“The Mudgeton truck stop is always busy, no matter how late at night,” Lana explained as they slid into in a booth in their finery.

“Mudgeton?”

“This place was the start of the Zoey-Lana ladymance. Like a bromance but far more productive and long-lasting.”

After waiting a few minutes, a cheerful—if tired—waiter came over and took their order. They ordered strawberry milkshakes because Lana promised they were the best on the planet. The kitchen was quick, and within a couple of minutes, their server placed a massive glass in front of Rick overloaded with whipped cream and fresh strawberries on top. For the first time that evening, Rick found himself looking at something he actually wanted to eat.

“You might have been underselling this milkshake.” Rick slurped a sip, not caring that the straw made a loud sucking noise. “This is ridiculously good.”

“Right? I told you! You should try the apple pie. It’s to die for.”

It was the most animated she’d been in hours. Milkshake forgotten, Rick took Lana’s hand. “Are you okay?”

She glanced down at the table, swallowing hard. “It’s difficult seeing him like that. He’s never raised his voice or mistreated someone in his life. That wasn’t Killian in there.”

“Pain can make us become people we aren’t. Make us do things we would never consider doing.”

Lana nodded, falling silent. Deciding not to push the issue, Rick looked around instead.

Even though they were in the lower forty-eight, it wasn’t all that different from home. The land was flat, true, but the heavy Carhartt jackets were the same. Cold hands wrapped around hot cups of coffee as truck drivers ate slices of pie. Waiters and waitresses on sore feet spoke tired greetings to their customers, and the smell of French fries permeated the air.

“So this is where you met Zoey?” Rick took in the restaurant, trying to imagine Lana and Zoey here without him.

“Yes. She always worked the night shift, usually those tables over there, and I stopped in one night on my way to see some friends.”

“Real friends or people who wanted something from you?”

Lana smiled wryly. “You picked up on that tonight, huh? You know, love, it’s possible you’re starting to understand me a little too well.”

Love. Did she mean it the way Rick meant it earlier that night? Or was it just an affectation of speech? He didn’t know her nearly well enough.

She pointed at the far corner of the restaurant. “That table is where I technically met Zoey,” Lana told him. “Right over there. She was serving a table of truck drivers, and they were teasing her about being short. I watched her tell six men to go screw themselves and then pour a glass of water on the closest one’s lap. She was so fearless. I wanted to be her when I grew up.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m still very inspired by her, but I wouldn’t want to have to be married to Graham. I’m content being me.”

Rick chuckled, scraping the sides of his milkshake glass to get the last drops. “So this is where it all began. The Thelma to your Louise?”

“Absolutely. I could have lived here,” she told him. “I tried to. Zoey rode a bicycle home after her shifts, and I offered to give her a ride. She introduced me to her grandmother, and I fell in absolute love. I don’t think I left Mudgeton for a month.”

“Does her grandmother still live here?”

“Grandma Madge? Yes, she’s here.” Lana hesitated, then she bit her lower lip. “Would you like to meet her?”

Rick would. It was nearly eleven at night, but according to Lana, Madge was a night owl. She also informed him that she would be in big trouble if Madge found out Lana had been in town and hadn’t said hello. Calling up Madge was easy. Procuring her the last piece of apple pie from the greedy hands of the other diners was harder, but Lana managed it.

They drove down the street to a small single-family home, decorated with an eclectic collection of windchimes and ceramic gnomes in Harley clothes.

“Is Madge a biker granny?”

“Totally. Brace yourself,” she told Rick as they knocked on Zoey’s grandmother’s door. “And just agree with her. Madge won’t take no for an answer.”

An absolutely delighted elderly woman opened the door as if it were noon and they were completely expected. Zoey’s grandmother was as tiny as Zoey was and then some. Head to toe in Hogwarts-themed pajamas, Madge Caldwell hustled them inside, telling Rick he was handsome so vigorously that his cheeks burned by the time he was told to sit down at the kitchen table. She made a fuss over Lana like she was a long-lost granddaughter.

“Sweetie, just look at you,” Madge kept saying. “You’re so thin. I bet you haven’t eaten all year. Sit down, no no, sit. I’ll get you something to eat.”

Unlike Zoey, Madge wasn’t shy in the least.

