Table of Contents

Second Chapter One

Second Chapter Two

Second Chapter Three

Second Chapter Four

Second Chapter Five

Second Chapter Six

Second Chapter Seven

Second Chapter Eight

Second Chapter Nine

Second Chapter Ten

Second Chapter Eleven

Second Chapter Twelve

Second Chapter Thirteen

Second Chapter Fourteen

Second Chapter Fifteen

Second Chapter Sixteen

Third Chapter One

Third Chapter Two

Third Chapter Three

Third Chapter Four

Third Chapter Five

Third Chapter Six

Third Chapter Seven

Third Chapter Eight

Third Chapter Nine

Third Chapter Ten

Third Chapter Eleven

Third Chapter Twelve

Third Chapter Thirteen

Third Chapter Fourteen

Third Chapter Fifteen

Third Chapter Sixteen

Third Chapter Seventeen

Third Chapter Eighteen

Fourth Chapter One

Fourth Chapter Two

Fourth Chapter Three

Fourth Chapter Four

Fourth Chapter Five

Fourth Chapter Six

Fourth Chapter Seven

Fourth Chapter Eight

Fourth Chapter Nine

Fourth Chapter Ten

Fourth Chapter Eleven

Fourth Chapter Twelve

Fourth Chapter Thirteen

Fourth Chapter Fourteen

Fourth Chapter Fifteen

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The Three Rivers Ranch Romance series

Sneak Peek! Fifth Generation Cowboy Chapter One

About the Author

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"For thou art my hope, O Lord God: thou art my trust from my youth."

~Psalms 71:5

The walls in Kelly Russell’s life had never seemed so close. Of course, they hadn’t been this putrid shade of yellow for a long time, either. Her parents lived with the motto of “use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without,” and kitchen wall paint was no exception.

But if Kelly could ace this morning’s job interview, she had a chance of getting her own walls again. Soon. And she’d paint them. Maybe blue, or purple, or green. Something cool. Anything but the stark white she’d had in California—or this dark yellow.

“I have to drive out to the ranch.” She straightened her jacket as she glanced toward her mom and son, who sat at the kitchen table eating breakfast. She’d sailed through her college admissions interview in this jacket. She’d been hired for her first real job in this jacket. She’d also worn this jacket in divorce court and been granted full custody of her son, Finn.

She hoped the turquoise number would work its magic today. She tugged down the hemline, wondering when her black skirt had gotten a smidge too small.

Probably while you were sitting on the beach these past five years. She knew there’d be no sitting at Three Rivers Ranch, though she hoped the accountant would at least have an office.

“It’s about twenty-five miles on that old, dirt road,” she continued, knowing her four-year-old son wasn’t listening, but hoping her mother was. “So I’ll be gone for, I don’t know, at least two hours. Maybe three.”

“We’ll be fine,” her mom said. “I’ve taken care of children before.”

“I know.” Kelly pressed her lips together and determined that she did not need another layer of lipstick. She’d slick on clear gloss just before the interview. “But it’s been a long time.”

It had been twenty-four years, to be exact, since Kelly had been four. And her mother didn’t seem as sharp as she once had.

Her dad grumped his way into the kitchen, but Kelly knew his frowny face was an act. “Hey, Finny,” he said. “Want to go throw the pigskin?”

“Just a second, Daddy.” Kelly crouched down and drew her son into a hug. “Love you, baby. Be good for Grandma and Grandpa.”

She stood, and a sliver of nervous energy ran through her as she thought about returning to the ranch she’d loved as a teenager. She could practically smell the dust, hear the horses whinnying, and picture her best friend waving from the front porch, though Chelsea lived in Dallas now.

“Three Rivers needs a new financial controller,” her mom said as she walked with Kelly to the front door. “You’re qualified, and Frank knows you. He’d have to be dead not to hire you.”

“Didn’t you say he was going to be retiring soon?” Kelly worried the inside of her bottom lip with her teeth.

“That’s what Glenda said.” Mom put both hands on Kelly’s shoulders as Kelly pictured the ladies down at the hair salon gossiping about everything from the price of beef to who’d moved in over the weekend. “You’ve got this.” Her mom nodded and released her.

A rush of appreciation lifted Kelly’s lips into a smile. “Thanks, Mom.”

As she drove away from her childhood home, she made a mental list of things she could thank her parents for. Giving her a fabulous childhood under the wide, Texas sky. Paying for fifteen years of dance classes, which had provided her with a skill she’d used to fund her college education. Teaching her how to laugh.

Allowing her and Finn to take over their basement after her divorce.

She thought of her work at the local grocer as she pointed her pathetic excuse for a car toward the ranch. She’d been back in Three Rivers for several weeks, and she’d taken the first job she could get. But ringing up milk didn’t pay well enough for her to buy her own house and raise a child. And the nearest dance studio was in Amarillo, fifty miles away. The investment of time and money to get there and back didn’t make teaching ballet a viable option.

Kelly’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “I’ve got this,” she repeated. The gently rolling hills calmed her, as they always had. She’d spent countless hours out here with nothing but her thoughts, the wind, and her friends. The open, blue sky further anchored her. She’d loved lying on her back in Chelsea’s backyard, creating stories from the clouds that rolled by. And the summer storms—she and Chelsea had made up their own songs, their own lyrics, their own choreography, all to the sound of thunder.

By the time she turned down the dirt driveway that led to the homestead, a sense of peace filled her. This ranch had been her second home growing up, and coming back to it now felt right. If she could get this job, it would be the first step toward getting her whole life back.

The nerves returned. She took a deep breath at the sight of the familiar house, imposing the first time you saw it. But Kelly knew better. She’d been in every room, felt the love and warmth from the family pictures hanging on the walls.

Kelly laughed at the memory at the same time her chest squeezed. Working at Three Rivers would provide a little safety at a time when Kelly had none. No pressure or anything.

She noted the American flag flying in the front yard of the ranch-style home. She’d kept in touch with Chelsea over the years and knew her younger brother, Squire, had joined the Army. His mother was obviously proud.

Kelly wondered if she’d get to see Heidi today, maybe experience one of her powder-scented hugs. A nostalgic smile played at her lips. She hoped so.

She left the house behind as she drove to the edge of the homestead, passing the barns, stables, and grain towers. Three industrial trailers edged the property before it gave way to the bull yards, and Kelly parked next to a row of dirty trucks, her little sedan a miniature vehicle among the bulky ranch equipment.

She glanced around as she walked through the packed-dirt parking lot, noticing that not much had changed. The clucking of chickens and the lowing of cattle met her ears, attributes that indicated this was indeed a working ranch. Kelly sidestepped a particularly large stone in the path. She’d have dust all the way to her knees by the time she made it inside. Everything about her spoke of a city businesswoman entering a whole new world, but she’d had to wear her heels. This was an interview.

Unfortunately, the metal steps and ramp were grated, creating a veritable gauntlet for her Jimmy Choo’s. She supposed the heels, though fashionable and absolutely the perfect statement for this outfit, weren’t exactly ranch attire.

She shifted her weight onto the balls of her feet and made it up four steps before her right heel sank through the metal. She set down her purse and tried to wrench the shoe free as she balanced on her toes. The Texas heat caused a trickle of sweat to form on her forehead. She did not want to enter the interview dusty, heelless, and now sticky.

She swung her hair over her shoulder, the movement throwing her off-balance. She gripped the railing to steady herself and prepared to make another attempt at freeing her shoe.

“You know, most ranch hands wear boots,” a man said behind her.

Kelly’s heart tripped as a strangled sound came out of her throat. She straightened, her hand smoothing down the back of her skirt, where a high slit was located. Had he seen anything?

She pressed her eyes closed. She’d never felt out of place on this ranch, and she wasn’t going to start now. “Yes, I can see why,” she agreed. “However, I didn’t get the memo.” Kelly opened her eyes and twisted to see who she’d need to avoid on the ranch. Because she was going to get this job, sweaty, mismatched, and dirty notwithstanding. She expected to see a cowboy—preferably one with a multi-purpose tool he could use to cut her free.

But this man, standing over six feet tall, didn’t wear the regular stonewashed jeans and long-sleeved shirt. No siree. Not a boot or a belt buckle was in sight. Instead his pressed khakis and black polo accentuated his athletic body. Biceps strained against the sleeves of his shirt, a clear testament that ranching did a body good. Maybe he drank a gallon of milk everyday too. The only two indicators that he belonged in Texas were the cowboy hat perched naturally on his head and the panting dog at his side.

Kelly’s reasons for wanting the position suddenly shifted to a completely new level. She gave herself a mental shake—she needed a job, not a boyfriend.

“Ma’am.” He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his thick, brown hair. She couldn’t tell from his sly smile and the amused sparkle in his eye if he was secretly laughing at her predicament or if he’d seen way more leg than she’d intended. She found herself returning his devilish smirk. Why was her stomach doing that floaty thing? She suppressed it and smoothed her hand over the back of her skirt again.

As he settled his hat back on his head, Kelly twisted and slid her feet out of the toes of her shoes. She turned around carefully so as to avoid touching the jagged metal, and placed her feet back on her shoes. Good thing she’d taken all those dance lessons. Still, her calf muscles hadn’t been used this way for a long time.

As she took in his form again, she recognized his cobalt blue eyes still sparking with mischief, his straight, long nose, and his square jaw where that smile remained.

“Squire?” She wobbled a little as she spoke.

He seemed startled at the use of his name, his smile fading. Squire studied her for a moment, thunderclouds darkening his eyes into a shade of gray that reminded Kelly of the churning ocean. “I don’t think we’ve met,” he said.

Oh, they had. He just possessed a lot more to admire now than he had in high school, including a pair of unforgettable dimples that appeared as his grin returned. “Are you going to clue me in?” he asked. “Or just stare at me until your name appears in my mind?” He folded his arms across his broad chest and quirked his eyebrows.

She blinked rapidly, embarrassed that she’d been caught gawking. “I’m Kelly Russell.” She shook her head, wishing she could shake away the words just as easily. “I mean Armstrong. Kelly Armstrong.”

“Like, Bond. James Bond?” His throaty laugh tickled her ears. “Sorry. Doesn’t ring a bell.”

He shrugged like it was no big deal that he didn’t remember her. Kelly couldn’t understand how he could’ve forgotten. She’d practically lived down the hall in his sister’s room.

“Yeah,” she said, still balancing backward in her shoes, the heel still jammed into the metal steps. “Remember, I was on the cheer squad with Chelsea? I slept over here all the time?” She peered at him, but his face remained impassive, stoic.

“Chelsea had a lot of friends,” he said. “Were you one of the gigglers?”

“No!” Kelly blew her hair out of her eyes, but it stuck to her forehead. She gave up hope of going into the interview without a bucket of sweat dripping from her face. “Remember how we used to choreograph dances and make you judge us?” Kelly emitted a nervous giggle before she could quell the sound.

“You just wanted to watch football, and we’d drag you into the backyard and make you watch us do our high kicks.” She attempted the move now, realizing too late that her skirt was too tight for such things. Her foot barely made it above her knee and that slit allowed a blast of air to go up her skirt.

Squire’s eyes closed briefly as she pressed down her clothes once more. The dog whined, somehow sensing her stupidity and warning her to stop now!

She’d lost her mind. So this is what it feels like, she thought. She’d let Squire completely undo her composure. Still, it bothered her that he didn’t remember her. She took a deep breath, trying to refocus on the impending interview.

“Okay, well, whatever. Maybe you can help me get out of this mess.” She pointed at her shoe and tried for a carefree chuckle. It sounded more like a strangled cat. At least it wasn’t a giggle.

Squire joined her on the fourth step, steadying her as she turned around and stepped back into her shoes properly. “Why don’t you just take off the shoe and then yank it out?” He released her and continued up the stairs while his dog slipped past them to lie in the shade. “In fact, I would’ve removed my shoes first, climbed the steps and then put them back on. At least shoes like that.” He gave her a flirtatious wink, and her memory stumbled. Maybe this man wasn’t Squire Ackerman. Kelly had certainly never seen him with more muscles in his body than stars in the sky. And he’d never flirted with her.

“I’d like to see you wear shoes like this,” she muttered, her gaze murderous as she glared at him.

“I would rock shoes like that, darlin’,” he said. “And Kelly? I remember your high kick being much…higher.”

Her heart cartwheeled through her chest. He did know who she was! That little snake.

Before she could formulate an answer, he entered the building and let the door crash closed behind him.

“Take the shoe off, darlin’,” she mimicked, but she did what Squire had suggested. The metal was just as hot and ragged as it looked. She balanced on the ball of her foot, trying to do as little damage as possible, this time to her skin. Her heel came free, and thankfully, it had only suffered a few minor scrapes.

“Is he always like that?” she asked his border collie, but he simply looked at her with a pleading expression, as if to say, Please don’t attempt that high kick again. She vaguely recognized the animal, but she couldn’t recall his name. She did remember that Squire had always loved his dogs. “Bet he’d help you if you got stuck.”

She removed her other shoe and scampered up the rest of the steps barefoot. As she slipped back into her heels on the safety of the rubber mat outside the door, Kelly wiped her brow, sent a prayer heavenward that she could ace this interview, and took a deep breath. Then she pushed open the door.

Squire Ackerman winced at the sound of the door banging closed behind him, the metal on metal reminding him of being trapped in the tank. Immediately, the smell of hot gears and diesel fuel assaulted him, though the more accurate scent in the administration trailer would be men who worked with horses.

He took a moment to center himself, grateful he’d managed to navigate the stairs and enter the building without Kelly seeing his limp. As he strode down the aisle toward the ranch hands, he wasn’t as successful. He’d been back at Three Rivers long enough for them to get used to his somewhat stunted gait, and they all busied themselves as they sensed his approaching fury.

“Where’s Ethan?” he growled at Tom Lovell, the only cowboy who hadn’t found a pretended task upon Squire’s arrival.

“Sent him out to the north fence, Boss.” Tom’s gum snapped as he chewed it. “You said it had popped its rungs.”

“How long’s he been gone?”

“He left about seven.” Tom stared steadily back at Squire, something the Army major appreciated. Tom would make a good general controller, Squire thought. But Clark sat at the front desk, and he’d run the operations on the ranch for almost as long as Squire had been alive.

Squire grunted his acceptance of Tom’s answer and hurried around the short, semi-permanent partition. The shoulder-height wall separated the front area of the trailer, where the cowboys met and received their assignments, from the row of permanent offices he’d built into the back.

His father’s door was the first on the left, Squire’s second, and their accountant occupied the last office.

He might as well start thinking of it as Kelly’s. Squire knew his father had already hired her in his mind. The interview was simply a formality.

Squire’s phone buzzed in his front pocket, but he waited until he’d made it inside his office, shut the door, and flipped the lock. Only then did he remove his phone, already knowing who had texted. Squire sighed, wishing he’d never taught his mother how to use technology.

Has Kelly arrived?

Like she didn’t have her nose pressed against the front windows, watching and waiting for Kelly’s car, simply so she could text him about it. She’d also sent message after message last night, each asking if Squire could handle seeing Kelly again. Her last one had said, Forget about last time. This is your second chance.

He’d ignored all her messages until that one. Then he’d sent back, There was no last time, and there is no this time. Mom, stop!

He definitely wanted there to be a last time. His invitation to her senior prom proved that. Her rejection screamed through him as loudly now as it had a decade ago. There would definitely not be a this time.

He leaned against the locked door and closed his eyes.

She hadn’t driven the forty minutes to the ranch to find a new husband, he knew that for certain. He couldn’t let the lines between them blur like they had last time.

At least he’d assigned Ethan a task in a remote quarter of the ranch. A calculated move, since Squire knew Ethan was the best looking cowboy employed at the ranch, with the biggest ego. He would’ve hit on Kelly before she even made it into his father’s office. Squire had sent him away to protect her from Ethan—not because he was jealous or worried about the competition. Definitely not because of that.

Squire knew the moment Kelly entered the building, and not only from the way the walls vibrated as the door slammed shut. That sound would never become familiar, and Squire blinked away the blinding images of smoke rising from a mangled heap of metal that used to be a tank. The one driven by Lou.

Though dangerous, he focused on what he could remember about Kelly to help drive away the memories of his last deployment. The scent of her perfume had stuck with him through the years. As he’d passed her on the stairs, he’d caught the same whiff of cocoa butter and honeysuckle he’d always associated with her.

Kelly’s voice floated through the thin walls of his office. “Thank you, Tom.” Squire stuffed away the twinge of guilt that he’d caused her embarrassment. He hadn’t worn impractical footwear to the ranch.

The walls shook again, Squire’s signal that his dad had arrived. He’d expect Squire in the interview, though he’d already decided to hire Kelly. Squire didn’t understand the point of the interview if he was going to hire the first person who walked through the door.

She’s the only person, he reminded himself. Still, she’d barely made it through the door, what with those ridiculous shoes. He’d had to employ his military training to keep his face blank while he’d spoken to her.

Pretending he didn’t know her may have been childish. Crossing his arms made him appear imposing and big, and he knew it. He’d done both on purpose to keep her at arm’s length. He hated that she turned him to mush with a tropical scent and a smattering of freckles.

He took a cleansing breath, praying for the strength he lacked. He’d experienced plenty of frustrating situations during his dual deployments overseas. He could weather this too, especially since Kelly Armstrong had made her interest clear years ago. Nothing between them had changed. He was still Chelsea’s little brother, someone Kelly had overlooked so often Squire had felt so completely invisible he’d sometimes startled when she spoke to him.

His phone buzzed again, but he chucked it on his desk before yanking open the door and heading toward his father’s office, taking careful seconds to make sure his left leg didn’t outpace his right.

Squire studied Kelly from a distance before he entered the room. Her turquoise blazer gave her a feminine figure, with a white blouse barely visible underneath. She wore those four-inch black heels and just the right amount of makeup to be professional. Her sandy hair fell halfway down her back; her light green eyes were as magnetic now as they’d been ten years ago.

He crossed his arms. A stampede of raging bulls did not scare Squire Ackerman. Bad weather could not deter him. Women did not affect him.

Major Squire Ackerman had complete control over himself, his emotions, and what he let other people see.

Especially Kelly.

“I am fearless,” he heard her say as he stepped closer to the doorway. “Who else would leave their cheating husband in California, trek halfway across the country with their four-year-old son, and attempt to start over?” She tried for a carefree chuckle, but her eyes caught his as he moved into the office. The sound stalled in her throat. She crossed her legs and gave him a pointed stare, but her gaze didn’t flicker to his injured leg.

“Sorry I’m late.” He settled on the corner of his dad’s desk, ignoring Kelly completely though his fingers curled into fists, needing to corner and interrogate the man who’d cheated on her. “What did I miss?”

His father glanced up at Squire. “Miss Kelly said she can get Three Rivers back in the black.”

Squire snorted. “How did Miss Kelly say she’d do that?” He reached down and opened a drawer in the desk. He pulled out a thick stack of file folders. “Because our last guy left us in a mess of trouble.” He dropped the files, which were incomplete financial records, on the desk. They made a deafening bang.

Kelly flinched. She swallowed, a nervous movement that drew his attention to the slender column of her neck. Frustration frothed inside his chest, filling and fighting and overflowing until he felt choked with longing for a future that could never come to fruition. He wished he could go back in time and stop himself from asking her to the prom. Maybe then he’d have his dignity. Maybe then he could look her in the eye. Maybe then he’d be glad she’d applied for this job.

“I’d need to see the files in order to articulate a proper plan,” she said, only a slight tremor in her voice.

His dad nudged the stack forward. “Take ‘em.”

Kelly eyed the paperwork, which probably weighed more than she did. She stood and dragged the folders toward the edge of the desk, staying a healthy distance from Squire. “I can come back tomorrow with a proposal.”

“No need,” his dad said, and Squire knew what was coming next. He stood up and put his hands in his pockets in an attempt to look bored.

Sure enough, his dad said, “You’re our only applicant. If you think you can do this, the job is yours.”

Kelly stared at him, unblinking.

A shiver squirreled down Squire’s back at the same time his stomach clenched. “Dad, let’s not be hasty.” He glared at Kelly like she’d somehow bewitched his father into offering her the job. He knew she hadn’t, just like he knew it was easier to act like a jerk to put distance between them. If she didn’t like him, then she’d avoid him. The very thought made his heart tumble to his shoes, but he needed the distance.

He turned away from her and leaned closer to his father. “We can’t afford another disaster.”

“I won’t let you down,” she said.

Squire’s blood squirmed in his veins at the assurance in her voice. He couldn’t believe her. She’d let him down before and didn’t even have the decency to admit it. He gave her another sweeping glare as his father clapped his shoulder.

“Show her to her office, son.” He tipped his head her way. “Clark out front will give you the paperwork you need.”

“Thank you.” Kelly smiled and shook his father’s hand, but he pulled her into a hug.

“It’s good to see you back in Three Rivers, Miss Kelly.”

Squire wished he didn’t think so too. The fresh ink on her divorce papers felt like a shield he should wield.

“Thank you, Frank.” She turned to Squire, almost like she would shake his hand too. He stepped back, a clear message for her to keep her handshakes to herself.

“This way.” He led her down the hall, past his office, and into the last one in the back corner of the trailer. It was where he’d discovered the discrepancies between his father’s bank accounts and the quarterly reports.

He’d never been so angry. So frustrated. So helpless. Not even when his tank platoon had been targeted in Kandahar and he’d lost four men in his company, been injured himself, and witnessed the more horrific things that fire did to human flesh. No, this betrayal ran deep, and it meant his parents couldn’t afford to retire anytime soon.

Squire had never felt the love of ranching the way his father had, and his father’s father before him. The ranch needed to stay in the family if his parents had any chance at surviving financially, which made it disappointing that Squire didn’t have an older brother.

But he understood duty, always had. Even though he wanted a different life, somewhere else, if his dad wanted to retire, Squire would do whatever he could to make the transition easier.

Kelly flipped on the light and entered her office. She’d lugged the files with her, and Squire considered taking them from her. What could it hurt?

But he knew what it would hurt. He’d worked too hard for too long to build those walls around his heart.

“Let me take those,” he said anyway, his voice much softer now that he was alone with her. She had to stretch up while he bent down, his forearm cradling hers, as she transferred the load to him.

She stumbled, her shoulder crashing into his ribcage. A grunt escaped his mouth, and she gasped. “I’m sorry.” She stepped back and tugged on the bottom of her jacket.

“It’s fine.” He moved to the desk, a definite limp in his step and a flush rising through his neck. He watched as she inspected the built-in filing cabinets, ran her finger along the blinds covering the single window, and tested out the chair behind her desk.

She finally looked at him. “I like it.”

“Great,” he said dryly. “It’s not like we’d change it if you didn’t.”

She gave him a withering look. “Come on. It’s me, Kelly.” She tried a smile, and he allowed himself to return it halfway.

He knew who she was. She was the girl who danced with his sister. Who slept over on the weekends. Who’d bewitched him so completely he’d convinced himself a senior would go to her prom with a sophomore. If she’d gone with someone else, he might’ve understood.

He shoved the sourness down his throat where it belonged.

While he hadn’t been this close to Kelly in years, the real prize she offered was solving the ranch’s financial problems. He couldn’t forget that.

He’d moved on with his life. So had she. She’d gone to college, gotten married, had a kid. And now a divorce.

He allowed himself to fully smile. Maybe she wasn’t out of his league anymore. She most definitely is, he corrected himself as he stepped closer to where she sat. “You still know any of your dance moves? Besides that pathetic high kick, of course.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “I’m sure I could choreograph something for you. Remember when I used to do that?”

“Yeah. You and Chelsea were so annoying.”

“I’m sure we were.” The glint in her eye spelled mischievous. “So do you make it a habit to leave helpless women trapped in your stairs?”

“You’re hardly helpless, darlin’.” Squire sat in the chair opposite of her desk with his arms crossed.

She busied herself with the files, shifting them around without really changing anything. “I also don’t remember you being such a scoundrel.” Though she’d moved away from Three Rivers, her Texas twang remained. He liked it, and wanted to hear her say his name in her pretty little voice.

“I don’t remember you wearing such high heels,” he shot back.

The silence lengthened between them, until Kelly asked, “How’s your mother?”

She hadn’t forgotten her Texas manners while she’d been gone. Squire would give her that. “She’s good. She’s given new definition to the word overbearing now that she knows how to text. But she’s good.”

Kelly leaned forward, and Squire caught a glimpse of her younger self, the girl he’d crushed on so long ago. “You don’t like your mother texting you? Why? It cramps your style while you’re out digging ditches?”

Squire could’ve sworn she was flirting with him, but the idea was ridiculous. She was coming off a messy divorce and had moved in with her parents. He’d heard what she’d said about moving halfway across the country alone. She wasn’t looking for a relationship, especially with her new boss.

“As a matter of fact,” he said. “It does. Digging ditches requires a lot of concentration. Texting is distracting.”

“Don’t dig and text.” The flirtatious sound of her voice wormed its way straight into his heart. He’d remembered a lot about her, but her voice had faded quickly. He realized now how much he liked listening to her talk. “That is so you.”

His pulse galloped, slowing to a trot as he leaned forward, like they might share something meaningful if they got just a little closer to each other.

Her phone chimed, and she jumped up. “That’s my alarm. I need to get back.” The playfulness and hope drained from her voice and face. She glanced up and smiled, but it had lost its savor. Squire watched the weight of real life descend on her, clouding the girl he’d once known.

“Can you help me get these to my car?” She indicated the folders.

“You don’t need to look at them tonight,” he said. “You start tomorrow. Look at them then.”

She blinked a couple of times, confusion racing through those beautiful eyes. “I’ll just take a couple folders.” She picked them up and stepped toward the door just as Squire did.

Close enough to feel the gentle heat from her skin, Squire found a flicker of fear in her expression. He wanted to reach out and comfort her, ask her what her ex had done to her to make her so nervous, demand to know how he could have changed her into someone other than the Kelly she’d been.

Instead, he said, “You really don’t need to take those. The ranch’ll still need your help tomorrow.” He moved into the hall ahead of her.

“Is it really that bad?” She joined him, her purse swinging between them.

“Just about.” Squire noticed the silence in the front of the trailer. The cowhands had gone out on their assignments for the day, leaving Clark alone at the controller’s desk.

“Miss Kelly,” Clark said, heavy on the cowboy accent as he handed her a manila folder. “If you fill these out and bring ‘em back tomorrow, I’ll get y’all on the payroll.”

Kelly grinned, tucked the folder into her purse along with the others, and thanked him. Clark barely acknowledged Squire, something he was used to. Clark knew everything about the ranch, from how to run it to how to let it run itself. If Squire was being honest, Clark should’ve taken over as foreman.

They both knew it, and it seemed like every other cowboy on the ranch did too. He had his work cut out for him to win over the staff and figure out how to manage something as vast as a cattle ranch. He’d tried some of the tactics he’d learned in the Army about taking over a company when the commander had been killed in action. But cowhands weren’t soldiers, and they hadn’t quite warmed to him the way his comrades in Afghanistan had. Squire had learned that men would trust him when he showed them they could.

He needed to do that at Three Rivers, but he hadn’t quite figured out how.

Kelly didn’t know any of his failures on the ranch, and she didn’t need to. He wouldn’t burden her with his unrealized dreams, permanent physical injuries, and financial troubles.

She removed her heels before stepping out of the admin building, and he had a momentary flash of him sweeping her off her feet and carrying her down the steps.

Longing lashed his internal organs like a whip. Thoughts like that were why he needed to put so much distance between them, why he needed to constantly remind himself of the duties he’d taken upon himself as ranch foreman. He had to find the missing money before he could even think about anything but the ranch.

“See you tomorrow.”

Squire focused, the fantasy of him and Kelly dissolving as he realized she’d already made her way down the stairs and to her car. She waved, and he watched her climb into her sedan and drive down the road, kicking up dust as she went.

He frowned at himself, needing a cattle gate on his emotions to keep them contained. He glanced toward the stables, wondering how he could possibly endure day after day with Kelly so close.

Squire went to the house instead of returning to his father’s office. He just couldn’t muster the energy to learn about fencing issues, the location of aquifers, or the schedule of selling and shipping the herd. He’d helped out on the ranch growing up, but only tending to the horses, riding the fence line, and weeding his mother’s massive vegetable garden.

When he’d gotten old enough to learn the business of ranching, he’d gone off to school and then the Army.

He found his mother in the kitchen, bent over a recipe. Squire couldn’t name how many times he’d seen her in that exact position. If she wasn’t cooking, she was gardening, cleaning, or sewing. He and Chelsea each had at least fifteen quilts to “start them off right” should either of them ever get married.

Thoughts of marriage blasted bitterness through his bloodstream—because thoughts of marriage conjured never-to-be images of him in a black tux while Kelly clutched his arm and wore a white dress.

“Squire,” his mom said, her voice sounding faint and far away. “You okay?”

He blinked his way out of the Kelly-induced fog. “Hmm? Yeah.”

“How’d the interview go?”

“Dad hired her.” He sat on a barstool to watch his mother cook.

“You’re not surprised, are you?”

Peace wafted over him whenever he sat at this counter and spoke with his mom. He smiled at her when she glanced up. “Kelly was the only applicant, and she does have a master’s degree in accounting.”

His mother pulled open the fridge and retrieved a package of ground beef and two green bell peppers. “You don’t sound happy about hiring her.”

“She has no experience,” Squire said, removing his cowboy hat and running his fingers through his hair. “She might be worse than Hector.”

His mother wielded her knife with precision as she split an onion in half. “That would be impossible.” She lit the stove and put a cast iron pan over the flame, her gaze sliding over Squire in that assessing way all mothers had. He knew she was looking for something, he just didn’t know if she’d found it.

“She’s…different,” he said, a well of unease pooling where his oxygen should be.

“So are you,” she pointed out. “Maybe it will work out this time.”

“Mom.” Exasperation roared and reared over his previous contentment. “There was no last time.”

She chopped and diced, drizzled olive oil into the hot skillet, and tossed all the vegetables in. They sizzled and jumped while she added the seasonings. “I know.”

Squire didn’t think she did. “I’m her boss. I can’t go, I don’t know, getting involved with my accountant.”

“Good point,” she said. “You couldn’t get involved with your sister’s best friend either. But sometimes God has a way of putting people right where they need to be, right when they need to be there.” She brandished her wooden spoon at him to enunciate her point.

“Sure, Mom.” Squire stood up before she splattered him with sautéed vegetables. He’d gone to church with his parents until he’d left for college. Then Sunday had become the only day to sleep in or get caught up on homework. His faith hadn’t dwindled, just his outward manifestation of it.

During his deployments, he’d attended services whenever he could. There was nothing like war to make a man question what he believed. Especially about where he might go after this life. Squire had given a fair amount of thought to the subject, and his belief that God was merciful and kind had been strengthened.

Squire returned to his cabin and changed into his workout clothes. Maybe God could make sure his weight training drove Kelly from his mind completely, though all of his previous pleas to this same end had gone unanswered.

Kelly burst through the front door of her parent’s house, her heart tumbling up her throat. “I got the job!” She dropped her purse as her mom jumped up from the couch in the living room.

“You got the job?”

“I got the job!” She grabbed her mom in a hug, laughing and spinning her around. “I was the only applicant, but I got the job.”

The back door slammed and Finn raced through the mudroom and into Kelly’s arms. “Mom, guess what?”

“What, baby?”

“Grampa says I threw the ball fifteen yards.”

“That’s great, Finny.” She ruffled his hair, knowing a four-year-old couldn’t throw a ball that far. “Guess what? I got a job that will help us get a house of our own.” She beamed down at her son, basically a miniature of Taylor. His dark hair; his strong, square face; his unending energy.

Finn’s eyes weren’t quite as dark as her ex’s, but they hovered between green and brown in a beautiful hazel color. The only mark of herself she could see in him.

“I don’t want to get a house,” Finn said, squirming out of her hug. “Grampa says he’s gonna build a new chicken coop, and I can help.” He ran through the house to the backyard.

Kelly stood, a sigh escaping her lips. She couldn’t live with her parents forever, but having her dad in Finn’s life had brought her son’s smile back. He rarely left her father’s side, and as hammer blows came from the backyard, warmth radiated in Kelly’s core.

She moved to the back door and looked through the window. Twenty yards away, out by the shed, her dad bent over several pieces of cut wood, nails clenched in his hand. Finn stood in front of him, a hammer at the ready. She’d never seen Taylor do anything similar with Finn, and as she watched, her mind wandered to Squire. She could definitely see him working and playing with his kids.

“You can stay as long as you need to,” her mom said, and Kelly’s thoughts about her new boss scattered.

“I know, Mom. But we can’t live here forever, even if he wants to.” She kicked off her heels and left them by the back door before she moved into the kitchen. “I have a little bit more to go before I pay off the divorce lawyer. Taylor and I agreed to split everything regarding Finn right down the middle. I could probably save enough to put a down payment on a house and move out in a couple of months.”

Her mom nodded, tucking a stray strand of Kelly’s hair behind her ear. “Where will you go?”

“Somewhere in town.” She began to make lunch. Her shift at the grocery store began at two, and while she’d gotten the position at the ranch, she couldn’t blow off Vince. She’d give her two-week notice today and hope Vince would let her work on the weekends.

“Maybe over by Crystal,” her mom said, watching her set water to boil for the pasta. “There are newer houses on the west side of town.”

“Maybe,” Kelly said, content as she thought about Finn playing with Crystal’s boys. Kelly would like to be close to her cousin too. She thought about taking Finn out to the ranch. The idea of him running free—riding horses, feeding calves, playing in the dirt—made her heart expand by double. Finn would absolutely adore the ranch, the way she had as a child.

And there were a lot of men out there. But Finn just needed one man in his life, someone who loved him and wanted him around. Taylor wouldn’t be that man, and again Squire stole into Kelly’s mind. She shook him away, stirring her thoughts into the pasta pot until hot water sloshed over the sides.

“Once I have enough saved, I’ll look around.” Kelly put the wooden spoon down and flashed her mom a smile. Planning more than a day or two out brought a sense of accomplishment Kelly hadn’t experienced in months.

Her mom turned the conversation to the weather, a safer topic that gave Kelly some relief from the heavier matters weighing on her mind. It had been an exceptionally dry spring, and her mom worried about the possibility of not having the traditional fireworks show at the upcoming Fourth of July celebration. But Kelly’s mind wandered back to the ranch. Nerves crowded her stomach as she thought about going to work tomorrow, of seeing Squire. If only she had a few weeks to review everything she’d learned in five years of college so she could put together a proposal that would impress him.

Finn and her father banged into the house, asking about lunch. Kelly forced away her confusing thoughts about Squire and fearful worries about being inadequate at her new job, painted on a grin, and opened a can of spaghetti sauce.

The next morning, Kelly stirred before the sun rose. Not because of nerves or bad dreams, but because Finn was whimpering. Suddenly wide-awake, she pushed the folders off the edge of the bed where she’d discarded them last night and hurried out of her bedroom. Theirs were the only two bedrooms in the basement, situated right next door to each other, so she arrived at his bedside in seconds.

She stroked Finn’s hair off his forehead, and he calmed. “You’re feverish. Did Grandpa give you chocolate after dinner?”

Finn moaned, which Kelly took as a yes. She went into the small bathroom in the hall. She had a plethora of children’s medications, and she selected one that would bring down Finn’s fever quickly. She filled a cup with water and took it in with the pain reliever.

She woke him and made him drink the medicine and a sip of water. He settled right back to sleep, looking angelic in the soft light coming from the bathroom. She carefully lay down beside him on the double-wide bed and closed her eyes. She needed to be up in a couple of hours to get ready for work, but she could hope for a few minutes of rest.

She startled awake at the sound of her mother calling her name. “You’ll be late on your first day. Are you ready?”

Adrenaline swamped her, forcing her pulse to drum against her tongue. Kelly took a few seconds to gather her bearings. The spot next to her—in Finn’s bed—was empty.

She hustled into her bedroom, but her phone alarm had been silenced. “Finn!” she called as she realized she didn’t have time to shower.

“Yeah, Mom?” Finn came bounding into the room, already wearing an adult-sized tool belt held tight by the masterful use of a bungee cord.

“Did you turn off my alarm?” She wasn’t surprised at his miraculous recovery. He often ate too many sweets, experienced a low fever and stomach pain in the night, and woke up good as new.

“Yup. You were tired.”

“Finn, I have to go to work this morning. Remember Mommy got a new job?” She flung hangers around in her closet, searching for the right outfit to wear.

Finn watched her, and she finally sent him back upstairs. She couldn’t blame him for turning off her alarm. He’d done it many times since they’d moved here.

She sucked in a deep breath. She could only imagine what Squire would say if she showed up late.

She hurriedly stepped into a pair of purple corduroys, matching them with a flowery silk top. She slipped on a more ranch-practical pair of black boots and moved into the bathroom.

A groan escaped as she took in her appearance. She turned on the water and ran wet fingers through her hair to get it to lie down. With a hot cloth, she washed her face. After whipping out the hairdryer and doing a quick fluff, she did a half-decent job on her makeup, and practically sprinted upstairs.

“Breakfast?” her mom asked from the kitchen.

The clock read eight thirty-two. “No time,” Kelly panted. “I’ll be fine.” She kissed Finn, grabbed her purse, and ran out the front door.

She parked next to the ranch trucks at nine o’clock sharp, thanks to some pedal-to-the-metal driving. The shocks on her sedan might never recover, but Kelly would take car repairs over being late.

Squire’s dog was already snoozing in the shade as she climbed the stairs and banged her way into the administration building. She glanced around surreptitiously for him, but didn’t see Squire in the open area to her left. She handed her folder of paperwork to Clark just as a blond cowboy stood and whistled.

“Well, who is this sweet drink of water?” he asked, swaggering toward her.

Kelly almost laughed out loud, but managed to keep her face placid. Clark answered for her without looking up from her paperwork. “That there’s Ethan,” he told Kelly. “He’s good for almost nothin’.”

“I’m good for everything, sweetheart,” Ethan corrected as he moved closer. Too close. He smelled halfway between showered and mucking out the horse stalls.

Kelly straightened her shoulders and looked up at him. “Is that so?” She itched to take a step away but held her ground. “Got anyone to vouch for that?”

Ethan settled his arm across her shoulders. “You will be soon, little lady.”

“Ethan,” a man barked.

Kelly jumped, her hands automatically coming up to cover her spasming heart. Ethan dropped his arm like she’d spontaneously combusted. His second reaction took several seconds longer, but he eventually turned toward Squire.

“Boss.” He didn’t look ashamed, didn’t tip his hat.

Squire steamed like he was four seconds from going into Tasmanian devil mode. His eyes stormed; the muscle in his jaw twitched, and he folded those bulging arms across his chest.

Kelly pressed her lips together to keep her smile contained. She definitely wasn’t trying to make sure her lipstick was as fresh as possible.

“Did you get those bulls moved to yard three?” Squire asked.

“Didn’t know I was supposed to,” Ethan responded.

“I put it on the board for today.” Squire hooked his thumb toward a white board behind him in the open area of the trailer where the cowboys had been hanging out yesterday. Kelly only saw two or three there now and assumed the rest were out tending to their assignments.

“Well, then I’ll get right on it,” Ethan said. “And I’ll get back to you later, pretty lady.” He tipped his hat to her and with a final glance in Squire’s direction, left the trailer.

Kelly noticed Squire’s grimace as the door slammed. His teeth clenched and his eyes pressed closed against something only he could see.

“You’re all set,” Clark said as if he hadn’t been present for the showdown that had just taken place. “Here’s the password for the computer.”

Kelly took the slip of paper and stepped with confidence toward her office. When she reached Squire, she had the strangest urge to reach up and smooth the tension from his shoulders.

“Good morning,” she said, focusing on stepping past him without touching him. He smelled like wood smoke and musk, and she silently took the deepest breath she could manage.

“Morning.” He followed her through the trailer to her office and sat in the chair across from her desk.

She suppressed her sigh, sat down, and pulled the files from her purse like they could shield her from his presence. “These were pretty messed up.” She glanced at him. “What do you know about them?”

“About what you just said. They’re messed up.” He stared back at her, and again she noticed that he didn’t wear normal ranch attire. Today he was wearing jeans, but it was obvious they hadn’t spent any time outside in the sun. No belt. Clean, new hiking boots. He wore a short-sleeved button-up shirt in lilac. She didn’t think an Army man would be caught dead in purple, but on Squire, the light color served to enhance his muscles.

His cowboy hat sat in place, covering his dark hair, and his striking eyes reminded her that he was dangerous to her health. Everything about him seemed vibrant, while she felt pieced together in yesterday’s clothing.

When she realized she was staring, she pulled her attention back to the file. “Why’d you say you didn’t recognize me yesterday?” She kept her eyes down. “I mean, you obviously did.”

“From what I remember, you like doing things by yourself.” His mouth seemed painted in a level line. His arms couldn’t clench any tighter across his chest. His tension bled into her, which made her stomach squirm in a wobbly dance.

She flipped open the file, unsure of what he meant by such a comment. She knew she didn’t need him in her office, all up in her business, as she studied their financial records. “I’ll let you know when I find something, or when I have a plan for what we should do.”

“Great.” He stood, reached into his pocket, and extracted his phone. He leaned over her desk to see what papers she had. “I wouldn’t start there.”

“It was the one on the top,” she said, a vein of annoyance working its way into her voice.

“Doesn’t mean that’s where you should start.”

Her stomach chose that moment to emit the loudest growl that had been heard this side of the Mississippi.

He chuckled. “My mother usually serves breakfast at seven,” he said. “She might have something leftover. You want me to go get it for you?”

“No,” she said quickly. She certainly didn’t need Squire bringing her food. She ran her fingers through her limp hair, cringing at the somewhat greasy texture. “I’m fine. I just skipped breakfast this morning. Wasn’t feeling well.”

He lifted his eyebrows, but not in surprise. More like a challenge.

“Not feeling well?” he repeated. “Nervous?”

“About this job?” She forced a laugh. “No. I’ve got this. It was something I ate at work last night.”

“You have another job?” The eyebrows went down, but she didn’t like the compassionate tone in his voice either.

“No,” she said. “Well, I do for a couple more weeks. But just on weekends.”

“What do you do?”

She really wanted him to leave. Maybe then she could crawl under her desk and bask in the shame of her situation. “I, uh, work at Vince’s.”

“The grocery store?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about them, too.” She gave him a look that could melt steel and returned her attention to the files. “Maybe you need to see a specialist about your memory loss.” As soon as she said the words, she regretted them. Maybe he’d been injured on one of his deployments. She knew better than anyone that not all wounds were visible.

His low chuckle prompted her to look up, but she refused to give in to the grin tugging against her lips. Her sweet tooth would have to be satisfied with cookies, not Squire’s tasty laugh. At the thought of food, her stomach rumbled again.

He flipped through the stack of files and plucked a thick one from the middle. “Start here.” He plunked the folder on top of the one she’d been reading, turned, and left her office. She watched him go, noticing that he favored his right leg. Only a slight hiccup in his stride, but present nonetheless.

So he had been hurt overseas. Even as she wondered what had happened, relief that he’d left her office flowed through her strong enough to anchor her to why she was there. And it most definitely wasn’t to find a cowboy.

“Squire?” Kelly’s voice came from the doorway of his office just before lunch. He turned from the window, where he’d been standing, staring into the openness of the ranch and wishing he could be out there instead of in here. His right leg almost gave out from the shift in weight, and he clenched his teeth against the pain shooting through his hip and into his back.

“What happened to Hector Ford?” She didn’t enter the office.

Squire wasn’t surprised at the question. He’d want to know about the person who’d made the mess he now had to clean up.

“He died,” he said, drinking in the compassion in her eyes. Could she care about the ranch after only a few hours of work? “About four months ago.”

Kelly’s mouth opened in a round O. “And you’re just now replacing him?”

Squire shifted his weight to his good leg and folded his arms, determined to remain passive despite her presence.

“It took a while to go through his disjointed system,” he said. “I studied the files, but it took me several weeks to figure out the discrepancies between my dad’s finances and the reports Hector provided.”

“Where’s the money that’s missing?”

Squire abandoned his post at the window as he shushed her. He waved her into the office, glancing toward the cowhand’s space—he saw no one—before he closed the door behind him. “No one knows about the missing money except for me. Even my dad doesn’t know. It needs to stay that way.”

“Okay,” Kelly said, her eyebrows puckering together in a pinch that Squire felt in his gut. “But your dad knows something’s wrong.”

Squire scrubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “Yeah, I told him his savings weren’t as much as he’d thought. That he wouldn’t be able to retire as soon as we’d hoped.” He exhaled. “I don’t know where the money is. Hector doesn’t have it where I can find it. His widow moved to Dallas after his death. She’s living with their daughter. If she has access to the money, she doesn’t spend it.”

Kelly chewed her thumbnail as concern radiated from her expression. Anger fumed beneath Squire’s skin. He didn’t need her pity now, just like he hadn’t needed it in high school. Somehow, even with her staring right at him, he felt as see-through as freshly Windexed glass.

“How do you know all that?” she asked.

“I hired a private investigator,” he said. “There’s a lot of money missing. I don’t think it’s been spent, and I want to find it if possible. Naturally.”

“Naturally,” she repeated. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, drawing Squire’s attention to her mouth. He turned away from her in favor of the window.

“Okay, thanks.” She moved to leave.

“Wait,” Squire said, facing her.

“Yes?” She cocked one hip, her expression full of challenge.

Familiar bitterness coated his mouth, making it difficult to swallow. So she didn’t like being in a position of non-power. Too bad.

“What have you found?” he asked.

“I’m only about a third of the way through the files.”

Squire squinted at her. “I have more for you in my office at home. So you’re not as far as you think.”

“Do you live here on the ranch?” she asked. “Can we go get them now?”

“I live in one of the cowhand cabins, but the files are in my office at the house. We can go get them if you’d like.” He shrugged. He was having a hard time caring about the ranch today. More than usual.

“I wore boots.” She glanced down at her feet, and Squire followed her gaze. “I can go myself.”

He almost groaned at the sight of her knee-high, thick-heeled boots. What was with this woman and heels? “I’ll help you carry them.”

She moved down the hallway and out the door, Squire behind her. She navigated the stairs successfully, even if she did grip the handrail like it was her life support.

He whistled at Benson as he descended the steps. The dog bounded to his side, and pushed his nose into Squire’s palm, somehow sensing that Squire needed to release some tension.

He had to walk slowly to stay by her side as they navigated their way to the house, which suited him fine because it allowed him to even out his stride. “Does every shoe you own have a heel?”

She rolled her eyes. “I needed something cute for my interview.”

Squire paused and cleared his throat as embarrassment rose through his face. “I’m real sorry I didn’t help you out of those steps yesterday, darlin’.”

“Maybe you’ll be able to make it up to me,” she said.

Squire almost tripped over his own feet, his injured leg further complicating how quickly he could right his footing. “I’ll try,” he said when he found his voice. “Assuming you keep wearing shoes unfit for a ranch.”

“Assumptions aren’t nice,” she said, an extra twang in her voice as she repeated something his mother—hers too, probably—had said countless times.

He’d made a lot of assumptions about her, especially after she’d ignored his invitation and gone to her prom alone. Even a rejection would’ve been better than the silence she’d given him.

He’d assumed she thought him too young. Too unpopular. Too inferior.

He wondered what her real reasons were, but the wounded pride lodged in his throat kept him from asking.

A gentle breeze brushed them as they walked, but it couldn’t drive away the inadequacy cascading through Squire. He smelled lunch about a hundred yards away, and Kelly’s stomach roared again.

“You should eat lunch with the cowhands.” He really didn’t want her eating with the boys, especially Ethan. He also didn’t want her to know that he cared who she spent her time with.

“Right,” she said. “And have them all make comments about my heels like you have? I don’t think so.”

He pulled his grin like he’d pull a punch, the way he did so his true emotion didn’t seep out. But happiness trickled down to his fingertips that she didn’t want to eat with the cowhands.

“I haven’t told anyone about the whole step thing,” he said. “Some of the boys would be downright devastated to know you couldn’t even make it into the building.”

She slugged him. “I can make it anywhere.”

“Yeah, like to California and back.” The words left his mouth before he could assess what kind of damage they’d do. He wanted to suck them back in, or have the wind wisp them into silence. But they hung there between them, the easy comfortableness they’d had now gone.

Spiders writhed in his gut, but he didn’t know how to un-say something. He mentally kicked himself for a few steps as he frantically searched for something to smooth things over.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wondering how many times he was going to have to apologize today. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

She waved her hand like it was no big deal, but Squire saw the heavy lump she swallowed and the reflective quality of her eyes before she focused on the row of cabins lining the backyard.

“Mom could make you up a plate, and you could eat in your office,” he said.

“I’ll be fine. If I can handle you, I can handle a few cowboys.” She didn’t sound two shakes from crying, and relief sighed through him like sand over bare toes.

She tottered, her ankle twisting as she came down on a dust-covered rock, and Squire lunged for her. Her right arm flailed as he caught her left. Her ankle gave out, and suddenly he held all her weight by just her elbow. He managed to right her, and she leaned into him for a moment, her breath staggered. He wrapped both arms around her and took a deep drag of her cocoa butter scent. “You okay?” His voice betrayed him by coming out like he’d gargled with glass.

Good one, Major Obvious, he chastised himself. Way to keep things neutral.

He quickly released her, noting her nervous laugh and matching hers with one of his own.

“Maybe I’ll need to invest in a whole new line of footwear.” She frowned down at her boots like they were snakes.

Squire straightened his shirt and took a deep breath to steady his increased heart rate. He reminded himself that Kelly was his employee, someone he had once crushed on, someone who’d stomped on his soul. Nothing more. She had absolutely no experience in accounting. He had to keep an eye on her, not because he liked what he saw, but because he needed her to solve the financial problems of the ranch.

“You coming?”

He glanced up and found her several paces down the road. He hurried to catch her, reminding himself of the way his heart had clenched like he’d tried to stuff it into a too-small boot when he’d taken Kelly’s advice and asked someone to the prom. She’d encouraged him for weeks before he got up the nerve. He’d been walking and running and fighting in those too-tight boots ever since. At least with her.

“Hey, Ma,” he said upon entering the house. She stood in the cavernous kitchen, the scent of baking bread and roasting meat filling the space. “You remember Kelly Armstrong?”

His mother put down her rubber spatula and came around the counter, her face beaming like the moon. “Kelly, of course. How are you, dear?”

Kelly laughed as she embraced his mother. “I’m great, Heidi. How are you? I can see that you haven’t lost your touch in the kitchen.” Her stomach gave another loud growl.

They chatted for a few minutes, while Squire watched. Kelly seemed more at ease in his mother’s presence. She had a natural ability to make small talk; her smile was quick and her questions sincere. He didn’t have to think very hard or go back very far to remember why he’d liked her so much.

Something new and strange flooded him. Something tipped with forgiveness, made of acceptance, and coated with confusion. Something like letting his heart out of the cage he’d locked it in.

He cleared his throat, much the same way he wished he could dislodge his thoughts. “The files are in my old bedroom.” He motioned down the hall, and Kelly excused herself from her conversation. Even though Squire was a full-fledged adult, he still felt the laser gaze from his mother as he followed Kelly further into the house.

“You remember where it is?” he asked.

“Your bedroom?” She glanced over her shoulder. “Yeah, end of the hall, take the stairs up, turn right. You hated us coming in there.”

His defenses rose. “You guys were always making fun of my posters.”

“You liked weird stuff,” she said. “Rugby or something.”

“Cricket,” he said. “My uncle went to Australia and brought me back all the equipment.” He touched her arm to get her to stop. “And those posters might still be up. Try not to laugh.”

He moved past her, went up the seven steps, turned right, and continued down the hall to his old bedroom. The door stood open, and he went inside. He’d transformed his room into a comfortable office with a long, leather sofa, more masculine paint color, and a professional desk.

But the cricket posters still covered the entire wall behind the couch. His dad had built a bookshelf where Squire displayed his football trophies and a few pictures from high school.

Squire didn’t want to live in his parent’s house, so he’d adopted a cowhand cabin. He kept his room here, though, and he sometimes slept in the house if he was feeling particularly lonely. Not that he felt that way very often. There was something about being alone that straightened the crooked thoughts in his head.

Alone, he could rely on himself. Trust himself, the way the Army had taught him.

Kelly took in the posters. “Fun,” she said, but it didn’t sound like she really thought so. “You could take them down, you know.”

“Right.” He opened the filing drawer in his desk. Several dozen files sat inside, and he hefted them out. “Like how you said I should ask someone to prom.” His muscles turned into boards. His pulse slammed against the roof of his mouth. His own courage surprised him.

“You never did take my advice.” She picked up a picture frame while Squire’s fingers turned numb and he forgot to breathe or blink or blink or breathe.

He had taken her advice. He’d asked her to prom. Did she not remember? How was that possible?

“I’ve never seen this picture,” Kelly said, drawing his attention from his stampeding thoughts.

He set down the files and joined her at the bookcase. She held a framed picture of Squire in between Chelsea and Kelly, both in their full dance performance make-up. Her light green eyes mesmerized him in this picture, and he remembered staring at it as he fell asleep at night. “That’s from one of your competitions. You guys were seniors, I think.”

She peered closer at it. “We’re wearing a green costume. That was Save Me.”

“I can’t believe you remember that,” he said, especially if she couldn’t recall a bedroom full of balloons—his name printed on a slip of paper in one of them.

“I can’t either.” She replaced the picture on the bookshelf and moved on to the next one. This one portrayed Squire and his father, their arms slung over each other’s shoulders, before one of his football games. “I also didn’t know you played football.”

“I made varsity my junior year,” he said. “Started all of my senior year.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I missed all that.” She shot him a rueful smile. “I would’ve liked to have seen you play.”

A swell of pride inflated Squire’s chest, but he simply clasped his hands behind his back. If she’d known he’d go on to varsity fame, would she have gone out with him?

“I don’t play anymore,” he said. “Not much use for football in Afghanistan, and the cowhands don’t have time.” He didn’t mention that he couldn’t run very well.

She ran her fingers down the golden football figure on one trophy. “Bet you could still throw the ball around, though.”

Squire watched her fingers for a moment and moved back to his desk before he said or did something foolish. Acceptance of her rejection—or whatever that feeling in the kitchen had been—didn’t erase everything between them.

He lifted the files and headed for the door just as the lunch bell rang. By the time he could lug the paperwork back to Kelly’s office in the admin trailer and return to the house, the cowhands would be served and eating on the deck.

Perfect, he thought. He’d patterned his behavior after his father’s, who often arrived late to lunch so as to avoid socializing in the kitchen. He’d noticed that his father did the same.

Kelly padded after him, but she didn’t make it out of the kitchen. Squire’s mother hooked her elbow through Kelly’s and steered her toward the bar. “Come eat lunch with us,” she said. “You too, Squire, after you drop those off.”

Squire nodded and headed outside. With the administration trailer empty, Squire didn’t encounter anyone as he limped into Kelly’s office. He deposited the files on the corner of her desk and hesitated before leaving.

Kelly had been in this office for all of a few hours, and yet it smelled like her perfume. He breathed in deeply, allowing himself this moment to enjoy the scent in the air.

She’d placed a framed picture on her desk, and upon stepping around the corner, he examined it. Kelly smiled back at him, her hair lighter and her skin tanner in this picture than it was currently. She held a toddler on her lap, and Squire picked out the similarities and differences of Kelly in him. He had the tint of green in his eyes, like hers. But he sported a square face and a rounded nose, with a head full of nearly black hair that curled at the ends.

Squire knew Kelly’s hair didn’t curl. She’d complained about it enough to Chelsea for the whole county to know. He let his gaze wander along her desk, finding a list of things to do, all of them focused on her job. The files he’d brought from his father’s office sat in two neat piles, one still taller than the other. A notebook lay in front of the piles, with notes scribbled in green pen.

The door to the trailer slammed, and Squire scampered out of her office with his head down, like another bomb had been dropped on him. He definitely didn’t want to get caught somewhere he shouldn’t be, moony-eyed and slack-jawed over a few pens and notebooks.

Because that was all this tide of unease in his stomach meant. She was organized and she’d help the ranch find the missing money. He needed that, and he also suddenly wanted time to get to know her again, find out what had happened in high school, discover if his white-dress-black-tux fantasies could come true.

Fear reared against his thoughts, as he’d never let them roam so freely—at least not where Kelly was concerned.

“Hey, girl.” Squire ran his hand down the nose of Juniper, the black mare who’d taken a shine to him. She nickered and tossed her head gently, nudging his shoulder.

“I know,” he said, the anxiety and helplessness draining from him with the presence of the horse. Juniper dropped her head, sniffing Squire’s pockets for a treat. He pulled out the apple he’d grabbed from his office and offered it to her. She crunched through it, her long lashes half-closed over her enormous black eyes.

Hank ambled closer, a bay stallion that Squire’s father had purchased two years ago. He lifted his head over the fence and snuffed at Squire.

“Yeah, me too,” Squire said, not really sure what conversations he was having with the horses, only knowing that they eased the river of pain in his mind—and his leg.

The bay showed his teeth before pulling his head back over the fence. He wanted an apple too, but he was too proud to ask.

“I didn’t forget about you, boy.” Squire reached in his other pocket and produced a second apple. Hank nudged Squire’s right leg, in the exact area where his femur had been crushed under the weight of the tank. No one had seen that bomb coming, but Squire had driven right into it.

Four men in Squire’s company had died. Two more had burns over half their bodies. He pressed his eyes closed as the smell of fire and metal and blood flooded his nose. The pops of machine guns and flames and screams, the eerie quiet that followed. The brush of desert wind, carrying sand and moans and death.

Juniper whinnied, somehow knowing that Squire had disappeared into the memories. He yanked his eyes open to find himself thousands of miles from Kandahar. Touching the horse’s neck, the sounds and smells from that fateful day evaporated.

Hank nudged his knee one last time before taking the apple. Though Squire’s femur had been completely pulverized and the doctors couldn’t repair it, he knew others had been sent home with complications he couldn’t imagine, and still others had returned to their loved ones in boxes. Steel rods, pins, and plates kept his body together now, and sometimes the ache in his leg brought Squire’s teeth together in agony.

“Yeah, still broken,” he told Hank, though this time he wasn’t sure if he meant his leg, his mind—or his heart.

Kelly enjoyed watching the cowhands bustle through the line, filling their plates with Heidi’s delicious casserole and bread. They each thanked her with a tip of his hat and a “Thank you, ma’am.” They continued out the sliding doors to the deck, where they ate in the shade.

She watched for Squire to return, but he didn’t come. She loaded a plate at Heidi’s insistence and sat down with her and Frank in the kitchen. They told her stories about Chelsea, her job in Dallas, and the man she was dating.

Kelly listened and asked questions to keep the spotlight away from her. Surely the Ackerman’s knew why she’d returned to Three Rivers.

Sure enough, Heidi finally put down her fork. “Tell us about your son, Kelly.”

She swallowed the last bite of her garlic bread, which suddenly turned to sand in both taste and texture. She coughed to clear the crumbs. “Finn will turn five just before the Fourth,” she said, her Texan drawl returning no matter how she tried to stop it. Something about the ranch brought out the cowgirl in her. “Right now my daddy is indoctrinating him to love football and wield a hammer.” She grinned and took a sip of water, which only turned the bread to lead in her stomach.

“Does your mother watch him while you’re at work?”

“Most of the time,” she said. “My cousin helps too. We live with my parents right now, but with this job, I’m hoping to get a place of my own.”

“In Three Rivers?” Heidi had a way of asking questions without seeming pushy. Kelly remembered this from high school, when she and Chelsea would try to get off the ranch for a party. In the end, Heidi always knew what was happening, even if she’d been lied to.

“Probably,” Kelly hedged, though she was fairly confident she’d stay in town. “I’m still working on the details.”

“Let us know,” she said. “We’ll have the cowhands come help y’all move.”

“Mother,” Squire said, entering the kitchen. “We can’t just make them do anything we want.” He washed his hands before he picked up a piece of bread and buttered it. “They have work on the ranch, not playing moving company.” He shot his mother a tense look that Kelly suspected should’ve landed on her.

“We pay them to work for us,” his mother said, seemingly unfazed by Squire’s admonition. “We can have them do anything we want.”

“No, we can’t,” he argued as he settled next to her at the table. “They have work to do. Our fences don’t fix themselves, and those cows are dumber than posts. They’d starve if we didn’t put the hay right in front of them.” He glanced at Kelly. “No offense.”

She held up her hands in surrender, marveling at the change in him. One second, he was kind and teasing and fun, the Squire she remembered from high school—with some grown up benefits. The next, he was moody and dark, throwing death glares left and right like horseshoes.

“I don’t have much to move anyway,” she said. “I managed just fine getting here from San Diego by myself. I’m sure I can move out of my mother’s basement.” She stood abruptly, needing to get away from Squire’s heady scent and negative attitude.

“Thank you for lunch, Heidi. I should be getting back to work.” She strode out of the kitchen. She heard Heidi say something to Squire in a tone of disapproval, but she didn’t care what.

She couldn’t read him, and she couldn’t keep up with what made him go from flirty and fun, to apathetic, to downright rude. As she squished through the dust back to her office, she determined that the best course of action would be to stay as far from him as possible.

Though Squire was dashing, she couldn’t jeopardize her career by allowing herself even a taste of him. She’d only end up with a stomachache.

She hadn’t noticed Squire much in high school—he’d always been Chelsea’s little brother—but now she couldn’t help taking note of his presence. His personality filled the room, his flirtations awakened something dormant inside her, and she found she wanted to learn more about him.

She squashed the flickering flame of attraction she’d felt, telling herself that she simply wouldn’t enter his once-bedroom again, wouldn’t think about the picture he’d kept for so long—whether he lived there or not—wouldn’t try to reason through why out of only two pictures on his bookshelf, one was of her.

A jolt of realization struck her like lightning cleaving a tree. She felt frozen solid though the sun beat down with intense heat.

Like how you said I should ask someone to prom.

Squire had sounded so cynical, worn a look of anger and disapproval. She hadn’t understood and had chosen to deflect his attention to the photos.

She understood now.

All those balloons…. She’d never been able to find a name on any of the confetti strips, so she hadn’t known who had asked her, hadn’t known who to answer.

“Squire.” She spun back toward the house, her body made of hot, liquid lava.

No wonder he hadn’t helped her out of the steps. No wonder he was so hot-cold, hot-cold.

She forced her steps toward the admin building, needing time to formulate an apology for never responding to his prom invitation.

As she settled behind her desk, she sent a prayer of thanks for the opportunity to be employed at Three Rivers. With a calm breath, she opened another file and pushed back thoughts of Squire and how safe she’d felt standing in his arms.

By five o’clock, Kelly had a dozen pages of notes and the first stack of files read. Her head pounded like nothing she’d felt before, and her feet were freezing because the air conditioning was quite efficient at warding off summer as it tried to sneak inside.

She packed her notes and a few of the files and got up to leave. Two steps past his office, Squire called her name. She pressed her eyes closed and took a deep breath before turning. Would he see the guilt on her face?

She offered a silent plea for the same help now. “Yes?”

“Status report?” He leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms. His shirt pulled along his biceps, and Kelly had to consciously pull her eyes back to his.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve been reading those files all day.” He took one step closer, his hands falling to his sides. “What have you learned?”

Kelly couldn’t make a plan of action in one day. The records Hector had kept were scattered and disorganized and many were simply missing.

Squire knew everything that was in those files, and she worked to tamp down her rising annoyance.

“You’re missing one million, six hundred and thirty-seven thousand dollars,” Kelly said, her voice low so as to not be overheard. “Hector had accounts for your parents for personal use, for the ranch, loans for land improvements, loans for acquiring more cattle. They all seem to be in order.”

His eyes seemed to glow from beneath the brim of his cowboy hat. “I know all of that.”

“I’ve had one day.” She shook her purse toward him. “I’m taking these files home. When I find something worthwhile, I’ll let you know.” She turned away, her temper in danger of erupting. She was tired, and hungry, and she could not have this conversation right now.

She made it outside with her dignity intact. The door didn’t bang closed, but she wasn’t going to go back and fix it. She unlocked her car and found only more stifling heat. As she reached to close the door, she heard someone chuckling. She glanced back to the trailer to find the reason she hadn’t heard the door close: Squire stood there, laughing.

“Good chat,” he called, lifting his hand in a friendly wave.

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered as she slammed her door and put the car in reverse. The drive home gave her the time she needed to decompress.

She left her purse in the car and went inside to find Finn. Instead, she found her mother stirring something in the kitchen. “Where’s Finn?”

“Daddy took him over to the corner store,” she said, glancing up. “He earned a dollar by feeding the chickens, and he wanted some penny candy.”

A blade of disappointment sliced through Kelly. She was glad her son was safe and happy, but she missed him. For the past four years, she’d been the one to provide his safety and happiness. Turning that over to her mom and dad had been hard.

She reached into the fridge for a bottle of water, pulling her phone out as she went. She sent a text to her cousin, Crystal, asking if she could come over tonight. Kelly got an enthusiastic response before she even opened her drink.

Come by tonight after nine! We can chat.

And by chat, Kelly knew her cousin meant break out my stash of hidden Girl Scout cookies. Kelly’s whole body sighed in relief at the thought of Thin Mints and Crystal’s strategies for dealing with Squire’s moods. She still needed the words for a decade-too-late apology to fall into the correct order.

“Good first day?” Her mom pulled Kelly into a much-needed hug.

“Good enough,” she said, making her voice strong. She stepped back and didn’t meet her mom’s eyes.

“Mom!” Finn burst through the backdoor, wrenching the exhaustion from Kelly’s muscles. “Grampa let me drive the lawn mower today!” He jumped into her arms, one tiny fist clenching a brown paper sack. “And he paid me for feeding the chickens, and look, I got those red fish Daddy used to buy me.”

Her heart simultaneously leapt for joy and withered in pain. Finn seemed so happy, even when talking about Taylor, the man who had lied about where he’d been and painted over everything with candy and roses.

“The lawn mower?” she asked, looking at her father.

“I was on it with him,” he assured her. “But he did feed the chickens himself. My daddy used to give me a dollar for feedin’ the chickens. Finn’s a natural.”

“Dad, it’s throwing stuff. Anyone can do it.” She gave him an affectionate peck on the cheek for adoring her son. “Thanks, Daddy.”

“I can throw the football too, Mommy. Come watch!” Finn wiggled away from her, abandoned his sack of candy on the floor, and sprinted outside. She laughed and followed him, even though her sweats and the couch were calling her name.

“How was work?” her dad asked as they followed Finn into the backyard.

“Tiring.”

“You’ll get used to it,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders.

“I hope so,” she said, though she knew she would. The job she could handle. But Squire…. She’d never get used to the sugary sight of him.

As Kelly crept through town on her way to her cousin’s, contentment washed over her. Three Rivers hadn’t changed much, with its long Main Street, where cheerful storefronts lined the sidewalks. The barber, the grocer, the various eateries and hot spots. She took comfort in knowing some things never changed.

She glanced to her left and saw the park where she’d grown up playing. A new jungle gym, updated swings, and a safer slide set had been installed, but the same tall oak trees stood sentinel. She heard herself laughing with her cousins while her mother and aunt chatted on the benches, and nostalgia twirled through her. She longed for easier, happier times.

She passed the bank, the post office, the government square with it’s white brick exterior. It gleamed as it always had. Glenda’s salon sat with another group of restaurants, doctor’s offices, and the elementary school.

Kelly relaxed against the headrest in her car. Old as it was, she loved this town. With a peaceful sigh, she knew she’d been led to the decision to stay here and raise Finn. After driving through more shops, past another grocery store, and beyond the last gas station in town, she made it to her cousin’s. No sooner had she killed the engine and stepped from the car did Crystal call her name.

“Get back here!” Crystal waved over the fence, causing Kelly to smile.

She bumped through the gate and entered the backyard, where Crystal waited with a platter of cookies and a hug. “Hey, girl. You look good.”

“Thanks,” Kelly said as she took a seat in the deck chair, the soft sunset reminding her that there was no place on earth quite like Texas. Everything moved slower here, even the breeze meandering through the trees and the way the sun took it’s sweet time disappearing into the dusk.

She moaned as she took a bite of her cookie.

“So what’s new?” Crystal asked, taking a handful of chocolate-dipped sweets.

“Started my job today at Three Rivers Ranch.”

Crystal choked, a spray of crumbs flying from her mouth. “Did you see him?”

“See who?”

“Major Ackerman,” she said, raising her eyebrows like she couldn’t believe Kelly needed to ask.

Kelly laughed. “He’s my new boss.”

“You should take advantage of that.” Crystal waggled her eyebrows up and down. “If you know what I mean.”

Kelly shook her head and took another bite. “Not gonna happen, Crys. Been down that road. It’s rocky, and leads you back to your parent’s basement.”

Crystal took a few moments to put the pieces together. “You mean, you and Taylor…?”

“He was my boss.” Kelly picked up her bottle of water and swirled it, watching the liquid go round and round, her thoughts far away in a past boardroom in Dallas.

“Not going to do that again. Besides, I have Finn now, and he doesn’t deserve anything but the best.” Kelly appreciated the first stars as they began to wink in the darkening sky. She wondered if she’d ever marry again. Sure, it was her choice, but what choice did Finn have? She had to remember that she had more than herself to take care of now. She couldn’t afford to go off her strict, male-free diet, even for a pair of dimples and the knowledge that she’d missed her opportunity to dance with Squire.

“Maybe it’s like Scott said on Sunday,” Crystal said. “Maybe you just need to take that first step before God can guide your feet.”

Kelly studied her cousin, surprised that Crystal’s words practically mirrored her own thought that God had guided her to Three Rivers. “I don’t think he meant I needed to start anything with Squire.”

“Maybe Scott didn’t.” Crystal’s eyes rounded in innocence as she took a dainty sip of her milk.

“Why don’t you ask him?” Kelly laughed, her nerves jumping as the sugar did its job.

Crystal giggled with her, but their joy dissolved into silence as they both contemplated the sky. “You know, God led me to Scott,” Crystal finally said, her voice as serious as if she hadn’t had an ounce of sugar.

“I know.” Kelly remembered how perfect her cousin’s love story had been. Handsome man. Young bride. They’d known they were meant for each other from the first date. Scott had just finished his ministry training, and Crystal had just finished high school. But true love couldn’t be stopped, and they were married the January after her graduation.

They had a good life—the kind Kelly had experienced in San Diego. Well, until she discovered the cheating, lying husband bit.

She believed that if she took a step, God would direct her feet. The sweet peace she’d experienced over her decision to settle in Three Rivers proved it. But she worried that she’d already bypassed the path she was supposed to be on when it came to men. Maybe that road was miles away, on another plane. Maybe because she’d chosen the wrong man the first time, she didn’t deserve a second chance.

“Remember all those balloons I got?” Kelly asked. “For my senior prom?”

“Yeah,” Crystal said. “You never figured out who sent them. Went alone with me and Chelsea, hoping he’d be there and say something.”

Kelly suddenly had to sniff and fight back tears. She nodded to buy herself some time. Her dress had been plum, her shoes silver. She remembered seeing Squire there, but he’d never approached her, instead sticking to the sidelines and shadows before leaving early.

“It was Squire,” she said.

Even the crickets turned silent.

“No way,” Crystal finally breathed. “How do you know?”

Kelly swiped an errant tear away. “I don’t know for sure. But I’m pretty sure based on some things he’s said and how he’s acted.”

“It’s fate,” Crystal declared, exhaling as she threw herself back in her deck chair. “How romantic.”

“Crys,” Kelly said. “It’s not romantic.” She leaned forward and grabbed her cousin’s hand to pull her from her imagination.

“Help me come up with an apology.”

“Yes, apologize. Then you can start dating him.”

Kelly sighed in dramatic fashion, though her own mind now raced with fantasies, all of them featuring the striking Army cowboy.

She wasn’t sure if he’d hurt her, steal her heart, or simply give her a sugar rush. No matter what, she had to apologize.

Squire couldn’t stand another evening by himself in his empty cabin, or in the mansion where his parents lived. He turned away from the window, sourness coating his throat. He had a half a tank of gas, and as he headed outside, he wondered how far he could get before he ran out.

Not far enough, he thought as Benson barked.

“Yeah, we’re going for a ride.” The dog bounded ahead of him and leapt into the back of the truck. Squire started the engine and aimed himself north, instead of east the way he usually did. Once, with a full tank of gas, he’d made it all the way to Oklahoma City before turning around. His father had been livid, though Squire couldn’t blame him. It had been a school night.

He drove until he saw the “Welcome to Oklahoma” sign. Squire had driven to the border many times when he needed to see the sky and figure out what to do. Here, he’d decided to join the Army. Here, he’d decided to go into pre-veterinarian studies. Here, he’d released his dreams to finish his medical degree and open a small veterinary clinic in town.

Here, he’d become the dutiful son who would inherit Three Rivers Ranch.

He got out of the cab and climbed in the back of the truck with Benson, already praying that he could find some solace. Darkness wouldn’t fall for another couple of hours, and Squire wouldn’t be missed until morning. Maybe not even then.

When he’d returned from his deployment last fall, his leg still cast and healing, his mind was filled with hurt and anger. This stretch of sky had helped, especially with Benson nearby. Then his father had told him he wanted to retire. A few months later, Hector died, and everything got tangled. If the ranch had the missing one-point-six million dollars, Squire could hire a foreman. Three Rivers would stay in the family, but Squire wouldn’t have to live it, breathe it, take care of it.

He’d been the one to suggest hiring an accountant—one who had a degree and knew the law—who could help them out of their “financial predicament.” Kelly had the piece of paper, but Squire still wasn’t sure she could get the job done.

As soon as he thought of Kelly, his thoughts tangled again. The confusion on her face when he’d mentioned prom. The interest when she’d asked about the picture. He should’ve discarded it a long time ago. Just like the cricket posters. But they meant something to him, and when he’d cleaned out his teenage bedroom to make a space for himself as a man, he hadn’t been able to throw them away.

He let his mind wander to more carefree times, when all he worried about was working out and playing football. He remembered Chelsea driving him to school, how they’d stop and get Kelly, how she’d have to sit so close to him in the truck.

He’d felt like he belonged to a group back then. First with Kelly and his sister. Then with the football team. With his Army buddies, his squad. Since he’d returned, he felt like he didn’t belong anywhere, not with his parents, not at the ranch, and not with Kelly.

The next morning, Squire woke with hot Benson-slobber seeping through his pants. He nudged the dog, which scrambled to his feet. He yawned, and let his tongue hang out as he panted.

“Let’s go home, boy.” Squire jumped out of the truck and stretched, noting that the sky bled a shade barely lighter than dawn. He still had plenty of time to waste before Kelly showed up for work.

He made it the last five miles to the ranch on gasoline fumes, parked, and arrived in Kelly’s office before she did. He drummed his fingers on her desk, though she wasn’t late yet.

“Are you lost?” She entered the room with her purse slung over her forearm, the files she’d taken home gripped in her hand. “Isn’t this my office?”

“Nice shoes,” he said, taking in her flats. She also wore a pair of gray slacks and a frilly, pink blouse that matched the color of her lips.

“Thank you.” She put her purse in a drawer and appraised him with some apprehension in her eyes. “Nice clothes you wore yesterday. What? You didn’t go home last night?”

Squire scrubbed the back of his head, noting his need for a shower, unsure if he should be embarrassed or pleased that she noticed what he wore. “Uh, not exactly.”

“Oh, a little sleepover somewhere?” She crossed her arms and cocked one hip, her mouth turned down in disapproval.

“Me, Benson, and the Oklahoma border.” Squire gave her attitude right back to her. He swore she almost smiled. Almost.

“Yes, well. What can I help you with, Mr. Ackerman?” She settled at her desk, but didn’t start working.

A snag of hopelessness hooked his heart. “Come on,” he said, trying to smile in a way that would make her relax. “Don’t be like that.”

“Like what?” She flipped open a folder and looked at it. She wasn’t reading though.

“All Mr. Ackerman. I’m not the boss.”

“You’re not?” She shot him a meaningful look through her eyelashes.

“Okay,” he said, standing. “I just wanted to ask you to do the taxes first. I thought of it last night. We filed an extension because of Hector’s death, but I think they need to get done.”

“But if I don’t know where the money is, how can I complete the taxes?”

Squire shrugged. “I’m not the accountant.”

“Exactly,” Kelly muttered under her breath, but when Squire turned back to her, she gave him a sugar-sweet smile. “I’ll get right on it, Boss.”

He left, his heart pounding as if he’d just completed a hefty set of weights. Half from frustration at her attitude and half in appreciation of it, he willed his pulse to slow as he entered his office. But he had nothing to do, and he ended up in the front half of the trailer where Clark was updating the white board.

Clark never wore anything but jeans, a flannel shirt, and brown cowboy boots. Squire suspected his hat had been sewn to his head, though the brown hair poking out from under the brim had just been cut.

“Only Tom’s working today?” Squire asked when he saw that the board was mostly empty.

“Givin’ the boys some time off before plantin’,” Clark said. “Tom could probably use some help with the horses.”

Squire had spent countless hours in the saddle of his horse, Lucy. But she’d died a few years ago, and he’d bonded with Juniper. “Sure, I’ll head over to the stable now.”

Anything was better than suffering here, only a thin wall separating him from Kelly.

“In that?” Clark swept his gaze from Squire’s feet to his head. At least he had his cowboy hat on. “I think he’s muckin’ stalls, Boss.”

“Thanks, Clark.”

The controller removed his hat and scratched his right ear. “And then he’s gonna be out in the fields, checkin’ on the hay. Might want some sunscreen.”

Squire thanked him and hurried to his cabin. He couldn’t stand another day of watching Kelly work, of wishing she’d burst into his office with a miracle. She’d only been here one day, and his constant loitering obviously wasn’t welcome. At least his plan to push her away was working, though it did little to cheer him.

Benson ran in circles around Squire’s legs when he came out of his cabin dressed in his dirty jeans, crusty boots, and work gloves. He yipped like he hadn’t gone to work with Squire in months. And he hadn’t.

Sadness sang through Squire, and he reached down and scratched the old dog’s ears. “I know, boy. We get to work the horses today.”

Benson licked his hands and face before tearing off toward the stables. Squire followed and found Tom in the thick of shoveling out the stalls. “Need a hand?”

“I knew you were comin’.” He smiled. “Your dog can’t keep a secret.”

Benson barked, and Squire swore the dog wore a smile.

Hank whinnied. “Your horses either.” Tom nodded toward Juniper and Hank, who had both wandered over to the fence.

“No treats this morning, guys.” Squire stroked Juniper’s nose and ran his hand down Hank’s neck. The strength he gained from the animals made him bow his head in gratitude.

“You don’t need to help,” Tom said, breaking into Squire’s prayer. “I’m almost done.”

Squire picked up a shovel. “You think I’m too soft?”

Tom chuckled. “Nah.” He scanned him from head to toe. “Just haven’t seen you wear digs like those for a while.”

Squire grunted in response. Maybe he’d be more successful in convincing himself—and everyone else—he wanted the ranch if he worked it more often. He lost himself in the feeding of the chickens, preparing the bottles for the calves, and brushing down the horses. By lunch, he could’ve passed for a real cowboy, but he didn’t have to be happy about it.

The following day, Squire left the ranch and headed into town. Ranching was an around-the-clock job, but the administrative items fell off on the weekends. He planned to grab lunch at his favorite pizza joint next to Vince’s grocery store, and then head into Amarillo. For what, he didn’t know. He just knew he couldn’t loiter around the ranch today.

After he got his food, he crossed the street to the park and found an empty bench farther from the playground. He’d taken the first bite of his pizza when a woman said, “What are you doing here?”

Wiping his mouth, Squire squinted up. Kelly stood in front of him, her hands on her hips.

Warring emotions made his stomach seize. Apparently, excitement didn’t mix well with disappointment. “Eating?”

“I can see that,” she said. “Why are you eating here?”

He took a long drag of his soda. “Because it’s a beautiful day in Texas.” He smiled from under the brim of his hat. “And last time I checked, it was a free country.” He paused as she huffed and checked over her shoulder. “If not, I don’t know why I spent sixteen months in Kandahar.”

Her expression softened and her gaze flickered to his right leg. Ah, so she’d seen the limp he’d tried so hard to hide. She wore black pants and a blue polo with Vince’s embroidered on the left pocket.

“You just get off work?” he asked to get the topic away from his injury.

“Just going in,” she responded, focusing again on the playground. “I brought Finn for lunch, and my mom is picking him up before my shift.”

“So you do eat,” Squire said. “Want to sit?”

She swung her attention back to him, her face an interesting mix of surprise and uncertainty.

“I don’t bite,” he said, picking up his pizza again. “Unless you’re covered in cheese and pepperoni.”

His words elicited a quick smile—Victory! he thought—and she sat way down on the other end of the bench. She placed two fast food bags between them, and they seemed very much like a barrier to Squire.

“Which one’s Finn?” he asked.

“Red shirt.” She pointed toward the slides, where a dark-haired boy bounced up and down while waiting for his turn.

Squire watched him for a couple of seconds before focusing on Kelly again. The creases along her mouth had softened; the edge from her eyes had melted. As she watched her son play, Squire could see and feel the love she had for him.

Squire knew he hadn’t been in love with anyone yet, even Kelly. He wasn’t sure what that felt like, but if the light glinting in her eyes was any indication, Squire thought love was pretty fantastic.

If it could loosen the rubber band constricting his heart, even better.

If loving someone could dull the past decade, set him free, give him hope for the future, he’d take it.

“He’s cute,” he said.

“He looks like his father.” She sucked in a breath. “I mean—”

“I see you in him too,” Squire said as the boy slid down the slide with pure joy on his face. He began running toward them. “The smile, for sure. His chin.”

“Mom!” The little boy arrived, full of energy and fun. “Did you see that?”

“Sure did. Sit down and eat.”

The wiggling Finn sat and took the paper off his hamburger. “This has no cheese.”

“That’s because that one’s mine.” Kelly snatched the burger from him and handed him the one with yellow paper. “Try this one.”

“You don’t like cheese?” Squire asked.

“Depends on the situation,” she said.

Finn peered at him. “Are you a good guy or a bad guy?”

“He’s my boss,” Kelly said.

The word clearly had no meaning to Finn, whose eyebrows puckered. “So we can talk to him, right?”

“Right,” Kelly said, ruffling his hair.

“I’m a good guy,” Squire said. “My name is Squire. What’s yours?”

Finn looked at Squire’s extended hand and then to his mom. Kelly gave him an encouraging nod, and he shook Squire’s hand. “Finnley Xavier Russell.”

“Wow.” Squire chuckled. “Can I call you Finn?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, picking up his juice box.

Kelly grinned down at him, and when she lifted her eyes to meet Squire’s, the smile remained.

He suddenly realized this could be his life. Sitting in the park on Saturday afternoon, eating lunch with his family, watching children swing and play tag and throw baseballs.

His arm slung across Kelly’s shoulders.

His throat tightened as a powerful sense of belonging washed over him.

But this wasn’t real. He didn’t belong to Kelly and Finn, and they certainly didn’t belong to him. Other couples dotted the benches, called to children, threw Frisbees to their dogs.

Squire realized that what he’d been missing was a family.

He slid a glance to Kelly, but she was absorbed in talking to Finn and eating lunch. He likewise focused on his food, his heart hollowing as he realized his fantasy of sitting at this park every weekend with Kelly was not his reality. Never would be.

“Grandma’s here,” Kelly said, standing. “Be good, Finny. See you in the morning, okay?”

Squire got to his feet too. “Nice to meet you, Finn.” He patted the little boy’s head before Finn ran toward Kelly’s mom. “Good to see you, Kel,” he said, his tongue stumbling slightly over the once-familiar nickname. “Have fun at work.”

“Oh, yeah,” she deadpanned. “I just love checking people out on Saturday night.”

“We used to check out a lot of people on the weekends.”

She laughed, her eyes brightening as she did. He realized that the spark of life he’d loved in high school only appeared when she allowed herself an uninhibited laugh.

“I think I prefer that sort of checking out to this.” She nodded toward the grocer. “But I can’t be late.” She took a few steps away and then turned back. “See you Monday.”

He lifted his hand in farewell, his attention singular as she crossed the street and entered Vince’s. He followed and aimed his truck southwest to the busy streets of Amarillo. But the city didn’t hold what he needed—a distraction. He was afraid that nothing would be able to free his mind of Kelly Armstrong, past or present—except the woman herself.

Kelly exuded politeness for the customers. Made small talk about their Saturday night plans. Counted their change. But her thoughts revolved around sitting next to Squire and eating lunch.

Finn usually shied away from most men, but he’d plopped right down next to Squire, shook hands with him, talked to him. Kelly tried not to read too much into what had happened at the park. Squire was well dressed, handsome, with a kind smile. He practically screamed American hero from his very pores. He’d been wearing a new scent today, one Kelly knew she’d smelled before but couldn’t quite place. She stewed about it as she weighed bananas, bagged cans, and handed over receipts.

By the end of her shift, she realized she’d spent the entire eight hours thinking about Squire Ackerman. She sat in her car for a few extra minutes once she’d pulled into her parents’ driveway, trying to fence him from her mind before she went to bed. She couldn’t stand dreaming about him too.

She didn’t even know how he’d rooted himself so deeply in her subconscious, her newfound guilt notwithstanding. He hadn’t been particularly nice to her at the ranch, instead hovering while she tried to work, then criticizing which task she chose to do.

But he was tall and handsome, and his cobalt eyes sucked her in like a strong vacuum. She didn’t understand how someone could live life so fully, without regrets and heartaches. One thought of his limp, and she knew Squire had a past, and that it wasn’t all roses and sunshine.

She smoothed back the wisps of hair that had escaped her ponytail and hurried into the house. Her dad snoozed in the armchair, Finn curled into his side. Her mom glanced up from under the halo of lamplight across the room, her needle flying through her cross-stitch. “Hey, baby.”

Kelly managed a closed-lip smile. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt like she needed to be alone so she could cry. And not the kind of crying because she’d just found out her husband was a cheater and a liar, or the kind where she had to now be a single mom, or the kind where she’d been hurt physically.

The lonely kind of crying. The slow weep of missing a part of your life you used to love. Of coming home and finding someone there to listen, to discuss your life with, to hold close.

“I’m going to bed.” She scooped Finn out of her father’s lap and lugged him down the stairs. She managed to tuck him in and press a kiss to his forehead before the first tear fell.

Crystal’s husband Scott stood at the front of the congregation, his sermon beginning to pass the length of Kelly’s attention. Cuddled next to her, Finn’s soft breathing indicated that he’d fallen asleep. He sometimes did during church, especially after her father let him stay up late watching Discovery Channel.

Kelly stifled her own yawn. While she usually enjoyed the timbre of Scott’s voice, and the messages of forgiveness or mercy, what she loved most about church was the peace she felt when she attended. Like all her cares existed somewhere, but she didn’t have to think about them inside these walls.

She sighed and closed her eyes. Down the row sat Crystal and her three, boisterous boys. The only time Kelly saw them without dirty hands or yelling about something was at church. A smile sang through her soul, just about the same time the choir started the closing hymn.

The meeting ended and her dad lifted a still-sleeping Finn into his arms. Her parents moved down the aisle, speaking to their friends and neighbors.

Kelly leaned over and helped Crystal pick up the cereal her two-year-old had dropped during the sermon. Once they had all the sippy cups packed, all the shoes back on, and everyone turned toward the exit, the room had mostly cleared.

Scott stood in the back, shaking hands and hugging widows. Kelly followed Crystal and her nephews, taking a deep breath as she neared the exit. Out there, the real world waited.

“I don’t know.” Squire’s voice froze her feet mid-step. Her heart kicked against her ribs, and she smoothed her blouse before she could tell herself not to.

He stood to her right, in the other aisle, near the exit on the opposite side. Her view of him was partially blocked by Susie Randall, one of the stylists at the salon. A young, blonde hairdresser with fake nails, fake eyelashes, and other fakeries.

Kelly ducked around Scott and took an eavesdropping position in the foyer. If Squire turned and took four steps through the doorway, he’d see her. But right now, the wall protected her and allowed her to overhear his conversation.

“It would be fun,” Susie said, her voice set high on flirtation. “Word is y’all haven’t been out with anyone since y’all got back.”

“My dad’s needed a lot of help out at the ranch,” Squire said. Kelly detected a note of reluctance in his voice. Her insides performed a pirouette at his rejection of Susie. If he wasn’t interested in such a petite, perfect woman, maybe Kelly had a chance.

Maybe just a taste of sugar wouldn’t hurt….

Where did that come from? She startled away from the wall just as Crystal called her name. Thankful she didn’t have time to psychoanalyze herself, she turned to leave.

“Miss Kelly,” Squire said, suddenly at her side. His Texas twang shot sweetness right down to her toes.

She resisted the urge to appreciate the sight of him in a dark suit and pale yellow tie. Just because he smelled like pine trees and honey didn’t mean she could afford a taste of him. Along with his perfectly tailored clothes, he wore a cowboy hat and a smile Kelly knew had attracted Susie Randall.

“Oh, hey,” she said, a little breathlessly. She reminded herself that she didn’t attend church to pick up a dessert. She wasn’t back in Three Rivers to find a new husband.

Squire nodded toward the door, where Crystal stood gaping. “I think your cousin wants you.”

“Did you want me?” she asked, realizing half a heartbeat late how her question sounded. Her mouth dropped open like her jaw muscles ceased to exist. “I mean—that’s not—”

“Oh, I did.” He leaned closer, his eyes sparking with blue lightning. He brushed his hand along her elbow. “Are you going to the picnic?”

She shook her head, but his words refused to be dislodged. “Finn fell asleep.”

His expression remained neutral. Pure Switzerland. “Maybe you’d have time to walk me there?”

Kelly glanced toward Crystal, who stood in the doorway, her eyebrows high and her mouth open. Without any help from her cousin, Kelly looked back at Squire.

“Okay.”

Squire gestured toward the door, an encouraging smile on his face, and they stepped past a still-gawking Crystal.

“Interesting sermon today,” Squire said, his hands tucked neatly into his pockets.

Kelly had a hard time remembering what Scott had spoken of. “What did you find interesting?”

Squire peered up into the sky, taking a few moments before he spoke. “Do you believe God knows what He’s doing?”

“Yes,” Kelly said, still searching her memory for Scott’s words. She noticed that Squire wasn’t trying to hide his limp today. “Don’t you?”

“I did.” Squire spoke softly, pausing at the corner to check for traffic, though on a Sunday afternoon there was none.

“What changed your mind?”

Squire met her gaze, sheer intensity in his. “I watched four men in my company die. Two others get burned beyond recognition.”

Kelly’s stomach flipped and flopped, and she reached out and ran her fingers down Squire’s arm to his hand, where she held on. “I’m so sorry.”

He tapped his right leg. “All I got was a rod in my leg. Then I’m good as new.” He clipped out the last few words as he stepped off the curb, taking her with him since their hands were still joined. “I guess I’m just wondering why I’m still here and countless other men aren’t.”

“God must need you here.”

“One man who died had a wife and four kids.” Squire dropped her hand, and a chill danced through Kelly. “Surely they needed him. Certainly more than anyone needs me.” He spoke with a measure of bitterness Kelly couldn’t quite understand.

The park came into view, and Kelly stalled. For some reason, she did not want to be seen arriving at the picnic with Squire.

“Thanks for walking with me. See you tomorrow.” Squire stepped away from her, and she watched him join the festivities without looking back.

She worried for a moment that she’d upset him with her statement that God needed him here. Maybe he was just hurt she hadn’t apologized about the prom yet.

She sagged against the lamppost behind her, unrest pirouetting through her bloodstream. She could not get involved with her boss. Not again.

But with every beat of her heart, another dose of desire for the sensitive Army cowboy spiraled through her body.

Monday morning found Kelly in her office, her computer open to the tax program she liked best, with an Internet window listing the current tax laws under that. The former accountant at Three Rivers had scattered the financial documents throughout multiple folders and filing drawers, making it hard to track down the papers she needed.

Kelly entered the itemized deductions into her program line by line, taking careful seconds to make sure she had double and triple-checked the figures before moving to the next step.

A light knock on the door drew her eyes from the files.

“Morning,” Squire said, leaning in her doorway with his hands deep in his jeans pockets. He hadn’t shaved since she’d seen him on Saturday, and the scruff on his face only added to his intrigue.

“Good morning.” Kelly leaned away from her computer, her thoughts flying from coherent to crazy in under a second. “Are you sick?” She stood and moved around her desk to press her fingers to his forehead. She had to stand on tiptoe to do it.

A frown creased his eyebrows. “No. Why?”

“It’s….” She checked her watch. “Almost eleven, and this is the first I’ve seen you today.”

“Very funny,” he said, stepping past her to the chair. He settled himself and looked at her, those eyes blazing with mischief from beneath his cowboy hat. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

“So you’re going to watch me prepare taxes?” She sat down in her seat and pulled a file closer. “You need a new life.”

He leaned forward. “You’re doing the taxes?”

She shrugged like it was nothing. But she’d deliberately not started the taxes on Friday, simply because he’d suggested it. Today, though, something had shifted. Fine, something had tilted inside her when she realized he’d asked her out all those years ago. Something which had only been strengthened by the light touch of his hand in hers as they walked and talked after church.

“You’re doing that weird thing again,” he said. “Where you act like I can read your mind, but you should know I can’t.” He grinned at her, and she saw the life in Squire’s face, but sadness lingered around him too.

“You told me to do the taxes,” she pointed out.

“I suggested,” he said.

She set down the folder. “You practically demanded.”

A smile twitched against his lips. “I’m working on my delivery of my requests,” he said. “I blame the Army for my commanding tone and what I’ve been told are ‘murderous glares’.”

Kelly laughed. “Why did you join the Army?”

“They paid for my schooling,” he said. “I got a partial football scholarship at A&M, but I knew I wasn’t going to be a great collegiate athlete. So I joined the Army reserve, and they paid for my pre-vet program.”

She fiddled with a pen while she listened. “Do you want to be a veterinarian?”

A flicker of hope passed through his eyes. “One day,” he said. “I only had time to finish my Bachelor’s degree before I got deployed.”

She considered him, remembering the horrific things he said he’d seen. “What do you do for the Army?”

“Infantry squadron leader,” he said.

Her heart skipped a beat. “You fight?”

His eyes didn’t lose an iota of their teasing sparkle. “It’s not hand-to-hand combat, darlin’. We use guns, not swords.”

“I know,” she said, feeling a bit foolish. She had imagined him face-to-face with an enemy, trying to land the killing blow with a curved blade.

“Specifically, I man the Abrams.”

Confusion puckered her features. “The Abrams?”

“I drive the tank.”

“Oh,” she said. “Impressive.” He’d clearly adopted the workout policies of the Army as a daily habit, and his calm demeanor likely came from his training to keep cool during difficult situations.

“Or at least I did.”

Kelly’s eyebrows rose. “Did?”

He tapped his right thigh. “They gave me an honorable discharge after losing my femur.”

Compassion filled her, an uncomfortable sensation after trying to keep him at arm’s length. “I’m sorry to hear that.” She nodded toward his leg. “The leg, and the discharge.”

He took a deep breath, his chest rising as his eyes closed. Kelly again had the impression he was reliving something she’d never understand.

His eyes opened and held hers. “I’m okay with both things now.”

“Does your leg give you trouble?”

“Yes.”

His simple answer sent a fierce rush of appreciation through her. Appreciation for him, and for all servicemen and women who had sacrificed to protect her freedoms.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, finding the words inadequate but having nothing better. Why were they so easy to say in this conversation and so impossible in others? She needed to say something. Now.

Say something.

Say something!

“Squire—”

“A lot of things give me trouble these days.” His expression darkened, bringing the moody, upset version of Squire Ackerman. “So you obviously finished your accounting degree.”

She swallowed back the word vomit containing her apology. “Obviously.” She tapped on her computer track pad to wake the machine, not wanting to talk about herself.

“What else have you been up to?”

“Not much,” she said. “Being a mom. Cooking, and cleaning, and taking Finn to playgroups. We lived in San Diego before, or when….” She cleared her throat as she mentally berated herself. Great, Kelly. Bring up your ex. Awesome way to win over a guy.

She panicked as she realized she was trying to win over Squire Ackerman. Her best friend’s younger brother, Squire! Of course she was. She owed him an explanation for her silence.

“Sometimes I miss California. The heat in Texas is much different.” She wished her voice didn’t sound so strangled.

Squire gave her a serious look, his head cocked to the side like he could hear more in her words than what she’d said. “You should feel the sun in Kandahar.”

“Is that where you just returned from?”

“Sort of,” he said. “I spent six months in the hospital in Germany before my discharge. But I served one deployment in Afghanistan and this last one in Kandahar.”

She raised her left hand, which used to be bedazzled. “One divorce here.” The smile she tried on felt stretched too far in some spots and sagged in others, like an ill-fitted swimming suit.

“He must not know what he’s missing.” His words settled into the silence, between the cracks in her heart, where they tried to burrow into the soft places.

He stood, sending his chair into the wall behind him. “I should go.”

She nodded as he strode out of her office with the grace and power of a man who’d never seen a day inside a hospital. If she hadn’t been looking for it, Kelly wouldn’t have noticed his limp.

The words she should’ve said were still contained. Oh, he knows. He just chose someone over me.

“Squire?” Kelly poked her head into his office a few minutes before quitting time. He wasn’t there. She tried Frank’s office, but she hadn’t seen a light on all day. The rest of the trailer was likewise deserted, except for faithful Clark at the front desk. He moved like cured honey, slow and smooth, his hands weathered from years of outdoor work. His skin looked like tanned leather, and his face practically cracked when his expression changed.

“Have you seen Squire?” she asked him.

“Not since ‘bout one,” he said, his voice hard and rough. “He don’t usually spend all day out here.”

She looked over her shoulder, as if she could see through the solid metal door to the house. Kelly didn’t really want to go traipsing all over the ranch looking for him, so she hurried back to her office for her purse and phone. Dictating a text as she retraced her steps, she told Squire she needed to meet with him over some missing documents. Important tax documents.

All the sales documents for the cattle at Three Rivers in the past five years.

She hit send as she climbed in her car. “I can’t stay tonight,” she continued, speaking slowly into her phone. “Let’s meet at nine in my office tomorrow.” She backed out and drove past the equipment buildings, the stables, and the calving stalls—which she’d learned from Tom were full thanks to a successful calving season that had ended just a few weeks ago.

The house sat on the end of the row, the sprawling garden in line with the ranch buildings. Beyond that, a row of about twelve cabins was spread. She wondered which one was Squire’s and what she’d find inside. Five minutes down the road, he called.

“Hey,” she said, still thinking about which pictures he’d have displayed in his cabin, and if he’d used one of hers for target practice.

“Missing documents? Clarify.”

“Yes, sir, commander, sir,” she said, barely refraining from rolling her eyes. “Is that what your squadron called you?”

“Major, actually.”

“Okay, Major Ackerman.” She smiled to herself. Teasing Squire was more fun than she remembered. She sobered quickly at his growl. “I don’t have the income records for any cattle sales.”

“None?”

“Nothing for the past five years. I don’t know how Hector came up with the numbers for the taxes. I spent all afternoon digging through those files, and there’s not a single document detailing any profit.”

She turned from the bumpy ranch road onto the highway. “Three Rivers has been claiming a loss for five years, and without any income documentation, it’s no wonder.”

Squire coughed and then cleared his throat. “Well, I-I honestly don’t know what any of that means.”

She imagined him lounging on the leather couch in his old bedroom, the picture of her next to him on the bookcase. Her heart kicked out an extra beat. “It means, Major, that Hector has been filing a loss for the ranch.” She spoke kindly, hoping she didn’t sound condescending. “That means that, according to the IRS, you’ve been spending more money to run the ranch than the ranch actually makes. You get a break on taxes, because really, you’re not making any money to be taxed on. So far, so good?”

“I think I’m with you,” he said.

“The ranch has been selling cattle each year, hasn’t it?”

Squire took an extra few seconds to answer. “I believe so. Kel, I’m foreman, but I know almost nothing about operating a cattle ranch.” His low voice held twinges of embarrassment and sorrow. “My dad’s been teaching me, day by day. So I know we just finished calving season, and we got about two thousand new calves. We’ll only keep half of those. The cow-calves are selling for a lot this year, too.”

Kelly’s suspicions about Squire being hesitant to run the ranch intensified. She wondered why he was at Three Rivers when he didn’t want to be. Duty? Loyalty? Necessity?

“We’ll also sell off a couple hundred of our breeding heifers, and we have four bulls that are done siring.” He paused. “So we’ll replace our heifers with some of our calves that are several years old, and sometimes we purchase some. We’ll use several younger bulls for sires. We always keep some from castration when they’re calved.”

She wanted to laugh as he spoke of the inner workings of a ranch she’d never known about. “Okay,” she said, not knowing what else to say. “So you’ve been selling cattle. Because that’s the only source of income, right?”

“Right. Well, I mean, sometimes we sell our excess hay, but we really don’t have much of that.”

“But there are no records of any income from sold cattle in the past five years. We need to find those documents.” Her mind buzzed with this new development. She’d found the problem. She was capable of doing this job.

“I’ll come to your office tomorrow.”

“Nine o’clock.” She couldn’t wait, and that scared her almost as much as needing to learn about the calf-cow market. She was so out of her league at Three Rivers, professionally and personally.

Squire couldn’t sleep. The walls of his cabin kept his thoughts and worries so close. He wanted to call Kelly, just to hear her voice over the line. No amount of cocoa butter lotion had been able to soothe him, and with the softest hands he’d had in years, he slipped out of bed and pulled on his boots.

Once he reached the stables, he clucked his tongue for Juniper. She appeared a moment later, Hank right behind her. He wore gym shorts, so Squire carried their apples in his hands.

“Hey,” he said, grateful neither horse questioned him for his midnight visit. They crunched through their treats, their swishing tails bringing him comfort in the strangest way. His mind wandered, no longer contained by walls.

He thought back to his conversation with Kelly as they’d walked to the picnic. He’d hoped if he could get her to the park, she’d come with him. But her hesitance had poured from her in waves. Squire had some intelligence, and he’d walked away with a straight back. When he finally got the courage to look behind him, he’d found only an empty street.

Hank nudged his thigh, reminding Squire of his confession that he had no one here that needed him. Intellectually, he knew that wasn’t true. His parents were relying on him more than they even knew.

God must need you here. Kelly’s words echoed through his head. If she was right—and Squire desperately wanted to believe her—he wished God would let him know how to be the most useful.

He stroked the horses for a few more minutes before going back to his cabin, where sleep finally claimed him in the early morning hours.

The next morning, he arrived in Kelly’s office before she did. The view from her window offered a slightly different angle than his. The door to the building slammed, and Squire instinctively ducked his head, his forehead meeting the glass with a sharp thunk.

Equal parts frustration and foolishness bubbled in his system, giving the bump a pulse all its own.

Kelly’d already seen his limp, shown her horror at his war stories. He didn’t need her pity for his PTSD too. He straightened at the sound of her delicate footfalls and prayed for patience.

“Squire,” she gasped, coming to a stop just inside her office. “You scared me.”

He turned from the window, his heart still doing a double-time beat in his chest. “It’s only eight-thirty,” he said as he took in her tight jeans and sleeveless blouse. The crimson made her hair look lighter, more like wheat than honey. “Why are you here so early?”

“Finn slept late,” she said as she ran her fingers through her hair. “So I didn’t have any reason to hang around the house this morning.”

He nodded and joined her at the wall of filing cabinets behind her desk. “What are you looking for?” He took a deep breath, trying not to let her tropical scent distract him from the work they needed to accomplish.

“Anything I can find,” she said, giving him a full appraisal. Her eyes roamed his face, filled with concern. Attraction sparked inside Squire, but he extinguished it with a bucketful of memories of him hiding on the sidelines of the prom.

“You look tired,” she said.

“You told me our ranch has five years of missing income documents.” He ground his teeth together, the way he’d been doing for the past twelve hours. “So no. Not much sleeping happened last night.”

“Did you say anything to your dad?”

Squire shook his head, his mind rattling with a thousand different ways to start that conversation. “I want to tell him when we have good news, not bad.”

“What if we never have good news?” Kelly looked into his eyes, somehow right past all his emotional defenses. Right through him, like she always had. She fiddled with the collar of his shirt, fixing it flat. He resisted the urge to lean into her touch and close his eyes to capture the memory forever.

“Don’t talk like that, Kel.” He ran his hands through his hair, wishing he was in a position to touch her. He hadn’t been a decade ago as his sister’s younger brother, and he wasn’t now as a broke cattle rancher who didn’t even know how his ranch generated revenue. He’d never felt so inadequate, even with her decade of silence and seeming nonchalance about how she’d treated him.

“I like it when you call me Kel.” She gave him a closed-mouthed smile and returned to her filing cabinet drawers.

He pulled open a drawer and peered inside. Jam packed with files, his heart pretzeled into a painful knot. “Oh, darlin’.”

