Excerpt Letter to Reader About the Author Title Page Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Teaser Chapter Copyright

Her Breath Caught. It Couldn“t Be Him. It Wasn’t Possible.

“Slater?”

“Yeah, Kasey, it’s me.”

Years fell away. She felt seventeen again. Her knees shook as she moved closer and studied his face. Older, a few more lines. He was more rugged, his dark hair a little longer. Different, but so familiar.

“Aw, hell, Kasey.” Slater shook his head as he opened his arms. “Come here, will you?”

With a nervous laugh, she moved into his arms. Tears gathered in her eyes and she blinked them back. He was solid muscle against her, his scent masculine. His touch made her dizzy. How could he have this effect on her after all these years?

She’d obviously never gotten over him. How could she protect her heart a second time around?

Dear Reader,

February, month of valentines, celebrates lovers—which is what Silhouette Desire does every month of the year. So this month, we have an extraspecial lineup of sensual and emotional page-turners. But how do you choose which exciting book to read first when all six stories are asking Be Mine?

Bestselling author Barbara Boswell delivers February’s MAN OF THE MONTH, a gorgeous doctor who insists on being a full-time father to his newly discovered child, in The Brennan Baby. Bride of the Bad Boy is the wonderful first book in Elizabeth Bevarly’s brand-new BLAME IT ON BOB trilogy. Don’t miss this fun story about a marriage of inconvenience!

Cupid slings an arrow at neighboring ranchers in Her Torrid Temporary Marriage by Sara Orwig. Next, a woman’s thirtieth-birthday wish brings her a supersexy cowboy—and an unexpected pregnancy—in The Texan, by Catherine Lanigan. Carole Buck brings red-hot chemistry to the pages of Three-Alarm Love. And Barbara McCauley’s Courtship in Granite Ridge reunites a single mother with the man she’d always loved.

Have a romantic holiday this month—and every month—with Silhouette Desire. Enjoy!

Melissa Senate

Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269 Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

About the Author

BARBARA McCAULEY was born and raised in California, and has spent a good portion of her life exploring the mountains, beaches and deserts so abundant there. The youngest of five children, she grew up in a small house, and her only chance for a moment alone was to sneak into the backyard with a book and quietly hide away.

With two children of her own now and a busy household, she still finds herself slipping away to enjoy a good novel. A daydreamer and incurable romantic, she says writing has fulfilled her most incredible dream of all—breathing life into the people in her mind and making them real. She has one loud and demanding Amazon parrot named Fred and a German shepherd named Max. When she can manage the time, she loves to sink her hands into fresh-turned soil and make things grow.

Courtship In Granite Ridge

Barbara McCauley

www.millsandboon.co.uk

One

“Hugh Slater, you need to git yerself a woman.”

With a silent groan, Slater kept his nose buried in his newspaper and ignored Digger Jones, hoping that the silver-bearded owner of the Hungry Bear Café would move on to badger another customer. It had been a long, hot day, and all Slater wanted to do was catch up on a week’s worth of mail and newspapers and eat his meal in peace.

No such luck.

“Did you hear me, son?” Digger slid the blue plate special—a two-inch thick T-bone with mashed potatoes smothered in home-style gravy—across the Formicatopped table and slapped down a plate of steaming biscuits. “I said you need to git yerself a woman.”

“Didn’t see them on the menu,” Slater replied dryly, keeping his attention on his paper as he reached for a biscuit

“Don’t you wisecrack me in my own establishment, boy.” Digger straightened his remarkably fit seventytwo-year-old, six-foot-three frame and sniffed indignantly. “You might be bigger and younger than me, but I can still whoop your butt. Just giving a little friendly advice, that’s all.”

Everyone in Cactus Flat knew that one of Digger’s meals always came with advice or criticism, most often both. They also knew—as did Digger—that there was no place to get a better steak or apple cobbler in all of West Texas. And since Slater had his eye on a piece of that cobbler after his meal, he knew when to keep his mouth shut.

Digger, on the other hand, didn’t.

“’Bout time you settled down, son.” Digger ignored the ring of the cook’s bell that the next order was up. “What are you, thirty-two, thirty-three?”

“Thirty-four.” Not that it mattered, Slater thought irritably. He had no intention of “settling down.” Not now. Not ever. Even the ten months he’d been here in Cactus Flat working as foreman on the Stone Creek Oil rigs was a record for him. He was feeling anxious lately, restless. He knew it was time to move on and had already accepted a new job in Alaska on a rig there. Stone Creek Oil was on a month hiatus after ten months of nonstop drilling on four rigs, and Slater figured now was as good a time as any to leave. He’d planned on telling Jared Stone today, but Jared, who was not only his boss, but also his friend, wasn’t going to like it.

“Thirty-four? That old, huh?” Digger shook his head pitifully. “Man your age needs a sweet young thing and a passel of kids to come home to every night.”

Slater frowned and glanced at Digger over the top of his newspaper. “I don’t see a ring on your hand.”

“Exactly my point.” Digger emphasized his statement by pointing a long, thick-knuckled finger. “I spent my life prospecting one claim after another, moving from one mine to the next, just like you with your oil wells. I was a damned fool. Don’t want to see the same thing happen to you, boy, that’s all.”

“Hey, Cupid, you gonna jack the jaw all night?” Floyd Perkins bellowed from the corner booth. “A man could grow old waitin’ for a cup a coffee ’round here.”

“Somethin’ wrong with your legs, Perkins?” Digger hollered back. “Slater and me are having a conversation.”

“Sounds more like you’re the one having the conversation,” Floyd grumbled. “Why don’t you leave that poor boy to read his paper and eat his meal in peace?”

“What paper you reading that’s so dang interesting?” Digger squinted and leaned close. “The Granite Ridge Gazette. Why in tarnation you readin’ that? Granite Ridge is five hundred miles from here.”

Slater ground his back teeth together. He should have known better than to expect any privacy here. What he read and why was his business, and he had no intention of sharing that business with anyone—especially Digger Jones.

“You know somebody there?” Digger kept on. “I hear they got some fine horse ranches down that way, especially quarter horses. Joe Stovall bought two cutters from a fellow named—” he rubbed thoughtfully at his chin “—hell, what was his name...Jack something...”

Slater braced himself.

The cook’s bell rang persistently, cutting off Digger’s train of thought. He turned sharply and growled at the intrusion. “All right, already. I’m coming. Stop yer clanging.”

With a sigh of relief, Slater watched Digger shuffle off, then settled back into the booth, struggling to fit his long legs under the tabletop. He stared at the paper in front of him, at the familiar names and faces.

Granite Ridge.

For the past ten years, since he’d left his hometown, the Gazette had followed him across the country: Oklahoma, New Mexico, Washington and now back to Texas. The only time he hadn’t received the paper was during his stint in Venezuela. The rig he’d been working on there had been too remote to receive mail with any dependability, so he’d let it lapse those months, then immediately started it up again when he’d returned to the States. Whether for some morbid kind of punishment—a reminder of all the things he could never have, that he never did have—simple curiosity or just plain habit, he didn’t know or care.

