COME HOME, COWGIRL

Logan Slade is bringing his wife home for the holidays—but can he convince her to stay for good? Despite a four-year separation and a devastating loss, the Georgia rancher refuses to give up on their marriage…even if he has been served divorce papers.

Amy misses Raintree Ranch and her beloved horses almost as much as she misses the man who was her best friend before he was anything else. But she’s no longer a wild rebel determined to get her man at any cost. To win her back, the honor-bound cowboy will have to let go of the past and open his heart to a real future.

“I made you promises and I intend to keep them.”

“That’s my Logan,” Amy whispered. “Always doing the right thing. The honorable thing. That’s how you got into this mess to begin with.” She leaned in, her chest brushing his. “We both have a chance to get out of this. To get our lives back. All you have to do is sign.”

He caught her wrists and pressed kisses to her palms. “I vowed to take care of you and love you every day of my life.”

She stilled, her expression lifting. “And do you? Love me?”

“You were the best damn friend I’d ever had. I’ve always cared for you.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.” She stepped closer, the heat in her eyes burning into him. “You said you swore to love me. What does that mean to you?”

“It means you have my loyalty. My fidelity and protection. And my support.”

Her face fell. The spark in her eyes faded. “Those are all very important things,” she said. “But what about your heart?”

Dear Reader,

I met a boy in college. A brawny, flirtatious one with a wide smile. He wore designer jeans, an expensive watch and spent way too much time on his hair. He enjoyed starting an argument and making me blush. He did everything he could to get me to look up from my books and give him attitude.

I thought he was ridiculous and told him so. I even rambled off a list of everything I disliked about him.

He just laughed and said, “Keep going.”

That’s how it started. But not how it ended. Jason became the best friend I’d ever had. He knew my shyness was debilitating. He coaxed me out of it. He persuaded me to join his kickboxing class, showed me how to hustle at pool and talked me into one more dance after closing time. The music would stop, the lights would go out and he’d just whisper, “Keep going.”

Jason was a fearless boy. He would’ve grown into an extraordinary man. Only, he never had the chance.

In The Rancher’s Wife, Logan Slade loses someone very important to him. His heart becomes hard, fills with regret and he finds it difficult to move on. It takes someone special to help him love again. To teach him to keep going.

Thank you for reading Logan’s story.

April

The Rancher’s Wife

April Arrington

www.millsandboon.co.uk

APRIL ARRINGTON grew up in a small Southern town and developed a love for movies and books at an early age. Emotionally moving stories have always held a special place in her heart. During the day, she enjoys sharing classic literature and popular fiction with students. At night, she spends her time writing stories of her own. April enjoys collecting pottery and soaking up the Georgia sun on her front porch. You can follow her on Twitter, @april_arrington.

Dedicated to Jason.

“Keep going.”

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Almost. Two syllables with so much promise and no damn reward. The most disappointing word in existence.

Logan Slade stifled a grimace and spun the ring on his left hand with his thumb. The silver band glinted with each twist. He eyed the nervous movement, willing it to stop. It was an absentminded habit. One he’d almost managed to quit.

His mouth twisted. Almost...

“We’ll almost have snow,” the white-haired man at his side chided again. “Yes, siree. Just needs to be a few degrees colder. They’re predicting sleet tonight instead. Strange, huh? November ice in Georgia? Guess the angels left the fridge open.” He laughed.

A shaft of frozen air abraded Logan’s forearms and he clutched the door of Hartford Insurance Agency’s lobby against the whipping wind. Crumpled leaves swept across the walkway outside in a violent flurry. Logan began to regret his impulse to jump up and assist the elderly man out. The chill pierced his skin but he kept his grip, willing the man to shrug into his coat a little faster.

“My Pearl loved the snow,” the man mumbled. His jubilant expression melted away. “We almost had some here last Christmas.” Gnarled fingers struggled to fasten the top button at his neck.

“Here. Let me.” Logan tucked his heel against the door and gingerly threaded the button through its hole.

“Almost...” the man whispered, his gray eyes lifting.

Logan stilled. It was impossible to count the regrets haunting the depths of his gaze. They pooled in the corners of his eyes, seeping into the crow’s-feet and coating his white lashes.

Almost. Logan had almost not come today. Was no more than two thoughts away from calling the trip off when he finally twisted the key in the ignition and allowed his truck to haul him from his ranch.

And, after arriving, he’d almost left. Empty-handed, but with a heart crammed full of a thousand more regrets than he already carried.

Logan straightened, renewing his hold on the door. Almost be damned. He wasn’t leaving until he did what he’d come here to do. What he should’ve done a long time ago.

He wasn’t leaving until he saw his wife. And he wasn’t leaving until she left with him.

The man’s eyes still hovered on him. Logan summoned up a polite smile.

“Thank you, son,” the elderly man said, shrugging further into his coat and edging out. “Yes, siree. Just a few degrees...”

The arctic blast receded as the door closed and Logan returned to his chair by the exit. He pressed his palm against the thick fold of papers stuffed inside the pocket of his jeans. They cracked under the pressure of his touch, shooting chills through him.

The massive grandfather clock in the corner sounded the five o’clock hour, doling out bellows and chimes. Each lilt of the bells pierced his ears and dropped into the hollow of his gut.

“How much longer do we have to sit here?”

Logan jerked his head to the side. The teenager beside him slumped further into a crumpled heap on the wide lobby chair. A thick hood obscured her face.

“Please sit up, Traci,” he said.

“This is stupid.” The hood shifted with her grumble. “Why can’t we wait at her apartment?”

Logan shifted in his seat, heat spiking up his neck. “We’re in public.” He clenched his teeth, his knee bouncing with agitated jerks. “Sit up, please.”

The hood dropped back. Emerald eyes flashed up at him. Eyes the same shade as those of her older sister, Amy. His wife.

Logan snatched in a breath. Dear God, Traci reminded him of Amy. Made it impossible for him to forget how much he missed her or how much he’d failed her. As a husband and a friend.

Amy had been his best friend long before she’d been his wife. That was how it should’ve remained. He’d never wanted to jeopardize their friendship by clouding it with lust. But that was exactly what he’d allowed to happen. When he found out she was pregnant, the only option he was willing to consider was marriage. And damned if that wasn’t exactly what Amy had planned on.

“I can show you where her apartment is, you know?” Traci smiled. “It’s not that far. Only five or ten miles.”

Logan ducked his head and dragged a hand through his hair, the searing heat engulfing his face. He didn’t need directions to Amy’s apartment. He’d memorized her address four years ago. One day after she left.

He’d spent each morning counting the miles between them and each night adding more hours to her silent absence. The simple fact was, she’d never issued him an invitation to visit.

Logan had known better than to expect it. Amy had always been stubborn. Still, he’d hoped time would work its magic. Help her heal and bring her around to reaching out to him.

And she had finally reached out. But in a different way entirely.

Logan’s fist clenched. His knuckles dug deep into the denim covering his thigh, driving a dent in the packet of papers filling his pocket. He wished he hadn’t signed for them. Wished he hadn’t taken the manila envelope from the mail carrier’s hands, opened it and read them. Wished this ice storm would’ve changed direction and missed Georgia altogether.

Then, he wouldn’t have been forced to leave Raintree and make the six-hour drive to Augusta. He could’ve continued to remain on the ranch, reminding himself why things were better left alone.

“We’re waiting here,” Logan muttered through stiff lips.

“But the apartment complex is right down the road.” Traci perked up, straightening and sliding to the edge of her seat. “It’s next door to a coffee shop and there’s a rec room in the main hall that has a pool table. We could get a latte and shoot a round or two while we wait for her.” Her slim hand latched on to his forearm, voice rising. “They have a sub place, too, if you’re not in the mood for coffee.” Her nose wrinkled. “It’s different in the city. It’s not like back at the ranch. Everything’s right around the corner. You can find anything you want.”

Yeah. He could find anything he wanted here. Anything except the friendship he’d once shared with Amy. The only place he had any hope of resurrecting that was back at their childhood home. At Raintree Ranch, the memories were rich. They grew out of the ground and wrapped around you on the wind.

“No,” he said. “We’re waiting for Amy here.”

Amy. Logan’s mouth tightened. His wife. His best friend. Alone. Hundreds of miles away from her family.

