“Melissa and I are opening a B&B,” Aimee said abruptly. “Together.”

Jen boggled, her mouth hanging open.

“That’s what the Monday meeting is about, because I know you’re wondering. We’ve already approached one of the old Hemmertex families with a huge empty house up for sale about going in with us, joining as a part owner, letting us run it from here. Melissa’s got the start-up money—her family is the oldest in the valley—and I’ve got the skills in running an inn. It’s going to be the first of many, Jen. I thought you should be one of the first to know.”

“Wow, I . . . I don’t know what to say.”

The piper had trailed back by the beer tent, bleating out an up-tempo song.

Aimee stepped closer. “Say you’re proud of me.”

“God, Aim. I am. I really am.”

There was no I told you so. No I don’t need you. Just absolute proof, exactly as Aimee said she’d give. The world suddenly felt a little bit lighter.

Aimee’s gaze flicked over Jen’s shoulder. She said, all casual, “Oh, I see Owen. Better go tend to the whiskey consumption. It’s already a great night, Jen. Tomorrow’s going to be even better. I know it will.” She started to walk off, then stopped. “I also thought you’d like to know that Owen filed for divorce this morning. Melissa says the papers will be signed in record time.”

Aimee had put a good twenty feet between them before Jen finally processed it all, gathered herself, and called after her sister, “You know what would be good?”

Aimee turned around. “What?”

“Starting an association of inn owners in the valley. There are some in Westbury, you know. Maybe you could band together, use each other to help market the area. Just a thought.”

Aimee beamed. “And it’s a great one. Thank you.” She took a long, happy look around the grounds and came back to meet Jen’s eyes. “For everything.”

At last the sun dipped behind the hills in a perfect New Hampshire sunset, the kind she remembered, the kind she occasionally, futilely wished for while in the city. The fairy lights kicked on, and all the tents became outlined in strings of white. The murmurs of approval made her glow.

Big pockets of people milled around the beer tent, and the whiskey tent was so full Shea had tied back the flaps to accommodate everyone. Drinkers spilled out onto the grass slope leading down to the parking lot. Chris’s band was finally ready to go on, and it seemed like the tension that had cut through their earlier sound check had been smoothed over. Or at least shoved onto the back burner, which was all that Jen cared about at this point. In the meantime, the Scottish Highland dance exhibition was concluding, the last notes of the sole accompanying piper floating across the grounds.

The party would go on as long as it was successful and fun . . . or until eleven, according to Sue McCurdy. Whichever came first. For now, Jen stood in the shadows just outside the music tent, surveying her success, feeling proud but not remotely smug.

There was a silent tug on her awareness, something pulling at her from the side. It was a warm feeling in her heart, a little dance in her belly, and she knew its source before she turned.

Leith was crossing the grass beneath the strings of fairy lights connecting the tents. She hadn’t seen him all evening, word being that Duncan had asked him to run back to Westbury for some needed equipment. The sight of him now, here at the games where she’d wanted him from the beginning, more than made up for his absence.

He smiled with only his eyes, but it was a potent look, enhanced by the glitter from the overhead lights. His chin was set in hard determination, and she realized, with a great shiver, that she was his focus. His goal.

He wore a black T-shirt with a beer logo. It clung to his chest and waist, and fit snugly around his great arms. And then there was the kilt.

Holy mother of God.

No photo could have done him justice, no memory strong enough. She let herself enjoy watching him approach, noting with pleasure the way his mighty thighs kicked out the kilt, the way his big boots struck the ground. Each step brought him closer. Each step got her a little hotter.

“Hi,” he said when he reached her, and she loved how even if her eyes were closed, she would have been able to tell he was smiling.

“Hi, yourself. How’s it going over there? Everything set and all right? Do I need to talk to Duncan?”

He shook his head at the ground, sweat-dampened shag drifting over his ears and eyes, but he was grinning. “Always work with you first, isn’t it? I can’t even get in a flirt edgewise.”

She let out a huff of exasperation. “Leith, I—”

“I’m kidding.” He slid both hands around the nape of her neck, thumbs resting gently on her throat. “Everything’s great. Although Duncan’s canceling the hammer. Not quite enough room, unless you want to chance a broken window in the Hemmertex building or a hammer landing in the middle of the rugby field.”

“No, I trust you guys. Whatever you say will work.” She exhaled. “Good, good.”

“Dougall!” came some drunken bellow from outside the beer tent. “Just throw, damn it!” Sporadic laughter, followed by cheers.

Leith’s hands slid from Jen’s neck. He raised an arm toward the tent and gave the drunk a tight-lipped smile. When his head swiveled back to her, the heat had left his eyes, but not the easy joy she’d noticed in him since that evening a few days ago when he’d called her out of the blue to say he’d stay through the weekend. They stared at each other for who knows how long, their primal connection eviscerating the shadows between them.

“I just have to tell you,” she finally said, “you look so hot I can’t even stand it.”

“Funny”—he dragged a long, slow appraisal over her white tank top, jeans, and riding boots—“was going to say the same about you.” Then he gave her a confused look. “You’ve seen me in a kilt before.”

A nervous laugh escaped and she held up a hand. “Yeah, teenage Leith. Not the same thing. Not by a long shot.”

Hands coming to his hips, he turned solemn and said, “It was Da’s.”

She’d recognized the red MacDougall tartan of course, but she hadn’t noticed the slightly ratty hems and dulled fabric until he mentioned it. Deep lines crossed his forehead, and his chin dipped low. She finally understood what he didn’t say, and gasped. “You went inside.”

He nodded. “Duncan and Chris helped me clear it out. I’m going to put it on the market when things get a little better around here. Mayor Sue says they will, and if you’ve had a hand in turning this place around, I’ll believe it.”

She reached up to brush a piece of hair off his temple. “If you’d called me, I would’ve gone in with you. I would’ve helped, too.”

“I know. And I did call. Only after.”

She touched her lips, comprehending. “So that’s what changed your mind about staying.”

He took a few huge gulps of air and still didn’t meet her eyes. “Da is everywhere in the valley, in Gleann. He and I are . . . everywhere. I never let him go; I never let myself grieve. Always too much to do, always a million other ways to push aside what I didn’t want to accept.” His great shoulders hunched for his ears, stayed there. “It’s why I need to leave, Jen. It’s why I won’t throw. Because the games—any games, not just these—have always been about him. I can’t do it and not have him there where I can see him.” Those shoulders fell. “I realized, as I was taking out his stuff, the things he really, truly loved, that I needed to say good-bye to him. And I needed to stay this weekend to do it. So I called Rory in Connecticut and told her I wouldn’t make it back until next week.”

Though it seemed there was something else he wasn’t telling her—about the house or his dad or work, she couldn’t be sure—he wasn’t dwelling on it, and neither would she. This was a huge step, and an overwhelming sense of pride overtook her. That energy swept through her again, starting in her toes, climbing its way up her legs and making them tingle. It sent her body surging forward, her fingers grasping that beer T-shirt and balling it in tight fists. She yanked him down to her level, and if he was thrown off guard it was only for a moment, because she was distinctly aware of his lips parting before their mouths met in an unrelenting kiss that had her feet rising off the ground. No, it was him lifting her up, his arms wrapped tightly around her back in one of those grips that wordlessly said he owned her.