A Mother’s Last Hope

When her troubled teenage son is sent to Camp Hope, Emma Shaver is thrilled and relieved. The therapy horse ranch in Broken Bend, Louisiana, is well-known for giving at-risk teens a new lease on life. There’s just one problem—it’s owned by her old high school sweetheart, Max Ringgold, who doesn’t know he’s her son’s father. Emma didn’t plan on facing her past to ensure her son’s future. But when old feelings for Max resurface, Emma must decide if she will reveal the truth to him and restore her family for good.

“I know you have your own life in Dallas.”

Max rested his forehead on hers, then backed away completely, as if realizing he just couldn’t get that close.

Dallas. Yes.

The fog cleared, and snatches of life—real life—pressed back to the surface. But she didn’t want real life. She wanted to stay in this pocket of stillness. Where there was only the twinkle of the stars and the love in a certain cowboy’s eyes and the whisper that life—her life—could still be different. Could be restored.

“But maybe…” Max’s voice trailed, and he tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. “Maybe.”

Maybe. So much potential in that word. So much hope. When was the last time she’d hoped? She wanted to hope. Wanted to feel again. To believe. To trust. Was it possible?

“Maybe.” She breathed out the word. Maybe would have to be enough for now.

Maybe would hold back real life a little while longer.

BETSY ST. AMANT

loves polka-dot shoes, chocolate and sharing the good news of God’s grace through her novels. She has a bachelor’s degree in Christian communications from Louisiana Baptist University and is actively pursuing a career in inspirational writing. Betsy resides in northern Louisiana with her husband and daughter and enjoys reading, kickboxing and spending quality time with her family.

The Rancher’s Secret Son

Betsy St. Amant

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose.

—Romans 8:28

To my Best Friend, Jesus Christ,

whose sustaining presence was with me during

the writing of this novel in a way like never before.

I can do nothing apart from you! I love you.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Chapter One

Despite its name, Camp Hope didn’t manage to lift Emma Shaver’s spirits. If anything, she just felt heavier.

She leaned over the steering wheel of her SUV as they rolled nearer the camp, ignoring the steady thump of her thirteen-year-old son Cody’s fingers pounding a rhythm on the dashboard beside her. The camp’s main structure, a two-story, log cabin–style house, held court in the middle of autumn-weary acreage, still dry from the unforgiving heat of a Louisiana summer, faded golden fields stretching as far as the eye could see. The outbuildings, a rustic, get-it-done crimson barn and an open-sided lean-to, nestled behind two rows of temporary buildings that, according to the camp’s website, served as the dorms for the teenagers.

Cody could probably weasel his way out of one of those with a toothpick.

Rat tattat.

She inhaled a tight breath. Pick her battles, was her motto. Cody was here, ready—if not willing—to get the help he needed or else. That was a battle she had to fight. Annoying drumbeats were not.

Rat tat tattat.

Camp Hope looked tired. Or maybe she was just tired.

Rat tattat.

“That’s really getting old, Cody.” So was the headache pounding at her temples that hadn’t stopped since their appearance in court. The day she got the news that would forever change her world.

Again.

Cody shrugged and flopped against the seat, the seat belt stretching across his thin chest and tangling in the cords of his iPod. At least he’d changed shirts. That was yet another battle she’d had to fight this morning before driving to Broken Bend, Louisiana. She wasn’t sure where he’d gotten that holey, rumpled excuse for a T-shirt, but she knew enough about gangs to know it was going straight into the trash.

Too bad all her psych books didn’t tell what to do when the client was your own kid. The rules blurred then, the text grew fuzzy. Nothing was black-and-white anymore like it used to be in college when she’d been working toward her degree. She might have earned her master’s and opened a successful clinic in Dallas, Texas, against all odds, but at home—she was an epic failure.

But she wouldn’t cry. Not in front of her son.

She steeled her nerves. “We’re here.” Not exactly the way she imagined her Monday going, but hey, life was full of surprises. She could write the book on that one.

Cody yanked the iPod buds from his ears, grumbling. “I still don’t see why I had to come.”

That was precisely the problem. She counted to ten before answering, even as she steered the car toward the dusty, gravel parking lot. “You heard what the judge said. It’s either Camp Hope or juvenile detention.” She pulled into a spot between a beat-up pickup and a shiny hybrid. Guess it took all types to have troubled teens. Yet the reminder didn’t make her feel better. This wasn’t anyone’s kid—it was her kid.

She angled a glance at her muttering son as she shifted into park. “You think me making you change shirts was bad? At least it wasn’t an orange jumpsuit.”

Cody snorted, but she could tell her point got across. He grudgingly released his seat belt and peered out the window at the house before him. Was he as nervous as she was? It was hard to trust a system she knew from her job didn’t always bring positive results. But the judge had been adamant, and here they were. It beat juvenile detention by far. Apparently the facility had become quite popular with local officials for its moral-based program and positive outcomes.

She’d have been more prone to hope except the camp was back in her hometown—the town she hadn’t visited once since her father’s funeral five years ago. She’d arranged to take some time off and stay with her mom in Broken Bend while Cody went through the program, maybe work on some of her own issues. She couldn’t avoid her hometown forever, and Cody would benefit from seeing his grandmother again. Besides, despite her own painful past, she had to do what was best for her son. Being nearby if he had a breakthrough was crucial. He’d been miles away for far too long already.

But what if the camp didn’t help and Cody ended up in juvie later anyway?

Her stomach flipped, and bile rose in her throat. Here she was a professional counselor, and her son had been caught breaking and entering into his school and vandalizing the gym with a crowd of older teens—after shoplifting the month before and getting into a fistfight in the cafeteria three months before that.

Could one month of hard work, counseling and time spent with animals really turn him around?

Not that she had a lot of choices at the moment. She had to trust that the leaders of the program—whoever they were, as the website info had been vague at best—knew what they were doing.

Had to trust that God wouldn’t give up on her son.

She opened her car door and squinted against the afternoon sunlight. Sliding her sunglasses into place, she motioned for Cody to get out of the car and grab his duffel. Packing for a month at a working ranch had been trickier than she’d thought, especially when Cody’s wardrobe mostly consisted of dark pants, black T-shirts and tennis shoes. She’d bought boots after she’d browsed Camp Hope’s requirements list online but couldn’t for the life of her picture Cody wearing them.

Maybe that was a good thing—a sign that he would undergo a complete transformation.

She just wanted her son back. The one who used to crawl on her lap during thunderstorms, make hideouts from superhero sheets and a few chairs, and open her car door for her while boasting about being a gentleman. What had gone so wrong, so quickly?

Tears pressed behind her lids and she blinked rapidly to clear them away. Last time she’d let her guard down and cried in front of Cody, he’d snuck out of the house for three hours with no word of where he was going. Besides, it wasn’t healthy for a child to see his mother cry—especially if he was the cause of the tears.

Cody shut his car door a little harder than necessary and shouldered his duffel. The defensive scowl on his face as he slipped his iPod buds back in reminded her of his dad. She’d managed to stuff away thoughts of Max Ringgold for years, until recently, when Cody’s attitude mirrored his absent father’s more than she wanted to admit. Cody’s hair was blond like hers, but he had a similar cowlick to his dad’s, a testament to their shared stubbornness. He also had that same charming, do-no-wrong smile Max had always worn as easily as his trademark leather jacket.

But Max had done wrong. A lot of wrong.

