A Kiss From A Cowboy…

Be Mine, Cowboy by Jane Porter

Years ago, Rachel James gave Cade King an ultimatum, and he walked. Heartbroken, Rachel moved on. Life is tough as a single mom, but Rachel is doing just fine.

Now Cade’s back after burning up the rodeo circuit, and things are different. He’s sober, but with one burning regret. He has some work to do to show Rachel he’s changed—but he’s up to the challenge.

Hill Country Cupid by Tanya Michaels

Tess knows what young Bailey Calhoun wants: a mom. So when she sees shy cowboy Nick Calhoun giving someone the eye, Tess goes into full matchmaking mode.

Nick is happy to have Tess’s help…but her matchmaking backfires. How can he convince his cupid that she’s the one he wants?

A Valentine’s gift for readers of Harlequin American Romance.

Two heartwarming Valentine novellas from two of your favorite authors.

Be Mine, Cowboy by Jane Porter

Hill Country Cupid by Tanya Michaels

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jane Porter is a small-town girl at heart. Growing up, she spent her vacations on her grandfather’s cattle ranch in California, loving the golden foothills, oak trees and miles of farmland. When not playing cowgirl or camping with her family, she’d curl up with a book and get lost in her imagination. In her mind, she was never the geeky bookworm with the thick Coke-bottle glasses, but a princess, a magical fairy, a Joan-of-Arc crusader.

Her parents fed her imagination by taking the family to Europe for a year when Jane was thirteen. She loved everything about Europe, but was especially passionate about Italy and those gorgeous Italian men, which later inspired her first Harlequin Presents title, The Italian Groom, a story that married her love of farmland and ranches and sexy Italian heroes!

Since that first sale to Harlequin Presents in 2000, Jane has written over 30 books and novellas for Harlequin and she still gets excited about each new story.

Jane is always delighted to hear from her readers. You can email her at jane@janeporter.com, or write to Jane Porter, P.O. Box 789, San Clemente, CA 92674.

Three-time RITA® Award nominee Tanya Michaels writes about what she knows—community, family and lasting love! Her books, praised for their poignancy and humor, have received honors such as a Booksellers’ Best Bet Award, a Maggie Award of Excellence and multiple readers’ choice awards. She was also a 2010 RT Book Reviews nominee for Career Achievement in Category Romance. Tanya is an active member of Romance Writers of America and a frequent public speaker, presenting workshops to educate and encourage aspiring writers. She lives outside Atlanta with her very supportive husband, two highly imaginative children and a household of quirky pets, including a cat who thinks she’s a dog and a bichon frise who thinks she’s the center of the universe.

My Cowboy Valentine

Jane Porter

Tanya Michaels

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Be Mine, Cowboy

Hill Country Cupid

Be Mine, Cowboy

Jane Porter

Dear Reader,

I’m a hopeless romantic! I believe in love at first sight and true love, and am crazy about reunion romances—stories where a couple is torn apart by fate, but then later brought back together again, because this couple, of course, is destined to be together.

When the editors of Harlequin American Romance asked me to write a novella for this special Valentine’s anthology with the wonderful Tanya Michaels, I jumped at the chance. With a Texan grandfather, I’m a huge fan of cowboy romances and used to write them before I started writing for Harlequin Presents. And while I love writing for Harlequin Presents, I don’t get to do enough ranch stories, small-town settings and cowboy heroes, so this novella is very special to me.

In Be Mine, Cowboy you’ll meet two of my favorite characters I’ve ever written—All-Around Cowboy champion Cade King and his first love, Rachel James. They met in Mineral Wells, Texas, when Rachel was just nineteen, and they fell head over heels in love. Their love was supposed to be a forever love, but Cade is a complex man with problems Rachel couldn’t fix, and he walked away from her when she insisted he get help. But five years later, he shows up on her doorstep, and this time, Cade’s not going anywhere. Like a true, tough, loyal cowboy, he’s going to win his woman back and prove to her he isn’t just a great cowboy, but he’s become a great man.

I hope you’ll enjoy Be Mine, Cowboy. I’m so proud to be part of this anthology with the talented Tanya Michaels!

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Jane

For my son, Jake. A hero in the making.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Epilogue

Chapter One

It’d been a mild winter so far in Palo Pinto County, Texas, and this February afternoon the sun was once again shining, and the sky over the small ranch house was a cloudless swathe of pale blue.

The weatherman had said the unseasonably mild temperatures and dry conditions were supposed to hold through the weekend, which was a good thing as Rachel James’s childhood friend Mia Jenkins was getting married tomorrow, and while the party tent might be heated and fully protected from the elements, no one liked slogging through muddy or slushy gardens in formal wear. Not the bride or the guests or the cake baker.

And Rachel was both a guest and the cake baker.

“What do you think?” Rachel asked as Mia swirled a finger across the frosting-covered spatula before popping her finger in her mouth.

Mia sighed, rolling her eyes with pleasure. “Yum. Heavenly. Melt-in-your-mouth buttercream with just the right amount of vanilla. How come my frosting never tastes this good?”

“Because you probably worry about the amount of sugar and butter in your icing. I don’t.” Rachel crossed her arms over her chest, creasing her white apron, feeling ridiculously pleased with herself as she studied the tiered wedding cake, all four layers swagged with delicate swells and scallops of icing that resembled Belgium lace. “You like the cake?”

“I love my cake. It’s beyond gorgeous, and you know it, so stop fishing for compliments.”

Rachel grinned and gathered the stainless-steel bowls, carrying them to the kitchen sink. As she turned the faucet on, her gaze lifted to the window and the view beyond. The kitchen window overlooked the small, fenced backyard, which seemed even smaller right now with the mountain of cardboard boxes stacked next to the detached garage. Her smile faded as she looked at the boxes. She’d been packing for weeks, was nearly done. Just had bedrooms and the kitchen stuff left to pack, and now that Mia’s wedding cake was finished, Rachel could box up all of her baking things.

“Can’t believe you’re moving,” Mia said, joining her at the sink and getting a glimpse of the U-Haul moving boxes outside.

Rachel made a soft, inarticulate sound as she turned the tap off. “Can’t believe I lost Grandma’s house. She’d die if she knew.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing she’s already dead, then,” Mia said drily.

“That’s horrible!” Rachel spluttered, reaching for a dish towel, uncertain if she should laugh or cry or both.

“It is, but it’s the truth.”

For a moment Rachel struggled to speak and then she blurted, “Today would have been her birthday. I’ve been thinking about her all day.”

“Oh, Rachel! I know you still miss her so much.”

“I do. I really do.”

Mia wrapped an arm around Rachel’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “But knowing your grandmother, she would have been beside herself if she realized what she did to you, deferring her property taxes all those years.”

For a moment Rachel let herself relax into the hug. It was so rare that she revealed weakness, so rare that she took comfort from anyone, but she needed the hug right now. It was brutal losing her home, but she wasn’t the only one this had happened to, and she wasn’t going to cry over spilled milk. What happened had happened, and there was nothing she could do about it but move forward and have a good attitude.

Gently, Rachel disengaged from the hug. “It’s not Grandma’s fault. I knew money was tight and yet I let her help us...she was always giving to us, trying to help me with bills. I should have asked her where the money was coming from.”

“She probably wouldn’t have told you, though. She loved Tommy so much. Loved having the two of you with her.”

Mia was right about that, Rachel thought. Grandma loved having family around. She always said family gave life meaning.

Mia looked anxious. “You’re really okay moving while we’re gone?”

“Have a moving company and everything. I’m good. And you shouldn’t be worrying about us. You’re getting married tomorrow. This is about you right now.”

“But I hate your new apartment complex. It’s awful—”

“It’s fine. And it’s cheap, as well as close to Tommy’s sitter.”

“I wish I’d had the money to help you.”

“Mia, stop.”

Mia nibbled on her thumb. “I can name a half-dozen folks right now who would have helped you if you’d asked—”

“Not going to impose on people. This is my problem. Not theirs.”

“But they’re your friends—”

“And I appreciate them, but I’m not going to ask for handouts.”

“It’d be a loan, Rachel.”

“A loan I can’t pay back.” Rachel shot her a dark look. “Cakes pay basic bills, but they won’t make me rich.” Peeling off her apron, she glanced at the clock on the old kitchen stove. “Isn’t your rehearsal starting at four?”

Mia checked her watch and shrieked. “It’s almost four already, and I haven’t picked up the bridesmaids’ dresses or the shoes, and I still have a twenty-five minute drive—”

“Don’t panic,” Rachel answered, rushing with her to the front door, “and don’t drive crazy. You’ll get there, and you’re the bride. No one’s going anywhere,” she added, swinging open the front door.

“You’re the best, Rache.” Mia took a step and then froze on the doorstep. “Cade?” Mia squeaked, eyes widening with surprise.

Rachel glanced past Mia to the tall cowboy on the porch, and the air caught in her throat.

Cade.

Cade.

Her heart stuttered, staggered, and she blinked, certain he’d disappear, certain he was an apparition. But even after blinking twice, he was still there, one hand hooked on his massive silver belt buckle, and a bouquet of yellow roses in the other, six-two without his boots and cowboy hat, and even taller wearing both. He was wearing both.

“Hello, darlin’,” he said. “Mia,” he added, giving Rachel’s friend a nod.

Mia blushed. “Long time no see.”

