2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

My niece and nephew take my moment of distraction to make me into a human jungle gym when I think I see my first and only true love climbing out the window at Pinky's.

Dramatic, yes, but so is Avery singing "I'm the Queen of the world!" at the top of her lungs in the middle of the popular Palisade Shores establishment. Meanwhile, Aiden makes monkey noises.

I'd maintained relative order getting them here, but as we enter the busy coffee shop, I glimpse what could be a ghost from the past—a sun-kissed ghost, wearing denim cutoffs and checkerboard Vans sneakers along with a pink T-shirt—and lose control over the tiny terrors.

Katy is someone I figured would've left town at her first jump, leaving everyone in the dust of her motorcycle's skidding tires.

Being back here has brought up a lot of memories—some more welcome than others, and all of them superior to the alleyways my mind sometimes drifts down as a result of ten years in the military with several combat rotations.

"Can I please, please, please get an ice cream?" Aiden asks, making a monkey face.

"Please with a cherry on top?" Avery adds, trying to sweeten the deal.

I'm in over my head—almost literally as Aiden shinnies up my torso like a palm tree. If I don't pay more careful attention to my sister's little monkeys, Avery is soon going to be hanging from around my neck.

"Rocco, bro, how've you been?" a male voice calls through the crowded café.

Aiden nearly kicks a young woman sipping a latte.

"Apologies, sorry," I say, doing my best not to growl.

Avery points to a woman and yells, "She's pregnant like Mommy."

The unfortunate victim of one of those Kids say the darndest things moments cheeks turn purple.

Nope. She's not pregnant.

I fumble more apologies, which do not generally come easily to me, at least not here, a thankless bywater. Palisade Shores chewed me up and spat me out. Not the coffee shop, it's fine, but this town.

Okay, that's not entirely fair. I did a lot of chewing and spitting and throwing and generally caused a lot of trouble in my day. Not something I'm proud of. But I associate that part of my past with this place. So much has changed that I don't want to trip down memory lane and wind up stuck in a ditch when I've come so far.

Returning was not part of the ten-year plan, but family first, right? I figured if I could lead Special Forces in a war zone, I could probably handle two kids for the summer.

Two hours in and I'm already questioning my life choices.

Sunny Kent, a guy I graduated with from Palisade Shores High School, holds his fist out for a bump. I'd shake his hand like a man, but I'm afraid if I let go of Aiden's leg, he'll kick someone else or fall. I'm pretty sure kids don't bounce. I'd like to stop and chat, but the twins are like a pair of wrecking balls and I've never operated a crane before.

Wrapped around my hip like a koala, Avery says, "My favorite is strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate ice cream in a jumbo waffle cone."

"That's bigger than you are," I say.

She doesn't slow her roll. "With rainbow sprinkles, brownie batter bites, chocolate chip cookie crumbs, gummy bears, mini peanut butter cups, marshmallows, those caramel candy thingies, and frog feet."

I give my head a little shake because I'm staring at the backside of the woman stuck in the window, mainly, um, to see if she needs help.

To my niece, I say, "That's all the topping choices and they don't have frog feet."

She bops my nose. "Just making sure you're paying attention."

I playfully chatter my teeth at her like a crocodile, making her wiggle and giggle. Thankfully, I have plenty of practice carrying fifty-plus pounds of gear, and neither kid slips from my grasp.

Meanwhile, Sunny is now by the window, helping the woman in the denim cutoffs. I tilt my head, unclear about what I'm witnessing.

Sunny braces his foot on the wall on one side while another employee in pink swiftly unties a snag in her apron strings, and they tug her free from the window.

Aiden slowly sounds out the ice cream flavors from my other hip. These kids just finished kindergarten and are bigger than the last time I visited. I'm certainly getting in my gym reps toting them around.

"I want the Banana Split Bonanza sundae. I bet I can eat it all. Then I'll get a free ice cream cone a week for life," he says in his scratchy little voice.

