What was Matt Long doing here five long years after he’d left?

Jenny had hoped to never see him again.

When he stepped out of the truck, still as gorgeous as ever, Jenny’s traitorous heart twitched, but she forced it to settle down. Fast. Shallow charm and a killer grin wouldn’t turn her head this time around. She’d learned her lesson when he’d run out on her.

He could no longer set her skin on fire. The only heat that burned within her for him now was anger.

“You have a lot of nerve coming back to Ordinary,” she said. “Especially after the way you left. You couldn’t have said goodbye? Or left a note?”

He stopped when he saw her. His mouth dropped open then just as quickly closed. The line of his jaw became hard. Then he shrugged.

No conscience.

Good to know. She felt better about the decisions she’d made. She’d been right to do what she’d done, and to hell with Matt’s feelings. They weren’t her concern.

Dear Reader,

Sometimes the best things in life are the surprises.

Just when we think we have everything figured out, and know exactly where we want our lives to go, surprises send us for a loop, raise their figurative heads and say, “You might want to rethink where you’re headed.”

Matthew Long first appeared in No Ordinary Cowboy as a love ’em and leave ’em cowboy, but I wasn’t ready to love him and leave him. I knew he had a whole lot more going on than he let the world see.

Matt believes he would make a terrible father, but once he sees Jesse for the first time and realizes that Jesse is his son, his life changes irrevocably.

The question then is whether Matt is up to the challenge, but we romance readers expect a lot from our heroes and our heroes hate to disappoint us.

Sometimes the things we most fear, brought on by those uncontrollable surprises in life, stand up and shout, “Sure your life was okay the way you planned it, but you’re going to love this even more!”

Enjoy Matt’s story!

Mary Sullivan

This Cowboy’s Son
Mary Sullivan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mary Sullivan loves writing about children. That’s why you’ll find them in many of her stories. She loves to watch how they affect us in real life and then writes about how they affect her heroes and heroines. If we allow them to, children can challenge us as parents and caregivers and extended family members and in society as a whole to be the best that we can be. Readers can reach her through her Web site at www.MarySullivanbooks.com.

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

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

WIND WHIPPED through the valley and howled around the old house like a widow keening.

A crack of thunder shook the earth. Rain pelted the windshield faster than the wipers could clear it away, blurring the outline of the cabin.

Matthew Long swore he could hear years-dead voices whispering things better left unsaid. Grief clung to this place like a bad dream, still breathed his father’s obscenities and his mother’s lunatic ravings.

He wished that Jenny Sterling could have found somewhere else to ride out this storm other than the house he’d grown up in.

Lightning flashed the midnight sky with midday brightness, exposing a still life of the land on which Matt had hoped to never again step foot. Weeds had obliterated any trace of the small garden his mother had once planted in the yard. A hole the size of a pebble marred one of the living room’s windows.

The flat roof of the veranda listed like a drunken sailor.

The house looked forgotten and lonesome.

Warm light flickered in the cabin’s windows and wood smoke scented the air. Jenny had started a fire.

Matt couldn’t put it off any longer. He had to go in there and drag her back home to the Sheltering Arms. Hank might be a friend, but he was also their employer. The little idiot needed to apologize for the argument she’d started with Hank’s guest, Amy.

He turned off the engine and jumped out of the truck.

In the few seconds it took him to cross the muddy path between the truck and the veranda, the wind picked up, bending the trees beside the house horizontal and soaking him to the skin with driving rain.

The aged floorboards creaked beneath him with every step he took. He had to put effort into pushing the warped door while it groaned its resistance before finally opening.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He hadn’t been in here since his parents had died. What was that? Ten years ago? The living room hadn’t changed one bit, except for the woman standing in front of the fireplace.

Jenny kept her back to him, ignoring him when he knew he’d made enough noise entering to rouse the dead.

Soft candlelight shone on her bare back, lit the threadbare blanket that was wrapped around her and hanging below the flare of her hips. When she bent to arrange her wet clothes in front of the fire, it slipped down to her smooth, round bottom, and anger forged a trail through him.

She had a lot of nerve ruining a perfectly good friendship by growing up. Matt didn’t care how unreasonable that sounded.

A gust of wind through the open doorway blew his hat from his head but he caught it in one hand.

The cold air raised goose bumps on Jenny’s skin. Even though the candlelight was too dim for him to be sure, he swore he could see them. But then, he’d noticed everything about her lately, like her curves and the new way she walked, swinging her hips too much.

Feminine curves and cowgirl strength. A stunning combination, never mind that she was feisty and fun, and made him feel bad to the bone.

His horsing-around-buddy was a better person than he could ever be, without even trying. She just was.

And now she was a grown woman.

Matt stepped into the room and slammed the door. The cabin seemed to get smaller, becoming too intimate. He rapped his hat against his thigh, spraying water across the wood floor, and threw it across the room to land on the kitchen table.

Jenny straightened, turned and looked at him with the eyes of a woman. Damn. No longer the kid he could toss into the pond when she got mouthy, she’d started to watch him with awareness, making his skin itch and his groin scream for attention.

Looking at her, he felt that old devil, yearning, swamp him. Yearning for what? For a warm body to sink into? Hell, any number of girls in town offered that regularly. For a comfort that would ease his soul? He could always wander into Reverend Wright’s church for that. For…love? No way. No how. For a family? Not in this lifetime.

That yearning had been trailing him for too long. Quit, already, he ordered. But it was no use with Jenny standing in front of him looking like a cowboy’s dream. Damn.

A flicker in Jenny’s eyes echoed his desire.

“Matt,” she said, gripping the gray blanket against her chest. It rose and fell with her shallow breaths.

He tried to say her name, but nothing came out. He stepped toward her. His boots hit the floor too loudly in the quiet room.

He finally admitted what he’d been denying to himself. That he’d been aware of her growing up not in the last couple of months, but in the last few years. She’d been calling to him and he’d done his best to hide from her.

Jenny stared at him with heat in her eyes, with smoky knowledge and a woman’s desire.

Lately, she’d been trying to reel him in like a calf at the end of a rope, but he was too smart for that. He’d resisted her. But here? Now? When she stood in front of him like a slice of heaven on earth?

“You play with fire, kid, and you’re going to get burned.” His throat hurt, sounded raw.

“I’m not a kid,” she said. “I’m twenty-two.”

She dropped the blanket and air hissed out from between his teeth. His gaze shot around the room, trying to look at anything but her, but in the end, he was only human.

Her thick braid fell over her shoulder to tease the nipple of one of her breasts. He groaned. Those breasts. Those mile-long legs.

He tried to be noble. “We’re friends, Jenny. This could ruin it.” He forced his lungs to expand and inhaled the scent of lilacs. God, she was beautiful. “I know about these things. You don’t.”

“I want to be more than friends, Matt.”

A sheen of sweat broke out on his upper lip.

Itchy and unsettled and angry, he yanked her toward him. Roughly. Her breasts hit his chest, warm through the damp denim shirt.

She wanted to be a woman? Fine, he’d treat her like one.

Matt settled a hand on her hip. He’d held a lot of women in his time, but Jenny’s skin was softer than any he’d ever touched.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he didn’t want to talk. He brushed one eyelid with a featherlight kiss then moved on to her cheek, and the corner of her mouth. She shivered.

“No regrets, Jenny,” he said, his voice husky. “This is sex. Nothing more.”

“I want you, Matt,” she told him. “What do you want?”

He felt the long-denied truth a split second before he said, “This,” and his mouth came down on hers, heavy and demanding.

A rough exhalation escaped him. He braced his arm across her back and crushed her to him, forcing his erection against her belly.

Jenny breathed one word. “Yes.”

He spread the blanket on the floor and brought her down with him. He lay on his back and pulled her to kneel above him so he could watch the firelight pour over her curves like molten caramel. While the windows rattled with the violence of the storm outside, the fire sent shadows leaping across the walls.

Jenny unbuttoned Matt’s shirt while he unzipped his pants.

She smiled. He reached up to taste that smile.

Wrapping his arms around her, he gave her every particle of himself, taking as much as she had to offer. When he entered her, he felt like laughing, crying, shouting from the mountaintops.

Jenny came apart in his arms then lay against him as trustingly as a newborn kitten.