“It’s been a while,” he agreed, his tone grave.

Rachel could only stare at him as she dragged air into her lungs, hating the bittersweet pain that filled her heart. It’d been five years since Cade King had walked away from her, and he’d gone without a backward glance, shattering her heart into a thousand pieces.

“Congratulations on your third consecutive title. We’re all proud of you—” Mia broke off as she caught sight of Rachel’s expression. “Anyway, I was just leaving. Take care.”

“You, too, Mia.”

And then with a swift, speculative glance in Rachel’s direction, Mia was gone, dashing down the front steps, heading for the driveway.

For a moment the only sound was Mia’s car door slamming and her engine starting. Rachel swallowed hard and forced herself to look at Cade, still unable to believe he was here. But he was here. And he was even bigger and more ruggedly handsome than she’d remembered.

“Cade,” she whispered, shocked, numb, dumbfounded. He had been completely absent from her life for over five years...so why was he here now?

“Rachel.”

“What...what....are you doing here?”

“It’s your grandmother’s birthday. Brought her some flowers.”

He’d remembered Grandma. She ground her teeth together, her eyes burning. Was this real? Was he real? And God forgive her, was he sober?

“I probably should have called,” he added gruffly, “but I wanted to surprise her.”

Rachel blinked and struggled to find her voice. Just when she’d thought everyone had forgotten her grandmother, Cade showed up with birthday flowers. Yellow roses. Her favorite. “That’s nice of you.”

Dusky color warmed his high, hard cheekbones. “Can I come in?”

She nodded, stepping back to open the door wider. He dipped his head and, crossing her threshold, he removed his cowboy hat, revealing his glossy black hair. “Is this a bad time?”

It had been years since she had last seen him. Years since she had last heard his warm honeyed accent, a voice so rich with the Texas south that even in winter she felt the heat of an invisible sun and the caress of a breeze. He looked surprisingly good...but different, too. He was leaner than she remembered, tanner, healthier, his blue eyes so clear.

“No,” she said unsteadily, aware that she’d need to pick up Tommy by four forty-five but she had a half hour. She closed the front door behind Cade, catching a whiff of his fragrance as she stepped towards him. The scent was light and a little spicy, but it suited him, and made her head spin.

“Mia looks well,” he said.

“She’s doing great.”

His gaze searched hers for a moment. “And you? How are you?”

This was strange...so strange, she thought. “Good. I’m good.”

“Glad to hear it.”

For a moment neither of them seemed to know what to say and Rachel’s stomach did a series of somersaults that made her wish she’d eaten something today to counter the cups of coffee she’d drunk earlier. Then she remembered her manners. “Would you like to sit down?” she asked, and subtly tugged on the hem of her red T-shirt, drawing it lower over the waistband of her faded jeans, glad she’d gotten rid of the shapeless apron. She wished she could pull the rubber band out of her hair, but that would be too obvious.

“Yes. Thank you.”

She led the way into the small, oddly formal living room, with its old-fashioned Empire sofa and matching armchairs, all still upholstered in its original yellow silk. Cade sat down on the edge of the sofa cushion, looking far too big for the antique sofa’s dainty lines.

“Would you like something to drink—” She flushed. “Coffee, tea,” she added hurriedly.

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

She slowly took a chair opposite him, hands folding in her lap to hide the fact they were shaking. She was trembling. None of this seemed real, especially when he was looking at her so intently, his blue eyes fringed by those long black lashes, startlingly clear, his gaze piercing, unnervingly direct.

“I had some business in Mineral Wells today,” he said, “and since I got to town early, I thought I’d stop by and wish Sally happy birthday and see how you two were doing.” He glanced around the bare living room. “Is Sally even here?”

“No.”

The corners of his mouth curved. “Is she out with the girls or having her hair done?”

Rachel felt sick. She wanted to throw up. This was awful. Everything about this was awful. “Cade, Grandma died two and a half years ago.”

“What?”

She nodded miserably. “Cancer.”

He sat back heavily and set the flowers aside, placing them on the cushion next to him. “Cancer? When...how?”

She laced and unlaced her fingers, her eyes gritty, her throat aching with suppressed emotion. “Lung cancer—”

“She didn’t smoke.”

“I guess you don’t need to smoke to get it.” Rachel blinked hard, struggled to smile, but failed. “We thought she had a cold that just wouldn’t go away. Bronchitis. By the time she finally went to see a doctor, there was nothing anyone could do. We found out early June it was cancer, and by July 5 she was gone.”

“Aw, shit.” Cade’s deep, rough voice broke. His head dropped, and he covered his eyes with one hand.

For several minutes neither said anything, and the room was silent. Rachel squeezed her hands together and fought to hold back her tears. Cade’s reaction made her teary and emotional, and yet it almost felt good to feel so much...it was almost a relief to know someone else had loved her grandmother, too.

“I’m sorry, Rache,” he said, his voice raspy and raw. He lifted his head and looked at her, his dense lashes damp, the blue of his eyes almost aquamarine with sorrow. “You know, I promised her I’d always stay in touch with her. Promised her that I’d always be family—” He shook his head, once, twice. “Was she...did she...suffer a lot...in the end?”

“They tried to make her as comfortable as they could.”

His head dropped again and he ran a hand over his eyes. “Wish I’d been here. Wish I could have been here for both of you.”

Rachel couldn’t even respond to that. Her heart felt as though it was breaking all over again. She dragged in a breath of air, then exhaled, struggling to keep it together. “It happened a long time ago, Cade,” she murmured. “And Grandma didn’t hold grudges. She believed people were a work in progress, and she’d be thrilled you won the All-Around title two more times after she was gone. She followed your career. Was probably your biggest fan.”

His eyes watered and a small muscle popped in his jaw near his ears. “Even though I’d broken your heart?”

Rachel looked away, bit into her lip. This was so brutal, and so unexpected. She wasn’t sure she could take much more of this. But Grandma had taught her to be strong, and she would be strong now...even if it killed her. “Grandma always said you’d find your feet again. She said you were one of those fallen angels just waiting to regrow your wings.”

“I wish that were true,” Cade said regretfully. “But I haven’t grown wings yet.”

“Maybe they’ll still come.”

“If you believe in miracles,” he answered drily, his firm mouth twisting, the corners of his eyes creasing.

His crooked smile made her breath catch and her pulse quicken. For a moment he looked—and sounded—so much like the sexy, laid-back, self-deprecating cowboy she’d loved so long ago that the years seemed to fall away and she gulped another breath of air, overwhelmed. Dazzled.

“I used to,” she said, smiling tightly, having forgotten how Cade could fill a room, making it feel small and other people seem boring. But it wasn’t just his height and size that made him stand out. It was his intensity and his focus. When Cade King wanted something, he got it through sheer force of will.

And once upon a time, he’d wanted her.

But then later, he’d also wanted booze, and he’d been one of those guys who drank hard and often, and it worried her and scared her. And so she put it all on the line, wanting what was best for him, for them, and told him he needed to get sober or she couldn’t stay. And he chose the booze over her.

“Everything else okay, though?” he asked, shifting on the yellow couch, almost crushing the cellophane-wrapped roses.

She nodded, determined to show no chink in her armor. “Yes. Very well,” she said. The antique clock on the mantel chimed. She glanced at the pale gold face of the German-made clock, Grandma’s prized possession. Her father, Rachel’s great-grandfather, had brought the clock with him when he’d emigrated from Germany. It’d been a wedding present to Grandma and Grandpa when they’d married and it still kept time perfectly.

Four-thirty.

Which reminded her, she’d have to go get Tommy soon from Mrs. Munoz. She had fifteen minutes. Give or take a few.

Cade saw her glance at the clock. “Am I keeping you?”

“No, not yet. But I do need to leave in a few minutes. I have an appointment.”

Rachel didn’t know why she called it an appointment. She was only picking Tommy up from his babysitter, but for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to mention Tommy. Not because she was ashamed of being a single, unwed mother, but because people had been so unkind about him and she’d learned to be protective.

“I won’t keep you, then,” Cade said, picking up the bouquet and standing. “It was good seeing you.”

“It was good seeing you, too,” she lied, determined to hang on to her composure to the very end, because it wasn’t good seeing him. It was terrible. Painful. She couldn’t handle seeing Cade. He made her feel things she didn’t want to feel, made her remember a time in her life when everything had seemed hopeful and beautiful.

“I’ll just put these in the kitchen,” he said, his grip crinkling the cellophane on the flowers. He headed out of the cramped living room without waiting for a reply.

* * *

IT WASN’T UNTIL CADE was in the hall and moving toward the kitchen that he exhaled. Why had he come? It was a mistake to have come by, an even bigger mistake to have just dropped in on her unannounced. If he wanted to know how she was doing, he should have just called. Sent a letter. A text. An email. Anything but this.

Seeing her made it all too real. Made her damn real again, and that’s the last thing he needed.

Getting her out of his system had taken years.

Entering Sally’s old kitchen, he froze. An enormous, white, tiered wedding cake filled the old oak table, making the kitchen smell sugary and sweet. His gaze moved to the clear plastic box of flowers on the counter. It was a small floral bouquet of white, cream and pale pink flowers...

A wedding cake. A bridal bouquet. Cade swallowed hard, stunned. Rachel was getting married.

