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back to Shane. “I thought you’d be out there for hours shoveling snow.”
    “Nah. I borrowed the neighbor’s snow blower, and the driveway is good to go. We need to get home.”
    “But, I can’t leave Gramps alone.”
    “Sure you can,” Herschel butted in. “Mrs. McKewan is on her way.”
    “Who called Mrs. McKewan?”
    “I did,” Herschel replied sharply. “I might be in a wheelchair for the moment, but I’m still possessed of all my faculties.”
    “Fine, Gramps.” Her eyes narrowed on Shane. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you anyway.”
    “What the hell did I do?” Shane asked, that wicked grin she was going to kiss away, still very much intact.
    “I hear Betty’s wedding is going to be at the farm?”
    “Oh.” His smile dimmed a bit. “Yeah. There’s that.”
    “I might have to make you pay for that one.”
    The look in Shane’s eyes was enough to melt her panties. That’s if she were wearing them. Which she wasn’t. Nothing got her man hotter under the collar than knowing she was bare.
    “I’m counting on it,” he said gruffly.
    “Okay you two. Get a move on. An old man doesn’t need to hear that sort of stuff.”
    The ride out to their place, White Haven, took a bit longer than normal but with some roads clear and others still treacherous, they took their time. The estate had been left to Shane by his grandfather and not only was it a working horse farm, Shane’s studio was located on the property.
    Chrissy Hinde’s wonderful and subtle version of
Merry Little Christmas
, filled the truck as they pulled into the lane that led to their home. Massive snow drifts lined the entire driveway, and the sun was so bright, it hurt the eyes to look.
    And there was a lot to look at. The estate was gorgeous. As always, Bobbi felt such pride in everything Shane had accomplished. His art hung in galleries across the country, notably in New York and LA, and when he wasn’t busy painting he was making custom furniture out in his woodshop.
    Shane Gallagher had come into his own. He’d grown into the man she’d always known he would become. And damn, if he didn’t belong to her.
    There was a truck parked in front of the house and as Bobbi slid from Shane’s vehicle, she spotted Matt Hawkins gathering some gear together. Matt nodded, pointing to the barn set back aways. “Setting up a sound system for the band.”
    Shane slid his arms around Bobbi, cuddling her from behind. “I’ll be out in a bit to help.”
    Matt nodded. “Leave it to Betty to throw a wrench into everything at the last minute.”
    Bobbi chuckled. Matt was Betty’s best friend, so nothing her sister did would ever surprise him. There’d been a time when Bobbi hadn’t been a fan of Matt. Thought he was a bad influence on her sister. And even though she’d gotten over that—people change, they grow up—she didn’t quite get their relationship.
    And if she was honest, she thought that maybe Matt Hawkins was the saddest person she’d ever met. There was something tragic in his eyes—a haunted look that he sometimes forgot to conceal. She supposed it was that very thing that glued him and Betty together.
    Shane tugged on her hand, while Pia nipped at their feet, excited to be home.
    “Thanks Matt,” she said with a wave.
    “No problem.” He flashed a grin. “Did you find those roses yet?”
    God. Did everyone know?
    Shane was pulling her toward the house so she didn’t get a chance to answer, and by the time they reached the warmth of the foyer, she forgot all about the roses. Hell, she forgot about everything.
    “What the…” Her voice trailed off as she gazed across the hall at the portrait resting against the wall.
    Her throat tightened.
    So did her chest.
    So did her heart.
    For several moments, there was only silence. Even Pia stopped barking as Bobbi gazed at an image of herself lying in bed, sheets a rumpled mess around her, hair all over the place, eyes half closed as she gazed outward. There was nothing