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  He’d heard it in her voice when she mentioned TJ. He knew that raising Lane was going to be a struggle—not just for Lancey, but for all of them. And the only way they were going to be able to do it was if he didn’t f—things up by talking her into his bed for a one-night stand.

  Her other hand came to rest on his hip, and she tilted her head to the side, looking up at him. “When I was about seven, my granny Maverick told me that when the moon was full, there was magic in the air, that no one could control themselves because the moon wanted them to have the freedom they couldn’t have during the day. I wanted to believe her and not just because I’d drawn on the living room walls with my Magic Markers,” Lancey said. “So I asked her if those things people did when the moon was full, did they have consequences?”

  “What’d she say?” he asked, half holding his breath as he saw the wildness return to her eyes and knew that she was teetering on the edge of what she wanted, and what she knew she should do.

  “She said yes they did, but that they also got to experience pure joy,” Lancey said. “Pure joy. I didn’t have a clue what she meant. And honestly, I still don’t. Coloring on the walls was fun, but I don’t know that it brought me that much happiness.”

  “What are you trying to say, darling?” he asked.

  “I’m feeling odd tonight,” she said. “And I want to do something that I might regret in the morning.”

  He leaned in closer, putting his hand on her waist but that was it. Just that one touch, so she’d know that if she needed to back away, she could. “How about if we make this something without consequences? We just do what we want and tomorrow we go back to being friends.”

  She nibbled on her bottom lip and he could tell she wasn’t sure she believed him. But he could also see something else—that wildness he’d seen all too often in her brother TJ’s eyes. And he realized that there was a hell of a lot more to Lancey Maverick than he’d realized.

  He immediately regretted his suggestion because he wanted to know more, to know her better, but he’d said tonight. One night only.

  “We don’t even know if this is just alcohol or if we have real chemistry,” she said.

  “I know,” he said, pulling her closer to him and lowering his head. He took his time and the first brush of his lips against hers made his pulse roar like he’d fired up his car on the starting line at Daytona and was waiting for the flag to drop.

  Her fingers on his waist tightened and she pulled him closer to her, coming up on her tiptoes as her tongue brushed against his and the heat of the night suddenly seemed a bit chilly compared to the heat she generated in him. He sucked her tongue deeper into his mouth and lifted her off her feet.

  She held on to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and he knew that for tonight, he’d taken a turn at the crossroads and he was heading straight toward Lancey Maverick. He hadn’t expected this and maybe like her granny Maverick had said, it was that big summer moon tempting him into something. But a part of him knew better as he set her on her feet and took her hand, walking at a quicker pace toward her house.

  He knew that what happened tonight wouldn’t be due to the summer heat or the fact that he was home, waiting to get back in the driver’s seat. He knew that it was Lancey Maverick with her sweet smile, sexy legs and sassy mouth who had brought him to this moment. For one night, he was going to let go and just enjoy every damned second he had with her.

  “This is my place,” she said when she stopped in front of a Queen Anne-style farmhouse. The gingerbread lattice above the porch had some chipped and peeling paint. The house had seen better days.

  “I know. Have you changed your mind?”

  “No. Have you?”

  “Hell no,” he said.

  Chapter Three

  Lancey had left the front porch light on when she’d decided to go. And she sort of regretted it when she saw her house reflected in the light. She could imagine what he thought. Her place was old and needed remodeling, but she’d been away from home for a long time, mainly on deployments, but also because she had hated to come back knowing that the house would be empty. That her mom and granny wouldn’t be sitting on the front porch when she got there. Granny had died during Lancey’s senior year of high school, and her mom two summers ago. That was another reason she’d buried herself in the Marines—coming back to this empty house hadn’t been something she’d been looking forward to.

  Finn put his hand on the small of her back, reminding her that she wasn’t alone. It was exactly what she’d been hoping for tonight. She used the key that she’d left under the boot-shaped flowerpot with two dead geraniums in it. She wished she could say that they’d been there a while, but they were only a couple of weeks old. She had a black thumb.

  She unlocked the door and stepped inside. The house still smelled of cinnamon, the way it always had when her mom had still been alive. Every week her mom used to make her cinnamon snap cookies. She closed her eyes. Had she had too much to drink?

  She was talking about the big moon and her granny, and almost crying. It wasn’t exactly the mood she’d been in while Finn had kissed her under the big oak tree.

  She tossed the key on the hall table and turned toward Finn.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. This house gets me sometimes,” she said. “So many memories and so much history.”

  “It’s the same at the old homestead on the ranch. Cal renovated our house and it’s pretty modern now, but for a while, I hated to come home from the racing circuit. All I could think was how empty it felt without Mom.”

  She nodded and some of her emotions ebbed away and she felt more herself again. “I totally get it. I can still smell my mom’s cinnamon cookies.”

  “Me too, now that you mention it. Those were the best. She used to bake them for every class party,” Finn said.

  “She did. But how did you know?”

  “Bray doesn’t like cinnamon, so he’d bring them home for me,” Finn said.