He felt her come up behind him and, glancing over his shoulder, he saw her hovering in the doorway. “That’s a lot of white cake,” he said.

She smiled faintly, color turning her cheeks pink. “Better be. It has to feed over two hundred and forty people.”

“Two hundred and forty?” he repeated.

“It was hard to narrow the guest list to that. It’s a small town. Everyone wanted to go.”

Of course everybody did, he thought, his chest tight and growing tighter. Mineral Wells was a small town and Sally James had been widely loved by all.

Cade glanced down at the tips of his boots, wishing yet again he’d never come. He’d wanted to know that Rachel was happy, but this...this wasn’t how he wanted to see her...the blushing bride...the day before her wedding. But he had to be happy for her. This was what he wanted for her. Good things. Good people.

He forced himself to look up at her and he managed a smile. “Well, it’s a beautiful cake with all that fancy lace. Have never seen that done before.”

“The lace is actually icing. It’s all edible.”

“Really?”

“Yep,” she answered, a hint of laughter in her eyes, and he felt a tug of emotion. There was no one prettier than Rachel James when she smiled.

“And it tastes good, too?”

“I think so. Mia called it heavenly.”

“When is the wedding?”

“Tomorrow.”

He was determined to be happy for her. He was. “Where?”

“Clark Gardens. Over in Weatherford.”

He nodded and turned away to look out the kitchen window into her backyard. Cardboard boxes leaned against the garage. She’d been packing, getting ready for her move to her new life. “So you’re happy?” he asked, not trusting himself to look at her, afraid of what she’d see in his eyes.

But she wasn’t looking at him. She’d followed his gaze outside to the boxes. “Yes.”

“I’m glad,” he said, and then hesitated, wondering how to say the rest, wishing the words were easy, but they weren’t easy, they’d never be easy. Best thing he could do was just say them. Straight out. “I’m sorry, Rachel, truly sorry for all the pain I caused you—”

“That was five years ago, Cade—”

“Maybe. But I was wrong. I was a selfish ass, and I ask your forgiveness—”

“Cade.”

“Please, Rachel, forgive me.”

“I do,” she whispered. “I did. A long, long time ago.”

He exhaled and glanced around the kitchen, still able to see them all here. Sally, Rachel and him, having dinner, lingering over dessert, teasing and talking and telling stories. Sally had a nice dining-room set, but she preferred the kitchen table. He did, too, and he’d cherished those meals in here. They were warm and real and special. And he felt like one of those kids on TV who’d grown up with a normal family, a nice family...

“Things have worked out the way they were meant to,” she added kindly.

He nodded, his gut cramping, his chest hot and tight. He was glad she was happy. Glad everything in her world was good. “You deserve every good thing, Rachel,” he said, placing the flowers gently on the table. “You really do.”

And then he was walking out of there, fast, needing to escape the little house and all its memories before he said or did something stupid.

Chapter Two

Cade shoved his hat onto his head as he headed to his truck, his boots thudding against the pavement.

That had been a disaster. His timing couldn’t have been worse. Showing up on her doorstep the day before her wedding? Awesome. It was bad enough seeing the fancy cake and hearing the ceremony details. Thank God he hadn’t caught her in her actual wedding gown. That would have pushed him over the edge.

Starting his truck, he pulled away from the ranch house, his gut churning as he drove.

Hot, sharp emotions surged within him. Emotions he hadn’t felt in God knew how long. Disappointment and regret, but relief, too. Relief that she was okay. Relief that she was cared for. Not by him—which hurt—but by someone better. Because Cade King might be a champion on the rodeo circuit, but he was no prince in real life. He had problems...issues...for God’s sake, he was an alcoholic.

True, he hadn’t had a drink in over two years, and he continued to go to his AA meetings, even when he was traveling, but once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic. You could put recovering or recovered before the word alcoholic, but it still meant the same thing.

Cade exhaled, trying to ease some of the pressure in his chest, but his deep breaths did nothing to ease the ache.

That was his girl, back there. His woman. And it was damn hard to walk away from your woman, even if it was the right thing.

But she was okay, he reminded himself. Better than okay. She was happy and in love and getting married tomorrow. Everything had worked out for her. And while the way he left her would never be right, at least she’d found someone who would treat her the way she deserved to be treated—like a princess. No, make that a queen.

Cade glanced at the clock on his dash. He still had an hour and a half before his appointment with Jeffrey Farms, a horse farm that was interested in using Cade’s stallion Orion as a stud. Adam Jeffrey had offered to come to him, but Cade had been thinking about Rachel lately—couldn’t get her out of his mind these past few months—and he’d thought that by coming to Mineral Wells he could kill two birds with one stone. Meet Adam, discuss the stud fee. See Rachel, make sure she was fine. Go home, business accomplished, mind at ease.

And his mind should be at ease. His conscience could rest easy. But his heart sure felt like hell.

He’d always thought he’d be the one to marry her. From the moment they met, he’d known she was the one for him. And it might have been five years ago, but he still remembered the day they first met as clear as anything.

He’d been crossing the street in downtown Mineral Wells and a girl on a bike—one of those old-fashioned bikes with a big wicker basket attached to the handlebars—turned the corner and crashed into him. He’d been surprised but unhurt. But she, and her bike, had gone flying, straight into the curb.

Cars slammed on brakes, and between the screech of brakes and rubber tires squealing, he’d rushed to get her out of the street.

“I’m sorry,” she said, as he scooped her up into his arms. “I didn’t see you. I’m so sorry—”

“It’s all right,” he said.

She shoved dark glossy hair from her eyes. “No, it’s not. I could have killed you—”

He laughed. He couldn’t help it. “No, you couldn’t have,” he said, stepping onto the sidewalk and glancing down at her. She was bleeding everywhere—her cheek and chin, her elbows and knees—but thankfully, nothing looked broken.

“Yes, I could,” she retorted irritably, looking up into his eyes. “Cyclists kill pedestrians all the time.”

Her fine dark brows had pulled, and she looked so cross and serious that his lips had twitched, fighting a grin. “How ’bout you? You okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, dabbing her cheek where she’d skinned it. “And you can put me down. I’m tough. I’m not your average girl.”

He’d held her a moment longer, just because he could, and then gently he’d placed her on her feet, keeping a close eye on her in case she wobbled. But she didn’t.

“See?” she demanded.

“Not your average girl,” he agreed.

And then she laughed, her light gray eyes crinkling at the corners. Her eyes looked so cool and clear, they made him think of a summer rain. He’d stared into her eyes trying to find the bottom.

She let him look, too. She let him drink her in as if she were a refreshing glass of ice water on a humid afternoon. Until he soaked her in, he hadn’t realized how thirsty he had been.

No, he thought, she wasn’t his average girl. She was far from average, could never be average, not in her faded yellow cotton sundress, the soft mustard-hued fabric sprigged with blue flowers, the neckline edged with tired lace. It wasn’t just because she was pretty—there was something else in her that called to him. Something about her that felt right...familiar and new, exciting, terrifying, but also right. Looking down into her light gray eyes he suddenly knew why he’d left home at fifteen to find his way in the world. He knew why he’d been through hell and back. It was for her, this girl. To love her and protect her and keep her safe...

He’d put her bike into the back of his truck and driven her home, and he’d returned the next day to check on her, and her grandmother had invited him to stay for dinner. And he’d returned for dinner every night that he wasn’t on the road, competing.

But later his demons caught up with him, and what started out as a drink now and then turned to drinking 24/7, and all of Cade’s good intentions were drowned out by his need for Jack Daniel’s.

Once in one of his AA meetings, after he’d shared his story, someone said to him, “Thank God you sobered up before you hurt someone,” and Cade had nearly puked right there in the middle of the church basement where the meeting was being held. Because he had hurt someone. He’d trashed Rachel. And maybe it wasn’t a drinking and driving accident, but it was just as destructive. Maybe even more so because it was personal.

* * *

NEEDING TO KILL TIME, CADE stopped for dinner downtown in his favorite diner. It was still early, almost five, but the place was half-full with seniors who’d come in for the early-bird special.

Cade ordered coffee and chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes, then picked up a paper somebody had left behind in another booth and sat back down to read while he waited for his food. He scanned the headlines before flipping to the business section, checking the agriculture report and then the NASDAQ to see where his stock closed the day before.

His dinner arrived before he finished reading the business section, so he folded the paper and continued to read as he ate.

Midway through his meal, a strong hand clapped his shoulder. “Cade King, it’s been a while. How are you? What brings you back to Mineral Wells?”

Cade pushed his plate away and wiped his mouth as he looked up at Larry Strauss, a burly rancher in his early sixties. He smiled warily and extended his hand, knowing that Larry was close family friends with the Jameses. “It has been a while,” he agreed. “Care to join me? Do you have time?”

“I’ve already eaten but I will sit for a minute.” Larry slid into the booth seat across from Cade. “Quite a year you’ve had, son. Third straight All-Around title in a row, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve been lucky.”

“That’s not luck, that’s skill. And you won easily this year.”

“I drew some good bulls. Two of them were yours.”

The older rancher inclined his head. Strauss Ranch was known on the circuit for their outstanding rough stock, including their bucking bulls. “But you knew what to do with them, and that’s what counts.” He gestured to the waitress that he’d have a cup of coffee, too. “So what brings you to town?” His narrowed gaze raked over Cade, his expression a little less friendly. “Haven’t seen you in years.”

