“I think that’s more her problem than yours,” Dakota told her. “Wow — I can’t believe Mom was having sex with Max. I guess he is the guy in the tattoo.”

Their mother had the name Max tattooed on her hip.

“I’m having more trouble with the Max part than the Mom part,” Montana admitted. “He’s my boss. This could be complicated.”

“I can never go back,” Nevada moaned. “I grew up in that house. I love that house. I can never go in there again. Or talk to my mother.”

“You’ll recover,” Dakota told her, sounding much too calm and way too amused.

“You don’t actually know that. You’re guessing.”

“I’m a professional. Trust me. You’ll be fine.”

“I wonder if electroshock therapy would work,” Nevada muttered, thinking whatever pain was involved would be worth it. Not that she didn’t love her mom and want her to be happy, but did she have to do it on the kitchen table?

“They’re old. Shouldn’t they be worried about their joints and stuff?” she asked. “Wouldn’t a bed be better? It wouldn’t have been so shocking in a bed.”

“I think it’s impressive,” Montana announced. “When was the last time you had sex on the kitchen table?”

“I can’t remember the last time I had sex.” Nevada sighed. She was simply going to have to accept she was emotionally scarred.

She started toward the center of town. Her sisters fell into step beside her.

“Do you think a latte will help me forget more than ice cream?” she asked.

“How about a mocha Frappuccino?” Dakota patted her on the shoulder. “The best of both worlds.”

“Perfect.”

“It’s really very sweet,” Dakota began.

Nevada stopped her with a look. “Don’t go there. You’re not the one who saw it. Until you’ve stared into the eyes of your mother having sex on the kitchen table, you don’t get an opinion. Got that?”

“You bet.”

“I’ll bet Max has a great butt,” Montana said conversationally. “Not that I want to think about it too much, but he takes care of himself.”

Dakota grinned. “I’m sure he does.”

“I hate you both,” Nevada muttered.

They hugged her. “You can’t hate us,” Montana said, kissing her cheek. “We have your DNA.”

“I want it back.”

Her sisters laughed and reluctantly she joined in. She’d always known there were ups and downs with having a big family. Pluses and minuses. This was a really big minus she was going to have to get over.

She linked arms with her sisters. “All right. Enough of my emotional trauma. What did you two want to talk to me about?”

Her sisters came to a halt, forcing her to stop walking as well. They faced her, their expressions a combination of concern and something that if she didn’t know better she would say was guilt.

“What?” she demanded. “Don’t play games with me. I’ve had a tough day.”

Although, on the bright side, seeing her mother having sex put her problems with Tucker in perspective.

“We’re planning a wedding,” Dakota said.

“Yours. I know.” Nevada glanced at Montana. “Unless you and Simon have made it official. Just a tip here — we all know you’re in love and planning to get married, so what’s with the guy not coughing up the ring?”

Montana laughed and held up her left hand. A giant diamond sparkled in the morning light.

Nevada shrieked and grabbed her. “The guy has taste. You gotta love that.”

The three of them hugged.

When they’d started walking again, Dakota drew in a breath.

“We’ve been talking….” She trailed off.

Nevada frowned. Dakota always knew what to say. “What?” she demanded.

“We were thinking we would really like a double wedding, but then we thought you’d feel bad, so we decided not to, but it makes financial sense, but if it’s mean or you’re hurt or don’t want us to, we won’t.”

Dakota got the words out in a rush, then stood there, twisting her hands together.

“We love you,” Montana added.

“I know that,” Nevada told her, stunned by the words. A double wedding. Sure. They were engaged and sisters and Dakota was pregnant so getting married made sense. As for them doing it at the same time, the three of them had shared nearly all their milestones. Why not a wedding?

Except she would be left out, what with not even dating, let alone being serious about someone.

“I think it’s a great idea,” she said, smiling, hoping she sounded excited and happy. “Do you have any dates picked out?”

“We were talking about Thanksgiving weekend,” Dakota said. “Mom thinks Ford will be home for the holidays.”

Ford was the youngest of their brothers, although still older than them. He was in the navy and stationed overseas.

“You’ll want Ford here,” she said firmly. “I think Thanksgiving weekend is a great time.”