“I know,” she said. “Pull out anything that looks like it could be related to sales, income, herd size, calving, or anything else you can think of that would be money coming in to the ranch.”

He thumbed through a couple of folders that were labeled Medical 2007. “Do you think that’s where the lost money is?” he asked. “We haven’t had income?”

“No.” Kelly turned back to her desk, where several thick files lay. “These are the tax files for the past five years.” She flipped open the top folder. “Look. Hector reported an income of almost two hundred thousand dollars last year. I don’t know where he got that number.”

She rustled the papers, making an angry sound with her fingers. “There’s no attached documentation. It’s a miracle you haven’t been audited.”

Sharp fear pinched his stomach. “A miracle,” he murmured, feeling untethered to the ground, like gravity had stopped pulling on him. He sent up a silent prayer of gratitude for the lack of an audit.

“We have to find the missing income statements,” she said. “We have to keep accurate taxes for seven years in case of an audit.” She went back to her filing drawer, her jaw set and her eyes determined.

That strange sensation—forgiveness—stretched his mind, moving him away from the past and anchoring him in the here-and-now. Focusing him on the Kelly in front of him, blurring the one who’d injured him.

Squire liked that she’d been an employee of the ranch for three days and yet spoke like she was part of the “we” that was in trouble. He admired her determination and the way her sharp eyes searched with exactness.

He turned his attention to the files. He didn’t know what to do. Helplessness poured through him as he wondered how long it would take to go through these drawers. Weeks, maybe. He took a deep breath, considering what he could control. He had nothing but time. The extended tax deadline wasn’t until October.

He’d once played a football game with a separated shoulder. He’d driven a tank through the deserts of Kandahar. He’d once carried his best friend, Pete, on his back after they’d taken an indirect hit in Afghanistan.

He could find a few missing files, especially if he could keep Kelly by his side during the operation. “Let’s do this,” he said.

By lunch, his shoulders ached, a sharp pain shot through his lower back on the right side, and his hands looked like they’d been dipped in dust-coated cobwebs. His slacks had gray streaks on them from where he kept trying to remove the grime.

Kelly hadn’t fared much better, but somehow the dirt made her more beautiful, the soreness in her shoulders made her arch her back in a pose Squire darted his gaze away from.

“Let’s go eat,” he said, trying one last time to wipe his fingers clean as he stood. He reached a still-disgusting hand to her and pulled her to her feet.

“We’ve found nothing,” she said, vocalizing the despair and frustration rising through him.

“We will,” he assured her, giving his voice more power and hope than he possessed. He followed her down the hall, and Benson trotted to his side as soon as he descended the stairs. Squire automatically leaned down to scratch him behind his ears. The animal’s comfort infused him, allowing him to erase the outward worry that his mom would be able to spot through a pair of binoculars. Which he wouldn’t put past her using.

“What’s his name?” Kelly asked, indicating the dog.

“You don’t remember Benson?” Squire squinted at her. “I think that hurts his feelings.”

On cue, Benson whined before licking Kelly’s hand.

She jerked her fingers back, and Squire barely stopped himself from laughing as she wiped her hands on her pants. With her ranch-approved footwear, Squire didn’t have a problem keeping pace with her. She took the path that led into the backyard and toward the patio.

“You look scared,” he said as they neared the steps.

“I am scared,” she said. “I don’t know how to pretend that everything is okay. Especially when it’s not.”

He stopped walking, and she did too. “Haven’t you ever had to keep a secret?”

“Yeah, sure.”

He stepped into her personal bubble, wanting to be closer to her and using this hushed conversation as a way to do it. “Like what?”

She tilted her head back to keep her eyes locked with his. “You know, Santa Claus, birthday presents.” She looked petrified, like Santa carried a chainsaw. Squire wondered what she was afraid of.

He shook his head. “No, like a major secret that you don’t want anyone else to know. Like, in high school when you had a crush on someone and you didn’t want them—or anyone—to know. Or like—”

“When your husband has another woman in another city?”

He flinched like she’d punched him. “Oh, darlin’, I’m so sorry.” He hooked his pinky in hers, gave a quick squeeze, and let go.

She blinked a few times as her eyes shone with sudden liquid and stared toward his cabin. “It’s fine. I mean, I’m over it.”

Squire cupped her elbow in his palm. “Are you? Because it doesn’t sound like you are.” If the rumors his mother brought home from the salon were to be believed, she’d only found out about her husband a few months ago.

She blew out her breath. “It’s like Scott said a couple of weeks ago. God requires us to forgive.”

Squire cocked an eyebrow and shifted his weight to his left leg.

She couldn’t seem to meet his gaze. “I’m still working on it,” she finally admitted.

“Which part?” he asked. “Forgiving him? Or forgiving yourself?”

Her eyes flew to his, and now they held. Time stretched as they looked openly at each other. He wasn’t sure what was running through her head, but he knew she hadn’t found peace on either point.

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked, her expression taut.

“Of course.”

“Do you think God forgives us, even when we make the same mistakes over and over again?”

She looked so frail, the pleading note in her question hanging between them. Squire wanted to clamp both of his hands on her shoulders and impart strength to her.

“I think God is very forgiving. Sometimes it’s us mortals who have to let go of the past and focus on becoming what God wants us to become.”

He still didn’t know why God called some men home, while others had to stay behind with puckered skin, shattered bones, or broken minds. But he absolutely knew that God was forgiving.

She turned away from him and swiped quickly at her face. “Thank you. I’m working on that too.”

“We all are,” Squire said, wishing forgiving someone was as easily done as he’d just vocalized. Truth was, he was still working on forgiving her. This conversation urged him a little closer to that goal.

Kelly faced him and drew a deep breath through her nose. “So I have to pretend like everything is okay, like I’m just sifting through papers in my office, not looking for ranch-saving files.”

“Exactly.” He flashed a smile in her direction. “Because I’m sure you haven’t told Finn the whole truth about his dad.”

“No.” Her eyes widened. “I would never—it would kill him.”

“And this could kill my father,” Squire said, looping his arm through hers and starting up the stairs. “So we put on our happy faces, and we pretend everything’s fine.”

His mom didn’t make lunch every day, and today was one where the kitchen sat clean and empty. Kelly stalled in the doorway. “I brought a sandwich. I don’t need to eat your food.”

Squire continued to the fridge and pulled out a container of last night’s sour cream noodle casserole. “But you can. Ma made that noodley stuff you and Chelsea used to inhale.”

Kelly put one hand on her hip. “I did not inhale anything.”

“Uh….” He stuck the container in the microwave. “Yes, you did.”

“I’ve seen you eat a milkshake in thirty seconds flat.”

He pointed a fork at her, glad the tension between them had evaporated. “That was a dare.” He chuckled. “I can’t believe you remember that.” The woman obviously had an iron memory—at least on some points. Why couldn’t she remember he’d asked her to prom?

Why did it still feel like a branding iron against his lungs? He gulped for air, reached for the courage to ask her if she’d gotten the balloons.

“What was that guy’s name?” Kelly asked, obliterating his questions. “The one Chelsea was so enamored with?”

“Todd,” Squire answered through a too-tight throat. Chelsea had managed to get Todd to go get ice cream with them after a basketball game, claiming a bunch of friends were going. It was just her and him, and Squire and Kelly. For that one night, he’d felt like the other half of a couple.

“That’s right.” Kelly snapped her fingers. “Todd Hurley. What ever happened to him?”

“You’ve been out of the rumor mill for too long,” he said as the microwave beeped. He pulled out the food and stirred it before dividing it onto two plates. Nudging one toward an empty spot on the bar, he gave her a meaningful look. “Sit. Eat.”

She slid into the seat and he sat next to her. “I have,” she said. “I get most of my information from Glenda at the salon.”

He appraised her. “You don’t look like Glenda does your hair.” He fingered it, simply because he could and it wouldn’t seem weird. Silky and soft, and absolutely beautiful with a hint of red he hadn’t noticed before.

She laughed, tipping her head back. “No, but she knows everyone and everything that happens in town. If I need to know something, I ask my mother, who knows or can find out at Glenda’s.”

He wondered what everyone was saying about him, about Three Rivers. “I’m sure the grocer is a hotbed for gossip too.”

“Definitely.” She took a bite of her noodle casserole. “Mm, I remember this now. You’re right. I totally inhaled this.” She forked another bite into her mouth.

He ate a little more slowly than Kelly, finally working up the nerve to ask, “What have you learned about me?”

She leaned back, her plate empty. “Let’s see. Your dad is going to retire soon, and you’re going to take over Three Rivers. Oh.” She grinned at him. “You’re incredibly handsome, and Glenda wishes her daughter still lived here so she could set you up. Apparently Glenda likes a man in uniform.” She waggled her eyebrows at him.

Always with the uniform. Squire tired of it, especially now that he couldn’t wear his uniform for anything but show. “Believe it or not, I’ve heard that before.”

“Oh, yeah?” She punched him lightly in the arm. “That you’re incredibly handsome? Or that women swoon at the sight of a uniform?”

He crossed his arms, pride parading across his vocal chords as he said, “Both, actually. Why do you think I joined the Army?”

“Because you needed money for school.”

“I never should’ve told you that.” He picked up his plate, gathered hers, and walked around the counter to the sink. With his back to her, he asked, “So what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you think I’m handsome? Do you swoon at the mere sight of a uniform?” He rinsed the plates and loaded them in the dishwasher, very aware that he was playing with matches very near the open flame of his heart. The pause created by the clacking dishes lengthened even after he finished.

He turned around and leaned against the counter, his eyebrows raised. His pulse sat heavy in his throat, and heat streaked his neck. But it was about time they had a real conversation. He’d seen her fear, her confusion, and he wanted answers.

She studied the counter, braiding her fingers together again and again. “I’d have to see you in your uniform to decide if it’s swoon-worthy,” she said. “But you’re definitely handsome. You know, for girls who like the tall, rugged, cowboy type. Like maybe Susie Randall.”

He groaned. “Susie Randall is barking up the wrong tree.”

Kelly folded her arms and peered up at him. “Are you calling that gorgeous, blonde woman a dog?”

“If the boot fits,” he said, shrugging.

“Squire Ackerman.” She stood and put both hands on her hips, a prerequisite to her lecturing him. She’d done it countless times as a teenager, and once last week in his old bedroom.

He wasn't sixteen anymore and he wouldn’t back down. “I’m just not interested.”

“In dating?” Kelly’s eyebrows rose.

Squire pinned her with a look that made her squirm. “Who wants to know? You? Or the ladies at the salon?”

“Not me,” she said, though her voice went up in pitch. “I mean, if you want to date, you should. But if you don’t, then that’s your right too, you know? I mean, are you interested in women?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation.” His words sounded like rockets inside his own ears. So much for trying to tame his commanding tone.

Kelly flinched. “You’re right.” She paced away from him. “I shouldn’t lecture you. Especially about dating.” She spun and met his gaze. He watched her gear up, watched her mouth open.

“I’m so sorry about the prom. I didn’t know who’d invited me.” Her fingers fumbled, fumbled, fumbled as his heart tumbled, tumbled, tumbled. Her bottom lip would be hamburger by the time she stopped chewing it.

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

Shocked into muteness, Squire nodded.

“I popped all those balloons and couldn’t find a name on any of the confetti. I hoped whoever had brought them would try again or call me or come to the prom and ask me to dance or….” Her words rushed, crashed, broke over Squire like white-capped rapids.

“I would’ve said yes,” she said. “I’m sorry, Squire.”

He twisted in the river of words and emotions and revelations and feelings, trying to right himself.

She hadn’t ignored him. Hadn’t rejected him. She simply hadn’t known.

And he’d been too angry and too afraid to approach her.

Squire broke the surface of the waves her apology had caused. “I want to try again.”

Their eyes locked, and everything he’d just admitted was blown wide open. The good news was Kelly had some of her own feelings she’d been hiding. He identified hope, happiness, and helplessness before she buried her emotions deep, deep.

He pushed away from the counter before he could blurt another embarrassing comment. “Well, those files won’t go through themselves.” He headed for the patio door, the backlash of her apology still uncoiling in his ears.

“Files?” his dad asked, coming into the kitchen. “You two still going through all the paperwork?”

Squire froze, meeting Kelly’s panicked gaze. “Yes.”

“Find anything yet?” He shuffled to the fridge.

“No, sir,” Kelly said, her voice on the verge of a tremor. “Nothing we need, at least.”

She’d spoken true, and Squire gave her a thumbs up while his father’s back was turned.

“Let me know when you do,” his dad said, and Squire confirmed that he wanted to know too. He gestured for Kelly to go in front of him, which she did.

“Slow. Steady,” he whispered as she passed him. She looked like she was scampering away, not just going to back to her office for a long afternoon of work.

Her steps slowed, and Squire made to follow her.

“Son?” his dad asked.

“Yeah?” He turned back to the kitchen as Kelly left.

He waved his spoon toward the window. “How’s she doin’?”

“Better than I thought, actually.”

“You keepin’ an eye on her?”

“Two,” he said, sure his dad wouldn’t read the double meaning in his statement the way his mom would. He glanced out the window and found Kelly waiting for him at the bottom of the steps. “I’ll keep you updated.” He waved good-bye to his father, determined not to make a fool of himself in front of Kelly again. But she had a way of making him comfortable. Maybe she hadn’t been looking through him all those years ago. Maybe she could see past the surface to what seethed beneath.

Benson yipped when Squire stepped onto the deck. “I know, boy,” he murmured, his pulse teetering on the edge of needing to bark. “Gotta take a step back.” Too bad he wanted to sprint now that he knew Kelly would’ve said yes.

Kelly walked a half step behind him on the way back to her office. If she stepped right next to him, maybe their fingers would brush. Maybe he would hold on, or maybe she would.

She’d liked holding his hand, and that meant it absolutely could never happen again. If Frank hadn’t interrupted Kelly felt certain she’d have continued spouting her feelings. Yes, she thought Squire was beyond handsome. Yes, she’d very much like to see him in his uniform, but that his everyday clothes stirred her as well. Yes, his scruffy three-day-old beard made her think about kissing him just to see what it would feel like against her cheek.

No, she would not be repeating the mistake of getting involved with her boss.

Kelly nodded hello to Clark, who watched her with narrowed eyes. She ignored him and regained her professionalism as she strode ahead of Squire down the aisle.

Ethan leapt from his chair and sauntered toward her. Kelly could barely refrain from rolling her eyes as he stepped into her path.

“Hey, sugar,” he drawled, his Texan accent too false for her liking.

“Hey, yourself,” she deadpanned, her own accent drawing out the words. She felt more than saw Squire’s clenched fists and jaw.

“So I’m free this weekend,” Ethan said, and in any other circumstance, Kelly might have thought he was attractive. Or maybe next to Squire, Ethan didn’t hold a candle.

“You wanna go to the rodeo with me?”

“There’s a rodeo this weekend?” Kelly wrinkled her nose, though she loved a good rodeo as much as the next Texas girl.

“In Amarillo.” Ethan grinned.

The thought of riding in a truck with him for over an hour made Kelly slightly queasy.

“And there’s the Fourth of July celebration coming up,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll be somethin’ special wearing patriotic colors.” He scanned her from head to toe and met her eye with a smile.

Kelly squirmed just thinking about what he might be visualizing. “Listen, Ethan, I’m sure you’re a nice guy—”

“He’s not,” Squire growled, moving so close his body heat brushed her skin.

“But,” Kelly said. “I’m coming off a divorce I haven’t finished paying for yet. I’m not really ready to start dating again.” She tried to sound as sympathetic as possible. Firm, but friendly. “I’m sure you understand.”

Ethan stepped back, a flush crawling up his neck. “Yeah, sure I do.” He turned and shuffled back to the table, much less swagger now.

Ultra-aware of how close Squire stood, Kelly released her breath and headed for her office. “I don’t need your help,” she said over her shoulder.

Squire’s uneven footsteps quickened. “We still have heaps of files.”

“With Ethan.” She stopped outside her door and folded her arms. “I can take care of myself.”

Doubt clouded his expression; his mouth flattened into an angry line. But he held up his hands in surrender. “I’m sure you can.”

He moved past her and picked up a folder, his eyes hidden by that blasted cowboy hat.

“The Red Barn Cattle Company,” she read from a yellowed piece of paper. “Could that be where you sold some cattle?”

She scanned the paper, and it certainly seemed like a receipt. “Three hundred seventy-four cow-calves, second year, thirty-seven thousand, seven hundred seventy-four dollars. There’s a copy of a check attached.”

Squire bent over her shoulder, his breath cool on her neck. “It’s made out to the ranch,” he said. “It’s from two thousand eight. That was a record year for beef.”

“The market is at it’s highest right now, too,” Kelly said. “I did some research over the weekend.”

“Of course you did,” he said, those eyes twinkling with a tease.

“Last year was a boom, what with the falling feed prices. Everyone is predicting the prices will stay stable, or get better, throughout this year too.” She pulled the entire folder out of the cabinet. “A ranch like Three Rivers should be pulling in major profits.”

Squire removed the thick file behind the one she’d just taken. He moved to her desk, rolling his shoulders as he went. She couldn’t blame him. Her muscles ached like she’d been hit by a truck and then backed over.

“I don’t get it,” Squire said, leafing through the pages in his folder. “We have a computer program for this. Every receipt, every purchase, every sale. It just goes into the computer.”

Kelly glanced up, a zing of worry sliding through her. “I don’t have that program on my computer.”

Squire frowned, pulled out his phone, and typed something into it. “I’ll ask Clark about it.”

“Maybe Hector was too old-school.” Kelly didn’t want to speak ill of the dead, but if Three Rivers had invested in financial software, it should be on the accountant’s computer.

“Maybe Hector was a thief,” Squire said bitterly.

Kelly’s heart hurt for him. “We’ll find the money, Squire.” She smiled at him when he looked at her, and she put her hand on his, squeezing his fingers for only a moment before pulling back.

Awkwardness settled on them as Kelly cursed herself for touching him—again. She needed to stop doing that, especially after their joint confession in the kitchen. She couldn’t encourage his crush on her. That was all he had. A soda pop, boss-like crush.

She opened a spreadsheet and began entering the receipts of purchase she’d found. The Red Barn Cattle Company bought a lot of cow-calves from Three Rivers. But nothing else. No heifers; no bulls.

“Jackpot,” she said near the end of the file. Holding up a piece of paper, she said, “Two thousand eleven. Stuffed way at the back of this file that begins with a two thousand eight receipt and goes backward to nineteen ninety-four. Then suddenly.” She waved the paper. “Two thousand eleven.”

Squire took the page, his face grim, and examined it. “I was in Afghanistan for most of two thousand eleven. I don’t know how things on the ranch were going.”

“Seems no one did,” Kelly reminded him. “We’re going to figure this out. I promise.” She created a new sheet in her computer file and entered the profits from The Red Barn Cattle Company.

Next she found the tax return for 2011. “We’re still ninety thousand dollars short, according to what Hector reported as income for this calendar year.”

Neither of them found anything over the course of the next hour. Kelly finally finished her second folder, closed it, and stacked it against the wall where they’d decided to put the looked-at files.

“Do you think he hid the records on purpose?” Squire asked, setting his own file against the wall.

Kelly stretched her back, moaning with the cascading ache in her spine. “I hate to say it, but yes. Otherwise, they’d be in the tax returns. And they’d be in the right place in the files. They’re not.”

His piercing eyes pinned her to the spot. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m sure this isn’t what you imagined your job to be when you were hired.”

She hadn’t imagined anything, because she hadn’t had a real accounting job before. “It’s a job I desperately need,” she said. “So I should be thanking you.”

Squire drew her into a soft embrace, and she went willingly though her mind was screaming at her to put distance between them. She pressed her cheek to his chest, enjoying the softness of his shirt and the scent of fresh cotton—along with his manly, spicy smell.

His strong arms held her close, and she felt his muscles relax though the hug remained tight.

Kelly’s heart rippled like a flag in a stiff Texas wind, and she disentangled herself. She’d told him she could take care of herself—but against him she had little defense.

“I’m going in for feed tonight,” he said, his eyes like lasers, focused and intense on hers. “Want to meet for dinner?”

There was no mistaking the invitation this time, despite his casual shrug and feigned nonchalance.

“Like I told Ethan, I’m not ready to date, and—”

“It’s not a date,” he said quickly. “I just want to thank you. You’re doing so much for us.”

“Us?” she repeated, tilting her head to the side to study him. Why couldn’t she read him? Did they teach Majors in the Army to be complete enigmas?

He gazed steadily back, one hand tucked in his pants pocket like he hadn’t a care in the world.

“Yes, us,” he said. “If you find this money, my parents will be able to retire. You’ll be our savior.”

She heard the sincerity behind his words, but something else lingered there too. She’d wanted him to say she was helping him, but he hadn’t.

“You’re paying me a salary,” she said. “It’s my job.”

“Consider it a bonus.”

Her heart stalled and her throat went dry. Taylor had often called her “his little bonus” at work.

She shook her head, her resolve hardening with the memory. She would not be Squire’s bonus. “Sorry, I can’t tonight.” She stepped away, opened the drawer where she’d stowed her purse, and headed for the door.

“Kel, wait.” Squire didn’t move to block her, but the pleading tone of his voice was enough to make her pause. “It’s just dinner. It’s not prom.”

“Squire, I just can’t,” she said without turning around. She wanted to use Finn as an excuse—he would be the easiest way out—but she couldn’t. She found her inner well of strength, the place she’d dug down to when she’d discovered the truth about Taylor. It was pretty dry after her outburst in the kitchen, but she still had some guts.

Turning back to Squire, she steadied her nerves with a deep breath. “You’re my boss.” Her words, simple as they were, seemed to stutter the motion of the earth. “And I’ve made that mistake before.”

He started nodding, his jaw tight and his eyes gathering clouds. Kelly was grateful he’d understood what she meant without her having to spell it out.

“Another time, then.” His words clipped from his teeth. He’d become a statue. A statue that didn’t move when she took a step nearer to him.

“Definitely another time.” She ducked her head, her pulse bouncing, bouncing, bouncing through her veins. “But as things stand right now, I simply can’t. I hope you understand.” Kelly didn’t wait for him to respond. She held her head high and walked out.

Squire didn’t go home after Kelly left. Mentally kicking himself—had he seriously invited her to dinner mere hours after she’d told Ethan she wasn’t ready to date?—he got in his truck and just drove. Benson sat on the front seat, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. If only things in Squire’s life could be so carefree.

After a half hour of silence, he slammed his palm against the steering wheel. Benson barked as Squire yanked the truck to the side of the road and dialed Chelsea.

“Hey, little bro,” his sister answered. “What’s up?”

Squire leaned his head against his window as Benson laid his head in Squire’s lap. “How’s the job?” He stroked the dog to get his fists to uncurl.

“I’m surviving,” she said. “It’s our busy season, so I’m actually still here.”

“Oh, do you need to go?”

“No, I’ve got time. You don’t call everyday.” Chelsea’s way of saying, What’s going on? Is Dad okay? What about Mom? What is important enough for Squire to call?

He heard all the questions, and he sighed. “Mom and Dad are great. Three Rivers will survive.”

He paused, not quite sure how to ask Chelsea about Kelly without giving specifics. She didn’t know about his high school crush, and he wanted to keep it that way. Though if he’d told her he’d asked Kelly to prom, maybe the date he still longed for would’ve actually happened.

“So this is a Squire problem,” Chelsea said.

“Yes.” The word hissed out of his mouth. “A girl problem, actually.”

“Oooh.” She squealed, and Squire held the phone away from his ear lest he go deaf. “You haven’t called me about a girl since Tabby.”

“Come on, Chels,” he said. “She was no good for me.”

“I know that,” she said. “But since you don’t trust anyone, you needed to give her a chance. And when you did, you found out who she really was.”

“Hey,” he protested. “I trust people.” Even as he spoke, he knew he only gave a select few his trust and only with certain information.

She scoffed, but he continued undeterred. “This is a past girl problem.” His mouth turned dry, the affliction coating his throat and seizing his chest.

“A past girl problem?” Chelsea asked. “Did Tabby come back into town?”

“No. Ah….” He swallowed his nerves. He trusted his sister. “Do you ever remember Kelly Armstrong getting asked to her senior prom?”

He could practically hear Chelsea turning back time in the few seconds of silence.

“Yeah,” she said. “She got a ton of balloons, but we never found a name. Her parents didn’t know who brought them as they’d both been at work.” Chelsea gave a light laugh. “Kelly really wanted to go, too. Made me buy a dress and go stag.”

The confirmation Squire needed surged over his walls of distrust for Kelly. The bricks around his heart crumbled, releasing years of seeing Kelly through the colored film of his bruised ego.

“Why are you asking about prom?” Chelsea asked.

“Kelly’s back at the ranch.”

Chelsea heard the unsaid sentiment. “And you like her,” she singsonged.

“I was the one who asked her to prom.”

The lighthearted atmosphere over the line dissipated.

“No…why didn’t you tell me?”

He released the pent-up air in his lungs. “I was embarrassed. Humiliated. I thought she didn’t want to go with a sophomore.”

“I sense a but….”

“But yes. I’m interested in getting to know her better. The—the old feelings are still there.”

“So it’s a new girl problem.” Chelsea wore a smile in her words.

“She’s hardly the same girl.” Squire thought of the picture of her son. “And technically, I’m her boss, and I can’t act on how I feel. Right?”

“I don’t know, Squire…. Lots of people meet and fall in love at work. But at Three Rivers? I’m not sure it would work.”

“Ollie married Ivy,” he said.

“He took care of calves, and she cleaned the admin building in the evenings. It’s not the same.” Chelsea sighed. “You own the ranch, Squire.”

“But I don’t want it,” he said, the truth exploding out of him. With those words, Squire felt like he’d taken the antidote to a powerful poison. He rolled them around in his head. I don’t want the ranch.

“I sort of asked her out,” he said. “It was a disaster.”

“I hate to say this, little brother, but there’s your answer.”

He pressed his eyes closed, knowing she was right. “So how’s Danny?” he asked, changing the subject.

Chelsea went with it, the way she always did. He vowed as he listened to her talk about her boyfriend that he wouldn’t be returning to the subject of a relationship with Kelly.

Because Chelsea was right. Kelly had given her answer, and it didn’t fall into a gray area. He’d seen her face when he’d said dinner with him could be considered a bonus. She’d looked like she’d witnessed something horrific. The wide eyes, the rapid pulse. That was clearly the wrong thing to say, and he wanted to know why. He wanted to know everything about Kelly. The good, the bad, the ugly.

After hanging up with Chelsea, he ran his hand through his hair, turned the truck around, and returned to the ranch that was his destiny.

“Smithfield Cattle Auctions,” Squire said upon opening another folder. He couldn’t read fast enough, or find the date. “This has to be another place we sold cattle.”

Kelly hustled to his side, leaning over his arm to get a better look at the purchase receipt. “Yes,” she whispered. She plucked the paper from his fingers without getting too close to touching him. “Nice work, Major Detective.”

He didn’t like it when she called him Major, but he didn’t let his frustration show. “It’s from two thousand five. But if we did business with them once, we probably did again.”

That was what they’d discovered over the past few days of digging through the files. They now had four stacks against the walls. Kelly had created a folder for each year of missing income, each now held a few slips of paper. It seemed that Three Rivers sold cattle in many and various auctions, to slaughter houses, and even to private merchants.

Since his dad had done all the selling, Squire hadn’t been able to ask him to list all the different places they’d sold cattle. He didn’t want his dad to know about the missing paperwork, or that even when they found the documents, the numbers didn’t align with the income reported in the tax returns.

Kelly wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. “Another auction house.” She clicked a few times on her computer. “They’re out of Lubbock, which isn’t unreasonable.”

For the past two days, she’d been entering everything from the files into the program she’d found and installed, while Squire continued to look for cattle sales documents.

He thought they made a great team, and she’d even said those exact words. He said very little. Kept his distance. Hardly smiled. His aloof behavior had become the only way he could think of to survive.

Kelly leaned away from the computer and pulled two sandwiches out of her desk drawer. She tossed him one, slid an apple across the desk, and placed a bag of potato chips between them. “Lunchtime.”

“My mom has plenty of food at the house.” He picked up the sandwich. “Peanut butter and jelly? What are we? Ten?”

She smiled, revealing her perfect teeth and ratcheting up his heartbeat. “Sometimes I wish we could be.” She took a bite of her sandwich and closed her eyes. “I used to love coming to the ranch. My house was so lonely.”

“Used to?”

Her eyes popped open. She met his eyes and then ducked her head. “Yes, I still love coming out here.”

He picked up his sandwich and opened it. “Why?”

“Chelsea was my best friend, and there was always something going on here.” She gave him an innocent shrug. “I used to have a huge crush on one of your cowhands.”

Squire coughed around his bite of peanut butter and jelly. “You’re kidding. Who was it?”

“I couldn’t keep them straight. I was a sucker for a man in a cowboy hat.” She peered up at him through her lashes. “Still am.”

Her smile felt infectious, and Squire found that he couldn’t straighten his lips. “So that’s why you’re so nice to Clark.”

“Clark’s helpful.”

So am I, he thought. Clark wasn’t the one who’d spent the last four days in her office, going through endless files. Not that Squire was complaining. If he wasn’t doing this, he’d have to invent a reason to spend time with Kelly.

“So,” she said, averting her eyes. “Are you going to go back to school and get your veterinarian degree?”

Startled, he glanced up. She crunched her way through half her apple before she met his gaze. “Well? Look who’s doing the weird read-my-mind-while-I-stare-at-you thing now.” Her mouth turned up into a smirk.

“I don’t know.” His voice came out raspy. “Do you think I have that option?”

Her light green eyes took on a new hue. One with more power, more intensity. “Of course you do, Squire. Why wouldn’t you be able to finish college? Don’t veterans get educational assistance? After you graduate, you could work at Three Rivers, tending to the animals here. You have enough of them.”

He’d forgotten about the GI Bill that would allow him to return to school. He had not forgotten the way she lectured him, though at this moment, only appreciation tainted his tone when he said, “It’s not that simple. Dad wants to retire now. I’ve already taken over here as foreman. Veterinarians have to go to four years of medical school. Do internships.” He finished his sandwich, the unspoken words hovering between them.

It’s impossible. Won’t happen.

“The GI Bill probably doesn’t pay for advanced degrees,” he added.

“But you don’t want Three Rivers,” Kelly said like she was trying to coax her son into eating his Brussels sprouts. “Have you thought about telling your dad that?”

“What would be the point?” Squire mashed the plastic bag in his fist, unused to arguing with her. As a teen, he’d taken everything she’d said as truth. “To hurt him? To abandon him when he needs me most?”

Kelly leaned forward. “Chelsea did.”

“Chelsea isn’t her father’s only son.”

“You deserve to be happy, too. That’s all I’m saying.”

“So do you,” he shot back, unsure of what he meant. Maybe that she could be happy with him, even if his ranch hadn’t made a penny in five years. Maybe that she should forgive herself and take a chance on dating him.

His blood pressure rose as his annoyance soared. Why couldn’t he accept reality? He barely knew Kelly; she’d been back in his life for only a little over a week. She’d made it clear she wasn’t interested in dating. Not just Ethan. Everyone.

Reality.

He needed to accept it.

“I am happy,” she said.

“So am I.”

She stood, taking her trash with her. “Excuse me.”

He let her go, just like he had a thousand times before. He couldn’t say exactly what he wanted, because that got him into as much trouble as when he kept his thoughts to himself. Or when he spoke in riddles.

Doesn’t matter, he told himself as he followed her out. The inadequacy flooding through him provided him with the invisibility he’d always possessed.

As he stomp-limped out of the admin trailer, he imagined himself as transparent as a ghost, able to move through walls. For that was all he had to offer Kelly: a broken heart, a shattered leg, and a bankrupt ranch. A ghost of a real life.

And she knew it. Had seen it.

Didn’t want it. Didn’t want him.

When Kelly finally returned to her office, Squire was gone. She’d walked through the calving stalls, watching the boys bottle-feed the calves. She’d helped them throw feed to the chickens; she’d visited with Heidi as she instructed Frank on how to plow their garden for planting.

She loved the ranch, everything about it. She loved the silence of the country being broken by the barking of dogs, the chatter of chickens, the whistling of the wind. She loved the wide-open sky. She’d loved coming here, because she felt like she belonged.

She hated that she’d pushed Squire further away. She could tell he was hurting, probably over several things. Kelly didn’t know everything, and she wanted to.

She pulled out her phone and texted him an apology, but he never answered. She went home for the weekend with his silence, and somehow that hurt more than turning him down for dinner.

Saturday dawned early as summer had officially arrived in Texas. Kelly planned another lunch at the park, this time making sandwiches for her and Finn. She slid in a couple of extras in case Squire showed up.

She hoped he would. She hadn’t told him they ate lunch at the park every weekend, because they didn’t. Until now.

She claimed the bench he’d been on last week, fed Finn, and watched him play on the slide. The lampposts had patriotic banners attached to them, and Kelly remembered the huge Fourth of July celebration coming up. Children laughed; dogs barked; mothers scolded. Squire stayed away.

Her mother came and picked up Finn, and Kelly went to work with knotted organs. Her shift at Vince’s was spent obsessing over Squire, not merely thinking about him.

I should call Chelsea, she thought. She and Squire were close, and maybe she’d provide some details on how to win him over without taking things past the point of professional.

Stay out of his personal life, Kelly thought. She shouldn’t have asked him about going back to college, or said anything about him talking to his dad about the ranch. She’d crossed the line and not even realized it.

“Hello, dear.”

Kelly looked up to find Heidi standing in her line, two carts of food behind her.

“Oh, Heidi. Hi.”

They chatted about the weather, the ranch, and Chelsea while Kelly rang up scads of groceries. “Making your monthly trip?”

Heidi glanced at the full belt of food. “This is only for a week. We have a lot of boys coming out for planting.”

“Oh. Where’s Squire this weekend?” Kelly slipped him into the conversation casually, but surely Heidi hadn’t mistaken the interest in her voice.

“He’s at the base this weekend.” Heidi handed her a fistful of coupons.

“I thought he’d been discharged.”

“He has. They’re still doing some rehab on his leg.” She watched the screen as Kelly scanned each coupon. “It gives him trouble sometimes.”

“Yes, he said as much.” Kelly nodded, satisfied at why he hadn’t answered her text yesterday afternoon. It still stung. What? They didn’t have service on the base? He couldn’t spare ten seconds for a text? Squire seemed to have a knack for disappearing when he didn’t want to talk about something.

She finished with Heidi’s groceries and handed her the receipt. “See you Monday.”

Heidi looked at her a moment longer than necessary. “You don’t work here every weekend, do you?”

“It’s my last day,” Kelly said. “I had to give two weeks notice after I got the job at the ranch. Didn’t want to leave Vince high and dry.”

Heidi patted her hand. “You’re a sweet girl, Miss Kelly.” Her eyes sharpened and her grip tightened. “My Squire deserves someone like you.”

She pushed one cart of groceries toward the exit as a bagger pushed the other, leaving Kelly’s ears burning. What was she saying? A passing statement that she thought Squire deserved a sweet girl? Or was she giving Kelly permission to be with Squire, despite the fact that he was her boss?

She definitely needed to call Chelsea.

“Kelly!” Chelsea’s scream nearly blasted Kelly’s ear off. Due to her new schedule, she’d risen early on Sunday morning despite the opportunity to sleep in.

“Hey, Chelsea. It’s not too early, is it?”

“Not for you,” she said. “Actually, not for anyone. We’re on deadline for a new product, and I’ve been working seven days for a couple of weeks now.”

“Wow,” Kelly said. “Do you have a few minutes?”

“Definitely. I hear you’re back in Three Rivers. I wish I was there with you.”

Kelly wished that too. Chelsea had always been a voice of reason for Kelly, even though she was also her biggest conspirator and perpetrator of silliness.

“So…I need some advice.”

“I’m getting that a lot lately. I should start charging.” She laughed. “Tell me everything.”

Kelly wondered who else was asking for advice, but Chelsea lived a whole new life now. Surely it wasn’t someone she knew.

“So my job is out at Three Rivers,” she started. “Your mom said something yesterday that made me think.”

“She’s always doing that.” Kelly thought she detected some bitterness behind Chelsea’s words.

She fiddled with a string on her shorts, unsure how to talk about Chelsea’s brother without broadcasting her interest in him.

“What did she say?” Chelsea asked.

Kelly pushed the words out of her throat. “She said Squire deserves someone like me. And we’ve been working together to…solve some problems at the ranch, and—”

“Okay, stop,” Chelsea said, accompanied by a girly shriek. “Are you saying you like him? That you want to be the one Squire deserves?”

“No,” Kelly said. “Yes? Maybe. No. I just don’t know what your mom meant by that.”

Chelsea started laughing, but a sticky coating formed in Kelly’s throat. She gazed beyond the row of trees at the edge of the backyard. She envied them. They didn’t care what grew nearby and how close it was. They didn’t think about their neighbor day and night. They didn’t wonder what it would be like to have a second chance at something they desperately wanted.

Kelly didn’t need a new love every spring like the trees blossomed and leaved. She wasn’t even sure she could take such a leap of faith a second time.

Chelsea’s giggles finally subsided.

“What’s so funny?” Kelly asked.

“Squire called me last week. He told me he asked you to prom.” She squealed.

“What else did he say?” Kelly thought her words sounded strange coming from such a curved mouth.

“He wanted to know if a relationship between him and one of his employees would work. I—uh—I told him it probably wasn’t a good idea.”

Ice chased away her blurred vision, the upturned lips. “I turned him down, because he’s my boss.” And I’m not ready to date again. She’d spoken true on that point. Squire’s questions about forgiveness niggled at her. She definitely hadn’t forgiven herself. She didn’t even know how someone went about doing that.

“But then your mom said he deserves someone like me, and I thought…I don’t know…maybe….”

“Three Rivers isn’t an office, with a policy,” Chelsea said. “So, why not?”

Kelly’s inner well was nearly dry. “Taylor, my ex-husband, was my boss when I started dating him.” She took a deep breath, but it did nothing to settle her this time. “I’m scared, Chelsea.”

“Oh, honey—”

“I mean, what if I cross that professional line again? What if he turns out to be like Taylor?” The questions spurted out of her, her throat bearing the heat as if lava had escaped the earth. “What if I lose my job? What will I do then? Finn and I need financial security.”

Chelsea waited a few seconds, and when Kelly didn’t continue, she spoke. “What if it’s amazing? What if you fall in love with him? What if you and Finn move out to the ranch and the three of you become a family? What if the two of you could run Three Rivers together?”

Kelly imagined herself as Squire’s wife, living on the ranch full-time. She could still be the accountant. “I don’t know,” she said. “I’m not ready for another man in my life anyway. I don’t know if I can do that to Finn.”

Chelsea’s long silence made Kelly’s insides wobble like they’d been jelled. “Sometimes, Kelly, we have to let go of what we don’t know, and just go with the flow.”

“You sound like my cousin. She said to take the first step, and God would direct my feet.”

“You have smart friends.”

“But, I don’t go with the flow. I need to know what’s going to happen before I step.”

“You must have gone with Taylor. At least a little bit.”

Chelsea’s words stung, because she was right. Kelly had been swept up by Taylor, by everything about him. His wealth, his good looks. She squeezed her eyes closed against the memories, against the way she’d abandoned what she knew to be right because he was charming, handsome, and rich.

Come to think of it, Squire possessed two of those qualities. And if she found the money for the ranch, he’d be rich too. The thought terrified her. She could not repeat the mistakes she’d made. She wouldn’t. She’d worked too hard to feel comfortable at church again, spent too many nights working up the courage to send a prayer to heaven.

Help me now, Lord, Kelly prayed silently. What’s the next step?

She had no idea, and God seemed to be silent on the subject as well.

“I don’t want to make the same mistakes twice.” Kelly barely recognized her voice, childlike and tinny as it came out.

“You’re not going back to Taylor, are you?” Chelsea asked. “This is Squire we’re talking about. I didn’t know Taylor, but I’m willing to bet he’s nothing like my brother.”

“He is tall, dark, and handsome.”

“I can’t believe you and Squire….” Chelsea drew in a sharp breath. “I bet my mom can see it too. That’s why she said he deserves someone like you. What have you done to make her think that?”

Kelly thought through the seven working days she’d been out at the ranch. “I don’t know. We’ve mostly been digging through files. Your mom never comes out to the administration building.”

“Neither does Squire.” A heavy dose of suggestion rode in Chelsea’s voice.

“Of course he does,” Kelly argued. “He has an office now that he’s the foreman.”

“But he doesn’t need to be out there,” Chelsea said. “He needs to be where my dad is, learning how the ranch operates. And I guarantee that doesn’t happen in an office.”

Kelly hadn’t seen Frank in the administration trailer once since her interview. Her heart pittered and pattered, tumbled and tripped, at the thought of Squire spending so much time in the trailer just to be with her.

The topic moved to Danny, Chelsea’s boyfriend, and by the time Kelly hung up, she still didn’t know what to do.

Three Rivers embodied everything she wanted: Safety, security, someone to love.

She just wasn’t sure she could take the risk. It wasn’t just her heart this time. It was her life. Her son’s life. Their future.

Squire doesn’t want the ranch anyway, she thought, her hopes falling. She wanted to belong somewhere, with someone, but she wasn’t sure she could rely on a man to support her again—especially one with no prospects beyond a near-bankrupt ranch.

She buried her face in her hands. She couldn’t reconcile the two halves of her thoughts, and she ended up going downstairs twice as confused as before.

Squire took his time returning from Sheppard Air Force Base on Monday. Anxious as he was to find the missing documents and, yes, to see Kelly again, he felt the need to delay the reunion. She’d texted on Friday afternoon, another welcome apology.

He’d ignored her.

He wasn’t sure why. Maybe because he was simply hurt. Maybe he wanted her to feel what it was like to be overlooked, forgotten, ignored. She’d spoken true about his desire to be the ranch’s veterinarian, not its owner. But during his physical therapy and doctor’s appointments, another idea had hatched in his mind.

Maybe he could be both. Maybe everything wasn’t quite so black and white.

With a new prospect bouncing around in his brain, he drove slowly, knowing that the first stop he’d make when he returned to the ranch would be Kelly’s office.

By the time he’d made the four-hour drive, it was an hour past lunch. His mother had the boys working in her garden, so Squire knew the administration building would be quiet.

Against his will, his nerves stood at attention. His pulse quickened, and he suddenly needed to turn up the air conditioning in his old truck. Trying to ease his jitters, he looked at himself in the rear-view mirror.

“She already likes you,” he muttered to his reflection. He let the door to the building slam closed, even though it sent a full-body shiver racing through him. Pressing the memories back, he approached her office with loud footsteps so she’d know he was coming.

She sat at her desk, leaning forward as she peered at something on her computer screen. His tension fled at the sight of her. Her hair wisped from its low ponytail, like she’d been outside in the Texas wind. She wore a black and white polka dot sheer top with a black tank top underneath. He stared for too long, but he couldn’t make himself look away.

“Afternoon, darlin’,” he said.

She startled but didn’t look at him. “Is it really afternoon?” She glanced at her watch. “I haven’t eaten yet.”

“Perfect timing, then.” He gestured to the chair he normally occupied. She’d placed a large stack of folders on it. “Mind if I come in?”

In answer, she hurried around her desk, doing everything she could not to make eye contact with him, and removed the files.

Squire sat down, suppressing a sigh of relief. “Sorry I didn’t respond to your message, darlin’.” Regret laced his words. He knew better than anyone how deep a wound like that could go.

“It’s fine,” she said. “Your mom said you go to the base for physical therapy. I figured you didn’t have service.”

“I had great service,” he said, finally drawing her full attention. “Ah, there you are. I was afraid you were going to ignore me the whole afternoon.” He gave her a quick smile, but she simply blinked at him.

“You got my message, and just, what? Ignored it?” A fire entered her eyes, spurring Squire to apologize again.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said,” he continued. “And I wasn’t sure how to respond, and I’m sorry.”

She nodded her acceptance. “What did I say that you were thinking about?”

“The part where you suggested I finish veterinarian school.”

She’d completely abandoned her work and pulled out a paper sack. She broke her sandwich in half and offered it to him. He waved her away, a grin on his face. His mother made a feast during planting week. Kelly’s PB&J wasn’t worth eating compared to the beef ribs and potato salad he hoped would be waiting for him at the house.

“And?” she prompted.

“And nothing. I’ve just been thinking about what you said.”

“No conclusions?”

“Not yet.” A fib, but she still looked like she might run screaming from the room if he said the wrong thing.

She scanned him, the edges around her eyes softening. “You’re still in uniform.” Her gaze met his, and she swallowed hard, like the peanut butter had stuck in her throat. “And you’ve shaved.”

“Thanks for noticing.” A string of attraction threaded through him when she blushed. He stood, flinging his arms wide as he spun in a slow circle. “So now you’ve seen me in my uniform. Swoon-worthy?”

He chuckled as he sat down. “Don’t answer that, okay? I don’t think I can take another rejection from you.” From the redness in her cheeks, he wasn’t sure he’d get one.

“Squire, I—” She pressed her eyes closed for two heartbeats before opening them again. “I’ve been thinking a lot this weekend too. I’m really sorry about pushing you about the ranch. It’s honestly none of my business. I crossed a professional line, because, I don’t know, I knew you growing up?” She huffed out her breath. “I don’t know. But it wasn’t my place to say anything, and it won’t happen again.”

He studied her as she took a bite of her apple, her eyes dancing away from his again. “We’re friends, right?” he asked.

“Sure.” She nodded, and relief shot through him. He had very few people he counted as true friends, people he could trust no matter what. He wanted Kelly to be one of them.

He leaned forward and placed his elbows on her desk. “Then it’s okay for you to talk to me about personal things. That’s what friends do.” He pinched off a bite of her sandwich. “I’d like the lectures to be toned down. I don’t need another mother.”

Her face blanched before a slow smile spread her lips. “Fair enough. But then you better start being level with me about what you thought about this weekend.” She pointed her finger at him. “I can tell you’re not saying everything.”

“Lecturing.” He chuckled, and it felt right to be sitting here with her, talking, with the knowledge that he couldn’t get much past her.

“I had a thought, and it’s kind of crazy, but I wonder what you think.” He tried to quiet his nerves by crossing his arms tightly, like he could keep the storm inside that way. “What if I could finish school and run the ranch? I mean, obviously not at the same time. But I could hire a foreman while I finish medical school. Then I could come back and run the ranch, with my primary job as taking care of the animals.” He watched her for any sign of emotion, approval, something. She gave nothing away.

“It’s only four years. Dad could still retire. He and Mom could still move into town. The foreman could live in our basement, take care of the house, the ranch, everything. Then, when I’m done, I come back and take over from there.” He pressed his arms tighter, the thunderclouds grew bigger, waiting for her reaction.

Her face lit up, making her more beautiful than ever. “That sounds like an ingenious plan. And you could still have a clinic in Three Rivers. Something you operate on an emergency basis, or a couple of days a week.”

“Working with the animals on the ranch will definitely keep me busy enough. But it’s something to think about.”

She tapped a pen against her desktop, finished her lunch, and finally looked at him again. “So, will you say something to your dad?”

“Yes, I’m going to talk to my parents today.” He stood, feeling lighter and freer than he had in months—since Hector had died. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? We’ll get back to all these files.”

“Squire.” She stood too. “Where would you go to school?”

“The only program for a doctorate in veterinary medicine is at Texas A&M.”

Eight hours away, he thought, but didn’t say. She heard the distance that would be between them, though neither one of them acknowledged it. By the turmoil in her eyes, she didn’t even know how she felt.

He wanted to comfort her. But he didn’t know if things would work out, with them, with the ranch, with anything. So he simply left her office, rehearsing the speech for his parents.

Squire strolled from the administration building to the house, words tripping around in his head.

Help me find the right thing to say, he prayed as he approached the homestead. Bless my father with an open mind.

He found his mother in the garden. Unfortunately, at least a dozen cowhands worked nearby, all within earshot.

“Hey, Ma.” Squire stepped next to her and put his arm around her shoulders.

“You’re back.” She peered up at him, a smile on her face. “What did the doctors say?”

“Still healing.” His pulse suddenly went into overdrive. He had so many words, and they were all suddenly fighting to come out. “Where’s Dad?”

His mom didn’t look away from him. “What’s on your mind, son?”

“I don’t want the ranch,” he blurted. He took a deep breath. “Right now,” he said. “I want to finish my veterinarian degree, and then come back and work with the animals.”

Somehow, his dad knew he’d just said something important, because he appeared next to his mom. “What’s going on?”

Squire half-hoped his mom would convey the message to his dad. But he knew she wouldn’t. She raised her eyebrows and gestured to his dad.

“Dad, I don’t want to run the ranch right now. I want to finish my veterinarian degree. Then I’ll come back as the official veterinarian on-staff.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and focused on the dirt at his feet. “I still have time to apply for this fall’s program. It’s four years. In College Station.” He reminded himself to breathe, to speak slower. “I’ll hire a foreman before I go. I know you want to retire.”

His father stood there, staring at Squire. He blinked once, twice. Stared some more. Squire knew he was processing. He never reacted immediately, instead absorbing and trying to understand. It was something about his dad that Squire loved the most. He’d learned to behave the same way, though he hadn’t had as much practice.

His dad glanced at his mom. She nodded, somehow completing a conversation they’d either had previously or didn’t need to have.

“Okay,” his father said.

The rubber band around Squire’s chest snapped, the release sweet and freeing. “We should see if Clark wants to give up his desk job in favor of taking on the ranch.”

“Clark?” his dad asked.

“He would be ready to retire in four years,” his mom said. “He’s a great choice, Frank.”

Squire hadn’t considered what the foreman would do once he returned, but Clark would be ready to retire in four years. Everything seemed to be falling into place to allow him to return to school.

Squire wanted to shout, to laugh, to dance like no one was watching. This level of happiness hadn’t been present in his life since the attack on his tank.

He glimpsed a version of himself he’d been then. Hopeful for the future. A man with dreams that could come true. Someone who could feel joy.

As he headed to his cabin for a shower, his steps landed lighter, the air entered his lungs easier, the sun illuminated his life.

A life free from an old hurt. A life without resentment.

A life he wanted.

The next morning, Kelly woke to Finn’s crying. He gagged, and she flew from her bed right when he threw up. She helped him, shivering, into the tub, then went upstairs to retrieve cleaning supplies.

Half an hour later, her alarm went off. She called Frank, and by his groggy tone, she’d woken him. She explained about Finn, and he said, “Don’t worry about it. Hope he feels better soon. See you tomorrow.”

She hated calling in sick on her ninth day, but also appreciated that she worked for a family that understood.

After cleaning everything up, including Finn, she helped him get dressed in a clean pair of pajamas and they snuggled together on the couch.

At precisely nine o’clock, she got a text from Squire. You’re sick?

Finn is, she messaged back. She grinned as she imagined Squire standing in her office, waiting for her. You’re welcome to go through things in my office. Make a stack for anything interesting you find.

Her mom brought a bottle of soda downstairs, stroked Finn’s hair, and gave Kelly a kiss on the forehead before going back upstairs. Half an hour later, she called down that she and Kelly’s dad were going into Amarillo for the day.

Kelly woke to the peal of the doorbell sometime after lunch. Finn continued to sleep, so she slid away from him and hurried upstairs. She whipped the door open, absolutely no idea who would be standing on the other side. She certainly didn’t expect to see Squire standing there, holding a couple of grocery sacks.

“My mother sent soup.” He lifted the bags and stepped past her, Benson bounding behind him. “Oh, can he come in the house?”

“Yes, yes.” She frantically tried to flatten her hair as she followed Squire and his dog into the kitchen. She wished she wore a cowboy hat every waking moment the way he did. She grabbed a sweatshirt off the back of the couch and pulled it on to hide the fact that she wasn’t completely dressed.

When she arrived in the kitchen, he’d placed a pan on the stove and was removing the lid from a container of chicken soup. Benson sat at attention in front of the aquarium, his paw flinching toward the glass every time a fish swam near.

“You know my mother.” Squire poured the soup into the pan and began opening drawers. “She’s got twice as many cowboys out at the ranch this week, getting her garden in. She makes enough food to feed an army.”

An army of anxious ants marched along Kelly’s skin at having him in her parents’ house. At his large presence filling the tiny kitchen. At the way her fingers itched to hold his.

“Spoon, spoon,” Squire muttered, and Kelly stepped next to him to the drawer where all the big cooking utensils were. She handed it to him, and he grinned. “Thanks.”

He hummed as he stirred the soup, and she had a flash of what a life with him could be like. Then she reminded herself that if Squire went back to school, he wouldn’t be home in the middle of the day. He wouldn’t be able to zip over with chicken soup when she or Finn was sick. He wouldn’t even be within a reasonable driving distance to see him on the weekends.

She put her hands in the pockets of the hoodie. “Did you talk to your mom and dad about college?” She couldn’t help asking. Friends asked each other questions about their lives.

“Yes.”

She heard the warning in his voice, and he kept his back to her, a clear indication that he didn’t want her mothering him.

“And?” she asked anyway.

“You’re so nosy.” He turned and she found a sparkle in his eyes.

“Interested,” she corrected. Very interested, she added mentally.

He took a micro-step closer to her, but in the small kitchen, it felt like a leap. “They agreed that I should finish. Dad’s talking to Clark about being the foreman while I’m gone.” His eyes bored right to the center of her being. “Thank you for pushing me to talk to my parents.”

A flash of pride stole through her. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You did.” His entire body blazed with energy. It practically leapt from his body to hers. “I wouldn’t have said anything if you hadn’t insisted that I could do both.”

“So you’re calling me pushy and insistent?” She hugged herself. “Thought you didn’t want me to lecture you.”

He laughed, a much happier sound than she’d heard from him before. “If the boot fits.”

The sound of coughing floated up the stairs, and Kelly took the opportunity to leave the kitchen. It was getting hot, hot, hot in there.

“Hey, baby.” She cupped Finn’s face in her hands and searched his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m hungry.”

He didn’t feel feverish. He didn’t seem flushed. “You think you can eat?” She smoothed his hair back. “Maybe something like toast?”

“Maybe something like soup?” Squire’s voice sounded behind her, and she turned to find him on the bottom step.

“You’re the guy from the park.” Finn spotted Benson, who came with Squire like his shadow. “Is that your dog?”

Squire joined them near the couch and knelt down. “Do you like chicken noodle?”

Kelly noted the kindness in his voice, and how he’d gotten on Finn’s level. Benson licked Finn’s hand, and he giggled. He stroked the dog’s head, and if dogs could purr, Kelly felt sure Benson would have.

“Can I eat soup, Mom?” Finn’s stomach roared.

“I guess so,” she said. He stood up slowly, a speed her son didn’t usually operate on, and headed upstairs. “If he throws up again, you’re cleaning it up,” Kelly said to Squire before she went to help Finn get some homemade chicken noodle soup.

She ladled herself a bowl too, unable to resist the tantalizing scent of chicken broth and pasta. Behind her, Finn and Squire sat at the bar, and she served up another bowl so the three of them could eat.

When she turned, she found a freshly baked loaf of bread on the counter too. “Your mom is a saint,” she said, almost ready to cry that she didn’t have to cook today.

“Hey, I’m the one that brought it.” Squire smirked, but Kelly looked away. She wasn’t sure what emotion rode in her eyes, but she didn’t want Squire to see it.

Finn made a full recovery after that, soon wanting to go outside and play with Benson. “I’ll take him out,” Squire said. “Benson loves a Frisbee.”

“Yes!” Finn jumped up and down. “Please, Mom, can I?”

She appraised her son, as if she could tell the status of his health just by looking. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”

“Yes.”

Squire put his hand on her shoulder. “He’s fine. Benson’s practically a nurse. He’ll let me know if something’s wrong.”

“All right,” she said. Finn whooped and ran around the corner and through the mudroom. Squire started to follow when Kelly said, “Maybe I’ll jump in the shower.”

Squire nodded and proceeded out to the backyard. Kelly moved to the window in the kitchen where she could watch them. Benson ran around, barking, while Finn found a football and tossed it to Squire.

He launched it back. Finn jumped for the ball and caught it. He came down with a smile on his face, and Squire scooped him up with a triumphant yell. Her heart melted into her stomach, which churned with a strange mix of joy and trepidation. She’d never seen Taylor play with Finn before. The most he’d done was bring his computer to the beach so he could work from a camp chair while Finn splashed in the ocean.

Watching Squire play with her son, she again glimpsed what life could be like with a family. With Squire.

If only he was available to settle down, to run the ranch, now. Four years seemed impossibly long, and College Station impossibly far away.

Frustration solidified her heart and her resolve. Finn alone was her family, and a handsome, kind man with a dog didn’t change anything. She fed herself these lies as she headed downstairs to shower.

“He can’t stay,” Kelly said for the third time. “He’s been here all day.”

Her parents had returned from Amarillo with Chinese takeout. Enough to feed half the county, in Kelly’s estimation. They’d invited Squire, who was still at the house, to stay for dinner.

“He can stay,” her mother said, bustling around the kitchen and getting out plates. Five plates.

Squire looked at Kelly, his eyebrows raised. He moved into the living room, and she followed.

“I can stay, darlin’,” he said. “Really. I’m twenty-six years old.” He half-smirked, half-smiled. “It’s not like I need to check with my parents first.”

“You don’t need to waste any more time here,” she said, unsure as to why she was pushing him away. The hug in her office had something to do with it. The way he’d played with Finn had something to do with it. The battering her ribs were taking from her pulse definitely had something to do with it.

“It’s not a waste of time,” he said, his eyes flashing with dangerous fire. “I’ve been invited. I’m going to stay.” He removed his cowboy hat and ran his hands through his hair. Somehow, it fell into place, despite being under a hat for hours. He stepped past her and re-entered the kitchen.

Kelly heard his low voice mix with her father’s. She felt off-balance with Squire here. Not because he didn’t belong, didn’t fit. But because he did.

She pressed her hand over her heart and willed it to beat slower before she rejoined her family—and Squire—in the dining room. Chinese food containers littered the center of the table, and her dad was helping Finn get the sweet and sour chicken he loved.

Her world righted itself, with Squire in it. She saw with clarity how easily he could fit in with her family, her son, her life. Her fingertips tingled and her eyes misted and her stomach squeezed squeezed squeezed.

“Come on, Mom.” At the sound of Finn’s voice, Kelly stuffed everything behind a wall in her mind to deal with later and took her place with the people she loved most. It surprised her to think of Squire like that, but while she might not love him, she certainly felt comfortable around him.

She filled her plate with her favorites, removed from the conversation as her father asked Squire about his military service. She had nothing to contribute, but she listened as he gave details about his deployments.

“How’s your family?” her mother asked next.

“They’re fine, ma’am.” He leaned away from his plate, apparently satisfied. “My mother had the boys put in her garden these past few days.”

Kelly’s mom smiled. “If only we all had cowhands to get our gardens in.”

“I could send them out,” Squire offered, which made Kelly’s eyebrows rise. When his mom had offered the services of the boys to help her move, Squire had vetoed it in two seconds flat.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kelly said. “Mom hasn’t gardened in well, ever.”

“Hey,” her mom said. “Daddy always puts in some peas and corn.”

“It takes them half of a Saturday,” Kelly told Squire.

“Have you done it yet?” he asked her father.

“No.” He leaned over and picked up the fork Finn had just dropped.

“Well, I can come help you get it done this weekend, then,” Squire said.

Kelly wanted to object, but both her mother and father accepted so quickly, she couldn’t. She watched them exchange a glance and she suspected that their impromptu trip to Amarillo had actually been planned.

She narrowed her eyes at her mother, who suddenly had somewhere else to look. Suspicion, confirmed. Heidi must have called to say she was sending over chicken noodle soup with a side of male goodness. Kelly abandoned her food too, finding it hard to swallow.

Finn finished eating before everyone else, as usual. Kelly started to stand to help him clean up and get ready for bed.

“I’ll do it,” her mother said. “Will, come help me run a bath for him.”

Like it took two people to turn on the tub. Kelly watched them go, feeling very much like she was on a date in her parents’ kitchen. Ridiculous!

“It’s been a great day,” she said to Squire. “Thanks for bringing the soup and playing with Finn.” Her voice caught on her son’s name. “It means a lot to him.”

Squire’s eyes sparkled like sapphires when he looked at her. “It was a great day, wasn’t it?” He reached for his hat and put it on.

“Better than digging through cobwebbed files,” Kelly said.

“I don’t know,” he said. “It might be a tie.”

With him, everything would be like twirling through a meadow. “Well, I’ll be back tomorrow, and as you massage the aches from your shoulders, I’m sure you’ll change your mind.” She stood and began clearing the dishes. Squire joined her, rinsing the plates and putting them in the dishwasher.

He returned to the dining room and brought in the leftovers. She pulled out plastic containers and they started putting everything in the fridge. With the kitchen clean, and Finn in the tub, Kelly didn’t know what to do next. Her parents hadn’t made a reappearance, which only increased the buzzing beneath her skin.

Squire went into the living room, Benson following on his heels. “Well, it’s been a fine evening, ma’am. But I best be goin’.”

His fake cowboy accent sent a shiver over her shoulders, and she tucked her hands in her pockets to stop herself from reaching for him. “Tell your mother thanks for the soup. And the bread.” She bent down to stroke Benson. “Thanks for playing with Finn, buddy.”

She straightened. The heaviness of Squire’s gaze weighed against her resolve. She stepped toward him and embraced him in a two-second hug that felt every inch as awkward as Kelly did. “Thank you for coming.”

“Sure thing, darlin’.” Squire’s whisper made Kelly want to hold onto him a bit longer, but one false step could lead her down the wrong path, just as it had before.

Her heart hurt in two separate parts. One, because she knew she wasn’t ready to take their friendship to the next level. And two, because she feared that if she didn’t figure things out before he left, she’d lose him forever.

Squire drove away from Kelly’s knowing that he’d just experienced one of the best days of his life. For a few hours, he felt like he had a family he’d like to come home to after a long day on the ranch. Or a long day of studying veterinary medicine.

As he left the lights of town behind, a cloud of loneliness descended again. He reached over and ruffled Benson’s mane. At least he had his dog.

And a future, he thought. One I actually want.

The next morning found him in Kelly’s office with a cup of black coffee and a single slice of toast. He didn’t want her to know he hadn’t slept well for thinking about her, though he was sure his face bore the weight of his exhaustion.

When she arrived, she looked as fresh and lovely as ever. She’d paired black jeans with a long, flowery top that make her eyes look more like the color of grass than the color of sea glass. A silver bracelet dangled from her wrist, complimenting the hoops in her ears. He half-expected to see heels on her feet, but she’d opted for a smart pair of running shoes.

“Earth to Squire.”

He startled as he realized she stood right in front of him, waving her hand. “Sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what happened there.”

She turned on her computer, and he opened a file. A dance he was growing accustomed to, but one that wouldn’t yield him the results he wanted.

When he couldn’t stand looking at another piece of paper, he sighed and stood. “I’m going to go see what my mom made for lunch.”

She glanced up, her eyes glazed. “Lunch?”

A flash of affection stole through him. Her beauty continued to amaze him at the most random times, and her hardworking spirit only added to her allure.

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s almost one.” He extended his hand to her. “Come on. I don’t care if you brought something. Ma is making lunch every day this week for the boys. It’ll be better than whatever you brought.”

She stood, but didn’t take his hand. Not that he expected her to. “I doubt it. I brought her soup.”

The front desk where Clark usually sat was empty, and Squire wondered if his father had talked to him about being the foreman yet.

Benson perked up from his spot in the shade under the stairs when the door opened. Squire whistled, and the dog came to his side. “Let’s go eat, boy.”

Benson licked his hand, the roughness of his tongue sending a vein of happiness up Squire’s arm. He chuckled as he swatted the dog away.

“Finn loved him,” Kelly said. “I should get him a dog, but it’s like another child to take care of.”

“He can come play with Benson any time. The poor guy needs someone to run around with.” He glanced down at his dog, who had gained a bit of weight since he’d started sitting in the shade. “I don’t get much time to run him the way he needs to be run.”

“Don’t the boys take him out on the ranch?”

“They used to,” he said. “But ol’ Benson is getting up in years. He can’t keep up with them anymore.”

“Well, he was gentle with Finn. It’s all he talked about last night after you left. ‘Did he take that dog? When can he come back?’” She spoke in a high-pitched voice, imitating her son.

Squire couldn’t help the satisfaction settling over him. He’d wanted to help Kelly with Finn, and he was glad he had. Spending the day with her hadn’t been bad either. More like perfect. He followed Kelly up the steps to the patio and through the sliding glass doors.

The smell of bacon hit him as soon as she opened the door. His stomach growled and his mouth watered simultaneously.

“Ma,” he called, but he didn’t have to look far to find the food. “BLT’s.” He took two halves and put them on a paper plate. He opened the fridge and found macaroni salad and peach punch. He pulled them out and put them on the counter.

“Oh, you found the food,” his mother said, entering the kitchen. “Hello, Kelly. How’s Finn feeling?”

Kelly hastily put down the sandwich she’d been about to bite into. “He’s much better, Heidi. Thank you so much for the soup.”

“Squire insisted,” she said. “He even helped chop the vegetables.”

Squire steadfastly refused to look up from his plate, though he felt Kelly’s gaze land on him. He couldn’t believe his mom was selling him out. Maybe he had pushed his mom to make the soup. Maybe he had been a little enthusiastic about taking it to Kelly.

“I’ve learned there’s nothing he can’t do,” Kelly said, and Squire’s head snapped up.

“That’s not true,” he said at the same his mom said, “That’s the truth.”

“Has Dad talked to Clark yet?” he asked, shifting the conversation away from his apparent perfection. He knew he wasn’t perfect. All Kelly had to do was ask his last girlfriend—Tabby would tell her all about his trust issues, the way he put his work before his relationships. Heck, he’d had to double-check Kelly’s story about prom before he truly believed her.

“Yes,” his mom said. “He said he’d be honored to be the foreman. He needs to be replaced as general controller, so he and your father are working on that. As soon as those people are in place, you’ll be free to work with the animals until you figure out what you’re doing with college.”

Sourness socked him in the mouth. “I haven’t even been accepted yet.”

“You will be,” Kelly murmured. A drape of silence settled in the kitchen, but he didn’t know how to lighten the mood.

Saturday morning, Squire loaded up his truck with fertilizer and seeds, put Benson in the cab, and headed to Kelly’s. She hadn’t said anything more about helping her parents plant their garden. They hadn’t either, but they’d agreed to have him come this morning. And he was going.

Nerves assaulted him as he drove, but he continued on. After he pulled into the driveway and got out, he heard laughter from the backyard. At least someone was home. He grabbed a shovel and a rake before heading around the house.

Benson bounded ahead of him, barking when he rounded the corner. Squire heard Finn’s delighted squeal, and a smile sprang to his face. The sight in the backyard brought a pang of longing to his heart.

Finn rolled around on the grass with Benson, a baseball bat abandoned nearby; Kelly stood near her mother as they both hung clothes on the outside line. And her dad watched everything from the deck.

Squire felt like perhaps he’d just run to the store to get more clothespins or bring back lunch. Like he could integrate himself into this family with a quick kiss to Kelly’s cheek and a ruffle in Finn’s hair.

As quickly as his comfort and happiness had come, it bled away. He wasn’t part of this family, and his time in the Texas panhandle was rapidly ending. He’d sent in his application on Wednesday, and though he couldn’t have been accepted yet, he checked the status online every day.

“Hey,” he said to Kelly and her mom. “Do you guys still want help putting in your garden?” He balanced the tools he’d brought next to him.

Ivory blinked a couple of times, a gesture he now realized that Kelly had gotten from her mother.

He hooked his thumb back toward the driveway. “I brought seeds and everything. Whatever you want.”

“What have you got?” Will sauntered over.

Squire shook his hand. “Corn and peas, I think you said you liked.”

He glanced at his wife before heading toward the front. “Let’s do it.”

Squire didn’t have any grand illusions about having Kelly work by his side. So he was surprised when she wielded a rake as he returned to the backyard with a load of seeds.

“Got ‘er tilled last night,” Will said. “I was just gettin’ up the gumption to go to the hardware store.”

“Now you don’t have to.” Squire set the stake for the first row of peas. Kelly walked the length of the garden and secured the other end of the string with her stake. He dragged the end of his hoe along the string, making a shallow trench for the seeds.

Will helped Finn get a handful of seeds and taught him how to space them. Then he took his rake and covered them. “Then we’ll water,” he told his grandson.

“What are they?” he asked.

“Those’re peas.”

“Grandpa likes to eat those right out of the garden,” Kelly said, taking Finn’s hand as they walked back to the shed to get another set of stakes for the next row. “You’ll be lucky if you get any.” She threw her dad a playful smile, and he shrugged.

“She’s right,” he said to Squire.

With all of them working, the small garden space was finished in less than an hour. Squire didn’t want to leave yet, but he had no reason to stay.

He loaded his tools in the truck and shuffled back to get Benson. “Well, I guess I’ll be off. My mother needs a couple of things from the grocer.”

“Oh, so do I,” Ivory said. She turned to Kelly. “Maybe you could go with him. Get what’s on the list on the fridge so we don’t have to go out on the Sabbath.”

Kelly raised her right eyebrow, but her mom said, “I’ll go get the list, and then I’ll need to help your dad dig through the shed to find the sprinklers.”

“Mom—” Kelly started, but the woman could move fast for someone getting up there in years. Squire watched her go, feeling like he was somehow being set up.

“I can get it all,” he said. “Bring back what she needs.”

“I want to go,” she said without moving her lips. “They’re driving me crazy, asking all kinds of questions.” She took the hand rakes and buckets Finn had been playing with into the shed.

Squire watched Finn chase Benson, never quite able to catch him. Will came out of the shed and thanked him, and Squire shook his hand again. The gesture felt formal, but also casual.

“Questions?” he asked when Kelly reappeared. “What kind of questions?”

“About my job, about the ranch, about where I’m going to live. On and on.”

“Your mother is from the same generation as mine,” he said.

“The nosy one?”

He put his hand on her elbow to guide her out of the way of an oncoming Benson. She stiffened at his touch, and he dropped his hand. “Maybe just interested.”

Kelly shoved him away from her, danger in the set of her mouth, but playfulness riding in her eyes.

Ivory came bustling out of the kitchen, a paper flapping from her fingers. “Here you go,” she said, handing the list to Kelly. “Thank you, Squire.”

“Ma’am.” He tipped his hat to her and waved for Kelly to go first. She shot him an apprehensive look as she stepped past, but he kept his smile hitched in place. He sensed her nerves—he had the same lightning bolting through him. But he wasn’t backing down from this, from her, from his second chance.

Kelly kept adjusting her jeans, then her shoes. She hated the jittery feeling coursing through her veins, along her skin, tightening her muscles. At the same time, it kept her hyper-aware of everything in the cab of Squire’s truck. He whistled along with the radio, seemingly without a care in the world.

“Heard anything from Texas A&M?” she asked just to get him to stop.

“I only applied three days ago.”

“You’ll get in,” she said.

“We’ll see. Where are you planning to live?” He pulled into Vince’s, and Kelly felt the burden of dozens of eyes. Watching. Staring. Judging.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I haven’t had any time to look for anything yet.” When he asked, she didn’t feel the same level of annoyance as when her mom had. No pressure, no defense needed to be played. He asked because he was curious or wanted to help, not because he wanted to tell all his friends at the salon.

They walked into Vince’s, and he chose a basket he could carry while she got a cart. “Gonna show me up with your muscles, huh?” she teased.

In response, he flexed for her, and she laughed. They meandered through the aisles, getting what their mothers wanted. Kelly noticed every glance that came their way, but she found she didn’t care. Let them talk, she thought. Heaven knew they already were.

“Ice cream?” the checker asked as she finished ringing up Squire’s groceries.

“Yes,” he said. “Two.” He handed over his money before Kelly could protest. She rang out next, and they stopped by the customer service counter to get their soft serves.

“I haven’t had one of these in ages,” she said after she’d gotten her chocolate and vanilla twist.

“You worked here. I would’ve gotten one at the end of every shift.” He’d gotten plain chocolate, and Kelly couldn’t help watching him carefully lick around his ice cream. She wondered what his mouth would feel like against hers.

She numbed her lips with a huge bite of ice cream, her synapses firing. Was she ready to start dating again? So soon? It would only take a single step, and she’d be on that path.

“My favorite kind of ice cream is Rocky Road, but they don’t serve that from a machine.” He stowed his groceries in the back of his truck and nodded toward the park. “You game for a walk?”

“Sure.” With her bags in the truck too, they headed across the street.

The conversation lulled, but the silence didn’t need to be stuffed with words. Just being with Squire felt natural, like she’d known him her whole life. Which, of course, she had known him her whole life. She’d been comfortable with him in high school too. But her feelings hadn’t been mixed up; her eyes hadn’t wandered his way; her mind hadn’t fantasized. As she walked next to him, she wondered if that would’ve changed if they’d gone to prom together. If she would’ve started dating him. If she would’ve stayed in town instead of leaving for college.

They bypassed the playground and the field where a few people were throwing Frisbees. As they moved into a more secluded area, her insides puddled like her ice cream. He glanced down the path, which turned from sidewalk to dirt path. “There’s a well back there—or there used to be. Me and my friends used to toss all kinds of stuff into it.”

“A well?” She looked into the trees. “I’ve never seen a well back there.”

He swallowed the last of his ice cream cone and turned a Cheshire cat face toward her. “Well, today is your lucky day.”

Kelly fell into step beside him, the mischief from his grin infecting her. “What? You threw quarters in and made wishes?”

He slid her a sideways glance that screamed dreamy. “Sometimes. But mostly we threw in our old jerseys and shoes after football season. Sort of a rite of passage from one season to the next.”

They rounded a bend, effectively shielding them from the rest of the world. Squire stepped closer and captured her hand in his.

Her first instinct was to pull away. It happened as a flinch, a reaction she couldn’t control. He held on tighter. “I’m not your boss anymore.” The words seemed swallowed up in the leafy trees, or maybe his voice was just low and husky.

Her fingers relaxed, and she reveled in the warmth of his skin against hers. The sky shone a deeper blue. The trees whispered romantic advice. The birds quieted, as if they too sensed holding hands with Squire Ackerman was life changing.

As she finished her cone, Squire tugged her toward a side trail, barely wide enough for one person. “It’s down here.”

“No wonder I’ve never seen it.” She had to let go of his hand to navigate the steep terrain, stepping over fallen branches and tree roots.

He made it down first, and turned back to help her with the last few feet, which was a straight drop-off. She put both hands on his shoulders, and he put both his on her waist, lifting her down.

Once on her feet, with his hands gone, she experienced a sense of loss she didn’t understand. Along with the rush in her stomach and the swooping of birds in her chest, she simply felt…whole when he touched her.

Tucked against the incline they’d just come down, sat a well. Old, with the stones crumbling, it possessed a charm that gave Squire a run for his money. He held out a quarter, and she strolled over to the well, allowing the swell of magic that came from wishing to encompass her. She closed her eyes and tossed in her coin.

Seconds later, Squire threw in his quarter as well. She met his eyes, and for the first time in a long time she felt as alive as he looked.

He closed the distance between them, effortlessly taking her in his arms. “Kelly,” he murmured, almost a question but not quite.

She wrapped her arms around his strong back. She was safe; secure; home. “Hmm?”

His answer came as he brushed his lips against her temple. The birds in her chest rioted, pushing her pulse into the rapid beating of wings.

“Can I kiss you, darlin’?”

“I wished you would.”

“We wished for the same thing, then.” He leaned down, his eyes sparking with the hope of a second chance. The first touch of his lips to hers made her world stutter, stop, spin spin spin. She lost herself in the kiss, in Squire’s touch, in the easiness of being with him.

And Chelsea was right.

Squire was nothing like Taylor. Everything he did was vastly superior, and Kelly knew she’d be ruined for life. Every kiss would be compared to this one, and none would ever be this spectacular.

“You know, I didn’t want to come back to Three Rivers,” she told him as they picked their way back to the park.

Still on the dirt path, his hand still in hers, he lifted his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“No, I didn’t think it was the best place to get a job. I mean, everything is owner-operated. Who was going to hire an accountant?” She glanced at him, hoping for a reaction. Major Ackerman stared straight ahead.

“A bigger city would’ve been a wiser choice. But my mom insisted. She said we could live here for a few months just to catch our breath. And then the job at the ranch came up.” She wasn’t sure why she was telling him this.

He squeezed her fingers. “Well, I’m glad you came back.”

Her heart slipped through the cracks between her ribs and landed in her shoes. She realized she was hinting that she could come to A&M with him. She’d have a good chance at finding a job in a city the size of College Station. Then she wouldn’t have to live five hundred miles away while he completed his medical degree.

She said nothing, though. The magic of the kiss by the wishing well faded as they stepped from dirt to cement, as Kelly realized that Squire would be leaving town soon. Had he felt his pulse in every appendage when she’d left? How had he managed to put his organs back where they belonged? Kelly felt scrambled up inside, a tangled mess she couldn’t unravel.

“Kel?” he asked.

“Yeah?”

He lifted their joined hands a fraction of an inch. “This okay in public?” His bright blue eyes danced with hope.

Kelly warred with herself. She wanted to announce their relationship to the world. But she preferred to do it from another city—like College Station—so she didn’t have to endure the questions, the sideways glances, the gossip in the diner, the grocery store, and the salon.

He let go of her hand, the light in his eyes dimming even though his lips twitched upward. “Okay. Later.” He moved, much quicker now, down the sidewalk.

She hurried to catch him but didn’t reach for his hand. “Squire,” she said. “What are we doing?”

“Walking in the park.” He pushed his cowboy hat lower to cover his eyes.

“No.” She pulled on his elbow to get him to stop. “I mean, us.” She gestured back in the general direction of the well. “That.” She breathed like she’d been underwater for too long. “I mean, I liked that.” She studied her running shoes next to his boots. “I like you. But I have my son to take care of. And you’re leaving….”

“Ah, okay.” He lifted her chin gently with two fingers, searching her eyes. She didn’t know what answers he found, and she couldn’t ask because his phone broke into their lives with a loud buzz.

“We’ll work it out.” He pulled his cell from his pocket, frowning as he read the incoming message. “I need to get back to the ranch.” He kissed her again, quick and without the same careful passion as at the well, barely a meeting of mouths. She clutched the disappointment at such a short union, and then released it.

“I’m sorry. I have to go.”

She wasn’t sure if he just meant for the day, or if he meant forever. She didn’t know what the text said. But she did know that it felt like he was running away. Even though he’d said they’d work things out, all she saw was his retreating back.

Squire explained about the mare giving birth at the ranch as he drove Kelly home. “I’m the new animal care,” he said. “At least for a little while.” He frowned as he looked out the window, wishing he hadn’t vocalized the end-date to his veterinarian duties.

After all, that was obviously a point of concern for Kelly. As well it should be, he thought. She did have a job in the panhandle, and she did need to take care of Finn—and herself. He toyed with the idea of asking her to come with him to College Station, but she barely seemed ready to be alone with him.

He couldn’t go too fast. Which was why he needed an airtight game plan about College Station before he said anything.

“I gotta get Bense,” he said after he helped her bring in her groceries. He moved toward the backyard to find his dog. Kelly followed him, and Squire caught her wrist as she reached for the door. Her skin felt like silk, and he took a deep breath of her creamy scent, catching a hint of earth from gardening and a blast of chocolate from her lips. Just thinking about her mouth sent him into a tailspin.

“Squire,” she whispered. “My mother is right there.”

“Can I sit by you at church tomorrow?” He touched his lips to her forehead. “I’ll behave myself.”

She pushed against his chest but only succeeded in putting an inch between them. “Like you are now?”

It may have been his imagination, but she sounded beyond breathless. Surprised he could influence her to forget to breathe, he stepped back. “Better than now,” he promised. “Like choir boy good. I swear.”

She cocked her head to the side and studied him. When she smiled, he smelled victory.

“Okay,” she said. “But nothing funny.”

“Oh, I’m serious about you, darlin’.” He pushed open the door and left her standing in the house. “Hey, Mrs. Armstrong.” He scanned the backyard, which was devoid of dogs and little boys. “I’m lookin’ for Benson. I have to get back to the ranch.”

“Oh, Will took him and Finn down to the creek,” Ivory said. “I’m sorry. We didn’t know you’d need to go so quickly.”

“It’s fine,” Squire said. “Kelly can bring him to work on Monday.” He turned as she joined them on the deck. “That okay, Kel? Bringing Benson out to the ranch on Monday?”

“Or you could come over after church tomorrow. Have lunch with us?” She raised her eyebrows at her mom, who nodded.

“Lunch sounds great.” Her beauty made him ache, but his attraction to her had always gone deeper than that. Watching her care for Finn only reminded him of how sensitive she was, how selfless to take care of others before herself.

Clark texted again, and Squire cursed the timing of the universe. “I really have to go,” he said. “I’ll talk to you later.”

He left, frustrated even though he’d gotten his wish. But five hundred miles was a long way, and four years a very long time. Especially for a beautiful woman like Kelly. He could see and feel her walls going back up. She wasn’t ready for more yet, but his time in Three Rivers was running out.

“What happened in town?” his mom asked later that evening.

“Nothing.” Squire looked up from his silent phone, trying to eradicate the hope that Kelly would text.

“Well, something did,” his mom said. “You’ve been acting moody since you got back.”

Not surprised that she’d noticed, but definitely worried that he had been acting different, he shrugged. “Nothing. Planted a garden, got your groceries.”

Kissed Kelly.

She set aside her sewing, which ignited Squire’s nerves. His mother’s undivided attention meant a conversation he wouldn’t enjoy.

“Please. Give me some credit. I know you like that woman.”

“What woman?” he asked innocently, silently begging his mother to drop this. Especially before his father came in from the stable. Squire had successfully helped the mare through birth, and Raven was resting quietly with her foal. Clark and his father had stayed in the barn to discuss what they should do with the new horse. Ranch business. Stuff Squire didn’t care about, and now didn’t have to pretend he did.

His mother clucked her tongue. “You can’t keep everything bottled up,” she said, picking up her sewing again. “It’s not healthy.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not Chelsea, Ma. I don’t need to talk everything to death.”

“It would be nice if you said something. Women like it when men talk about things.”

He considered her advice. He wasn’t great at expressing himself. It was one of the things that served him well in the Army, but not in his past relationships. If he’d said something to Kelly, to Chelsea, to anyone, ten years ago, everything might have turned out differently.

“I’m going back to veterinary school,” he finally said. “That’s what’s the matter.”

Her needle went flying through the fabric. Up and down. “I thought you wanted to go back to school.”

“I do,” he said. “Kelly doesn’t.” Rather, he didn’t know how she felt. He had no idea if she’d uproot her son and move with him to College Station. Neither of them knew if she could get a job. Squire didn’t even know if his GI Bill would pay for school, or how he’d have enough money to live. He’d probably have to get a job too.

Before his mom could answer, his dad came in, wiping his hands on his jeans. His mother abandoned her sewing and crossed the room to ask him about the new foal. Squire had thought he wanted company tonight. As his parents discussed the newest addition to the ranch, he slipped out the patio door in favor of his empty cabin—where he didn’t have to talk about how he felt, his future, or his failures.

As Squire neared his cabin, his Army warning radar blared. Louder and louder. He paused near the edge of the garden, the row of cabins in plain view. They looked like any other Saturday night. Dark and empty, as the boys usually trucked into town on the weekends.

The parking lot, where he might have seen a visitor’s car, was blocked by the equipment shed and the calving stalls. His stomach flipped as a noise—a small clink—sounded to his left. He spun just as a man came out of his cabin.

Squire squinted into the rapidly darkening sky. His pulse pounded for several beats until the man laughed.

“Major Ackerman,” he said, striding forward.

Recognition washed over Squire. “Pete?” he asked, but there was no doubt it was Squire’s First Lieutenant, Peter Marshall.

Squire didn’t have to look to know Pete’s entire left arm was covered in bright pink scar tissue. The burn extended onto his torso and kissed his neck. Pete had undergone a number of skin grafts, his texts about the surgeries and recoveries always the same: At least my face is still as pretty as ever.

“What are you doing here?” Squire asked.

Pete clapped Squire on the back in a man-hug, still chuckling. “I just got discharged.” He glanced around, examining the sky. “You’re right. This place is magical. Just as much sky as Kandahar, but not nearly as hot.”

“Wait a few weeks,” Squire said, smiling. “It turns sweltering.”

“I’m planning to stay a while,” he said. “Your dad offered me a job.”

Squire hadn’t realized how checked out he’d been while buried in dusty files and entrenched in figuring out how to make things work with Kelly. “When did you talk to my father?”

“Couple of days ago. Called that number you gave me. Your controller said you were busy, but gave me to your dad. I got here this morning, but I guess you were off planting someone’s garden.” Pete shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, a knowing smile on his face.

Though Squire outranked Pete, a flush still warmed his neck. He employed his military training to keep from clearing his throat. “So you thought you’d invade my cabin?”

“Your dad said I could bunk with you since all the other cabins are already doubly occupied.”

“Sure, yeah,” Squire said. “You get settled in?”

“Yes,” Pete said, cuffing him on the shoulder. “So let’s go out. I talked to a couple of guys who said there’s a great place for wings in town. I haven’t had anything good to eat in ages. Hospital food is disgusting.”

“Well, you came to the right place.”

“I know, I know.” Pete rolled his eyes. “You’ve been bragging about your mother’s cooking since the day I met you.” He nudged him toward the parking lot. “But I want wings tonight, Major. Wings.”

He strode away, and Squire didn’t hesitate before following his friend. With Pete, he knew exactly where he stood. It was easy to laugh with him, reminisce about the desert they’d experienced together, and help him flirt with the waitress Pete thought was pretty.

Squire supposed the tall woman with dark hair could be considered pretty. “You know I know all about Tammy,” he said, stirring his bleu cheese dressing with a celery stick.

Pete tore his gaze from her retreating figure. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Squire related what he knew—the most embarrassing things. Who she dated in high school, that she’d once worn a bathing suit to school just to see what old Principal Henderson would do. She’d been sent home to change and never came back.

Squire chuckled just thinking about it. “Tammy’s never a dull moment.”

“Just what I need, brother.” Pete’s gaze wandered back to Tammy, his appetite for the wings obviously satisfied. “What about you? You see anyone here you like?”

Squire almost choked on his water. “You must not remember me,” he said. “I don’t look for women in a sports bar.”

Pete laughed, the sound boisterous and infectious. “Oh, that’s right. You’re in love with that girl from high school.”

“No,” Squire said, coughing to cover his embarrassment. He couldn’t remember telling Pete about Kelly, ever. He’d never felt the need to relive the humiliation.

“So.” Pete’s eyes glinted with humor. Squire knew that look, and he didn’t like it. “Pick one.” Pete swept his arm out, indicating the whole bar. He wore a compression sleeve over his arm, and on the drive to town Squire had learned that the hospital in West Virginia where Pete had been all these months had finally done all they could for him.

Now, Pete practically wore a laugh on his face. “Just pick one, Major. You don’t have to marry her.”

Squire narrowed his eyes, wondering why it mattered if he kept Kelly a secret from Pete now. “Fine,” he said. “I pick the girl I knew in high school.” He lifted his soda to his lips. “But I didn’t tell you about her.” He raised his eyebrows, clearly asking how Pete knew.

“Your mom said you’d gone into town to plant someone’s garden,” Pete started. “I asked questions until she said you’d gone to help your girlfriend’s parents.” He threw back another chicken wing. “After that, she had a lot of stories to tell.”

“Kelly is not my girlfriend,” Squire practically growled. His mom had no right to be saying such things. With a start, Squire realized that words like girlfriend could get back to Kelly in a matter of minutes. He glanced around to see who was sitting close enough to overhear.

A trio of women twittered nearby. None of them looked at him, and he focused back on Pete. “Please don’t say anything. I’m just—we’re just—she works at the ranch.”

“So I’ll get to meet her on Monday.” Pete leaned back and crossed his arms. The king on his throne.

“Tomorrow, if you want to go to church,” Squire said.

Pete’s jovial mood finally deflated a notch. “Church, Major?” He took a swig of his club soda. “Not really a church goer.”

“Really?” Squire asked. “But we talked about religion all the time.”

“I believe in God. I just don’t go to church.”

“You should come with me,” Squire said. “Our pastor says good things.”

“Maybe.” Pete sat up straighter as Tammy approached.

“Just a couple more minutes on those fries, boys,” she said, sashaying away as fast as she’d come.

Bright lights in red, blue, and green lit up the front window, following immediately by the sharp snap and pop of shooting. Squire ducked his head, sliding off his chair and getting as low as he could.

Four seconds passed before he realized he wasn’t in the Abrams, wasn’t driving through the desert, wasn’t being attacked by the enemy. By five seconds, he realized the sounds and lights had been fireworks.

By six seconds, he met Pete’s gaze without having to look up, because the lieutenant had slid under the table too.

At seven seconds, he and Pete straightened. Embarrassment crawled up Squire’s neck as he took his seat, the tension in the air as thick as black smoke.

“Dropped my napkin,” Pete announced to the ladies at the next table over, all of whom had turned toward them.

They went back to their business, leaving Pete and Squire to look at each other. Squire broke the tension by chugging his soda. “Glad it’s not just me that’s jumpy.”

“And you’ve been home longer than me,” Pete said. “The hospital is no Texas paradise.”

“No shooting, though.”

“Unless you count the drugs they kept pumping into me with those sharp needles.” Pete glanced away, his somberness disappearing as Tammy approached with his cheese fries. “Help me get her to go out with me,” he hissed to Squire. “He-ey,” he said louder as she set the plate in front of him. He seemed to have nothing else to say, because he kicked Squire under the table.

“Hey, Tammy,” he said, throwing Pete a glare. Luckily, he knew exactly how to get Pete back. “You goin’ to church tomorrow?”

Pete’s look could’ve murdered Squire. He chuckled as Tammy said, “Sure am. Will you boys be there?”

Kelly fiddled relentlessly with Finn’s tie after they’d sat in the fifth pew, where they usually did. Her stomach had become a hangar for airplanes, their propellers roaring at full speed. Why had she agreed to sit by Squire at church? Everyone would see them.

“Hey.” Squire’s voice interrupted the unrest slicing through Kelly. He sat next to her, but not too close. Close enough to stretch his long arm across her shoulders, sure. A shiver wound down her spine at the thought of cuddling into him during the sermon. She set her jaw. She wouldn’t. She’d set personal boundaries for him, and she intended to keep them.

“Hey.” She noticed another man sliding onto the bench next to Squire. Tammy Olson seated herself next to him. Kelly leaned forward to see the man better. He wore a gray suit that didn’t seem to fit quite right around his bulging muscles. Still, he had a good air about him, and when he turned toward her, she got a full view of his dazzling smile and bright green eyes.

“You must be Kelly,” he said, extending his hand across Squire for her to shake.

“Kel, this is my First Lieutenant, Pete Marshall. He just got back from overseas, and he’s starting out at the ranch tomorrow.”

Surprise shot through Kelly, though at least Pete’s physique could be explained. “Nice to meet you.” The hand she shook was puckered and pink, clearly the victim of a fierce fire.

She sat back, very aware of Squire subtly shifting closer to her. He leaned down. “I should’ve called you, but I didn’t have time. I can’t come to lunch now that Pete’s here.”

Kelly’s spirits fell. She’d helped her mother bake their famous cheddar biscuits that morning in anticipation of hosting Squire for lunch. “Oh, that’s okay,” she said, making her voice carefree. “Another time.”

The organist began playing, meaning it was almost time to start the service. Kelly focused her attention on the pulpit, determined to remember that sitting by a man at church meant nothing. Absolutely nothing.

You know where liars go, she thought, her shoulders sinking as she admitted defeat. Already she could hear the whispers on her right, where Glenda sat with her other widowed friends. Kelly might as well snuggle up to Squire while she could. They would assume she was anyway.

“Maybe you can come out to the ranch,” Squire whispered, slipping even closer to her. If he thought this was behaving himself, he was sorely mistaken.

“Bring Finn,” he said. “He can see the new foal.”

“Maybe,” Kelly said, keeping her face forward. “I’ll talk to my parents.” As soon as she said the words, she wanted to take them back. One glance to her right, where her mother sat, only irritated her further. Glenda had actually come over and was whispering to her mom.

She groaned, not bothering to keep her voice down. Crystal turned around, and Kelly nodded toward the gossip circle. In church! Didn’t they even have the decency to wait until the picnic?

Crystal reached back and patted her knee. As soon as her cousin’s hand vacated the spot, Squire’s took its place. Kelly sucked back a gasp, working hard to keep her composure.

“You’re twenty-eight years old, darlin’,” Squire teased, his breath falling softly against her earlobe. She couldn’t move even if she wanted to. “You don’t have to ask their permission.”

She angled her head toward his, and he removed his hand from her knee. Another few inches, and she could kiss him. Her heart rate sped, sending adrenaline all the way to her pinky toes.

Glenda might die of a heart attack if Kelly kissed Squire in church. But apparently, gossip was the Lord’s work.

“They’re expecting you for lunch,” she said, trying to ignore his sugary smirk and so-delicious-she-could-eat-them dimples. “I have to talk to them first.”

He leaned in and smelled her hair. “Please come,” he whispered just as Scott started his sermon.

True to his word, Squire didn’t try to hold her hand, or put his arm around her, or touch her at all. Kelly had a hard time focusing on Scott’s voice, though she got the general gist of his message: Trust God’s will.

With Squire so close and smelling like pine and fresh air, even Finn’s restlessness couldn’t distract her. Finally, the lecture ended. Finn hadn’t fallen asleep, and Kelly leaned over. “Mom, Squire can’t come for lunch. A friend of his came into town.”

Her mom’s face fell, but she recovered quickly. “That’s fine, dear. We can take our biscuits to the picnic.”

“He invited Finn and I out to the ranch.” Kelly glanced at her son. “He said you could see their new horse. You want to do that?”

“Yeah!” Finn jumped to his feet and stumbled around Kelly’s legs to Squire. “How many horses you got?”

“A lot,” Squire assured him. “You can ride whichever one you want.” He ruffled Finn’s hair. “But you have to bring Benson back. He’s the only dog who knows how to make the horses behave.”

Finn turned back to Kelly. “Can we go, Mom?”

She cast a quick glance at her mom, who nodded. “Sure, buddy. We have to go home and get changed, though. Can’t ride a horse in loafers.” She looked at Squire when she spoke. “Trust me, boots are required gear for a ranch.”

He laughed, and she wished they were alone so she could kiss him again. The depth of her feelings startled her, and she got to her feet to put distance between her and Squire. She examined the stained glass window, wondering how she could even be considering pursuing this relationship. She hadn’t even finished paying for her divorce.

Take the first step, she thought, echoing something the pastor had said. And let God guide you.

She stepped into Squire’s right side as he stood, causing him to slide his arm around her waist if he didn’t want to fall back. Their eyes locked, and though she couldn’t stretch up and kiss him right here in front of everyone, she felt confident he’d gotten the message: She wanted to.

“I thought you said Kelly wasn’t into you,” Pete said as soon as he’d climbed in the passenger seat of Squire’s truck.

“She’s….” Squire didn’t quite know how to articulate how Kelly felt about him. He’d seen her fight her attraction to him. He’d felt the passion in her kiss at the well. And just now? He could’ve sworn she’d have gone to the moon with him. But College Station would do just fine.

“Into you,” Pete finished. “I’m obviously better at reading women than you are, Major.” He puffed out his chest. “It’s okay to admit it.”

“So how does Tammy read?” Squire asked to get the spotlight off himself.

“She’s interested,” Pete said. “I mean, I might only be here for a few months, until I figure out what I’m going to do next. But she seems interested for now.”

They drove out of town in silence, Squire occupied with thoughts of Kelly and Finn out on the ranch. He wanted to see her again, smell her perfume, maybe hold her hand. After he and Pete returned to the ranch and changed out of their church clothes, Pete went up to the house for lunch. Squire puttered around the tack room, knowing he needed a few minutes before he faced his mother and her relentless questions.

When the soft hum of an engine met his ears, he sauntered over to the doorway. He blinked a couple of times to ensure he wasn’t hallucinating. But when Benson practically knocked him to the ground and licked his face, Squire laughed.

“Did we make it in time for lunch?” Kelly wore jean shorts and a tank top; clothes he hadn’t seen her wear since high school. He swallowed hard, scanning down to her feet. Knee-high boots. Black. With a heel.

He muscled Benson out of the way so he could step closer to Kelly. Finn hovered near her, shyly looking past Squire and into the barn.

“You’re never too late for lunch, darlin’,” Squire said, brushing his fingers against hers on the side where her son couldn’t see. “You want to see the new foal?” he asked Finn.

“What’s a foal?”

“A baby horse.” Squire moved down the aisle that split the horse barn in half. “Come see. He’s a beauty.” He led the boy to the stall where the foal was romping around. Raven poked her nose from the doorway in the back that connected the two spaces.

“What’s his name?” Finn said, hanging back.

“Doesn’t have one yet.” Squire leaned against the bars. “You can come right up here. He won’t bite.”

Finn joined him, pushing his face between two bars. Kelly crouched next to him, and they tried to get the foal to come over. He was skittish, and moved back into the private room with his mother.

“Can we feed him?” Finn asked.

Squire smiled down at him, smitten by the wonder in the boy’s bright eyes. “Sorry, bud. He only drinks milk right now.” He glanced at Kelly. “Let’s go get something for us to eat.”

He wanted to take her hand in his, but he wasn’t sure how she’d react, what with Finn there. Pete had probably already informed his Eagle Eye mother of Kelly’s imminent arrival, so Squire stuffed his hands in his pockets. Sure enough, inside the kitchen, his mother had a basket out and was tossing silverware into it. Pete sat on the couch in the living room, watching football with Squire’s father.

“Hello, Kelly.” Squire’s mother paused when she saw Finn. “And this handsome boy must be Finn.”

He looked at Kelly, and she said, “Mind your manners now.”

Squire loved the Texas accent in her voice. He shifted closer to her just because he could.

Finn stepped forward. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

Squire laughed with his mother, while Kelly beamed at Finn.

“He’s quite the charmer,” his mom said, tossing in a roll of paper towels. “Here’s your lunch. When I saw you pull up, I grabbed whatever I had in the fridge. I hope it’s okay.”

Squire stepped forward and kissed his mother on the cheek. “Thanks, Ma.”

“I’m sure it will be fantastic,” Kelly said. “I’ve never eaten anything you made that I didn’t like.”

He carried the basket outside and down the patio steps. “You guys want to ride horses out on the ranch? Or go in the ATV?”

“I promised Finn a horse ride, so—Oh!”

Squire turned to find her lilting on her toes, trying to get away from a big, red hen. He wasn’t sure who was squawking more, Kelly or the chicken.

“Shoo!” He kicked toward the chicken, and she puffed out her chest feathers, taking one more nip toward Kelly’s leg before strutting away.

He couldn’t help laughing, and not a gentle guffaw or a carefree chuckle. The kind of laughter that rattled his insides and filled the wide sky with sound.

Kelly shot him a glare while she tried to catch her breath.

“Watch out,” he said. “There’re dangerous animals around here.” He sobered as Finn fell into step beside him, linking his little fingers between Squire’s.

A swell of what felt dangerously like love started small in his center. It grew, morphed, expanded until it burst from him in the form of a smile.

They reached the stables, and Squire set down the picnic basket so he could saddle up the horses. “Maybe you can ride with him?”

“I haven’t ridden a horse in, well, ever.” She glanced around like they kept man-eating dinosaurs in the barn’s storage.

“Yes, you have.” He threw a blanket over their mildest horse. Baywatch only grazed these days, having put in many good years on the ranch as a working horse. “Remember you and Chelsea rode out to the bull pasture once? When the boys were moving them.” He watched as her cheeks turned pink. “Oh, I get it. You were tryin’ to show off for one of the cowhands. Betcha can’t even remember which one.”

She shrugged one shoulder as she fiddled with a string on her shirt. Squire focused all his attention on saddling Baywatch lest he allow her to distract him. “Well, this here horse is the gentlest one on the block.” He spoke in a fake cowhand accent. “A pretty little lady like you won’t have no trouble with ‘im.”

“Stop it.” She pushed him away from the saddled horse. “Also, I can’t believe you can remember the one time I’ve ridden a horse.”

Squire covered his rising embarrassment by lifting Finn onto Baywatch’s back. “Hold these,” he said, handing the reins to Kelly. “I’ll help you up as soon as I have Juniper saddled.”

He had his horse ready in record time and he put a stepping stool next to Baywatch. “Okay, step here, and then throw your leg over his back.”

“I’m so going to regret this,” Kelly said, placing one heeled boot on the stool. “You already saw me freak out over a chicken. What if I fall off this horse?”

“Then you’re fired,” he joked. “Every ranch needs their accountant to be horse-worthy.”

“Ha.” She put her hand in his for balance.

“Hold onto the horn there,” he said. She leaned over Finn and pushed off. Squire held all her weight for a moment, and then she landed in the saddle.

Baywatch startled, which for him, meant he took a step forward when he should’ve kept still. He gave Squire a cynical look, the horse equivalent to a human eye roll. Squire patted his flank in assurance as he went to mount Juniper. She pranced over to Baywatch, where Squire tied the reins to his saddle horn.

“Ready?” he asked.

Finn cheered, and Kelly managed to nod. Both reactions burrowed into Squire’s memory, and he vowed never to forget them.

Kelly wasn’t sure how Squire balanced on his horse, what with the large picnic basket riding tandem on his lap. She doubted he could even see where he was going, and a wisp of unease tickled her mind. Yet somehow, after about twenty minutes, they ended up in the shade of a large oak tree. It stood a solitary watch over the prairie, the keeper of Three Rivers Ranch. She waited until Squire dismounted and put the food down, then she practically fell off the horse and into his arms.

She didn’t miss the grunt as all her weight collapsed on him. A rush of heat flared in her cheeks as she stepped away and adjusted her clothes. Squire helped Finn down, who immediately galloped off toward a fence line with Benson.

“Stay where I can see you!” she yelled after them, with absolutely no idea if her son had heard her.

Squire let the horses go to graze, first removing their saddles and spreading out a blanket from the bottom of the picnic basket. He knelt right in the center of it, pulling out bottled water and various containers of food. No matter where she chose to sit, she’d be next to him.

She sat on his left and picked up what turned out to be a container of macaroni salad. “I love this stuff.”

“Try this,” he said, taking away the salad and handing her another dish. She sniffed it and got a noseful of raspberries and cream cheese.

“With pretzels?” she asked.

“It’ll blow your mind.” Squire handed her a spoon, and she scooped out a bite. One taste of the tangy raspberry, the silky cream cheese, and the salty pretzel, and she was sold.

“Mind, blown.” She loaded up her spoon again.

“So if you’re in a good mood,” he started, his voice low and soothing, like she was an animal he didn’t want to spook. “You wanna talk about me going to College Station?”

Kelly groaned, took one more bite of the delicious raspberry salad, and nodded.

“So I don’t have all the details worked out, and there are so many things we can’t control.” He cleared his throat. “Number one, I haven’t even gotten in yet.”

“You have experience with animals. You just birthed a horse, for heaven’s sake.”

He took a bite of a sandwich and chewed slowly. “True.”

“What’s number two?”

“I can’t afford medical school. Not unless we find that missing money.”

“We’ll find it,” she said. “We’re getting close.” She plucked a sandwich out of the basket for Finn and glanced around for him. She couldn’t see him anywhere.

“How do you know we’re getting close?” he asked, shifting a bit closer to her. How close she wanted him, she didn’t dare admit—even to herself.

“I just have a good feeling about it.” She met his gaze. The same magnetic pull that had been drawing her to him for weeks yanked. She relived the last few seconds at church, when his hand on her lower back had been firm, but gentle.

Just like his lips, she thought, focusing on his mouth now.

“Okay, number three.” He ducked his head so she couldn’t see his face under his cowboy hat. “I don’t really want to leave you here.”

She didn’t miss the emotion in his voice. Joy that he wanted to be with her rotated with a heavy rope of fear. Was she really ready to start another relationship? She had Finn to worry about.

Finn.

Her rational mind seized onto Finn. Panic joined the party as she scanned the horizon without seeing Finn.

“Hold that thought.” She stood, brushing sandwich crumbs from her shorts. She shielded her eyes with her hand, her throat closing more and more the longer she looked. “Did you see which way Finn went?”

He stood and joined her. “He ran off toward the hay fields.”

Five minutes. They’d been sitting on the blanket for five minutes. She had a child; she couldn’t afford to let herself get distracted by a handsome man. Not even for five minutes.

“Squire—”

He put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. The horses startled, and far away in the distance, a thread of dust rose from the earth. “There.”

“That’s moving too fast to be Finn.”

“Its Benson,” Squire said, striding forward to meet his dog.

Kelly’s emotions teetered on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump off if it meant she’d find Finn at the bottom.

Benson barked like mad and raced in circles around Squire. He tried to stroke him, to calm him, but the dog wouldn’t settle down. He streaked back the way he’d come, and Squire swung onto his horse, bareback style.

