by Jill Shalvis
“Really?” Nicole asked, bouncing up and down.
“Really.”
Nicole ran to him, flinging herself into the air. Levi caught her and then snagged Nicole’s mommy in close too. “Caught you both.”
“Careful,” Jane warned. “The syrup’s sticky.”
“Perfect. Now we can stick together.” He pressed his forehead to Jane’s. “For always.”
Sounded like the perfect plan.
P.S. Insights, Interviews & More . . .*
About the Author
* * *
Meet Jill Shalvis
About the Book
* * *
Reading Group Guide
Read On
* * *
Coming Soon . . . An Excerpt from The Friendship Pact
About the Author
Meet Jill Shalvis
New York Times bestselling author JILL SHALVIS lives in a small town in the Sierras full of quirky characters. Any resemblance to the quirky characters in her books is, um, mostly coincidental. Look for Jill’s bestselling, award-winning novels wherever books are sold and visit her website, jillshalvis.com, for a complete book list and daily blog detailing her city-girl-living-in-the-mountains adventures.
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About the Book
Reading Group Guide
If you thought you only had a few minutes to live, what would you do during that time?
Did you think Levi’s deception was justified?
Under what circumstances would it be acceptable to lie to your family, or is it never acceptable?
Would you have agreed to help Levi if you were in Jane’s position? Why or why not?
Do you have any regrets about your past relationships? How do they impact your current relationships?
What is your definition of a family?
If you could choose your own family, would it look the same? Different?
What do you think about Jane’s decision to make amends with her grandfather? Why was this important for her?
What do you think the characters’ lives are like in the years after the novel ends?
Read On
An Excerpt from The Friendship Pact
Keep reading for an exclusive excerpt from the next Sunrise Cove story by Jill Shalvis, The Friendship Pact
On Sale Summer 2022
Comfort food. That was the only thing on Tae’s mind as she loaded up her arms in the convenience store. Comfort food and . . . Riggs Copeland. Big, strong, protective, annoyingly sexy Riggs Copeland.
She didn’t think much could surprise her, but Jake’s brother being back in town most definitely had done just that. He’d grown up too, and right into those long, lanky limbs, looking better than any man who’d seen her naked should. Soon as she paid for her loot, she was going to sneak out the back door and hitch a ride home if she had to. Anything to avoid the discussion she knew he’d want to have.
But, hey, look at that, two-for-one donut packs. Score. As she took her bonus pack and moved to the ice cream freezer, she felt the weight of the cashier’s gaze. “Ms. Riley,” she said politely as she walked past.
“I knew it was you.”
Tae ignored the woman’s sharp, assessing, and judging tone. Truth was, she deserved it. She’d been a rotten teenager. Desperate too. She could think of a handful of times she’d lifted food from this very store, then gone home and quickly put the food into grocery store bags so her mom would think she’d purchased it.
Her mom had worked multiple jobs at all times, pretty much either working or asleep at any given hour of the day, and even then there hadn’t been enough money. Tae picking up babysitting jobs had helped, but not nearly enough, so they’d often couch surfed with friends or lived with whomever her mom had been seeing at the time.
Fun memories, reliving the shame of the things she’d done.
Not.
She eyed her ice cream options. Thankfully, there were many. Double fudge chocolate. Mint. Cherry and nuts. But what was nuts had been Mr. Schwartz being so sure that her dad was alive.
He’d obviously backed off because of her shock and disbelief, and not because he’d been mistaken or unsure. She’d been a newborn when he’d gone into the marines, but her mom had kept him alive with stories. They’d wanted to marry, but April hadn’t been of age and it’d been prohibited without parental consent. So they’d vowed to get married when Andy came back.
Only he’d died less than a year later.
Clearly Mr. Schwartz was wrong. But if not, it meant one of two things. Either her dad had lied to her mom. Or . . . her mom had lied to Tae.
But her mom would never, ever do that. She didn’t even have the ability to lie, she literally got hives whenever she tried.
