“Where are your folks?” Adam Mackenzie asked the twin boys standing in front of him.

“We don’t talk to strangers,” they replied.

“Well, this stranger wants to let your parents know what mischief you were up to.”

A screen door slammed, reverberating through the quiet Oklahoma afternoon. Adam knew he was in big trouble. She stomped toward him, brown hair lifting in the breeze. Faded jeans and a T-shirt, her face devoid of makeup and he was suddenly sixteen again.

He let out a breath and remembered why he was here. And he remembered to be angry about his car and everything else that was out of his control.

“What’s going on here?” She came to a stop behind the boys.

“Your dog was in the road, and the boys were close to getting run over.”

“I’m really sorry about that.” She gathered her sons close, in a tight-knit huddle.

“It’s okay. I just wouldn’t want them to get hurt.”

“You’re right, of course. I’m Jenna Cameron.” She held out a small hand. “Welcome to Dawson.”

BRENDA MINTON

started creating stories to entertain herself during hour-long rides on the school bus. In high school she wrote romance novels to entertain her friends. The dream grew and so did her aspirations to become an author. She started with notebooks, handwritten manuscripts and characters that refused to go away until their stories were told. Eventually she put away the pen and paper and got down to business with the computer. The journey took a few years, with some encouragement and rejection along the way—as well as a lot of stubbornness on her part. In 2006, her dream to write for the Steeple Hill Love Inspired line came true.

Brenda lives in the rural Ozarks with her husband, three kids and an abundance of cats and dogs. She enjoys a chaotic life that she wouldn’t trade for anything—except, on occasion, a beach house in Texas. You can stop by and visit at her Web site, www.brendaminton.net.

Jenna’s Cowboy Hero
Brenda Minton

In his heart a man plans his course,

but the Lord determines his steps.

—Proverbs 16:9

This book is dedicated to all of the people

who keep climbing mountains and to those

who want to climb mountains.

To my family for putting up with me.

To my friends who keep answering the phone.

(Haven’t you learned your lesson?)

To Janet and Melissa, for the continued support

and encouragement.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

“What do you mean, there’s no money in the account?” Adam Mackenzie shouted into his cell phone.

His manager, Will, sighed from five hundred miles away. “The money is gone, Adam. Fortunately, a lot of the work on the camp has already been done.”

Adam gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and went through the list of reasons why this wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened to him. He had been through worse things.

The most important thing to remember: the camp wouldn’t be his problem for very long. But how could the money be gone? He’d given his cousin Billy more than enough to build the camp.

“What happened to the money?” Adam leaned and flicked his gaze to the left, looking for a road that he was starting to question the existence of. Not one Internet map had directions for Camp Hope on the outskirts of Dawson, Oklahoma, population fifty.

For the last few miles, since he’d left the main highway, he’d seen nothing but fields of grazing cattle, a few small oil wells, and a smattering of aging farmhouses.

Will cleared his throat, the way he did when he didn’t want to give the answer.

“What do you mean, what happened?” Will said, avoiding the answer. Adam came close to smiling, because he knew his agent that well, and he liked him that much.

“You know what I mean.” Adam slowed when something moved into the road a short distance ahead. “Where did my money go?”

“It looks like Billy took a few trips, bought a car for his girlfriend and lost a big chunk of cash in Vegas.” Will paused at the end of the list. “I really am sorry about this.”

“It was my money.” Adam wanted to yell but he didn’t—this time. It wouldn’t do any good to lose his temper. But it sure would have felt good.

He’d learned from experience that giving in to what feels good can get a person into a lot of trouble. He’d learned from the experience of losing contracts, being pushed off on other teams and having his face on tabloids. He’d learned that he didn’t have a lot of real friends.

“I know it was your money. And now it’s your camp,” Will said with conviction and probably a smile, judging by his tone.

“I get that. But no way is this my camp, or my problem. I’m trying to rebuild my reputation so that the Sports Network sees the new me, not the old me, when I interview for the sportscaster job. That’s my problem, Will. The last thing I need is the responsibility of a camp and a bunch of kids.”

“Sorry, Adam, the camp is now your problem.”

“Of course it is.”

Billy had lied. Like so many other people had lied. People liked to use him. Adam’s family used him. Women used him. Billy had used him.

He reminded himself of one important fact. Will, his manager for the last few years, had never used him. He had never lied.

“What am I going to do with this place?” Adam asked as he reached to flip the visor and block the setting Oklahoma sun.

Before Will could answer, something at the side of the road caught Adam’s attention. A dog. Don’t move, dog. Don’t make this day worse. Worse happened to be two kids holding the leash attached to the dog. Two small boys wearing shorts, and T-shirts. Adam honked the horn. The dog looked up, but continued to back into the road, away from the boys who stood in the ditch.

“This can’t be happening. Gotta go, Will.” He slammed on the brakes.

The car veered and Adam held tightly to the wheel, trying to see where the kids had disappeared to. The car spun and then jolted, slinging him to the side as it came to rest against a tree with a thud.

His brand-new car. The thought barely registered when he heard the whoosh of the air bags. Other words slipped through his mind. And he still didn’t know if he’d hit those kids or their dog.

His phone rang. He pushed at the air bag and freed himself from his seat belt. The phone rang again. Will’s ring tone. Adam lifted it to his ear as he leaned against the headrest, waiting for his heart to stop hammering against his chest.

“I’m fine, Will.”

“Do I need to call 911 for you?”

“Like I could give directions to this place. Talk about…”

“No such thing as Godforsaken, buddy.”

Adam groaned as he pushed past the pain in his shoulder. “Save the sermon for my funeral. I have to make sure these kids are okay.”

“Kids?”

“There were two kids out here. I swerved to keep from hitting them and their dog.”

He pushed at his driver’s side door. It wouldn’t open. Will was still on the other end, asking questions.

“I can’t get out of my car.”

“I can call for help.” Will sounded a little too amused. “Doesn’t that car have one of those fancy talking computers that asks if you need assistance?”

“I had it disconnected. I don’t need a bossy female asking me if I’m lost or need assistance. I’ll call you later.”

He pushed and then kicked the passenger’s side door. It opened and he climbed out of the car, stumbling as his feet hit the ditch. Thorns from a wild rosebush caught his arms and sleeves. He untangled himself and waded through tall weeds to reach the road.

The boys were standing at the edge of a gravel drive. The dog, a black-and-white border collie, sat next to them, tongue hanging out and ears perked. They watched him, eyes big and feet moving nervously—like they were getting ready to run for their lives.

He probably looked like a giant coming up out of that ditch. Especially to two little boys.

“What are you boys doing by the road?” He glanced up the drive to the old farmhouse not two hundred feet away. The house was old, but remodeled, the white siding wasn’t green with moss, and the windows gleamed.

The boys shifted in front of him, tugging on the dog’s leash, keeping it close to their side.

“Our dog needs to learn to walk on a leash,” the heftier of the two boys, obviously twins, answered. They weren’t identical, but they were close.

“Well, that dog won’t do you any good if you get her hit, or get yourselves hit.” He spoke as softly as he could, but it still came out in a growl. They had scared ten years off his life.

He stood at the edge of the road, thinking he should march them up to the house and let the parents know what they’d been up to.

Or he could leave and forget it all.

A glance over his shoulder and he knew he wouldn’t be driving away, not in the car that was lodged against a tree, two tires flat.

He’d had some bad days of late. This one took the cake. He didn’t even like cake.

“Our dog’s a him,” the bigger boy muttered, his gray eyes wide, not looking away. “Are you a giant?”

“No, I’m not a giant. Where are your folks?” Adam eyed the smaller boy, the one with the thumb in his mouth. The kid was shaking. Adam took a deep breath and lowered his voice. “And what are your names?”

