The storm raged overhead for hours. They lay together inside the treehouse listening to rain patter on the roof. Rose rested her head on Jackson's chest, and he stroked her hair as he stared up at the ceiling, lost in contemplation.

The broken patches in the roof were like portholes leading to another world. A world with an expansive, dark sky that symbolized felicity instead of misfortune. A world in which he had made love to Rose—finally, after craving it for so long. A world in which she trusted him. He was afraid to blink. It seemed like a dream.

Rose stirred and tilted her head back to look at him. "Penny for your thoughts."

"Just thinking about luck."

She smiled, her eyes twinkling. "Like finding a condom in your wallet?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, something like that. And this storm. I finally got you alone."

"Not easy to do. Your house is full of McBride boys, and I have Mom and Lily." She gestured with her hand. "This might be all the privacy we can get."

Jackson's laughter deepened. "Our childhood treehouse. So weird."

"A little," she said with a grin. "But I love what you've done with the place."

He beamed at her. She met his gaze openly, a light shining in her eyes.

Jackson sobered, suddenly nervous. "What happens now, Rosie?"

Her breath caught audibly. "I don't know. You're here now, but for how long?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I'm sorry."

She regarded him with dark, measuring eyes. "Are you really here to find a wife?"

He hitched his shoulders uncomfortably. "Ostensibly? Yes. You heard my father. He gave my brothers and me an ultimatum. Find wives within the next three months or lose our positions at the airline and our inheritances, too." He grimaced. "If I don't get married..."

Rose's brows knit together. "You'll lose everything?"

"Yes."

She looked away. "And I don't make the cut."

Jackson lifted her chin. "I don't want you to think that way. What he said was unconscionable. It's not true. Any man would be lucky to have you."

Rose huffed a bitter laugh. "Any man would have to try awfully hard. I'm not the marrying type."

His heart sank. "No?"

She shook her head. "I've just never seen it work out for anyone." She took a deep breath. "Anyway, you shouldn't have a problem finding a bride."

Jackson's brow furrowed. "What?"

Rose pushed herself up to a sitting position beside him. "To save your job. And your inheritance. You'll have no trouble." Her voice had gone monotone. "You McBride boys are probably the most eligible bachelors in all of Dogwood. Take your pick."

"Rosie—"

She groped around for her clothes without looking at him. "I should go."

"Please don't."

"The skies are clearing. It's time I got back to the house."

He grasped her hand. "Rosie, look at me."

She paused. Her gaze was guarded. "Look, I came here to ask you about the airline. Alex Decker has been nosing around for weeks, and I think it has to do with the Maple Airlines lease payments. I just need to know if the numbers in my reports match what the airline actually pays. Can you do that for me?"

Jackson flinched. Her tone was flat. He floundered for some way to save the interaction. They'd been so close, so loving, only moments ago.

Rose wiggled her arm. "You can let go, now."

He released her and sank back onto his elbows. "I can look into the lease payments. I'd do anything for you. You know that. All you have to do is ask."

Her eyes flashed, but she didn't speak. She simply pulled on her clothes without meeting his gaze. Jackson followed her lead and pulled on his pants, uncertainty making his stomach roil.

"I'll walk you back to the house," he said softly.

She nodded as she fixed the hem of her dress. "Fine. Let's go."

Jackson finished dressing, then helped her down out of the treehouse. As they set off together toward the Creek House, the dark sky was heavy above them. He lapsed into silence. Fixing the treehouse wasn't enough. He needed to confront his father. And soon.

***

Rose ambled alongside Jackson with her head down, barely seeing where she was going. She didn't regret sleeping with him. Not exactly. He had been tender, passionate, and attentive, and she thought she would cherish the memory forever. But he was here to get married, not to dally with his childhood crush. He was going to choose a bride—someone his father would approve of—and if he didn't, he would lose his entire fortune. She had no desire to come between Jackson and his inheritance. He should go for the money.

But the way he'd held her! The words he'd whispered. Had it all been a lie? Tears stung her eyes.

"Rosie, talk to me," he entreated.

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "There's nothing to say."

He reared back slightly as though her words had struck him, then went silent.

Rose looked forward again. She stared moodily at the mountains in the distance. Their jagged peaks met the twilit sky in a wash of blue and grey. The lingering clouds were as heavy as her heart.

For the first time, she was confronted by the idealism of her own youthful daydreams, thoughts she'd buried but which were coming to the surface like little bubbles of hope that burst when exposed to light. The truth was, she was the marrying type. She had wanted to marry Jackson, had been dreaming of it privately since she was a little girl. Oh, she'd hardened her heart against it, but the hope had still been alive deep down. And now, she had to step aside. She couldn't compete with money.

As they neared the house, Jackson hung back, dragging his feet, but she strode purposefully to her truck. When she reached it, she opened the door, then turned to him.

"You'll look into the lease?" she said stiffly.

"I will," he mumbled. "I could call you about it, but I don't have your number."

