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palms splaying against his chest for balance, her face shining with laughter as she gazed up at him.
    He gulped, barely breathing, the air around them suddenly charged with electricity.
    “You forgot the marshmallow, Conner.” A tiny hand tugged his, dragging his attention back to Annabelle.
    He blinked, but neither the little girl nor the abandoned marshmallow was the image lodged in his brain. No, it was Chaney, her cheeks scrunched from laughing, her expressive eyes reflecting—
    What? Had he really seen something else? Or was he just imagining it?
     
    ****
     
    “Oops. Look at the time. It’s already your bedtime, sweetie.” Chaney’s mom broke the intimate moment.
    Chaney peeled her palms from Conner’s muscular chest and he stepped back, smashing his hands deep in his pockets. To keep from touching her?
    “Aw!” Annabelle groaned.
    “If you come now without fussing, we’ll have time to read a book before bedtime. If you argue, no books.” Carole’s brows rose, challenging her granddaughter to make the right choice.
    Annabelle complied. “Night, Conner.” She held up tiny arms. Hugs and kisses were part of Annabelle’s nighttime routine, but that usually only consisted of Chaney’s and her mother’s.
    Chaney held her breath. How would Conner feel about—
    Conner scooped Annabelle up in his arms and hugged her tight. “‘Night, sweetheart. Thanks for all your help with the tree tonight. We couldn’t have done it without you.”
    Annabelle braced both palms on Conner’s cheeks and squeezed. Puckering her lips, she planted a loud smooch on Conner’s mouth. To his credit, he didn’t even cringe at what had to be a slobbery, gooey kiss or the handprints that now lathered both his cheeks, remnants of the four or five marshmallows Annabelle had consumed.
    No, instead, he murmured a sweet, “Mmmm. Thank you.”
    Chaney dipped her head, hiding her grin behind a hand.
    “You’re next.” His deep rumble of amusement sounded near Chaney’s ear, and she lifted her head.
    Annabelle’s arms extended towards her, and Chaney took her niece from Conner. Annabelle wrapped her sticky hands around the back of her neck and offered a similar loud smooch.
    “Love you, sweetheart. Sleep tight. I’ll come to check on you in a few minutes, OK?”
    “OK. Love you, An Chaney.”
    Chaney adored their nighttime routine. Baths and books, and hugs and declarations of love. She nuzzled her cheeks against her niece’s downy soft hair then set her down gently.
    “You guys continue having your fun. I think I’ll head to bed for a little reading of my own after I tuck Annabelle in for the night,” Carole said, leading her granddaughter out of the room.
    Chaney licked her lips. How was she supposed to respond to that blatant matchmaking attempt by her own mother?
    Conner saved the night. He nodded towards the half-empty plate of goodies. “Want a s’more? I think a few marshmallows survived the battle.”
    “Yeah. No thanks to you,” she teased, picking up the metal rods and handing him one.
    “Woman, you started that business. Annabelle and I just ended it.”
    Yeah. If it hadn’t been for Annabelle’s timely interruption, Chaney might have made a fool of herself by lifting her face for a kiss. Heat rushed up her neck.
    He nudged her shoulder. “And when we run out of s’mores, I can always pull out my guitar. That is, if it won’t wake—”
    “You brought it?” She’d always loved to hear him play.
    “In the truck.”
    “Well, why didn’t you say so? Go get it.” Give her time to compose herself. Fan her hot face.
    “Be right back.” He set the rod down.
    She stared at his broad shoulders, the cranberry Henley doing little to hide his bulky torso or the well-defined muscles in his arms, until he disappeared through the front door. Over the years, she’d managed to banish him from her day-to-day life, but he’d always lingered in her dreams. Now that he was back in town, her heart didn’t stand a