No doubt she could hold her own in a big city full of strangers. Otherwise, he never would’ve agreed to her decision to leave four years ago.

At the time, he’d thought it was for the best. A chance for her to experience life somewhere else. Shake the depression she’d fallen under after the loss of their daughter. Learn and grow. Mature into a woman who knew the value of honesty and loyalty. Then, she’d choose to come back. Only, she hadn’t come back.

Logan sighed. He just needed to get Amy home. Back to her family. The sooner they returned to Raintree Ranch, the better.

“It’s not a big deal,” Traci continued. “Amy won’t mind if we wait for her at the apartment. She told me I could use it whenever Mama and I visited. Even if she wasn’t there.” Her eyebrows rose. “It’s better than sitting here—”

“I said, no.”

“You heard that man. It’s gonna sleet. The sign says they close at five and it’s five,” she stressed. “There’s no one here but us now. She’s not coming and if we’re not going to her apartment, we’re better off leaving without her. Before it sleets and we get stuck here. Let’s head back now.”

“I said no.” Logan shot her a firm look. “Now, that’s the end of it.”

Traci released her death grip on his forearm and flopped back in an indignant heap. “I swear, if I miss Mama’s turkey and dressing tomorrow, I’ll never forgive you, Logan.” Her lip curled. “Never.”

Logan tensed and cast his eyes up to trace the popcorn patterned ceiling. Teenagers. Any other day Traci wouldn’t utter two syllables strung together. Today, though, the endless chatter had begun the second the kid jumped into his truck insisting she take the trip with him. It had continued in a never-ending stream since.

Logan shot to his feet. “Wait here.” Taking swift steps to the reception desk, he tossed over his shoulder. “Quietly.”

A rough exhalation was her only response. Thank God.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” He placed his hands flat on the reception desk to still the tremors running through them.

The young receptionist looked up, smiled and eased closer to the counter.

“Your daughter sure is talkative,” she giggled. “I don’t think she’s drawn a breath in the last hour.”

“She’s not my daughter.” Logan’s throat tightened, a sharp pain ripping through his chest. “She’s my sisterin-law.”

“Oh.” Her smile slipped. “I’m sorry. I just assumed—”

“I don’t mean to be a pest but I was wondering if Amy Slade has come in yet?”

Her forehead scrunched, confusion clouding her features. “Amy Slade? You mean Ms. Johnson, right?”

Logan swallowed hard, the wad of papers in his pocket burning through his jeans.

He nodded, forcing out, “Johnson. Amy Johnson.”

“Well, she had a lot of claims to document today. She was trying to squeeze in as many as she could before she left for vacation.” She grimaced in apology. “I thought she’d be back by now but it looks like she may not make it in. I’m sorry. I know you’ve been waiting a long time.”

“Can you give me her cell number?” His face flamed. “I’d like to give her a call. Let her know I’m here.”

“Sure,” she stated quietly. She held a business card out between pink nails. “I could...”

Johnson. Logan’s hand halted in midair. There it was. Her maiden name. In bold, black ink stamped in the center. Plain print. Thick paper. Such a harmless item. But it cut to the bone.

“Sir?” Concern contorted the receptionist’s features. “I could give her your number, if it’s an emergency? Ask her to give you a call tonight? Or tomorrow?”

“No,” he choked, ripping his hand away from the card.

He’d let four years of tomorrows slip by. He should’ve been here yesterday. His shoulders slumped. Four years of yesterdays.

“No, thank you,” he repeated. “I’d like to wait a little longer.”

A push of cold air swept in from the hallway, fluttering the papers on the desk. The receptionist glanced over her shoulder at the muffled clunk that followed.

“Back entrance,” she said, rising from her seat. “That might be her. I’ll go check.”

Logan strode around the desk to the mouth of the hall.

“Please give me a moment, sir.”

He drew to a halt at her raised hand and pleading expression. She cast anxious glances behind her.

“Just let me tell her you’re here. Please?”

Logan managed a stiff nod. She dropped her hand and moved down the hall, disappearing into a room on the left.

His legs tensed and his torso pitched forward. Wait.

He glanced back at Traci still slouched in the lobby chair then found himself inching down the hall despite his polite promise. His ears strained to capture the receptionist’s hushed tones and low words.

“...been here for hours. Very insistent on seeing you.”

“Who is he? Is he filing a claim?”

Logan faltered, his breath catching. Amy. There was no mistaking her soft, questioning tone. His steps quickened, the tips of his fingers slipping inside his pocket and curling around the papers in a crushing hold.

“I don’t think so. I think he might be...” Hesitancy coated the receptionist’s words. “I think he’s your—”

“Husband.” Logan clamped his lips together and flexed his finger against his wedding ring.

He’d reached the threshold. The view of the room remained obscured by the receptionist. She swiveled to face him, hands twisting at her waist.

His earlier reminder to Traci returned. We’re in public.

He issued a tight smile. “I apologize for not waiting. I didn’t mean to rush you but it’s important that I see her.”

Floorboards creaked. That quiet voice returned. It drifted around the receptionist’s tense frame. “It’s okay, Kimberly.”

The receptionist blinked and glanced back over her shoulder. “Would you like me to stay, Ms. Johnson?”

“No. You go ahead and start your holiday. I’ll lock up.”

The receptionist hovered briefly then nodded and slipped past Logan, the click of her heels fading.

A thousand thoughts had clamored in Logan’s head on the ride up here. A million words had vibrated on the tip of his tongue as he drove. He’d sifted through each one, preserving or discarding them with precision until he’d carefully arranged a select few that were the most important. The ones that needed to be delivered first. Ones that would give him a fighting chance.

One glimpse of Amy and every one of them dissipated. Just as they always had.

Amy had been a pretty girl from the start. Eight years old to his twelve when she’d first arrived at Raintree, she’d been all daring smiles and impish expressions. At nineteen, she’d been beautiful. That shiny length of black hair, and tanned legs that seemed to stretch on forever.

Now, as a woman of twenty-four, she was breathtaking. Curves replaced the coltish angles and a relaxed strength resided in her lithe frame.

“Logan.”

His attention shot to the lush curves of her mouth and the deep jade of her eyes. Both opened wider with surprise.

“I needed to...” His blood roared, his tongue clinging to the roof of his mouth.

Needed to see her. Touch her. Hold her.

Amy’s expression cleared. She regained her composure and took slow steps toward him, stopping when the toes of her shiny heels were an inch from the scuffed toes of his boots.

At well over six feet, Logan found it rare that anyone met him on his level. Amy, however, never failed to do so. Wearing heels, her slender frame reached almost the exact same height, her gentle breaths dancing across his jaw.

“It’s good to see you,” she whispered.

It was the last thing he’d expected her to say.

She rested her palms loosely on his shoulders, her smooth cheek pressing gently against the stubble of his. Her sweet scent enfolded him and soothed his senses. He closed his eyes and breathed her in, sliding his hands over her back to draw her closer.

She felt the same. Soft and strong. Only, now, the mature curves of her body met the hard planes of his, filling each hollow and reminding him of exactly how much he’d missed.

How the hell had he ever managed to accept her decision to leave? Encouraged it, even? And why had he waited so long to come? When all he had to do—

“You look well,” she said, drawing back.

She crossed the room to the other side of the desk and removed her jacket to hang it on the back of the chair. Smoothing a hand over the collar of her sweater, she adopted a welcoming stance. A patient countenance.

It wasn’t the empty expression she’d had years ago after the loss of their daughter. Or the defeated one she’d shown for months after several failed attempts at getting pregnant again. And it was a far cry from the rebellious one she’d worn as a girl, intent on challenging him at every turn.

This was something different. This was worse. It was the professional posture a claims adjuster assumed with a client. The polite demeanor a woman assumed with a stranger.

Logan balled his fists at his sides, his chest tightening with the familiar sting of regret. He’d waited too long.

“What can I do for you, Logan?”

She continued running her fingers over the sweater’s neckline. The movements remained small and graceful. Not erratic or anxious. Certainly not an action that should draw attention.

A flush bloomed on the skin of her neck. A fraction of an inch above the tips of her fingers. Her bare fingers.

Logan’s eyes burned. This trip was a mistake. Like so many others. There was nothing left of their marriage to salvage here. He should walk away, get back in his truck and leave. It was the sane, sensible thing to do.