Matt followed her into a nameless bliss, found peace, and whispered, “I love you.”

Get out of here.

Firelight limned the ancient furniture Matt knew too well.

Run.

He couldn’t breathe.

I love you? Where the hell had that come from? It was a goddamn lie, just like everything else in this hole he’d grown up in.

Jenny lay sleeping beside him. Maybe she hadn’t heard. She must have.

She craved a family. Damned if he’d hang around to fulfill her dreams. He couldn’t do it.

He should have stopped this, should have left it at friendship. Sex always screwed things up.

He pulled his arm out from under her head and sat up. He looked frantically around the room. Shadows of bad memories danced in the corners, thickening the air, choking him.

Bile rose in his throat.

Get the hell out of here.

No way did Matt do the white picket fence, the vows at the altar and the “I’ll love you forever” crap. No way did he do kids.

Marriages ended badly. With a bang.

I love you. What was he thinking?

The fire had long since died, and now the candle flickered out. Darkness pressed on his lungs.

Matt dressed in the dark, his fingers thick and clumsy. He fumbled on the table for his hat, slammed it onto his head and stepped toward the door. The floor creaked.

When Jenny rolled over, his throat constricted, and he felt that marriage noose tighten around his neck.

She sighed, still asleep.

With shaking hands, he pulled on his boots. Opening the door a crack, he squeezed out then rushed through the storm and climbed into the Jeep, the lowest of the low, a jerk. A coward.

He’d never promised Jenny he was anything other than that, any better than his father or his grandfather before him. Long men didn’t do responsibility.

He couldn’t have been more honest. This is sex. Nothing more.

But was it only sex?

Aw, shut up.

When he roared out of the clearing and across the prairie, the Jeep sprayed rooster tails of mud and water. Sayonara, Jenny.

Five years later

JENNY LIFTED another forkload of hay into Lacey’s stall. She had mucked out too many stalls today, fed too many horses. Her muscles throbbed with the strain.

She’d been exhausted lately, doing both her jobs and Angus’s.

Angus hadn’t even turned out for the branding last week. Jenny had handled it all, had called in friends and local teenagers to help with the job. It had been a big one. They’d had a good crop of calves this year.

Maybe soon, he would feel up to doing more around the ranch. He’d been grieving for his dead son for a long time, a couple of years now. It was time to rejoin the land of the living.

The low rumble of a pickup truck caught her attention as the vehicle pulled into the Circle K’s yard.

Jenny tossed her rake against the wall and stepped outside, happy for the break until she recognized that black truck and the horse trailer behind it.

Her heart writhed against her ribs.

Why was Matt Long in this corner of Montana five years after he’d left?

She’d hoped never to see him again.

When he stepped out of the truck, still as gorgeous as ever, Jenny’s traitorous heart twitched, but she forced it to settle down. Fast.

Shallow charm and a killer grin wouldn’t turn her head this time. She’d learned her lesson when he’d run out on her.

He could no longer set her on fire. The only thing that burned for him within her now was anger.

His five-year absence hadn’t been anywhere near long enough for her to forgive him.

Had he heard the news? Was he here to mess it all up for her? She wouldn’t put it past him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, striding to within a couple of feet of him, not a trace of welcome in her voice.

He slammed the truck door, then saw her. His mouth dropped open then closed just as quickly. The line of his jaw hardened. “What are you doing here?” he asked in return, leaning against the door of the truck, crossing his arms. “Thought you’d still be working for Hank on the Sheltering Arms. You just visiting here today?”

His mirrored sunglasses shielded his eyes.

She needed to see them, to figure whether he was a better man than he used to be. Not that it mattered to her. She should have never trusted the rat. Matt, the rat.

“I work here.” She stepped closer.

“Since when?”

“Four years now.”

He didn’t comment, just brushed past her and opened the back doors of his horse trailer. Masterpiece let out a demanding whinny. They must have been on the road awhile.

“You have a lot of nerve coming back to Ordinary,” she said. “Especially after the way you left. You couldn’t have said goodbye? Or left a note?” He shrugged.

No conscience.

Once a rat, always a rat.

Good to know. She wouldn’t feel guilty about the decisions she’d made anymore. She’d been right to do what she’d done and the hell with Matt’s feelings. They weren’t her concern.

Matt backed Masterpiece out of the trailer.

Master nudged his chest and Matt took a caramel out of his shirt pocket, unwrapping it. The horse picked it up from Matt’s palm with the delicacy of a surgeon.

Jenny still didn’t know what he was doing here, and really didn’t care, but she was booting him off this ranch.

“Load Master right back into that trailer,” she ordered, her tone so cold her tongue got frostbite. “Get out of here.”

“Nope,” he said, ignoring her as if she were of no more consequence than a flea. “I take my orders from Angus, not from a ranch hand.”

“What are you talking about? What orders?” Dread circled around her belly. Why would Angus be giving Matt orders? “Why are you here on the Circle K?”

“Angus hired me.”

No way. She stared at Matt. No freaking way.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope.” He raised his eyebrows at her tone. “What business is it of yours?”

She’d gotten over him years ago, but she sure didn’t want to work with him. Never again. And what about Jesse?

Jenny leaned forward, getting into Matt’s space. He smelled good. He still used the same aftershave and it brought back memories. Those memories were tainted, though. They weren’t the gorgeous dreams she’d wanted with Matt when she was a teenager.

But then, adolescents weren’t always the smartest creatures, were they?

Matt had forced Jenny to become a realist overnight. To start planning. She would never again be a dreamer. “Angus wouldn’t have hired you without consulting me first.”

“Why would he ask you who he’s allowed to hire?”

“I’m ranch foreman.”

Matt’s jaw dropped. “You?”

“Yes, me.” She smiled meanly. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Why aren’t you still on the Sheltering Arms?”

What could she possibly say? That they’d worked there together for too many years? That after he’d run away it had hurt her to stay, to see him in every corner, to picture him on Master racing with her across the prairie? That she’d missed him every minute of every waking hour, and that they had all been waking hours?

She hadn’t eaten or slept much for weeks until she’d discovered she had something worth living for, worth fighting for. She’d gotten over Matt pretty damn quickly after Jesse was born.

When she left Sheltering Arms, Angus had given her a job on the ranch he’d bought after her parents had gone bankrupt all those years ago.

She’d come home.

“I wanted to come back to my ranch,” she said, finally answering his question. “Angus said nothing about hiring you.”

“Well, he did. I know Angus Kinsey well enough to recognize his voice on the phone.”

God, no.

Jenny turned and strode toward the house.

“Where are you going?” The deep timbre of Matt’s voice, flavored with anger, washed over her.

“To talk to Angus,” she called over her shoulder. “To get this straightened out.”

“There’s nothing to straighten out. Angus hired me and I’m staying.”

“Not if I can help it.”

“He owns this ranch. Even if you are foreman, why would he care what you want?”

She suddenly felt good enough to shout. Payback was so sweet. Matt had hurt her badly when he’d abandoned her. Let him hurt for a while.

Jenny paused on the top step of the veranda and turned around slowly, savoring the moment. With enough smug satisfaction to drown a prairie dog, she said, “In two weeks’ time, I’m going to marry Angus.”

Matt whipped off his sunglasses. She wasn’t sure what she saw in those blue eyes, but it wasn’t happiness.

Good. She’d gotten to him.

As if sensing his owner’s tension, Masterpiece stirred restlessly. Matt rubbed his hand down his neck and the horse settled.

“Angus is old enough to be your father,” he said, his voice little more than a growl.

“So what?” Jenny frowned. “He’s a good man. He’ll make a great husband.”

Take that and shove it up your nose.

She slammed the screen door behind her, shaken, letting everything that she’d just hidden from Matt flood through her, anger so piercing it wounded her, fear so deep it shredded her stomach.

Memories so shaming they burned.

This is sex. Nothing more. The cold-hearted bastard had been telling the truth. For him, it had never been more than sex. How could she have been so mistaken about Matt Long?

I love you. She’d heard him say it so clearly, but it had been a lie.

She stared at her trembling hands. If Matt had had to leave her after their night together, he should have had the good sense to stay away forever.

His timing couldn’t be worse.

