Page 45 of Homecoming Heartbreaker

Grey shrugged. “At a guess? Years and years. Jameson also made it easy for the thief to operate because, by God, I have never seen such a crazy accounting system in my life.”

Neither had Mack.

“Talking about our father, are we going to tell him about this?” Grey asked.

“Hell, no. He’s not supposed to be stressed, remember?” Mack snapped. Hearing that there was another thief at Moonlight Ridge would cause Jameson to stop convalescing and start bashing heads together.

Mack looked at his computer monitor. On the left side was Grey’s face, on the right Travis’s.

“I agree,” Travis said, his deep baritone a lot like Jameson’s. Despite them not sharing any DNA, Travis and Jameson had the same deep voice and the same build, and Travis learned how to be tenacious and stubborn from watching their father.

They all had.

He was so sick at being at odds with his brothers, Mack thought. Tired of wasting time, seeing another week, another month, go past without them connecting.

He’d reconnected with Molly and he now knew how great that felt. He wanted more of it, wanted his family whole and happy again.

Even if it meant eating Jameson’s terrible food, he wanted those Sunday family lunches, Molly at his side, his hand on her thigh under the table.

He could see it, almost taste it. Jameson sitting at the head of the table, refusing to allow anyone else to carve the duck. The table would be piled high with dishes; Grey and Travis would be arguing about something because, hell, that was what they did. But it would be a friendly argument, a lot of teasing and trash-talking. He didn’t know whom his brothers would end up with, not yet, but he could sense their women at the table, laughing and drinking wine together, discussing clothes and babies and art and politics.

Smart women, fun women.

And his hand would be on the thigh of the smartest, loveliest woman he’d ever met. The only female who’d ever touched his soul.

His first love and his last love.

The feeling that he only ever wanted to be where Molly was had been steadily enveloping him the past few weeks. And if Molly wanted to be here, then he had to consider making some changes including moving his company headquarters to Asheville. If he wanted to be with Molly, and God, he did, then that was the only course of action that made sense. He’d still travel but maybe he could buy a small piece of land behind the pond, build a house for him and Molly, and their kids, to share. He’d travel for work but he’d always come home to Moonlight Ridge, to Molly.

If she’d have him...

“We need a forensic accountant to dig deeper, to do proper accounting,” Grey suggested.

Mack pulled his attention back to the problem at hand. “I presume it will take some time to get a forensic accountant in place. So what can Molly and I do to try and find out who is the embezzler in the meantime?” Mack asked.

The look on Grey’s face had his heart plummeting to his toes. “That’s not a good idea, Mack.”

“Why not?” Mack asked, though a part of him knew what was coming.

“Molly is in charge of the company credit cards and it’s her signature on some of the claim requests.”

Ah, hell, no.

“I’m grateful that I’m on the other side of the screen and you can’t hit me as I ask this...” Grey grimaced, hesitating. “But are you sure it isn’t Molly who is the embezzler, Mack? From the reports you sent me, she looks like the most likely person to have done this.”

Mack swallowed down his instinctive response, which was to rip Grey’s head off for the suggestion. Mack ground his back teeth together and forced the words out. “Of course it’s not Molly, Grey. Despite what it looks like.”

A cold fist slammed into his sternum, expelling his warm and fuzzy feelings. Was he wrong to instinctively defend her? Was he blinded by lust, by memories, by their shared history? Was he looking for a reason to absolve her because he didn’twanther to be guilty?

But dammit, because of her confession, there was a tiny flicker of doubt.

Mack forced himself to think, to be the coolheaded, rational, thinking person he normally was. If this was anyone else but Molly, how would he respond to Grey’s statement?

With skepticism and doubt and with a burning desire to know, one way or the other. Guilt rolled over him, hot and sour. Mack felt the pull between blind faith and loyalty and his own innate suspicion and cynicism. After all, she had stolen from Jameson before...

Guilt crashed over him and he was glad he was sitting down.

“It’s not Molly,” he stated, wondering if he was trying to convince himself or his brothers.

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