“Something’s wrong,” he said, reaching for her hand. He pulled her onto the animal in front of him and kicked the horse into a gallop.

After what felt like hours but was only seconds, Squire pulled the mount to a stop. “Stay here.” He leapt down and hurried toward where Benson was circling something.

Like she was going to stay there. She slid off the horse, not anticipating quite how far it was to the ground. Her ankle twisted as she hit the dry earth, and she cried out. But she kept going. Her heart hammered; the sun burned so bright; she couldn’t see much past the tears in her eyes.

She stumbled, almost going down. Then Squire was walking toward her, Benson barking excitedly on his heels, carrying someone.

Finn!

“Is he okay?” she asked, rushing toward him as quickly as she could.

“He fell, and he’s scraped up,” Squire said, eyeing her from head to injured toe. “Just like you. Let’s get back to the house.”

He put all three of them on his horse and told her, “Home.” He didn’t steer, didn’t correct her course. Half an hour later, she delivered them safe and sound to the homestead. He took Kelly and Finn inside and set his mother to work on them.

“What about the other horse?” Kelly asked. “The picnic.” Her ankle throbbed, and she kept the ice pack Heidi had given her on it.

“I’ll go out in a bit,” Squire said. “Did you hurt anything else when you fell off the horse?”

“She fell off a horse?” Heidi shook her head as she pressed a cloth to Finn’s knee. “What are you doing to the poor girl?” She put a bandage on Finn, who seemed to be absolutely fine. Benson whined before he licked Finn’s fingers.

“I told her to stay.” He frowned at his mom. “She didn’t listen.”

“I’m not a horse, and I didn’t fall off a horse,” Kelly said. “I slid down, and it was farther than I thought.”

Squire looked away, but not before she caught a smile on his face. A moment later, he started laughing. “I’m sorry,” he said between chuckles. “I can’t help it.”

She punched him playfully on the arm. “Stop it.”

“Not too fond of cowboys now, are you?” he asked, smirking.

She lifted her chin, not willing to tell him she now held him in even higher regard. He was more than just a good-looking cowboy. He was her hero. Who rode horses bareback, tamed wild bulls, and had absolutely roped her heart.

The next morning, Kelly arrived at Three Rivers, without Finn, without a limp, and without her pride. She was sure the story of her falling off that blasted horse would be all over the ranch, and she held her head high as she entered the administration building.

The cowhand who’d delivered her to her interview sat at the desk. He had a calm air about him, a welcome change from Clark’s narrowed eyes and gruff voice.

“Good morning.”

“Ma’am.” He tipped his hat, giving her a glimpse of brown hair and gray eyes. “Squire’s in your office already.”

Her heart somersaulted at the same time her defenses went up. “Thank you….”

“Tom,” he supplied.

She smiled at him before she hurried through the trailer. Squire stood at her small window, his hands in his pockets. “Morning,” she said, entering her office and putting her lunch and purse in her bottom desk drawer.

He slid his hands around her waist, and she turned into him. “Oh, okay. So it is a good morning.”

“No lasting damage from yesterday?”

“I think we’ll both heal.”

“You think he’ll ever come out to the ranch again?” Worry skimmed through his eyes, like he really thought a scraped knee was something new for Finn.

“Are you kidding? All he’s talked about since we left is the baby horse, the fences he got to climb, and that dog.” She looked toward her door. “I really need to get that kid a dog.”

“Mm.” Squire lowered his face into her hair and took a deep breath. He tipped her back a few inches so he could kiss her.

The hair on her arms and neck rose, though that could’ve been from Squire’s fingers along her jaw. Still, she couldn’t relax into his embrace, fully enjoy the taste of sugar on his breath.

He pulled away, concern in his tone when he asked, “What?”

“I just….” Her super-hearing continued as she heard Clark call the cowboys to order. “I’m just not used to this being okay in my office.”

“I didn’t get to do that yesterday.” He released her and stepped back. “But I get it. I’ll keep looking for any records, and you keep putting everything into the computer.”

She glanced around, feeling sluggish at the thought of diving back into the thousands of sheets of paper in her office. “We can probably finish this soon.”

He stood there, watching her, a look of absolute adoration on his face. She felt like she was viewing him through glass. She saw past his Army-trained mask and into his soul. He was kind and heroic—exactly the kind of man both she and Finn needed.

She’d seen her son clasp Squire’s hand yesterday. She’d felt a blanket of love then, just as she did now.

The trailer vibrated, shaking Kelly from her thoughts. “Squire?”

“Hm? What?” He shook himself as if he hadn’t realized he’d gone into staring mode.

“I said, we can probably finish soon.” She stepped around her desk to turn on her computer. “That is, if you don’t stand around, staring at me all day.” She didn’t let on that she’d done the same and enjoyed the redness that colored his neck.

Though she didn’t catch him staring at her while she worked, something had shifted between them. Something good. Something hopeful. The soft leafing of pages punctured the silence in her office. The words on her papers started to blur as the minutes passed. Her mind wandered to what Squire had said under the oak tree. I don’t want to leave you here.

She didn’t want to stay here without him. But her life wasn’t all about what she wanted anymore. If she didn’t have this job, she couldn’t provide for Finn. She and Squire needed to talk through a lot more before she could actually follow him to College Station.

Please guide me, she prayed.

Squire triumphantly lifted a page. “Houser Cattle Auctions.”

Kelly blinked and took the paper from him. “From two thousand twelve.” She located the correct folder on the edge of her desk and placed the paper inside. “Nice work.”

He focused on his task again, and Kelly admired him again. His broad shoulders, his mouth set in a determined line.

“Here’s another one.” He turned the page. “And another one. These are in order.” He flipped until he had several pages, all from the years they needed.

“And it looks like we sold at Houser’s more than once each year.” He handed the papers over so she could examine them.

“What else have you got?” she asked as she sorted the financial documents into their correct years.

“Nothing,” Squire said. “The rest of this folder is from ages ago.” He put it in the stacks against the wall and retrieved another pile to search.

She barely had time to pick up the first receipt he’d found before he said, “Oceanview Cattle Company.” He flipped pages nearly as fast as he could look at them. “All in the same place.”

She felt like laughing; she felt like crying; she felt like dancing around and yelling. Their progress over the past week had been slow, tedious. But finding so much at once felt like progress. Like an answer to a prayer. Kelly closed her eyes and gave a brief word of thanks.

Crystal pulled her car to a stop in front of a red brick house that Kelly eyed like it had done her a personal wrong. “I don’t know, Crys….”

“If you say that one more time, I’m going to call Squire and tell him you love him.”

Kelly swung her attention from the house to her cousin. “You wouldn’t dare.”

By the playful look on Crystal’s face, Kelly knew she wouldn’t. “No, I wouldn’t. But you’ve said ‘I don’t know’ about everything. I don’t see how you can’t know if you like Squire. Or how things are going with him.”

“Fine, I like Squire.”

“And how are things going with him?” Crystal nestled into the driver’s seat, as if she was getting ready for a juicy movie.

Kelly thought about the kiss in her office, the adoration she’d seen on Squire’s face. “He said he didn’t want to leave me here in Three Rivers while he finished his medical degree, and I freaked out because I hadn’t seen Finn in five minutes.”

Crystal ’s brow furrowed. “So you never answered him? Told him you’d gladly accept his diamond and move out of your parents’ basement? You want to go with him, right?”

Kelly covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know?”

“No!” Crystal pulled Kelly’s hands down. “You know. Listen to your heart. Or your gut. Better yet, listen to God. But you know.”

Kelly turned away, staring at the house she’d come to see. “I’d go with him,” she whispered to the glass. She twisted back to her cousin. “And how stupid is that? It sounds even worse saying it out loud.” She barked out a laugh. “I mean, I only met him two weeks ago!”

Her cousin covered Kelly’s hand with her own. “You’ve known him your whole life, baby. That’s a lot longer than two weeks.”

An insane amount of hope flooded Kelly. She took a deep breath to steady herself before her imagination bled into her reality. “Let’s go look at this house.”

She wandered through the rooms, imagining her table and chairs in the dining room, Finn’s racecar bed in the second bedroom. But it didn’t feel like home. The only place that had felt like that lately was the ranch.

Or maybe it felt like that because of Squire. Maybe no matter where he was, she needed to be there too, because he was beginning to feel like home.

The email came on Wednesday morning.

Dear Major Ackerman,

We’re pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to the Doctorate of Veterinarian Medicine (DVM) program on the campus of Texas A&M in College Station, Texas.

The words blurred, black on white. Gray. Gray like a Texas thunderstorm.

Gray, like the area between right and wrong.

Gray, like the distance between Kelly and College Station.

He focused, almost hoping the words had changed. Denied him entrance. It would make some things easier and others harder.

Easy. Hard. Gray.

He leaned away from his laptop, trying to come up with a plan. He didn’t want to approach his parents—or Kelly—without a solution to the problems they shared.

For his parents, he needed to find the money. And then ask them to pay for his doctorate degree.

His stomach threatened to release the coffee he’d consumed. His parents wouldn’t need all of the missing money; they could afford to pay Squire’s tuition. With his GI Bill, he might not even have to work to pay for rent and utilities.

Kelly presented a whole new issue Squire still hadn’t been able to solve. He felt himself falling deeper and deeper in love with her. He closed his eyes, surprised that he’d admitted to himself that he loved her.

He’d always had a soft spot for her. She’d been his first crush. The first to destroy him and resuscitate him. The first woman he’d forgiven. The one he’d forgive over and over to keep her in his life, even if she did lecture him sometimes.

Over the past two weeks, he had fallen in love with the Kelly Armstrong of now. How could he leave her here?

Helplessness welled in his chest, pressed against his flopping heart. Could he ask her to come with him? Should he? They didn’t have to get married right away. She could get a job, find an apartment. They could date until she was ready. Squire was willing to wait as long as she needed.

“You got in to your DMV program.” Pete’s voice behind Squire reminded him that he no longer lived in his cabin alone.

His first instinct was to slam his laptop shut and tell Pete to mind his own business. But Chelsea’s accusation about him not trusting anyone echoed in Squire’s mind. He’d trusted Pete with his life. He could trust him with this too.

“Yeah,” Squire said, scrubbing the back of his neck. “You can’t tell anyone.”

Pete retreated to the kitchen nook and picked up a leftover muffin. “Why not? Major, this is good news.”

He heard Chelsea’s voice in his head, telling him to trust Kelly. To tell her, and to work out all the details together. But just like he hadn’t told his dad about the missing money, he couldn’t tell Kelly about the admittance. He didn’t want to hurt either one of them.

“I just don’t want anyone to know yet,” Squire said. “I have some things I need to work out first.”

“Lady friend things?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t want your parents to know, because…?”

“They’ll tell Kelly.” Squire’s gut squirmed with the lie. He didn’t lie to his men. They counted on him to be one hundred percent truthful with them. “I just need to figure some things out,” he said again. “Don’t tell anyone. That’s an order, Lieutenant.”

Pete saluted. “Yes, sir. I’m just glad I’m not the only one who has no idea what to do with their life.”

A pang of guilt stole through Squire. “Any headway on that front?”

“No,” Pete said. “But I’m happy here, just like you said I would be. I’ll figure it out.”

Squire nodded before ducking into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He paused in front of his mirror. He didn’t look like a man keeping a secret. But he knew when confronted with his mother, she’d know something was up, the same way the horses always did.

So he bypassed breakfast at the homestead in favor of the administration building. He’d have to face his mother eventually, but not with the acceptance so fresh.

When we find the money, he promised himself. I’ll tell everyone everything when we find the money.

Squire seemed unnaturally moody when he arrived in Kelly’s office. He reminded her of the initial Squire she’d met upon arriving at Three Rivers. She didn’t know what had happened, so instead of engaging him, she put her head down and got to work. Together, they found more documents, ate lunch, and seemed to get along just fine. But he didn’t kiss her, didn’t even glance her way when he stood and stretched his back near four o’clock.

“You’re still coming with me to the animal shelter, right?” she asked.

His gaze found hers for the first time that day, and she found a troubled expression in his eyes. “Is that tonight?”

“It was,” she said. “Finn’s birthday is on Friday.” She stood too. “You said you could house the puppy here and then bring him in on Friday for the party.” She took a step toward him and put her hand on his arm.

He looked at her fingers, watched them as she slid them up to his shoulder. “Squire, what’s wrong?” She expected him to relax, maybe lean down and kiss her.

Instead, he watched a spot over her shoulder. “I just…need to get out to the stables. I can’t handle being inside all the time.”

Kelly heard the strength in his voice, layered behind the tension. “Okay, well, go now. When I’m done here in an hour, we can drive to the shelter. Okay?”

He nodded, wrapping her in a hug with his strong arms and dropping his face into the crook of her neck. He breathed deeply. “Okay.” Squire flashed her a smile that vanished before she’d truly seen it and left her office.

An hour later, she found Squire in the stable, his hand stroking the muzzle of his tall, black horse. As she approached, another horse—this one taller, with a beautiful black mane against a reddish body—ambled over. He huffed at Kelly as she stepped to Squire’s side.

“Hey,” she said softly so as to not disturb the horses.

Squire glanced at her, and the calmness in his eyes told her she’d found the man who made her heart wilt and regrow into something stronger, better, more beautiful. “You remember Juniper,” he said, lifting both hands to stroke the horse’s cheeks. “She decided she was mine when I got home.”

“Hmm, she did, did she?”

Squire chuckled. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re jealous of a horse.”

“Maybe you’re not as smart as you think.” Kelly bumped her shoulder into his bicep.

He let his hand fall to hers, slipping his fingers between hers. “That’s Hank.” He whistled and the stallion nudged Squire’s shoulder, dropped his head to Squire’s pocket, and then nickered against his knee.

“He knew I was hurt the first time he met me,” Squire said, his voice little more than a murmur. “Juniper too. They…comfort me. Calm me down when I get stressed.”

Kelly squeezed his hand in silent support. “They’re beautiful.”

Juniper dropped her head to Squire’s pocket too. “They’re gone, guys,” he told them. “You ate all the sugar cubes.”

Kelly marveled at his gentle tone, how he spoke to his horses like they were people. Not just people, his friends. Friends he brought treats for and petted like cats.

“She didn’t bring you any apples,” Squire said as Hank swung his body around Juniper’s and sniffed Kelly’s pocket. “She didn’t know.” He tossed a flirtatious grin toward Kelly. “I’m sure she’ll bring you something next time.”

He pushed the horse’s head away from Kelly’s waist. “Go on, now.”

Reluctantly, Hank moved back.

“Sorry,” Kelly told the horses, though a vein of ridiculousness wormed through her. Talking to horses like they understood her was new for her. Squire didn’t seem to notice her nerves, but Juniper startled and stepped away.

Squire did too. “Should we go?”

“Yes,” Kelly said, turning away from the horses. “Let’s go.”

“I don’t know,” Kelly said an hour later. “I like that chocolate Lab….” She glanced over her shoulder to the three-month old puppy, still watching her through the bars of his enclosure.

“Border collies love to run,” Squire said from where he crouched, scratching a pup’s ears. “But I can see you won’t be persuaded.” He stood. “Maybe I’ll take this one. I kinda like him.”

“And I’ll take the chocolate Lab,” Kelly said. Labrador retrievers were supposed to be good dogs for kids, and she’d fallen in love with the energetic fur ball the moment she’d laid eyes on him.

“I’ll go get the paperwork started,” the attendant said, turning and walking back down the row.

“So you’ll take him until Friday,” Kelly said. “Finn’s party starts at six.”

“I’ll box him up and bring him in.” Squire offered his hand to Kelly, and she appreciated that he didn’t just grab on like he owned her. She slipped her hand into his, wondering if Squire would amaze her forever.

“So I heard there was a rodeo next weekend,” she said. She’d heard it from Ethan, when he’d asked her out—again. “Fireworks afterward, the whole nine yards.”

“Are you askin’ me out, Miss Kelly?” Squire tugged her closer, released her hand and put his arm around her shoulders.

She leaned into his strong side. “Yes, sir.”

He laughed, the sound bouncing against the cement. “I want to,” he said, sobering. “I do. But can we go somewhere else?”

“Sure,” Kelly said, surprised that a man who never took off his cowboy hat wasn’t interested in the rodeo. “Can I ask why?”

Apprehension filled his eyes and his jaw clenched. “I—well, I don’t do so well with explosions.” He took a deep breath and continued, “Last week, Pete and I went out for wings, and some fireworks went off. We both hit the floor, heads down. It was embarrassing.”

Kelly’s brain raced with something comforting to say. “I’m sorry,” she said, the lamest words on the planet, at least in this situation. She clasped her other hand around his. “What would you like to do?”

He cocked his eyebrows at her. “What do I want to do?” He stopped in front of the chocolate Lab’s pen and slid his arms around her. “This.” He leaned down and touched his lips to hers.

She drank him in, wishing she could infuse him with good memories to wipe away the bad ones. Kelly kissed him until she was one taste away from the highest sugar rush she’d ever experienced. Then she pulled back. “Well, we can’t do that all night.”

“Let’s go to the rodeo. Finn will love it. But we have to leave before the fireworks. Maybe we can go back to your place and make ice cream sundaes. Finn would like that too.”

Kelly fell down another rung on the ladder of love. The way Squire assumed Finn would come with them on their date, and how he wanted to plan something her son would enjoy, made her want to take a big jump and leave the ladder behind completely. But with this water new and possibly cold, one step at a time was smarter.

She told herself a single rung at a time wasn’t too fast to fall in love. She wasn’t sure if she was lying to herself or not.

Kelly put in long hours looking at files and computer screens during the day, and longer hours at home planning for Finn’s birthday party. She felt the weight of being both his father and his mother on his first birthday away from Taylor. Her ex-husband had texted earlier in the week to find out if he could send Finn something, and Kelly had given him her parent’s address. When she left for work on Friday morning, nothing had arrived.

She spent the half-hour drive to the ranch fuming over Taylor’s nonchalance. He’d said he’d pay half of everything, but at the first event of Finn’s life, he hadn’t sent the gift on time. She finally rolled down the window to air out her anger.

Please let the package arrive today, she prayed. She did not want Finn to be disappointed. Her mother texted just after two o’clock.

Taylor’s package just arrived.

Kelly grinned from ear to ear just as Squire looked up. “What did you find?” He stood and came around the computer, his face holding so much hope.

“Nothing,” she said quickly, flipping her phone over. “My mom just sent me a text.”

His expression tightened again, and Kelly really wanted to help this troubled, tense Squire become the warm, kind, funny man she’d started to fall for.

He paced to the window, his limp pronounced when he didn’t try to hide it. “I’ve got to take a break.” He glanced at her as he headed for the door. “I’ll see you tonight at the party, okay?”

“Six o’clock,” she reminded him. “Dad’s grilling.”

He waved and she watched him go, wishing she had the therapeutic powers of Juniper and Hank. But she didn’t. The only thing she could do to ease Squire’s worries was find the money. She knew he carried that weight alone, and that it was one-point-six million pounds of heavy.

Kelly tried to set aside her worry as Finn’s birthday party began and Squire still hadn’t arrived. Crystal, Scott, and their three boys brought laughter and love to the house, as well as a gift for Finn. Kelly couldn’t believe she wouldn’t have a present for her own son.

Her insides felt shredded by nails. She checked her phone again, like maybe it had died in the last twenty seconds.

“Kel, you want a hamburger or a hot dog?” her dad asked, his tongs poised above the grill.

“Hamburger,” she answered, sending another message to Squire. She’d sent two already and certainly didn’t need to fire off a third. But she couldn’t help it. If she didn’t have that puppy for Finn, she’d be worse than Taylor.

The spikes raked over her lungs and she gasped for breath as she fixed her burger with lettuce, tomatoes, and one of her dad’s perfectly cooked over-easy eggs. Crystal had taken care of Finn’s hot dog without Kelly even knowing.

She stuffed her phone in her back pocket and loaded her plate with potato chips. “Happy birthday, Finny.” She smiled at him and picked up her burger, though the idea of eating it had her stomach leading a revolt.

“When are we going to open presents?” he asked.

She choked on her first bite. “In a little bit,” she said. “We’re going to eat first, and you have to show your cousins how you can throw the football.”

Thankfully, that got Scott into the conversation, as well as Crystal’s two older boys. Kelly nearly choked for the second time that night when her phone buzzed against the bench. She whipped it out of her pocket, praying with every fiber of her soul that it was Squire.

It was. Sorry I’m late. Crisis with Pete. Tell you about it later. Be there in twenty.

True to his word, Squire texted only nineteen minutes later. Out front. Should I come through the house with the puppy?

Kelly jumped up from the bench where she’d been talking with Crystal. “Squire’s here. Be right back.”

“Can’t wait,” Crystal said in a purr. Kelly sprinted up the steps to the deck and into the mudroom. At the front door, she gestured to Squire to bring in the chocolate Lab.

“Hey,” he said, wielding a large cardboard box. “I’m so sorry I’m late.” He set down the box and drew her into a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

He sounded exhausted, and Kelly wondered what crisis had happened and if it had anything to do with his service overseas. She was beginning to realize that Squire had more wounds than just the one in his leg.

“Pete could’ve come,” she said.

“That wasn’t the problem,” Squire said, pulling back. “Though he does want to come to the rodeo next weekend with Tammy. Is that all right?”

“Sure,” Kelly said. “He’s always welcome.”

Squire gazed at her with adoration evident on his face. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Not really.” She fiddled with the top button on his shirt. “You’re the amazing one, bringing my son a dog.” She hooked her thumb over her shoulder. “Come on. Everyone’s in the backyard.”

He retrieved the box and followed her to the picnic table. “You bought the dog, darlin’.”

She directed him to put the box on the table bearing the other gifts. With it in place, a sense of calm soothed the scratches inside.

“Hey, let’s open presents,” she called. The boys came running over, and Kelly’s parents followed. Crystal and Scott wrangled their kids into submission long enough for Finn to open the gift they’d brought.

He enthusiastically ripped off the paper, yelling with delight at the Lego set his cousins had brought for him.

“What do you say?” Kelly prompted.

“Thank you,” Finn dutifully replied, hugging Crystal and then Scott.

“Mine next,” Kelly said, nudging the box closer to him. He lifted the first flap and the puppy poked his head out.

“A dog!” Finn shouted, dancing away from the table and then back. “Is he mine, Mom? All mine?”

She laughed at his exuberance. “Yes, baby. He’s yours.” She lifted the Lab out of the box and set him on the grass in front of Finn. He crouched down and scratched the puppy behind his ears.

The dog licked his face, causing Finn to laugh.

“What are you gonna name ‘im?” Squire asked as he bent down to pet the puppy too.

“What’s a good name?” Finn looked to Squire for advice, his face open and unassuming.

Kelly’s heart warmed as she watched them. If this could be her reality, every day, she’d be the luckiest woman in the world. Crystal gave her nudge with her elbow, her expression knowing.

“I don’t know,” Squire said. “What’s something you like?”

Finn’s eyebrows creased as he thought. “How about Buster?”

“Sure,” Squire said.

“Do you like Buster, Mom?” Finn looked at her with eyes wide with innocence.

“Sure, baby.” She drew him into a hug. “Happy birthday.”

Kelly could never love anything or anyone as much as she loved Finn in that moment. As Squire stepped to her side, she thought it might be natural for him to put one arm around her shoulders and the other around Finn. Her chest narrowed, telling her Squire had just claimed a piece of her heart—permanently.

Squire stood in Kelly’s backyard, watching Finn and the other boys chase Buster. The chocolate Lab had a cheery disposition, and he didn’t mind when five-year-old hands grabbed onto him.

Kelly, Crystal, and her mom cleaned up the dinner dishes and brought out a cake. As flames lit Kelly’s eyes, a twinge of guilt stole through him. He needed to tell her about his acceptance into the veterinarian program. Soon.

But not tonight. Tonight was about Finn, and Squire could see he wouldn’t be getting any time alone with Kelly. Certainly not long enough to have a serious conversation about their future.

So he sang Happy Birthday, and cheered, and ate cake and ice cream. He presented Finn with his gift—a Frisbee—and taught him how to throw it so Buster would learn to catch it. By the time dusk settled, Crystal and her husband started rounding up their kids.

After they left, Kelly’s dad took Buster and Finn and went inside. Her mom had gone in when Crystal left, and Squire wondered if maybe now was a good time to talk with Kelly.

But he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to ruin this perfect night with uncertainty and serious conversations.

“How’s Pete?” Kelly sighed as she sat down at the picnic table next to Squire.

A crease troubled Squire’s brow. “He’s all right.” Though he wasn’t sure if Pete really was okay. “Some of the boys were practicing their calf roping. Someone had a whip, and when it cracked, Pete freaked out.”

Squire had too, but not nearly to the same degree. There was just something about that sound that instantly brought a bright, white light to Squire’s mind. He had no idea what Pete saw or smelled, but he knew it transported him right back to the bombing.

Kelly’s hand landed on his knee, breaking him from the cage inside his mind. “You okay?”

The heat from her hand soaked through his jeans. “Yeah.”

“You disappeared.” Concern rode in her eyes. Those beautiful eyes Squire wanted to look into every day of his life. “I asked you twice without a response.”

“Sorry.” He didn’t know what else to add. “Anyway, Pete should be okay. I got him out of the arena and into the house. My dad was talking to him when I left.” Squire took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “Then I forgot the blasted puppy.” He chuckled at his own stupidity. “Had to go back for ‘im.”

Kelly moved her hand from his leg to curl it around his elbow. She leaned into him, and he felt like she was claiming him as hers. “Thanks for bringing him, and thanks for coming.”

“Nowhere I’d rather be.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. They sat watching the stars appear in the midnight blue sky, and Squire couldn’t work up the courage to mention his acceptance.

Not tonight, he told himself. But soon.

By the following Wednesday, Squire’s eyes blurred at the thought of looking at another piece of paper. He dutifully went to Kelly’s office, but at lunchtime, he escaped to the stables. He found Pete standing at Raven’s stall, feeding her foal sugar cubes from his palm. “Hey,” Squire called. “You want to go riding with me?”

“Yeah, sure. Haven’t been on a horse in a while though.”

“Today’s a great day to get back to it.” Squire pulled down a blanket and his saddle. The smell of leather and horse settled the raging river inside. They hadn’t found the money. He was beginning to seriously doubt they ever would. A hot poker jabbed his chest. It felt very much like abandoning hope.

“My gramps used to take me out bareback,” Pete said as he watched Squire saddle Juniper.

“How long’s it been?” Squire asked, retrieving more equipment for Pete. He selected Peony, a sweet Quarter Horse who had sprinted her last race over a decade ago. The color of eggshells, Squire had taken it upon himself as a teenager to make sure she was always clean.

“Too long,” Pete said. “Gramps died a few years ago, during my first deployment. I was able to visit his grave before I made my way here.”

Squire didn’t know what horrors haunted Pete’s mind, but by the way he stared out the open door of the stables, Squire knew it wasn’t good. “You guys had a horse ranch in Tennessee, right?” he asked, hoping to draw Pete back to the present.

“Not really a ranch,” Pete said. “It was a boarding stable. I got to work the horses a lot, but they weren’t ours.”

Squire finished saddling Peony. “Well, these ones are. Let’s hit the range.” He needed the freedom of the wide, open space. The quietness of the wind slinking through the grass. How clean the air smelled.

He mounted Juniper and together, he and Pete set out. The steady clomping of the horses hooves almost lulled Squire to sleep.

“How long are you going to be off getting your veterinarian degree?” Pete asked, breaking the peaceful silence.

“At least four years,” Squire said, the weight of being gone from Three Rivers for so long descending on him.

“By that frown, you don’t seem happy about it.”

“I am,” Squire said. “It’s just a long time to be away from the ranch. But I know it’s the right thing to do.” He just didn’t know what to do about Kelly and Finn, both of whom had carved a place inside his heart. How could he leave them behind?

“A long time away from the ranch?” Pete repeated. “Or a long time away from Kelly?”

“Both,” Squire said. “But she’s…not ready to be uprooted again.”

“You mean she’s not ready to get married again.”

“That too.” Squire shot his Army pal a sideways glance. “What about you?”

Pete refused to look at him. “What about me?”

“You’re shoveling stalls for my dad. That’s what you want your life to be?”

Pete exhaled heavily. “I have no idea what I want my life to be.” He met Squire’s eyes. “How pathetic is that?” He raised his burnt arm. “I’d always thought I’d be career Army. I don’t know what to do now that I can’t do that.”

“Maybe you need to take the first step,” Squire said carefully. “Like what Pastor Scott was saying last week about forming our will to God’s.” They’d been to church a couple of times now. While he knew Pete might not have gone without the extra encouragement, he was attending and he didn’t put up a fight about it.

Pete harrumphed, but didn’t contradict Squire. “If I knew which step to take, Major, I’d take it.”

“Maybe God can help you with that too.”

“Maybe,” Pete said, his eyes roaming the skies like they’d have the answers. Squire watched them too, enjoying the time away from the business of the ranch, from his cell phone, from everything. He felt the most content out here, just him and his horse. He felt closer to God here than he did anywhere else.

He knew going to College Station and getting his medical degree was the right thing to do. Maybe he needed to take his own advice and find out what to do about Kelly.

He closed his eyes and prayed. Lord, help me see clearly. Help me to know what to say or do with Kelly Armstrong and her son, Finn, even if that means walking away from them.

His heart constricted painfully at the thought, but he had to trust that God would lead him where he needed to be. After all, He’d led Kelly home. He’d allowed Squire a glimpse at how freeing forgiveness could be.

Help me—

The answer came as plain and strong as wind or lightning or daylight.

Trust Kelly.

With no progress on finding the missing money, Squire bid goodbye to Kelly on Friday afternoon, with the promise that he and Pete would be at her house the following evening for the rodeo.

He trusted Kelly, but every time he considered telling her about his acceptance, his tongue swelled like a bloated fish. He couldn’t say anything, and the hours slipped away like dust through his fingers.

He spent Saturday morning helping his mother weed the garden, and most of the afternoon with Pete in the stables. The horses calmed them both, and an idea formed in Squire’s mind.

“Why don’t you do something with horses?” he asked Pete. “You seem to like them, and they like you. Does your family still have the boarding house?”

“No,” he said. “When Gramps died, my uncle sold it. With my dad already gone, there wasn’t anyone to run it.”

“Except you.” Squire’s eyebrows pinched together.

“I was half a world away, with no promise of ever coming back.”

“But maybe now, you could. Get a new place. Something.”

“Something,” Pete echoed, looking longingly at Peony and Raven, the two mares who’d attached themselves to him. “Come on, let’s go get ready for this rodeo.”

When he arrived at Kelly’s house, he smoothed down his blue flannel shirt before ringing her doorbell. Finn answered, wearing his own button-down flannel, jeans, and a brand new pair of cowboy boots.

“We’re goin’ to the rodeo!” he announced, as if Squire didn’t know.

Squire knelt down to be eye-level with the boy. “Is Buster a good pup?”

“He’s the bestest,” Finn said. “My grampa is keepin’ him for me tonight. Buster likes my grampa.”

“That’s great,” Squire said. “Where’s your mom?” He looked over Finn’s shoulder, but there was no one in the living room. He could see into the kitchen, but she wasn’t there either.

“She’s downstairs,” Finn said, fitting his small hand into Squire’s. “Can I sit by you at the rodeo?”

“Sure thing, buddy.” Squire loved this kid, and a sharp pin pressed into his chest. He couldn’t leave Finn here for four years. He’d never felt so strongly about something in his life.

Kelly and Finn had to come with him to College Station. But how?

Trust Kelly.

She came up the steps, and Squire followed every move she made. She wore tight jeans paired with a sparkly navy top. She’d curled her hair and artfully painted her face. Her lips, pink as roses, glistened.

“Evenin’ ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat when he really wanted to tilt her back and kiss her.

“Evenin’, yourself,” she drawled. “I just need shoes….”

“Hurry up, Mom,” Finn said. “I don’t want to miss the ropes.”

Squire grinned at him as Kelly moved into the mudroom for her shoes. “The calf roping? I can show you how to do that, you know.”

“You can?” Finn looked at Squire like he’d just told him he could make it be Christmas every day.

“Sure,” Squire said. “You’ll have to come back out to the ranch, though. Think you can talk your mom into that?”

“Sure!” Finn said. “She goes there everyday. She’ll bring me.”

“Bring you where?” Kelly asked, returning to the living room wearing cowboy boots made for a rodeo.

“To the ranch!” Finn yelled. “Squire’s gonna show me how to rope.”

“Is he?” Kelly’s amused eyes met his. “I didn’t know Major Ackerman could rope.”

Squire laughed. “Major Ackerman has a lot of skills you don’t know about.” He offered her his elbow, and she slipped her hand into his arm.

“I can’t wait to see them all,” she said as they headed for the front door. Squire had never felt so complete, with Finn hanging on to his left hand and the woman of his dreams clinging to his right. He needed these two in his life all the time. Now he just had to figure out how to make that happen.

As Kelly settled girlfriend-style next to Squire in his truck, her hopes were high. She wanted this man beside her through everything, the hard times and the good. The way Finn looked at him made her insides a quivering mess.

Just as quickly, though, reality came roaring back. Her divorce had only been final for three months now. She’d been back in Three Rivers for two, and the day she found out about Taylor was only four months old.

Was she ready to risk her heart again? So soon? And what about Finn?

The way he babbled on about roping and calves and horses, she thought he’d be just fine with Squire in their lives permanently.

“You okay?” Squire asked as he pulled into the parking lot. Kelly realized that the conversation around her had been easy, casual. And that she hadn’t participated once.

She gave him a quick nod, determined not to spend this date inside the worried recesses of her mind. Pete helped Finn out of the truck, then reached for Tammy. Kelly slid out after Squire on his side, pleased when his hands found her waist and squeezed.

“You don’t seem okay,” he said.

“I am,” she insisted. “A little distracted, but not anymore.” She smiled at him, feeling some of her cares fly away. “Come on, I don’t want to miss the ropes either.”

Finn came bounding around the front of the truck, and Squire released her to pick him up. They both laughed before Squire settled Finn on his shoulders and reached for Kelly’s hand. She gave it to him willingly and stepped with him.

Peace filled her as they joined the crowd entering the arena. She’d taken the first step. She was with Squire—and everyone in Three Rivers could see it.

“Hey, have you heard anything from A&M?” she asked as they moved through the turnstile and into the bleachers.

Squire stiffened, but didn’t look at her. She followed his gaze to see Susie Randall blocking their way, her arms folded tightly across her chest. “Evenin’, Squire,” she said, her voice poisoned. She cast a withering glance at Kelly. “Miss Kelly.”

“Hey, Susie,” Kelly said, inching up the ramp so Pete and Tammy could join them. “Have you met Squire’s Army buddy, Pete? And you know Tammy, of course.”

“Of course,” Susie said, turning her attention back to Squire. “You said you were too busy to come to rodeos.”

Kelly couldn’t see his face, but tension poured from his boxy shoulders.

“Things have really settled down,” Pete said, a huge smile on his face. “The Major here was in real trouble until I showed up on the ranch.” He clapped one big hand on Squire’s forearm before brushing past Susie. “Nice to have met you, Miss Susie.” He tipped his cowboy hat at her, but the genuine warmth he normally possessed was nowhere to be found.

Squire followed him, his fingers tightening around Kelly’s as he pulled her past the other woman. Kelly felt every second of Susie’s glare, and the weight of the townspeople as they took in the sight of her hand in Squire’s and the way he carried her son on his shoulders.

She didn’t take a full breath until they’d settled in their seats and the barrel racing began. Then she realized Squire had never answered her question.

Squire’s fingers fisted against the steering wheel half a second after the first firework went off. Sitting right next to him, Kelly got blasted by wave after wave of tension. When she dared to look at him, she found his jaw ground tight, his eyes straight ahead.

“Hey, Finn,” she said. “Why don’t you tell Squire about how you trained Buster to speak?”

Her son started to babble, but it did nothing to ease the palpable, pungent odor of fear coming from the man next to her, as well as the man in the backseat.

“Hey, Major. Can you make this truck go any faster?” Pete’s voice sounded rusty and unused.

Squire pressed on the accelerator, but it didn’t do much. Still, with every passing moment, he took them further and further from the sound of popping and bombing and exploding.

The night seemed so dark to Kelly. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what Squire was seeing right now. Remembering.

She placed her hand on his knee, curling her fingers along the inside of his leg. She didn’t want to coddle such a strong, capable man, but her touch worked its magic.

He released his breath and his fingers unwound and the sky seemed to lighten with his mood.

He skidded to a stop in her driveway, his chest heaving. He spilled from the cab, Pete not far behind him. Together, they limped into the blackness that seemed so absolute outside the halo of the headlights.

“Is he okay?” Tammy asked.

“Which one?” Kelly helped Finn out of the truck. “Go get your pajamas on, baby.” He raced off toward the front door while Kelly searched the yard for Squire and Pete.

“Pete looked like he was going to be sick.” Tammy pulled her hair out of its ponytail.

“They served together overseas,” Kelly said by way of explanation. Low voices met her ears, and she followed them to the cluster of trees in the corner of the front yard.

Squire stood a couple of inches taller than Pete, making him easy to identify. Kelly moved right into his personal space and linked her fingers with his. They radiated a chill she hadn’t expected for such a hot summer night.

“You okay?”

He gripped her hand and put his other arm around her, drawing her close. They swayed to music only Squire could hear, his inhalations and exhalations steadying.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t you ever be sorry,” she said. She felt like she was navigating uncharted territory, as she had no experience with helping post-traumatic stress disorder victims. Just being nearby seemed to soothe him.

“Mom!” Finn called. “Where you at? Gramma says its time for ice cream.” The screen door slammed. Squire jumped and Kelly wrapped him in a tight embrace.

“You don’t have to stay.” With her cheek pressed to his pulse, she discovered he wasn’t as calm on the inside as he appeared on the outside.

“I’m not leaving.”

“I bought Rocky Road for you.”

His lips skimmed her cheek, her jaw, her lips. “Thank you.”

She knew those words were for more than just ice cream, and a hint of joy tugged through her as they strolled toward the steps.

The next morning at church, Squire slid onto the bench next to Kelly, his hand finding hers easily. He managed to squeeze once before Finn climbed into his lap, talking fast about Buster and how he’d fetched a stick that morning.

Squire hadn’t gotten out of bed until nearly nine, which was three hours later than usual. He hadn’t been able to sleep last night, the sound of those fireworks still echoing in his head, his heart, his soul. A shudder rolled through his shoulders, vibrating the little boy and drawing Kelly’s attention.

At that moment, with her examining him, he felt stretched too thin. Too thin like healing skin over a wound. Too thin like plastic wrap about to break. Once that happened, the truth would spill out and stain everything.

She patted his knee just as the organ began. Thankful he couldn’t blurt out that he’d gotten into his DMV program, he focused his attention on the pulpit. He trusted Kelly. He just didn’t see a point in causing waves until they found the money. Without it, he couldn’t pay for school anyway.

“Interesting sermon today,” Kelly said an hour later as she scooped a sleepy Finn from Squire’s arms.

He’d perfected the art of dozing with his eyes open—another perk of serving in the Army—and hadn’t actually heard a word the pastor had said. “Yeah,” he said anyway, hoping she’d just talk and talk and talk, using her pretty voice to paint beautiful pictures of mercy and love and forgiveness.

“You want to go home, or to the picnic?” she asked Finn.

“Picnic!” He charged down the aisle after his cousins, leaving Squire alone with Kelly. He seized the opportunity to hold her hand as they left the church. And all the way to the park. And while they waited in line for potato salad and rolls and brisket.

If he could’ve eaten with her hand in his, he would’ve. She fit into his life like she was made to be there. A trickle of apprehension prickled down his spine, but he ignored it. They were together for now.

“I want to show you something.” He stood, gathered their plates, and made sure Finn was with Crystal before leading Kelly away from the crowd.

“Another well?”

“Not quite.” He ducked behind a large cypress tree, the trunk thick enough to conceal him from the dozens of eyes sitting at the tables. He tucked her against him, his hands heavy at the end of his arms as he placed them on her waist.

He couldn’t breathe without her this close all the time. Gazing at her, the smoky haze he’d been operating in since last night finally cleared. He smelled her cocoa butter lotion. The lines of concern around her eyes were crisp. He memorized the feel of her body next to his.

“Squire—”

He slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her and kissed her and kissed her until she couldn’t seem to stand on her own. Until he heard Finn call for them. Until the ache in his soul sealed shut.

Kelly arrived at work on Monday morning, a giddy mess. Her weekend with Squire had been picture perfect. The stolen kisses they’d enjoyed at the picnic, behind the thickest tree trunk, still made her muscles soggy. The warmth of his strong hands against her face sent shivers through her, though the summer sun was brutal this morning.

By the end of the day, Kelly thought she might scream. “If we don’t find something soon….” She sent a glance Squire’s way. He’d shown up just after lunch, but his mood had been subdued, taking hers with it. She didn’t know how to finish the sentence, because the fact was, they hadn’t found anything worthwhile in days.

“Maybe this is all there is.” Squire indicated the towering piles on her desk.

“It can’t be,” she said, her voice rising in pitch as desperation overwhelmed her. “It just can’t be.”

“Kel,” Squire said. “It’s going to be okay.”

She nodded as he gathered her into the safety of his arms. He held her for a few moments before she straightened her spine and strengthened her determination. “Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Let’s keep going.”

That evening, after dinner, her mom put her hand on Kelly’s. “You look distracted, baby.”

Kelly couldn’t deny it. For some reason, the drive to find the missing money at Three Rivers was eating at her. “I’m okay,” she said. She’d told herself that every ten minutes, but she wasn’t quite feeling it yet.

“I’m going down to Glenda’s to get my hair done,” her mom said. “Might be a good distraction. Do you want to come?”

Thinking it would be good to be around other people, Kelly agreed to go with her mother. She double-checked her phone to make sure it was still on before they left. Why, she didn’t know. In case Squire called and said he’d miraculously found every missing document? They’d looked through nearly all the folders, and he always left her office when she did.

Her foot tapped as Glenda set her mother’s hair. Their idle chatter barely permeated her eardrums—until she heard one of them say, “Squire Ackerman.”

She jerked her attention toward them, hoping she wasn’t being too obvious. Her mother wasn’t facing her, so she couldn’t see her expression, but Glenda was the one who’d spoken.

“I heard he got into that veterinary program at Texas A&M.” Glenda set another roller. “He’s leaving the ranch in August. Won’t be back for years.” She clucked her tongue. “Such a shame. A handsome man like that needs to find a wife and have babies.”

“He’s leaving the ranch?” her mom said, her voice louder than usual. Her words landed like bombs in Kelly’s head.

“That’s what I heard.”

“For good?”

“I think he’ll be back after he finishes school. And then what will he do? Live out at Three Rivers by himself?”

Kelly couldn’t stand to hear another word. She leapt from her chair and practically ran from the salon. She had Squire’s number dialed before she could think. As it rang, she came to her senses and hung up.

She couldn’t believe she’d heard about his college acceptance through the salon gossip circle.

Maybe it wasn’t true. The very definition of rumor indicated it might not be. But the way sounds blurred into sights told her everything she needed to know.

She hadn’t wanted to believe her ex had another woman in Santa Monica. But she’d seen the brunette. Seen the gold band on her finger. Seen her husband kiss that other woman.

Smell, sight, sound—they had all melded into one sickening sensation. She felt that again as she limped down Main Street.

Her insides twisted, and she swallowed like she might throw up. The first tear fell before she could call it back.

“I’m goin’ out on the range tomorrow,” Squire told Pete at breakfast on Tuesday. “Saturday night was too close to the fireworks.” If Kelly hadn’t been there, Squire felt certain he’d have ended up on the lawn in a protective position.

“I’m with you, Major.”

“You want to come, then?” Squire slid the fried egg out of the pan and onto a plate. “We’ll saddle up, ride out until we’re good and lost in the middle of nowhere, and then camp for a few days.”

“Good and lost?” Pete glanced up from his breakfast of cold cereal.

“Figuratively speaking,” Squire said. “I don’t think Juniper can actually get lost.”

Pete nodded as he pulled on his work boots and left the cabin. Squire stayed home for a few more minutes, then followed Pete out the door and into the stables. He should be in Kelly’s office, looking for the missing files, but the same desperation he’d seen in her face yesterday clogged his throat today.

Maybe this is all there is, he’d said yesterday. He didn’t want that to be true, because then his parents couldn’t retire, and he couldn’t finish his medical degree. Worse, Three Rivers was bankrupt without that money, and he had no way to provide a good life for Kelly and Finn.

Without those documents, he had nothing.

Maybe this is all there is, he thought again, looking around the stables as cowhands mucked out stalls and fed horses.

I refuse to believe that, he thought. There had to be more to his life than a failing ranch and unrealized dreams of a life with Kelly. Otherwise, he didn’t need to be saved in that attack when so many others had died.

Kelly’s office was dark when Squire arrived. He frowned as he checked his watch. Lunchtime. Could she have gone to the house?

He pulled out his phone and called her. She didn’t answer, and something cold settled in Squire’s chest. He couldn’t explain how or why, but he knew something had happened.

He called her mother, who answered on the third ring.

“Hello, Mrs. Armstrong. It’s Squire Ackerman. Is Kelly at home?”

“Oh….” Mrs. Armstrong let her voice fade to silence, further solidifying Squire’s suspicions.

“Mrs. Armstrong?” he prompted.

“Kelly doesn’t want to talk to you right now,” she said. “She came and got some files from her office this morning, and she’s working on them here at home.”

Squire turned and examined her desk. Sure enough, the five folders for each year of missing income were gone, as was the stack he’d been steadily working through over the past few weeks.

“So she’s there,” he said.

Scuffling came through the phone. “Squire,” Kelly said, her voice sharp and even. “Please do not come here. I don’t want to talk to you, or see you, right now.”

His heart leapt at the sound of her voice, then fell when it comprehended the words she’d spoken. “Why not?”

“Did you get into your DMV program?”

Thick ice threaded through him, pushing aside bones and slicing muscles with sharp, cold edges. She knew about the acceptance letter. “Kel—”

“Don’t,” she bit out. “It’s a simple yes or no question. Did you get into your DMV program?”

Squire could barely unclench his teeth long enough to say, “Yes.”

This silence didn’t speak of comfort like that he’d experienced in the park with Kelly.

This silence didn’t soothe his mental aches like that he’d felt at church with Kelly.

This silence cut, jabbed, stabbed, sliced at his heart.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d gotten into the veterinarian program?” Her voice broke. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. I know why. It’s fine. I get it. I’ll find your money and then you can be on your way.”

“If we don’t find the money, the acceptance doesn’t matter. That’s—”

“No, you don’t get to explain,” she practically yelled over him. “Do you know how much I hate the salon gossip circle? But that’s how I had to hear about your acceptance. You should’ve told me.”

She sounded broken, and Squire didn’t know how to fix her. He cursed himself for inflicting more pain to her still-healing heart. She hadn’t been ready for a new relationship, and while he’d convinced himself he’d given her enough time, he knew he hadn’t. He was on a deadline, and he wanted his second chance so badly, he’d pushed too hard, too fast.

“Without the money, I can’t go anyway,” he tried again, but she’d already hung up.

Squire stared at his phone, his heart hollowing, chipping off in places and drifting like ashes to the ground.

Her bitterness and anger were so raw. His shoulders sagged as he dropped his head. He couldn’t believe she’d ended everything just because he hadn’t told her about the acceptance letter.

He wondered about the real story behind her divorce. She’d indicated that Taylor had been the one at fault, but he’d had enough relationships to know the street went both ways. Had she refused to talk to him too? Refused to work things out?

He shook his head to dislodge the growing distrust. He should’ve told her about the acceptance, plain and simple.

He dialed her number again, sure she wouldn’t answer. She didn’t. He once again tried to silence the thoughts running through his mind. He’d forgiven her once; he needed to learn to trust someone now, more than ever. Not just someone.

Her.

The next day, Tom informed Kelly that Squire would be out on the range all day. She’d gotten his text about going out on the range to avoid the Fourth of July fireworks. She supposed if the circumstances were different, she would’ve encouraged his campout.

The last thing she wanted for him was a repeat of Saturday night after the rodeo. His wounds were too fresh, still bleeding.

Kelly realized hers were too. That was why she’d driven to the ranch at six AM and confiscated the files. The steady drip, drip, drip of her broken and bleeding heart echoed through her body from top to bottom.

She worked alone in her office, missing Squire more than she thought possible. She hadn’t realized how nice it was to speak whenever she wanted and have someone there to listen.

Not just someone.

Him.

At the same time she missed him, she found herself growing angry with him. He should’ve been man enough to tell her about the acceptance. Even without the money, they should’ve had that conversation. She felt like he’d robbed them of advancing emotionally together. Of helping each other stop the internal bleeding so they could each heal.

Over the next couple of days, she took over Squire’s job of looking for financial documents. Only a few folders remained, and she found nothing new. She hadn’t been tallying the pages as she went, so she set to that on Friday.

Midafternoon, a knock interrupted her work. Tom stood in the doorway, holding a CD. He’d always treated her kindly, with respect. He didn’t let his gaze linger too long, like some of the other cowboys did.

“Hey, Miss Kelly.” He entered and set the disc on her desk. “I found this in Clark’s stuff. It says taxes on it.”

Her throat muscles clenched, making it impossible for her to speak. Her poor heart stuttered, hardly able to take any more afflictions.

“I thought you might need it.”

“Thank you,” she said, adding a smile to her words. But she felt like throwing up.

He tipped his hat and left, his cowboy boots thunking the way back to the general controller’s desk.

She hadn’t finished entering all the income into the computer yet, but maybe she wouldn’t have to. Maybe this CD contained everything she needed—including the bank account number where the missing money sat gathering loads of interest.

With shaking fingers, she slid the disc into her computer, drumming her nails as she waited for it to spin.

When she was able to access it, she scanned the five items. She fumbled for her phone and texted Squire, though she knew he likely wouldn’t get the message.

911! Come to my office ASAP!

Five folders sat on the disc, each labeled with the word “taxes” and a year. The missing five years of information.

Kelly’s stomach tightened, and it kept twisting and twisting. She’d always thought Clark was so nice, if a bit gruff and overly watchful. Could he be the one who’d stolen one-point-six million dollars from Three Rivers? From Frank and Heidi? From Squire?

She double-clicked on the Taxes 2010 folder, hardly daring to hope to find everything she needed inside.

But find it, she did. She clicked on the folder labeled Income. Inside, every piece of income was neatly organized. Digital copies of the statements they’d found in random places. Labeled meticulously, so that Kelly knew immediately why the reported income on the hard copies of the tax returns didn’t match up.

One document was labeled “November, 2010, Oceanview Cattle Company (unfiled).” She clicked it open and sent it to print.

After printing everything for 2010, she compared them with what she and Squire had been able to locate. Those pages added up to the reported income in the hard copies of the tax return for 2010.

The printed documents showed that Three Rivers had actually brought in an additional four hundred ninety thousand dollars. She sat back in her chair, stunned. If blinking and breathing weren’t involuntary, she wouldn’t have done them.

Clark had been siphoning money from the cattle sales. Several thousand dollars here, a complete sale there. Enough to total almost five hundred thousand dollars in a single year!

She grabbed her phone and dialed Squire, praying he was riding Juniper and they happened to be in a spot where he had cell service. Please, God.

As she listened to his phone ring, she got up and locked her office door. She didn’t want anyone walking in right now. Sourness spread through Kelly’s mouth and crowded her stomach, an odd sensation she couldn’t will away.

Squire didn’t answer, and desperation clogged her throat as she hurried to the window and looked outside. She half-expected Squire to come riding along on Juniper, but he didn’t.

She closed the blinds and set to work printing out the rest of the digital income documents, cross-checking them with the paper items, and tallying up how much money Clark had failed to report.

One million, six hundred and thirty-seven thousand dollars and eighty-four cents. The exact amount that Kelly had discovered was missing.

She needed to talk to Squire. Now.

She texted him again. Found the missing documents. Come to my office.

She called him. No answer.

She paced the length of her office, the lights off and the door locked. She didn’t want to leave for the weekend without talking to him. She couldn’t. She swallowed to ease the thickness pressing against her tongue. Squire was unreachable. She didn’t know how to get to him, short of walking onto the range with a prayer in her heart.

She thought of Finn, and decided against putting herself in danger. If she got lost on the range and something happened to her….

Kelly headed out to Tom’s desk. “Do you know where Squire and Pete went? Like, is there somewhere on the range they’re likely to be?”

“There’s a cabin in section twelve,” he said. “They might go there. They might sleep on the ground. I don’t rightly know, Miss Kelly.” He peered at her with concern in his eyes. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” she said. “I need to speak with Squire immediately. It’s a matter of extreme importance.”

Tom stood. “I’ll get Frank, and we’ll go find ‘im.”

Kelly checked her watch. How long could she afford to wait? She’d promised Finn she’d take him to Crystal’s for dinner and a sleep over.

“I have to get home for my son,” she said, noting that it was already half-past five. She should’ve left thirty minutes ago. “Please call me as soon as you find him.”

“Will do.” Tom headed out the door while Kelly hurried back to her office. She tucked the CD into the side pocket of her purse—the only one that zipped closed. She scooped up all the printed documents and stuffed them in the bottom of her bag. Standing in the doorway, she decided not to lock it down or put everything away. She never had before, and she didn’t want Clark stopping by and finding something to raise his suspicions.

She dialed Squire one last time as she pulled onto the highway. “Squire,” she said to his voicemail. “It’s Kelly. Please call me as soon as you get this. I have so much to show you. I have it all; not at my office. I’m taking Finn to my cousin’s tonight, but come by my house anytime.”

The next morning, Squire still hadn’t responded, called, texted, or shown up. She worried her lip while Finn ate breakfast, while she helped her mother hang the laundry.

She couldn’t believe Squire had chosen now of all times to disappear, despite the Fourth of July holiday that brought such strong reactions. He seemed to have a knack for walking away without much of an explanation.

Her worry turned to anger, and then resentment. She didn’t have time to waste with a man who couldn’t even tell her where he was going and when he’d be back. Who couldn’t respond to a phone call or a text.

And these weren’t needy calls and messages. This was business—his business. Matters he should care about.

Her resentment faded back to concern. Maybe something had happened to him out on the range. Her stomach knotted when she thought about him out in the middle of the wilderness, coming face-to-face with Clark. The only consolation she had was that Pete had gone with him.

She oscillated between wanting to give him a piece of her mind and hugging him fiercely next time she saw him.

If she saw him again. Maybe she should quit while she was ahead, get another job, and end her communication with Squire. That piece of her heart that she’d given to him felt like a huge hole in her chest, and she realized that whether she liked it or not, he now owned her whole heart.

Squire woke on Sunday morning, his back one giant knot from sleeping on the ground for the past four nights. He stretched, trying to work out the tightness in his muscles, while Benson nosed his way into Squire’s pack for something to eat.

Squire hadn’t been sleeping well. He felt so guilty for not telling Kelly about his acceptance. Even under the blanket of stars, he hadn’t been able to figure out how to make things right with her. All he could hear was the break in her voice when she asked why he didn’t tell her.

To protect you sounded lame. And to protect myself sounded selfish.

He wished Pete hadn’t gone back to the homestead last night. Without his phone, which he’d abandoned in his cabin, he felt truly alone. The service out this far was non-existent, but he could at least pretend he could send Kelly a text.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Benson barked, drawing Squire’s attention. He turned toward the sound and immediately saw a trail of dust rising in the air.

“Who is it, boy?” He reached down and scrubbed behind Benson’s ears. He whined, which meant it was someone friendly. A few minutes later, Squire recognized his father’s horse.

Concern caused his heart to beat quicker, and he pulled on his boots, jammed his hat on his head, and rolled up his sleeping bag. By the time his dad and Tom arrived, he was ready to go.

“What’s wrong?” Squire asked his father, swinging himself up onto Juniper’s back. “Is Mom okay? One of the calves?”

“Everything’s fine,” his dad said. “Except for this.” He held out Squire’s phone.

He took it, a frown pulling at his jaw. “I left this behind on purpose.”

“Miss Kelly’s been trying to get in touch with you,” Tom said. “Said it was a matter of extreme importance.” He looked at Squire, his expression unreadable.

His dad fixed him with a look that meant trouble, and Squire squirmed in his saddle. He was used to getting the evil eye from his mother, but from his dad? Tom wore a dark look that said Squire should’ve known better than to keep secrets from his family.

“Kelly’s been texting and calling for two days,” his dad said. “Tom came to the house on Friday night, and we got your phone from your cabin to read the messages. Something about some missing money. Why don’t I know about this? What’s going on?”

Flames and ice crystals warred in Squire’s head. The scorching fire would force out the truth about the money. Regret tipped the blaze, but Squire focused on what he could control. The shards of ice cut new pathways for fresh possibilities. Had Kelly found the money? He almost wept that he might be able to finally drop these burdens he’d been shouldering alone.

“Son,” his dad said, swinging his horse around. “We need to get back quickly. And you better talk the whole way.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us,” his mom said, her hands winding around each other. Tom had looked exhausted as he’d headed into the stables to brush down the horses. Inadequacy pooled in his fingertips at his demonstration of incompetence. His dad was too old to be sleeping on the hard ground and they didn’t pay Tom enough to babysit all the cowboys, and an old man, and apparently Squire.

“Frank, how can we leave Three Rivers now?” His mother sounded near tears, and Squire wished he’d told his parents the truth months ago.

His father had done nothing but listen on the way back. Then he’d made Squire explain everything again to his mom. Squire had never seen his dad cry, but he certainly looked like he might now.

“I have voicemail messages from Kelly,” Squire said. “Let me listen to them.” He went down the hall to his old bedroom as he dialed his voicemail. Kelly’s voice, urgent and beautiful, came through the line.

“Squire, it’s Kelly.” His pulse jumped at the simple sound of her voice. “I know I told you I didn’t want to talk to you, but please call me as soon as you get this.”

Beep.

“Squire, it’s Kelly. Tom said he found a CD in Clark’s desk. I don’t know if it’s his, but I think you should be careful around him. It has all the financial documents on it, even the ones that were unfiled. Just…be careful.”

Panic struck him like a blow to the back of the head. He spun, expecting to see Clark standing in the doorway. But there was no one there.

Beep.

“Squire, it’s Kelly. I have all the documents, and I’ll give them you so you can show your father and figure everything out. Please, just call me as soon as you can.”

Beep.

Squire tried calling Kelly. She didn’t answer, and he got a taste of his own medicine. It was bitter, and frustrating. Surely she must have been frantic to get in touch with him. Just as he was to talk to her right now, to ensure her and her son’s safety.

He hurried back into the family room, where his parents still sat. “Squire, what’s going on?” his mom asked.

“Tom found a CD in Clark’s desk and gave it to Kelly. It had all the missing documentation on it.”

“Clark?” his father repeated, his eyes lined with exhaustion. “Where’s the CD?”

“Kelly has it,” Squire said. A wave of realizations washed over him. Kelly trusted him. She hadn’t held anything back from him. She said she’d give him all the documents to show his family. She could’ve insisted he let her do it so she could get the recognition she deserved for a job well done.

He’d kept secrets from her, didn’t tell her everything so she could make the most informed decision for her and Finn. Kicking himself for a lot of things, he pulled out his phone and fired off a text to Kelly. Keep the CD safe.

“Kelly said she printed everything off the CD, but I don’t have it right now.” He glanced at his father. “Kelly believes they took the money from our cattle sales for themselves. It’s enough money for you to retire comfortably and for me to finish school before I come back and run Three Rivers.”

His words faded into silence, leaving him wondering what he’d been so afraid of discussing with his parents. He realized he didn’t have any excuses left. Nothing to keep him from finishing his degree. Nothing from asking Kelly to go to College Station with him.

Only his own insecurities about being good enough for her, strong enough to finish school, wise enough to be a father.

Tom burst into the house, his dark gray eyes storming. “My desk has been ransacked,” he said. “My cabin too.”

A sharp barb of fear punctured Squire’s lungs, causing the air to leak out in a slow hiss. “Clark.” He turned to his parents. “Where’s Clark?”

“He left this morning,” Squire’s mother said. “Said he was going to Amarillo.”

Squire scrubbed his hands through his hair, forcing himself to focus on one task at a time, the way the Army had taught him.

“Squire, what do we do now?” his mom asked.

“I think we need to call the police.” He checked his phone again. “I’d just hate to accuse Clark if he wasn’t the one at fault.”

“Who else would go through their old desk?” Tom asked, his eyes glittering with the same anger cascading through Squire’s body. He felt like smashing his fist through the wall. Money didn’t matter if he couldn’t have Kelly. Being a veterinarian would mean nothing.

Everything shattered inside Squire. He squeezed his phone, imagining his grip to be strong enough to splinter it into a thousand pieces. He hated that he’d driven Kelly away, kept secrets from her and his parents, hidden how he really felt about things. Even though his mother had warned him not to do it, he had bottled everything up.

No more, he thought as he glanced around his ranch. He wanted to finish his veterinarian degree, and he wanted Kelly and Finn by his side while he did it.

“I’m going to Kelly’s,” he said, his determination growing when his father nodded. “Tom, please stay here and make sure my parents stay safe.”

“You got it, Boss.”

Squire drove faster than he ever had before, calling Kelly twice without getting her to pick up. With every passing mile, his Army radar blared and then screamed. He dialed Pete.

“Where are you?” he asked when his friend answered.

“Nice to hear from you too,” Pete said in a quiet voice.

“I don’t have time for games, Lieutenant,” Squire barked. “Kelly could be in trouble. Where are you?”

“I’m at church.” Scuffling came through the line. “I’m heading outside. What do you mean, Kelly could be in trouble?”

Squire’s heart leapt, but his alarm kicked up to a steady wail. “Is Kelly at church?”

“No,” Pete said. “Her parents are here with her son. But she’s not.”

“Can you meet me at her house?”

“I think I remember how to get there,” Pete said.

Squire hung up. He trusted Pete. He could count on him for anything, even in the middle of church. Why hadn’t he been able to trust Kelly, even after prompted to do so?

He didn’t know, and he didn’t have time to psychoanalyze himself. The only thing he could do was drive faster. So he did that.

Kelly stared at the ceiling in her bedroom, wishing the walls around her life existed in a completely different city. The thought felt false, though, and Kelly admitted that the only walls she wanted to see in the morning were out on the ranch.

But she didn’t want to be with someone she couldn’t trust, who didn’t trust her. Still, she hadn’t been able to sleep on Saturday night, the Fourth of July fireworks notwithstanding. She’d laid in bed, reliving the kindness in Squire’s eyes when he played with Finn, the adoration she’d seen when he looked at her. She remembered how he’d come to plant her father’s garden, how he’d helped Finn on the range, how honest he’d been about not wanting Three Rivers.

But now she knew he wasn’t honest all the time. She didn’t know when he’d gotten his acceptance letter, but she guessed it had been several days ago. Glenda and all the girls already knew, and Heidi didn’t come to town that often.

It doesn’t matter, she told herself as she got up and padded into the bathroom. Just like she’d said on the phone to Squire. He was free to do whatever he wanted. He’d made his choice, and it wasn’t to share his life with her. Taylor had made the same choice, but as Kelly thought about him, the usual bitterness and shame didn’t well up in her throat.

She looked into her own eyes in the mirror. “I’ve forgiven him.” A powerful wash of peace filled her. She felt relieved of a heavy burden she’d been carrying for months. Thinking of Taylor reminded her of something he’d taught her years ago as an intern. She locked the bedroom door and put the CD in her laptop.

She could find out who created the files on the disc. Taylor had taught her how to look at the data created when each file was. It usually included the username of the computer who created it, as well as the date and time.

She clicked on the CD icon on her desktop and opened the information pane. The username attached to the disc left little doubt in her mind.

Cowboyclark stared back at her, along with the date of creation. December 12, 2010. The last date the disc was modified was yesterday, and Kelly knew she’d done that.

She wanted to call Squire and tell him that she now knew Clark was the one to blame. But she’d turned off her phone as soon as she’d gone to bed last night. She hadn’t been able to bear the thought of another night of checking it every four minutes. She’d even left it upstairs, out of reach. If and when Squire returned to civilization, he’d find her messages. She had a sudden longing to hear his voice, but she pushed it away.

She took the disc out of her computer and put it back in its case. She’d printed everything off of it, but Squire would need this. No matter what, she couldn’t lose it. She held it close to her heart as she listened to the silence in the house. She took a calming breath. What had he been truly been avoiding while out on the range? How to ask her to come with him? Or how to break up with her? Or simply fireworks that sparked his trauma?

She didn’t know, and she hated that. She hurried into the bathroom and opened the cabinet over the toilet. Too obvious, though the cabinet was too high for Finn, and her parents never came downstairs. But there was a decorative lip on the top of the cabinet, and she slid the slim case over the top, careful to keep it where she could touch it.

Satisfied that no one would disturb the CD until she could return it to Squire, she left the bathroom and went back to bed, praying that sleep would claim her for a good long while.

When she woke, the silence in the house loomed like a physical being. She felt like she did when she was single, like no one would know when she got up or what she did next. She hated it. As she dressed, she heard footsteps upstairs, slow and steady, like her father’s. A cold chill skated down her spine, and she opened her bedroom door slowly so as to not make any noise.

She waited for Finn’s rapid-fire steps to accompany her father’s. Or the more clipped steps of her mother’s heels as they returned from church.

Nothing stirred, and whoever had entered the house wasn’t moving now. Kelly held her breath, desperately wishing she had her phone with her. She glanced at the alarm clock on her nightstand, seeing that it was just before lunchtime. Church hadn’t ended yet, unless Scott had run out of things to say a little early.

Kelly moved silently through the downstairs living room to the steps, stopping and looking up before she committed to climbing them. Heart pounding and throat dry, she made a snap decision.

“Dad?” she called, forcing herself to move around the corner and start up the stairs. “Finn?” She climbed the stairs steadily, as if expecting to see her father and son. She didn’t want whoever was here to be in the basement, where the CD was stowed.

She wasn’t entirely surprised when Clark stepped into her path. She was completely terrified, though, of the dark look on his unshaven face.

Squire parked down the street from Kelly’s house, behind the ranch truck Pete had taken to church. His Lieutenant climbed in the cab. “That truck was here when I got here, about ten minutes ago.”

Clark’s truck, which was parked in Kelly’s driveway. Squire’s heart stopped, then restarted at three times its normal rhythm. He pulled out his phone and sent a text to his dad.

Clark is at Kelly’s house. Come into town, quick. He included her address and silenced his phone.

“Pete, I need you to call the police,” he said slowly, not taking his eyes from the truck. “Tell them someone broke into the Armstrong house, and that he could be armed and dangerous.”

“Whoa, Major. You’re freaking me out. Whose truck is that?”

“Clark’s,” Squire said.

“The foreman?”

“Yes,” Squire said. “I don’t have time to explain. Call the police. I’m going in there.”

“Major.” Pete put his hand on Squire’s arm. They looked at each other. “Be careful.”

Squire nodded, reading the concern in his friend’s eyes. “If I don’t come out in fifteen minutes, come in after me.”

“You got it, Major.”

A dozen scenarios went through Squire’s mind as he snuck around the side of the house and up the back stairs to the deck. He kept himself low, so no one could see him through the kitchen window. His injured leg protested, but he bit back the pain.

Squire calmed himself, employing his Army training for stealth and steadiness. He took a deep breath and held it, poking his head up to peer through the window. The kitchen sat empty, not a utensil out of place. Squire crept to the back door, his senses kicking into overdrive. He eased the door open, careful to move it inch by inch to avoid making any sound.

Kelly’s parents owned an old home, and he hoped he could avoid causing any creaks or squeals as he slipped inside. He removed his boots and left them on the deck to reduce the noise his feet would make.

He listened through the open door, and he could hear a low, masculine murmur coming from the living room.

Lucky for him, Kandahar had taught him to move great distances silently. He sat on the floor and pulled his legs through the doorway. Pressing his back against the wall, he managed to stand, even though his injured leg stuttered as he did.

Four steps and he’d be able to hide behind the wall while he assessed the situation. He took them quickly, never letting his full weight settle onto the balls of his feet.

He took a deep breath, then another, listening. The shrill ring of an old-fashioned phone had his fists curling tight and his breath hitching.

He couldn’t clearly hear what the man said, but it sounded like, “You won’t be answering that.”

The ringtone stopped. “Who was it?” Kelly asked, and she sounded strong and safe.

“Your boyfriend’s father,” the man said, and Squire easily recognized Clark’s voice. He wanted to bang his head against the wall as he speculated on how long he’d been here.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Kelly said, and the words cut Squire. “He’s my boss.”

“Right,” Clark said. “I hear you have a thing for bosses.”

“Shut up,” she said, her voice on the outer edge of fury. “Why don’t you just tell me where the money is? Frank and Heidi are reasonable people.”

Squire pulled out his phone and opened the video recorder, but he needed to get closer to make sure he got a quality sound. He ducked low and peered around the corner. A cutout in the wall separating the kitchen and the living room allowed him a partial view, and he watched as Clark sauntered by, his eyes cast low, like he was watching someone sitting down.

He moved out of sight, and Squire took the opportunity to scamper past the cabinets on his right to the half-wall with the cutout. He didn’t stop there, but crawled past the fish tank, bypassing the kitchen, and continued into the attached dining room.

Past the table, another doorway allowed access into the living room. He paused, his right shoulder only inches from the molding. One peek around the corner, and he’d be able to see Kelly.

His chest coiled without oxygen, and his leg throbbed. Through controlled breaths, he waited, straining to hear any footsteps against the carpet. When he heard nothing, he took a chance and did a fast check around the corner.

Kelly sat on the couch facing him.

Deep breath.

Check.

Clark sat on the coffee table to her right, his back to Squire.

Breath.

Check.

He seemed hunched at the shoulders, like he was reading on his phone. Or worse, Kelly’s.

Squire didn’t pull back as quickly this time, and Kelly kept her attention squarely on Clark though Squire silently prayed she’d look up and see him.

Her feet and hands were tied. Her hair looked mussed, like she’d put up a fight, and her face seemed redder than usual. No blood, and definitely no tears. She was strong and confident, a lot like the first day she’d come to the ranch for her interview. But now she looked more vulnerable too. Definitely scared. Squire had also seen her kind streak. Her endless worry. Her anger and distrust.

“I know you have the CD,” Clark said at last, looking up from his lap. “It says so right here.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Kelly said dryly. “As you haven’t let me see my phone.”

Squire raised his hand at the same time she moved her head to shake an errant lock of hair from her face. She saw him, and her eyes widened. Just as quickly, she glanced away, playing her part perfectly.

“Squire texted, ‘Keep the CD safe.’” Clark held her phone toward her. “So you obviously have it.”

“I don’t have it,” she insisted. “You searched my basement and didn’t find it. I don’t have a CD. I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” She glanced back to Squire. He held up his phone, hoping she’d get the hint that he was recording and she needed to get Clark to confess to everything.

He ducked back behind the wall when Clark started to turn his way. “What are you looking at?”

Sure footfalls came his way, and Squire moved. Past the table, the aquarium, and all the way around the wall and into the living room. He ducked behind the couch just as Kelly gasped.

“Where is he?” he whispered, his back pressed into the couch and his eyes trained on the cutout that showed a slice of the kitchen.

“Just went around the corner,” she whispered back.

“I’m recording. Get him to talk.”

“Don’t be tryin’ to trick me now,” Clark said, his footsteps shuffling against the carpet on the other side of the couch as he returned to the living room.

“I’m not,” Kelly said. “You’re the one doing all the trickery. You stole millions of dollars from Three Rivers.”

“You don’t know that,” Clark said. “You don’t even know who you can trust.”

“I thought I could trust you.”

Clark chuckled darkly, the sound like sandpaper against bark. Squire wanted to burst from his hiding spot and punch him in the throat.

“Where is the money?” Kelly asked.

Clark said nothing, and Squire’s heart sank. He’d had enough experience with hostiles to know when someone was going to talk. And Clark wasn’t in a chatty mood.

“I really thought Squire would come,” Clark said, and a shaft of light fell across the floor near Squire, like Clark had parted the curtains. “But there’s no one coming.”

Squire couldn’t judge where Clark was, and he didn’t dare take a peek. He’d been pinned down before. The best thing to do was wait for a lull and then go in, guns blazing.

It was definitely a lull. He didn’t have a gun, but he leapt from behind the couch, yelling at the top of his lungs.

Clark sat on the coffee table, looking down. Squire was practically on top of him before he even raised his head. They collided; Kelly screamed; phones and cowboy hats went flying.

Squire’s momentum took both men to the floor. He landed one punch to Clark’s chin before he heard the sirens. He had his hands pinned when the red and blue lights came through the wispy curtains.

With Clark snarling, but unable to move because Squire had his knees locked securely around the man’s waist, the police crashed through the front door.

Despite his injured leg, Kelly watched Squire pin Clark in two seconds flat, a clear testament to his Army training and impressive physical condition. While three police officers took care of the situation on the floor, another untied her feet and hands.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” He helped her stand, but Kelly could only nod. She took a shuddering breath and told herself not to break down now. But bent pins and bits of string wouldn’t hold her together for long.

“My parents and my son,” she managed to say.

“Are they here?” the police officer asked.

“He said they went to church.” She turned on numb feet. “He has my phone somewhere.”

“He stole one-point-six million dollars from my ranch,” Squire said. “He tied up a woman in her own house. I want him arrested.” He stared coldly at Clark, who glared back.

Two officers cuffed Clark and recited his rights as they led him outside, leaving Kelly with Squire and two additional cops. One was glancing around and jotting down notes. The other remained by Kelly’s side.

“Ma’am, I’m Officer Swenson. Can you tell me what happened?”

Kelly squeezed her eyes shut like she could disappear that way. “I woke up late, and my family was gone.” She suddenly needed to hear her mother’s voice and Finn’s laughter. “Where’s my phone? I need to call my parents.”

“I’ll do it.” Squire thumbed on his phone and stepped into the dining room.

Kelly sank back to the couch and cradled her head in her hands.

“You woke up late?” Officer Swenson prompted.

Kelly nodded just as Squire returned. “No answer.” He sat next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I’m sure they’re still in church. I called Pete and asked him to go get them.”

Kelly nodded as the officer said again, “So you slept late….”

Clark’s dark eyes filled her vision, blocking out the sunlit living room and the weight of Squire’s arm. The ropes bit into her wrists. Her own pleas—high-pitched and hysterical when she asked about Finn—painted the inside of her skull.

“Kelly.”

Squire’s commanding tone broke the web of fresh memories. She looked into his eyes, easily finding the love and concern swimming inside their depths.

“I heard footsteps upstairs. At first I thought it was my father, but it wasn’t. It was Clark Paxton, the foreman at Three Rivers Ranch where I work.”

“And that’s your ranch, sir?” Officer Swenson asked, writing though he focused on Squire.

“Yes, we’ve been working for a few weeks to find a substantial amount of money that’s been missing for years. Kelly figured out who’d taken it.” He lowered his head until his lips leveled with her ear. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”

She squeezed his hand; she didn’t want to have this conversation in front of a police officer.

“So Clark Paxton entered your home without your permission?”

“Yes,” Kelly said. “He tied me up and left me on the couch while he went downstairs. I live in the basement with my son.” An involuntary shiver ran down her spine. If Finn had been here with her…. She couldn’t complete the thought.

Squire kept one arm across her shoulders and brought their joined hands to his lap. She relished the warmth and steadiness he provided, grateful he’d come despite the harsh words she’d said to him.

“I could hear him down there going through everything. I heard crashes and stuff. I don’t know what he did, but he didn’t find what he was looking for.”

“Which is?” Officer Swenson asked.

Kelly exchanged a glance with Squire, who nodded. “A CD that has irrefutable evidence that Clark is the one who took the money from cattle sales at Three Rivers. He has all the missing documents in digital format on the CD, and his username is in the electronic data on the files.”

“Where is the CD?” Squire’s eyes blazed with emotion. Anger, hope, love.

“I put it on top of the cabinet above the toilet in my bathroom. I know Clark didn’t find it. He was livid when he came back upstairs. He kept asking me where it was.”

“May I?” Squire asked Officer Swenson, who waved at him to go down and retrieve the CD. The radio on his hip beeped, and a voice came through the line.

“Cory to Swenson. I caught Will Armstrong just as he was leaving. Seems someone had told him about the situation at their place. They’re on their way home now.”

Relief slammed against Kelly like waves against cliffs. She wept with the release of fear and worry, with knowing her parents and son had been safe at church.

Officer Swenson patted her back and excused himself. When Squire returned with the CD in his hand, Kelly wiped her tears. “I kept it safe for you.”

He sat on the couch next to her, his knee pressing against hers. “I don’t care about the CD, darlin’.”

She studied the red marks ringing her wrists. “You don’t?”

He reached for her hands and rubbed the lines like he could erase them through his touch. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He gently lifted her chin to look into his eyes. “You’re not fine.”

Her chin shook as she tried not to cry. “I’ve never been tied up before.”

“I have,” he said. “And you looked much better than I did.”

She half-laughed, half-cried, and he pulled her into an embrace. “I’m so, so sorry, Kel. I made so many mistakes. I should’ve told you about the acceptance letter. I should’ve asked you to come to College Station with me as soon as I thought of it. I should’ve—”

“Wait,” she said, leaning away from him though in his arms was where she wanted to stay. “Go back to that last one.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes round with anxiety. “I want you and Finn to come to College Station with me. I can’t leave either of you here for four years.”

“You can’t?”

He shook his head slowly. “I let you go once before. I don’t want to make the same mistake twice. I’ll wait as long as I have to. I love you and want to be with you.”

Her chest exploded like she’d swallowed firecrackers. He loved her.

How should she respond? Was she ready to repeat the sentiment to him?

Squire ran a hand over the scruff on his face. “I was scared to talk to you about things.”

“You?” She leaned into his chest to feel the comforting thrum of his pulse against her cheek. “You just attacked a man, after sneaking through my house silently. I didn’t see an ounce of fear in you.”

“Adrenaline,” he said. “Army training. It was nothing.”

“And yet somehow I scare you?”

“Not you.” He pressed a light kiss to her temple. “Being with you. Or not being with you. Or something. And with the money obstacle out of the way, all that was standing between me and you, was, well, me.”

“If I’d known finding the money was going to freak you out, I wouldn’t have worked so hard to do it.” She twisted so he could see she was teasing.

He kissed her, the pure love in his touch erasing the pain in her wrists and the horror of the morning. She pulled back when she heard the crunch of gravel under tires. She rushed to the door, outside, and down the steps. “Finn!” she called as her father got out of the truck.

Her mom exited on the other side and paused to help Finn down. They met at the front of the truck, where Kelly hugged Finn so tight she thought she might break him.

“Kelly, what happened?” her mom asked, glancing at the patrol car still in their driveway.

She shook her head as she glanced at Finn. “A little problem in the basement,” she said with a false note in her voice. “We’ll need to stay upstairs.” She held back the tears and took her son’s hand as they moved into the house.

Squire waited by the door, his hat perched on his head. “I should go. My dad needs me down at the station.”

“You can’t go,” Finn said, pouting. “Buster can catch the Frisbee now. You gotta see ‘im.”

Squire crouched in front of him. “That’s great, buddy.” He glanced up at Kelly. “Can I come back later?”

Finn studied him as Kelly nodded. “You’ll come back, right?”

“Sure thing.” Squire ruffled Finn’s hair and stood. He tipped his hat to her parents and slipped out the front door.

“Squire,” she said from the doorway. He paused at the bottom of the steps and peered up at her. She wanted to tell him she loved him too, but the words wouldn’t form. “Come back soon.”

He bounded back up the steps, his gaze intense and unwavering. “As soon as I can, darlin’.”

She watched him move down the driveway and get in the patrol car with Officer Swenson before she turned away. “Finn, let’s get some lunch.” She nodded toward the stairs. “Dad, you might want to check out the flood downstairs.”

“Are we going to have to sleep somewhere else?” Finn asked, a dose of worry in his voice.

Kelly’s heart constricted. “No, baby. We’ll sleep up here if we have to.”

“I call Grampa’s bed.” Finn skipped into the kitchen, where Kelly started making his favorite meal: macaroni and cheese. With the water on to boil and Finn happy with a couple of his cars, Kelly told him to stay upstairs so he wouldn’t get hurt. She joined her parents in the basement. The sight before her looked like a tornado had blown through the house.

Before she knew it, she was sobbing. It seemed like all the fear she’d felt, the horror at hearing Clark rip the cushions from the couch, tear the movies out of the cabinets, shake the books, just came rushing out of her.

“Honey.” Her dad wrapped his strong arms around her and held on. Her mom did too, and Kelly had never been more grateful for her parents.

After only a few minutes, she composed herself. “I’m okay,” she said. “I am.”

Her mother grabbed her hand and squeezed. “You’re a strong woman, Kelly.”

She wiped her face, but the tears wouldn’t stop completely. “Can you go finish the macaroni and cheese? I don’t want Finn to see me crying.” Her father got a garbage bag, and they worked together to clean up.

Her tears continued, because they were for Squire. But this time, Kelly wasn’t upset that she was crying over a man. If there ever was a tear-worthy man, it was the one who came back even after she’d told him to stay away, who snuck through the house, who leapt at her captor and rescued her.

Squire sat at the police station, listening, but with his thoughts far away. On Kelly. He texted her, but he didn’t know if she’d found her phone yet. Or if it would even work. He distinctly remembered it going flying as he wrestled with Clark.

He took a deep breath. Money first, Kelly second. Even as he thought it, he knew these kinds of thoughts were what had gotten him into trouble in the first place.

“We’re done here,” the officer said, and Squire stood as his dad did. They shook hands with the officer and headed outside.

“Where’s your truck?” his dad asked.

“Pete’s got it.” He studied the familiar landscape as his dad headed out of town. He noted the Fourth of July streamers, the storefronts he knew like the back of his hand, the stillness of small-town air.

“Maybe I should go back to Kelly’s,” he said, more to himself than to his father. She had said to come back soon.

“Let it alone, son. She needs some time.”

Squire knew his father was right. He’d seen her face as she sat on the couch, her wrists and ankles bound. Would he always be a reminder of this experience? Just like every time he heard the crack of a whip, he thought of bombs and fire and pain. He hoped not.

When his father pulled into the ranch, Squire asked if he could go for a drive. His dad left the truck idling and climbed out. Squire went back to the main highway and kept going north. When he got to the Texas state line, he pulled over.

He texted his mother that he’d gone for a drive. He wasn’t going to leave anyone wondering where he was, and when he’d be back. Not again.

She responded that they had an appointment in Amarillo the next morning, and Squire said he wouldn’t be too late.

He missed Benson, who usually settled next to him in the truck. He missed Kelly, who he loved. His heart writhed and withered, and as he watched the stars wink to life, the only thing he could do was hope and pray he hadn’t messed up too badly.

Kelly helped Finn get ready for bed, and she was planning to drop onto her mattress immediately afterward. She sent him downstairs to brush his teeth, and just as she was about to stand, her mom turned down the TV.

She’d seen this strategy before, as a teenager. She settled back into the couch. “What’s up, Mom?”

She’d been shooting her furtive glances, then turning away as she shook her head. All afternoon. Now she set her book aside. “Are you really going to let him walk away?”

“Who?”

“Oh, come on. Squire.”

Kelly threw up her hands in defeat. “I don’t know what to do, Mom.”

“He loves you.”

“He’s moving to College Station. I just got a job here. I’m looking at houses. Finn deserves a stable life.”

Her mom exchanged a look with her dad, and he glanced at Kelly. “We want you to be happy. And we’re glad you’re here. But if life takes you somewhere else, well, sometimes you have to be willing to get on the train.”

“Honey.” Her mom got up and sat on the couch next to her. “It doesn’t matter where you live, or what your job is. Those things change like the wind.” She tucked Kelly’s hair behind her ear. “But love like I’ve seen in that man’s eyes…. That won’t change. You could tell him you want to go to Mars, and he’d go with you.”

“It’s not just about me, Mom. Finn’s just starting to be himself again. Dad has been wonderful with him.” She’d taken a step, prayed that God would guide her. As she waited for her mother to answer, she realized that God had led her back to Three Rivers at a time when Squire was here.

God had allowed her to find the documents Squire needed. He’d made it possible for him to attend school—and to take Kelly with him.

“Finn needs a wide open space,” her mother finally said. “But he can have that here, in College Station, or on the ranch.”

“So, what? We just follow Squire to College Station?”

“Squire couldn’t be a better father for Finn,” her mom said. “You can let him go, or drive him away, if you want to. You can do anything you want to do.” She patted Kelly’s knee and stood up, leaving Kelly to her thoughts.

Clark’s bellowing roars and Squire’s heroic rescue haunted her dreams. By the time she got up and stepped into the shower, she was desperate to hear Squire’s calming voice, see his rugged face, feel his hand in hers.

She couldn’t call him, because her phone had been damaged in the fight. She didn’t know if she’d see him at the ranch, and fear pricked her heart every time she thought about coming face-to-face with him, talking to him, and admitting how she felt about him.

God, she prayed. Do I really get to have a second chance? After messing up so badly last time?

She didn’t have to wait for an answer. A flowing sense of rightness washed over her, and she knew. She had to do what Squire had done: Forgive herself and get out of her own way.

By the time she was ready for work, she felt one breath away from crying. Two away from quitting. She made it into her office with a friendly nod to Tom and a quick smile to the cowboys loitering near the assignment board. None of them seemed like they hadn’t slept for the past three nights. None of them seemed like they’d been tied up in their own homes. In fact, none of them seemed like anything about the ranch was different at all.

She hadn’t seen Squire’s truck when she pulled in, and she had no idea if Frank and Heidi were gone as well. She closed her door behind her, half-expecting the place to be ransacked. But everything seemed exactly as she’d left it on Friday afternoon. As she opened her bottom drawer to put away her lunch and purse, a folded piece of yellow paper caught her eye.

A note. In Squire’s handwriting.

Hey Kel,

I’m staying in Amarillo for a few days to get the finances sorted out. My parents want to talk with you when you get in today. Nothing serious. You still have a job at Three Rivers. Just wanted to let you know. I have my phone, but I’m doing a lot and can’t always answer or respond right away.

The next part of the letter looked like it had been written and erased several times. But it finally concluded with, I love you, and I hope to see you soon.

Love, Squire

She closed her eyes and pressed the paper to her heart. He loved her. And she felt it coursing from his written proclamation and into her heart.

She folded the note and placed it in her purse. Then she headed over to the house to find Heidi and Frank. Strangely, the kitchen was empty. Kelly couldn’t even smell the evidence of breakfast.

“Hello?” she called, glancing down the hall in the direction of the bedrooms. A door opened from further inside, and Heidi’s delicate footfalls came toward Kelly.

“Kelly,” she said, drawing her into a tight hug and holding on. “We don’t know how to thank you enough.”

“It’s not necessary,” she said, still being squeezed as if by a python. “Just doing my job.”

“Yes, well, Squire wanted to let you know that there’s no way we can repay you.” Heidi finally released Kelly and stepped back, her eyes moist.

“Have you found any of the money?” Kelly followed Heidi into the living room and sat down on the couch.

“We’re waiting for a phone call from Squire,” she said. “He’s meeting with the manager at a bank in Amarillo this morning.”

“Frank didn’t go with him?”

“We wanted things on the ranch to be as normal as possible. Without Clark….” She trailed off and focused her attention out the window. “Frank wanted to be here today.”

Kelly thought about the letter in her purse. “When did Squire leave?”

“About six. He’ll be staying in the city until things get figured out.”

“Where is he staying?” Kelly tried to make her voice as casual as possible.

Heidi pinned her with a knowing look. “Why? Thinking of going to see him?”

Kelly set her shoulders. “I want to, yes.”

“Thank goodness. That man needs someone to tell him what we can all see.”

Kelly’s gut pinched. “What’s that?”

“That you’re in love with him.”

“I’m—Is it that obvious?”

Heidi smiled. “Even our most blind cowboy can see it. They keep asking if they’ll have to attend the wedding.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Heidi said. “If I couldn’t torture my cowhands with the threat of a wedding, what fun would I have?”

Kelly laughed with her. “So about the hotel where Squire is staying….”

“This is a signed affidavit that says the money belongs to Three Rivers Ranch.” Squire had been in the bank manager’s office for over two hours. Each minute increased his frustration. “I’ve already proved the name, social security number, and address are bogus. Cynthia Miller with this identification data doesn’t even exist. The general controller at Three Rivers stole this money over a five-year period and has been putting it in this account under a fake identity. I have the exact dates, amounts, and receipts.”

The bank manager picked up the affidavit. Luckily, Squire had an Army buddy in the reserves who worked as an assistant in the District Attorney’s office in Amarillo. He’d been able to discover that the social security number actually belonged to someone who’d died thirty years ago. He’d also examined all the documents and matched the deposit amounts with the sales at Three Rivers.

Clark had gone to great lengths to hide the money, but he hadn’t been smart about everything. Deposits in the exact dollar amount matched the sales from several of the auctions. The Assistant DA had determined that the money from those sales were the same deposits into this bogus account.

The bank manager finally set the documents aside. “It certainly seems like what you’re saying is true. Would you like to change the name on the account?”

Squire hadn’t thought of that. “Who will have access to it?”

“Whomever you determine,” he said. “And we’ll change the account number, and put maximum security clearance on it, so that you’ll know if anyone comes asking about it.”

“Let’s do it.”

It took another two hours to get everything sorted out at the bank, but Squire left with an account in his name, and the name of the ranch. Another company account—which only he could manage. With the interest, the account contained almost two million dollars. He’d talked with his parents after he’d returned home last night, and they’d agreed to pay for veterinarian school, as well as a small allowance for his living expenses.

They should still have more than enough to retire with, and Squire had suggested Tom to replace Clark as the foreman. Squire couldn’t help smiling as he slid into his truck and dialed his mom.

“You know, you should check your vehicle before entering it.”

Squire yelped and dropped his phone. Kelly sat in his cab, and he hadn’t even seen her.

“Kelly,” he said, his heart now pounding for a different reason. “What are—? I mean, are you okay?”

She tossed her honey-colored hair over her shoulder and glanced at him. “I can’t believe you don’t lock your car. We’re in the city.”

“Then I wouldn’t have pretty women waiting for me in my truck.” He could hardly believe she was here.

“Oh, this happens a lot?” She shifted toward him and scanned him from head to toe. “And you’re not even wearing your uniform.”

He chuckled. “I found the money. All of it. Plus interest.”

Something that looked like fear crossed her face. She wiped it away quickly with one of her dazzling smiles. “Enough for veterinarian school?”

He nodded, unable to convey all he was feeling in words.

“Enough for retirement?”

“Plus some.”

She slid a fraction of an inch closer to him. “And your plans are?”

His gaze flickered to her mouth and back to her eyes. “I’m going to help my father hire a new foreman. We’re going to start looking for a house in town. I’m going to find them a great financial planner so they don’t have to worry about anything.”

Her eyebrows slanted into a crease. “But what are your plans?”

“I’m going to officially accept the offer from Texas A&M for their veterinary program. I’m going to apply for my GI Bill to help pay for it.” A flush rose through his face, but he refused to look anywhere but into her eyes. “I’m going to start looking for a new accountant for Three Rivers, because our current one is hopefully going to be moving to College Station.”

He slid closer to her, not too close to crowd but definitely near enough to convey his intentions. “That is, if she’ll come. Her, and her cute son, and of course, I’ll be taking Benson. You know, all the people I love.”

She closed the distance between them, her arms going around his shoulders as she said, “I love you, too, Squire.”

As he brought his mouth to hers, he didn’t think there were any better words in the world. A moment later, he broke the kiss. “Is that a yes? Will you marry me? Will you and Finn come with me to College Station?”

“Yes.” She kissed him again. “And yes.”

The strip of skin on Chelsea Ackerman’s ring finger hadn’t been so blindingly white before. Of course, the first time she’d been engaged, it had been winter. The second time had been during the previous two months when the Texas sun had been at its pinnacle. This past summer’s heat alone could’ve bronzed her skin while she worked indoors—all except what the diamond had protected.

She stared at that line, taking her attention from the two-lane highway leading her home. Home to a ranch she didn’t want. Home to an empty homestead now that her parents were moving into town. Home after her brother and his fiancée had left for College Station so he could finish his veterinarian degree.

A blaring horn caused her to jerk the steering wheel to the right. Since she’d drifted across the middle line, she didn’t hit the gravelly shoulder on her side of the road. She skidded to a stop anyway, her pulse bobbing in the back of her throat.

The truck that roared past belonged to Three Rivers, but Chelsea didn’t recognize the man who drove it. No surprise there. She hadn’t been home since last Christmas, and she certainly didn’t keep up with the personnel on her family’s cattle ranch.

She glared at the taillights retreating in her rearview mirror, switching her laser-gaze back to the traitorous tan line on her left ring finger. Strong emotion welled where her lungs were, making it impossible to breathe.

Sucking at the air, she fumbled for the door handle, getting a blast of October heat when she spilled from her luxury SUV. She bent over and braced her elbows on her knees, still trying to get enough air, still trying to forget about the circumstances that had led her to this stretch of road in the Texas Panhandle.

As her lungs remembered how to work, she vowed she’d never wear another engagement ring.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

There would not be a third time.

Chelsea collected herself, grateful for once for the low population of Three Rivers. She gathered her designer sunglasses from where they’d fallen on the asphalt and returned to the driver’s seat. The air-conditioned seats drove away the heat, and when she sealed herself back in the SUV, the air had re-oxygenated itself.

Gripping the steering wheel, she prepared to keep on toward her destination, much as she didn’t want to. A sign several yards down the road caught her attention. She inched the car forward until she could read the faded letters.

Three Rivers Ranch, 5 . Five more miles until she met the worst turn her life had taken in the past twenty-eight years.

Beneath the old sign hung a much newer one. One that hadn’t been there ten months ago.

Courage Reins Therapeutic Riding. No mileage included. Chelsea puzzled through what the sign could mean. Was this therapeutic riding program at the ranch?

Surely not. Someone would’ve mentioned as much to her. After all, she was the one taking over the management of the homestead until Squire graduated. The thought of planting and weeding her mother’s massive vegetable garden made Chelsea feel twenty pounds heavier.

She pressed on the accelerator and centered the car in the appropriate lane. She’d find out about this Courage Reins in another five miles.

At the turnoff to Three Rivers, she squinted through the dusky sky to see another sign—new, with the same words. Courage Reins.

Annoyance sang through her. If the ranch had a new program, she should know about it.

She dismissed the thought. She wasn’t in charge of the entire ranch. Her father had made that clear. She was to maintain the homestead—the house and the yard. Tom Lovell was the general controller and he oversaw the cowhands. Her father had hired a new foreman to replace the one who had been stealing money from the ranch for the past five years.

Chelsea sifted through her memories to remember his name. Garth Ahlstrom. He’d been foreman for a cattle ranch in Montana before making the move south. She shouldn’t care about what happened once the grass of the homestead turned to the dirt parking lot on the ranch.

She pulled into the driveway leading to the garage, a wash of homesickness hitting her like a cold bucket of water. Which made no sense. She was home. This time, for a lot longer than it took to bake a ham and open presents.

She parked the car, but her fingers wouldn’t release their grip on the wheel.

“Come on, Chels,” she coaxed herself. “Just go in. It’s going to be fine.”

Fine wasn’t quite the word she’d been using on the six-hour drive from Dallas. Fine wasn’t the word her boss had used when she’d told him she was quitting to babysit a piece of land and a house. Fine wasn’t the world that came to Chelsea’s mind when she got the call from the hospital informing her of her fiancée’s “accident.”

She pushed away memories and remembrances of her life in Dallas. She didn’t have a life in Dallas. Not anymore.

Her open-toed sandals drank up dust as she made her way into the garage. Once there, she scaled the steps to the entrance to the house. She braced herself for the smell of her mother’s cooking to hit her upon the opening of the door. Surely her mom had been baking all afternoon in anticipation of Chelsea’s arrival.

Sure enough, when she cracked the door, the scent of whole wheat bread slammed into her nostrils, along with the mouth-watering smell of roasting meat. She slipped through the mudroom and loitered in the doorway that led to the kitchen.

The ease with which her mother moved with a knife in her hand only served to remind Chelsea that she’d burned her last microwave meal. She wasn’t fit to take care of the homestead, and anyone with one eye knew it.

“Hey, Mom.” Chelsea ignored the skittering in her chest and the way her feet had grown roots.

“Chelsea, honey.” Her mom set down the knife and moved around the counter for a hug. Chelsea managed to uproot herself and cross the room. “How was the drive?”

“Good,” Chelsea lied. “Long.” Only because she’d turned around twice, driven for a few miles back toward Dallas before forcing herself north again.

Boxes lined the wall behind the dining room table, which was likewise stacked with packed garment bags, suitcases, and dishware.

“Sorry about the mess,” her mom said, returning to the zucchini squash on the cutting board. “But we’ll be gone tomorrow, and this place will be yours.” Her voice carried too much gravity, breaking at the end.

Chelsea looked away as her mother wept, her own tears pressing so close, so close, so close.

“I’ll go look at my room,” she said, holding her breath as she clicked across the kitchen tile. Once in the safety of the hall, she released the air, which shuddered on the way out.

She didn’t understand why her parents were leaving a house they clearly loved. Squire wouldn’t need it for four more years. Chelsea certainly didn’t need it now. She could’ve gone anywhere after the phone call that led to a hospital that led to her wearing black and speaking about Danny like he was the greatest man who’d lived.

A sob shook her shoulders, also knocking something loose inside her chest. Something that felt like her ability to sympathize, forgive, love.

Her mascara smeared when she wiped her eyes, but she didn’t care. She wouldn’t come out of her room tonight, not even for her mother’s goodbye feast.

She didn’t go down the hall to her old bedroom. Instead, she slipped downstairs and outside to the patio sheltered by a deck above. She perched on a decorative boulder and let the darkness inside her spread until even her tears felt like tar leaking from her eyes.

“You okay, ma’am?”

Chelsea startled at the masculine tone, wiping again at her face. Her fingers came away stained with black and blue. So much for waterproof makeup.

“I’m fine.” She didn’t mean for her voice to blow through the space like an arctic wind. She turned toward the man and found a tall specimen with more muscles than she knew could be contained by skin.

The concern in his green eyes frosted at her tone, and as he crossed his arms, Chelsea saw the puckered and pink skin of a burn on his right side. The mark extended under the sleeves of the blue T-shirt he wore and marred all the fingers on his right hand.

“Of course you are,” he said. “I regularly cry in a remote place on the ranch because I’m fine.”

She didn’t need this stranger judging her, and she certainly wasn’t in the mood for company.

“It’s none of your concern.” She stood like she’d march away, but realized she didn’t have anywhere else to go. Though she wasn’t happy to be here, she didn’t want to make things harder for her mother.

He saluted her. “If you say so.” He ambled to the stone steps he must’ve come down. She hadn’t heard him in her distress.

Her breath hitched and the writhing in her stomach felt like she’d swallowed snakes.

He was leaving, the same way Danny had left.

“What do you do on the ranch?” she called after him, suddenly desperate to keep him there for a few more minutes.

The man twisted back to her but maintained his position on the steps. “I’m opening the new therapeutic riding program.”

And she wanted him to leave again. “Courage Reins. I saw the signs on the way in.” She reseated herself and flicked an imaginary piece of lint from her leggings. “What is it?”

His gaze gave none of his emotions away. “It’s a therapeutic riding program.” He spoke slower, like perhaps she didn’t understand English.

“What—does—it—do?” She dragged out each word in case his hearing had been affected in whatever accident had given him that burn.

“We take individuals who’ve been through trauma, and we help them with their rehabilitation.”

“So like physical therapy.”

“Any kind of trauma,” he said.

She swept her gaze meaningfully toward his arm. “Like yours.”

His gaze bored into hers, straight past every one of her defenses. “Or yours.” He turned and marched up the steps, leaving Chelsea gasping for breath and grasping for something to keep her from drowning under the sudden memories of Danny’s death.

Dear Lord, she prayed. Help me.

In her distress, she couldn’t articulate much more than that.

Pete Marshall stalked away from Squire’s sister, the scarred skin covered by his shirt prickling uncomfortably. The princess obviously thought all wounds were physical. Pete knew better, had overheard the Ackerman’s say something about their daughter’s boyfriend at breakfast a while back.

He’d been so absorbed with getting Courage Reins off the ground, he hadn’t paid as much attention as he might have otherwise. All he knew was that she’d quit her job and volunteered to return to Three Rivers so her parents could move into town.

Pete already missed Frank and Heidi and they weren’t moving until tomorrow. All their cowhands were helping, Pete included.

He paused outside the horse barn, regret singing through him. He wasn’t just opening Courage Reins—he worked the ranch too. And Chelsea was obviously in distress, and she didn’t need him exacerbating her condition. He turned around to go back to the house, hoping she’d still be weeping on the downstairs patio. Well, maybe not the crying bit. He had no idea how to deal with weepy women.

The sight of her stomping toward him froze him to the path. Her chestnut brown hair swung in time to her hips as her sandals ate up the distance between them.

“Look,” she called from several yards away. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m going to be taking over the homestead.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

She stopped a few feet away, flinching as if the lash of his endearment had struck like a backhand to her cheek.

“Who are you?”

“First Lieutenant Peter Marshall.” He saluted again, sure she didn’t want him touching her if the crossed arms and cocked hip were any indication. Pete had certain skills when it came to reading people, and Chelsea screamed angry.

The creases around her eyes softened. “Did you serve with my brother?”

“Twice.”

Her eyes flickered to his scars again, and Pete worked hard to keep his expression neutral and the flush down in his chest where she couldn’t see it. His injuries belonged to him now, no matter how much he wished they didn’t. He’d had a year to get used to the idea, and the past few months of attending church with the Ackerman’s had helped him accept God’s will.

He was still here, after all. Still alive. And with the concept of Courage Reins getting off the ground, Pete finally felt like he had a reason to be here, a purpose for being alive.

“I’m sorry,” he said into the gusting silence between them. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you back there, what with you crying and all.”

“I said I was—”

“Fine, I know.” The sun made an appearance behind the evening clouds. He pushed his cowboy hat lower over his eyes. “You want to go riding anyway? It makes some people feel better.”

“I feel fine.”

Sure she did. Pete had told himself that for months too, but he also knew she needed time for her own grieving. “Suit yourself. I have a client tomorrow evening, after your parents move, so I need to do a test ride.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder toward the horse barn. “Last chance.”

The color drained from Chelsea’s face, but it could’ve been a trick of the fading light. She shook her head, spun on her heel, and hurried away from him like he had a contagious disease.

He saddled Peony and headed along the path he’d mapped out. Past the horse pasture, the bull pens, and out onto the range. His hope was that by bringing people to the ranch they’d find the same comfort, the same peace, the same rehabilitation he’d felt in his body and soul when he’d come to Three Rivers.

The sky turned the color of a deep bruise, and he directed Peony back to the barn. The man coming tomorrow afternoon had suffered some core injuries during his deployment. Working with a horse could provide a bond that would help his self-confidence, and once he learned to ride, he’d be able to work his core muscles as he balanced and directed the horse.

Pete had decided to have Reese start with Peony in the barn first. Brushing, saddling. Then he’d lead her around the arena before Pete would allow him to ride. He had a game of pony ball ready if the veteran could handle it.

The package he’d sold included six weekly sessions of two hours each, and as Pete brushed Peony he let his mind wander to future packages and how he could get the word out about the program to other veterans. Without many new ideas, he closed up the barn for the night and returned to the cabin where he lived alone now that Squire had moved to College Station with his fiancée, Kelly Armstrong.

He flipped open his laptop and searched for information on therapeutic programs for veterans. It wasn’t the first time he’d researched other facilities, but just as with the previous few times, the amount of information available became overwhelming after only five minutes.

Pete reached for a pen and scratched out a few more notes to himself. Research how to join PATH International and ask Squire about purchasing land for the facility got added to his list before he headed over to the homestead for Heidi and Frank’s farewell dinner.

As he walked, Chelsea’s haunted midnight blue eyes filled his mind. The woman needed help, and as Pete entered the halo of light radiating from the kitchen, he felt certain God wanted him to aid in her rehabilitation.

Chelsea was unsuccessful in her attempts to avoid her parents. The lighter knock of her father was followed by the no-nonsense rap of her mother. “Chelsea,” she called through the wood. “I am not letting you shut yourself off in there.”

Chelsea padded across her old bedroom to the door and cracked it. She’d tucked her legs under her body on the bed by the time her mom entered. She swept her gaze over Chelsea, who had changed into a loose pair of yoga pants and one of Danny’s old shirts, a gray Cowboys tee.

“Honey.” Her mom’s love filled the room and she gathered Chelsea into her arms. Though Chelsea felt like she was shaking the earth and shattering from the inside out, her mother didn’t let go.

Several minutes passed, until the storm inside Chelsea had raged out. “I’m okay.” Her voice sounded as thick as brownie batter. It had been months since Danny’s death. She should be okay.