Ms. Riley’s spine was ramrod straight, bringing her to her full five feet in height—at least three inches of which was hair. For as long as Tae could remember, the woman’s black-as-night hair had been piled up on top of her head, resembling a beehive. It was shot through with gray streaks now, no doubt thanks in part to Tae herself. “You can’t fool me with that expensive designer dress, you know.”
“It’s a rental!”
Ms. Riley didn’t smile. “I’ve got my eyes on you. Tonight, you’re going to pay for every single thing you take out of here, if I have to search you myself.”
Tae pulled her debit card from her bra and waved it, trying to ignore the heat of shame she could feel creeping up her face because, let’s face it, Ms. Riley had the right to doubt her. “No searching necessary.”
“Hmph.”
Tae went back to the very important decision of choosing the right ice cream for her impending breakdown, doing her best to shrug off Ms. Riley’s piercing gaze that she could still feel stabbing her right between the shoulder blades. And rightfully so. But she’d long ago dropped money into the tip jar to cover the things she’d once taken. Yet it was still hard to maintain the high ground with water dripping from her hair down her arms and chest, her teeth rattling, and her body covered in goosebumps.
Between the gala not being as big as she’d hoped, then running into her tall, dark, and sexy past, and now Ms. Riley, she felt like the scared, insecure teenage girl she’d once been.
There was no cookies-and-cream ice cream in the freezer. Which meant it was official. The evening had gone to hell in a handbasket. Maybe tomorrow she’d get out of bed with an adjusted attitude. She’d go back to her come-what-may facade. But for that to happen, she needed ice cream. Copious amounts of it. She had cookies, chips, and a candy bar. All that she needed now was to settle on a different flavor of ice cream. Double fudge or Neapolitan? She loved Neapolitan, but sometimes a girl just needed her chocolate—
“Take one of each, let’s go.”
Riggs. Of all the places in all the land, why had they collided tonight with her confidence at an all-time low? She could feel him behind her, the heat of his big body both a bad and good memory. Okay, great memory. But she waved him off like a pesky fly without looking at him. “Some things can’t be rushed.”
Two long arms reached around her and took everything out of her hands, dumping them all in the bin of candy bars at her hip.
She tried to push him away, but he caught her arm and held tight. She stared up at him. His brown hair was military short. His eyes studied her calmly. He looked exactly like the teenager he’d once been, and yet also like he’d lived two lifetimes since she’d seen him last. “You can yell at me in the car for being a pushy asshole,” he said. “We’re out. Now.” Still holding on to her, he turned toward the door and then stilled, before turning them back to the ice cream. “Okay, don’t look, but the kid behind you—”
She craned her neck.
“Jesus, Tae, I said don’t look. The guy behind us might have a gun.”
“You mean the kid? He can’t be a day over fourteen.”
“A gun doesn’t give a shit about the age of the person holding it. Now here’s what’s going to
happen. You’re going to take my hand and we’re going to walk out of here, easy-peasy.” He started to tug her along, but she dug in her heels, pulling free.
“And leave Ms. Riley alone to fend for herself?” she hissed.
He took her hand again. “No, we’ll take her too. But if she refuses, there’s a loaded shotgun under the counter, and trust me, she knows how to use it.”
True story. “You know she won’t budge from this store. I think she’s glued her ass to that seat. But I think you’re wrong about the kid.”
Riggs stared at her like no one had ever dared question him before. “And if he’s planning on using that gun to rob the place?”
“Maybe he’s just a kid trying to buy candy. Don’t be so quick to judge.”
“I’m not the judgy one here.”
She wasn’t even going to try and attempt to decipher that comment. Or the look in those eyes of his, which were a startling, almost hypnotic green.
She took another look around. There were no other customers in the store. Riggs was looking at Tae, or at least pretending to while actually eyeballing the mirror over the end of the aisle, which was giving him a bird’s-eye view of the checkout counter. They both watched the kid reach into his coat, but faster than a blink of an eye, Ms. Riley had her shotgun out and pointed at the kid’s nose.