Cade noted the coolness in Larry’s tone. He wasn’t surprised. Larry would have known that Cade had callously given Rachel the boot, and Larry being the old-fashioned rancher he was, wouldn’t have liked it. “Haven’t been back in years,” he answered evenly. “But I’m meeting with one of the Jeffrey brothers from Jeffrey Farms a little later. They’re interested in one of my horses.”

“Have you stayed in touch with any of the folks here?”

Cade knew exactly what Larry was asking, and he shifted on the vinyl booth. “Not the way I should have.”

“Did you hear that Sally James passed a couple years ago?”

“Found out today.”

“She was a good woman.”

“Yes, she was,” Cade agreed. There were few people he’d liked as much as he’d liked Sally. She was born to nurture, and she’d been kinder to him than any of the foster-care mothers he’d known in his seven and a half years under the state’s care.

“Rachel took her passing hard,” Larry added, glancing up, staring Cade straight in the eyes.

Cade nodded. “I can imagine.”

Larry’s light blue eyes bored into his. “She hasn’t had an easy life.”

“Who?”

“Rachel.”

Gut knotting, Cade stretched his legs out under the table. “She seems like she’s doing all right now.”

“Have you seen her?”

“Yes. Today. Stopped by the house. Thought she looked great. Thinner, but still the prettiest girl in Texas.”

“So you know what’s going on with her?”

“She told me.”

Larry looked skeptical. “Doesn’t bother you?”

Cade shrugged uneasily. He didn’t want to talk about Rachel, or think about her getting married tomorrow. He was glad for her. He was. But it didn’t give him cause for celebration. “Things didn’t work out the way we’d imagined, but that’s life. You don’t always get what you want.”

Larry’s bushy gray eyebrows lifted. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for heartless, King.”

“Not heartless, just realistic. Things don’t always go as planned. So you move on and, frankly, things have worked out the way they were meant to be.”

“You sound like the rest of them, judging her. But everybody makes mistakes and Lord knows, she’s had her hands full. First with Tommy, then Sally’s cancer—”

“You’re misunderstanding me. I’m not judging her. I’m happy for her. Happy that things have turned out the way they have for her.”

“Which part makes you happy, son?” Larry asked slowly, dragging the words out.

Cade’s right hand clenched into a fist under the table. What was the point of this? What did Larry want from him? “I’m glad she’s found happiness—”

“You’re joking, right?”

Cade drew a sharp, deep breath. “Why would I joke about something like that? I care about Rachel, and I’m happy she’s getting married tomorrow, and I hope he’s a great guy. He better be a great guy—”

“Rachel’s not getting married tomorrow.”

“Yes, she is. We talked about it, and she showed me the flowers and the cake.”

Larry laughed shortly. “Rachel showed you a cake because she’s a baker. She supports herself by making cakes, works out of her home, and this cake was for Mia, who is getting married tomorrow afternoon over in Weatherford at the botanical gardens, not Rachel.”

The cake was for Mia...

It was Mia getting married, not Rachel...

Cade’s brain worked to process this information but it didn’t make sense, and he found himself frowning, feeling stupid. Something wasn’t right. “If Rachel’s not getting married, why is she moving?”

Larry didn’t immediately answer. Instead he took a big sip from his coffee cup and then slowly set the cup back down in the saucer, his expression hard and scornful as he met Cade’s troubled gaze. Silence stretched, heavy with disapproval. “Maybe, cowboy, you should ask her.”

* * *

RACHEL MOVED SOUNDLESSLY through her house, picking up a few toys, turning out a table lamp in the living room, washing up Tommy’s dessert plate and cup from his milk.

Tommy had fallen asleep earlier tonight than usual, but frankly, it was a good thing. He’d come home from Mrs. Munoz overly exhausted, stressed and needing to decompress, which for him meant opening and closing his bedroom door thirty some times. She’d tried to distract him, but it’d only made him more determined to bang, so after a while she left him to his door activity. She folded a load of laundry, and then unloaded the dishwasher, trying to stay busy, trying to stay calm, trying not to worry about Tommy or think about Cade.

But now Tommy was in bed, and the house was tidy, and the laundry put away, and she couldn’t keep Cade from intruding on her thoughts any longer.

Cade had once been her world. She’d loved him so much, and she knew he wasn’t perfect, knew he had his fair share of demons...not that he talked about them. No, Cade was private and a bit of a lone wolf. But he’d loved her and Grandma. He’d really loved Grandma, and her grandmother had loved him, too.

She opened a flat empty box and was taping the bottom when the doorbell rang. Rachel tore the tape, sealed the flaps and hurried to the front door, hoping that the doorbell wouldn’t wake up Tommy. Wondering who’d be stopping by now, Rachel peeked through the window and saw a big black pickup truck with a huge cab and lots of shiny chrome parked out front. Rachel dropped the curtain, tensing. Cade’s truck.

He was back.

Stomach knotting, she unlocked the front door. “Cade,” she said, opening the door.

His head tipped. “Rachel.”

Her heart was racing, thudding so hard her hands shook, and suddenly she couldn’t do this. Make conversation with him again. Act as though everything was all right. Everything wasn’t all right. She was exhausted, frazzled and overwhelmed, and seeing him just made it worse. Seeing him made her realize how much life had happened in the past five-plus years. How much had happened to her. She’d changed. She wasn’t the same girl he’d left behind, and there was no place in her life for him now.

And so instead of letting him into the house, she stepped out onto the porch, quietly closing the door behind her, not wanting to wake Tommy. But joining Cade on the small stoop put her in close proximity with him, reminding her with a jolt that he wasn’t just tall, but broad shouldered, lean hipped and handsome. Heartbreakingly handsome. But looks had never been his problem. Drinking was his problem. Drinking and control...or lack of.

But she didn’t want to go there, didn’t want to feel all that again. Deliberately she pushed the past away and glanced out to the street where the lamp shone yellow on Cade’s big glossy truck. “That’s a nice truck.”

“Bought it two years ago with some of the prize money, and now it’s got close to 100,000 miles on it.”

“You do a lot of driving.”

“That I do.” He hesitated, cleared his throat. “Just saw Larry Strauss. At the diner downtown.”

“How’s he?” she asked, crossing her arms tightly over her chest to keep from shivering. It was a clear night and cold, but she wasn’t going to be out here long enough to need a sweater.

“Good.” Cade paused. “But concerned about you.”

“Oh? Why?”

“He said you’re moving.”

“I’m not allowed to move?”

“But this was your grandmother’s house, and your house—”

“Not anymore.”

“She didn’t leave it to you?”

“No, Grandma did.”

“Then why would—”

Cade never finished. He couldn’t because he was cut off by a piercing shriek from inside the house.

Rachel threw open the door, racing inside to Tommy, who stood in the middle of the hallway in his pajamas.

“Ma! Ma!” he screamed, even as she crouched in front of him.

“Hey, Tommy, Momma’s here. It’s okay.” She tried to smooth his dark hair back from his forehead but he flinched and pulled away.

“Ma.” He batted her hand away.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

But he wasn’t listening to her. He was looking past her to Cade, who’d followed Rachel inside.

“Man,” he said, staring at Cade.

She glanced over her shoulder, her stomach falling. Cade’s jaw had dropped. He looked stunned. She swallowed hard, wishing none of this was happening. “That’s Mommy’s friend. Cade. Cade King.”

Tommy shook his head. He didn’t like strangers, and he especially didn’t like them in his home. “Go.”

“Tommy, can you say hi to Mr. King?”

“Man. Go. Leave.”

“That’s not nice,” she rebuked gently, reaching up and trying once again to soothe him by smoothing a fistful of hair off his brow. This time he let her, and her palm lingered on top of his head, his hair silky smooth and reminding her of rich, dark chocolate.

“Leave,” he insisted, pointing at Cade. “Go. Leave.” Then he pushed her hand away and ran back to his room.

Rachel watched him go, heart heavy, before standing and looking at Cade, her lips curving in a tight smile. “And that was my son, Thomas James.” Her gaze met Cade’s and held. “And no, he’s not yours. He’s four and a half. He’ll be five in July.”

Then she, too, walked away, but headed in the opposite direction, going to her kitchen where she pushed in the chairs around the small kitchen table, the legs scraping the old linoleum floor, and knocked an imaginary crumb off the scratched table surface.

Cade entered the kitchen, too, but she ignored him, continuing to straighten things that didn’t need straightening, but it was better than looking at Cade and seeing whatever it was he was thinking.

“He has developmental delays,” she said jerkily, adjusting the faded terry-cloth dish towel hanging on the handle fronting the old oven. “Autism. Which isn’t actually a single disorder, but a spectrum of closely related disorders—” She broke off, took another breath. “And he doesn’t mean to be rude. He just doesn’t have strong verbal skills.”

“That’s all right.”

She heard his flat tone and shot Cade a quick glance. He looked pale, almost sick, and she looked away just as swiftly. It’d been so difficult getting Tommy diagnosed...none of the Mineral Wells doctors agreed on his exact diagnosis. Obviously Tommy had PDD, pervasive developmental disorder, but was it classical autism or autism with Asperger’s syndrome, or PDD-NOS? “People don’t understand that he has special needs. He’s not a bad boy, and he’s not a problem. He just gets agitated easily. Overwhelmed by change and too much stimuli. Kind of a sensory overload.”