"For life?" I ask.

"That's what the sign says." He points.

"Let's just stick with one flavor and one topping for now," I concede.

Sunny, relieved of his rescue duties, picks up his smoothie and then takes a sip. "Dude, it's barely nine AM. You can't give kids ice cream for breakfast."

"You can't?" I ask, nonplussed.

The woman who was not stuck in the window stands behind the counter, waiting to take our order. She wears a light pink shirt with the name Shelly written in a darker shade of sparkly pink letters. She confirms, "No, you can't. I mean, I don't have kids of my own yet, but I'm pretty sure that's the rule. Katy, can you be the tiebreaker here?"

Sunny tips his head and says, "She's still recovering from trying to fly the coop."

The place behind my ribs does a weird stuttering thing. Must be low on coffee.

At the mention of that particular name, the woman who was successfully extracted from the window appears, smoothing her hair. "I just needed some fresh air."

Shelly, brow knit with concern, says, "You could've said so. I would've held down the fort while you went outside. Also, I recommend using the door, not the window."

The surrounding air turns thick and gritty like I'm in a desert sandstorm. I can't help but stare when I know I should be shielding my eyes.

Katy? Is this Katy? THE KATY? My Katydid? Her short, dyed black hair is now long and natural, sun-streaked and soft. The sparkly letters on her pink T-shirt must've erased the permascowl she always wore.

But her cornflower blue eyes are just as sweet and bright, in opposition to everything I once knew about her. But that's just it. The Katy I knew. Past tense. This creature is...someone else. I'm sure of it.

Then again, so am I.

Aiden sounds out the writing on not-Katy's shirt, "Sh-el-yuh."

"No, it's Shelly, like sea shells," Avery corrects her brother.

I frown because there is no tie-breaking about the ice cream, merely me being completely incompetent when it comes to looking after two five-year-olds, which is hugely embarrassing considering I've led men in war.

How hard can uncle-ing be? Plenty, it turns out.

But that's not why my concern is so deep. Katy refuses to look at me.

Avery tugs at the corner of my lip, trying to lift it. "Why are you so frowny? You can get ice cream too," she singsongs that last word.

Meanwhile, Aiden pats my beard and says, "You're supposed to shave this thing when you get home."

"Says who?"

"Mommy," Avery supplies.

"Those are the rules," Aiden confirms.

Maybe for his father. But I have my own rules and I'm afraid that being back here with Katy might make me break every single one of them.

She's striking and when I was overseas surviving, I thought about her more times than I'd ever admit. I left Palisade Shores without looking back...until now, and the first person I see is my first and only love?

"Shelly," Aiden says smoothly with pride at his new reading skills before turning to Katy.

I realize I've been staring, towing in her gaze by sheer force.

Her's pulverizes me for less than ten seconds before she turns to Shelly. "About the ice cream, I disagree. He should definitely let the kids have ice cream for breakfast. I'll start scooping."

"Wait. Do you know each other?" Shelly asks perceptively. The kids cheer, giving each other high fives in a rare moment of getting along while nearly sandwiching my nose—which has already been broken several times—in their sweaty little palms.

"Any allergies I should know about? Well, except me being allergic to you," Katy mutters.

"Kat—" Aiden starts on her shirt, pronouncing it like the feline.

If I know anything for sure, it's that she has claws.

"It's Katy," I say before the kids debate about her name and draw more attention to this awkward situation.

"Do I know you?" she asks, cheeks slightly flushed and overtly avoiding making more direct eye contact with me.

"Of course you do, it's Rocco," Sunny supplies.

She taps her chin, eyes everywhere but on me. "Hmm. I don't recognize that name."

"Yes, you do, Katy," I say flatly.

I may not have any idea how to handle children, but I do know a few things about human behavior, especially when it comes to people who do not want to be seen.

And I cannot help but see Katy Fisk. With her striking beauty that's only gotten better with time, more mature with smooth lines and clear skin, yet just as confident and sassy as ever.