“Go ahead, make my day, punk,” she said, not missing Clint Eastwood’s tone by all that much.
Here was the thing. Tae knew that the gun was all for show, that Ms. Riley, annoying as hell and mean as a snake, was not a murderer. She wasn’t going to shoot at the kid.
But obviously, the kid didn’t know that. He tried to make a run for it, making Riggs swear and head him off, with Tae right on his heels.
A shotgun blast sounded and ceiling-tile dust rained down on all of them. “There’s more where that came from!” Ms. Riley yelled, moving the gun so that it was always aimed at one of the three of them.
Tae couldn’t hear past the ringing in her ear from the close proximity to the shotgun blast. She’d instinctively jumped in front of the kid—while at the very same second, Riggs had slid his big body in front of hers.
“What kind of idiot jumps in front of a gun?” he growled at her.
“What kind of an idiot jumps in front of a woman who’s jumped in front of a gun?” she growled right back.
Riggs looked incredulous. “I was trained by Uncle Sam.”
“Yeah, and I got my education from the school of hard knocks. I’ve got this under control!” She looked at Ms. Riley. Not easy, since she had to peek around the stone wall that was Riggs, which meant the diminutive Ms. Riley now had her gun, Dirty Harry, pointed directly at his chest. “Okay, whoa,” Tae said as calmly as she could with her blood thundering in her ears. “Let’s all just calm down here and—”
“No.” Ms. Riley had her gun up to her cheek, one eye closed, the other clearly holding the three of them in her sights. “Hands up. All of you.”
The kid was frozen in place, visibly shaking as he raised his hands.
Ms. Riley narrowed her eyes at Tae. “I knew you were trouble. You’re with this little punk-ass thief, aren’t you.”
Tae had faced a lot of questionable circumstances in her life, several that she probably shouldn’t have lived through. She’d long ago decided she was like a cat and had nine lives. She sure as hell hoped she had at least one left. “Ms. Riley, please lower your gun.”
“Dirty Harry stays until you all empty out your pockets on the counter right now. The big guy first.”
Tae could feel the tension in Riggs’s body, but he didn’t move.
“I don’t care who I shoot!” Ms. Riley said. “Now!”
Tae started to take a step toward the counter, but Riggs gave her a hard look and she stilled. Then he slowly reached into his pockets and set the contents on the counter. Wallet. Keys. Phone.
“Turn around,” Ms. Riley told him. “Slowly. Are you armed? You seem the sort to be armed.”
“I’m not armed.” Riggs raised his hands and turned in a slow circle.
Ms. Riley nodded her satisfaction and looked at Tae. “You next.”
“Look at me. I had to shoehorn myself into this ridiculous dress. Do I look like I’m hiding anything?”
“Bullshit. I know you. You’re carrying something.”
Tae reached into her bra, pulling out the debit card she’d already revealed, along with two twenties and a small lip gloss.
The kid looked agog.
Riggs was showing nothing.
Ms. Riley gestured with the gun for the rest. “I know there’s more.”
“Fine.” It wasn’t often that Tae felt thankful for her D’s, but she was in that moment as she reached back in for a small can of mace and then under her dress for the pocketknife she had sheathed to a thigh.
“You still carry that thing?” Riggs asked.
“Of course.”
The very corners of his mouth quirked slightly. “What else is in there?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Tae looked at Ms. Riley. “We good?”
“Everything, Tae Holmes.”
Tae sighed and pulled out a just-in-case tampon. “There. Happy?”
“Not until the kid empties his pockets.”
The kid shook his head.
Tae eyed him. She’d been right. He looked to be barely fourteen, and he was definitely still a flight risk. “Listen,” she told him. “She’s not kidding, okay? Whatever you’ve got in there is way less dangerous than Ms. Riley with a gun, trust me.”
He shifted on his feet and yep, it was in the whites of his wide eyes. He was going to bolt. “No!” she cried. “Don’t—”
The little idiot darted for the door.
Ms. Riley swung her gun his way.
