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convinced the only thing that makes sense is for me to find a nice man—his words, not mine—who’ll take care of me for the rest of my life.” Gillian shook her head in exasperation. “I don’t need a husband, and I most certainly do not need a caretaker. What I need is a new career.”
    Kate’s eyes took on a distant look, telling Gillian she was searching for the right words. “Your dad loves you,” she said slowly. “He’s only trying to help.”
    â€œI know.” Gillian had never doubted that, though as a teenager she’d chafed at what she considered her father’s overprotectiveness. It was only when she’d become an adult that she’d realized how difficult it must have been for him, becoming a parent for the second time when he was over forty. Many men would have considered that enough of a challenge, but for Dad the challenge had been multiplied many times by Mom’s death. Single parents had a tough life.
    â€œDid I tell you he invited me to go on the cruise with him?”
    Kate shook her head. “Obviously, you refused.”
    â€œObviously. It’s a singles’ cruise. I still don’t understand why he picked that one, other than that it’s going to places he wanted to see, but it’s definitely not the cruise for me. The last thing I need is professional matchmakers helping my father find the perfect man for me. At least I don’t have to worry about that here.”
    Kate’s lips twitched as if she were trying to repress a smile. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
    Gillian raised an eyebrow. “And that would be . . .”
    â€œDupree has a trio of matchmakers that would put those professionals to shame.”
    Just what Gillian didn’t need.

4
    G od had a strange sense of humor. TJ closed the door and looked around. He could practically hear heavenly laughter as God watched him settle into a cabin named Moses. There was definite irony in a man who used to be called the RV Reverend being stranded at a Christian resort within walking distance of two dozen RVs. The cabin’s name was a nice touch too. Moses might have led the Israelites out of Egypt and delivered the Ten Commandments to them, but he’d also been prevented from entering the Promised Land.
    Some would say there was a message in all this, and perhaps there was. TJ was no Moses, but he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that after everything that had happened in the last eighteen months, he had no right to enter the Promised Land.
    He shook his head. There was no point in remembering the past. The present was all he had, a present that included a damaged motorcycle and a surprisingly comfortable cabin.
    The furnishings were simple but tasteful, with one of the most beautiful quilts TJ had ever seen covering the bed and a smaller one hanging on the wall. No doubt about it; sleepingin a bed would feel good, and the small but spotlessly clean bathroom looked inviting too.
    As TJ walked into the bathroom, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and did a double take. He hadn’t realized how scruffy he looked. It was a wonder Gillian offered him a ride and that Greg hadn’t pretended they had no vacancies. If he’d been the innkeeper, TJ would have had second and third thoughts about renting to someone who looked like him, especially when he’d admitted to being short on cash. The beard had to go.
    Five minutes later, TJ stared at his reflection. Better, but now his hair looked wrong. If his bike weren’t wrecked, he’d have ridden into Dupree for a haircut. Not styled, just cut. Now there was only one choice. He dug into his pack and pulled out the scissors. It wouldn’t be perfect, but he wouldn’t look like a homeless vagabond, even if that was exactly what he was.
    His spirits restored by a shower that felt even better than he’d expected, TJ slid into clean jeans and a