The bigger twin started to answer. The little one nudged his brother with a bony elbow that prompted him to say, “We don’t talk to strangers.”

Both boys nodded and the bigger twin chewed on his bottom lip, obviously wanting to break the no-talking-to-strangers rule. Adam wanted to laugh, and that took him by surprise.

“Well, this stranger wants to let your parents know what you were up to.”

A screen door slammed, reverberating through the quiet of an Oklahoma afternoon. He glanced toward the house and knew he was in big, big trouble, because he didn’t have the skills for dealing with mad wet hens. She came off the front porch and stomped toward him, brown hair with streaks of blond, bouncing, lifting in the soft breeze. Faded jeans and a T-shirt, her face devoid of makeup, and he was suddenly sixteen again.

He let out a breath and remembered who he was and why he was here. And he remembered to be angry about his car and everything else that was out of his control.

“What’s going on here?” She came to a stop behind the boys, her accent an Oklahoma drawl, half Southern belle and half redneck woman. She was pretty, but looked like a scrapper, like she wouldn’t be afraid to come at him if he messed with her or the boys.

And the dog was growling now.

“Your dog was in the road, and the boys were pretty d—”

She raised a hand and her eyes flashed fire. “Watch it.”

“Your boys were close to getting run over, and you’re worried about my language?”

“Yes, sir, I am.”

“Great, total insanity.”

“Only partial.” She smiled. Huge brown eyes lit with golden flecks caught and held his gaze. She took a few more careful steps and he realized that she wasn’t much bigger than her two boys. Five feet nothing, and he felt like a giant towering over her.

Adam stamped down the desire to ask her name. He pushed aside old habits that had gotten him into more trouble than he could handle. More gossip than real trouble, but to the world, it might as well be true.

“I’m really sorry about the boys, and the dog.” She had rounded up all three and they gathered close, in a tight-knit huddle at the side of the road.

“It’s okay. I just wouldn’t want them to get hurt.”

“You’re right, of course. I’m Jenna Cameron.” She held out a small hand with pink-painted nails. “Welcome to Dawson.”

“Yeah, thank you. I’m looking for a half-finished summer camp.”

“You sound happy about that.”

“Real happy.” Because he never expected to lose his cousin, and he hadn’t expected the camp to be unfinished. He pulled the directions out of his pocket and read them off to her. “Do you have any idea where that is?”

She stepped to the edge of the road and pointed. Three hundred feet ahead, on the other side of the road and barely visible due to shrubs and grass, was a gravel drive. “That’s your place.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” He took a step closer to her and the dog snarled, raising an upper lip in a pretty convincing warning. Adam backed away.

“Sorry, he’s my guard dog.” Her hand rested on the dog’s head. “I’m afraid I don’t reprimand him for doing his job.”

“No need, as long as he doesn’t bite me.” He didn’t want to add dog bite to the things that had gone wrong today. He looked at the overgrown drive and the address on the crumpled paper in his hand. “Are you sure that’s it?”

It was a cow pasture dotted with trees. He couldn’t see much of the property because trees lined the fence row that ran parallel to the road.

“That’s it. Earlier this summer they were working up there, until…well, anyway, they built a barn and a dorm. They even hauled in a single-wide mobile home.”

“At least he did that.”

“So, you’re the owner.”

“I’m the lucky guy.” He shoved the paper back into his pocket and walked back to his car. She followed, slower, taking it easy over the rocks. The boys and the dog remained at the edge of the road, all three looking at him like he might be public enemy number one.

He was used to that look, more used to the look than to kids. He had made a careful choice not to date women with kids. Or at least he’d had that policy since Morgan.

“You’re probably going to need help getting your car out of that ditch.” She walked closer, eyeing the car. She smelled like soap and peaches, not Chanel.

“I don’t think this car is going anywhere anytime soon.”

“I can give you the number of the local garage,” she offered, looking up at him. “They can tow it for you.”

“Are you going to pay the tow bill, seeing as it was your kids who caused the wreck?”

“If you insist.”

“No, I don’t insist. Forget it.” He glanced back at the boys and the dog. “They’re cute.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mackenzie, and I really am sorry.” She bit down on her bottom lip and averted her gaze back to his car.

He didn’t know what to say. She knew him, which meant that even here he couldn’t find anonymity. And it wouldn’t be long before his family knew that he was back in Oklahoma.

Jenna looked away from the pale blue eyes of the man towering over her. She’d get a crick in her neck if she kept looking up at the six-and-a-half-foot giant, whom she knew well from watching football with the guys in her unit. His face was all smooth planes beneath a sandy-brown goatee, and when he smiled, there was something about it that changed his eyes, making her think a light was hiding inside his heart. It was a kind of shy smile, almost humble, but powerful.

Maybe it wasn’t real. It could be a part of his lady-killer image. As an optimist she liked to think that it was something else. It was the real person hiding inside the public image, hidden by tabloid stories of models and actresses.

She’d like to know the real Big Mac Mackenzie.

But of course, she wouldn’t. Getting to know a man wasn’t on her five-year plan. Or her fifteen-year plan. She would get her boys and walk back up the drive to her house, away from the temptation to ask him questions about his life and why he was here now.

He had finished checking out the wrecked car and walked back to her, shaking his head.

“Is it bad?” She was mentally calculating what a car like that would cost, and how much the repairs would cost her.

“No, I don’t think so. Two tires are blown, and there’s a good dent in the driver’s side door.”

“Do you want the number for the garage?”

“I guess I have to.” He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket.

“Sorry, you’ll have to come up to the house for the number.” Jenna gathered the boys and looked back over her shoulder.

He was standing in the road, looking unsure, like this was all some malicious trap on her part. He looked like a giant, but he looked lost and a little vulnerable. She shook off the thought that compared him with David, her smallest twin, after he’d had a bad dream.

Big Mac Mackenzie wasn’t a lost child. He was a grown man standing in the road wearing faded jeans, a loose white shirt with the top three buttons undone and a black cowboy hat firmly in place.

“Are you coming?” She waited. “I’ll get you a Band-Aid for the cut on your head.”

He finally nodded, let out a sigh and took long-legged strides that soon put him next to them. And then he walked slower, keeping pace with them as they made their way up the drive to the house.

Horses whinnied from the barn, reminding Jenna that it was feeding time. She glanced in that direction, thinking of work that needed to be done, and how she’d rather be sitting on the front porch with her leg up and a glass of iced tea on the table next to her.

She loved her front porch with the ivy and clematis vines climbing the posts, drawing in bees and butterflies. She loved the scent of wild roses in the spring. Like now, caught on the breeze, the scent was sweet and brought back memories.

Some good, some bad.

“What are your names?” Adam Mackenzie asked the boys, his deep voice a little scary. Jenna gave a light squeeze to their hands to encourage them.

“Timmy.” The bigger of her two boys, always a little more curious, a little more brave, spoke first. “And we don’t talk to strangers.”

He also liked to mimic.

“Timmy, mind your manners,” Jenna warned, smiling down at him.

“Of course you don’t, and that’s good.” Adam Mackenzie turned his attention to the smaller of her two boys. “And what about you, cowboy?”

“I’m David.” He didn’t suck his thumb. Instead he pulled his left hand free from hers and shoved his hands into his pockets. He looked up at the tall, giant of a man walking next to him. “And we have a big uncle named Clint.”

A baritone chuckle and Adam made eye contact with Jenna. She smiled, because that light was in his eyes. It hadn’t been a trick of the camera, or her imagination. She had to explain what David had meant to be a threatening comment about her brother. Leave it to the boys to think they all needed to be protected from a stranger.

“My brother lives down the road a piece.”