He jerked his head to the side but couldn’t force his stare to follow. It clung to the small motions of her fingers, causing the pink shade on her neck to spread and deepen to a fiery shade of red.

Logan clenched his jaw. He’d already lost a child. Hell if he’d lose his best friend, too. The girl he remembered was still there. Buried beneath the sophisticated veneer. And he wasn’t leaving without her.

Reaching deep into his pocket, Logan withdrew the thick wad of papers and tossed them onto the desk. They bounced, slid across the mahogany wood and drew to a precarious halt on the far edge.

“I’m here to bring you home.”

* * *

LIES VARIED. Amy knew that. They could be as white as a consoling whisper. Or as dark as a secret never spoken. As a girl, she’d only lied to Logan once but it had been dark enough to follow her for years.

Amy curled her fingers tighter into the collar of her sweater and refused to look at the papers balancing on the edge of the desk. Instead, she focused on Logan, lingering over the dark depths of his eyes, the strong line of his jaw and the sensual curve of his mouth.

He hadn’t changed much in the four years since she’d last seen him. His lean length was still as sculpted as ever. His broad chest and shoulders were just as wide and impressive. And the familiar attire of jeans, collared shirt and boots were still the same.

A deep rush of longing enveloped her, making her ache to reach out and wrap her arms around him. To draw him close and hold on. Just as she had so many times over the years as a friend and, eventually, as a lover.

Dear God, she’d missed him. Missed his smile, his strength. Even his tight-lipped frowns of disappointment. Most of which had been directed at her over the years.

Her stomach churned. Figured the one thing she’d always admired most about him was something she had never been able to possess as a girl. Something she’d always found so elusive and so foreign.

Honor. Logan lived and breathed it. Even when it cut deep.

Amy smiled, hoping the slight quiver of her mouth didn’t show. “I told Mom on the phone that I’d drive home as soon as I got off work today. I promised I wouldn’t miss Thanksgiving dinner this year and I won’t. I’m already packed and—” she flicked her sleeve back and glanced at her wristwatch “—it’s time to close up. I’m about to swing by my apartment, grab my bags and head out. There was no need for you to make such a long trip.”

A muscle in his jaw jumped. His left hand moved, his thumb twisting the ring on his finger. The same one she’d slid there years ago when she was a selfish girl of nineteen. A girl who had lied and purposefully gotten pregnant with Logan’s child, knowing his honor would demand he marry her.

The memory conjured up shame. It scorched a path from her soul through blood to muscle, then sizzled on the surface of her skin.

There were so many things she couldn’t change. But one thing had changed. She was no longer that selfish girl. No longer reckless or relentless in her pursuit of Logan. Always pushing for more than friendship and stealing his freedom from him.

She’d ruined his life back then. Hurt him more than she’d ever hurt anyone, and she’d never hurt him that way again.

Amy squared her shoulders and wrapped her hands around the chair in front of her. End this fast. Make it clean and painless.

“It may have been a while since I’ve made the drive,” she said, trying for a small laugh. “But I can manage to find my way back on my own.”

The tight grooves marring Logan’s face deepened. She longed to reach up and smooth the lines away with her fingertips. Cup his jaw and press her forehead to his. She’d done it so many times over the years it had become second nature.

But things were different now. She wasn’t that naive girl anymore.

Logan moved, taking long strides across the room to reach the desk. The dark waves of his hair weren’t cut quite as short and the lines beside his mouth were deeper. But, the slight changes only enhanced his rough-hewn appeal. If possible, he was more handsome now, at twenty-eight, than he’d ever been.

“Your mom was worried,” he said. “Betty knows it’s a long drive and she’s concerned you’ll get caught in the weather.” His mouth tightened. “I was worried, too. They’re calling for sleet. Driving in ice is dangerous. Especially when you’re not used to it.”

“Maybe.” Amy tossed her hair over her shoulder and straightened, firming her tone. “But it’ll be a good experience for me. I need to get used to driving in extreme winter conditions.”

Logan frowned. “Why?”

She smiled. A real one that untied the knot in her chest.

“I’ve accepted a job in Michigan. There’s a new insurance branch opening in Detroit and I’ll have a management position. That means higher pay and more opportunities for advancement.” She shrugged. “The winters are a lot harsher up there. Wouldn’t hurt to get a little taste of it now before I move in January.”

“Michigan?” Logan’s frown deepened, his voice strained. “That’s damned far, Amy.”

He cut his eyes to the window, remaining silent for a moment. The wind outside strengthened and tumbled bits of trash across the parking lot. A tree branch scraped across the glass pane, its shrill squeak breaking the silence.

“You’ve stayed here longer than I thought you would.” Logan faced her again. “You used to say you loved Raintree. That you never wanted to live anywhere else.”

Amy forced her features to remain blank. The only thing she’d missed as much as Logan and her family over the past four years was Raintree Ranch. Her mother and her younger sister, Traci, came to Augusta to visit every summer, but it wasn’t the same as being together at Raintree. Their childhood home had always been her safe haven.

Even now, Amy could feel the warmth of Raintree’s spacious kitchen. See her mother flipping pancakes on a wide griddle and humming happy hymns over the stainless steel stove.

Having secured a position at Raintree as head chef, the widowed Betty had brought her two young daughters with her to the beautiful guest ranch. And Logan’s family had welcomed them all from the moment their feet touched the dirt drive.

As a girl, Amy had spent thousands of hours racing across Raintree’s green fields on her favorite stallions, Thunder and Lightning. She’d helped Logan deliver both foals on the same stormy day. Logan had laughed at her choice of names, but at the time it had seemed like fate to her tender heart.

It had always surprised her how far and fast she could ride across Raintree’s acres and still have ground to cover. And the gallop back had always been just as exciting knowing Logan would be watching and waiting for her safe return. The endless acres, beautiful horses and interesting visitors had made Raintree Ranch her favorite place in the world.

Amy had never known a more peaceful place. Until her selfish actions changed everything.

“I said a lot of things back then,” she stated. “When I wanted something.”

She’d wanted Logan. Marriage. A family.

Amy swallowed hard. That dream was gone. Logan had never loved her the way she’d loved him. Pushing him into marriage had destroyed their friendship and complications from pregnancy had almost taken her life. They’d been told she’d probably never be able to get pregnant again. That had been proven in the barren months that followed.

Amy shook her head. “All of that was a long time ago.”

“Four years,” he said.

“Yes.”

Logan spun and crossed the room. The planks of the hardwood floor vibrated beneath her feet as his heavy steps carried him to the window. His spine grew rigid and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

She’d never met a stronger, more dependable man. But her deceit and their broken marriage seemed to have dented his armor. Cracked his bravado. And their stillborn baby girl—

Amy’s lungs burned, sharp pain searing in all directions. That dark day had seemed like retribution. A justifiable punishment for her grievous sin.

Amy curled her toes and looked down at her shoes. She’d refused to give up on her dream of being a mother, though. But several failed attempts had forced her to finally accept that it was never meant to be.

She raised her head and straightened. That was all in the past. She’d moved on since then. She no longer mistook her admiration for Logan as love and she had let go of her dream of becoming a mother. All she wanted was to proceed with her respectable new life and continue giving Logan back his.

“The move to Michigan is why I decided to come home for the holidays this year,” she said, working the words through her constricted throat. “I’m using some vacation time I have saved up to visit the ranch for a few weeks, see everyone and—”

“Say goodbye?”

Logan’s accusing rasp shot across the room. He turned, yanked his hands from his pockets and rubbed them over his denim-clad thighs. The action seemed nervous and hesitant. Both emotions uncharacteristic of him.

“You sure are making a lot of decisions for everyone else,” he said. “Doing a lot of assuming. As usual.”

Amy rolled her lips and bit hard, a spark of anger lighting in her chest. One she hadn’t felt in years. A product of the impulsive nature she’d worked so hard to shed.

Logan’s dark eyes roved over her face, peering deep. He nodded toward the papers on the desk. “You gonna look at those?”

She held his sharp gaze, tensing and tempering her tone. “Later.”

“Now’s as good a time as any.”

“I know what they are,” she forced out.

The corner of Logan’s mouth lifted. “I don’t think you do. Take a look.”