“You’re not okay,” her mom said. “And that’s okay. You don’t need to be okay right now. In fact, if you were okay right now, I would be worried.” She took Chelsea’s face in her hands, and Chelsea wondered if she’d ever be as strong as her mom. Her eyes shone with the iron she possessed and the solid line of her mouth spoke of it.

“We can stay as long as you need.”

Chelsea shook her head before her mom stopped speaking. “No,” she said. “I would’ve left Dallas no matter what.” She could’ve gone anywhere, and truthfully the thought of driving forty minutes to the grocery store brought a twist to her stomach that told Chelsea she’d rather starve than face the townspeople.

“I know the ranch wasn’t your first choice.”

Chelsea wished she could reassure her mom with more than, “It’s going to be fine.” She heard Pete’s voice when she said the last word, and she couldn’t help remembering the emerald blaze in his eyes when he challenged her to come riding with him.

She hadn’t told anyone that Danny wasn’t well, and she’d be taking that knowledge to the grave. She’d loved him, but that hadn’t been enough. She didn’t want to mother him, and every time they disagreed and he slumped into his depression, she blamed herself.

Her tears weren’t for what she’d lost when Danny had ended his life. They were because she was beyond relieved to be free from him, his moods that held her hostage, his anxiety that caged her when he didn’t feel like socializing, or working, or getting off the couch.

No one could ever know her tears came from a place of relief. What kind of monster did that make her?

She straightened her shoulders and strengthened herself with a stuttering breath. “Let’s go eat. The beef smells delicious.”

“Home grown.” Her mom smiled as she linked her elbow through Chelsea’s and moved with her out of the bedroom and down the hall.

Her father sat at the kitchen table with Pete Marshall. Chelsea’s withered heart pumped out an extra beat, which caused her lips to sink. Her stupid body must not have gotten the message that she was out of the dating game for good.

“Hello,” she said as pleasantly as she could manage. At least her voice didn’t sound like a teenage boy going through puberty.

“Evenin’, ma’am.” He removed his hat to show off his sandy blond hair. Chelsea had always found it fascinating how a man could remove his cowboy hat and become a completely different person.

“Heidi, this smells like the best meal you’ve ever made.”

“Oh, go on.” Her mother blushed at Pete’s compliment. They joined hands, and Chelsea hoped comfort and strength could be gathered through osmosis as her father said grace. As her parents and Pete tucked into the roast and mashed potatoes, Chelsea found herself watching Pete. Since when did the cowhands eat with her family? Maybe those who’d served with Squire got special treatment.

Chelsea followed the conversation but didn’t participate. Just like she’d been doing for the last couple of months. Living, breathing, watching. But not participating.

By the time dishes started clacking, signaling the end of the meal, Chelsea had succeeded in swallowing a couple of bites of food. She cleared her plate with everyone else, hoping no one would say anything.

Her mother saw the mashed potatoes Chelsea scraped into the sink, but she kept quiet. Chelsea focused on the dishes, soaping and rinsing in a methodical way. Anything to keep her mind from wandering.

By the time she looked up, only Pete remained in the kitchen. He leaned casually against the counter, watching her with those intense eyes. So open. So unassuming.

“I’ve been helpin’ around the homestead,” he said. “Minor construction repairs, painting, that kind of thing. Your dad’s been so busy getting Garth up to speed, and your mom wanted everything perfect for when you arrived.”

Chelsea seemed to have swallowed her ability to speak. So she nodded until she could say, “Thank you, Pete.”

“If there’s anything you need after they move out, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Sure, of course.”

Pete tipped his hat in farewell and stepped out the French doors to the deck. She watched him until the night swallowed him, wishing she was brave enough to ask him to paint the bathroom and retile the mudroom. But she knew she wouldn’t. Spending too much time with anyone would require her to talk, and she certainly didn’t want that.

Twenty-four hours later, Chelsea rose from her parent’s new dining room table. Boxes gaped open from when she and her mom had searched through them for silverware and cups. They’d eaten leftovers and set up the kitchen and bedrooms enough to function until her parents could unpack the rest of their belongings.

“Well, I better head back.”

Her dad drew her into a hug, and it almost erased the last year of her life. Almost. For the first few months in their relationship, Chelsea thought she could be the light Danny needed. He seemed to function better once they’d started dating. She could get him to go out to dinner if they went somewhere unpopular, away from the crowds. He held his position with the postal service longer than he had any other job.

When he’d asked her to marry him, she hadn’t seen the worst of his depression yet.

Her pulse surged up her throat at those memories, and she worked to shove them back where they belonged—in her past.

“Drive carefully, baby,” her dad said.

Chelsea hugged her mom and promised to come help unpack in the morning. Her headlights cut a path through the darkness that made seeing the stars magnificent. Without anyone else on the road, Chelsea aimed her SUV right down the middle of the highway and switched on the radio.

The soothing sound of classical music lilted through the speakers. She hadn’t listened to her beloved string quartets since Danny told her music without words unsettled him. She’d rearranged entire aspects of her life to try to make him happy. Nothing had worked.

She pulled into the driveway, glad her parents had motion-sensor lighting. She dropped her purse in the mudroom and kicked off her running shoes, sighing as she leaned against the closed door.

The three thousand square foot house loomed around her, a massive physical presence that pressed on her shoulders. She had a TV in her old bedroom, so she didn’t need the living room upstairs. Or the one downstairs.

Tomorrow, she’d help her mother unpack in the morning and in the afternoon, she’d begin closing off some of the rooms that wouldn’t be used over the next four years.

Upon rounding the corner into the kitchen, the flickering light of the TV caught her attention. She couldn’t hear the volume, or anyone else in the house. But she hadn’t left the television on.

She crossed the eat-in dining room, noting the absolute blackness outside the huge windows that looked over the yard and toward the ranch.

“Hello?” She could barely hear herself, especially over the drumming of her heart.

Nothing stirred, though the closer she crept, the clearer the steady breathing of a body became. She peeked over the edge of the couch and found Pete asleep, his handsome face more youthful while so relaxed.

The adrenaline that had invaded her body drained away. What was he doing here? As a cowhand, he probably lived in one of the cabins, but she didn’t think she’d be seeing him in the house once her parents moved out.

She allowed herself to examine his burnt arm longer than was proper when one was awake. From fingertip to sleeve, sweeping from the outside of his arm in, a blanket of pink, wavy scar tissue stood out angrily against his sun-kissed skin. She wanted to know the story behind his injury and how it had affected him psychologically. He didn’t seem as broken as she was.

She had the urge to run her fingers over his, maybe to smooth out the wrinkles.

Stop it, she commanded herself. You cannot fix him.

She spun away, the little she’d eaten at dinner threatening to reappear. She took several steps and braced herself against the kitchen counter, sucking and sucking for oxygen. She felt like a fish, like air was the wrong thing to breathe.

High-pitched noise escaped her throat, fading into the tornado that had started bellowing in her ears.

“Hey.” A deep voice sounded as if in a tunnel. A heavy, heated weight landed on the middle of her back. “It’s okay. Breathe deep. Just one breath. With me. Ready?”

The heat spread in a circle as he rubbed her back.

“You didn’t breathe, Chelsea.”

She was able to identify the voice as Pete’s.

“Come on now, sweetheart.” His hand slipped around her shoulder and he pulled her into his chest. “Breathe in with me. One, two, three.” His chest inflated, and she forced hers to go with it.

“Hold there,” he whispered.

The scent of his skin, musky and clean, penetrated her panic.

“And out.” He released his breath, and she followed suit, her control returning inch by inch.

She came to her senses and released the tightness in her fingers, which were clenched in his shirt against his chest. “I’m sorry.” But she didn’t move, safe as she felt in the circle of his arms.

“Can you walk? You want to sit down?”

She realized he supported her full weight with his hands anchored around her waist. She found her footing, a new sort of thrumming vibrating her ribs. She let him guide her to the couch, where she sat on the edge, the house too cold without Pete’s embrace.

“Sorry,” she said again.

“How long have you been having panic attacks?” He sat next to her, close enough to reach out and touch if she needed the anchor.

“I don’t—I mean—”

“I had them for six months after my tank got bombed.” He spoke with reverence, and Chelsea had enough awareness to notice his eyes took on a faraway quality. “Now it’s just the dreams that haunt me.”

“You have nightmares?”

“Not since I started trying to get this therapeutic thing off the ground.” He yawned. “Too tired. Sorry I fell asleep waitin’ for you. Your mom called. Wanted me to make sure you got here safely.”

Safely was a relative term. Physically, she’d made it. Emotionally, she was knotted and pretzeled and snarled with remorse and relief and guilt and guilt and guilt.

“Thank you,” ghosted between her lips.

“Like I said earlier, anytime.” He met her gaze, and he looked made of steel. She remembered the sturdiness of his arms, his chest. She swallowed and wiped the back of her hand against her forehead.

“I think I better get to bed.”

He stood with her, but a slithery feeling still soured Chelsea’s stomach. She sank back to the couch. “Maybe I’ll just sleep here.” Her voice sounded wispy, like cobwebs and dust. “You made it look pretty comfortable.”

Pete retrieved a blanket from the opposite end of the couch and covered her with it. “You have a cell phone?”

She nodded, her vocal chords done for the day.

“Chelsea?” His handsome face appeared inches from hers. “Where is it, sweetheart? I’ll put my number in it in case you need anything.”

“My purse.” Her eyes drifted closed as his sure footsteps crossed the kitchen to find her purse. She didn’t know if he found it. She didn’t know if he stayed. She didn’t know if she’d survive alone in this house.

Pete, now wide-awake after his catnap, sat as far from Chelsea as he could while staying on the couch. The TV droned in the background, but he kept his attention on the waif of a woman across from him.

Though she probably wanted to be left alone, he couldn’t do it. He watched her chest rise and fall, rise and fall, as the minutes ticked closer to midnight. He’d be hurting in the morning, but right now, a woman’s life was more important.

A beautiful woman, he thought before he could censor himself.

Though Chelsea possessed the dark hair and bright eyes he was normally attracted to, he didn’t need the obvious baggage she brought with her. Pete had enough of his own.

He had seen steel in her expression on more than one occasion. When she tromped through the dust to chew him out. When she ate dinner with her parents like everything was normal. When she hauled box after box to the moving van.

She fell into a deep sleep, and Pete rose to find her bedroom. Down the hall and up a short series of steps, he found what had probably been Squire’s old digs. The cricket posters were a dead giveaway. Pete couldn’t help smiling as he thought about his Army friend.

A squeeze against his heart reminded Pete of how much he owed Major Ackerman. This job. His life.

Around the corner sat another bedroom, this one obviously Chelsea’s, what with the flowered bedspread and lilac walls. It didn’t speak of a little girl though, but a sophisticated woman. He stepped inside, touching his fingers to the top of her dresser, where she’d laid her jewelry and a notebook.

He turned down the covers before returning to the living room. He scooped her into his arms with little effort and carried her down the hall. She didn’t moan or move or make any indication other than breathing that she was alive.

Pete felt her sadness simply by holding her. He knew she wasn’t eating enough by the way her jeans bagged and how skeletal she felt against him. He placed her in bed and smoothed her hair off her forehead.

“I can help you,” he whispered. “Or rather, the horses can.” He straightened and drank her in one last time before heading to his cabin. He wasn’t going to give up on Chelsea. He’d get her to participate in his therapeutic riding program, no matter the cost.

The next morning, Pete had four horses brushed down before anyone else showed up on the ranch.

“What’s his name?”

He turned toward the soft voice coming from behind him. Chelsea stood there, wearing a different pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, though the October weather certainly wasn’t cold.

“This is Peony,” he said, motioning Chelsea forward. She joined him at the rail, her hands hidden in her pockets.

“I’m training her for my riding program.”

She stiffened, almost imperceptibly, but Pete noticed. Peony swung her dark eyes toward Chelsea and lifted her nose above the rail. Chelsea stepped back, alarm coloring her face.

“How’d your lesson go last night?”

“Good,” Pete said. “I’m just getting started. Training the horses, and myself, and figuring out what to do with the patients.” He exhaled, the sound revealing more than he liked. “I’m sort of flying blind right now.”

“What do you mean?” Chelsea stepped up to Peony, tentatively stroking her hands down the horse’s cheeks.

“Well….” Pete slid her a sideways glance and found her expression open and unassuming.

“I need money.” He leaned his elbows against the rail as Baywatch ambled over. “I need facilities exclusively for the program. I need a therapist, and grants, and volunteers, and there’s this veteran’s program called PATH International I need to join, and—” He forced himself to shut his mouth. It had taken him a couple of months to absorb all the information on starting and running an equine therapeutic riding program. Surely he sounded like he was speaking another language.

“It sounds like you know what you’re doing.”

He detected a smile in her voice. “I have no clue,” he admitted. “Reese is an old Army pal. He doesn’t mind that I’m experimenting on him, but after last night, I know a little bit about what I’m lacking.”

She placed her hand on his arm, drawing his attention from the horses to her fingers. Long and slender, they sent a chill through his skin. She shouldn’t be this cold. She drew back, and Pete followed the movement before meeting her gaze.

She swallowed, shuttering her emotions behind a false grin. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Challenge rose through Pete. “You don’t even know me. How do you know I can do this?”

“I made breakfast this morning without burning down the house,” she said. “If I can do that, you can do this.”

“Starting a non-profit organization that needs a staff and dozens of volunteers is a lot harder than pouring a bowl of cereal, sweetheart.” He stalked away from the horses, his frustration reaching a level he couldn’t contain.

Her footfalls followed his. “Listen,” she called behind him. “It was a lot more than cereal.”

“Oh yeah? Protein shake?”

“I cooked,” she said, a point she enunciated so vehemently that Pete realized its significance.

He paused just outside the barn’s entrance, the morning sun brightening his mood. “Okay,” he said. “Want to make me breakfast?”

“Absolutely not.” She folded her arms and seemed to deflate in the sunlight. “I don’t need to embarrass myself any more than I already have.”

Pete noticed the determined set of her jaw. “You haven’t embarrassed yourself.”

“No?” Her eyebrows disappeared under her bangs. “So having a panic attack and then conking out is normal in your world?”

“Pretty normal, yeah.” He took a deep breath and caught the creamy scent of her skin or her shampoo. He wanted to breathe her in all day, so he purposefully took a step away. “Having anxiety after experiencing a traumatic event is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Who says I’ve experienced a traumatic event?”

Pete peered at her, uncertain of how to proceed. “No one,” he decided to say. “I have an idea, though….”

He didn’t think her hip could cock any further, but it did. “Oh?”

“How about you let me experiment on you, too?” He rushed to add, “With the horses? Not that you need therapy, but to train them?”

“I don’t think so.” She started back toward the homestead.

“Why not?” He hurried to follow her. “Surely you already know how to ride a horse.”

“Of course I do,” she said. “It’s just been a long time.”

“Even better,” he said. “I need the horses to behave a certain way with anyone, regardless of their experience or lack thereof.”

“Lack thereof?” She stopped on the edge of the yard. “Where’d you come from?”

He smelled a victory, if only he pushed a little further. “Tennessee,” he said. “Bachelor’s in business management.” His desperation clogged his throat. “Please. I need riders to train the horses, and I know I can make this program a success.”

He had no idea how, but kernels incubated in his mind. Nothing would matter if he didn’t have the right horses for his equine program.

“Once a week,” he pushed. “A couple of hours, once a week.”

“I’ll consult my schedule.” Chelsea gave him a curt nod goodbye before she made her way across the lawn to the deck. Pete watched her go, the scent of victory almost as sweet as her perfume.

The house still smelled like fried, fried, fried eggs, a scent that brought a twist to Chelsea’s stomach. It definitely wasn’t because of the little fib she’d told Pete. She had made breakfast, she’d definitely cooked, and she hadn’t burned down the house.

He’d never asked if the food was edible. She pulled the bag containing that morning’s failure out of the trashcan and took it out to the barrel. Back inside, she located a can of disinfectant spray and applied a generous dose to the kitchen, empty dining room, and living room.

She collapsed on the couch where she’d fallen asleep last night, unsure of what to do next. She’d woken before dawn and spent a couple of hours before her egg disaster closing up the basement.

Her parents had taken the smaller sofa and love seat from the basement for their smaller house in town. They’d left the huge sectional upstairs, half their towel collection, a couple of barstools for the kitchen, and all the patio furniture.

Since Chelsea was a party of one, she didn’t need a dining room table, but the space gaped now that it didn’t house anything. Only halfway to lunch on the first day at the homestead, and already Chelsea was wondering what she would do all day, everyday.

She heaved herself to her feet and located her phone. After sending a text to her mother that she’d come help unpack later, her thoughts returned to Pete. She’d gone to the barn that morning to thank him for his kindness, for helping her last night. Embarrassment threaded through her when she thought of him carrying her to bed, but she felt braver now than she had in person.

Thanks for helping me last night, she typed. Her thumb hovered over the send button as she read and reread her message. It was a simple expression of gratitude. He deserved it.

But his words looped in her mind. Having anxiety after experiencing a traumatic event is nothing to be ashamed of.

Her anxiety had grown each day since Danny’s death. She couldn’t deny that and wasn’t sure she wanted to.

It was the traumatic experience she was unsure of. She hadn’t been there when Danny died. She hadn’t even been allowed to see him in the hospital. The funeral had been carried out with a closed casket. That was what happened when someone used a firearm in close quarters.

She hadn’t returned to Danny’s apartment. His parents had identified the body. She hadn’t seen anything, except what her imagination could conjure up in quiet moments.

Was that a traumatic experience?

Chelsea didn’t think so. She didn’t have burns like Pete, or missing limbs, or a limp like her brother. She hadn’t even been present during the event.

Maybe that was why everything inside her mind no longer made sense. Real thoughts took so much time to tunnel to the surface, and even longer for her to mull over before she spoke them.

She didn’t need to speak to take an inventory of the gardening equipment. She noted that the lawn had just been clipped, the flower beds weeded, and most of the garden cleared except for the squashes that still spread their vines across the ground. She’d need to get the yard ready for the winter, though, and she needed to know what tools she had at her disposal.

After a sweaty hour in the shed, she returned to the house for a shower. By the time she emerged from the hot water, her stomach growled for lunch. Since she’d attempted cooking for breakfast, she decided to forgo anything to do with the stove and stuck a container of soup in the microwave.

She paired it with a piece of toast, but only ate four bites before she couldn’t get another spoonful of stew past her lips.

A knock on the patio doors sent her heart rippling, and she twisted from her place on a barstool to see Pete enter the kitchen.

“Lunch,” he said. “Smells good.”

“My mom said I didn’t have to feed the cowhands.” It had been the one thing Chelsea had insisted on.

“I know,” he said, stepping to the fridge and opening it. He had to stoop to look inside, a crease forming between his emerald eyes. “Oh, I forgot your mom took all the good stuff.” He let the door swing closed before he leaned against the refrigerator.

“I have yogurt and cottage cheese in there,” Chelsea said.

“Chick food.” His mouth twitched with a smirk. “It’s okay. I have bread and turkey in my cabin.”

She spread her hands around her soup bowl. If she couldn’t eat it, she could use the warmth to try to heat her fingers. Since Danny’s death, she hadn’t been able to stay warm, almost like her body had forgotten it wasn’t reptilian.

“Then why are you here?” she asked.

His jaw hardened. “Just saying hello.”

Right. She resisted the urge to call him on his obvious lie. He had no reason to come to the house.

“Are you checking up on me?”

“Are you suggesting you need to be checked up on?” He folded his arms, which was much more impressive than when she did. He increased his presence while she seemed to fold into herself.

“No,” she said. “But I wouldn’t put it past my mother to be asking you for a daily report.”

He laughed, the noise joyful and happy and wonderful. Everything Chelsea wasn’t. She wanted to bottle the sound and listen to it whenever she needed to smile.

“Your mother should get a daily report,” Pete said. “But not from me.”

“I’m not going to call my mother every day.”

“You should.”

“Why?” And why did he care?

“She’s concerned about you, that’s why.” Pete pushed off the fridge. “It wouldn’t kill you to text her and let her know you’re okay. Tell her about your cooking success this morning. That kind of thing.”

“Do you text your mother?”

“I would if she was still alive.”

Chelsea’s heart burned like a live coal, creating a hole in her chest. He’d experienced loss, like she had. “I’m so sorry.” She spoke so softly, he leaned forward to catch the words.

“I was in Afghanistan when she died in a car accident with my granddad.” The muscles in his neck tightened though his tone stayed even. “I missed their funerals, but I stopped by their graves in Tennessee before I came out here.”

Tears filled her eyes, just like they had during Danny’s service. The scratchiness of lace along her collar made her lift her fingers to her neck, just as she had during Danny’s service. The scent of orange and cloying rose petals filled her nose, just as they had during Danny’s service.

She blinked, and Pete’s fair features turned dark. Dark hair. Dark, enthralling eyes that sparkled when Danny played the guitar and sang. Deep, brooding eyes that begged her for help.

Once, she’d thought she could help him. That by loving him enough, he wouldn’t need anything else.

How wrong she’d been.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Pete stepped closer to her. “It’s been a few years.”

Her chin shook as she swiped at her eyes. “Does time make it easier?” Surprise shot through her at her own boldness. She hadn’t meant to ask, didn’t even know she had the question inside.

Pete’s eyes became like pools. Pools of warm liquid Chelsea could lose herself in, swim in for hours and still not be satisfied.

“Yes,” he whispered. “It does.” His arm moved, his fingers touching hers for a quick moment. So quick she wasn’t sure he’d actually made contact. “Time, and distance, and finding another purpose.”

She thought of his therapeutic riding program, the heaviness in his voice when he spoke about what he needed to get it started, his invitation to help train the horses.

“I can help with the horses.” Chelsea lifted her chin a couple of inches to look into his eyes.

He gazed down on her, but she didn’t feel small or weak. “Tonight?”

“Sure, why not?”

“I’ll come get you after dinner.” He stepped past her and headed outside.

As she watched him descend the steps and cross the lawn, she thought, Why not indeed?

The next several hours dragged for Pete as he fed horses and rode out to the hay barn to check the supply for the oncoming winter. All he could think about was his program, how he could benefit both Chelsea and Peony during the session that evening.

Just before dinner, he called Squire, hoping he was out of class or work or whatever he was doing in College Station.

“Hey,” the Major said. “How’s the ranch?”

“Good, fine,” Pete answered, his words suddenly stuck behind a lump in his throat.

“So what’s going on?” Squire never was one to mince words.

“Your sister made it home.”

“Good,” Squire said. “How is she?”

“She’s in bad shape, Major. I don’t know everything that happened, or why she really came home, but she’s not okay.”

Squire exhaled as the silence lengthened. “What happened?”

“She had a panic attack last night.”

“Do you know why?”

“Didn’t ask. Just tried to help her through it.”

This silence didn’t feel as safe as the previous one. “What do you mean by ‘help her through it’?”

“Taught her how to breathe. I have some other tricks up my sleeve, which leads me to why I’m calling.”

“Oh?”

“Remember me talking about an equine therapeutic riding program?”

“Yeah, you started training Peony before I left.”

“Right, she’s done a session or two. I’m training Baywatch too, and Chelsea’s agreed to help me with the horses. But I need grants, and volunteers, and facilities to really have a true program.” He stopped talking, though his thoughts raced like thoroughbreds.

“Facilities?”

“Here’s what I’m thinking. I get a loan to purchase part of the ranch. A dozen or so acres, for the facilities I need. You know, a riding track and a dedicated arena to work with the horses, a small office building. If you’ll let me use the barn and your retired horses, we can be partners. Three Rivers Ranch and Courage Reins.”

This silence sounded deafening, like the stretch of soundlessness that had poured through Pete’s ears just after the bomb hit the tank. Then the pain had registered. The screaming. The smoke.

He inhaled deliberately, calming the rough edges inside his chest with mere oxygen.

“I’m sure Three Rivers can spare a dozen acres,” Squire said. “Sounds like this program has really gotten under your skin, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah,” Pete said, unwilling for the moment to elaborate. Courage Reins wasn’t just under his skin. It had become his passion, something he contemplated every waking moment of his life. “I’ll meet with the bank next week.”

“Which horses you usin’ besides Peony and Baywatch?”

“I think I’ll need at least a couple more—maybe Juniper and Hank?—and maybe another couple once the program expands. But that won’t be for a while.” He added the last part in a rush so Squire wouldn’t think Pete was taking every able-bodied horse available.

“Sounds good,” he said. “How’s Juniper?”

Pete detected a trace of emotion in the Major’s tone. “She’s doin’ fine. I think I’m going to ride her tonight while Chelsea trains with Peony.”

“Sounds good.” Squire paused and Pete listened to the silence to predict what he might say next. “You take good care of my sister, Lieutenant. She needs it.”

“Of course.” Pete pressed his mouth closed. It wasn’t his place to tell Squire how much help his sister really needed.

Pete smelled the smoke from inside the barn. He broke into a sprint as he crossed the lawn and took the stairs to the deck two at a time. He yanked open the door. “Chelsea?”

“I’m fine!” she called from somewhere amid the smoke. Someone really needed to teach this woman the definition of fine.

He pulled his shirt over his mouth and left the door open. He maneuvered to the counter, one arm in front of him sweeping for obstacles. His heart drummed against the roof of his mouth, pounding, searching, beating, scanning.

A towel whipped his arm, and he seized it. Chelsea came with it and he tucked her against his side and moved toward the exit. “What happened?”

“I tried cooking again.” A cough rattled her body as Pete helped her to the deck and turned back to the house. He re-entered, taking a few seconds to open all the windows on the east wall. Tom’s voice reached him through the haze.

“Over here,” Pete called, moving around the counter to the stove, where several pancake shaped hockey pucks smoldered. She’d managed to turn off the burners, but the griddle radiated heat a good six inches above its surface.

“There’s an extinguisher under the sink,” Tom said, his outline appearing through the smoke.

“I think it just needs to air out. Can’t see a flame.” Pete used the spatula and removed the offending pancakes. He tossed them into the sink and ran water over them.

“That thing is screamin’ hot,” he said as Tom stepped toward the stove. “Can we put water on it?”

“That’ll just steam some more,” Tom said. “Let’s just let it cool off.”

“I think my mother has a fan in the shed,” Chelsea said from Pete’s right. “I’ll go get it.”

Pete didn’t need to be breathing smoke so he followed Tom onto the deck, where twilight sucked up the mist and dispersed it.

“We’ll never get another home cooked meal,” Tom said.

Pete watched Chelsea cross the yard, her back straight and her steps sure. “No, probably not.”

Tom grumbled as he descended the steps. Pete waited for Chelsea to return, and he took the fan, setting it next to the stove and blowing the smoke toward the doors and windows.

“Let’s go get something to eat at my cabin,” he said, hooking his arm through Chelsea’s and towing her toward the steps.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Then why were you making pancakes?”

“Practicing.”

Pete’s heart squeezed, but he couldn’t help laughing. “I’m sorry,” he said, still chuckling. “But it looks like you need more practice.”

She slipped her arm down so that her hand rested in the crook of his elbow. “Stop it. I don’t have much to do, and I figured how hard could making pancakes be?”

“Right. Well, you didn’t quite burn down the house.”

“There’s always tomorrow.”

Pete groaned. “If you’re going to be doing a lot of cooking, maybe I should be there to supervise.” He glanced at her. “I mean, watch. Encourage.”

The stiff line around her mouth softened, and her enormous eyes swung his way, captivating him in an instant. His step stumbled as a spark of attraction sprang from her to him. He narrowed his eyes to break their connection, heat rising from deep within his core.

“So what do I need to do with the horses tonight?” she asked.

“Nothing specific,” Pete said. “I want you to do whatever you do.”

“But what if I spook them?”

“It’s their job not to get spooked, sweetheart. I’m training them to work with disabled veterans, or kids with Autism. They can handle you.”

At least Pete hoped they could. Just because Chelsea hadn’t seen active duty didn’t mean she wasn’t as emotionally scarred.

Chelsea warred with herself as she and Pete approached the horse barn. She should let go of his arm, what with that electricity flowing between them so freely. But she needed the comfort and strength of his touch and couldn’t force herself to release him.

Her nerves quivered like they’d been shredded by a lawn trimmer. The horses would be able to feel her tension, but she didn’t know how to tame it. She hadn’t been able to for weeks.

Months, she thought, if she were being honest. For the last few months of Danny’s life, she’d lived as an emotional hostage. A slave to his mood, his needs. She’d found him selfish, but she’d reasoned that away under the umbrella of his depression.

“Chelsea?”

“Hmm?” She realized they’d stopped outside Peony’s stall.

“I need my arm, sweetheart.”

She let go of him as if he’d caught fire. Her face had certainly found the flame. “Sorry.”

In his absence, she reached for the horse. Peony closed her eyes halfway, and Chelsea stroked her eggshell colored hair, a sigh softening her insides.

Pete opened the gate and entered the stall with a horse blanket and saddle. He equipped Peony and stepped out. “You’re going to ride her.”

Her organs seized again. “First thing?”

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine,” he said. “You can lead her around the arena. Kick her a ball. Get comfortable with her.”

Chelsea liked that idea better, though it made her feel like she was the one being trained.

“Isn’t she getting comfortable with me?”

Peony pushed her nose into Chelsea’s shoulder.

“I think she already is, sweetheart.” Pete leaned against the rail. “But she needs to go through the activities I’ll be using with the real patients. I can do it if you’d rather.”

Her defenses rose at his suggestion. “No, I want to do it. Plus, you need to practice being the instructor, right?”

“Right.” He straightened and moved into her personal bubble. “Ready?”

She gazed up at him, captivated by his presence, his warmth. Her hands hurt from the constant cold. “Ready,” misted from her mouth.

He stepped back and she almost fell forward. She followed him through the gate and took Peony’s reins.

“Walk ‘er back this way,” Pete instructed from the back of the stall, where a barred hallway led to the outside arena. He lifted the bar and indicated for Chelsea to go first. “Go as slow as you want. We want Peony to obey your commands, go with you, basically submit to you.”

“Come on, girl.” Chelsea stepped and clicked her tongue the way she had as a child and Peony went with her.

Swells of pride filled her and filled her. “She’s coming.”

Pete’s smile matched hers. “Take ‘er all the way out. I’ll meet you out there. Remember, it’s never safe to walk behind a horse. They don’t like it.”

Chelsea placed her hand on his arm as she passed. A fleeting touch, but one that carried weight. What kind of weight, she wasn’t sure. She just knew he made her feel…. He made her feel.

He waited in the arena when she and Peony exited the barn. “Take ‘er around the outside,” he instructed. “Just get a feel for her.”

Chelsea matched her footsteps with the plodding of the horse’s hooves. Her heartbeat found the rhythm too, and though it was dark beyond the lit arena, Chelsea didn’t feel any of it inside herself.

“Talk to her,” Pete said from his perch on the fence.

“What should I say?” Chelsea’s grip on the reins tightened, and Peony’s gait stumbled.

“Whatever you want her to hear.”

Chelsea didn’t know what a horse should hear. “I moved here from Dallas,” she started, her voice barely making it past her own ears. “I had a job there. Friends. A boyfriend.”

Images of her downtown apartment paraded through her mind. The custom cabinets. The granite countertops. The stained glass in the front door. She thought of Hailey and Kim, her partners in crime. They’d introduced her to Danny, but she shelved the memories of him as she passed Pete.

“I can’t cook,” she said. “But I’m sure you smelled the evidence of that this evening.” She turned back to see if Peony was listening. “I’m going to work on that, though. By the time Squire gets back, I’ll be a professional chef.”

Peony’s head nodded with every step, and it seemed like she was agreeing with Chelsea. A tiny crack in her heart sealed shut with the presence of this animal, her gentle nature and willing spirit.

“Okay, put ‘er in the center.” Pete jumped down from the fence and gathered a large exercise ball from the barn. “Let’s play pony ball.”

Chelsea looped the reins around Peony’s saddle horn, wondering if her leg would swing as easily over the horse’s back as it once had.

Pete rolled the ball along the dirt, his fingers brushing the top every few steps. She wondered what his hand would feel like sweeping along the tender skin of her neck, her back.

Peony snuffled, as if reading Chelsea’s mixed-up thoughts. She couldn’t entertain the idea of having more than a friendship with Pete. The tan line on her ring finger testified of that. She’d already vowed not to make that mistake a third time.

From several feel away, Pete gave the ball a bigger push. “Ball, Peony.”

The horse stepped forward, trapping the ball between her front legs. She moved and kneed the ball back to Pete.

Chelsea clapped her hands twice, enthralled by the horse. “I want to try.”

“Come on over.”

She collected the exercise ball, relishing the feel of dust under her fingertips. She’d spent too much time cooped up behind a desk, making marketing strategies and blowing smoke at high-profile clients.

Though she hadn’t wanted to come home, she felt more complete right now, right here on the ranch, than she had in years.

She pushed the ball toward the horse. “Catch!” she called. Peony tossed her head and booted the ball back.

She jumped up, her arms rising in one of her old cheerleader moves. She rushed the horse without thinking. She flung her arms around Peony’s neck. “You are wonderful,” she whispered into the mane.

It could’ve been her imagination, but she swore Peony lowered her head and hugged her.

Pete watched the exchange between Chelsea and Peony, and he knew his horse was ready to work with anyone. If having a squealing woman with flailing limbs flying toward her hadn’t scared the horse, nothing would.

Just as certainly, something inside Chelsea had been healed as well. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that all her injuries had magically disappeared, but he hadn’t seen her dance, laugh, or smile until tonight.

I need this program to work, he thought, lifting his eyes to the stars. Please, God, help me make this program work.

Watching Chelsea rub Peony’s neck, murmur secrets to her, and lead her back to the barn brought Pete more satisfaction than he’d thought he could feel. He could help people. People with mental disabilities. People with genetic disorders. Veterans like himself, with mental, emotional, and physical scars.

This was his life’s purpose, and he knew it as well as he knew himself.

“We never got something to eat,” he said as they left the barn.

“I’m okay,” Chelsea said, the few feet between them like miles and miles.

“Why don’t you eat?” He stopped at the edge of the yard, his cabin back behind the barn.

“I eat.”

He didn’t want to push her. He certainly understood the way someone could slip into a black place where neither eating nor sleeping nor living mattered. He saw the circles under her eyes, saw in her something that reminded him of himself during all the skin grafts. The glazed look, the helplessness that felt like cement in his boots.

“That might be why you’re cold all the time,” he said, unwilling to let the subject drop quite yet. He wasn’t a psychologist, but he knew talking to someone aided the equine therapy.

“I’m not—”

“When I had my fourth or fifth skin graft, everything they gave me for the pain made me nauseous. Then those blasted nurses wanted me to get up and walk around. I think I convinced them to leave me alone when I fell.”

He studied the skies, because Chelsea’s gaze felt too powerful, too penetrating, too personal. “So if you faint, then I’ll leave you alone.”

“How many skin grafts did you have?” She maneuvered around to his right side and placed her fingers on his puckered skin.

He jerked away, the touch too much. Too new. No one except nurses and doctors had touched his injury, ever.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

Embers of embarrassment swirled through his stomach. Why was he rejecting her? Because she was Squire’s older sister? Because he was sure that wasn’t how Squire wanted him to take care of her?

Or because he was sensitive about his disfigurement?

He reached for her hand, guiding her down the graveled path to his cabin. “No, I’m sorry. It’s just…well, no one’s wanted to touch my lumpy skin. It scares them.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore.” His bootsteps scuffed against gravel, and his heart felt the same way grating against his ribs. “I had about fifteen grafts, I think. In June, they finally told me they couldn’t do anything more.”

Her fingers wandered up his arm to his shirtsleeve and back to his. He shivered, though he definitely ate enough and had no reason to have a chill.

“How far does it extend?”

With his free hand, he nudged aside his collar until he felt the rough skin it covered. “Up here.” He dropped his hand. “And all the way across my torso, some on my hip.”

Her head dropped to study the ground. “I don’t have any physical injuries.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not wounded.” The words slipped out before he could think. “I mean—”

“No, you’re right.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m fine, but I know some sicknesses aren’t visible.” She spoke with such tenderness, Pete believed she’d had first-hand experience with invisible injuries. He wondered which ones, and why they’d scarred her if she was fine.

He opened the door to his cabin and flicked on the light, releasing her hand as he did. “Well, I think I can whip up some pancakes you might actually eat.” He busied himself in the small kitchen, well aware of her appraising gaze on his walls, his sofa, his small TV.

“You live here alone?”

“Squire and I shared until he moved.” He measured the mix and the water, adding an egg.

“Why’d you add the egg?” she asked, settling at his kitchen table. “That’s the same mix my mother has. The back doesn’t say to add an egg.”

“Something my momma taught me. Makes it taste more like homemade. Gives the pancakes more substance and fluff.”

She watched him with those midnight eyes, sucking, threading, drawing him closer with every passing moment.

“So you wait until the griddle is hot, but not screaming.” Once he started talking, he couldn’t stop. “The batter should sizzle a bit, but not smoke.” He ladled batter onto his hot griddle.

“Then, you see those bubbles? They cover the top, burst on the edges.” He nudged a spatula under the first pancake. “When they do that, you know they’re ready.” He flipped the cake, and beamed at the golden brown color.

“On this side, they only need a minute.” He flipped all the pancakes and then returned to the first one. “Done.” He stuck the bottle of syrup in the microwave and stacked the pancakes on a plate. By the time he finished the demonstration, Pete didn’t think he’d be able to swallow a single bite.

Chelsea did, though. She ate a whole pancake and reached for another. She didn’t put syrup on this one, but slathered it with butter and reached for the saltshaker.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“It’s delicious. This toasted whole wheat pancake with salt? It’s like a soft pretzel.” She rolled the pancake into a tube and took a bite. “Mm, butter. Everything’s better with butter.”

He chuckled, comfortable and content to be here with Chelsea. As he walked her back to the homestead, the planets seemed aligned.

“You were great tonight,” she said. “What are you going to do with your program?”

“I’m going to start working with Baywatch,” Pete said. “Peony’s ready. And I talked to Squire, and I’m going to purchase a piece of the ranch from your family so I can build my facilities.”

She swung her head toward him. “Really?” The level of surprise in her voice didn’t escape Pete.

“And I’m going to start nosing around town for volunteers, and I need to fill out grant applications and apply for the national veterans program….”

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs that led to the deck. “And here I’ve already caused a smoke storm. You’re way ahead of me.”

“Tomorrow, you can whip up the pancakes.” He dug down to access his well of courage. “And if you’re into it, we can drive into church together.”

“Church?” Her nose wrinkled, those blinders going over her eyes.

“Doesn’t start until eleven,” he said. “I’ve been going since I got here.” He ran his left hand up his right arm, still familiarizing himself to the puckered skin there. “It helps.”

He didn’t have to elaborate. She nodded, but she still radiated a no, thank you air.

“I’ll think about it.”

“You have my number.” He stepped away from her intoxicating scent, her smooth hands, her broken spirit. Squire definitely didn’t mean for Pete to start dating his sister. She just needed a friend—and someone to make sure she didn’t cause permanent damage to the homestead.

Pete was happy to be both.

I’ll go to church, but we’re driving my car. It has air conditioning.

Pete grinned at Chelsea’s text, which came only a half hour before they needed to leave to make it to the service on time.

Breakfast is ready. Smokeless!

Pete grabbed his teal striped tie and pulled on his boots before heading over to the homestead. He’d slept fitfully the night before, not because he wasn’t thoroughly exhausted and not because nightmares followed him into sleep.

But because of the woman standing at the stove, her back to the French doors, her dress hanging off her frame like a burlap sack.

“How much weight have you lost?” He entered the kitchen and slid onto a barstool. Blueberry syrup and a plate holding butter sat in front of him.

Her shoulders startled, but she didn’t turn. “Just a little.”

“That dress looks like it’s two sizes too big.”

“Just because it’s not skin tight doesn’t mean it’s not the right size.” She glanced over her shoulder, not to look at him, but so he could see her annoyance. He’d heard it already.

“Okay,” he said. “None of my business.”

She turned and placed a stack of five pancakes on the bar. They were all too blonde, barely a hint of brown at all. He took two anyway.

“I didn’t let them bubble enough, did I?”

“They’re a little light,” he said. “The griddle might not be hot enough.”

She nodded as she nibbled on a pancake without butter, syrup, or salt, only getting halfway around before she replaced the cake on her plate. “Tell me about your dad.”

Pete’s gaze flew to hers, to the raw emotion raging in the blue depths of her eyes. “He died during one of his deployments.” Rapids cascaded through his torso. “My momma didn’t want me to join the Army, but I did it anyway. Wanted to be the same kind of Marshall man he was.” Pete pressed his eyes closed against the memories of their bickering, the constant argument that he’d die in the desert.

Pete had argued back that he could die on the way to the grocery store—something he’d wished he could take back a million times after he’d received word of his mom’s car accident. The car accident which had happened as his momma drove his granddad to a doctor’s appointment. Not the grocery store, but close enough in Pete’s mind.

“I’m sure you’re making him proud.” Chelsea stepped away from the counter. “Be back in a minute.”

She returned with a belt around her waist, which made the saggy dress accentuate her subtle curves. Her lips shone with pink gloss, and a silver bracelet dangled from her wrist. “Is it time to go?”

It definitely was. Pete stood and looped his tie around his neck. “Yes.”

She slipped into heels in the mudroom, and he followed her to a luxury SUV. “Nice car,” he commented after she’d slid into the driver’s seat.

“Thanks.” She focused on driving, her hands in the proper position, her knuckles white.

“You haven’t been to church for a while, have you?” he asked as she turned onto the main highway.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yes.” Pete chuckled. “You remind me so much of myself when I got here in June.”

Broken. Uncertain. Lost.

Chelsea was definitely all three.

Pete had felt himself heal a little more with each passing day on the ranch. He had purpose now with Courage Reins, but he was still uncertain if he could be successful. His wages as a cowhand were fine for now, but insufficient for a family.

He hadn’t given much thought to a family anyway. But with Chelsea’s touch and acceptance of his injury, his future had been blown wide open. And that had also kept him awake last night.

Chelsea pulled into the church parking lot, but she didn’t move. Didn’t even turn off the ignition.

Pete reached for the door handle. “You comin’?”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “You go on ahead.”

She stared straight forward, but she wasn’t seeing what was right in front of her.

“I sit by your parents, usually,” he said. “Come on in, if you want. I’m sure they’d love to see you.”

He wasn’t sure, because of the noise he made getting out of her car, but he thought he heard her say, “I don’t want anyone to see me.”

Chelsea drove away from the church, her passenger seat empty just like her heart. She wasn’t ready to face the townspeople, though part of her wanted to stride into that church on Pete Marshall’s arm and make an entrance the widows of Three Rivers would be gossiping about for weeks.

She stopped at the city limits and pulled out her phone. She searched for veteran riding programs and found a wealth of information. From facilities in Utah to Illinois to Virginia, there were a multitude of services for a variety of disabilities, including things like vision impairment and weight control.

She saw the words “abuse and trauma” time and time again. Her anxiety skyrocketed and she tossed her phone into the console. She had not been abused. At least Danny had never raised his hand to her.

Sure, sometimes he said mean things. But he felt so much pain, so much anger, sometimes it came out. If it didn’t, he would’ve died.

He died anyway, she thought, flipping the car into drive and making a U-turn. She entered the church, her steps light as she tried not to make any noise. The pastor lectured, and she slipped into the very back row so as not to disturb anyone. She thought she could sneak right back out before anyone saw her.

Pastor Scott spoke about the parable of the Prodigal Son who’d made mistakes and was still welcomed home by those who loved him. The passion in his words penetrated her heart. A strange feeling of love welled in her center, gathering and growing and gaining momentum until it spilled over in the form of tears.

Chelsea hated the feeling of weakness that came with crying. Hated it even more that she was leaking in public. She stood and hurried into the foyer, where she could still hear the pastor but didn’t have witnesses.

A woman sat on the couch, a fussing baby on her lap. Chelsea averted her eyes without really seeing her.

“Chelsea?” The woman balanced the baby on her hip as she gained her feet. “It is you. It’s me, Ruby.”

“Ruby Atwood.” Chelsea tried to smile, but it didn’t fit on her face.

“It’s Carter now.” The woman smiled, and though they’d aged ten years, Chelsea saw the cheerleader Ruby had once been. Full of life, with a cute pixie cut to match her bubbling personality, Ruby had been a year younger than Chelsea.

“I married Tanner Carter,” Ruby said like Chelsea should know who that was.

“Oh, congratulations.”

She bumped the baby forward. “This is our little boy, Porter.”

“He’s adorable.” Chelsea cooed at the baby, but her voice sounded tinny and false. The baby smiled anyway.

“I heard y’all were back in town,” Ruby said. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. Living out on the homestead. My parents moved into town a couple of days ago.”

“Oh, I know.” Ruby might as well have waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “They live just one street over from me. I took your momma a pie last night.”

“Wow, thank you,” Chelsea said. “I’m sure she appreciated that. Her kitchen isn’t nearly as big as it used to be.” She managed a closed-mouth smile that didn’t feel seven shades of awkward.

“I have another one,” Ruby said. “You want it? Y’all should stop by on your way back to the ranch.” Her eyes seemed kind, her smile perfectly placed on her face.

Relief sang through Chelsea. Ruby didn’t seem to know anything about Danny and his death. And why should she?

Because everything in Three Rivers runs through the rumor mill, she thought.

“Thank you, Ruby, but I certainly don’t need a pie all to myself.”

Ruby scanned Chelsea’s body. “Sure you do, sugar. You look like you could put on some weight.”

Chelsea crossed her arms across her bony chest. “Okay. Where do you live?”

The vibrations from the organ seeped through the wooden door, and Chelsea was suddenly anxious to wrap things up so she could escape to the car. But Ruby kept talking. And talking. And talking.

Chelsea edged her way toward the exit, but didn’t manage to make it out the door before the members of the congregation started streaming from the chapel. Thankfully, that made it difficult for the conversation to continue.

Chelsea said goodbye to Ruby just as Pete made an appearance. His broad shoulders commanded the room, and the pleased expression on his face seemed just for her.

“Chelsea,” he said, joining her. “You made it.”

“For a few minutes.”

Ruby gawked at Pete like she’d never seen a man before. “I’m Ruby Carter,” she said, extending her hand as her husband stepped beside her. “This is my husband, Tanner.”

“I know Tanner. He comes bowling with us sometimes. But it’s nice to meet you, ma’am.” Pete shook her hand and gave Tanner a man-nod.

“This is Pete Marshall,” Tanner told his wife. “He works out on the ranch.”

“Oh, no wonder you know Chelsea.”

Chelsea didn’t like the insinuation in the woman’s voice, nor the way her eyebrows waggled like puppy dog tails.

“Yes, no wonder,” she deadpanned, linking her arm through Pete’s and pulling him through the door. She couldn’t walk fast enough toward her car.

“Don’t you want to say hello to your parents?” he asked.

Chelsea moaned as she turned around. “Yes, I do.” But she didn’t want to talk to anyone else. An impossibility, as every single person in town had heard she was back and they all seemed to have their Chelsea Ackerman radar set on high.

An hour later, she managed to start the car. She’d been sitting in it for twenty minutes as she visited with old Mr. Lyman through the window he’d tapped on just as she was about to make her escape.

Pete had been patient through all the visiting, smiling and introducing himself when he met someone from town he hadn’t before.

She waited until her automatic window zipped into place. “Finally.” She leaned back against the headrest and closed her eyes. “See why I didn’t want to come in?”

“There’d have been a first time,” Pete said. “Next time will be easier. And everyone seemed really nice.”

Chelsea shot him a glare, though he was right. She put the car in gear and aimed it toward the ranch, stewing over how kind the townspeople had been. She hadn’t expected that, though she wasn’t sure why. Maybe she simply didn’t feel like she belonged in Three Rivers, and assumed no one else would want her here either.

Either way, she “accidentally” forgot to stop by Ruby’s for that pie.

“So, your mom used to make lunch after church,” Pete said as she pulled into the garage. “Or we’d go to the picnic.”

“Do you like strawberry yogurt? I have tons of that.” She turned toward him in her seat, her dress riding up on her thigh. She tugged down the fabric and glanced at Pete, who had his attention focused out the windshield. The way he sat ramrod straight suggested he’d seen more of her leg than was appropriate. The slow flush crawling from under his collar did too.

“I’ll grill something.” He clawed at the door handle and scrambled from the car, striding away without looking back.

She sat in the air conditioning though her internal temperature had to be hovering only a degree above freezing. Had she imagined the connection between them? Did he not feel the same spark she did?

“Why does it matter?” she asked herself as she stepped into the blessed heat. “You’re not looking for another relationship. Ever.”

She marched through the house, out the French doors to the deck, and on down the steps to the yard. The horse barn housed the familiar and comforting smell of hay and horses. Peony’s stall was empty, but the horse came trudging around the corner only seconds after Chelsea arrived, as if Peony sensed that Chelsea had come to see her.

Another horse came with the first, his coat a mousy brown mixed with white. “Baywatch.” She patted him, wishing she had some sugar cubes for the horses. The tension and frustration whipping inside her stopped churning.

“I’m enough for you guys, aren’t I?” Her whispered question went unanswered by the horses.

Pete grilled his filet mignon and green beans, a meal for one, before changing into a pair of basketball shorts and an old Army t-shirt.

He settled in front of his TV, the images blurring before his eyes as he thought about Chelsea. His food tasted like sawdust, and he didn’t even notice. What was he doing? Going to church with her, talking to her about his injuries and afflictions, his family?

He couldn’t get involved with such a damaged woman, even if she called to his nurturing side and made him feel like more of a man when he protected her.

After all, he was still trying to fuse the cracks inside his own soul. Playing the hero wasn’t the same as actually being one. He knew that better than anyone. Not to mention his current housing conditions. He was sure Chelsea wouldn’t want the top bunk in the cabin. No, Pete certainly had nothing to offer her financially or otherwise.

Friendship, he thought. That was all he could give right now.

A knock on his door alerted him to the fact that it had started to get dark. He got up and answered the door, expecting to see Chelsea standing on his porch.

She shifted from one booted foot to the other. “Hey.”

“Evenin’.”

She took a deep drag of air. “I want to go to the bank with you.”

“Excuse me?”

“When you go to meet with the bank about a loan for the acreage you need for your facilities. I’d like to go with you.”

He fell back a step. “Why?”

“Do you know what my degree is in?”

“No.”

“Marketing,” she said. “I used to be a senior executive at one of the biggest firms in Dallas.”

“O-kay.”

“I’m really good at filling out forms, and completing paperwork, and drawing attention to a specific project.”

Pieces clicked into place. “You want to help me with Courage Reins?”

“Yes,” she said, placing two fingers on his chest and nudging him further into his cabin so she could enter and close the door. “I think it could be amazing.” She sat in the middle of the couch where he’d been, leaving him nowhere to go but right next to her. “I mean, I did some research before I came in to listen to the sermon, and there seem to be quite a few centers in Texas. But only one in Amarillo.”

Pete stared at her while she spoke, his brain reeling with the meaning of her words. She’d done research? On equine therapy programs? During church?

“I took the liberty of calling them this afternoon, and they’re swamped. You’d definitely have a lot of business once we get the program started.”

He sank onto the couch next to her, his deformed skin forgotten as he took her hand in his. “I can start small now, while we wait for funding and start construction.”

“Precisely.” She squeezed his hand and grinned from ear to ear.

He sat back, unable to process and hold himself upright. She wanted to help him. He needed all the help he could get. “Should we go to the bank tomorrow morning? I think I can sneak away from the ranch for a few hours. I’ll need to call—”

“I already spoke to Tom. He said it’s fine.”

“You already spoke to Tom. You called the equine therapy program in Amarillo.” Pete’s emotions tangled, and he pulled his hand away, the contact suddenly too intimate. Especially because she kept stroking her thumb over a wrinkled fold of skin on the back of his hand.

Every sound from the TV sounded like a shout. Pete picked up the remote and switched it off. “Listen—”

“Do you know why I moved back?” She stared at the now-black TV screen.

“No.” He matched his quiet tone to hers, though he felt anything but subdued on the inside. His stomach raged, his heart rippled, his lungs reserved their air.

“I moved back to take care of the homestead so my parents could move to town and Squire could go to school.” She folded her hands in her lap and looked at them. “At least that’s the story going through the rumor mill in town.”

“What’s the real reason?”

“Someone very close to me passed away.” Her fingers intertwined and released, braided themselves together and pulled apart. “A few months ago.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, though he’d guessed as much from her questions and reactions.

“I thought I could fix him, and I couldn’t.” She gave a light laugh at herself. “Stupid, right? No one can fix someone else. They make their own choices. Still.” She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe she was the way she was. “I like fixing things.”

His spine stiffened as internal alarms began blaring. “I’m surprised you went into marketing. You should’ve been a nurse.” That would’ve become the number one reason he would’ve stayed away from her. Pete was grateful for all the doctors and nurses had done for him, but he never wanted to see another one.

“I should be,” she agreed. “I think I’d like it.”

She had the eyes for it, full of compassion and easily masked.

“So I’ve realized I can’t fix people,” Chelsea said. “But I couldn’t stay in Dallas. I tried for a while, but I was ready to go anywhere. When I called my mom, she said I should come home. I didn’t have a plan, so I seized that one.”

“You aren’t happy to be here.” He thought of her tears on the basement patio, so raw and so real.

She smiled again, but it wasn’t happy. “No, I’m still working on that part.”

“I felt like I was coming home when I got here,” he said. “I want other people to feel that way, to feel the healing that comes from working with a horse.”

“I want to help you do that.” She reached for his hand, and though he resisted her, she muscled her fingers between his, her spark and internal strength shining through in her refusal to let him keep his distance. “Will you let me help you?”

She was asking more than that, but the questions remained a mystery to Pete. He felt them reverberate through his chest and lodge in his mind, where hopefully he could make sense of them later.

“Yes,” he said. “I’d love your help.”

Chelsea proudly slid the bacon she’d managed to fry out of the pan and onto a plate. The smell had been teasing her for five minutes, but she suddenly found she couldn’t put a single slice in her mouth.

She’d propped the French doors open, so she heard the footsteps coming up the stairs to the deck. She snatched a piece of bacon from the plate and ripped it in half. The other half went in the garbage with the remaining slices, and she’d just managed to take the tiniest of bites when Pete appeared.

“You cooked,” he said, sweeping the kitchen like it had trap wires. “You didn’t text me.”

She put down her bacon like she’d just finished a huge meal. “I thought that was a joke.”

“A grease fire is no joke.” His eyes sparkled with a tease as he moved toward the stove where the hot pan still sat and switched it to a cooler burner. “So, are you ready?”

He concentrated his gaze on her this time, giving her a once-over before meeting her eyes. “I feel underdressed.”

She’d chosen a black and white striped maxi skirt and paired it with a sleeveless black blouse. He wore jeans and a polo, his cowboy boots and hat, and an adorable line of worry in the muscles around his mouth.

“You look fine,” she said, almost choking on the last word. Her heartbeat betrayed her, but thankfully she managed to make light of the moment by saying, “It’s the bank manager, not a mob boss.”

“I’m asking for a lot of money.” He removed his hat. “Maybe I shouldn’t wear this.”

“No, no.” She reached for it and placed it back on his head. “It shows how serious you are. You’re a horseman, and they wouldn’t be caught dead without a hat.”

A flash of a smile spread his lips, and Chelsea’s pulse did cartwheels. She turned away from him to strap on her shoes. What are you doing? Is this flirting?

She’d held the man’s hand last night, even when it was clear he didn’t want her to. She studied the tan line on her ring finger and reminded herself of the goal: Secure the money for Courage Reins. Nothing more.

“I still get to help with Baywatch tonight, right?” she asked.

“Sure, yeah.” Pete sounded distracted, distant. She caught him rubbing the stubble on his jaw, then scrubbing the back of his neck. She smiled to herself, and immediately told herself to stop finding him so attractive.

But his need, his drive, to help other veterans was attractive. The way he spoke of providing therapy for those with disabilities drew her toward him.

Now that she’d been away from the ugliness that had happened in Dallas, she realized she received joy from helping others, from supporting them, from sacrificing for them.

Too bad it took Danny’s death to realize that, she thought. And she’d discovered she couldn’t fix another person. Help, yes. Support, yes. Encourage, yes.

Fix, no.

But as Pete opened the mudroom door for her and allowed her to go through first, she didn’t think he needed fixing.

He just needed money.

“Can I drive?” he asked as she rounded the front of the SUV. “It’ll help settle my nerves.”

“Sure.” She tossed him the keys, but he didn’t move past her. He opened her door and caught her wrist as she tried to slide into the car.

“Thank you.” His voice sounded silky and sticky, like spider webs. He lifted her wrist to his lips, pressed a kiss there, and turned away.

Her pulse popped like fireworks, like gunfire, like cold bacon in hot grease. The ghost of his touch burned, and it wasn’t until he started the car that she realized she’d frozen. With effort, she got in the car, her left hand cradling her right wrist so nothing else would touch it.

He started talking, but her thoughts meshed so she couldn’t do more than nod and give one-word agreements. He silenced by the time they reached the highway, and Chelsea found her focus again.

“Why is this so important to you?” she asked.

“I said last night, I want to help other people feel the way I did when I got to Three Rivers.”

She shifted in her seat and peered at him, this gentle giant of a man who had a heart the size of Texas. “There’s more to it than that.”

He tossed her a look through narrowed eyes. “Why do you say that?”

“Intuition.”

“Oh, boy,” he said. “My momma told me to watch out for a woman’s intuition.”

She laughed with him, the atmosphere in the car lightening with the sound of their combined voices.

“So is there more to it?” she asked.

“Maybe.” Pete’s grip on the wheel tightened. “I don’t know.”

“What’s in this for you? Personally, I mean.”

His muscles rippled from shoulder to knee, creating lines under his clothes that released as he exhaled.

“I need a way to make a living,” he said. “Shoveling out horse stalls and feeding calves isn’t gonna cut it.”

“So you’re looking ahead to a family.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “If that’s God’s will for me. I just know I need to make my own way in the world.” His eyes widened as he glanced at her. “Not that your parents aren’t wonderful, and the job’s great. It’s just….” His voice faded into the wide sky and his jaw slackened.

“You want more.”

“Maybe,” he said followed by a chuckle. “You know, this isn’t really helping me relax.”

She crossed her legs, aware of how skinny they’d become. She needed to eat more than a greasy bite of bacon for breakfast. “Oh, excuse me, good sir. Would you like to play Twenty Questions?”

“Absolutely not.”

Her laughter was a gut reaction, something she didn’t consider before letting it fly from her mouth. It felt good to not have to worry over everything she said, everything she did, how her voice sounded, or how Danny would take it.

The laughter died midflight at the immediacy of Danny in her mind, like he was still alive.

He’s dead, she reminded herself. She didn’t have to censor herself anymore. She wasn’t his emotional hostage. She wasn’t a slave to his mood, or his scrutiny, or his constant need for reassurance.

“You okay?” Pete asked.

“Fine,” she choked out, willing the panic back into the well she reserved for it. She would not ruin Pete’s morning with an anxiety attack.

Pete watched the real Chelsea Ackerman fade behind a plastic face of perfect control. He suspected she was a wreck inside, though he wasn’t sure what had caused it at this particular moment. The memory of her laughter—happy and carefree, and cut off mid-ha—floated around the car.

He wished he had more to give her, but his own anxiety had reached the boiling point. The session with Peony and Baywatch that night would soothe them both. Just get through this appointment, he coached himself. Work on Chelsea later.

He turned into the bank parking lot and killed the engine. “Okay.”

“We can’t meet with him out here,” Chelsea said.

“Right.” Pete got out and collected the manila folder of documents he’d prepared. The distance to the entrance seemed like miles. He put one foot in front of the other and arrived in only a few seconds.

He spoke to a woman at a desk, and she showed him and Chelsea into an office. They probably waited minutes, but it felt like hours to Pete until a petite, sharply dressed woman entered.

“Hello.” She shook his hand and then Chelsea’s, a smile giving her a softer appearance. “I’m Rose Reyes. I understand you’re interested in one of our business loans.”

Pete placed his folder on the desk in front of him, trying to adjust his pitch for a woman. “Yes, ma’am. I’m looking to acquire land at Three Rivers Ranch and open an equine therapeutic riding facility.” He pulled out a piece of paper, still trying to gather his thoughts.

“We’d have programs for veterans. My partner—” He indicated Chelsea, unsure of the term he’d just used. He wished he’d discussed the pitch with her. “—Has looked up the requirements to apply to be a PATH International sponsored center. We’d also appeal to those with Autism and other disorders, anyone with a physical disability, people with anxiety and depression, weight control issues, and those who’ve suffered abuse and trauma.”

He removed another piece of paper and placed it on top of the business plan. “I need fifteen acres, and Squire Ackerman, the current owner of Three Rivers, has agreed to sell me the land for this price. We’ll be partnering to use the horse barn, the grazing pastures, and the ranch’s veterinarian time and feed supplies. I need a small office building, a large horse arena, both indoor and out, another pasture, and space for a homestead.”

He took a deep breath, his tongue coated with stickiness and his throat dry. “Construction costs are nearly the same price as the land. But this is a drawing I made for the spaces I’d need, so we’ll need to talk about a construction loan too.”

He withdrew one more piece of paper. “When my momma died a few years back, she didn’t have much, but she left everything to me.” Pete kept his voice even. “I have a bit of money from that, but it’s not much.” He slid the paper with the meager amount toward Ms. Reyes.

The bank manager took the pages and examined them, spending the most time on the drawings he’d finished that morning. His nerves hadn’t allowed him to sleep, and he’d spent most of the night with a pencil in his hand, sketching. He glanced at Chelsea, who had her cell phone out.

“How does an equine program benefit a child with Autism?” Ms. Reyes’ gaze could strike fear in a platoon leader, and Pete set his shoulders.

“Many nonverbal Autistic children have spoken their first words after working with horses.” He pointed to a line on the paper. “As you can see, I’d hire a psychologist to be on-staff to assist with some of the therapy, especially for patients with diagnosed mental disorders. We encourage our patients to talk to the horses, who have an uncanny ability to communicate with people, which helps heal their minds. Riding, of course, strengthens the core muscles in the stomach and back, the pelvis, and more.”

She stacked the few sheets of paper and put them in the folder. “This seems like a worthwhile investment.”

“My partner will also be applying for government grants,” Pete said. “We’ll be filing for non-profit status, and utilizing volunteers from the community to keep costs low.”

“We’ll also be seeking out donations,” Chelsea said, her first contribution to the conversation.

“Let me get you the paperwork, Mister Marshall.” Ms. Reyes stood and started digging through a large filing cabinet behind her. She extracted two legal-size sheaves of paper. “One for construction. One for a small business loan.” She placed a third on top of those two. “One for a donation request. Depending on the size of the project, how many people in the community it will impact, and the other applications we receive, the bank can possibly make a donation.”

Chelsea swept up the paperwork, a look of sheer wonder on her face. “Thank you.”

“And Mister Marshall. Save your momma’s money.” Ms. Reyes smiled. “It should be your rainy day fund.”

Pete stood and shook Ms. Reyes’s hand. “I’ll get these back to you as soon as I can.” He left the bank feeling fifty pounds lighter than when he’d gone in. His legs turned to clouds when Chelsea slipped her hand into his.

“Nice work, Lieutenant.” She wore a grin in her words. “That pitch was perfect, and I don’t know if you know this, but Miss Reyes has a daughter with Autism.”

Pete stalled on the sidewalk. “She does not.”

“Yes, she does. I texted my mom while you were talking, and she filled me in.”

He dropped Chelsea’s hand. “Be right back.” He practically sprinted back into the bank, hoping Ms. Reyes hadn’t vacated her office yet.

She hadn’t. “Miss Reyes?” he said, much less confident now that he was face-to-face with her.

“Yes?”

“Okay, uh, okay look. Chelsea just told me about your daughter. What’s her name?”

“Mari.”

“Mari,” Pete repeated. “How old is she?”

“Eleven.”

“I wonder…I mean, would you like to bring her out to the ranch to participate in the training of the horses?”

Concern rode in her eyes and she frowned.

“I mean, my horses are ready, but I’m still learning everything my facility needs. I’d love to allow Mari to come for free so I can see what treatments might work best for someone like her.”

Ms. Reyes nodded. “Yes, I think she’d like that. We have a dog, and she adores him.”

“When can you come?”

“Tomorrow night?” she offered.

A grin split Pete’s face. “Tomorrow night it is.” He pumped her hand again. “Thank you.”

Chelsea showed up in the horse barn wearing the same skirt and blouse she’d worn to the bank. He’d babbled the whole way home about what they needed to do next, and she’d promised she’d get the application forms filled out.

Pete had gone to work fulfilling his duties on the ranch, which included resetting several posts and feeding an entire field of cattle.

“You look tired,” he said as she lifted a hand to pat Peony. “Did you eat lunch or dinner?”

“I’m fine,” she said, which he noted was not an answer to his question. “I got your forms filled out.” She lifted the manila folder. “And I got the applications we need for a couple of federal grants, as well as membership in PATH International.”

“Great,” Pete said, still peering at her like he’d be able to tell how many calories she’d consumed or how many minutes she’d slept just by looking.

“Stop it.” She moved away to place the folder on a shelf before turning back to him.

“Stop what?”

“Analyzing me. I said I was fine.”

“If you say so.” He didn’t think she was. She hadn’t snapped at him since the night she’d arrived on the ranch. “Should I bring out Baywatch?”

She shrugged like she didn’t care, but Pete knew she was ready. He needed to watch her, gauge her reactions, monitor her moods, to see how she progressed through her therapy. He hurried away from her before she found him appraising her again. She wouldn’t like it if she knew he was thinking of her like a patient—like someone who needed help from the horses, not the other way around.

He released Baywatch from his stall. “Go to Peony.” The horse ambled down the aisle, turning into Peony’s pen.

Pete heard the gentle coo from Chelsea, and when he joined her back at the rail, she had Baywatch eating a sugar cube out of her palm.

“Where’d you get that?”

“My brother told me where the secret stash is.”

Pete nudged Peony back. “I don’t want them thinking they get treats for the work they do.”

Chelsea’s fingers closed around the cubes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You think you wanna ride tonight?”

“No,” she said so quickly, Pete wondered what she was afraid of. He almost asked. After all, she seemed to be able to push him to reveal personal information.

“Then I’m not gonna saddle them. Let’s just put on a bridle. I’ll do Baywatch, and you can suit up Peony. Deal?”

“I have to get them ready?” She stumbled backward, her chickeny legs barely able to hold her weight.

He reached for her but drew back at the lightning shooting from her eyes. “Yes, they need to be comfortable with anyone nearby. Anyone putting on their saddles and bridles. You don’t have to if you’re not ready.”

She folded her arms, and Pete knew he’d said something wrong. “What?”

“This isn’t about me, Lieutenant. Remember?”

“Of course not.” The false tone in his voice could’ve been heard by a deaf man. “But they’re used to me touching them and leading them. I need you to do it. If you don’t want to, there’s no point to tonight’s session.”

There was a lot more to tonight’s session, but Pete couldn’t tell Chelsea that. As he’d suspected, she was not keen on being a patient.

She regarded him for several moments past comfortable, those arms staying clenched across her midsection. “I’ll do it.”

“Great.” He tried to act like he didn’t care one way or the other and went to get the bridles. He opened the gate and led her inside. “So take the muzzle and slip the nose down in.” He moved slowly, clucking softly to Baywatch as he put the apparatus over the horse’s nose.

Chelsea mimicked him, minus the vocalizations. Peony closed her eyes as if in rapture to be wearing a bridle.

Pete watched and felt Chelsea’s discomfort and tension ebb into nothing.

“Now make her take the bit.” He offered the bit to Baywatch, who took it without complaining. Peony also complied, but Chelsea’s chest puffed out in pride. Or maybe she’d just taken a deep breath of relief that she hadn’t lost a finger while jamming the bit in the horse’s mouth.

“Slip the crownpiece on,” he instructed and demonstrated. “And buckle the throatlatch.”

Chelsea copied him flawlessly, her movements becoming more sure and her expression softer with each task she completed.

“Check the fit.” He adjusted the cheek piece on Baywatch so it wasn’t so close to his eye. “And take the reins.”

He checked Chelsea’s work. “Beautiful.” He ducked around Baywatch when Chelsea’s attention snapped to him.

“Today, you’ll be taking both horses out.” He handed her Baywatch’s reins and watched the color drain from her face. “Same arena.” He nodded toward the back of the stall. “I’ll meet you out there.”

She lifted her chin and adjusted the reins in her hand.

“Not too tight,” he cautioned. “You want them to follow you because they want to, not because you’re pulling them.”

“See you out there,” she said, her step toward the rear exit hesitant. Neither horse moved with her.

Pete left, needing Chelsea to do this work, needing his horses to trust her even when her tension was palpable. Even though every cell in his body screamed for him to step in and help the beautiful woman who was helping him.

This is helping her, he told himself as he hurried to the outside arena. He just couldn’t let her know about his double motive.

As Chelsea led the horses toward the bright lights of the arena, her legs teetered, her ankles wobbled. She should’ve eaten dinner. A piece of toast would’ve been better than nothing. She’d had a bit of watermelon after she and Pete had returned from the bank, unable to stomach much more than that.

The application forms called to her, and she’d spent her energy on them, researching grants, and going over Pete’s designs for Courage Reins. He hadn’t mentioned building a homestead, but it made sense. He’d need somewhere to live besides a five-hundred-square-foot cowboy cabin.

Baywatch tossed his head, and Chelsea repositioned her grip on his reins. “Easy, now,” she said. “We’re in this together, remember? Let’s show Pete you know how to act.” She glanced over her shoulder. “So none of that head tossing.” She reached back and pushed on his shoulder. “And stop crowding Peony. Ladies first.”

She swore Baywatch grinned and his eyes closed halfway in acquiescence. He waited for Peony to go first and followed dutifully. They emerged into the arena, and the sense of accomplishment flooding Chelsea made her lightheaded. The black sky above the arena spun and stretched and spiraled before it settled again.

She tried to speak, but nothing passed her vocal chords. Peony, somehow sensing her distress, stepped right behind her, her head bracing Chelsea’s back. Baywatch came to her left side, shielding her view of Pete, who had once again perched on the fence.

“Okay?” he called.

She took two deep breaths and then two more. “No,” she whispered.

Peony whinnied, and Baywatch snorted, one front hoof pawing the ground.

Chelsea heard the distinctive rhythm of Pete’s boots running toward her before the blackness that existed beyond the arena covered her vision completely.

“Swallow it.” Pete’s voice echoed in her head, loud and commanding and endless.

Swallow it, swallow it, swallow it.

She forced her throat muscles to swallow whatever he wanted her to. No one would dare contradict him when he spoke in that military tone, even her.

The liquid he’d given her tasted bitter, and hot. Coffee, without cream or sugar.

Someone else spoke, but she couldn’t make out the words. She reached for the surface of consciousness, wondering when the dirt in the arena had turned into down pillows. She finally opened her eyes to bright lights, but not those outside.

Inside lights. Inside her bedroom lights.

She sat up, but Pete braced his hand against her shoulder. “Slow,” he said. “Steady.”

“I’m not a horse,” she growled.

“She’s okay, Tom,” Pete called toward the doorway. “She just woke up.”

Tom Lovell, the general controller, appeared in the doorway, a cell phone pressed to his ear. “She just woke up. No…I’ll have her call you in a little while.” He hung up and leaned against the doorway, though his worry for her rode in every line on his face.

“Your mom,” he said. “She said you’ve never fainted.”

Chelsea heard the accusations. “I’m just tired,” she said. “We had a busy day.” She met Pete’s gaze, silently pleading for him to back her up.

“What did you eat today, Chelsea?” he asked, real low so Tom couldn’t hear.

“Nothing,” she said, causing his eyes to storm. “I’m sorry, I—” she tried when he exploded to a standing position and paced away from her.

By the time he turned around, he’d caged his emotions. “You can’t work with my horses if you’re two breaths away from passing out.”

“You can’t take them away from me.” She clutched the comforter to her chest, unsure of when the horses had become so important to her.

“Yes, I can.” He circled nearer, like a predator to its prey. “They’re not ready for someone to go fainting on them. It’s not fair—”

“They did pretty good, actually,” Tom interrupted. “They both spoke to you, alerting you of a problem.”

“Tom,” Pete growled. “Not helping.”

“I’m just sayin’ that maybe Miss Chelsea is the perfect patient for them.”

“She isn’t—”

“I’m not a patient.” Her voice could’ve called dogs. Her gaze volleyed between a glowering Pete and a disbelieving Tom.

Tom shrugged and left her alone with Pete. He sat on the edge of the bed, very near her, very much where she wanted him to be.

He tucked an errant piece of hair and stroked his thumb down her cheek. She couldn’t help leaning into his touch.

“Chelsea,” he said evenly. “If you pull something like this again, I will take those horses away from you.” He stood and crossed the room, only turning back when he reached the doorway. “If you don’t want them—or me—to treat you like a patient, stop acting like one.”

He stalked out, his boots thunking against her mother’s hardwood. Male voices met her ears as her blood boiled and bubbled and roiled and raged.

She flung the blankets aside and immediately regretted it. The chill of the air assaulted her skin, but she tested her weight on her feet, glad to find herself still dressed in her skirt and blouse.

She followed the men into the kitchen, where Pete stood at the stove stirring something in a pot. “…always cold.”

Tom made a strangled sound at the sight of Chelsea, stuffing his hat lower over his eyes.

“Chelsea,” Pete said. “Sit down and eat.” He pointed to the bar, and she stomped over to it. He ladled up a thick stew, with chunks of carrots and potatoes and beef.

Chelsea almost fainted again at the sight of it, and couldn’t fathom putting more than a couple of bites in her mouth. He placed the bowl in front of her, a mothering look on his face. Well, mothering mixed with military, with a healthy dash of eat-this-or-I’ll-spoon-feed-it-to-you.

“Thank you.” She picked up her spoon and fished out a wedge of potato. She ate it just as he set a plate of bread next to her.

“Tom and I are stayin’ until you’re done,” Pete said. “And I’ll be making breakfast in the morning.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” she said, forcing the potato down her throat. “And this is delicious. You made this?”

“I don’t get by on nothin’,” he said.

“First the pancakes, and now this.” She took another bite once the first had settled in her stomach without making it shatter. “Who taught you how to cook?”

“My momma,” he said, passing Tom a bowl and dishing up one for himself. “She said I needed to be able to make myself a square meal.” He took a bite of stew that had a piece of each item. Chelsea marveled that he could eat so much, especially at once.

“My mother tried to teach me,” Chelsea said. “But she quit after the third meal where all we could taste was salt.”

Tom snorted into his bowl. “This is delicious, Pete.”

“Thanks. My momma said no Marshall man should have to depend on a woman to eat well. I was makin’ bread by age ten and grilling corn on the cob that same summer.”

Chelsea tried a carrot this time, savoring the rich broth against her tongue. Pete really did know how to season food to perfection.

He broke his bread and dipped it into the broth. She copied him, the garlic and butter on the bread making a party in her mouth. Before she knew it, she’d eaten her entire bowl. She got up to do the dishes, strength spreading through her limbs, making her mind clearer.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” she said, looking both men in the eye. “I should’ve eaten before going to the barn. Is it too late to try again?”

“Yes,” Pete said. “It’s almost eleven, sweetheart.” He scooped the leftover stew into a couple of her mother’s Tupperware containers and stored them in the fridge. “I’m not joking when I say I’ll be back to make breakfast. And remember Mari is coming tomorrow night. I’ll need your help.”

His eyes had never streamed with so much emotion. So much emotion that Chelsea couldn’t decipher it all.

“Of course,” she said. “I’ll eat a truckload for dinner.”

“I know you will,” he said. “Because we’re eating at my place. The three of us. Tom’s helping tomorrow night too.”

The seriousness of Mari’s visit hit Chelsea with his words. She identified at least one emotion dancing in his voice: Desperation. He really wanted this to work.

“Seven o’clock,” Pete said, heading out the door with Tom. Chelsea followed him to the French doors, gripping the doorknob as he descended the stairs into the darkness. Again, their voices floated back to her, but she couldn’t hear what they said.

Chelsea tried to dismiss her growing feelings for Pete, but she couldn’t.

She couldn’t eat by herself, but she stomached everything with Pete by her side. Yawning, she collected the folder of applications and information she’d printed and wandered back to her room.

She’d ensure Courage Reins was successful. It was the least she could do for him, this man who had no family, who had come to Three Rivers and found his home.

Pete woke before the sun, showered, and headed over to the homestead. The windows were gray, a good sign that Chelsea hadn’t tried to get up ahead of him and fake how much she’d eaten for breakfast. He’d found a pile of uneaten bacon in the trashcan last night.

He didn’t know why she was starving herself. He didn’t exactly know who she’d lost, or how long she’d need to grieve. But he wasn’t going to let her work with his horses if she didn’t take care of herself.

And that started with food.

He sliced thick slabs of bread and soaked them in an egg mixture to make French toast. He’d gladly let the horses work with her, but she still steadfastly refused to acknowledge the fact that she needed help. He wanted to ask her about it, but an opportune time hadn’t presented itself.

He had several slices of toast ready when she padded down the hall, still wearing her clothes from yesterday. “Mornin’,” he said. “Syrup or salt on French toast?”

“Syrup,” she said, parking herself at the bar while he served breakfast.

Tom showed up a few minutes later, right as Chelsea finished her second slice.

“Mornin’.” He loaded up his plate and took the third seat at the bar. “Cows in pasture four this mornin’. Horses in pasture seven this afternoon.”

Pete accepted his work assignment with a nod. Driving to the pellet pickup, filling up, and then getting to the pasture took time. He’d have to make three trips to feed all the horses in seven. He’d be lucky to be back in time to shower and finish dinner before six.

“Thanks for breakfast.” Tom replaced his hat and headed out.

“I better be goin’, too,” Pete said. “Those cows don’t feed themselves.”

Chelsea stopped him by standing up and holding her hands out. “Wait a second. I want to thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She hugged herself as if cold. “Can I ask you something?”

“If I get to ask something in return.”

Her gaze swept past his, unable or unwilling to settle on him. “How long ago did you get those burns?”

He rubbed his scarred fingers together. “’Bout a year ago, now that it’s October.”

Her lips pressed together as she tried to keep her control. Pete’s heart cracked and seeped blood, but he had to ask.

“Chelsea, who died in Dallas?”

This time her gaze flew to his, bored into his. “My fiancée, Danny.”

“Fiancée?” Pete had expected an answer along the lines of boyfriend, but not one that came with diamonds.

“I hadn’t told my family yet,” she said, running her fingertip around her ring finger. “We were coming home for Thanksgiving. I was going to tell everyone then.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, though he’d articulated as much previously.

She waved his condolences away. “It’s fine.” She hiccupped, losing the battle against her composure. “You know, I’m not even that upset about it. He was very difficult to live with. Not that we were living together.” She gave a little laugh, but it quickly morphed into a sob. “The first thing I thought when I got the call from the hospital was finally, I’m free.”

Pete’s radar went off. He took a step closer to her, slow and careful, like he would approach a terrified horse. “Chelsea, did he hurt you?”

She nodded, then fanned her hand in front of her face as if to dismiss that admission. “Not-not how you think. He was-was….” She indicated the ceiling, like it held the definition of who Danny was.

“If you didn’t want to be with him, why were you engaged?” Pete asked in an attempt to make the things she’d said line up.

“Can we talk about this another time?” She wiped her tears and made herself as tall as she could. He still had six inches on her, but he felt small when she made herself so strong. Especially because he knew it was a mask, a façade, a part she played to make it through the day.

He knew, because he used to do the same thing. Some days, he still did. He’d had a year to come to terms with his new life. She’d had a few months.

“Sure, yeah,” he said. “I’m sorry if, I mean, you don’t have to tell me.” He drew her into his arms and gave her a squeeze. “Just know you can, if you want. Chances are, I’ll understand.”

She pressed her cheek to his chest, and Pete’s heart went wild. He envisioned a time where he woke next to this beautiful creature, made her breakfast, and kissed her before heading out to train his horses. Every day. Forever.

Right now, he only had this moment. Peace settled over him for two breaths before reality came roaring back. He released her and stepped away. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Tonight.” She sounded strangled, and he hated walking away from her when she wasn’t one hundred percent happy.

He certainly didn’t have time to be making three meals a day for a woman who had nothing else to do.

“Focus, Pete,” he warned himself as he headed to his ranch truck. Chelsea was a project he couldn’t afford to take on. He already had enough on his plate without adding a woman sporting a broken heart and a wounded spirit. Even if she did have the most captivating eyes. Even if she made him feel more alive than he had in half a decade. Even if she did inspire him to make more of himself than he thought he could be.

Exhaustion seeped into Pete’s very bones, burrowing deep and biting with sharp teeth. He downed another mouthful of the strongest coffee he knew how to make, cringing at the overly bitter taste.

He sat at the table while Chelsea cleaned up. When he’d said he’d help, she’d insisted he remain at the table, claiming he looked tired.

“Mari will be here soon,” he said, forcing himself to stand. “We should head over to the barn. Someone should always be there to greet the patient when they arrive.”

“Let’s go, then,” Tom said. “It’s nearly seven.”

They headed out into the twilight, Tom in the lead. “Tom’s going to monitor the horses,” Pete said. “From a distance. He’ll just be there in case we need him. I’ve been thinking….” He cast Chelsea a quick glance to gauge her mood tonight.

“You were thinking. Sounds dangerous.”

He brushed her hand with his, quickly pulling it back. “I’d like you to work with Baywatch while Mari works with Peony. I’d like to offer semi-private sessions like this, with two or three patients. See how things go.”

“Okay,” she said. “You think he’ll let me?”

“You did fine—I mean, he did fine last night.” Pete cursed himself for speaking as if she was the patient, but she didn’t call him on it.

He released the horses from their back rooms, pleased when they both moved into the stall where Chelsea leaned against the rail, talking to them. He watched her for a moment, utterly lost to the sound of her voice and the light in her eyes.

The crunching of gravel tore him from his fantasies. He opened the gate and joined her on the other side just as Ms. Reyes parked and opened her door. She called hello and moved around the front of the car, where she opened the door for a girl with the same bronze skin and dark brown hair.

“This is Mari.”

“Hello, Mari,” Pete said.

She gazed past him into the barn, where Tom waited out of sight and Chelsea hovered near the horses.

“Tell me about your dog,” Pete said.

She said nothing, her eyes focused on something only she could see.

“Her dog’s name is Paprika,” Ms. Reyes said.

“Great name.” Pete gestured toward the barn. “You want to go meet my horse? Her name starts with a P too.”

Ms. Reyes linked her hand with Mari’s and tugged her toward the barn. The girl went, and Pete followed, his heart hammering into overdrive. He tried to quiet the deafening thoughts screaming that he had no idea what he was doing.

“This is Chelsea,” he said when they reached the stall. “And that white horse is Peony. You’re going to be working with her, okay?’

Mari gazed up at the horse, her dark eyes full of wonder.

“Bridle them, Tom,” Pete said. “Have Chelsea do Baywatch.” He turned back to Mari. “You can come right in here.” He opened the gate and entered the stall, Chelsea behind him and Mari and her mom following.

“Remember the nose,” he coached Chelsea. “The bit. Good…. Crownpiece. Throatlatch. Check the fit.”

Tom had Peony bridled in seconds flat and he handed the reins to Pete, who dangled them in front of Mari. “You get to lead her out.”

His mind raced at the narrowness of the aisle. He didn’t want Tom to go first, lest Peony follow him instead of Mari.

He moved to the back of the stall and pointed. “Right down that way. All the way to the end. We’ll be there waiting for you when you come out.”

The little girl wouldn’t look at him, but he’d read that many Autistic children never made eye contact.

“Go where Mister Marshall said,” Ms. Reyes told Mari. “I’ll see you out there.”

Mari moved, and Peony went with her.

“Chelsea,” Pete said. “Wait until she’s all the way out. Remember, we don’t walk behind horses.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, and he wanted to thread his fingers through her hair, inhale the smell of her skin, and thank her for being so brave, so helpful.

He walked with Ms. Reyes through the barn to the arena, a much shorter distance. “Does she ever talk?”

“Only a little,” Ms. Reyes said. “She loves her dog, and her dad. She loves hamburgers and French fries. She’ll sometimes talk about those things.”

“Does she see her dad a lot?”

Ms. Reyes cut him a glance. “Is it that obvious that we’re divorced?”

Pete ducked his head. “I didn’t see a wedding ring yesterday or today. I didn’t mean—”

She put her hand on his arm. “It’s okay, Mister Marshall. Mari’s father lives in Amarillo. She sees him every other weekend.”

“Great,” Pete said, emerging into the lit arena. Tom took a position off to the side while Pete climbed the fence. Steady, even steps sounded several seconds later, and Mari appeared with Peony right behind her. The horse practically nudged the little girl with every step.

“Walk her around the circle,” Pete said. “And tell her about your favorite food.”

Mari didn’t speak to the horse, but she moved around the circle.

“Let’s play a game with her,” he said after she’d gone around twice. “I’ll roll her this ball, then you do it.”

Chelsea arrived with Baywatch, who had only used the ball a couple of times. Pete positioned the horses several yards apart and had Chelsea and Mari take turns sending the ball to whichever horse they wanted.

Mari sent hers to Peony every time.

Pete entered the ring and approached Mari. “Let’s feed her. Hold your palm flat like this.” He placed a sugar cube on the girl’s outstretched hand. “Leave it still. Hold it about here.” He demonstrated the low position. “Her lips might tickle.”

He moved back to watch. Mari stepped right up to the horse, extending her hand and holding it precisely where she’d been told.

Peony sniffed the air and her lips wobbled as she suctioned up the sugar cube.

Mari yanked her hand back as soon as the treat disappeared, and laughed, laughed, laughed.

“Mom,” she called. “Peony.” She rubbed the horse’s cheek, the smile never leaving her face.

Pete’s throat narrowed. When he thought he had the emotion stuffed back where it belonged, he dared to look at Ms. Reyes. Tears streamed down her face as she clutched both hands to her throat.

“What?” he asked her, his voice catching on the soft spot in his heart.

“She never learns names that fast,” her mother said. “And she always calls me Rose. She hasn’t called me Mom for months.”

Chelsea stepped from her air conditioned SUV to heat waves radiating from the pavement in the grocery store parking lot. She wished she owned wigs, could maybe disguise herself with more than designer shades and the wrong color of lipstick.

But she needed more than strawberry yogurt, so she gathered her courage as well as a shopping cart and hit the produce section. She managed to make it through the canned goods, meat, and dairy before someone stopped her.

“Morning, Miss Chelsea.”

She turned to find Ruby Carter placing a bag of chips in her cart while her baby blew a raspberry and kicked his legs.

“Miss Ruby.” Pleasure coated Chelsea’s words, much to her surprise. She gave the baby boy a gentle pinch on his foot. “Hello, baby.” A smile worked its way across her mouth and down into her soul.

She glanced at Ruby. “I forgot his name.”

“Porter.” Ruby swept her gaze across Chelsea’s cart. “Looks like you’re getting set for a while.”

“It’s a long way into town from the ranch.”

Ruby nodded, her glossed lips curving up. “You have time for lunch?”

“Are you cooking?”

“Heavens, no,” Ruby said with a giggle. “Porter and I try to go to lunch as often as we can.” She tickled the baby, who laughed like a champ. “It’s always more fun with someone who can actually talk.”

Chelsea’s stomach flipped, but she managed to muscle it back into place. Ruby didn’t seem to care why Chelsea was back in town. Maybe she really did just want to converse with someone who did more than spit and coo.

“Where were you thinking of going?” she asked. “I haven’t been back long enough to see what’s still here and what’s new.”

Ruby pushed her cart toward the checkout stands. “There’s Francisco’s, the old pizza joint, but it’s just as terrible as it was in high school.”

A wave of nostalgia engulfed Chelsea. “Why did we think that place was so cool?”

“The dim lighting?” Ruby guessed, and both women laughed.

“Right,” Chelsea said. “We couldn’t see how greasy the food was and how decrepit the décor.”

“I have no other excuse.” Ruby began to unload her few groceries onto the belt.

“So not there,” Chelsea said. “Is there somewhere new?”

“Newish,” Ruby said. “You like Mexican? There’s a fabulous salsarita that opened last year. The blue corn chips are to die for.”

“Salsarita?”

“They make about a dozen different types of salsas.” Ruby moved forward so Chelsea could load her groceries. “Tanner and I have tried them all. They’re all amazing.” She slid Chelsea a knowing look. “If I remember right, you like your salsa spicy…. Ricky grows his own jalapenos right here in town.”

Chelsea’s mouth watered, though she hadn’t given much thought to actually eating at lunch. “The salsarita it is.”

Ruby grinned like a cat who’d caught a canary. “You’re going to love it, Miss Chelsea.”

An hour later, Chelsea hugged—actually hugged!—Ruby Carter and promised she’d come into town every week for lunch.

She’d learned that Ruby couldn’t do much cooking besides boxed macaroni and cheese and an occasional fried egg. It was better than Chelsea could do, and the two talked about finding someone who could give them cooking lessons.

Chelsea had sampled all twelve salsas and purchased three bottles to take home for Pete. Ruby had been right about the blue corn chips, but Ricky-the-owner also made the tastiest chile relleno Chelsea had ever eaten.

She placed her leftovers—half of the chile relleno—on the passenger seat and headed for the ranch. She sighed and relaxed, beyond relieved she’d been able to make a friend in Three Rivers.

The next morning, Chelsea woke to the sun warming her face, the smell of fresh coffee, and the wafting memory of a dream where she got to sit beside Pete every evening as they contemplated the stars.

Her cell vibrated, stopping just as she located it. Kim, one of her best friends from Dallas, had called.

Chelsea pulled her knees to her chest and leaned against her headboard. She’d promised her friends she’d give them a full report of how awful the ranch was. Only it wasn’t so bad—at least not yet. She hadn’t taken care of the lawn and living alone didn’t generate a lot of cleaning.

She hadn’t been bored because of all her work with Pete, and she’d made a real friend in Ruby Carter.

Her phone rang again, startling her as it buzzed in her hand. “Hey, Kim.” She made her voice as cheery as possible.

“Chels!” Kim’s exuberant tone came through the line. “How are you? Are you surviving the overload of testosterone and cowboy hats?” Her friend giggled.

Chelsea closed her eyes and pictured Kim’s blonde hair and baby blues. “I’m surviving.”

“Sounds like just barely. How ‘bout you come for the weekend?”

A healthy pause indicated that Kim was waiting for Chelsea’s initial reaction. Her stomach tightened, and she knew she wouldn’t eat for the duration of her time in Dallas.

“Sure,” she said. “It’ll give me something to do, at least.”

Kim squealed. “We’ll have the ultimate girl’s weekend. Minus Hailey…she got engaged on Sunday.”

Chelsea shot up like someone had inserted a rod into her back. “She what? Her and that guy from accounting?”

“Rob, yes,” Kim said. “We’re trying to be happy about it. She’s over the moon, and doesn’t want our opinion.”

Chelsea heard the sarcasm, mixed with sadness, in Kim’s words. “I’ll be there. Maybe together we can talk some sense into her.”

“I doubt it,” Kim said. “I tried, and she shut me down pretty fast.”

Chelsea got out of bed and began thumbing through her closet for weekend wear in the city. “I’ll be there Friday afternoon.”

She hung up with Kim, her heart already heavy and she hadn’t even left yet.

She left the packing for another time and strode toward the kitchen. She hadn’t felt this good in months, and she knew it had everything to do with leaving Dallas, living without Danny, and meeting the handsome man in her kitchen buttering bagels before he placed them on the grill pan.

“Grilled bagels?” she asked, pouring herself a glass of orange juice.

“Bagel sandwiches,” he corrected, indicating the sausage patties and fried eggs in the skillet.

“So that’s what a fried egg should look like.” She grinned up at him. “How do you do that?”

“It’s all about temperature control.” He nudged an egg closer to the center of the pan. “I’m willing to bet your pan was too hot.”

“You’d win that bet.” Her face felt like it could fry an egg, and she stepped away from the intoxicating scent of his aftershave. “So my friend Kim called and invited me to come to Dallas for the weekend.”

“Oh?” He stacked the bagel halves and lifted them from the grill. “You gonna go?”

“I think so, yes.” She watched him for a reaction, but he didn’t give one. He assembled the sandwiches—three of them—and set them on a tray with a bowl of grapes.

“Breakfast, sweetheart.” He indicated her spot at the bar. “Sit and eat.”

Mild annoyance clouded her growing attraction to him. “It’s a miracle I survived before you came along,” she mumbled.

“What? I didn’t catch that.”

“Thank you for breakfast.” She gave him a sugary grin and selected the smallest sandwich. She bit into it, a moan of satisfaction escaping before she remembered she didn’t want to like Pete’s concoctions.

“That’s what I thought.” He sat next to her. “You did great the other night with Baywatch.”

Chelsea had a hard time swallowing. She finally succeeded, but the toasted bagel scraped her throat. “Thanks,” she managed to say.

“How are you feeling?”

“What do you mean?”

Pete stuffed his mouth with about half his sandwich. By the time he finished chewing and had swallowed, the silence in the kitchen was suffocating. Chelsea knew he wanted her to drop the subject, but she didn’t want to. Couldn’t.

“Pete.” She replaced her bagel on her plate. “What do you mean?”

“You fainted, Chelsea,” he said. “I’m just wondering how you’re feeling.”

“I’m fine.”

He exploded to his feet, the sudden movement sending adrenaline through her in waves. His reaction reminded her so much of Danny’s outbursts, the way he’d anger over the littlest of things, the way she never really knew how he’d react until he acted.

“You’re not fine,” Pete insisted. “Someone whose fiancée dies isn’t fine. Someone who won’t eat unless forced is not fine. Someone who suffers from panic attacks is not fine.” His chest heaved as he sucked air through his nostrils. “So please stop lying to me.”

He bent down, his face inches from hers. “You forget who you’re talking to. I got blown up, okay? I felt those flames as they burned me. I know trauma. I know pain. I know loss.”

He stalked away, one hand scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing the skin on the back of his neck until it turned red and raw.

Chelsea’s mind spun, her thoughts and feelings tangling together the way they had when she’d received the phone call. When she’d quit her job. When she’d made the six-hour drive here. Why couldn’t she think properly? Why couldn’t she say what she really felt?

Had Danny trained that out of her after only six months together? She’d hidden how she really felt about things, in case he disagreed, in case her opinion would upset him, in case he’d then spiral into not being able to go to work.

“So answer me straight,” Pete said, his back still to her as he stood at the kitchen windows. “How do you feel?”

“Angry,” she blurted. “You make me angry.”

“At least it’s not fine,” he said.

“I’m afraid,” she said next, and the floodgate on her vocal chords broke. “I don’t know how to feel. Did you know I couldn’t express how I felt? If I did and it was wrong, things got bad.” Her chest stuttered with a sob, and the few bites of bagel she’d eaten surged up her throat.

She gagged and coughed, her eyes overflowing. Pete strode toward her, his eyes edged with concern, but still guarded. “Keep going.”

“I don’t like it here,” she said. “Or at least I didn’t expect to. I like the horses, and talking to you, and—and—I don’t eat because it makes my stomach cramp, and Danny thought I was gaining weight, and every time I think of putting something in my mouth, I think of what he put in his.”

She gasped and covered her gaping mouth with her hand. She couldn’t think of that, of him, of the way he died.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Pete held up his hands in surrender.

“It’s not okay!” she shouted. “Just like I’m not fine!”

“What’s not okay?”

Her brain bent, and bulged, and cracked, and curved. “He died, and it’s my fault. I wasn’t enough for him. I couldn’t fix him.” Tears splashed her chin, stained her shoulders, colored her collarbone.

“I wasn’t enough for him.” She shook her head, liquid leaking from everywhere. Her eyes were so hot; her skin felt like carved ice.

“I’m not enough.”

Pete gathered her splintered parts and held them together, his arms strong and sure around her. “Okay,” he said. “It’s okay.”

She raged into his circle of safety, clawing at his shirt as she emptied her pent up emotions. He hummed, his rich baritone almost as soothing as Peony’s presence.

But she didn’t deserve comfort. Danny’s death was her fault.

She pushed away from Pete. “I have to go.” She hurried out of the kitchen, despite his calls for her to come back. “I’m sorry,” she said as she pulled out her suitcase. “I just have to go.”

Pete tried to get Chelsea to stay. To just sit down, for just a few minutes. To tell him where she was going. She wouldn’t. She simply kept saying, “I’ll be fine. I just need to go.”

He watched her back out of the driveway and kick up a funnel of dust as she stomped on the accelerator.

“Stupid,” he chastised himself. He shouldn’t have pushed her. Shouldn’t have insisted she answer him. Shouldn’t have engaged in any conversation beyond the weather.

But Chelsea Ackerman intrigued him, and he didn’t want surface conversation with her. He wanted more. How much more he hadn’t considered fully yet, not with everything else he had on the line.

“You better go after her.”

Pete spun to find Tom standing on the front porch. “You really think so?”

“She’s distressed,” he said. “What if she drives off the road? Hits someone else?” He tossed a set of keys toward Pete, who caught them out of the air, already moving toward the ranch trucks.

He called Chelsea, without a response. He pushed away his first instinct of panic. Panic wouldn’t help her. Panic never helped him.

He dialed the emergency dispatch and described Chelsea’s car. He really didn’t want her to leave Three Rivers as upset as she was. She might never come back. His heart squished into a too-tight space inside his chest.

She had to come back.

“Can someone call me when they find her?” he asked.

“I’ll send out Boyd,” the dispatcher said. “I can’t guarantee he’ll find her, but if he does, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks, Connie,” Pete said and hung up.

He pressed the truck to go as fast as it could, coming onto the limits of town quicker than he ever had. He hadn’t seen the hint of another car—certainly not a luxury SUV—along the way.

Please, God, he prayed as he came to an intersection. Lead me. Which way do I go to find Chelsea?

His first instinct was to turn left, so he did. A few turns later, he found himself on the street where Frank and Heidi’s new condo was located. He blinked to make sure his eyes hadn’t betrayed him when they saw Chelsea’s car in the parking lot.

He skidded to a stop behind her, blocking her so she couldn’t leave, and he sprang from the truck. Heartbeat booming beneath his tongue, Pete sprinted up the stairs and practically knocked down the door with his fist.

“Is Chelsea here?” he asked when Frank answered.

Sniffling and sobbing combined with the gentle voice of Heidi answered his question.

Frank stepped out and pulled the door closed behind him. “What happened?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Pete said, whipping off his hat and mashing it in his fists. “I pushed her too hard, I—”

“We expected she’d break down eventually,” Frank interrupted. “I think my wife thought she’d be gone by now.”

“It’s only been a week,” Pete said, his eyebrows drawing into a V.

“She’s never wanted the ranching life,” Frank said. “And it was very difficult for her to leave her life in the city, Danny’s death notwithstanding.”

Pete shifted his feet. He didn’t like talking about Chelsea like this, didn’t like gossip at all. He preferred to form his own opinions, based on his own experiences.

“She’s a strong woman.”

“Yes.” Frank glanced at the door. “She is.”

“She fainted on Monday night,” Pete said. “I asked her how she was, and when she gave me her standard ‘I’m fine,’ I pushed her to be honest with me.”

Frank heaved a sigh. “Well, someone had to. She won’t answer Heidi’s calls, and I certainly don’t know how to deal with someone who’s gone through what she has.”

“I feel terrible.”

“Come on in, son.” Frank clapped his hand on Pete’s shoulder and opened the door. A blast of apple pie scented air met Pete’s nose as he moved into the condo, and a rush of longing to see his momma, hug her, tell her he loved her, sang through Pete’s soul.

“Are you stalking me now?” Chelsea’s ragged accusation knocked him from memories of home.

“Just a concerned citizen, ma’am.” He moved closer, her midnight eyes just as beautiful shrouded in tears. “You left so fast, and you were so upset…I wanted to make sure you didn’t drive into a ditch or something.” He conveniently left out that following her was Tom’s idea, that he hadn’t even thought of going after her. Like Frank, he had no idea how to deal with Chelsea’s internal bleeding.

The horses, whispered through his mind.

Yes, he knew how to help her. Too bad it was exactly the kind of help she didn’t want.

“As you can see, I didn’t meet a ditch on the way here.”

“Good news,” he said, his mind whirring with how he could make amends here and keep her participation in the therapeutic program. “I’m really sorry I said such stupid things.”

“Oh, don’t go apologizing.” She bumped him with her shoulder. “It’ll make me like you, and I’m determined to be angry with you.”

“For how long?”

“At least the rest of the day.” She sighed as she glanced over her shoulder toward the condo’s kitchen. “This place is so small compared to the homestead. I need to think.”

“I know the best place to do that,” Pete said. “And you can be as angry with me as you want. Scream to the sky and no one will hear you.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s that?”

“On Peony’s back, on the wide, open range.”

Chelsea followed Pete back to the ranch, helped him locate the camping equipment in the shed, watched him saddle Peony. Through it all, she kept up the ruse that she’d be going out on the range by herself.

Never mind that she had no idea where the cabin in section twelve was located. Never mind that she hadn’t ridden a horse in over a decade. Never mind that he didn’t even trust her to drive to town by herself.

She held no grand illusions that she’d be going alone. She didn’t even want to go alone. She didn’t want to go to Dallas either. She didn’t know what she wanted, and that was a huge part of her problems.

“So when will you come to the cabin?” she asked him as he gave the final pat to Peony’s flank.

“I’m not coming to the cabin, sweetheart. I have work to do on the ranch.” He didn’t wear a watch, or he’d probably have checked it. With her meltdown and subsequent departure, he’d lost most of the morning.

“The applications are ready to turn into the bank,” she said, unsure as to why everything that came to her mind as a conversation topic felt wrong.

“Great,” he said. “I’ll take them by tomorrow or Friday.” His grafted fingers worked a latch on Peony’s bridle. She followed their movement, thinking about what he’d said about being blown up.

“I wasn’t even there when my fiancée died,” she said.

Pete’s motion stalled; his eyes lifted to hers slowly. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

She didn’t need him to say anything. She just needed him to know.

“She’s ready.” He stepped out of the stall, leading Peony with him. “She knows where the cabin is.” He retrieved a radio from the shelf and tucked it in Chelsea’s pack. “Take this. If you don’t get to the cabin after two hours, let me know.”

Chelsea shouldered her pack. “And you’re not coming.”

“You said you needed space to think.”

“Not about us.” Chelsea wished she could suck back the words. “I mean—”

“There’s an us?” His voice stayed as even as his gaze. Why could he look straight at her without a waver when she couldn’t make her chest stop vibrating?

She hooked her pinky around his. “Of course there’s an us. You called me your partner, remember?”

He pulled his hand back. “That’s a business relationship.”

His words stung, but she tried not to let it show. “Okay.” She stepped up to Peony like she could get on the horse by herself. “Does this thing have an instruction manual?”

That earned her a grin. Subtle, but present. “Put your left foot here.” He indicated the stirrup. “Push, jump, swing your leg over.”

“Will you demonstrate?” Insects rioted through her insides. What if she couldn’t get off? What if she had to get off and then couldn’t get back on?

With the ease of someone who’d ridden horses his entire life, Pete placed his boot in the stirrup, pushed, swung, and landed in the saddle. Peony’s ears barely flickered.

He dismounted with similar grace, and held the reins toward her. She wasn’t sure, but his eyes held a hint of challenge.

Accepted, she thought as she practically ripped the reins from his fingers. With her left foot in the proper position, she attempted to push and swing. To her own surprise, she landed in the right spot.

“See?” Pete patted her leg like she was the horse. “Easy. See you in a couple days.” He started to walk away, and the insects cocooned into moths and butterflies and locusts.

“Pete,” she called, an edge of panic evident to all living creatures in the horse barn.

“Chelsea.” He stood to her right, a picture of steadiness and surety.

“I can’t go out there alone.”

“Peony is with you.”

“I—What if I burn down the cabin?”

“We didn’t pack anything for you to cook, or anything to cook with.”

How obvious did she have to be? Were all cowboys this thick?

“I want you to come with me.”

His eyes narrowed, and he studied her like she was a perplexing puzzle he couldn’t solve. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.” She felt too exposed sitting on the horse while he stood below. She didn’t like gazing down on him, though it did give her a thrill of power. Power she hadn’t experienced in her relationship with Danny, ever.

“I thought you wanted to think. I thought you needed space.” Pete stalked closer, causing the horse to lower her head and snuffle. “I’m the one who riles you up. I’m the one who upsets you. You can’t possibly want me to come.”

“I do.” The childlike quality of her voice angered her. She wasn’t the same woman who had been with Danny. Or at least she didn’t have to be. That person could die with him.

She straightened in the saddle, infused life into her weak spots. “I like talking to you.”

“Last time we talked, you freaked out and drove off.”

