Rose hunched over the steering wheel. Her eyes felt grainy. The day had been long and wearying. She needed to rest, but she'd promised Jackson she would be there when he talked to his father. She needed to be there. This wasn't just about the airline. Rose's reputation was at stake. She needed Jackson's father on her side.

She pulled up to the house, then shut off the engine and looked in the rear-view mirror. Her mascara had flaked, so she wiped gently under her eyes. She looked as tired as she felt. She glanced at the packet of reports on the passenger seat. She still couldn't believe it. A theft of this magnitude. In Dogwood! She shook her head at Decker's gall.

As she strode up the steps of the McBride house with the papers in hand, she adjusted the hem of her soft pink sleeveless blouse. Jackson opened the door before she could knock. Curiously, he was wearing a dress shirt and a pair of slacks instead of his usual T-shirt and jeans.

"Rosie," he greeted her. "I heard you coming."

She twisted to look at the Bronco. "Oh, right. It needs a tune up." She turned back to Jackson. "Are you ready for this?"

"As I'll ever be. Dad's in the living room."

He took a step back to let her pass, then closed the door behind her. "Follow me."

He led her into the living room. Rose paused in the doorway, her eyes flitting over the space. It was the same as it had been when they were kids. A plush, black leather couch lined the wall, which they'd sunk into on rare TV-watching occasions, and the dark wood coffee table and easy chair were the same. The difference was Jonah McBride.

He sat on the couch, his feet planted on the carpeted floor as he leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs. He wore a starched dress shirt and navy-blue slacks. With their red hair, broad shoulders, and elegant clothes, he and Jackson looked like carbon copies of each other. Jackson had even styled his naturally unruly hair.

"Dad?" Jackson sounded nervous. "Rose is here. We need to talk to you."

Jonah glanced away from the enormous TV, where an investment news anchor was muted, and stared first at Jackson, then at Rose. Rose barely refrained from flinching under his measuring gaze. His eyes were ice blue, lighter than Jackson's, and his face was impassive and hard to read. She got the feeling he was used to getting his way. When he shifted his gaze back to Jackson, she practically sagged with relief.

Jackson, too, seemed to wither under his father's stare and began to fidget.

"I hope you know what you're doing, son," Jonah rumbled as he leaned back slightly and rested his forearm on the arm of the couch. The leather creaked under his burly weight. "You've got five minutes."

Jackson clenched his fists as a look of helplessness flashed across his face. Jonah looked at his watch and returned to the TV.

Rose narrowed her eyes. "This may take more than five minutes, Mr. McBride. I need your full attention."

The man didn't respond. Jackson, meanwhile, seemed lost, as though his father had seized control of the situation and left him purposeless. Rose frowned. She'd never seen Jackson roll over for anyone. She strode further into the room and took a seat in the easy chair, then slapped the packet of papers down on the coffee table.

"We have a problem," she said, voice brisk. "I suggest you turn off the TV."

Jonah raised a brow at her. Slowly, as though it were his idea, he picked up the remote and turned off the television.

"What can I do for you, Rose?" His voice was crisp.

Rose suppressed an irritated grimace. He sounded as though he had zero intention of doing anything for her. She crossed her legs and adjusted her seat in the chair, aiming for a casual pose that was at odds with her suddenly racing heart. If Jonah was trying to unsettle her with his icy gaze, it was working.

"Mr. McBride," she began, summoning all the mayoral authority she could muster, "I've discovered a discrepancy between my records and yours, and I think you should know about it." She opened the packet and arranged the reports on the coffee table facing Jonah. "Someone, either within the town or the airline, or possibly both, is helping the former mayor of Dogwood to siphon funds away from Maple Airlines' lease payments. This theft has been going on for years to the tune of the tens of thousands of dollars. I've made a statement to the police, and they're opening an investigation. I wanted you to know."

Jonah took a slow, measured breath through his nose but said nothing. His eyes flickered over the reports.

