What would her readers think if they saw City Girl, their favorite columnist, now? Jenna was relieved this particular moment in her life would never make it into print!

“You should think about investing in something a little more—” A gentle tug. “—practical.”

Jenna wanted to argue that this pair of shoes had been the source of inspiration for the most popular column she’d ever written.

“In the Right Pair of Shoes, A Girl Can Go Anywhere.”

“I mean, considering they’re practically stilts, I can see you get decent clearance,” Dev went on. “But they can’t possibly be comfortable.”

“They happen to be exactly right for where I live.” Jenna ignored the part about them being comfortable. “Concrete sidewalks. Foliage growing in pots. Parks with leash laws…” Her attempt to deny the humor in the situation was too much. She grinned down at him.

And Dev released her so abruptly that she almost lost her balance again. The laughter faded from his eyes.

“That might be true, but these things won’t last a week and neither—” He stopped, but Jenna knew what he’d been about to say.

Neither will you.

With as much dignity as she could muster, Jenna swished right past him on her impractical shoes.

If she wasn’t determined to do everything in her power to be back in Minneapolis as soon as possible, it would have been oh so tempting to prove the man wrong.

* * *

Dev watched his neighbor sashay down the dock and felt like a first-class jerk.

Sorry, God, but you know I don’t deal well with surprises.

Like finding out that Just Jenna had a sense of humor. Or the zap of attraction he’d felt when she cast that mischievous grin in his direction.

Dev hadn’t felt that tongue-tied since a black bear had wandered into his campsite one night and lay down on the end of his sleeping bag. While he was inside of it.

A cold nose nudged his hand and Dev looked down. Violet’s bushy eyebrows wiggled an apology.

“Only because I have to,” Dev said in a low voice. After all, it was his own fault for owning a dog the size of a skid steer. “But sit here—and try to stay out of trouble.”

Violet flopped onto her belly. Of course. Now she listened to him. Leaving the dog in an expanding pool of lake water, he went to join the group assembled at the end of the dock.

“Dev let me reel it in all by myself,” Logan was saying. The look of pride on the boy’s face made Dev smile.

“Mr. McGuire,” Jenna corrected her nephew.

“I don’t mind if they call me Dev. ‘Mr. McGuire’ is too formal for fishing buddies.” Not only that, every time Dev heard it he’d have to fight the urge to glance over his shoulder to make sure his father hadn’t materialized behind him.

Brent McGuire would have viewed a few hours of early morning fishing as a complete waste of time.

In fact, his father believed that until Dev returned to take over the helm of the family business, his entire life was being wasted. Telephone conversations had become thinly disguised lectures on duty and responsibility. His mother kept a running list of everything Dev was “missing.” It was the reason their relationship had been condensed to brief phone calls, spaced out over major holidays.

Dev didn’t regret moving to Mirror Lake. No one here cared about the gold plaque on his door or his family pedigree. The locals respected his desire for privacy and left him alone. Dev had decided it was only fair to return the favor.

His life might not be the way Dev pictured it, what he’d lost couldn’t be compared to everything he’d gained. The solitude, which in the beginning had seemed like a punishment, Dev had begun to view as a gift from God.

That’s why he couldn’t figure out why God had deposited a woman and two children practically outside his door. Especially a woman like Jenna, who looked as if she was dressed for a photo shoot and obviously preferred to see her fish breaded and served next to a side of coleslaw rather than swimming around in a bucket.

“It smells funny.” Tori, who’d pushed closer for a better view of the fish, wrinkled her nose.

For a split second, Jenna looked as if she were tempted to do the same.

Logan dismissed his little sister’s comment and looked at his aunt with a hopeful expression, waiting for her opinion.

“It’s very slimy—” Jenna caught herself. “Shiny. Very shiny.”

Logan beamed. “It’s a keeper, right, Dev?”

“That’s right.” Was it his imagination, or was Jenna looking a little, er, green around the gills?

“And I get to take it home.”

Forget-me-not blue eyes widened at Logan’s announcement.

No, definitely not his imagination.

“B-but—”

“It’s one of the rules of fishing.” Dev interrupted Jenna midsputter.

“Rules?” She gazed at him with open skepticism.