But she couldn’t blame him for this, really. Angus had brought Matt here.

Standing in the hallway, Jenny forced herself to get control of her nerves or she’d rip into Angus with both barrels blazing. He didn’t deserve that. He’d been good to her.

Dread balled up in her stomach like undigested steak. Matt couldn’t possibly screw things up for her when she was so close to getting everything she’d always wanted in life. Could he?

She needed reassurance. She needed an Angus Kinsey hug.

She found him in the living room.

He stood in front of the lace-curtained window, one arm stretched high and braced against the wall. Obviously, he’d just witnessed the scene between her and Matt. He glanced at her over his shoulder.

Graying temples and the beginning of a soft middle betrayed his fifty-eight years.

He looked tired.

Angus owned the Circle K, but Jenny ran it. For two years, he’d been detached from the ranch. The death of a man’s son could kill a lot of things in him. Even the love of his land.

She liked Angus, cared for him deeply.

What she’d felt for Matt had only been lust. With Angus, it was different. They had respect and a deep affection. If her heart sometimes whispered that she wanted more than that, she ignored it.

Angus must have seen something disturbing on her face. He came away from the window and opened his arms. She rushed into them, burrowing against his big warm chest.

Hold me. Help me. Reassure me. I’m so scared.

“Why, Angus?” The question came out muffled, but she couldn’t pull away from him.

“Why what?” His voice echoed against her ear. “What’s got you so upset?”

“I don’t want Matt Long here.”

“Why not? I thought he was a friend of yours. I thought you’d be happy.”

“Why did you hire him?” she asked without answering his question.

“He owes me.”

Jenny pulled away to look at him. “Owes you? Because you were good to him when he was a teenager?”

“No. That was freely given. This is for paying the taxes on his land for five years while he was away. So he wouldn’t lose it.”

“You mean he still owns it?” That cabin she wanted to burn to the ground? The one that had witnessed the worst humiliation of her life? Part of her whispered, and the best night you ever had, but she suppressed it. The pain on the morning after had far outweighed the pleasure of the night before.

Angus nodded. “I’ve been paying his taxes, but now that you and I are getting married, I need to get my life in order. I’m organizing my finances and adding you and Jesse to my will.”

“So what if Matt owes you money? Why couldn’t he pay you back from Wyoming or wherever he was?”

Angus seemed puzzled by the stridency of her tone. “Ordinary is his home. He should have stayed here all along.”

He stepped away from her and led her down the hall to his office. “I’ll show you the paperwork. Matt’s going to work off what he owes me here on the ranch.”

“Didn’t you say once that he was doing well in the rodeo? Why can’t he pay you from his winnings?”

“He had an accident with a bull.”

What? Matt had been injured? By a bull? She’d always thought him…indestructible, but in confrontations between bulls and men, bulls always won. “How badly was he hurt?”

“Bad enough. Broken ribs. Ruptured spleen. Emergency surgery. His rodeo days are over for good. His winnings all went to pay his hospital bills.”

“You’ve been keeping track of Matt over the years?”

“Of course. He’s like a son to me.”

Angus sat at the desk while Jenny took a chair across from him. He stretched his arms and clasped his fingers behind his head.

“I don’t know what happened to make Matt leave Montana but he should have stayed and ranched that piece of land he owns.”

Jenny chewed on her lip.

Angus cast her a glance. “Looked like you two were fighting out there.” He gestured with his head toward the front of the house. “What was that about?”

She should tell him, now, while they were alone. It would take Angus only a fraction of a second to see the family resemblance when Matt and Jesse stood side by side. It was unfair to blindside him like that.

She took a deep breath and held it. Angus wouldn’t like this. Could she make him understand why she’d never told Matt about his son? Well enough that Angus wouldn’t hate her?

She couldn’t stand to lose his respect.

“I need to tell you something,” she said.

“Okay,” he murmured, sitting forward and releasing his hands.

“Matt is…” Oh, just spit it out and get it over with. “Matt is Jesse’s father.”

“Matt?” Angus fell back against his chair as if someone had hit him. His eyebrows nearly met his hairline. “Jesse’s father?”

“Yes,” she said. “Jesse is Matt’s son.”

“I never invaded your privacy, never asked who the father was,” he whispered, “but why didn’t you ever tell me this?”

Oh, Angus, don’t be disappointed in me. It hurts.

“Angus, I spend most days trying to forget it, forget that I ever had the poor judgment to get involved with him.”

Matt’s arrival on the Circle K changed so much for Jenny. Everything had been going along fine. She’d finally found the way to make her long-ago dreams of having a family and working the ranch she’d grown up on come true. She would finally have security for Jesse.

Angus scratched his head, as though he was having trouble taking it in. “I can’t believe Matt moved to Wyoming. Why didn’t he stay here and raise his boy?” His lips tightened. “I thought better of him.”

Angus stood and she reached a hand to stop him from leaving the room to hunt Matt down.

“I didn’t tell him.”

“What?”

Jenny stared down at her fist on her thigh, at the knuckles turning white, and whispered, “I never told him.”

Angus leaned forward to get a good look at her face. “Tell me I misheard you,” he said, his tone low and harsh.

“You didn’t.” She couldn’t meet his eyes. Sure, she’d had her reasons for not telling Matt, good ones, but Angus might not agree.

“You didn’t tell him he had a son and you don’t see what’s wrong with that?” The sharp edge of his voice grated on her skin. She’d never heard him so angry.

She lifted her chin defiantly. “No, I didn’t. I’m not proud of it, but I had to protect my son. I didn’t need Matt to be Jesse’s father. I didn’t want him to be.”

“Why not?”

“I couldn’t let him hang around for a couple of months or years and then abandon Jesse.”

“Matt is a better man than that.”

“No, he isn’t. Remember what happened when he got Scotty’s daughter pregnant? How Matt took off for a month and only returned after Elsa’s miscarriage?”

“That’s not a fair comparison. He was fifteen and running scared. He must have been twenty-five, twenty-six, when you got pregnant. He would have done the right thing.”

Jenny slapped the arm of her chair. “He was still the kind of man to leave a young woman after a one-night stand, in the middle of that night, and never bother to find out if she was pregnant.” Her voice rose. “He knew we hadn’t used birth control.”

“It was your responsibility to track him down and tell him.”

“True, and I would have if he’d been a different person.”

She’d heard him whisper that he loved her and it had set her heart soaring. She hadn’t asked, begged or cajoled. He’d offered it freely. She’d thought they were about to get their happy ending and had fallen asleep with a smile on her lips.

What a fool she’d been.

The following morning, Matt had left Montana. Why would he treat his son any better than he’d treated her? He was a man who raised hopes and then dashed them.

“You remember what Matt was like back then—even in his twenties,” she said, “fooling around with any woman who showed an interest. Lots of drinking on Friday and Saturday nights. Traveling with the rodeo whenever he could.”

“Jenny,” Angus said dryly, “you’re describing half the single men in the state.” He folded his arms across his chest and took his seat again, preparing to argue.

“Yes, but Matt seemed worse. His childhood was so unstable. He ran out on Elsa. He ran out on me. How could I trust him not to run out on Jesse one day?” She needed Angus to understand but couldn’t tell him how that “I love you” had been the answer to fantasies she’d woven around Matt for as far back as she could remember, since the first time she’d found him lying under the cotoneaster bushes on the hill, spying on her family and the ranch, his heart full of envy. She knew he’d loved the house and this land us much as she had.

She stood and spread her hands on the desk. “My son means more to me than anything on this earth. I would protect him with my life. I’m protecting him now.”

Angus shook his head. “Matt has a real decent streak inside him.”

“I know.” That was the part she’d fallen in love with as a girl. “But I don’t trust him. Jesse will fall for him and then Matt will leave. That’s always been his pattern. I know this in my bones, Angus.”

Jenny felt a headache throbbing against the backs of her eyelids. The fight left her and she sat back down.

Angus came around the desk and settled onto his haunches in front of her. He took her hands in his.

“Your fingers are like icicles.” He chafed them. “You have to tell him, sweetheart. It’s the right thing to do.”

She knew that and hated it.

“Angus,” she whispered, “I’m so scared. What if Jesse gets hurt?”