Images flashed through her mind. Weapons stashed under truck seats. Rolled up baggies of white powder stuffed in the glove box. Beefy fists banging on the window of her car, muted threats assaulting her ears as they made out down by the lake.

Yeah, once upon a time, Max Ringgold had been trouble with a capital T. All the more reason Cody needed help, now—before the darkness in his genes had a chance to fully take over.

Before she lost her son the way she’d lost his father.

A familiar finger of regret nudged her, sending an icy shiver down her back. Choosing not to tell Max she was pregnant had been the best choice at the time—make that her only choice. After she went to college and two pink lines on a stick had determined her fate, she returned to Broken Bend, panicked and unsure how he’d react. He’d made promises about his behavior before she’d left, so many promises. But a baby didn’t fit into Max Ringgold’s bad boy style any more than the promiscuous role she’d temporarily adopted fit into hers. Would he even accept her—them?

After catching Max unaware in the middle of another drug deal, with one of the county’s slipperiest and most dangerous gang leaders no less, the decision was made for her. Max wouldn’t get a chance to reject them.

She never looked back.

Approximately thirteen years later, Cody didn’t know the difference. She’d made a home for them, a loving home, despite the sacrifices and hard work required of a single mom putting herself through college, avoiding her hometown and keeping the details a secret from her parents. She didn’t want the shotgun wedding her father threatened. Not with Max Ringgold. She might deserve to pay for her mistakes, but her kid deserved better.

Yet despite all those logged miles on the treadmill, Emma had never quite been able to outrun the guilt.

She shut her car door and steered Cody toward the front porch of the main house, where she assumed registration would take place. “Let’s go.” Time to shake off the past—that’s why they were there, after all. To get a fresh start, a second chance. Maybe for both of them. Secrets long buried were best left buried, and just because she was back in Broken Bend didn’t mean they’d all be resurrected.

The front screen door squeaked open on its hinges, and boots thudded onto the wooden porch. She glanced up at the approaching cowboy with a smile, relieved that someone was finally there to take charge. She could relax, take a much-needed break. Cody would be in good hands.

The cowboy lifted the brim of his black hat, and her smile slipped away as shock gripped her in a cold, unrelenting vice.

He’d be in Max Ringgold’s hands.

* * *

Max Ringgold always figured his past would one day come back to taunt him. He just never dreamed it’d latch around his ankle and knock his feet right out from underneath him.

He stared at the blonde woman before him as if she might have two heads. Two identities, for sure, because she looked exactly like Emma Shaver. Yet there was no way. No way. Emma hadn’t been back in Broken Bend in a decade. Maybe longer. He used to know the weeks to the day but eventually stopped counting. Hard to heal from an injury when you kept poking at the wound.

But this woman was looking at him as if he’d sprouted a second head, too—so maybe it was possible after all.

Her mouth opened and closed, then pressed into a tight line. Red dotted her cheeks. Yep, that was her. He’d always been able to make her blush. Part of the problem. He’d been inexplicably drawn to the Good Girl, her to the Bad Boy—and the chemistry that resulted could have blown a crater throughout most of the town. Why did something that happened a lifetime ago suddenly seem like yesterday?

He knew he should say something, anything, to break the awkward silence, but his years of training in dealing with troubled teens didn’t cover how to deal with moms who were ex-girlfriends.

He took off his hat, then regretted it. He probably had hat hair, and now he felt even more vulnerable under her laser-sharp gaze. “I’m Max.”

Emma’s fair eyebrows lifted, and he winced. She knew that. But he had to say something. Besides, the kid didn’t know who he was, and that’s why they were there. He turned his attention to the teen standing beside Emma and offered his hand. Man to man. “Max Ringgold.”

The boy grunted, reluctantly offering a quick, limp shake. They’d have to work on that. A man was known by his handshake. “Cody Shaver.”

An alarm sounded in Max’s subconscious. Shaver. So Emma wasn’t married. He darted a glance to her left hand to make sure, and wanted to kick himself with his own boot as she caught him, well, red-handed. He slammed his hat back on his head.

“Come on inside. We’ll get you signed in then catch up with the rest of the tour.” Max held the door and motioned them forward. Cody clomped inside, dragging his duffel behind him on the floor. Emma followed, gaze lowered, the scent of her peppermint perfume lingering long after she squeezed past.

Max checked his watch, partly to know the time and partly to resist the urge to touch her hair, silky and shiny as a shampoo commercial—the kind that definitely didn’t belong on his ranch with all the dirt, dust and horse sweat flying about. Good thing she wasn’t staying.

His heart seconded that idea as she flashed wary azure eyes at him—the same eyes that peeked at him from the photo he still had stashed in his sock drawer.

The photo didn’t do them justice.

He let the screen door snap behind him as he directed them to his office off the dining room, which he’d converted from an old closet. He didn’t spend much time there, except for the occasional paperwork, prayer time or private conversations with the kids.

The other nine campers, three girls and six boys, had arrived and checked in half an hour before and were being given a brief tour by the live-in counselors, Luke and Nicole Erickson. He’d noticed the increasing size of Nicole’s stomach beneath her maternity top earlier and had raised an eyebrow at Luke, who’d assured him she wasn’t due for another month. Just in time to finish this camp. Then he’d have to find a replacement for her while she took maternity leave.

The stress of that significant problem suddenly dimmed compared to the throbbing in his temples at Emma’s proximity. He slipped behind the desk to give himself space, trying to ignore the way his heart pounded under his work shirt like a runaway horse.

“Here we are. Cody Shaver.” He ran his finger over the printed name and made a check mark in the column—and a mental note not to let Nicole handle the precamp paperwork anymore. If he’d seen Emma’s name as Cody’s guardian on his forms earlier, he’d have had a heads-up. All he personally received was the list of the kids’ names two weeks prior to camp, so he could pray for them.

Then again, the odds of another ex-girlfriend popping up seemed a little slim.

“Is there a problem?” Emma’s voice sounded as strained as the muscles in his neck as he jerked his head up to look at her, realizing he’d been staring at the document for far longer than he should have. Emma Shaver. Wow. When did she have a son? How old was Cody? He’d have to check the full file later. But apparently Emma hadn’t wasted a lot of time pining over Max after leaving for college.

Though she was supposed to have come back.

The thought burned his stomach and he licked his suddenly dry lips. “No, there’s no problem. No problem at all.” The past was the past. The important part now was that Cody was here, and he needed help—regardless of who his mother was. Max had to get his priorities in order, quick, or he’d do more harm than good. These kids counted on him, and he wouldn’t let them—or God—down.

Not again.

He found his warmest smile, despite the cold expression in Emma’s eyes attempting to freeze his heart. “Welcome to Camp Hope, Cody. It’s going to be a great month.”

The kid grunted, as if he didn’t believe him. Emma didn’t look as if she particularly believed him, either.

Which was fine, because at the moment, he didn’t fully believe himself.

Chapter Two

Luke led the tour of the campus, the scripted words falling naturally from his mouth. Good thing, because Max was having a terrible time paying attention.

As they crossed the worn path from the dorms to the barn, Max glanced up at the white letters painted on the rustic red sign, hanging ten feet above the cattle guard at the end of his long gravel driveway. Camp Hope. He’d painted the sign himself last year, acquired three splinters trying to hang the thing and almost toppled off the ladder on his way back down. But nothing worth doing was easy, the main point he was trying to prove at his ranch for troubled teens.