“Unwritten, of course.”

“Of course.”

“You catch it, you keep it,” Logan sang out.

“Exactly.” Dev checked a smile.

“That’s very…thoughtful…of you,” Jenna said in a tone that hinted it was just the opposite.

“Can you take a picture of it, Aunt Jenna?” Logan asked. “I want to show Mom.”

A shadow passed through Jenna’s eyes but she nodded. “Of course, but I think you should be holding the fish so she can see how big it is.”

“Can I hold it, too?” Tori wanted to know.

“I have an idea. Why don’t I take the picture and all three of you can pose with the fish?” Dev couldn’t resist.

“Okay!”

Jenna didn’t join the chorus. She sighed and pulled a slim black gadget out of her pocket, the kind that did everything but clean your house.

Dev held out his hand and she reluctantly dropped the expensive little piece of technology into his calloused palm. Dev stood patiently through the brief tutorial that followed.

“Now, how should we set this up?” Jenna squinted at the sun. “Maybe—”

“I think I can take it from here.” Dev lined up the shot. “Ready?”

Only two blond heads bobbed. In this instance, Dev went with the majority.

“Stand right there—Logan don’t drop the fish.” He took a step back and the trio came into focus. Logan with his proud, gap-toothed grin. Tori cheek to cheek with Violet, who’d managed to sneak into the frame. And Jenna, beautiful but somber.

Dev wondered what she was thinking.

She’s thinking that you’re going to drop her phone into the lake and cut off her only tie to civilization, an inner voice chided. Take the picture.

He snapped a few quick shots. “Okay, time to put the fish on a stringer so you can take him home with you.”

“His name is Fred,” Tori announced.

Everyone turned to stare at her.

“We’re not going to name it.” Logan rolled his eyes. “We’re going to eat it.”

Tori looked horrified by the thought. “We can’t eat Fred.”

“Toriiii.” His sister’s name rolled out on a groan. “That’s what you’re supposed to do.”

“But his family will miss him,” she wailed.

Logan sent a silent appeal to Dev for help.

“Sorry, bud. Your fish, your call.” No way was he going to weigh in on that decision. And one look at Jenna’s face revealed whose side she was on.

Logan heaved a sigh. “Okay. But just this once.”

“Just this once,” Tori agreed cheerfully.

No one believed her.

“Come on.” Dev grabbed the bucket and strode down the dock.

At the edge of the shoreline everyone, including Jenna, release a collective breath as Fred propelled himself into the deeper water with a graceful swish of his back tail fin. Along with the bluegill Dev had planned to have for supper that night.

Tori clapped her hands. “Fred’s going home.”

“I’m going to follow him.” Logan leaped to his feet.

“Wait for me.” Tori followed, chasing after her brother through the waves that lapped the shoreline. Violet tore after them, barking her approval.

Dev had a hunch his company was going to seem pretty boring from now on.

“They’re good kids.” Dev watched Logan pause to grab his little sister’s hand when she stumbled in the wet sand.

“They are.” There it was again. That brief flash of vulnerability Dev had seen in Jenna’s eyes the day before. “Sometimes I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep up with them.”

“Another reason to wear something more practical on your feet.” Dev couldn’t resist teasing her a little. Call him a glutton for punishment, but he wanted to see that mischievous smile again.

“I do have another pair of shoes.” Jenna’s chuff of indignation stirred a ribbon of silver-blond hair on her forehead. “I just didn’t think I’d need them. I didn’t plan to be in Mirror Lake for more than a day or two.”

Dev could relate. He’d arrived at his grandfather’s old fishing cabin for a weekend. Five years ago.

“So what made you decide to stay?”

Jenna was silent for so long, Dev didn’t think she was going to answer the question.

“My sister.”

It was a little unsettling to discover they had something in common. Jenna had come to Mirror Lake because of her sister and Dev was there because of his brother.

“This is a good place.” Dev watched a young bald eagle spin a lazy circle over the treetops. “Kids need room to roam.”

Jenna’s lips compressed, a sign she didn’t agree with him. “That reminds me. I’m sorry that Logan interrupted your day. I guess I need to have a talk with him about boundaries.”