  “I haven’t changed my mind or anything but I’m so awkward about this kind of thing. Do you want to just do it?” she asked. Then groaned. She’d never been one of those women who knew how to be cool about sex. She wasn’t even sure how she’d gotten to be twenty-six, and still felt like she was fourteen. When was she ever going to just be comfortable in situations where she didn’t have a weapon strapped to her hip and a dog by her side?

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Dang, woman. If I’d know how much fun you were, I wouldn’t have waited this long to get to know you better.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be funny,” she said.

  “It’s okay. How about a drink? And I’d love another dance without my own dang brother cutting in.”

  “I can do that. I’ve got a bottle of tequila—just the cheap stuff from the liquor store, so don’t tell Braden because he’ll be ticked—and a bottle of whiskey, the same grade as the tequila, some lemonade and sweet tea…and some Juicy Juice that I picked up for Lane,” she said, moving down the short hallway into the kitchen. The house had been remodeled in the seventies, so it had a long breakfast bar where a supporting beam and wall used to be that looked into the living room. She saw Lane’s sippy cup on the bar, and his booster chair was set up on one of the ladder back chairs in the kitchen.

  “Lemonade with a shot of whiskey,” Finn said following her into the kitchen. “Who’s this?”

  She glanced over from the cabinet where she was getting down two highball glasses and set them on the counter. She walked over to see which photo he was referring to. She had a wall that was covered with photos of all of her Maverick ancestors.

  “Which one?”

  “This one,” he said, pointing to a black-and-white image of her great-grandmother and her twin from 1910. They were wearing blouses buttoned to the neck and skirts…and they were both holding five-shooters, staring not at the photographer but at their target. Her great-grandmother was on the left pointing the pistol that rested on her bent arm,
and next to her, her twin laid her hand on Lancey’s great-grandmother’s shoulder and aimed her pistol toward the same target.

  “Those are the Maverick sisters. My great-grandmother and great-great aunt? I’m never sure on the greats. Their daddy was a Texas Ranger and he’d taught them both to shoot. He died on the job and their mother had died in childbirth. They’d both been sixteen when their daddy died, and had to figure out a way to make a living. Neither of them fancied getting married, so they worked the carnival circuit performing shooting stunts.”

  “I love it. I’ve never seen this before. We have all the wanted posters of every Delaney since the 1800s. Before that, they were mostly criminals back in Ireland, but we don’t have any of those pictures. My great-great, however many back, ancestor used to keep the wanted posters when he saw them. He thought it was a mark of how famous they were.”

  “That’s funny. I wouldn’t have wanted that.”

  “That’s because your family was respectable.”

  “Yours never has been…though you and Cal and Braden aren’t really that bad.”

  “Hey, we’re still pretty edgy,” he said.

  She shook her head, turning away from him to get the whiskey and lemonade. “That you even said that proves you’re not.”

  He put his hands on her waist from behind, startling her, but then he pulled her back into his arms and bent down to kiss her neck.

  “I’m dangerous enough for you.”

  He was. She knew that. He was dangerous in ways she hadn’t even considered when she’d started this evening, but like her ancestors, she was used to making her own way. But Finn didn’t feel like danger, so much as trouble. The kind of trouble she could handle for one night.

  *

  While most everyone who lived in Last Stand was all about the town’s history and their place in it, Finn had been content to leave the town in the dust, watching it from his rearview mirror as he first drove away.

  He knew next to nothing about Lancey’s family. These pictures spoke of a past that was so Texan, it made him smile. He liked to think that Lancey’s great-greats would be proud to know that she was a ranked sharpshooter in the Marines. It seemed to him she was part of a long line of strong women. Generation after generation.

  “Your family is sort of the opposite of mine,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, handing him a glass that had more whiskey than lemonade in it.

  He lifted his glass toward her before taking a sip. She did the same. “Just that the Delaney women never seemed to make it past thirty. If this wall is any indication, the Maverick men may have suffered the same fate.”

  “I’d never thought about our family that way. It just seemed to me that the Maverick men moved on. They didn’t stay. Some died, but mostly the domestic routine wasn’t their scene… I know TJ was struggling with it, but he sure did love your sister.”

  “I never saw a man love a woman as much as he loved her,” Finn admitted. He had thought, more than once, that they were simply star-crossed. That they had met too young. They weren’t ready for each other.

  “I’m glad to hear that. I seldom saw them together because I was out of the country,” she said, taking a long swallow of her drink.

  “Take my word on it,” he said, realizing he was going about seduction the wrong way, but honestly, this felt right. He wasn’t sure that hooking up with Lancey was the answer either of them needed, but he couldn’t resist seeing how far they would go. “Can you do any tricks like these people?”

  He gestured toward the pictures on the wall. Besides the twins, there were photos of other Maverick ancestors, one of them standing up in the saddle on the back of a horse at what he recognized as the rodeo grounds in Last Stand. Another had a rifle balanced on her shoulder pointing away from her. She held a mirror in her hands, as if she was intending to hit the target without looking.

  “Granny Maverick and Mom both could do the trick shot with the mirror, and I can too. I’m only an okay rider, so I can’t stand up on a horse, but Mom could. She had been a barrel racer in her youth,” Lancey said. “Mom always said I had more Granny in me, and she was a better shot.”