“You came all this way to boss me around?” Amy wrapped her fingers tighter around the chair. She tried to stop. She really did. But the words kept spewing. “I’m not a little girl anymore, Logan. You can’t stroll into my life, toss orders about and demand I do things your way. Matter of fact, that never worked out for you back then, either, did it?”

“No, it didn’t.” Logan crossed the room, leaning into his palms on the desk and drawing close. “But it can work this time with the right persuasion.”

Amy hissed and lifted her chin. “You think so?”

“I know so.” A broad smile broke out across his lean cheeks, warming his expression. Logan lifted his hand, the blunt end of his finger smoothing over the tight line of her mouth. “There’s my girl,” he whispered. “I miss you, Amy. I miss us.”

Amy sagged against the chair, shoulders dropping. “Us fighting?” She shook her head. “Because that’s all we’re good at anymore.”

His big palm cradled her jaw, calloused thumb sweeping gently over her cheek. “We’re good at a lot more than that. We just need to work at it. Do things right this time.”

Amy drew back, slipping away from his touch. “No. That’s not why I’m coming home. And I don’t plan on staying permanently. You already knew that.” She nudged the papers with her fingertip. “That’s why you signed these.”

His eyebrows rose. “Did I?”

“Good Lord, I’m glad you’re here.”

Traci rushed into the room, sweeping past Logan and barreling into Amy’s middle. Grateful for the distraction, Amy wrapped her arms tight around her sister’s waist. The bulk of Traci’s coat made it difficult to pull her close.

“We’ve been waiting out there for hours,” Traci mumbled against her neck. “It’s cold, I’m bored and Logan refused to go anywhere. He wouldn’t do anything but sit there and wait.”

Traci’s frantic whisper tickled her ear. Amy laughed, drawing back to say, “Why did you ride out here anyway? You knew I was coming home today.”

Traci shrugged, stepping back and tugging at her hood. “You know Mama always starts cooking the night before Thanksgiving. If I’d stayed home, I’d have had to peel all the sweet potatoes for the soufflés.” She curled her lip. “A girl can get carpal tunnel doing that.” Her fingers picked at the cuffs of her jacket. “And I missed you.” She shrugged. “Besides, there were too many people stuffed in that house. I needed to get out of there for a little while.”

Amy smiled. “I take it Raintree’s packed for the holidays, as usual.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it. I spend one summer visiting you in Augusta and munchkins invade while I’m gone.” Traci shook her head. “When I got back to the ranch last August, six-year-old twins were tearing up the place.”

“Twins?”

“Yeah,” Traci said. “Dominic married their aunt last fall. They’re seven now and I swear those boys got wilder. You’ll see what I mean.”

Dominic, Logan’s younger brother, had been Amy’s friend the moment she’d arrived at Raintree all those years ago. She couldn’t imagine Dominic getting married and settling down. He was a nomadic bull rider, living in the moment and always searching out adventure.

“Dominic got married?” Amy glanced at Logan for confirmation.

Logan nodded, a small smile appearing. “He came home for good last year and he’s happier than I’ve ever seen him.” His smile slipped. “You’ve missed a lot.”

Amy tensed, looking away from the sad shadows in Logan’s dark eyes.

“We’re really glad you’re coming home for a visit,” Traci said, squeezing Amy’s arm. “It’ll be nice for us all to be together again.” She withdrew, moving around the desk to tug at Logan’s elbow. “Can we start back now?”

“Soon.” Logan nudged Traci toward the door. “Go on out and warm up the truck. We’ll swing by Amy’s, load up her bags, then head out.”

Amy watched Traci leave then cocked her head at Logan. “Who’s doing the assuming now?” she asked. “I never said I was riding back with you.”

“No. You didn’t.” Logan walked to the door. “But I promised Betty I’d get you home safely, and I always keep my promises. Plus, your sister’s been looking forward to catching up with you and there’s no way I’m letting the two of you ride back alone in this weather. We’ll follow you back to your place, get your stuff and you’ll ride back with me. So lock up and meet us out front.”

He left, leaving her glaring at the empty doorway. Amy huffed. It looked like Logan was getting his way again. At least, for the moment.

She firmed her mouth. Her plans hadn’t changed. Not really. She’d accepted the new job and was moving to Detroit. Just as intended.

This trip home would still serve its purpose. She’d spend some time making amends, visit with family and find a gentle way to break the news of her move to her mother. Then, she’d move on to a new life and a fresh start.

It didn’t matter what mode of transportation she took to the ranch. The path she’d follow would still be the same and her ticket to a new life was now in her possession.

Relaxing, Amy glanced down at the folded papers balancing on the corner of the desk, their ivory shade a stark contrast to the deep tones of the wood. She retrieved them, unfolded the pages, and slid her thumb over the bold heading.

Divorce Settlement Agreement.

She scanned the papers, each glimpse of blank space tightening her chest to the point of pain. Her fingers flipped up the corner of each page with a more violent flourish than the one before.

“If you’re looking for my signature, you’re not gonna find it.”

Her head shot up. Logan stood in the doorway, his wide shoulders and lean length obscuring the exit. His grin widened into a firm curve, sparking his dark eyes with intent.

“Not now. Not ever,” he said. “I never break my word.”

Amy’s breath caught. This was the Logan she knew. A bold, decisive man. One who never faltered once his mind was set on something.

He stepped into the hallway, tossing over his shoulder. “Go on and lock up. We need to start back soon. Before the storm hits.”

The papers cracked in Amy’s hand, crimping into a wrinkled heap before she dropped them to the desk. She stared ahead blankly, listening to the heavy tread of Logan’s boots and the bell chiming on his exit.

The room was empty, her rapid breathing the only sound. Amy lifted her hand and slipped her fingers beneath the collar of her sweater to tug the silver necklace out. It dug into the back of her neck as she threaded her finger through the ring hanging from it. The weight of the silver band was familiar and comforting.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Only a few minutes with Logan and she’d reverted to old sins. She’d lost control, lashed out and goaded him into action.

The dig of the necklace turned painful, her finger straining to reclaim the ring. Amy gritted her teeth, slid the ring off her finger and shoved the necklace back beneath the cover of her sweater.

There was no way she was slipping back into old habits. Always trailing after Logan, begging for whatever attention he deigned to throw her way. What she’d felt for him all those years ago had been exactly what he’d called it. Ill-begotten hero worship. Nothing but a young girl’s ridiculous fantasy. Something cynical–Logan would never deliver.

No. She’d come too far and worked hard to change. No way would she ever be that selfish girl again. She’d gotten over her obsession with him long ago.

Amy jerked open a drawer, yanked out her purse and shoved the wad of papers deep inside. This wasn’t ending here. Like it or not, Logan was signing that agreement. And they were both going to shed the past and begin new lives.

She made her way through the lobby, flicked off the lights and hovered by the window. The gray clouds grew thicker and the furious sweep of leaves through the parking lot whispered to a halt. Small white pellets plummeted from the sky in scattered patterns, slamming into the concrete and pinging against the glass pane.

Logan stood at the foot of his truck. Eyes fixed on hers, he crossed his muscular arms over his broad chest and leaned back against the tailgate. He didn’t shiver or waver. Just stood there. A solid pillar of heat in the freezing onslaught of ice, not heeding its vicious bite.

Amy clenched her jaw. A sharp ache throbbed in her head at the tight press of her teeth. There was no need to rush. No need to try to outrun the storm. It had already hit.

Chapter Two

He’d come on too strong. Had pushed Amy too hard.

Logan shifted to a more comfortable position in the truck’s cab and eased his foot off the accelerator. He glanced to his right, finding Amy in the same position she’d adopted an hour ago. Perfect poise, legs crossed at the ankles and eyes straight ahead. Her hands shook in her lap.

“Cold?” He stretched over to cut the heat up and angle the vent toward her.

“No. I’m fine, thanks.”

She didn’t look it. The closer they got to the ranch, the tenser she became.

“How much longer?” Traci asked from the backseat, removing her earbuds. “I’m getting stiff.”

Traci rearranged her long length in the back of the cab, stretching her legs out to prop her boots on the console. Logan’s mouth twitched at the sight of the muddied heels. A few clumps of dirt dropped from them, tumbling into the front seat by his jean-clad thigh.

He eyed her in the rearview mirror. “You got two floorboards back there, Traci.”

“And a lotta leg,” she drawled, raising her voice above the deep throb of music from her cell phone. “I’m starving. We haven’t missed dinner, have we?”