Thankful that Digger was busy harassing Pete Walker for his lack of attendance at the last town meeting, Slater scooped up a forkful of mashed potatoes and turned his attention back to the front page of his paper. The top stories of the past week were Mary Lou Hebbit’s—assisted by her husband, Bobby Joe Hebbit—giving birth to twin girls in the flatbed of a hay truck, and the Hackett brothers’ assigned twenty hours’ community service for being drunk and disorderly.

Slater seemed to recall a few nights that he’d spent with Bobby and Billy Hackett himself. The brothers had played in the bars as hard as they’d worked on their daddy’s farm, but always showed up for church on Sundays and were the first to volunteer for the town’s annual Ladies’ Auxiliary carnival and auction. If anyone needed to “git himself a woman,” Slater thought with a smile, it was definitely those boys.

He skimmed the city council and agriculture reports, then paused at the wedding section, which had one entry: Millie Johnson and Todd Overby were engaged and getting married in two weeks. Millie and Todd? Slater shook his head as he took a sip of coffee. They’d practically been babies when he’d left. How could they be old enough to get married?

With a sigh, he moved on to the obituaries, thankful at least, that column was empty. He took another sip of coffee and started to fold the paper when the bottom of the last page, an assortment of classified ads and personals, caught his attention.

Wanted: One Husband. Not too old. Must like kids. List good qualities. Call Kasey at the Double D Ranch—555-4832 or send picture to 684 Marva Lane, Granite Ridge, TX.

He nearly choked. Coffee sloshed over the sides of his cup as he slammed it down.

Kasey...as in Kasey Donovan?

He shook off the coffee he’d spilled onto his paper and looked at the ad again. Good God! He had read it right. It was Kasey.

Kasey Donovan had been his sister Jeanie’s best friend since they’d been six. They’d been inseparable. Kasey, with her wild red hair, vibrant green eyes and a ready-to-take-on-the-world attitude, had been a sharp contrast to Jeanie’s silky blond hair, pale blue eyes and quiet acceptance of whatever life dealt her. Which, Slater thought with a tightening in his gut, had been one lousy hand after another. She’d learned young that life wasn’t fair. They both had.

He missed her. God, how he missed her.

He let the pain roll through him, then shook it off and stared at the newspaper again. Kasey Donovan. With her bright laugh and enthusiasm for life, she emerged from a dark past like a rainbow after the storm.

He’d lost track of her after he’d left Granite Ridge, though he had read that after she’d graduated high school she’d married some hotshot journalist and moved to New York. Obviously if she was looking for a husband, that hadn’t worked out. Then four years later her mother had died after a long illness, six months after that, her father from a heart attack. Slater had been in Venezuela at the time and hadn’t heard until he’d gotten back to the States. By the time he’d called, the phone had been disconnected.

The Donovans had been like some kind of a TV family. Always there for each other, loving...accepting. Mrs. Donovan had been the mother Jeanie had lost when she was two, and, Slater recalled with a smile, Mr. and Mrs. Donovan had both treated him as a son, too. Kasey’s mother would always insist he stay for dinner every time he came to pick up Jeanie, then afterward Mr. Donovan would discuss the latest issue of Rancher’s Digest over a cup of strong black coffee, asking Slater his opinion or advice on horse breeding.

Something Slater’s own father had never done.

The Donovans had been Slater’s only regret when he’d left Granite Ridge. His only regret even still.

And now Kasey was advertising for a husband?

He shook his head at the thought. Kasey. His little Kasey. He’d taught her how to ride a bike, helped her with her science homework. At fifteen she’d been all arms and legs and a mouthful of braces. At seventeen, when he’d left, she’d emerged a young woman with curves that had every male drooling and every female turning a lovely shade of green.

And now, here he was, ten years later.

And here was Kasey.

Obviously she was in a serious situation if she was advertising for a husband. But whatever her problem might be, there had to be another solution than marrying a stranger.

“Slater!” Digger’s loud exclamation from the other side of the diner brought Slater’s head up. “Jack Slater, from the Bar S. That was that big rancher’s name.”

Slater’s back stiffened at the name he hadn’t said in ten years.

Coffeepot in hand, Digger moved beside the booth and refilled Slater’s cup. “Hey, he must be a kin of yours. Brother, maybe? Cousin?”

Digger had a hold of the bone now, and Slater knew the old man wouldn’t let go. So let him have it What difference did it make?

“Father,” Slater said evenly, and took a sip of coffee.

“No kidding.” Digger whistled. “And all this time we thought you had no family.”

I don’t, Slater thought. Not with Jack Slater, anyway.

Ignoring Digger’s rattling on about fathers and sons, Slater stared at Kasey’s ad again. Jeanie’s death had been as hard on Kasey as it had him. He’d walked out on her ten years ago and let her down. He had an opportunity to make up for that now.

Right or wrong, mistake or not, he was going back. Even if it meant he’d have to see Jack Slater again.

Something very strange was going on.

It wasn’t just the stares she’d gotten at the market in town, Kasey thought as she pulled her pickup off the main road and headed down the gravel drive that led to her house. There’d been sidelong glances and raised eyebrows, too. And Kasey would swear that June Bindermeyer had actually snickered when she’d bagged the groceries.

Very strange.

What could have happened in the two weeks she and her sons had been gone? She’d taken the last of the boys’ summer vacation and gone to Dallas to look for a broodmare, the first of what she hoped would eventually be a full stable of quarter horses. She’d looked at a dozen mares in the first three days and had finally settled on a beautiful sorrel from the Circle Q named Miss Lucy. The animal was more than Kasey could afford, but one look and she was lost. She’d bought her and made arrangements for her to be delivered in a few days, then immediately placed an ad for a stud in several papers, including the Granite Ridge Gazette.

But placing an ad for a stud was no reason for anyone to look at her oddly, Kasey thought with a frown. This was horse country. Still, at the post office when she’d picked up the bag with her mail and papers, disapproval had been plainly etched on Mildred Macklin’s face. And was it Kasey’s imagination, or had Mildred actually slammed her window shut when Steven, Mildred’s son, had come over to say hello?

Very, very strange.

Shaking her head, Kasey shut off the engine and looked down at her sleeping sons. Cody, her eight-year-old, and Troy, almost seven, were slumped into each other, making it hard to tell where Cody’s thick, dark hair stopped and Troy’s wavy auburn hair started. It had been a long, busy two weeks for them. After the horse business was taken care of, they’d gone to the amusement park in Arlington, the rodeo in Dallas and the water park outside of Fort Worth.

It didn’t matter to her that she couldn’t afford it. Her sons deserved a family vacation, a real family vacation, not an assignment that their father dragged them along on, then left them all in a hotel while he went off to do his research.

Cody sat up abruptly, realizing the car had stopped. “Are we home?” he asked, blinking several times.

Home. They’d only moved here from New York two months ago, and the word home had never had a nicer sound. She smiled and combed her fingers through his hair. “We are.”

Cody realized at the moment that his younger brother was sleeping on him. “Get off me,” he said, shoving Troy away.

Troy rubbed at his eyes and yawned. “We home?”

“Mom,” Cody whined in disgust. “Troy drooled on me.”

“Did not.”

“Did, too.”

“You’re a moron.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Am not.”

“Are, too. Idiot, idiot.”