“Clint Cameron?” Adam’s gaze drifted away from her to the ramp at the side of the porch. Her brother had put the ramp in before she came home from the hospital last fall.

“Yes, Clint Cameron. You know him?”

“We played against each other back in high school. What’s he doing now?”

“Raising bucking bulls with his wife. They travel a lot.”

Jenna grabbed the handrail and walked up the steps, her boys and Adam Mackenzie a few steps behind, watching her. The boys knew the reason for her slow, cautious climb. She imagined Adam wondering at her odd approach to steps. In the six months since she’d been home, she’d grown used to people wondering and to questioning looks. Now it was more about her, and about raising the boys. She was too busy with life to worry about what other people were thinking about her.

It hadn’t always been that way. Times past, she worried a lot about what people thought.

She opened the front door, and he reached and pushed it back, holding it for them to enter. She slid past him, the boys in front of her.

“Do you want tea?” She glanced over her shoulder as she crossed the living room, seeing all of the things that could make him ask questions about her life. If he looked.

He stood inside her tiny living room in the house she’d grown up in. A house that used to have more bad memories than good. For her boys the bad memories would be replaced with those of a happy childhood with a mom who loved them.

There wouldn’t be memories of a dad. She wasn’t sorry about that, but then again, sometimes she was.

The walls of the house were no longer paneled. Clint had hung drywall, they’d painted the room pale shell and the woodwork was white now, not the dark brown of her childhood. The old furniture was gone, replaced by something summery and plaid. Gauzy white curtains covered the floor-to-ceiling windows, fluttering in the summer breeze that drifted through the house.

Everything old, everything that held a bad memory, had been taken out, replaced. And yet the memories still returned, of her father drunk, of his rage, and sometimes him in the chair, sleeping the day away.

Adam took up space in the small house, nearly overwhelming it, and her, with his presence. As she waited for his answer to the question about iced tea, he took off his hat and brushed a hand through short but shaggy sandy-brown hair.

“Tea?” He raised a brow and she remembered her question.

“Yes, iced tea.”

“Please. And the phone book?”

“The number for the garage is on my fridge.” She led him down the hall to the kitchen with a wood table in the center of the room.

She loved the room, not just the colors—the pale yellow walls and white cabinets. She loved that her sister-in-law, Willow, had decorated and remodeled it as a way to welcome Jenna home. The room was a homecoming present and a symbol of new beginnings. They had worked on the rest of the house as Jenna recovered.

Jenna poured their tea while Adam dialed the phone. When she turned, he was leaning against the wall, watching her. She set the tea down on the table while he finished his conversation.

“Is it taken care of?” She pulled a first-aid kit from the cabinet over the stove.

“They’ll be out in an hour. They wanted to call the police to write up an accident report.”

Jenna swallowed and waited for him to tell her how he’d responded to that. Accident. She hadn’t really thought about that. Her boys had caused an accident. She pulled out the chair and sat down, stretching her legs.

“I’m so sorry. You really could have been hurt.”

“Your boys could have been hurt.”

She nodded. “I know. The rule is that they don’t go down the drive. They’re usually very good boys.”

“I’m sure they are.” He picked up the glass of tea. “I’m going to need to rent a car.”

“Not around here. And I want to finish talking about the accident report. You’ll need to let them call the county so you can get this covered on your insurance.”

He drained half the glass of tea in one gulp and set it down on the table. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Just like that, you’ll take care of it?” She bit down on her bottom lip, waiting, because it couldn’t be this easy. “My boys caused an accident and major damage to an expensive car.”

“They didn’t really cause the accident. I saw their dog backing into the road….”

“And that caused the wreck. They were holding the leash of the dog that backed into the road.”

“Wow, do you plan on making this difficult?”

“No, I’m just trying to do the right thing.”

“You can give me a ride down to that Godfor—”

She lifted her hand and shook her head to stop him. “Watch your language.”

He shook his head. “Great, another Will.”

“Excuse me?”

“My manager, Will. Did he hire you to keep me in line?”

“Sorry, no, you’re a big boy and you’ll have to keep yourself in line. Now let me put a Band-Aid on your cheek. You’re bleeding.” She motioned to the chair as she stood up and opened the first-aid kit. “Sit.”

“I’m fine.”

“I can’t have you get an infected cut on my watch.”

The boys hurried into the room. They must have heard her mention that he was injured. They were wide-eyed and impressed as they stared at the cut.

“It’s gonna need stitches,” Timmy informed their victim, peering up, studying the wound.

“Do you think so?” Adam asked, reaching to touch the cut.

“Don’t touch it, just sit.” Jenna pointed again to the chair.

He sat down at the kitchen table, giving her easier access to his face. His eyes were closed and when she touched his cheek he flinched.

“That hurts. What are you putting on it, alcohol?” He pulled away from her fingers.

Her fingers stilled over the small cut and he opened his eyes, looking at her. She glanced away. “I’m cleaning it. It doesn’t hurt that bad.”

He looked at the boys. Jenna glanced over her shoulder and smiled at them. They were cringing, twin looks of angst on their suntanned faces.

“It’s really bad,” David whispered.

“Does it need stitches?” Adam asked them, not her. As if they were the authority.

The boys were nodding. “It has a lot of blood.”

Timmy and David stepped closer.

She shook her head. “Don’t listen to them. It won’t even leave a scar.”

She pulled the backing off the Band-Aid with fingers that trembled as she put the adhesive strip in place. She felt like a silly teenager watching the star football player from across the dining room of the local Dairy Bar. She’d never been the girl that those football players dated.

“Finished?” He touched his cheek and pushed the chair back from the table.

“Finished. Now, if you want, I’ll drive you to the camp.”

“That sounds good. I’ll make a call to the rental company and have a car delivered.”

Settled, just like that.

With Adam “Big Mac” Mackenzie behind her, she walked out the back door. As she headed for her truck, she walked slowly, hoping he wouldn’t notice if she stumbled.

But what did it matter? She was who she was. And Adam Mackenzie was passing through.

The boys were climbing into the backseat of her truck squabbling over who sat on what side. She smiled, because that’s who she was, she was Timmy and David’s mom. But as she opened her truck door, she caught Adam Mackenzie’s smile and she was hit hard by the reality that she was more than a mom. She was obviously still a woman.

Chapter Two

Adam slid into the old truck and slammed the door twice before it latched. He glanced sideways and Jenna Cameron smiled at him, her dimples splitting her cheeks and adding to her country-girl charm. He knew a dozen guys that would fall for a smile like that.

He knew he’d almost fallen when he looked up as she dabbed salve on his face and caught her staring with brown eyes as warm as a summer day. She’d bitten down on her lower lip and pretended she wasn’t staring.

The boys were buckled in the backseat of the extended-cab truck. They were fighting over a toy they’d found on the floorboard. He wondered where their dad was, or if they had one. Jenna Cameron: her maiden name, so she wasn’t married. Not that he planned on calling her. He had long passed the age of summer romances.

The truck, the farm, a country girl and two little boys. This life was as far removed from Adam’s life as fast food was from the restaurants he normally patronized. He kicked aside those same fast-food wrappers in the floor of the truck to make room for his feet. A toy rattled out of one of the bags and he reached to pick it up.

“This should stop the fighting.” He reached into the back and the boys stared, eyes wide, both afraid to take the plastic toy. “I’m not going to bite you.”

They didn’t look convinced. Jenna smiled back at them. He would have behaved, too, if that smile had been aimed at him. The smaller twin took the toy from his hand. Another look from Jenna and the boy whispered a frightened, “Thank you.”