Riggs dove for Ms. Riley—and the gun.
And suddenly life became a slow-motion movie montage. Riggs literally flying through the air toward the locked and loaded gun. The kid running faster than the speed of light. Ms. Riley taking aim . . .
On Tae’s left was a bank of coolers holding last-minute items like eggs, milk, soda. On her right was a display of beer, the cans stacked like a castle turret against the endcap. She snatched a can and flung it, beaning the kid right between the shoulder blades. He went down just as Ms. Riley’s gun went off with an earsplitting BOOM.
Immediately on its heels came a shattering sound, and more ceiling tile rained down on them, and glass from the lights. Everyone but Ms. Riley hit the floor. Tae felt a piece of something, either part of the ceiling or a shard of glass, smack her in the face. Raising her head, her eyes locked on Riggs as he got to his feet. No big hole in him anywhere, thankfully. She crawled through the ceiling debris, insulation, and broken glass on the floor to the kid, who hadn’t moved. “Hey, are you okay?”
Riggs tried to nudge her aside, voice gruff. “Careful, we still don’t know if he’s armed.”
Tae patted the kid’s back, going for that bulge Riggs had seen, and lifted up his jacket to find a sweatshirt rolled around his waist. She glared at Riggs. “Some weapon.” Then she pulled two granola bars and a small carton of milk from the kid’s various pockets and sent Ms. Riley a scathing look. “Shame on you.”
“Stealing is stealing,” the woman said, not looking sorry in the least.
“I swear I’ll never do it again,” the kid whispered.
Tae stood, feeling an ache around one eye and the sting of glass cutting into her skin from several different places. Since she’d had worse, she ignored all of it and pulled the kid upright. Glass and bits of ceiling tile rained off them both to join the mess on the floor. Miraculously, the kid didn’t appear to be hurt. “You really picked the wrong place to steal from.”
He looked panicked, and tried to scramble free, but Riggs had him by the back of his jacket. “I was seventy cents short,” the kid burst out with. “My little sister’s been crying all day and there’s nothing in the apartment.”
Tae felt a clamp
on her heart. She pushed one of her two twenties toward Ms. Riley. “Here. For what he’s got. Keep the change.” The other twenty she handed to the kid. “What’s your name?”
“Ty.”
“Okay, Ty. Go across the street to McGregor’s market. Make sure you pay this time.”
The kid nodded like a bobblehead as he took a step backward, keeping a wary eye on Ms. Riley.
When the woman lowered her gun, the kid turned and hightailed it out of the store.
Tae felt a trickle of blood down her arm and looked down at her now very dirty dress. And dammit, the slit had ripped up to nearly indecent heights. “I knew I should’ve bought the insurance!” She narrowed her eyes at Ms. Riley. “You’re going to pay for this dress!”
“The hell I will! And you’re going to pay for this whole mess.” She gestured to the broken glass. “I should’ve called the cops on the lot of you!”
“You’ve got two ceiling tiles out, some insulation, and a few light bulbs.” Riggs pulled money from his wallet. Two hundred-dollar bills from what Tae could see. “This should cover it,” Riggs said to Ms. Riley. “We good?”
Ms. Riley snatched the two hundred bucks and shoved them into her pocket.
Riggs nodded and then turned his sharp and—whoa, seriously pissed-off eyes—on Tae. “You’re bleeding,” he said.
She took his left hand and turned it over, looking at his cut palm. “So are you.”
“It’s nothing,” he said grimly. “You shouldn’t have—”
“What? Not stood up for the kid who was stealing for his starving sister? Not given him money to get more food? Not let him go so he could feed her? Which?”
“All of it.” He moved close, eyes on her like he might be approaching a wild lioness. Then, closer still, until they were toe-to-toe. Moving very slowly, he lifted a hand, tipped up her head, and eyed her face, turning it right and then left, studying her carefully.
She jerked her chin free. “I’m fine. And if I hadn’t helped him, then who would have?” She turned to Ms. Riley. “You got a broom?”