The youngest brother specialized in out-of-court settlements—slipping on a sidewalk, breaking a tooth in a restaurant, the list went on. She’d been roped into those many a time as a child because an injured kid evoked major sympathy.

Was it any wonder she’d been so jaded when at ten years old she’d clutched the social worker’s hand and stood in front of Aunt Libby’s looming double doors?

“So hey there, Starr,” her mother called, making her way across the lawn. “No hug for your ma?”

“If you need one, then I’m over here.”

Her mother hesitated mid hummingbird buzz across the lawn and perched her hands on her hips. “Still carrying a grudge, I see.”

Starr stayed silent even though she wanted to speak. Nearly being killed by the woman after being stuck in the camper all day in the heat? Reasonable grudge material so far as she could tell.

While a very, very wise Frederick headed for a walk along the beach, Gita skimmed her way across the sandy lawn and took the Beachcomber steps more slowly. Starr could feel her skin tightening in fear of the hug…. Then Gita dropped to sit beside her, no fake semblance of familial affection, thank goodness, which showed an understanding of Starr’s position. In that moment, Starr forgave her a little—or at least eased up on some of the anger.

She hadn’t even known how much rage roiled inside her until she opened the tap to ease a cup free, almost like working an overfull keg at the bar. Could the rawness of her emotions be blamed on David’s return?

Might as well make conversation, and the obvious questions needed asking after all. Heaven knew she needed to deal with them before David came charging over like a bull on a rampage. “What time did y’all pull in last night?”

“Around 3:00 a.m.”

So she’d been deeply asleep by then, dead tired after closing up the restaurant. Still, she wondered how she’d missed the arrival of the caravan. It was ghostly spooky how they’d sneaked up on her. And David’s return, too. The cosmos was ganging up on her today. “You must have better mufflers these days. I didn’t even hear you.”

“Your uncle Benny picked up a few extra, dirt cheap off the Internet.” She stroked a seashell-encrusted stepping stone at the base of the stairs and by the covetous gleam in Gita’s eyes, Starr knew where to look if it turned up missing tomorrow.

“I should have guessed. He’s always got his eye out for those bulk bargains.” When she’d been around nine, she’d helped him hawk encyclopedias. No matter to Benny that they were a decade out of date.

“Of course you didn’t guess. You’re getting rusty since you’ve been away from the family for so long.” Gita shook her head and tutted, loosening a gray curl from the band. “It’s to be expected since you’re not with the family anymore.”

Implied guilt? She refused to accept it.

So why couldn’t she find her backbone? Time to rectify that now, as she’d told David she would. Not because she saw David’s mother peering around her heavy brocade curtains, but because Starr wanted to regain control of her business, of her life before she weakened and leaned on David again.

“Ma, you’ll need to tell the family to move the caravan over to the beach, so it’s not visible from the road.”

“Ah, we’re bad for business parking in the lot like that.” She nodded with surprising understanding and not a sign of censure. “Gives off the air of vagrants.”

She hadn’t expected it to be this easy or for her mother to be this blunt—or honest. “I don’t mean to be insulting.” She fished in her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I’ve typed up a list of some beautiful waterside RV parks in the area that will accommodate your needs perfectly.”

Her fist clenched around the paper while she waited—prayed—that her mother would take the list and hit the road.

“Baby, I’m not insulted. I understand about doing whatever it takes to bring in the buck. We’ll get off your lawn and onto the beach over there. No worries or need to waste money on one of those parks. You’ve got a great view there and we’ll situate ourselves just right, now that we know the angle you want us to work. We’ll have vacationers stamped all over us by sundown.”

“Hey, Ma, wait—”

“Shhh. Just listen.” Gita slung her arm around Starr’s shoulders and pulled her in for that unwanted hug. “We can play roles well. We’ll even beef up business for your little artsy gift shop as a personal favor. You’ll see.”

Starr stiffened even as her arm automatically slid around Ma’s waist out of habit. Already she was falling back into old habits even though she’d told David not a half hour ago that she had a spine of steel. David. Why did all of her thoughts have to cycle back around to him?

This wasn’t what she wanted at all. She wanted them out of sight. Actually, she wanted them gone before their con games and get-rich schemes caused trouble in town. Aside from the fact that she couldn’t condone their crimes, she also couldn’t bear these reminders of the gypsy child she’d been. A member of a traveler clan not worthy of David. How had the conversation shifted from having them out of sight to them poking their sticky fingers into her business?

The metaphorical beer keg exploded and she didn’t have a clue how to stop the spewing mess of her emotions.

Standing in her parents’ RV doorway with stars glinting overhead at the end of one of those endless days, Starr passed the bags full of chicken wings and everything else she could think of to feed the gang supper. Hopefully this would keep them happily settled inside for the night.

Her aunt Essie—Uncle Benny’s wife—shuffled off the Styrofoam boxes of food to the mini counter by the sink, pushing aside a Crock-Pot.

“Come on in and join us,” Aunt Essie offered in that fake Bostonian accent she affected in an effort to claim she was a down-on-her-luck member of the Kennedy clan. She actually thought a few touch-football games on the lawn would convince people. “We would love the chance to hear all about your fancy new business.”

“Thanks, really, but I’ve already eaten….” Starr backed off the last step—into air. She’d been swooped off her feet by someone.

A man.

Her stomach lurched as her brain caught up to the fact that a muscular arm banded around her waist. The scent of salty ocean breeze, expensive soap and…exotic man wafted up to her nose.

One man in particular.

David hefted her closer against his chest, his breath hot and bearing a hint of toothpaste against her ear. “Good night, ma’am,” he said nodding to the crowd snatching containers of food. “Starr has other plans for supper this evening.”

Pivoting without waiting for a response, he charged toward the beach with long strides. Away from his house. From her house. Away from the people scattered along the dock pitching shells into the ocean or making out under the moonbeams.

“Care to clue me in on the other plans?” Starr wriggled in his grasp. He hitched her higher, up over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. “I’m not enjoying these plans.”

Well, perhaps she was a little interested and fired up as she grabbed hold of his waist to steady herself. Then she figured she shouldn’t let him know she’d given up quite so easily. She kicked her feet in midair and managed to land two good thunks that elicited a grunt if not a more satisfactory outright ouch. “David, put me down.”

“No.” He kept right on walking, hitching her higher.

She gritted her teeth against the image of her family crowding the door of the RV, Aunt Essie and Uncle Benny side by side, watching while others peered through the windows. Jeez. Couldn’t they just eat their supper, for heaven’s sake?

“This is not the way to win me over.” The macho show of force should have torqued her off, and it would have if she could think through the haze of shimmering hormones. The fine weave of his cotton button-down rubbed against her bargain-bin buy. She’d never been a clothes horse—more of a sales-rack and Goodwill-find shopper—but her tactile artist’s senses appreciated the decadent fabrics a man like David wore.