nothing good, nothing he wanted to repeat.
And now it was on him to be that, to provide that for Greta.
âI need some help here, guys,â he muttered to the memory of Mandy and John Jr.
More help than what his geriatric charges could give, he thought.
And the Tellers liked Livi.
Greta liked Livi.
Plus Maeve was probably rightâGreta was going to need the influence and advice of a woman younger than eighty.
He didnât have a wife anymoreâheâd already blown that. There was no one else on the docket to fill that bill and take over that duty.
And Livi Camden was applying for the job.
So he guessed that rather than buck the Tellers, rather than deny Greta something she should have and clearly wanted, he supposed he had to give in on this.
Sorry, Mandy , he said mentally to his lost friend. But I swear Iâll stick as close as I can every minute sheâs with Greta, to keep an eagle eye on her. No matter what, I wonât let another Camden hurt somebody you care about.
Even if it meant he had to take a hard line with Livi down the road, if he discovered she did have some kind of Camden ulterior motive.
Even if it meant he had to be a son of a bitch to her a second time.
He really hoped it didnât come to that. Not with the first woman heâd had the slightest inclination to approach since his divorce.
The woman heâd had on his mind a surprising amount during the last two months.
The woman who hadâat first sight this afternoonâmade his pulse kick up a notch. And not just out of guilt for how things had been left in Hawaii, but simply from setting eyes on her again.
He had to keep in perspective that that one night in Hawaii was nothing but one night. In Hawaii.
Because incredible blue eyes that made his pulse race or not, he couldnât deal with any more than he already was.
Chapter Three
T he Camden ranch house was still empty when Livi got back after meeting Greta and the Tellers.
And Callan.
Callan from Hawaii.
Sheâd driven home in the same dull sense of disbelief that sheâd been in since setting eyes on him again. She was glad her cousin Seth wasnât back yet because she needed some time for what had happened to sink in.
She dropped her purse in the foyer, took a sharp right to the living room and sank into one of the oversize leather easy chairs, slumping so low her head rested on the back cushion.
Her mind was spinning.
Callan.
The stranger on the beach in Hawaii was from Denver.
With connections in Northbridge. Just like her.
And now theyâd met again...
Was the universe toying with her or was she going to wake up and realize she was dreaming this whole thing?
She knew it was just wishful thinking that this was all some kind of nightmare that would fade away as soon as she woke up.
But still she pinched her eyes closed for a minute and then opened them wide.
No, she definitely wasnât dreaming.
And she wasnât nauseous.
That thought almost made her cry.
Because if the nausea was coming from stress, this was the time for it. She should have been miserably sick to her stomach, since the tension she was feeling was through the roof.
But she wasnât feeling queasy.
With the exception of the cooking smells at last weekâs Sunday dinner at GiGiâs house, she was sick only in the mornings.
Morning sickness.
Her mind wasnât even letting her skirt around it now, as if seeing Callan again made everything more real. Even her memories of Hawaii...
That day had been the ninth anniversary of her wedding to Patrick. The fourth without him. It was still a bad day every year. A day she had to struggle through.
The first year sheâd immersed herself in everything sheâd had of Patrickâs, everything that kept him alive for her. Sheâd set out every picture she had of him, worn one of his shirts, padded around in his bedroom slippers. Sheâd gone through everything and anything that