The Cliff House. RaeAnne Thayne

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      He had been there when her marriage broke up and she tried to find her way as a single mom.

      She, in turn, had helped him navigate the end of his NFL career and had provided emotional support during the final difficult months of his father’s life as heart disease and diabetes eventually claimed Bill Landry.

      Bea had been the unofficial football team mom to his high schoolers the previous year. She took refreshments to practice; she hosted game-viewing parties in her home theater; she knew all their names and cheered on every single game, home or away.

      Things had been fine until Shane decided to renovate his father’s home next door to Stella’s. The place hadn’t been updated since the sixties when it was built and needed extensive work. It had been Bea’s bright idea to offer Shane the guesthouse here while the inside of his place was gutted and redone with new electricity and plumbing.

      She wished she had never opened her big, stupid mouth.

      She hated this edginess that had tormented her around him over the summer. She wanted things to go back to the way they’d been before.

      Life rolled on. That was one of Cruz’s songs that she had helped him write, back in the glory days of their relationship. Life rolled on. You either rolled with it or let it flatten you as it rolled by.

      She changed quickly and found her daughter throwing on her flip-flops near the patio doors.

      Shane was swimming laps and didn’t notice them at first, giving Bea a chance to admire the picture he made in the moonlight: muscles rippling across his wide shoulders, tapering down to slim hips in red board shorts.

      She used to tease him that if he grew his sun-streaked hair out to his shoulders, he could pass for Thor before the buzz cut of the more recent movies.

      She sighed. She hadn’t teased him in a long time. When she tried, her words tangled and she ended up sounding stupid and awkward.

      Marisol didn’t wait for him to notice them. She jumped headlong into the deep end, just feet in front of him.

      Shane paused in midstroke and lifted his head out of the water. His hair was wet, droplets clinging to his face, and Bea curled her fingers at her side against the urge to wipe them away.

      Cut it out, she snapped at herself. He didn’t see her that way. To Shane, she was like a kid sister, one he’d had to bail out of one too many scrapes.

      He smiled as Marisol swam toward him like the little fish she was. “Hey, Sunshine.”

      Mari grinned at the nickname he always called her, a play on the sol part of Marisol, which meant “sun.”

      “Hey, Shane. Guess what? We went to Aunt Stella’s birthday party tonight. She turned forty. Can you believe she’s that old?”

      He sent an amused look toward Bea that made butterflies explode to life inside her. “Forty is far from old, kiddo. And anyway, your aunt Stella is the youngest forty-year-old I know.”

      “I guess. Race you to the other side. I’m gonna win this time.”

      “Says who?” He took off after her and the race was on.

      Bea contented herself with swimming laps while the two of them were being silly, taking turns on the diving board with the most elaborate dive, then playing a hot game of one-on-one basketball with the freestanding hoop Shane had bought the previous summer.

      Bea swam into the grotto and watched them play through the waterfall. Jojo and Sally, the best of friends, had climbed out some time ago and were curled up together on the outdoor carpet that marked one of the seating areas around the pool.

      They loved the pool as much as their humans.

      Keeping it heated year-round was sheer indulgence, but Bea didn’t care. Fortunately, Cape Sanctuary had a fairly temperate climate and the thermometer rarely dipped below freezing.

      As she might have predicted, Mari started to tire after about an hour in the pool, especially as she’d already had a long day with friends earlier, then the excitement of Stella’s party.

      After winning the basketball game by one layup, her daughter climbed out of the pool and started drying off, which seemed to signal to Shane it was time to do the same. After a moment Bea dived through the waterfall so she could exit, embracing the cold drops on her back.

      She had left her towel on the chaise next to his and she tried not to stare at his broad, muscled chest as they both dried off, or the network of ugly scars on his shoulder that had ended up changing his life. What would he do if she pressed her lips just there, to the biggest and ugliest of the scars?

      “How’s Stella doing with her big birthday?” Shane asked, obviously oblivious to her turmoil.

      She swallowed, appalled at herself. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “She has been acting really strange lately. Daisy thinks she’s hiding something from us.”

      “It’s not every day a person turns forty. Could be she’s taking it harder than you might have expected.”

      “Maybe.”

      She suspected there was more to it than simply another cycle around the sun, but Stella could sometimes be an enigma.

      “She was mad at me for not taking you along to her party. Apparently, you’re as much a part of her tribe as me or Mari or Daisy.”

      His mouth twisted into a smile as he pulled on a T-shirt from his NFL team and she tried not to be too disappointed as he hid all those glorious muscles.

      “How was your day?” she asked abruptly.

      “Good. The bedrooms are all framed and the drywall subcontractors are finally coming tomorrow.”

      “That’s terrific! That will make a big difference. The place is coming along.”

      “Yeah. It’s too bad we had so many delays with the plumbers’ and the electricians’ schedules. I would have liked to be out of your hair before the football season started, but we should be back on track now. Probably another month and I’ll be gone.”

      She wanted to tell him he wasn’t in her hair, nor was she in a big hurry to send him on his way. She couldn’t figure out how to say either of those things without sounding weird.

      “You know you’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” she finally said.

      “I know. And I appreciate that. But friends try to be careful not to overstay their welcome.”

      “I’m just saying. If you want to wait until the season is over and you have more time to move back, it’s fine.”

      “Thanks.”

      He held her gaze long enough that she felt flustered and reached down to put on her flip-flop. Somehow she stepped on an uneven paving stone on the pool decking and started to lose her balance.

      Shane, with the reflexes he’d always had as a wide receiver, reached in to catch her like she had been thrown by Tom Brady himself.

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