“I’ll be here. You’ll be here. We’ll make it all right for him.”

“But—”

“Talk to Matt,” he urged.

It was a losing battle and she gave in. “I’ll go pick up Jesse.”

“Where is he? At Hank’s?”

She nodded. “Don’t tell Matt anything while I’m gone. Promise?”

After Angus agreed, Jenny breathed a sigh and left the house.

Neither Matt nor Masterpiece was in the yard. The truck and trailer stood along the side of the stable. Obviously, Matt thought he was here to stay for a while.

Not if Jenny could help it.

CHAPTER TWO

JENNY JUMPED into her beater car and sped from the ranch.

Ten minutes later, she drove down the long driveway of the Sheltering Arms and pulled up in front of the house. The grounds were neat as a pin, as usual.

She walked to the nearest corral where a couple of mares chewed on the grass under the fence.

Jenny combed one horse’s mane with her fingers, and took comfort from the animal’s solid bulk.

She liked the simplicity of animals, of dealing with them. They had no problem offering loyalty and then sticking with it.

Children’s voices in the stable rose and fell in playful cadence. She thought she heard Jesse’s voice among them. He loved playing with the kids Hank brought to the ranch.

Her nerves hummed. Jesse didn’t know who his father was. She’d managed to dodge that bullet for four years now. He hadn’t asked yet, but he would.

When she and Angus married, she planned to tell her son that Angus was his father. Jesse would be satisfied with that. He loved Angus.

But what about when he got older, old enough to guess differently?

I’ll deal with that when it happens.

Jenny blew a soft breath through her lips. She had to believe her marriage to Angus would work.

A mess of poorly dressed kids ran out of the stable. Jenny approached them. Some kids had holes in the toes of their sneakers, or knees worn out of their pants. They all wore baseball caps with Sheltering Arms written across the front. They were inner-city children recovering from cancer and Hank Shelter was giving them three weeks of pure, unadulterated fun. Hank took in a pack of kids every single month, year-round.

Knowing their father’s drill by heart, Hank’s two children, four-year-old Michael and three-year-old Cheryl, led the pack. When Amy first came to the Sheltering Arms, a small girl was visiting who had become precious to both Hank and Amy. They’d been devastated when she died, and later named their daughter Cheryl in her honor.

Another little boy, with a head full of beautiful blond locks and long blond eyelashes that would do a girl proud, ran with them. Jesse. Jenny’s heart swelled, as it always did when she saw him.

“Jesse!” She waved and her son’s smile lit up his face. He ran across the yard and threw himself full force into her arms. Jenny caught him, laughing while she stumbled to keep her balance.

Oh, you rare gem. Oh, my little sweetheart.

She hugged the bundle of energy so hard he finally complained.

“Mo-o-om. I can’t breathe.”

Jenny loosened her grip and carried her son in her arms with his legs wrapped around her waist, like a little monkey.

She waved to Hank and his children.

“Hey, Jenny,” Hank called. Sometimes Jenny missed working for Hank. Sometimes she missed working with the children.

That morning after Jenny and Matt spent the night together, Hank had lost a good ranch hand in Matt. A year later, he’d also lost Jenny.

Most days, though, she was happy to be home, on her family’s ranch, even if she didn’t own it. Yet.

That would change the day she married Angus. Then half of it would be hers, and someday in the future, Jesse and any brothers and sisters Jenny and Angus made for him, would own the whole thing.

“I’m taking Jesse home now. See you later.”

Hank waved back.

“Hank’s got a baby horse,” Jesse chattered. “He let me pet him. Hannah gave us nimistrome for lunch.”

“Minestrone?”

“Uh-huh. It was good ’cept for the beans. Mikey said they make him fart.”

Jenny chuffed out a laugh.

Jesse fiddled with the gold chain she wore. “I made a friend. Stacey.”

Jenny’s throat constricted. He was getting so big, no longer looked a toddler, but more a little boy. Too fast. She was in a weird mood today. Off balance because of Matt.

Some days it felt as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. Keeping secrets could do that to a person, but she was about to unburden herself of the biggest one. She hoped she would feel better after that.

As she held her son in her arms, smelling the hot, active-kid scent of him that she loved, she thought, What am I going to do about you and your father? You were never supposed to meet him.

She silently cursed Angus for contacting Matt, Matt for agreeing to come back, and her parents for losing her ranch in the first place. She knew she wasn’t being rational, so she forced herself to relax, then kissed the top of her son’s head. There were some things well worth being thankful for.

She shouldn’t be angry with her parents. They’d done their best. Dad had tried everything to save their ranch, had even started a quarry that had scarred part of the land.

She shifted Jesse a little higher on her hip and walked to the car. She should put him down. He was four years old, after all, but she wanted him close for a few minutes, though.

Matt was back.

What a cowpie-kicking mess. But this was one mess she was taking care of for good.

UNSETTLED AND TIRED, Matt threw his belongings onto a bed at the near end of the bunkhouse. Coming back to Ordinary was harder than he had reckoned it would be.

Driving in from Wyoming, he’d thought the trip was long. Then, all of a sudden, he’d arrived and had to face too much.

He hadn’t wanted to see Jenny. He’d planned to steer well clear of the Sheltering Arms, but she was here on the Circle K. Worse still, she was foreman and she was marrying Angus. What a snafu.

He’d just seen her drive off the ranch in a small silver car. At least he’d have a few minutes of peace until she returned.

Matt wanted to forget that night, and that he’d ever told Jenny he loved her.

He didn’t want to be reminded of how much he’d missed her in the past five years and the friendship they’d had before that night. Nor did he want to admit how much he’d missed this place and how it was all tangled up with his relationship with Jenny.

She’d been his anchor for years, since he was a kid. She’d watched over him. Then they’d had sex, he’d split, and he’d missed her and Ordinary more than he’d thought possible.

Matt wished he could turn around and beat a track out of here, to get away from his love-hate relationship with this community, but he couldn’t leave.

He owed Angus too much money. No way could he let him down.

Why not? Angus let you down. He’s marrying Jenny.

So what? You were never going to marry her. Jenny and Angus are free to marry each other.

Yeah, but still…

Still what?

I don’t know.

He didn’t want to have to deal with Jenny, had spent five years purging her from his mind.

A decrepit sofa sat at the far end of the bunkhouse, decorated with brown wagon wheels and rearing horses on graying beige.

Matt sank into its soft cushions that had accommodated too many rear ends over its life, of the men who’d made Angus’s ranch their home for weeks, months or years at a time.

He turned on the small TV, flipped through the channels, then turned it off and tossed the remote onto the scratched coffee table.

An ancient olive-green fridge and stove and a deep freezer made up what might be loosely called a kitchen area.

Matt jumped up and left the bunkhouse. After a while, these places all started to look the same, a blur of lumpy beds and cobbled-together secondhand furniture.

He walked across the yard in search of Angus, remembering when he used to come here as an adolescent, hiding on the low hill above the yard, in the stand of a dozen or so cotoneasters across the top. This ranch had come to be a magical place for him, a spot where parents knew how to make happy families.

Lilacs lined one side of the two-story house. Their scent wafted across the veranda. He stepped through the screen door and entered a foyer that was a few degrees cooler than the sunlit yard.

Maybe in some ways it was good to be back. He closed his eyes and inhaled.

It smelled clean, like lemon and potpourri.

Matt had spent time inside this house as a teenager. He’d loved it. Back then, it had smelled like cigars and fried food.

Far as he could tell, nothing much else had changed. The screen door let in a breeze that ruffled dried flowers in an arrangement on a table by the door.

He didn’t remember Angus having a fondness for flowers. Jenny’s influence, maybe? Naw, not likely. Jenny Sterling’s name was listed under “tomboy” in the dictionary.

He walked down the hall, passing the living room on his right and the dining room on the left, both filled with oversize dark furniture.

He continued down the hall and spotted Angus sitting behind his desk in the office.

“Hey, Angus.” Matt stepped into the room, a smile spreading across his face. This man had saved him, had just flat out saved him all those years ago.

Angus glanced up from the books he was working on and grinned when he saw Matt. He came around the desk and they met in a man-hug, right hands meeting in a bone-crunching handshake and left hands slapping each other’s backs.