He knew—he’d been one.

He shuffled behind the group of nervous parents and disgruntled teens as Luke led them into the barn, trying not to let his gaze keep resting on Emma. But that was a little like trying not to glance at a lit candle while standing in a pitch-black room.

God, a little direction here? I’m lost. Max was confident he’d followed the Lord’s guiding when he opened Camp Hope over a year ago and received the training necessary to minister to teenagers. He’d already watched almost seventy teens graduate the month-long program, many of whom had come to know God in the process. For a lot of them, Camp Hope was the last stop before juvenile detention, or worse. Max knew how to smell contraband cigarette smoke a mile away, knew the current gang loyalty colors, and now, after trial and error, knew the vents in the dorm could be pried open and made into a hiding spot.

He just didn’t know how to look at Emma Shaver without bursting into flame.

Max rested his back against the door frame of the barn and inhaled the comforting aroma of horses. One by one, the teens perked up as Luke went over the rules of horsemanship and what chores would be expected of them in the stables. Funny how they’d give endless grief over making their beds, but most had no trouble shoveling manure or grooming a colt. Something about horses reached deep inside and brought out the good in folks.

A stirring of anticipation returned, and Max fought to hold on to it. He’d been so excited about this particular camp a few weeks ago as the planning process wrapped up. Somehow, he just knew this session would be the best one yet. He felt it in his spirit during his morning Bible readings in the sunroom, heard it in the excitement in his own voice when he shared his plans with his best friend and former boss, Brady McCollough.

Brady had just slapped his hat against his leg to free it of dirt, and heartily agreed. He could feel it, too, and Max trusted his friend’s judgment. Brady lived several miles down the road, but the back of their two properties joined at a barbed wire fence. Max had saved for years to be able to buy one hundred acres near his friend and finally start his own spread. Brady’s wife, Caley, said he and Brady argued more than an old married couple, but that was just because they knew each other so well and remained friends anyway. Max had been there for Brady through the tragic death of his first wife, while Brady had been responsible for hauling Max out of the muck and into a church pew. If Brady felt that same prompting, Max could bank on it.

It was just that so far, he didn’t have a clue how Emma Shaver and her kid showing up at his camp could possibly be a God thing. Maybe more like a cosmic joke.

Brady would definitely get a kick out of this one. Would probably rattle something off about God working in mysterious ways. Max usually agreed—but this went a little beyond mysterious. Still, he’d do his best to help Cody like he would any other teen there, and thankfully would have little to do with Emma. After all, it wasn’t Cody’s fault Max knew his mom from another lifetime ago. He refused to let that fact filter through in any of his interactions with Cody. Another month and Emma would be right back out of his life forever.

Apparently like she’d always wanted.

“And that’s the tour.” Luke clapped his hands, jerking Max back to reality and causing two boys to jump. “Boss?”

His mind raced. He really had to get it together or he wouldn’t be a very good example. He took a deep breath and tried to center his head on anything other than Emma. Tour over. So, time for dinner. Then the inevitable parent-teen goodbyes, which was his least favorite part of the camp. He shot a glance at Emma. But today, that part might be a good thing.

He found his smile and gestured toward the main house. “Time for grub, everyone!”

A few teens murmured their pleasure; others kept their hollow expressions as they filed out of the barn and toward the house like a chain gang. Max fought a grin. The campers always started out the same, and with God’s grace, usually ended with an 180-degree change. Hopefully this session wouldn’t be an exception. It just took faith, perseverance—and a huge dose of patience.

He ended up at the back of the line, Luke in the lead, with Cody lagging in the middle. The humid Louisiana wind ruffled Max’s hair and loosened his sweaty shirt from his back. Late October still boasted afternoon temps in the seventies, though the nights and mornings were downright chilly. It was the perfect time of year for a camp—the summer sessions made everyone grumpy, and the ice storm that hit last January had holed them up inside for far too long. This would be the last session he offered until next year. He needed a break for the holidays, though he usually just crashed Brady and Caley’s Thanksgiving and Christmas celebrations.

A thought stirred. Had Emma ever come home for the holidays? Or her father’s funeral, for that matter? Max had been on edge for the entire week after reading the obituary in the newspaper, half afraid and half hoping he’d bump into her in town.

He never did.

As if she could sense his thoughts, Emma glanced at him over her shoulder, then hung back until she fell in step beside him. He fought his surprise and hoped his shock didn’t register on his face.

“I know this is weird—us showing up like this.” She tucked her hair behind her ears, the familiar gesture from his memories strangely comforting. Except it made him want to do it, too, so he looped his thumbs in his belt loops. “When we got the assignment, I didn’t know—I mean, I didn’t realize that you were...” Her voice trailed off.

“Not weird. Surprising, definitely.” He kept his gaze straight ahead as the campers neared the main house, watching as Luke instructed them to wipe their shoes on the mat before going inside. Sort of pointless on a ranch, but Nicole insisted, so Luke had picked up the habit. “One of the other counselors handles the paperwork, so I only ever saw Cody’s name. Didn’t have a chance to put two and two together.”

Her expression paled, and he wondered what he had said. But she pressed on before he could ask. “Cody is a good kid. He just...” She bit her lip, making him glance away again. She always did that, and it’d always been his undoing. Did she have any idea the effect that lingered after all this time? Did she feel it, too?

It didn’t matter. That was a different lifetime, and clearly, they both had other priorities right now.

“He just what?”

She lowered her voice as they neared the cabin. “He just needs some time. Got caught up in the wrong crowd and made some mistakes. I think we caught him early.”

“We?” The word blurted from his lips before he could censor. A boyfriend? Cody’s dad? Was he still in the picture?

Her expression tightened. “Cody’s judge and I.”

Ah. Not a boyfriend. He didn’t want to acknowledge the relief he felt creeping through his stomach.

He held the screen door open for her to enter behind the stream of teens, but she resisted, stepping in front of him so her back was turned to the rest of the crowd. “Just so you know, I’m taking a leave of absence from work and staying at my mom’s while Cody is here. I wanted to be nearby—just in case.”

Max frowned. Just in case what? She changed her mind about the camp? Or was she that worried about Cody making it through the program? So many questions. Yet only one escaped his mouth. “What do you do?” It’d been years since he’d looked her up on the internet, at the start of the social media hype, but her pages were all set to private. Not surprising. Even less surprising—he didn’t have any of those pages for himself.

She shot him a look he couldn’t quite interpret, her voice lowering to a near whisper. “I’m a child psychologist in Dallas.”

He almost snorted. Child psychologist. And yet Cody... He didn’t have to state the obvious. If Emma was anything like he’d remembered, she’d probably beaten herself up about that enough. She was good at emotional pummeling.

Just ask his heart.

* * *

Max Ringgold had done well for himself. Emma almost didn’t even recognize the muscular, smiling cowboy that had greeted her and Cody on the front porch and now sat across from her at the dinner table. Hard to reconcile this Max with the one she’d known years ago, as a naive teenager about to head for college. That’d been a daredevil, moody, flirty Max. This was a successful Max. A contented, living-for-a-purpose, fulfilled Max.

Scared her to death.

The shock that had racked her body when he lifted that hat brim earlier had almost knocked her in the dirt. How did someone like Max come to lead a camp for troubled teens? He was a troubled teen. Apparently he was drawing water from the “been there, done that” well. Had he really transformed so completely? It seemed that way.

