Page 9 of Return of the Bad Girl (Rock Canyon, Idaho 4)

He’d driven into town the day before yesterday, planning on surprising Chase Trepasso, an old friend of his, only to find out that Chase was out of town until today. He’d wanted to be settled, already set with a place to live before he dropped in on Chase, just in case the welcome wasn’t as warm as he’d hoped. It had been sixteen years since he’d seen his former best friend, and that last time had been a blur of disbelief, confusion, and rage. Now, he was stuck staying at the Rock Canyon Inn, and when he walked into Chase’s tattoo shop, there was a chance that Chase would tell him to get the hell out of town.

He wasn’t going anywhere, though—even if the Bowerses gave into that prickly princess’s temper tantrum.

One of the things he’d been working on—during the five years he’d spent in that tiny Nevada state prison cell—was a list of all the mistakes he’d made to get there.

And the way he’d treated Chase was on it.

It had taken him about a year to stop blaming Chase for his own mistake, mostly because he hadn’t been ready to admit what an idiot he’d been. His prison psychologist had helped him come to that conclusion, and actually, it had been his idea to form the list in the first place.

The list had started with the obvious—making sure Honey was taken care of—and from there, it had grown. Gabe had been checking things off for years, but it seemed like for every wrong he made right, another two wrongs popped up. It had started as a way to help him assuage his guilt but had grown into much more.

It quickly became the right thing to do. He’d always known right from wrong, but the lines had blurred for a while there. He’d been trying to walk the line for the last nine years, though, and being in Rock Canyon was just a part of that.

It was a central location for what he was trying to build for himself and for his future. Being rural Idaho, halfway between two sets of mountains, with beautiful areas to explore, it was also perfect for a man trying to get a custom motorcycle shop off the ground. And it was only two hours from one of the best assisted-living facilities in the country.

“I wanna see the mountains, Gabey.”

When he’d quit his job in Colorado and uprooted his sister, Honey, and her nurse, Sharla, from the facility where they’d been living for five years, neither had been happy with him. But he’d been tired of Denver and tired of working for someone else. So, when he’d started researching areas with the best facilities, Sun Valley, Idaho, had come up on his radar. It was surrounded by the Sawtooth Mountains and fulfilled Honey’s only request.

Backing up his bike, he pulled out and down the alleyway until he hit a side street, making his way back to the main stretch where Chase’s tattoo parlor sat. It was too early for Chase to be open, but Gabe couldn’t stand the idea of lying around the hotel another day either. Instead, revving up the bike, he headed out of town and took a left toward the highway.

It was a two-hour drive to Sun Valley. Of course, he’d have to take a little detour through the McDonald’s drive-through for a large fries and vanilla shake, or Honey would pitch a fit. But in the big scheme of things, it was a little thing to do for his sister; he had a lot to make up for.

Like the fact that he had cost his sister the chance at a normal life.

Gabe passed over Highway 84, and the cold wind bit through the leather of his jacket, causing goosebumps to prickle across his skin. He normally wore a hoodie under his jacket for long rides, but he’d been too pissed off by the events at Gemma’s bookshop to bother going back to the hotel to grab one. He had thought everything was settled; hell, he had been damn excited to move into the little two-bedroom apartment. It would be quiet and private, with plenty of space for just him. In Denver, he’d been living in a cramped little studio apartment with his TV, bed, and an old recliner he’d bought at a garage sale years back. Right now, everything was locked up in a storage unit in Twin Falls. He’d had plans to move everything today, but that was shot to shit.

By the time he pulled into the center’s parking lot two hours later, his skin was numb, but the cold had helped him think a little more clearly. Maybe Rock Canyon wasn’t the right town. This could be a sign that he was on the wrong track and should start looking around at other locations.

Grabbing the shakes and bag of fries he’d picked up, he walked into the building, calculating all the costs he was looking at for setting up shop in Rock Canyon. Since arriving, he’d noticed that places for rent were few and far between, and spaces large enough for his custom-built motorcycle shop were even scarcer still. He’d driven by what looked like an old firehouse on the edge of town with a SPACE FOR RENT sign out front, but when he’d called, the price had been a little steeper than he’d banke

d on. Especially if he ended up staying at the hotel for an extended length of time. Maybe in another town, he’d have better luck.

Gabe had been saving for his dream shop for nine years, but the money he’d saved was meant to go toward the equipment he needed. He didn’t want to have to take out large business loans and have some small-town bank manager delving into his past. His past was his own, and he didn’t want it spread across town. Especially when it detailed that he’d spent five years in prison for an accident he’d caused while riding drunk.

An accident involving his sixteen-year-old sister, who had been on the back of his bike at the time.

As he came through the front door, the woman at the check-in desk, Gillian, waved at him happily.

“Hello, Mr. Moriarty!”

“Hey, Gillian,” he said, signing the visitor log. “Is she in her room?”

“Yep, just got back from the pool.”

“Thanks,” Gabe said, heading for the stairs that would take him to the second floor and Honey’s room. The nice thing about the facility was that it had all the medical staff of a hospital but with studio and one- and two-bedroom apartments. Residents could eat in the main dining hall or have their meals in their rooms. It allowed the more-independent, functioning occupants the freedom they wanted, along with structured plans for others like Honey.

Slipping the other shake between his arm and his body, he knocked on Honey’s door. Sharla Baker, Honey’s nurse for the last six years, opened the door, her dark eyes widening.

“Well, bless my soul, Gabriel, we didn’t expect you until the weekend.”

“Hey, Sharla.” Gabe gave her a hug. The facility offered a fantastic nursing staff, but Sharla had an almost maternal bond with Honey, and she knew his sister’s moods. There were times when he wondered what they’d do if she retired, but for now, he loved the gentle, compassionate woman for everything she’d done for them—above and beyond what she was paid for. She was family. And although she shared Honey’s care with other nurses at night and on her days off, none of them could replace her.

“I had some time today, so I figured I’d come for a visit,” he said, walking past her into the room. He caught sight of Honey, sitting by the window, painting. Suddenly all his anger, frustration, and worry drained away as he watched his beautiful sister focus so intently on the canvas. Her hair was cut short, a riot of corkscrew curls that stopped at the back of her neck. She was wearing a simple white dress with light pink flowers that made her caramel skin appear darker.

“Hey, baby girl,” he said softly, knowing that startling Honey when she was consumed by an activity could bring on an episode.

She didn’t turn around, but Sharla patted his arm before she went to stand next to Honey.

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