“Fine,” she said. “But if I burn down the cabin and half the acreage on the ranch, it’ll be your fault.” She clucked her tongue and pulled on Peony’s reins. The horse moved down the aisle, leaving Pete behind.

Maybe some time alone would be beneficial. Maybe it would give her the chance to get her head in the right place, give her heart a chance to mend a little bit.

“The cabin in section twelve,” she told Peony as they entered the sunlight. Chelsea adjusted her designer shades and set her sights on the wide sky. Only minutes later, the noises of the ranch faded into the breathing of the wind.

No wonder Pete felt whole out here. There was nothing between Chelsea and herself but the pure blue sky, the drifting clouds, and the rustling grass. Out here, she could be honest with herself. Out here, she could be who she really was. Out here, she had no one to hide from.

The thought was as freeing as it was formidable.

Only an hour later, a cabin came into view. Peony plodded along, stable and secure, all the way to the front door. Chelsea’s core hadn’t had such a strenuous workout in too many months, and she didn’t care how she got off the horse, as long as it happened quickly.

She tried a reversal of how she got on, and managed to get to the ground without sustaining major damage.

The doorknob twisted easily, and inside, she found a square room with a pot-bellied stove for both heating and cooking. A long counter ran along the west wall, and a bare cot sat on the east. She wandered over to the counter, where a silver bucket waited.

For Peony, a note read. Give her a handful a couple times a day. The pellets inside hardly seemed like proper nutrition for a horse, but Chelsea didn’t doubt Pete.

She lugged her backpack into the cabin and returned to unsaddle Peony. She took in her sleeping bag and the saddlebag with her food and clothes. After removing Peony’s bridle, she set the horse to graze in the dry grass and returned to the cabin.

Five minutes later, she had the sleeping bag unrolled, the food unpacked and spaced on the counter, and the luggage stored underneath.

Without running water, Chelsea assumed there’d be an outhouse and a pump somewhere. She wandered around to the back of the cabin, where she found the facilities. But no fresh water.

An alarm started to whine in her head. Surely Pete wouldn’t have sent her out here without drinking water.

She couldn’t find a faucet. Determined not to panic, she returned to the cabin for her canteen. She drank and drank like that would make a well appear.

Still thirsty, she picked up the radio and pressed the button. “Pete?”

Several seconds passed before static came through the speaker. “Pete here.”

“Is there drinking water at the cabin?”

“Yeah, around the back, near the trees, there’s a stream.”

Chelsea returned to the outhouse, and moved past it. In the distance—the great distance—a strand of trees broke up the skyline.

“It’s like a mile away.”

“Go once and fill up,” he said, a chuckle sounding before he unclamped the button.

“Pete?”

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

She smiled at the swagger in his voice, as she pictured him lounging with his boots up while he flirted with her. “It’s less than an hour on a slow, plodding, girl-horse. You could leave when you get done with work, bring me dinner….” She released her thumb, unsure how to finish her sentence. Suddenly a kiss under this sky, with that man, plagued her.

“And then what?” he asked, his mood impossible to determine through the scratchy speaker.

“And then we can watch clouds and lie on our backs while the stars come out.” The childhood pleasantries she’d enjoyed as a girl growing up on a ranch seemed like what she needed right now.

“I’ll try,” he said.

“Promise?”

“I promise I’ll try. I have to go.” The radio went dead, and Chelsea knew he wouldn’t answer her if she called in again. Well, maybe if she said she’d started the prairie on fire.

“Might as well get some water,” she muttered as she rounded the house to Peony. Then she remembered she’d unsaddled the horse.

Pete stared at the silent radio, considering Chelsea’s invitation. But he’d been to the single-room cabin in section twelve. He couldn’t sleep there with her.

But he had a tent. And a horse. And a million reasons why he should stay away from the damaged Chelsea Ackerman.

Something pulled him toward her, his insane need to help her heal. He’d spent the few hours since she’d left trying to figure out what about her sang to him so strongly.

It wasn’t her eyes, though they opened to her soul like pools of starlight.

It wasn’t her magnetic personality, though she was easy to talk to, easy to be himself with, easy to enjoy.

It wasn’t her sacrificing spirit, though he knew she didn’t want to be at Three Rivers.

It was because she needed his help, and he couldn’t stand seeing an animal in need, horse or woman. Though if he was being honest with himself, helping a beautiful woman was much more satisfying than assisting a horse.

With that thought, he knew he was sunk. He’d be saddling Baywatch as soon as his chores were done for the day, and he’d be in section twelve as fast as the horse would take him.

To stop himself from packing straightaway, he dialed his Army pal, who Pete hoped would be available to build his training facilities and homestead.

“Lieutenant Peter Marshall.” Brett’s voice came through the line with a vein of appreciation and amusement. “What are you up to?”

Pete chuckled and removed his cowboy hat to scrub his buzz cut. “Brett, how long you been back?”

“Long enough to miss your ugly mug.” He laughed, and Pete realized he did miss his comrades in arms.

“You still doin’ construction?”

“Yeah.” His voice stretched like he’d been roofing all morning.

“You tied to Oklahoma City?”

“Right now, I am. Just finishing up a basement remodel for one of my mom’s friends. What you got goin’ on?”

“I put in for a construction loan for a homestead and horse training facilities.” A buzz vibrated beneath Pete’s skin, and a smile split his face. “I’m startin’ an equine therapy program.”

Brett whistled and scuffling came through the line. “I’d love to come work on that with you. Where you located?”

“Just outside Amarillo.”

Brett exhaled. “I’d love to get out of Oklahoma for a while. When does the job start?”

“Just waitin’ on the loan.”

“I’ve got nothin’ lined up after this basement remodel, and I’ll be done with that next week.”

“I’ll call you as soon as I know.” Pete hung up, a spread of happiness flowing through him. He needed to get those applications over to the bank, pronto.

Unable to stall any longer, Pete headed over to the admin trailer, his assignment in the barns complete. He found Tom at the front desk, bent over a file of paperwork.

“The horses are happy,” Pete said.

“Good.” Tom leaned back and rolled out his shoulders. “And how’s the princess at the palace? Is she happy too?”

Pete would’ve bristled if there had been any malice in Tom’s voice. But the cowboy was as gentle as a kitten. More perceptive than most, which meant he knew a lot about everyone on the ranch, but kind.

“I sent her out to the cabin in twelve,” Pete said. “She needs…time. Distance. More time.” Even as he spoke, he knew he was lecturing himself. Chelsea needed a lot more time to heal, to grieve for her fiancée’s death, to find her true self and embrace that person.

“So when are you headed out there?”

“Who says I’m headed out there?” He wasn’t that transparent, was he?

“She’s your project, ain’t she?”

Barbs punctured Pete’s lungs, and he sputtered. “No.”

Was that how she felt when he slipped and referred to her as a patient? His project? No wonder her voice turned so shrill and her face so white.

“So what’s next on the docket?” Pete’s tone could’ve lifted clouds.

“Nothin’.” Tom leaned back and grinned. “Everything’s covered. Why don’t you take the afternoon off?”

The afternoon off. Chelsea became his first thought, but a nap followed close behind. He could sneak in a siesta and still get out to the cabin in the early evening.

“Thanks,” he said over his shoulder as he left the trailer. His cabin held the early afternoon heat, and a sweat broke out on his brow as he packed a duffle for his quick overnight stay. He’d have to be back before eight, ready for work, or Tom might think Chelsea had morphed into a different kind of project.

He decided to skip the siesta in favor of Chelsea’s smooth skin. Just over an hour later, Baywatch nickered to Peony in front of the cabin.

“Hey, girl.” He gifted Peony with a sugar cube from his pocket, which earned him a glare from Baywatch. “Settle down,” he told the indignant horse and produced a second cube. He unsaddled Baywatch, brushed him down, and headed inside the cabin.

The empty cabin.

Chelsea had definitely been there, but she was nowhere to be found now. He meandered around the back of the cabin, and still she didn’t appear.

“Chelsea?” he called, checking behind the outhouse and moving back to the front. His pulse kicked into a different gear when he got no response.

She’d radioed about water, and the horses needed to drink, especially Baywatch. He found Peony’s bridle on the counter in the cabin and hooked her up. He took their reins and started toward the stream.

Halfway there, a stick figure appeared on the swell in front of him. He picked up his pace, making out Chelsea’s dark hair after only a few minutes.

“Chelsea!” He waved one arm over his head.

She dropped whatever she was carrying and sank to the ground. Pete released the reins and ran toward her, his heart somersaulting from his throat to his guts and back.

“Hey,” she said as she panted in the prairie grass.

He knelt in front of her, his hands automatically cupping her face and checking her temperature. “You okay?”

“It’s so far to the water.” She gestured behind her. “I can’t carry that bucket another step.”

“Bucket?” Pete retrieved the huge, silver bucket he’d asked Tom to fill with horse pellets and send out to the cabin.

He started to laugh, aware that Chelsea probably wouldn’t appreciate it. He dumped the water out and fell into the grass beside her.

“Oh, sweetheart, you take the horses to the water, not the water to the horses.”

She pushed her bangs off her forehead and laid down, her eyes heavenward. “What about me? I drank all my water.”

“You ride the horse and fill up your canteen.”

Her fingers fumbled over his, finally aligning. She yanked, and he settled beside her. “Why didn’t you say that when I asked about the water?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Didn’t think you’d lug a giant, metal bucket a half a mile to the stream.”

“That, Mister, is a lot farther than a half a mile.”

He squeezed her hand, tucking it closer against his side. “No, sweetheart, it really isn’t.”

“What’d you bring to eat?” she asked. “I’m starving.”

“More of what I packed for you.”

She groaned, rolled onto her side, and buried her face against her bicep.

Satisfied and feeling more complete than he had in years, Pete covered his face with his hat and enjoyed the lilting breeze flowing over his body—and the presence of the woman beside him.

“I’m going to fry out here,” Chelsea said a few minutes later. “We don’t all have fancy cowboy hats for protection.”

He crunched himself into a sitting position. “Let’s get these horses to water. Baywatch hasn’t had anything.”

“Peony either.” Chelsea stood and eyed the bucket like it had bewitched her into carrying it filled with water.

“What did you do with the horse pellets?” Pete asked.

“Dumped them on the counter.”

He must’ve missed them during his brief inspection. He collected the reins and led the horses to the stream, where they drank greedily. Pete scooped water into his own mouth, wetted his hands and ran them through his buzzed hair.

He sighed, his insides softening with the peace the range possessed. He’d been out here several times since arriving at the ranch, usually over the weekend when he didn’t have duties. Once with Squire to avoid the fireworks. During that trip he’d had the idea for Courage Reins. During every trip out here he felt closer to God and closer to his center than anywhere else.

“What are you thinking?” Chelsea’s question broke into his thoughts, welcome and unwelcome at the same time.

“Nothin’ much,” he said.

“You look happy.” She smiled and dropped her eyes to the edge of the stream.

“I am happy.” He moved to a fallen log and sat down.

“Even with all the scarring? All the pain you’ve been through?” She tucked her knees to her chest and gazed past the stream, into a reality that wasn’t present.

“Yes,” Pete said. “Those things are part of me now. They’ve changed me, warped me, formed me into the man I am today.” He didn’t want to repeat the tank attack, worked hard to keep himself from reliving it. But he wasn’t sorry it had happened.

“That’s what this life is about,” he said, thinking of one of Pastor Scott’s lessons. “God wants us to grow, and change, and become better. Every year. Every day.”

“Mm.” Chelsea scooted toward the water’s edge, cupping her hand and letting the water drip through her fingers.

Pete leaned back and closed his eyes, letting the sun wash his skin and the wind cleanse his soul. He hadn’t had this much free time in months. Normally, he liked staying busy. It kept his mind away from the more unpleasant things his brain settled on.

“You look too comfortable,” Chelsea said.

Pete opened his eyes, but everything was too bright. So he didn’t even see the palm full of water she flung his way. The cold hit him like a shock to the chest, stealing his breath. A jolt slammed through his blood at the same time she squealed and danced away from the stream.

He lunged toward the stream, gathered as much water as he could in his hands and flung it her way. He ended up getting more water on himself than on her, and his foot slipped on a rock, sending him to his knees.

His lapse gave Chelsea an opening, and she splashed and giggled as Pete’s hearty laughter joined her lighter lilt.

“Oh, you’re dead,” he said, submerging himself fully in the water.

“Don’t you dare,” she warned, but the words held absolutely no threat.

He waded out of the stream, his arms folded around a pool of water. “Okay, truce.”

“Truce,” she said, taking a step toward him.

He half stumbled, half leapt toward her, wrapping his arms around her and wringing the water from his clothes into hers.

She wiggled as she shrieked, the indignant sound fading into a delightful squeal that sent a hot poker straight into Pete’s stomach.

“You said truce.”

“You started it,” he said, his voice only betraying him slightly with its gargled quality. “I had to end it.”

She stilled, but he didn’t release her. His gaze flickered to her mouth, where a droplet of water slinked along her lip and dripped down to her chin.

He raised his eyes again, but she’d focused on his mouth. Pete’s hopes lifted like helium balloons, but the rational part of his brain screamed at him to step back and give her the time and distance she so obviously needed.

He cleared his throat and fell back a giant step. His arms had never felt so empty, his personal bubble so cold. His momma used to tell him that the atmosphere only felt awkward if he felt that way, so he painted on a smile and climbed the bank.

He gathered the horse’s reins and meandered back toward the cabin. Chelsea’s sure steps sounded behind him, and her cool, drenched hand squirmed into his free one. “We better hurry back. Don’t want to lose the light to invent those cloud pictures.”

Pete squeezed her hand as his heart pinched inside his chest. This woman was carving a place inside his life that would be very, very empty if she chose to leave.

An unfamiliar sensation raced through Chelsea’s veins. Something she’d felt before, but not for a long time. Probably not since she’d left the ranch as a hopeful college student.

The buzzing soothed her, brought comfort to frenzied places, water to desert ground. And it wasn’t just the man walking beside her, reins in his hand. It wasn’t the rush of flirting through a water fight.

This feeling ran deep, had always existed inside her. It spoke of love and acceptance. She was loved. She was acceptable.

She knew then that she had returned home. She really was like the Prodigal Son, returning home after wasting her inheritance. Instead of causing a pit to form in her stomach, as had happened at church, the hole inside her filled, and filled, and filled.

She wished Pete held the reins in his left hand so she could hold his right. She didn’t know why she was so drawn to his injury, only that it grounded her.

He unbridled the horses, a task which required both hands, and she released him, hoping he’d take her hand this time. Her attraction to him had to be obvious, or else he held hands with every female who stepped onto the ranch.

Since Kelly had left, Chelsea didn’t have much competition. Even the new accountant was male.

“So.” He stretched out on the ground, his hands tucked behind his head as a pillow. “Tell me about the clouds.”

She sat next to him, close but untouching. “There aren’t many clouds today. This game might not work.”

Pete’s stomach rumbled. “Should we go eat instead?”

“Bring me something.” The ground beneath her back was so unyielding, so dry, so cracked. It reminded her of her heart. Abandoned. Like a ghost town.

But just like the stream fed this part of the range, offered life, she felt her dry and barren heart softening. Beating quicker, stronger.

Pete stood and reached for her hand to help her up. “Come eat inside. It’s too hot out here.”

“The breeze feels nice.”

“We can sit in the breeze when we watch the stars.”

She took his hand—his right, puckered hand—and when she’d gained her feet, she released his. He let her go, and a flicker of disappointment fluttered through her. A sigh escaped before she could silence it.

He glanced at her, but she pretended to watch something else. “The range really is beautiful.”

“Beautiful,” he echoed, his voice like the whispering of the wind. He held the door open, his attention on her singular.

She stepped past him, her lips curling though she tried to keep them neutral. “So protein bars?”

“They’re cookies,” he said as the door closed behind him.

Chelsea unwrapped one, and it looked suspiciously like a cow pie. “These are not cookies.”

“Beef jerky then.” He pulled out a package and handed it to her.

“Our cows?”

“Your cows,” he said.

She took a bite, tasting every flavor from the pepper to the smoke. “My cows are delicious.”

He ate a protein cookie and tossed the wrapper in the trashcan. “Okay, well, I’m going to set up the tent before it gets dark. Don’t want to miss the stars.” His eyes twinkled, and she had a brief vision of watching them sink closed just before he kissed her.

She shook her head, her thoughts jumbling as her heart started tumbling. She couldn’t believe she was considering kissing him. Thinking about it like she’d let him do it, let another man into the fleshy parts of her heart. They’d barely started regrowing. She couldn’t risk them for a kind cowboy just because he made her breakfast and taught her how to bridle a horse.

Even as she tried to dismiss him, the attraction to him grew. He’d done more than serve bagels. He’d shown her compassion. He’d accepted her. He’d cared for her, and he’d said hard things to her when he needed to.

He’d befriended her in a place where she was expecting to be isolated.

The door closed while Chelsea still sorted through the tangled ball of yarn inside her mind. “Wait,” she called. “Tent?”

She opened the door to find Pete bent over a bulging bag and pulling out a log of fabric. “Why are you setting up a tent?”

“That cabin is one room, sweetheart. I like my privacy.”

She swept his scars again, wondering how far around his body they wrapped. “It’s hot out here.”

“It’ll cool down in a coupla hours. The sun’s already on ‘er way down.” He snapped poles together, his capable hands working with precision. His tent came to life in under five minutes, and he placed his backpack inside.

“I’ll feed the horses.” He returned to the cabin, and Chelsea felt like they were performing a dance, one where they couldn’t look at each other openly, couldn’t say what was really on their minds, couldn’t touch.

The disconnectedness gnawed at her, and she migrated toward Peony. The horse lifted her muzzle from the nearly nonexistent grass and snuffed her lips along Chelsea’s pocket.

“No sugar,” she told the horse. She brushed her hands through Peony’s mane. The hair was rough and comforting. “Why won’t he hold my hand?” The horse’s eyes drifted halfway closed, and Chelsea scrubbed her fingers along her neck to her shoulder.

“I mean, he must know I like him. I keep grabbing him like I need him to stand.”

The horse harrumphed, and Chelsea gave a light laugh. “I know, right? Men. So clueless.” She glanced toward the cabin and found Pete leaning in the doorway, his head nearly against the top of the frame as he watched her.

“Can you figure him out?” she asked Peony. “Maybe he’ll tell Baywatch how he’s feeling, and then you can tell me.” She moved back in front of the horse. “Is that a deal? You’ll eavesdrop for me?”

Peony’s attention returned to the ground, especially when Pete started dropping pellets. While Chelsea didn’t think they’d like them, Peony and Baywatch started scarfing their dinner like it was made of sugar.

“That’ll keep ‘em out of our hair,” he said. Always one step ahead of her, he moved several paces away and spread a blanket on the ground. “Your starscape awaits, my lady.”

She shot him a coy look as she approached and sat down. “You always know exactly what to do,” she said. “It’s somewhat annoying.”

He chuckled and removed his hat. “I’m good at details.”

She patted the blanket on her left, and he obliged. As soon as he’d settled, she reached for his hand, tracing her fingers over the lines that were becoming more familiar. “That’s why you’ll do such an amazing job at Courage Reins.”

“There are a lot of little details,” he agreed. “But I’ll need a lot of help.”

“I volunteer.”

He nudged her with his shoulder. “Can I ask you a question?”

Her muscles rippled and flexed. “Sure,” she said casually, though she felt anything but.

“Why do you like to hold my injured hand?”

She dropped her attention to it, to the bright pink lines, the folds of white that wouldn’t tan no matter how many hours he spent in the sun. Beneath what felt like wrinkled paper, she found strength in his tendons and bones.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I guess it reminds me that even the most damaged things can heal.”

“You’re not damaged,” he said.

“Sure I am,” she said. “But this hand—” She turned it over and traced her fingertip across his palm, where all lifelines had been erased. “This hand tells me that I can come out better. Maybe not perfect. But good. Strong. Alive.”

As she spoke, an oasis sprang up in her core. Small, with barely a trickle of water, but present, and growing.

“You are good,” he said. “And strong. I’ve seen the steel in you.”

“Oh yeah?” She laughed. “Like when I was crying the first time we met? Or how about the panic attack that first night alone?”

Twilight fell, and Pete seemed absorbed in watching the sky gather darkness. Her frustration teemed inside at his silence. His silence that spoke of her weaknesses.

“Have you had another panic attack since that one?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “This morning. You were there.”

“That wasn’t a panic attack. That was you, a rational person, running away from a difficult conversation.”

“We can add that to the list of weak things I need to overcome.”

“You’re not a weak woman, Chelsea.”

She appreciated him saying so, even if it wasn’t true.

Pete’s emotions raged like brush fire, like bulls gone mad, like a river coming down from a high mountain. Chelsea’s touch, the tender way she admired— admired!—his scars made him believe they weren’t important to her. At least not in a physical way, as something that made him less attractive.

He’d been on-edge since the water fight, since holding her so close and smelling the sweetness of her skin. He couldn’t be contained in the same space with her, but sitting on the open range with so much air around them calmed his nerves.

She inched closer to him as dusk settled and the first star winked into existence. He pointed with his free hand. “Venus.”

“My home planet,” she said.

He smiled and ducked his head, coming within kissing distance of hers. She froze, but he looked up again, hoping for another interstellar distraction.

“Can I ask you a question now?” she asked.

“If you’d like.”

“Why won’t you hold my hand?”

“I am holding your hand.” He squeezed to enunciate his point.

“Yes, but why won’t you take my hand? I always have to take yours.”

The truth rammed against the shields he had erected. The safety measures he’d built on his horse ride out to the cabin. The walls began to crack, crumble, crash as she leaned into him and laid her cheek on his bicep.

“Don’t you want to hold my hand?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice like a staticky radio station. “I want to hold your hand.”

“Then why don’t you?”

He spotted another star, and another, but they could not provide a suitable distraction. He suspected nothing would, so he drew a deep breath.

“Because, Chelsea, when we hold hands I want to kiss you.” He touched his cheek to the top of her head. “And I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

The sky deepened into night, a blanket of stars pinned against it. Pete’s mind hurt from all the thoughts bruising their way from one side of his skull to the other.

“Pete?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Do you know why I hold your hand?”

Confusion puckered his brow. “Tell me again.”

She straightened and turned toward him, clasping his hand with both of hers. “I hold your hand because it heals me. I hold your hand because I’m ready to move on. I hold your hand because I want you to kiss me.”

His heart slammed into the roof of his mouth as he searched her eyes. Her deep eyes that reflected so much pain and beauty and strength.

His left hand curved behind her head to cradle her neck. He slanted his head and covered her mouth with his, his eyes falling closed just as their lips touched.

No shooting star would ever be as magical as the silkiness of her hair between his fingers. The world seemed to whir, whir, whir past him, but inside the bubble they shared, he took his time, moving and breathing in slow motion while everything else fell away.

Pete lay on his back, the ground beneath him cushioned by the sleeping mat he’d brought. He could no longer see the stars, but every time he closed his eyes, he replayed that kiss. The way her lips had trembled against his. The tears he’d found in her eyes after he’d pulled away.

“You make me feel loveable,” she’d said.

He didn’t know what that meant, and it scared him. He didn’t love her. Yet, his mind insisted, just as it had for the past two hours as he’d mentally proclaimed his not-love for her.

He was definitely falling in that direction, and that made sleeping nearly impossible.

He finally drifted off, only to be assaulted by the bitter smell of burning metal. He thrashed, but his right leg wouldn’t come free. The heat intensified, licking across his abdomen and tasting his chest.

He screamed, still unable to move his leg or get out, get out, get out!

Men called around him, the wind whipped the flames into monsters with sharp teeth. Monsters that ate slowly at a man’s flesh, one layer at a time. Monsters that haunted a man for months, years, a lifetime.

In the distance, a horse whinnied, hoofbeats broke through the crackling pops of fire and the dying moans of men.

Confusion cascaded through Pete’s mind, and he once again tried to free his leg. It moved, and he thrashed against whatever was binding him. It was so dark, and he couldn’t see, couldn’t see, couldn’t see.

“Pete!” Cool hands stroked his forehead, tumbled over his neck.

“My leg,” he moaned. “I can’t get it free.”

The sound of a zipper ripped through his nightmare, and he sat up, expecting the white hot, mind-numbing pain to slash through his body.

It didn’t. The sound of his ragged breathing combined with the snorts of a horse, the pawing of hooves, and Chelsea’s panting.

“Pete.” His name came out as a whimper.

He scanned his surroundings, realizing slowly why it was so dark. He was in his tent, on the range. Not in a tank. Not in a fire. Not overseas.

“I’m okay,” he said, but his tone wouldn’t convince anyone. She scrambled around, finally locating a flashlight. The beam bounced around his tent, and he realized how close they were, how tight the tent was with a second person inside.

“I need to get out.” He hadn’t had a panic attack since arriving at the ranch, but everything pressed close, close, close.

She backed out of the tent, and he spilled from the opening, crashing into both Chelsea and Peony, who loitered a foot away.

He breathed, allowing the cool night air to cleanse his lungs of the smoke that had once clouded them. Peony pushed her nose against his arm, and he threaded his fingers through her mane, taking her comfort and infusing it into himself.

Chelsea wrapped her hands around his arm, like they were an English couple walking down the cobbled streets.

Her touch further calmed him, and the bands of tension wrapped around him like a mummy’s costume released.

He exhaled, noting that dawn still sat hours away. “Sorry for waking you.”

“I hadn’t fallen asleep yet,” she whispered, her breath washing over his bare arm.

“I haven’t had a nightmare like that in a while.”

Her fingers explored up his arm, crossing over his shoulder to where the scars barely touched his collarbone. She felt through his thin tank top over his torso, and all his muscles clenched. She pulled her hand back when she reached his waist and wrapped her arms around him.

The silence she allowed, the affection she so freely gave, brought him all the way back to center.

The night was shot, and when he nightmared in his cabin, he lifted weights, or visited the horses, or spent time researching and working on the concept of Courage Reins.

“You gonna stay out here another day?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “There’s nothing to do.”

“You’re supposed to enjoy that.” He released Peony, who wandered away to rejoin Baywatch, and tentatively embraced Chelsea.

“I like the wide open space,” she said. “With running water in the next room.”

He chuckled as he lowered his head and tucked his face against her neck. Taking a deep breath of her powdery scent upped the attraction coursing through him. He suspected the contact with the horses was healing her, but that his affection would as well.

Hers certainly made him feel like someone could see beyond the scars to the man underneath. And that the man underneath still had worth. He wondered, though, if she’d be as accepting if she wasn’t so entrenched in the hurt herself.

His barriers started to rebuild, but he didn’t erect them quite as high. He didn’t want to keep her at arm’s length, even if she wasn’t ready for a relationship yet. Deep down, he knew he wasn’t either. Would he want to keep her up at night with his screaming? Never see her because he worked the ranch all day and trained horses and ran a therapeutic program at night? Rely on her for money until Courage Reins could support them?

No, no, and no way.

Though they stood in each other’s arms, he felt worlds from her.

Chelsea stood in the doorway of the cabin and watched as Pete mounted Baywatch. He brought the horse around as the sky turned from gray to gold.

“You sure you can get back okay?”

“If I can’t, I have the radio. You’ll be the first to know.” She hugged herself against the morning temperatures. “Well, Peony will probably already know.” She tried on a smile and it hitched into place easier than it ever had.

Pete grinned down at her, bent in half at the waist, and she stretched up to kiss him goodbye. “I’ll take the loan applications in this morning. Maybe I can bring back lunch?”

“I never say no to a pretty lady who brings me lunch.” He wheeled the horse around and trotted away.

A swell of happiness expanded her chest, making breathing easier and easier. Her mother had said coming home would be good for her, but Chelsea didn’t think she’d been suggesting a romance with the most unavailable cowboy the ranch employed.

Pete’s hesitance toward physical contact made sense to her, at least rationally. She held the same reservations he did, but her wounds weren’t as easily seen. Still, she worried what people thought of her coming home, of her living at the ranch by herself, virtually the only woman within twenty miles.

She stewed over her trip into town as she cleaned up the cabin and repacked her overnight equipment. Pete hadn’t had the chance to hover over her while she crammed one of those disgusting protein cookies into her mouth.

She’d get something in town. Eating had become easier here, far from the worries of her weight in Dallas, and miles emotionally from Danny.

She bridled Peony and got herself situated in the saddle—which Pete had put on before he’d left. The sun warmed her from the outside in, maybe the first time she’d had a normal body temperature since she’d put on Danny’s diamond.

She’d known marrying him would be a mistake, but with him on his knee and that gem winking at her from the black box…she hadn’t been able to say no. She’d even thought that once they were married, she’d be able to be more honest with him, that she’d be able to help him. And by “help him,” she meant “fix him.”

As Peony continued her steady journey back to the ranch, Chelsea let go of the self-loathing she harbored over how stupid she’d been. It wisped away into the atmosphere, where it couldn’t infect her anymore. Though she’d been eating more than she had in a long time, she felt lighter than air.

She exchanged a glance with Pete as Peony entered the barn. Another cowboy met her and helped her down, his leather gloves rough against her hands.

“I’ll brush her down,” she told him as he took Peony’s reins. “If you’ll show me how.”

“I’ll get the saddle off for you. Put ‘er in her stall.”

“Thank you,” she called after the cowboy.

She lowered her pack to the ground, her shoulders grateful for the lightened load. After entering Peony’s stall, she watched the cowboy spiral the curry comb from Peony’s shoulder and across her back. The horse snacked on hay and slurped water.

“Can I give her a treat?” she asked as the cowboy handed her a hard brush.

“Sure. This one likes oats. I’ll get ‘er some after I check her hooves.” He indicated the brush. “You use that in short strokes across her body and back. She don’t like it on her legs.”

Chelsea looked at the brush, suddenly unsure.

“Start at the neck,” the cowboy said, already checking Peony’s hooves. “Sort of flicking strokes. Gets the dirt out and shines ‘er up nice. Peony loves a good brushing after a walk.” He gave her an encouraging smile and moved out of the stall.

He returned a few minutes later with a sack of oats. He poured a healthy amount into Peony’s tray. “When you finish there, use the soft brush.” He indicated a blue brush on the shelf. “She likes that all over. You can comb her mane too, if you want. Looks like it was windy last night.”

Chelsea agreed that it was, and set to work dolling up Peony. By the time she finished, her arms ached and the need for a shower had become dire.

She leaned her forehead against Peony’s. “Thanks for getting me there and back, girl.” She took a deep breath, enjoying the earthiness of the barn and the heat from the horse’s face. “Thanks for telling me about Pete last night.”

She stepped out of the stall and headed through the barn without seeing Pete again. Two hours later, she’d delivered the applications and let her purse swing at her side as she meandered down the sidewalk.

The salon came into view, and birds rioted in her stomach. She didn’t want to see anyone who would draw her into a conversation. Thankfully, Glenda stood with her back to the window, rolling someone’s hair Chelsea couldn’t see.

She bypassed the doctor’s office and smiled at the kids running and shouting on the playground at the elementary school. By the time she arrived at Papa Henry’s, the Italian place that had opened when she was a teen, Chelsea had taken enough of a trip down memory lane to last another decade.

She ordered a calzone before escaping to the park across the street. While she waited she watched the cars come and go at the grocery store. She snuggled into her hoodie as the park filled up with moms and small children touting lunches. School was in, so the crowd wasn’t big and the children definitely small.

“Chelsea?”

She tore her attention from the toddler about to go down the slide and refocused it on the woman in front of her.

“It is you.” The woman sat down, her heavily make-upped eyes scrutinizing Chelsea’s subtle lip gloss and sweeping her clothes. Chelsea’s fingers fisted inside her pockets, but she was glad she’d worn the baggy sweatshirt.

“Hi,” she said, still drawing a blank on the woman’s name. They’d probably known each other in high school, but she’d aged a decade in the past three months alone. “I’m sorry, I don’t know—”

“It’s Amy Harlow.” She tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder and checked the playground. “Amy Garrison now. I married Phil a few years ago.” She spoke like getting married was hard to do.

“Oh, I remember Phil.” Chelsea’s memories took her back to eleventh grade, when Phil Garrison got caught sneaking kids out of his father’s grocery. Chelsea hadn’t attended the party, because her mother could sniff out such things like a greyhound.

“What’s he doing now?”

“He runs the grocer.” Amy sighed like she’d faint any moment as she cut a glare across the street to Vince’s. “He’s busy as sin, but we’re rolling in money, so.” She trilled out a laugh that sent Chelsea’s skin crawling.

“Avery, don’t go up there.” Amy stood and called to her daughter again. The little girl obeyed, and much to Chelsea’s dismay, Amy plopped back onto the bench.

“So what are you up to?”

“I’m managing my family’s ranch.” Chelsea pressed her lips together, rationalizing the tiny fib.

“Heard y’all hired a new foreman.” She picked at her nails, but Chelsea wasn’t fooled by the nonchalant gesture.

“Yes,” Chelsea said. “He’s shaping up nicely.” She hadn’t met the man yet, but everything seemed to be going smoothly on the ranch, and it wasn’t her job to take care of it if it wasn’t.

Amy’s smile would’ve scared a task force team, predatory as it curved her lips. “What did you do in Dallas?”

“Marketing.” Chelsea wasn’t getting paid the enormous salary to put up with princesses like Amy anymore, so she didn’t need to employ her patience or use her placating voice.

“Rumor has it that y’all were engaged.” She glanced toward Chelsea’s lap, but the hoodie concealed her hands.

“Briefly,” she said as her thumb stroked the place where she’d worn her engagement ring. Twice, she added silently. No one knew about the first time, and Chelsea was going to keep it that way.

“What happened?” Amy leaned closer like the two non-friends would be sharing juicy gossip.

Chelsea’s muscles bunched and released, screaming at her to a stand, run away. She stayed in her seat by sheer will.

“He passed away.” The words scraped her throat and scratched her tongue, but she didn’t feel like bawling. Her breathing remained normal. Only her heart had adopted a blistering pace, but Amy couldn’t see that through the sweatshirt.

“Chelsea!” Ruby Carter appeared, casting a wall of shade on Chelsea. She collapsed on the bench next to her. “You here for lunch?” She eyed Amy with wariness, her tone a smidge too false.

“Just picking up.” She adjusted her weight toward Ruby. “Weren’t you tellin’ me about a cooking class you went to?” She gave a little laugh. “I need to figure out how to do more than make pancakes.” And if either woman knew she couldn’t even do that…. Chelsea almost bolted right then.

Ruby’s eyes widened, confusion evident. Chelsea blinked rapidly, hoping she’d get the hint.

“Oh, yes,” Ruby said in a rush. “Your momma’s been tellin’ me about one for weeks now.” She bounced her baby in her lap. “I haven’t had time to go yet.”

“Maybe I’ll just ask my mom then.” Chelsea inhaled and graced Amy with a smile. “I’m sorry, but I need to go.” She stood and gestured for Ruby to come with her. “Come tell me more about how you made that pie without a cooking lesson. It was delicious.”

Chelsea escaped with Ruby in tow, and when they were a safe distance from Amy’s wolf-like ears, Chelsea sighed. “I’m so sorry, but I had to get out of there.”

“I could tell.” Ruby slid her a smile. “When I saw the two of you sitting alone, I knew I needed to intervene.” She shuddered and switched her baby to her other hip. “Amy-the-Great cornered me at the picnic once. It was terrible, and Tanner refused to come over for fear he’d have to talk to her.”

Chelsea glanced over her shoulder, but Amy had gone. “Well, thank you.”

Ruby smiled and scuffed her feet in the dirt. “And, Chelsea, that pie was store-bought. You should be glad you didn’t come pick it up.”

The words took their sweet Texas time making sense in Chelsea’s ears. She met Ruby’s eye and guilty grin, and a laugh burst from her throat. Ruby giggled with her.

“I guess we both need cooking lessons. Oh!” She lifted a flashing, buzzing device. “My calzone is ready.” She waved goodbye to Ruby before hurrying across the street.

While the people at church had been kind, Chelsea feared the rumors flying around town would elicit a similar scenario to the one with Amy she’d just endured.

Not everyone is like Amy Garrison, she told herself as she paid for her calzone. Heather James—Chelsea’s lab partner from senior chemistry—rang her out, and she didn’t seem interested in anything but Chelsea’s credit card. Her smile was genuine, her tone polite. She hadn’t asked embarrassing questions or boasted about her incredible wealth.

As Chelsea headed out of town, she categorized Amy as an outlier. Since Chelsea had come home, she’d made huge strides, emotionally and physically and spiritually. She wouldn’t allow one woman to make her take precious steps backward.

Pete jolted out of a half sleep when a door slammed. He’d managed to mash his hat on his head and wipe the exhaustion from his eyes before Chelsea rounded the corner carrying a large paper bag.

“Three meat calzone,” she announced. “Salad. Breadsticks.” She began unpacking the food and placing it on the counter.

Pete noticed the overly large sweatshirt, the stiffness in her arms when she lifted out the bag of bread, the curve of her—

He jerked his attention away from her and out the French doors. The yard sat empty. The boys would all be eating in the trailer or out on the range, depending on their assignments. He’d finished a half hour ago, and the twenty minute nap he’d taken on the couch would be enough to get him through the rest of the day.

He stepped closer to her, his rational side warring with the part of him that wanted to abandon all reason and kiss her until he couldn’t breathe. One touch of his hand to her swathed shoulder and his battle was lost. “Hey.” He kissed her cheek, relishing the softness of her skin as she leaned into him and laughed.

“Hey, yourself.”

His hand slipped to her waist as they stood side-by-side at the counter. He tucked her against his side, noting how well she fit, how easily she molded to him, how much he liked her there.

“The foreman asked me where I disappeared to yesterday,” he said.

Chelsea startled next to him. “You didn’t tell him?”

“I cleared being gone yesterday with Tom.” Pete sighed. “But Garth wanted to know.”

“Was he upset? Do I need to talk to him?”

“And tell him what?” Pete looked down at her, their eyes locking while he noticed the tiny space between them. “I took care of it. He said he didn’t care what I did as long as I got my work done. I assured him I would.”

She swallowed, her eyes drafting him, inviting him, daring him closer. His hand tightened against her body, and they turned toward each other as a single unit with a singular mind. She stretched up to meet his mouth as he dipped lower to taste hers.

He gripped her with a force he didn’t know raged inside him. A passion that scared him more than anything else. He slowed the kiss, flexed his fingers away from her waist before gently kneading her closer.

The grin that broke their kiss was involuntary, and Pete felt its influence all the way to the soles of his feet.

“Let’s eat.” He stepped back and gathered a couple of plates from the cupboard.

She sliced the calzone with a serrated knife, beaming at him when she didn’t sever a finger, and served him.

He ate with gusto, the packaged garbage he’d consumed for the past two meals nothing like real food. He noticed that Chelsea ate just as much as he did, but he swallowed his smile and kept the conversation on Courage Reins.

“Once the bank approves the construction, we can buy the smaller equipment we need,” she said. “I priced the exercise balls and cones, the saddles and blankets so the program will have it’s own, that kind of stuff.”

“How long does it take the bank to approve a loan?”

“Miss Reyes said the purchase loan will only take a few days. She has to call Squire, I guess, make sure the land is being sold for a reasonable value. The construction loan will take a little longer. Do you have a contractor in mind?”

“Yeah. I have an Army buddy who works for his dad’s construction firm out of Oklahoma City. I’ve already talked to him about maybe taking on my project. He said he was in.”

“Maybe he can live on-site during the project. Is he married?” Her voice caught on the last word, but Pete forged on.

“No, he just returned home a few months ago. He wasn’t injured in the attack and had to serve out the rest of his deployment.”

“I have a big basement,” Chelsea said. “Or he can bunk with you.”

“I’ll firm up details with him tonight.” Pete stood and stretched, eyeing the couch, which made such a great napping spot. “I need to get back to work, sweetheart. Thanks for lunch.” He brushed his lips near the corner of her eye and turned away before he couldn’t force himself to leave.

Pete arrived in the admin trailer just as Tom stood to start giving out afternoon assignments. He’d joined the swell of cowhands before Garth came out of his office. He scanned the crowd, saw Pete, and nodded.

Pete swallowed his discomfort. So he’d taken a single afternoon off—at Tom’s suggestion—and gone out to the cabin. The ranch’s cabin. With a ranch horse. But he’d had permission for all he’d done. Not Garth’s permission though, and that was the foreman’s issue.

Pete straightened his spine, determined to do things right by Garth. After all, he was the one here, running Three Rivers. If Pete wanted Courage Reins to be successful, he’d need Garth’s blessing.

He took his assignment—moving hay from the storage barn to restock the horse barn—and stepped to Garth’s office. He rapped twice against the doorframe. “Hey, Boss,” he said.

“Pete. What can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to let you know that I’ve put in to buy fifteen acres of land from the Ackermans. Here on the ranch. I’m starting a therapeutic riding facility. Well.” Pete removed his hat and scrubbed the back of his head. “That’s the end goal. I’ve applied for a loan to buy the land, and a loan to fund the start-up of the facility.”

Garth’s eyebrows rose, his dark features turning harder with his surprise. “And the horses?”

“I included them in the bid for the land. Peony, Baywatch, Hank, and Juniper. The goal is for us to be partners, Courage Reins and Three Rivers. We’ll share some facilities, like the horse barn and the outside arena, and when your working horses retire, I’ll buy them and train them to work for my program.”

Garth pulled a notebook closer and began scribbling on it. “Tell me more about this program.”

Pete took a few steps into the office. “I have drawings and plans, the ones I showed to the bank manager.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “Want me to go get them? They’re just at the house. Chelsea kept them. She’s helping me with federal grants and applying for acceptance into the national veteran’s association.”

“Veterans?”

“That’s who the program will serve, sir. Disabled veterans, any vet who’s been overseas. Anyone with any kind of trauma. I had a little girl out this week with Autism. She called her mom—” Pete chuckled at the shock on Garth’s face. “Let me go get the folder. Then I’ll start at the beginning.”

Chelsea hummed as she vacuumed, folded the blanket onto the couch, and wiped down the kitchen counters. Since she only lived in three rooms, keeping house had been easy. The afternoon had clouded, so she decided to forgo the yard work in favor of a good book.

She’d just cued up her device when her phone rang. Hailey.

Chelsea swiped open the call. “Hey, Hai.” She giggled, like she used to with her friends.

“Chelsea, I heard a very dangerous rumor that you are coming to Dallas tomorrow night. I have something to show you.” She singsonged the last several words.

“Oh, I know, I—” She cut herself off at the last moment. Kim must have told Hailey about Chelsea’s upcoming visit but sworn she hadn’t spilled about the engagement.

“I know I said I’d come, but I don’t think I’m going to make it after all.” Her thoughts wandered to Pete and what they could do together over the weekend. Surely he’d have some time off.

“Of course you can!” Hailey started listing all the things they’d do during Chelsea’s visit, leaving Chelsea to fumble for excuses.

“I have to be here for church,” she said.

“Church?” Hailey asked. “Since when do you go to church?”

“Since I don’t have to work seven days a week, and since I have a very handsome man to escort me.”

“A very handsome man?” Hailey said, her supersonic voice hushing. “Chelsea—are you, I mean….”

“Hailey.” Chelsea took a big breath and prepared herself. “I’m not even close to the same person here that I was there.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t mean—”

“I wasn’t me at all when I was with Danny. I’m not—I’m not sorry he died.” Her emotion overflowed, but she managed to keep her voice even. “I’m happier without him, and while I wish he was still alive, I’ve released him—and the person I was when I was with him.”

Hailey sighed, the kind that reeked of defeat. “You’re not coming, then.”

“I don’t think so, little sis.”

“I got engaged,” Hailey said. “Surprise! The ring is gorgeous, but not as gorgeous as the man.” She laughed, but the sound didn’t carry the right level of happiness.

“Congratulations, Hailey,” Chelsea said, though a vein of unease snaked through her. “Who is it?”

“Remember that guy that works in accounting at my firm? You met him a couple of times before…. His name’s Rob.”

“Right, Rob.”

“You don’t sound happy for me.”

“I am,” Chelsea said. “Really. Congratulations.”

“You and Kim.” Hailey laughed again, but this time it noised through the line like a bark.

“Maybe that should tell you something.”

“What it tells me is I need new friends.”

“Well, maybe.” Chelsea had abandoned everything about her life in Dallas. While yesterday she thought she wanted to return to see her friends, she now didn’t want to. She didn’t want to go backward, even just for a visit.

“So if we’re not going to be friends,” Chelsea said. “Let me just say this: You can’t say yes to a man just because he’s gorgeous and the ring is gorgeous. Trust me on this one, Hailey. I’ve done it, and it ended badly.”

“Rob is not Danny.”

“I didn’t say he was. But you won’t be happy, just like I wasn’t happy.”

Sniffling came through the line. “Are you happy now, Chelsea?”

“Getting there,” Chelsea said. “Are you, Hailey?”

“I need to go.” Her friend hung up without answering the question, without saying goodbye. Chelsea leaned back into the couch, her heart constricting with concern for her friend.

Saturday morning welcomed Chelsea with the smell of sausage and the slow browning of toast. She ensured her pajamas covered all the proper parts and padded down the hall to the kitchen.

Pete stood at the stove, wearing basketball shorts and a tank top—his version of pajamas—and tonging breakfast meats.

“Mornin’,” he said.

She yawned in return, stepping behind him and tracing the scars on his shoulder before wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Don’t you sleep in on the weekends?” she asked, pleased that he didn’t object to her touch, didn’t stiffen in her arms.

“Nope. When the sun’s up, so am I.”

“Good to know. I’ll start locking the door.”

He chuckled, finished at the stove, and twisted in her arms. “It’s time to eat.”

“I don’t think so, Lieutenant.” She grinned as he gripped her body with his strong hands.

“Do I have go all mother hen on you?” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Her pulse jumped, bounced against the top of her skull. “I don’t need another mother.” She leaned into the kiss he touched near her ear. “And I definitely don’t think of you in that way.”

She lifted her face to kiss him, stealing his strength and giving him whatever he wanted to take. She lost herself in his touch, the gentle way he explored without demanding. The first time he’d kissed her, she’d trembled with the trust twisting through her. The world had wobbled before righting itself, and the next time she looked at the sky, it shone bluer, brighter, better.

He made her life better.

Pete broke their connection, his face flushed and his eyes still closed, as if he was committing this kiss to his long-term memory.

“I adore you,” she whispered, reaching up to touch his face.

His eyes jerked open, and Chelsea saw pure terror. He blinked, and his emeralds softened though the heat they carried didn’t dull.

“I think you’re somethin’ special yourself, sweetheart.”

If she hadn’t been inches from him, she wouldn’t have heard him. As it was, his words sounded like sandpaper against metal.

He moved out of her reach. “But we really do need to eat. I have a meeting with Garth this morning.” He collected the sausage and reset the toast that had popped up during their exchange.

“Garth the foreman?” A pit opened in Chelsea’s stomach. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing serious.” He plated for both of them and led her to the couch. “I’m keeping ‘im up to date on everything to do with Courage Reins. It occurred to me that I’ll need his help with my program. He’ll have to deal with our construction, and we’ll need to write up a contract about the shared resources and facilities. We’re doing that this morning, and then I’ll send it to Squire to sign.”

Chelsea nibbled on her toast. “Can’t I sign it?”

“Your dad passed the ranch to Squire,” Pete said. “He’s the official owner. He has to sign the official paperwork.”

“I have some say,” she said. “I got a percentage of the ranch in my inheritance.”

“Only in salary,” Pete said. “Not ownership.”

Chelsea’s throat turned to dust. “No, I have land too. Daddy said if I want to stay at the ranch once Squire and Kelly come back, I can build a second homestead.”

Pete coughed, swallowing several swigs of coffee before he settled. “Really? Where?”

“I don’t know.” She crossed her legs and speared her sausage, unsure as to why her heart had suddenly started doing the tango. “I haven’t thought much about what might happen in four years. It’s too far away.”

“Too far,” he echoed.

“Though my front door will have blue glass in it,” she said, brightening her tone. “I saw it once, on this charming cottage in Dallas. My apartment had stained glass, but I’ve wanted blue since I saw that cottage.”

Pete nodded, and she appreciated his feigned enthusiasm for blue glass.

“So, after your meeting, maybe we could go to Amarillo. Do some shopping. Go to dinner….”

“I can’t.” He stood, groaning with the effort. “My Army pal is coming again tonight. You can help with the horses, if you want.”

“Sure, that sounds fun.” She just didn’t know what to do with the twelve hours between now and then.

Pete knotted his necktie, whistling a tune from his childhood his granddad had taught him. Saturday couldn’t have gone better. Early-morning breakfast with Chelsea. The heat of her touch against his cheek, the weight of her words—I adore you—brought him to stand still and savor.

He adored her too, but he was operating on unfamiliar ground now. He’d never felt as strongly about a woman as he felt about Chelsea, and he didn’t know how to navigate such treacherous terrain.

She was still damaged—the way the horses worked more on her than she did on them proved that.

So he’d shelved her while he spoke with Garth. While he cleaned his cabin and prepped for Reese’s therapy session.

Knocking on his door brought him from his memories. “Comin’.”

The door opened as he stepped into the hall. Chelsea’s approval shone on her face. “You keep a tight ship, Lieutenant. I like it.”

“I like you.” He swept her off her feet, thrilled with her girlish laugh and how she braced her hands against his shoulders as she tipped her head back. He set her on her feet and brushed her bangs out of her face.

“I really like you.” He kissed her, the cheerful tune from his childhood taking on a whole new meaning.

“Come on.” She pressed her lips closed as she pulled away. “We’ll be late for church.”

He reached for her hand, securing it in his before they left his cabin. He wasn’t sure if she was ready for much more than the kisses they’d shared, but then again, he didn’t need her to be.

The service started with Chelsea a proper, public distance from him. She curled her fingers around his, and he felt her adoration. He felt like he could be loved. He felt like his massive scars didn’t matter.

Peace flowed through him with the organ music, winding through his ribs and wisping down to his feet. He was in the right place, with the right person. If only she’d come to Three Rivers a year from now, fully healed. If only she’d come to Three Rivers a year from now, when he didn’t have his hands full trying to start an equine program. If only she’d come to Three Rivers a year from now, when he had a sure way to provide for her.

As it was, he had a five-hundred square foot cabin and last Friday’s paycheck. And a small “rainy day fund” that wouldn’t last long if he chose to live on it. Chelsea deserved better. He wanted to give her better.

He leaned over. “I think Baywatch and Peony are ready,” he whispered. “You want to help me with Hank tonight?”

She smiled, nodded, and leaned her head on his shoulder.

That night, she approached the big bay stallion with a level of calm energy Pete hadn’t seen in her before.

“Slower,” Pete said. “Let him come to you.”

They’d started in the outdoor arena this time, and while Pete loitered on the fence, he’d put Chelsea inside with Hank.

The horse shuffled over, first sniffing her pockets for sugar cubes, the glutton. When he didn’t detect any, he snuffled his displeasure at her. Pete saw her stiffen, but he also detected the shift in the atmosphere. He could feel her tension.

“Relax,” he called.

Her shoulders went down, but she wouldn’t turn her head. Her eyes tracked the horse as he rounded her. Pete had watched Hank interact with Squire, knew the horse had an uncanny ability to perceive where a physical injury lay.

But Chelsea was whole physically, and Pete cocked his head as Hank circled her again.

“I feel like he’s stalking me,” she said through lips that barely moved. “What’s he doing?”

The horse punctured her bubble and almost knocked her down with a quick punch of his nose to her chest. She flung both arms out and grabbed his muzzle to keep herself upright.

Hank backed up a step, which helped her balance. She moved her hands higher to his cheeks and stared him right in the eye. “You’re nothing but a big pushover,” she said, laughing when the horse snuffled again. She glanced over to Pete, her dark ponytail swinging with the movement. “I think he’s gonna do just fine.”

“Let’s play ball,” Pete said.

She rolled the ball to Hank, who dropped his head and didn’t know what to do with it. “Oh, come on,” she chided him. “With your legs. Like this.” She retrieved the ball and kicked it with her shin. It went bouncing over the dirt and she ran after it.

Hank followed her, a few long gallops at her side. Pete didn’t know what to make of that, and he gripped the rails, hoping Chelsea could handle the animal coming at her.

“So you want to play?” She kicked the ball in Hank’s direction, but he pawed the ground and ignored it.

“Run ‘im,” Pete called. “Take the reins and run ‘im.”

“This body doesn’t run very well,” she said, bending for Hank’s reins. “But okay.” She stepped closer to the horse. “Listen up, buddy,” Pete heard her say. “I’m not a horse, so if this running is what you want to do, fine. But can we go slow?”

Pete swore Hank nodded, and Chelsea accepted that as his answer. She held the reins loosely—a skill Pete didn’t have to remind her about anymore—and started running. Hank galloped beside her, their gaits mismatched and awkward.

“Too fast,” she panted. “I’m a human, Hank!”

He settled into her rhythm, his black mane flowing behind him like Halloween streamers.

Pete jumped down from the fence and hurried into the barn to collect a saddle. Back outside, he whistled and horse and human stopped. Chelsea doubled over, her sides heaving.

“I’m going to die,” she panted.

“It was three minutes,” Pete said.

“You run at horse speed for three minutes.”

“He wants to be ridden. And you’re just the woman to ride him.”

As if Chelsea’s heart weren’t palpitating enough. “No.” She shook her head because she didn’t have enough oxygen to form additional words. “No.”

“Yes.” Pete grinned at her as he tossed a blanket over Hank’s back. “You rode Peony. You can ride.”

“He’s ten times taller than Peony.”

“Ten times?” Pete scoffed. “You’re a fine specimen, Hank.” He scrubbed the horse’s neck. “But you’re not ten times taller than Peony.”

“Pete, I am not riding him.”

“Chelsea, I need you.” Pete paused in his work, his shoulders drooping a fraction. “I really need you.”

“Why me? Why can’t you ride him?” Desperation coated every syllable.

“I’ve ridden him before. He’s used to me.”

She cocked her hip and didn’t miss the twitching of his lips at her sassy stance. “That’s a lame excuse, Lieutenant.”

Pete resumed saddling Hank. “He’s responding to you in a way he’s never responded to me. Please, Chels.”

Her nickname rolled out of his throat, causing her heart to take a hop, skip, and jump to double its rate. “You’re not playing fair.”

“Nope.” He grinned as he finished with Hank and held out a helmet for her. “Now come over here. I’ll help you up.”

“I’ll help you up,” she grumbled, but she placed her hand in his. She sucked in a tight breath as his hand settled on her hip. He was going to have to drive her to the hospital if he kept at it. She met his gaze, and she would’ve kissed him if they weren’t out in the open.

“Thank you,” he said, the words drifting between them with a quiet intensity. “Up you go.”

She jumped and he lifted, and she landed in the saddle without an issue. Hank startled, and reared, and Pete yanked the reins. “Hey, there,” he said.

Chelsea gripped the saddle, panic flowing freely now. Her breathing tripled, her pulse tripped, her chest tightened.

Hank tossed his head again, not getting very far with the grip Pete had.

“Steady,” he said, and Chelsea seized on the calm energy in his voice as she buckled on the helmet. He slowly handed the reins to Chelsea. “He’ll be fine, sweetheart. Give me sec to get out of the way. Then let ‘im run.”

“Let him run?” Her voice sounded like a cartoon character. “With me on him?”

Pete nodded and headed to his spot on the fence. By the time he regained his perch, Hank was prancing around the arena like he wore a crown and had a crowd of royal admirers.

Chelsea sat straight and tall, bouncing in the saddle with each stride. She leaned from the waist and gave Hank a pat on the side of his neck, crooning into his ear, “Good boy.”

She kept her cool when Hank began to trot, and then to gallop. Chelsea hung on for dear life, a burst of adrenaline pouring through her, spilling from her in the form of a laugh.

She leaned into his neck, her hair flapping behind her, as Hank showed her what it was like to fly. She couldn’t stop smiling, even though her ankle twisted when she slid off the horse’s back.

Pete made her lead Hank back to his stall, remove the saddle, and brush him down. He really was ten times bigger than Peony, a fact her arms screamed with every brush stroke.

“You’re a natural with him,” Pete said from outside the stall. “Squire will be jealous when he gets back. Hank was one of his favorites.”

“That’s because he’s just a big marshmallow.” She giggled at Hank. “Aren’t you, big fella?”

“He’s really done a great job.” Pete folded his arms and leaned into them.

Chelsea’s brush strokes slowed as his words burrowed into her ears. “He’s done a great job?” She turned toward Pete, and he straightened, his eyes wide and polished like sea glass.

“Training is hard work for a horse.” The false quality in his voice made her eyes narrow.

The soft brush fell from her fingers as realization hit her. Pete held up his hands, as if he sensed the approaching storm and could hold it back with such a simple gesture.

“Chels—”

“You still think of me as the patient in these, these—” She waved her hands toward the arena. “These excursions. You’re practicing with your horses. On me. Like I’m broken, or wounded, or scarred.”

“That is not what I’m doing.” His jaw set itself into a square; a muscle near his eye jumped.

“Tell me, then. What am I to you?” A pain started in the middle of her chest, just below her breastbone, like someone had pieced her with a knife and was slowly making the hole bigger by twisting.

“I don’t know how to answer that.”

“You don’t know how to answer that?” She chuckled, wishing it was a light moment, a moment leading up to a kiss. “Not that simple, right?”

“Please don’t do this. I don’t think of you as a patient.”

“You do!” Hank pranced away from her, and she stomped out of his stall, confronting Pete head-on. “You always have. You think I’m broken, and the horses are helping put me back together.” Her eyes filled with water.

“Is that the worst thing on the planet? To want to help you?”

Her chin trembled, and she hated the weakness she couldn’t conceal. “I don’t want to be your patient.” She swiped at her eyes.

He cupped her face in his hands, his touch gentle and firm at the same time. “I want to take care of you.”

“You can’t fix me.”

“The horses help you. It’s okay to admit that.”

Why couldn’t she admit it? They had helped her, sealed fissures in her soul and erased cracks in her heart. But Pete had played a big part in that process too. And rediscovering her faith had helped as well. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe she was all the way better, but “I do not want to be your project.”

“You’re not.”

She stepped clear of his touch. “Then what am I?”

He exhaled and removed his hat, his eyes trained on the dirt at his feet.

“Why can’t you answer the question?”

He looked at her openly, and she could see all the way inside him. He was real, and strong, and beautiful.

“I’d call you my girlfriend, but we haven’t really talked about our future plans,” he said. “And girlfriend indicates a long-term relationship we’re both enjoying, and both looking forward to continuing.” He took a step toward her, but she fell back to maintain the distance between them.

Girlfriend sounded great, but Chelsea didn’t like the label. The permanency it carried also brought fear, uncertainty. The band of skin on her left ring finger tingled, screaming about the pact she’d made with herself never to get engaged again. And girlfriend led to fiancée.

“So I don’t know how to classify you,” he said, each word coated with frustration. “I care about you. I want to help you, yes. If that makes me the bad guy, I guess I’ll take it.” He reached for her hand and twined his scarred fingers with her whole ones. “Please don’t make me take it, though.”

“I don’t want to be the woman helping you with your equine project publicly, and kissing you privately.”

“This is about more than that.” His voice was so low, she barely heard him. The emotion his words carried slapped her full in the face, though. “You have to know this is about more than that.”

“Define this.”

He lifted their joined hands, his right eyebrow cocked. “This. And me kissing you. It’s not just a joyride. I’m not fifteen years old.”

Oh, she knew precisely how old he was. He approached every situation with a level head, with a critical eye, with military precision. She should’ve been glad he was so predictable, so Army-like. But she wasn’t a situation, and she didn’t need his therapy.

Still, his emerald green eyes sucked at her, pleaded with her to understand. “Okay,” she said. “And just so you know, I’m not fifteen either.”

“I can see that, sweetheart.”

Pete worked, and slept, and trained horses. He made sure Chelsea didn’t try to make anything beyond a turkey sandwich, but he didn’t have time to make her a hot breakfast every morning. He saw her every day, usually when she wandered out to the horse barn in the morning, or when he trained with Hank and Juniper in the evening.

She didn’t volunteer to ride them or bridle them. She didn’t even speak to them the way she used to. She was receptive to Pete’s conversation, his kisses, his hand in hers when he walked her back to the homestead.

But by the weekend, the band of pressure around Pete’s forehead was near the snapping point. He couldn’t sleep past dawn on Saturday morning, and headed over to the homestead though he knew Chelsea wouldn’t be up for hours.

She’d decorated the front porch, deck, kitchen, and living room for Halloween, which reminded Pete of his momma and her love of holidays. A pang of homesickness pierced him, making his step falter.

His momma would’ve liked Chelsea, smiled at her spunk, advised Pete not to let a woman like her get away.

He paused outside the French doors, his thoughts running rampant. Was he letting Chelsea put too much distance between them because of his equine therapy program?

Standing there, pulse pounding, mouth dry, Pete knew she’d pulled back. And he’d let her. He’d let her sit on the fence, let her disappear inside the homestead, let her pour her own bowl of cereal.

I don’t have any more to give her, he thought, tilting his face heavenward. I’m already overwhelmed with my ranch duties and Courage Reins. He couldn’t add more hours to the day. Couldn’t make his body need less sleep and less food. Couldn’t force her to train with Hank—something that was mutually beneficial for both horse and woman.

He closed his eyes and said a quick prayer for strength, physical and mental, and entered the house. He could’ve lounged on his own couch, watched his own TV. But something about being in the same space as Chelsea brought balm to his nerves he couldn’t get anywhere else.

By the time she emerged from her bedroom, he’d napped for an hour and whipped up a pan of baked French toast.

“Mornin’,” he called as he heard her footsteps approaching the kitchen. “It’s just me.”

“This is a nice surprise.” She leaned against the wall, barely in the kitchen, and smiled. “Haven’t seen you around these parts for a while.”

Guilt gutted him, but he put on a grin. “I know.” He stepped away from the stove, where he was warming syrup, and gathered her into his arms. “I’m sorry I don’t have time to treat you to breakfast every day.” He kissed her forehead. “And lunch.” He moved his lips to the tip of her nose. “And dinner.” His mouth brushed her cheek. “And definitely dessert.”

She met his kiss, and hope spiraled through him. Even if he only had time for one breakfast a week, he wanted to share it with her. She broke their connection and settled her cheek over his pulse.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “I wish I had more time to spend with you.” His fingers kneaded in tight circles along her lower back. “I’m sorry I treated you like a patient. I hate that you won’t train Hank and Juniper.”

“So you admit you think of me like a patient.”

“I did,” he said. “I don’t anymore.” He released her and poured the hot syrup into a serving jug. “Come on, let’s eat.”

He sat at the bar and dug into his French toast. “I’m sort of worried I haven’t heard back from the bank. It’s been over a week.”

“I can call on Monday if you want,” she said.

“Would you?”

“Of course.”

“Maybe there’s something else they need.”

Chelsea swallowed and reached for her juice. “I don’t think so.”

“No?”

“Who do you think you’re dealing with?” She grinned at him. “Those applications were flawless. I’ll call on Monday.” She jumped up. “Oh, that reminds me. I need you to sign some forms.” She bustled out of the kitchen, leaving Pete to marvel at her willingness to help him, her easy forgiveness.

She returned to the kitchen carrying two folders. “This one is for the PATH International application. There were some things I didn’t know because the program isn’t fully operational yet, but I called their offices and they said to send it in anyway.” She flipped open the folder and handed him a pen.

He signed his name and closed the folder, a new chapter in his life opening before him. One he could see himself doing, enjoying, every day. One that gave his life purpose.

“This one’s for a federal grant for new startups that benefit veterans. And this one’s a grant specifically for equine therapy programs.”

He signed them both. “You should be a secretary,” he said. “And a nurse. And a horse trainer. You’re good at everything.”

She beamed at him. “Good to know I have various skills.” She tucked the pages into the folders and set them aside. “Is Reese coming tonight?”

“Yes,” Pete said. “You should come. He’s going to try riding, and it’s his first time.”

“I’ll be there.” She glanced around at the walls. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

Pete understood the feeling. “Why don’t we go to Amarillo today?” he suggested. “I’m open until this evening.”

“Really?” Her eyes lit up and she pushed her half-eaten breakfast away. “I’ll go shower right now.” She practically pranced out of the kitchen.

Pete’s pulse drummed in his eyes, his fingertips. Worry about that night’s therapy session rose, filled him until he choked.

He put on a mask, one that allowed him to enjoy the drive to Amarillo with Chelsea tucked into his side. He enjoyed holding her hand as they walked around the mall and stopped for sandwiches.

“You’re quiet today, sweetheart,” he said over his Rueben.

“Just thinking of my friend,” she said, pulling out her phone and checking it. “She just got engaged, and I’ve been thinking about her.” She tucked the cell into her purse and then took a huge bite of her BLT. “I’ll call her later.”

“Getting engaged is bad?” he asked like he didn’t care about the answer.

“Jury’s still out.” Chelsea focused on him. “There’s something magical about the city.” She sighed into her palm as she rested her chin in her hand. “But there’s nowhere like the ranch.”

“So you’re not a city slicker anymore.” He wasn’t really asking.

She grinned at him. “Depends on the company.”

Pete’s nerves disappeared, and they didn’t return as long as Chelsea was with him. But by the time they’d driven back to Three Rivers and he’d changed into his work jeans, his stomach felt like it’d been gnawed by rats. As he exited his cabin, he heard the crunch of gravel under tires and hurried along the path between the calving stalls and the hay barn to the parking lot.

Chelsea hugged Reese, her face a beautiful balm to his worry. Pete stopped to watch her interact with the wounded veteran.

She grinned and tucked her arm in Reese’s to help him into the barn. He couldn’t hear what they said, but Reese laughed, his posture relaxed and his eyes dancing. Chelsea could charm anyone, Pete thought as he followed them.

“Hey,” he said as he came up beside Reese. The man’s limp was ten times worse than Squire’s, as he’d lost a few inches due to a massive hip replacement. Consequentially, his abdomen muscle wall was weak. Equine therapy could improve the function of his hip, back, and abs.

“Pete.” Reese shook his hand hello. “Chelsea just told me she’d be riding with me tonight.”

Pete couldn’t see Chelsea around Reese, and he was sure the surprise showed on his face. “She did?”

“Yes,” she said, still not coming forward so Pete could read her face. “Hank misses me.”

Pete chuckled. “I’m sure he does, sweetheart.” He engaged Reese in talk about his job in Amarillo, his mother back in Arkansas, and how Reese was getting along in his new apartment.

“Things are hard,” he said. “I tried to get a ground floor unit, but the only thing they had was on the third floor. It’s veteran’s housing, so I couldn’t be too choosy. But man, it takes me forever to get up and down those stairs.”

He spoke softly, hardly the commanding officer Pete knew he’d been. Coming home wounded took a lot out of someone, and admitting anything was hard landed a blow to already wounded pride.

“And I can’t carry very much, because I’m using the railings. So it takes me several trips just to get groceries inside.” Reese came to a stop outside Peony’s pen, the horse already waiting for him.

“I can find someone to help with that,” Chelsea said. “While I was researching some things for Pete, I saw some stuff on state-appointed care.”

“Chelsea, he doesn’t—” Pete started as Reese said, “I don’t need extra care.”

Chelsea’s cheeks colored and she glanced between the two men. “It’s not like daycare,” she said. “It’s someone who gets paid to help you go get groceries, get to doctor’s appointments, run your errands, that kind of thing.” She gathered her hair into a ponytail, her words rushing. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. They could do all your shopping for you, and carry everything in for you. It’s a program designed to help wounded soldiers, not pity them.”

Pete exchanged a glance with Reese. “Sounds like you could use an extra hand with groceries.” He shrugged like he didn’t care if Reese did or not. “Can’t hurt to look into it.”

“Probably not,” Reese agreed.

“Great,” Chelsea said. “I’ll get you the information. Pete has your email?”

Reese nodded, his attention wandering to Peony. “So, we get to ride together,” he said to her, his voice turning into putty as he petted the animal. “You ready for this?”

Pete squeezed Chelsea’s fingers when he moved past her. “Let’s get this horse saddled.” He turned back to her. “You think you can handle Hank? Or do you want Peony?”

“Please,” she scoffed. “Hank is the softest horse we have.” She pivoted and started walking back to his stall, where he stood at the gate, his head over the railings, listening.

“Don’t let him hear you say that!” Pete called after her, his heart growing warmer with every step she took.

Chelsea saddled Hank badly the first time, her mind far away on the conversation with Hailey. Scratch that. Hailey would’ve had to answer the phone in order for there to be a conversation. Worry wormed through Chelsea, but she pushed it away and focused on the horse.

With Pete’s attention on Reese, she heaved the saddle off to readjust the blanket. “No need to go telling Pete about this,” she said to Hank. “We can have our own secrets, you know.”

The bay stallion nosed her thigh, somehow knowing exactly where her pocket was. “Yes, yes. I’ll get you all the sugar cubes you want.” She managed to get the blanket and saddle on the right way. She bridled him and led him to the back of the stall. “Wait here.”

She hurried back to the gate and over to the tack room, where she grabbed a handful of sugar, the price of Hank’s secrecy. She fed him one when she got back, and he nudged her chest the way he had last week.

“What?” she asked, but Hank just snuffled at her and hung his head while she raised the bar so they could move into the aisle.

They entered the arena first, and Chelsea used the fence to mount up. “Slow,” she demanded as she took the reins in her hands. Hank’s adrenaline buzzed through the air, infecting her.

“We’re not in a race,” she reminded him. “And Peony certainly won’t want to run.” She glanced toward the barn’s opening without seeing Reese. “Reese is hurt. You let him go as slow as he wants, you hear?”

Hank tossed his head, and Chelsea gave him a pat on the neck. “Okay, fine. Run now. Get it all out.” She loosened her grip on the reins, and the horse began to walk. Then trot and then gallop.

Hank only raced for a few minutes, then he slowed to a walk, his sides heaving and his head down.

“Here they are,” she said as Reese emerged into the arena with Peony. She brought Hank to a stop while Pete instructed Reese. It took both of them to get him in the saddle, and Peony stood as still as a post the whole time.

Chelsea’s core filled with love for her. For Hank. For these gentle horses who loved without restrictions. Without demands—well, except for the sugar cubes Hank adored.

“You ready?” Pete called to her. “Come on over here by Peony.”

“Go on, Hank,” she said. “You heard the man. Over by Peony.”

Hank moved, circling around the other horse and alongside her.

“She’ll go where he goes,” he told Reese. “After a little while, we can remove him and you can start to take her where you want her.”

Reese nodded, his face white and his grip on the reins much too tight. Chelsea reached over and put her hand on both of his. “It’s okay,” she said. “Trust them.”

He lifted his eyes to hers and nodded.

“Okay, Hank. Take us out.” The stallion moved the slowest she’d ever seen him, one hoof plodding in front of the next. The rhythm reminded her of Peony, who followed a head behind Hank.

Around they went, as Pete called instructions to Reese for where to put his hand, how to sit up taller, how to direct Peony. After several minutes, he said, “Okay, Chels, let’s let them try on their own.”

His face held worry in the lines around his mouth and the sharpness of his gaze. But his posture was relaxed; his hands hung between his knees.

Chelsea stopped Hank near the fence and turned to watch Reese take control in the arena. He maneuvered Peony like he’d been riding his whole life. His face glowed, his confidence skyrocketed.

Chelsea knew, because she felt everything he did as the emotions flitted across his face. After they’d finished, after Reese had left, after she’d fed Hank half his body weight in sugar, she sighed.

“That was incredible,” she said to Pete as he tucked her against his side. “I see why this program means so much to you. Watching Reese….” She shook her head, unable to continue without getting choked up. “Incredible. You’re really helping him.”

“I’m not,” Pete said. “Peony is.”

“No.” Chelsea stopped, pulling on Pete’s hand to get him to stop too. Under the dark sky, with only faint light from the barn and the house, she studied his face. She wanted to memorize every crease of care, every angle, every line.

“No, it’s you,” she said. “You’re the one training the horses to do what they do. You’re the one with the passion for the program. You’re the one getting people out here.”

He shook his head, his movement slow, calculated. “Wrong again, sweetheart. You’re the one who greeted Reese tonight. You’re the one who trained Peony—and Hank. You’re the one with the passion for the program.” His face broke into a grin. “I’m just trying to keep up with you.”

Her heart soared with her hopes as he kissed her. “See you in the mornin’, sweetheart.”

He’d called her sweetheart from the day they met. Then, it had been a name. Now, she felt the reverberations of emotion in the word. Now, the word sang through her soul, stitching together old hurts.

Now, it was an endearment.

Monday morning dawned with the promise of rain. Chelsea stood in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee, as she watched the wind blow leaves across the yard. Soon after, rain pelted the windows, solidifying her plans to stay inside. Her mother would’ve baked Halloween goodies for the cowhands. Chelsea had been banished from using the stove and oven, but she pulled out one of her mother’s old cookbooks anyway. She thumbed through the pages, listening to the howling storm outside. At least it wasn’t raging through her, the way it had at Danny’s funeral.

Her phone chimed and she picked it up to see a text from Pete. Lunch today?

She considered going into town to buy something, but one look at the weather, and she vetoed that idea. You forget I can’t cook.

Sandwiches, he messaged. You have bread?

Yes.

With a date set, she returned to her book browsing. By eleven-thirty, she had the bread and turkey out and started spreading mayonnaise. Her phone rang just as Pete burst through the French doors.

“Can you check that?” she asked over her shoulder.

He flung the raindrops from his hat and strode toward the counter where her phone continued to blare. “It’s your brother.” He answered it and switched on the speaker.

“Hello, Major,” he said.

“Pete?” Squire’s voice came through the phone. “Why are you answering my sister’s phone?”

She met Pete’s wide-eyed look with one of her own. “Hey, Squire,” she called, her voice too loud.

“Chelsea.” Squire lengthened her name the way her father used to when she was about to get in trouble. “Why is Pete Marshall answering your phone?”

“I’m making sandwiches.” She laughed, but it sounded fake, fake, fake. “I’m up to my elbows in mayo.” She’d actually put down the knife, their lunch forgotten.

“For the cowhands,” her brother said.

She opened her mouth, but no air pushed past her vocal chords. Pete watched her with a devilish glint in his eyes.

“No,” Pete said. “For me, Major. The cowhands know not to come to the homestead lookin’ for food, what with that fire and all.”

“Fire?” Squire’s voice rose in pitch.

“It wasn’t a fire,” Chelsea said.

“There was a lot of smoke,” Pete said.

“Shut up,” she hissed. “The homestead is fine, Squire,” she said louder. “Why are you calling?”

“I guess it’s good you’re both there. The bank called me this morning about selling fifteen acres to Pete for his equine program.”

Chelsea’s heart pumped into overdrive as she hurried around the counter to where Pete held the phone. “Yeah?”

“I wanted to talk to you privately about it, but….”

“Squire,” Chelsea said, locking eyes with Pete as she spoke. “Pete and I are seeing each other. I’d tell him whatever you said anyway.”

“Seeing each other!” Squire’s outburst didn’t come across as a question, which brought a smile to Chelsea’s face. “Chelsea—”

“I’m twenty-eight years old, Squire,” she warned. “Pete’s a good man.”

“I know what kind of man my First Lieutenant is, Chelsea.”

“Then you have no reason to be upset.”

He sighed, and Chelsea heard the higher tone of Kelly in the background. She squeezed Pete’s fingers, who’d turned to stone when she’d announced they were together.

“Okay,” Squire said. “Kelly and I have talked about it, and I want to know what you think of gifting the land to Pete for Courage Reins. And the four horses he put in to buy.”

“Gifting?” The word barely made it past her lips. She watched Pete. The vein in his neck throbbed and throbbed and throbbed.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Chelsea said. “We’re applying for non-profit status as soon as we see about the construction loans and a couple of other things we’re trying to get.”

“Great,” Squire said. “So I’ll call the bank and let Miss Reyes know he doesn’t need that loan. And I’ll call Kevin and have him draw up the transfer of ownership papers.”

“Thank you, Squire,” Pete said, his voice set on frog mode.

“Pete? Can you take me off speaker?” Squire asked. “I want to talk to you without my nosy sister overhearing.”

“Nosy?” Chelsea screeched, her insides shaking at the thought of what her Army Major brother needed to say to Pete that she couldn’t hear.

Pete swiped the speaker off and held the phone to his ear. “Just me, Major.”

“Okay, I don’t know how to say this without just saying it, so I guess I’ll say it. Chelsea’s….”

“Strong?” Pete supplied, watching her worry her bottom lip between her teeth. “Kind? Organized? Helpful? Courageous? Pick one, Major.”

“She’s had a hard time lately.”

Pete turned his back on her. “You mean when her fiancée died.”

The silence coming through the line told Pete that Squire didn’t think Chelsea had told him. “I know, Major. She’s moving at the speed she can move at. So am I.”

“And how fast is that, Pete?”

“Pretty slow.”

Chelsea moved around him, her expression searching. “What’s slow?”

“Nothing,” he mouthed to her.

“Be careful with her, Lieutenant,” Squire said. “Just…she’s my sister, and I need you to be careful with her.”

“You got it, Major.”

Pete hung up and handed Chelsea her phone, twisting back to the half-assembled sandwiches. “I’m starving.”

“You’re starving?” She slammed the phone on the counter and picked up the knife. Pete decided teasing her with such a utensil in her hand wasn’t a good idea.

“He’s just worried about you,” Pete said. “Wanted to make sure I wasn’t pushing you to go too fast. Warned me against hurting you. You know, stuff brothers do for their sisters.” He added a smile to his statement, hoping to soothe her mood.

She returned the gesture and layered turkey over the bread slices. “Overprotective man,” she muttered.

Pete collapsed onto a barstool. “I can’t believe he’s gifting me the land. That’s….” His throat closed with gratitude. Such a gesture was so Squire. Always giving, always looking out for his Army brothers.

Pete had shared a special bond with Squire since their first day in Afghanistan together. When the Major had carried Pete for over five miles because of an injury, their friendship had become lifelong. But gifting him fifteen acres of his family’s ranch? That was beyond anything Pete had expected.

His phone rang, and he expected to have another man-to-man conversation with Squire about Chelsea. But the screen read Rose Reyes. “The bank,” he said, and Chelsea dropped the knife again.

“Hello, Miss Reyes.”

“Pete,” she said. “How are you?”

“Great, great.”

“I have some great news for you. Squire Ackerman has decided to gift you the acreage for Courage Reins. As well as the four horses. He’s having his lawyer draw up the needed documentation. As for your construction loan, we have approved that, and the funds will be in your account by the end of the week. You can contact your contractor and get started.”

Relief raged through Pete, dragging his shoulders down and expelling all the air from his lungs. “Thank you, Miss Reyes.”

“I’m not done yet,” she said, her words coated in joy. “The bank has generously gifted a large amount toward your project, so you will only be required to repay half of what you applied for.”

“You’re joking.”

“What?” Chelsea demanded.

He shook his head, unable to put it in words yet.

“I never joke about money, Mister Marshall.” Ms. Reyes laughed. “And Mari can’t wait for her session tomorrow night. I’ll see you then, and if you can’t come into town before then, I’ll bring the account information.”

Pete thanked her again and hung up, staring unseeing at his phone. “The bank gifted us half the construction loan.”

“Half?” Chelsea clutched her chest. “Pete, if we get those grants, you can start this business without a dime of debt.”

Pete felt too full. Too full of gratitude. Too full of words. Too full of emotions. Too full of things that needed to be done.

“This is really happening,” he said.

“You bet it is, Lieutenant,” she said, sliding a plated turkey sandwich in front of him. “And I just made lunch without any issues, so today is a huge win for everyone.” She sat next to him at the bar. “And you should make sure you include an island like this in your house.”

“Oh yeah?” His eyebrows disappeared under the brim of his cowboy hat. “You plannin’ on makin’ me a lot of sandwiches, sweetheart?”

She nudged him with her shoulder, a beautiful blush coloring her face. “Maybe.”

Brett Murphy, Pete’s construction foreman, arrived a week later, a dark beard covering most of his face to match his thick hair.

Pete grinned as he shook his friend’s hand and man-patted him on the shoulder. “Any trouble on the way in?”

Brett shook his head, his own smile seeming to be stuck in place. He took a deep, deep breath and glanced around the ranch. “Feels good to be here.”

“Yeah,” Pete agreed. “Three Rivers is a sanctuary.”

Brett must’ve had sawdust in his veins, because he surveyed the land Pete had been given. “So walk me through it, Lieutenant.”

“Okay, well, the homestead is going here.” He turned and faced the Ackerman’s house. He couldn’t think of it as Chelsea’s. “My front door will face theirs. And I need blue glass in the door.”

“Blue glass?” Brett peered at him with a glint in his eye that Pete didn’t like, didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Yeah,” Pete said in a falsely cheery tone. He clapped his hand on Brett’s shoulder. “I have sketches back at my cabin, commander. You want to come see where you’ll be livin’?”

Weeks later, the Halloween decorations had been replaced with turkeys and cornucopias. The ground for Courage Reins had been broken, with footings poured for the indoor arena, a small administration office, and Pete’s homestead. The posts had been set for the pastures and grazing lots. Approval had come from one federal grant, which wasn’t quite enough to cover the loan from the bank, but close.

Pete worked tirelessly on the ranch, moving from chore to chore like the zombie he’d become. He’d picked up two additional patients through Ms. Reyes, and with Chelsea still training Hank and Juniper, Pete spent six nights a week working with the equine therapy program.

He needed volunteers to oversee the sessions. Volunteers to make appointments. A volunteer to create a website. The to-do list went on and on.

He managed to carve out a Saturday morning breakfast with Chelsea every week, and though she didn’t complain about his twenty-four-seven schedule, he noticed new distance between them. He simply didn’t have any more to give her. Breakfast on Saturday and his undivided attention for church and the Sunday picnic would have to be enough for now.

Brett worked all day on the construction of Courage Reins, and often he and Pete would walk through the plans, or the physical space where the house was being built.

Brett had taken over the bunk Squire had vacated, and Pete spent time picking up mangy boots and washing twice as many dishes.

“I’m not your maid or your mother,” Pete told him a few days before Thanksgiving. “You’ve got to put away your own stuff.”

Brett lounged on the couch at mid-day, as the rain had stalled the progress on Pete’s house. The frame had gone up last week, but the skeleton had no roof and no solid walls.

“Okay,” Brett said, but Pete had chastised him last week, and nothing had changed. He scrubbed out his frustration on the pan he’d used to make lunch.

“Do we need to re-draw the laundry room?” Pete asked, pulling out the sketches Brett then turned into blueprints.

“If you want that stacked unit, it should be fine. I’ll just make the counter longer for Chelsea.” He seized, his foot slipping from the coffee table to thunk on the floor. “I mean—”

“I do my own laundry,” Pete said, his voice as dark as a raven’s wing. “And yours.”

“Yeah, and thank you,” Brett said quickly.

Pete remained silent, Brett’s words sprinting through his head. So his efforts to design his house for Chelsea hadn’t gone unnoticed. He shouldn’t be surprised. Brett had always been observant, and thoughtful, and when he spoke, Pete usually needed to listen. He stared at the back of Brett’s dark-haired head, trying to worm his way inside his thoughts. Did he think it a good thing or a bad thing Pete imagined living in his homestead with Chelsea?

Pete had never pictured a life with a woman at all, which made his laundry-friendly designs all the more confusing.

“I have to get back to work,” Pete said, eyeing the plate sitting next to Brett. “Put that in the dishwasher.”

“You got it, boss.”

Pete shook his head as he left his cabin. Brett could probably benefit from the equine program, but Pete could barely keep up with the few clients he had. Brett didn’t have physical wounds, but Pete knew what kinds of things he’d seen overseas. And those things couldn’t be unseen, unfelt, undone. They could be healed, though, and Pete whistled a tune as he opened the door to the admin trailer.

Tom’s desk sat empty, not completely unusual. Pete headed to the cowhand’s area, where the white board listed the day’s assignments. The box next to his name was blank, and Pete frowned. All the boxes were blank. Pete wondered if the weather had cancelled work for the day, or if the winter season just didn’t support full-day workloads.

He glanced toward the offices, but Garth’s was dark and empty. The entire trailer was empty. A slithery chill slipped up Pete’s neck. His scalp prickled.

Something was wrong. He headed back outside, pausing under the roof to stay out of the rain. The usual ranch trucks were parked to his right. The horse barn was open, and the wind muted the normal sounds of chickens squawking and cattle lowing.

He returned to Tom’s desk and picked up the radio there. “Pete here. You there, Tom?”

No answer. Pete felt like he was falling for a moment, his stomach swooping down and then up.

He gripped the radio as he left the trailer and headed to the horse barn. The silence screamed at him, reminding him of an assignment required of every cowhand: Moving the herd.

All the horses were gone.

Pete leaned against the doorway for support. He’d forgotten. Forgotten because of the rain. Forgotten because he’d missed the morning meeting and had checked the board a few minutes late. Forgotten because Brett had found him just before lunch and they’d gone back to the cabin together, talking about dimensions and paint colors and flooring options.

Simply forgotten.

The boys could only be an hour ahead of him. He could catch up. Maybe no one would realize he hadn’t been there from the beginning.

If only he had a horse. He hurried down the aisle toward Hank’s stall. But he’d been taken, even though the ranch didn’t own him anymore. Pete’s frustration frothed, mixing with anger and confusion. Garth had no right to take Peony, or Hank, or Juniper, or Baywatch.

He spun, intending to find someone and figure out what was going on, where the relocation party was headed.

Garth stood in the doorway. “You missed the boys,” he called. “They left a while ago.”

Pete strode toward him, his jaw working as he tamped down his temper. “Did you take my horses?” He swept his hand toward all the empty stalls. “They’re not working horses.”

Garth bristled, his anger obvious to Pete. He hadn’t been happy about the paperwork stating that Pete owned those four horses, but he’d accepted it. Filed a copy in his office and warned Pete to keep up with his work on the ranch.

“Your horses are in the hay barn,” Garth said. “Pete, this was a mandatory trip. Everyone knew they’d be gone until Wednesday, and then they’d get the Thanksgiving weekend off.”

Pete shoved his hands in his pockets. “I know. I was planning to go.”

Garth cocked his eyebrow. “So what happened?”

“I forgot.” The words sounded so weak, so much like an irresponsible teenager.

“Pete, this isn’t a job you get to forget about.”

Pete exhaled, that anger-frustration concoction back in his blood. “I know that, sir. My contractor—”

Garth held up his hand to cut Pete off. “I don’t really need to know the details. I’m afraid all your work with the equine program—which I’m in favor of, to be clear—has interfered with your ranch responsibilities.”

Pete dropped his eyes to the dirt, shame shushing the anger. “It won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t.”

Panic joined the emotional cocktail churning in Pete’s gut. “Sir?”

“It’s time to make a choice, son.” Garth spoke in a calm tone, almost apologetic. He lifted his cowboy hat and ran his fingers through his dark hair salted with gray though Garth couldn’t be over forty.

Pete had a flash of his father, of his patience, of his unwillingness to bend on certain points. Like keeping his room neat, helping his momma, and taking care of the horses at their boarding stable. Garth wasn’t nearly as old as Pete’s dad would’ve been, but he felt very much like he’d disappointed someone he never wanted to hurt.

“You can’t do the equine program and keep your job here.” Garth watched him with concern in his gaze. “I see how tired you are.”

Pete’s mind raced. If he quit on the ranch, he didn’t have much of an income. He was still working out the administrative policies of Courage Reins, which included his benefits and salary the non-profit organization would pay.

He did get a small wage from his time in the Army. Maybe enough to squeak by until he could get the finances of Courage Reins in order. Ms. Reyes had said to keep his inheritance for a rainy day, and today felt like a monsoon.

“Pete?”

“So you’re saying I have to quit or be fired?”

“I’m saying you need to choose one job. Having both of these isn’t healthy.”

“I choose Courage Reins.”

Garth gave a single nod, his brown eyes full of understanding. Maybe even approval. “I’ll give you a severance package through the end of the year.”

Tar coated Pete’s soft places inside. He loved Three Rivers Ranch. Had felt accepted here, among cowboys and ranchers. Had found peace here among horses and cows and chickens. Sadness infiltrated his senses, painting the rainy day in darker drips of gray.

“I’ll get Tom on the paperwork after Thanksgiving,” Garth said. “And Pete, you’ll have to vacate the cabin. Brett too. I’ll need it for a new cowhand.”

Ice shards spread down Pete’s legs as Garth walked away. No job. Nowhere to live. Nothing to offer Chelsea.

He sighed, the sound joining the whipping of the wind and the pounding of rain. He felt the weather in his soul, chilling him, taunting him, driving him mad.

But Courage Reins meant too much to him to abandon now. If only he knew the next step, could see that in a year, things would be better. Heck, he’d take next week being better than this one.

He remembered something Squire had said to him when he’d first arrived on the ranch. Let God guide you.

Lord, he prayed. If there ever was a time where I needed guidance, it’s now.

The world stilled, just for a beat, a breath. The rain paused, the wind silenced, the frenzied thoughts in Pete’s mind fled.

Life rushed forward again, but in that one moment, that single inhalation, Pete had felt God’s presence.

Be still, and know that I am God.

Pete knew. He might not know where to go next, or what would happen, or how things would fall into place. But he knew they would.

“So we have to move out?” Brett glanced around the cowboy cabin like it was the Taj Mahal and he’d personally decorated it.

Pete scrubbed the back of his neck and studied the floor. He’d only been in the cabin for several months, but it felt more like home than anywhere he’d stayed since he’d been discharged. Since his momma’s and granddad’s deaths.

“Listen,” he said. “I’m sure you can stay with Chelsea.”

Brett’s eyebrows shot up, getting swallowed by the brim of his cowboy hat, but Pete plowed on. “She has a huge house. The basement is empty.”

“You talk to her about it?”

“Not yet.” Pete abandoned his Lieutenant skin and collapsed on the couch. He pressed his fists into his eye sockets. Telling Chelsea he’d lost his job and had nowhere to live ranked dead last on his list of things he wanted to do.

“But I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He glanced at Brett.

“You gonna live there with her?” Brett folded his arms like he already knew the answer.

“No,” Pete said.

“Hmm.” Brett adjusted his hat. “Well, I guess I better go talk to her. If you want the construction to stay on schedule, I can’t be drivin’ in from Oklahoma City on weekends.” He put one hand on the doorknob.

Pete’s mind whirred, writhed, as he tried to come up with a solution for himself. Maybe Heidi and Frank would let him stay with them in their condo. But then they’d ask why he couldn’t bunk in the basement….

“You comin’ or what?” Brett barked, pulling Pete from his dilemma.

“Yeah, I’m comin’.” He exhaled heavily as he got to his feet. With every step closer to spilling his guts to Chelsea, Pete prayed for the right words.

“You can move into my basement,” Chelsea said. She’d said it yesterday too. And the day before that, when Pete and Brett had shown up in her kitchen dripping wet to say Pete had quit his job and they couldn’t stay in the cowboy cabin. “It’s Thanksgiving tomorrow, and I already have all the food.” She slid him a sly smile. “I just need a handsome chef to cook it.”

“I’ll be here early to get started on the turkey,” Pete said. “Brett’s eating with us. We don’t have to move until next week—Garth’s being cool about the whole thing—but I am not moving in with you.”

Chelsea understood his reasons why, but on an emotional level, she wanted to help him. “What will the neighbors think?”

“Chelsea,” Pete warned.

“Oh, come on.” She tucked her hand into his and snuggled into him. Since he hadn’t been working during the day, he’d taken to joining her about midmorning after he’d been to the construction site and been brought up to speed on the progress by Brett.

A movie played on the TV in front of them, and if the past two days predicted a pattern—and with Pete they did—he’d make her lunch before he headed over to the barn to putter around with the horses. Chelsea admitted that she liked him better after he returned from brushing Peony, or riding Baywatch, or simply feeding sugar cubes to Hank. The horses worked their equine magic on Pete as well as anyone else, though she’d never told him as much.

“Kelly and Squire are coming for Christmas,” she told Pete. “Kelly said she’d help with the cooking so you don’t have to do it all.”

“Sounds fantastic,” Pete said, lifting his arm and securing Chelsea against his side. “Can we take a nap now, sweetheart?”

She giggled as she wrapped her arm across his waist. “You do that, cowboy.”

And he did. As his chest rose and fell, Chelsea’s worry ebbed in and out too. He wasn’t acting like himself. At least not the Pete Marshall she’d met and known for the past six weeks. That man didn’t sleep in the middle of the day. He didn’t glower. He didn’t need the horses to heal him.

Or maybe he had, and she hadn’t noticed because she’d been so warped. But her heart was almost straight now, her mind much quieter.

The cowhands would be back from moving the herd today, and Chelsea had invited them all to the house for dinner. She had to drive into town to pick up the food that afternoon. She’d also told Garth that anyone who didn’t have somewhere to go for Thanksgiving was welcome at the homestead. With Pete cooking, they’d have a traditional feast.

Her phone chimed, and she eased out of Pete’s arms to retrieve it. She’d received an email, and her heartbeat jumped to the moon when she saw it was from PATH International. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath.

The email had already been typed. God couldn’t change that, but Chelsea prayed anyway. Please be good news.

She couldn’t read fast enough. Thanks for applying, blah blah blah, your application to PATH International has been approved.

“Yes!” Chelsea covered her mouth when she realized she’d shouted. But Pete hadn’t moved. Getting into PATH meant their facility would be listed on the organization’s website. They’d advertise to veterans that Courage Reins existed. This was a huge marketing win.

She closed her email and opened her electronic to-do list. She deleted Join PATH International, and added Design a website for Courage Reins. With her marketing background, she knew a professional and easy-to-use website would go a long way.

There was another equine therapy program in Amarillo, and to get people to come to Three Rivers instead of going there would require good marketing. Chelsea had designed websites for high-profile clients and done social media consulting as a regular part of her job in Dallas.

“Courage Reins is going to have the best website on the planet,” she vowed, closing her to-do list and focusing on a still-sleeping Pete. With his features relaxed, she saw the man she cared so much about.

Something sparked in her stomach. She cared a lot about that man.

Before she could wax emotional, her phone sounded again. This time, it was a text from Hailey.

Broke up with Rob. Thought you’d want to know.

Chelsea’s thumb hovered over the call button, but she didn’t press it. Relief spread through her that Hailey didn’t have to go through the same pain, the same suffering, she had.

Are you happy? she texted.

Happier now came the response. If there was anything Chelsea understood, it was that.

“Hey, Mom,” Chelsea called as she entered her parent’s condo.

“Chelsea.” She bustled out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. Smudges of flour marred the fabric. “How are you, dear?”

Chelsea relaxed into her mother’s hug, breathing deeply to take strength from her. “I’m doing good, Mom. So much better.”

Her mother held her at arm’s length. “I’m so glad, baby.” She wiped her powdery fingers down Chelsea’s cheek. “I’m in the middle of a batch of rolls. Come in the kitchen.”

Every available surface in the kitchen held bread. Crescent rolls. Dinner rolls. Parker House rolls. Cloverleaf rolls, one of which Chelsea plucked from a still-warm muffin tin and pinched off one of the three nubs. She groaned at the buttery, light texture.

“Mom, you’re a genius. How is it that I can’t even boil water?”

As usual, her mother simply smiled. “I’m bringing all these to the ranch tomorrow. Did you figure out how many boys will be there?”

“I talked to Garth just before I left,” Chelsea said. “I think there will be about fifteen of us. Plus you and Dad.” She took in the dozens and dozens of rolls. “I think you have too many rolls, Mom.”

“They freeze,” her mom said. “And you can take some for dinner tonight. The boys are hungry after they move the herd.”

Chelsea’s chest squeezed. “I wish I could cook,” she said. “You made a family with those cowhands, and that’s changed.” Sadness colored her words. She wanted the cowboys to feel part of something at Three Rivers. Her mom had always done that, made her home theirs, opened her life to them. The easiest way to do that was through food, and Chelsea simply didn’t have the skill.

Her mom cleared her throat and kneaded the bread dough extra hard.

“What is it, Mom?”

“I can teach you to cook.” She kept her eyes on the counter. “It can’t take you long to keep up the house, and I’m lonely here without people to cook for or a big house and yard to take care of.” She shrugged like her loneliness didn’t impact Chelsea, but a pinch had started at the back of her throat.

“I can come in the afternoons,” Chelsea said. “I might even have a friend who might want to come with me.” She thought of Ruby, and if she really did want to take cooking classes.

Her mother looked up, her eyes glassy and wide. “That would be wonderful.” She sniffed as a smile broke her face in half. “We can start with boiling water.”

Chelsea laughed and stood. “Well, I need to get the food back to the ranch before it gets too cold. Help me carry out the rolls you’re donating for tonight?”

With her SUV full of the delicious smells of roasted meat and cheesy potatoes—and at least five dozen baked goods from her mother—Chelsea sang along with the radio. The sky held the hint of another storm, but it wouldn’t arrive for a few hours. As of now, the world was peaceful, matching the energy floating through Chelsea.

Pete met her in the garage. “The boys got back twenty minutes ago. They’re showering and heading over.”

“Great. Help me get this stuff in and set up.” She lifted two huge pans of mashed potatoes, bending under their weight.

The cheery light reminded her of the childhood home she’d loved. Pete had set out plates and silverware, lit lanterns on the deck, and set up four long folding tables with chairs.

“You’ve been busy,” she said to Pete as he set a vat of green salad next to the potatoes. “Thank you so much.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” He stole a kiss before straightening his hat. “How’s your momma?”

“She’s good. Lonely. She’s going to teach me to cook.”

Pete paused near the mudroom, where he’d been heading to get another load of food. “She is?”

“Yes.” Chelsea stepped past him. “I want this place to be as magical as I remember it. I want the boys to come up to the house for breakfast, or lunch, or dinner. I want to give them that family atmosphere my mom was so good at. That starts with food.”

Admiration shone in Pete’s eyes, along with something hotter. He kissed her again, this time with the care and precision of that first kiss by the stream. This time with the slow passion burning through her core.

When he stepped back, she fell forward, like she couldn’t stand without his assistance.

“I adore you,” he said before ducking through the mudroom and into the garage.

Chelsea stood statuesque, her fingertips brushing against her lips. She wasn’t sure if I adore you meant the same thing as three other words. But it was easy to translate it to I love you.

Pete banged through the door, breaking the spell surrounding Chelsea. “All that’s left is the bread,” he said.

“I’ll get it.” She hurried down the steps, emotion filling her to overflowing. “He adores me,” she whispered to herself, a smile stealing across her face as she loaded her hands with her mom’s baking.

She adored him too.

Monday morning came, as Monday mornings always did. Pete woke, and his first thought was moving day.

Brett had gladly accepted Chelsea’s invitation to take over her basement, but Pete absolutely could not. Not only would propriety not allow it, but he couldn’t imagine telling Squire he was now living with his sister.

He’d set up a tent in the backyard of his homestead, on the side away from the ranch. Brett had promised to accelerate the construction on the house so Pete wouldn’t have to rough it for too long, but December loomed only days away and it wasn’t exactly warm.

He hauled his two Army duffle bags to his new home, set up his cot, and stacked bottled water against the leeward side to brace the tent against the wind.

Brett helped Pete clean the cabin, and Pete headed to Garth’s office to turn over the key.

“All out,” Pete said. “Thank you for everything.”

“Let me know if you need anything.” Garth flipped the key around in his fingers. “Hot shower. Hot meal.”

“Brett moved into the homestead’s basement. I’m going to be showering there. Chelsea said I can use her kitchen.”

Garth nodded. “I’m looking forward to working with you on the therapeutic program.”

Pete’s throat closed, so he nodded and left the administration trailer. Tom wasn’t at his desk, which probably helped Pete avoid another awkward goodbye.

And it wasn’t really goodbye. His homestead lay a hundred yards south of the trailer. He’d still be working in the horse barn and arenas. He wasn’t really leaving Three Rivers. The thought lightened his mood and bounced his step.

Brett wasted no time putting Pete to work. His first task: A list of items they needed from the hardware store.

“And then you’re gonna help me build this house.” Brett had wielded a sharp twinkle in his eye when he spoke, and Pete knew he was about to be schooled in the art of construction.

He put hammers and nails, tar paper and tiles, in the cart. He ordered the flooring Brett had specified. Unloaded one cart into his truck and went back for painting supplies. As he left the store for the second time, he caught sight of Reese wheeling his way into the deli next door.

“Reese!”

The wheelchair turned and Reese peered toward Pete. “Oh, hey.” He lifted his hand in a wave.

“You eatin’?” Pete asked.

“Yeah. You want to join me?”

“Let me unload this paint, and I’ll be right there.”

Ten minutes later, Pete sat across from Reese with a hefty club sandwich and a tall soda. He took a long drink and sighed.

“How’s things?” he asked Reese.

“Good enough.” He glanced at his lap. “I use the wheelchair when I’m especially tired.”

Pete nodded, not sure what to say. He hadn’t known Reese needed a wheelchair, even sporadically.

“You find out about that care program?” Pete tried not to employ his Lieutenant voice, but he didn’t quite pull it off.

Reese chuckled. “Four minutes. It only took you four minutes to go commanding officer on me.”

Pete’s gut pinched, but he didn’t back down. “I could have Chelsea call you every day until you do it.”

Reese wiped his mouth. “As least I’d have a pretty voice naggin’ me.”

A flush worked its way up Pete’s neck. “She misses you. When you comin’ back out for a ride?”

“When she asks me.”

Pete grinned at his friend. “Expect a call later today. And I’ll make sure she nags you about the care program too.”

Reese finished his sandwich and ripped open his bag of potato chips. “No need, Lieutenant Marshall. I’m meeting my coordinator here in….” He checked his cell. “Five minutes.”

“You’re meeting here?” Pete glanced around like he’d forgotten where they were. “But you live in Amarillo.”

“I’m movin’ here.” Reese’s chest puffed out and a grin pulled against the corners of his mouth. “I like it here. It’s quieter. More peaceful. Less stress. Plus, it’s closer to the facility.” He filled his mouth with chips, the conversation clearly over.

“That’s great,” Pete said. “When are you moving?”

“Next weekend.”

“I’ll come help. I have another Army buddy in town building my facilities out on the ranch. He’ll come too.”

Reese shook his head. “Not needed. My veteran care coordinator is handling it all.”

Pete’s eyebrows rose as a vein of happiness infused his heart. Reese looked good. “And you haven’t met him yet?”

“Her.” A voice said from beside their table.

Pete and Reese looked up in unison. Pete took in the clearly feminine form standing there, her auburn hair tucked neatly into a braid and her charcoal pantsuit clearly tailored to fit her exact dimensions.

“You must be Reese.” Her smile could’ve melted ice cream as she extended her hand to Reese.

“Yes, ma’am.” He exchanged a glance with Pete. “But my coordinator is Lex.”

“Alexis Bright, at your service.” Her green eyes sparked with challenge and life. Pete liked her. “And if you call me ma’am again, soldier, I might have to tamper with the brakes on your chair.”

She laughed, and Pete decided he liked her a lot. One look at Reese, and Pete knew he did too.

“Now.” She pulled a chair over and placed a folder on top of Reese’s sandwich wrapper. “Here’s the condo we got for you. Ground unit. Everything is set for next weekend.”

Reese flipped through a few pages, his fingers shaking the tiniest bit. Pete tried to get a read on Lex, but she kept her attention on Reese.

“Looks good?” she asked.

“Yes.” Reese cleared his throat before locking eyes with Pete. “Tell Chelsea she doesn’t need to call. I’ll be out to ride tomorrow night, if that’s okay.”

With Reese’s eyes shining like glass, and Pete’s voice all tangled with the emotion gathering in his throat, all Pete could do was nod.

A week later, the house had a roof and walls that would keep out the wind and rain. Brett was a construction foreman through and through, driving Pete from the break of dawn until past dusk. Pete had become quite adept at hammering instead of shoveling, and together they’d made huge strides in the construction.

A good thing, because a winter storm blew through the Texas Panhandle on Saturday night, driving Pete from his tent and into the simple structure. Without heat and electricity, all he had was relief from the rain.

He couldn’t stay here, but he worried he might not make it to Garth’s in the pitch blackness.

“Pete!” Chelsea’s high voice cut through the shrieking of the wind.

He hurried to the back door and down the steps, the rain driving through his clothes. “Chelsea! What are you doing out here?”

She fell into his arms, soaking wet and shivering despite her heavy coat. “Looking for you. You can’t stay out here. Please come into the house.”

With little choice, he wrapped his arm around her and they fought their way to the homestead. They burst into the warm, bright sanctuary of the kitchen, panting and dripping.

“You didn’t need to come for me,” he said. “I have a phone.”

“You didn’t answer it,” she said, peeling off her coat. Her pajamas stuck to every curve of her body, and Pete dropped his eyes to the floor.

He felt his pockets for the phone, but didn’t find it. “I must’ve dropped it or left it in the tent.”

“You can’t keep living in that tent.” She snatched a blanket from the couch and wrapped it around herself. “There’s plenty of room in the basement, and it has a separate entrance. We would not be living together.”