“You don’t have to explain to me. I wouldn’t judge him or criticize him.”

Her head jerked up again, and her eyes searched his. She knew Cade had had problems, knew he’d gotten in plenty of trouble growing up, and wished she could believe him. But she didn’t. Couldn’t. Her shoulders twisted. “You wouldn’t like how he acts in public. You’d say he was out of control. And you know, he does get out of control. He’ll throw something in a store—a can of soup or frozen orange juice—and it’ll hit someone or something, or he’ll knock over a display and send a hundred packages of toilet paper all over the store. And you’d be like everyone else. ‘Why don’t you give that boy some discipline?’ It’s embarrassing, but it’s not his fault. He didn’t ask to be born this way—” She stopped, gasping for breath, horrified to discover she was close to tears. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”

Cade didn’t say anything and after a long moment Rachel glanced at him. He was leaning against one of the counters, big arms bracing his weight, his jaw set, his brow furrowed, his gaze resting on the cardboard box she’d just begun to pack, looking every inch the bull-riding champion he was. Not just All-Around champion, but a bull-riding champion, too. In the past seven years he’d won four national bull-riding titles in one of the world’s most dangerous sports. Four. The man was fearless. Tough as nails. Stronger than anyone she’d ever met, but also more dangerous, too.

“Where’s his dad?” he asked roughly.

“Not in the picture.”

“Why not?”

She drew a ragged breath. “His dad didn’t want him.”

Cade was slow to respond and hot emotion rolled through her, blistering her heart. “But that’s okay,” she said fiercely, “because I do. And I love him. I love him more than anything in this world and he is perfect to me. Absolutely perfect and just the way God intended him to be.”

His lips curved but his eyes were shadowed. “I bet Sally doted on him,” he said quietly.

Rachel blinked back tears. “Loved him to pieces.”

He nodded once, as if thinking. “So if Sally left you the house, and this is where you’re raising your boy, why are you moving, Rache?” he asked, looking up at her, his voice gentle.

“I couldn’t pay the property taxes.” There, she’d said it. Now he knew. She didn’t feel much better, but the truth was out in the open. “So we lost the house.”

“The taxes couldn’t have been much—”

“Grandma had deferred taxes for eight years, and even though it’s deferred, you’re accumulating interest and fines, and a little bit of money turns into a lot of money. By the time it was brought to my attention...” Her voice faded and she shook her head, sickened all over again by her inability to save her home. “It was too late.”

“Let me pay the taxes for you, Rachel.”

Of course this was what he’d say. This had always been Cade’s way. Cade was generous to a fault, and she knew he’d help her. Cade liked helping people. Cade had once loved being the good guy...rushing in, playing hero, being Mr. Wonderful—and he was Mr. Wonderful, he could be incredibly wonderful—until he started craving his buddy Jack Daniel’s again. “You can’t,” she said huskily. “I don’t own the house anymore. That’s why we’re moving.”

“Who bought the house? And how much did they pay you for it?”

She blinked, but couldn’t hide the tears. “Some company in Fort Worth bought it. But they didn’t pay me—they paid the county. Turns out all they had to do was go in and pay all the back taxes on Grandma’s house, and the house became theirs.” She put a hand to her mouth, fighting to hang on to her composure. And then when she was sure she could speak without falling apart, she added, “That’s why we’re moving. Another family is moving in middle of the month.”

“So they got Sally’s house for what...twenty-five thousand? Thirty?”

“Twenty and some change.” She laughed even as she cried, because it was ludicrous—it was. And Larry Strauss had offered to help her. Mia’s parents had wanted to help her. Even Mrs. Munoz had tried to give her some money but she couldn’t take it. Not from any of them. She was proud, and it was a fault of hers, but she couldn’t bear to go through life pitied and whispered and talked about. It was better to lose the house and maintain some self-respect, than take loans from people she’d never be able to pay back.

“You told me earlier today that everything had worked out the way things were meant to work out.” Cade’s voice was hard. “But that’s not true—”

“Yes, it is.” Rachel jerked her chin up. “I have Tommy and I love being a mom and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Chapter Three

Cade drove the deserted back roads to his ranch as if the devil pursued him. It was reckless driving, but then his thoughts were reckless, too. Fortunately it was late, and the moon was high, casting bright winter light across the dark pastures and clusters of oak and elm trees.

Cade knew these back roads well, and he drove with his foot heavy on the accelerator. With its V-8 engine, his truck could fly and it flew now.

He’d told himself five years ago he was leaving her for the right reasons. He’d told himself he was walking because he wanted a different life...a better life than the one he had with Rachel.

But it wasn’t true.

He’d walked away from her out of laziness. Selfishness. He’d left her because he hadn’t wanted to change. He’d left to send her a message that he wasn’t about to let her start controlling him. He’d had enough of that growing up, being bounced around from home to home in foster care, and he was done being dictated to. Done having people tell him who he was supposed to be and how he was supposed to behave. Done being criticized and marginalized. He was a man and he was going to succeed his way, on his terms.

And so he left Rachel, sure that it’d been the right thing to do—for her, and himself—and for the next couple of years he’d lived his life his way...drinking too much sometimes, getting some success on the circuit, winning some big events only to lose others. He was always hurt or rehabilitating—part of the life of a professional rodeo cowboy—and alcohol helped ease the pain. He drank to medicate himself. Drank to help himself sleep. Drank to help himself forget.

But drunk, he thought of Rachel. Sober, he thought of Rachel.

Rachel became his demon, and he vowed he’d excise his demon once and for all.

And he thought he had, until he’d sat in one of those damn AA meetings two years ago November and thought about the people he’d hurt with his drinking, and Rachel was top of the list. But she was the one person he couldn’t go to. The one person he couldn’t face. Not because she didn’t deserve an apology, but because he didn’t want to see her.

Didn’t want to be reminded of what he’d lost.

But it ate at him over the months...ate at him through the holidays and the New Year and all through this past year until the holidays rolled around again.

What if she wasn’t okay?

What if she needed something?

What if she needed someone?

He didn’t know why he couldn’t relax. He was sure she’d be fine. Rachel was smart and pretty as anything. What man wouldn’t sweep her off her feet and give her the storybook happy ending?

But the thing was he didn’t know for sure, and he needed to know, with the need for knowledge and a resolution becoming stronger with every passing day until he traveled to Mineral Wells to see her for himself.

And now he saw, and he knew, and he’d been wrong.

So very, very wrong.

She wasn’t okay. And sure, she could make light of losing her house—Sally’s house—and she could be brave about raising a little boy with developmental disorders on her own, but he knew the truth. He knew how her story was supposed to go, and it wasn’t like this.

Acid burned his belly. He longed to lean out the window and puke. To vomit all the pain out of his body. But it wouldn’t help the pain in his heart.

Cade couldn’t remember the last time he felt so ill.

That wasn’t true. He could remember. Five and a half years ago in a moment of alcohol-induced righteousness, he told himself he didn’t need a nineteen-year-old girl giving him an ultimatum, and he’d climbed out of bed, stepped into his jeans and his boots and walked out on her.

Cade blinked. His eyes felt gritty. Hot. He blinked again, trying to clear his vision. The gate to his property came into view and he braked, punching the remote in his truck that opened the gate.

Pulling through his gate, his vision clouded again. His lashes felt damp. Cade ground his teeth together, his jaw aching at the effort to restrain emotion. Leaving Rachel had hurt, but not half as much as knowing how much he’d wounded her.

* * *

IT’D BEEN A ROUGH NIGHT and a rough morning, Rachel thought, watching the tow-truck driver pull away from her and her broken-down car, leaving them both on the side of the road where the driver had found them. And now things weren’t merely bad, they were the worst.

As in the worst-case scenario.

Mia’s wedding was supposed to start any minute, and yet Mia’s gorgeous wedding cake was still in Rachel’s car—a fifteen-year-old Jeep Cherokee she’d bought secondhand but was ideal for transporting cakes—because the tow-truck driver couldn’t hitch the Jeep to his truck without destroying the cake, and there was no way Rachel was going to let Mia get married without her cake.

In between calling the tow-truck company and waiting for the driver to arrive, she’d phoned a half-dozen different people trying to find someone who could transport the cake to the gardens in Weatherford, but no one was answering and she knew why. They were all at the wedding.

My God. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t.

If there was one small blessing it’s that Tommy was with Mrs. Munoz for the afternoon and wasn’t here to see her fall apart.

But no, she couldn’t fall apart, not yet, not until the cake was delivered to the gardens.

Staring out toward the highway, her heart thumping a mile a minute, she suddenly thought of Cade’s black truck. His truck would be perfect. It had a huge cab and plenty of space for a delicate four-layer wedding cake.

Rachel didn’t know where Cade lived anymore, only that he had a ranch somewhere in Parker County, and Weatherford was the seat of Parker County, so he couldn’t be that far out of the way...

It’d been over five years since she’d tried to call him, but she knew his old cell number, would always know that number, and wondered if it would work now.

Quickly she punched in the number and held her breath, praying it was the right number, praying he’d answer, praying he was free—

“Hello?”

Her stomach fell and her legs turned to jelly. “Cade?” she whispered.

“Rachel? What’s wrong?”

Of course he knew that if she called him something had happened. He, of all people, would realize this wasn’t a social call. Overwhelmed by intensely ambivalent emotions, she couldn’t speak for a moment, her throat swelling closed.