The truck rattled down the drive and the dog ran alongside. When they stopped at the end of the drive, the dog jumped in the back. What would his friends think of this? And Morgan—the woman he’d dated last, with her inch-long nails and hair so stiff a guy couldn’t run his fingers through it—what would she say?

Not that he really cared. They’d only had three dates, and then he’d lost her phone number. How serious could he have been?

“You grew up not far from here, right?” Jenna shifted and the truck slowed for the drive to his camp. He couldn’t help but think the word with a touch of sarcasm. It was the same sarcasm he typically used when he spoke of home.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Are you staying with family?”

“Nope.” He rolled his window down a little farther. He wasn’t staying with family, and he didn’t plan on talking about them.

He’d taken his father into the spotlight he craved, and now it was over. Retirement at thirty-three, and his father no longer had the tail of a star to grasp hold of. They hadn’t talked since Adam announced his retirement.

Over the years his relationship with his family had crumbled, because they’d made it all about his career. His sister had faded away a long time ago, probably before high school ended. She’d yelled at him about being a star, and she wasn’t revolving around his world anymore. And she hadn’t.

The truck bounced over the rutted trail of a drive that had once been covered with gravel. Now the rain had washed away the gravel and left deep veins that were nearly ditches. The truck bumped and jarred. Overgrown weeds and brush hit the side panel and a coyote, startled by their presence, ran off into the field. The dog in the back of the truck barked.

“This can’t be the place.”

“Sorry, it is.” Jenna flashed him a sweet smile that didn’t help him to feel better about the property, but he smiled back.

She reminded him of girls who’d wanted to wear his letter jacket back in high school. The kind that slipped a finger through a guy’s belt loop as they walked down the hall and kissed him silly on a Saturday night.

“If it makes you feel better, there are plenty of people around here looking for work.” She broke into the silence, speaking over the wind rushing through the cab of the truck and country music on the radio. “Take a drive into town and there are half a dozen guys who will mow this with a Brush Hog.”

“That’s good to know.” Not really.

He sighed as they continued on. Ahead he could see a two-story building with rows of windows. Probably the dorm. To the left of the dorm was a stable, and to the right of the dorm, a large metal-sided building. Jenna parked in front of a long, single-wide mobile home.

“Home sweet home.” She pushed the door open and jumped out. “It really is a good quality mobile home. And there’s a tornado shelter.”

She pointed to a concrete-and-metal fixture sticking up from the ground. A tornado shelter. So, the manager would duck into safety while fifty kids huddled in a dorm. He didn’t like that idea at all. Billy probably hadn’t given it a second thought.

Billy had lived a pretty sketchy life for the most part. A few years ago he’d found religion and then a desire to do something for troubled kids. Adam had thought Billy’s plan for the camp was legit. Maybe it had started out that way.

Adam walked toward the mobile home, wading through grass that was knee-high. The boys were out of the truck and running around, not fazed by grass or the thought of snakes and ticks.

He would have done the same thing at their age. Now, he was a long way from his childhood, not far from home, and the distance had never been greater.

“Do you know a Realtor?” He looked down, and Jenna Cameron shook her head.

“Drive into Grove and pick one. I couldn’t tell you the best one for the job, but there are several.”

His cell phone rang. He smiled an apology and walked away from her, leaving her looking toward the stable with a gleam that was undeniable. Most women loved diamonds, not barns.

“Are you there?” Will’s voice, always calm. That’s what he got paid for. Will was the voice of reason. Will prayed for him.

Adam had bristled when Will first told him that a few months back. Now the knowledge had settled and he sometimes thought about why his manager would think he needed prayer.

“If this is it, I’m here. And I’m…”

“Watch it, Adam.” Will’s endless warning.

“Fine, I’m here. It’s paradise. Two hundred acres of overgrown brush, a drive with more ruts and ditches than you can imagine and my living quarters are a trailer.”

“It could be worse.”

“So you always say. Is that a verse in the Bible? I can’t remember.”

Will laughed. “Close. The verse says more about not worrying about today’s troubles, tomorrow’s are sufficient in themselves.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Can’t you think of something more optimistic?”

“Has it been so long since you’ve been to church?”

“Your kid’s dedication when she was born.”

“She has a name.”

“Yeah, she does. Kate, right?”

“You’re close. It’s Kaitlin.”

“See, I’m not so shallow and self-centered.”

“I never thought you were. So, about the camp…”

“I’m going to contact a Realtor.”

“No, you’re not. Adam, you can’t ditch that place.”

Adam glanced in the direction of the cowgirl and her two kids. They were tossing a stick for the dog and she was pretending not to listen. He could tell she was.

“Why am I not selling?” He lowered his voice and turned away.

“Because you need this patch on your reputation. You need to stay and see this through. You need to be the good guy.”

“My reputation isn’t bad enough for this to be the punishment.”

“Look, Adam, let’s not beat around the bush. You have money in your account, a nice house in Atlanta and a shot at being a national anchor for one of the biggest sports networks in the world. Don’t mess it up.”

Adam walked up the steps to the covered porch on the front of the mobile home. He peeked in the front door, impressed by the interior and the leather furniture his cousin had bought with his money.

“Adam?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Is this compliance?” Will sounded far too amused and then he chuckled, as if to prove it. “Stay there. Clean the place up and make it a camp for underprivileged kids. Show the world what a good guy you are.”

“I’m not a good guy, I’m self-centered and macho. I’m a ladies’ man. I worked hard on that reputation and now you want me to change it?”

“I didn’t ask for the other reputation, it’s the one you showed up with. This is what I’m asking for. That you stay for the summer, show the world the real you, and be nice to the neighbor.”

Adam glanced in her direction, blue jeans and a T-shirt, two little boys. “How do you know about her?”

“Billy told me she’s a sweet girl.”

“You talked to Billy?”

“He called to ask a few questions, just advice on the property.”

“I don’t like this. You do realize, don’t you, that I’ll have to live in this trailer and eat at a diner in Dawson called The Mad Cow?”

Will laughed and Adam smiled, but he had no intentions of staying here. He’d find a way to get out of it. He pushed his hat down on his head and walked off the porch, still holding the phone.

“Billy said the chicken-fried steak was to die for.” Will the optimist.

“Billy died of a heart attack. Talk to you later.”

Jenna picked her way across the overgrown lawn. Adam Mackenzie stood next to the porch, staring at the barn and the dorm. He looked a little lost and kind of angry. Angry didn’t bother her. Neither did tantrums—she had the twins.

“Bad news?” She stopped next to him and looked up, studying his face.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” He tore off a piece of fescue grass and stuck it between his teeth. “My agent thinks I should stay. This sure wasn’t where I wanted to spend my summer.”

“Really?” She looked out at land that, with a little care, could be a premium piece of property. And she thought of the kids, the ones who were so much like herself, who could come here for a week or two and forget the abuse or poverty at home. Couldn’t he see that? “It looks like a great place to me.”

“What do you see that I don’t?”

“Promise. I see kids finding a little hope and maybe the promise of a better future. I see kids escaping for a week and just being kids.”

He groaned and tossed the grass aside. “Another optimist.”

“I call it faith.”

“So does Will.” Adam had turned back to the steps that led up the porch. “But how does faith help me solve this problem? Does faith clean this place up, or finish it so that it can be used?”

“Prayer might be the place to start.”

“Right.”

She followed him up the steps, right leg always first. It was getting easier every day. Ten months ago she had wondered if anything would ever be easy again. Adam turned when he reached the top and gave her a questioning look she ignored.

“I’m sorry, it really isn’t my business.” She answered his question, pretending the look was about that, about him wanting an answer. “I just happen to believe that God can get us out of some amazingly bad situations.”

“Well let’s see if God can help us get into this trailer.”