  “My dad used to tell me I had my uncle Liam’s skill as a getaway driver,” he said. Thinking about it now, he couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t like being behind the wheel. Cars had represented an escape to him, something he still involuntarily sought after.

  Maybe that explained why he was letting her talk about whatever was on her mind instead of making his move. But when she’d asked, ‘do you want to just do it?’ he’d pretty much realized that she wasn’t a casual woman. Not every woman was. Some serious women could have a casual hookup, and go back to their normal lives and relationships. But he wasn’t sure Lancey was wired that way.

  She walked through the archway that led to the living room, flicking on a light as she went, and he saw that the room had a large brick fireplace that had been painted white to match the walls. There was a tiny push car in the corner of the room that he recognized as Lane’s, and a sofa love seat set that was old but in good shape.

  She sat down on the love seat and looked over at him, raising both eyebrows. “This might be more comfortable for talking…and whatever else.”

  He took his hat off and placed it on the counter and then walked over to sit down next to her. Whatever else sounded intriguing. The cushions were soft, and he sank into them, flexing his legs and shifting around until he got comfortable.

  One of the downsides to all those years of racing was that his body had been broken more times than he cared to count, and after being put back together, there were times when he felt older than dirt, as his old man used to say.

  He turned toward her and she had shifted around to sit in the corner wedged against the arm and the sofa back, watching him as she sipped her drink.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “That my CO groans less when he sits down and he’s got shrapnel in him,” she said. “How many times have you been injured?”

  “A fair few.”

  “Why do you keep racing?” she asked.

  That question tended to annoy him from other people, but he knew that she was honestly curious about it, not judging him as some people did. His pat answer was that it was all he knew, but the truth was, he really didn’t know the answer. “When I’m home too long I get restless, and then I start fights with my brothers. I guess I’m still looking for something out on the road.”

  He’d always taken his emotions and channeled them right into his fists. His earliest memories were fighting with his brothers and, really, anyone who crossed his path. He had that kind of reckless energy inside of him.

  “Do you think that you’ll find what you’re looking for racing stock cars?” she asked.

  He hadn’t yet, but that didn’t mean anything. “Most days I’m just trying to win. I mean, I race because I don’t know anything else.”

  She nodded. “That’s me. All I know is the military and now that’s gone. I’m not sure what’s next.”

  *

  She wasn’t sure how this had turned into a serious conversation but truthfully, she needed it. She’d been alone with her own thoughts for so long. And since Finn wasn’t going to stick around for long, it was safe telling him. Sure, she’d see him when he came back to visit Lane but Finn spent more time on the road than he did in Last Stand. He’d be back on the stock car racing circuit and this night of drinks and talking would fade in his memory.

  She hated that she didn’t have a plan. She knew that TJ had loved just living in the moment, and more than once her brother had told her to loosen up. But she couldn’t. When she tried to loosen up, she said dumb things to sexy men like ‘do you want to just do it’ instead of being…well, really anything else.

  “Do you think you’ll stay in Last Stand?” he asked, almost as if he’d read her mind.

  “The judge who presided over the custody hearing made it clear that Lane is meant to s
tay in Last Stand and custody should be equal and joint between the Maverick and Delaney families. So, yes, I am going to be staying. No offense, but I don’t want Lane growing up to be all Delaney.”

  He quirked one eyebrow at her then ran his hand through his thick dark hair. He wore it longer on the top and close cut in the back and on the sides so when he did that, it sort of flopped over his forehead and one eye. His eyes were bright gray, and more than once that evening, she had found herself trying not to stare at them. But they were so pretty and light. He had stubble on his jaw and the way he moved was always masculine and full of confidence—and maybe arrogance—so the effect his eyes had on her was unexpected.

  “Well, darling, I’m offended. What’s wrong with growing up all Delaney?”

  The way he said it made her smile and she shook her head. “He might not realize that when you say ‘hey you look like a girl,’ it isn’t a compliment.”

  “I’m never going to live that down, am I?” he asked.

  “Nope. Honestly, Braden’s a mess when it comes to women, too. I mean y’all do well with the barflies but beyond that… Except for Cal, of course. But I want Lane to grow up knowing what it’s like to be a Maverick.”

  “Fair enough,” he said. “I’m surprised Judge Collins didn’t give custody just to you.”

  “He said we live in a modern world, and that there’s no reason three bachelors shouldn’t be able to raise their nephew as well as me. And I agree with him. I think—though it could be the drink talking—that if TJ had had a male influence growing up, maybe he wouldn’t have taken so long to settle into being Rose’s man.”

  “I think you’re right. And my brothers and I could have used a female influence, as well. But between the four of us, and of course Amelia, we should be able to give him what a boy needs.”

  “I hope so. I don’t want losing both of his parents to shape him, you know?”

  “I do,” he said. But it was making him uncomfortable to think about Rose and how she’d never see her boy grow up, so he pushed himself up and walked over to the kitchen to add more whiskey to his drink, then realized what he was doing.