“That’s enough.” Kasey helped both boys out of the truck and sent them each a sharp look. Ah, yes, home, she thought with a sigh. Back to normal.

“Mom,” Cody said, putting the disagreement behind him and moving forward. “Can Troy and me go over to Brian’s house? We wanna show him the Battle Boy and Maniac Man we got on vacation.”

“It’s Troy and L” She reached into the bed of the truck, then shoved a bag of groceries into each boy’s arms before grabbing two herself. “And not today. It’s already starting to get dark, and you both still need to unpack.”

Cody and Troy started to argue with her, but she held firm and herded them through the front door and into the kitchen. She glanced at the answering machine on the kitchen wall phone, amazed at the number that was lit up on the display. Fifteen? Had her ad for a stud been that successful? She’d expected maybe five or six calls, but fifteen? She’d also noticed that her bag of mail had been stuffed to overflowing. Were there that many letters, also?

She’d deal with the messages and mail later. Right now she needed to get her food put away and her sons fed. They’d started arguing again, with Cody calling Troy a drool-mouth and Troy calling Cody a jerk. It would come to fists soon if she didn’t intercede, and she was too tired to deal with blood right now.

Separating them once again, the groceries were nearly put away when there was a knock at the front door. Like a call to dinner, both boys charged toward the sound.

Kasey frowned. She wasn’t expecting anyone, though it might be Sandy, Brian’s mother. She’d been caring for the horses and watching the house for Kasey while she was away. But Sandy thought they were coming home in the morning, not tonight.

She slid the last half gallon of milk into the refrigerator and shut the door, suddenly aware of the absolute quiet.

“Cody? Troy?”

When she came around the corner, she saw them standing just inside the screen door, staring at the ceiling. No, not the ceiling, she realized as she moved toward them. They were staring at a person. A very tall person she couldn’t make out through the screen door.

“Can I help you?” she asked, feeling a little nervous at the sheer size of the denim-clad stranger at her door. She tried to make out his face, but a black cowboy hat and the dim light shadowed his features. Though she was used to and didn’t mind being a single mom, at times like this she at least wished she owned a dog.

“Acacia Donovan?” a deep, strangely familiar voice asked.

Acacia? No one ever called her that. No one except...

Heart pounding, Kasey flipped on the porch light. He took off his hat and grinned down at her.

Her breath caught. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.

Slater.

Ten years fell away. She suddenly felt that her arms and legs were too long, her braces too tight, her hair too curly and her voice too high.

“Slater?” she whispered.

He nodded. “Yeah, Kasey, it’s me.”

Her knees shook as she moved closer to the screen door and studied his face. Older, a few more lines. He was more rugged, his dark hair a little longer. Different, but so familiar.

“You gonna make me stand out here all night?” he asked.

She looked down at her sons, who were still frozen in place, their necks bent back, their mouths open as they stared at the stranger. Under a different situation, she might have laughed. Unless they were sleeping, her sons were never quiet this long. But this wasn’t just a different situation.

This was Slater.

Her fingers shook as she reached for the screen door and pushed it open. Slater glanced down at Cody and Troy. Still staring, the boys slowly parted, and he stepped inside.

Kasey’s first impulse was to yell for Jeanie, to tell her that her big brother was here to pick her up. Her second impulse was to jump into his arms. She did neither. All she could do was stand there, a lump in her throat and a tight ache in her chest.

“Ah, these are my sons,” she said finally. “Cody—” she touched her oldest son’s head “—and Troy. Boys, this is Slater, an old friend of mine.”

Troy pressed against her, curious, but cautious, while Cody craned his neck upward and stared. “How old are you?” Cody asked.

“Cody Thomas Morgan,” Kasey reprimanded, “where are your manners?

“Well, you said he was old,” Cody grumbled.

With a half grin, Slater slipped his hat back on, then knelt and leaned close to Cody. “I’m thirty-four,” he whispered. “Is that old?”

Cody shrugged. “Not so bad. My mom’s twentyseven.”

Slater raised his brows in mock surprise. “That old, huh? Do you have to help her across the street and speak real loud so she can hear yon?”

Cody and Troy both burst into giggles. Kasey rolled her eyes and shook her head. What in the world was all this talk about age? Cody had never asked anyone how old they were before.

“We just got back from vacation,” Cody offered. “My mom bought a new horse called Miss Lucy, and we got to go to the rodeo and the water park.”

“And ride a roller coaster,” Troy added. He’d unglued himself from her side and had moved a few inches closer to the visitor.

“You ever take your kids on a roller coaster?” Cody asked.

“Cody,” Kasey warned, though she was curious herself now, “that’s enough questions.”

Slater smiled. “I don’t have any kids.”

“How come?” Suspicion edged Cody’s voice. “Don’t you like them?”

“Cody! I said, that’s enough.” Kasey took hold of her son’s shoulders.

“Sure, I like kids.” Slater tipped his hat back and looked at both Cody and Troy. “But I was moving around a lot, working on oil wells, and I just never got married.”

Cody’s eyes widened. “You work on oil wells. That’s cool. Does oil really squirt ten miles up and get all—”

Kasey clamped a hand over her son’s mouth. “No more questions. I’d like to talk to Slater now if it’s all right with you two.”

Cody and Troy glanced at each other and smiled. “Sure, Mom,” Cody said, looking back up at her. “You want us to leave you guys alone?”

Leave them alone? Kasey frowned at her son. Why was everyone, including her sons, acting so odd today? Was there a full moon tonight? “That’s not necessary.”

Slater straightened. “I, uh, heard you got married.”

She wondered how a man who’d walked away from family and friends—without so much as a glance backward—could have heard anything. “I’m divorced. Two years now.”

They stared at each other, the momentary silence awkward and heavy. Then they both spoke at the same time.

“You look—”

“You’ve sure—”

They both stopped, then smiled.

“Aw, hell, Kasey.” Slater shook his head as he opened his arms. “Come here, will you?”

With a small laugh, she moved into his arms. He was solid muscle against her, his scent masculine, his touch so familiar. This really was Slater. Tears gathered in her eyes and she blinked them back, afraid that he might see them and think her silly or childish.

Smiling, she pulled away and looked up at him. His eyes were still the same deep brown, but there were lines beside them now. She frowned at the jagged scar on his right temple and wondered what had happened. His jaw was more square, his chin stronger, his hair a richer, darker brown.

When she was seventeen she’d thought him the handsomest man alive. Looking at him now, her opinion was still the same.

His arms around her, his hands touching her waist made her dizzy. How could he have this effect on her after all these years? He couldn’t. She was overtired, stressed from her trip. Why else would her pulse be racing and her head ringing?

“You gonna get that?”

“What?”

He nodded toward the kitchen. “The phone. It’s ringing.”

“Oh, yes.” She heard it now. “Of course.”

She pulled away and backed toward the kitchen. “Cody, Troy, take Slater into the living room and keep him company. I’ll be right back.”