She watched as he shoved a credit card into the door. The boys were in the yard playing with the dog. “Guys, stay right here in front of the trailer. Snakes are probably thick right now.”

“That’s another positive.” He pushed the door open and stepped inside. Jenna followed.

He looked around, focusing on the phone and answering machine. Jenna waited by the front door, not sure what she should do. Maybe she should go home? Maybe now was the time to remove herself from his presence and this situation.

While she considered her options, he pressed the button on the answering machine. Messages played, mostly personal and a little embarrassing to overhear knowing that Billy was gone and this was his legacy. There were messages from a distraught girlfriend, creditors asking for money, and his mom wondering why he didn’t call.

Adam replayed the last message.

“Billy, this is John at the Christian Mission. I wanted to confirm that we have the third week of June reserved for fifty kids. Can you give me a call back?” The caller left a number.

Adam turned. “What’s today?”

“The sixth of June.”

He groaned and tossed his hat on a nearby table. “I can’t believe this.”

The message replayed and he scribbled the number on a piece of paper.

“What are you going to do?” Jenna sat down on a bar stool at the kitchen counter.

“Cancel this camp.”

“And let those kids down?”

“I didn’t let them down, Billy did. I can’t have someone bring fifty kids to this place.”

“But…” She bit down on her bottom lip and told herself it wasn’t her business. Not the camp, not his life, none of it. She was just the mom of the kids who ran him off the road.

“Fifty kids,” he repeated, like she didn’t get it. “I don’t even know if the buildings are finished.”

He sat down on the stool next to hers and it creaked. “Obviously the bar stools aren’t one size fits all. Look, I’m not a bad guy, but this isn’t my thing. Summer camps, Oklahoma, none of this is me.”

“I know you’re not a bad guy. And you’re right, this isn’t my business. You have to make the decision that’s right for you.”

He smiled, and she liked that smile, the one that crinkled at the corners of his eyes. “You’re slick, but you’re not going to work me this way.”

“I wasn’t trying.”

“Of course not.” And his smile disappeared.

“I would help you.” She hesitated, at once sorry, but not. “I mean, it wouldn’t take much to get the camp ready.”

“Don’t you work?”

“I have two boys and ten horses. That’s my work. But with the help of the community…”

She hopped down from the stool, momentarily forgetting, and she stumbled. A strong arm caught her, holding her firm until she gathered herself. Her back to him, she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath.

“Are you okay?” He stood next to her, his hand still on her arm. Looking up, she realized that his face was close to hers, his mouth a gentle line.

“Of course I am.”

He laughed, the deep baritone filling the emptiness of the dark and shadowy trailer. “Of course you are. You waited a whole five minutes after meeting me to involve yourself in every area of my life, and I can’t get a straight answer on if you’re okay. I know a knee injury when I see one. Remember, I’ve spent a lot of years getting plowed over and pushed down.”

“It’s an old injury.” She smiled but it wasn’t easy in the face of his unexpected tenderness, the baritone of his voice soft, matching the look in his eyes. “I need to check on the boys.”

He released her. “And I need to check on the barn and the dorms to see how much more money I’m going to have to spend to make this place usable.”

“But I thought you weren’t going to run the camp.”

“I’m not running it. I’m going to get it ready for someone else to run. I’ll let you and my noble agent, Will, run it. Or I’ll put it up for sale.”

Jenna grabbed a tablet off the counter and the pen he had tossed down. “We’ll drive down there. I can help you make a list for what you might need.”

Because she didn’t feel like making the long walk through the brush on the overgrown trail that used to be a road. The boys were sitting on the porch steps, holding a turtle they’d found.

“Can we keep it?” Timmy poked at the turtle’s head.

“No,” she answered as she walked down the steps of the porch.

“Why not?” all three guys asked.

“Because it wouldn’t be happy in a box. It belongs here, where it can travel and find the food it likes, not the food we toss to it every day.”

The boys frowned at the turtle and then at Jenna. “We just want to keep it for a little while.”

David touched the back of the box turtle, fingers rubbing the rough shell. “I like him.”

Adam sighed and walked back into the house. He came back with a permanent marker. “Guys, there is a way you can keep an eye on this bad boy. We’ll write your names and today’s date on the bottom of his shell. When you’re out here, you can find him and see how he’s doing.”

And that’s how he became a hero to her boys. Jenna watched, a little happy and a lot threatened. She couldn’t let Adam into their lives this way.

Herself in his life, that was different. Making sure this place became a camp was important to her. It was important to kids who were living the same nightmare childhood she had lived.

It was about the camp, not about Adam “Big Mac” Mackenzie. She honestly didn’t need to understand his smile, or the way his eyes lit up. It had been easy, imagining his story when he’d been a football player she and the guys cheered for. Now, with him so close and his story unfolding, she didn’t want to know more.

Adam climbed back into the truck. The boys piled in with them this time because it was a short ride across a bumpy drive to the barn. He glanced sideways, catching a glimpse of Jenna Cameron with her sun-streaked brown hair windblown and soft.

He wasn’t staying. He wouldn’t be pushed into this by her, or by Will. They’d have to understand that he was the last person in the world who ought to be running a camp, dealing with children, especially in Oklahoma.

As soon as he could figure out what to do with this place, who to turn it over to, he’d head back to Atlanta, back to his life. Back to what?

He sighed and she flicked her gaze from the road to him. That look took him back more than a dozen years, to pickup trucks and fishing holes, summer sun beating down on a group of kids just having a good time.

There hadn’t been many times like that in his childhood. His dad had always been pushing, always forcing him onto the practice field. He had sneaked a few moments for himself, enough to make a handful of memories that didn’t include football.

And she brought back those memories, most of which he had forgotten.

The truck stopped in front of the barn. She shot him a questioning look. “It needs a corral.”

He nodded, like he knew. A long time ago he would have noticed. The barn sat on an open lot, no fences, no arena, no corral.

“It’s probably going to need more than that.”

“Horses wouldn’t hurt.” She smiled and then reached for the door handle to get out of the truck.

He followed her, walking behind her into the shadowy interior of the barn. One side was a stable. The other side was for hay, equipment and a room for tack. It creaked in the Oklahoma wind.

She looked up, questions in her brown eyes. The boys shrieked and she glanced in their direction. They were outside, the dog next to them barking.

“Timmy, David, what are you doing?”

“Snake!” the two shrieked at the same time. And Adam noticed that they didn’t scream in fear, but in obvious boyhood delight.

“Get them.” She looked up at him, expecting him to be the one to run to the rescue of her offspring. And he didn’t think they wanted to be rescued. “Please, Adam.”

She couldn’t run to them, and she wanted to. He could see it in the tight line of pain around her mouth. Ignoring the fact that the running he wanted to do was in the direction of Atlanta, he ran to the end of the stable and gathered the boys in his arms, pulling them back from the coiled snake. A garter snake, nonpoisonous and no threat to the boys or the dog.

“It’s a garter.”

The boys wiggled to get free. He set them down, knowing that they’d go back to the snake. The reptile slithered along the side of the barn now, in search of a warm place to rest. The dog had lost interest and was sniffing a new trail.

Jenna was leaning against the barn, watching them, a soft and maternal smile turning her lips.

“Come on, guys. I think you’ve caused enough commotion for one day.” She motioned them to her side. “Mr. Mackenzie, don’t give up on the camp. I know someone would buy it, live here, raise some cows. But a camp. Not just everyone can do that.”

“Probably true, but I’m not the person who can.”

“But you have to.” She turned a little pink. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to.”

He wanted to smile. He wanted to ask how a person became so passionate about something, so willing to fight for it.

“Why does it mean so much to you?” As the words slipped out, he thought he probably didn’t want the answer.