Dev remembered the look of wonder on Logan’s face when he’d offered him the fishing pole.

“I didn’t mind. And he can fish off my dock anytime he wants to—”

Jenna was already shaking her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“It’s safe as long as he’s not down here alone. Even at the end of the dock, the water isn’t over his head.”

“That’s not it. I don’t want Logan or Tori to get too attached to…this place.”

“I thought Logan said they lived here.” From what the children had said the day before, he assumed their mother had bought it.

Jenna shook her head. “My sister rented the cabin for the summer. It’s temporary. When she gets home, I’m hoping I can convince her to move closer to me.”

From the expression on Jenna’s face, that day couldn’t come soon enough.

Why that bothered him, Dev didn’t know. Especially since he’d dropped a not-so-subtle hint that she wouldn’t last a week.

Tori skipped up to them and tugged on Jenna’s arm. “I found a spider on a tree over there, Aunt Jenna. Do you want to take its picture, too?”

Too?

Dev glanced at Jenna and saw twin patches of color underline the sculpted cheekbones.

“No thanks, sweetie.”

Logan joined them. “But it’s bigger than the one you found this morning.”

Dev had to ask. He just had to. “Did she scream?”

Logan thought about that. “A little.”

“It was in the bathtub,” Tori added. “And it was huuuge.”

“Aunt Jenna took its picture. She said it was so big that we could put a leash on it and take it for a walk around the block—”

“Why don’t you two go inside and get washed up?” Jenna cut in. “We haven’t had breakfast yet.”

As far as diversions went, it might not have been subtle but it was effective. The children headed toward the cabin. Dev grabbed hold of Violet’s collar before she included herself in the invitation.

“So. A spider.” Dev’s lips twitched.

“I’m sure you’ve seen them before,” Jenna said tartly.

“Not one that I could put a leash on and take for a walk around the block.”

Jenna whipped out her phone again and scrolled through the pictures, stopping at the close-up of a spider roughly the size of the designer dog Elaina had carried around in her purse.

Dev blinked. Okay, it was that big.

“What did you do? Throw your shoe at it?” He’d been kidding…until he saw the guilty look on Jenna’s face.

“You threw your shoe at it?”

“Yes, but I didn’t think I’d actually hit it.”

“I’m shocked.”

“So was I.” The husky laugh that followed packed more of a punch than Jenna’s smile.

While Dev was recovering from the impact, she veered toward the cabin. Tossed a smug look over her shoulder.

“And you said they weren’t practical.”

Dev closed his eyes, but there she was—engraved in his memory—ready to return at a moment’s notice.

So maybe Jenna wasn’t a clone of Elaina, but she was obviously a city girl.

There was no point getting involved with someone who’d made no secret of the fact that she couldn’t wait to leave Mirror Lake, the only place in the world that Dev wanted to be.

Jenna was right. Boundaries weren’t such a bad idea.

For all of them.

Chapter Five

“Helloooo!”

A lilting voice rose above the rattle of the ancient ceiling fan that paddled in lazy circles above Jenna’s head, dispersing humid air to every corner of the cabin.

The children, who’d been playing a lively game of Go Fish while Jenna washed the breakfast dishes, leaped to their feet.

“It’s Kate!” Logan shouted on his way to the door.

Jenna tried not to feel envious. Even though the cafe owner had gone out of her way to make Jenna feel welcome since she’d arrived in Mirror Lake, the children’s exuberant greeting was a painful reminder that Kate Nichols knew her niece and nephew better than she did.

The petite redhead scooped up Tori and anchored her against one slender hip. “How are you doing, strawberry shortcake?”

Tori giggled. “I’m not shortcake.”

“That’s right.” Kate’s clover green eyes twinkled. “You’re much sweeter.” She planted a kiss on the little girl’s temple and reached down to ruffle Logan’s bangs. “How are you doing, buddy?”

“I caught a fish this morning.”

“Well, that answers that question.” Kate winked at Jenna over his head.

“It’s good to see you, Kate,” Jenna said. Although she’d hoped to have the cabin looking a bit more presentable before anyone stopped over.