Rose pushed on. "If you want to open an internal investigation, that's your business, but you mustn't say or do anything that would tip off the culprit. This is in the hands of police, now. I fully intend to see Alex Decker charged and brought to justice."

Jonah stroked his short, bushy beard once, then let his hand fall.

"I'm aware of Mr. Decker," he said finally.

Rose arched her brows. "You are?"

"Yes, I am. He's been on my radar for a while." Jonah crossed his arms over his barrel chest. "I'm not here in Dogwood by accident."

She leaned forward. "Then you know he's been stealing money."

Jonah nodded. "An internal investigation is ongoing."

Rose sighed with relief. "Then you'll keep it quiet until the police can compile the evidence against Decker?"

He lifted his chin and regarded her with an unreadable stare, pausing for too long. "Yes."

She leaned back. "Good. Thank you."

Jonah was still staring at her. She tried not to fidget. He seemed to be weighing her, and she wasn't sure what he was looking for.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Rose," he said, sounding anything but grateful. "I must say, when I learned of this during an internal audit earlier this year, I had my eye on you as well."

Rose flinched. "Excuse me?"

"Mr. Decker was able to pull it off. You had the same access. What I was unclear on was your motivation." He gestured to Jackson, who was still standing mutely. "But you had cause to hold a grudge against my family."

A flare of anger heated Rose's face. "I would never steal from the town or the airline."

Jonah shrugged. "People in need often will take advantage if the opportunity presents itself."

Rose sputtered. "People in need?"

Jackson took a step toward his father, then seemed to falter. He stepped back. Rose lowered her brows.

"Mr. McBride, I may not have access to a fortune such as yours, but I would never steal to get it. This town is my home. My life. I have every intention of seeing the thief get what's coming to him." She clenched her fists. "If you should be looking at anyone, it's Decker. I'm on your side."

Jonah scoffed. "The McBrides are on their own side. This situation was well under control before you came along."

Rose folded her arms. "Under control as in you were investigating me?"

"You had every opportunity to carry on Mr. Decker's legacy," said Jonah coldly. "My investigation couldn't rule you out. You make a civil servant's salary. You're house poor, Rose. The opportunity was there."

Rose stared at him as a flash of cold turned her insides to ice. Slowly, she collected the reports, then stood. She turned to go. She tried to meet Jackson's eyes, but he was staring at his father with his hands clenched at his sides. Before she could leave, she made a sound of frustration and whirled on Jonah.

"You know, I don't know what your problem is," she snapped. "Do you truly object to me because I'm the caretaker's daughter? Is money really that important to you?"

Jonah smirked. "Money is earned. Some things are inherited."

Rose squared her shoulders as cold fury burned in her belly. "We may not come from money, but my family deserves your respect. My father, especially, deserves more. He doesn't have much, but he'd give the shirt off his back to anyone who needs it." Her voice trembled. "He's a great man, and I aspire to be like him. You don't deserve him, Mr. McBride."

"You Whitfields," he said dismissively. "You're too emotional. You always have been."

"Well, I'd rather be emotional than—"

Jackson seemed to snap out of his trance, uttering a single word through clenched jaws. "Don't."

Rose turned to him, her brows rising. If he thought she was going to stand here and be disrespected, he had another thing coming. She opened her mouth to speak.

Jackson's voice trembled with barely concealed rage. "Don't talk to her that way."

Jonah turned his head to regard his son, but Jackson barrelled over him.

"Don't insult Rose," he seethed, his voice gaining strength. "Don't you dare. I won't let you talk down to the woman I love."

Rose almost stumbled. She held on to the arm of the easy chair and righted herself. Her heart galloped in her chest as she wondered if she'd heard him right.

Jonah's voice held a warning. "You know where this will lead you."

"To Rose?" Jackson spat. "I don't care. I choose her."

"You realize what you're giving up."

Jackson lifted his chin. "I don't care about the money. But you can't keep me from my brothers. We're adults, now, Dad. Denny and Dally would never allow you to cut me out of their lives."