Logan shook his head. “Nope. We’re right on time. Not much farther now.”

Traci stuck the earbuds back in, settled against the seat and closed her eyes.

Logan faced the road again and they traveled in silence for a couple of miles before he glanced at Amy. The brash glow of the low-hanging sun flooded the cab and highlighted the pinstripes in her pantsuit. Her black hair was pulled up, giving him a clear view of her pale cheeks and blank expression.

Logan opened his mouth to speak but shut it quickly. He used to be able to talk to Amy about anything. Never even gave a thought to what he would say. Knew she’d be as eager for his thoughts as he’d always been for hers. But over the past twenty-four hours, he’d discovered that even though they were no longer separated by miles of road, a distance still remained between them. One he had no idea how to cross.

“Is dinner still at six?” Amy’s green eyes flicked to the clock on the dashboard.

“Yeah. Betty runs a tight ship.” It was almost 5:30 p.m. They’d cut it close. “We’ll make it.”

Barely. Despite his best attempts last night, they’d been unable to start home before the storm hit. Instead, the ice fell fast once they’d arrived at Amy’s apartment and by the time he’d loaded Amy’s bags in his truck, the roads were too slick to drive on. They decided it would be best to spend the night and start back in the morning after the ice began to melt. Traci had slept in the guest room and Logan had slept on the living room couch.

He winced and rubbed the kink in the back of his neck. Or better yet, he’d tried his damnedest to sleep. It’d been hard to do with his legs dangling off one end of the sofa and his head the other. It didn’t help matters that Amy’s bedroom had been only a few feet away. He’d heard the rustle of sheets every time she’d tossed and turned. Apparently, she hadn’t been able to sleep either.

He rolled his shoulders and tightened his hold on the steering wheel. At least they were almost home now rather than holed up in that suffocating apartment. It’d been obvious that Amy had already begun preparing for her move to Michigan. The stacks of boxes lining the living room walls had glared at him from the moment he’d entered. He’d done his best to ignore them but they’d loomed over him all night.

Logan’s mouth twisted. No wonder sleep had eluded him. He hated this. Hated how quickly he’d become fixated on Amy again. How every thought running through his mind centered on her and excluded common sense. It made him feel weak. Vulnerable.

“Tell me about Dominic.”

He turned his head to find Amy studying him. Those emerald eyes traveled slowly over his face and lingered on his mouth, warming his cheeks. Her lips trembled slightly.

She looked away, asking, “Who did he marry?”

“Her name’s Cissy. He met her one night on his way back to Raintree. She was stranded by the side of the road with her nephews.”

“Are those the twins Traci mentioned?”

He nodded. “Cissy’s sister died early last year and the twins’ father didn’t want them. Cissy took the boys in but had a hard time providing for them. Dom brought the three of them to the ranch and we set her up with a job.” A smile stretched his cheeks. “Dom fell hard for her. He loves those boys, too.” He released a low laugh. “We all do. They’re great kids, Amy. You’ll love ‘em. And Dom and Cissy are expecting—”

Logan bit his lip, cutting off his words. Babies. Twin girls. Nausea flooded his gut. He couldn’t say either of those things to Amy. Could barely say them out loud himself.

Red blotches broke out on Amy’s neck, marring her clear skin. She smoothed her hands over her blouse and sat straighter in the passenger seat. “I’m happy for him,” she whispered.

She would be. When she’d first arrived at Raintree, Logan recognized right off that Amy shared the same wild streak as Dominic. It hadn’t taken long for Amy to begin regarding Dominic as a brother and Dominic was equally fond of Amy.

Logan frowned. He’d always been pleased with Amy’s close connection with Dominic but after his own friendship with Amy eroded, Logan found himself envious of her bond with his younger brother. Which was ridiculous. More of the irrational behavior Amy inspired in him.

“I called Dom last night,” Logan said. “Asked him to let everyone know we were running behind. He said Betty was excited to see you. Said she couldn’t stop smiling.”

Amy tucked a strand of raven hair back into her topknot. “I’m looking forward to seeing her, too. It’ll be a good visit.”

Logan glanced in the rearview mirror at Traci. She bent deeper over the cell phone in her hands and her fingers flew over the screen. Her music blared, the rhythmic bass pumping past the earbuds.

“Betty never mentioned anything to me about you moving to Michigan,” he murmured. “You haven’t told her your plans, have you?”

“Not yet.” Amy twisted her hands in her lap. “But I will. There’s plenty of time. I don’t want to upset her at Thanksgiving.”

He scoffed. “You think Christmas would be a better occasion?”

“No.” She sighed. “But I couldn’t bring myself to tell her over the phone. I will, though. When the time’s right.”

“Augusta is far enough. Michigan will feel like the other side of the world to her. You’re gonna break her heart, Amy,” he said, ignoring the tightness in his chest. He eyed Traci again. “Your sister’s, too.”

“They’ll understand. They’ll be happy for me.”

“Knowing you’re thinking of moving clear across the country won’t make them happy.” Logan grimaced. It sure didn’t sit well with him. “No one that cares about you would be happy hearing that.”

“What would you have me do, Logan?” Amy glanced over her shoulder at her sister before whispering, “Stay in limbo with you forever? The opportunity came and I took it. I have to move on at some point. We both do.”

Her argument was sane and sensible. The kind he should agree with and understand. But he couldn’t bring himself to accept it.

Logan palmed the steering wheel roughly and took a right turn onto the long dirt drive of Raintree Ranch. He lifted his foot from the pedal as the truck dipped into a pothole, sloshing muddy water against the sides of the cab. Fragmented patches of white speckled Raintree’s sprawling fields. The late-afternoon sun that had melted most of the ice hung low on the horizon and night loomed closer with every minute.

Amy’s pants legs rustled as she sat taller, craning her neck and looking out at their surroundings. Logan took the next turn through a gated entrance and she braced her hands on the dash, swiveling to glance over her shoulder at Raintree’s wooden sign as they passed. The sweet scent of her shampoo released with her movements, lingering around him and making him ache.

They traveled past the large stables, barn and paddocks lined with white fencing and the multi-storied main house emerged into view. Logan smiled. The white columns and wide front porch were already adorned with garlands, wreaths and bows for the holidays. Betty must have decided to decorate early for Amy’s return.

A tender expression crossed Amy’s features. Logan’s chest warmed. No matter what she said, Amy had missed Raintree. Her longing for their childhood home showed in every sweet curve of her face.

“It still looks the same,” she said.

The gentle look in her eyes faded as the truck drew closer to the house. Her mouth tightened. She eased back in the passenger seat, shoulders sagging.

“Nothing’s changed.” Amy trailed her hands away from the dashboard and dropped them in her lap, fingers twisting together.

A heaviness settled in Logan’s arms. “Yes, it has. Everything has been different since you left. For all of us.” He covered her smaller hands with his palm and squeezed. “Please think this move over. Before you make a final decision.”

She slid away from his touch. “The decision’s already been made.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “It’s for the best.”

“Amy—”

“The twins are out,” Traci shouted over her music, perking up and dragging her feet from the console.

Logan released a harsh sigh, bringing the truck to a halt and removing the keys from the ignition. Two blond boys scrambled over the ground at the end of the drive, gathering up what was left of the sleet and packing it into muddy balls.

“Hide everything you value and get your armor on, Amy,” Traci said, yanking out her earbuds and shoving them along with her cell phone into her bag.

“Are they that bad?” Amy asked, a hesitant smile peeking through her tight expression.

Logan grinned. “Nah. They’re just being boys.”

“Yeah, right,” Traci drawled. “Tell me that the next time they break my phone. Or take my bras and use them for slingshots. Or draw plans for their fort on my homework—”

“All right, Traci.” He laughed, muscles relaxing. “I know they’ve done you wrong a time or two but they do it with love.”

Traci harrumphed and shoved her door open.

“That’s one warped way to look at it,” she grumbled good-naturedly, jumping out and taking swift strides up the dirt drive.

The boys noticed Traci approaching and stilled. A huddle, quick whisper and nod later, they advanced, surrounding her and pelting her with their icy bundles.

“Stop it, squirts,” Traci squealed, “or I’ll smooch you into oblivion.”