She’d planned to do some cleaning and then take the children into town to pick up some groceries. A quick inventory of the cupboards had yielded a few cans of soup and a box of macaroni and cheese. Fortunately, Abby had insisted Jenna take a basket of homemade cinnamon rolls and a quiche with her when they’d left the lodge, so breakfast had been covered.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call first.” Kate set Tori down on the floor. “We wanted to surprise you.”

We?

As if on cue, a young woman with a cap of cherry-cola curls trudged into the cabin, a colorful plastic tote gripped in each hand.

“’Morning, Jenna!”

Jenna recognized the visitor immediately. Zoey Decker and her fiancé, Matthew Wilde, were close friends of the O’Hallorans and had dropped by the inn to visit while Jenna and the children were staying there.

The couple planned to exchange their vows at the inn on Christmas Eve, and Abby was in charge of the event.

“Zoey.” Jenna greeted her cautiously.

“I hope we’re not too early,” Zoey sang out, and in the next breath, “Where do you want this stuff?” The question was directed at Kate, who pointed to the kitchen.

Jenna’s gaze cut back to the woman clearly in charge of the operation. “What’s going on?”

“A housewarming party,” Kate said.

“You provide the house, we provide the party.” Zoey swept past her with a grin.

Kate saw Jenna’s confusion and took pity on her. “We’re here to help you spruce things up a bit. Stanley Lambert, the guy who owns this cabin, is one of my regulars at the cafe and he let it sit empty for years. I figured if he hasn’t updated his wardrobe for forty years, chances are he hasn’t done anything to this place, either.”

While Jenna was recovering from the shock of the unexpected invasion, the screen door swung open again. Warm, blue-gray eyes peered at Jenna over an enormous picnic basket. The fingers of one hand fanned a greeting.

“Emma Sutton.” Kate took charge of the introductions this time. “This is Jenna Gardner—Logan and Tori’s aunt.” She smiled at Jenna. “You already met Emma’s husband, Jake.”

“Hi.” Emma flashed a friendly smile.

Sutton. The police chief. Jenna searched the woman’s face but didn’t see a hint of judgment that she’d met Jake under less than ideal circumstances. He was the one who’d called Grace Eversea the night that Shelly had started the fire.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she murmured.

Emma set the picnic basket down on the scarred Formica table. “Logan and my son, Jeremy, have gotten to be good friends over the past few weeks.”

Logan’s face lit up when he heard the boy’s name. “Is Jeremy here?”

“Are you kidding? There was no way he was going to stay home once he found out where I was going. He’s unloading some things from the car.”

“Cool! I’m going outside, Aunt Jenna.” Logan dashed out the door, Tori at his heels.

“Jeremy is twelve and very responsible,” Emma assured her. “He doesn’t mind keeping an eye on Logan and Tori while we work.”

Kate frowned. “Speaking of work…where’s Abby?”

“I’m right here.” Abby O’Halloran breezed into the cabin, dropped a box into the lap of the lumpy tweed recliner and reeled Jenna in for a hug.

A hug. As if they’d known each other forever rather than just a few days. Then she stepped back and looked Jenna straight in the eye.

“How are you?”

Jenna opened her mouth, ready to give her standard response, but something in Abby’s compassionate gaze seemed to require an honest response.

“I’m…not sure.”

Abby nodded, as if that made perfect sense. “That’s why we’re here.”

Zoey parked her hands on her hips. “Where should we start?”

Jenna felt her control slipping. “Really…you don’t have to—”

“Of course we don’t.” Kate cut off her protest, her brisk tone matching her movements as she began to unpack an arsenal of cleaning supplies. “We want to. You move to a small town, you get the small town treatment.”

Jenna had already experienced that, and the memories weren’t pleasant ones. People had either ignored her family or gossiped about them, but no one had ever offered to help.

“Jake mentioned the fire didn’t do much damage, but we figured a few little touches might make you feel more at…” Emma’s voice trailed off.

For the first time, the visitors seemed to become aware of their surroundings. The dark paneling that shadowed the walls. The shabby furnishings. The scorch mark on the scuffed hardwood floor, evidence of what could have been a fatal mistake.