“So tell me about my granddaughter. Zoey keeps sending me pictures of that man she met, and he’s certainly good-looking enough. But I worry about her up there all alone.”

“Zoey’s happy.” Lana took Madge’s age-spotted hand. “I’ve never seen her so happy. She and Graham are perfect for each other. And I promise, he’s not leaving her alone for a second. He’s smitten.”

“I looked him up online, you know. These fingers might be old, but they’re more than capable of finding dirt on a man who’s stolen my only granddaughter away from me.”

“Are you doing okay? Zoey worries about you too.”

“Nonsense. That child has lived with me for years, and it’s about time she went off and took something good for herself. I have plenty of company, and you know the local boys are always over here helping me out. If they knew you were here, the tires would already be squealing.”

Seeing Lana grin was even better than the thick slices of banana bread Madge kept putting on their plates. They ate until Madge was satisfied…long past the point of being stuffed. Lana told Madge about Killian and her family and about the party they’d abandoned. She told her about Moose Springs and the group’s investments and how she wasn’t getting along as well as she’d hoped.

“You’ve always been a loner, child, and not by choice. Sometimes the more you want to have a connection with someone, the harder it is to make it happen. The best thing to do is sit back and let the world bring your people to you. Isn’t it better to have one or two of the right ones instead of a hundred wrong ones?”

Lana glanced at Rick, worrying at her lower lip. Madge looked knowingly between them. “I think we are who we are, not who we planned on being.”

Then they were told that they absolutely must stay the night. There would be plenty of time to go back to Chicago in the morning.

“I made up Zoey’s bed for you, child.” Madge said. “Young man, you can have the couch.”

“I’d rather sleep on the couch if you don’t mind,” Lana said. “I have a lot of fond memories of that couch.”

“That couch has some questionable memories of you.” Madge patted her head. “I’ll get your quilt.”

“You have a quilt?” Rick asked Lana, chuckling.

“And a pillow. I’ve spent a lot of time in this house over the years.”

“Come on. You too,” Madge said to Rick, grabbing his arm and dragging him through the house. “I’ll get you some night clothes.”

* * *

Lana had learned early that there was never a shortage of sleepwear in the Caldwell household.

The options were endless and endlessly amusing. Holiday socks with jingling bells, pumpkin and scaredy-cat pajama bottoms, more soft flannel and fluffy fleece in bright colors, none of which had any hope of matching.

Rick, quiet and reserved as he was, had settled on a pair of men’s pajama pants that said “BootyTastic.”

“Are you okay in the bedroom?” Lana asked him after Madge went to bed. She kept pinching his bootytastic rear end, which Rick seemed to be taking in stoic stride.

“Feels a long way from you,” he said. “Are you sure—?”

“Madge will come out in fifteen minutes to check on us.” Lana giggled. “Do you want to risk her wrath if she finds me with you?”

“Hmm…good point. You should sneak in after twenty minutes.”

After such a long day and night, Lana was exhausted. Fully intending to go meet up with Rick after Madge was asleep, Lana laid her head down on her pillow. She must have passed out instantly, because the next thing she knew, it was the middle of the night and more than a little chilly. Soft footsteps woke her.

Rick was in the hallway just off the living room, peering at the fuse box.

“Rick?” she called softly. “Is everything okay?”

“The furnace went out,” he told her quietly. “I checked the fuse box, and it blew a fuse. Do you know if Madge has any extra fuses?”

“Her workshop is in the garage. She keeps her tools behind the Harley. I can show you.”

“I’ll find it.” Rick added kindly, “Go back to sleep. I’ll get it going again.”

Knowing he was fixing the heat wasn’t only nice. It was also incredibly sexy. Sexy enough that Lana didn’t go back to sleep. Instead, she snuggled up in her quilt, watching a small light through the mudroom door, showing him moving about in the garage. He returned a couple of minutes later with a small package of multisized fuses.

“That used to be Zoey’s job. When the fuses blew, she would change them out for Madge. It’s hard on her fingers to grasp things that small.”

“My dad has arthritis too,” Rick said absently.

“Does he live in Moose Springs?”

For some reason, it bothered her that she hadn’t met Rick’s father. As he looked for the right size fuse, Rick glanced over at her, looking amused. “Don’t give me the lip, gorgeous. I would have introduced you if my parents weren’t busy playing golf in Florida right now.”