“It isn’t about me. Not really. I think you shouldn’t give up on something that could mean so much to so many people. Including you. And, believe it or not, I think it meant a lot to Billy.”

“But it doesn’t mean that much to me. I’m not looking for good deeds to do. This was about my cousin, something he wanted to do, and something that I had the money to help him with.”

“If you didn’t believe in this when Billy proposed it to you, why did you give him the money?”

“I don’t know.” And he didn’t. He looked out the open doors of the barn and fought the truth. Maybe he did know why. Maybe he hadn’t run as far from his roots as he’d thought.

“It’s too bad that it won’t be a camp. Come on, boys, we’re going home. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Mackenzie.” She said it like she was disappointed in him, as if she had expected better from him. But she didn’t know him.

Before he could say anything, she was walking away, the boys running a little ahead of her. The dog went in another direction, chasing a scent that interested him more than the direction his family was going.

As she climbed into her truck, not looking in his direction, he felt strangely let down. A thought that took him by surprise. She wanted this camp, not for herself but for the kids it could help.

At least it meant something to her. To him, it was just another way he’d been used.

He headed back down the driveway, toward the road, because the tow truck would arrive soon and the rental car he had ordered would be delivered in an hour.

The Mad Cow Diner was starting to sound pretty good, another sign that he was nearing the end of his rope. The lifeline he had to hold on to was the reality that he could take care of what needed to be done, hand it off to someone else, and leave.

Jenna Cameron’s truck rattled down the rutted driveway, slowing as she reached the road, and then pulling onto the paved road in the direction of her house.

Chapter Three

“What’s up with you?” Vera sat down at the table across from Jenna. The Mad Cow wasn’t crowded in the afternoon and the boys were enjoying slurping up chocolate shakes.

Jenna had fallen into a stupor. The black-and-white, Holstein-spotted walls of the diner had become a little hypnotic as she’d sat there, her elbow on the black tabletop, her chin on her hand.

Vera, dark hair pulled back in a bun and a smock apron over her white T-shirt, filled Jenna’s cup and set the coffeepot down on the table.

Jenna picked up the sugar container and poured a spoonful or more into her coffee. “Why do you think something is up?”

Vera smiled as if she knew everything that was going on, and even what might happen. “Oh, honey, we all know that Adam Mackenzie crashed into your ditch the other day.”

“It wasn’t my ditch.” She stirred creamer into her coffee. “It was the ditch across from me.”

“He came in for my chicken-fried steak last night, and the night before.”

And that made him Vera’s hero. He would be Jenna’s hero if he kept Camp Hope alive. That didn’t seem too likely. Besides, she didn’t need a hero. She had two little boys who were slurping up the last of their shakes and eyeing someone else’s French fries.

“I think those boys need fries.” Vera slid out of her chair. “Don’t despair, Jenna dear. It’ll all work out.”

“I know it will, but I really want that camp.”

Vera’s brows went up in a comical arch. “You want it?”

“For kids. Can you imagine what a treat that would be for children who don’t normally get to attend camp?”

Kids like her, when she was ten or twelve, and broken, feeling like no one cared and God was a myth, meant only to keep naughty children on the straight and narrow.

She’d had a hard time with straight and narrow.

“I can imagine.” Vera’s hand rested on her shoulder. “Give it time. I don’t think he’ll ditch it. If he isn’t going to run it, someone else will.”

But would someone else run it at no cost for the kids attending, the way Adam’s cousin had planned? She wished she had the money to buy it. But wishes were vapor and her bank account was barely in the black.

“Mom, how does a person get to be a football player on TV?”

Timmy’s question shook her from her thoughts. She smiled at him. His lips were back on his straw and Vera had left, pushing through the doors, back into the kitchen.

“Lots and lots of work,” she answered, and then pulled the cup away from him and pushed the small glass of water close. “The shake is gone, drink some water.”

“Vera’s making us some fries.” He grinned, dimples making it even cuter, even harder to resist. “She whispered that it’s ’cause we’re the best boys she knows. She’s putting cheese on them, the way we like.”

He added the last with a lilt of an accent that was meant to sound like Vera. Jenna kissed his cheek. “You’re the best boys I know, too. And we might as well order burgers, since you won’t want supper now.”

David’s eyes lit up. He pushed away the empty shake glass and sat down in the chair that he’d been perched on, sitting on his knees to better reach his glass.

“Do you think I could be a pro football player someday? I’d make a lot of money and you could have a big house in, well, somewhere.” Timmy was out of his chair, standing next to it. He didn’t like to sit still, a reality that had caused problems in school last year.

First grade was going to be rough for him, a whole day of sitting still, listening.

“I don’t need a big house and you should only play football if you love it, not because you think I want a big house.” She didn’t think Adam Mackenzie loved the sport. She wondered if he ever had.

She had asked Clint, because her brother had known Adam years ago. Clint said he really couldn’t say. Adam had seemed intent, serious, but he didn’t know if he had loved it.

Vera returned with their fries. “What else, kiddos?”

“Go ahead and bring us three burgers, Vera. We’ll let you cook for us tonight.”

Vera was all smiles. “You got it, sweetie. Three Vera specials coming up.”

The door opened, letting in heat and sounds from outside—a train in the distance and cars driving down Main Street. Vera’s eyes widened. Jenna glanced back, over her shoulder and suddenly wanted to get her order to go.

“Jenna Cameron, imagine seeing you here.” Adam stood next to Jenna’s table, smiling at the two boys because it was easier than smiling at her, easier than waiting for an invitation to join them and easier than dealing with the reality that he wanted to join them.

He told himself it was just pure old loneliness, living at that trailer, not having his normal social life. He was starved for company, that’s all.

“You knew I was here. My truck’s right out front.” She smiled up at him, a mischievous look in eyes that today looked more like caramel than chocolate.

He laughed. “You got me there. I thought I’d swing in for Vera’s meat loaf and I wanted to tell you something.”

“Have a seat.” She pointed to the chair on her left.

He hesitated, but her wide eyes stared up at him, challenging him. He sat down, taking off his hat as he did. He hooked it over the back of the empty chair on the seat next to him.

The boys occupied the two chairs across the table from him. Blond hair, chocolate milk on their chins and suspicious looks in their eyes, they stared at him in something akin to wonder.

“So, what’s your news?” Jenna leaned back in her chair, hands fiddling with the paper that had come off a straw.

“You get your camp.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll be staying, at least through the end of July. My agent thinks I should stay and help get the camp running.” He wouldn’t expand on Will’s words, which had been a little harsher than what he was willing to admit to Jenna. “I called the church that left the message and told them I might be able to get something going in time, or close to it. If they can be flexible.”

Her eyes widened and he could see the smile trembling at the corners of her mouth. “I can help.”

“I thought you might.”

Vera pushed through the swinging doors of the kitchen carrying a tray of food and avoiding eye contact with him. Probably because she’d been listening in. At least she didn’t have a camera or an agenda.

Or did she have an agenda? Probably not the one he was used to. More than likely Vera had only one agenda. She had matchmaking on her mind. She had the wrong guy if that was her plan.

“Did I hear someone mention my meat loaf special?” She set down plates with burgers in front of Jenna and the boys and pulled a pen and order pad out of her pocket. “I’ve got that chocolate chess pie you like.”

“No pie tonight. If I don’t start cutting myself back, you’ll have me fifty pounds overweight when I leave Dawson.”

Vera’s brows shifted up. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re still in a hurry to get out of here?”

“Not anymore. I’m going to stay and make sure things are taken care of at the camp.”

Across from him the boys stopped eating their burgers and looked at each other. It was a look that settled somewhere in the pit of his stomach, like a warning siren on a stormy afternoon. Those two boys were up to more than seeing who could get the most ketchup on their fries.