“Rache?”

“I’m okay. I’m just...” She glanced around her at the fields bordering the empty highway. It was a very rural highway with minimal traffic this time of day. “...stuck on the side of 180 with Mia’s cake in back of my Jeep. I can deal with my car later, but I’ve got to get Mia’s cake to the reception—”

“I’m on my way.”

He reached her in twenty-eight minutes. Rachel knew because she’d stared at the clock on her phone the entire time, and then once he arrived, in dark dress jeans and a black jacket that matched his black hat, he had the enormous cake out of the cargo area of her Jeep and into the cab of his truck in no time. She didn’t even have to tell him to be careful. He handled her cake as if it were made of glass. Arriving at the gardens, Cade summoned the catering staff and put them to work, moving the cake into its spot on the round table near the dance floor just as the first guests began to stream into the tent.

Without even shedding her coat, Rachel went to work repairing some of the little buttercream swags and re-creating some of the torn lacework with the tubes of icing she’d brought from home. She stood back to inspect her handiwork. It wasn’t perfect but it was still damn good and Mia would never notice.

Heaving a massive sigh of relief that the cake was here and safe and beautiful, Rachel quickly tucked the tubes of icing back into her bag, hiding them from the guests who’d begun to wander around the tent looking for their places at their assigned tables.

She glanced up to discover Cade watching her, a curious expression in his blue eyes. “What?” she asked him.

“You’re amazing.”

She blushed and pushed a wave of dark hair from her warm cheek. “Perhaps you haven’t been paying attention, but I’m actually something of a disaster.”

“I have been paying attention, and you have no idea how much you impress me. You’re a beautiful and amazing woman, Rachel James.”

A lump formed in her throat and she had to blink and look away. There was a time when she’d hung on to his every word, when a compliment from Cade made her float on the air. But now his compliments stung because they were just words, and she didn’t trust words, and she definitely didn’t trust him.

“Maybe we could find something cold to drink,” she said. “I’m really thirsty. How about you?”

* * *

CADE HAD PROMISED RACHEL that he’d drive her back to Mineral Wells whenever she was ready to leave the reception, and Rachel had warned him that it wouldn’t be until after the cake was cut, in case there was a cake emergency. But fortunately for Mia—and Rachel—there was no cake emergency, and at four the cake was finally cut and devoured. In fact, not a piece remained anywhere, including the small top round, which Mia had intended to save.

When told that Mia was near tears over losing the smallest cake round, Rachel found Mia in the ladies’ room dabbing her eye makeup, and Rachel gave her a quick hug. “Don’t cry,” Rachel begged her. “I’m going to make you a miniature wedding cake for your first wedding anniversary next year. It will be just as lovely and will taste twice as good, since it will be fresh and not frozen for a year.”

Mia blinked as new tears welled. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

“Yes.” Rachel grinned and winked. “It’s a piece of cake.”

Now buttoning up her winter coat, Rachel walked with Cade through the gardens on their way to his truck. “That was such a beautiful wedding,” Rachel said, her high heels crunching gravel as they left the paved path for the parking lot. “But it’s always a relief when the cake has been cut and eaten, and I know the bride and groom were happy.”

“I heard you promised to make Mia a small cake for her wedding anniversary,” Cade said, fishing his keys from his pocket.

“She was so sad that the top round was eaten and there’s no reason for her to be sad today. It’s simple enough for me to make her something for next year.”

He opened the passenger-side door of his truck for her. “Will you charge her for the anniversary cake?” he asked, offering her his hand to give her a boost up.

“No.”

“I didn’t think so,” he said, closing the door behind her and walking around the truck to climb into the driver’s seat.

Rachel watched him settle behind the steering wheel. He was such a big, solid man. Even in a truck this size, he seemed to completely fill the cab. “What does that mean?”

“Just that you are exactly who you’ve always been. Loyal, loving, generous.”

“She’s my friend. I’m a professional baker. It’s the least I can do.”

He shifted in his seat, his lips curving faintly. “Darlin’, I’m not criticizing you. I’m complimenting you. I respect you and admire you. You’re a good woman, through and through.” His smile slipped, faded, and he reached out to smooth a dark tendril of hair from her face. “And I didn’t know your parents, but I heard your grandma talk about them plenty, and I can tell you this, if they were alive, they’d be very proud of you, too.”

For a long time Rachel couldn’t speak, too overwhelmed by emotions to say anything. But when they reached the place she’d left her car on Highway 180 and discovered it was gone, she looked at Cade. “My Jeep?”

“I had it towed to a good mechanic in Mineral Wells.” He suddenly sounded uncertain. “Hope that’s okay?”

She glanced at him and took in his creased forehead and troubled gaze. “Yes. I appreciate the help, and I appreciate you driving me home.” She hesitated. “You remember we’ve got to stop at Tommy’s sitter on the way, too, right?”

“I do.”

They both fell silent and they drove for nearly ten minutes without talking before Cade broke the silence. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I really am.”

“It’s fine,” she said quickly.

“No, it’s not,” he answered brusquely. “It’s anything but okay, and we both know it.”

The curtness of his tone surprised her and she glanced at him in the dim light of the cab interior. It had been twilight when they’d left the wedding but it was nearly dark outside now, which made it hard to read his expression. “It was a long time ago, Cade.”

“Not that long ago. I remember.”

Rachel pressed her lips together, her insides suddenly bruised and too tender.

“I remember the drinking,” he added tersely. “I remember the fights and the tears. I remember you crying—”

“Cade.” She cut him short, pressing her hands to her knees, her voice strangled, because she remembered, too.

“I remember you telling me how much you loved me, and that I was everything.”

She closed her eyes, steeling herself against the past, against the terrible ache, as well as the scar covering her heart, which barely held it together. “Let’s not do this,” she said, thinking he had no idea how hard it had been to get over him and even harder to accept that once he left, he wasn’t coming back.

“Rachel, I remember our last night together. We were in bed and you had your arms around me and your cheek pressed to my chest, and your tears were falling on my bare skin. I remember how hot they felt as they fell.”

She angled her body away from him and stared out the truck window, her fist pressed to her mouth to keep from making a sound, because every detail from that last night was permanently engraved in her memory. It was the night she gave him the ultimatum. It was time he got help. Time he stopped drinking. She loved him so much, but she couldn’t stand by and watch him self-destruct.

And he’d listened to her that night, quiet, so very, very quiet and much too still, and then after an endless silence that stretched for fifteen minutes, then thirty, he smoothed his hand over her head and kissed her forehead and said she was right. She was absolutely right. She did deserve better. Then he climbed from bed, stepped into his jeans and dressed. And left.

He left her.

She waited days, weeks, months for him to come back. Waited days, weeks, months for him to come to his senses, remember how much he loved her, remember how she was his heart and his life and his soul. Waited for him to be the man he’d always said he’d be for her.

But he didn’t return.

Didn’t call, didn’t write, didn’t email, didn’t do anything and Grandma kept telling her to give him time...give him time...but it was killing her, not hearing from him, killing her, not knowing how he was doing and what he was doing...killing her that he could have forgotten her so completely. And so she tracked him down, showing up in Waco where he’d entered a rodeo, hoping that once he saw her, he’d remember how much he loved her. But it didn’t work out that way. He saw her, all right, but she saw him, too, lip-locked on the rodeo grounds with another brunette. Rachel’s replacement.

Rachel met David a week later while out with girlfriends in Fort Worth. Her friends had dragged her with them for a girls’ night out, determined to help her forget Cade. They’d driven to Fort Worth and gone line dancing. David was there that night at the bar, and he’d been handsome and charming. He had bought her drinks and all of her friends drinks, and showered her with compliments.

Rachel didn’t normally fall for guys like David—a little too smooth, a little too polished, a little too quick with a line—but he made her feel special and important, and desperate to get over Cade, Rachel slept with him on the second date—just that once—because they never went out again, but Rachel only needed that one time to get pregnant.

David didn’t want anything to do with her or the baby when she told him. He even moved to Calgary, taking a job there, to make sure he couldn’t be roped into anything.

Thank God Grandma had been there. Thank God Grandma had loved her. She drew another quick, painful breath and then forced herself to face Cade. “You want to talk about this? Okay, fine, we’ll talk. Yes, the way you left me hurt. But I’m not mad at you, Cade, and to be perfectly honest, I don’t think about you, either. I have Tommy now, and he’s my life, and I wouldn’t have had him if you and I had stayed together.”

Chapter Four

When they arrived at Mrs. Munoz’s small house in Mineral Wells, Cade put the truck into Park, and Rachel opened the passenger door and headed up the front walk to get Tommy.

Rachel thought Mrs. Munoz looked pale and tired as she handed over Tommy’s small backpack and his coat. “Everything go okay today?” Rachel asked her sitter as she crouched in front of Tommy, zipping up his puffy winter jacket.

“Everything was fine.” Mrs. Munoz leaned on the back of a chair in the hall. “He was a good boy. I’m just not feeling so well.”

In the four years that Rachel had known Mrs. Munoz, Mrs. Munoz had never once complained about anything and Rachel swiftly straightened, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s probably nothing.”

That was never a good sign, Rachel thought, forehead creasing. “Are you sick?”

“No, no. The doctor just wants to run some tests—”

“What kind of tests?”