Yet for all his success, there was something in his eyes when he looked at her that didn’t seem all that complete.

She knew the feeling.

She winced as Cody stabbed at the green beans on his plate with more force than necessary. The campers and parents were sharing dinner together in the main house before the adults left for the night. During their tour, she’d seen a large working kitchen with a temporary live-in cook Max affectionately dubbed Mama Jeanie, a dining room with a picnic bench–style, carved wooden table big enough for everyone to eat together, and a bathroom that surprisingly smelled like peaches and cinnamon. Max’s quarters were upstairs, the only part of the house he deemed permanently off-limits.

To the back of the dining hall was a room with a locked door, which Max and the other counselor Luke let everyone peek into briefly—the recreation center. Treadmills, an old-fashioned Pac-Man arcade game, an air hockey table and a large-screen TV with different game systems were just a few of the treats she glimpsed before Max shut the door, explaining the rec room was incentive and a reward for good behavior, only. That is, the kids had to earn it.

Emma liked this setup already, though she could tell by the tight line of Cody’s mouth he didn’t necessarily agree.

She tried to send him a silent warning with her eyes as he continued to scrape his fork against his plate, forming a rhythm he nodded his head to. The dark-haired teen sitting to his right immediately picked up the grunge-band sound, tapping his knife against the side of his half-empty water glass and stomping his foot under the table. An older teen girl with blond curls snorted and rolled her eyes at them.

“Cody.”

He ignored her, as usual, and the parents continued to eat as if nothing had changed, as if their ears weren’t suffering from the high-pitched screeching sounds. Maybe that was part of why their kids were there in the first place. Did their efforts to be noticed always go ignored? Not acknowledging cries for attention wasn’t always the best course of action. They weren’t innocent toddlers playing the drop-the-spoon-from-the-highchair game. They were miniature adults who needed positive reinforcement—and consequences for negative behavior.

Well, these parents might think ignorance was bliss, but she wasn’t that kind of mom. “Hey!”

She looked over in surprise as her firm voice mixed with Max’s gruffer tone. They’d spoken at the same time. He glanced at her, amusement flickering in his caramel-colored eyes, then back to the kids.

“All right. That’s enough.” His deep voice left no room for argument, and if that hadn’t been enough, the I-mean-business glare he turned on them would have been. He was establishing his authority from the beginning, a smart move. Max had common sense after all. Maybe Cody would be fine here.

As long as they didn’t discover the truth before she was ready.

The weight of her secret pressed her into her chair, threatening to send her crashing through the raised floorboards and landing somewhere in the basement below. How low could she sink? Even a tornado cellar didn’t feel far enough, deep enough, dark enough to conceal a secret of this magnitude.

Thirteen years of getting over Max Ringgold, of convincing her heart he didn’t exist, and now he was in charge of her son for a month. No, his son.

God really did have a sense of humor.

She realized she’d been staring aimlessly at her plate and quickly sat up straight and brushed her hair off her shoulders. Thankfully, Cody had stopped his impromptu band immediately, and the other kids had followed suit. One grumbled incoherently, but Max let that go. So he picked his battles, too, didn’t demand perfection.

Really weird they had that, of all things, in common.

Was it possible this was part of God’s plan for Cody? Maybe this was the avenue he needed to turn his life around. God knew what He was doing...right?

Emma sure hoped someone did, because she’d never felt more lost. How embarrassing was it for her to struggle to understand her own child, when she was paid good money to evaluate the inner musings of other kids? In all her career, she never imagined she’d end up here.

Probably just part of the punishment for her own reckless choices that summer. Wasn’t there something in the Bible about the sins of the fathers affecting their children? And speaking of fathers and sins...she kept her eyes lowered as she studied Max. He looked more like Cody—or rather, Cody looked more like him—than she’d realized at first glance in the parking lot. The way they hunched over their plates, one forearm resting casually to the side, was identical.

Hopefully no one else noticed the similarities. Her stomach hurt just imagining that particular scenario. At least Cody would have no reason to suspect. All she’d ever told him growing up was that his father had been a bad guy who left her when she was pregnant. Not a complete lie—even though she’d been the one to technically do the leaving.

But Max had left emotionally first when he chose to do that drug deal and break his promise.

She sat back, pushing food around her plate with her fork as she observed the way Max interacted with the other parents. Patience personified, though he didn’t seem patronizing or condescending. Just confident. The parents, especially the mothers, seemed to warm to his personality like butter melting on a crescent roll. Not flirty, though one father did scoot his chair closer to his wife when she laughed at something Max said.

She swallowed a sip of water, her appetite long diminished from the tension-laced drive over with Cody and the surprise of seeing Max again for the first time in so long. Her body hadn’t caught up to her emotions.

And if her stomach kept jumping every time Max’s gaze flitted her direction, it might not ever catch up. Over a decade had passed, and he still had the power to physically undo her.

She was absolutely terrified to analyze that one.

“Well, folks.” Max scooted his chair back with a scrape against the polished wooden floors and stood. He braced his hands on the table, leaning forward slightly and pausing to briefly look every parent in the eye. “It’s time to say goodbye. I’ve learned the hard way already that here at Camp Hope, dragging it out isn’t good for anyone.”

No kidding. She’d end up crying and Cody would end up looking for an escape. Not like he needed any more prompting to run away. It wouldn’t be the first time. She slowly stood with the others, fighting the rising panic welling in her throat as they filed outside to the porch. He would be fine. And so would she.

But what if he found out? What if Max found out?

She smiled at her son, who bobbed his head in a nod but didn’t return the smile. He was nervous. She could tell by the pinched brow and the way his bottom lip curved on the side. Suddenly, all she could see was her baby boy, the one who used to follow her around the house, zooming a fire truck under her feet and burning his fingers on the cookie sheet because he was too impatient to wait. He needed her. Needed his mom.

But the only way for her to be there for him now was to leave.

Unwanted tears welled, and she blinked rapidly, forcing her voice to stay strong. She held out her arms, praying he would pacify her request for a hug. He fell quickly into her embrace, then hid a sniff behind a cough. She clutched him tightly, despite his stiffening against her touch, and tuned out the sounds of the parents around her performing similar rituals with their own kids.

Far too soon, she pulled away until she could see Cody’s eyes. “I’ll be back when it’s time. You just obey Mr. Ringgold.” The name tasted foreign on her lips, but her heart knew it well.

“He said to call him Max.” Cody kept his eyes focused somewhere past her shoulder, and she could only assume it was for the same reason she kept darting her gaze to his nose. Easier not to cry that way. Maybe he wasn’t so tough after all.

She pulled him in for one more hug, despite his grumbled protest. Don’t overdo it, Emma. But the self-coaching wasn’t working. Her desperate mommy heart kept taking charge. “Just obey. Let’s do this right and get you home, okay?” She still couldn’t believe she was telling anyone to do what Max Ringgold told them. Once upon a time that would have been a prison sentence—or worse.

“I know.” Impatience crowded Cody’s tone as he pulled away, and she bit back any more natural but unwanted advice. He was about to get plenty of that. Maybe he’d listen to someone else. But Max? It went against every instinct she had.

Still, he’d proved himself at the dinner table with the kids. He was capable and in charge. Max wasn’t a punk teenager anymore, and she wasn’t a needy girl attempting to fill herself with the temporal.

Mostly.