Forget the fact that she lived in a gated community with a waiting list that stretched into the next decade. Jenna was suddenly eight years old again, facing the girls that had drifted over to meet her the day she’d moved into the neighborhood.

She had invited them in to play, but the pigtail posse created their own game. They’d spent the morning poking fun at the tiny garage apartment. And at her.

The scenario continued through high school. Different towns, the same response. Being measured by her peers and found wanting. Old insecurities, the ones Jenna thought she had put behind her, began to creep in as Kate and her friends surveyed the cabin.

“It’s got a lot of potential,” Abby declared.

Emma saw Jenna’s expression and laughed. “Abby’s bed-and-breakfast needed three times this much work when she bought it. She welcomes a challenge.”

“Which explains Quinn,” Kate whispered.

Abby gave her friend a playful swat on the arm. “This from the woman who fell in love with my bossy big brother. Most people run in the opposite direction when they see Alex coming.”

Zoey must have noticed Jenna’s bemusement.

“They can be a little overwhelming, can’t they?” she said in a low voice. “The first time I met them, they bullied me into joining their knitting group.”

Abby heard her. “Bullied isn’t quite the word…oh, maybe it is. But you’ll get used to us,” she added with a bright smile at Jenna.

Jenna didn’t contradict her, even though she knew she wouldn’t be in Mirror Lake long enough to join a knitting group. Or any other kind of group, for that matter.

Watching the way the four friends interacted, with genuine affection and acceptance, Jenna wondered what it would be like to be included in their close-knit circle.

Other than a weekly cappuccino date with Caitlin Walsh, the image consultant Jenna had met while working on a special makeover issue for the magazine, the majority of Jenna’s time and energy were devoted to her readers.

The door opened and an adolescent boy walked in, balancing a bulky object on his shoulder. Judging from the smoke blue eyes and sandy brown hair, this was Emma’s son, Jeremy. He flashed a shy smile at Jenna before turning to Abby. “Where did you want this, Mrs. O’Halloran?”

Abby pointed to the floor. “Right over there.”

Jenna watched Zoey and Kate kneel down and unroll the hand-hooked wool rug. A butter-yellow border outlined a stunning bouquet of wildflowers in the pattern. The colors brightened the room—and completely covered the blackened area on the hardwood floor.

“This was delivered to the inn yesterday, but the order was wrong,” Abby explained. “It was too small for the library…but I think it might be just right for you.”

Tears stung the back of Jenna’s eyes and she blinked them away before anyone noticed.

“It’s perfect, Abby,” Emma said. “And the colors just happen to coordinate with the curtains I brought over.”

For some reason, the rest of the women smiled when she emphasized the word.

“How much do I owe you?” Jenna had read the home style section of Twin City Trends often enough to know that a custom designed rug this size would have cost a small fortune.

“It’s a gift.” Abby linked her arm through Jenna’s. “A reminder that God provides exactly what we need when we need it.”

Jenna didn’t know how to respond to that. It was something she’d often heard Caitlin Walsh say, but she’d never experienced it before. It was risky to wait. To hope that someone would notice her. That someone would…care.

“He does,” Abby murmured.

Jenna stared at her, afraid she’d voiced the thought out loud, but the other woman was already gliding away.

“We’ll have this place looking like home in no time,” Zoey said, a determined gleam in her eyes as she advanced on the dusty bearskin rug tacked to the wall.

“Okay, sisters.” Kate tightened the knot on the bandana covering her copper curls as if she were preparing for battle. “Divide and conquer.”

* * *

Dev tossed a piece of birch bark into the campfire and sat back to enjoy the shower of sparks as the flames consumed it. There had been a time when he would have scoffed at such simple entertainment. When he’d believed that a man who had time to sit by a campfire had too much time.

He took out his pocketknife and began to sharpen the end of a stick.

Violet, stretched out on a old trapper’s blanket beside him, lifted her head and stared into the deepening shadows at the edge of the woods.

Dev had a hunch he knew what—or who—had caught the dog’s attention.

For the past few days, Logan Gardner had been sneaking across the property line to play with Violet. And when he didn’t show up, Violet had been sneaking across the property line to play with him.

Dev figured it was only a matter of time until Jenna marched over to register a formal complaint.

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