Slater watched Kasey turn and disappear into the kitchen. He glanced around the entry, letting the past back into his life for a moment. Everything was the same; the dark oak table just inside the screen door where Mrs. Donovan had always kept fresh flowers, the hat rack beside it where Mr. Donovan had always hung his gray Stetson beside his blue baseball cap. And the family portrait, taken on the front porch, not long before he’d left. He took a step closer and grinned at the framed snapshot. Kasey, with her brilliant smile and wild red hair, one arm looped over her father’s broad shoulders, the other arm twined around her mother’s slender waist. He stared at the picture and his smile faded

The same, and yet, not the same.

He glanced down at Kasey’s sons. Definitely not the same.

He was still trying to sort everything, but nothing seemed to fit into place. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but he certainly hadn’t expected what he’d found. She’d grown up. Really grown up, he thought, recalling the soft swell of her breasts under the pink cotton knit shirt she wore. Her eyes were bigger than he’d remembered, the green darker. Before, she’d always worn her mass of red hair in a ponytail or pinned up. Now, long auburn curls framed her heart-shaped face and emphasized her high cheeks and wide, sensuous lips.

Sensuous? Had he really thought that about Kasey? He wanted to kick himself. Kasey’s sons were staring up at him, their expressions serious, as if they’d heard every unspoken thought. Feeling guilty, Slater looked away and shifted uncomfortably.

“You come here to see my mom?” Cody asked.

It was the older boy who’d asked the question, Slater realized. Cody. He nodded to the child. “That’s right.”

“Why?”

Slater raised his brows, then knelt in front of the boys. “We used to be friends.”

“Aren’t you anymore?

Good question, Slater thought. “I hope so.”

Cody seemed to think about that for a moment. The younger boy, Troy, moved closer and stared intently.

“That’s a neat scar,” Troy said, finding his voice. “Would you like to marry our mom?”

Slater doubted that a two-by-four across his head could have hit him harder. Were things that bad with Kasey that her own sons were interviewing potential husbands for her? Speechless, he stared at the two boys. They stood in front of him, their eyes locked on his, waiting for an answer. He didn’t want to hurt their feelings, or offend Kasey, but the fact was, he had no intention of marrying anyone. He liked his life just fine as it was.

Slater ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, I...it’s like this, boys, I, uh, think your mom’s great and all, but—”

“The nerve of some people!”

Slater nearly fell backward at Kasey’s sudden exclamation. She stood at the kitchen doorway, arms folded tightly. Slater stood abruptly, bumping into the entryway table.

“It’s nothing, personal, Kasey, I just—”

“Nothing personal?” She moved into the room, her eyes flashing. “Nothing personal? Of course, it’s personal!”

“I’m sorry, Kase, I just don’t—”

“Why should you be sorry?” She threw her arms out, then jammed them onto her slim hips. “I place an ad for a simple business deal, and all the guy cares about is my financial statement and bloodlines.”

Financial statement? Bloodlines? Slater felt his own blood begin to boil. Kasey Donovan came from the finest people that were ever born, and as far as financial statements were concerned, if some slime-jerk wanted money to marry Kasey, then he wasn’t fit to be in the same room with her. Hell, the same state even!

Is that all this was to her? A business deal? Thank God he’d gotten here before she’d done anything stupid. He had to make her see that she couldn’t go ahead with this ridiculous scheme.

“Kasey—” Slater looked at Cody and Troy “—could I talk to you, uh, privately?”

Still frowning, Kasey stared at Slater for a moment, then snapped out of her tirade. “Oh, of course. Cody, Troy, go get your suitcases out of the car and unpack while I talk to Slater.”

They started to argue, but one look, a look only a mother can perfect, had both boys turning away, shoulders slumped.

“Come, on, Slate.” She turned and walked back to the kitchen. “Give a hand while I get dinner started. You’re staying, of course.”

Just like the old days, he thought with a smile and followed. But when she bent to search through a stack of cans in the corner pantry, Kasey’s well-rounded bottom encased in snug jeans reminded him this was definitely not the old days, and she definitely was not the same Kasey.

Clearing his throat, he looked away and studied a blue-framed needlepoint by the back door that said, Home Is Where The Heart Is.

“Here—” she tossed him a can of green beans then headed for the refrigerator “—open these while I mix the hamburgers. So you’re into oil now, huh? Where you working?”

He caught the can and turned to the electric opener on the counter beside the sink. “I’ve got a job starting on an Alaskan rig in three weeks.”

“Alaska!” Hamburger in one hand and an onion in the other, Kasey closed the refrigerator door with a bump of her hip. “You hate the cold. Remember the ski trip we took to Colorado? You were miserable the whole time.”

He didn’t exactly hate it, he just preferred the heat. And this was getting way off the subject he wanted to pursue. “Look, Kasey, about your ad in the paper—”

“You saw it?” She closed the refrigerator and stared at him in amazement. “How?”

He wasn’t quite ready to explain that he’d subscribed to the Granite Ridge Gazette for the past ten years. Ignoring her question, he clipped the can of green beans onto the opener, turned it on, and glanced over his shoulder at her. “Kase, there are always options.”

Still holding the package of hamburger in her hand, she stared blankly at him. “Options?”

“Alternatives, another way to, uh, deal with your situation.”

She frowned. “Well, I suppose there are, but I really haven’t the time or money for anything else. Besides, the good old-fashioned way is more my style. At least this way, if it doesn’t work, I can get my money back.”

Slater’s hand slipped off the electric can opener and the can clattered onto the counter.

“Get your money back?” he rasped. “You mean to tell me you’re actually going to pay someone to marry you?”

Two

Kasey blinked. A slow opening and closing of her lids, as if, in the space between dark and light. Slater’s words might actually make some sense.

Pay someone to marry her?

What, on God’s good earth, was he talking about?

All she could do was stare, despite the fact that green beans were running over the counter and into the sink, despite the fact that Slater was waiting for her to say something.

Had he slipped in a puddle of oil and fallen off a derrick? Or maybe a loose coupling had knocked him in the head. Maybe that scar on his forehead had been a more serious injury than it appeared.

She cleared her throat and met his dark, intense gaze. “Excuse me?”

He frowned. “Look, Kasey, I know it’s none of my business. You’re obviously a big girl now. But advertising for a husband in a newspaper is just not safe. God only knows what kind of maniac might show up at your door.”

A maniac did show up at her door, she thought in disbelief. Him. “Slater,” she said quietly, “could you, uh, explain to me exactly why you’re here?”

“Kasey, look—” he sighed deeply “—I realize life gets a little lonely. Sometimes when things overwhelm a person, they don’t think too clearly and they make rash decisions.”

“You mean my decision to buy a husband,” she said, wanting to make sure she understood him. Only she didn’t understand him.

“You gotta admit, Kase, it is a little crazy.”

Crazy? He was talking to her about crazy? She looked at the package of meat in her hand. Did he really think that she wanted to buy a husband, like she might a pound of hamburger? Where in the world did he get such an idea?

“This advertisement,” she asked carefully, “exactly where did you see it?”

“It doesn’t matter where I saw it,” he said firmly. “I just thought that maybe you needed someone, a friend. With your parents gone, and you being divorced and having a family...” His voice trailed off, and he shifted anxiously.

Family. Her sons. Kasey suddenly realized they’d been awfully quiet for awfully long. She glanced at the kitchen door and saw two little heads duck away, then heard the sound of footsteps heading up the stairs.