She grazed Cody’s arm. “You know I love you, right?” She couldn’t help it—her voice cracked.

“I know.” Cody shuffled his feet, nodding with a jerk. “Relax, Mom. I’m not a murderer or anything.”

At least there was that. She figured she wasn’t getting a return “I love you,” but then again, he hadn’t said that in a long time. Probably not since she got him his iPod at his last birthday.

She forced the negative thought away. They were here. They’d get through this, and she’d figure out what—if anything—to do about Max later.

Her eyes darted to where he stood a respectful distance away from the group, giving the parents space to say their goodbyes, and then flicked to the ground as his gaze met hers. Right now, her secret was safe, and Cody was in a good position to do what he needed to do. That was what mattered the most. The rest would just have to wait.

Max would just have to wait.

Chapter Three

Emma poured herself what had to be her fourth cup of tea in the past two hours—and still, her headache had yet to abandon ship. She settled back against the throw pillows on her mother’s couch, then adjusted positions as a knotted tassel dug into her spine. She’d hated those pillows growing up. Still did.

Her mom sat across the coffee table from her in a straight-back chair, one sandal-clad foot bouncing an easy rhythm over her crossed leg. Her softly curled brown hair was cut the same, maybe a little shorter. The wrinkles under her eyes were new. Then again, the bags under Emma’s eyes were relatively new as well, thanks to Cody.

“Camp Hope is a quality facility, Emma. Cody will be fine.” Her mother paused as she took a sip from her teacup. “It will be good for him to get out of Dallas for a while.”

“I know. You’re right.” But she heard what her mom wasn’t saying. You should have brought him here more often. And maybe she should have. But she’d made her choices, and they worked for them. Or at least, they had worked until Cody cannonballed off the deep end.

Besides, it wasn’t as if she kept Cody from his grandmother. Her mom came and stayed with them in the city multiple times during the year, shopping, dining out and enjoying spa days at Emma’s expense. She didn’t mind pampering her mother—her father never did growing up, and her mom definitely deserved it.

Mom just never understood why Emma kept her secrets to herself.

“Will you still be in town for Thanksgiving?” Her mother’s tone was even, controlled, so much so that Emma couldn’t decipher the meaning behind the words. Did she want them to stay? Was that hope hidden? Or resignation of the inevitable inconvenience?

“I guess it depends on the program and Cody’s graduation.” She rolled in her lip. Thanksgiving. Seemed aeons away, though it was only about a month. “If Cody graduates then we should be able to join you. Or you could follow us to Dallas and we could get together there.” If he didn’t graduate...then Cody would go to juvie? Would the judge give him another chance? Would Cody stay out of trouble long enough to make it through the holidays?

She’d heard the tone of voice the judge had used when he’d pulled her aside privately after the hearing. “I know this is hard on you,” he’d said. “Especially as a counselor. So I’m playing this straight with you—Camp Hope is Cody’s last chance before serious repercussions. He’s on a bad road, Ms. Shaver, and the people he’s keeping company with are on a worse one.”

Like she didn’t already know.

But hearing it from an official’s mouth, from someone who had the authority to put her son in some form of teen confinement, made the slap of reality sting all the more.

Cody had to get through this program.

Emma set her teacup on the coffee table, emotion clogging her throat, and stood as her mother wisely remained silent. Adrenaline raced against exhaustion in a never-ending marathon. This was so messed up. She should be planning what to get her son for Christmas, not wondering if he’d even be home on December 25.

She moved to the lace-covered front window, admiring the sunset and soaking in the peace it offered as she ran her fingers over the worn edges of the curtains. They hadn’t changed, either. But then again, her mom didn’t have any more money now than she did when Daddy was alive.

She closed her eyes, breathing in the musty, familiar smell of the house of her childhood. She hadn’t been home since the funeral a few years ago. Even then, she’d kept to herself, rigid in the corner with a sandwich tray, feigning a smile and hoping Broken Bend didn’t stain her any further than it already had. She’d left after convincing her mom to come stay with them in Dallas. She had—and after two weeks’ worth of facials, manicures and new outfits, her mother went home.

While Emma went back to doing what she did best—fixing everyone else’s kids.

“We need dessert.” The chair squeaked as her mom stood. “You want a cookie? Homemade oatmeal raisin.”

She’d barely touched her dinner at the ranch, but comfort food sounded good. She accepted the plate her mother brought back from the kitchen and plucked a cookie from the top. Crumbly, just the way she liked them. She settled back on the couch, catching the crumbs with her hand. “You always made the best cookies, Mom.”

She smiled at the compliment. “You look like you need about ten more of them. I thought Dallas had all the best restaurants.”

“It does. We love eating out in the city. It’s just...” Just what? She was too stressed lately to eat? Too consumed with Cody’s issues to take care of herself? She wasn’t avoiding food. It just seemed so irrelevant compared to the bigger things going on in their life.

She intentionally took another cookie. “The campers and parents all ate together at Camp Hope earlier. I was really impressed with the way Max handled himself.” Shocked, too, but that detail wasn’t worth mentioning.

Her mother bit into her cookie, dusting crumbs from her pants onto the floor. “It wasn’t awkward, then?”

A raisin stuck in her throat, and Emma coughed, half choking as the raisin made a painful descent. “No—no, why would it be?” Did she know? After all this time, all the planning, all the carefully laid out details, her mother knew?

“Didn’t you hang out with him in high school a few times? When you were friends with what’s-her-name...Laura. That Laura girl, with the hair that came all the way to her bottom end.” Her mom gestured with her cookie.

Laura. The friend she used as an excuse when she decided to go out with Max. Emma winced. Laura existed, but the friendship wasn’t nearly what she’d implied back then. She couldn’t lie now—but she couldn’t totally evade the question, either, or her mom would grow even more curious.

She sipped her tea until her throat stopped burning from the coughing fit, then set the cup casually back on the table. “Yeah, I know Max. But it wasn’t awkward.” Awkward didn’t even begin to cut it.

Her mom tilted her head. “I wonder what happened to Laura. She seemed like a good kid. Maybe a little misguided, though.”

Good grief. Emma’s parents had been more sheltered than she thought. She knew she’d covered her tracks during her rebellious streak after senior year, but she hadn’t known she’d been that good. Laura was never without a cigarette in hand, even in the Broken Bend Church of Grace parking lot, and the stories of Laura’s weekend activities filled the chairs at the hair salon more than once. But that’s what happened when your father was a deacon and your mother taught Sunday school—not a lot of privacy, and a whole heap of judgment. Emma never knew for sure how she managed to get away with such a friend, but when compared to Max, Laura was a downright goody-goody.

“I think she moved away.” Like they all had, with their heads lowered in shame. Except for Max. Of all of them that hung out together that fateful summer, Max had been the one to stay and shape up his life. Talk about ironic.

She shifted uncomfortably on the couch. She couldn’t let the same thing happen to Cody, couldn’t let a season of bad choices ruin his life—or at least alter it forever. She couldn’t honestly say her own scarlet letter had ruined her life, but it’d definitely changed it. And left a permanent mark.

Cody deserved better. He had to take control now, before things spiraled out of everyone’s control. The judge was giving him a second chance at the right path, and if he didn’t take it, they’d all be roaming in the wilderness.

She couldn’t do that again—even if she deserved it.

Her mom sighed and ran her finger over the handle of her teacup. “I’ll never understand why you all wanted to get out of Broken Bend so badly. There’s something to be said for home, you know.”

