Aubrey sat up straighter, widened her eyes and blew out a breath. Stay awake. Think about the girls.
She’d love to bring Brianna and the twins on her adventures. In a couple of years, they could handle a white-water raft trip on the Colorado. Howard would likely have to be talked into it.
He was cautious and overprotective anyway, but the plain painful truth was he didn’t trust Aubrey with his girls. It had started when she made the mistake of buying sparkler birthday candles for their second birthday, excited to see the girls’ surprise and delight. Instead, the sparks had stung their cheeks. Sienna had shrieked and Ginger cried. The next day, Aubrey had offered to watch the girls while Howard and Brianna went out to dinner and she’d overheard Howard tell Brianna he wasn’t comfortable leaving the girls with her.
He hadn’t liked the bikes and helmets she’d bought last year, either. She’d confirmed on her blog that four-year-olds could ride bikes, and she’d gotten the proper sizes and everything.
It hurt that he thought she would endanger the girls, but he would come around over time. She hoped he’d like her anniversary gift as much as she knew Brianna would. Through one of her advertisers, Aubrey had gotten a great deal on an adventure trip for two in New Zealand, a haven for outdoor recreation, with breathtaking scenery. Aubrey would watch the girls while they were gone. The only hitch had been that Brianna and Howard would have had to buy the plane tickets, and she knew they saved every extra dime for their agency.
But now, with the sponsorship, Aubrey could buy their tickets, too! She smiled, thinking how delighted Brianna would be. She’d give them the gift right off, not wait for the party.
If her timing was right, she’d reach Phoenix not long after Brianna and Howard returned from Tahoe.
She couldn’t wait to make it up to her sister and her nieces for the time she’d lost with them. She was as determined and driven as she was when she faced a new adventure. She couldn’t wait to see her sister’s face when she opened the door and saw Aubrey on the porch, gifts in hand.
CHAPTER TWO
SIX HOURS LATER, Aubrey parked in front of the Craftsman bungalow where her sister lived. Thank God she hadn’t fallen asleep at the wheel. Scout had sensed her drifting a couple of times and meowed in warning.
Whew! Made it. Cheated death again.
She smiled at the thought. She always said that to herself when she’d met a difficult physical challenge. It meant she’d pushed past fear and doubt, taken the risk, the leap and made it out alive. She always felt amazing afterward. Her nerves tingled, her skin hummed. Colors were brighter, the air fresher, smells so much sweeter.
Her adventures weren’t always death-defying. More often, they were mental risks. Each win was a step up the ladder, a notch on her belt, a memory added to the stack. If she died tomorrow, she’d have enjoyed every minute to the fullest.
Shake every thrill from life. That had been her mother’s advice to her and Brianna. She’d made them both promise to do it.
Aubrey had absorbed the advice to her bones.
Because her mom had died of breast cancer, Aubrey had always feared that the disease ticked away inside her, marking off the months, weeks, minutes she had left. It was part of what drove her so hard. Do it now. Don’t waste a second. Do it before cancer blooms in you like a toxic flower. Brianna worried about cancer, too, but more quietly.
Scout meowed, eager to go. Aubrey unzipped the hard-sided carrier so her cat could jump in, closed it, put the strap over her shoulder and got out of the car, wincing as her new scabs protested the change in position. She had a bruise the shape of Scandinavia on her hip, along with scrapes from falling on the ice during the race. Reindeer were unbelievably fast, and the hairpin turns had scared the crap out of her. She’d squealed and yelped the whole way, but she refused to be embarrassed.
The whole idea of her blog was to be real—to share her worries and fears, her mistakes and pains. If Aubrey could do it, her readers would see that they could, too, shrieking all the way.
She slipped the gift-bag loops over her wrist, lifted her well-scuffed roller bag out of the cargo hold, tucked the flowers under one arm, grabbed the handle of the small ice chest in her other hand and trundled up the walk, Scout hanging at her hip.
The gift bag held in-line skates for the girls, who were just old enough to have the required balance. She’d bought boy skates—dark blue and much cooler than the babyish pink ones for girls. Why did manufacturers infantilize girls? She’d done a blog rant on the topic around Christmas time that three major news outlets had picked up.
She had her mountain bike with her, so she’d ride bikes with the girls while she was here. She’d bet money Howard had installed training wheels she’d have to take off.
Her sister’s neighborhood was modest, the house small, but so well cared for it practically glowed. With its sunny yellow paint, friendly porch swing, and crowd of bright flowers in brass pots, the place matched Brianna’s personality. Her sister made a house a home, for sure.
Aubrey glanced back at her car—an XTerra she’d chosen for its rugged versatility. Her tough, mud-spattered vehicle and her sister’s cozy, flower-bedecked house reflected their different styles. Aubrey was the restless soul, Brianna the settled heart.
At the door, she saw someone had left a foil-covered cake pan on the mat. Maybe Aubrey had beat them home. That was fine. The babysitter—Jessica, who lived next door—was probably there with the girls. If not, Aubrey had a spare key.
She knocked, smiling in anticipation, expecting her nieces.
But it wasn’t the twins who stood in the doorway. It wasn’t Brianna or Howard, either. It wasn’t even the babysitter.
It was Dixon. Howard’s brother. Her heart lurched like it did each time she’d seen him since the humiliating incident at the wedding.
He was good-looking, for sure, with strong features—a straight nose, square jaw, generous mouth and serious eyes so dark they seemed black. He was built like a tennis player—tall and lanky with broad shoulders and long, strong arms—and he moved with an athlete’s grace.
In a flash, she remembered him carrying her down the hall to her hotel room. He’d slapped in the key card, then kicked the door open so hard it slammed into the wall. It was as if he wouldn’t let any barrier keep them apart. She’d felt a thrill that totally erased the pain of her ankle.
Except instead of throwing her on the bed and making love to her, he’d put ice on her ankle and left, shutting the door he’d so hotly kicked in moments before with a soft click. Damn. Just thinking about it pissed her off again.
“Aubrey?” He sounded surprised and not happy to see her.
Ouch. “I’m early,” she said, though she had every right to visit her sister whenever she wanted. “They’re not back?”
“No. They’re not.” The words seemed to desolate him. She noticed his eyes were bloodshot, his jaw rigid, his mouth grim. Something’s wrong.
He glanced behind him, then pulled the door closed, joining her on the porch. “The girls are eating,” he said as if that were a legitimate reason to keep her outside. What the hell was going on? He seemed shaken, as if he’d heard terrible news. Terrible news he was about to share.
A chill washed over her. Scout gave a mournful yowl, either picking up Aubrey’s tension or wanting out of the carrier. Aubrey set it down, along with the gift bag and the ice chest, taking the flowers from under her arm. Three daisy petals drifted to the porch, white on white, snowflakes landing on a drift.
“What’s the matter?” she asked faintly.
“I tried to reach you, but I got voice mail. I left a message.”
“I lost my phone. For God’s sake, tell me what it is.” Goose