Traci swooped down with open arms, bag flopping over one shoulder, and chased them. One twin escaped but she caught the other, scooping up the wriggling boy and plastering noisy kisses all over his face.

“Yuck!” The escapee ran several feet across the mud and jerked to a halt at Logan’s open door. He scowled, jabbing a dirty finger in Traci’s direction. “Look what Traci’s doing to Jayden, Uncle Logan. Tell her to stop.”

Logan stifled a laugh. Leave it to Kayden. He was always the first to point the finger of blame.

“Come on, now,” Logan said. “You can’t go on the attack, then cry for help. Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it.”

“I ain’t did no dishing,” Kayden argued. He paused, forehead scrunching before saying, “I didn’t do any dishing.”

“That sounds better,” Logan praised.

Kayden nodded. “Aunt Cissy don’t like us using no double negatives.” He climbed onto the truck’s running board and leaned into his hands on Logan’s thigh. “Anyways, I ain’t did no dishing. We were just throwing snowballs.”

“There’s no snow out here, buddy.” Logan ruffled his golden hair. “Y’all were throwing ice.”

“So.” Kayden shrugged. “It’s white.”

“Unlike a friendly snowball, ice hurts and I’m sure Traci felt a twinge or two. Both of you owe her an apology.”

“Yes, sir.” Kayden rolled his eyes, the blue pools skimming over Logan then narrowing on Amy. “Is that her?”

Logan turned, absorbing the warm look Amy directed at Kayden, and smiled. “Yeah. This is your aunt Amy.”

Amy frowned but quickly adopted a polite smile when Kayden leaned in for a closer look at her.

Logan helped Kayden jump from the running board back to the ground. “Why don’t you go around and introduce yourself properly?”

Kayden took off, his blond head bobbing out of view as he rounded the front of the truck.

“It’s not a good idea introducing me as their aunt, Logan.” Amy unbuckled her seat belt. It snapped back with a clang. “I’m leaving for good soon.”

“Maybe.” Logan met her hard stare with one of his own. “But you’re here now.”

She shook her head, grabbed her purse and climbed out of the truck. Logan followed, strolling to the other side of the truck to find Kayden tipping his head back and staring up at Amy.

“Gahlee, you’re tall,” Kayden said, mouth hanging open.

Amy’s grin faltered as she teetered, her high heels sinking into the mud of the driveway. Logan stifled a laugh. The combination of melted ice and dirt had turned the path into slick mush. She yanked against it, attempting to jerk her shoes free, but the sludge won out.

Kayden stepped closer, studying her sinking shoes, then observing the rest of her. He blushed and stuck out dirty fingers. “I’m Kayden. And that’s my brother, Jayden, over there. Good to meet ’cha.”

Amy lowered with care, braced with one palm against the truck for balance and shook his hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, too, Kayden.”

“Boys,” a deep voice called.

They all turned. Dominic ambled down the wide front porch steps of the main house and crossed the lawn toward them.

“Uh-oh.” Kayden smirked.

He tore off toward the house, Jayden and Traci following. Dominic swept the boys against his thighs as they passed, kissing their heads and shooing them toward the porch with a pat on the butt.

Logan held Amy’s elbow and helped her regain her balance. “You gonna ditch those shoes now?”

“No need.”

She steadied herself by holding his forearms and yanked her heels from the suck of the mud. They broke free with a deep slosh. She lifted onto her toes, released her grip on his arms and straightened her purse strap on her shoulder.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Dominic drawled, smiling wide and knuckling his Stetson higher on his brow. He strutted over, landing a heavy pat on Logan’s back, then edging past him. “My partner in crime has returned.”

Dominic wrapped his burly arms around Amy’s waist, lifting her in a tight hug and spinning in a wide circle. She laughed, pure contentment shining on her face and eyes welling with happy tears. Logan savored the sight briefly then shoved his fists in his pockets and looked away.

“It’s about time your butt moseyed back, kid,” Dominic murmured. “Where the hell you been?”

“Around.” She struggled to catch her breath.

“I’ve missed you.” Dominic leaned back and studied her. “We’ve all missed you.”

Logan’s skin tingled under the weight of Dominic’s stare. He glanced over, eyes locking with his younger brother’s.

“Haven’t we?” Dominic asked.

Logan nodded, dragging a hand from his pocket and kneading the back of his neck. That kink was back, the pain streaking from the base of his skull down between his shoulder blades.

Amy cleared her throat, tapping Dominic’s ankles with the toes of her shoes. “You can put me down now.”

Dominic’s lip curled, his tone teasing. “Don’t know if I should. Doubt you’ll make it to the house in those city-girl contraptions.” He frowned at Logan. “You let her run around in these things?”

Logan opened his mouth but Amy beat him to it.

“He doesn’t need to let me do anything.” She popped her knuckles against Dominic’s shoulder. “I do what I want when I please. Now, put me down.”

Dominic chuckled. “Yep.” He nodded with pleasure at Logan. “This is damn sure our girl you brought back with you.”

“Almost as good as new,” Logan said, voice catching.

Amy’s cheeks flamed cherry-red and she shoved harder at Dominic’s broad shoulder until he lowered her to the ground. Logan stepped forward, keeping a close hold on her elbow until she steadied on the mud and shrugged away his touch.

Amy nudged the bobby pins holding her updo into a more secure position and asked, “Were those your two misfits I saw earlier?”

The pride in Dominic’s face was unmistakable. “Yep. Those are my boys. I adopted them last year after I married their aunt. Wished you’d been here for it, Ames.” He smiled. “Can’t wait for you to meet my wife. I know you’ll love Cissy as much as I do. And we’re expecti—”

“That’s enough for now, Dom.” Logan’s throat tightened at the quiver in Amy’s chin. “It’s been a long drive back. Let her rest before you yap her ear off.”

Dominic nodded, his smile dimming. “Sun’s dropping.” He waved a tanned hand toward the horizon. “It’ll be dark soon. ’Bout time I started rounding up the horses.”

“I’ll help,” Amy said.

She squeezed Dominic’s arm and brushed between them, making her way toward the paddocks grouped near the massive stable.

Dominic crossed to Logan’s side, watching Amy’s slow progress across the field. “How is she?”

“Better than she was four years ago,” Logan said, trying to ignore the hollow in his gut at the memories assailing him. Amy, pale and unconscious, lying in a hospital bed while he sat by her side praying she’d wake up. His relief at her pulling through had been short-lived. After losing their daughter, she’d become a shadow of her former self. Each failed effort at becoming pregnant again had caused her to grow more listless and depressed over the following months.

Logan studied Amy’s careful steps toward the paddock. “She seems physically healthy at least but she’s still not herself.”

The sun dipped sharply and an orange glow of light flooded the fields, silhouetting Amy’s lithe figure. The outline of her curvy form turned black, becoming a stark contrast to the fiery light bathing the landscape.

“Y’all made any decisions about the future?” Dominic asked.

Logan sighed. “Amy has. Says she’s moving again.”

“Where to?”

“Michigan.”

“Damn.” Dominic shook his head, kicking the ground with his boot and squinting at the glare of the setting sun. “You talk her out of it yet?”

“No.” Logan cut his eyes to Dominic. “And don’t go bringing it up. Betty doesn’t know yet, and Amy only told Traci she was moving to a new apartment, not where. Amy hasn’t had time to settle in. She gets to feeling cornered, she’ll pack up and leave. Then I won’t have a chance in hell of getting her to stay.”

“Well, if you ever do need me to talk to her, just say the word.”

Logan scoffed. “She’s my wife. If anyone talks to her, it’ll be me.”

Dominic stilled, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Well, hell, bro. You’re getting hard-core in your old age, yeah?”

A burst of laughter broke from Logan’s chest and the tension faded from his limbs. He loved having his brother back home again. He grabbed the back of Dominic’s neck and squeezed, giving him a playful shake.

“Old? If you know what’s good for you, you’ll cut that shit out.”

Dominic laughed and shoved him off. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Logan smiled and led the way over to the paddock to join Amy. She leaned further over the top rail of the fence as several horses milled around the enclosure. She pointed at a golden stallion standing a head taller than the rest, his white mane rippling with each movement of his broad neck.

“Is that my Lightning?” she asked.

“Yeah.” A wave of pleasure swept through Logan at the eager expression on her face. “You’re welcome to tuck him in for the night.” He lowered his voice to a teasing tone. “That is, if you can make it over the fence and across the field in that stuffy getup.”