Jonah took his time responding. The air in the room was so thick with tension Rose felt as though she were breathing underwater. What the hell was Jackson talking about? Suddenly, the pieces fell into place. Jackson's hesitation. His inability to stand up to his father. Clearly, more than money was at stake.

When Jonah spoke, his voice was hard as iron. "That's a choice for Denman and Dalton to make. There will be consequences."

Jackson's brows drew together. "You can't take your issues with me out on the twins." His voice broke. "Why are you so hard on me, Dad?"

Rose's mind swirled with dizzying thoughts as the situation became clear. All the things her mother had told her were true. The way Jackson longed for his father's attention. Her inability to meet Jonah's expectations. The whole marriage farce. Jonah McBride was a master at keeping everyone at arm's length—and he did it by manipulation.

"Control is not love," she said slowly.

Jonah glanced at her sharply. "Excuse me?"

Her voice gained strength as she pushed on. "Control is not love. You're not loving your children, you're just controlling them. That's not love."

Jonah's brows lowered. His eyes took on a spark of anger that made Rose falter. He took a slow, deep breath through his nose, then exhaled just as slowly, as though calming himself down, then he stalked toward her. Rose took a step back.

As Jonah passed her and stormed out of the living room, his growled words were so quiet she wasn't sure she was meant to hear them.

"What do you two know about love?" he muttered.

Rose stared after him with her brow furrowed until Jackson called her name. She turned. The expression on his face was unreadable. His declaration of love hung in the air like an echo. She pressed her hands to her stomach, unsure what to say.

"Jackson—"

"You were magnificent," he breathed. "My whole life, I've never stood up to him the way you did just now."

Rose let her hands fall. "He's not a god, Jackson."

Jackson ran his hands through his hair. "I know, but...it's not so easy. He's the only parent I have. My whole life, I've wanted him to give me just one iota of approval. Instead, I got nannies and boarding schools and..." his voice broke, "...and Dogwood."

She folded her arms and clutched her upper arms tightly. "Is that all Dogwood means to you?"

"No." He crossed the space between them and took her in his arms. "Dogwood is more than that. Dogwood is you. I choose you, Rosie."

She hesitated. "But if you choose me, you'll risk losing your brothers?"

His eyes clouded. "Maybe."

"I can't ask you to do that, Jackson."

His mouth quirked up at the corners. "You don't have to. Dad can't keep us apart."

"But he might retaliate." Rose groaned. "Oh God, why is this so complicated?"

Jackson shrugged. "I told you."

She let out a whimper of frustration. He pulled her closer. Rose sighed and leaned into him, snaking her arms around his middle and pressing her cheek to his chest. She felt his pulse, strong and steady, and willed her own heart to stop racing.

Jackson rested his chin on the top of her head. "I don't care about the money." He paused. "Do you?"

She shook her head. "No."

He sighed. "Good."

Someone—Denman or Dalton—cleared his throat behind them. Rose stepped away from Jackson and turned around to find Dalton leaning against the entrance to the living room with his arms folded, his heterochromic eyes broadcasting concern. Denman stood beside him with a bowl of popcorn in his hands.

"You said your piece to Dad?" asked Dalton.

"Yeah," said Jackson.

"Good." Dalton pushed away from the wall. "I'm proud of you, Jackson. Nothing will keep us apart. I promise you that. Not money and not Dad. I mean it."

Beside him, Denman wore a quizzical look. "I think I've missed something."

Dalton clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll explain later. We need to support Jackson no matter what happens, okay?"

Denman shrugged and popped a piece of popcorn into his mouth. "All for one and one for all."

Dalton grinned. "That's the spirit."

Rose could feel some of the tension drain out of Jackson's body beside her.

Denman squinted at each of them in turn. "Are we done with the pledges of solidarity yet, or what? There's a Die Hard marathon on TV." He hefted his popcorn bowl. "Kind of wanted to get in there. Rose, how do you feel about Alan Rickman?"

Rose smiled. "I'll leave you boys to it." She tugged on Jackson's hand. "What do you say we get out of here for a while?"

Jackson squeezed her hand in return. "You read my mind."