Pete exhaled, already tired of this argument though she’d let it drop for the past several days. He heard a new edge in her voice now, though, one that would not be ignored.

“That’s the tip of the iceberg, sweetheart,” Pete said.

She widened her eyes. “Tell me the rest, then.”

Pete shrugged out of his sopping coat, and then his denim shirt so that he only wore his tank top. It was wet too, and he shivered. “I don’t think so.”

She handed him a blanket, and he set it across his shoulders. “So you don’t want to share your life with me.” She sounded like a wounded animal, small and shivery.

“Of course I do.”

“Then tell me.”

“I don’t want to depend on you,” he said. “I want to provide a good life for you. And what do I have? A construction debt and a tent.” He pressed his lips together, determined not to say anything more. She could see his inadequacies. Everyone could. He didn’t need to spell them out.

“Pete, you’re all I need.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” he bit the words out. “We both know that’s not true.” He swept his arm around the room. “Look at this place. It’s wonderful, and you’re not happy here.”

Tears filled her eyes. “That’s completely unfair. My happiness has nothing to do with my physical surroundings.”

“Right.” Pete laughed. “So you want to sleep on my cot in my tent? I don’t think so.”

“I just want to be with you.” She blinked the water away. “Because I love you.”

Her words slammed into his chest, crashed through his ribs, exploded in his heart. The lights in the kitchen seemed to brown out and then come back to life twice as blinding as before.

She loved him.

“I love you Lieutenant Marshall, and I want you to be happy.” Her words released the dam in his throat. “But I know I can’t make you happy.”

“I am happy. But I have so much going on, and I can’t provide you with the life you deserve.” Why couldn’t she see that? “I can’t depend on your money, your inheritance. I have to make my own way in this world.”

“Why? It won’t be forever, and I don’t care if it is.”

“Because!” The band constricting his chest broke, snapped, shattered. “Because I watched my momma support us by herself after my daddy died overseas. It was hard for her. She cried at night sometimes, worked two jobs, raised me by herself.” His chest heaved as his memories crowded out of the box he kept them in.

“Growing up, she used to tell me to get a good job, find a good woman, and take good care of her. I promised her I would.” He took a step closer, sucking, sucking, sucking at the air. “I can’t break that promise. You’re the best woman I’ve ever had in my life, but I’m working as hard as I know how to find a way to keep that promise.”

His anger faded at the trembling of her lower lip. “I adore you,” he said. “I love you. I want you in my life for always.” He took a step closer to her, everything in him itching to hold her, kiss her, ask her to be his. “But I will not depend on you, not even for one day.”

She nodded, tears splashing her cheeks. “Bad timing.”

He swiped his fingers across her face, stealing her tears and wishing he could erase them. “The worst.”

“So you’re choosing Courage Reins over me.” She lifted her eyes to his, a measure of challenge in her gaze he’d never seen before.

“Chelsea.” A dose of defeat doused with exasperation tainted his voice. If that was what she wanted to believe…. “Yes. Right now, I’m choosing Courage Reins over you.”

Pete escaped the basement before the dawn could fully chase away the darkness. Thankfully, the storm had blown itself out during the night. At least the physical clouds that dropped rain. The raging tempest in Pete’s chest had spread to every extremity, darkened every corner of his mind.

He couldn’t erase the look of hurt from Chelsea’s face. The way her lower lip shook. The tight clench of her arms around her stomach, like she was trying not to let herself shatter in front of him.

He trudged down the path in front of the cowboy cabins, keeping his gaze fixed on the largest one the farthest from the homestead but closest to the admin trailer. Garth’s cabin.

Thinking it too early to knock, Pete crashed into a deck chair on the porch, his fingers itching to find something he could smash. Instead, he closed his eyes and leaned back, hoping the calm morning would infuse some relief into his bloodstream.

“You lost?” Garth’s voice startled Pete’s heart into a gallop.

Pete cleared his throat as he stood to look Garth in the eye. “Wonder if I might take you up on your offer of a shower.” He raised his chin. “Sir,” he added as an afterthought.

Garth squinted into the distance. Pete didn’t want to know what he was thinking, what he’d heard about Pete and Chelsea.

“Sure, Pete.” He hooked his thumb toward the door. “I have coffee on too.”

Relief flowed through Pete like white water rapids, pouring and splashing all the way down to his feet. “Thanks, Garth. Coffee sounds great.” He followed the foreman into the cabin, grateful for small miracles.

“I’ve got burgers on the menu for tonight,” Garth said as he stuck two slices of bread in the toaster. “You’re welcome to have one.”

Later that evening, Pete headed over to Garth’s cabin about six to help make dinner. Brett blocked his exit from the roughed out living room. “You don’t need to stay away from the homestead.”

“I’m not avoiding the homestead,” Pete lied. “Chelsea surely didn’t make dinner anyway.”

“Pete—”

“You could come to Garth’s, I’m sure.” Pete’s voice sounded like glass in the garbage disposal.

Brett’s shoulders fell; his mouth tightened into a fierce line.

“No? Okay, well, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He stepped around Brett and continued to Garth’s.

Over the next couple of weeks, Pete traded chores like laundry and dishes for a good cut of steak and a hot shower.

But Garth was poor company compared to Chelsea.

She stopped texting him updates on the grants she found online. He took over finding volunteers, and even managed to hire a psychologist to come from Amarillo to the ranch twice a week for his patients.

A week before Christmas, he slathered a coat of gray paint on the living room walls while Brett measured something in the kitchen. Pete’s thoughts circled Chelsea and if she’d like the shade he’d chosen.

Brett began installing the custom cabinets Pete had designed. He’d made the layout easy and user-friendly as Chelsea was still learning to cook. He’d included an island, as she’d mentioned once that he should have one in his house. He wouldn’t think about her standing there, making him a turkey sandwich while her brother warned him about hurting her.

He managed to banish the thoughts for five seconds before everything about the house screamed Chelsea, and fury roared through him like a thunderstorm. He threw the paintbrush to the floor and stalked toward the back exit—French doors like what Chelsea was used to off her kitchen.

French doors she’d probably never use. French doors she didn’t care about.

“Hey, where you—?” Brett asked before Pete tossed him a glare and stepped onto the deck. He didn’t have a walk-out basement like the Ackerman’s. His homestead wasn’t on a swell, and he’d designed a two-story structure instead. A place large enough for him and Chelsea to raise a family together.

He pushed his anger out through his footsteps, arriving at the skeleton of the indoor training facility in just a few minutes. Horse stalls lined the back of the structure, with an open area to work with the horses in the front when the weather was bad. Pete had read about the best way to synthesize the dirt found in an outdoor arena, and he’d contacted a rubber stamp company in Utah for their ends. They’d agreed to the donation yesterday.

“Who cares?” he bellowed into the sky. “Who cares if the indoor arena will be gentle on the horse’s hooves? Who cares if the house is big enough for a family?” His fists clenched and energy surged from his feet to his brain.

“I don’t care!”

“Yes, you do.” Brett’s calm voice behind him didn’t ease the pain pouring through Pete. Even being burned alive hadn’t hurt like losing Chelsea. All the skin grafts, the shots the nurses loved to give him, the deaths of his momma and granddad. Nothing seared like losing Chelsea.

“You care about this program, and you care about that woman.”

“Brett,” Pete warned. “Don’t.”

“I live in her basement. You think I haven’t seen what’s gone on?”

Pete turned away from the half-built arena. “What have you seen?”

Brett shrugged like he hadn’t seen anything of importance. The commander didn’t quite pull it off.

“I outrank you,” Pete said. “You better start talkin’.”

Laughter sprang from Brett’s mouth, which only irritated Pete further. “Always back to the Army.”

“The Army runs in my blood,” Pete said. “Did you know I actually consider you lucky that you get to keep serving?” He sighed and turned away again. “I was career Army, like my dad. Only thing I ever wanted—to be like him. Even my momma couldn’t keep me from joining up.”

“But this is so much more suited to you,” Brett said. “I’ve seen you with those horses. It’s incredible.”

“What have you seen at Chelsea’s?”

“Let’s just say that I didn’t know a person could cry that much.”

Helplessness snagged in Pete’s lungs, making him lean against the arena wall and gasp, gasp, gasp for air.

“It’s obvious you’re meant for each other,” Brett said. “So what’s the problem?”

Pete spun back to his house, two stories tall and proud. Brett had a brick mason coming the first week of January, and the electricity would be activated that same week.

“I chose my equine program over her,” Pete finally said.

“I know you built that house for her,” Brett said. “Men don’t care about in-floor heating in the master bath.” He crossed his arms and cocked his eyebrows.

“So what if I did?”

“Go talk to her.”

“When the facilities are done. When Courage Reins is off the ground.”

“Lieutenant,” Brett said. “That’s at least another six months out.”

Six months. Six months of this hurt, this razor blade in his chest. He could survive six more months.

Who was he kidding? No way he’d make it six more months without Chelsea.

“Gently,” Chelsea’s mom coached as Ruby began folding egg whites into the Belgian waffle batter. “We spent all that time getting air into them, we don’t want to smash it out.”

“Gently, got it,” Ruby repeated. Chelsea watched from across the counter, her own egg whites beating in the stand mixer.

“You want your pans waiting for you,” her mother said next. “So that’s why we plugged in the waffle iron before we measured the flour. It’s never good to have wet ingredients mixed with dry and then have your oven or pan too cold.”

“Pre-heat,” Chelsea said. “Check.”

Ruby’s baby, Porter, began to fuss. He kicked his legs, sending the swing she’d strapped him into flailing.

“Can you grab him?” Ruby glanced at Chelsea, a panicked edge in her eyes. “My batter is almost done.”

Chelsea, who hadn’t yet mixed her wet ingredients with her dry, took a step toward the ten-month-old. She fumbled with the buckle, not quite sure how to get it to release. Porter kicked and howled at her, baby-talk for “hurry up!”

“I’m trying,” she muttered just as she managed to release the clasp. She lifted the squirming baby into her arms, glad when he settled down. “There you go.” She bumped the cutie pie with her hip and tickled his neck.

He squealed and buried his face in her shoulder. A strong sensation of longing almost sent Chelsea to her knees. She’d only had Squire for a sibling, and they were so close in age, she’d never taken care of him.

And she realized, standing in her mother’s cramped condo kitchen, with Ruby getting a lesson on how to fill a waffle iron, that she wanted children. She ran her fingers through Porter’s fine, brown hair and imagined a baby with Pete’s sandy hair and striking green eyes.

Her heart seized, stuttered, stalled. The world narrowed to the three feet surrounding Chelsea, but she fought back the panic. She’d vowed not to wear an engagement ring for a third time. How could she be fantasizing about having children with Pete?

To have a baby, there’d need to be a wedding first. Her chest tightened, her lungs squeezed, her left ring finger felt like someone had pressed a branding iron to it.

“Chelsea?” Her mother’s steady voice, her warm touch, brought Chelsea away from the edge of reason.

“I’ll take him.” She reached for the baby. “Your egg whites are ready.” Her mother gave her a knowing look before placing a gentle kiss on Porter’s head.

“How’s Pete?”

Chelsea ducked her head and scampered back to the counter where her bowl of flour, sugar, salt, and baking powder waited. “He’s fine,” she managed to push out through a too-dry throat.

“Mmm hmm.” Her mother stepped next to her.

“Mom, drop it.” Chelsea hadn’t told Ruby about her relationship with Pete, and thus hadn’t needed to disclose anything about their breakup. She was surprised her mother knew, but knowing Pete, he’d probably come clean within an hour of their disastrous conversation and subsequent break-up.

“Drop what?” Ruby asked, alarmed. “What did I do wrong?” She glanced at her steaming waffle iron and then the floor.

“Nothing, hon,” Chelsea’s mom said. “You’re doing just fine.”

The following week, Chelsea wandered down Main Street, Christmas gifts on her mind. She’d been planning an all-out feast at the homestead. Any cowhand that wasn’t leaving to visit family had been invited. Squire and Kelly would be home for the holidays soon, and Chelsea was looking forward to filling the homestead with people again.

Her family had a tradition of exchanging gifts during the Christmas Eve feast—which Kelly had helped Chelsea plan. Now Chelsea needed the perfect gifts for her family, friends, and cowhands.

She ducked into the hardware store, where she’d surely find something a hardworking cowboy could use. The smell of buttery popcorn hit her like a raging bull. She took a deep drag of the scent that sent her right back to her childhood. She used to love coming to town with her dad just so she could get a free bag of popcorn.

“Afternoon, sugar,” the checker said as Chelsea approached. “Popcorn?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Bonnie turned, her once dark hair salted with gray. “How’s your momma, honey?”

“She’s great.” Chelsea accepted the bag of popcorn. “You still working here, Bonnie?”

The woman laughed. “I think they’ll bury me out back.”

Chelsea smiled, lifted her popcorn in farewell, and started scouting the aisles for gifts. Apparently, lots of other people had had the same idea, because the shelves seemed a little bare. Garth and Tom didn’t need sprinkler heads or pipe fittings.

She turned down the next aisle, and her heart lightened at the rows of gloves before her. She crunched through a handful of popcorn as she searched for just the right pair.

Thank you for your patronage to Courage Reins! We will happily accept the grant in the amount of $65,500 and agree to the terms and conditions in the contract provided.

Chelsea managed to finish the acceptance email and hit send before she folded her arms on the desk and rested her head in them. The tears pressed so close, but she held them back. Her cheeks had been permanently pruny lately, and besides, she had work to do.

Kelly and Squire would be arriving later that afternoon, and Chelsea was determined to have his bedroom ready for him and a guest bed made for Kelly in the basement. She needed to vacuum, marinate the steaks, and hang the last holiday decoration: Her mother’s pine wreath for the front door.

She worked at a feverish pace—the only way she could keep her mind from wandering to Pete and the house that loomed three hundred yards from her front door.

Her cooking lessons had been going well, and she could boil pasta now. She made herself a pot of spaghetti without any incident, and she wanted to text Pete and tell him the news. She wanted to take him the leftovers and witness his smile when he told her, “Good job, sweetheart.” She wanted to feel his arms around her and his lips against hers.

Instead, she set out the bowls and texted Tom that the boys could come eat if they wanted to. The garlic bread was store bought, but she had to start somewhere.

Chelsea pulled out the roll of wrapping paper she’d bought and wrapped the new leather gloves she’d purchased for each of the cowhands, Tom, and Garth. She wrapped and tied bows around candy bars for each of the patients at Courage Reins, as well as Brett.

For Pete, she’d created and designed the Courage Reins website, complete with a year of hosting, with the PATH International badge, a sponsors page, services, pricing—which she still needed to confirm with him, if only they were on speaking terms—and construction photos of the property.

She could’ve emailed the web address to him, but selfishly, she wanted to be present when he saw it. She imagined the way his eyes would light up, the slow curve of those delicious lips, the wonder and amazement with which he’d look at her.

Then heat would crowd the admiration in his eyes, and he’d kiss her, hold her, love her the way he used to.

Icicles stabbed her lungs, barbs of cold pain that forced her to double over, searching for breath.

The episode passed quickly; she cleaned up after the cowhand’s spaghetti lunch and wrapped herself in a thick quilt as she moved to the front porch to wait for Kelly and Squire.

Pete’s house had gone up quickly, especially after he was forced to leave his cabin. She knew he was sleeping in the unfinished structure, as the tent had disappeared from his backyard. He had no heat or electricity, but anything was better than being subjected to the range winds in December.

He’d ordered a beautiful, decorative front door with tall panes of blue glass. She remembered the one time she’d told him she used to dream of a door like that. She wondered what other marvels she’d find behind that door, and if she’d ever be able to see them. The thought of never stepping foot in the house he’d designed and built brought a pythonic squeeze behind her eyes. A slow headache started, and she tore her gaze from Pete’s house.

Her phone chirped out that she had an email, and she swiped to open it. Her smile stuck, turning emotional as she read Ms. Reyes’s testimonial for the website. She’d sent a picture of Mari riding Peony, and the sob Chelsea had been containing for hours crashed through her defenses.

Ms. Reyes’s testimonial was the last one Chelsea needed for the site, and she thumbed out a quick thank you message with tears leaking down her face.

“So you’re not together?” Squire’s confusion was cute, really. At least at any other time it would’ve been. Chelsea couldn’t explain it, didn’t have the words to describe what had happened.

“No,” she said. “It’s complicated.”

Kelly put her hand on Squire’s arm. “It always is, isn’t it?”

“Did he hurt you?” Squire asked. “Because I’ll march right over there—”

“Of course he hurt me,” Chelsea said. “Look at me.” She pushed her mashed potatoes—which she had made by herself, thank you very much—around her plate, her appetite back to nothing since Pete’s departure from her life.

“He promised me he wouldn’t hurt you.” Squire reached for his cowboy hat, like he’d be leaving now.

“He’s made a lot of promises,” Chelsea said. “He’s trying to keep them all.” She exchanged a glance with Kelly, pleading for her to influence Squire to stay.

“Squire,” she said. “Why don’t you go show Finn the horses? He’s been begging to see them since we left College Station.”

“Horses!” The little boy shot from his seat, his cowboy boots tapping against the tile as he flew toward the door. “Come on, Squire.”

Squire gave Kelly a knowing look and Chelsea a pitied one before he crammed his hat on his head and followed Finn. “My friend Pete owns the horses now, so we’ll….”

Chelsea lost their voices as they moved down the stairs. She laid her head in her hands and moaned. “What am I going to do?”

“I have an idea,” Kelly said, cleaning up the dinner dishes. “But you won’t like it.”

“Do I look like I like anything right now?” Chelsea forced herself to stand and help. “I always make up a box for Brett.”

Kelly scooped a slice of chicken and a dollop of mashed potatoes into a Tupperware. “I’ll take it down to him.”

“He hasn’t come back from Pete’s yet.”

“Oh, so you spy on the place.”

Chelsea chuckled, a sound that morphed into a sob. “All day long. I’m pathetic. I mean, he chose his program over me. Said it right to my face. Why can’t I let him go?”

“Love has deep hooks,” Kelly said.

“Sharp too.”

“He’ll come around. Most men do. But, you can encourage him to come around a little faster. I mean, if you want.” She busied herself with scrubbing down the counter, which suddenly needed to meet health code requirements.

“How do I do that?”

“Get him over here for Christmas Eve dinner,” Kelly said like she’d been holding it in for the entire eight-hour drive from College Station. “Squire and I will work on him.”

“I don’t want Squire working on him.”

Kelly smiled, her cheeks reddening. “Yeah, you probably do. The man’s a romantic at heart.”

“Ew, too much information,” Chelsea said.

Kelly laughed as she drew Chelsea into a hug. “Here’s how it’s going to go. Tomorrow, we’re going to bake the most delicious pie on the planet. You’re going to wear your cutest clothes with lots of perfume and swish yourself over there with the pie. You’re going to be nice, and you’re going to invite him to dinner on Christmas Eve.”

“He’ll say no.”

“Use the holiday. He won’t want to be alone on Christmas. Trust me.” She flounced over to the couch. “Season of giving and charity and love and all that.” When she glanced at Chelsea again, Kelly’s eyes held a predatory glint. “And then you’re going to let me ask him a few questions.”

Hope ballooned in Chelsea’s chest though she wished it wouldn’t. Balloons popped, and the sound startled her, scared her, scarred her.

“Good morning.” Chelsea held the pie pan with a death grip, sure she was going to drop it any second.

Pete blinked at her, one hand still on the doorknob inside the house, the other holding a hammer at his side. He wore his tank top while he worked, and Chelsea focused on his scars.

“I wanted to bring you a little sampling of what you’ll get at dinner tomorrow night. If you’ll come, that is. It’s Christmas Eve.”

He stared at her, and she was glad Kelly had made her wear the black leggings with the knee-high boots. The black and white blouse she wore flowed around her curves without giving away too much. He took a deep breath, his eyes closing for just a moment.

Extra perfume as a weapon against his defenses—check.

“There will be a lot of people there,” she said. “Squire and Kelly and Finn arrived yesterday. Garth is coming. Brett too. Tom is staying on the ranch for Christmas. My parents.” Her voice stalled at the emotion raging in Pete’s eyes.

“It’s pecan.” She thrust the pie toward him and he took it. “I made it myself.”

That finally snapped him out of his silence. “You made this yourself?”

“Fine, Kelly helped.” She cocked her hip. “And we only had to call my mom once. But look at it. Isn’t it gorgeous?” Pride swelled in Chelsea’s chest. If she’d known how satisfying cooking something delicious could be, she might have learned earlier.

“It sure is.”

In the past, he’d have tacked “sweetheart” onto the end of that sentence. She missed the endearment so much a wave of disappointment rolled over her shoulders.

She met his gaze to find him staring at her, the pie already forgotten. A blush crept up her neck. “So will you come tomorrow night?”

“Chelsea—”

“Please don’t say no,” she said, resorting to begging though she’d promised Kelly she wouldn’t. “I really want you to come. There will be a lot of people there. You won’t even have to talk to me. It’s Christmas Eve, Pete. You shouldn’t be here alone, without heat or electricity.”

He looked at the pie again, then lifted his eyes to hers. “How much are you cookin’?”

“I make a mean mashed potato now, I’ll have you know.” She smiled, sensing a victory. “But my mom is doing all the baking, and Kelly is making ham and creamed corn.”

“I do like creamed corn….”

Pete watched Chelsea sashay back to her homestead, that blasted black and white blouse blowing in the wind. He’d wanted to take the pie, fling it over his shoulder, and take her into his arms. He wanted to tell her that the only person he longed to talk to was her. Only her. Always her.

Every nerve in him still stood at attention, and the woman had left ten minutes ago.

He’d expected Squire to come over last night, but the Major had stayed away. He knew he couldn’t avoid him forever, so when he walked into the house like he owned it that afternoon, Pete wasn’t surprised.

“Major.” Pete wiped his hands on a paint rag and shook Squire’s hand. “How was the drive?”

“Good, good.” Squire scrutinized the house, skimming the gray paint with white trim and running his fingers along the dark granite countertops Brett had installed that morning. “This is almost done.”

“Water’ll be on next week. Electricity the week after that. Then I’m movin’ in.”

Squire grunted. “Kelly and I are living off noodles and canned meat.”

Pete laughed. “I got a pretty big loan for all this,” he said. “How is Kelly? Finn?”

“Amazing.” Squire pinned Pete with a look the Lieutenant knew all too well.

“Lay it on me.”

“What happened with Chelsea?”

“I fell in love with her.” Pete raised his chin, not to make it a better target for Squire but to show he wasn’t afraid of the truth. “But I have nothing to offer her. She wanted me to live in her house, use her money to pay bills, eat her food.” Pete shook his head. “I couldn’t do it.”

Squire’s blue eyes softened. “You’ve always wanted to make your own way in the world.”

“I promised my momma I would.”

“You promised me you wouldn’t hurt my sister.”

“I’m trying to do both.”

“This place is almost done.”

“Almost.”

“Looks very much like a house Chelsea would like.”

“I did design it with her in mind.”

“So you’re going to get back together with her.”

Pete sighed, wishing his frustration and irritation could go with the exhalation. “There’s a long way to go before I can support a family with Courage Reins.”

Squire considered him, his narrowed eyes and flat mouth making Pete uncomfortable.

“It’s a long way to go alone,” he finally said.

Pete’s steps slowed as he ascended the staircase to the deck and those French doors he’d entered so many times before. The wall of windows that allowed him a glimpse into the kitchen showed that he was one of the last to arrive, just as he’d planned.

He’d driven to town and purchased two gallons of vanilla ice cream to go with the Christmas pies he hoped Heidi had made. Squire had bragged about his mother’s Christmas baking for months in Kandahar. Pete wanted first-hand experience, with ice cream.

He entered the house to a wall of noise and light and happiness. The homestead was alive again, with people and food in this kitchen. Chelsea was doing what she said she would, and a surge of joy for her spilled from his heart. She’d come so far in only a few months.

“Pete!” Heidi wrapped him in a tight embrace. “It’s so good to see you. The house is looking grand.”

“Thanks, Heidi. I brought ice cream.”

“Oh, ask Chelsea where she wants that. I think she bought two bags of ice, so the freezer in here might be full.”

Heidi had obviously not gotten the memo about him and Chelsea. But he maneuvered through the crowd, saying hello and smiling and avoiding shaking hands because of the ice cream he carried.

“Ice cream?” he asked Chelsea, who stood at the stove stirring the creamed corn. “Your mom said to ask you where to put it.”

She wiped her bangs out of her face with the back of her hand. “Uh.” She drank him in, the happiness at seeing him evident in her eyes and the curling of her mouth. “You came.”

“I said I would.”

“I still wasn’t sure.”

With the crowd in the kitchen, snacking on crackers and a cheese ball on the counter, their conversation went unnoticed.

“Where should I put this?” Pete’s feet felt like moving, and moving fast. He couldn’t be here, in this happy-happy family space, and not take Chelsea’s hand. He ached to have that reality, and impatience surged through him. “It’s melting.”

“Out in the garage,” she said.

He marched away from her, relishing in the iciness of the cartons against his fingers. Physical pain didn’t hurt nearly as much as the idea of eating Christmas Eve dinner with Chelsea and not holding her close while they sang carols. Of going back to his dark, heatless house alone, kissless and without the promise of seeing her smile on Christmas morning.

After he’d stowed the ice cream in the freezer, he leaned his forehead against the refrigerator door. “I can’t do this,” he said. Pete didn’t take unnecessary risks with his life, not since Kandahar. Why was he risking his heart for a woman he couldn’t have?

“You better get back in here,” Squire said from the doorway. “Kelly sent me out here to make sure you don’t skip out on Chelsea. On all of us.”

“I don’t know if I can go back in there, Major.” Pete sat down on the bottom step, the concrete cold through his jeans. Didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was finishing his house and making Courage Reins profitable. Then he could consider adding Chelsea to the mix.

Squire settled next to him. “I told Chelsea this would be hard for you. That you didn’t like crowds, and that wasn’t really an incentive to come.”

“I came because she asked me to.”

“You came because you’re in love with her. And when the woman you love asks you to do something, you do it.”

“It hurts to see her. She’s already surrounded by people she loves.” Pete swallowed hard, glad beyond measure that Chelsea had friends and family that loved her and supported her, overjoyed that the home she’d wanted to create had been achieved. “I don’t need to be here. I’m the one hurting her.”

“If you leave, she’ll go ballistic,” Squire said. “I believe that was the word Kelly used. The mania in my sister’s eyes wasn’t hard to miss, I know that.”

“Squire!” Kelly poked her head into the garage. “There you are. I need you to slice the ham.”

“Comin’.” He stood and put his hand on Pete’s shoulder. “I can’t order you to get back in there, but I hope you’ll come anyway.” He trudged up the stairs and into the house, leaving Pete to his thoughts.

Laughter and chatter filtered to his ears, a droning noise that spoke of love and camaraderie. All of her friends and family were his too. Heidi would be disappointed if he left. Brett, Garth, Tom, Squire. All of them.

He rejoined the group, sticking to the corner of the room so he could watch. Frank pinched off a piece of bread when Heidi wasn’t looking, and Finn did the same. The two quietly celebrated together that they’d fooled her, which made Pete smile and remember his own momma who used to swat his hand with a wooden spoon when he tried to sneak a taste of their Christmas cake.

Kelly spotted him and said, “Pete, come help set the table.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He copied her placement of plates, knives, and napkins as she created place settings at two folding tables that had been pushed together into one wide platform so they could all sit together.

“I have cards here,” she said. “You can decide where people sit.” She leaned closer. “But I want to be next to Squire.” She squeezed his bicep and smiled before she hurried over to the stove, where Chelsea looked a little panicked.

Pete put Frank and Heidi next to each other. Finn next to Frank, then Kelly and Squire. He felt safest next to the Major, so he put himself there. His natural instinct was to put Chelsea next to him, and the other three men along the other side of the table.

He glanced up and found Kelly watching him though it was obvious she was trying real hard not to. Squire didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was staring, his eyebrows raised. Heidi had paused in the cutting of rolls, her attention on him as well.

The kitchen quieted and activity ceased, that same moment of stillness and peace Pete had experienced previously descending on him.

He placed Chelsea’s name card next to his and continued around the table, noting Squire’s approval and Kelly’s wide smile.

Dinner preparations ended, and Frank said grace, his voice catching when he expressed gratitude for the people in the room and the bounty of friendships and food they enjoyed. Pete’s eyes teared, not because of the prayer, but because his own heart swelled with gratitude for all that had happened this year.

He’d spent last Christmas alone, in an Army hospital ward in Virginia. The holiday at Three Rivers didn’t compare to any previous celebration Pete had experienced, even with his momma and granddad.

“Amen,” he said with the others, doing his best to be present for the meal. He succeeded in laughing and talking, but it felt forced, acted out.

“So, Pete,” Kelly said as Chelsea got up to brew coffee. “Tell us about Courage Reins. We know little about it.” She held Squire’s hand on top of the table and gave him a smile.

“It’s comin’ along,” he said, well aware that Chelsea could hear every word. “I’ve lined up a psychologist and the construction is going smoothly. I’m hoping to recruit volunteers in the new year, get a full-time office manager, and set up a website.”

“I thought Chelsea was helping.” Kelly gave Chelsea an obviously fake look of confusion. “Aren’t you his office manager?”

“Kelly.” Chelsea shook her head and studied her hands in her lap.

Silence settled on the group, until Heidi announced, “Time for the gift exchange.”

Pete’s insides iced. He leaned over to Squire, the frost inside cracking with the movement. “Can I go now? I don’t have gifts. I didn’t know I was supposed—”

“You go now, and you die,” Squire whispered. “At least that’s the message I’m getting from this death grip Kelly has on my hand.” He lifted their twined fingers an inch off the table. Kelly shot Pete a look that said, Stay put, Mister.

Which meant Chelsea had something planned. A kernel of anger popped inside him, more and more exploding as the heat rose through his body. Did she want to embarrass him?

Heidi started first by passing out packages to everyone at the table. Tom and Garth got all-in-one tools—“A rancher’s best friend,” Frank claimed. Brett got a new tool belt that was ten times nicer than the one Pete had seen him wearing, and Pete received a new coffeemaker.

“For your new house,” Heidi said. “Of course, I expect to be invited to the housewarming party. Maybe I’ll get you something for that too.” She beamed at him, her admiration of him evident.

“Thank you, ma’am.” He nodded at her and Frank, the image of his momma and granddad too overwhelming to say much more. Heidi felt like a mother to him, saying and doing what his own momma would’ve said and done.

Squire and Kelly passed out gifts, and thankfully, Tom, Garth, nor Brett had anything for anyone. Pete announced he didn’t either, and looked at Chelsea, who’d been sitting next to him, her fingers wrapped around her coffee mug like they were freezing.

“I guess it’s my turn.” She passed out leather gloves and chocolate to the other boys, but Pete got an envelope. He turned it over to open it, but she covered it with her fingers. “Later, please.”

He slid the envelope under his dinner plate, his curiosity spiking up to the clouds. While Heidi got up to serve dessert, Chelsea poured more coffee and Kelly turned on Christmas carols. Pete determined not to open the envelope until morning, when it was truly Christmas.

Half an hour later, thoroughly stuffed full of three slices of Heidi’s delicious pies—all the things Squire had bragged about were true—and all the conversation he could handle, he seized onto Garth’s goodnight and followed him out. “You sleepin’ on my couch?” the foreman asked as they crossed the lawn.

“Nah,” Pete said. “The house isn’t that cold, and I have lanterns.”

“You’re always welcome,” Garth said, heading down the path toward the foreman’s cabin.

“Thanks,” Pete called after him, the envelope like a brick in his back pocket. He took his time walking the distance to his house, taking seconds to finger the door he’d ordered for Chelsea and linger in the bathroom where he’d installed a clawfoot tub last night.

He sighed as he sank onto his Army cot, her envelope pinched between his fingers. He tucked it under the sheet and closed his eyes.

His dreams weren’t filled with fire and gun pops and screaming. They held a whole new form of torture as he thrashed with visions of Chelsea standing at the stove in the house he’d built for her, feeding chickens in the yard he’d planted for her, holding hands with a small girl who looked just like her, except with Pete’s green eyes.

Chelsea closed her eyes and grinned as the Christmas bells rang at the church. Nestled between Kelly and Squire and her parents, she wept. Wept with gratitude for being here in Three Rivers, where she’d been able to heal from deep wounds she’d thought would never scab over.

She hadn’t heard from Pete last night after he’d left. She wondered if he’d opened her envelope. Wondered what he thought. Wondered if she’d see him at church this sacred morning.

Finn said something too loud, and Squire collected the boy onto his lap to shush him. The horses had taught her how to be more observant, how to feel subtle shifts in movement or mood. She’d gotten very good at adjusting her riding position to the needs of the horses, and now she sensed the pure love Kelly had for her brother.

Chelsea’s mind ached. A deep ache that went on and on, through days and weeks and months and years. She thought she knew pain when Danny had died, but this level of emotional turmoil didn’t even exist on a scale somewhere.

She took a deep breath as the last bell faded into silence and the pastor stood to take his place at the pulpit. She held the air, then released it. Peace filled her, and the last fissure in her heart evaporated.

“Faith begins with a single step,” Pastor Scott said, a statement with which Chelsea agreed. She’d taken a single step to come home. A single step at a time with Pete.

As the pastor continued to speak about faith, and hope, and patience, Chelsea’s tumbling thoughts righted themselves. This was just another step in her relationship with Pete. Maybe a misstep, but not something to divert her to another path completely.

He hadn’t chosen Courage Reins over her. He’d chosen Courage Reins because of her. She wanted to smack herself in the forehead, trip over everyone to get out of the pew, and call Pete right now.

Her right leg began to bounce and bounce and bounce. Her mother finally put her hand on Chelsea’s knee. “What’s the matter, dear?”

“I need to talk to Pete.”

“I saw him come in right as the bells started,” her mother whispered. “Talk to him after.”

Impatience rumbled through her mind, jumbled her thoughts again, bumbled the words she needed to get out.

Pete deliberately arrived late to church, sneaking in just as the Christmas bells started. He’d charged his phone in his truck the entire way from the ranch, hoping he’d have a strong enough signal to pull up Chelsea’s Christmas present.

Inside the envelope, she’d placed an index card. On it, she’d scrawled one line of text. A website address. A website address for Courage Reins.

Without power and without a computer, Pete hadn’t been able to look at it before heading to church.

Now, as the bells rang out wildly, celebrating the birth of the Savior, Pete found his own savior right here on earth.

The Courage Reins website was flawless, with beautiful graphics done in blue and brown. Tabs for services and pricing flowed seamlessly into a tab titled testimonials and then sponsors. He tapped there, surprised to find a half dozen icons.

Six sponsors. He only knew of the one she’d secured and the rubber stamp company in Utah—which he hadn’t told her about and so wasn’t on the website.

A precious gift she’d given him. The amount of work it must have taken her to find those sponsors, research them, send applications, manage responses.

He glanced up, staring a hole in the back of her head. Please turn, he thought. Please come talk to me.

Her shoulders began to bounce, but she didn’t get up and move.

He hadn’t heard a word of the pastor’s sermon, his own personal revelation much stronger at the moment.

The sidebar showed the PATH International badge. They must’ve been accepted into the organization.

Another blessing.

She was his blessing. How could he have ever thought he could survive without her? Why hadn’t he seen that she was as invested in Courage Reins as he was?

“Chelsea,” he whispered.

She didn’t move; the slight vibrations rippling through her hair went out as Heidi leaned over and whispered something to her.

He clicked on the testimonial tab, unprepared for what he’d find.

Glowing paragraphs with accompanying photos from Reese, Ms. Reyes, Squire, and—his breath caught as he looked into those midnight blue eyes he loved so much. He reached out and touched Chelsea’s face, as if she could feel his gratitude and love though the device.

Her testimonial about Courage Reins broke him in seconds.

I didn’t think I needed therapy. I haven’t been overseas. I don’t have a mental disability or physical injuries that won’t heal. But my heart was broken. I had emotional scarring no one could see—except my horse partners, Peony, Baywatch, and Hank. And the director of Courage Reins, Peter Marshall.

He knew I needed help, and though I tried to resist him—and the charms of the horses—in the end, they healed me. I can’t say enough good about the equine riding program. Even if you think you’re fine, come see what the horses at Courage Reins can do for you.

His heart thudded with rivers of emotion. Anxiety, restlessness, love. He bolted to his feet and strode up the aisle. He didn’t care that he was causing a disturbance. He needed to speak with Chelsea now.

“Excuse me, sorry,” he said as he pushed down her row. “Sorry, ma’am. Excuse me. Slide over, Squire.” The Major made room for Pete, who wedged himself between Kelly and Chelsea, his arm around her shoulder.

“What are you doing?” she hissed as several older ladies turned to peer at them.

“I opened your envelope, sweetheart.”

She started to cry, and Pete’s chest pulsed in and out with his sudden rapid breathing. She pinched the bridge of her nose and buried her face in his chest. He held her, his own tears dripping into her hair.

“Can we go now?” he asked.

She nodded and stood up and together they tripped down the row and out of the chapel. She kept right on going until she escaped the church altogether, her shoulders heaving with sobs and her high heels buckling as she lost her balance.

Pete caught her. “I got you,” he said. “And I don’t want to ever let you go again.” He pressed his face into the crook of her neck. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

Chelsea’s emotions spiraled, first up and then down. All she’d wanted for weeks was Pete to call her sweetheart, for Pete to talk to her, for Pete to hold her like he was now.

Why then, did she feel like she was about to be sick?

“Did you like the website?”

“Like it?” Pete anchored one hand on the small of her back, the other lilting through her hair. “I love it. I love you.”

She smiled against Pete’s heartbeat, which thumped along steady and strong. He hummed a lullaby in her ear, and everything in the atmosphere aligned.

“You wanna go see your Christmas present?” he asked.

“You got me something?”

“Sweetheart, I’ve been workin’ on it for over a month.” He stepped back, a shy grin on his face, and enveloped her hand in his. “We can go after church if you’d rather go back in.”

A new jittery pitter rose in her chest. Anticipation.

“No, let’s go see my present.”

Pete drove his truck out to the ranch, one hand on Chelsea’s and one on the wheel. “It’s out here?”

“You’ve been lookin’ at it for weeks,” he said.

“The house.” She spoke with awe, with suspicion, with doubt.

“It’s for you,” he said. “Every color choice, every detail I picked out. I thought of you livin’ there with me, what you’d like.” He refused to look at her, like the empty road needed his utmost attention.

She adored the flush rising up his neck. She adored his nervous swallow. “I adore you,” she said.

“I hope you like the house too.” He glanced at her, and she saw the fear there, the desire for her to like what he’d done for her.

They pulled into the driveway, and then the garage. “Extra wide,” he said. “So both cars fit, and we can put bicycles over there, and strollers, and—” He cut off like someone had pressed mute on his vocal chords. “I mean, I don’t know if you want kids. I want kids.” He peered at her, his blushed face and green eyes the perfect decoration for Christmas. “Do you want kids, Chelsea?”

“What if I didn’t?”

A cloud darted across his eyes. “Well, we’d have the horses. They’re like big babies.”

She threw her head back and laughed before leaping into his arms. He caught her around the waist, his smile growing. “You teasin’ me?”

The moment sobered, and Chelsea leaned her forehead against Pete’s. “I only want kids if they’re yours.”

He kissed her, the embrace quickly turning passionate. Just as fast, he pulled back. “Okay, then.” He cleared his throat. “We have way more house to see, so let’s hold that thought.”

He led her into the house, which opened on her right into a huge family room, where that blue glass door welcomed everyone.

“The dining table will go here,” he said, gesturing to the large space in front of them. “Extra-long bar. I know how you like to eat breakfast at the bar.”

On the left sat a gourmet kitchen, with granite counter tops and white cabinets. A dark hardwood ran throughout the space. She released his hand and trailed her fingers along the dishwasher, the stove built into the island, the back door that led to a patio.

“Pete.” Her voice choked, and happy tears filled her eyes. “This is wonderful.”

“You’re wonderful,” he said. “That testimonial….” He looked away this time, his tone too high to be normal.

“I only wrote the truth,” she said.

He nodded, blinking fast. “I saw the sponsors page too. You’ve got a lot to tell me.”

She smiled, imagining next Christmas with him in this house. Her heart doubled and tripled like rising bread dough, until it felt close to bursting. “After we see the house,” she said.

Six months later:

Pete paced in his bedroom, the old-fashioned ring box taunting him from the dresser. Someone knocked, and he nearly jumped out of his boots.

“Get in here,” he hissed to Squire, who stood grinning on the other side of the door. Pete ran his hand through his hair as he glanced down the hall to make sure Chelsea wasn’t there. He didn’t know why she would be. He was the one planning all the surprises.

“You’re as jumpy as a wet cat,” Squire said. “Relax.”

“Easy for you to say,” Pete grumbled. “You asked Kelly to marry you already.”

“Chelsea’s gonna say yes.”

“It’s not that part I’m worried about.”

Squire looked at him, really peered through Pete’s nerves and pacing. “Then what’s the problem?”

Pet released a heavy sigh. “I don’t know.”

“She won’t care if Brett lives here. He’s been livin’ in her basement for months.”

“Right,” Pete said. Once they’d finished the house, Pete and Brett had moved in. Chelsea had volunteered her furniture, which was in storage in Dallas. She and Pete had rented a truck and made the two-day trip in twenty-four hours because she didn’t want to see anyone she knew in the city.

Pete suspected she hadn’t fully healed, but he couldn’t wait any longer to propose. Living in this house he built for her without her was the cruelest form of torture he could think of.

“So are you gonna go ask her?” Squire asked. “Because Kelly just texted, and she said Chelsea’s rarin’ to go shopping.”

“Yeah.” Pete yanked open the door. “Yes. This is happening.” He turned back to Squire, his heart flinging itself against the prison bars of his ribs. “You really think she’s gonna say yes?”

Squire laughed and put his hands on Pete’s shoulders. “Yes.”

Pete sucked in a square breath. “Major, you think I’m the marryin’ type?”

Squire dropped his hands, folded them, and backed up. He scanned Pete from the boots to the cowboy hat, his expression thoughtful. “You never talked about settlin’ down, Lieutenant.”

Pete’s mouth went dry. He never had. Never given it much thought—until Chelsea. Now it seemed getting married was all he thought about.

Squire scanned him, the Army edge in his eyes softening. “But that was when you thought you had nothing to offer a woman but deployments and a new city every few months. You’re not career Army anymore, Pete.” Squire got real close, his eyes edged with power. “You’re not your dad.”

Pete swallowed the nerves, the doubts, the fear. “Right.” He headed downstairs, where Brett was frying potatoes for dinner. “It’s on,” he called to his friend.

“You askin’ her now?” He flipped off the burner and followed Pete and Squire out of the house, across the road, through the parking lot and into the barn. His facilities were complete, but he wanted to ask Chelsea to marry him in the spot he’d fallen in love with her—and that was in the horse barn, with Peony, Baywatch, and Hank standing guard.

Squire texted Kelly, and not two minutes later, Pete heard feminine voices coming his way.

“But I don’t need to see the horses before we go to Amarillo,” Chelsea complained.

“Well, I do.” Kelly almost yelled her response. “I haven’t seen them for so long.”

“You’ve been back for a week.”

“Finn loves the horses!”

They came around the corner, and Pete forgot his own name. He gripped the box in his hand so hard the sharp edges left prints in his palms.

“Calm down, cowboy,” Squire said. “It’s really not that hard.”

The Major had always had twice the confidence of Pete, who’d stopped breathing at the sight of Chelsea walking toward him, her denim shorts and tank top showing more skin than she normally did. Her hair was piled on top of her head, and she was clearly ready for a day at the mall, with makeup and jewelry galore.

“What’s going on?” she asked when she saw Pete, Squire, and Brett staring at her. “Kelly?”

Kelly giggled, and the sound snapped Pete into motion. He moved forward, concealing the ring box behind his back. “Hey, Chels.”

“Hey.” She glanced to her brother, then to Brett. “What’s—?”

Pete dropped to one knee, the box darting out so she could see it. “Chelsea, I fell in love with you right here, in front of Peony’s stall. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. Will you marry me?”

She clasped both hands to her chest, which rose and fell in shallow breaths. “Pete.” She swallowed and looked at Kelly. Pete couldn’t look anywhere but at her. She was going to say yes, wasn’t she?

“I—well, I’ve worn an engagement ring before.”

“I know,” Pete said, unsure of what else to add.

“Twice, actually.”

“Twice?” Pete asked at the same time Squire said, “You’ve been engaged twice?”

“Squire,” Kelly admonished. “Shh.”

Chelsea puffed out her cheeks and spun away from Pete. “When I was driving here after Danny died, I vowed I’d never wear another engagement ring.” She turned back, her eyes glassy and soft at the same time. “I just don’t know—”

Pete sprang to his feet and drew close to her. “I don’t know who the first guy was,” he said. “But he obviously didn’t deserve you. I don’t know that I do either, but I’ll spend every day tryin’.”

She looked up at him, her fear turning to trust. She smiled, tears forming in her eyes.

“After all, the third time’s the charm, sweetheart.” He took the ring out of the box and let the sunlight streaming in the doorway glint off the diamond. “It’s my momma’s ring. So whaddaya say?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “A million times yes.”

The presence of Kate Donnely’s son had never been such a burden. Of course, she’d never introduced him to his father before. Sure, she’d thought about what this moment might be like. What she’d say, and how Brett would react. She just never expected to look into the almost black depths of her son’s eyes and feel a pinch of resentment, like it was Reid’s fault she was currently driving down a dirt road toward Three Rivers Ranch.

It wasn’t Reid’s fault, that much was certain. The vibrant seven-year-old had been asking about his dad for a few years now. Kate always told him Brett was overseas, being a hero by protecting the country. Not exactly a lie, though Kate didn’t know all the details of Brett’s service.

She did know he’d left for his deployment to Afghanistan only two months after they’d been married. She knew she’d found comfort in the charms of another man and asked Brett for a divorce only three weeks into his deployment.

And only a week after that, she found out she was pregnant. That effectively got rid of the other man, but also Brett, whose last email said he’d give her whatever she wanted.

The back of her throat burned as hot as the July sun as she thought of her behavior over the past eight years.

“Time to move on,” she muttered. “Find him, tell him, move on.”

“What, Mom?” Reid met her eyes in the rear-view mirror.

“Nothing, baby.” She painted on a smile to conceal the earthquake shaking her core. “We’re almost there.”

“And I’ll get to ride a horse?”

“Maybe,” Kate said. “I haven’t been able to talk to my friend.” Her voice sounded too low to be hers. Her stomach clenched as tears raged against the back of her eyes.

She turned a corner on the dirt lane and a house came into view. As she neared, she saw another home—this one much newer—to her right, facing the first. As if her insides weren’t already rioting against her, now she had another choice to make.

She parked near the older home. “Stay here, okay, baby?” She waited until Reid nodded and then she slipped up the front steps of the first house.

No one answered her constant knocking and repeated doorbell peals. She wiped the sweat from her forehead, cursing the summers in Texas. She thought of California, her destination, and how balmy an ocean breeze would feel about now.

She retraced her steps to the car and drove the few hundred yards to the driveway of the second house. Ranch trucks filled the parking lot in front of the barns to her left, so someone had to be around.

The sound of squawking chickens and a grumbling tractor met Kate’s ears when she vacated the car again. No one opened the door at the second house, meaning she’d have to traipse around this ranch until she found Brett.

She almost left right then. Aimed her car west, without a plan of ever returning, of telling him about Reid.

But something pulled at her. Her conscience. God. Something.

Kate knew it wasn’t her conscious, and God had long abandoned her. The truth was, she needed the money her mother had left her, but she couldn’t have it without telling Brett about Reid.

And he has a right to know about his own son.

Kate opened the driver’s door and switched off the ignition. “Come on, baby. We have to go find someone. No one’s answering the door.”

Reid unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, slipping his trusting hand into Kate’s. She squeezed harder than necessary, trying to ground herself for what she was about to do.

She heard voices in one of the barns, so she steered Reid in that direction. “Excuse me?” she called once she’d stepped out of the sun. Her eyes took their sweet time adjusting to the darker interior, but she could make out a man approaching.

She almost bolted, her heart somersaulting through her chest, trying to break free of her ribs.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

A similar Southern accent to Brett’s, but definitely not his voice. How she knew after all this time, she wasn’t sure. Kate blinked the whiteness from her eyes. “Yes. I’m looking for Brett Murphy? I was told he lives out here.”

“Yeah, Brett. He’s workin’ on the cowboy cabins this afternoon.”

Construction. Always construction. A sour taste coated Kate’s mouth, though she hadn’t been able to blame Brett for his profession. He was a builder when she met him, married him, and sent him off to war. His daddy owned the company, and he was a natural with his hands.

She’d used his job as a wedge between them unfairly, not that he knew that. He didn’t know anything.

“Want me to take you back there?” the cowboy asked.

“Just point me in the right direction.” The last thing Kate wanted was another witness to her confession.

He turned and pointed through the barn. “Head out thatta way. Take a right. I think he’s down at the foreman’s cabin. Biggest one at the end of the row.”

Kate thanked him and moved through the barn as quickly as she could. She found the gravel path in front of the cabins easily and slipped around the side of the last one, where she could hear the low drone of a radio playing.

Her sandaled foot slipped in something just as she gained the corner, and life slowed into single frames.

The sight of Brett glancing her way. His eyes widening.

The grip of her fingers tightening on Reid’s. His cry of surprise or pain.

The smell of fresh horse dung. Her knee thudding against earth and rocks.

“Kate?” The sound of Brett’s voice saying her name made time flow forward again, faster and stronger than before.

She glanced down at her soiled shoe, tears combining with embarrassment so quickly that her face churned like a volcano about to explode.

A dog bounded toward them, a chocolate lab with another little boy right behind him. Kate seized the opportunity to talk to Brett alone, like she’d always planned.

“Reid, baby, why don’t you go see if you can play with that boy and his dog?”

Reid gave her a quick glance before running through the grass toward the dog, who yipped and changed direction toward the other boy.

Kate tried to wipe the offensive substance off her shoe and onto the strip of grass bordering the house, but gave up after the first try. She took a deep breath and pushed it out as she faced Brett.

Another man stood next to him, a tool belt hanging off his hips and sporting a cowboy hat, same as Brett. For a moment, she wasn’t sure which one was the cowboy and which one the carpenter.

“Brett, hi.” Kate stuck her hands in her shorts pockets. “You look great.” And he did. Tall, dark, and handsome, Brett had charmed her from the moment she’d met him. If only she hadn’t been so weak, acted so stupidly, kept such a massive secret for so long.

His eyebrows disappeared underneath his hat. “That’s what you have to say to me after eight years? ‘Hi, Brett, you look great.’?”

“You know her?” The other man spoke so quietly, Kate had to strain to hear him.

“She’s my wife,” Brett said. “Well, my ex-wife.” His gaze wandered to Reid and back to her. “What are you doing here, Kate?”

“Well, about that….” She choked, the words there—always there, planned for years—but stuck stuck stuck.

“What about it?”

“That little boy is your son,” she said, her voice rushing now, the things she’d planned to say abandoning her. “His name is Reid.”

Eight years ago:

Dear Brett,

I’ve written this letter at least a dozen times. I don’t know how else to say it, so I guess I’ll just say it.

I’m pregnant.

I know you might think the baby isn’t yours, but it is. I never—I made mistakes after you left, but that wasn’t one of them. Momma is sending me to North Carolina to live with Nana, so when you get back, come find me on the great Magnolia estate in Bryson City.

The baby is due just before Easter, so maybe you can get clearance for a video call that Sunday. Let me know so I can make sure Nana’s Internet is paid up.

I’m so sorry about everything. I love you, and I’ve wanted to erase my last email since the moment I sent it.

I hope you can forgive me, and we can be a family when you get back next summer.

All my love,

Kate

“I’ll see you later.” Pete, Brett’s Army buddy and best friend, walked away. Brett had never seen him move so fast, even while under attack in Afghanistan. Pete disappeared around the side of the cabin, but Brett couldn’t hear his footsteps in the gravel.

The words That little boy is your son echoed endlessly, drowning everything else out, even that rose-scented perfume Kate always wore.

Her mouth moved, but Brett didn’t comprehend anything she said. Her fingers twisted around themselves, and he felt the same sensation tightening his gut, twisting and fisting it until he doubled over.

I have a son.

Brett straightened, the prairie breeze whisking away his ex’s declaration. He turned his attention to the dark-haired boy romping through the grass with Finn, Major Ackerman’s stepson.

Brett had felt welcome and at home at Three Rivers Ranch with Pete and his wife, Chelsea. He’d been taking care of the homestead, installing new flooring and repainting the interior, one room at a time. He’d been testing his green thumb with some new landscaping this summer and finding himself again after being overseas for so long.

Squire, Chelsea’s younger brother, had come home for the Independence Day celebrations and to visit family. Finn had turned seven years old a few days ago, and everyone was attending a big birthday party at Kelly’s parents’ house the following evening.

Brett had been enjoying his life at Three Rivers: The occasional construction job, the wide-open range, the hospitality of the people in town. He could do without the constant blind dates the older ladies enjoyed setting up for him, but all in all, he’d been happier in Three Rivers this past eighteen months than anywhere else.

And of course, here was Kate Donnely, ruining it. Brett tore his gaze from his son—I have a son!—to look back at the boy’s mother. She’d stepped in horse manure, and she looked sweatier than a sinner sittin’ in church.

Brett tried not to be happy about those things, but the woman had asked for a divorce—via email—only three weeks into his first deployment. He’d given his permission—what else could he do from half a world away?—and blocked her email address.

She’d never tried to contact him in the seven years since. She’d moved away from Oklahoma City by the time he completed his first tour in Afghanistan. Her parents wouldn’t tell him where she’d gone, or give him a forwarding address.

As far as Brett was concerned, Kate Donnely had died.

And yet, she stood in front of him, her hazel eyes wide and scared, her auburn hair curling at the ends because of the heat.

“Do you want to meet him?” She gestured toward the child. “I brought him out here to meet you.”

“Where you goin’?”

“California.”

Brett crossed his arms, trying to figure out why she’d come now. “You could’ve just taken him to California. I never would’ve known.” He took a step toward her, which caused her to flinch. A fierce animal roared inside his chest, making his voice scratch his throat as he said, “But now that I know about him, I’m not letting you take him halfway across the country, away from me. He deserves a father.”

He stalked closer with every step, anger replacing the shock that had saturated his system.

“Yes, he does,” she spat. “And where have you been the past eight years?”

“Right where you left me,” he said. “It was obviously pretty easy to find me, Kate. I asked your parents for years where you were. They wouldn’t tell me.”

Her cheeks turned pink, from rage or embarrassment, he wasn’t sure. “I stopped talking to my daddy after Momma died.”

Brett felt the weight of her words like another punch to the gut. “I didn’t know about your mom.” He couldn’t bring himself to add his condolences, though a voice whispered that he should be the bigger person and do so.

She shrugged. “I finished nursing school, and I have a job waiting in California.” She glanced toward her son. His son. “I need a fresh start.”

“Seems like you take one of those every few years.” Brett wished his words weren’t so poisonous, but he couldn’t help it. He bit back a hurtful comment, glad to know his self-control wasn’t completely gone when faced with Kate.

She started nodding, which caused a single tear to drip onto her cheek. She wiped it away quickly. “My momma told me that you deserved to know about Reid. And I—well, I couldn’t leave the Midwest without telling you.”

“You could’ve texted.”

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Brett suspected there was something more to her little visit, but he couldn’t fathom what it could be.

“Or called,” he pressed. “Sent an email. You’re really good at sending life-changing emails.”

“Brett—” Kate’s shoulders deflated. “I just wanted you to meet him before we leave.”

Cold fear punctured Brett’s lungs. He’d never been particularly good with children, but he wasn’t about to let Kate know that. She’d robbed him of years with his own son. He turned his fury on her, certain by the way her bottom lip shook that she felt it all the way to her bone marrow.

“I’ll let you make the introduction.” Brett swept his hand toward the boy, who laughed with Finn like they’d been friends since birth.

“Reid,” Kate called as they got closer. “C’mon over here, baby.”

She hadn’t lost her accent, and something sharp pulled inside Brett, making his step stutter. He’d always loved the sound of her voice, which had made her email breakup so much more hurtful. He’d lost the timbre of it before the email came, but all the feelings he’d had rushed back with sudden familiarity.

“You chose the name Reid?” he asked, real low so the boy couldn’t hear.

“Yes.” She drew Reid into her side. “Reid, this is—” Kate glanced at Brett, her eyes wide and watery.

Brett knelt in front of the child, seeing himself in the cut of Reid’s jaw, his jet-black hair and coal-colored eyes. No doubt about it, Reid was Brett’s son.

He waited for Kate to finish; he certainly wasn’t going to make this easier for her.

“This is your daddy, Reid.” Kate squeezed the boy’s shoulders.

Reid’s expression turned from guarded to delighted. “You’re back!” He flung his arms around Brett’s neck and nearly choked him.

On instinct, Brett wrapped his arms around the little boy and picked him up. Love he’d never known filled his heart, worked its way up his throat, surged all the way to the soles of his feet.

He met Kate’s eye over Reid’s shoulder. “You’re not taking him away from me.”

Kate’s jaw hardened, and her lips flattened into a stiff line. Brett didn’t care. She’d had Reid to herself for years, and Brett suddenly didn’t feel like sharing.

Eight years ago:

Kate,

I’ve blocked your email address and then unblocked it over and over. You haven’t sent me another message, and I can only assume you’ve gone ahead with the divorce. I won’t lie, when I think about it, I feel like someone’s ripping out my insides with an icy hand.

I don’t understand what happened. We loved each other, and we were happy before I left Oklahoma City. At least I was, because you were my whole world. I don’t pretend to know what you went through when I had to leave. I do know I’m awfully lonely out here in the desert, and your messages were all I had.

Sure, my mom’s written every week. Even Dad threw in a line in the last letter. But I don’t worry about them the way I do you.

I wish you’d write, sugar. I hope and pray that when the day comes when I get released that you’ll be waiting for me at the airport. A man can hope for miracles, right? Out here in the desert, I don’t know what else to do.

With love,

Brett

“You can leave him here with me,” Brett said as they moved toward Pete’s house. Reid walked with one hand in Kate’s and one in Brett’s. This scenario had played out in her mind countless times, always the three of them a happy family. But the way Brett’s jaw jumped and the murderous glances he kept sending her over Reid’s head had never been in the fantasy.

“I am not leaving him here with you.” Kate wished she’d been able to text and hit the road, but her mother’s will had been very specific. She had to introduce Reid to Brett in person, or she could forfeit her inheritance.

Brett nodded toward the Ackerman’s house. “I live there by myself. There’s plenty of room.”

“Who would take care of him while you’re at work?”

“Chelsea, or one of the ladies in town.”

“Do you work in town?”

“Sometimes.”

Kate shook her head. She’d been responsible for Reid singlehandedly for seven years. “I am not leaving him here with you.”

“I want to stay here with Daddy,” Reid said, pulling his hand from hers. She felt the loss of it, the disappointment cutting all the way to the top of her head.

“Reid, Mommy has a job in California. We have to go.”

“You have to go,” Brett said. “I haven’t seen my son for seven years. I want him to stay.”

Reid gazed up at Brett with absolute adoration on his face, and Kate kicked herself for letting her momma’s words get under her skin, grow teeth, and start to gnaw at her conscience. She hated herself for being so reliant on her mother, for moving to North Carolina and staying with her grandmother, though she’d needed someone there to care for her. And once her momma got sick and moved in with them, Kate went to school during the day and spent her nights attending to her family’s needs.

She wished she could walk away from the money, but she had debts and a dependent to take care of. Her mother came from old Southern money, and Kate couldn’t walk away from it.

Still, she never should’ve brought her son here. She could’ve sent Brett a text, a certified letter, an email, and turned her back on the Donnely name completely. After all, they’d practically abandoned her when she’d married Brett, showing more disappointment when Brett left and Kate broke things off with him. Donnelys chose correctly the first time, though Kate’s parents certainly didn’t have a happy marriage. If they had, her daddy would’ve been there during her mother’s last days on earth. If they had, she wouldn’t have had to hire a lawyer just to get him to produce the will.

Kate glanced at Brett. If she’d sent him a certified letter, she suspected he would’ve hunted her to the ends of the earth to meet his son. She wished the knowledge didn’t draw her closer to him, make her want to apologize every five seconds until he forgave her and they could be a family.

He hadn’t lost any of his height or bulk during his time overseas. If anything, he’d grown up, become a man in place of the boy she’d fallen so hard for.

“I want to stay too, Momma.” Reid’s childlike innocence felt like a needle to her heart.

“We’ll talk about it,” Kate said in her no-nonsense voice. Reid relinquished Brett’s hand, but Brett obviously didn’t care what tone she used.

“Where are you staying?”

“The Holiday Inn in town,” she said.

“I’ll be there in the morning.” He knelt in front of Reid. “You wanna go to breakfast tomorrow?”

Kate ground her teeth together, but couldn’t deny the way her heart pumped double-time at the tender edge in Brett’s voice, the adoration that shone in his eyes.

“Yes,” Reid said. “Can we, Momma?”

Kate moved toward her car. If she could just make it inside the sedan, she might be able to breathe again. “Fine.”

“Nine o’clock.” Brett put his hand on the car door so she couldn’t open it. “Promise me, Kate.”

She met his glare with one of her own. “I didn’t have to bring him out here,” she said. “You asked for breakfast, and I said yes.”

“I don’t need your permission to see my son,” he shot back.

How right about that he was, he didn’t even know. Kate had listed him on Reid’s birth certificate, and since they were still legally married…. No, she couldn’t deny Brett the right to see Reid.

“Get in the car, baby.” She opened the door for Reid and stepped close to Brett. “We need to meet privately. Can you arrange for someone to watch him for a couple of hours tomorrow after breakfast?”

Brett’s eyes narrowed, and he stared into her eyes. His were so dark—something she remembered from the first time they’d met. How she’d loved the danger in his eyes. The years had changed him, and though his eyes were still pools of ebony, they held more wisdom now. The same passion, but curbed with patience and maturity.

“I’ll ask Chelsea if she can watch him.”

“Who’s Chelsea?” Kate asked.

Brett nodded toward the couple standing on the porch. “Pete Marshall, my First Lieutenant. His wife is Chelsea.”

Kate noticed the way she held her hand on her stomach, the smallest of baby bumps pushing against her dress.

“Chelsea’s sister-in-law is in town too. That was her son Reid was playin’ with.” Brett glanced back the way they’d come.

“That’s fine,” Kate said, wondering how many times she’d use the word fine before she left town.

Brett stepped back from the car, allowing her to enter the vehicle. She cranked the air conditioning and backed out of the driveway, doing everything in her power to keep from looking at Brett.

But something pulled at her, and she glanced at him just before putting the car in drive. And she knew: He would not let Reid go without a fight.

She had no idea how he’d react when she told him they were still married.

Save that for tomorrow, she told herself as she stomped on the accelerator. Or never.

He obviously hadn’t tried to marry again, or he’d have discovered she’d never finalized the divorce. If she were being honest with herself, she hadn’t wanted the divorce once she’d discovered she was pregnant. But her stubborn streak and a mountain of pride had prevented her from admitting as much.

Even if she’d wanted the divorce, she couldn’t get it. He’d been overseas and had to sign the papers. As she turned onto the highway, she glanced at the passenger seat, where a manila folder with the required paperwork mocked her.

Dear Brett,

North Carolina is hot, and stuffy. Or maybe that’s just my nana. She has three dogs, and they yip constantly. I can’t sleep in with their constant chatter, and now that the baby is due within a few weeks, Momma has come to the estate.

She never lets a day go by without making sure I know how much of a disappointment I am. She hasn’t spoken to Daddy for a month, but I’m the disappointment. Funny, right?

I think about you constantly. I can’t bear to watch the news for fear I’ll hear something terrible happening overseas. My heart aches that I haven’t had a word of news from you, though I fully expect to never hear from you again.

I wish I could be brave and send this letter. Be brave and tell you that I love you, and that I didn’t file the divorce papers. Be brave, the way you so courageously signed up for the Army even though you would’ve rather stayed home and built houses with your daddy.

You know you were always good enough for me, right? Momma says things that aren’t true, and after you were deployed, I let her words infect my thinking. I hope my words haven’t caused you pain, though I’m sure they have.

One more thing to add to my list of regrets.

Easter is just a few weeks off. You’ll be home in another three months. How I wish I knew the exact date and place, for I would do anything to be there to see you.

All my love,

Kate

Brett noticed the shiny, new hitch attached to Kate’s standard sedan. He wondered what she’d hauled here, and when she’d hook it up again and leave with his son.

“I’m going after her,” he called to Pete, who acknowledged him by lifting his hand.

“Is that really your son?” He descended the steps, leaving Chelsea on the porch.

The air in Brett’s lungs felt like tear gas, like the air was killing him one breath at a time. “I think so, Lieutenant. Did you see him?”

“Looked an awful lot like you.”

Brett exhaled heavily. “I gotta go after her.”

“You sure that’s the best thing to do?” Pete watched him with concern. “What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t go, then.”

Brett forced himself to calm down, to think rationally, the way Pete had taught him in Kandahar. “I just want to make sure she doesn’t skip town. She said I could take him to breakfast.”

“You think she would?”

“She kept my own son a secret for seven years.” Brett glared at the dust still hanging in the air. “So, yeah. I think she’d break her promise and skip town.” He snapped his fingers, thinking of their marriage vows and how easily she’d broken those. “Like that.”

“Take one of the trucks,” Pete said. “We can handle the patients this afternoon without you.”

An icy punch landed against Brett’s chest. “I forgot about them,” he said. “You can’t handle Lucy by yourself.”

“Chelsea’ll help. And Squire’s here too. We’ll be fine.”

Brett thought about Lucy, the little girl he’d been working with at Courage Reins. A patient with Down syndrome, she really didn’t do well with change. She’d taken to Brett during her first appointment, and he was the only one she’d listen to.

“Just go,” Pete said. “That’s your son, commander.”

His decision made, Brett strode toward the row of trucks, determined to make sure he got to see Reid again before Kate took him away.

Forty-five minutes later, Brett pulled into the parking lot of the Holiday Inn, finding Kate’s car pretty easily. She’d parked next to a small moving trailer with North Carolina license plates, and Brett’s suspicions were confirmed.

She’d already packed. She was ready to leave for California right now. He wondered if she’d been in North Carolina these past eight years, and why if she wasn’t talking to her daddy, he hadn’t told Brett where she was.

He wished he’d tried harder to find her. Tried harder to stay in touch, maybe sent all those emails he’d drafted. Tried harder to keep her as his wife.

He’d been so young when they’d gotten married. She had been too. Having a baby alone couldn’t have been easy for her.

Easier than most, he thought as he remembered how much money her family had.

He ducked low in his seat when Kate and Reid came into view, heading for their car. They got in and started buckling, but Kate didn’t have a suitcase with her. She didn’t hook up the trailer. She wasn’t leaving town. At least not right now.

Brett’s heart pounded like he was back in the desert, half-buried in sand while he waited for the signal to move. Flashes of intense heat, of the way the Middle Eastern wind moaned, of the screaming of dying friends, stole through his mind.

He waited. And waited. And waited. By the time he left the parking lot, the sun dipped toward the horizon. Kate hadn’t returned.

Just like five of Brett’s company hadn’t returned from that fateful day half-buried in the sand.

The next morning, Brett leaned against the hood of Kate’s car at precisely nine o’clock. Always punctual, Kate came out with Reid right on time.

“I’ll see you after you eat, baby.” She smoothed the boy’s dark hair and looked at Brett with apprehension. “Take care of him, please.”

Brett bit back a hurtful retort. Why couldn’t she see that she’d taken something precious from him? The ability to show her he could be a good father was just at the top of a long list.

“We’ll be fine.” He reached for Reid’s hand. “You ready, bud?”

“Yep.”

“What do you like for breakfast?”

“Pancakes!”

Brett grinned and started toward his truck. “I know just the place.” He helped Reid into the truck and stepped back to Kate. “He’ll be fine.”

She clenched her arms across her chest as if she needed them to keep herself together. “When will you be back?”

“When we’re done. I asked Kelly to watch Reid later. She’s at her parents’ place here in town, gettin’ ready for her son’s birthday party tonight. Finn will be there, so Reid will have someone to play with.”

Kate nodded, her gaze wandering to the truck. “Where do you want to meet to talk?”

“Wherever you want, sugar.”

She flinched at the once-familiar endearment. Brett cursed his tongue, wishing he could take the word back. He really didn’t want to hurt Kate, but he’d spent the night with bitterness and resentment, and they had sunk deep into his mind.

He swiped open his contacts list and handed her his phone. “Put your number in here, and I’ll call you after I drop off Reid.”

She took his cell with a look of her face like she’d stepped in horse manure again. A chuckle rumbled his chest. “It won’t bite you.”

She gave him a cynical look and typed into his phone. She handed it back to him, but kept her pinch on it when he tried to take it.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice choked with emotion, and her eyes storming with things unsaid.

Brett suddenly couldn’t speak either, something tender and meaningful passing between him and Kate. He dipped his chin once and spun away. By the time he got in the truck, he’d regained his composure.

“Where you been livin’?” he asked Reid as he turned onto the road.

“North Carolina,” Reid said. “Where you been livin’?”

Brett didn’t know what Kate had told him. “Um, overseas.”

“That’s what momma said. You still in the Army?” Reid had a charming voice, and Brett smiled at him.

“Yeah. Served three deployments.”

“What’s a deployment?”

“It’s where I have to go live somewhere else and help keep people safe.”

Reid frowned, and he took extra seconds before he spoke, just like Kate did. “Momma said you were keeping us safe.”

“I was,” Brett said. “People in other countries, and ours.”

Reid accepted this answer, and Brett moved the conversation away from his military service. He still had to go to Sheppard Air Force Base once a month—his weekend was coming up the day after tomorrow. He could be called up for duty at any time, and Brett counted every day he was able to stay in Three Rivers as a blessing.

“What grade you in?” Brett asked next, not quite sure what seven-year-olds did.

“Second,” Reid said. “Well, I just finished second. Momma says I’m gonna go to third in California.”

Not if I have anything to say about it. Brett’s teeth clenched, but he managed to hide it as he helped Reid out of the truck and into Betty Sue’s Pancake House.

“Well, hello there, Mister Murphy.” Sandy, the hostess, grinned at Brett. “Haven’t seen you for a while.”

“Hey, Sandy.” Brett had gone out with her last winter after her mother had set them up. Sandy was nice. Pretty. But she lacked something Brett later identified as her own opinions. She simply agreed with whoever she was talking to.

“Two today?”

Brett put his hand on Reid’s shoulder. “Yep. Two.”

“This is my dad,” Reid announced, and Brett’s heart leapt and sank at the same time. Now that Sandy knew, everyone in Three Rivers would know about Brett’s son. Probably by lunchtime.

Brett knocked on the door of room 303, where Kate was staying. He’d enjoyed breakfast and dropped Reid at Kelly’s. The boy had taken to Finn and Buster, the chocolate lab, without an issue, leading Brett to believe he was used to being dropped off somewhere or being looked after by someone other than Kate.

Kate opened the door and stepped back. “Hey.”

He entered the room, and it immediately felt too small. “You wanna go outside?”

She shook her head. “No, I just want to get this over with.”

Annoyance sang through him. Did she think having her show up out of nowhere was easy for him?

He moved to the window to put as much distance between them as possible and gestured for her to get this over with.

She cleared her throat and picked up a manila folder from the desk. Her usually pale skin seemed almost translucent as she swallowed and swallowed and swallowed.

“Spit it out, Kate.”

She handed him the folder and he kept his eyes on hers as he took it. What could possibly be worse than hiding his son from him?

He flipped open the folder, but she slapped her palm over it. “Wait.” She swiped it away again.

Brett couldn’t stay in this room with her—alone—for much longer. She wore her luxurious hair down, and his fingers ached to glide through it, as they once had. He crossed his arms, trying to clench his emotions inside.

“Kate—”

“I need you to sign these papers.” She pressed them to her chest as she closed her eyes.

Brett’s mind raced like it was a car in the Indy 500. If she thought he was signing away his parental rights, she had another thing coming. Brett had only spent a couple of hours with Reid, and he already felt fiercely protective of him.

“What papers?”

Kate didn’t open her eyes, barely breathed. “Our divorce papers.”

Brett blinked while his brain busied itself with trying to make sense of her words.

“We’re not divorced?” he finally managed to ask, as the idea occurred to him.

Her beautiful eyes opened, a hint of unshed tears there. “No.” She shook her head. “We’re not divorced.”

Brett didn’t know what to say, or what to do. He did know he couldn’t be in this hotel room with her—with his wife—for one more second. He took the deepest breath he could muster, using the oxygen to flee as far and as fast as he could.

Kate,

Five men in my company died today. I can’t say much more than that, for reasons I hate, but I’m feeling particularly human right now. I don’t know what I thought the Army would be like, but living in a tent in the windiest desert on the planet wasn’t it.

There’s sand everywhere, and I can never get rid of it. Even when I’m showering, I can feel it on my skin, embedded in my beard, caked under my nails.

I’m coming home in two weeks, sugar. I won’t know exactly what day or time until a day or two beforehand. You’ll be there, right?

Of course you won’t be there. I’ve been gone for almost a year, and I haven’t heard from you since that second email when you asked for a divorce. Sometimes I lie awake at night and try to picture you with another man, but I can’t. You were meant to be mine, and I’ve known it since the day I met you.

When I get home, I’ll find you. I’ll talk to your parents, make them tell me where you are and what’s so objectionable about me that they wouldn’t even come to our wedding.

After I find you, we’ll take a trip, maybe to Alaska or somewhere cold. Anywhere where there isn’t any sand.

If there’s anything I’ve learned from this experience, it’s to never lose hope. Even when you feel like its fourth and long, you just have to dig into the sand a little deeper and hold on a little longer. At least that’s how I stayed alive during the attack on my company.

I haven’t given up on us, sugar, and I can only hope you haven’t either.

With love,

Brett

Kate watched Brett march out of the room, his eyes glazed and a flush creeping through his dark beard. The door slammed behind him, and she flinched at the finality of the sound. Her knees buckled and she collapsed onto the bed, the divorce papers pinched painfully in her fingers.

“Well, that could’ve gone better.” She focused her gaze out the window, drinking in the field behind the hotel. The blue sky stretched for miles; a shimmering heat wave danced from right to left.

She sighed, ran her hands through her hair, and began braiding it. The urge to leave town started low in her chest, working its way up her throat until she felt close to choking. She wasn’t sure if Brett had stormed off because he was angry they were still married, or angry she wanted a divorce again. Probably both.

And the worst part was, Kate couldn’t blame him. Oh, no. The blame these past eight years always came back to her. She marveled at how one stupid choice could cause upheaval for so long, for so many people.

If she’d been strong enough to weather the loneliness, to resist the temptation of a handsome man, to use her courage to tell the truth, she wouldn’t be in this mess. She wouldn’t have had to move to North Carolina, wouldn’t have had to make this drive to Texas, wouldn’t feel such a need to start over somewhere no one knew her.

Tears pushed forward, and Kate bowed her head and cried. She hated the self-loathing that came whenever she thought about her life, truly contemplated what she wanted and how she could get it. Because the fact was, her life wasn’t hers. She had Reid to consider, and everything always tangled with Brett too.

What should I do? she wondered, not consciously sending her question heavenward. Another weakness, another stumbling block of pride she couldn’t overcome. In her rational moments, she couldn’t blame Brett for her situation. Sometimes shouldering the blame was too heavy, so Kate had taken to blaming God.

She looked up at the popcorn ceiling and let the tears crawl down her face. “What should I do?” she asked, the plea as heartfelt as she knew how to make it.

A thunderous voice didn’t shake the room. The lights didn’t go out. Kate wept for a few more minutes, and then an unknown strength entered her body, drying up her tears and calming her pulse. A single thought entered her mind.

“I need to make things right.” She stepped to the mirror and wiped away her tears. “I will make things right.”

She didn’t know if that meant she and Brett would stay married. She didn’t know if they’d get divorced. She did know she had a son to take care of, and a nursing degree she could use to do it. She knew her life was forever twined with Brett’s, and she needed to set things straight with him before she left town.

Half an hour later, with fresh makeup applied generously to her eyes, Kate pulled into the driveway at the address Brett had texted her. Reid was supposedly here, playing with a little boy named Finn.

Kate felt every ounce of her hundred and thirty pounds as she ascended the steps and rang the bell. A minute later, a honey-blonde woman answered the door with a smile and a glass of sweet tea.

“You must be Kate. Come on in.” She stepped back and allowed Kate to enter the house.

“Thanks for keeping Reid.” She took the tea and managed to swallow a sip. “Oh, this is delicious.” She downed a gulp this time, suddenly thirstier than a camel.

“My mom is a genius with teas. My name’s Kelly.”

“And your husband is Squire Ackerman.” Kate knew Brett had served time overseas with a Major Ackerman. His mother had been more judicious with the details of Brett’s life than hers had been.

Kelly beamed like Kate had just said she was married to the President of the United States. “That’s right. He’s out back with the boys.” She gestured for Kate to follow her and they moved through the house and onto a back deck.

Again, the beauty of the Texas countryside struck Kate full in the stomach. The wide-open sky, the whispering wind, the still peacefulness. North Carolina possessed it’s own beauty, and Kate had inherited the mansion house and sizeable estate when both her grandmother and momma had died within four months of each other.

But she couldn’t stay there, cooped up alone in a house with seven years of bad memories, wrong choices. She’d hired someone to clean the house and prepare it for long-term storage. A gardener came every week, paid out of her grandmother’s trust.

“Kate, this is my mom, Ivory.” Kelly stood next to an older woman, whose blonde hair had started to lose its color.

“Nice to meet you.” Kate hitched a smile in place, the way her Southern manners dictated. Never let them see you sweat, her momma had always told her, and though Kate had no plans of ever seeing Ivory again, she’d be nice now.

“You staying in town long?” Ivory asked, lifting her own glass of sweet tea to her lips.

It was an innocent question, one that sent Kate’s heartbeat skittering through her limbs. “I’m not sure.”

Kelly glanced out to the backyard, where Reid chased a Frisbee someone had thrown. Kate followed her gaze, unsure of how to collect Reid and go without seeming rude.

“What are you doing here?” Ivory asked next.

Kate blinked a couple of times, searching for an answer.

“Mom,” Kelly said. “Leave her alone.”

“No, it’s all right.” Kate took a deep breath and looked Ivory straight in the eye. “I came to get a divorce.”

Even Kelly flinched at her words, though Kate was sure she knew at least part of the story. Small towns and all that. Another reason Kate couldn’t stay in Bryson City. Too many people who knew her, had known her family for generations.

“I should probably go,” Kate said, abandoning her tea on the picnic table. “Thank you so much for watching Reid. What do I owe you?”

Kelly scoffed and waved her hand. “Nothing. Glad to do it.”

Kate felt genuine warmth in Kelly’s words, warmth that seeped into her chest. “Thank you, Miss Kelly.”

She started for the stairs, a pinch just below her breastbone she hoped would disappear as soon as she could get out of here.

“Did he sign the papers?” Kelly asked, following Kate.

“No.”

“What are you going to do?”

Kate almost started crying again, and she sensed a friend in Kelly. “What would you do if you were me?”

Kelly hugged herself, though the July temperatures had to be over one hundred degrees. She bit the corner of her lip and watched her son.

“I’ve been where you are,” she said. “My first husband gave me the divorce I wanted, but it was real hard to open my heart again.”

Kate frowned, unsure of what Kelly was getting at. Without her mother’s money, she couldn’t actually afford to move to California, couldn’t pay rent for somewhere to live. She had to show proof of a divorce or proof of family life to Momma’s lawyer before she could get the money.

“Brett’s a good man.” Kelly’s hand landed on Kate’s arm, drawing her out of her past. “If he doesn’t want a divorce, maybe there’s something still there.”

Kelly obviously hadn’t seen the loathing in Brett’s eyes. “Maybe.”

Long after Kate left with Reid, long after they’d eaten dinner, swam in the pool, and Reid had fallen asleep, Kelly’s words circled in Kate’s mind.

Maybe there’s something still there.

Kate honestly didn’t know if Brett could ever forgive her. She hadn’t been too successful at forgiving herself. But maybe, just maybe, she could try.

Dear Brett,

It’s almost Halloween. Surely you’re home by now, probably back in Oklahoma City with a hammer in your hand.

You have a son. I named him Reid after your great-granddaddy. You spoke of him so often, I figured he was probably someone special to you.

Our Reid looks just like you. He was born with a coating of dark hair on his head and his shoulders. He looked like a kitten! He’s a good baby, who eats and sleeps when he’s supposed to. We’re still living with Nana in North Carolina, and thankfully the summer is wearing off.

Momma wouldn’t let me leave the estate for the first four months, and Nana got two more dogs. I thought I would go crazy sitting in the parlor with her neighbors and those fluff balls. The best part of the summer was that Momma went back to Oklahoma City at the beginning of August, having deemed me ready to start socializing again. I guess. Sometimes I think she just wants to exercise control over me.

I dream of a time when you’ll show up at Magnolia, wearing your Army uniform, and sweep me and Reid away from this miserable existence. The only thing that keeps me going, that helps me get up each morning, is looking into Reid’s face and seeing yours. I don’t think there’s any of me in him—and boy, that made Momma mad. I wish you were here so we could laugh about it.

Nana’s been bothering me to go to church with her, find a respectable Southern gentleman to raise my son. But I can’t. I don’t think God wants to see me there, and I certainly don’t feel like He’s been all that concerned about me these past twelve months.

I try to take a long walk everyday, and I’m leaving these letters in a box underneath the willow near the back stream on the estate. I expect never to read them again, and that you’ll never see them either. But I write them to bleed the emotion from my life onto the page, hoping my thoughts will reach you.

I love you and miss you more than these words convey. I’m scared Reid will grow up never knowing you, but I simply don’t know how to tell you about him now that it’s been a year since my original email. I don’t see how you could ever forgive me, and keeping him a secret at least allows me to think you might think of me with fondness.

I hope one day you’ll forgive my weakness.

All my love,

Kate

“I’m still married.” Brett paced in Pete’s kitchen, his fists curling and uncurling as if they had a mind of their own.

“You’re still married?” Pete sat at the bar with Chelsea, both of them looking as confused as he felt.

“I’m still married!” Brett paused and leaned his fists against the granite. “And I have a seven-year-old son.” Some of the bitterness, some of the resentment, some of the fury faded with those last words.

“What does she want?” Pete asked.

Brett turned back to his First Lieutenant, appreciating now more than ever Pete’s steadiness, his unwavering friendship. He’d been more than kind to give Brett a job at Courage Reins. Chelsea had been beyond gracious to let him live in her homestead for the past year and a half, the last six months alone after she and Pete got hitched.

He loved them both, loved the way they watched him with concern, loved how they carved time out of their lives for him.

“She wants a divorce. She wants to take my son to California.”

Pete and Chelsea exchanged a glance that spoke of worry and fear.

“Tell me what to do.” He stuffed the teeming emotions down his throat. “Please.”

“You want easy or hard?” Pete asked.

“I want right,” Brett said, still reeling from how much his life had changed in the past twenty-four hours.

“Right for you, or right for the boy?”

Brett shook his head and resumed his pacing. “How do I even know what’s right? How does anyone ever know that?” He knew letting Kate cart Reid off to California made him sick. He couldn’t do that, couldn’t give her what she wanted so she could hitch that trailer on her car and drive his son out of his life.

“I want to get to know my son.”

“Maybe you want to get to know Kate again, too?” Chelsea’s timid words stopped Brett on the spot. Did he want to get to know Kate again? She’d changed so much—so had he. She seemed wiser, more stable, less flirty. He supposed becoming a single mother at age twenty would do that to a woman.

Anger pushed against the back of his tongue. It wasn’t his fault she’d been raising Reid on her own. He hadn’t known!

“Come to church this weekend,” Pete said. “Maybe you’ll get an answer there.”

“I can’t,” Brett said, though for once, he’d very much like to go to church. Pete and Chelsea had been inviting him since he arrived on the ranch, and he went sporadically. He was glad they felt something while listening to the pastor, glad they found value in it. He just never had.

“Why not?”

“I have to go to Sheppard this weekend.” His heart fell with the words. He had to leave tomorrow afternoon for the six-hour drive to the Base. He wouldn’t be back until Monday afternoon. Almost four days away. Would Kate still be in town when he returned?

“I have to call her.”

“Wait ‘till tomorrow,” Pete said, swiping Brett’s phone out of his reach. “Go ride Griffin, and wait until tomorrow.”

Brett met Pete’s eye, wishing he could be as calm and rational as his friend. But a hurricane writhed inside his chest, churning and tossing up twenty-foot waves of desperation, regret, and anxiety.

“Trust me,” Pete said. “You’re not thinking clearly right now, and you’ll say or do something that will drive her away.” He nodded toward the French doors that led to the back patio. “Go ride Griffin, soldier. That’s an order.”

Brett stroked his beard, his tell of nerves, and left Pete and Chelsea in their kitchen.

Brett saddled Griffin with the feather-light touch he’d learned over the months. Simply being in the presence of the horse calmed him, covered his internal wounds with a thick layer of salve that worked for days.

He’d never said as much to Pete, but the man wasn’t the director of an equine therapeutic program for no reason. He knew what magic healing the horses had performed on Brett.

“You wanna run today, boy?” he asked Griffin as he placed the saddle on his back. He wouldn’t be able to ride him far, not in this heat.

He seemed to shake his head as he checked both of Brett’s pockets for a treat.

“No?” Brett sighed. “Okay, me either.” Really, he wanted to run away as far and as fast as he could. Instead, his fingers lovingly stroked Griffin’s cheeks, fed him a couple of sugar cubes, and directed him into the training facility. His hooves didn’t clomp in the rubber stamps the way they did the dirt, but the simple task of riding him soothed Brett.

“My ex-wife came into town yesterday,” he started. “Well, she’s not my ex-wife. We’re still married.”

An hour later, Brett had told Griffin the whole story. Every last detail, including everything he’d felt over the last twenty-four hours. The horse snacked on a sack of oats while Brett brushed his black mane to a high gloss. His insides didn’t feel so knotted, his heart didn’t feel so hard, his mind didn’t feel so muddled.

“Thanks, fella.” He pressed his forehead to Griffin’s and headed back to his homestead to pack for his weekend at the Base.

Brett’s mood went from calm and quiet to all-hopped-up-on-caffeine with every mile that passed between Sheppard Air Force Base and Three Rivers. He could’ve blamed it on the two cups of coffee he’d downed before leaving, but he knew his nerves better than that.

And they were all screaming about Kate, and if she’d left town while he’d been gone. He’d called her on his way out of town on Friday, but no surprise, she hadn’t answered. He’d left her a message, begging her to stay in Three Rivers until he returned and could see Reid again.

His phone had been silent all weekend. Nothing new there. But he’d half-hoped she would respond in some way. A text, a call. Anything. The fact that she hadn’t caused another frog of anxiety to hop through his system.

He pulled into town, taking a detour here and there until he passed in front of the Holiday Inn. His heart dropped into his shoes when he didn’t see her trailer in the parking lot. Immediately following that sensation, a fire started in his chest. An angry, blazing inferno of hurt and pain and rage.

She’d left town.

She’d taken Reid and left town.

She hadn’t called or texted before she’d taken Reid and left town.

Brett raked his fingers through his hair and along his beard. What could he do? Call and yell at her? What would that solve?

He took a deep breath, trying to reason through the flames consuming his insides. Closing his eyes, he sent a prayer to the skies, hoping someone was there to listen.

An idea popped into his head. He jumped from the truck and hurried inside the hotel to the guest counter. “Hey, there. My wife checked out a couple of days ago, and we think she left something here.”

The girl looked at him and smiled. “Name?”

“Kate—” Brett cut off, unsure as to what last name she’d used. “I mean, my name’s not Kate, but the reservation was under my wife’s name. Kate D-Donnely?”

He wasn’t sure what the girl would tell him—surely room 303 would’ve been cleaned by now. Maybe he could discern when she’d checked out, if she’d said where she was going.

“Looks like y’all checked out yesterday morning….” The girl’s eyes moved side to side as she read. “Nothing was found in the room. I’m sorry.” She flashed him a sympathetic grin, and he lifted his hands as if to say No problem.

“Thank you.” He hurried back to his truck. If she’d only checked out yesterday, she couldn’t have gone too far before stopping last night. Albuquerque, maybe. Maybe all the way to Flagstaff. He’d call every hotel in those cities if he had to.

He rushed back to the ranch, hoping Pete would give him some time off. He didn’t have any construction projects going right now, besides a few odd jobs around the ranch, but he helped with the therapeutic riding almost every evening.

Brett pulled into the driveway of the Ackerman’s homestead and waited for the garage door to lift. Once inside, he moved right through the kitchen and down the steps to the yard. Pete usually worked with the horses during the day, and if he wasn’t in the horse barn, he’d be in the training facility.

“…over here,” a woman said down the row of cars in the gravel parking lot. “Take that basket from him, Reid honey.”

Kate’s voice.

Relief Brett had never known swept through him at the sound of her voice. He stopped and waited for her to speak again. The low voices of men reached his ears, and he crept out from behind the truck to see what was going on.

A few steps down the lot, and he found Kate’s car. Next to it, she’d parked her trailer and a healthy group of cowhands loitered nearby. Some unloaded items from the trailer, while others began carrying them back toward the cowboy cabins.

“What the—?”

“Dad!” Reid barreled toward Brett, who caught him up and swung him around.

“Hey, buddy. What are you doing here?”

“Mom got a job on the ranch. We’re livin’ here.”

Brett practically dropped his son. “Mom did what?”

Kate, in all her redheaded glory, poked her head around the trailer. Her hazel eyes sucked at him, but she ducked out of sight before he could read anything in them.

“She got a job,” Reid said. “She’s gonna be working with cows and stuff.”

Brett started shaking his head before Reid finished speaking. “That’s impossible.” He glanced around like someone would appear holding a sign that said just kidding! No one did. No one helping unload her belongings seemed to care she’d be working here.

Slowly, and somewhat against his will, his feet took him toward the back of the trailer. Sure enough, Kate stood there directing.

“That one goes in the kitchen.” She beamed up at a boy Brett knew was only temporary summer help. “Thank you, John.”

Something pinched in Brett’s brain. “What are you doing?”

Kate focused on him, her sweetness drying up faster than super glue. “Moving in. You want to help?”

“Can I talk to you for a second?” He moved toward her, lightly touching her elbow when he reached her. They took several steps away from the cowhand’s listening ears.

“Kate—”

“You asked me not to take Reid to California.” She took a step away from him, her beautiful eyes shining with tears. “I have no money, Brett. I needed a job.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “And wouldn’t you know it? Neither of the two doctors in this Podunk town needed a nurse. This is all I could find on such short notice.”

Brett searched her expression for a hint of dishonesty. Disloyalty. Anything really. All he found was desperation. The same desperation that had been laced in her words.

“You don’t have to live in a cowboy cabin,” he said. “There’s plenty of room at the homestead.”

She cocked her hip and folded her arms. “Don’t you live at the homestead?”

“Yes,” He scanned her petite figure, a new idea filtering into his mind. “And we’re married, so it wouldn’t be inappropriate.” Eight years apart hadn’t dulled the spark between them, and finding out about his son had only reminded Brett of what he’d lost when Kate had emailed so long ago.

Kate,

I went to your house and asked your dad where you were living. He refused to tell me. I didn’t see your momma, though I’m not upset about that. I’ve asked several people around town if they know where you are, and no one does. I don’t know why I keep up this search. It’s obvious you don’t want to be found, least of all by me. Still, I’m considering a road trip to North Carolina, as you mentioned once that your grandmother lived there.

But North Carolina is a big state, and I don’t even know where to start. I’ll be reporting to Fort Bragg next month for communications training. After that, I’m fully expecting to be deployed again. Being home for these past months without you, without any purpose, has been harder than I imagined.

I’ve been wishing I could be deployed again, because then I wouldn’t be able to run into you at the grocery store, the bank, or the park. As it is, I’m constantly looking for your red hair, desperately hoping you’ll come home to visit your parents and I’ll see you.

Anyway, they say time and distance heals all wounds, but I’m not sure I believe them.

With love,

Brett

Being so close to Brett, smelling his cologne, hearing him invite her to live in the homestead, made Kate’s fingers itch to stroke his beard, fiddle with the buttons on his shirt, laugh with him until he took her in his arms and forgave her.

She backed up. “I’m nearly unpacked. I couldn’t ask these fine gentleman to move everything again.”

“Sure you can.” Brett glanced over his shoulder. “In fact, I’ll do it.”

Before she could react, before she even moved, Brett had stepped over to the cowboys. “Hey, fellas. My wife’s gonna need her things at the homestead instead of whichever cabin you put her up in. Can we get that moved over there? The basement’s fine.”

The cowhands got right to work, several of them saying, “Yes, sir,” before they walked away.

“Brett.” Kate stomped toward him. “I don’t want to live at the homestead.”

“Sure, you do.” He reached for a box labeled clothing. “Yours or Reid’s?”

“Brett.”

He looked at her, those dark eyes as penetrating as ever. No wonder the cowhands obeyed, even if he wasn’t their boss. “What?”

“You’re not listening to me.”

A muscle pulsed in his jaw. “Go on, then.”

“I don’t want to live in the homestead.”

His brow crinkled. “Why not? It’s cleaner, and bigger, and nicer than any cowboy cabin.”

“I still want you to sign the papers.”

“If I sign the papers, you’ll leave.”

“Maybe.”

He laughed. “There’s no maybe about it. Maybe—” He dropped the box and stepped right into her personal space. She moved away, but her back met the hot metal of the trailer.

“Maybe what we should do is see if there’s anything left between us worth saving.” He placed one hand on the trailer just above her shoulder, his gaze powerful and pulsing with emotion. Anger or something else just as heated, she wasn’t sure. His eyes flickered to her mouth and back to her eyes.

“After all, we have a son together. We loved each other once.” He shrugged and stepped back. “The basement has a separate entrance, bedrooms, a bathroom, even a kitchenette. So let’s make a deal.”

“A deal?” Kate sounded like she’d inhaled helium.

Brett pressed close again, until only a sliver of space remained between them. “You stick around until school starts. It’s what? Two months? I get to spend time with Reid, and you….” He cleared his throat. “You won’t have to be a single mom.”

Kate’s mind worked at triple speed. “I—well. Two months?” Surely there was more to his proposal, but she couldn’t make her thoughts line up to figure out what. He needed to back up. Now.

“I won’t be, you know, claiming any husbandly perks or anything.” He took a couple of steps away, and Kate dared to breathe again. “If, after two months, you don’t want to, you know, be a family, I’ll sign your papers.”

Kate opened her mouth to speak, but only a squeak came out.

Brett bent and picked up the box again. “I just want to get to know my son.” He looked away, toward where Reid walked next to a cowboy, chattering about who knows what. “And maybe my wife.” He swung back to her. “Is that a deal?”

Her mind whirred. She was frozen on the outside but quaking on the inside. Her heart thundered through her chest like wild horses, and even the clear blue sky hanging over Texas couldn’t calm her. Being on the ranch did, though. She loved the smell of hay, and horses, and fresh air. She’d been welcomed on Friday evening by Tom Lovell, who offered her the job on the spot.

He’d promised not to go easy on her, and she’d said she could pull her weight on the ranch. Brett’s friend, Pete had invited her to dinner on Saturday, and she’d spent Sunday afternoon with Kelly and Squire, Pete and Chelsea, while Reid played with Finn.

They accepted her readily. They didn’t ask prying questions about Brett, though she’d told them about her family and her estate in North Carolina.

Her stomach soured. Brett’s friends now knew more about her than he did. She’d wanted to leave Three Rivers as soon as she learned he’d be gone for the weekend. She’d battled with herself for hours about what to do: Leave as planned, or stay in town. She’d listened to Brett’s voicemail message a dozen times.

She couldn’t take Reid from him again. She wouldn’t.

So she’d started looking for jobs. This one paid well enough for now, provided her with somewhere to live, and Reid could see Brett easily.

It had been an answer to a prayer. A prayer she didn’t even know she’d uttered. But she couldn’t deny how kind everyone on the ranch had been. She couldn’t deny how well things had worked out. She couldn’t deny how much Brett’s deal excited her.

“Kate?” he prompted again.

She nodded. “Deal.”

He left her standing there, and she tipped her head to the sky and sent the only words she had toward heaven. Thank you.

Kate stood next to the empty trailer ten minutes after the last box had been unpacked. She’d locked the trailer. Thanked the cowhands for helping. Reid had gone to the homestead with Brett, and Kate had nowhere else to go.

She glanced toward the administration trailer at the end of the row of buildings. Gazed at the silos. The horse barn, the calving stalls, the chicken yard. This wasn’t quite the lavish estate she’d enjoyed in North Carolina, but the ranch was just as impressive.

She picked her way toward the house, with its wrap-around deck on the east side, the expansive lawn, the gravel path that led in front of the cowboy cabins. She stepped onto the grass just as a dog barked.

A gray and black animal streaked toward her, barking like she was a masked murderer. She crouched low and slapped her knees. “Here, boy.”

The dog quieted and came over, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. He had a spot of black that stained one of his ears and went around his eye like a pirate’s patch. “What’s your name, huh?”

Brett came around the corner of the house. “Zeus!” He paused when he saw Kate scratching the dog.

“Zeus, huh? That seems about right.” Kate stood and walked toward Brett, the dog at her side.

“What breed is he?” she asked.

“Blue heeler. He’s a cattle dog. I got him last year when I moved into the homestead alone.” He gave her a sideways glance. “I didn’t know you were a dog person, Kate.”

She waved away his comment. “We always had a dog growing up. My grandmother raised chows as show dogs for a while. She loved her lap dogs.”

Brett stuffed his hands in his pockets and nodded. “I’d like to meet her. Your grandmother. I remember you talking about her, you know, before.”

Kate swallowed the rising emotion. “My grandmother died a few months ago.”

“Oh, Kate.” Brett placed his fingers on her forearm, a touch so quick she wasn’t sure if it happened or not. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

She folded her arms, wishing everything she felt didn’t show so clearly on her face. “She was very old. Momma—” She coughed to clear her throat. “Momma was very sick. They both passed.”

Brett’s gaze stormed with sympathy. “I’m glad you came here, then.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “To have your family around.” He ducked his head. “You wanna come see what I’ve been working on?” He moved away, giving her the opportunity to come with him or not.

She followed several steps behind, unprepared for his kindness, his empathy. Around the corner of the house, she found Reid kneeling on the ground, working the dirt with a hand shovel.

“Reid—”

“He’s fine,” Brett said. “I’m installing a cobblestone path, and the dirt needs to be loosened and removed so we can bring in the sand.”

“So you’re a landscaper now?”

He tossed her a disgruntled look. “Whatever I need to be, sugar.”

Kate’s heart did a backflip at the old endearment, the same one that he’d used when he’d asked her to marry him, the same one he’d used when he’d left for his deployment.

“Reid, baby, time for a bath.”

“Aw, Mom.”

“Come on, Mister.”

He dropped his shovel and took her hand. “Dad set up my bed.”

Kate tossed a glance in Brett’s direction, but he stood with his back to the house. “He did?”

“Yep, he said I need a new blanket though. He said we could go shopping tomorrow.”

Kate’s defenses rose. “A new blanket?”

They reached a set of stone steps that led to a patio under the wrap-around deck she’d admired earlier. A set of sliding glass doors opened into a large living space, with the kitchenette on her right. Several boxes waited there for her to unpack.

A sectional couch curved in the direction of a television and created a hallway of sorts. More boxes were stacked in the living room, and Kate suddenly felt like she could use a hot bath and then a soft bed.

“My room’s over here.” Reid released her hand and darted around the couch. He stepped into the last room in the corner, and she followed. His bed had been set up and made, with his racecar blanket. A few boxes littered the floor.

“What’s wrong with your blanket?” she asked.

“Reid said he likes superheroes now,” Brett said behind her, causing her adrenaline to spike. She hadn’t heard him come inside. “I figured I’d get him somethin’ like that.” He glanced at her, examining in that careful way he did. At least that hadn’t changed about him. “If that’s okay with you.”

“It’s fine,” she said, wishing she could make her voice actually sound like it was fine. Instead, she sounded like she’d swallowed lemons.

“Bathroom’s here.” Brett stepped to the next door. “I got out some of the Ackerman’s towels. There’s plenty.” He moved to another door. “Your room is here. The, uh, boys, set up your bed, but we didn’t dare touch your sheets.”

Relief flowed through her. She didn’t need wranglers pawing her four hundred thread count sheets or rifling through her clothing. “Thank you, Brett.”

He looked at her, really looked. Something flowed between them. Something alive, and real. She couldn’t identify what it was before he blinked and turned away.

“Storage room here.” He opened the last door. “I put some of your boxes in here.” He gestured to the stairs. “That goes up to my place. You’re welcome anywhere, anytime.”

Brett stepped away from the stairs, but Kate couldn’t tear her eyes from them. She wondered where he slept, and if she’d be able to hear him walking around upstairs.

He bent down and picked Reid up. “You take your bath and go to bed now, ya’hear?”

“Yes, sir!” Reid smiled and hugged Brett. Kate’s heartstrings got yanked, and she felt a pull toward Brett stronger than ever.

“I’ll see you in the mornin’, and we’ll go get that blanket.”

“And work on the cobble path.”

Brett grinned at Reid. “And work on the cobble path.”

Kate stepped into the bathroom and turned on the tub. She retrieved the shampoo and soap from her travel suitcase, and closed the door behind her.

“I’ll take him all day tomorrow,” Brett said without looking at her. “I have a client tomorrow night, but Reid can help me with the horses too.”

“Thank you, Brett,” she said again.

He tipped his cowboy hat in her direction, still unwilling or unable to make eye contact. “Thank you for not leaving town, Kate.”

Brett,

Reid just turned two years old. He’s got the cutest chubbiest cheeks ever. He still looks like your clone, and sometimes it makes me so angry.

Yes, I feel angry. Furious, in fact.

Why haven’t you come to get us yet? Have you completely forgotten about me already? Of course you have. Momma always said I had a lovely but forgettable face. I think she was trying to complement me, but all I ever heard was that I wasn’t memorable.

And you’re proving her right.

I hate myself for wanting you to come so badly. I know I sent that first email, asking for the divorce. I still haven’t gotten it, by the way. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. Nana’s lawyer said you have to physically sign the papers.

The only comfort I have is that you haven’t gotten married again. If you had tried, surely someone would’ve told you our marriage was still binding.

Reid just came in screaming because I caught him with a Popsicle and said he couldn’t have it.

Where are you, Brett? I could use your help with our toddler.

And Momma’s been nagging me about going to church again. I showed some bravery and asked her where God was. Where is He, Brett? Why hasn’t He helped me?

Doesn’t matter. He obviously doesn’t care about me, just like you don’t. I have to go clean up the melted cherry mess in the kitchen.

Kate

Brett had a hard time sleeping that night, but he didn’t get up and pace like he normally did. He didn’t know if he would keep Kate awake or not, and it was a risk he didn’t want to take. So he contained himself in bed, staring at the ceiling as his brain spun and spun and spun.

When he woke in the morning, he felt like he’d never gone to sleep. He reasoned that he must have, as he didn’t feel a level of exhaustion he’d felt in the deserts of Iran. He’d never been that tired, though having Kate living in the basement brought the same level of anxiety as serving overseas.

A knock sounded on the door to the basement as Brett’s toast popped up. He went down the hall and opened the door. “Mornin’, bud.”

Reid hugged Brett, whose heart grew three sizes as he felt the love from his son.

“Momma said she didn’t know if I could come upstairs.” Reid stepped back and pulled on his fingers, a sign of nerves Brett recognized.

“Of course you can,” Brett said. “She can too. You guys live here now.”

His brow furrowed. “Why are we sleeping downstairs?”

And Brett’s heart shrank back to its normal size. He stepped back toward the kitchen, Reid following him. “Well, that’s hard to explain.” He reset the toast and opened the fridge. “You want some breakfast?”

“Momma said I could eat if you invited me.” Reid sat at the counter. “Dad, are you and Momma not together? Like, are you divorced?”

Reid put a gallon of milk on the counter and looked his son in the eye. “Son, there’s a lot of history between your mom and me.” Brett didn’t want to tell Reid he hadn’t even known he existed until last week. At the same time, annoyance sang through him that she hadn’t told Reid the truth.

“Are you married?”

“Yes,” Brett said. “But I didn’t know we were still married until last week.” He sighed and turned to get the Cheerios out of the cupboard. “These okay?”

Reid nodded, and Brett poured him a bowl. “She asked for a divorce while I was servin’ overseas, and I thought it had happened.”

“You were gone a long time,” Reid said, picking up his spoon.