Rose gave it to him. Jackson pulled his phone out of his pocket and punched in the digits. He looked as though he would speak, but she turned away. It hurt too much to be close to him. She had known peace in his arms, and now it was shattered. She had only her own naivety to blame.

"Goodbye, Jackson," she said as she climbed into the Bronco.

He closed the door for her. "No goodbyes."

Her mouth thinned. Maybe they weren't saying goodbye tonight, but someday they would. Like the day he walked down the aisle with someone else. She nodded to him and started the truck. As she drove away from the house, leaving him behind, she shed silent tears.

By the time she got home, she was composed, but her eyes were bloodshot, and the skin of her face was tight and hot. As she got into the house, she groaned in dismay. Her mother was still up, dressed in a robe as she sat at the kitchen table drinking tea.

"Hello, dear," said Mom.

Rose took off her shoes, keeping her head down to hide the evidence she'd been crying. "Hi, Mom. Where's Lily?"

"She went out." Mom pushed the teapot across the table. "Tea?"

"No, thank you," Rose mumbled. She glanced at her mother. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

"There's no sense going to bed with a broken heart, Rose."

Rose slumped against the door jamb and let her chin fall to her chest. "Is it that obvious?"

"I know heartbreak when I see it. Sit down. I know you don't want to hear this from your mother, but you needn't suffer alone."

Rose dragged herself to a chair and slumped into it. Mom touched her hand briefly, then went to the cupboard for a cup. When she returned, she poured a steaming mug of tea from Rose's green ceramic teapot, then slid it across the table.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked as she sat back down in her chair.

Rose's tears started to flow afresh. "It's pointless, Mom. There's no hope for Jackson and me. We come from different worlds. It was obvious when we were kids, and it's even more obvious now."

"It's true that the McBrides have money, but that difference doesn't make them better than you."

Rose huffed bitterly. "Tell that to Jackson's father. He disapproves of me."

Mom sniffed. "Jonah McBride has his head so far up his own ass, it's a wonder he can walk. Some things never change."

Rose quirked a brow. "You know him?"

"I did. When you were young. He used to come to the house with the boys every summer. That stopped when his wife died." Mom shook her head. "Those poor boys. First, to lose their mother to cancer, and then to lose their father to grief. It's a shame."

Rose leaned forward intently. "I didn't know you knew them. I barely know the story. Jackson never talks about it."

"He wouldn't. He was so young he would barely remember." Mom stared down at her cup intently as though she were reading her tea leaves. She seemed to search for the right words. "Before I left, I was well-acquainted with the McBride family. Carrie and I were friends."

Rose's eyes widened.

Mom went on. "When she died, Jonah was inconsolable for weeks. I think he vowed never again to love anyone as deeply as he had loved his wife. Unfortunately, that went for the boys, too. I remember Jackson trailing after him as a youngster, desperate for some crumb of attention, crying."

Rose clutched her teacup. She'd never heard Mom talk like this.

Mom straightened in her chair and pressed her lips together as though in distaste. "So, if Jonah McBride doesn't approve of you, don't be surprised, and don't take it personally. I doubt any woman would ever measure up to Carrie's memory. He closed a door inside himself that day and has yet to open it." Mom looked her in the eye. "You are a remarkable woman, Rose. You've done well for yourself. I was young and stupid when I left you, because I thought you were better off without me. You succeeded despite me. You should be proud."

Tears trickled down Rose's cheeks. She wiped at them with the back of her hand.

"I waited for you to come back," she said, voice breaking. "I waited for you for so long."

Mom's mouth tightened. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. "I'm sorry." She dabbed at her lower lids with her fingertips as the tears beaded in her lashes. "I've been sorry for a long time."

Rose wiped at her own eyes.

Mom spoke thoughtfully. "You and Jackson are not so different, you know. You both suffered a great loss. The difference is I'm here now to make it up to you. He doesn't have that opportunity. His father is all he has." She paused. "And I suppose his brothers, too."

Rose rested her elbows on the table and held her head in her hands.

Mom's voice held a tremor. "I don't know if any of this is helpful to you. Is it, dear?"

Rose shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe."

Mom patted Rose's forearm, a quick, tentative tap. "We should have talked about this sooner."

"Maybe we should have, Mom."

"Well, we did it now, and that's the most important thing. Now, tell me more about this trouble with Jackson."

Rose heaved a sigh and looked at her mother. There was an openness in Mom's gaze, an earnest and hopeful light that softened the resentment in Rose's heart. As Rose launched into an explanation of the events since Jackson's arrival, Mom listened intently, and Rose found herself relaxing in her mother's presence for what felt like the first time in their lives.

"So, you see, Mom," she said, finishing. "It's doomed."

Mom frowned and tapped her teacup with her manicured nails. "I don't know about that, dear. It sounds as though that man loves you. Do you feel the same way?"

Rose looked down at her empty china cup. "Yes, I do. I love him. I always have."

"Then you mustn't give up." Mom reached across the table and gripped Rose's hand. "You may think I don't believe in love, but I do. And I believe in you, darling. I believe in you."