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about me.”

“But I am worried, Mrs. Munoz. What kind of tests?”

“They want to check my heart, but it’s probably nothing—”

“Oh, Mrs. Munoz, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because we don’t know anything yet, and you need help—”

“But having Tommy here can’t be good for you.”

The elderly woman shrugged. “He likes coming here, and I like having him here.”

Rachel’s chest squeezed tight and she felt the pressure inside her grow, the old pressure she’d felt when Sally was dying and Rachel was eaten alive with guilt that her grandmother was exhausting herself trying to help her. She felt the same guilt now because Mrs. Munoz was a truly lovely woman and had been an invaluable help these past several years. Rachel wondered now if she’d leaned on the caregiver too much.

“When do you see the doctor again?” Rachel asked her.

“He wanted me to do the tests a couple weeks ago, but you’ve had those two weddings, and now the move—”

“My work and the move aren’t more important than your health! Nothing is more important than your health, Mrs. Munoz, and I’m going to keep Tommy with me this week until you get your tests done and have your results and you know what’s going on.”

Rachel gave Mrs. Munoz a fierce hug goodbye, but walking to Cade’s truck with Tommy’s hand tucked in hers, Rachel felt close to tears. Mrs. Munoz was such a sweet lady. Nothing could happen to her. Nothing.

Fortunately, Tommy loved Cade’s truck and was happy to be riding in the cab’s backseat where he could play with the leather armrest with the built-in cup holder. But Rachel was nervous he might break the armrest by flipping it down too aggressively and cautioned him to be more gentle.

“It’s okay,” Cade told her. “He’s not going to break anything.”

“You don’t know that. He does break things. Frequently.”

Cade shrugged. “Then if he breaks it, I’ll fix it. No big deal.”

She opened her mouth to protest, and then blurted something completely different. “Tommy’s babysitter, Mrs. Munoz, isn’t well.” Her voice cracked. “She might be having heart problems.”

Cade shot her a swift look. “Does that put you in a bad spot?”

“I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about her. She’s been wonderful to us...really loving and so patient with Tommy. She never gets mad at him, and whenever I’m in a bind she always comes through for me. And then she makes us homemade enchiladas and the best tamales at Christmas—” Rachel broke off as tears filled her eyes and she suddenly couldn’t stop them. They fell in great fat warm drops and she reached up to catch them, but they were falling faster than she could wipe them away. “It just doesn’t seem fair. I know we’re mortal, but life is just so short, and the people I care about just keep going away—”

And then she stopped talking, embarrassed she’d said so much, and to Cade, of all people! He was the one who’d broken her heart into a thousand pieces and had made every loss after hurt worse.

“I’m sorry, Rachel,” he said quietly, his voice pitched low.

She nodded, struggling to get control. Suddenly he reached out to her and placed his hand on her knee, his palm warm against her skin. From someone else the touch might have been sexual, but this wasn’t sexual Cade, it was loving Cade, the Cade who knew her and had once been so good at comforting her.

At the house, Rachel unlocked the front door and then flipped on the entry light, before getting the hallway lights that led to the bedrooms. Tommy let out a yelp and pushed past her, running down the hall to eagerly turn on all the lights he could reach. He loved lights, and light switches, loved fans, too. Anything that could go on or off fascinated him for hours.

“Tommy’s not afraid of the dark?” Cade asked, watching Tommy disappear down the hall.

“Not if he’s the first one to turn the lights on. It’s a game to him,” Rachel answered wryly, still feeling a little raw from being so emotional on the way home. “But come in. I should go check on him.”

Moving through the house, Rachel noted that Tommy had managed to turn every overhead light on in the three bedrooms and two bathrooms before throwing himself down on the floor of his room with his tub of LEGO. He was in the process of dumping the entire bin out when she looked in on him, but it was fine. Dumping out and picking up thousands of pieces of LEGO was a daily occurrence around here.

Smiling, she returned to the entry where Cade was waiting. “He’s playing,” she said, peeling her coat off and hanging it in the hall closet. “He’ll be happy for a while, too. Once Tommy’s engrossed in something, he’s focused.”

“Is this when you get some time to yourself?”

Rachel laughed. “Moms don’t get time to themselves...not unless you call dinner, laundry and bills ‘mom time.’” She glanced at her watch, saw that it was almost six. “Speaking of dinner, I’d better get something started because Tommy will be hungry soon.”

“I’ll head off, then.”

“You don’t have to. If you like frozen pizza, you’re welcome to stay.”

“Frozen pizza?” he repeated, not looking overly enthused.

Rachel laughed again, unable to help herself. “Or we can order pizza, but if we do that, you’re paying.”

“Done. Tell me what kind of pizza you guys like, and I’ll make the call.”

Thirty minutes later they were all sitting at the round oak table in the kitchen eating pizza and drinking root beer. Half of the pizza was pepperoni and half was cheese, and Tommy, who never wanted anything but plain cheese, watched Cade eat a pepperoni slice and decided he wanted one, too. Rachel nearly fell out of her chair when Tommy inhaled the slice and wanted more.

Cade watched Tommy eat a second pepperoni slice, holding the wedge with both hands, his eyes big and bright, but his expression was dreamy and unfocused, and he seemed far away.

He was a sweet kid, Cade thought, a quiet little boy who lived in his own world, but that didn’t bother him. Growing up, Cade had been fairly disconnected from the world, too, and sometimes it was better to be distant and dreamy than aware of all the chaos and pain.

So far Rachel hadn’t said anything about Tommy’s father, and frankly, Cade didn’t want to know much, having already formed an opinion of Tommy’s father and it wasn’t flattering. Any man who would walk away from his own child was an A-hole and a loser, and both Rachel and Tommy deserved better.

Suddenly Tommy looked up at Cade and smiled. “Pizza,” Tommy said, tomato sauce smudging his mouth as he grinned broadly.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Cade answered, smiling back at the boy, aware that this was the first time Tommy had ever spoken directly to him.

Tommy continued to grin and eat, watching Cade’s face as he chewed, and something shifted and ached in Cade’s chest.

It was ironic, but with his dark hair and big blue eyes, Tommy looked an awful lot like Cade and could easily pass for his son, just as Cade had looked like his father, rodeo cowboy legend Jack King, who’d died at twenty-seven when his horse had rolled on him during the saddle bronc competition. It was a freak accident—and rare—as most fatalities in the sport came from bull riding, and even then there had only been three in the PRCA since 2000—but it made big news.

Cade wasn’t much older than Tommy when his dad died, just five, but he remembered the funeral and all the cowboys who attended, and how so many of them clapped him on the shoulder, or patted his head, and told him one day he’d be a great cowboy, too, just like his dad.

Funny. Cade rarely thought about his dad, despite becoming a rodeo champion in his own right, but remembering his childhood never felt good and he’d learned to get through life by focusing on the next event, the next road trip and the next prize to be won.

“Done,” Tommy said, pointing to the hall. “Go. LEGOs.”

“You had enough to eat?” Rachel asked, leaning across the table to wipe his mouth off.

Tommy nodded so Rachel excused him, and Cade watched Rachel watch her son dash down the hall and he felt his chest grow tight again. She loved her son so much, and her love was so pure and so unconditional that it moved him deeply. She was so different from his mother, who wasn’t a maternal woman...

Abruptly he stood and gathered the plates and cups and carried everything to the sink, turning the faucet on to rinse the plates clean.

“Leave it,” Rachel said from behind him. “I’ll do it later.”

“I’m here. Let me help.”

“You’ve helped so much already today, Cade. You saved me.”

“I did nothing—”

“Nothing? You were an answer to my prayer! If it weren’t for you, Mia wouldn’t have had a cake, and what’s a wedding without a cake?”

“Not much of a wedding,” he agreed, turning off the water to smile at her, his expression warm. “But it was my pleasure to drive you there, and attend the reception with you. You looked so happy...it made me happy to see you smile and laugh with your friends. I have a feeling you don’t get to see your girlfriends as much as you used to.”

Her mouth curved and yet he saw a shadow in her eyes. “No, but someday they’ll be moms and we’ll have more in common again.” And then just like that the shadow was gone and she was sitting forward in her seat, smiling mischievously at him. “And you, Cade King, were quite popular at the reception. Seems like you knew everybody. There was a line of folks waiting to talk to you all afternoon. I swear you were more popular than the bride and groom.”

“I sure hope not, considering I wasn’t invited.”

Rachel laughed. “You might not have been invited, but Mia was thrilled you were there. She’ll be telling everybody for the next year that a celebrity attended her wedding.”

Cade grew warm, uncomfortable with talk like that. “I’m not a celebrity,” he growled. “And I was there as your wheels. Your assistant. Your driver.”

Her lips pursed and she arched a dark eyebrow. “My chauffeur?”

“Exactly.”

She gave her head a faint shake, even as her gaze searched his. “You really didn’t mind racing around, wrestling with my cake, dealing with my car?”

“Best day I’ve had in years.”

“Stop it.”

He drew an X on his chest. “Cross my heart, Rachel James.”

Her lower lip quivered before she bit down hard into it. “You’re killing me.”

“Why?”

“You’re too good with lines.”