Matt was so damn glad to see Angus. The past five years had been filled with close acquaintances and a lot of strangers. But friends? No. It was good to touch a friend.

“Matt, it’s great to see you.” Angus’s voice sounded rough, wet.

“You, too.” Matt moved to pull away, but Angus hung on and Matt started to choke up. He knew why Angus wouldn’t let go. Kyle. Matt understood how Angus felt. Kyle had been his friend.

Matt had called after he’d heard about Kyle’s death, but this was the first time they’d seen each other since. Now, being on the Circle K, it was all too real.

Before coming back, Matt had understood in his mind that he would never see Kyle again, but here he had to face the truth. Here he knew it in his heart and missed Kyle badly.

Kyle had died a couple of years ago in a ranching accident, overcome by silo gas when the tractor venting the silo Kyle was working inside had died, no longer flushing out the nitrogen dioxide that built up in silos. The gas could kill in a matter of minutes. Kyle had never stood a chance.

Matt remembered the day Angus called with the news of Kyle’s death—a Monday. He hadn’t felt normal for a long time after that.

“Great to see you, Matt,” Angus repeated. He released Matt and sat back down, his gaze glued to the papers on his desk.

Angus had aged in five years, with frown lines on his forehead, a slight bowing forward of his shoulders. Probably most of it had come after Kyle’s death, as if he had given up on some part of life.

Matt gave Angus a minute to pull himself together then said, “I was real sorry I couldn’t get back here for the funeral.”

“You had your own problems.” Angus rested his elbows on the desk. “How are the injuries? You all healed now?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Matt sat across from Angus, pretended a nonchalance he didn’t feel and asked, “Heard you and Jenny are getting married.”

“Yeah, the wedding’s in two weeks.”

“You mind if I ask why you’re marrying her?” He forced himself to sound unconcerned. So what if there was an age difference? People did it all the time.

“I want a son.” Angus raised a hand before Matt could object. “Sounds foolish, I know. I’ll never get Kyle back, but I’d like to have children again.”

Matt nodded. He’d never lost a child, so who was he to criticize? There was no fighting a man’s desires after living through tragedy.

“Jesse reminds me of how much I’ve lost.” Angus stilled and flushed, as though he’d said something wrong.

Who was Jesse? A ranch hand?

“C’mon outside,” Angus rushed on and stood, steering Matt with a friendly hand on the shoulder. “Want to show you some of the new equipment I’ve invested in lately.”

Matt knew he was being put off and wondered why. What was the story with Jesse? It didn’t matter. Matt was glad to be distracted from more talk about Kyle. It hurt too much.

Angus showed him around the barns and stables, but seemed fidgety, as if he needed to get away. This went on for the better part of a half hour, then Angus said he had to go into town.

Matt sat on the top step of the veranda, watching the dust from Angus’s car settle in the quiet yard.

The ranch hands must be out doing chores.

Strange homecoming, this, with Kyle dead and Jenny here and still angry, and Angus happy to see him, but somehow not acting like himself.

Matt didn’t like feeling so alone.

It’s your own damn fault. You’re the one who’s made a career out of leaving.

Yeah, but I don’t have to like the results.

He should take a look at his parents’ land. His land now. See whether the house was still standing.

No. He jerked to his feet and wiped the seat of his jeans. No way did he want to go back there.

He needed to get rid of that house and he could do it without ever seeing it again.

He strode down the hill to get his truck. He needed to take care of business.

Driving along the shimmering road toward Ordinary, Matt’s stomach jumped. He hadn’t been in Ordinary in five years.

Home.

He tested the word and tasted bitterness on his tongue.

What was new about that? Ordinary, Montana, hadn’t had much use for him while he grew up here, so why should he need it now?

The townspeople used to call him “that Long whelp.” As if he had any choice who his parents were.

He steered his pickup down Main Street, absorbing details of the town, like the police station, whose hospitality he’d enjoyed a couple of times as a teen. The New American Diner sat placid, no longer new, but still popular, he’d bet. Did they still serve the best club sandwich in the West?

The town basked under a warm May sun and a picture-perfect sky. Matt rubbed the heel of his hand across his chest to ease a weird ache there.

Perversely, he pulled into a parking spot in front of Scotty’s Hardware. There were other spots available, but sometimes he had to remind himself of his own shortcomings. It kept his head screwed on straight.

He wondered if Elsa still worked for her dad. He wouldn’t be going in to find out.

When he walked past the store window, Scotty glared at him. Bad timing. Too bad the old geezer hadn’t retired.

If Matt planned to stay long enough to pay off his full debt to Angus, he would have to face Scotty at some point. He didn’t have it in him today, but that day would come.

Farther down the street, he found what he was looking for. A real estate office.

He stepped inside.

Paula Leger looked up from her desk when he entered. She hadn’t changed much since high school, had gotten a little thicker in the middle, but not enough to deter from her perky good looks. She wore her hair short these days, frosted with different-colored streaks.

Her eyebrows rose and she smiled. “Hey, Matt, it’s been a long time.”

“I remember when your dad used to run this office,” he said, happy to see a friendly face. Paula had always been a decent person, fair and more mature than the rest of the kids in their high school class. He didn’t remember her ever calling him names or putting him down.

“He still does,” she said. “We’re partners now. What can I do for you?”

Matt smiled. No bad vibes here. He took a deep breath and then spit it out, trying to do the right thing before he had time to wonder whether it actually was the right thing. “I want to sell my parents’ house and land.”

If Paula felt any surprise, she hid it well. “Okay, sit down and we’ll discuss it.”

Paula explained how the process would go and how she would determine what she thought the asking price should be, depending on the condition of the house.

“Last time I saw the place, it was in terrible shape,” Matt said. “Whoever buys it will just want the land.”

“Okay. Do you have a copy of the key?”

“I’ve never had one,” Matt replied. “We never locked the front door when I was a kid. As far as I know, the house is still open.”

“Do I have your permission to go inside to appraise it?”

“Sure. Do what you need to do.”

A few minutes later, Matt stepped out of Paula’s office and breathed a sigh. He’d lifted an enormous weight off his shoulders. He felt scarred by everything that had happened in that house. Now he would never have to face it again.

That was done. At last.

He stopped when he saw the flat tire on his truck. Scotty? He spun to look in the hardware store’s windows, but Scotty wasn’t there.

It took him fifteen minutes to get the tire off, another ten to roll it down to the mechanic and half an hour to get it repaired, filled and back on the truck.

By the time Matt left Ordinary, he was tired and thirsty.

All in all, his first trip to town had been mixed. Some people were happy to see him and some clearly weren’t. It was better than he’d hoped for.

When he reached the ranch, he pulled in behind a compact silver Ford that had had turned in ahead of him from the opposite direction. He recognized Jenny at the wheel.

He parked behind his horse trailer and got out.

Jenny cut the engine and opened her door, watching him steadily.

Nothing friendly there.

She walked around the car and opened the passenger door. Someone really short got out. Jenny led whoever it was over to where Matt stood at the bottom of the hill.

She looked determined, almost combative. “This is Jesse,” she said.

Ah, Jesse. Who was he? Who did he belong to?

Jenny didn’t say anything else, just stood and watched him silently. What was going on? Kid seemed kind of familiar. Weird. He was too young for Matt to have met him before, though. Not here in Ordinary, anyway.

“Hey, Jesse,” he said.

The kid looked up at him with bright blue eyes and said, “Who are you?”

“I’m Matt.”

“Are you new?”

“Yep.”

“I can show you around.” He balanced on one foot. “I know lots of things.”

“Yeah? Do you live here?”

“Uh-huh, with my mom.”

“Oh? Who’s your mom?”

The kid gave him an odd look, then glanced up at Jenny.

Matt studied Jenny and then the child. Where she was dark, with chestnut hair and deep brown eyes, Jesse was fair, with blond curls framing his face and thick light lashes ringing those blue eyes. But Jesse had a smattering of freckles across his nose.

Matt knew without looking that Jenny did, too.

“He’s yours?” he croaked. Judging by the boy’s age, she hadn’t wasted any time jumping into bed with someone else after Matt left.

Matt got a weird feeling in his stomach. His nerves skittered. He asked a question he suddenly feared. “Who’s the father?”