Shelly, who must be relatively new to Palisade Shores, looks from her to me as if wondering how this is going to play out.

I take charge. "I'm only in town temporarily."

The kids boo , shouting into my ears, which would've probably made them ring if I didn't already have hearing damage from noise exposure while in the military.

"Cheers to the family man." Sunny lifts his half-empty smoothie cup and says goodbye, adding that it's nice to see me.

The scowl on Katy's face suggests she does not agree with that sentiment.

"Ice cream, ice cream," the kids chant, pounding their fists into my shoulders.

Shelly moved on to help another customer, leaving me with the one-woman firing squad. Katy grips the metal scooper like she's ready to use it as a javelin. I almost wince when she presents a cone stuffed with Funky Monkey ice cream to Aiden.

He snatches it up like he hasn't eaten in a week. Avery gets her Sugar Cookie Dough scoop next. I set them down while they devour the melty ice cream. They sit nearby on a pair of kid-sized poufy seats.

My gaze roving to Katy, I say, "I need a coffee. Large."

She stares at the full pot of coffee. "We're all out."

"No, you're not." I point over her shoulder.

"I don't know what you mean."

"I see the coffee right there."

She shrugs. "That's for someone else."

"Can you make another pot?"

"You're supposed to say please ," Avery pipes from the peanut gallery.

"Please," I add.

Katy cups her hand around her ear. "Come again. Squeeze. Cheese. Freeze."

"I said please." My tone is dry as we slip into the same teasing banter that's slightly more mean-spirited than not, which is no surprise all things considered.

She shakes her head. "Sorry. I didn't catch that."

Letting out a sigh, I repeat myself.

"Hmm. Someone else will have to help you with your nasty case of pink eye. I think that's contagious. You probably shouldn't be out in public."

Thankfully, it's so loud in here that I don't think anyone overhears the lie.

She's as wicked as ever. Then again, I deserve every verbal volley. "I do not have pink eye."

Her hands cross in front of her chest. "But last time I saw you, you had a black eye."

"With no thanks to your brother."

"You probably deserved it."

"Your father had good reason not to let him in the shop. The kid was a menace with tools. Though I wish I could say that was the only time I got hit in the face with a socket wrench."

Her gaze travels to my nose with its lump from being broken. Then those blue eyes drop to the scar that claws its way toward my neck. My hand goes there absently. I did a good job forgetting about it until the kids, in their candid splendor, asked if I was attacked by a tiger.

I noticed at the mention of her father, Katy bristled. Last I heard, he was serving time for getting involved with a motorcycle gang. How I escaped this town relatively unscathed, only to get quite scathed while overseas, is only by the Grace of God.

Katy pours me a coffee.

"Thank you."

"You're not welcome." Her fingers tremble slightly as she slides it across the pink granite counter. The liquid in the full cup sloshes and the hot drink spills all over her hand. She yelps when it hits her skin and draws her hand toward her chest at the same time I reflexively reach out to...what, I don't know. Comfort her? Hug her hand?

"Cold water will help," I say.

"I don't need you—your help, Rocco. I'm fine," she snaps as she thrusts her hand under the faucet.

The truth is, once upon a time, I was her lifeline. A bit of normalcy among her unconventional youth. Not that I was much better than her dad, brother, and the rest of the Fisks. Ultimately, I dropped my end, leaving her alone to swim with the sharks.

I finish cleaning up the spilled coffee, keeping the kids in my line of sight. "I'm sorry?—"

But she doesn't let me finish. "The shelf life of this conversation has expired."

Now that I have her attention, I'm reluctant to let it go.

"What if I want a scoop of ice cream in my coffee—a Pinky Special?"

"My scooping hand is out of service."

"Let me see it." I reach for her hand.

She hides it behind her back. "I said that I'm fine."

"I need a napkin," Aiden says, rushing over and wearing a chocolate ring around his mouth. "Uh oh." He stares at the floor where a few drips pool on his sandaled feet.