Confusion clouded Brett’s thoughts. “What do you mean?”

“Momma said you were never around because you were serving in the Army somewhere.”

Anger sliced through Brett, and he set down his toast. “I came home sometimes.” He pinned Reid with a look he hoped the seven-year-old could understand. “I didn’t know where you were, or I would’ve been there.”

Reid accepted his answer and continued eating, but Brett’s gut still roiled. Kate hadn’t told Reid anything. At least nothing that was true.

“Did you live with anyone in North Carolina?” he asked.

“Yup. Grandma lived with us for a while, but she was real sick. And grandma-great too. She had lots of fluffy dogs.”

So Kate had lived with her grandmother. Brett wondered if her mother had banished Kate to North Carolina when she’d found out she was pregnant. Pregnant with a husband she’d already asked for a divorce.

“What were their names?” Brett asked. “The dogs.”

Reid started talking about “the estate” and the dogs and how he could take them into one garden but not another. Brett loved listening to the sound of his son’s voice, loved watching the light in his eyes when he spoke about the motorcycle he got to ride to set the water pipes on the estate, loved guiding him down the aisle of the horse barn and introducing him to Juniper and Peony.

“Today, we have to make sure these two get enough exercise.” He bridled Juniper and handed the reins to Reid. “Just hold ‘em, right there at your side.” He turned back to the Peony. “They aren’t workin’ today, and when they don’t have any patients, they have to do more than lay around in their stalls.”

“Can we ride ‘em?” Reid asked.

“Yeah, we could. Or we could put them in the riding circle.” He glanced down at Reid. “You want to ride ‘em?”

“Yes!”

Brett smiled and ruffled his son’s hair. “Riding it is.”

Ten minutes later, he helped Reid get into the saddle. “Hold the reins here.” He set Reid’s hand on his lap. “Peony’s the gentlest horse in our program. She doesn’t even need to be directed. Just tell ‘er where you want to go and she’ll get you there.”

“What program?”

“Oh, my friend and I work with people who need help. The horses help them. It’s like therapy.” But Brett didn’t know if Reid knew what therapy was.

Sure enough, he asked, “What’s therapy?”

“It’s like what you do when you’re trying to get better. Like if you’re….” Brett didn’t know how to continue. People didn’t go to therapy when they had a cold or anything. “The horses help people, physically and emotionally.”

Reid seemed to understand that, and he nodded.

“You ready?”

“Ready!” he cheered. Brett chuckled and swung onto Juniper’s back before heading out onto the range. Normally, he’d set Peony and Juniper in the training circle and go feed the other horses, check the schedule to make sure he was ready for the patients that night, or work on a landscaping or construction project.

He normally didn’t have time to simply ride on the range. He tipped his head back and let the hot wind zip past his neck. He settled his cowboy hat into place, thinking he probably should’ve slathered some sunscreen on Reid. His olive skin echoed Brett’s, his dark features completely crowded out Kate’s finer, lighter hair and eye color.

“You think you can trot her?” he asked as he slowed Juniper to let Peony catch up.

“What do I do?”

Brett taught Reid how to ride, and the time with his son brought a sense of peace and accomplishment Brett had never felt before.

“Okay,” he told Reid when they put Peony and Juniper back in their stalls. “Now let’s go build something.”

Reid cheered, the look of wonder on his face when Brett handed him a hammer as glorious as the radiant sun. “You ever built something before?”

“No,” Reid said. “We had servants at the estate for almost everything.”

Brett stared at him for a long moment, then studied the horizon. Kate certainly wouldn’t be used to manual labor if she’d had someone to make her bed and feed her son breakfast. Somehow, his heart twisted at the thought of her putting in twelve hours of hard work as a cowhand.

She shouldn’t have to do that, he thought. But he couldn’t suggest she stop. She seemed desperate for the money, another thing he found odd. If her family had enough cash to pay servants, why was she wearing boots to feed calves and haul hay?

He shook his head, wishing the confusing thoughts would go as easily. “Well, come on,” he said to Reid. “Let’s go see what we can build.”

Brett spent the afternoon showing Reid where to place nails, how to line up edges, and how to measure wood. If he kept his hands busy, he didn’t have time to obsess about Kate.

“A birdhouse!” Reid held up the little house he’d put together mostly by himself. “Dad, we made a birdhouse.” The boy looked a Brett with joy in his eyes, something that infused Brett’s soul and made fierce love flow through him.

“You did it, bud.” Brett tousled Reid’s hair. “All I did was point and talk.”

“I made a birdhouse! Come on, let’s go show Mom.” Reid ran off toward the basement entrance to the house. Brett followed at a much slower clip.

“Yeah, let’s go show Mom.”

Several days later, Brett stood at the stove in Pete’s kitchen, mothering a pan full of chicken fried steaks.

“Brett.” Chelsea’s chastising voice sounded behind him.

He turned and glanced at her. “Evenin’, ma’am.”

“What are you doing?”

“Making chicken fried steak.”

“Why are you making it in my kitchen?” She set her purse on the island and stepped next to him. “What’s going on? Is everything okay with Reid? How’s Kate?”

“One question at a time, woman.” He nodded at Pete as he entered from the garage. “I thought y’all could use dinner after a busy day away from home. Everything is fine with Kate, and Reid, and me.”

“Okay,” Pete said, exchanging a glance with Chelsea. Brett supposed his tone in his last words had been a bit arctic. “I’ll never say no to a free dinner.”

“Where is Kate tonight?” Chelsea exhaled heavily as she sat on a barstool. Brett regretted his decision to surprise his friends. He should’ve known he’d have to answer a million questions.

“She went into town,” Brett mumbled. He’d tried to get her to leave Reid with him, but she’d claimed they were going to a movie together. “A little mother-son bonding time,” she’d said.

Since his day riding horses with Reid five days ago, Kate hadn’t let him take Reid for longer than a couple of hours. Reid came upstairs every morning, and Brett fed him cereal and toast, or eggs and yogurt. Then he’d scamper back downstairs when Kate called.

She never came upstairs, and from the conversations Brett had with Reid, she never gave him straight answers. So Brett had. Whatever the boy asked about, Brett tried to answer as honestly as he could.

He flipped the chicken fried steaks, pleased with the golden crust. He turned to face Pete and Chelsea. “Besides makin’ dinner, I came over to ask you guys something.”

Pete removed his cowboy hat, and Brett saw the exhaustion on his face. They’d driven to Amarillo on Thursday and attended a three-day horse show, looking for another mare to add to their herd at Courage Reins.

“Ask away,” Pete said.

Brett cleared his throat. “I want to go to church with y’all tomorrow.” The words seemed to hover in the air between them. “And I want to take Reid, and I don’t know how to ask Kate.” He glanced toward the blue glass in the front door, like he could see beyond it to the homestead where his wife lived in the basement and refused to talk to him for more than ten seconds. It seemed she’d taken his deal and was going to ride out the two months without really giving him a chance.

He couldn’t believe he wanted another chance with her. But every time he looked into Reid’s eyes, he couldn’t just let him walk out of his life.

“Can you help me figure out how to talk to her about this?”

Chelsea looked at Pete, who stared at his hands. The snapping of oil filled the silence, and Brett grew uneasy. He didn’t like it when Pete took so long to answer. It usually meant Brett wouldn’t like what he said.

“Be direct,” Pete finally said. “That’s the best way. Just go over there and ask her.”

Brett nodded, his throat suddenly clogged with something. Fear maybe. Fear that she’d say no. Fear that she’d continue to keep Reid from him. Fear that she’d scoff at him for waxing religious.

Brett had never been terribly religious, but he felt a strong pull to Reid, and a driving urge to foster that relationship. The childlike forgiveness and love Reid had given him had softened his heart and Brett had found himself thinking more and more about a sermon he’d heard a few months ago when he’d attended church for Easter.

The pastor had spoken of the Savior, and His teachings to love thine enemies. Brett had been thinking the past few days about that, and thinking hard. He didn’t view Kate as an enemy, but she wasn’t making things easy for Brett.

His nose alerted him that he had chicken fried steaks on the stove, and he spun back to the burner and retrieved them from the hot oil. “Dinner’s on.” He hoped he wouldn’t have to talk about Kate, or answer more questions, but he was eating with Chelsea and Pete after all. By the time he escaped to his homestead, he’d talked himself hoarse but he was no closer to a solution for how to speak with Kate.

Kate,

Well, I’m in Afghanistan now. It’s just as hot here as Iran, even though it’s supposed to be fall. I swear there’re no seasons in the Middle East. But a ton of sand. So much sand. There’s also a smell in the air here I can’t describe. Almost like fish and body odor and a hundred other foul things.

I’ll only be here for nine months. I finished my training at Fort Bragg, and I thought about you every day. I wondered if we were living in the same state, under the same sky. I wonder what you’re doing with your days, if you’ve met someone else, if you have a family by now.

I’m seeing a woman in my unit. She just got shipped to Guam, so we’re writing. I should probably stop writing to you, but I never send these emails anyway. And it helps. What, I don’t know. It helps me feel like we’re still close, still together.

I should go.

Until next time,

Brett

Kate had never been as thankful for weekends as she was for the first one after working the ranch. Her arms ached; her back screamed, and as she shifted her position in bed muscles she didn’t even know she had protested. The only good thing about hauling hay, and feeding chickens, and branding calves was that she’d slept more soundly than she had since Reid was born.

Of course, that meant that by the time she dragged herself out of bed, Reid had gone upstairs. She’d call him down and get him ready for the day before heading over to the administration trailer for her assignments. Tom had promised her he wouldn’t go easy on her, and she regretted forcing him to make that vow.

She’d spent most of Saturday catching up on laundry and keeping the basement tidy, and then she’d taken Reid into town for a movie. A flash of Brett’s crestfallen face crossed her mind. He’d asked what her plans were, and she’d shut him out with the mother-son card.

Now, on this blessed Sunday morning, Kate kept her eyes closed, her breathing even. She wished she could go back to sleep, forget about all this Brett business. She’d hardly spoken more than two words to him this week, and guilt sliced through her. He’d been kind enough to secure proper living conditions for her and her son. His son too.

A knock sounded from far away, and it took Kate a few seconds to realize it wasn’t her bedroom door, but a door in the basement.

She heard the squeak of a door and then Reid’s high tone mixing with Brett’s lower one. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and ran her hands through her hair. The door creaked, and her heart yelped like a calf that had just met the hot branding iron.

But it was only Reid. “Momma, Dad wants to ask you somethin’.”

“Okay, baby.” She’d noticed Reid talking more and more like a cowboy, like Brett, and they’d only been in Texas for a week.

She padded into the living area, where Brett stood in her small kitchenette, his hands tucked into his jeans pockets.

“Mornin’, Kate.” His dark eyes scanned her, coming back to hers quickly.

She folded her arms. “Good morning.”

He swallowed hard, and she’d seen him do such a thing countless times before. Before the first time he’d kissed her. Before he’d said, “I do,” across from her at the altar. Before he’d said goodbye that final time, boarded a military plane, and left her life for almost eight years.

She had no idea what he’d say next, so she waited, her arms clenching tighter and tighter with each passing moment.

“I want to take Reid to church with me this mornin’.” His gaze, which had been bouncing around the room, settled on her.

“Church?” ghosted between her lips. Of the two of them, he’d always been more inclined toward religious things. But church? She didn’t know he’d actually started attending services.

“How long have you been goin’ to church?” She cursed herself for using wrangler lingo.

“Not long,” he hedged. “I want to take Reid. There’s a picnic afterward. Free lunch.” He shuffled his feet, his eyes wandering to where Reid watched cartoons on the couch. “You can come if you want.”

No, she did not want. She didn’t want him taking Reid either, though a few hours alone sounded like heaven.

“Please,” he said.

What could she say to that? She hadn’t let him spend much time with Reid after that first day, and she didn’t know why she wanted to withhold his son from him.

Brett’s cheeks colored a deep red as he stood before her, practically begging to see his own son. Guilt gripped Kate’s heart and grappled with it. She had no right to make him ask to see his own child.

“That’s fine,” she said between lips that barely moved.

“Thank you.” Brett stepped toward Reid. “Hey, buddy. Why don’t you come upstairs and get in the tub? You can watch this up there when you’re done. I’ll make pancakes.”

Reid switched off the TV and slid his little hand into Brett’s. They went upstairs together, neither of them looking at her as they passed.

Suddenly Kate knew why she’d been hoarding Reid. She was used to being Reid’s whole world. She took care of him all day and all night. She felt like Brett was taking her son away from her.

Ridiculous, she chided herself. And yet the feelings remained. How often had she wished she had someone to take Reid for the afternoon so she could sleep?

Too often.

Had she ever dreamed of having a weekend off, of being able to go shopping without Reid along?

All the time.

So why did her stomach feel like someone had injected spiders into it? Because the father of her child wanted to spend time with him?

She swallowed back the jealousy and returned to bed. “Church,” she scoffed, but something nagged at her mind. Something that spoke of a Higher Being watching out for her, leading her to this job, at this time, when she could make things right.

She heard the water start upstairs, and part of her wanted to rush up there to make sure Reid washed properly. She brought the covers to her chin in an attempt to stay in her bedroom. And stay she did.

Kate dozed, a scratchy feeling in the back of her throat making her cough every so often. She was partly aware when she heard a door slam, and then she entered extreme unconsciousness.

“Momma?” Reid nudged her shoulder, and Kate moaned.

“What, baby?”

“Dad wants to know if I can sleep upstairs.”

That brought Kate to sitting, her eyes bouncing around the room, trying to gain her bearings. Gray light filtered through the single window, silence permeated the space, and Reid watched her with wide eyes.

“What time is it?” She glanced at the phone on her nightstand. “Five o’clock!” She pressed her palm to her forehead, every inch of her skin feeling like it had caught a flame. She couldn’t believe she’d slept all day.

“He’s makin’ fried chicken for dinner,” Reid said. “He said you should come up and eat with us, and he said I can sleep in the bedroom next to his.”

“Reid—” Kate started.

“I want to, Momma.”

Kate’s heart stalled, stuttered, stopped for a few beats. When it picked up its rhythm again, it felt frantic in her chest. “Reid—”

“I ask him stuff, and he tells me the truth.” Reid started pulling on his fingers, and Kate’s insides iced over.

“I tell you the truth,” she said.

Reid shook his head, his dark eyes serious and somber. “You told me Dad was overseas all the time. He said he came home lots of times.”

Kate bent over, and the ice in her chest cracked, fractured, splintered. Reid wasn’t a toddler anymore, he wasn’t even a little boy. He had a mind, and obviously questions, and she hadn’t given him enough credit.

“I’m sorry,” she said, patting the bed. “Come tell me about church.”

Reid pulled on his fingers a final time and then sat next to her. “It was okay. Dad taught me a song on the way in. They had chocolate cake at the picnic.”

She smiled at the ground. Leave it to Reid to get to the chocolate up front. “What else?”

“A lady brought potato salad. It was better than grandma’s.”

Kate laughed and laughed. Her mother had prided herself on her famous Donnely potato salad. She’d made it the day before she’d died, and a pinch started in Kate’s stomach.

“What else?” she asked.

“The lady talked to Dad a lot. She was nice.”

The pinch turned into a twist, and then a tornado. “What was her name?”

“Miss Sandy. She works at the pancake house.”

“Where you ate last week?”

“Yup.”

Kate’s blood seemed to liquefy. Did Brett have a girlfriend? How was that even possible, if they were still married? Of course, he hadn’t known about the continued nuptials until very recently.

“Did Dad seem like he liked Miss Sandy?”

Reid shrugged. “He talked to her. Can I sleep up there with him?”

Kate wished the bees in her brain would stop buzzing. “Sure.” She sneezed, and pounding behind her right eye told her she was getting sick. She could not be ill right now. She couldn’t take time off work.

Reid skipped out of her bedroom and she heard the basement door squeal as he moved it and scampered up the stairs. She wanted to follow him, but her feet seemed rooted to the spot. Her pride still ran too deep, had a sharp hook on the end.

She retrieved some painkiller from the bathroom and poured herself a glass of ice water. Brett appeared just as she’d downed the pills.

“Hey,” he said, standing in the doorway that led upstairs. “I wanted to ask you to come eat dinner with us.”

Surprise shot through her system. “I—well—I—” Before she could get out that she didn’t feel well, Brett took two steps closer.

“I’m not signing your papers if you don’t hold up your end of our deal.” His eyes burned like live coals.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, though she knew exactly what he meant.

Brett stalked ever closer, sending her heart into palpitation mode. She breathed in—exactly the wrong thing to do. The manly scent of his skin, the woodsy smell of his cologne, almost undid her composure.

“Part of the deal was getting to know each other again.” He ducked his head, his cowboy hat almost touching her forehead. His fingers skated down her arm to hers, where they squeezed for half a heartbeat and released. “Will you come up to dinner?”

“If you’ll give me time to shower.”

He nodded and disappeared upstairs. Kate sagged against the counter, her breath nearly gone from his proximity, his touch, his invitation.

Even though he seemed to have forgiven her for concealing his son, if he knew she had only come to Three Rivers to secure her inheritance, he’d never forgive her.

Dear Brett,

Well, Nana succeeded in getting me to attend church. I didn’t hear a word the pastor said. All I could think about was your beautiful baritone and how you’d sound sitting next to me, singing. Remember when you taught me that song about passing the day away? That’s what I feel like I’m doing. Just passing days. Days without you. Days without anyone.

Momma came for a few weeks over the holidays. She introduced Reid to her “famous” potato salad, and he declared in his three-year-old voice that it was the best potato salad he’d ever eaten. I didn’t dare bring up that you’re a fantastic cook, that your momma made sure you knew your way around the kitchen.

I never bring you up in Momma’s presence. But she brought you up this time. She asked if I’d been in touch with you, that you’d come asking about me again. I’ll admit that my heart burst from the box I’d put it in four years ago. Then she said Daddy had turned you away—again—and wondered why you were still hanging around.

When I finally admitted to her that I hadn’t told you about Reid, she nearly came unglued. She said I absolutely had to contact you and let you know.

Brett, I’m terrified of telling you. I don’t think there’s any chance you’ll forgive me for keeping such a big secret. I haven’t forgiven myself, and I’m living it every day.

I’m sorry. I don’t even know what else to say. I’m so, so sorry.

All my love,

Kate

Brett stood at the counter, the chicken lying in front of him but his thoughts still in town, at church. He hadn’t been to services for a while, but sitting between Pete and Reid had brought such peace to Brett’s heart that he thought he might attend every week.

The pastor had spoken of repairing relationships that had gone off the rails. And though Brett wasn’t super-close with his parents or his two brothers, he knew the pastor had been speaking directly to him, specifically about Kate.

Or rather, God had spoken to him. He’d never felt such a strong feeling that he needed to push Kate to take down her walls. He wasn’t quite sure why she had erected them so high. He was the one who’d been lied to.

He could do without the constant stream of women trying to talk to him. Today he’d used Reid to keep them back. That, and Pete seemed to have gotten the word out about Kate, because only Sandy had invited him to the picnic.

He’d turned her down. Nicely, of course. But he wondered why she was suddenly so interested again. They’d been out before, a long time ago, and he counted her as a friend. Nothing more.

He dropped the chicken into the hot oil, his insides roiling the same way as the sudden bubbles. “Then we set the timer.” He took it from Reid, who stood nearby. “Let’s give it ten minutes. Push start right there.” He held out the device, and Reid started it.

“Now we do the peas?”

“You got it, bud. Put them in that bowl, and let’s put them in the microwave.” Reid took care of the job, and Brett pulled out a pitcher of sweet tea.

“You make sweet tea?” Kate’s voice startled him. Brett hadn’t expected her to come. He did know that after Pastor Scott’s sermon, he wasn’t going to let her keep her distance. He just expected more of a fight, especially from someone as feisty as Kate.

“I bought the tea,” he finally said, tearing his eyes from her damp hair and makeup-less face. She’d pulled on a sundress, but had forgone the shoes. Brett focused on stirring the tea, the hum of the microwave, the way his son watched him.

“Get the butter out, bud. It makes peas tolerable.”

Reid obeyed and Brett pulled the hot bowl of peas out of the microwave.

“What can I help with?” Kate asked.

“You can cut those rolls.” Brett nodded toward the soft rolls he’d bought the day before. “Knives right there by the stove.”

Kate collected a serrated knife and got to work. Brett instructed Reid how to butter and season the peas, and then he checked the fried chicken. He wondered if this meal, this reality, could become permanent.

Did he want it to be permanent? With Reid, for sure. With Kate…. Brett wasn’t as sure. Her beauty still enchanted him, but never a hint, never a letter, never a mention of a child? Brett held onto it like a shield, repeated that she’d lied to him over and over again until the timer went off for the chicken.

He jumped, the sound reminding him of an alarm he’d heard in camp many times. With his heart beating in the back of his throat, he silenced the sound. If only his memories could be erased as easily.

As he scooped the chicken onto a plate lined with paper towels, images of tangled metal, rising black smoke, and broken bodies streamed through his mind. He sucked at the air, trying to ground himself in this time, this place, this reality.

He smelled something burning, and further disappeared into his nightmares. He heard someone calling his name. A woman’s voice. He frowned. He didn’t have any women in his company. Layne was in Guam, miles and miles away.

Maybe it was a civilian? How could he protect her against bombs? He couldn’t couldn’t couldn’t.

“Dad?”

Brett looked down at the small hand on his arm, and the smoke dissipated, the ravaged city vanished. The kitchen returned, the smell of oil and chicken and butter. He collected the plate of fried chicken and turned to put it on the counter with the rest of the food.

Kate watched him with round eyes that saw too much. “Brett?”

He’d imagined her concern so many times. He’d written her so many emails. Words of his safety, his pains, his experiences—as much as he wanted her to know. He’d kept all the email drafts he’d written her, and he’d spent many nights lying awake in the hot Iranian desert, wondering what she’d say in response.

As it was, he got a message from his mother every week. Sometimes his dad sent something, and his brothers wrote periodically. After that second message from her, Brett never heard from Kate again.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Let’s eat.” He had a thousand questions he wanted to ask her, but with Reid’s keen ears so nearby, Brett held his tongue. They spoke of the ranch, of Kate’s job, of the therapeutic riding program.

“So you don’t work for your dad anymore?” she asked.

Brett shook his head. “I didn’t want to go back to Oklahoma City.” He gazed out the large windows that looked over the ranch. “I like it here. I like it here a lot.”

“Do you miss construction?”

“Yes,” he said. “I do some jobs for the ranch, and I’ve been updating the homestead for when Major Ackerman returns to run the ranch. And I’ve been experimenting with the landscaping as well.”

He didn’t say as much, but Brett was trying to decide what to do with his life. He felt safe on the ranch, and in a world where safety was hard to come by, he relished it. He didn’t mind working for Pete, or doing a job for Garth—the foreman at Three Rivers Ranch. He didn’t mind finishing someone’s basement or building a tool shed for someone in town. Those projects were natural, something he could do as easily as breathing.

“So you finished nursing school,” he said.

She nodded. “A couple of months ago. I had a lot of experience caring for my mother and grandmother.” She glanced away, but not before Brett caught the sad edge in her eyes.

“If I remember right, your momma had a lot of money,” Brett said, his voice on the outer edge of interest.

Kate’s gaze turned sharp, and she drummed her fingers on the countertop. “Reid, honey, why don’t you go play outside?”

“Can I take Zeus?”

“Sure,” Brett said without looking away from Kate. “Take Zeus.” The dog perked up at his name, and happily followed the boy out to the deck and then the backyard.

Brett sat stock still, finally alone with Kate in a time and place where he could get answers. He sensed she was about to make a run for it.

“Why didn’t you ever contact me?” His voice came out as soft as down.

She sighed. “I wanted to, every day.”

He sensed the sincerity in her tone, but something else lingered there. Something he couldn’t quite place.

“But I was weak. Momma was angry about….” She trailed off, and Brett trained his eyes on her. She had more secrets. He shouldn’t be surprised, but the emotion still sliced through him.

“Momma sent me to the estate in North Carolina when she found out I was pregnant. It was easier to pretend you’d died than admit that I’d done something wrong.” A single tear escaped and she swiped at it quickly.

“No one in Bryson City knew me, and it was easy to play the widow with the baby.” She shrugged, the motion full of helplessness and defeat. “After a while, I started to believe what other people did. And then it was too hard to tell you.”

He covered her hand with his. “But you came to Three Rivers after almost eight years. To get a divorce.”

“With Momma and Nana gone, and my degree earned, I was ready to move on. I couldn’t do it without coming clean about everything.” She squeezed his fingers. “I am truly sorry, Brett. I really am.”

“I know you are, Kate.” Brett didn’t want to ruin this moment by asking another question, but he sensed something—perhaps many somethings—still filled the chasm between them.

“Thanks for dinner.” Her fingers clenched around his as she stretched up and kissed his cheek. “We’ll have to do it at my place next time.” She stood and made her way to the deck, descending the stairs to the yard before Brett allowed himself to blink.

Kate,

I’m back on US soil. There’s nothing better than being home. My mom’s kept my room dust-free, but I can still feel the sand on my skin. My brothers are men now, both of them getting ready to leave for college. I barely recognize them, which makes me think of you.

Would I recognize you if I saw you on the street? Is your hair still red? Your eyes still the color of golden chocolate? Your skin still pale and freckled?

I’ve been serving with a man named Peter Marshall. He has a horse-boarding farm in Tennessee, and his momma and grandfather were killed in a car accident last week. He’s still overseas, so I’m heading to their funerals on his behalf.

Again, their deaths made me think of you. Funny that when I think of passing away, my first thought is of you and if you’d come to my funeral. I wondered if I’d go to yours.

In so many ways, you’ve already died. I haven’t spoken to you in almost five years. I haven’t seen you in longer than that. I don’t know where you are, what you’re doing, or if you’re even alive.

And I thought maybe this would be my last email to you. I think maybe I’m ready to move on, ready to mourn your loss as I mourn the loss of Pete’s family. I don’t know. I’ll let you know.

Brett

Kate took another dose of painkillers before tucking Reid into bed and then collapsing on her own mattress. She shouldn’t be tired, but the thoughts busying themselves in her mind made her feel exhausted.

How could she have kissed Brett? Held his hand?

You should’ve been honest, whispered a voice, and she couldn’t tell who it belonged to. Her. Or Momma. Or someone else entirely. He’d mentioned her momma’s money in front of Reid, but he hadn’t brought it up when they were alone.

She wasn’t ready to have that conversation yet. She craved the life of going upstairs after a long day of hauling hay and finding dinner on the table. Especially Brett’s cooking. The man was a genius with a few spices and a piece of poultry.

As she thought about her husband and his culinary skills, she remembered how warm his hands had been, how strong. She remembered how he used to joke with her, laugh in the quiet moments during theater events when it wasn’t appropriate.

A smile pulled at her mouth.

She remembered how safe she’d felt in his arms, how loved he’d made her feel. So loved that she abandoned the Magnolia money, the estate, the silks, the sprawling mansions, just to be with him.

Once, he’d been enough for her.

As she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, she wondered now if she was enough for him.

The next morning, Kate’s eyes felt glued together with mucus. She pried them open at the sound of her alarm and felt her way into the bathroom. She turned the water as hot as possible and hoped the steam would help clear her sinuses. With her resolve to make it through work that day strong and alive, she stepped into the shower.

Forty minutes—and a hefty dose of cold medication—later, Kate knocked on Chelsea’s front door with Reid at her side.

“Morning, Miss Kate.” Chelsea beamed at her. She stepped back and beckoned Reid into the house. “We’re going into town to bake with my mother today. Do you like to cook, Reid?”

“I helped my dad make fried chicken last night.” He joined Chelsea in the doorway, turning back to face his mom. “We ate as a family.”

Kate’s insides felt coated in tar, heavy and hot. Chelsea’s eyebrows shot up and her gaze focused on Kate’s face. “You ate together?” She glanced down at Reid’s joyful face. “That’s great, baby. Finn is coming to my mother’s too. You guys can play on the swing set.”

“When are we leaving?”

“In a couple of hours. Go get yourself a bowl of Pete’s special cereal.” She bent down, a natural nurturer. “It’ll be our little secret.”

Reid hooked his pinky around hers and scampered into the kitchen. Kate watched him go, part of her heart yearning to be the one sharing secret cereal with him. She’d been able to do that at the estate, but she’d felt so oppressed, so suffocated.

She took a deep breath, the air on the ranch seemingly infused with endorphins. “Thank you, Chelsea. If he’s any trouble, call me, and I’ll come get him.”

Chelsea waved away the statement. “Please. He’s never any trouble.” She narrowed the distance between them with a shuffle-step. “You ate dinner with Brett?” Her dark blue eyes sparkled like stars, like she was interested, but not so she could tell everyone in town.

“We made a deal.”

“Oh?”

“We’re…getting to know each other again.”

Chelsea’s face lit up. “When you get back together with him, I’ll make dinner.”

“That’s a threat, not a promise,” Pete said, coming down the stairs. “Who’s doing what?”

Chelsea swatted his forearm. “I’m a good cook now.”

He snaked his hand around her shoulders and down to her waist, pulling her tight against his side. Kate noticed the puckered, pink scars on Pete’s arm as she watched the movement with longing coursing through her, singing up her throat. She swallowed to dismiss it, but the feeling remained.

“You are, sweetheart. I was just teasin’.” He reached for his cowboy hat on the rack near the door. “Mornin’, Miss Kate. You headin’ to work now?”

She nodded just before she sneezed. “Yes. I hope I make it through the day.”

“She ate dinner with Brett and Reid last night.” Chelsea exchanged a meaningful glance with Pete. Suddenly the pain in Kate’s sinuses paled in comparison to the weight of that glance.

“I’ve got to get—”

“How was it?” Pete asked. The man’s voice sounded smooth as polished glass. No wonder Brett gravitated toward him. Kate felt his steadiness, his even temperament.

“It was fun.” A sense of safety descended on Kate, and she leaned against the doorframe. “I’m thinking of having him down to the basement to sample some of my cooking.” She gave a light laugh. “Problem is, Brett’s a better chef than me.” She wondered if he still enjoyed Chinese food, though she couldn't remember the last time she’d made anything but boxed macaroni and cheese.

Pete took a step forward, and Chelsea pulled on his arm. “Pete.”

But the man wouldn’t be deterred. His eyes shone like emeralds, blazing with a protective heat. “Be careful with Brett, Kate.”

“Pete—” Chelsea tried again.

“I’m just askin’ her to be careful with him, Chels.” Pete glanced at his wife and back to Kate. “Things haven’t been easy for him since he came home last time, and he won’t talk about it. I’ve seen him with the horses, and he’s not…whole.”

The love and sincerity in Pete’s voice stirred something in Kate’s soul. “I’m nothing if not careful, Mister Marshall.”

He nodded and she headed across the yard and parking lot to the administration trailer. Tom stood in the cowhand area, filling out the whiteboard.

“Morning, Tom,” she said.

“Kate.” He didn’t look away from his work. “How have things been going?”

“Good. Great.” She folded her arms, the echo of Pete’s words still in her ears. She’d seen Brett disappear inside himself, and she knew what Pete had said was true. Something had happened during Brett’s deployment. Something that haunted him.

Her heart tore an inch as she thought about him boxing all those emotions up, keeping the events of his life contained. She should’ve been there. Should’ve been there to listen. To take the burden. To support him—the way she’d promised.

Guilt ripped through her, and the only reason she didn’t run for the car and point it west toward a new life was because of Reid.

The other cowhands began to arrive, filling the trailer with their friendly chatter and guarded smiles. She lingered on the fringes, the newest cowboy—or rather cowgirl. She suspected that was the real reason for their distance. That, or the fact that they all knew she lived in Brett’s basement.

“Mornin’, folks,” Tom started before going through the list. “The hay in fields two, three, and seven needs to be harvested.”

A collective groan rose from the group. Kate had never harvested hay, and a thrumming buzz began in her stomach. If the other cowhands didn’t like it, she was sure she wouldn’t. She’d actually never worked on a ranch before, but she knew how to work hard, how to do things she’d rather not. After all, she’d lived on the Magnolia estate for seven years.

“Calves, small animals, and horse barn,” Tom said. “Kate.” He pointed at her. “You’re the only one on these today. Can you handle that?”

“Yes.” Kate nodded, not quite sure why Tom’s eyebrows had sloped down, his dark eyes taking on an intensity they hadn’t before.

He moved down the list, giving assignments with various levels of enthusiasm. When he finished, he joined her as she headed out of the trailer.

“Kate, the horse’s stalls need to be shoveled out. And the hayloft replenished. It’s a lot for one person.” He handed her a radio. “Call in if you start to fall behind.”

Kate took the device, but she vowed not to use it. She didn’t want Tom to think she couldn’t complete the assignments he gave her. Stuffy nose or not, her pride wouldn’t allow her to admit a weakness.

Three hours later, she eyed the radio as her head pounded. She’d bottle fed all the calves, tossed feed to the chicken, and shoveled out half of the horse stalls. Her head drummed like the hooves of a wild herd of mustangs, and calculating how long it had taken her to clean the pens she’d done, she’d be at this for the rest of the day.

That didn’t include feeding the horses, or going back for the evening feeding for the calves and chickens.

Tears threatened to show the world her shortcomings, but Kate pressed them back. She couldn’t stay in this horse barn for another second. She strode down the aisle and into the sunshine. The heat outside assaulted her, the same way the smell of horses and manure did inside.

As her eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight, she caught a flash of Brett’s tan cowboy hat as he ducked into Pete’s house. But Chelsea’s SUV wasn’t parked in the garage, so Kate knew the house was empty.

Sure enough, Brett exited the house a few seconds later. He stood on the porch, visibly taking a deep breath. She watched as his shoulders sunk when he exhaled.

As if he could sense her stare, he turned toward her, his features hidden in the shadows cast by his hat. He skipped down the steps and started toward her.

“Hey, Kate.”

“Brett.” She leaned against the barn, unwilling to go back in quite yet.

“Where’s Reid?”

“Chelsea took him into town with her. She was meeting Kelly and Finn, and they were going to bake at her mother’s.”

Brett removed his hat and ran his hand through his dark hair. He stroked his beard, and Kate’s fingers itched to copy him. “You need some help?”

“No.” The word sprang to her lips as quick as a wink.

“Well, I’ve got nothin’ to do. Maybe I’ll go ask Tom if he has anything for me.”

“He’s out in the hay fields,” Kate said, wiping her hand across her forehead. She needed a drink like she needed air, and her pulse thu-thumped with want for a bottle of painkillers.

“You look pale,” Brett said, peering at her. “Are you drinking enough?”

“No.” She looked at him, really allowed herself to fall into his dark-as-coal eyes. Oh, how she’d missed him. She amended the thought as it flowed through her mind.

She currently missed him.

“I could use your help.” She straightened away from the barn, putting herself closer to Brett. “My head hurts, and I’m dying for a drink.” She hooked her thumb over her shoulder. “I have half the horse barn left to finish, and all the horses need to be fed, and—” She sucked in a breath to stop the stream of words. She didn’t want him to hear the exhaustion or emotion in her voice, and it teemed beneath her tongue.

Brett blinked before he bent down and swept an errant piece of hair out of her face. “I’ll help you, sugar.”

She almost leaned into him, melting under the influence of his warm voice and kind eyes. It seemed impossible, but she wondered if he’d forgiven her for keeping Reid a secret.

“Thank you,” she sighed. “I’m going to run and get a drink and take some pills. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll start feeding the horses.”

Kate ducked away from him, but the weight of his gaze stayed on her back until she rounded the corner of the chicken coops. Even then, she felt the full impact of the hole he’d left in her life. With a measure of hope she’d long abandoned, she wondered if he could fill the vacancy in her life.

Dear Brett,

I’ve started nursing school. Hanging around the house with Nana and Reid sounds easy enough, but I’m dissatisfied. I feel unfulfilled. Constantly judged. She watches Reid while I’m in class.

Momma has moved to Magnolia permanently. She approves of me getting an education. She thinks I’ll finally be ready to be a “real mother” if I can provide for Reid on my own. Of course, she’s still as angry as a spitting snake that I haven’t told you about Reid. She finds me weak, which again I find strange. She’s stayed with Daddy for thirty years when she can’t stand the sight of him.

I can’t stand the sight of either one of them. That’s the real reason I’m going back to school. I need to get out of here, away from the estate, from the Magnolia empire and all it stands for.

I’ve started seeing a man in one of my classes. He doesn’t know about Reid either. We’re moving pretty slow, mostly because I just can’t subject Reid to a string of boyfriends. He already doesn’t have his father, and he deserves better than a guy sticking around for a few months and then leaving.

If things turn serious, I’ll tell him. I’ll introduce Reid to him. But we’re not there yet. I’m not sure I’ll ever be there. I think of you constantly. I nightmare about what you’ll do when you find out about Reid. I cry when I think of what I’ve done, to both you and Reid.

But I’m trying. I’ve been going to church with Nana, and there are moments when I feel like maybe the things I’ve done can be erased. Our pastor spoke of repentance a few Sundays ago. When he mentioned making restitution, I had to leave. Reid asked me later why I didn’t stay, and again I couldn’t tell him the truth.

In the end, I’ll have to confess to both of you. The thought brings a flood to my chest, cutting off my air and making me drown.

Momma just called for me, and I told her I was doing my homework under this willow.

Goodbye for now,

Kate

Brett had the horses fed by the time Kate returned from the homestead. “They need water,” he said.

“Okay.” She worked with her delicate hands, filling the troughs and lingering with each horse, whispering a few words before moving to the next stall.

Warmth filled his chest at her gentleness, her kind spirit. When she finished, she retrieved her shovel and moved toward Chocolate’s stall. She moved the tall, dark horse out and into the aisle that led to the arena.

Brett found a shovel and joined her in the tight quarters. She glanced at him, a timid expression on her face. Memories flooded his mind, crowding out the mundane task.

He’d seen her smile like this before, the first time they’d met. She’d tucked her red hair behind her ear and raised one shoulder as she said hello, that same smile quirking her lips. He’d been drawn to her out of all women at the rodeo that night. Had asked for her number during the fireworks and taken her out the next evening.

Six months later, they stood across the altar from each other. Her parents were noticeably absent, and she’d given him that same smile through her tears as the minister bound them together.

Brett shelved the memories and cleared his throat. “Kate, I want to ask you something.”

“Okay.”

Brett didn’t hear or detect any hesitation in her voice, her body language. “I want to take Reid to Oklahoma City to meet my parents.”

The words hung in the air, expanding until they screamed through the silence. His heart thundered in his chest as he formed his next sentence. “I’d like you to come with me.”

She stalled in her work and gaped at him. “No.”

“No?”

She started shaking her head, her eyes wide. “I can’t go back to Oklahoma City.”

Brett frowned and stilled his own shovel. “Why not?”

“When I left, I vowed I wouldn’t go back,” she said simply. “If I go, I’ll feel guilty if I don’t go see Daddy, and I don’t want him in my life. Or Reid’s.” She spoke with a quiet power Brett had forgotten she possessed.

“Well, can I take Reid?” Brett hadn’t been able to call his mom and tell her she’d been a grandma for seven years. “I think with news of this magnitude, I should tell my parents in person.”

“Of course.” Her face fell and her golden eyes shone with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry. I know you must be tired of hearing it, but I am. I didn’t even think of your parents and how having a grandson would change their lives.”

A tear splashed on her cheek, and Brett didn’t think before he wiped it away. “It’s okay, Kate.” Her skin felt warm and soft, blasting a hole in Brett’s defenses.

In the past, when she became upset about something her momma had said, he’d gather her in his arms and reassure her that he loved her, that they didn’t need her momma, or her money. They had each other.

He wrapped her in a hug and held her tight. Surprisingly, she succumbed to his hold, pressing her cheek to his chest. Her shoulders shook while she cried, and he stroked her hair until she quieted.

His thoughts wandered to kissing her, and he stiffened at the idea. He still wasn’t sure he even wanted Kate back in his life. And it wouldn’t be fair to keep her around just to keep Reid. She deserved better than a loveless marriage.

But Brett felt something stirring deep in his core, something that spoke of a life, a family, a future. A life, a family, and a future with Kate Donnely.

“Brett.” Kate stepped out of his arms, and his world went cold and empty. She removed her work gloves and wiped her face. “I have something to tell you.”

“Okay.” He leaned against the railing behind him, sensing the shift in the air with the seriousness in her eyes.

“I don’t really need this job.”

Brett folded his arms. “Because your momma’s family has money.”

Pure panic paraded across her face. “Yes,” ghosted from between her lips.

“Then why are you here, Kate?” He gestured to the half-clean horse stall as a slow anger burned in the back of his throat. “Doing this?” He tried to keep the growl out of his voice, only succeeding halfway.

“I came to tell you about Reid.”

“You did that last week.”

“You asked me to stay, see if there was anything between us worth saving.”

“You got this job before that.” Holding her while she wept seemed like it had happened eight years ago, not eight minutes.

“I came because—” She spun away from him, dropping her gloves as she did.

He wanted to see her face when she told him the truth. He deserved that much. He stepped forward and gently placed his fingers on her shoulder, turning her so she faced him. “You came because…?”

She gazed up into his eyes, her face full of fear. He slipped his fingers down her arm to hers, and held on.

“I came because I can’t get any of Momma’s money. She left it all to me—the estate in North Carolina, the house where Daddy lives in Oklahoma City, the millions of old Magnolia money—but I can’t get it until—”

She swallowed hard and lifted her other hand to find Brett’s. Her fingers squeezed squeezed squeezed.

“I can’t get it unless I tell you about Reid, which I did. But she also stipulated that I show her lawyer proof of a divorce, or proof of family life. With you. Us. Together.”

She clutched his hands to the point of pain, but he didn’t let go. She hadn’t come out of duty, she hadn’t come because telling him about his son was the right thing to do.

“You came so you could claim your inheritance.” His voice sounded like chains against ice, like wind carving its way through rock, like a piece of his soul dying.

He wrenched his hands away from hers. “You didn’t come because of your conscience. Or because you wanted to start fresh. You came simply to get your momma’s money.”

Tears streamed down her face. “Please—”

“No, Kate. No pleases. We’re way past that.” He backed up, putting as much distance between them as possible. His back pressed into the rail. The rail caging him here with his wife. His wife who he wouldn’t have ever seen again if not for her momma’s will.

“Tell me the truth: If you had your momma’s money, would you have taken Reid to California without ever telling me about him?”

“Brett—”

“Kate!” His raised voice startled him as much as her, as well as Chocolate, who snuffled in the aisle.

“Yes.” Her voice whispered in the barn, but screamed in his soul.

The same feeling he’d had in the hotel room engulfed him. He simply couldn’t be here with her, not for another moment. He pushed past her, ignoring her calls for him to come back, and stormed to the homestead.

Ten minutes later, he had a bag packed and resting on the seat next to him in his truck. He dialed Chelsea as he hit the highway leading into town.

“Hey,” he clipped out. “You have Reid at your parent’s condo, right?”

“Yes,” she said.

“I’m comin’ to get him. We’re going to Oklahoma City to see my parents.”

A few seconds passed in silence. “Brett, what happened? Are you okay?”

“No, Chelsea, I am not okay.” Brett sighed, trying to tame his tone back into civility. It wasn’t Chelsea’s fault Kate was a liar, weak, disloyal— He cut off the thought, not wanting to perpetuate the negative feelings already churning inside his gut.

“Ask Kate about it. I’m taking Reid to Oklahoma City. I packed his pajamas and some clothes. I’ll be there in forty minutes.”

“Maybe you should call Pete.”

“I’ll call him when I get to my parent’s house.” Brett hung up and tossed his phone on the seat next to him. His pulse raced, and he couldn’t seem to get it to slow.

Holding Kate had felt good, right. How could he oscillate from that to never wanting to see her traitorous face again in less than five minutes?

Frustration frothed with the fury, and Brett’s fingers gripped the steering wheel with a ferocity he hadn’t felt since leading his company into Kandahar alone after Squire and Pete had been injured in a tank bombing.

Kate,

I haven’t written for so long. I just re-read my last email to you, and I said I was going to stop writing because of Layne. We broke up several months ago, and I was actually relieved because it meant you and I could still be together.

That’s so ridiculous, isn’t it? I haven’t spoken to you in almost six years. You’ve never tried to contact me. I’ve asked your dad about you, and he refuses to tell me where you’re living.

But I can’t shake you. I loved you, and sometimes I wonder if love is something you give away and can never get back. I don’t know. What I do know is I just got my notice for a third deployment. At least I’ll be going with my friends, Peter Marshall and Squire Ackerman. I haven’t told you much about them, but they’re good men.

Major Ackerman talks non-stop about his mother’s cooking. He’s invited us to his ranch so we can sample her holiday pies, but I can’t imagine life on a Texas cattle ranch. Construction has always been in my blood. My dad listed me as an owner of Murphy Construction, and I’m never happier than when I have a hammer in my hand. It’s a good life, a simple life. I could provide for you, Kate. We could be together, maybe start a family.

I don’t know. Maybe I’m a hopeless romantic. Maybe this is me, sitting on the edge of my seat during that last football game we went to. The one with the Hail Mary pass that turned into a game-winning touchdown? Remember that? The hope those players had during that fourth and long, that’s the hope I hold for us.

Maybe you’ve moved on and found someone else to love. If you have, I want to know how you did it.

Anyway, I’ll be in Kandahar for the next twelve months, and then I’m going to ask your dad again where you are. Maybe this time he’ll tell me.

With love,

Brett

Kate had never felt the level of hopelessness as she did watching Brett climb into his truck with a duffel bag. The dust hung in the heat of the air, the same way Kate’s tears clung to her eyelashes.

She didn’t wipe them away, the shame of her actions too strong for her to want to hide how she felt. Eventually, she returned to the horse stall, which Brett had barely helped with.

At least the painkillers had started to kick in. She finished mucking out the stalls and headed over to replenish the hayloft. By the time she finished, the chickens and calves needed to be fed again.

She’d made it halfway down the row of calf pens when Tom found her. “How’s it goin’?”

“Slow,” she said. “I’ve still got the rest of these to feed.” She wiped her forehead and gestured down the row. She felt blistered though she’d been wearing sunscreen and a hat while she worked outside.

“Horses been fed?”

“Not yet.” She averted her eyes so she wouldn’t have to read the disappointment in Tom’s. Surely a male cowhand would’ve been able to handle the load Tom had assigned her.

“I’ll get that done, and then come help you here.”

“I can—”

“Kate, it’s not out of pity. I would normally assign two men to this job.” His hand landed heavily on her shoulder. “You’ve done good work.”

His compliment felt like helium to her spirits, but it wasn’t Tom’s praise she craved. Brett’s stormy face consumed her thoughts, almost masking the sound of tires against gravel. She abandoned the calf she’d been feeding to catch the end of Chelsea’s SUV pull into the garage. With a dozen calves left to feed, Kate headed over to get Reid. He could hold a bottle to a calf’s lips, and then she’d pop some corndogs in the oven and collapse on the couch.

She entered the open garage and rapped on the door as she entered the house. “Chelsea?”

The dark-haired woman came out of the laundry room and into the kitchen. “Oh, Kate. Hello.”

Kate glanced around for her son. “Where’s Reid?”

Chelsea’s fingers braided themselves into patterns, which she then pulled apart. Kate’s heart bobbed behind her ribs.

“Brett picked him up,” Chelsea said. “He said he was taking him to Oklahoma City to meet his parents. I didn’t know any different, Kate.” Her words rushed, tripped over themselves. Kate heard the apology, but only numbness existed in her limbs.

“What happened, Kate?” Chelsea took her elbow and gently guided Kate to the couch. She sat, because the other woman told her to. She accepted the cold glass of water she was given, because her brain had abandoned her.

Brett had left and taken Reid with him.

Was this how he’d felt when she’d told him Reid was his son? Did he feel numb, and then hot, and then like nothing would ever be the same again?

“Kate?” Chelsea perched on the couch next to her. “Brett seemed pretty angry when he got to my mom’s.”

“I messed up again.” Kate shook her head as she examined her hands. Hands that hadn’t seen a lot of work until this past year. Hands that once were well moisturized and smooth. Hands that now bore blisters and the beginnings of calluses.

“I’m sure Brett will understand.”

Kate gave a mirthless laugh. “You must not know Brett very well.”

Chelsea stood and paced into the kitchen. “I know him quite well, actually. He lived in my basement for six months before I married Pete. He’s kind, loyal, a hard worker. He’s quiet, but not stupid. Funny, but not cruel. Kind, but not soft.”

Halfway through her speech, Kate started nodding. “He is all that, isn’t he?”

“So he’ll understand,” Chelsea said. “I’m sure of it.”

“Would you understand if you found out you had a son after nearly eight years?”

Chelsea just blinked, blinked at her.

“What about if your spouse that you thought had divorced you actually hadn’t gone through with it?” Kate stood, a wicked hum coursing through her muscles, buzzing in her ears. “And then what if you found out that your spouse would never have told you about the child, about anything, if they didn’t need you for something else?”

Chelsea brought one hand to her heart. “What’s the something else?”

“I can’t get my momma’s inheritance without signed divorce papers or proof of a happy marriage with Brett.” Again, Kate cackled in a humorless way. “My momma really knew how to make my life miserable.”

Chelsea leaned against the counter in the kitchen, her wide eyes filled with horror.

“So you see, Chelsea, I’m not so sure Brett is just going to suddenly understand.”

The woman regained her composure quickly and pulled open the fridge. “He probably needs some time.” She took out two bottles of water. “You look pale, Kate. Drink this and go get some rest.”

“Time,” Kate repeated, not quite sure what to make of Chelsea’s optimism. She probably hadn’t had many difficulties in her life. Kate felt utterly alone, like she was the only woman stupid enough to make such colossal mistakes.

“Thanks, Chelsea.” Kate accepted the water and trudged out the door she’d come in. Trudged out of the garage, through the parking lot, past the rows of calves she hadn’t finished feeding, and across the lawn to her basement entrance.

Brett had taken Reid. Just taken him—and she deserved such treatment.

The doorknob burned like fire when she touched it, bringing her back to her senses. She yanked her hand away from the door and snatched her phone from her pocket.

Brett answered on the third ring. “Kate.”

“What do you think you’re doing? I—”

“I’m taking Reid to meet my parents.”

She couldn’t read the emotion in his voice, but he hadn’t yelled, or growled, or ignored her call.

“When will you be back?”

“I don’t know.”

“You are coming back, right?” Kate whipped around, like he’d pull into the driveway at any moment. Terror tangled her thoughts. How far was it to Oklahoma City? Could she leave now and see Reid in the morning?

Dread followed the idea like a puppy chasing a ball. She couldn’t go back to Oklahoma City. She’d spoken true about that.

“You really give me no credit, do you?” This time, Brett’s voice did contain a snarl. “Of course we’re coming back. I have a job at Courage Reins. A life in Three Rivers. A life I happen to like very much.”

Her insides stopped rioting and her mind settled. She hated that he caused such violent emotions in such a short span of time. “Can I talk to Reid?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you, Kate. I’ll call you later.” He hung up.

Kate pulled the phone away from her face and stared at it, sure he’d been joking. He’d call back any moment. Any moment now….

Her phone remained stubbornly silent. A whinny behind her reminded her that she hadn’t finished her job for the day. With tears burning the backs of her eyes and that debilitating headache back in full force, Kate turned around to finish feeding the calves.

She found Tom there, nearly to the end of the row. “You okay, Miss Kate?” He peered at her with those gentle eyes.

She bent to pick up a bottle. “I don’t feel very well.” She sighed. “But I’ll be okay. Thanks for taking over here. I had to make a phone call.”

He kept his eyes on his calf. “Yeah, I heard Brett left madder than a wet hen.”

Kate sighed again, this time the sound full of frustration. “I should’ve known better than to think that on this ranch private matters would stay private.”

“You are married to him,” Tom pointed out. “But you’re living in the basement while he lives upstairs.” He finished with his calf and refilled the bottle with milk. “For someone with only horses to love, it’s an interesting situation. Can’t blame me for wondering about it.”

Sadness colored his words. Perhaps a touch of loneliness too. Kate could relate. She’d spent countless hours under the willow on her grandmother’s estate, writing letters to Brett she’d never send and he’d never read. How many tears had she cried? Enough to fill the ocean with her salty water. How many nights had she dreamed of having someone to talk to, really talk to, really tell her deepest fears and secrets to?

Yes, Kate Donnely understood sadness, desperation, and loneliness. She put her hand on Tom’s arm. “I’m sure you’ll find someone someday.”

He gave a mirthless laugh. “You forget I work with two dozen men—not an available woman in sight—for twelve hours a day.”

Kate finished feeding her calf and started gathering the bottles. “Surely there’s someone in town you’re interested in.”

“Don’t get to town much.”

“Me either.” Kate cocked her hip and thought. “Maybe we should go into town more. It’s summertime. Surely there’s a festival or a farmer’s market or something worth making the drive.”

Tom glanced at her, his mouth set in a hard line. “I go to church.”

“So you know women,” Kate said.

His neck turned a light shade of pink. Or that could’ve been a sunburn. The man did spend hours outside.

“Yeah, I have friends,” he mumbled. “But not anyone I know well enough to, you know, date or anything.” Tom shook his head, his cowboy hat dipping lower so she couldn’t see his face.

“Tom—”

“Are you always this inquisitive?”

A laugh broke free from Kate’s chest. “No, I’m not. I’m just trying to help.” Having a real conversation with someone felt good, too. Everything with Brett happened on eggshells, and exhaustion set in after only a few minutes with him. And the fact that Chelsea knew more about Brett than Kate did ignited a fire in her stomach she couldn’t explain.

“Who are some of your friends?” she asked.

Tom straightened and they headed back to the barn to wash out the bottles. “You know, the waitress at the sports bar, the clerks at the hardware store, the people who come out to ride in Pete’s therapy program.” Tom busied himself with the bottles, his hands working the glass to get it clean.

“Okay, here’s the deal.” Kate could barely form the word deal, and thoughts of Brett flooded her mind. “You think through your friends and decide to ask one of them out.”

Tom’s expression darkened. “They’re my friends. I’m not interested in dating them.”

“Not even one of them?”

Tom shook his head.

“Well,” Kate said. “I think that’s ridiculous. Some of the best relationships start out as friendships. At least think about it.” She put her hand on Tom’s forearm, her mood turning serious. “Trust me, Tom. Don’t let too much time go by waiting for someone perfect to walk into your life. A week could be too long. I—well, I know a thing or two about letting years pass without contacting someone.”

Tom met her gaze, and understanding flowed through them. “Okay, Miss Kate. But if I do this, you have to do something for me.”

How many deals would she make while she lived on this ranch? “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

“Start figurin’ out how to forgive yourself.”

Kate contemplated Tom’s words as she lay in bed that night. Though her bones felt like putty and her throat burned, she had a hard time falling asleep without Reid in the next room. He’d been there so long, having him gone created an atmosphere she didn’t know how to navigate.

She’d Googled, and it was only four hours to Oklahoma City from Three Rivers Ranch. Brett had likely arrived at his parent’s house before dinner. She wondered how they’d taken the news. If they loved Reid on sight the way Brett had. What they thought of her.

She rolled onto her side, desperate for the nighttime cold medicine to kick in and force her into unconsciousness.

Kate woke with Tom’s words in her head. How did she forgive herself for eight years of silence? Eight years of deceit? She thought about it while she stood with the cowboys and got her assignment, while she fed chickens, while she ate cold cereal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

She tried saying the words to her reflection. “I forgive you.” But they held no meaning, carried no conviction.

She almost asked Brett how to do it when he called and said he was going to stay for the weekend because his brothers were coming home to meet their nephew. She went to bed on Saturday night with the answer in her mind, but her heart unwilling to accept it.

Kate needed to go to church.

She got up late on Sunday morning, unsure of what time the services started. It would only take a phone call to find out, but she didn’t make it. Instead, she showered and dressed before moving to the patio sheltered by the deck above.

She watched and waited, waited and watched, until Pete and Chelsea left their house. Not two minutes later, Tom and the foreman, Garth, entered the parking lot wearing their best jeans with long-sleeved shirts and ties. They climbed in a ranch truck and headed down the road.

It’s now or never, Kate. She sucked in a breath she wanted to hold until she passed out, and headed for her car.

She almost turned around twice, but set her jaw and swallowed her fear. She’d felt something—something that told her to go to church. And she was going to follow through with it.

The parking lot seemed full to capacity by the time she arrived, but she managed to find a spot around the back of the building. Dust licked over her toes and heels as she walked to the sidewalk, where she tried to stomp the dirt away. By the time she circled the building, she could hear music and singing coming from inside.

She slipped through the door and paused in the lobby, enjoying the kiss of air conditioning as it flowed over her scorched skin. Kate suddenly seemed too hot to be inside a church.

Still, she pressed forward, pulling the door to the chapel open slightly so she could slip inside. She found a seat on the second to last row, and sat. Finally, her heartbeat returned to normal, especially when she realized that everyone seemed more focused on the words to the song than the sinner that had just joined their ranks.

She heard the deep timbre of the pastor’s voice as he stood at the pulpit. But she couldn’t understand the words he said, because the feeling flowing through her made her ears hum, and her brain buzz, and her stomach swirl.

Kate pressed her eyes closed and uttered a mental prayer of thanks. Thanks that she had been prompted to come to church. Thanks that she’d gotten confirmation that she was doing the right things. Thanks that she hadn’t been forgotten.

The service ended quicker than Kate had anticipated, and she couldn’t quite get out the door before other people had spilled into the lobby. She found clusters of people talking, laughing, adjusting their clothes before stepping into the summer heat.

“You’re new in town,” a woman said, placing her fingers on Kate’s elbow and guiding her into a triangle of women.

“Yes.” Kate glanced at the short, brassy blonde woman, at her infectious smile. “I’m Kate Donnely. I’m staying out at Three Rivers Ranch for a couple of months.”

The teenage girl next to the blonde perked up. “There are so many men out there.”

Kate grinned at her. “Cowboys,” she said, like there was a difference between men and cowboys.

“This is my daughter, Jessica,” the woman said, giving her daughter a meaningful glance. “She’s much too young for cowboys.” She focused on Kate, the smile back in place. “I’m Olivia Hanson.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“This is Sandy Keller.” Olivia indicated the tall brunette next to Jessica.

Kate froze, recognizing the name. Reid had mentioned her from the time Brett had brought him to church. “Hello.” She infused as much Southern politeness into her tone as possible. Her momma would’ve been proud.

Sandy returned the sentiment. “You know Brett Murphy?” she asked.

“Yes.” Kate wondered what Sandy knew about Brett and Kate’s relationship, but decided not to give her more information than necessary. “He works around the ranch and the therapeutic riding center.”

“He’s great with his hands,” Sandy said, and Kate wanted to get in her face and tell her that Brett was off-limits. That Brett was hers.

Her possessive feelings for a husband she’d cut out of her life surprised her and she turned away. “I have to get going,” she said, afraid of what she might do or say if she stayed.

The women let her leave, another miracle she thanked the Lord for as she drove back to the ranch.

Dear Brett,

After I broke up with the man in my nursing classes, Momma brought a “new friend” to the estate. His name is Miles. He is actually very nice. I think Momma wanted us to hit it off, but there’s not a single spark there. He listened to me talk about Reid, and he asked questions about my nursing program. I’ll admit it was nice to talk to someone who didn’t seem to be judging me and who didn’t just want me to open his package of fruit snacks.

I thought of you while I talked with Miles. I almost told him about you, but I couldn’t. It’s been years, and I still can’t vocalize what I’ve done. The awfulness of it feels like ink, like if I say it out loud, I’ll be stained and everyone will be able to see it.

He asked what I was going to do after I graduated, and the question stumped me. I can’t go back to Oklahoma City, not after Daddy told me I was dead to him. Did you know he’s only met Reid once? Momma says he’s working on forgiving me, but I honestly don’t know what he needs to forgive me for.

Probably marrying a carpenter and then wanting a divorce. But Daddy worked the oil fields when he met Momma. He has no family name or money. His vitriol toward me doesn’t make sense.

Anyway, I’ve been thinking since Miles left about what I want to do after I graduate. I want to get away from Bryson City, from this estate. I want to see a different part of the country, somewhere I’ve never been. I never want to see snow again.

So I’ve decided when I graduate, I’m going to try to get a job in California. There are Army bases all over California, and maybe you could relocate there too.

Wishful thinking, my heart tells me. I won’t ever see you again. If I do, I’ll have to tell you the truth, and then I’ll lose you forever. So for now, I’ll keep pretending that I’m sending you these letters and that you still love me.

All my love,

Kate

“Mom, he needs room to breathe.” Brett watched his mom engulf Reid in the tightest hug possible. She’d bought him new clothes and a plethora of toys, a bicycle, and anything else he wanted at the store. Brett thought for sure Reid would be up all night from the two packages of doughnuts he’d eaten.

“I know.” His mom stepped back. “I’m just so glad he’s here.” She smiled at Reid and gave a guilty grin to Brett. “Come on. Grandpa probably has the burgers ready.” She moved through the house and out to the backyard.

Brett’s brothers had arrived that afternoon, both of them making the sacrifices needed to be there to meet their nephew. No one in Brett’s family had judged him. They hadn’t said anything about Kate, about his continued association with her. He saw his parents exchanging glances, but nothing had actually been said.

Jordan and Johnny would probably say something inappropriate, and Brett drew a deep breath before following his mom to the backyard. He was engulfed in hugs as soon as he stepped out of the house, and he made the proper introductions for Reid.

“Jordan’s studying law,” he said. “And Johnny’s almost done with his accounting degree. Did I get that right?”

His twin brothers laughed. “You got it, bro.”

They took Reid further into the yard, where a football waited to be thrown. Brett watched his son play with his new uncles, but instead of feeling full of love and satisfaction, all he could think about was the years Kate had taken from all of them.

The meal passed without incident, and Brett’s mom took Reid into the house to get a gallon of ice cream.

“So Kate never said anything?” Jordan asked.

“No,” Brett said.

“What a conniving little—”

“I’m still married to her,” Brett said loudly. “She’s my wife, and….” He cast a look at his dad, who had mentioned that Kate had come to the house a few weeks earlier, looking for him. “And she’s the mother of my son. So be careful what you say about her, Jordan.”

“Your kid is almost eight years old,” he said, leaning forward as if his words would carry more weight that way.

“I know how old he is.”

“Jordan,” Brett’s father said. “Let Brett work it out. We just get to enjoy Reid.”

Jordan shook his head, clearly dissatisfied with just letting Brett work it out. But he didn’t say anything else, especially once Reid returned to the party with ice cream for everyone.

Brett ate his mint chocolate chip and observed his family interact with Reid. He thought about Kate, and what he could’ve said about her to Jordan. Everything he suspected Jordan wanted to say, Brett had felt. He’d never been so conflicted.

Running into a fire to save his friends was an easy choice. Forgiving Kate was not.

But he had spoken true. He was still married to Kate, and she was the mother of his son. She deserved some respect for that, and Brett was satisfied that he’d given her that.

He stewed over her coming to his parents’ house and asking after him. As Reid threw the football to Johnny, Brett leaned over to his dad. “Thanks for tellin’ Kate where I was, Dad.”

His dad patted Brett’s arm, a knowing smile on his face but a sad edge in his eye. “She didn’t have Reid with her, son. If we’d have seen him, we would’ve called you.”

“I know,” Brett said, watching Reid laugh and run. “It’s okay.”

“Everything will work out.”

Brett let his father’s words circulate through his head. He wanted to believe them. He almost did. But sitting in his parents’ backyard, with Kate so far away physically and emotionally, he couldn’t quite have the faith he needed to feel reassured that everything would work out.

Later that night, Brett tucked Reid into bed and bent down to kiss his forehead. “’Night, bud. See you in the mornin’.”

“We’re goin’ back to the ranch tomorrow, right?”

Brett grinned at the cowboy language in his son. Kate wouldn’t be happy about it, and that only caused Brett’s smile to widen.

“That’s right.” He settled on the edge of the bed. “You been havin’ fun here?”

“Yeah,” Reid said. “Your brothers are funny.” He laughed, the high-pitched sound melting Brett’s heart. Bringing Reid home to meet his family had been the right move. His mom had cried when she’d opened the door to see Brett standing on the doorstep, his cowboy hat in his hand and his son at his side. One glance at Reid, and it wasn’t hard to figure out he was Brett’s son.

“Don’t go listening to them.” Brett ruffled Reid’s hair and left the room, closing the door behind him. He returned to the living room, where his parents sat watching TV.

A long sigh escaped as he sat down. He both wanted to leave in the morning and never leave again. Over the past few days, his father had asked him about his job at Courage Reins, if he could support a family.

“I don’t even know if there’s a family to support, Dad,” Brett had said. Here, in Oklahoma City, he could own and operate the construction firm his dad had spent his life building. Here, he’d have the power to set his own schedule, make ten times what he did in Three Rivers.

But here, he hadn’t been happy. Here, the reminders of Kate screamed at him from the football stadium where they first met, to the arched walkway in the park where he’d first kissed her, to the church where they’d gotten married.

Over the past several days, as he’d wandered around town, showing off the high school football field where he’d won the State Championship game, he’d realized how right Kate was. She couldn’t come back here, and he didn’t want to live here either.

“So you’re leavin’ tomorrow,” his dad said.

“Yeah, Dad. We’ll come visit again soon.” They’d already talked through everything. There wasn’t anything left to say.

“Your mother and I have a gift for you.”

“Dad—”

But his dad held up his hand as he got off the couch. “Something we want you to have. Something for Reid.”

Something sharp pinched Brett’s stomach. He’d told his parents everything, including the real reason Kate’s parents hadn’t come to their wedding, and that he didn’t know how long he’d be able to have Reid in his life.

After all, he couldn’t imagine Kate staying at the ranch once he signed her divorce papers.

His dad returned with a rectangular package wrapped in brown paper. His mom turned off the TV, her tension evident from the way her eyes rounded and her hands clasped.

Brett took the package, the weight and shape suggesting it contained a book. Sure enough, upon peeling back the paper, he discovered a leather-bound album. He flipped open the cover to see a sunny, smiling picture of him and Kate on their wedding day.

His heart constricted, coiled, and then struck out like a rattlesnake. Emotion built in his chest, pushing up his throat as he studied her beautiful face, the happiness radiating from both of their faces.

He traced one finger down her cheek, forgetting that his parents sat in the room with him, watching. He forced himself to turn the page, where he found himself standing at attention in his Army uniform. This picture had been taken the day before his first deployment. The slip of paper detailing his service sat on the opposite page.

Page after page showed pictures Brett had sent home from overseas—he chuckled at the one of him and Pete grinning like fools while a sand storm kicked up behind them—pictures of Brett building a new dog house, of Brett and his brothers before they went off to college.

By the time he reached the last page, Brett felt like himself again. He’d been off balance since learning about Reid, since trying to suddenly be a father when he didn’t know how to be one.

“You’re a great man,” his dad said. “And Reid should know it.” He exchanged a glance with Brett’s mom. “And maybe Kate could use a reminder too.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Brett stood and hugged his dad and then his mom before tucking the photo album under his arm and heading to bed.

Brett let the vibrations from the truck lull him into a relaxed state. His mind immediately wandered to Kate, and what she’d been doing the past few days. She’d hardly called, hadn’t been demanding, didn’t inquire when he was coming home every five minutes.

She’d let him have his time with Reid and his parents. He couldn’t help seeing their wedding picture, remembering the festivities of the best day of his life.

He yawned, the sleepless night catching up to him as he crossed the Oklahoma border into Texas. Next to him on the bench seat, Reid slumbered though he certainly hadn’t been up all night wondering about Kate.

Something inside Brett couldn’t let go of her. Couldn’t just walk away. Couldn’t tell her to take Reid and never come back to Three Rivers.

Everything inside him wanted to be angry with her, but also get back to her and try to work things out. His dad hadn’t said that Brett should forgive Kate and make his marriage work, but the photo album had. It wasn’t just for Reid, or Kate. It was for Brett too.

He’d stashed it in his duffle bag, and that rode in the back of the truck. But Brett didn’t need to see the pictures to remember the feelings he had for Kate. And they were strong and didn’t seem to be dimmed by time or distance.

So while anger seemed to be the dominant emotion he harbored for her now, he knew that would fade over time. Fade with forgiveness. Fade when he saw her again, smelled her rosy scent, and saw her beautiful freckles.

He sighed and kept the truck at a steady sixty miles per hour. Brett arrived at the homestead just after lunchtime, and somehow the hope that Kate would invite him down to the basement for something to eat had rooted itself inside his mind on the drive back.

But the house sat in silence, quiet and empty. After a quick peek to the parking lot, he realized her car was gone.

For one moment, one dread-filled yet blissful moment, Brett wondered if she’d quit her job and left. Left him to raise Reid by himself. Just left.

After all, Kate Donnely was really good at leaving.

He swallowed back the rising bitterness, carried in the bags, and started a load of laundry while Reid went into the backyard to run with Zeus. After they’d eaten, after Zeus sat in the shade with his tongue lolling out, after an hour had passed, the crunch of wheels against dirt met Brett’s ears.

He moved around the house to see Pete and Chelsea returning from church. Brett watched from the corner of the house, a thread of guilt pulling through him. He hadn’t called Pete like he’d said he would. He hadn’t wanted Pete’s advice or to hear his levelheaded solutions.

A few minutes later Tom and Garth arrived. Brett lifted his hand in a friendly wave, which both men returned as they loosened their ties and headed down the gravel path toward their cabins.

Brett moved to the front porch, but Kate didn’t come. He imagined a dozen different places she could be—the grocery store, the hair salon, shopping in Amarillo—but never once did he think he’d see her pull up and emerge from her car wearing a pretty little sundress.

She’d gone to church.

And she obviously hadn’t seen him spying from his perch on the front porch, so he watched as she noticed his truck and began running to the house. Her red-and-white checkered sundress billowed behind her, and Brett thought of the white dress she’d worn to their wedding.

She disappeared from his line of sight, and he leaned his elbow on his knees, a pit of helplessness welling inside where his stomach should be.

As much as Brett wanted to hate Kate, he couldn’t. The photo album was a reminder of what he’d had. A reminder of what he’d lost. A reminder of what he could have again, if only he could figure out how to let go of the hurt, and pride, and anger.

“Reid!” Kate’s voice carried to him on the wind, and Brett stood and descended the steps.

Zeus barked as he came tearing around the back of the house, Reid not far behind him. He ran to Kate, and she scooped him up, her laughter contagiously causing a grin to dance across Brett’s face.

He watched as she held Reid tight, as the little boy told her excitedly about his grandparents in Oklahoma City, the mini golf they’d played, the new jeans he’d gotten.

She put him down and took his hand in hers, and listened.

“Where’s your dad?” she asked when he finally finished.

“He must be inside,” Reid said.

“I’m right here,” Brett said, moving toward them.

Kate turned around, nerves and fear replacing her easy-going nature. Brett hated watching the joy drain from her eyes. Hated even more that he was the one who caused it.

“Afternoon, Miss Kate.” He tipped his cowboy hat in greeting.

She stared at him, her fear dissolving into confusion. “Reid, go find a stick to throw to Zeus.”

Reid bounded away, calling the dog, who eagerly went with him.

Kate waited until Reid rounded the back of the house before stepping forward. Her eyes flashed with dangerous fire. “Don’t you ever take him for that long again.”

“He’s my son,” Brett said with a smile in his voice because of her fury. “You had him for seven years. I should get to take him to visit my parents for a few days.”

She reared back and slugged him in the shoulder. Hard.

“He’s—my—son—too.” She prepared to hit him again, but he grabbed her arm.

“Kate.” He pulled her into his arms, where she struggled to free herself. He held her in place and dipped his head to her ear. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.”

She stilled, maybe even relaxed, against his chest. “You’re sorry?”

“You went to church?”

She nodded, her head barely reaching his chin on the upward tick. “I made another deal with another man.”

Jealousy roared through Brett, and he released her. She stumbled a few steps away and took a deep breath as she smoothed down her dress.

“Another man?” Brett couldn’t keep the bite out of his voice.

“Tom said I needed to figure out how to forgive myself.” She raised her chin as if to challenge him. “I insisted he find a woman he likes and ask her out. We both upheld our end of the bargain.”

The left side of Brett’s mouth pulled up as his tension drained down. “Good to know you can keep your end of a deal.”

“Why are you sorry?”

He took a step forward, close enough to reach for her. The need to hold her clouded his reason. Everything he’d thought about since getting the photo album crowded to the front of his mind. He’d loved her once. He still did, if he could dig through everything else that had piled on top of that emotion.

“I shouldn’t have taken Reid for so long without letting you talk to him.”

She blinked, blinked. “You’ll notice I didn’t obsessively call and ask to talk to him.”

“You showed great restraint, Kate.” He watched her fold her arms. “Did you like church?”

She glanced toward the backyard, her expression turning distracted. “It was okay.”

“Will you forgive me?” He took another step, close enough to feel the warmth from her body.

Her gaze flew back to his, the panic returning as a blush stained her cheeks. “For taking Reid?”

“For kissin’ you.”

“Wha—?”

Brett gathered her into his arms and pressed his lips to hers. She only resisted for half a heartbeat before her arms came around his shoulders and she kissed him back. Brett couldn’t remember kissing her like this, like he was coming home after a very long time overseas. He’d imagined this moment, dreamt of it, even written her emails about it.

This time, he wasn’t a lowly carpenter kissing the girl he was madly in love with. He was a man kissing his wife—the woman he hoped he could fall madly in love with again.

Dear Kate,

I have nightmares all the time. I’m buried in sand, and I can’t breathe. The alarms go off, and I’m up to my waist in quicksand and can’t run. Can’t fight. Can’t save my friends.

When I wake, I think of you. I’m not sure why, other than I’m curious to know how you’ve changed these past several years. I feel like a completely different person, someone who doesn’t even recognize himself.

I hate war, and what it does to good men, strong families. You understand that I was trying to become somebody, right? Somebody your dad could respect. Somebody your momma would admire and tell all her friends about. Somebody you would look at with love in your eyes and be deserving of it.

I’m sure you don’t feel that way about me now. After all, I didn’t fight for you, for us. I was already doing so much fighting overseas that I couldn’t battle another man half a world away. I hope you understand that, but I’m sure you don’t. I’m sure you think I simply abandoned the idea of us.

I wanted you to be happy, and you said getting a divorce would make you happy. I thought I was doing the right thing. Now I see that I was weak, and hurt, and jealous. And I wanted you to be weak, and hurt, and jealous too.

And so I ask for your forgiveness. We have a big mission tomorrow. All the tank battalions will be on the move. It’s a dangerous mission, one we’ve been training for and planning for months. I just wanted to ask for your forgiveness before this mission, as I have a bad feeling about it deep in my gut.

I love you. I have always loved you. I fear I will always love you.

With love,

Brett

Kate lost herself in the scent of Brett’s aftershave, the firm press of his mouth on hers, the careful way he held her as he deepened the kiss.

No matter how many times she’d fantasized about kissing Brett, feeling the scruff of his beard against her chin, her cheek, absorbing the strength in his shoulders beneath her fingertips, it had never been this sweet. This tender. This life changing.

He pulled back, putting a couple of inches between their faces but keeping her in his embrace. “Kate.”

She swayed on her feet at the emotion in his voice, the way he let her name linger in the heat waves around them. He’d often whispered her name and nothing more. She’d asked him once why he did that, and he’d said her name summed up everything he felt for her.

She opened her eyes and reality came roaring back. His hands trailed over her bare shoulders and down her arms as he stepped back, his head ducked low so his cowboy hat hid his eyes.

“You wanna come to lunch?” His voice held every ounce of hope she’d heard the first time he’d asked her out.

“Whatcha cookin’?” She fiddled with the collar of his shirt, hoping her cold was just an adjustment to the dryness of the ranch and not something she’d pass to Brett—especially because she wanted to kiss him again. Soon.

“Whatever you want, sugar.”

The once-familiar endearment rolled off his tongue easily, but it steamrolled over her heart. She’d forgotten the sound of his voice as he said that word with such sweetness. She’d forgotten how it warmed her from the inside out, caused heat to rise to her cheeks as she tried to bite back a smile.

He threaded his fingers through hers, his eyes trained on their point of contact. “I’m still mad about you lyin’ to me for years.” He nodded toward the backyard. “About Reid. About everything.” He lifted his eyes to hers, and Kate felt the chill down into her soul. “But I feel…I feel something for you I can’t let go of. I’m willing to work on finding a way through the anger until it’s all gone.”

Kate started nodding somewhere in the middle of his speech, her thoughts rippling when he said he felt something for her. Something had awakened inside her at his touch, his honesty.

“I understand.” She squeezed his hand.

“Tell me about the estate in North Carolina.” He tugged her toward the steps that led to the deck, and they strolled inside while she considered what to tell him.

“It’s a suffocating place,” she finally said. “Oppressive heat in the summer and too much snow in the winter. I closed it down for long-term storage before I came here.”

Brett took a package of chicken from the freezer and put it in the microwave. “You own it?”

“Yes.” Kate couldn’t tell if his shoulders stiffened or his muscles simply bunched as he moved toward the spice cabinet.

“Momma left me everything, including the estate. I hated it there. It felt like a prison, not a home where I wanted to raise Reid.”

“And that’s what California is?” He worked with his back to her, half-maddening and half-convenient.

“California is a dream,” Kate said. “You realize I had to give up my job there?”

He shot her a look over his shoulder. She couldn’t quite see him, but she caught the annoyance easily.

“I need time with Reid,” he said, and the irritation sang through the kitchen.

“I know.” Kate wished she could take a course on how to talk to your angry husband about a son you’ve concealed for eight years. “So California was a dream. I took the job there, but I don’t think I ever believed I’d actually move there.”

“You were all packed.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t have a dime to get there, and nowhere to live once I did.” The honesty coming from her mouth felt good, cleansing.

“You actually have your nursing degree, right?”

“Brett.”

He turned and met her eye. “What? Just starting at the beginning.” He chuckled, and Kate couldn’t help joining him.

“Yes, I have my nursing degree.” She rubbed her shoulders. “It prepared me for working on the ranch.”

“Oh? Nursing and ranching are similar?”

“Similar enough. Gotta stand for the whole shift and deal with difficult animals.”

Brett laughed this time, a full-on laugh. Kate sank into the sound of it, letting it infuse the cracks that had been in her life since he’d been gone.

The French doors slammed open, sending Kate’s heart into a frenzy. “Reid! Careful.”

“Mom! Come see what Zeus found.”

“Dad’s making lunch. Can I come look later?”

“Can I help with the cookin’, Dad?” Reid ran into the kitchen, his eyes bright and unassuming.

“Wash your hands, bud.”

Kate watched Brett and Reid working together in the kitchen, and her insides softened. She thought about that morning’s church service. She’d felt the same comfort there as she did sitting in Brett’s kitchen. She couldn’t remember a word the pastor had spoken, because the feeling of rightness flowing through her had been so strong it had rendered the sermon silent.

Kate had never seen the smile currently on Reid’s face, and a needle of disappointment dampened her spirits. She pushed away the familiar feelings of guilt, the ever-present shame for what she’d done. She was making things right. One hour, one day, at a time.

“Momma, can I sleep up here with Dad?”

Kate pulled herself from her inner thoughts and glanced at Brett, who suddenly had to focus all his energy to mash potatoes. “Is there a bedroom for you?”

“Yeah, Dad said it’s all ready.”

“Let him stay up here,” Brett said, his voice barely audible above the sizzling pan. He wouldn’t look at her, and Kate wondered why. Perhaps he didn’t want her to see how badly he wanted Reid to stay with him.

Kate ducked her own head and studied her hands. “Of course, baby,” she said to Reid. “We live in this house. You can sleep wherever you like.”

Brett scooped the chicken out of the pan and declared it time to eat. As he passed behind Kate to sit on the barstool next to her, he leaned down, his mouth brushing her earlobe as he spoke. “You can sleep wherever you like too, sugar. We are married.”

Kate couldn’t help the girlish giggle that escaped, her mind suddenly captivated by the thought of truly being Brett’s wife. But she knew she wasn’t ready—that he wasn’t either. They both had a long road to travel before arriving at that destination. Just because the past hour had felt wonderful, had shown her what life with her and Reid and Brett as a family could be like, didn’t mean it was reality.

Her chest ached through dinner, but she used her newfound hope to push the pain away.

Dear Brett,

Something Momma said to me has been plaguing my mind. She wanted to know if I was unfaithful to you with another man. I admitted to her that I’d had feelings for him, but told her we’d never done anything physical.

I don’t think she believed me. But it’s important to me that you believe me. I know that sounds crazy, because you’re never even going to see this letter. But I need you to know.

I didn’t cheat on you. I was lonely, and depressed. My husband of only three months was gone. If not for Reid, Momma might never have spoken to me again. I was weak, and this man was easy to talk to, and laugh with, and I thought I felt for him what I’d felt with you on those first few dates.

I was wrong. He disappeared as soon as he learned of my pregnancy, and I never heard from him again. In the years since, I’ve realized that the love I harbor for you can’t be dulled by time, or distance, or lies and secrets.

Perhaps that last one is wishful thinking, a fool’s hope. But I can’t help it. Just like all those football games you made me watch, you sitting on the edge of the couch like you were on the team, or they could hear you cheering. I still remember shaking my head during that fourth quarter when A&M was down six points.

You and your brothers kept saying we could win. And then the quarterback threw that long pass on fourth down for the win.

I hope we can win like that one day.

All my love,

Kate

Brett switched on the TV while Kate cleaned up dinner. He hadn’t changed the channel in a couple of months, so a sports highlight show came on as Reid settled next to him on the couch.

“You like baseball?” Brett asked Reid.

The boy wrinkled his nose, causing Brett to chuckle. “Yeah, totally boring, isn’t it? What’s your favorite sport?”

“Football!” Reid said.

Brett ruffled his hair. “That’s my boy.” He leaned down, though Kate surely couldn’t hear their conversation over the clinking of dishes and the running water. “Did your mom tell you I used to play football?”

“Yep,” Reid said. “Said you were a real star.”

The next breath Brett took filled his chest to capacity, driving away some of the turmoil still teeming inside. “What else did she tell you about me?”

“She said you could build a house in like, a day, and that you were a good soldier.”

A sour sensation coated his throat. Kate had no idea what kind of soldier he was. If they’d stayed together during his deployments, she might have found out in his letters. But she certainly didn’t know about his Commendation Medal, or the various stripes he could wear because of his officer training and continued service.

“I’m heading downstairs.” Kate stood at the mouth of the hallway, her hands stuck in her dress pockets as she rocked back on her heels.

Brett met her eye, half wishing she’d stay and half wishing she’d leave. His constant battle with himself brought a level of exhaustion he hadn’t experienced since returning from Kandahar two years ago.

“See you tomorrow, Kate,” Brett said, turning back to the television as a terrifying thought entered his mind. He could be called out on another deployment at any time. He hadn’t heard any rumblings of such an assignment during his weekends at the Base, but he knew some assignments came out of left field.

Reid jumped up from the couch and hugged his mom. “Bye, Momma.” Brett’s heart warmed as they interacted. He wanted Kate to tuck Reid into bed and then tuck herself into his side. He’d curl his arm over her shoulders, inhale the scent of her hair, and they’d fall asleep together on the couch.

“You be good for Daddy, okay?” She smoothed Reid’s hair and grinned down at him. “And don’t stay up too late.” She met Brett’s eye. “Don’t let him stay up too late.”

“How late is too late?”

“Ten?”

Brett yawned. “I doubt I’ll make it past nine.”

“Da-ad.” Reid skipped back to him as Brett feigned sleep. “Wake up.”

Brett growled and grabbed Reid, tickling him until the boy dissolved into laugher. Behind the commotion, Brett heard the snick of the basement door closing.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said to Reid. He stood and tried to shake the exhaustion from his mind. What he really needed was sleep, but he didn’t want to waste the time he had with his son. “You wanna work on the cobblestones?”

“Sure.” Reid bounded toward the door, and Brett wished he had as much energy, could ignore the tension the way Reid seemed to.

Being outside, under the blue sky, helped. The ranch always seemed to have a playful breeze on it, and the evening was no different. Brett collected a stack of stones from the shed and went back for a shovel.

He gave the tool to Reid. “Scrape the dirt back here.” Reid complied, and Brett set the stone in the correct pattern. They worked in sections, creating the path that led down to the vegetable garden that Chelsea hadn’t planted.

She claimed her mother had been a champion gardener, but that the green thumb hadn’t been passed to her. Brett wasn’t overly fond of growing corn and carrots, so he’d let the plot sit empty too.

“Now we gravel.” He took the few extra stones back to the shed and started shoveling gravel into the wheelbarrow. After one load, his exhaustion won out. “We’ll have to finish another time.”

“Aw, Dad.”

“Come on, bud. I’m tired.” He watched Reid use the too-big shovel to move the gravel between the stones. “I didn’t get to sleep the whole way home from Grandma’s.”

“Okay.” Reid propped his shovel against his hip, and Brett wanted to snap a picture with his cell phone to send to his mother. So he made Reid stand there and smile for the camera, then he texted the photo to his parents.

“They’ll like that,” he told Reid as they put their tools away and headed back inside. “You want to watch a movie?”

“Yeah! With popcorn?”

Brett put his arm around his son’s shoulders. “What’s a movie without popcorn?” Brett closed the kitchen blinds against the setting sun as Reid chose a movie to watch. “Just don’t tell Mom all I fed you for dinner was popcorn.”

In the middle of the night, Brett woke to Reid standing beside his bed. “Dad,” he whispered.

“What’s goin’ on?” Brett sat up, trying to figure out what time it was. The light from the hall broke the darkness, illuminating Reid from behind.

“I heard something.”

Brett sighed as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Something where?”

“Downstairs.” Reid glanced over his shoulder. “It sounded like, I don’t know, Zeus whining or something.”

Brett scrubbed his hair. “Zeus is in his doghouse, bud. Remember we put him there after you fell asleep the first time?”

Reid sat on the bed next to Brett. “Can you check? Maybe he got out or something.”

Brett stood. “You wanna come?”

Reid snuggled into the warm spot Brett had vacated. “I’ll stay here.”

Brett stepped into the hall, his military ears listening for the slightest sound. Nighttime at Three Rivers Ranch occasionally held the whinny of a horse or the rustling breeze. But Zeus never barked, never whined.

Yet a distinctly high-pitched whimper lilted through the air. Loud at first, then quieting into silence. He moved toward the kitchen, making his footsteps light, hesitant.

The moan started again, and Brett turned back to the door that led to the basement.

“Kate.” His hand lingered on the doorknob, unsure of how she’d react to him showing up in her bedroom in the dead of night.

Her wail trailed off as Brett searched his memory for what she wore to sleep in, what kind of mood she woke up in. Silence stretched for several minutes, long enough for Brett to consider going back to bed.

Kate cried out, and Brett whipped open the door and tiptoed down the stairs. The darkness in the basement seemed blacker, with more substance than upstairs. Almost like he could rake his fingers through it.

Still, he knew where Kate’s bedroom was and groped his way toward it. He banged into the wall, his shoulder stinging and a grunt ringing through the darkness. He found the door and opened it, Kate’s nightmaring becoming louder when he did.

“Kate.” He crossed to her bedside, fumbled for the lamp, and turned it on. He knelt and swept his fingers across her forehead, finding it clammy and cold.

“Kate, honey, wake up.”

She thrashed, her hand flying toward his face. He dodged and grabbed her wrist. “Kate.”

Her eyes fluttered open, but she didn’t focus on him.

“Kate, it’s Brett. You were having a—”

“Brett!” She sat up in bed, scrabbling for the blanket and missing it. “What-what are—?”

“Reid heard you crying and came and got me.” Brett sat back on his haunches, his eyes dropping to the ground as he took in the thin fabric of her nightgown.

She reached for the blanket again and successfully pulled it over herself this time. “I’m fine.” She scanned him, her eyes tracing the tattoo on his left bicep.

Brett felt exposed, on-edge, strange. “You’re not fine, Kate.”

She coughed and wiped her eyes. “You’re right. I’m not fine. I feel terrible. Get me some more medicine?”

“Where is it?”

“Bathroom.” She sank back on the pillows, her eyes drifting closed.

Brett watched her for an extra moment, noticing the softness in her jaw when she wasn’t clenching it, the beautiful shine in her auburn hair.

He cleared his throat and his mind and hurried into the bathroom. He leaned against the counter and stared himself in the eye. “Keep it together, Brett. Just because you’re married doesn’t mean she’s your wife.”

After collecting the pills, he filled a glass with water. He knocked lightly on her open door as he entered, only to find her asleep in the same position he’d left her in. His military gaze swept the room, spying a stack of paper on the nightstand. He stepped closer, noticing Kate’s neat slant on the page. Who would she be writing to?

He bent closer, but she coughed, startling him away from the letters. Guilt rushed with the adrenaline of almost getting caught, and he abandoned his snooping.

“Kate, take these pills, sugar.” He nudged her shoulder and she stirred. “Come on, now. Wake up, just for a second.”

She complied, swallowing the pills and downing all the water. Brett took the glass and shuffled toward the door.

“Brett?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

He didn’t answer, because she didn’t need him to. He watched her chest rise and fall, rise and fall, with the rhythm of slumber. When he returned to his bedroom, Reid slept in his bed, and all Brett could do was smile.

“Bring her over here.” Pete waved as he called to Brett, who’d just stepped into the barn with Reid at his side.

“Lucy’s comin’ today, right?” Brett asked Pete as he stepped up to the corral where the horses grazed.

“In about an hour.” Pete slid Brett a look out of the corner of his eye. “How was Oklahoma City?” He glanced at Reid, who stood a few paces down the fence, patting a couple of cats.

“Great,” Brett said. “My parents were happy.”

Pete turned and leaned against the fence. “And you? Are you happy?”

“Happiest I’ve been in a long time.” The honesty in his words rang through the barn.

“Saw somethin’ yesterday.” Pete settled his cowboy hat lower over his eyes.

Brett felt like he’d swallowed rocks at the Lieutenant’s tone. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

“You and Kate kissin’.”

Brett’s eyes flew to Reid.

“Ah, so it’s a secret.” Pete grinned. “Probably shouldn’t be doin’ it in plain sight, then.”

Brett folded his arms on the top rung of the fence. “Probably need to get less nosy neighbors, too.”

“So are you back together?”

“Workin’ toward it.” Brett couldn’t look at his friend. And he really didn’t want to talk about Kate. “I’ll get Juniper out for Lucy? Or did you want her on Griffin today?”

“Griffin.” Pete straightened and put his hand on Brett’s shoulder. “And Brett, if you need anything, let me and Chelsea know. We want to help.”

Brett nodded, unsure of how Pete or Chelsea could help him release his resentment. He didn’t know how to let it go, how to get over the years he’d lost, how to forgive himself for not insisting her father tell him where she was, for not sending any of the emails.

Thankfully, teaching Reid how to put on a bridle, how to make Griffin take the bit, took his mind off his failures.

“Lucy rides,” Brett said to Reid as he led Griffin, a tall black and white paint horse, into the practice arena. “So we’ll need to saddle him. You stay here and I’ll grab the saddle. Lucy should be here soon.”

Brett returned a couple of minutes later and let Reid put on the blanket before he saddled the horse. “You want to ride him until Lucy comes?”

Reid gazed up at Griffin, with his black mane and mismatched white tail. “He’s so big. Bigger than that other one I rode.”

“Yeah, but you know how to ride.”

“I rode motorcycles at the estate.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that. Where’d you go?”

“Just out to the outbuildings and stuff with the gardener. Sometimes I went down the dirt path to the river, but I never told Momma.” He stepped up to the horse and ran his hand down Griffin’s cheek. “She would’ve been mad. I wasn’t supposed to leave the estate.”

Brett couldn’t help the half-smile kicking at his lips. “Well, come ride Griffin. He’s big, but he’s one of our best horses. Pete got him last year at a show in Amarillo.”

Reid stepped down to the saddle and put his foot where Brett indicated. A hop, swing, and landing later, and the boy sat in the saddle.

Brett handed him the reins. “He’ll just walk around in here.” He glanced at the clock on the far wall. “I’ve got to go greet Lucy. You’ll be okay in here?”

Reid grinned down at him. “Yep.”

Brett had never felt so full, so happy. He wanted Reid to work by his side everyday, not just for two months. He patted the horse’s flank, and Griffin moved into a slow plod, eliciting a laugh from Reid.

Brett moved through the arena to the front office, his thoughts consumed by the wedding picture on the front of the book his parents had given him. He hadn’t shown it to Reid or Kate yet. He’d held it close, leafed through the pages again last night after tucking Reid into bed and before he collapsed in his own bedroom.

“Brett,” a woman’s voice, warm and flowing like honey reached his ears.

He focused on the brunette that had just walked through the door, a ten-year-old at her side. “Evenin’, Leslie.”

She leaned in and kissed his cheek, then he crouched in front of Lucy. The girl met his eye. “Hey, Lucy. You ready for today?”

“Griffin,” the girl said, her dark eyes sparkling with an emotion Brett couldn’t name.

Brett chuckled, straightened, and took the girl’s hand. He nodded toward the observation loft and waited until Leslie had ascended the stairs.

“My son’s riding Griffin. Let’s go watch.”

“No watch,” Lucy complained. “Ride. Run. Kick ball.”

“Oh, you’ll be riding,” Brett assured her. “And Griffin’s missed you. No one else makes him run anymore.”

“He can run fast.”

“Only for you, Luce.” Brett grinned at her as he set the stepping stool on the edge of the arena. He whistled at Griffin, who plodded over. Once he’d lifted Reid down and nudged the horse into position, he allowed Lucy to come forward.

“Remember to grab the saddle horn, Lucy,” Brett said. “He doesn’t like it when you pull his hair.”

The girl followed directions and landed in the saddle on the first try. She locked eyes with Brett, both of them surprised as Lucy usually took a few tries to get on Griffin. She burst into laughter, and Brett gave the horse a mountain of credit because he didn’t move at all.

When the ten-year-old quieted, Brett gestured for her to take Griffin around the ring. She sobered, leaned forward, and patted Griffin’s neck before setting him into motion.

Brett watched from the rail, his chest puffing out with pride. He’d been the only one who could work with Lucy, and her improvement in the past six months had been hard-fought, but well worth it.

He thought of himself when he’d arrived at Three Rivers all those months ago. He’d barely been able to function in Oklahoma City, barely able to get himself off the couch and go build a garage with his dad.

Once Pete had called and Brett had arrived at the ranch, he hadn’t wanted to leave. He wasn’t sure if that was because of his First Lieutenant, or the horses, or some other magical quality the ranch had. Maybe there was something in the dust, or the drinking water. No matter what it was, Brett had felt fulfilled at Three Rivers.

He’d felt accepted, though he didn’t really have a reason not to be in Oklahoma City.

He’d felt almost back to the person he was before his tank got bombed, before he saved his friends and then watched them get life-flighted out of the desert.

He smiled as Griffin and Lucy came near. “I’m gonna get the ball,” he called, and he employed Reid to push the exercise ball to the horse, who trapped it between his front legs, and wouldn’t send it back until Lucy commanded him to.

She struggled with the command the first time, but managed to get Griffin to comply easily after that. Brett felt the same way about a lot of things in his life. Some things came to him easily the first time—like loving his son. Other things—like forgiving Kate and erasing his nightmares—seemed elusive, just out of reach.

After Lucy’s successful session, Pete met Brett in the office and handed him an envelope. “You missed payday last Friday.”

“Thanks.” Brett slid his fingers under the flap and ripped the envelope open. He knew how much his check would be, but the number seemed significantly smaller than he needed. He sighed and shoved the slip of paper back inside.

Tousling Reid’s hair, they headed across the road toward the homestead. “Did you like helping with Lucy?”

“Yep,” Reid said. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She has Down Syndrome. Her brain doesn’t work like yours does.”

“She laughed a lot.”

“Today was a good day for her,” Brett said. “Sometimes she cries a lot.”

“Really?”

“Someone like Lucy can get upset about something and have a hard time letting go of it.” As Brett spoke, he wondered if he could learn a lesson or two from her. “Sometimes her mom can calm her down before they get here, but sometimes she can’t. Lucy loves the horses, and they almost always help. That’s why she comes.” He gestured behind him. “That’s what Pete does. He helps people using the horses.”

Reid skipped ahead of him, so accepting, of Lucy and of Brett’s answers. “Like Momma helps people when they’re sick.”

“Right.” Brett’s footsteps landed heavier as he realized—truly realized—what Kate had given up to stay at Three Rivers. She’d worked for four years to earn her nursing degree. One glance toward the barns, and he found her feeding the calves.

Four years of education to work a ranch. It didn’t feel right. Frustration flowed through Brett, and he aimed his eyes into the sky.

Help me let go of my resentment, Lord. Help me know what to do about Kate.

His silent prayer drifted on the wind as he followed Reid up the stairs to the deck and into the house.

Dear Kate,

When I get back from Kandahar, I’m going to take over as foreman at my dad’s construction firm. He’s not quite ready to retire, but he wants to take a less-active role. My brothers are away at college, and neither of them has sawdust in their blood the way I do. I don’t know why I wanted you to know, only that after I got off the live chat with my parents a few minutes ago, you were the first person I wanted to tell.

It’s a good job, and something I love. Dad even says he has a piece of land in The Village he never built on. He said I can build a house there. That’s close to Nichols Hills, where I know your parents still live. Maybe once they see all I’ve done, all the awards I’ve received, all the acclaim from our construction company, they’ll forgive you for marrying beneath you. They can’t stay mad forever, right?

Either way, I’m going to build the house in The Village. I’ll be sure to put the laundry room on the same floor as the bedrooms, just like you want. If I could talk to you, I’d let you design the whole house.

I’ll go to your parent’s one more time when I get home. Only a few more months now.

With love,

Brett

Kate stood in the administration trailer, in its glorious air conditioning, and stared at the cash Tom had just given her. “Thanks.” Her voice sounded like her limbs: heavy.

“It’s not much.” Tom shifted behind his desk. “But you live for free, so….”

“It’s great.” Kate made her tone too bright, the smile she tacked to her mouth too wide. Seven days of work on the ranch and she held five hundred dollars. She tucked it into her pocket, determined to get into town and buy groceries so she could cook dinner for Brett and Reid.

“Did you ask anyone out?” she asked. She’d told Brett she’d figured out how to forgive herself, but the truth couldn’t be further away. She’d been to church once, and she had felt right being there. But she hadn’t forgiven herself. Didn’t even know how.

Tom ducked his head, all the answer Kate needed. “Tom, you said—”

“I said I’d think about it.” He pulled the brim of his hat down, and Kate wondered if every cowboy used their hat to avoid eye contact. “I don’t really know anyone I want to go out with.”

“I went to church on Sunday.” Kate wrote down the vaccinations she’d given the calves that afternoon. “You said you had friends you were going to think through.”

“Yeah. Friends.” He pulled the paperwork toward him, still steadfastly refusing to look at her. “Besides, it’s harder than goin’ to church.”

Kate barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “What is? Talking to a woman? Or asking her out?”

“Both.”

“You’re talkin’ to me.” Kate almost bit her tongue when she heard the cowhand accent come out of her mouth.

Tom shot Kate a look that said drop it.

Another cowhand moved toward them. “Ask him about Rose Reyes.”

“Ethan,” Tom growled. “Not helping.”

“Oooh.” Kate grinned. “Who’s Rose Reyes?”

“No one,” Tom said at the same time Ethan said, “The loan manager at the bank.”

“She’s just a friend,” Tom said, throwing Ethan a daggered glare.

“Sure. That’s why you personally greet her every time she brings her daughter for therapy.”

“Her daughter is my client.” Tom stood and leaned into his fists on the desk. “Are we done here?”

“Sure, boss.” Ethan chuckled as he slipped out the door.

Kate settled her weight onto her right leg and grinned, about as far from done as possible. “I could talk to her if you want.”

“Right. Because I’m thirteen and need my friends to talk to girls for me.” He took the clipboard and flipped the page. “I need you to sign here for the meds.”

She added her signature to the page, and then he signed it. “The calves give you any trouble with the shots?”

“No, sir.”

Tom’s gaze flew to hers. “Sir?”

“Let’s go to town.” She leaned on his desk, a hint of excitement finally in her life, at this ranch she hadn’t wanted to visit. “Right now. I need groceries, and I think you need to get to the bank or something.”

Tom folded his arms and glowered. Kate couldn’t imagine any of his friends wouldn’t want to go out with him. He was tall, with dark features, but kindness radiated from him.

“Miss Kate—”

Except when he spoke in that disdainful tone. “Okay, never mind.” She stepped toward the door, already feeling the heat coming through the metal. “But I’ve simply got to get this cash deposited. I can’t have it lying around the homestead. Oh, no. I definitely need to go to the bank and open an account.”

She had one hand on the door when Tom scrambled around the controller’s desk. A moment later, his hand covered hers. “I do need to go into town. Might as well ride along with you.”

Kate grinned at him. “Might as well.”

She drove, the handsome cowboy next to her fidgeting with everything from his hat to his belt buckle to the air conditioning vents on his side of the car.

“I’m sure she’ll say yes,” Kate said.

“I’m not going to ask her out. We’re friends.” He peered at her. “Besides, you don’t even know her.”

“I met a couple people at church on Sunday.”

“She’s not always there.”

“Ah ha! So you notice when she’s there and when she’s not.” Kate giggled when Tom rolled his eyes.

He made her drop him off at the bank and leave before he’d enter. As she drove away, a lightness filled Kate she hadn’t felt in years. Hadn’t felt since leaving Oklahoma City. Hadn’t felt ever living on the estate in North Carolina.

As she pushed a cart through the grocery store, she let her mind wander to the few meals she’d been able to put together for Brett before he’d been deployed. Sloppy Joes, Hawaiian pizza, steak and mashed potatoes.

“Kate!”

She turned at the sound of her name, unsure of who the female voice belonged to. She found a short, brassy blonde waving at her from down the aisle.

Kate smiled and swung her cart around. “Olivia.”

“You remembered.”

“We just met yesterday.”

Olivia trilled out a laugh. “Of course it was only yesterday. Feels like a long time though.” She fiddled with her purse. “It’s been a long day.” Her words dripped with frustration.

Kate’s compassion kicked into overdrive. “Anything I can do to help?”

Olivia’s bright blue eyes met Kate’s. “You’re so kind to offer. It’s my momma. She’s been sick for a while, and today was a bad day.”

A pinch started in Kate’s lungs, expanding until it spread all the way to her toes. “I took care of my momma until the day she died.”

Olivia’s eyes widened and filled with tears. She blinked them back before one could fall. “I’m so sorry.”

“Then I finished nursing school so I could help others.” A strength Kate didn’t know she possessed rose within her. “So let me help.” She glanced at Olivia’s cart and found only vegetables and meat. “Maybe not with the cooking.”

Olivia giggled. “My daughter does all the cooking.” She waved a grocery list. “I’m just the one who finances what we eat.”

Kate gestured to her cart. “Me too. I’m hoping to make something for my hus—” Kate cut off, unwilling to refer to Brett as her husband.

But Olivia heard the word anyway. She cocked her head to the side, her gaze open and unassuming. “I thought you lived out at Three Rivers Ranch.”

“I do,” ghosted between her lips. “My—I’m married.” Kate closed her eyes in a long blink, wishing she could take the bleat-like confession back.

“Who’s your husband?”

“Brett Murphy. He lives out there, and sometimes he comes into town—”

“He’s the construction guy,” Olivia supplied, her eyes softening and her lips turning up. “Cute, if I remember right.”

A blush began in Kate’s midsection, but she contained it and didn’t return Olivia’s smile. “We’ve recently been reunited. It’s….” Kate glanced around the grocery store, hoping the words she needed to explain would materialize on the sides of the cereal boxes. They didn’t.

“Complicated,” Olivia supplied. “I get it. I live with my fifteen-year-old daughter and my dying momma. My husband left a long time ago.” She hooked her arm through Kate’s. “If there’s anything I get, it’s complicated.” She flashed Kate a genuine smile. “I hope you two can work it out.”

“You made what?” Brett stood at the top of the stairs while Kate stayed planted at the bottom.

“Steak,” she said. “And mashed potatoes. And I wondered if you’d eaten yet.”

Racing footsteps came down the steps, and Kate barely caught Reid as he flung himself off the third step and into her arms.

She laughed and set him on his feet. “Hey, baby. How was working with Daddy?”

“Awesome!” Reid danced away from her and punched the air with his fist. “He let me ride Griffin today, and he’s huge!”

Brett’s slower, less enthusiastic, steps dimmed some of Kate’s enthusiasm over Reid’s horse ride.

“Hey.” She yearned to lean into him, press her lips against his cheek, his beard, his mouth. She stepped into the small kitchen instead. “Steak and potatoes. We’ll have to eat on the couch.”

She dished up food for Reid while Brett watched, suddenly statuesque.

“Well, come on.” Kate glanced at him, hoping he’d move. She didn’t want to play games anymore, didn’t like the eggshells she constantly crunched underfoot with him around. He’d kissed her yesterday. Things between them should be easier, less rigid.