Dominic chuckled at his side and Amy smirked, a hint of her old spirit shining in her eyes.

“That won’t be necessary,” she said.

She inhaled and whistled around two fingers. The melodic sound traveled across the expanse of the paddock, perking up the horses’ ears and rebounding off the stable walls. Lightning shot to attention, spun and galloped toward the fence. He drew to a halt, dipping his broad head over the top rail and nuzzling his nose against her shoulder.

“Good boy,” she crooned, kissing Lightning’s forehead and resting her dark head against his thick neck. “You’re still a beauty.”

“He oughta be a beauty,” Dominic said. “Logan’s been babying him for the last four years.”

Logan grunted, rubbing Lightning’s back. “There’s nothing wrong with a little extra attention. And he deserved it. He’s pulled his weight on the trails. Every new guest we get requests him.” He looked up to find Amy’s eyes clinging to his. “You trained him well.”

Amy rolled her lips, a smile fighting at the corners of her mouth. “I wasn’t alone in that. Besides, you were the one that trained me, remember?”

“I remember,” he whispered.

He reached out and tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. The silky feel of it lingered on his fingertips, heating his blood.

Amy stepped back, eyes sifting through the rest of the horses. “Where’s Thunder?”

Logan stiffened. Of course she’d ask about Thunder. That black stallion had always been one of her favorites, along with Lightning. He curled his fists around the fence rail.

“Logan?” Amy’s hands covered his, her face creased with worry. “Where is he?”

Logan glanced at Dominic. He winced, his dark eyes moving to hover over the stables in the distance.

Logan sighed. He should’ve prepared for this. Should’ve had something ready to say. The last thing Amy needed right now was bad news and he didn’t want to be the one to deliver it. Unfortunately, there was no way around this.

Logan shoved off the fence and took Amy’s hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the fragile skin of her wrist. “Come on. I’ll take you to him.”

* * *

AMY SHIVERED. THE warmth of the sun faded and the approaching darkness sent a chill through the air. It sliced beneath her flesh and traveled to her bones, forcing her to huddle closer to Logan’s side. His big hand tugged, leading her away from the paddock and down the winding trail to the stables.

The tight set of Logan’s jaw and his continued silence froze the blood in her veins. She scanned the path before them, following the familiar curves to the stable where she’d spent the majority of her childhood days.

Every morning, she’d raced to the stalls to plop at Logan’s feet and watch him groom the horses. And every afternoon, she’d returned to lean in the doorway and wait for his return. The image of him mounted on his horse, slowly crossing the field, seemed emblazoned on her memory. She was certain the image of her idolizing expression remained imprinted on his.

Her face flamed despite the cool bite of winter air. Amy lifted her chin and straightened the collar of her blouse with her free hand. None of it mattered. There wasn’t any point in seeking out old comforts. Or reliving past humiliations. She wasn’t staying long enough to enjoy one or endure the other.

She craned her neck, peering past the open doors of the stable for a glimpse of Thunder’s dark hair. She knew the exact shade. Years ago, when she’d delivered the foal, she’d stayed to watch Thunder rise on trembling legs then spent the next week smoothing her hands over his black mane.

Logan’s hand tightened around hers and he slowed his step. “There was an accident a couple of months ago.” He stopped inside the stable entrance, drawing her to a halt. “One of the guests took Thunder out without permission. Some arrogant young suit on vacation, playing at being a rancher for the week.”

His mouth firmed into a tight line, throat moving on a hard swallow.

“He knew Thunder was a jumper. Drove him over a few fences and off the lot.” He released her, hands shoving deep into his pockets. “Raintree probably looked endless to him, being a city boy and all. He left the ranch and ran Thunder right into the highway.” He looked back across the empty fields, shoulders sagging. “Those transfer trucks don’t stop for anything out here. Don’t know if he was trying to race or didn’t see the truck coming, but their paths crossed.”

Amy froze. Thunder was a strong stallion, ripped with muscled bulk and impressive speed. But he’d be no match for a transfer truck. Not the kind that sped along the isolated highways surrounding Raintree.

“Was he...?” Her throat constricted, the question catching.

“No.” Logan’s black eyes shot to her face and his deep voice softened. “You know Thunder. He’s not going down without a fight.” A grim smile curved his lips. “He reared, bucked that boy off him and jumped. Almost made it out of the way.” His expression darkened. “But almosts don’t cut it. He got clipped and was banged up pretty bad. We thought for sure he wouldn’t last the night but he did. He’s not the same, though. Whole thing scarred him bad. Turned him wild. None of us have been able to make any headway with him.”

Amy scanned the empty stalls lining the stable, eyes scrambling from one to the next.

“Only thing that saved the guest was Thunder’s instincts,” Logan said. “That kid came out of it with a few cuts and bruises. A lot less than he deserved.” He cleared his throat. “I wish I’d kept a closer eye on him. He was a reckless rider. And a selfish one to boot.”

Amy took in the hard set of Logan’s jaw. He’d always been controlled and practical but he had a soft spot for his horses. Often went to extremes to protect and care for them. It was one of the many things she still admired about him.

She touched his arm, fingers resting lightly against the hard curve of his bicep. “You’re not meant to control people any more than horses. You can only lead them. How many times did you tell me that over the years?”

Amy’s gut clenched, a surge of shameful heat flooding her. Logan had repeated the mantra a thousand times when she’d struggled with training a horse. She could still see his somber expression as he’d delivered the sentiment, but she’d never really listened. Instead, she’d pushed the boundaries of their friendship and tempted him into a different relationship. Had tried to control him all the same.

Logan withdrew his hand from his pocket, capturing hers and smoothing his thumb over her wrist. “He’s not the same, Amy. You still want to see him?”

She nodded.

Logan took her elbow, guiding her down the aisle past the empty stalls to a large one tucked in the back. An eerie stillness settled around them. The front of the stall remained empty, a dark bulk huddling in the back corner.

Heart pounding, Amy leaned closer and secured her purse strap on her shoulder with shaky fingers.

“Hey, boy,” she whispered.

There was no response. Only the stallion’s heavy breathing disturbed the silence.

“Thunder?” She took a small step forward, palm pressing to the stall guard and fingers wrapping around the bars. “Hey, b—”

A hoof slammed into the bars, the edge of it ramming against her knuckles and rattling the stall door on its frame. Amy jumped back, heels clacking over the bricked floor and catching on the slight crevices in between. One cracked loose in the process.

Logan’s strong arms wrapped around her right before she slammed into the floor. Her purse dropped from her shoulder and tangled around her ankles, contents spilling out. The relentless pounding continued, Thunder’s kicks increasing in intensity and echoing around them.

“Are you okay?” Logan reached for her injured hand.

“I’m fine,” she choked.

She drew her throbbing fingers to her chest, cradling them and gritting her teeth.

“Let me see.” Logan’s brow creased and he tugged at her wrist.

“It’s fine,” she bit out, stifling a grimace. “He skimmed me.”

The kicking stopped. Amy glanced up as the strong pull and push of Thunder’s heaving breaths grew close. His broad head appeared against the bars. A savage scar stretched across his chiseled face and down his muscular neck. Amy winced at his glare, the whites of his eyes stark against the wide and wild depths of his pupils.

“He’s been through a lot,” Logan said. “It’s changed him. In the beginning, I thought there was still a chance I could bring him around. But I lost his trust along the way. I’m out of options. I have to put him down.”

“No,” she whispered.

Thunder’s lips drew back and he cried, the sharp sound screeching through the air and splitting her ears. He slammed his front hooves against the door then jerked away to pace the stall, his pained cries turning fierce.

Amy’s legs shook. She bent carefully to gather up the contents of her purse. Shoving the scattered items back inside, she caught sight of the bundle of crumpled divorce papers. She snatched them up and drove them deep into her purse.

Metal clanked as Thunder dove forward and butted the stall door with his head. Eyes flaring, he fixed his gaze to hers and stared deep, tearing past the layers of her polished appearance and creeping beneath her skin. He jerked his head, screaming louder and kicking harder.

Amy choked back a sob and shoved to her feet. Logan was right. Thunder wasn’t the same. But to consider ending his life...