"Can we get a napkin, please?" I ask Katy.

"They can just use your shirt," she replies with a sniff.

Aiden laughs. "Katy is funny."

She passes him a damp towel for his face and I glimpse her hand. It's pink, but not too angry. Nothing that she won't forget about in a few hours. She's as tough as nails. I exhale with relief. The only problem is that Katy is angry at me, and with good reason.

"Thank you," Aiden says.

"You are very welcome. Enjoy the rest of your Funky Monkey," she says with a brilliant, sparkly smile that almost levels me. A rare sight, it's something I hung onto for years, terrified it would fade from my memory.

When Aiden returns to where his sister is sitting, Katy busies herself at the counter.

I see how it is. She's doing her best to pretend I don't exist. Well, two can play this game. But the thought makes me stagger. That's how we always were, running cold in public but hot in private. Then, when I had the chance to take things out from behind the scenes, I blew it.

"I like your shirt, Katy," Avery says sweetly and then turns to me. "Can I get one with my name on it?"

"Sure," I answer, wanting to diffuse this situation by any means necessary. Heck, if my niece asked for a pony or a trip to Disneyland right now, I'd make it happen.

Avery cheers at the promise of a sparkly shirt.

"Come on, troops. Time to go." After I leave money on the counter for the ice cream, spilled coffee, and minor injuries, I march the twins outside, sensing I'm going to pay later for letting them have dessert for breakfast and for ruining things with Katy all those years ago.

The beach is across the street, and I let the kids run wild until they wear themselves down. I get a good workout chasing them, splashing in the water, and building drip sandcastles. When they're hungry again, we head back to my sister- and brother-in-law's place a few streets inland from the main drag.

The kids are hot and thirsty, and Geena's eyes widen with worry when they totter inside.

"Do I want to know?" she asks.

"We had ice cream for breakfast and then played on the beach all morning," Aiden says, exhausting the last of his plentiful energy before dragging himself onto the kitchen stool.

"Uncle Rocco says I can get one of those sparkly T-shirts with my name on it from Pinky's."

Worried that I already blew it, I mutter, "Ice cream for breakfast was a onetime deal."

But Geena winces. She must know that Katy works at Pinky's.

It's not common knowledge that I had a killer crush on Katy throughout high school, but my twin knows me probably as well as her twins will come to know each other. In other words, my sister senses when I oversleep, drink too much caffeine, and when I got injured—all while being stationed ten thousand miles away.

"How was your visit to town? There are a few places for sale over on Calle del Trueno. That neighborhood has had a renaissance and is no longer where the riff-raff live."

I grunt. "My stay here is temporary. For the summer only."

"Oh, right, because you're a loner. A want-to-be recluse. Your big plan is to buy a cabin somewhere remote in the mountains. I'd bet the boat that you won't be able to walk away this time. I have a feeling Big Boy Rocco is going to fall in love and not want to leave."

Aiden and Avery chuckle and whisper, "Big Boy Rocco."

"Uncle Rocco," Geena corrects.

"George loves that boat and would never let you wager it in a bet," I say, pretending the rest of the conversation is irrelevant.

Aiden backs me up. "Daddy says he wants to be buried in the boat instead of a coffin."

Geena's face goes pale. "Don't talk about that."

To take her mind off the risks George takes, ones that I'm all too familiar, I say, "A boat is a hole that you pour money into."

My sister snorts in agreement.

But I will leave again, no matter how cute these kids are. That's the plan. It's not dredging up the past or getting involved with anyone, least of all Katy Fisk.

Yet I cannot stop thinking about the length of her hair, the bright wonder in her eyes, the set of her lips, the curve of her hips, or her backside, stuck in that window.

I should not still be attracted to her. My body should not say yes. I ought to listen to my mind, which tells me to stay away.

But I cannot deny that seeing her again has thrown me off kilter...in her general direction.