Jenny crouched down in front of Jesse and said, “Head inside the house. Angela made custard today.”

“Custard!” he squealed and ran toward the house on sturdy little legs.

She stood slowly, turned around just as slowly, while a pink stain spread on her cheeks.

“He’s yours,” she said.

CHAPTER THREE

DAMN, ANGUS THOUGHT, what was wrong with him?

Did he have a death wish?

Sitting in his car on Main Street, he was deeply disturbed. It was missing Kyle so badly, and seeing Matt again, a kid who’d become his second son, but who could never replace Kyle.

And finding out that he’d invited to his ranch the man whose son Angus wanted for his own. What a mix-up. If only Jenny had told him earlier, he never would have asked Matt back to work on the ranch.

But you didn’t warn her, did you?

She’d had no idea Matt was coming to the Circle K. In retrospect, Angus knew he should have told her, but his mind was too distracted these days.

As if seeing Matt again and missing Kyle and craving another man’s son weren’t enough to deal with, his approaching marriage weighed on him, too. Only two more weeks. He had to go into that with a clear head and a clean conscience. He had business to start and finish here today.

Angus stared at the Rose Trellis, knowing that she was inside. That she was truly back, had taken over her mother’s dressmaker’s shop and had no intention of leaving.

Moira Flanagan. Her name cut through his veins, landing like a load of asphalt in his gut.

You’re insane coming here like this.

He had no response to that, no argument. His knuckles turned white on the steering wheel, his grip brutal but ineffective. He knew he was going to get out of the car and head on in there to see her.

He stepped out like a man heading to his execution.

Thirty-five years later, the thought of Moira still had the power to move him.

They needed to talk.

Dresses made from rose-printed material hung in the shop window. Lavish. Like Moira.

Since she’d come home for her mother’s funeral, Angus had seen her only from a distance. She hadn’t left town afterward, though, as he’d expected her to.

Yesterday, he’d heard that she’d taken over her mother’s business in town.

He had to see her.

I’m not ready.

You’ve left it long enough. Get it done.

He exhaled until there was nothing left in his lungs but regret.

He grasped the knob of the front door. Forcing himself to push it open, he stepped inside, setting off a chime somewhere above his head.

The interior was dim after the bright sun outdoors, so he stood still to let his eyes adjust—and to give himself time to steel his heart.

Dresses lined one wall. The other wall was bare.

“I’ll be right with you,” a musical voice sang out from behind a curtain at the back of the store, deeper and huskier than he remembered from his youth, but still instantly recognizable.

It stirred memories. Desires.

The curtain flew aside and Moira stepped into the room, smiling.

She stopped when she saw Angus, the smile fading from her pale face. He drank in the sight of her. The wide neckline of her dress bared her white shoulders. She’d been a wisp of a girl back then, with breasts too big for her frame. She’d grown into a woman, and age had added substance to the rest of her body.

Lord, what a woman. He had it bad for her. Still.

He curled his fingers into fists.

Don’t touch. You’ve got a good woman at home you’re going to marry in two weeks.

Then what are you doing here?

Clearing the air.

He stepped toward her.

She stiffened. “What are you doing here?”

He stopped. The air around her swirled with tension and the scent of her rose perfume.

“Hel—” His voice didn’t work, came out as a deep croak. He swallowed and tried again. “Hello, Moira.”

“I asked you what you’re doing here.” Her tone was no longer musical, but thin with distress.

“I thought we should meet. Privately. Before we have to do it in public.”

“At your wedding.” Her mouth was flat. “I don’t plan to attend.”

He heard the resentment in her statement and his temper flared.

“You’ve got no right to be bitter. You left me.”

“I know what I did.” He wasn’t sure what emotion ran through her voice. Was there regret beneath the anger? He hoped so, hated like crazy to think he’d been the only one in love all those years ago.

“She’s so young. Do you love her?”

He couldn’t lie. “No.”

Her green-eyed gaze shot to his face.

“I care for her, though,” Angus continued. “A lot. She’s a good woman.”

Moira fingered the ribbon on a hat on a table. “But if you don’t love her, why marry at all—especially someone so young?”

“Children.” His voice shook with fury. “They should have been yours. Ours. They should be full-grown and working our ranch.”

“Yes,” she hissed, whirling away from him. She placed her hands on the counter and hung her head, the nape of her exposed neck unbearably vulnerable.

“Why did you come back?” he asked. Why are you here to turn my life upside down?

She refused to look at him, so he studied the top of her head and the once-scarlet hair that had faded to the color of a copper samovar.

“I came home for Mother’s funeral last month, and decided to stay.”

“Why?” he asked. “There was a time when you couldn’t wait to shake the dust of Ordinary off your shoes.”

Moira glanced up at that, but her gaze skittered away and she shrugged. The neckline of her dress slipped lower on one shoulder. Her porcelain skin used to fascinate him, white and flawless against the calluses of his tanned rancher’s hands. Judging by the tremor running through him, she still bewitched him.

With careful movements he stepped closer to her.

“Was it only me in love all those years ago?” he asked. “Did you ever love me?”

She clasped her hands, but he could still see them trembling. “Always. I’ve never stopped loving you,” she blurted defiantly. “Make of that what you will.”

It felt as though a slab of concrete had fallen on him, crushing his chest. “But— You never wrote. Never called. I never heard from you.”

Angus gently touched her arm and she pulled away from him.

“Of course I didn’t write,” she answered. “You married another woman.”

“Did you think I’d stand around? I waited for you to come home. I waited for three years.”

His hand struck the counter. “You could have called anytime in those years before I got married.”

He was shaking. “I waited to hear from you. I waited and waited and waited. Why didn’t you call?”

“You could have called me.”

“You left me, Moira. It was up to you to let me know if you ever wanted to see me again.”

“Oh, Angus, I was busy.” When he would have spoken, would have lambasted her for such a flimsy excuse, Moira raised a hand. “New York is like a wild animal, absolutely voracious. It chews up young people and their hopes and dreams and spits them out ruined. I refused to be one of the ruined, one of the losers. I worked my butt off to succeed.”

Her defiance left her and she looked fragile, tired.

“Did you succeed?” he asked softly.

“Beyond my wildest dreams.”

“Was it worth it?”

“I don’t know.”

“What does that mean?”

The door chime rang and Angus flinched.

Go. Get the hell out, whoever you are. I’m not finished here.

He watched Moira wipe moisture from her eyes, subtly enough that he was pretty sure the customer behind him wouldn’t notice.

He turned around. Norma Christie. Jesus, it only needed this. Crusty Christie, the biggest blabbermouth in town.

“Hello, Moira,” she said. “Angus.” She inclined her head, unbending that steel rod of a backbone enough to acknowledge him. She’d seemed old when he was young. She was downright ancient now. And judging by the spark in her eyes, just as nosy as ever.

Angus set his jaw. Moira turned around, her face composed, but he could see the strain in her eyes.

“What are you doing in here, Angus?” Norma gestured to the rose-patterned fabrics scattered around the shop. “You getting a dress made for someone? Your fiancée?”

Angus froze. What the heck was he supposed to say? That he had come in only to see Moira? When he was getting married in two weeks? Knowing Norma, she’d put an interesting spin on it and would spread it to half the town. It would crush Jenny if she heard. If there was one thing he knew about Jenny, it was that she valued loyalty above all else.

“Last time I checked,” Norma said, “the groom wasn’t supposed to order the dress for the bride. He wasn’t even supposed to see it before the wedding day.”

The dress. He’d forgotten. Moira was making Jenny’s wedding dress. How did Moira feel about that?

He couldn’t come up with a lie for Norma.

Not one goddamn word.

He saw Moira swallow, watched her pretty throat move and her full lips part.

“Angus came to pick up Jenny’s dress, but it isn’t ready yet.”

She turned to Angus and smiled. It looked like a struggle. “Tell Jenny I’ll get those pleats she wanted sewn in right away. It will only be a couple of days.”

“Will do.” Angus nodded at Norma and left the store, so frustrated his jaw hurt. He didn’t feel any better now than when he’d walked into the store. One way or another, he would find out what had happened to Moira over the years and why she’d decided to stay in Ordinary now.