Brett stepped into the kitchen with her, his leg brushing against hers. “Looks great, Kate.”

She smiled as she tonged steak onto her plate. After adding a dollop of mashed potatoes, she clutched a fork in one hand and stretched up to kiss his cheek. “Try not to gag when you taste it.”

She left him in the kitchen and joined Reid on the couch. She loaded her fork with a bite of steak and a skiff of potatoes and put it in her mouth. “Mm, not bad.” She hadn’t really cooked for years. Nana employed people to do everything from cleaning to gardening to cooking.

Brett joined her, sitting too close to be casual. Fierce fire flowed through her at his touch, the nearness of his warmth, the scent of clean air and soap on his skin.

“When did you have time to do this?” he asked.

“Tom paid me this afternoon, and we went into town for groceries.”

“You and Tom.”

Kate heard the jealousy in Brett’s tone and couldn’t help smiling. Kate’s foolish heart hoped with every beat that Brett was jealous because he wanted to go to town with Kate, go to church with Kate, do everything with Kate.

“Yeah,” she said. “I dropped him off at the bank because it turns out the little weasel didn’t ask anyone out.”

Brett’s brow furrowed. “Who’s he askin’ out?”

“A friend of his. Rose Reyes?” Kate said. “I guess her daughter is a patient at Courage Reins.”

“Rose Reyes?” Brett repeated.

Kate shrugged. “He claims they’re just friends, but he wouldn’t let me come into the bank with him.”

“Momma, can I be done?” Reid held up his plate for inspection. He’d eaten all his mashed potatoes and few bites of steak. Kate admitted it was a bit overcooked.

“Sure, baby.”

“Go put Zeus in his kennel, okay?” Brett nodded toward the dog, who slept near the door.

“’Kay.” Reid handed his plate to Brett and skipped out the door, Zeus hot on his heels.

Brett took Kate’s plate too and went into the kitchen, where he started washing the dishes.

“I can do them later.” She stood and joined him, almost desperate to be near him for reasons she couldn’t fathom. She peered up at him, his delicious dark eyes and solid strength inspiring bravery in her. “I missed you today.”

Brett’s warm hands swept around her waist, settling on the small of her back as he drew her closer. “I missed you too, sugar.”

His kiss tonight reminded her of why she’d fallen so hard for him, so fast. Tender yet urgent, slow yet passionate, she lost herself to his touch.

He pulled back too soon, and Kate kept her eyes closed.

“Kate, I need to talk to you about something.”

Worry wormed through Kate and the world turned a shade colder though she still stood in the circle of his embrace. “Okay.”

He touched his lips to her jawline. “You’re not gonna like it.”

Her stomach pushed against the dinner she’d eaten. She pressed her cheek over his pulse so she didn’t have to look into his eyes. He ran his hands up her back and down again before stepping away.

“I don’t make enough money to support a family here.” He cleared his throat. “You can’t be making much either.”

Ice crowded the overcooked steak in Kate’s stomach. She knew his next sentence before he spoke it.

“I want to go back to Oklahoma City and take over the construction firm.”

The words steamrolled her though she’d known they were coming. She opened her mouth, but her voice stayed silent.

“I know you don’t want to go back there,” Brett said. “But I can give you a good life there. You wouldn’t have to work seven days a week feeding calves and hauling hay. Me and you and Reid. We can be a family there.” His feather-light touch on her chin brought their eyes together.

“Will you at least think about it?” he asked. “We don’t have to go right away. Maybe in the fall, before school starts, when the two months are up.”

Though fear scrambled her thoughts, she owed Brett something. “I’ll think about it,” she said.

Brett kissed her neck just below her ear, sending a thrill to the top of her skull. “I don’t want to sign your divorce papers.” His voice sounded like the rustling of dry grass. “I want to be a family.” He touched his lips further down her neck, then on her jaw and the corner of her mouth before claiming her lips with his.

Again, he broke their connection too soon. “Come on, sugar. I have something I want to show you.”

She resisted as he started to lead her toward the stairs. He turned back at the gentle tug on his hand.

“Just so we’re clear,” she said. “I don’t want you to sign the divorce papers either. I want to be a family too.”

Brett grinned, his whole face lighting up with the action. “Then you’ll really like what I’m gonna show you.”

Dear Brett,

Momma died today. I didn’t think I’d cry. In so many ways, I am so glad to be rid of her. But in several other ways, there’s a void in my chest I can’t seem to fill. And so I’m sitting here under this willow tree, crying. Again. At least this time, if someone catches me, I won’t have to lie about why.

I called Daddy, and he said to bury her on the estate. He isn’t going to come for the services. I don’t know why I’m surprised, but I am. He should be here. And then I started wondering if you’d come to my services if I died.

I think you would. I can’t believe that this connection between us is only one-sided. I might even mail this letter to your mom. She’ll get it to you, and maybe you can come hold my hand during Momma’s funeral.

More wishful thinking. I don’t even know if you’re in the country, and the funeral is in two days. You surely couldn’t make it. But I will be thinking of you.

All my love,

Kate

Brett relished the feel of Kate’s hand in his. Her delicate fingers clutched his like she needed him, and he wanted to be her provider, her protector, her everything. The way he once had been.

Fear cut sharply through him. He hadn’t been enough for her before. Why should he think he could be now? Especially back in Oklahoma City, the city she’d escaped once and didn’t want to return to.

He turned toward his bedroom, and Kate stalled again. “We’re going in your bedroom?”

“I won’t bite,” he teased, tugging her along.

“What do you want to show me?” Her voice sounded on the upper edge of her octave.

“You can wait in the kitchen if you want, sugar. I’ll be right there.”

She dropped his hand like he’d caught fire, a blatant reminder for Brett that she wasn’t ready for much more than the kissing they’d done.

“And you’re still mad,” he mumbled to himself as he rounded the corner and entered his room. But he wasn’t, not really. With everything in the open about what they both wanted, he couldn’t keep the anger and resentment under such a tight hold. With each minute he spent with Kate, he felt it evaporating into mist.

He collected the photo album and hurried into the kitchen. Kate sat on the couch instead of at the bar, and Brett veered toward her. “My dad gave me this over the weekend. Thought Reid might want to look at it and get to know me better.”

He handed it to Kate, who stared at the picture on the front like she’d seen an apparition. Her finger traced the edge of their wedding photo, the same way Brett’s had. He sat next to her and lifted his arm around her shoulders.

Sitting with her felt normal, natural, nice. He wanted to come home after a busy day of working with hammers and nails and find her in their home, her hair swept off her shoulders so he could kiss her neck easier, run his fingers along her creamy shoulders.

He stopped the thoughts as she flipped the page. Her intake of breath sounded stuttered, but when she spoke, her voice came out steady.

“I’ve never seen this picture.” She glanced at him, and he thought he could get lost in her honeyed eyes if she’d let him.

He looked at the picture of him in his full Army uniform. “I had it taken the day before I left.” Brett detected a shiver running through Kate’s muscles. She seemed enthralled by his official deployment papers, reading each one when she came to them. She spent precious minutes on the details, and he realized she didn’t even know the intricacies of his service, his life outside the Army.

Near the end of the book, she stalled on a picture his mom had taken as he emerged from the airport in Oklahoma City, dressed in his full Army regalia, when he’d returned from his last deployment.

“What’s that medal?”

“That’s an Army Commendation Medal. I earned it on my last deployment.”

She raised her eyes to meet his, and all Brett could think about was how close her mouth suddenly was. His breath mingled with hers, and every muscle in his body went rigid.

“How do you earn a Commendation Medal?”

Brett drank in the spattering of freckles across her nose. He shrugged. “You do something they think is heroic.”

Kate blinked, blinked, closing those eyes that had captivated him from the first moment they’d met. “What did you do that was heroic?”

“I didn’t do anything.” Brett set his jaw, remembering the shriek of the missile as it flew toward the front of the line of tanks. The mind-bending absence of sound before the world exploded. The wave of sound and heat and fire and smoke that followed.

Kate’s brows drew down into a cute little frown. Brett lazily ran his fingers through her hair, trying to get the images of broken bodies, bloody flesh, and burnt skin out of his mind.

“You must’ve done something.”

He’d done something all right. He’d run into the firestorm instead of away from it. He’d had to. His Major and First Lieutenant were in those tanks. His friends. The very men he loved, had protected, would die for.

His shoulders ached at the memory of carrying those he’d saved. He’d coaxed himself to take another step. Then another. He could get Major Ackerman back to their camp. He could. He would.

He looked at his hands, seeing only red, red, red, red. He’d somehow gotten back to his unharmed tank and retrieved the first aid kit. Men yelled at him to stay back, that more missiles had been launched. But Pete—his dear Pete who’d already suffered so much loss with the death of his momma and granddad—needed painkillers and his upper body wrapped before he lost too much blood.

So Brett charged back into the black, billowing smoke, without thought for his own survival. He had just gotten Pete wrapped when—

“Brett?”

He lifted his head and focused on the sound of Kate’s voice, the images of that horrific day fading into white smoke. “Sorry,” he murmured.

She set the album down, shifted toward him, stroked her hand down the side of his face. “What happened to you over there?”

He exhaled harshly. “Too much.”

She let her fingers drop to his chest, where the green and white ribbon had been pinned. “How did you get that medal?”

“I saved Pete and Squire from their tank.” He spoke as if inside a balloon. There, but not there. Soft, but echoing. “It had been bombed. I got them out.” And a half dozen others, but Brett hadn’t been counting.

Kate’s eyes widened. “Were they hurt?”

Brett nodded, the image of Pete’s scars burning in his mind. “Major Ackerman walks with a pretty severe limp now. Didn’t you see him when you went to get Reid from Kelly’s?”

“Oh, right. Kelly’s husband. I did spend an afternoon with him while you were at the Base the first weekend we were in town.” She leaned into his arms, settling against his chest like she belonged there. Which she did. “What about Pete?”

“He has burns over most of his upper body. Scars now. He didn’t get out of the hospital for months.” Brett’s voice clouded. “I wasn’t hurt. They got sent home, and I had to stay eight more months. When I made it back to Fort Bragg, I got that medal and got sent home.”

“Will you have to go back?”

Brett appreciated the strength in her question. “It’s a possibility, Kate.” He moved his arms so she’d sit up. He looked at her, really looked inside her. “You should know that up front. It is a very real possibility that I’ll be deployed again.”

Fear flashed in her eyes and she focused on the book on her lap. “But you’ve been deployed three times.”

“I’m active in the Army Reserve. I still go to the Base every month.”

“When can you get out of the Army?”

Brett didn’t want to tell her, didn’t want to add to her worries. He shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“Liar. Tell me.” Kate’s eyes sparked with fire, and Brett touched his lips to hers, asking permission. She let him distract her for a few seconds, then planted her palm on his chest and pushed him back.

“Brett.”

“Kate.”

“I want to know when you can get out of the Army.”

“I don’t want to tell you.” He leaned away, his insides clenching like they’d been set in cement.

“You better tell me.”

He sighed, defeated when she spoke in that tone. He’d heard it enough to know, and his mouth twitched upward for a single heartbeat. “Four more years. I re-enlisted two years ago, and it’s a six-year term.”

She sprang from the couch and ran her hands through her hair—the exact reaction he’d expected. “Four years.” Her tone suggested defeat.

“It’s a long time.” He settled into the couch, wishing she’d come back. “If I’d known—”

“Stop.” She held up her hand as she paced. “I should’ve told you about Reid. I know.” She moaned, the sound full of frustration and desperation. “Why didn’t I tell you about Reid? You never would’ve re-enlisted.”

Brett stood and put his hands on her shoulders to get her to stop. “Look at me, sugar.” Her chin quivered, but she met his gaze. “Don’t go blamin’ yourself for this too.”

“Whose fault is it? Yours? I don’t think so.” She stepped away from his touch. “Four more years. You could be deployed at any time.” She wasn’t really asking, but she looked at him with such hope, his heart cracked.

“Yes.”

She resumed her pacing, her fingers going to her mouth where she chewed on her thumbnail.

“Kate.”

“Hmm?” She didn’t glance his way.

“Kate.”

“What?”

“Come sit down.”

She obliged, sinking into the couch cushions like they could protect her from Brett getting deployed again.

“We’ll be okay,” he said. “If I get deployed, if I don’t. We’ll be okay.”

“Like we were okay last time?” She gave a short laugh that came out like a bark.

“We’re not the same people we were last time.” He ran his fingers up her arm. “We have Reid now. No matter what happens, we’ll be fine.”

Kate looked at him, really looked. Brett made his face as placid as possible, his shoulders as strong as he could. “Okay?”

She managed to nod before the first tear fell.

Dear Kate,

Your dad is an absolute nightmare. He answered the door with a rifle in his hand. A rifle! Like I was there to loot his property and take him captive. I managed to ask about you through the slit in the door, but he barked at me to go away and never come back.

I didn’t see your momma. I hung around the house for a while, waiting to see if she’d come home, but she never did.

This can’t just be it. I’ve never felt so…empty, like there’s nothing much to live for. I’ve taken a few jobs with my dad, and it’s nice to stay busy. But the winter months are coming, and there won’t be much work then. I’m thinking of calling my friend Pete to see what he’s doing, and where he landed. But I haven’t yet. I don’t know why. Maybe I don’t want to tell him about the things that happened after he left. Maybe I can’t stomach knowing how much pain he’s in, how he’s scarred for life when I got away without so much as a scrape.

I really just want to see you. Talk to you. Be with you. Maybe one day that will happen—but not if your dad has anything to say about it.

With love,

Brett

The week melted like marshmallows over an open flame, and before Kate knew it, Saturday arrived. She and Brett had eaten dinner together every night, sometimes upstairs and sometimes down. No matter where they dined, they managed to sneak in a kiss before the night ended.

Kate had avoided talking about moving to Oklahoma City. Something about the idea writhed in her stomach, and she’d decided to put the matter to prayer. So far, she’d felt the same as she had at Magnolia estate—like God was ignoring her.

She swung her legs out of bed and padded into the kitchen to make coffee. Brett and Reid had set up a tent in the backyard, near Zeus’ doghouse. She didn’t know how they’d slept out there, what with the oppressive near-August heat. She blew a fan at night to compliment the air conditioning.

After a few sips of caffeine, her brain started to function, a blessing and a curse. If she didn’t stay busy, her thoughts lingered on worries about Brett getting deployed again.

Four more years.

The chances of him getting called up were high, what with his training and experience. But he’d already been out three times. Around and around her fears and doubts went, hand in hand.

A knock sounded on her door, and Kate jumped, slopping hot liquid onto her hand. She yelped and flipped the cold water on in the sink as Tom walked in.

“You okay, Miss Kate?” He eyed her burned hand, which she held under the running water.

“I’ve never had anyone knock on my door,” she said. “I just got startled and my coffee spilled.”

“Sorry.” He removed his hat and mashed the brim in his fists.

“Tom,” Kate said. “What’s going on?”

“I need your help.”

“With?”

“Tammy.”

Kate shut off the water and reached for a towel. “Tammy? I thought you were going to talk to Rose.”

Tom shook his head. “Pete said he went out with Tammy once, that she was fun.” He trained his eyes on the floor. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been out with a woman, and well, I have no idea how to, you know, date.”

Kate wondered what had happened in Tom’s past to make him so gun-shy, push him into near self-isolation.

“What are you doing?”

“There’s a hay festival at the park tonight. You know, games and food and stuff.”

Kate grinned at the cowboy’s obvious discomfort. “Okay, well, a festival is easy,” she said. “You get dinner at one of the trucks, and eat. You walk around, play the games, talk, maybe hold Tammy’s hand….” She smiled as Tom’s face colored. “It’s really not that hard.”

“What do you talk about?”

Kate waved her hand. “Anything, Tom. Ask her questions about her job, her life, her family.”

“And she’ll ask me about those things too.” He wasn’t really asking, though his voice pitched up at the end.

Kate took another sip of her coffee to hide her smile. “Yes, probably.”

Tom’s features darkened. “This is why I don’t date.”

Footsteps sounded on the stairs behind her, too heavy to be Reid’s. A moment later, Brett appeared, wearing a black T-shirt that pulled across his broad shoulders and a pair of basketball shorts. “Mornin’, Kate. Tom.” He stepped into Kate’s personal space and placed a kiss on her temple. “That coffee smells heavenly. May I?”

A delicious shiver skated down her back with his touch. “Go ahead.”

Tom nodded hello and good-bye, smashing his hat on his head and heading for the door.

“You want us to come with you?” she asked without thinking.

He spun back to her. “Would you?”

“Go where?” Brett sidled up to her and slid his hand along her waist. She couldn’t control the tremble in her limbs, nor the heat as it rose to the top of her head. She gave him a warning look. They had company, couldn’t he see?

He grinned at her and kneaded her closer. “Where are we going?”

“Tom has a date tonight.” Kate glanced at Tom. “He’s a bit nervous about it.”

Brett swung his gaze to Tom. “Where are we going?”

“The hay festival.”

“Reid would like it,” Kate added.

“Let’s do it then.”

Relief washed across Tom’s face. “Thanks, Miss Kate. We’ll meet you guys at the festival. Say six-thirty?”

Kate nodded, a sense of satisfaction singing through her as Tom left. “Well, I better get to work.”

Brett hooked his pinky around hers before she could move. “Reid’s still asleep.”

“So?” Kate barely got the word out before Brett’s mouth covered hers. She rose on her toes, pressing eagerly into his kiss.

“Kate.” His whisper sent her heart rate into overdrive.

“Brett.” She moved her lips against his to speak his name, deepening the kiss when they reconnected.

“I’ll be late for work.” She leaned her forehead against Brett’s chest and tried to grasp reason.

“Tom won’t care,” Brett said, but he took a step back. His gaze burned into her, and she cleared her throat.

“Okay, I’m going to—” Kate once again tried to move away, and Brett’s touch stopped her. His strength never ceased to amaze her. Even earlier this week when he’d disappeared inside himself while she asked him about his Army medal. He clearly had demons from his service overseas, and still the iron in him held.

“Have you thought about moving to Oklahoma City?” he asked.

Kate bit the inside of her cheek. “I’m trying to figure it out.”

He cocked one eyebrow.

“I, uh, I’ve been praying about it, okay?” She turned her back on him and paced to the door. “It’s a new thing for me, and I just don’t know yet.”

When he remained silent, she faced him again.

“The Lord speaks to each of us differently,” he said.

“Does He?” She wished her voice didn’t sound quite so desperate, quite so unsure. But she wasn’t sure God heard or answered her prayers.

“Yes, Kate, He does.” He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “Let’s see how we feel at church tomorrow.”

She nodded and he went upstairs, leaving her with her circular thoughts.

Dear Brett,

Nana has caught pneumonia. I think she may have declined and died from a broken heart after Momma died, but now the coughing will probably do it. I’ve moved her to her bedroom, because she refuses to go to the hospital. I arranged for hospice care to come three times a day, and the nurses leave with such sadness in their eyes that I know the end is near.

I feel as though my heart will shatter, spreading pieces from here to the moon. I’ll never find them all, never have a complete heart again. Nana always accepted me for who I was, and she never gave me grief for marrying you or having Reid alone. I honestly don’t know how Momma became the way she did.

When Nana dies, I get everything, as I’m the only Magnolia heir. It’s a shame I don’t want any of it. Nana said she didn’t care what I did with the estate, the money, as long as “that man doesn’t get it.”

Brett, I think she means Daddy. I can’t fathom what he’s done to make Nana breathe such hatred toward him, but it must be something. He never was particularly kind, and his communication has waned over the past several years. I just don’t know why Nana and Momma dislike him so.

I forgot to tell you that Momma left everything to me too—not to him. He wouldn’t show me her will, and Nana finally hired her lawyer to get a copy of it. Everything is mine—he won’t get a dime of Magnolia money. So something happened, and I just don’t know what.

I dream of you coming to North Carolina, to the estate. With you here, I think the place would transform. I wouldn’t view it as a fenceless prison, but a wonderland, every tree an opportunity to sneak a kiss while Reid runs and plays.

I hear Nana coughing again. I wish you the best.

All my love,

Kate

“Time to go!” Brett called down the stairs. Reid had been practically bouncing off the walls in his living room for a half hour. Kate was nowhere to be found. Brett wondered if she’d backed out and he’d have to take Reid to the hay festival himself. Tom surely wouldn’t like that.

“Kate!” he called again.

“Coming!” came her voice from somewhere downstairs.

Brett moved back into the kitchen where his truck keys and wallet lay on the counter. He pocketed them both and waved to Reid. “Come on, bud. Mom says she’s comin’. Let’s go wait in the truck.”

They went into the garage and proceeded to wait another five minutes for Kate to show up. When she finally slid into the cab, she wore a flirty sundress the color of the sky. White embroidery donned all the seams. She’d pulled her vibrant hair into a ponytail high on her head, revealing that very kissable neck.

Brett cleared his throat and turned away, giving all his attention to his rear-view mirror like he was backing out of a very crowded parking lot instead of a driveway no one but him used.

Kate chattered to Reid about the festival, which she’d apparently looked up online. Brett liked listening to her talk, liked the lilt of her voice and the happiness in her laughter. He liked spending time with her, and another measure of stored anger dissipated.

The drive to the festival passed quickly, and Brett slipped his hand into Kate’s as they waited in line to buy tickets. As soon as they stepped through the gates, Tom appeared with a leggy brunette that looked surprisingly like him. Dark hair, dark eyes, quick smile.

“Hey, Tom.” Kate released Brett’s hand to give him a quick hug and introduce herself to Tammy. Brett had met Tammy on several previous occasions, but still shook her hand in greeting.

“What should we do first?” he asked.

Reid leapt into the air. “Rides, Dad! Let’s do the rides first.”

Brett glanced at the tickets he’d bought. “You have twenty tickets, bud. Let’s go see what you can do.”

“We’ll grab some lemonade and come find you,” Kate said.

Brett balked at leaving her with Tom and Tammy, as the crowd was large and swelling by the minute. Apparently the hay festival in Three Rivers attracted everyone from town.

“You sure?” he asked.

Kate giggled, which sent a shockwave through Brett’s chest. “It’s sweltering. You want sweet tea instead?”

“Whatever you want, sugar,” he said, pleased when a blush made her freckles pop out on her face. “I have my phone.”

He followed Reid to the merry-go-round, the slides, and the dragon rollercoaster before the boy slowed down.

“Where’s Momma?” he asked. “I’m thirsty.”

Brett checked his phone. “She hasn’t called.” He peered around, but all the people made finding his petite Kate nearly impossible. But Tom and Tammy should stick out above most people….

Brett whipped around when he spotted Sandy Keller. She was nice in her own environment—the pancake house. But Brett did not want to run into her here, without Kate.

Unfortunately, she’d seen him too and made a beeline toward him. “Hey, there,” she said. “Hi, Reid.”

Reid didn’t answer, so Brett said, “Hey, Sandy.”

“Boy, it’s hot out here, isn’t it?” She fanned herself as she glanced at the nearby corndog stand.

“Yeah,” Brett said. “You don’t have to work tonight?”

She swung her violet eyes back to his. “I only work mornings.”

Brett frowned. “That’s not true. When I asked you to dinner last year, you said you had to—”

“Brett, there you are.” Kate’s voice overrode the end of his sentence, and Brett fell back a couple of steps.

“Hey, sugar.” He took the cup of lemonade she offered and raised it to his lips. Once the drinks were handed out, Kate looked from Brett to Sandy and back.

“Oh, this is Sandy Keller,” he said.

“I met her at church,” Kate said. “Nice to see you again, Sandy.” The smile painted on Kate’s face said otherwise, and Brett’s stomach sloshed sour lemonade.

“Nice to see you too, Miss Kate.” Sandy looked over her shoulder for most of the sentence, her voice distant and disinterested. “Oh, I see someone I must speak with. Excuse me.” She left fast, and Brett released the breath he’d been holding.

“What did she want?” Kate asked.

“I honestly don’t know,” Brett said. “She makes me uncomfortable.” He glanced at Kate and found her eyes tracking the other woman through the crowd.

“I dated her briefly last year,” Brett blurted out. “I didn’t know we were still married, and she and I weren’t a match or anything.”

Kate’s eyes met his, hers round and unassuming. “Not a match,” she said.

“Not like you and me,” Brett said, squeezing in close to her as a group of teenagers passed. He slipped his hand around her waist and kept her close.

“Dad, can we play the ring toss?”

Brett tore his gaze from Kate’s, where he’d seen happiness when he’d said they were a match.

“I’m the best at ring toss,” Tom said, moving forward with Reid. “Let’s see how you do.”

Brett hung back with Kate, rubbing small circles on her shoulder blade as he watched his son throw rings. She leaned into him, her head fitting neatly against his chest. He wanted to hold her all the time, wipe her tears, celebrate her joys, share her life with her.

He pressed a kiss to her temple, and she leaned into the touch. He wanted to tell her he loved her, but his voice stayed silent.

Dear Kate,

I come home tomorrow. My parents are meeting me at the airport, and I wish you’d be there too. I want to see your face, smell that rosy perfume you always wear, kiss your lips. I want to feel your hand in mine, take you somewhere where there is no sand, feel your breath on my shoulder as you sleep.

Maybe those things will come true. I’m still planning to go to your father and ask him where you are. Maybe I’ll hold you again soon.

With love,

Brett

The next morning, Brett woke her by rustling the pages next to her bed. “Brett?” Kate sat up, her sight and brain still fuzzy.

“I came to get you for breakfast.” His voice sounded far away though he sat on the bed near her. “What are these?”

The world came into crystal clear focus. She looked at the fistful of letters in his hand. Letters she’d written under the willow tree at Magnolia estate. Letters she’d written to him over the past eight years.

She made a grab for them, but he lifted them out of reach. “They’re addressed to me.”

Panic built behind her lungs. “They’re not yours.”

“This one has my name on it.” He glanced at her and back to the letter, confusion evident in his face and voice.

“Brett. Give them to me.” The power in her voice surprised even her.

He stared at her, his eyes dancing with questions. His hand seemed to move in slow motion as he handed her the letters.

She wanted to fold them in half again and again until they became tiny squares he couldn’t see.

“I wrote them.” She tucked the pile of papers under her thigh. “I wrote them to you, over the past eight years.”

He searched her expression for more information, waiting, silent.

“I never mailed them. I kept them in a metal box under a tree, and I unearthed them and brought them with me when I left the estate.”

“I wrote you too.” His voice came out hoarse, rusty. “Emails. Never sent them.”

Kate’s heart rippled like a flag in the Texas wind. “Do you still have them?”

He nodded. “In my drafts folder.”

Kate wanted to read those emails. Now. Yet she didn’t want him to see her letters; her thigh pressing desperately into the mattress proved that.

“You said something about breakfast?” Kate’s voice came out unnaturally high.

Brett shook his head. “I want to read those letters.”

“Not gonna happen, soldier.”

“Soldier?” His mouth kicked up into a smirk. “Kate, don’t make me do something you’ll regret.”

“Oh?” She laughed. “And what would that be?”

He launched himself at her, to unseat her and steal the letters or for some other purpose, she didn’t know. She squealed as he tickled her, his capable hands moving over her abdomen and down behind her knees, leaving the letters alone.

She sucked in her laughter when he placed a kiss on her shoulder, leaned back when he pressed his lips to her neck, sighed when he finally kissed her mouth.

“Brett,” she said breathlessly. “Where’s Reid?”

“Making juice.” He kissed her again, nearly stealing all her reason, all her doubts about showing him the letters.

She heard footsteps jumping down the stairs, and Brett must’ve too, because he leapt from the bed and crossed to the door before Kate could so much as move.

“Hey, bud.”

“Juice is ready, Dad. Is Momma up?”

Brett stepped out of the bedroom. “She’s being lazy. Maybe you can get her to come upstairs.”

“Mo-om,” Reid whined. “Come on! Dad made breakfast casserole.”

Kate deliberately kept her eyes on Reid and forced a smile to her face. “I’m comin’, baby. Give me a second to get dressed.”

Reid cheered and Brett tousled his hair, his eyes boring into hers with more meaning than she could decipher.

She got dressed, but she really used the time she’d bought to hide the letters. She’d share them with Brett—when the time was right.

A couple of hours later, the breakfast casserole she’d eaten warred with her insides as she walked into the chapel with Brett at her side and Reid two paces in front of her. Brett seemed to know everyone—especially pretty women—but he didn’t seem to notice the furtive glances they sent her way.

They finally arrived at the pew where Pete sat with Chelsea and an older couple. Kate slid in next to Chelsea, her smile tight and her question about moving to Oklahoma City still unanswered.

“Kate, these are my parents.” Chelsea indicated the couple on the other side of Pete. “Heidi and Frank Ackerman. You’re living in their house.”

Gratitude filled Kate at the kind smile Heidi gave her. “Thank you so much, Mister and Missus Ackerman. Your house is lovely.”

The organ began to play and moments later, the pastor stood up and welcomed everyone to the service. Kate closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly toward the ceiling.

Please, let me know if moving back to Oklahoma City is the right thing to do.

Kate waited for the heavens to open, a voice to boom a resounding yes! or no!, the earth to shake. Something.

Nothing happened. Frustration bubbled in the back of her throat, choking her, suffocating her. Why wouldn’t God talk to her?

Maybe He’s still angry at you, just like Brett is.

The thought felt false, especially when the pastor said, “God loves you unconditionally.”

She zeroed in on the tall, thin man, whose bright blue eyes sparkled with intensity. He believed what he spoke, and he continued to preach that no one ever goes so far astray that God doesn’t know them and love them.

As she listened, a sense of peacefulness washed over her. Warmth crept into her body, her very soul, and tears pricked her eyes.

She believed the pastor’s words too. God loved her, and He hadn’t abandoned her because she’d concealed Reid for eight years. She wiped her eyes, glad she’d forgone with the mascara this morning.

Brett’s arm snaked over her shoulders and pulled her tight against his body. She went willingly, inhaling the masculine scent of his cologne, his skin.

So what about Oklahoma City?

There wasn’t a voice, a light, or any movement. But Kate received her answer in a quiet, simple way, as a single thought and a feeling of perfect calmness.

Dear Brett,

I’m sitting under the willow for the last time, writing to you for the last time. Nana died, and I’m leaving Magnolia. I can’t stay here by myself. I graduated last month, and Reid deserves to live in a neighborhood with other little boys. I deserve to live a life outside the walls of the Donnely name.

I don’t know where you are, but I’m going to find out. I have to go back to Oklahoma City one more time, and this time I’m going to do what I should’ve done a long time ago—go see your parents.

I’m not going to tell them about Reid. I just can’t, and that should come from you anyway. Sorry I’ve put that burden on you, but I haven’t even told you the truth yet, and I’m not sure how to order the words for your mom.

But I will find out where you are, and you will get to meet your son. Everything inside me quakes at the very idea, but it’s the right thing to do. And it’s time I started doing the right thing. I can only hope you’ll forgive me when we’re reunited.

All my love,

Kate

Brett waited until Reid headed over to the horse barn with Tom before he went to find Kate. She’d disappeared downstairs after church, and he made his footsteps land hard on the staircase as he went down.

He’d prayed in an almost constant stream on the way to church, believing God would tell him what to do about Oklahoma City. He’d gotten his answer the moment he’d entered the church. He hoped Kate had as well.

“Kate?”

“Out here.” Her voice came through a crack in the door that led to the patio. Brett stepped into the heat, though the deck provided some shade.

“Hey, sugar.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek and sat next to her on a stone bench that faced the yard.

She reached for his hand in response. She sniffled, and he watched a tear track down her face.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“I got my answer about Oklahoma City.” Her voice broke on the last word, and Brett’s heart cracked with it. Somehow, it started pumping extra-hard as well.

“Me too.”

She studied her hand wrapped in his, her chest rising and falling in quick succession. “So you know we can’t go.”

Confusion clouded his mind. “No, it’s the right call to move.”

Kate lifted her eyes to his, and they held fear and surprise. “No, I felt very strongly that we shouldn’t move.”

Brett searched for the hint of a lie, any indication that she might be joking. He found none, and that wasn’t Kate’s style anyway.

“I can’t go,” she said. “I didn’t want to, but as the pastor spoke about God loving us even when we make mistakes, I asked again. I would’ve gone. But I felt very clearly that moving to Oklahoma City isn’t what I should do.”

The way she said I instead of we sent Brett’s nerves into a frenzy. “But I felt like we should go.” The injustice of the situation hollowed his stomach and blanked his mind. “This doesn’t make sense.”

Kate stroked her thumb over the back of Brett’s hand, and he sat in silence as he realized he didn’t feel an ounce of resentment toward her. No anger.

Only love.

“I love you,” he said, his voice low, hardly his own as his emotions colored it. “I want to be with you and Reid.”

“I want that too,” she whispered. “But not in Oklahoma City. I have a bad feeling about going there, Brett.”

“Just because of your dad.”

“No.” She shook her head. “We go there, and…we just can’t go there.”

“Too many memories?” Desperation to understand left Brett grasping at anything he could think of.

“No, that’s not it either. I’ll admit I haven’t been to church in a long while, but I know what I felt.” She shifted and looked him dead in the eye. Brett admired her strength more than her beauty.

“I love you, Brett Murphy. I’ve never stopped loving you. But I can’t move to Oklahoma City.” She kissed him, a chaste union of mouths he couldn’t quite return, and stood. She marched up the stairs to the yard, never once looking back.

Brett sat in the shade, considering every option possible. Move to Oklahoma City alone. He scratched that item off the list almost as soon as he thought of it. He couldn’t leave Reid here, couldn’t leave Kate here to work the ranch and eek out a living.

Why had God told her they couldn’t move? Everything made sense in his head, and his heart. Moving was the only solution.

Maybe they could go to North Carolina. If she showed proof of family life, she’d have access to her family money.

Brett’s jaw clenched, almost of its own accord. What kind of man did that make him? He shook his head. No, he wouldn’t live off Kate’s family money, on a swanky estate he hadn’t earned.

No matter what ideas he came up with, they all got shot down. The only solution was Oklahoma City. The same feeling that had engulfed him in the chapel roared through him now. The rushing noise in his ears sounded like ocean waves pounding the shore, and he expected his heart to be palpitating, but it beat a steady rhythm in his chest.

“Moving is the right thing to do.” He could only hope that he could convince Kate to join him when the time was right for her.

Dear Kate,

I’ve been home for a week, and I can’t seem to do much more than eat what my mother puts in front of me. Dad keeps asking me when I want to get back into construction, but I can’t find an answer for him.

Maybe I don’t want to do construction anymore. Maybe without you, there isn’t anything that can make me happy. I don’t know. I do know your father is a cruel, cruel man. I don’t know how you survived growing up with him.

Anyway, I don’t want to waste the words I have for you complaining about your father. Maybe I’ve given up on the thought of finding you, seeing you, holding you the way I once did. Maybe that’s why I can’t get out of bed. Maybe loving you has taken all I have to give. If so, I’d do it again—ask you out, marry you without your parents in attendance, all of it.

With love,

Brett

“You can’t go.” The tremors rocking Kate’s body echoed in her voice. “You said we had two months to make things work. It’s been three weeks.”

Brett sat motionless at the kitchen counter, the bright light creating a halo around his dark hair. Reid had gone to bed hours ago, but sleep hadn’t claimed either of his parents.

“I’m going to go on weekends,” he said. “When I’m not busy at Courage Reins. I’m going to build our house, and—”

“I’m not moving back to Oklahoma City!”

Brett’s head sagged again. “And I can’t stay here, livin’ in someone else’s house, without a way to take care of you and Reid.”

“I’ll send the proof of family life to Momma’s lawyer. We’ll get her money.” Kate understood Brett’s drive to provide for her, admired it even. She didn’t want to work at Three Rivers Ranch indefinitely, and she knew she’d have to if they stayed.

“And then what, Kate?” His words could’ve had bite, but they only conveyed his exhaustion.

“Do anything we want. Go anywhere. I have a house in North Carolina. You can build us one in Wyoming, or Alaska, or Florida. I don’t care. But I’m not going back to Oklahoma City.”

Brett stood and turned toward the French doors. “I need to think.” He practically ripped the doorknob off. He paused, one foot on the deck and one still in the kitchen. “I’m not mad at you, Kate.”

He disappeared into the night, and Kate collapsed on the couch. How could they have gotten different answers? Weren’t they supposed to be together to raise Reid?

She felt like someone was chipping away at her heart with an ice pick, one painful chunk at a time. She swallowed a sob, determined not to break down now. An idea traveled through her mind, and she leapt to her feet and nearly sprinted downstairs.

She retrieved the letters she’d written Brett. Sporadically, some giving more information than others. All spoke of how much she missed him, how much she loved him. At least that much hadn’t changed.

She slipped one piece of paper behind another until she found the first letter she’d written and never mailed. She lovingly ordered all the letters, until they chronicled the eight years she and Brett had been separated. She dug through her desk until she found a paper clip and a manila envelope. She clipped the pages together, slid the whole lot of letters into the envelope, and wrote Brett’s name on the outside.

She had no idea what she wanted to accomplish by giving him her letters. She only knew it felt right, and she was going to follow those feelings from now on.

Brett couldn’t take Griffin and ride out into the blackness of the range. He wanted to, but Griffin had only been on the ranch for a year, and he only worked at Courage Reins. He’d get lost, and then Brett would really have problems.

He stopped at the edge of the homestead, raked his hands through his hair, and peered into the midnight sky. The stars winked merrily down at him, seemingly without a care in the world.

“Why does she get to have the answers?” he asked the atmosphere. He shook his head at his own question, though a river of injustice flowed with his blood. Brett wasn’t the one who’d kept secrets for eight years. Brett hadn’t lied to his spouse, hadn’t tried to run away with his inheritance to a distant coast.

His anger and bitterness reminded him that he still hadn’t fully forgiven Kate. He loved her? Yes. He’d forgiven her? No. Which only fueled his frustration.

“How can I leave her here?” he cried to the sky. “And what about Reid?”

A breeze kicked up, but it didn’t bring answers with it. He’d felt right about going back to Oklahoma City with Kate and Reid.

Without Kate and Reid…he just felt sick to his stomach, or like someone had sucker punched him in the throat.

He couldn’t go without them. He wouldn’t. Decision made, Brett felt the exhaustion more keenly than he had earlier. His shoulders bent under the weight of it, but his mind churned around something Kate had said.

He could build them a house anywhere. They literally had the freedom to choose where they lived. She had a nursing degree; he could build anything with a scrap of wood and his bare hands.

So he wouldn’t have his father’s construction firm. But at least he’d have Kate and Reid. It wasn’t really a dilemma at all.

He turned back to the house, but the thought of entering it tasted like sour milk. He meandered along the edge of the property, past the first cowboy cabin and down the slight decline to the backyard where Zeus’s doghouse sat.

The dog’s snores broke the silence and drew a smile from Brett’s worried mouth. The tent still stood next to the doghouse, and Brett ducked inside. The darkness seemed all-consuming now, but he didn’t feel it in his soul anymore.

“Thank you, Lord,” he whispered before lying down and succumbing to the exhaustion sweeping through him.

When Brett woke, the sun had nearly baked him inside the tent. Sweat poured down the side of his face and pooled beneath his back. He groaned and sat up, his mouth parched and his vision still a bit muddled.

He stumbled out of the tent, but the heat outside pressed down on him, not a Texas breeze to be found. By the position of the sun, Brett estimated it to be almost noon. He hurried into the house, but it waited in silence. At least the air conditioning blew as relentlessly as the sun shone. He splashed cold water on his face and tried to remember where he’d put his phone.

The need to speak with Kate consumed him, drove him toward his bedroom where he found his cell plugged in. He swiped it open and dialed.

He heard her phone go off downstairs, and he hung up. Not unusual for a farm hand to keep their phone at home while they worked. Brett exhaled and decided to step into the shower before traipsing all over the ranch to find his wife.

A half hour later, he stood at Tom’s desk in the administration trailer. “Where’d you assign Kate this mornin’?”

“She didn’t get an assignment.” Tom stood, his eyes kind yet worried. “She said she was goin’ into town today. Asked for the day off.”

Brett fought back the insane panic building in his chest. Kate could go to town without his permission. She’d done it before. He forced his muscles to relax, his shoulders to loosen.

“Is everything okay?” Tom asked.

Brett blinked, having forgotten he stood with Tom. “Yeah, of course. Everything’s fine. I just didn’t get a chance to see Kate this morning, so I wasn’t sure where she was.”

“Brett—” Tom looked away and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “It’s really none of my business, but y’all were so kind to help me with Tammy on Saturday. So let me help you if I can.”

His words sank into Brett’s heart, creating a place for a lifelong friendship with Tom, the way he had with Pete and Squire.

“Thanks, Tom.” Brett clapped him on the shoulder. “Kate and I are tryin’ to figure things out, that’s all. Financial things. Family things. That kind of stuff.”

Tom nodded and took his seat again. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

“Sure thing.” Brett exited the admin trailer, at a loss for what to do next. He had two clients that evening at Courage Reins, with nothing but time until then.

He headed back toward the homestead, something jiggling in his brain. Why hadn’t Kate taken her phone with her into town? It was a long drive, and she would’ve taken it in case she had a problem.

Brett’s strides lengthened as he crossed the yard and headed down the stone steps to the patio. The door to the basement opened without protest, and Brett stood on the threshold, his military eyes sweeping for subtle changes.

Clean dishes by the sink. Couch pillows neatly arranged. Doors to bedrooms standing open. He couldn’t tell just by looking if she’d packed and left. He felt himself losing control, something that never happened to Brett.

He crossed the living room to her bedroom and entered. The bed was made, and red flags shot through Brett’s awareness. He’d never known Kate to make her bed. He whipped open the closet and found clothes. Some of the tightness in his knuckles released.

Reid’s room was equally clean, with clothes still in the closet. Confused, Brett returned to Kate’s room, determined to find out if she’d left Three Rivers for good.

He thumbed on her cell phone, which showed his missed call and nothing more. Frustrated, he threw it on the bed, his eyes roaming the room. They caught on a yellow slip of paper taped to the back of the door.

He practically ripped the door off the hinges to get to it. In Kate’s neat slant, she’d written Check the mail.

Brett took the stairs two at a time to the kitchen, through the dining room and formal living room to the front door. In less than fifteen seconds, he almost burnt his hand on the metal mailbox and bent to look inside.

A large envelope rested there, with his name in Kate’s handwriting. The world seemed to slow for a moment, the breeze hushed, the sunlight dimmed. Brett reached for the envelope in slow motion, wrapping his fingers around the edge and drawing it out.

Everything sped forward again, and Brett hurried back into the air conditioning to see what Kate had to say.

Dear Brett….

Kate glanced in the rear-view mirror, relief spreading through her when she found Reid asleep. Just as quickly, tears started to overflow. She’d held them back while she packed a suitcase, while she explained to Reid that they weren’t really leaving Three Rivers Ranch, that they just needed to go check something on the estate.

Kate wasn’t exactly sure which was a lie and which wasn’t. She didn’t want to leave the ranch, but Brett had never come back in last night. She had no idea what he was thinking or feeling. But she would not be returning to Oklahoma City, period.

Hopefully her newest and last letter to him would explain everything.

“I hope he comes,” she whispered to herself as the tears dried into crusty tracks on her cheeks. Please, God, let him come to North Carolina.

After stuffing her letters in the envelope last night, Kate had wrestled with what to do. Because Brett spoke a lot of truth—they couldn’t live on the ranch forever. They didn’t even own the house they lived in.

She didn’t want to wait out the two months, enroll Reid in school, and then have to move. Her first thought had been to move into town, but she didn’t have a job there, and the forty-minute drive out to the ranch would only lengthen her already long days.

Her second thought was North Carolina.

She’d written once that she wondered if the estate would be as stuffy without Momma and Nana, and she had to believe it wouldn’t be. With Brett there, the three of them might even be able to make it into a home.

She crossed the border into Arkansas, the state of Oklahoma behind her forever. She’d been on the road for six hours—surely Brett knew she’d gone on the lam. She’d purposely left her phone in her bedroom and picked up a burner cell on her way through town.

She conjured images of Brett leaning against the white pillars at the estate house, one hand tucked casually into his pocket and his grin all-knowing as she and Reid pulled up. He could fly there and arrive tonight, while she wasn’t planning to arrive until tomorrow night.

They stopped in Memphis, ate dinner, and crashed in a cozy hotel. Kate had never felt so drained, emotionally and physically, not even when preparing to tell Brett about Reid.

The next day promised eight hours of driving, and Kate did it with both hands on the wheel the entire time. She entertained Reid with songs from her childhood and stories about Brett. In the quiet moments, her thoughts curled around him, contemplating what his reaction to her letters might be.

When she crossed over the Bryson City limits, a wash of warmth traveled over her. Home, was her only thought.

She turned down the immaculate lane that led to the mansion house, her heart two-stepping in her chest.

Brett was not leaning on the pillar. Brett’s vehicle was nowhere to be found. Brett was not there.

Reid leapt from the car the moment Kate put it in park, and he happily skipped up the steps and around the wrap-around porch. Kate followed much slower, taking time to retrieve their suitcases from the backseat.

What would she tell him if Brett didn’t show up? Would Reid insist on going back to the ranch? Heaviness dragged at Kate’s steps as she rounded the house and put the key in the backdoor.

The house seemed to sigh when she opened the door, and the smell of stale, hot air met her before she stepped across the threshold.

“Can I go see if Mister Becket kept the dogs?” Reid didn’t seem to notice the sadness Kate felt tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Sure, buddy. Be careful crossing under the fence.” She watched him run off, deciding on the spot to get him a dog. He’d loved Zeus, and another pinch of guilt pulled against her heart.

That night passed, and another, and another. Brett did not come. Or call. Or write.

When the week ended, Kate put Reid in the car and headed into town, a short fifteen-minute drive.

“Come on,” she told him once she’d parked in the healthcare center’s lot. “I have to run something inside.”

She collected her resume from the passenger seat, made sure her bravery was intact, and headed for the door with Reid in tow.

The antiseptic smell of the clinic calmed her further, and Kate stepped toward the receptionist with more confidence than ever. “Hello, I’d like to apply for the job that was posted last week.” She thrust her resume toward the woman.

“Job?” Reid asked, pressing into her side, his face full of worry.

“The registered nurse?” The woman took the file and smiled when Kate nodded. “Doctor Harris is taking resumes and setting up interviews. I’ll give this to her when she comes in.”

“Thank you,” Kate said. “My number is on the first page.”

The woman wrote “Dr. Harris” on a sticky note and placed it on the outside of the folder. “She’ll probably call you in a couple of days at the latest.”

Kate nodded, emotion suddenly clogging her throat. She didn’t want Dr. Harris to call her. She wanted Brett’s voice on the other end of the line.

She turned away from the counter to leave. She’d made it to the doors when she realized Reid was not with her. He stood near the counter, his fists balled and his dark eyebrows drawn into a V so reminiscent of Brett it caused Kate’s heart to constrict.

“Reid, come on, baby.”

For one, two, three terrifying moments, she thought he’d refuse. Then he stomped toward her, tears splashing his chin as he moved. “You said we were only staying a little while. A week!”

He pushed past her and ran for the car. She followed him, praying for the right words that could explain adult things to a child. But he didn’t give her a chance to respond. He pulled a sweatshirt off the floor of the car and over his head, refusing to look at her or talk to her.

When they got back to the estate, he sprinted around the house. By the time Kate arrived in the backyard, he was gone. She stood on the bottom step of the porch, facing the acres and acres of land that made up the estate.

He’ll be okay, she thought. She trusted him to stay on the estate, so she turned back to the house. An hour later, the phone rang, startling Kate away from the window where she’d been standing, daydreaming about Brett pulling up in a white truck like a cowboy knight.

Her fingers shook as she lifted the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

“Miss Donnely? I’m Doctor Harris, and I’ve been looking over your resume. I’m sorry to hear about your grandmother and mother.”

A familiar ache took root in Kate’s chest. “Thank you,” she managed to murmur.

“I’d like you to come in for an interview,” Dr. Harris continued. “When are you available?”

Kate scheduled a time for the following day, noticing the snick of the backdoor as Reid entered the house. She heard his footsteps creep up to the second floor, but she kept her back to the staircase as she finished her conversation.

She hung up and sighed. She couldn’t avoid telling Reid the truth forever. She already knew how that turned out. So she gathered her courage and mounted the stairs.

“Reid?” She knocked on his bedroom door at the same time she opened it. He lay on the bed, face turned toward his window.

Kate sat in the armchair in the corner. “Look, baby, we couldn’t stay on the ranch. That wasn’t even our house.”

“Dad lives there!” he shouted. “He said we could stay as long as we wanted.”

“But it wasn’t true. I can’t work and get you to school everyday, and—” Her voice caught. “There are a lot of things you don’t need to know about, that aren’t for little boys to worry about. We just couldn’t stay.”

“But you said—”

“I know what I said.” Kate rubbed her eyes, trying to see a way through this. “I thought Dad would come here, to the estate. I left him the address.”

Confusion crumpled Reid’s face, the same way it clutched at Kate’s heart. “Why didn’t he come then?”

“I don’t know, baby.” Kate’s voice broke and a tear slinked out of the corner of her eye. “I don’t know.”

Three days later, Kate had landed the RN job at the healthcare center. She’d enrolled Reid for third grade, and she’d had entirely enough of the empty, aching spot her stomach had become.

With Reid off at Mister Becket’s, she dialed Brett’s number.

“Kate?” a woman answered.

“Chelsea?”

“It is you. Thank goodness.” Her breath whooshed out. “We’ve been waiting for you to call for days and days. I’ve been so worried about you, and you should see Tom skulking around the place. He’s half-mad at you for running off without telling him you wouldn’t be back for work, and half-sad he doesn’t have anyone to consult for dating advice.”

Nostalgia squeezed at her throat as Chelsea gave a strangled giggle.

“Anyway, he’s hired someone new, but he hasn’t even so much as texted Tammy.”

“I’ll call him,” Kate assured her. She gathered her courage close, close. “Why are you answering Brett’s phone?”

“Oh, boy,” Chelsea said. “He said you wouldn’t know, that you didn’t take your phone, but well, I don’t want to be the one to tell you.”

Her nerves rioted, her feet itched to run to the car and head back to Three Rivers. “Tell me what?”

“Let me get Pete.”

“Chelsea—” Kate started, but the woman had already gone. Several minutes passed, where Kate imagined Brett lying in a hospital bed somewhere between here and Three Rivers. Brett so angry that she’d broken their deal and left him with only old letters that he couldn’t even answer his own phone.

She could hardly swallow by the time Pete’s voice came through the line. “Kate?”

“Where’s Brett?”

“Brett’s not here,” Pete said. “He left his phone in case you called. See, Kate, well, Brett’s….”

The shadows in Kate’s soul lengthened with the pregnant pause. She couldn’t breathe. Everything felt cold. “Pete, please.”

“Brett’s been called up, Kate. He had to report to Sheppard Air Force Base two days after you left. That’s why he hasn’t come to North Carolina. He wanted to, Kate. He really wanted to.”

Called up.

Deployed.

The phone slipped from Kate’s fingers, clattering on the floor along with all her fantasies of living at Magnolia estate with Brett.

Brett waited for his turn at the computers, his control near the snapping point. He’d spent three days at Sheppard Air Force Base before being transferred to Fort Bragg. Fort Bragg, North Carolina, only five hours from Kate and Reid.

It might as well be five million miles for how close he could get to them. No phone number. No real way to contact Kate and let her know about his new assignment. No avenue to yell out his frustrations at her, how angry he still was.

He’d sent his emails, all the ones he’d written over the years, but she hadn’t responded. Still, he checked every day—sometimes twice a day—the hope he harbored waning with each passing day.

Finally, a machine opened up and Brett slid into the seat. He had an email from Pete.

Brett,

Kate just called. We told her about your deployment and where you’re stationed. She said she doesn’t have Internet service at the estate yet, but she’ll be getting it hooked up soon. I gave her your email address, so she should be able to contact you once she gets her service.

She was pretty shaken up, commander. She seems to think you’re going to die out there. I tried to tell her you were working Communications on this assignment, but that didn’t seem to help. I said you were spittin’ like a raging bull when you discovered her gone, and she apologized. Sounded sincere to me, for what it’s worth.

She told me to tell you she got a job at a healthcare clinic, and that she and Reid are healthy and safe. She said she was sorry for breaking your deal, whatever that means.

I’m sorry about this, Brett, but remember that God has a plan for you. For Kate too. For both of you.

Pete

Brett bowed his head, his gratitude for Pete and Chelsea, for finally having some kernel of contact with Kate, overwhelming him. His fingers tingled when he released them from the fists he’d made. He logged out of his email client and left the computer room in favor of the fresh air.

But there wasn’t much of that to be had either. Every breath felt suffocating without the communication lines open between him and Kate. If he could just talk to her, he might be able to expand his lungs more than just an inch. The constant band around his chest released for a moment, and he tipped his head back to let the sun beat down on his face.

He soaked in the warmth as he sent a prayer heavenward. Please bring me home safe. I have a son.

Brett cut the thought off as emotion crawled up his throat. He swallowed, regaining a measure of his control, and headed back to his bunk. A lot of good men and women with children had given their lives. He wasn’t so special that God would save him just because of Reid.

He hadn’t realized it until now—didn’t want to admit it—but Kate breaking things off with him so early in his first deployment had relieved him of a lot of worries. Worries he now carried like a backpack of bricks. Now, it wasn’t just his parents who’d be devastated if he died. He had a son depending on him. And a wife he’d like to forgive if he could just figure out how.

He pulled out the envelope of letters, where Kate’s last letter sat on top. The first time he’d read it, a mixture of disbelief and fury had spiraled through him. Over the past ten days, he’d read it so often, he had it memorized.

Dear Brett,

I’m so sorry to be doing this. I don’t know what else to do, how else to explain why I can’t go back to Oklahoma City. So I guess I’ll just say it.

The last time I went home was to get Daddy to release Momma’s will. He wouldn’t. I had to have Nana’s lawyer subpoena it. That’s how I found out I’d inherited everything—and Daddy hadn’t gotten anything.

I asked him about it, and his eyes narrowed and his jaw set. I’ve never seen him so angry. He wouldn’t tell me, but when Reid came back in with Daddy’s dog—who’d gotten into some mud—I saw firsthand why.

He hit Reid across the face. Hard. Knocked him down and continued to berate him verbally. I left as fast as possible and took Reid to the emergency room. He was fine—that’s important for you to know. I can’t have you speeding to Oklahoma City and confronting my father.

I told him I’d never come back—and I meant it. I cannot go back there. Reid and I don’t need that in our lives.

I’ve thought back and back, trying to remember if Momma ever had any unexplained bruises. For the life of me, I can’t think of a single time. Either she was very good with makeup, or he hid his violence so well, I couldn’t find the wounds.

But I will never let him touch our son again. Please, please don’t go there. Reid is okay, and he doesn’t seem to have any lasting mental, emotional, or physical problems because of it.

While I was waiting for you to come back last night, the idea filtered through my mind to return to Magnolia estate. It’s a free place to live, Brett, and it’s a small town. You’d be happy there, the way you are in Three Rivers. I can get a job in nursing and you can build things to your heart’s content.

I’m sorry to be breaking our deal, but I don’t see how we can stay in Three Rivers. Who will drive Reid to school while I’m feeding calves and you’re working with patients? It doesn’t make sense in my brain, and there’s no reason to draw it out.

Please come to the estate. Come as fast as you can. We can have a good life there, and I can get Momma’s inheritance when I show proof of family life. I’ll call her lawyer on the way to North Carolina and find out what he needs to release the funds.

I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you, despite the things I’ve done. I appreciate you forgiving me, because I’m still working on that part for myself.

Coming to Three Rivers was the right thing to do, I know that now. I’ve learned a lot about myself, about you, and about God. For so long, I thought He’d forgotten me, but the things I’ve felt in the few weeks I’ve been at the ranch testify differently.

Just as I know coming there was the right thing to do, I also know its time to leave. I can only hope you’ll feel it the right thing to do to follow me.

All my love,

Kate

Brett relaxed against his pillow, his jaw jumping at the reminder that Kate’s dad had struck Reid. Gentle, kind, bubbly Reid. If Brett had been there…. He forced the thoughts away. They didn’t help anything.

He pulled out a sheet of paper and started a letter to Reid. Surely they’d arrive at the estate faster now that he was in North Carolina too.

Dear Reid,

I’m headed out to a small country with a big name. It’s going to be brown, full of sand, and hot hot hot. My job is to make sure our teams can talk to each other without anyone else overhearing. It’s not a bad assignment, because I’ll get to work in a tent and I’ll be back in only six months.

As soon as I can, I’ll come to the estate. You can show me Nana’s dogs and where you used to ride that motorbike.

Reid, be good for your mom. She might make us mad, but sometimes she’s right. Okay, most of the time, she’s right.

Love you, bud.

Love,

Dad

Dear Brett,

I finally have Internet service at the estate. Who knew how isolated you could be when you can’t get online instantly?

I got all your emails. Some of them made me laugh; some made me cry; most just made my heart twist, wishing you didn’t have to be out there in all that sand. I had no idea you hated it so much. I guess we won’t plan our second honeymoon to Hawaii.

That’s if you’ll forgive me. From the tone of your last email, I sense you haven’t. It’s okay. I didn’t expect to waltz into your life, stay for a few weeks, and leave in the dead of night and have everything magically ironed out between us. Or maybe I did. I don’t know.

I can only hope you understand why I did what I did, and that one day—maybe before you get home?—you’ll forgive me.

Life on the estate is actually going well. I can’t believe I’m going to admit this, but I like it here. Fall has definitely struck the trees, and the shades of orange and yellow are breathtaking.

Reid is enjoying his new teacher, and last week she called to ask about you. I confirmed that you were serving overseas, and that you would be home just after Christmas. So don’t make a liar out of me! I’ve been that for years, and I can’t go back.

I haven’t heard from the lawyer yet, but I did send him our still valid marriage license and your latest deployment notice.

So far, the job at the healthcare center is wonderful. I love Dr. Harris, and I love getting to help others. And it’s paying the bills – your deployment stipend helps too, thank you for forwarding that to us.

Anyway, the wind is starting to pick up and one of the willow branches just slapped my knee. It’s time to head into the house and try to get Reid to finish his homework.

I love you. Please stay safe.

All my love,

Kate

Dear Kate,

I’m glad the job is going well. It’s always nice when the job we were hoping to have turns out the way we want. Mine is like that this go-round. So far, there haven’t been any major hiccups. If you don’t count the sand, that is.

Pete sent me an email. It had one word: GIRL. He and Chelsea are thrilled, and I was wondering if you could send them a gift from us. It doesn’t have to be much. Send it to Courage Reins. Maybe you could take a picture of what you got and attach it to your next email. If you can’t, I understand. It can’t be easy working full time and taking care of Reid by yourself.

I wish I was there to help out. I honestly wouldn’t even know what to do besides make chicken fried steak and point to the next math problem. But maybe then you could sit down and rest.

Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help with the lawyer stuff. I hate that you have to worry about money on top of everything else. When I get back, things will get better, I promise.

Well, I have to run. Talk soon.

With love,

Brett

Dear Brett,

I am so angry I could spew fire. The lawyer denied my request to release the inheritance. He said our “proof” wasn’t anything we didn’t have before. I told him we hadn’t spoken in eight years, and we lived together for a month before your deployment. He doesn’t need to know I moved here without you, before I knew of the deployment. For all he knows, I moved back here because of your deployment.

He said we need to get corroboration. So I’m going to call Tom and ask him to write a letter stating that we were living together before I returned to North Carolina. Maybe Pete would write a note about that kiss he saw too.

This is so embarrassing! I hate Momma for such a stipulation! It might simply be easier to get a divorce.

But I’ll deal with it, and I have faith that it will work out.

Reid has a new idea in his head, and I thought I’d warn you about it before he emails. He wants to take part of the acreage on the estate and build a horse paddock. He has drawings and everything. He thinks it’ll make you feel more at home.

I couldn’t help the tears that sprang to my eyes. You should’ve seen his face, Brett. So open and unassuming. He really wants you to like it here at the estate, the same way he loved being on the ranch. I told him you’d love being where he is, horses or not, but he’s convinced we need to put in a pasture and a barn. I told him to talk to you about it, get some specifications, and find out what kind of horses we should look into buying.

With Momma’s money, we should be able to afford them.

The timer just went off on my cordon bleu casserole. Don’t laugh. I cook sometimes, and sometimes it’s edible.

All my love,

Kate

Dear Reid,

A horse paddock is a great idea! We might want to put it on one of the sides of the estate, where there’s already a fence. We should definitely make it big enough for three horses, one for each of us.

Since it snows in North Carolina, we should build it to accommodate the horses in the winter. The paddock should be about one hundred feet by forty feet, and we can attach it to the stable. We can let the grass grow wild in the surrounding pasture, and the horses can graze there in the summer months.

Do you think we have that much room on the estate? What kind of horse do you want? I want a brown and white paint pony. Have your mom look it up online for you. See what kind you want. I’ll talk to Pete about horse shows in North Carolina. Maybe he can get us a hook up to find a good horse.

Are you working hard in school? Obeying your mom? I’m gonna ask her about it, so be sure you’re doing what’s right.

Love you, bud.

Love,

Dad

Dear Brett,

I don’t know what you said to Reid, but he’s going on about paint ponies and Pete and paddocks. What have you done?

Dear Kate,

Halfway done! Being out of the line of duty was worth the hours and hours of training I did four years ago. I had no idea life in the military could be this way. I don’t sleep in constant fear of alarms going off, or someone shooting at me. I don’t sit second in the tank, wondering when the bomb will hit. If anything, the biggest war I’m fighting is boredom. Anything you can send—books, drawings, letters I can hold, puzzles, candy (oh, how the boys love American candy! Skittles and licorice are their favorites)—helps.

I’m sorry about the lawyer. Just wait until I get home. We can take a picture of us renewing our vows. He won’t be able to dispute that.

I told Reid I’d be asking about him. If he gives you any trouble, let me know. I want to do whatever I can to help, and I can tell him to forget about the horses if he doesn’t obey, or eat his vegetables, or do his schoolwork. ;)

I miss the sound of your voice. It’s faded from my memory. Reid’s too. I can see your faces, but when I read your letters I only hear my voice. I can’t wait to come home.

With love,

Brett

Dear Brett,

Reid scored well on his reading assessment. His teacher thinks he’s ready to move into a little bit harder books. He was excited about it until he saw how small the print was. Does that remind you of anyone? Hmm?

I got together with several of the women at church and we did a donation drive for your unit. I put the box in the mail at the end of last week, so let me know when it arrives. I can’t wait for you to see the special surprise I included for you!

We also had the children at Reid’s school write letters and draw pictures. They’re in the box too, and should be enough for everyone in your unit to have something to read or hang above their bunks. Sorry it took a while to put together – there’s one lady at church who insists on things being a certain way: hers.

But I think it worked out. Your mom also sent some pictures of your brothers and a case of your favorite chewing gum. I had no idea you liked peppermint over spearmint. I hope I’ll continue to learn new things about you every day.

Reid has been nothing but an angel. He won’t let go of the horse paddock – now he’s marked off the spot with wooden stakes he found at the neighbor’s house. You better have your construction hands ready when you get home, because I don’t think you’ll even have a day of rest before he insists you start building that stable.

Someone died at the healthcare center earlier this week. It has been a difficult few days at work, and around Bryson City. Normally, we don’t deal with these kinds of tragedies, because we’re just an on-call clinic, not a hospital. But the man had a nut allergy and accidentally ingested something, and that was that. By the time we got the story out of him, we didn’t have time to get the EpiPen.

It’s sad. I knew him for years; he was a friend of Momma’s. The funeral is tomorrow.

All my love,

Kate

Dear Brett,

I never heard from you about the package. I have to assume it arrived by now. It’s been three weeks since I mailed it. By my count, you only have six weeks left. When will we get details about you coming home? Since I’m new to this deployed-husband thing, I’m not quite sure on those things.

It snowed and snowed and snowed here last night. Today is a snow day, and Reid and I have made caramel popcorn and hot chocolate and watched our favorite movies. Be prepared for long, dark nights and enduring Disney movies for hours on end. Ah, the glamorous life of parenthood.

I made it into Asheville for Christmas shopping last week. No, I’m not going to tell you what I got you. Reid and I decided to leave the tree and lights up until you get home. We’re going to leave your presents under the tree, and you can open them when you get home.

I have good news…I got a call from the lawyer this morning. I did end up asking both Tom and Pete for help, and they both wrote letters to Momma’s lawyer. He’s released the inheritance money!

I wrote the account number on a card and put it in an envelope and tucked it into the boughs of the Christmas tree.

I miss you more every day. I’m not even sure how that’s possible, but that’s how I feel. Since we left the ranch and you’ve never been to the estate, I can’t picture you here. I can’t remember the feel of your hand in mine or the way your aftershave smells. While I was in Asheville, I actually wandered into the shaving aisle to see if I could find your brand. How ridiculous I must’ve looked standing there sniffing bottles!

Reid and I are going to the neighbor’s house for Thanksgiving. His adult children are coming home, and they’ll have kids Reid’s age. And heaven knows I can’t make a turkey, so I’m grateful for the invitation.

I hope you get some turkey and mashed potatoes. Is it still hot there? Six more weeks!

All my love,

Kate

Dear Kate,

Our communication has been tightened. I might not be able to write for a while. I’ll let you know what I can, when I can. Tell Reid.

Love you both,

Brett

Dear Brett,

Why is your communication being tightened? I don’t know why I’m asking; you can’t tell me. Still, it makes me worry. I hate that I don’t know exactly where you are, that I can’t just send a text and get the reassurance I need. Something gnaws at my gut, and the only thing I know to do is stay on my knees for longer each morning and each night.

Not much else is new. Thanksgiving dinner was festive and fun, but I don’t want to spend another holiday without you.

Please come home safe, Brett.

All my love,

Kate

Brett wanted to get to the computer and send Kate an email, but he simply didn’t have time. Intelligence had caught chatter on the radio about incoming unfriendlies, and that had tripled his workload. The number of units that needed to be informed, moved, protected, monitored was astronomical.

Most of the time, Brett staggered into the Communication tent and staggered back to his bunk eighteen hours later, where he tried to sleep. But sleep eluded him for at least a few minutes each night as he prayed for his safety, for the safety of Kate and Reid as he thought about them back in North Carolina alone, with feet of snow separating them from basic services.

He’d just drifted to sleep when gunshots rang through the camp. He stilled, though he should be moving. He smelled the smoke that had billowed up to the sky during the tank attack, and he coached himself to move!

He crept to the door flap of the tent and saw fire near the northeast corner of the camp. A siren sounded and floodlights bathed the camp in bright, white light.

Not that Brett needed it to see the masked men coming toward him. Life paused as soldiers stopped streaming from the tents.

The men shouted in a language he didn’t understand, and one shot into the air with his automatic weapon. Brett ducked behind the flap, but found himself being grabbed by the arm and hauled out into the open.

His heart thundered in his chest, and all he could think was Kate.

And he knew in that moment that he’d forgiven her. He’d been working hard over the past five months, attending worship services when he could, praying every day for the strength to let go of the past and look forward to the future.

And now, with a meaty hand on his wrist and four automatic rifles pointed at his chest, he felt the cleansing wash of forgiveness spread through him.

“Tell us where your communications station is,” one of them said in accented English.

“I don’t know. I just got into camp last night.”

“Liar,” the man sneered. “We know none of your units have been able to mobilize yet.” He jabbed the point of the gun into Brett’s breastbone. “Communications station. Now.”

The pressure on Brett’s hand increased, and the man holding it gave it a violent twist. Brett heard something snap at the same time searing pain tore up his arm.

“Communications station,” Brett boomed through the pain. “In the center tent. Far north corner.” A lie, but Brett kept his chin up, his eyes slitted. If he could give the other soldiers a few more moments to prepare for these intruders, he would.

“If I find out you’ve lied to me—”

“I haven’t,” Brett said. With his good hand, he pointed at his chest. “I’m the Chief Communications Officer. North corner of the main tent.”

“You’re coming with us.”

“No—”

A blow to the back of his head sent Brett to the ground. Fury roared through his muscles, and he worked to stay down on the ground instead of shooting to his feet. He didn’t have a weapon, and charging against five armed men while he had a broken wrist would be a death sentence.

He let them haul him to his feet and he shuffled along slowly, only stepping when they forced him to. Blood, warm and sticky, oozed out of his hair and down the back of his neck.

“This way.” He led them west, then north, then east, through the tent, hoping his team had gotten out.

Shots sounded close by, and the leader grabbed Brett and swung him around. The kiss of a blade slid across Brett’s throat, sending adrenaline and fear racing through his veins.

Pop pop pop!

Pa-pop pa-pop!

The men surrounding Brett fell, leaving him facing an elite squad with guns pointed at him, and his captor using him as a human shield.

“Release him.” The voice came from everywhere. “This is already over.”

The sharp edges Brett felt against his back testified that it wasn’t. He knew someone would be watching him for non-verbal communication. Brett forced his muscles into absolute stillness and closed his eyes in a long blink, followed by three quick ones—B.

Three long blinks later—O—and the elite leader cocked his head. The message of the bomb strapped to his captor’s body had been conveyed.

“What are you hoping to accomplish here?” His voice came out smooth, unrushed, calm. Everything Brett didn’t feel on the inside. He tilted his head to gauge how tall the man was. Tall enough.

“Shut up.” The man growled, and a voice whispered in Brett’s head that he needed to get away. Fast.

Brett faced front again. With a head wound and a broken wrist, he only had one option. He took a deep breath as he gathered his mental strength.

Forgive me, Kate, he thought just before he shouted, “Shoot through! Shoot through!”

A single shot reverberated through the air.

Pain exploded in Brett’s left shoulder, his neck.

He fell backward, the hard ridges of the bomb strapped to his captor’s abdomen registering against his spine.

“Bomb,” he said as loud as he could as he rolled away from the man. “Bomb.”

“Bomb squad is here, Commander.” A man appeared above him, his goggles pushed back on his forehead so Brett could see the man’s eyes.

So much blue.

Brett started to swim in it, but the water was so cold. So cold.

“Stay with me, Commander. You’re going to be fine.”

Brett felt pressure against his neck, sensed movement all around him, heard the calm yet urgent voices of the bomb squad as they worked to diffuse the threat.

“You did great,” the squad leader said. “I don’t think I hit anything vital, and we got the guy.” Scuffling happened, and the man disappeared from Brett’s line of sight.

“Doctor’s here. Stay with us, Brett. Stay with us.”

The voice morphed, pitching higher into the gentle timbre of Kate’s voice. Brett smiled—Stay with us—as he finally heard her voice.

He drifted away against his will, thinking Maybe I’ll be home in time for Christmas.

Kate woke on the Sunday morning before Christmas, her nose absolutely frozen. Instantly awake, she stayed in bed for a few extra seconds before facing reality. Eventually, she got up and bundled herself in her quilt.

“Stupid furnace.” She needed to replace it, but she didn’t want to pay the holiday rate. She knew how to light the pilot, and if a pattern had been established, the furnace would make it through Christmas morning before she had to re-light it.

She found Reid curled up with a blanket on the couch, a cartoon playing while he slept. She wondered how long he’d been up, a string on her heart pulling at the sight of him. He looked so much like Brett, and now her heart filled with longing.

She hurried toward the stairs leading to the basement, her breath catching when a gust of icy air met her upon opening the door. She gripped the blanket tighter and forced her feet down. Her hands shook as she fumbled with the lighter. Several attempts later, the pilot burst to life. She held her fingers close to the flame and relished the warmth.

She sprinted back upstairs and closed the door firmly behind her. Maybe she’d need to insulate the basement in the near future too.

She sighed as she settled on the couch and tucked her feet under her to try to warm them. She’d nearly dozed off when someone knocked on the door. A spurt of adrenaline had her bolting upright, wondering who would be at the door this early on a Sunday.

She glanced at the clock—almost nine. So maybe it wasn’t that early.

She kept the blanket secured around her shoulders as she stepped to the door. The only difference between outside and inside was the wind chill.

“Come in, come—” Kate’s voice abandoned her as she took in the uniformed officer standing on her porch, his hat held stiffly under his arm.

“Miss Murphy?”

Kate blinked, unsure how to respond to a name she’d only used for three months.

“May we come in?” He indicated the second officer standing next to him. Kate hadn’t even seen him standing there.

She stepped back, glancing to where Reid had been sleeping. He’d woken, and his eyes were round and interested.

The two men entered the house and closed the door behind them. The commanding officer looked around. “Ma’am is everything working all right?”

Kate sprang into motion, moving toward Reid. “The furnace went out last night. I just re-lit it. It’ll warm up quickly.” She bustled into the kitchen. “Do you gentlemen want coffee? Tea?” She yanked open the bread drawer. “I have some cinnamon bread leftover from last night.”

“No, ma’am. We’re fine.”

The second man’s teeth chattered once before he clamped his jaw over them.

Kate squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. “Okay, well, let’s do this then.”

“Can we sit?”

Kate moved to the couch and curled Reid into her side. She couldn’t seem to get a proper breath; her mind whirled and twirled with possibilities.

“Miss Murphy, I’m Captain Jacobs. I’m stationed at Fort Bragg, and I trained your husband in his communications program.”

She nodded like she knew Brett had completed a communications program. The fact that she didn’t only served to sour her stomach further.

“He’s a fine man. A good soldier. Quick learner, that one.” Captain Jacobs drooped a little under his words. “I have some bad news concerning Brett.”

Kate couldn’t get her voice to work. She stared unflinchingly at the man.

“He’s been shot.”

She winced like she’d been hit. The captain needed to take some courses in tact.

“He’s alive, and he’s expected to make a full recovery.”

The fight left Kate’s body as relief poured through her. “Captain,” she breathed. “You should lead with that.”

“Mom?” Reid watched her with questions in his eyes.

“Daddy’s been hurt, Reid. But he’s going to be okay.” Kate squeezed his shoulder, glad her voice carried a vein of strength and truth.

Captain Jacobs spared her a small smile. “There was a raid on the camp where he was stationed, and he was taken captive. He acted with nobility and bravery, leading the captors away from their target, which gave our men a chance to evacuate and prepare.”

Kate couldn’t feel her face, but that could’ve been from the extreme cold.

“He was used as a hostage, and well, our elite team leader shot through him to get to the captor.”

Mind spinning, Kate frowned. “So Brett was shot by our own guys?”

“Yes, ma’am. The captor had a bomb strapped to his body and it was the only way to diffuse the situation without blowing everyone to bits. He issued the call.”

Kate leaned forward, trying to read the captain’s face. He was like a rock. Strong, stable, stoic. “He told the team leader to shoot him?”

“He did.”

Fury roared through her. How could he do that? When he knew she and Reid were waiting for him to come home alive, whole, well?

“Both men fell, and Brett’s neck got quite the gash in it. We patched that up on-site, and he was transferred to Germany for surgery. But it wasn’t needed. Our team leader placed the bullet in exactly the right spot, and it ended up only being a minor muscle wound. No tendons, no bones, nothing else was injured.”

“Wow, he’ll probably get a medal.”

Captain Jacobs managed a wry smile. “Actually, we’ve recommended Brett for the Distinguished Service Cross. He blinked Morse code—after he’d sustained a head injury and a broken wrist. He demonstrated extreme courage and an exceptionally clear mind in a very difficult situation.” Captain Jacobs cleared his throat. “He—”

“So my dad’s a hero?” Reid asked.

The officers chuckled. “That’s right, son. He certainly is.” Captain Jacobs stood. “Miss Murphy? Brett’s aware we’re here this morning, and he wanted me to let you know that he has a surprise for you on Christmas morning.”

Kate followed him to the door. “What kind of surprise?”

“You’ll have to wait a few more days, just like the rest of us.” With that, the two officers left as unexpectedly as they’d come.

Kate tucked Reid back into his quilt and made sure the TV had been turned up. She hurried into her bedroom before he could see her cry. She collapsed to her knees beside the bed, gratitude pouring from her the same way her tears did.

Christmas morning dawned long after Reid woke Kate with excited exclamations that Santa had brought him exactly what he wanted—a set of snowshoes. “Come look, Momma! Come look!”

He sprinted out of the room, leaving Kate to smile to herself over his enthusiasm. She detoured into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee, and then went into the living room where she and Reid had decorated their Christmas tree.

He showed her how to put on the snowshoes and begged her to go outside.

“It’s dark still, baby. In a little bit.” She managed to keep him occupied by making French toast and orange juice, then suggesting he get dressed in his thermal underwear.

By the time he wore all his snow gear, the sun had brightened the day. Deceivingly bright, it lent hardly any warmth to the air, and Kate’s breath froze inside her lungs. She took pictures of Reid’s first few steps on the snowshoes, and followed his tracks as he explored the estate with his new treasure.

Kate settled on the bench under the willow, her feet already frozen. She wouldn’t cry. Not on Christmas. On Christmas Eve, sure. She’d done that. Begged God to bring Brett home, wounded, well, whatever. She just wanted him here.

Ten minutes later, she thought she’d freeze to death if she stayed outside much longer. She couldn’t see Reid anywhere, so she put her fingers in her mouth and whistled.

A distant whistle responded from back near the house, and Kate headed that way. When she came within view of the back porch, she found Reid bouncing like water in a hot pan.

“Reid?”

He giggled and sprinted into the house. She followed him at a much slower pace, thankful he was so happy.

She stepped into the house, breathed in the comfortable warmth, and locked the door behind her.

“’Bout time.”

Kate spun at the voice coming from the living room. She hadn’t heard it for nearly six months, and she wouldn’t let herself believe it was Brett until she saw him.

She moved on numb legs and rounded the wall separating the kitchen and the living room. Sure enough, sitting on the couch with a bandage covering most of his throat and his left arm in a sling, sat Brett.

His dark eyes sparkled like stars at deep midnight.

“Merry Christmas, sugar.” He shifted when she continued to stare at him. “I’d come over there and hug you, but movin’ is still pretty hard.”

Tears splashed Kate’s cheeks as she flung herself in his direction. She trailed her fingers along the bandage, taking the deepest breath she could manage. The woodsy smell of his skin wrapped her in comfort.

“You got shot,” she whispered.

“Yes, I did.”

“You told them to shoot you.” She lifted her eyes to his, reading the desire and worry and love in the dark depths.

“Yes, I did.”

“You made it home for Christmas.”

“Kate.” A half-grin pulled at his mouth. “Are you going to state the obvious for much longer? I’m dyin’ for a kiss.”

Kate glanced at his arm, wondering how bad the wound was underneath the bandages. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to die on Christmas.”

She leaned in, careful not to put any of her weight on his body, and kissed him. She felt something new in his touch, something she’d never experienced at Three Rivers Ranch.

There was nothing negative in this kiss. No anger. No old grudges.

“I love you,” she whispered against his lips.

He pulled back a fraction of an inch. “Will you forgive me for telling them to shoot me?”

“Yes.” She touched her lips to his for a moment. “Have you forgiven me yet?”

“It took longer than I thought it would,” he admitted. “But yes, Kate. I’ve forgiven you.”

Her mouth curved into a smile as she deepened their kiss.

Six months later:

“Let her explore on her own,” Brett said to Reid, who wanted to lead his pony everywhere. “This is brand new for her.” He put one foot up on the bottom rail of the fence and watched the light brown filly nose the grass.

“But Dad—”

“You can’t ride her for a while anyway,” Brett said.

“She’s ready to ride.” Reid frowned.

“She needs a couple of days to get settled.”

Reid put his foot on the rail too. “Okay, fine.”

“At least you have a horse.” Brett tousled his son’s hair.

“Pete’s bringin’ yours next week.” Reid rolled his eyes, and Brett broke into a laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Kate joined them at the fence, her breathing ragged.

“Hey,” Brett said. “You’re not supposed to be up.”

“I couldn’t miss the new pony.” She beamed down at Reid.

“Of course you can.” Brett touched her elbow, but she still wouldn’t look at him. “Kate, the baby—”

“She’s fine,” Kate said, finally turning toward him and stepping into his embrace. “I can’t stay in that house for one more second. Not on such a beautiful summer day.”

Brett’s brows creased, but he didn’t argue. Something she said clicked into place. “She?”

She gasped and tipped her head back to look at him. “Brett, I’m sorry, I know you didn’t want to know—”

“We’re havin’ a little girl?”

Kate nodded, the smile gracing her face widening with each passing moment.

Brett kissed the tip of her nose, the happiness coursing through him unlike anything he’d ever felt. “Can we name her Lilly?”

“Dad, come on,” Reid said. “We can’t name a horse Lilly.”

Kate giggled, but Reid didn’t seem to notice. “I was thinkin’ something like Honey. Doesn’t she sorta look like the color of honey?”

Brett burst out laughing, tilting his head heavenward and sending a whisper of thanks to God for all he’d been given.

“Yeah, bud. We can name the horse Honey.”

“Yes, dear. We can name the baby Lilly.”

Brett wrapped his arm around Kate’s shoulder and tucked her against his side, happier than he’d ever been.

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Other Books in the Three Rivers Ranch Romance series by Liz Isaacson

Second Chance Ranch: A Three Rivers Ranch Romance (Book 1): After his deployment, injured and discharged Major Squire Ackerman returns to Three Rivers Ranch, wanting to forgive Kelly for ignoring him a decade ago. He’d like to provide the stable life she needs, but with old wounds opening and a ranch on the brink of financial collapse, it will take patience and faith to make their second chance possible.

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Third Time's the Charm: A Three Rivers Ranch Romance (Book 2): First Lieutenant Peter Marshall has a truckload of debt and no way to provide for a family, but Chelsea helps him see past all the obstacles, all the scars. With so many unknowns, can Pete and Chelsea develop the love, acceptance, and faith needed to find their happily ever after?

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Fourth and Long: A Three Rivers Ranch Romance (Book 3): Commander Brett Murphy goes to Three Rivers Ranch to find some rest and relaxation with his Army buddies. Having his ex-wife show up with a seven-year-old she claims is his son is anything but the R&R he craves. Kate needs to make amends, and Brett needs to find forgiveness, but are they too late to find their happily ever after?

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Fifth Generation Cowboy: A Three RIvers Ranch Romance (Book 4): Tom Lovell has watched his friends find their true happiness on Three Rivers Ranch, but everywhere he looks, he only sees friends. Rose Reyes has been bringing her daughter out to the ranch for equine therapy for months, but it doesn't seem to be working. Her challenges with Mari are just as frustrating as ever. Could Tom be exactly what Rose needs? Can he remove his friendship blinders and find love with someone who's been right in front of him all this time?

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Read on for a sneak peek at the first chapter of Fifth Generation Cowboy!

Sixth Street Love Affair: A Three Rivers Ranch Romance Novella: After losing his wife a few years back, Garth Ahlstrom thinks he's ready for a second chance at love. But Juliette Thompson has a secret that could destroy their budding relationship. Can they find the strength, patience, and faith to make things work?

All newsletter subscribers will get this novella for free! Tap here to sign up for Liz's newsletter. The novella was released on April 25 in an anthology of modern western romances, and will be available individually as a novella on July 15, 2016.

Order all 7 novellas now!

The Seventh Sergeant: A Three Rivers Ranch Romance (Book 5): Life has finally started to settle down for Sergeant Reese Sanders after his devastating injury overseas. Discharged from the Army and now with a good job at Courage Reins, he’s finally found happiness—until a horrific fall puts him right back where he was years ago: Injured and depressed. Carly Watters, Reese's new veteran care coordinator, dislikes small towns almost as much as she loathes cowboys. But she finds herself faced with both when she gets assigned to Reese's case. Do they have the humility and faith to make their relationship more than professional?

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Eight Second Ride: A Three Rivers Ranch Romance (Book 6): Ethan Greene loves his work at Three Rivers Ranch, but he can't seem to find the right woman to settle down with. When sassy yet vulnerable Brynn Bowman shows up at the ranch to recruit him back to the rodeo circuit, he takes a different approach with the barrel racing champion. His patience and newfound faith pay off when a friendship--and more--starts with Brynn. But she wants out of the rodeo circuit right when Ethan wants to rejoin. Can they find the path God wants them to take and still stay together?

Coming on September 20, 2016! Pre-order now and the book will downloaded automatically on release day!

The fences containing Rose Reyes’s patience had never seemed so flat. Of course, she hadn’t pushed her daughter, Mari, as far out of her comfort zone as she had these past few months.

As she listened to Mari wail over the fact that her cucumbers had touched her ranch dressing before she was ready, Rose sent a prayer for someone, anyone, to come fix the fence line.

Someone.

Anyone.

No one came.

No one ever did.

So Rose sat next to Mari and took a deep breath. “Mari, you need to calm down. When you’re ready, I’ll be back.” She got up and purposely moved down the hall to her bedroom. Even with the door closed, she could hear Mari’s hiccups and continued sniffles.

She was safe. She was fine. She just resisted change of any kind, and having cucumbers instead of carrots had already thrown her for a loop.

Scratching came against Rose’s door, and she cracked it to let in Paprika, the little shih tzu that could usually settle Mari. Now, Rose picked up the dog and stroked her head, taking the animal’s latent energy as her own.

Mari had been having more episodes lately, something Doctor Parchman had predicted. The therapist at Courage Reins, the riding center where Mari participated in equine therapy a couple times a week, had sent Rose home with some brochures about how to deal with the outbursts, and Rose met with Doctor Parchman once a month to make sure she worked with Mari appropriately at home.

She’d done the best she could, but Mari’s continued crying would’ve challenged Mother Theresa. Rose sighed and gazed out the window, glad Mari had another riding appointment that evening.

That is, if Rose could get Mari calm enough to finish eating and get in the car. The silence beyond the door snagged Rose’s attention and she took Paprika with her as she rejoined Mari in the kitchen.

Half the grilled cheese sandwich was gone. But the cucumbers were still stubbornly pushed to the side, the smudge of white on the corner of an innocent vegetable the culprit of Mari’s outburst.

“Feel better?” Rose asked her daughter, smoothing the girl’s bangs off her forehead.

Mari didn’t answer, a typical response. Rose turned away, her usual reaction. Mostly so Mari wouldn’t accidentally see Rose’s frustration, the tears that settled in the corners of her eyes. Rose never wanted Mari to know she longed to have a real conversation with someone—someone who didn’t need a line of credit, a construction loan, or an extension on their mortgage due date.

As the loan manager at Three Rivers Bank, the only adults Rose spoke with had the same problems she did. Some worse. Some easier. But she knew better than most that everybody had problems.

Hers weren’t financial, and as Mari put her plate—still laden with the dreaded cucumbers—in the sink, a tidal wave of guilt nearly sent Rose to her knees. Guilt that she wanted someone to talk to that would talk back. Guilt that she counted her own daughter as a problem. Guilt that she felt so downtrodden when she knew others had it worse than she did.

“Ready to go riding?” she asked, forcing back the tears and a measure of brightness into her voice.

Mari made eye contact for less than a blink. “Okay.”

“Okay, then.” Rose smiled. “Go get changed. We’ll be late if we wait much longer.”

While Mari changed out of her school clothes and into her riding pants, Rose checked her phone to make sure it had enough charge to get to the ranch and back. With summer still a couple months off, darkness came early, and the last thing she wanted was to be stranded on the lonely stretch of road between town and the ranch without a way to call for help.

By the time Mari returned, Rose had her jacket and cowgirl hat waiting. They were ten minutes late leaving, but she knew better than to rush the girl. Rose spent most of her life waiting for Mari, and she’d learned to start tasks thirty minutes early so Mari could finish them on time.

“Let’s go,” Rose said, swiping her keys from the kitchen counter, where her empty dinner plate still sat.

She called Tom Lovell, the cowboy who usually worked with Mari at the facility, a stone in her stomach. She hated telling him they’d be late, though he never acted like it mattered. Still, she knew time was valuable, and someone with as many responsibilities as Tom surely couldn’t afford to be sitting around.

“Rose,” he said, his friendly voice a welcome addition to Rose’s life.

“Hello, Tom,” she said, wondering if he was as happy to hear her voice as she was his. Probably not. He had plenty of adults to converse with throughout the day.

“We’re just leaving, so we’ll be a tiny bit late.” She backed out of the driveway as she held down the button for the garage door. It wouldn’t budge. She braked, stopped, and tried again.

Nothing.

“No problem,” Tom drawled as Rose put the car in park. Impatience really wanted to win over her today, but she tamped down the frustration as she reached for the rope and pulled the door down manually.

A loud screech accompanied her words when she said, “And if you have any of that dark roast coffee on, I’d love a cup when I get there.”

He chuckled. “Rough day?”

Rose basked in the warmth of his laugh, slightly embarrassed at her reaction to him, though he wasn’t there and couldn’t see her.

“You could say that,” she said. “Be there soon.”

“I’ll start the coffee for you.”

Rose hung up, tucked her phone in her jacket pocket, and settled back into the driver’s seat with a moan.

Halfway to the ranch, her phone rang. She checked it and saw the name Ed. She thumbed the call to voicemail, unwilling to add to the weight of today with a conversation with her ex-husband. He could at least wait until after the session.

“Dad,” Mari said, pointing at the still flashing screen.

“We’ll call him back after you ride Peony.” Rose added a smile to the end of her statement.

“Peony,” Mari echoed.

“That’s right.” Rose patted Mari’s leg and kept on toward Three Rivers. She pulled into the parking lot at Courage Reins and exhaled as Mari got out of the car without prompting. She’d gotten better at a lot of things since starting the equine therapy eighteen months ago, including her schoolwork, talking to her teachers, and becoming more independent.

But apparently, not eating cucumbers.

Rose allowed herself a small smile as a burden lifted from her shoulders. She should’ve focused on where Mari had improved instead of wallowing in the negative.

“Tomorrow’s another day,” she told herself. “And Mari will be—”

“You gettin’ out?” Tom leaned into the passenger door, bending his tall frame down to look at her under the brim of his cowboy hat.

Rose startled and her face heated when she thought of him listening to her talk to herself.

“Yes. Yeah, I’m getting out.” She fumbled with the door handle and managed to free herself from the vehicle. She straightened and met Tom’s eye over the roof of her sedan.

“Hey.” She peered past him toward the riding ring. “You see which way Mari went?”

“She ran like the wind toward the barn.” He nodded back behind Rose. “I’ve got your coffee on.” He gestured toward the house a hundred yards from the parking lot. “Well, Chelsea’s got your coffee on.” He gave her a lazy smile, and she couldn’t help returning it.

“Thanks, Tom.” She glanced over her shoulder to the barn. “You think…?”

“She’ll be fine. Pete’s with her.” Tom started walking toward the house.

“You usually train with her,” Rose said, hating the worried shiver in her tone. “She’s…she’s been having a hard time lately.”

“Not out here.” Tom stepped closer to her, and Rose almost tripped though the dirt road was fairly smooth. “Give yourself a break,” he said. “You sounded pretty tired on the phone.”

“Oh, great,” Rose said. “That’s just what I want to hear.” She nudged him with her elbow. “Do I look terrible too?”

“’Course not.” Tom stuffed his hat lower over his eyes so she couldn’t see them. She didn’t have to look at him to know he had the darkest pair of midnight eyes. Beautiful, midnight eyes she could lose herself in if she wasn’t careful. And if Rose had learned one thing, it was not to get suckered in by a beautiful pair of midnight eyes.

Yet somehow she still found herself thinking of Tom and his calm, steady manner whenever she contemplated the type of man she’d like to marry one day.

One day in the far future, she told herself as Tom ushered her through Pete and Chelsea’s back fence and into the yard.

One thing Rose knew, she wouldn’t remarry until Mari was an adult and able to take care of herself. Still, Rose cast a longing glance at Tom, wondering what had kept the handsome cowboy from getting snatched up.

Tom’s phone buzzed as he reached the sliding glass door at the back of Pete and Chelsea’s house. He checked the text and saw Chelsea’s name. Julie’s fussing. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.

He refrained from rolling his eyes. His dad said if he did it too often, his eyes might get stuck that way. But the only adequate reaction to a text like Chelsea’s was an eyeroll. See, the woman thought Tom needed to spend time alone with Rose. Then he’d be able to ask her out.

Even though Tom had repeatedly told her, and her husband Pete, and everyone else who ribbed him about his friendship with Rose, that he and Rose were only friends. The cowhands had given him copious amounts of unwanted advice for how to ask her out, and he’d given them enough eyerolls to be in danger of his eyes getting stuck.

Chelsea had been texting Kelly for three solid months about how they could get Tom a date. Even Kate, Brett’s wife, had spent hours of her time trying to get him to take out one of his friends. He’d tried with Tammy, and that had ended after the first date. Mutually, but Tom hadn’t been able to go back to the sports bar yet, and it had been months since they attended the hay festival together.

And for the past several weeks now, Tom had spent more than a healthy amount of time assuring everyone he wasn’t romantically interested in the gorgeous Rose Reyes.

Much as he wished she wouldn’t, Desi, his ex-girlfriend, popped into his mind. She seemed to be haunting him for the past month, always whispering to him that his cool demeanor toward women was as attractive as it was maddening. After their break-up a few years ago, Tom hadn’t really tried to find another woman.

Rose exhaled heavily, bringing him back to the warmth of Pete and Chelsea’s kitchen. Rose rubbed her hands together and sat down at the bar. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in Chelsea’s house. It’s nice.”

“Yeah, real nice.” Tom lifted the coffee pot and poured the hot liquid into a mug for Rose. He passed it to her and prepared one for himself. “Cream and sugar right there.”

Rose flashed him a grateful smile as she doctored up her coffee while he slid onto the stool next to her.

Tom sipped the dark brew, wishing he could think of something to say. He wasn’t particularly skilled with conversation, having grown up with an older brother and raised by a single dad after his mom went to work one day and never came home. Tom had been seven, and he hadn’t had a lot of women in his life since. Hadn’t needed them, hadn’t wanted them.

He glanced at Rose, at the dark caramel color of her skin, her deep brown eyes, her long hair the color of Houdini’s coat. Tom inwardly cringed at his comparison of this woman to a black quarter horse.

He cleared his throat. “So what’s been goin’ on with Mari?”

“She….” Rose waved her free hand toward the sink. “She has Autism.”

Tom studied her, trying to find the root of her unhappiness. “Yeah, and?”

“And, I don’t know.” She looked at him and glanced away quickly. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Tom’s nerves buzzed and his skin felt too hot. “Sure, of course.”

“You won’t judge me?”

“I would never judge you.” Tom spoke with all the sincerity of his heart.

Her earnest expression caused him to lean closer. The way she’d asked for coffee earlier had alerted him to her distress. As soon as she’d hung up, he’d hurried over to Pete’s to see if he could take over Mari’s therapy.

“You’re a jumpy as a wet cat,” Pete had said. “When are you gonna ask that woman out?”

Tom hadn’t known how to answer. For the first time in all the months of teasing he’d endured, he’d never once considered Rose as more than a friend. But with Pete’s question, he hadn’t been prompted to roll his eyes and heave a sigh of exasperation.

Rose took a deep breath. “Okay, well, sometimes taking care of Mari is exhausting. I love her, don’t get me wrong, but she isn’t exactly chatty, and sometimes I just want someone to talk to. She’s been more emotional these past few months, and I know the therapist said that would be normal, but I’m going crazy.” She gave a little chuckle that sounded anything but happy.

“She’s going with her dad tomorrow, and I’ll admit that I’m really looking forward to her being gone.” She clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.

Tom blinked in sync with Rose. He reached for her hands and gently lowered them from her face. “Rose.” Emotion laced the way he said her name. “You’re a great mom.”

She squeezed his fingers, and he stared at their entwined hands, adrenaline racing through his system. He released her like he’d been electrocuted, shocked at the heat rising from his stomach. Heat from touching Rose.

“I feel like a failure,” she said, tucking her hands around her coffee cup. “Sometimes we just eat cereal for dinner. And my yard is a mess, and the kitchen sink leaks, and most of the time I barely feel like I’ve got my head above water.”

Tom lowered his chin so he couldn’t see Rose, so he could work through these new, confusing feelings. “I can come help with the plumbing,” he said real low, the words barely escaping his throat. “You takin’ her to Amarillo or is Ed coming to get her?”

“He’s coming.”

Tom took a hot gulp of his coffee, trying to get his stomach to settle. “Great. I’ll come over in the morning.”

“You don’t need—”

“Rose.” He took a breath and looked up, right into her eyes. “I want to.”

Thankfully, she didn’t argue. Just nodded and took his phone to put in her address. When he took it back, he glanced at where her hands had been, a slow smile spreading his lips.

“You’re acting like fixing my pipes is going to be a picnic,” Rose teased.

“You volunteering to feed me lunch?” He grinned at her, hoping she’d say yes.

She did, and by the time she left, Tom knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep that night, excited as he was to fix a set of leaking pipes—or was he looking forward to seeing Rose again?

Confusion would definitely keep him awake tonight too.

The next morning, he wrangled Ethan out of bed just before dawn. “Come on, cowboy.” Tom nudged Ethan’s foot. “You said you’d cover chores for me this morning.”

“Didn’t say nothin’ about gettin’ up at dawn.”

“That’s what the morning chores are. Come on. I have an hour, and then I have to go.”

Ethan muttered under his breath, but he got up and pulled on a pair of jeans. Tom retreated from the bunks to the kitchenette, where he started a pot of coffee. A few minutes later, a more alert Ethan joined him.

The cowhand had come out to Three Rivers a couple of years ago, and though he had a mouth on him, he was a hard worker. He mussed his blond hair as he yawned. “You so owe me for this.”

“You’re getting paid,” Tom said. “And earning hours toward another day off.”

Ethan reached for a piece of bread and set it in the toaster. “That’s the only reason I agreed to this.” While he waited for the bread to brown, he pulled on a heavy jacket. “Where you goin’, anyway?”

Tom checked the coffee maker, hoping for nonchalance. “I have some business in town.”

“Business with Rose Reyes.” The toast popped up and Ethan turned to butter it. “I didn’t know the bank was open on Saturday.”

Tom opted not to answer, instead taking a clean mug out of the cupboard and pouring himself a cup of coffee. “I’ll start in the barn.”

Ethan wouldn’t like that, but Tom didn’t care much. He’d agreed to this morning’s chores; Tom didn’t have to help him at all. But he couldn’t sleep past five, used as he was to getting up and getting things done around the ranch.

He arrived in the barn quickly, but then slowed his pace. Wandering through the aisles, acknowledging the horses as they came to their gates for his morning greeting. He paused at Peony’s stall, the gentle creature nuzzling him with her warm nose.

“Hey, girl.” He gave her an affectionate pat before continuing down the line. Houdini, Tom’s favored horse, nickered a hello.

Tom grinned at him and leaned against his railing. “Morning to you too, Dini.” A working horse, Houdini liked going out in the cool mornings the way Tom did. Houdini was more wild than the other horses Tom had taken a shine to, but loyal and strong.

He seemed to know when weekends came ‘round, because he nudged Tom’s shoulder with his nose before retreating in his stall for another doze.

That was Tom’s cue to get to work. He went down the line, filling water troughs and hay bins. He checked on Iris, the pregnant mare due to give birth in another month or so. He made her stand so he could rake out her straw before giving her a fresh bed.

“There you go,” he told her, a stream of satisfaction bubbling beneath his skin when she settled down and went right back to sleep.

Peace descended on Tom as he cut through the cold morning to his cabin. He loved the hard, physical labor of ranching. It reminded him of what had always been solid in his life, what never left, never changed.

He showered, his mind revolving around the mother he hadn’t spoken to for two decades. He wondered if she ever thought about him. If she remembered his birthday. If she knew how deep her actions had sliced.

Tom’s father never spoke of his wife. Tom didn’t know if they’d gotten divorced or not. His dad had never remarried, choosing instead to dedicate his life to his boys and the ranch he ran in Montana.

As Tom scrubbed the stink of horse from his hair, he understood his father on a deeper level. Fear frothed up with the soap as he thought about his reaction to touching Rose’s hands. Did he really want a woman in his life? One who could up and leave at any given moment, without a phone call, a hug good-bye?

He leaned his head back and let the spray hit his throat, frustrated that his mother affected him so strongly, after so many years.

Tom’s cell phone rang, sending his heart into his throat. Maybe Rose needed to cancel. As his pulse settled, he thought he might just be able to say he hadn’t gotten her message.

He stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and went into his bedroom. A blue light flashed on his phone, and he hesitated before swiping it on. Eventually, he did, only to find a missed call from his older brother, Jace.

As if his circular thoughts about their mother had summoned the call. Tom smiled at the screen. No message. His brother never left one. He had more to say than Tom, but he rarely did it on a recording.

Tom called him back while he pulled out a fresh pair of jeans.

“Jace,” he said when his brother picked up on the second ring. “It’s early.”

“I know, I remembered that after the phone started ringing. Sorry.”

“I was up. In the shower.”

“I just got back from my morning chores.”

Tom set the phone on speaker and started getting dressed. “So, what’s goin’ on?” Jace worked the ranch where they’d grown up, after a brief stint of trying college. Wasn’t for him, he claimed, and he’d gone back to Montana and started working for their father.

Tom had tried the Army, and when that didn’t work out, he had nowhere else to go. His father knew a couple of ranchers down here, so Tom moved south. He’d bounced from ranch to ranch for a year or two before finally settling at Three Rivers.

“Dad fell last night,” Jace said, and everything in Tom’s world stalled. His voice couldn’t seem to battle its way to the surface.

“It wasn’t bad,” Jace added. “But I took him to the hospital anyway. He has a foot fracture.”

Tom thought of his tall, strong father. No way he’d stay off that foot. “No cast?”

“No cast.” Jace sighed. “I’m sure you know what that means.”

“He was out doing chores this morning too.”

“Yep.” Jace chuckled, and the concerned sound echoed through the line, assaulting Tom’s ears. “Anyway, I wanted you to know. Maybe you can put his name on your church’s prayer roll or something.”

Tom didn’t come from a religious family. His father lived, breathed, and worked a cattle ranch. He claimed he didn’t have time for organized religion, but he’d taken Tom and Jace to services on Christmas and Easter.

When Tom had come to Texas, he’d enjoyed his Sundays at church more than he thought he would. Jace leaned more toward their father’s side of the line, but he respected Tom and his beliefs.

“Sure thing, Jace.” He hesitated, not quite sure what else to say.

“And one note of good news,” Jace said, a smile infusing his voice. “You know how I’ve been saving for that diamond ring?”

“Yeah.”

“I finally have enough. I’m gonna ask Wendy to marry me.”

Tom’s throat tightened and released. His brother didn’t seem to have any of Tom’s anxiety over women and marriage. “When?”

“I don’t know. Soon, I think. I need to make a plan.”

Tom heard his father’s words in Jace’s, and he wondered if sometimes he and Jace planned too much. Rose’s face danced through his mind’s eye, and Tom realized why he hadn’t seen her standing right in front of him.

He had no plan. No plan to find a woman and marry her. No plan to look at Rose as anything but what she already was: His friend.

Had everyone else seen something between them he hadn’t? His fingers tingled, as if reminding him of how soft her skin had been.

“Good luck,” he told his brother, telling himself the same thing. He whistled as he brushed his teeth and donned his cowboy hat. He had no idea if something could exist between him and Rose. Didn’t even know if he wanted something to exist between them. But Tom Lovell knew one thing: He didn’t want to miss someone standing right in front of him because he was too busy being a horseman.

Fifth Generation Cowboy is available now! Read it today!

Liz Isaacson is the author of the Three Rivers Ranch Romance series, which includes SECOND CHANCE RANCH, THIRD TIME’S THE CHARM, FOURTH AND LONG, FIFTH GENERATION COWBOY, SIXTH STREET LOVE AFFAIR, THE SEVENTH SERGEANT, and the forthcoming EIGHT SECOND RIDE. She writes inspirational romance, usually set in Texas, or Wyoming, or anywhere else horses and cowboys exist. She lives in Utah, where she teaches elementary school, taxis her daughter to dance several times a week, and eats a lot of Ferrero Rocher while writing.

Find her on Facebook, twitter, and her blog.

She also writes as Elana Johnson, who is the author of the Possession series, the Elemental series, and ELEVATED and SOMETHING ABOUT LOVE, which are young adult contemporary romance novels-in-verse. Her adult contemporary romance debut, UNTIL SUMMER ENDS, is coming soon from Cleis Press/Start Media, and her debut adult fantasy, ECHOES OF SILENCE, just released from Amazon/Kindle Press. See all of Elana's books here.

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THREE RIVERS RANCH ROMANCE BOXED SET 1-3: SECOND CHANCE RANCH, THIRD TIME'S THE CHARM, FOURTH AND LONG

Three Rivers Ranch Romance series, Boxed Set #1

by Liz Isaacson

Copyright © 2016 by Elana Johnson, writing as Liz Isaacson

Published by AEJ Creative Works

All Rights Reserved

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the express written permission of the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Cover Design by Steven Novak, http://www.novakillustration.com/

Interior Design by AEJ Creative Works