If this day got any stranger, she’d be in the twilight zone.

Maybe she was in the twilight zone. She remembered the looks she’d gotten in town, the snickers, the way Mildred had treated her when Steven had wanted to say hello.

The way her sons had acted with Slater.

Could it be...was it possible?

“Excuse me for a minute, will you?” She shoved the hamburger at Slater. “I’ll be right back.”

“But—”

She ignored him and headed straight for her sons’ bedroom. She had the strangest—and most horrible—feeling that they knew something she didn’t.

She found them putting their clothes away, exactly as she’d told them to do. That cinched it. If they were actually doing as she’d asked, without being told three times, there was no doubt they were up to something.

They glanced at her when she entered the room, but continued unpacking with the same attention they might give a video game.

“Hey, Mom.” Cody pulled a stack of baseball cards out of his suitcase and shuffled them nervously. “Is Mr. Slater still here?”

“As a matter of fact, he is.” She closed the door quietly behind her, then leaned back against it They’d break, she knew, and based on the tension in the room, it wouldn’t be long.

“Is he gonna stay?” Troy asked, then bit his bottom lip when Cody shot him a vicious look.

“Stay?” Kasey repeated. “Would there be a reason why he might stay?”

“He’s your friend, isn’t he?” Cody dropped the baseball cards into a big box along with all the other cards in his collection, then glanced at his mother, his look hopeful.

“A friend I haven’t seen in ten years,” Kasey said. “And now, suddenly, here he is, telling me the most amazing story about an ad in a newspaper. Something about a husband.”

The boys looked at each other, then Cody hurriedly turned his attention back to unpacking his suitcase. Troy carefully studied one of the rocks he’d collected on the trip.

“The funny thing is,” Kasey went on, “I don’t seem to remember placing an ad in any newspaper for a husband. I mean, I could have forgotten, being so busy with the trip and all, but I don’t think so.” She moved closer to her sons and stood over them, arms folded. “What do you boys think?”

Cody grabbed a handful of dirty socks and started for the dresser. Kasey stepped around him, then pointed to his bed. “Sit.” She looked at Troy. “You, too.”

Eyes downcast, both boys sat.

Arms folded, she stood over her sons. “You want to tell me something?”

Cody sighed. “We were gonna tell ya, really, but we sorta forgot.”

“You forgot?”

“Yeah,” Troy agreed. “We forgot.”

She raised one brow. “Tell me exactly what you forgot”

Cody looked at Troy, then slumped his shoulders in defeat. “Well, you know when we were on vacation, after you bought Miss Lucy from Mr. Murdock, and Troy and me were playing checkers?”

“Cody was cheating,” Troy piped in.

“Was not.” Cody scowled at his brother. “You just don’t know how to play.”

“Do, too.” Troy screwed up his face. “Mom taught me.”

“That’s enough.” She remembered now. They’d been arguing over the game then, as well. “Go on, Cody.”

Cody threw Troy one last look, then turned back to his mother. “Well, when we asked you to play, too, you said you would, as soon as you finished what you were doing and we asked you what you were doing and you said you were writing an ad and we asked you what for and you said you were looking for a horse husband for Miss Lucy.”

It took a moment for Cody’s rush of words to pull together. The hotel room in Dallas. Cody and Troy had been asking her questions about the ad and Miss Lucy. She hadn’t quite been ready to explain the process of hiring a studhorse, and somehow the term “horse husband” just sort of popped out. In any case, she still wasn’t quite connecting the dots here. “And?”

“Well, Troy and me, well, me really, ’cause Troy don’t read so good yet—”

“So well,” Kasey corrected out of habit.

“Yeah, so we were looking at one of the newspapers you brought along on the trip, you know, the Granite Ridge Gazette, and there was a place you can buy and sell things, so that’s what we did.”

“What did you do?” she asked, breath held.

“You know, we wrote an ad for you.”

Oh, dear Lord, they didn’t...

Cody’s grin was as wide as it was proud. “Filled it out and mailed it, all by ourselves. We were going to surprise you.”

She stared at her sons, unable to speak. Surprise her? That was the understatement of the century.

Knees weak, Kasey sank slowly onto the bed opposite her sons and closed her eyes. It would certainly explain the bizarre way everyone had treated her in town, Slater showing up, all the mail and phone messages—

Oh, no...that must be why she had so many calls. They were for stud services and potential husbands. She nearly choked at the juxtaposition of the two.

Her eyes flew open. “Cody,” she asked slowly, “exactly what did this ad say?”

“Not much.” He reached behind him into his suitcase, then pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to her. “It don’t cost as much if you don’t use a lotta words. Troy and me saved some money you gave us from the video arcade.”

The supreme sacrifice, Kasey realized, not even bothering to correct her son’s grammar this time. She took the slip of paper as if it were a snake, then drew in a deep breath and read, “Wanted: One Husband. Not too old. Must like kids. List good qualities. Call Kasey at the Double D Ranch—555-4832 or send picture to 684 Marva Lane, Granite Ridge, TX.”

Her heart stopped, then raced. No. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. The words blurred as she stared at the paper.

Cody looked down at the floor and kicked at the edge of the blue braided rug between the twin beds. “We know Daddy made you cry when he went to Mexico with Gloria, so we thought maybe...well, you know, that you might feel better if you weren’t alone anymore.”

Kasey felt her breath catch in the back of her throat. She’d been so careful to hide her emotions from her sons when Paul had walked out on them. How could she have explained to a then four- and six-year-old that the tears she’d shed had been anger and frustration at herself? Certainly not because she was alone, or because she missed their father.

She’d made it on her own for the past two years and she was proud of that. She wanted to be single now. She enjoyed the independence. All she needed was her sons and this ranch. Nothing else in the world mattered to her.

She looked at them now. They were watching her, waiting for her approval. How could she be upset with them? They wanted her to be happy and they thought a husband—any husband—would make her happy. She shook her head. They had so much to learn.

“Cody. Troy.” She knelt on the floor and leaned in close to her sons. “I’m not alone, sweethearts. I have you both. Don’t you know how much I love you, and how happy it makes me to be here with you, living in Grandma and Grandpa’s house? We won’t have to move anymore, and you won’t have to change schools or make new friends all the time.”

“Brian says Miss Foster, the first-grade teacher is nice.” Troy rolled the rock he held back and forth between his hands. “He said he was in her class two years ago and on Fridays she lets kids bring in stuff to share. I’m going to bring my rock collection.”

Kasey smiled. Troy’s rock collection was his pride and joy. He’d been gathering up pebbles and stones in a shoe box for the past two years. Since Paul had left.

“Won’t you and Brian be in the same class?” Kasey turned to her older son.

“We’re gonna sit next to each other.” Cody pulled at the frayed edges of the growing hole on the knee of his jeans. “He says his dad is taking him on a camping trip next weekend and me and Troy could come along.”

In that instant, Kasey understood so much more than what her sons were saying. Maybe even more than they understood. They weren’t just looking for a husband for her. They were looking for a father for themselves.

The realization was like a fist around her heart. There was nothing she could do, nothing she could say, to make that situation any different. She’d stayed in one marriage, thinking it best for her children, but they’d been hurt anyway. She had no intention of making a mistake like that ever again.