And why the hell she’d never stopped loving him, yet hadn’t done a single thing about it in all these years.

MATT KNEW HE’D HEARD wrong. Jenny couldn’t have just said that the boy who’d been standing in front of him was his son. He had to have heard her wrong.

She looked serious, though.

“What?” he asked, hoping against hope that he had got it wrong. He felt light-headed, as if he was at the bottom of a deep, deep well, with only a small circle of light at the top and someone leaning over and whispering strange things. He couldn’t hear properly. “No way.”

“Yes, he’s yours,” Jenny said from the top of that long tunnel. “Born nine months and three days after the night we spent together.”

A shiver ran across the back of his neck. A wave of dizziness left his skin clammy, as though he’d just walked a mile through a thick fog.

He had a son. A child.

Whooh. He exhaled through his dry lips.

He had a child.

Christ, what was he supposed to do about it? How on earth was he supposed to deal with a child? Hoo-boy.

His feet started to itch, like he needed to run. But he couldn’t leave. He had a son.

He was the boy’s father, beyond a shadow of a doubt. Jesse looked familiar because Matt saw a more mature version of that face in his mirror every day.

He was a father.

His legs threatened to give out on him. He broke out in the kind of sweat usually caused by nightmares or rotgut alcohol.

The screen door slammed and Jesse came out with a small Tupperware container and a spoon in his hand. He sat on the top step and shoveled something into his mouth.

That little guy had sprung from his loins.

Afternoon sunlight glinted off the golden hair the boy had inherited from Matt.

Matt had inherited that from his own father—the dad who would never, not in a million years, have been voted Father of the Year.

Deserter of the Year, more like.

Or Drunk.

Or Layabout.

Or Wife Beater.

One hell of a frickin’ package.

The old confusing, crushing amalgam of feelings flooded him—love, hatred, admiration, sorrow, hero worship. Disappointment.

Matt stared at the child on the veranda.

I am a father.

His body couldn’t decide what it wanted to do, whether he should run scared or cry like a baby.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice as cold as the water at the bottom of the well he was drowning in.

“I know you, Matt. You don’t have staying power.” Jenny looked stoic, heartless, so sure in her opinions of him.

“You never gave me the chance,” he said.

“Sorry, Matt. My first responsibility is to Jesse. If that means protecting him from his own father, I’ll do it.”

Matt’s chest burned. She thought so little of him. Who had ever had faith in him? So few people.

Angus. Jenny at one point, but no more.

Maybe he should leave, figure out another way to pay Angus back. But he knew he couldn’t leave.

He had a son.

He shouldn’t have come here. Life was too complicated here, even worse now that he knew about Jesse.

“You can’t tell him,” Jenny said.

“What?”

“You can’t tell him you’re his father.”

Something inside his chest ached. Pride, he guessed, or was it something deeper? Ownership?

“If you tell him and then leave,” Jenny continued, “he’ll be so badly hurt.”

He shouldn’t have come back to Ordinary. And if he’d had any other option, he never would have.

A thought occurred to him. “Wait a minute. You’re marrying Angus. Were you just going to let him become the boy’s surrogate father?”

“Yes. We both know he makes a good one.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me first before doing that?”

Jenny bit her bottom lip and appeared to be struggling with what she had to say. “I need a dependable man to be Jesse’s father.”

“And I’m not,” Matt said bitterly.

Jenny clenched and unclenched her hands. “No,” she said. “We both know you aren’t.” That hurt.

She must have realized it because she stretched one hand toward him then let it fall. “Angus will be a better father than you. He’s the better man for Jesse, Matt.”

Jenny seemed regretful, but Matt couldn’t stand to look at her a second longer, to stand in the same yard with her. Even if he was a coward at heart, even if she didn’t respect him, she should have told him the truth.

He should have known he had a son.

She shouldn’t be giving his child to another man to raise.

On one level, he barely recognized that he was angry with her for getting pregnant in the first place, for making him feel responsibility when he didn’t want to, as if there hadn’t been two of them having sex that night.

Matt turned his back on Jenny and strode to his truck, angry, afraid, too unsettled to know exactly what he was feeling. Shocked, definitely.

Man, oh, man, he hadn’t been prepared for this kind of problem. Since that scare with Elsa, he’d been really careful with birth control. So what had happened that night with Jenny? He hadn’t given it a single thought—had only felt that he needed her, and that he had to have her.

He’d lost control.

He started the engine, made sure the kid was still sitting on the veranda and then took off down the driveway, not caring how much noise he made. When he hit the highway, he revved the engine and burned rubber.

He didn’t know where he was going, only knew that he had to get away to clear his head.

I am a father.

As Matt neared the turnoff to his parents’ house, he slammed on the brakes, hitting the gravel shoulder in a spray of fine stone and dust, and fishtailing. He missed the dirt road that led into his property.

Breathing hard, he took off his hat and threw it onto the seat beside him.

He didn’t have a clue where he needed to go or what he needed to do, but maybe it was no accident that he’d braked before he’d made any firm decisions.

Putting the truck into reverse, he backed up and turned onto the old road. Rainstorms had washed ruts into the dirt, and the truck bounced off them as he drove.

He approached the house and tried to dredge up a memory, any memory, that wasn’t bad. Not of Jenny and him and their night together, though. That memory was good and bad and insane. At this moment, he didn’t want to think of her, not when he wanted to hurt her so badly for the way she’d hurt him, for what she’d taken from him.

His boots rang loud and hollow on the porch floor, and he sidestepped a hole. The door groaned like an old woman. Then he was inside the house and lost in memories of his childhood.

He closed the door behind him, to keep the bugs out and the really tough memories in. On second thought, he opened it again, hoping against hope that all the memories would fly out, leaving nothing more than a house. But they refused to leave. They buzzed around his head like mosquitoes ready to draw blood.

The stone fireplace still dominated the small living room and open kitchen.

An ancient Christmas tree, brown and desiccated, stood in the far corner. Silver balls and bits of tinsel hung on it. His mother’s last attempt at making this place a home?

Matt held himself rigid, afraid of the emotions that would flood out of him if he let them. They threatened to drown him.

Keep it cool, Matt. Keep it cool.

He spotted a bunch of dust-coated mail on the Formica table by the door. Matt had left it there, unopened, after his parents had died. Other than he and Jenny that one night, no one had been here since then. He flipped through what was left of his parents’ lives.

He picked up one large manila envelope, then stilled. He didn’t have to guess what it was. He already knew. The autopsy. No, thanks. No, no, no. He dropped it back onto the table and stalked into what had been his bedroom. Not one clue to his personality existed in the room—no posters nor CDs nor photos. Nothing. No Matthew Long. He’d spent his adolescence avoiding the homestead.

Kyle’s room had been messy, with football posters on the wall and a computer and his own TV and Playboy magazines under the bed.

Matt avoided his parents’ room, couldn’t possibly go in there, so headed back out to the kitchen.

He touched the stove and left his fingerprints in a layer of dust. When had it last been cleaned? More than fifteen years ago. Just before she died, Mom had been consumed by her anger and depression. The house had become more and more dirty, until Matt couldn’t stand to eat there.

He opened a cupboard door and spotted a tin of beans and a loaf of bread, now green and dried out. He opened another cupboard door and froze. There on the second shelf, beside the salt and pepper and a bag of pasta, was a small, framed photo of his mother and him.

He looked younger than Jesse was—maybe four, maybe only three. Why was it in the cupboard? Did she want to look at it every time she reached for the saltshaker? Or had she put it here without realizing? Like when he used to find the milk, warm and sour, in a cupboard, and unopened tins of beans in the fridge?

His mother was holding him in her arms and smiling. She’d been so pretty when she was young.

Flashes of memory filled his head, glimpses of this and that, with no rhyme or reason, before finally settling on this one. He thought that maybe he remembered when this photo had been taken.

He remembered his shock later, after his mother had changed.

“MATTHEW, WHAT IS THIS?” Mama held up a pair of pants with holes in the knees. He’d put them in the laundry basket on the floor of his closet, with all his other dirty clothes, just the way he was supposed to.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” Her voice sounded funny, like one of the bad ladies in the Cinderella movie. She sounded mean.

“Those are my jeans.”