Emma smiled and nodded, ignoring the tassel once again poking her in the back. Yes, there was.

But there was a lot more to be said for leaving.

* * *

Max hadn’t felt the urge to leave in a long time. But watching Nicole double over with her second contraction in the past two minutes made him want to turn his back on Broken Bend and bolt for the hills.

She turned wary eyes on him, as if somehow this whole situation were his fault, and braced both hands against her back. The morning sun shining behind her through the open barn doors served as a spotlight for her distorted silhouette. “Don’t even say it.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” Max didn’t know much about expectant women, but he knew enough to be quiet. About, well, everything—especially the particularly bad timing of this event. He was supposed to have a month—four weeks. An entire camp. This changed everything.

What was he going to do?

But it changed a lot more for Nicole, so he wouldn’t dare address it. He took two steps backward, out of the barn. So much for their morning trail ride. “I’ll get Luke.”

“I’m here.” Luke rushed up behind him, boots clomping on the dirt-packed floor, sending several horses jerking their heads in aggravation at the interruption. “I was just getting the horses saddled outside when Stacy told me what happened.” He rushed to Nicole’s side. “Are you okay?”

“I’m having a baby. I’m great.” She wiped tears from the corners of her eyes, laughed and then winced as what had to be another contraction crumpled her expression. “No. Not great. They’re getting closer together, and stronger.”

“So, I guess we’re not going riding.”

Max turned. Stacy, his oldest camper, a seventeen-year-old with curly blond hair, crossed her arms in the center of the barn aisle. The question in her voice held more than a bit of amusement, and even a punch of satisfaction. Something along the tune of I dare you to try to fix me now. You can’t even run your own camp.

He’d heard that tone before, and there was only one solution. Denial. “Of course we’re still going riding.” He cleared his throat and lowered his voice an octave to show authority. “Luke will take Nicole to the hospital, and we’ll saddle up as planned. Tell the others.”

Stacy rolled her eyes but thankfully turned to obey.

Good enough for now. One hormonal woman at a time, and the one standing in front of him took first priority. He focused on Nicole, who was still alternating deep breaths with winces of pain as she waddled toward the back door of the barn—the one closest to the female dorms.

It was official. He was about to be one chaperone short of a camp. And with his other counselor, Faith, working only part-time since she had young children of her own, he now had no one to stay overnight with the female campers.

God, I need a plan here. And uh, Nicole needs a doctor. Looked like her baby would be four weeks early, unless they were able to stop the labor at the hospital. And even then, he knew enough to understand she’d likely be on full bed rest until the baby came. He swallowed his dismay. “You want me to call 9-1-1?”

Luke stopped as he caught up to Nicole and turned, shaking his head. “Her suitcase is ready. We’ll just grab it and head that way. I’ll call you if we need anything.” He started to say more, then stopped as Nicole clutched his arm. “See you later, man.” He ushered her away, and just like that, Max was left in a bind.

He breathed a prayer for safety for the baby and Nicole both, added one for sanity for Luke, and then headed into the sunlight to face ten campers.

Alone.

Make that another prayer of sanity for himself.

He forced a smile and took a deep breath as he faced his campers, some standing with concerned expressions, others feigning—or perhaps truly feeling—disinterest.

“So there’s been some excitement here on your first day.” He laughed, then cut it short when it sounded as awkward as it felt. “Nicole will be—uh, indisposed—for the rest of this camp session. For good reason, of course. I know she wishes she could be here with you guys. And girls.”

Great. Now he was stumbling all over himself, and the kids just stared at him, expecting answers, and he had none to give. He rolled in his lower lip. “Don’t worry, I’m working on a replacement now.” Or at least, he hoped God was, because he had zero ideas. Luke and Nicole had been his right hands bringing this camp together the past year, and now he was short. Leaving him handicapped and near panic.

His mind raced. He still had Faith, who would be there later that afternoon; Tim, the middle-aged chaplain who also acted as dorm leader and could stay with the guys overnight; and two college kids who served as activity chaperones as needed on a part-time basis. He could see if they’d offer a few more hours, maybe bribe them with gift cards to stay the night here and there to assist Tim. And if Nicole was able to stay on bed rest, then maybe Luke would still come do a few stints as much as he could until she actually had the baby.

He nodded slowly, trying not to panic. He could do this—but not without another female counselor. Someone from the church, maybe? They’d be willing to volunteer, at least, for the ministry angle. But who was qualified to do it? He didn’t just need a babysitter, he needed someone who could interact with these kids and reach them. Someone like Luke and Tim, who understood the guys, knew how to talk to them. Could love them without letting them get away with stuff.

His eyes landed on Cody, who seemed to be avoiding what was going on as he rubbed a black mare under her chin. Mental note—the boy liked animals. Just like Emma always had. He wondered briefly what other interests he shared with his mom—

Emma.

He swallowed as an idea lodged in his mind and refused to budge. Emma, with her child psychology degree. Emma, who was staying nearby at her mother’s and had nothing to do until Cody graduated the camp in a month.

Emma, who’d been the only other person at the table to speak up during the teens’ impromptu concert and showed ability to handle this group of unpredictable, miniature adults.

No. He couldn’t.

But as his eyes swept across his three female campers and landed on Stacy’s pointed smirk, resignation took over any lingering trace of pride. He had to ask her. There was no one else available on such short notice, certainly not anyone qualified. She could still keep her space from Cody since the majority of their activities were gender-separated. The first day trail ride was an exception, to get all the curious boy-girl stares out of each other’s systems. He’d make sure Cody didn’t feel smothered having Emma on the grounds.

But would she do it?

And could he really ask her?

“The details will work themselves out. I’ll get someone in here ASAP. For now, let’s go ahead and saddle up.” Max clapped his hands together, sending a few teens scurrying for their mounts and the others groaning and eyeing their horses with dismay. He knew the feeling. He pretty much wanted to moan and pout, too. God, I know this camp was Your idea, so I’m hoping You have a plan here.

His sinking heart confirmed what he knew and didn’t want to admit. God had a plan, all right.

He just really wished it weren’t going to have to involve Emma Shaver.

Chapter Four

Emma swung on her mom’s front porch swing the next afternoon, her bare feet pushing off the wooden deck. Clanging dishes sounded through the screen door, where her mother was cleaning up from lunch, erasing all evidence of their chicken salad sandwiches. She’d offered to help, but Mom insisted Emma stay outside and enjoy the afternoon.

Sort of how she’d insisted she do the laundry that morning without help. And cleaned the kitchen last night after their snack without help.

Day two, and already Emma wondered if her welcome was fading. That was her mom, though, especially since she became a widow—routine, routine, routine. And Emma wasn’t fitting inside it. Maybe that answered her question about Thanksgiving.

She sighed. Could they really make this last a month without driving each other crazy? They had a temporary routine figured out when Mom visited them in Dallas. Everyone had their own room, their own space. They kept a busy schedule so they wouldn’t be on top of each other all day. Home, however, was a different story.

Did she really just think of Broken Bend as home?

She didn’t want to go there.

Emma tilted her face to the sunlight streaming across her lap and released a deep breath, trying to erase the tension of the past forty-eight-plus hours. The verdict at court. Seeing Max, leaving Cody. The secrets, the burden. She still had to figure out what to tell Max, and when.

Later looked pretty appealing.

She closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the October afternoon sink into her skin. This entire situation left a bad taste in her mouth, and it had nothing to do with the fact her mom had used a little too much mayo in the salad. Her past had caught up to her—and not only caught up, but taken over. She had to deal with it. But what was best for Cody right now?

Tires crunched gravel and she opened her eyes to see a red, extended cab truck pulling into the drive. She squinted at the driver, drenched in shadows as he exited the vehicle. Surely her mother didn’t have male visitors... No.

It was Max.

They really had to stop meeting like this.

“What’d he do?” The question sprang from her lips and carried across the yard before she realized how heavy it sounded. Heavy with fear, with accusation. With expectation of failure. How ugly of her. She swallowed the rest of it, clamping her teeth on her lower lip. Max being here didn’t automatically mean bad news.

But it probably didn’t mean good.

“Hey.” Max took the steps in a single hop and came to face her, pausing to remove his hat. His brown hair wilted across his forehead and he shoved it back before replacing what she always thought of as his natural appendage. Max always had two arms, two legs and a hat. Some things never changed.

And some things did.

“Did something happen?” She crossed her arms over her chest, willing away the heartbroken girl from thirteen years ago that rose inside, urging her to run to the safety of her room and lock the door. Shut him out. Convince herself she hadn’t made a mistake and wasn’t making another one by trusting her son to Max’s supposed expertise.

But the professional adult stood her ground and forced what she hoped was a natural-looking smile. At least forming her fears as a generic question made them sound more approachable. Less assuming.

“Happen to who? Cody?” Surprise lifted Max’s brows. He shook his head, and relief melted her from the inside out. If Cody got kicked out of the program...

“Sorry. I didn’t think how my showing up would seem.” He did look sorry as he adjusted his hat for the second time. Worry wrinkled the skin above his nose, and his smile faded to a half quirk. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t scared.” Terrified was more like it. The adrenaline abandoned her limbs, and she sank back on the porch swing. “Just concerned.”

“Cody’s fine. Doing great.” Max edged closer to the swing, though he chose to lean against the porch rail instead of join her. Which was as he should. She wouldn’t remember the times they’d sat on that same swing well after midnight, while her parents were asleep, and laughed. Whispered. Kissed.

Wouldn’t remember that at all.

“We took a trail ride this morning, and now the campers are having a rest time in their room before we introduce them to barn chores.” Max shook his head, as if he realized he’d been stalling. “That’s not why I came, though, obviously. I had a question, and it wasn’t one to ask on the phone.”

Nerves twisted her stomach, and she gripped the rusty chain of the swing. Surely he hadn’t come for her. To talk about the past. What if he’d somehow noticed how similar he and Cody—

“I need help.”

The blatant admission took her off guard, and she snapped her gaze to meet his. “With what?” Max Ringgold never needed anyone. Except maybe his dealer, back in the day. He’d made that clear more than once. He didn’t need family. God. Her.

Maybe some things had changed since then, but how much could a person really transform?

He tucked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans, another signature Max move that threatened to sweep her back in time. She kept her gaze riveted to his, determined to ignore the memories desperate for review. She was here for Cody. Her son. Not for some traumatic, tormenting stroll down best-left-forgotten lane.

She straightened slightly, steeling herself for his request. Whatever it was, she had no obligation to answer. He would treat Cody—and her—like any other camper or parent on the ranch. Just because they had a past didn’t mean she owed him a thing.

“My lead female counselor went into early labor.”

Well that wasn’t what she expected. She frowned.

“Nicole will obviously be gone the rest of the camp, whether she has the baby early or not. And that leaves me shorthanded with the men, but completely—well, unhanded I guess you’d say—for the girls.” Max let out a slow breath. “So, I was thinking...with your degree, and all, with counseling, you said...that...”

Oh, no. No. She knew what he wanted now, despite the fact he didn’t seem able to get the words out. And with good reason. Of course she’d say no.

“No.”

He didn’t seem to hear, just took the spot next to her on the swing. She shifted automatically, hating the alertness that rushed her senses at his proximity. If she’d heeded those warning signs thirteen years ago...but no. Cody wasn’t a burden. He was a gift. Even now, through this struggle. He was the best part of her life.

And the most painful.

“Emma, there’s no one else.”

“In this entire world?” She was exaggerating, a telltale sign of panic and loss of control, but she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t do this. Not for myriad reasons, namely her secret. Even now she felt it bubbling within, churning her insides like a cauldron of lies. But it wasn’t her fault. She’d done what was best for her son. Mothers protected their children.

Even from cowboys.

“Well, sure, there’s probably someone even right here in Broken Bend, but not right now. Not qualified. Not sitting on their mother’s porch with nothing to do for a month.” He gestured to the house, and suddenly she was embarrassed over its chipped, faded condition. What was wrong with her, still caring what Max Ringgold thought all this time later? “The girls at the camp need someone they can talk to. I don’t just need a chaperone in the dorms at night or another body on the trail rides. I need someone I can trust with them.”

“Trust me? I’m the mother of one of your campers.” And you’re the father. The words practically burned her lips. “No. You don’t want me.”

Not the words she meant to use. Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, across the yard, staring at his red truck until her vision blurred. “I mean, I’m clearly not much help.”

“You’re still a professional.” Max pushed the swing off with his boots, and the gentle breeze stirred by the sudden motion cooled her heated face. “I’m sure it’s different when it’s your own child acting out, anyway. Hasn’t someone told you that?”

Of course they had—everyone in her clinic had for that matter—but that didn’t mean she believed them. Or that they were right. She shook her head. “What about Cody? I don’t need to be there, cramping his style or getting in his way. He has to come first.”

“The boys and girls typically keep separate schedules, besides mealtimes. I’ll make sure he doesn’t see you more than necessary.” Max’s eyes tried to draw her in, and she pointedly looked away, though there was no avoiding the familiar scent of his cologne. “He’ll know you’re there, of course—I won’t lie to him. But it won’t be a problem.”

It was actually starting to make sense. That was the scary part. Emma shook her head again, though she didn’t know why. She couldn’t actually do this. But hadn’t she just been wondering how she and her mother would make it through the month? Still, awkwardness for a few weeks was a thousand times better than keeping her mouth shut around Max for that long.

“Please, Emma. You’re here. You’re available.” He paused, and she risked a glance. He was frowning as if hit with a sudden thought. “You are available. Aren’t you?”

Now. Here it was—her out. But no, she was completely, totally available. With zero reason to turn this opportunity down other than the one reason she couldn’t reveal. Her secret. Hadn’t she chosen this profession to help others? What would happen if she turned her back—would Max have to send the female campers home? Then what—juvie? Jail? Probation? House arrest? They deserved more than those options.

Because Cody deserved more than those options.

She pressed her lips together, unable to believe she was even considering this. “You can’t pay me. It’d seem unethical given my relationship to an existing camper.”

Max held up both hands in surrender, grinning as if he knew he had her. But then again, he’d always known. That was the problem. “Not an issue there, trust me. The extended staff is volunteer, anyway.”

Volunteer. Right. Volunteer to put herself in Max’s presence every day, ministering to kids she wasn’t worthy of teaching. Qualified, sure—but not worthy. Not with her own failures slapping her in the face every time the police showed up with Cody. Every time the phone rang with another telling of his misadventures. Every time he smarted off to her and snuck out of the house.