“Of course you can go on the camping trip,” she said, wrapping her arms around her sons and pulling them close to her. They squirmed against her, then broke into giggles when she started to tickle them.

“So it’s okay, then?” Breathless, still laughing, Cody rolled away. “About the ad?”

Oh, yes. The ad. Still kneeling beside the bed, she groaned and fell face forward on Cody’s bed.

What was she going to do now? Call the paper, of course, except it was too late now. She’d have to call first thing in the morning. But all those issues already out there, and all those calls on her machine...

“Tell you what,” she said with a sigh, “next time you boys want to surprise me, let me know first, okay?”

Cody screwed up his face. “That’s silly, Mom. It wouldn’t be a surprise then, would it?”

Exactly what she didn’t need any more of. She thought of Slater downstairs. Perhaps that was the one good thing that had come out of this. It felt good to know that he cared enough to come check up on her because he thought she was in trouble. She’d simply go downstairs and explain everything.

And then he would leave.

She felt a dull ache deep inside her, but dismissed it. So he’d leave. What did she expect? Of course he’d leave. He had a life, she had a life. Tonight they’d catch up on old news, then he’d be on his way. She’d go on with her life, and so would he.

By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, she still hadn’t a clue what to say. She drew in a long breath, then headed for the kitchen. She’d just tell him. They’d have a good laugh, he’d stay for dinner, he’d leave and that would be the end of it.

He was pacing from the back door to the kitchen sink when she walked into the kitchen, his frown dark and imgatient.

“Slater—”

He stalked over to her. “Kasey, sit down.”

“Slater, I know how this—”

“Sit.” He pointed to the kitchen chair.

Kasey frowned. Hadn’t she just gone through this with her kids, only in reverse? She most certainly wasn’t a child anymore, even if he thought she was.

But children had taught her patience, she reasoned. And Slater seemed so determined to have his say, and ignore hers, why not let him go on for a while? Folding her arms, she sat in the chair and looked up at him.

He dragged both hands through his thick hair. “Kase, you’re obviously in some kind of trouble. It’s understandable how hard life must be for you. Raising two kids by yourself, no husband and all.”

Exactly the way she wanted it.

“But placing an ad like that, Kase, it’s dangerous, and I just have to say, downright foolish. God only knows who might try to take advantage of your vulnerability.”

Foolish? Vulnerable? She pressed her lips tightly together, hoping that Mr. Hugh Slater was hungry, because she was about to serve him a big helping of crow.

“Slater, I know how this looks, but that ad was placed with the best of intentions and—”

“The best of intentions!” Hands on his hips, he stood over her. “It’s just plain stupid.”

She felt suddenly defensive of her sons. What they’d done, they’d done out of love. They wanted her to be happy. There was nothing stupid about that. She rose slowly and leveled her gaze with his. “Stupid?”

His voice gentled as he took hold of her shoulders. “Look, I’m sorry. In my entire life, I’ve never stuck my nose in anyone’s business. But this is different. This is you, Kasey. We go way back, no matter how many years in between. When I saw that ad, my gut told me I had to stop you. You have every right to be mad at me, for leaving like I did ten years ago. All I’m asking now is that you don’t do anything rash. That you’ll think about this.”

His words, his hands on her shoulders, made it difficult to think at all. Suddenly ten years, and all that had happened in between, melted away...

She sat in the church pew. Her mother wept quietly beside her, while her father dabbed at his own moisture-filled eyes. On her left, Slater sat rigid, his face pale. And to Slater’s left, Jack Slater stared ahead, unblinking, emotionless, as the service began.

“Death is never easy.” Reverend Green looked out at the crowded pews, his face grim, his voice solemn. “But the death of one so young, with such promise, is beyond words.”

Kasey had told herself she’d be strong. That Jeanie would have wanted her to be. But the blackness inside her, the emptiness, kept pulling at her, threatening to overtake her. She kept her eyes to the front of the church, at the flowers covering the casket.

It wasn’t Jeanie. It wasn’t.

An arm came around her shoulders. Slater. When had she started to cry? He pulled her close, held her. She would have crawled inside him if she could. It would be safe there.

She knew he was leaving. He hadn’t told her, but she’d seen his bags in the back of his truck.

“Slater,” she whispered. “Take me with you.”

He stilled, but said nothing.

“Please don’t leave me, too,” she murmured. “I love you.”

She felt, more than heard, his sigh. He cradled her against him, ran his hand over her hair. She breathed in the scent of his aftershave, felt the strong, steady beat of his heart under her fingertips, and she knew she’d never love again...

“Kasey, are you listening to me? I want you to think about this, that’s all I’m asking.”

Blinking slowly, she stared at Slater, forcing herself to focus on his words. How young and foolish she’d been. Of course she’d loved again. She’d met Paul one year later, hadn’t she?

She stepped away from Slater’s touch, from the heat that had begun to swirl up her spine. “I appreciate your concern, but there’s nothing to think about.”

“Kasey—” He turned and threw his hands out with exasperation. “You can’t just marry some strange guy. Let’s talk about this. Whatever problems you might—”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m not marrying a strange guy. I’m not marrying anyone.”

He hesitated, then slowly turned back toward her. “You aren’t?”

“No. I never was.”

“You weren’t?”

She shook her head.

“But the ad, with your name and the Double D...”

Patience touched her smile. “I’m afraid my boys are the culprits. When we were in Dallas I placed an ad for a stud—as in stallion—for the mare I just bought. Cody and Troy decided to surprise me with an ad of their own.”

Kasey’s sons placed the ad? Slater suddenly found that he couldn’t speak. Perhaps it was due to the fact that his foot was in his mouth. He sank slowly into a chair at the kitchen table and simply stared at her.

She sat across from him, then flipped her hair off her shoulders and laughed hesitantly. “Somewhere they got the crazy idea that I, uh, could use a husband.”

Her cheeks flushed bright pink, emphasizing the deep green of her eyes. He felt like an idiot, talking to her as he had. Ten years might have made him older, but it sure as hell hadn’t made him any smarter.

“And here I thought I was saving you from doing something foolish,” he said, shaking his head. “Too bad there wasn’t someone to save me.”

“I’m glad there wasn’t,” she said quietly, holding her gaze steady with his. “Ten years is too long.”

The look in her eyes warmed him. It felt good, sitting in the kitchen with Kasey. He’d spent many an hour here, with the Donovans, at this very table, eating, talking, laughing.

He covered her hand with his and linked fingers. “I’m sorry about your folks, Kase. I was out of the country when it happened. By the time I found out and called, the number was disconnected. I didn’t know how to reach you.”

There was a high-pitched squeal from upstairs, a stomping of feet and the slam of a door. Kasey seemed oblivious to it.

“Paul and I never stayed in one place very long. The seven years we were married, I think we moved five times. He was easily bored.”

There was something in Kasey’s voice and the upward lift of her chin that had Slater’s jaw tightening and his protective defenses kicking into overdrive. He knew enough about pride to understand he couldn’t ask her about it. Not yet, anyway. “And the past two years?”