“You can’t put him down, Logan,” she said, turning away and stumbling on the loose heel of her shoe. “Not without giving him a fair shot.”

Logan held her arms and steadied her. “I have. Nothing has worked. He’s a danger to himself and the other horses and he’s especially aggressive around the boys. There’s not one single rehabilitation outfit willing to relocate him after laying eyes on him.” He sighed. “I can’t, in good conscience, allow him to exist in fear and isolation with no quality of life. I’m sorry. There’s nothing else that can be done.”

Amy ducked her burning face. “That’s not true,” she said, pushing past him. “There’s always a way.”

The urge to return to Thunder was strong. To stay at his side, try to coax his spirit back and give him a fighting chance. But that would mean staying. And it was time to move on.

She dragged her purse strap back onto her shoulder and brushed at her clothes. But even though the creases in the material released, the guilt remained. It clung to her skin and clogged her throat, suffocating her. Just as it had every day for the past four years.

Her steps slowed, legs stilling of their own accord. She cast one last look at Thunder’s violent attack on the stall. “Surely, there’s something you can d—”

Thunder’s screech overtook her voice, the words dying on her lips.

“He fought hard to survive, Amy.” Logan’s expression turned grim, his thumb spinning the ring on his finger. “But, sometimes, that’s just not enough.”

She spun, taking swift strides out of the stable and away from the stallion’s broken state. She’d worked hard to survive, too. And she couldn’t gamble the new life she’d fought for to recapture a past full of failures and sins.

Logan’s eyes bored into her back. Amy hurried up the hill, thighs burning. Thunder’s painful cries lingered on the air, hovering around her and haunting the path to the main house.

Chapter Three

“Hold on to your heart, girl.”

Amy whispered the words and pressed her fingertips to the cold metal of Logan’s truck. By the time she’d made her way back from the stables, the sun had disappeared and night had settled in. The full moon and stars cast a hazy glow over the surrounding fields, lengthening the shadows stretching from the fences and barn.

She grazed her throbbing knuckles over the ring hidden beneath her collar and grimaced, recalling the band on Logan’s hand. Her chest tightened. She shook her head, reached into the bed of Logan’s truck and hefted out one of her black bags.

“Here.” Logan’s chest brushed her back. He reached around her for the bag, his fingers brushing hers. “Let me.”

“I’ve got it.”

Amy hoisted the bag and leaned over to retrieve the second one. Logan scooped it up first. He flicked the cuff of his flannel shirt back and examined the glowing hands of his wristwatch.

“It’s almost six,” he said. “We better get a move on.”

He led the way up the drive toward the main house, the strong line of his back and lean jean-clad hips moving with confidence. Amy’s belly fluttered. She tore her eyes away and surveyed the entrance to the main house which was bathed in the soft glow of the porch lights.

Massive mahogany doors were adorned with lush green wreaths and red ribbons. The colorful cheer extended beyond the wreaths to the crimson ribbon wrapped around the large columns. Poinsettia blooms nestled in the nooks and crannies of the railing lining the porch and the warm glow emanating from inside the house enhanced the twinkling of the white lights draping the posts and eaves.

Christmas. Amy’s steps faltered on the slippery ground. It’d been so long since she’d spent the holidays at home with family. Since she’d left Raintree, the color and comfort of Christmas had faded and the holiday had contorted into a pale passing of a day. A low and lifeless one she’d grown accustomed to spending alone.

Amy swallowed the lump in her throat and strived for a light tone. “Why are all the decorations out already? Mama used to say it was a sin to put up Christmas lights before Thanksgiving was over.”

Logan glanced over his shoulder, his words reaching her in puffy, white drifts. “I imagine Betty was beside herself last night when we didn’t make it back like we’d planned. She probably got overanxious and decided to keep herself busy.”

Amy smiled. Next to cooking, her mother’s second favorite pastime was decorating. Not a single holiday passed without Betty celebrating it in style.

“Betty knows how much you used to love Christmas at Raintree.” Logan waited for her to reach his side, his big palm wrapping around her upper arm to assist her up the steps. “She wants to make this visit perfect for you. We all do.”

Amy’s blood rushed at the husky note in his voice and she curled her fingers around the handle of her bag, tamping down the urge to lean in to him.

Hold on to your heart. This time, she wouldn’t mistake friendship for love. What she felt for Logan was old-fashioned lust and misguided hero worship. She’d do well to remember that.

A loud jingle sounded, both wreaths swinging on their doors as a small figure burst out of the house.

“Amy.”

Betty’s red bangs ruffled in the night breeze, her green eyes glistening with moisture.

Amy’s vision blurred. “Hi, Mama.”

She drew her bag in against her thigh and dipped toward the floor of the porch, the length of her limbs becoming awkward. Betty’s short stature had always made Amy wither, trying not to loom over her.

Betty’s warm palms cradled her cool cheeks then traveled down her arms to caress her wrists. She gently lifted Amy’s arms out to the side, trailing her gaze from the top of her head to the tips of her shoes.

“You look beautiful. I think you grew another inch since I saw you last. You’re just as tall as your father was.” Betty dabbed at the corners of her eyes and smiled. “I’m so glad you came home.” She stretched up on her tiptoes, her kiss grazing the curve of Amy’s jaw. “I’ve missed my sweet girl.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

Much more than she’d realized. Amy wrapped her arms around her mother in a tight embrace. The rich scent of cinnamon and butter lingered on Betty’s white chef’s apron, releasing in sweet puffs with each of Amy’s squeezes.

Amy giggled and nuzzled her cheek against Betty’s silken hair. “You smell like cookies.”

“That’s because I’ve been baking your favorite ones all afternoon.”

“Cinnamon and sugar?”

“Stacked a mile high,” Betty said, laughing. She released Amy and tugged at Logan’s shoulders, kissing his cheek when he bent his head. “Thank you for bringing her home safely, Logan. I was worried the storm would keep you from making it.”

“You think we’d let a bit of ice keep us from your cooking?” A crooked grin broke out across Logan’s face and his dark eyes sparkled. “Not a chance.”

Betty patted his broad chest, her smile widening. “I made your favorites, too. The green bean casserole and sweet potato soufflé are ready and waiting.” She shivered and rubbed her arms. “Let’s get inside. It’s too chilly out here for comfort.”

Logan nudged the small of Amy’s back, spurring her step on. She followed Betty’s jubilant advance into the cheery interior of the house and found the spacious foyer as warm and welcoming as it’d been in the past. The rich grain of the hardwood floors gleamed, several coats hung from a hall tree bench by the entrance and festive garlands draped elegantly from each banister of the winding staircase.

The low rumble of voices, children laughing and silverware clinking sounded from a large room on the right. Two teenage girls dressed in green-and-black chef uniforms strolled by carting pitchers of iced tea and water.

“You’ve hired some help, I see,” Amy said, noting the girls’ bright smiles and energetic expressions.

Betty nodded. “Raintree has done well the last two years. We’ve had to renovate the family floor and expand to accommodate more guests.” Her eyes brightened. “Logan and Cissy started an apprenticeship program for high school students last year. We have positions for students interested in culinary arts and equine management and the school gives them class credit on a work-based learning program. The kids learn and make money at the same time. And, believe me, those teenagers are a Godsend in the kitchen around the holidays.” She smirked. “Wish I could get your sister to peel potatoes as willingly as they do.”

Amy laughed. “I’d pay good money to see that.”

She glanced at Logan, warming at his lopsided grin. It was reminiscent of him as a teenager. Even then, he’d taken an eager interest in the business side of Raintree and had been determined to build it into a successful guest ranch. From the looks of things, he’d succeeded.

“Seems you’re doing a great job managing Raintree,” she said. “You must be proud.”

Logan shrugged. “It was mostly Cissy’s doing. She and the twins didn’t have much when Dom brought them to Raintree, and she knows how some families struggle. She wanted local kids to have as many opportunities as possible to succeed.” His smile widened. “Dom’s even getting in on the action. He’s trying to talk a friend into partnering so he can offer bull riding clinics.”

Amy smiled. “That’s wonderful.”

The warmth in Logan’s smile traveled upward to pool in his black eyes. The pleased gleam in them calmed her pulse and parted her lips. Lord, how she’d missed him. Missed talking to him, sharing dreams and celebrating successes. She missed her best friend.

“There’s our girl,” a deep voice rumbled.

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