Page 16 of The Lost Book of First Loves

Beckett, about to climb into the driver’s seat, sent her an apologetic look. “Sorry. I probably should have warned you about Hank. He’s harmless, but if you don’t like dogs or would be more comfortable, you can sit in the front. Hank and Ali are old friends.”

She would much rather deal with a slavering dog than have to talk to Beckett Hunter. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice clipped. “I like dogs. I was just surprised.”

She did not, however, care much for shortsighted prosecutors.

The truck smelled of leather, dog and some kind of masculine, undeniably appealing scent she couldn’t precisely identify. He probably doused his floorboards with aftershave, she thought sourly.

The dog, who had pointy ears and a gray-and-white-mottled coat, continued to grin at her, tongue lolling. June had never had much experience with big dogs, but this one seemed friendly enough.

As Beckett Hunter pulled away from the airstrip and turned onto a two-lane road that headed toward the largest of the mountains, June gave the dog a tentative pet and asked herself again what the hell she was doing there.

Chapter 8

Beckett

Apparently, Carson Wells’s secret daughter didn’t much like him.

He looked in the rearview mirror and saw her gazing out the window, her slender jaw clenched and her expression remote.

He might have thought Alison had told the other woman something unfavorable about him except he and Ali had been friends for years, andshewas treating him with her usual affection.

Either Juniper was the kind of person who could form an instant dislike for someone or she had some justifiable reason to look at him with the hard expression of someone who had suddenly encountered a lifelong enemy.

He didn’t remember ever meeting the woman. She lived in Seattle and he had only been there a few times. Maybe their paths had crossed and he simply didn’t recall, though he was certain he wouldn’t have forgotten that long, willowy frame and her deep blue eyes.

Or perhaps he had prosecuted someone she cared about.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel as the inevitable thoughts of Kathleen Morton rattled through his mind.

Sometimes his pain felt as fresh and raw as it had five years earlier.

Alison kept the conversation going, needing little more than his occasional responses as they drove to the ranch.

He passed his own property then went a short distance farther before driving under the log arch that read The Painted Sky. The nearby mountain range was a stunning backdrop tothe trio of horses that ran along the split-rail fence, as if racing them toward the house.

“Why don’t you take us both to the cabin?” Ali suggested right before the driveway split. “That way I can help June get settled and show her where to find everything.”

“Since the house is right there, I can drop your bags off first and then head over to the guesthouse. That way you don’t have to lug them through the woods.”

“Oh, good idea.”

When he pulled up in front of the beautiful log-and-glass structure Carson had built, she hopped out of the passenger side and went around to the back to show him which bags were hers.

“You probably figured out I haven’t told June yet,” Ali said, her voice low. “Don’t say anything to her, okay?”

He frowned. “Why not? You’ve been in Seattle nearly a month.”

She looked back at the pickup truck before speaking in a low voice. “Because I’m a chicken. She wasn’t exactly approachable when I was a lowly intern and then she had a cardiac arrest, for heaven’s sake. The time has never felt right.”

“If she doesn’t know about the connection between you, why did she agree to come all the way to Wyoming with you? The two of you barely know each other.”

While he hadn’t been a prosecutor for five years, Beck still had a bad habit of always looking for the holes in a person’s story, the points where logic and reason didn’t always connect.

Ali looked sheepish. “Apparently, her mother was a big fan of Dad’s.”

Beck gave her a dry look. “I would say that’s obvious. She apparently had his baby.”

He regretted the words as soon as he said them, especially when Ali winced.

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