“The boys and I stayed in New York. I had a great job with an investment company that paid for schooling and offered flexible hours for working mothers. It gave me a chance to spend more time with my sons, take the classes I needed for my degree, and make a few good investments.” The ceiling fan over the kitchen table shook from a sudden pounding overhead. Kasey ignored it. “I’d had the ranch leased out, and once I had enough money saved, I came back here. I’m boarding a few horses right now, and as soon as I find the right stud for Miss Lucy, I’m going to start raising quarter horses. My boys are going to have the kind of life they deserve.”

Determination shone in her eyes. A fierce love for her children that summoned an unexpected stab of envy in his gut. Thank God there were mothers like Kasey to make up for the Paul Morgans and Jack Slaters in the world.

“Listen,” she whispered suddenly.

He did, but there was only quiet. Confused, he watched her straighten in her chair, her green eyes narrowing. She pulled her hand from his, and he couldn’t help but notice how smooth and soft her fingers were against his calloused palms. He started to say something, but she put one long, tapered finger to her lips. Lips that were wide and turned up at the corners, lips that could make a man forget himself.

Which was exactly what he was doing, dammit. He gave himself a mental kick and reined in his unwanted thoughts. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly. And therein lies the problem. Prepare yourself, Slater.”

“Prepare myself for—”

They hit with all the vengeance of a tornado. Two screaming banshees blew into the kitchen, arms flailing and feet flying. Troy was in the lead, his shrieks a mixture of terror and laughter; Cody was on his brother’s heels, his red face blazing with anger, his hair wet and dripping with green goo.

“I’m gonna rip your liver out,” Cody wailed. Troy stuck out his tongue. Slater ducked as Cody flung a wad of the green slime at Troy. They circled the table twice, then darted out the back door.

Slater stared at the open back door. “Shouldn’t we be calling the paramedics?”

Kasey’s laugh was deeper than he’d remembered, richer. “You haven’t been around kids much, have you?”

Hardly. Jared Stone had a two-month-old baby, and Jake, Jared’s brother, had a one-month-old. At a family gathering only a few days ago, Savannah, Jake’s wife, had insisted that Slater hold both babies for a picture. Before he knew it, he’d been corralled onto the couch with a tiny baby girl in each arm. He’d faced guerrillas in South America and wild bulls in Texas that hadn’t terrified him half as much. “Can’t say that I have.”

“Well, Slater,” she said with a sigh, “you’re about to get an education. You might as well sit back and relax.”

The front door banged open.

“Stupid face!”

“Dog breath!”

“Wussy!”

“Dork!”

They blasted up the stairs in a salvo of insults. The air seemed to quiver in their wake.

Kasey frowned, then rose. The firm set of her mouth and the hard look in her eyes had Slater feeling sorry for the boys. It also had him glad he wasn’t the subject of whatever sentence was about to be laid down.

“I’ll make up the guest room after I ‘speak’ to my sons. You’re staying the night.”

He opened his mouth to decline, then shut it again when he saw the firm set of her mouth. He folded his hands in his lap and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

She grinned, then stopped at the kitchen door and looked at him. “By the way, Slate, you might want to wash that green slime off the back of your head before it dries.”

Three

Slater rose early, even before the sun began to push its first rays across the horizon. He pulled on a navy T-shirt, worn jeans and boots, then quietly made his way down the stairs.

Dinner had been quite an experience last night, he remembered with a smile. A noisy one. Excited from their trip, Cody and Troy had talked at the same time, relating every detail of their vacation. Kasey continually reminded them of their manners, corrected their grammar and pushed the green beans. While they were clearing the table, both boys insisted they weren’t even a little tired and couldn’t they stay up and watch “Hannibal’s Heroes”? How else would they find out who had stolen Yuma Blackhawk’s telepathic crystal ring?

Kasey sent them upstairs for baths, but before the coffee had finished brewing, both boys were sprawled, half dressed, out cold on their beds. They obviously slept as hard as they played, Slater had thought as he’d stood at the bedroom door and watched Kasey kiss her sons good-night. His own mother had died before he’d even turned ten, but he remembered her whispered “sleep tight,” as she’d tuck him in every night, and the memory had brought a tightening in his chest.

He closed the back door behind him with a soft click, careful not to let the screen door slam. He knew that Kasey needed the sleep as much as her boys. They’d stayed up and talked until long after midnight, covering the highlights of each other’s life for the past ten years, but the long drive from Dallas had taken its toll on her and he’d sent her to bed mimicking the same parental tone she’d used on her sons. She’d gone under protest, and only after he’d promised to fill her in on every juicy detail of his life in the morning.

The air was crisp this morning, the inside of the barn pungent with the scent of horse and leather and alfalfa. He heard a soft whinny, then a rustling of hay as the animals stirred. So familiar, he thought. Every smell, every sound a reminder of another time, another place.

A place he’d sworn never to come back to.

With a sigh, he picked up a rake. The wood felt solid and smooth under his hand. He hadn’t mucked out a stall in ten years, but the rhythm came back easily to him. So did pitching hay, he found, after he’d cleaned six occupied stalls. Effortlessly, he swung the pitchfork into the bale, hooked a bite, then arched the flake over his shoulder into the stall of a pretty little chestnut mare. She munched daintily, then blew out a delicate snort of thanks.

“You’re welcome,” Slater mumbled, and stabbed the fork back into the bale. His next customer, an unusually fine-looking speckled gray, nodded his approval, then turned his attention to his breakfast.

Slater had been working in near darkness, but now the dawn light began to spill into the barn through the open doors. And, he noted with a frown, through the roof, as well.

Leaning against the pitchfork, Slater surveyed the interior of the barn. It was neat and clean, but in desperate need of repairs. Holes in the roof, missing doors on the three end stalls, rotting wood. Only the stalls that housed the horses had been rebuilt.

He’d noticed the inside of Kasey’s house had shown signs of wear also. The kitchen faucet had rattled and leaked, the screens in the spare bedroom and upstairs bathroom were torn, a window in the living room cracked and the front porch steps ready to cave in.

Maybe her kids weren’t so far off after all, Slater thought. Maybe she could use a husband.

He shook his head at the ridiculous idea and tossed a flake of hay to a sorrel gelding in the next stall. Of course Kasey didn’t need a husband. A leaky faucet and broken window hardly required matrimony.

“Hugh Slater, what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

Pitchfork in hand, he swung around. She stood at the barn’s entrance, hands on her denim-clad hips, frowning at him. He swiped at the sweat beaded on his brow, then stabbed the pitchfork into the mound of hay and rested his hands on top of the handle. “Good morning.”

She folded her arms, then tossed her head to shake back the auburn curls spilling over the shoulders of her slate blue blouse. “Don’t ‘good morning’ me, mister. You’re supposed to be in bed, not mucking out stalls and feeding horses.”

There was purpose in her stride as she marched toward him, and it was impossible not to notice the sway of her slender hips. Curves had definitely settled in all the right places on her. If the lady was looking for a husband, or anything else, there would no doubt be a long line of males eager to oblige.

“Man’s got to pay for his room and board somehow,” he said, holding tight when she covered his hands with hers and tried to tug the pitchfork away. “Besides, I wanted to see if I still had the touch.”

She smiled at him. “Slater, you always had the touch, don’t you know that?”

