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love me?” She laughed, the sound hollow, no amusement in it at all. “That was an act of desperation, not some grand stand.”
    “You still did it.”
    “He was out of the country. If he hadn’t been, I would never have had the courage to take the first step and walk out.”
    At first Tack didn’t know how to respond to that. Kitty so afraid of her husband she wouldn’t have left him while he was near enough to do something about it? The idea boggled Tack’s mind, but it pissed him off even more. His hands curled into tight fists, but he did his best to keep his anger from his face after Kitty’s earlier reaction.
    Nevin Barston was one lucky son of a bitch that he was in LA right now.
    “Why didn’t you call?” She’d needed help; she had to know Tack would have been there.
    “Would you have answered?” she asked, with an apparently genuine desire to know the answer.
    Because she didn’t already.
    Had she forgotten everything they were to each other?
    “How could you doubt it? Even if you hadn’t been my best friend for most of my life, you were from Cailkirn. Anyone in this town would have helped you.” But him most of all.
    “You were the last real friend I had and I treated you like crap.” Remorse infused her words and her self-disgust was clear.
    He couldn’t argue with her, though, even if he felt like he should. She was just so damn fragile right now.
    Thankfully Miz Alma called them to the table, her tone impatient, before Tack found himself saying things he shouldn’t.
    *  *  *
    Careful to separate the roast, potatoes, and vegetables evenly, Caitlin pushed half of the food her aunt had put on her plate to one side. She was concentrating so hard it took her a moment to realize her aunts had bowed their heads for a blessing. His head bowed but his eyes open, Tack stared at her, whether in reproach or confusion at Caitlin’s eating ritual she couldn’t tell.
    Heat shooting into her cheeks, she quickly dropped her hands into her lap and dipped her head.
    The simple phrases Aunt Alma spoke washed over Caitlin with the comfort of forgotten familiarity. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d engaged in something so homey as blessing her food.
    There had been a time when such activities had embarrassed her; then she’d come to long for them, and now she engaged with a gratitude few would understand.
    Just as with her food rituals, there was safety in these comfortable customs that had been passed from one generation to the next.
    “It is so good to have our girl home, isn’t it, Tack?” Aunt Elspeth asked after they’d begun eating.
    He smiled at her aunt, the expression lending warmth to the hard angles of his face. He’d had the features of a boy the last time she’d seen him, but now he was a man. A very good-looking man, who wore confidence like the new sexy.
    Not looking at Caitlin to include her in the warm expression, he said, “Sure.”
    Her aunt was appeased, but Caitlin knew his single-word answer had hardly been a ringing endorsement. She didn’t blame him. In fact, Caitlin was kind of glad he didn’t look at her just then.
    She was finding it unexpectedly difficult to control her reaction to him. Getting the best of the genes from both sides of his family, the Scots and the Inuits, Tack had always been attractive. However, now he was hotter than anything LA had to offer. His chocolate-brown eyes were set under a raven’s brow, and his nose was perfectly proportioned for a man’s face above his square jaw.
    He’d been muscular before, but now his six-and-a-half-foot frame was as solid as a rock.
    She’d never seen Tack as being sexy in the past.
    No, that wasn’t true, and Caitlin’s healing required self-honesty now. She hadn’t allowed herself to be attracted to her best friend. Falling in love with Taqukaq MacKinnon would have meant staying in Cailkirn, and that was something Kitty Grant had been determined not to do. Funny the difference eight years could