They both studied her, as if searching for the truth. Nevada held in a sigh. What was she supposed to say? That she felt lonely and abandoned? That while she was thrilled her sisters had found happiness, she wanted a little of that for herself? Well, she did. But wanting something wouldn’t make it happen and there was no way she was going to stand in the way of her sisters’ weddings.

“You’d better decide pretty soon,” she said. “There aren’t a lot of places that can hold the whole family and half the town.” She smiled at them both. “I’m sure. This is the right thing for you to do.”

“Thank you,” Dakota whispered.

“I’m the superior triplet,” Nevada told her. “I don’t know why you were worried. Now, you two run off and plan your wedding. I’m going to find something with equal parts sugar and fat to clear my head.”

She left her sisters talking about whatever it was prospective brides talked about and hurried toward the closest Starbucks. Once there she got a mocha Frappuccino with whipped cream and told herself that her sisters getting married was a good thing. They deserved to be happy and in love. The fact that she deserved it, too, was something she would wrestle with another time.



SATURDAY AFTERNOON, still reeling from the embedded memory of her mother’s escapades and slightly off-balance from her sisters’ announcement, Nevada found herself with nothing to do and nowhere to go. She wandered into Jo’s Bar thinking she might find some of her friends there. Heidi, Charlie and Annabelle were at a table in the middle and they waved her over.

“We’re escaping the happiness of the Fall Festival,” Charlie announced, pushing a bowl of chips toward Nevada. “I love the festivals, but all those children.” She shuddered.

Heidi laughed. “Not a kid person?”

“Individually they’re fine, but as a group? I don’t think so. Did you read Lord of the Flies?”

Annabelle tilted her head. “It’s not about children,” she began. “It’s an allegory for—”

Charlie groaned. “You really are a librarian.”

“Because I would lie about that?”

They laughed.

Nevada relaxed for the first time in days. Here she could escape the complications of her life and just hang. Was that why men liked bars?

She studied the three women at the table. Heidi was casually dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, as suited her goat-girl status. Her long blond hair hung in a thick braid. She had a fresh, clean kind of pretty. Annabelle, on the other hand, was a petite redhead who favored delicate prints and wore dresses with puffed sleeves. A little fussy for Nevada’s taste, but they suited her. Charlie was at the other end of the spectrum. Nevada had always considered herself pretty casual, but compared to Charlie, she practically wore couture. Charlie’s off-duty uniform consisted of cargo pants and a big, open shirt over a tank top. Her short-cropped hair looked as if she’d cut it herself because it was easier than going to a salon.

Jo walked over to the table. “You drinking today?” she asked Nevada.

“No. I’ll have a Diet Coke.” She glanced at her friends. “Want to split nachos? These chips have put me in the mood.”

Annabelle groaned. “I love nachos. And they love my thighs. Sure, I’ll share.”

Heidi and Charlie both nodded.

Jo looked at Heidi. “Want me to use some of that cheese you brought me?”

“Sure.” Heidi smiled. “I’m bringing samples to all the businesses in town. To get some interest going. With a big ranch comes a big mortgage.”

“I’m not sure I want to know how the dry cleaner is going to use cheese,” Charlie muttered.

“You never use the dry cleaner,” Nevada reminded her.

Charlie grinned. “A point of pride with me.”

Jo looked at Nevada. “Is it true? Was your mom really going at it with Max Thurman on the kitchen table?”

Nevada winced. “Which of my sisters told you?”

“Both of them.”

So typical. No one kept secrets in this town.

“I have to say,” Jo continued, “I’ve always liked your mom, but now I have complete respect for her. She’s raised six kids, survived the death of her husband and now this. I hope I’m just like her when I’m her age.” She winked. “You have a great gene pool. I hope you’re grateful.”

“Yes, but oddly traumatized by the sight of my mother having sex.”

Jo laughed, then returned to the bar.

“Did you really see Denise like that?” Charlie asked. Her voice was more “you go, girl” than shocked.

“Why is everyone taking her side?”

“Because I don’t have it in me to have sex on a kitchen table,” Heidi admitted. “Wouldn’t it be cold and uncomfortable?”

“It depends on the surface,” Annabelle said. “Glass could be freezing, but wood isn’t….” She cleared her throat. “Theoretically, of course.”

Charlie raised her eyebrows. “Someone has a past.”