, reaching inside for her cell phone. A balled-up piece of paper was on top of it. Flynn’s check. She shoved it out of the way, but froze when she realized a metal chain was hanging like a tail out of the crumpled paper. Gently, as if it would disappear if she opened it with any speed, Becca smoothed out the check.

  The pendant gleamed up at her.

  She couldn’t believe it.

  Becca did a quick perusal of the motorhome floor. No pennies.

  And then she realized she held only one half of the pendant. The second heart was missing.

  He’d given her his heart.

  She couldn’t believe it.

  He was willing to wait for her.

  Her heart swelled with love. She wanted to have Flynn in her arms this very moment.

  And then the amount on the check registered: ten thousand dollars.

  She was going to kill him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  FLYNN REMAINED AT the door until he could no longer see or hear Becca driving off.

  He turned slowly, back against the wall, fighting the gut-clenching feeling that he’d been abandoned once more.

  Where Grandpa Ed should have been there was only his baseball cap.

  Flynn walked over and picked it up, running his fingers over the gently arched brim. He put it on and it was as if his grandfather was holding his hand again, as he had last night in the hours before he’d died.

  Abby wouldn’t stop barking in the shower.

  Flynn was surprised Truman hadn’t told her to be quiet. He hoped his nephew was all right.

  Still wearing the hat, Flynn headed down the hall. He knocked on the bathroom door again. Truman was too young to require a lot of privacy. “Truman? You okay in there, buddy?”

  Abby’s barking became more urgent. She began scratching the door for her freedom.

  Something was wrong. Flynn opened the door, momentarily blinded by a cloud of steam.

  Abby ran past him, racing around the house, barking at a pitch he’d never heard from her before.

  “Truman?” Flynn waved away the steam and realized that the shower was empty. As was his nephew’s bedroom across the hall. “Truman!”

  But the little boy didn’t answer.

  He didn’t go anywhere without Abby. And he’d been so upset that Becca was leaving...

  Flynn grabbed his truck keys and ran out the door, Abby racing at his heels.

  * * *

  “COME ON, FLYNN, pick up.” Becca disconnected and slid her phone back in her purse.

  “Do you think Uncle Flynn’s dead, too?”

  “No. He could be down by the river or in the shower...” Becca paused. “Did you lock Abby in the bathroom?”

  “I didn’t lock her in,” Truman said cryptically.

  Regardless, Becca was going to have to turn around. And face Flynn again. She wasn’t sure which emotion held more sway—anger at him for writing her such a huge check, or love for him because he’d given her the pendant. If he’d given her the pendant. “Truman, you didn’t put the necklace in my purse?”

  “Huh?” Truman looked genuinely confused.

  “Never mind. I think there’s an intersection ahead where I can turn around. Come ride shotgun and buckle up.” She waited for Truman to comply before starting the motorhome and lumbering down the road.

  The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that Flynn was more fearful of committing to a relationship than she was. He’d grown up thinking his parents had abandoned him, when in fact they’d been coerced by money. He’d thought his sister had abandoned Truman. He had no role model for a steady relationship, one based on love and trust. And Becca certainly hadn’t proven she was trustworthy.

  He must have given her the pendant on a whim. Otherwise, he would have said something.

  A black truck appeared in her rearview mirror, horn honking. Abby’s head poked out the passenger window.

  She pulled over. “Your uncle’s not dead.” She’d hoped she had more time to think this through. About checks and pendants and hearts.

  Becca had a decision to make.

  She didn’t think she was ready.

  * * *

  FLYNN AND ABBY ran to the side door of the motorhome. He yanked it open and they both leaped inside, Flynn narrowly missed stepping on the little dog.

  He spied Truman. “Thank God. I was so worried. Don’t ever do that to me again.” He dropped to one knee and opened his arms.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Truman embraced him and sat on his knee. “I’m sorry, Uncle Flynn.”

  “I just found him a few minutes ago.” Becca’s voice was distant and guarded. “I tried to call, but you didn’t answer. I was looking for a place to turn around.”
>
  “I left my phone at home.” Flynn’s arms and heart felt full, but there was still a piece missing. A very vital piece.