“They’re not lines, Rache,” he said earnestly, wishing he could reach for her, touch her, take her into his arms. “I mean everything I say. I loved being with you today. It felt good. Right—”

“So, how long do you think it’ll be until my car will be ready?” she asked, jumping to her feet, reaching for the bottle of root beer and screwing the cap on. She walked quickly to the refrigerator and put the root beer away, but the tumble of dark hair around her face only highlighted how pale she’d gotten.

Cade silently kicked himself, wishing he could take the words back. What was the matter with him? Why make her uncomfortable? “At least two or three days,” he said. “Maybe more, depending on how hard it is to find the parts and complete the labor. But Phil will call you in the morning once he’s been able to assess things better.”

“Will it be expensive?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Cade hesitated. “Probably.”

“How expensive?”

“Could be anywhere from six hundred to nine hundred dollars.”

“Nine hundred?”

“Provided you don’t need a new engine.”

Panic flared in her eyes. “Seriously?”

Cade jutted his jaw, feeling like hell. “Not what you want to hear, huh?”

“No. Accountants might be busy this time of year, but not wedding-cake folks. We slow after Valentine’s Day and, yes, it’ll pick up late April, but...” Her voice trailed off and then she shrugged and forced a smile. “I’m going to go check on Tommy.”

Down the hall in Tommy’s room, Rachel leaned against the doorway watching him line up his miniature LEGO figurines. Pirates and ninjas and little Harry Potters. She loved watching him play and how engrossed he became in his activity. And he’d always loved his room. From the time he was a toddler, it’d been his sanctuary. He’d miss this room, and so would she.

She was still watching Tommy when Cade came to find her a few minutes later. “Everything okay?” he asked.

Her skin prickled with awareness as he came up behind her. She might not want to be attracted to Cade anymore, but her body certainly knew he was there. “Yes,” she said, flashing him a quick smile. “Just thinking. I’ve lived in this house ever since Tommy was born.”

“There must be a lot of good memories here.”

“Hundreds,” Rachel agreed, thinking of the green-and-white nursery she’d decorated for Tommy and the cheerful Beatrix Potter quilt Grandma had sewn for his crib before making a matching quilt to hang on the wall.

“What’s your new place like?” Cade asked.

“Nice,” she said quickly, maybe too quickly, because she saw the lift of Cade’s eyebrows. “Of course it’ll need a little TLC. Every place does. But it’ll be good once we’re all settled.”

“You’re taking the furniture?”

Rachel glanced past him, back down the hall, toward the kitchen with its solid, scratched oak table, but it was a table she loved more than anything, and then to the dining room and living room beyond.

“As much as I can,” she answered, her fingers curling into a fist that she pressed against her ribs. She wouldn’t be taking the kitchen table with her. She couldn’t. It wouldn’t fit through the narrow apartment doorways. And yet that table represented her grandmother more than anything else in this place. Grandma Sally sat there every morning with her coffee and every night at dinner with her iced tea. And it was home. And maybe it was silly, because it was just a piece of furniture, but it made her feel loved. “It’s an apartment, not a house,” she added, huskily, “so not everything will fit.”

If Cade heard the break in her voice he gave no indication. “When do you move?”

“The new people are moving in on the sixteenth, but I have to be out by the fourteenth so they can clean on the fifteenth—”

“You’re moving on Valentine’s Day?”

She rolled her eyes. “Valentine’s Day isn’t a big deal to me, and Tommy doesn’t care, so it’s not something we focus on around here.”

“Can I help you with the move?”

“I’ve already got that handled.” She glanced around Tommy’s room, which would be the last room packed since he didn’t like his things disturbed. She needed to go through his toys, too, and donate the things he’d outgrown or didn’t play with, but she was so sentimental. Many of the toys symbolized the early years. The years when she hadn’t known what was wrong with Tommy, only that something was wrong with Tommy, even though doctors just told her not to worry so much, that boys were often developmentally delayed, that many little boys struggled with speech...

But she’d known. She’d known that something wasn’t right when a baby wouldn’t look at his mother. She’d known in her heart that it wasn’t supposed to be like this...her baby should smile...look into her eyes.... Tommy did neither.

Cade frowned. “Won’t that be expensive?”

“I’m doing it as a barter. A wedding cake in exchange for two guys and a truck for three hours.”

“That’s smart.”

“Mmm,” she agreed, unwilling to let Cade know how hard it’d been to find someone who would barter the move. Rachel had never had a lot of money, and paying for Tommy’s specialists and therapists was a constant strain, but it was worth it. Already the weekly speech and occupational-therapy sessions had made a difference.

“Where is his dad, Rachel?” Cade asked quietly.

Rachel glanced quickly at Tommy before moving away from his door and walking back to the kitchen. “Calgary,” she said, picking up the plates Cade had rinsed and adding them to the dishwasher.

Cade drew out a chair at the table and sat down. “He’s Canadian?”

“No. David’s from Dallas. I met him at a bar in Fort Worth one night when I was out with Mia and some of the other girls.” She added the root-beer glasses to the top rack, closed the dishwasher door and faced Cade. “From far away David looks like you—tall, dark, handsome. But he wasn’t you.” She grimaced and shrugged. “Definitely wasn’t you, and we only went out a couple times, but I somehow still managed to get pregnant.”

“And David doesn’t want to be part of Tommy’s life?”

“He gave me money for an abortion before leaving town.” She lifted her chin, looked Cade square in the eye. “I didn’t love David. He was a rebound thing, but there was no way I could get rid of the baby. So I took the seven hundred and fifty dollars he gave me and opened a savings account for Tommy’s college education. And maybe Tommy won’t go to college, but he’s going to have an amazing life. I’ve given up on a lot of dreams these past few years, but I’m not giving up that one.”

Chapter Five

Before Cade could think of an answer, Tommy walked into the kitchen with the television remote.

“Show,” Tommy said, holding out the remote to Cade.

Cade glanced at Rachel. “Can I turn on the TV for him?” he asked, rising.

Rachel sighed and rubbed at her forehead. “Yes, but he won’t be happy. He wants a particular program—”

“Show,” Tommy interrupted, impatiently pushing the remote into Cade’s hand before walking out. He glanced over his shoulder at Cade and gestured for him to follow. “Scooby.”

Cade followed him to the living room and hit Power on the remote. It took a moment before the old TV flickered on.

“Scooby,” Tommy repeated, looking expectantly at Cade.

“Scooby-Doo?” Cade answered. “You like that show? I do, too.”

Tommy flinched, facial muscles twitching before he nodded and smiled, a jerky little smile. “Scooby. Shaaag...Shaaggy.”

“Scooby and Shaggy are my favorites.”

Tommy’s mouth twisted again but this time no sound came out and he simply smiled.

“Hey, Rache, what channel is your Cartoon Network?” Cade called to her, thinking she was still in the kitchen.

“We don’t get cable anymore,” she said quietly from right behind him. “Just the regular free stuff. But he doesn’t understand. We won’t have cable until we move.”

“Don’t you have a DVD he could watch?”

She sighed. “It broke last month.”

“Scooby,” Tommy insisted.

Rachel raised her voice. “Tommy, we can’t watch Scooby-Doo right now, but I’ll see what else is on,” she said cheerfully but firmly. “Maybe we can find a kids’ show on another channel.”

The boy’s mouth worked, his features tightening and grimacing. “Scoob. Mama.”

“We’ll find another show you can watch, Tommy,” Rachel repeated, even more firmly. “I’m sure there is something fun on—”

“Scooob, Mama. Tommmy...good boy.”

“We can’t watch Scooby, Tommy—”

Tommy let out one of his piercing wails and Cade suddenly couldn’t breathe, his chest on fire. “You can get DVD players cheap now, Rachel,” Cade said shortly, angry, so angry, and not even knowing why.

“Not cheap enough,” she answered, raising her voice even louder to be heard over Tommy’s wailing.

Cade’s gut hurt. His emotions were so damn raw. “I’ve seen them for sixty-five bucks—”

“And that sixty-five bucks will pay for ten hours of child care or buy groceries or pay for a half hour of speech therapy,” she snapped, facing him. Color flooded her cheeks, making her gray eyes luminous. “So I have to make choices, and they need to be good choices, and unfortunately buying a cheap DVD player so Tommy can watch Scooby-Doo isn’t one of them!”

Cade’s chest grew tighter and he drew a short, rough breath, temper simmering. “It’s that bad around here?”

“I wouldn’t call it bad. I’d call it tight. But it’s always been tight. And maybe it’s a struggle but it’s a good struggle, because I’m making it...I’m doing it. I’m taking care of my boy and I don’t need David or you or any other man to waltz into my life like you’re some fairy godfather and make things better.”

“I’m not interested in being a fairy godfather. I just want to get you a DVD player. Please.”

“That’s not necessary. But thank you.”

Tommy moved behind Rachel, and began bumping his face repeatedly into her hip. “Scoob. Show.”

“Rachel, it’s sixty-five dollars. And it’d make him happy.”

Her chin lifted even as she put a hand behind her to stop Tommy from pushing against her. “A lot of things would make us happy—a new car and hot-fudge sundaes and a trip to Disneyland, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to get them—” she held up a hand to stop him when he would have interrupted “—and I’m okay with that. Those are luxuries. I—we—don’t need luxuries. What we need is speech therapy and physical therapy and occupational therapy and doctors and teachers, and those all cost money. A lot of money.” She swallowed hard, and her chin jerked even higher. “But I’m doing it...I’m giving him every important thing I can.”

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