One last kiss on her forehead and her mother swatted her butt. “Now get in there before your brothers corner Natalie’s boy and give him too much big brother attention.”

Still reeling from all her mother had said, Tuesday put a smile on her face and walked out to see her family.

* * *

“HAVE A SEAT.” Greg pointed at a recliner chair, a twin of the one at its side. Both pointed at a pretty fantastic media setup.

Despite how Tuesday had described this space, it didn’t seem grungy to Ezra at all. “How does that surround sound handle the acoustics in here?”

“We added special insulation. I told my wife it would make her music sound better when she practiced.” Greg shrugged with a wink. “You’re seeing my daughter and you have quite a checkered history. You probably understand why I’m concerned about you.”

“I can respect that, yes, sir. I made mistakes. Big ones. I don’t make those mistakes anymore. I’ve been clean since I left sober living and I have no plans to ever change that.”

“My daughter is far too precious to me to be exposed to any of that filth. She’s had a hard enough time in her life. You will not be allowed to bring her heartache.”

Ezra realized that if he handled this wrong he’d have an excuse to break off with Tuesday. He didn’t entirely know how to process all his feelings about that night’s events. Or that she’d known him so fucking well and called him out on his hesitance at letting her get too close.

But he chose otherwise. “Sir.”

Greg held up a hand. “Greg, please.”

“Greg, as your daughter told me a few weeks ago, we’re bound to bring one another heartache from time to time because that’s how it works when you’re in a relationship. I’m a novice at relationships—I admit it. But never in my life until the moment I met your daughter in September, have I felt such a pull toward someone.”

“You’re very different, you and my Tuesday.”

“Yes. But where it counts we’re alike. We’ve both got our share of past heartaches. I care about her. I want to protect her. But Tuesday is her own person. She’s capable of making her own happy ending. I just try to keep up.”

Greg paused, clearly thinking. “You’re in love with my daughter.”

Ezra sucked in a breath. “I know for sure no one captivates me the way she does. I admire her and respect her. I don’t want to be her life—I want to be part of it. That’s enough for right now.”

Greg nodded, having understood what Ezra had just said. And what he hadn’t.

“So this music business. It keeps your bills paid? Living like a college student is one thing when you’re in college. But neither of you are.”

Greg Easton and Michael Hurley were going to love each other.

“I still have a percentage in Sweet Hollow Ranch. I don’t go out on the road so they split the tour revenue between themselves, but I write, record and produce each album. And I run the ranch, which runs at a profit, though a far more modest one than music makes. It’s enough to keep the lights on and my animals fed.”

“You’re rich.”

Ezra laughed. “Filthy. Wasn’t always so. We came to Oregon from Kentucky when I was very young. We lived in a camper trailer at first while my parents worked the land and built the house. Over the years as we became successful we all chipped in and bought more land around our original plot and now all four of us live on the land in our own houses. Sweet Hollow Ranch is our home. That place we all return to over and over because in the end it’s not the size of your bank account that makes you happiest. But it sure helps when you have the ability to replace broken things before you’ve received payment for a crop of pears.”

“I know you don’t drink, but one of my daughters-in-law brought me some cigars today. Want one? They’re very good.”

“I’d love a cigar, thanks.”

And then the conversation shifted to farming and after about twenty minutes, it seemed the interview was over and as Greg hadn’t punched him or kicked him out, Ezra thought maybe he might have passed the test.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“I THINK YOU passed the Easton test,” Natalie said to Ezra as she plopped down next to him on the couch.

“Yeah? What makes you say so?”

“A few things. You wanted more tea and Di told you where the pitcher was. If she hadn’t liked you, she’d have served it to you herself. We’d have had dinner in the big formal dining room instead of out here at the family table. They only eat in there at Christmas, Easter and Thanksgiving. She treated you like family. Once I saw her treat someone like a guest, the guy John—he’s one of the younger twins—was serious about and brought him here. She was so painstakingly polite. That guy was gone within a year. Of course then he met Alan about four months after so I guess Di was right. They love him. Even made him help with the new deck they built out back.”

He liked the Eastons. Liked the way Tuesday was with them. Respectful to her parents but affectionate. There was clearly a lot of love there and between her siblings and their families, as well.

But he could also see the tension building up in Tuesday’s posture the longer they were there.

“Is it just me or is she stressed right now?”

“Not just you. She’s telling them about the gallery and they’re not sure about it.”

* * *