I reach out and take Riley by the hand.

“You told me, that day at the office, that the mark of a good second man is the ability to make hard decisions.”

A glance goes between Riley and her father. I wonder if I’ve missed something, if they’ve already had this discussion.

“I’m making one now. It’s the hardest decision I’ve ever faced, I think.” I look at Riley and let those latent emotions come swelling to the surface. All the time I’ve spent thinking of her. All the thoughts I’ve denied. All the things I’ve meant to say but held back because it wasn’t proper or I couldn’t face what they’d mean. All the doubt. All the uncertainty. But if I don’t leap, I’ll never know.

“I’ll have to be good if I stay. I’ll need to show up for work every day on time. I’ll need to attend all of the meetings you book. I’ll need to leap when you say. And maybe, in time, you’ll think I’m ready for the big chair again.”

Mason looks a little confused. But with her hand in mine, Riley seems almost content.

“But if, instead, I keep holding Riley’s hand and see if she’ll take my other one, I think I can convince you I’m the right man for another job.”

Riley takes my other hand, and we stand there with our arms sagging between us, quiet. Mason is watching, something warring in his features.

“Either way, if she’ll have me, I think I might want to be with your daughter. With or without a life at your company. But I think you believe in me. And I think you believe in Riley. Because you raised her. You know she’s not a fool.” I rub my thumb across the back of Riley’s hand, wanting to cup her face, run my hands through her hair. “You know that I’m not a fool, either.”

 Riley looks up at me — those big blue eyes, her wide smile hidden. If anything, she looks dire. I can read her face, though, and it’s as if she’s whispering in my ear: You could have kept your job. Now you have nothing. And believe me, the same thought has occurred to me, too. I’m in uncharted waters. But I think I know where islands might be found.

“I’m going to be with her either way,” I say, looking down to Riley for confirmation. “We don’t have an elegant beginning to our story right now, as long as it remains a random encounter on one random night. But this?” I shrug, indicating the kitchen, the situation, the whole of this little display. “This is a damn fine beginning, I think.”

Mason is looking at me. His face is serious, assessing. There’s nothing he can do. I’ve quit. He’s not going to hit me. If he’d get out of his own way, maybe he’ll see what I already have. The best solutions to any problem are the creative ones. Those outside the box. The solutions that don’t follow the playbook but instead make their own music.

He could kick me out. He looks like he might. But if he does, Riley will follow. Either way, his daughter will be with me — and if he can see past his initial anger, maybe he’ll see that I’m not all that bad. I served his company faithfully, loyally, for years. I have ambition I know he respects. Though our encounters were few and far between until recently, he’s always treated me like a father when I’ve seen him, and in the past weeks I think he’s seen me like a son. He didn’t just want to promote me. He wanted to groom me. To give me more and more responsibility until I had almost all of it. Not because I deserved it, but because I’m his very best. Because Life of Riley deserves me.

I turn to Riley. I don’t exactly whisper, but my voice is quiet.

“Tell me you’re into me,” I say. “Because if this is a ‘Thanks but no thanks’ situation, my whole plan falls apart, here.”

She smiles. That big, white, beautiful, open smile. “I am,” she whispers back.

That little whisper is all it takes. My heart seems to blossom. My hands tingle under her touch. I want to hold her to me, but there’s still the matter of her father. He’s everything to Riley, the way Bridget is everything to me.

We don’t need his approval, but I want it. I want him to stop being so stubborn. To stop being Mason Fucking James long enough be a human. To step outside his anger and see this situation for what it is: a man coming to his daughter with nothing to hide and loyalty etched onto his cheek. A man who would be perfect for his little girl … if he can step outside his programming and knee-jerk reactions and his anger at the impulsive way we began.

“Daddy?” Riley says. “What are you thinking?”

Mason looks at me then at Riley. Then at me. Riley.

“Daddy?”

Mason’s face seems to break, and I sense him giving in. Letting things be. Accepting the unconventional, because what’s best doesn’t always seem right from the start.

“Everyone makes mistakes, Princess,” he says.

CHAPTER FORTY

Riley

I WAKE WITH MY MAN’S arm around me.

I’m lying on my side in our big white king, and the featherbed beneath us is like we’re resting on a cloud. For a moment, it’s like I’m floating, or maybe still dreaming. The view through the window is the best of the lot, I think. But I don’t need to think because I know. Because as these lots were plotted, Brandon and I walked each one. We stood and looked out across the valley and said, “Here is where our bedroom window will be.” At the time, it felt playful. But now I’m staring through the glass, and having seen through every one of the community’s potential windows, I can say without a doubt that this view is the best.

To the left, far down and out of site, is where I used to play with Eva. I didn’t grow up here, but it’s part of my childhood, and this place, then, is part of me. To the right, also far down the valley, is Reed Creek. Where I used to go with my mother and father. And that’s part of me, too.

This arm, slung over my side now. It’s part of me. Forever and ever and ever.

I try to wiggle out from under Brandon’s arm, knowing he’s been working hard and needs to sleep. But I must wake him just a little because the hand stiffens. It grabs my naked breast playfully. Then less playfully. And then I’m turning toward him and kissing him, and we make love while the valley beyond greets the sun.

After, he falls asleep, still with both of us on our sides, still with his arm over me. This time I extricate myself successfully, wash my face and brush my teeth in the bathroom, then head into the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. I check my messages. There are a bunch, but none are pressing. It’s Sunday, and I don’t work on Sundays. But what most people don’t understand — although Brandon does and my father definitely does — is that there’s a happy middle ground between hating your job and being a workaholic. I genuinely enjoy all that I do. Not because it’s always exciting, but because I’m building something worth my time. I’m making life better. I’m adding to Cedar Creek — and, by extension, to Inferno Falls. Some day, this business will be mine. I’m building a future, board by board. And sure, for now I’m a manager. But I’m in no hurry, and my father’s in no rush to retire.

I head up onto the rooftop deck in my robe. We have the only rooftop deck in the community — one of the perks of being the owner’s daughter and the vice president’s fiancée. Brandon had the place in his mind … for some time, it turns out. Converting it to reality, in one of our communities, was as simple as downloading his vision to an architect.