At the moment David was winning. He had a pile of ketchup on top of two fries and he was moving it toward his open mouth. Adam held his breath, watching, wanting the kid to win, and maybe to break into that big grin he kept hidden away.

Just as David started to push the fry into his mouth, the front door to Vera’s opened. David looked up and his fry moved, dropping the ketchup. Everyone at the table groaned, including Adam.

“That isn’t the reaction I normally get when I walk into a restaurant.” The man stepping inside the door was tall, a little balding and thin. The woman behind him smiled, her gaze settling on Jenna.

“No, it’s usually the reaction you get when you tell one of your jokes on Sunday morning,” the woman teased with a wink at Jenna, punctuating the words.

“Pastor Todd, Lori, pull up another table and join us,” Jenna offered a little too quickly and Adam got it. She wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Adam Mackenzie at her table. He sat back, relishing that fact.

A little.

Until it got to him that she wasn’t thrilled to be sharing a table with him. Jenna cleared her throat and a foot kicked his.

“Excuse me?” He met her sparkling gaze and she nodded to Pastor Todd.

“Could you help him move that table over here, push it up against ours?”

“Oh, of course.” Adam stood up. And he remembered his manners. “I’m sorry, we haven’t met.”

“Pastor Todd Robbins.” Todd held out his hand. “My wife, and obviously better half, Lori.”

“Adam Mackenzie.”

And they acted like they didn’t know who he was. Maybe they didn’t. Not everyone watched football. He reached for the table and helped move it, pushing it into place as Jenna had directed. And Vera still watching, smiling, as if she had orchestrated it all.

“So, what first?” Jenna wiped her fingers on a paper towel she’d pulled off the role in the center of the table.

“What?” Adam looked surprised, like he’d forgotten the camp. She wasn’t going to let him forget.

“The camp. You’ll need beds, mattresses, food…”

He raised his hand, letting out a sigh that moved his massive shoulders. “I don’t know where to start. I don’t see any way this can be done in a matter of days.”

“Weeks.”

He didn’t return her smile. “Yeah, well, my glass of optimism isn’t as full as yours. We have less than two weeks. And then we have kids, lots of them, and they need activities.”

“Not as many as you might think. I think if you talk to their church, they have lessons planned, chapel services, music. You need the beds, window coverings. They’ll bring their own bedding.” She stopped talking because he looked like a man who couldn’t take much more. “Oh, horses.”

She whispered the last, in case he was at the end of his rope and about to let go.

“Horses?”

“Clint can help you with that.”

“Is there some way that I can help with this project?” Todd broke in. “I’d be glad to do something.”

“We’ll need kitchen help, and people to clean the grounds and the cabins.” Jenna reached for her purse and pulled out a pen. She started to write, but Adam covered her hand with his.

She looked at his hand on hers and then up, meeting a look that asked her to stop, to let it go. He turned to Pastor Todd.

“Let’s talk about it later, maybe tomorrow. Not now.”

He was in denial. Poor thing. And so was Jenna if she thought she was immune to a gorgeous man. She moved the hand that was still under his, and he squeezed a little before sliding his hand away.

“Okay, tomorrow.” But she was no longer as sure as she had been. Adam smiled at her, like he knew what she was thinking. So she said something different to prove him wrong. “Clint will be back tomorrow.”

With that she let it go, because it hit her that she had just invited this man into her life. He was the last person she needed filling space in her world, in her days.

The horse tied in the center aisle of the barn stomped at flies and shook her head to show her displeasure with the wormer paste they’d pushed into her mouth. The tube said green apple. Jenna had no intentions of trying it, but she doubted it tasted anything like an apple. She patted the horse’s golden palomino rump and walked around to her side, the injection ready with the animal’s immunizations. Clint stood to the side. He and Willow had come home early and he’d surprised Jenna by showing up this morning to help with the horses.

“Why are you so quiet today?” Clint slipped the file back into the box of supplies he’d brought in. This horse’s hooves hadn’t needed trimming, which meant he had just stood back and watched as Jenna did what she needed to do.

And now she wished she had more to do so she could ignore his question. He knew her far too well.

“I’m not quiet.”

“Yes, you are. Normally when we get home from a trip you have a million questions. ‘How did Jason do this week?’ He did great, by the way. Got tossed on his head.”

She looked up. Leaning against the horse’s back, watching from the opposite side of Clint. “Is he okay?”

Jason was one of her best friends. She sometimes regretted that they’d never really felt anything more than friendship. He’d make a great husband for someone. He was kind, funny, wealthy. And not the guy for her.

“He’s fine. And Dolly has gone ten outs without being ridden.”

“That’s great. I bet Willow is proud.”

“She is. They’re considering him for the finals at the end of the year.”

“Great.”

“And then we flew home in the pickup.”

“I’m so glad.”

“And you’re not listening to me.”

Jenna stared out the door at the boys, watching them play in the grassy area near the barn. The dog was sitting nearby, watching, the way he watched cattle in the field. If he had to, he’d round the boys up and drive them to her. They loved it when he did that. Sometimes they wandered away from her just to see if the dog would circle and move them back to Jenna. The nature of a cow dog was to herd. Jenna was glad she’d brought home the black-and-white border collie. It had been a cute, fluffy puppy, and was now a great dog.

“Jenna, is everything okay?”

“Of course it is. I’m just tired.” She smiled back at her brother. “Let’s get this horse out of here and bring Jinx in.”

“Who is that?” Clint walked to the door as the low rumble of an engine and crunch of tires on gravel gave an advance warning that they had company. And then the dog barked.

Dog. She really needed to name that poor animal. It was probably too late. The boys called him Puppy and Jenna called him Dog. He came to either name so it seemed wrong to call him something like Fluffy or Blue.

“I don’t know.” Jenna tossed the used needle into the trash.

“Big, blue truck.”

She groaned and Clint shot her a look. “You know who it is? Did you sell that roan gelding?”

“Jenna?”

“It’s Adam Mackenzie.” She untied the horse, rubbing her neck. “Come on, girl.”

“That’s it? Adam Mackenzie is pulling up to the barn and you act like you expected him?”

“He’s the mystery owner of the camp.”

“Adam is building a youth camp?” Clint followed her to the barn door with the mare. “The mystery deepens.”

Jenna laughed. “It isn’t a mystery. Billy was his cousin and he convinced Adam to buy the land and start this camp.”

“Sis, you know he’s trouble, right?”

“I don’t think he’s trouble. I think he’s confused.”

Clint shook his head. “Remember when you thought a baby skunk would be a good pet because it didn’t spray you?”

“I remember.”

She laughed at the memory. Because eventually the skunk did spray her. She gave it to a zoo and missed school for a week. She really did learn by her mistakes. Sometimes it just took a few tries before the lesson sank in.

Men were included in the list of mistakes she’d learned her lesson from. The father of her boys had walked out on her. He went back to California, and she let him go because she knew she couldn’t force him to stay and love them. The soldier she’d fallen in love with, he’d written her a Dear Jane letter after her surgery.

She would never again own a pet skunk. She would never again fall for a pretty face and perfect words. She had a five-year plan that didn’t include falling in love.

“He’s getting out of his truck,” Clint warned as he took the halter off the mare and slapped her rump to send her back to the field with the rest of the horses.

Jenna nodded. “He wants to talk to you about buying horses. And since he’s here to see you, I’m going to the house.”

“Are you running?” Clint followed her to the front of the barn. And the twins were no longer sitting in the grassy area with their toy cars.

“Nope, just leaving.”

“Are you afraid of him?” Clint caught hold of her arm. “Jenna, did he say something to you?”

“No, and I’m not afraid.” Much. “I have to check on the boys. They’ve abandoned the road they were building for their toy trucks. I need to see where they went.”