She’d said the words innocently enough, but an undercurrent moved between them, an unspoken hint of something that had his hands tightening on the pitchfork handle.

Her fingers were warm and smooth over his, her skin soft. Before he could stop the thought, he wondered if she was that soft all over.

A mare from the fourth stall whinnied loudly, complaining she hadn’t been fed. Slater nodded toward the distressed animal, thankful for the interruption, uneasy with his reaction to Kasey’s touch. “At least let me finish what I started. Then I promise I’ll sit on my butt and do nothing.”

And a nice butt it is, Kasey noted as he turned away, then had to swallow back a gasp at her unexpected thought. Something had just passed between them a moment ago, something that still had her a little shaken, yet a little exhilarated at the same time. What would have happened, she wondered, if they’d have let themselves explore the awareness that had sparked between them, if they’d leaned closer and crossed over the invisible line that had been drawn between them?

Chastising herself for such an outrageous thought, a thought that had no possible chance of becoming a reality, Kasey scooped up a bucket of oats and moved down the row of stalls, following behind Slater, watching him feed the horses as she had hundreds of times before at his father’s ranch.

He’d carefully avoided any discussion of his father last night. They’d talked about jobs they’d had, people they’d both known, who’d gotten married or moved, but if the conversation even came close to mentioning his father, then Slater immediately changed the subject.

It wasn’t easy to discuss what was happening in Granite Ridge and avoid the name of Jack Slater and the Bar S. The man and the ranch were icons in Granite Ridge and the surrounding counties. He was known as far north as Amarillo and as far south as San Antonio as one of the wealthiest and finest breeders of quarter horses. He was also known as an overbearing, hard businessman who demanded perfection. Which would have also described him as a father.

“So what do you think of my boarders?” She ran her hand over the chestnut mare’s velvety nose.

“Nice stock.” He tossed the last fleck of hay into the end stall. “Especially the gray and the chestnut you’re petting. They look young, but they’ve got strong cutting potential. The others are good for riding, except for that little sorrel on the end. She’s a tad high-strung, though nothing a little work and a few sweet words wouldn’t fix.”

He was right. But that didn’t surprise her. Ten years ago, Slater had been the best horseman around. He could make the most difficult bronc do wheelies, then beg to pull a plow. “I hope to have a full stable by the end of the year. With that income and Miss Lucy as a brood-mare, the Double D will be good as new in no time.”

“Ah, yes, Miss Lucy.” He stabbed the pitchfork into a bale of hay and grinned. “The blushing bride. When are you expecting her?”

“Tomorrow.” She tossed a handful of oats to the gray and glanced over her shoulder at Slater. “I wish you could see her.”

It was an unspoken invitation to stay. They both knew it. Slater’s dark gaze met hers and the awkward silence hovered between them.

“I have to get going, Kase,” he said finally.

Dammit, dammit, dammit. Why had she let herself get her hopes up, even for a second? She’d known from the moment she laid eyes on him that he’d had no intention of staying. Ten years may have passed, but nothing had really changed. Not his feelings for Granite Ridge and his father.

Not his feelings for her. She was still his kid sister’s best friend, nothing more.

She swung the bucket of oats to the next stall, forcing a lightness to her voice that contradicted the heaviness in her heart. “What about all those juicy tidbits of your life you promised?”

He gave her a cocky smile. “Yeah, well that should take all of about five minutes.”

She doubted that. There was a look in his eyes, something in the way he carried himself and the tone of his voice that told her there was much more than he’d ever let on. And last night, even though they’d talked half the night, she still knew nothing significant about the past ten years. Everything he’d told her had been superficial and decidedly vague.

“I’m going in to town to straighten things out at the newspaper.” She brushed her hands off on her jeans. “We could have breakfast at Callie’s. She still makes the best blueberry waffles in the county.”

“And the best corn muffins.” His expression was one of reverence, then he slowly shook his head. “It’s better this way, Kase.”

She couldn’t help the knot of anger tightening in her chest. Mission accomplished. There were no maidens to rescue, so it was “Hasta la vista, baby.”

“Will you say goodbye to the boys?”

“I wasn’t just going to drive off,” he said with a frown. “Are they up yet?”

As if on cue, they came charging into the barn, whooping like wild beasts wearing baseball caps and blue jeans. Cody had a glove and ball, Troy a baseball bat. “Hey, Slater,” Troy called, “wanna hit a few?”

“Slater has to leave now,” Kasey said, amazed that she was able to keep her voice even. “Come say goodbye and thank him for helping with your chores.”

Troy bumped into the back of Cody when he stopped suddenly. “Leaving. You mean, like really leaving, not coming back?” Cody asked.

Kasey started to answer, then thought better of it. He hadn’t made it easy for her ten years ago when he’d left, had he? Why should she make it easy for him now?

Slater looked at her, then glanced back at the boys and cleared his throat. “I was just stopping by to say hi to your mom,” he mumbled awkwardly. “I’m glad I got to meet you, though.”

They stared up at him for a long moment, then Troy said, “Where you going?”

“Uh, Alaska.”

“Where’s Alaska?” Troy asked.

“It’s far away,” Cody answered with authority. “And it’s real cold.”

Kasey smiled knowingly at Slater. He frowned at her, then knelt in front of the boys so he could look them in the eye. “Alaska is a beautiful place. You should go there sometime with your mom.”

Troy shook his head. “I like it here. It’s not cold, either. We don’t have to stay inside all the time.”

Confinement had always been difficult for her sons, Kasey thought. They hated being inside, and had disliked the heavy clothing and jackets, as well. “We need to go into town now, boys. Say goodbye to Slater.”

“’Bye.” There was no enthusiasm in Cody’s voice as he tossed the baseball back and forth between his hand and glove.

“’Bye.” Troy stepped closer to Cody, dragging the bat on the ground.

“Take care,” Slater said with a smile, then stood.

Kasey tried to swallow the lump that had settled in her throat, but it refused to budge. No matter how much she wanted him to stay, she wouldn’t ask, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to cry.

“It was good to see you, Slate,” she said. “Stop by again sometime in the next millennium. If I’m lucky, I’ll have grandkids.”

“I’m sorry, Kasey.” He reached out and tugged her into his arms. “I wish it could be different.”

She leaned against him, breathed in the smell of him, a mixture of man and horse and hay. It would have to last her a long time. Most likely a lifetime.

“Would you like me to tell your father anything?” She had to try one last time, as a parent, as Slater’s friend.

“No.” He dropped his arms away. “I’ll give you a call. Drop a postcard.”

She nodded, but they both knew he wouldn’t. She also knew she didn’t want to watch him drive away again. “I want to be at the newspaper when they open. You’re welcome to use the shower and help yourself to breakfast. There’s muffins and apples on the counter in the kitchen.”

His smile never reached his eyes. “Take care of yourself, Kase.”

“I always have, Slate,” she said, then turned and walked away with her sons.

Slater had already showered, stuffed his dirty clothes into his duffel bag and was headed out the back door when the phone rang. He hesitated, knowing she hadn’t cleared her answering machine and it couldn’t pick up any more messages. He also knew how important it was to her to find that stud for Miss Lucy.

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