“I know that, you little moron.”

His mouth dropped open. Mama called him a name. She never did that before.

“I mean, why do they have holes in the knees?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I must have falled down.”

She hit him across the face. He fell on the floor and cried. Where was the mama he liked? Where was the mama who loved him?

MATT CAME OUT of his memory with the question he’d asked himself so many times as a child. Where was the mama who loved him?

It had started the day she’d slapped him and had gone downhill from there, with Mama becoming more and more demanding, her demands more and more unreasonable.

Then Pop started to stay out later and later, coming home only long enough to make sure his kid idolized him and then running off to another rodeo or another ranch or another bar.

To another woman, Missy Donovan from Ordinary.

When Pop did come home, he was angry and drunk and ready to leave again, but not before he and Mama tore each other apart in the bedroom. They went at it like animals.

When Matt was old enough, he got out of the house before they started, and stayed out until long after they finished.

Matt’s shell threatened to crumble now, to let the emotions free to kill him with their poison.

He set the old photo on the scarred countertop, facedown because he couldn’t stand to look at him and his mother happy. What kind of weird compulsion had driven a warm, loving woman mad?

Was it inside him, too? Was there some sort of double curse in his life? He’d learned too much of the wrong things from his father. Love ’em and leave ’em. Don’t let a woman get her hooks into you. When things get too tough, run scared.

Was he also eventually going to lose his mind the way his mother had?

And now he had a child to worry about.

What on earth had he ever learned here that would help him to be a parent?

JENNY HAD BEEN POSITIVE Matt would run, had known it in her marrow. Then why did she feel so disappointed that he had? It was nuts. She didn’t want Matt sticking around or deciding that he should have a hand in raising her son.

She and Angus would do just fine raising Jesse. Angus knew how to be a good father.

She sat down on the top step beside her son and took the small spoonful of custard he offered her.

“Do you want to play in the backyard when you’re finished?” she asked, smoothing his bangs away from his face.

“Yeah.” He lapped up more of his custard.

Angus drove into the yard in his big silver Cadillac. When he got out, he looked tired. Frustrated.

As she’d done so many times lately, Jenny wondered what was going on with him. What was distracting him? He approached the veranda with heavy steps.

His face lit up for Jesse, though.

“Hey, little buddy,” he said and tickled the boy.

Jesse giggled then offered him custard.

“No, thanks. You finish it.” Angus turned his attention to Jenny. “How did it go?”

“About as well as I expected. He lit out of here twenty minutes ago. Barely hung around long enough to find out his name.” She tipped her head toward her son.

Jesse finished his custard.

“Take the container to Angela in the kitchen and head out back,” Jenny told him. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

The screen door slammed shut behind him. Jenny smiled. Kids made so much noise.

Angus put one foot on the bottom step. On his face, Jenny read a disappointment in Matt that ran much, much deeper than her own.

Angus had always wanted to think the best of Matt, and he hadn’t had Jenny’s firsthand experience with Matt’s leaving.

“Angus, I hate to say ‘I told you so,’ but this is exactly what I expected.”

“Where did he go?”

“I haven’t a clue.”

Angus glanced around the grounds. “I guess he’ll come back for his stuff later.”

Jenny smiled grimly. “Oh, yeah, he’ll be back for Master.”

He didn’t think twice about leaving me behind, but he would never forget his horse.

“Then he’ll go for good,” she continued. “I’m sorry, Angus.”

Angus mounted the stairs and rested a heavy hand on her shoulder. If she could ease his disappointment, she would, but the truth was the truth.

She stood and walked around to the backyard where Jesse played on the jungle gym. She helped him across one part that his arms weren’t long enough for.

Jesse put his small feet on her shoulders and she held his waist. They’d played this game so many times in the past year, but they never grew tired of it.

Jesse squealed and giggled and Jenny laughed. The world felt right again.

Matt knew about his son now, but he wouldn’t stay. Jenny could get on with her plans. She could marry Angus and raise her son on the ranch that was in her blood, that she’d wanted to live on her whole life.

She used to sit up by the cotoneasters as a child and look down on the ranch with such a swell of pride, knowing that someday it would all be hers.

Her dreams had started when she was little more than nine or ten. At the time, her world spun on an axis that was sure and constant.

Her parents loved her. One day, she would have a nice man like Daddy to love her. They were going to build a house on the banks of Still Creek.

Mom and Dad had shown her the piece of land they would give her. It was beautiful. She would raise her family there until the house felt too cramped.

Then they would all move to the big house and Mom and Dad would take the smaller house in the clearing by the stream.

Jenny would live on the ranch her entire life, as her Sterling forefathers had done before her and as her children would do long after.

Then they’d lost everything.

Bankruptcy.

Her heart had broken.

She’d lost hope for many years, but things were finally, blessedly right. Everything would be fine.

Jenny heard a noise behind her. Thinking it was Angus or the housekeeper, she turned with a smile.

Matt stood by the back fence.

Her smile fell away.

The look on Matt’s face terrified her.

He watched her and Jesse play with pure, unadulterated longing. He watched his son with hunger.

“I’m staying to get to know him.” He turned and stalked away and Jenny’s world turned to dust.

CHAPTER FOUR

MATT SAW ANGUS step out of the house, so he walked over to confront him. Why hadn’t Angus ever contacted him, told him that he had a son? The betrayals kept mounting.

Maybe he hadn’t known.

When he noticed Matt, Angus’s expression turned grim. Matt’s hope fell. Angus had known.

“You knew and you never called me?” Matt asked, a world of accusation in his voice.

“I found out only after you got here today. Jenny came and talked to me.” He set his hand on Matt’s shoulder. “How are you doing?”

Matt’s teeth hurt. He struggled to relax his jaw. “I don’t really know. I didn’t have the greatest role model. I don’t have a clue what to do with the boy.”

“Give it time,” Angus said. “It will come to you.”

Matt wasn’t sure about that, but he’d stick around to find out. After he’d paid his debt to Angus, he’d see how things were going with the kid.

In the meantime, he had to deal with his anger toward Jenny. Didn’t Angus think it was wrong of her not to tell him?

“How can you still want to marry a woman who would keep a child from his father? Who would lie to a man about something that important?”

“Matt—” Angus cleared his throat. Whatever he had to say was clearly painful to him. “She wouldn’t have lied to me. She wouldn’t have had reason to.”

That hurt, but Angus was right.

Matt had earned his reputation fair and square, and now had to face the consequences. “Angus!”

A happy shout from the side of the house had both men turning their heads. Jesse barreled across the clearing and threw himself against Angus’s knees.

Angus picked him up and tossed him into the air, catching him effortlessly on the way down. He had a great love for children. Too bad his wife had died before they’d had more than one.

Now that one was dead.

Matt watched Angus with Jesse and wondered if he was trying to replace Kyle with the boy.

“I petted a new horse today.” The pipsqueak had a high voice.

Angus turned to Jenny with concern on his face and Matt could tell it was to see how she was doing after confessing to him.

For God’s sake, Angus shouldn’t be worried about Jenny. He should be worried about Matt. Only Matt. He was the one who’d been wronged. Not Jenny. She could have called him at any time in the past five years.

Jesse took Angus’s face in both of his hands and turned Angus’s attention back to himself. “Hank says I can go in the pool on the weekend if it’s warm enough. Wanna come?”

“Sure.” He put the boy down, but as Jesse turned away and headed for the house, Angus stared down at him with his heart in his eyes, full to overflowing with affection, but Jesse wasn’t Angus’s son. He was Matt’s, and Matt hadn’t had the same time to get to know him as Angus had had.

Had Angus bathed Jesse when he was a baby, changed his diaper, fed him? Had he done all of the things Matt could have done with his son?

Jesse babbled to Angus as if they were best friends.

On his way past Jenny, Angus wrapped his arm around her shoulders and the three of them walked into the house like a real family, leaving Matt feeling like an outsider.

Story of my life.

Matt felt his jaw tighten again as though someone was screwing it on too tightly. He loved Angus, didn’t want to be jealous, didn’t want to resent his relationship with Matt’s son and Jenny, but he did.

Why? You don’t want Jenny for yourself and you don’t know if you want Jesse in your life permanently.

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