“That’s because they’re showing Adam something.” He nodded in the direction of the blue truck that was parked a short distance from her house.

“Great.” She watched the boys open their hands. Two blond-headed miniatures with sneaky grins on their faces, and dirt. They needed baths.

The giant in front of them jumped back from their open hands, either feigning fear or truly afraid. The boys laughed, belly laughs, and then they ran off.

Adam Mackenzie turned toward the barn, his smile a little frazzled. He wasn’t used to kids. She had to give him points for trying. And she wasn’t going to escape because he was heading their way.

Who could escape that moment when they felt as if their insides had jelled and their breath caught somewhere midway between lungs and heart?

All due to a cowboy in faded jeans and a T-shirt. Not a cowboy, she reminded herself. A football player with a life so far removed from this small community that she couldn’t imagine what it was like to live in his world.

“Adam.” She greeted him with a wavering smile.

“Jenna.” He held his hand out to her brother, his white hat tipped down, shading the smooth planes of his suntanned face. “Clint Cameron. I haven’t seen you since we played against each other our senior year.”

“Fifteen years.” Clint shook Adam’s hand. Jenna waited, wondering what came next. “Jenna said you’re back to take care of the youth camp.”

This time Adam smiled at her, that slightly boyish yet wicked grin that made his blue eyes dance. “Yeah, something like that. It looks as if I’m in charge, and I need horses. Maybe a dozen or so, with tack.”

“Got it. I think I can round them up. It might take a few weeks.”

“I don’t have a few weeks.” The edge was back in this voice.

Jenna looked up. She watched as her brother considered the words of the other man. And she made a way to escape.

“I need to get supper started. I’ll let the two of you take care of business.”

Chapter Four

Adam watched Jenna go, surprised that she was leaving. Let down? No, of course not. He wanted space, time out from relationships. He wasn’t let down by her walking away.

He was surprised, and a little bruised by her lack of interest. Typically she was the kind of woman he ran from. The kind that was looking for a husband and a father to her kids. She didn’t seem to be looking, though.

Horses. Clint’s one word brought Adam back to his surroundings, and his gaze shifted back to the man standing in front of him, away from the retreating back of a cowgirl.

“A dozen, at least.” He followed Clint into the barn. “She runs this place by herself?”

“She does.”

“Impressive.”

Clint shrugged and walked into the tack room. He hung up halters and lead ropes that were tossed on a shelf. “She’s always been strong.”

“It has to be tough, raising two boys alone.”

“It is, but she has family and friends who help.”

Adam picked up a currycomb and ran the sharp metal over his hand. “High school was a long time ago, Clint. If you’re still holding a grudge about Amy, I’m sorry. I didn’t know she was playing a game with the two of us.”

Clint turned, smiling in a way that felt a lot like a warning snarl from a dog. “Amy is fifteen years of water under the bridge and I have no regrets. I have a wife that I love and a baby that we adopted a few months ago. My concern now is for my sister.”

“You don’t have to be concerned on my account. I’m here to get this camp mess cleared up, and then I’ll be leaving. I’m not here looking for a relationship.”

Clint shook his head and walked out of the room, switching the light off as he went, leaving Adam with just the light from outside. When he stepped out of the tack room, Clint was waiting.

“Adam, Jenna’s an adult. She’s also my sister. Don’t use her. Don’t mislead her. Don’t hurt her.”

“She’s not a kid.”

Clint took a step closer. “She’s my kid sister.”

Adam lifted his hands in surrender. “I don’t plan on hurting your sister. I don’t plan on getting involved with her at all. She’s offered to help me get this camp off the ground so I can leave. Believe me, my only goal is to get this done and get out of Oklahoma.”

“Okay, as long as we understand each other.” Clint grabbed a box and walked out of the barn. “I’ll get back to you on the horses.”

“Thanks.” Adam watched Clint Cameron drive away and then he turned toward the two-story farmhouse, a small square of a house with a steep, pitched roof. The boys were playing in the front yard and a sprinkler sprayed a small patch of garden. The few trees were tall and branched out, shading the house, a few branches brushing the roof.

The boys. He couldn’t remember their names, and he’d had dinner with them yesterday. He walked in the direction of the house, thinking about their names, and not thinking about why he was still here. Timmy and David. He remembered as he walked up to them.

He smiled when the bigger boy looked up, a suspicious look on a dirt-smudged face and gray eyes like his uncle Clint’s. The little boy, wearing shorts, T-shirt and flip-flops, sat back on his heels. He picked up his toy soldiers and nudged his other brother.

Adam knew their names, but couldn’t remember which was which. “One of you is Timmy, the other is David.”

“I’m David.” The one who sucked his thumb. The little guy wouldn’t look up.

“I’m Timmy.” The bolder of the two. “And we still don’t talk to strangers.”

It was a long way down to the ground. Adam sighed and then he squatted. “I’m not really a stranger now. Aren’t we sort of friends?”

David looked up, gray eyes curious. “Are you friends with my mom?”

“I guess.”

“Did you know her in the army?” The little guy pushed his soldiers through the dirt. “Were you there?”

“No, I wasn’t in the army.”

He hadn’t known Jenna was in the army. But did he ask little boys about their mother, and about the military? He didn’t think so.

“She was in Iraq.” Timmy solved the problem of Adam asking for more information.

“That’s pretty amazing.” More amazing than he could imagine. She wasn’t much bigger than her boys, but he had pegged her right. She was tough. She had something that so many women he’d met lately didn’t have. She had something…

“Boys, time to come in for supper.”

She had two boys and no interest in him.

Adam stood and turned. She was standing on the porch, leaning on a cane. He didn’t know what to do. Had she heard their conversation? Her face was a little pink and she avoided looking at him.

He should go. He shouldn’t get involved. He didn’t ask the women in his life if they were okay. He didn’t worry that they looked more wounded emotionally than physically. He didn’t delve into their private lives.

He had easy relationships without connecting because if he didn’t connect, he didn’t get used. The girl in high school, Amy, had used him against Clint. She had used them both for her own games that he still didn’t understand. As much as he had lived life, he still didn’t always get it. Maybe because his childhood and teen years had been spent on the football field guided by his dad, and without a lot of social interaction off the field.

“Do you want to stay for supper?” It was Timmy, holding a hand out to him, not Jenna offering the invitation.

“I should go.” He looked down at the little guy and tried to remember when he’d last had supper cooked in a farmhouse and eaten at an oak table.

“You can stay.” Jenna walked onto the porch, her brown hair pulled back in an unruly ponytail. “I have plenty. It’s nothing fancy.”

He pushed his hat back and stared up at her, a country girl in jeans and sneakers. He resented Billy for putting him in this position and Will for telling him to stay. Because this felt like home. And he hadn’t been home in a long time.

It had been so long that he’d forgotten how it felt, that it felt good here, and safe.

“Adam?”

“I shouldn’t…”

“What, shouldn’t eat? Are you afraid it’ll ruin your boyish figure to eat fried chicken?”

“Fried chicken, you say?” His stomach growled. “I think I might have to stay.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had fried chicken. Or the last time he’d known a woman that cooked fried chicken.

Timmy pulled his hand, leading him up the stairs. Jenna limped back into the house. He followed her slow pace, telling himself that questions weren’t allowed.

He had rules about women, rules that included not asking questions, not getting personal. Because he knew how much it hurt to be used, to be fooled. But he couldn’t admit that, because he was Adam Mackenzie, he could take a hit and keep going.

“What can I do?” He pulled off his hat and hung it on a nail next to the back door.

Jenna turned, her face flushed. “Pour the tea? I have glasses with ice waiting in the fridge.”

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