“You’ve been my number two for years. They know that. And the way you left things with Katie—you didn’t do anything wrong back then.”

“Brothers are funny when it comes to their sisters.”

“I know.” Eric ran a hand over the faded bruises on his face. “In any other situation, I’d never let you land those punches.”

“You hurt Georgia in any way, and we’ll find out.”

Eric sobered. “I love her and I’m going to take care of her. Always.”

“I know you will.”

All those years ago, he’d tried to do the same by Katie. But it had blown up in his face. He wanted a second chance. And it wasn’t the threat of a three-against-one fight with her brothers that was keeping him from trying. When he went after her, he wanted to be sure she’d say yes.

“When I said I planned to marry Georgia first?” Eric said, drawing Liam’s thoughts away from the past. “I’m going to ask her. Soon. I’d like your blessing.”

Liam stared long and hard at the man he’d considered his best friend since he was a kid, the man his little sister had turned to after all the shit she’d been through in the army.

“You have it.”

GEORGIA DANCED THROUGH the kitchen, a mixing bowl in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. On the radio, a pop star she’d read about in magazines sang about a woman getting knocked down by life and pushing herself up, fighting and staying strong. She kept the music low so that she didn’t wake Nate as she twirled, pausing when she heard the sound of the garage door.

Eric. He was home.

She kept stirring, determined to finish the brownies so that Nate could take them to school in the morning. The door opened as she poured the batter into a glass dish.

“You’re baking again,” Eric said.

“Brownies. But this time I used a mix from a box.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him set his briefcase down and walk over to her. “Not worried about competing with the other moms?”

“Nope,” she said. “But I did add beet juice so that I can pretend they’re a little healthy.”

Eric laughed, looping his arm around her. “Nice. But I have to admit, I like it better when you’re wearing the chocolate.”

“I might have picked up some Hershey’s syrup at the store,” she admitted.

“Georgia.”

She loved it when he growled her name. And right now, he was so close she felt the word against her ear. Smiling, she broke free from his hold to place the brownies in the preheated oven. “First, I need to finish these.”

“How long will they bake?”

“Not long enough for what you’re thinking.” She closed the oven and turned to face him. “How was your day?”

Shaking his head, Eric drew her close. Pressed up against him, she could tell he liked the idea of chocolate syrup in bed. She glanced at the oven clock. Only twenty-two more minutes . . .

“Liam came to see me,” he said. “But I suspect you knew that, seeing as you sent him.”

“Hmm, I might have. You told him about the investigation, right?” She looped her arms around his neck. “And gave him his job back?”

He smiled down at her. “I gave him part of the company.”

Her eyes widened. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, I did. I want to spend more time at home. Here. With you.”

Georgia stiffened. It felt as if a storm cloud had descended and was now hovering over her head, threatening and ominous. She’d been feeling so sure, so steady since she’d moved back into Eric’s home. “Eric, I’m fine. I thought . . . I thought you trusted me not to bolt in the middle of the night.”

“I do.” His hands moved to her face, cupping her cheeks as his blue eyes stared down at her. “Believe me, I do. That’s not the reason.”

“If it’s about the nightmares—”

“Georgia, shh.” Eric pressed a finger to her lips. “I don’t think you’re going to leave, and I’m confident we can handle it if your scary bears come back.”

Looking up at him, she saw excitement and nervous energy brewing. The storm clouds dissipated, replaced by desire.

“I wanted to wait until we were at the coast,” he said, never once looking away, “and do this right.”

“Do what right?”

His hands fell away from her face as he lowered to one knee, right there in the middle of the kitchen. “Georgia,” he said, taking her hand and looking up at her, “will you marry me? Will you let me love you forever? And promise to love me back?”

Georgia sank to her knees beside him on the floor, her hands locked in his. She studied the familiar face of the friend, now lover, who’d always been there for her, who’d opened her eyes to trust and love, who saw her strengths, and held her hand when she needed someone to lean on. Inside, feelings swelled and she clung to the emotions, no longer afraid to love Eric. Forever.

“Yes.”