Page 22 of Moonlit Colorado

Emma’s blue eyes were sympathetic. “Your mom isn’t well?”

“She has early-onset Alzheimer’s. Diagnosed a couple of years ago. It’s progressed quickly.”

Emma touched my elbow. “Oh, Dane. I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you.” Whenever I thought about my mom, about how much she’d lost already and how little the treatments were working, it made a furious ache build in my throat and my chest. Money, power, connections—none of that mattered when you were sick and there was no cure and, on the worst days, you couldn’t even recall your own name.

“Let us know if we can help. We’d love to meet her.” Ashford rested a hand briefly between my shoulder blades. A show of solidarity, and it meant a lot.

“I did offer to fly you and your family out to see me in Manhattan. More than once.”

My friend shrugged. “Even you aren’t worth that hassle.”

“Good to know how much I really mean to you.”

We’d reached the festival. At the entrance, we exchanged cash for some tickets, then dove right into the midst of small-town autumn charm. Booths selling spiced apple cider and cider donuts. Lawn games with pumpkin-shaped balls and beanbags. The scents of barbecue and tacos wafted over from the food trucks.

Ashford pointed at a fire engine parked on the street, where kids swarmed around firefighters in full gear. “Callum’s over there somewhere. They’re letting the kids pretend to drive and honk the horn. If Maisie hasn’t stopped by already, I have no doubt that’s on our agenda for later.”

“I wouldn’t miss it. I’ve always wanted to sit in the jump seat.”

“Bet Cal will even let you wear the helmet.”

Suddenly a streak of long hair and bright colors ran toward us. “Daddy, Emma! Stella! You’re here!”

Maisie collided with Ashford, who picked her up and tossed her into the air. His daughter screamed in delight. When he set her down, Maisie got a hug from Emma and took Stella’s leash. “Where’s Aunt Grace?” Ashford asked. “You were supposed to stay with her.”

“She’s still helping some kids at the craft table. I’m seven, Daddy. I don’t need anyone to hold my hand.”

Then Maisie noticed me and took a few steps to the side, ducking behind Emma.

“Maisie, this is my friend,” her dad said. “Remember I told you he was coming to see us?”

“Hi. I’m Dane.” I tried not to look scary, but it didn’t seem to be working. Before I could say anything more, someone else called out Maisie’s name, waving and jogging toward us.

“There’s Grace,” Ashford said. “She must’ve gotten a reprieve from craft duty.”

“Maisie, I asked you to wait for me.” Grace reached us, pushing her auburn hair back from her face and adjusting her glasses.

Fuck.Me.

I could barely make out the shape of her under her baggy sweater and jeans. But I didn’t need to. Her sexy dress last night had accentuated that hourglass shape and practically burned it into my memory.

Ms. Red was Grace O’Neal. Ashford’s little sister.

Then she looked over at me, doing a double take.

SEVEN

Grace

No.No, this couldn’t be happening.

Mr. Black could not be Dane Knightly. There had to be some mistake.

Ashford beckoned me over. “Grace, this is Dane Knightly. He came to town for the hotel grand opening. Dane, this is my sister.”

I did my best to lock down my expression. “Hello,” I choked out.

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