“Let’s get you inside before you catch a chill.” He got out and limped to her side of the truck. He’d abandoned his stick for the last week and it felt damn good. His gait wasn’t as surefooted as it used to be yet, but it was as if he’d turned a corner, and in the distance was a light, one Quinn had lit. It was like she was his own spitfire guardian angel. She wasn’t the type to hold your hand and tell you everything would be okay. No, she’d kick your ass until sense was knocked into your skull.

He offered Grandma his arm and got her up the front steps, the same ones she had tumbled down. Archer stepped up after the accident, took on the running of the ranch, Grandma, and a serious relationship with his typical easy stride. It wasn’t hard to see why people loved Archer. He knew how to make you feel good, just by being close to him.

Wilder had always been more of a porcupine.

He had the door half open when realization hit him with a jolt.

Quinn was right. He and Grandma were cut from the same cloth.

“Hey. Can I say something?” he said.

Grandma set down her handbag and sniffed. “You smell that?”

Wilder inhaled deeply, catching faint traces of cinnamon, brown sugar, and apples. “Yeah and it’s making me hungry all over again.”

Edie ducked out of the kitchen door, Archer hot on her heels. Her red hair was a mess and she looked suspiciously flushed while his little brother had a telltale smirk.

Jesus Christ.

Wilder didn’t feel any jealousy, just a vague sense of amusement. Plus, Edie’s shirt was on backward and Grandma was going to notice in another few seconds.

“I’m gonna tell you two lovebirds the same thing I told Sawyer.” Grandma shrugged off her coat and hung it on the brass peg. “At my age, my wants are straightforward. Grandbabies, grandbabies, and more grandbabies. But I want it done proper. Children who carry the Kane name.”

“Hold up now.” Archer’s cheeks were a near match to Edie’s. “Grandma, I—”

“And please, for the love of all that’s holy, tell me you didn’t get up to anything on the kitchen table. That’s where I eat my Cream of Wheat.”

“Grandma,” Edie yelped, clapping her hands to her chest. “It’s not what you think.”

Wilder tugged at his shirt, waggling his eyebrows and Edie glanced down, her silvery eyes bugging out of her head as she realized the seams were on the outside.

The front door burst open. “You’re here. Thank God,” Sawyer said, taking a deep gulping breath.

“Course I’m here. This is still my home,” Grandma snapped.

“Not you, him.” Sawyer thumbed at Wilder. “Saw your truck parked out front while I was driving by. You got to come with me, pronto.”

Wilder frowned, the old adrenaline rush setting in, putting his senses on high alert. “Another fire?”

“Oh no,” Edie gasped, grappling for Archer’s arm. “Please not at the bakery again.”

“No. You were right.” Sawyer clenched his jaw. “The fire was in an occupied home this time. Quinn’s home. The call just came in.”

Wilder took a step backward. The room disappeared. The roof caving in. The scream. The damn scream frozen in his head for twenty-five years filled his senses. Smoke choked his lungs. A chill shot down his spine.

“Is she . . . is she . . .”

“All I know is that she was taken to the hospital. One of the firefighters rescued her.”

A hand brushed his arm. “I’m so sorry,” Edie said.

“I’m coming with you.” Grandma marched back to her jacket, slinging it on.

“Grandma, no.” Sawyer held up a hand. “Stay here.”

“Let her come,” Wilder choked out. It had come at last. Payback. He’d taken so much from her.

But when she looked at him, there wasn’t a glimmer of justice or malicious glee. Only concern. “Come,” she said, holding out a hand. “You don’t need to face this alone.”

Archer stepped forward and clasped his shoulder. “We’re coming too. Family sticks together.” He turned to Sawyer. “Edie and I are following behind, man.”

Wilder moved in a daze. His limbs propelled him out into the wintry night but he wasn’t in control, autopilot had taken over. He paused on the front porch, turning to face his family. “The fire spared me this summer, but I’d rather burn a hundred times over than have a single hair on that woman’s head be scorched.”

“True words, brother,” Archer said with a nod. “I feel the same way.”

“Me too,” Sawyer said.

“One question.” Wilder gave voice to a niggling idea. “Any chance the fireman who pulled Quinn from the house was Garret King?”

Sawyer blinked. “Yeah. Why?”

Wilder ground his teeth. He’d been thinking about who the arsonist could be for weeks and only one name kept repeating itself. “Because I’m going to kill that son of a bitch.”

“King? He’s an asshole, but that hasn’t changed since we were in elementary school, man. Remember when he ate the fish out of the fish tank in the school lobby?”

Wilder didn’t crack a smile. “Has the ATF given you an arson profile yet?”

Sawyer knit his brows. “Report should be coming in any day.”

“King’s a volunteer firefighter,” Grandma Kane butted in, joining the conversation.

“You think he is responsible?” Archer asked, puzzled. “But why?”

“Hero complex,” Wilder said tightly. “He gets to be a big shot. People buy him drinks at The Dirty Shame. Slap his back when he walks down the street. He likes to impress, always has.”

“There’s a hell of a big difference between being a show-off and putting lives in danger.” Sawyer crossed his arms, staring off in the distance, thinking. “I’m not saying you’re wrong but why target Quinn?”

“He’s pursued her, and he sniffed around her place not long ago, unable to get the memo that she wasn’t into him.”

Sawyer shook his head. “That means he’s a fucking creep, not a potential murderer. Arson is a serious accusation, man.”

“I’ve been at this a long time, brother.” Wilder clenched his jaw. “Where there is smoke, there is always fire. Something with Garret is off. There’s a connection.”

He and Grandma got into Sawyer’s truck while Archer and Edie followed behind. For once, Wilder was glad to have them close. The woman he cared about was in danger.

It didn’t make sense that this would happen. Why would she be targeted? Sawyer was right—arson wasn’t an allegation to be thrown around lightly. But he had a gut-deep certainty King was connected to these fires.

The drive was tense, quiet, and when they got to the Brightwater Hospital, Grandma’s huffy breath puffed out in the cold air as she threw open the door. “Not looking forward to seeing the inside of this place again.”

“That was a long two months,” Edie said, nodding sympathetically. Grandma had been hospitalized from July to September with a broken hip and complications from pneumonia. Since then, she’d scaled back her duties on the ranch but didn’t show any signs of slowing down in the busybody department.

They walked into the emergency room and Wilder pulled up short. There was Trixie Higsby, one of Quinn’s cousins, sitting next to none other than Garret King.

The room vanished in a red haze. Wilder’s hand flexed, clenching into a tight fist.

“Easy, brother,” Sawyer said, resting a hand on Wilder’s elbow. “Even if what you say is true, and I’m not saying it’s not, starting a fight here isn’t going to help Quinn. It’s only going to land your ass in hot water.”

“I’ll handle this,” Grandma snapped, storming over.

“Shit,” Sawyer said. The three brothers stood shoulder to shoulder, powerless in the wake of a crotchety old woman.

“Mrs. Kane,” King said, looking solemn. “News travels fast.”

“I want to see that girl.”

“Family only.” Trixie glanced at Garret under downcast lids, her lower lip giving an attractive tremble. “With her daddy in his bad way, Garret called our house as next-of-kin and I volunteered to come right down.”