  “You need to write me another check.” Becca tore his draft into tiny pieces and let them flutter to the carpet. “I can’t accept the amount you wrote.”

  The check had been a gamble. But if she’d found the check, she’d also found the pendant, which she hadn’t put on. His heart sank quicker than toes in the mud. “I’m sorry.”

  He wanted to say more, but he couldn’t seem to find the right words.

  She nodded. “It’s just...I’ll need another check. For the right amount this time. Just the hours I worked.” She wouldn’t look at him.

  Flynn couldn’t stop looking at her. Here was the second chance he needed. Thank heavens for little runaways. “No.”

  “No?” Her gaze narrowed to his. “No?”

  “I wasn’t apologizing for writing the check.” Don’t mess this up. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t tell you how much I love you before now. I was scared, probably more scared than you, since you’ve lost more people than I have.”

  Truman was suddenly very still, very un-Truman-like.

  “I know I’m not good enough for you and our timing is horrible. I’m missing a big chunk in my heart where Grandpa Ed used to be and I’m trying to figure out how to have a relationship with my dad. Those two things are hard enough without trying to figure out how to love someone you want to be your life partner, your one true love...your wife.”

  Truman gave Becca a thumbs-up.

  Becca wasn’t an easy sell. She rubbed her hands on her pants legs. “You don’t trust me.”

  “I do trust you. I just never told you. I trusted you with my grandfather, arguably my life’s most precious possession until I met you. I trusted you to care for him after knowing you less than a day.” Flynn hugged Truman tighter. “I trusted you with my nephew, who came to us a fragile shell of himself. And I trusted you with my heart.”

  She swallowed.

  “Becs,” he said gently. “You have the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. You care about people in the sweetest, most genuine way. A way that wins them over, because everyone can see how loveable you are.”

  She swallowed again.

  “I’m scared, Becs. I’m scared that chasing after Truman isn’t the second chance I thought it’d be. I’m scared that I won’t find the right words to convince you how I feel.” He drew in a shaky breath. “I’m scared that you’re still so in love with your first husband that you can’t find room in your heart for me.”

  “I’m scared, too,” she admitted softly.

  “Don’t be scared,” Truman whispered.

  She gave his nephew a watery smile. “I can’t bear to risk my heart for something that isn’t real. Grief does crazy things to people. It makes them greedy or closed off or clingy. What you think you’re feeling is most likely a product of your grief.”

  She didn’t believe him. A cold fist of fear clenched in his stomach. “This is real, Becs. If we commit to each other and give it time, you’ll see. Love is worth the risk.” He offered his hand to her.

  She didn’t move. She didn’t move. She didn’t move and Flynn nearly stopped breathing.

  “I see a penny,” Becca whispered. “How could that be?”

  Truman found it first. Almost hidden beneath Flynn’s foot. “Find a penny, pick it up—”

  “It’s...it’s...true.” And then she was in his arms, too.

  He didn’t know how a penny could convince her when he couldn’t. He didn’t waste time thinking about it. He rained kisses on her face, as enthusiastic as Abby, who also tried to join in on the love fest. “Marry me. Right now. Today.”

  “What?” Becca laughed, looked into his eyes, and then stopped. “You’re serious.”

  “I love you, Becca. And the only way to prove it is to drive to Reno and get married.”

  “What about me?” Truman wiggled to the floor, looping his arm around Abby.

  “You’ll be my best man,” Flynn said, never taking his eyes off Becca’s dark, expressive eyes. “And Abby will be the maid of honor, if Becca loves me enough to commit.”

  Those eyes held his answer. She didn’t look trapped or secretive or guilty. She looked radiant and happy and in love.

  Her answer came as a question. “Your truck or my motorhome?”

  * * * * *

  Don’t miss the next

  HARMONY VALLEY romance from

  Melinda Curtis

  coming in May 2014!

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  ISBN-13: 9781460326336

  SUMMER KISSES

  Copyright © 2014 by Melinda Wooten

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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