But if she didn’t offer what little she had, who would? Were the girls better off without her? She thought back to the list of “or else” options the judge had provided Cody and shook her head. No, she was the lesser of those evils for sure. Everyone deserved a second chance.

“So? What do you think?”

Well, maybe not everyone. She darted a glance at Max, at his hopeful mask permanently pressed in place, then at her mother’s silhouette in the kitchen, obviously listening to their every word. She pressed her lips together to hold in her sigh and nodded before she could talk herself out of it. “I’m available. I’ll do it.”

She might be available. But when it came to Max Ringgold, her heart was one hundred percent obligated elsewhere.

* * *

That hadn’t been as hard as he thought. Well, in some ways, maybe harder.

Max drove slowly away from Emma, refusing the urge to stare in his rearview mirror at her reflection still settled on the porch. Sitting next to Emma on the swing had been a blast from his past he’d never dreamed of reliving. Well, he’d dreamt of it all right—memories that refused to die, visiting him in his sleep—but he never imagined he’d actually be there again in person.

Though this time she’d squeezed as far away from him as possible. Definitely not like the last time they’d swung on her parents’ front porch, late at night while her parents slept, Emma tucked under his arm so closely that he barely had to move his head to plant a kiss on her strawberry-scented hair.

Max tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Those days were gone. Emma had obviously moved on since then, having a kid with someone who apparently wasn’t in the picture anymore. That was too bad for Cody, though he had to admit—deep down, he was a little relieved Emma was single. Clearly she’d been with another man at some point in her life, but at least he didn’t have to see the guy who’d stolen the only woman he’d ever loved.

But now he had to see her every day for a month.

He pulled back into the ranch drive a few minutes later and stopped to send a few quick text messages to his team members about the temporary change in staff. Thankfully Faith, his part-time worker, had agreed to stay the night instead of leaving after dinner as was her usual routine. She could supervise the girl campers until Emma arrived the next day.

Less than twenty-four hours.

He hit Send on a group text and tossed his phone on the seat beside him, pausing to take a deep breath and focus. Reset his mind away from Emma and back on his duties. Rest period would be about over by now, so it’d be time to introduce the kids to barn chores. Some of the teens would have never held a pitchfork in their life—never lifted so much as a finger, for that matter, toward real labor. Other kids in this camp probably had worked so hard as children because of their family’s financial circumstances, they’d been worn down and burned-out by age fourteen or fifteen. There were always different reasons for the rebel heart.

For him, it’d been a matter of history repeating itself.

He slammed the truck door shut just as Brady rode up the drive on his favorite horse, Nugget. Oh, man, Brady would have a time of it hearing Emma was back in town. After all the teasing he’d doled out to Brady a few years ago about his wife, Caley, when they were dating, Max would be in for an earful. He’d wait a bit, make sure the timing was right before telling him—and make sure Cody wasn’t nearby. The last thing the kid needed was to discover his temporary guardian had a history with his mom.

This was getting a little more complicated than he’d realized. No wonder Emma had been so hesitant to take the job. Still, it had to be done.

A quick glance confirmed the ranch was quiet, the barn not yet teeming with the afternoon activities. He probably only had a few minutes before the counselors rounded up the teens and brought them out.

Max squinted up at Brady against the afternoon sun, grinning as Nugget stomped and snorted beneath his friend. “Cut it out, Nugget. You’re not so tough.” He reached up and rubbed the horse under his mane. “I’ve seen you run away from a bull.”

Brady swung easily from the saddle, the leather creaking beneath his displaced weight. “Yeah, I saw it a little too closely. From the ground up.”

“Not that you’re holding a grudge against me for being gone that time Spitfire got out or anything.” He crossed his arms and attempted a stern expression, but it was hard not to laugh at the story that never got old—Brady being chased across his pasture by an ornery bull who’d escaped his pen a few years ago.

“Actually, no. Not bitter at all.” Brady gathered Nugget’s reins over his head and looped them in his fist. “That was one of the things that brought me and Caley together.”

Max grinned. “Then you’re welcome.”

Brady shoved Max’s shoulder, and he laughed as they led Nugget toward the barn. “What brings you by, besides boasting about your marital bliss?”

“Not boasting. Just appreciating.” Brady tugged at Nugget’s reins to prevent him from nibbling the grass near the red structure. “Though I do hate to admit when you’re right.”

“Get used to it, pal.” Despite all his teasing along the way, Max had encouraged Brady, a former widower, to act on his feelings toward Caley when she’d worked as his daughter’s nanny. “Caley still volunteering at the fire department?”

Brady nodded. “Only when they get overworked, or when there’s a big fire.”

“So only during the times it would make you the most nervous.”

His friend rolled his eyes with a groan. “Pretty much. But it’s working out. She’s good at what she does.”

“No doubt.” Max looked again toward the dorms, halfway eager to tell Brady what had transpired in the past two days, and halfway dreading it. Though he’d never met her, Brady knew the whole story about Emma—the whirlwind relationship, the way Max fell faster than a steer during a team roping competition. Her desertion. If anyone would “get it,” it’d be his friend.

But admitting he was still so affected by her didn’t come naturally.

“I actually came to borrow your wire puller.” Brady gestured toward the general direction of his property. “Have a fence to repair and Ava broke mine last time I let her help.” He cut his eyes at Max. “And trust me, I say help lightly.”

Max snorted. But Brady was letting his young teen daughter, who he’d kept on a tight leash since her mother’s death years ago, spread her wings on the ranch, and for Brady, that was huge. Another hats off to Caley there. “Sure, no problem. It’s in the barn.” Finding the puller would give him more time to decide how to break the news of Emma’s return—and that she had a son—to his friend.

And time to figure out how to say it in a way that wouldn’t put Brady on the alert to Max’s not-so-dormant feelings for her.

Brady tied Nugget’s reins to the hitching post and Max led the way inside, blinking to adjust his eyes to the dimmer light. He opened the supply room door. “Here it is.” The wire puller lay on the top shelf, just where it should be. He never imagined in his years of working for Brady that one day he’d have his own spread—and that it would be organized, no less.

“Top shelf. I trained you well.” Brady helped himself to the tool and stepped back, grinning as he shut the door. “Seriously man, this is awesome what you’ve got going here. As much as I hated to lose your help at the Double C, you’ve done well.”

“You gonna need a tissue?” Max joked, but the compliment sank in deep. Praise from Brady always meant a lot. They’d seen each other through some rough times.

Hopefully that wasn’t an omen of what was coming along with Emma.

Brady clapped his shoulder as he passed him in the aisle. “Maybe marriage made me a little soft, but whatever. I still recommend it.”

“I hear you.” They walked in silence back toward Nugget. Max was running out of time to talk before the teens descended on the barn. It was now or never. He drew a deep breath, fighting to keep his voice casual. “So, turns out Nicole went into labor a little early. Guess who’s filling in with the female campers?” Not that Brady could ever actually guess.

“Someone from church?” Brady turned at Nugget’s side and handed Max the wire puller so he could mount.

“Not exactly.” He hesitated. “Someone who recently came back to town.”

Brady’s brows lifted. “I’d guess one of your exes, but there’s too many to keep up with all their geographical locations.”

Max passed the puller to Brady in the saddle. “Ha-ha-ha, very funny.” Yet true. So what if Max had dated a lot—or more than a lot—back in the day? Including the local veterinarian, which hadn’t gone over well with Brady when Max had been in his employ. It didn’t matter—he wasn’t like that now, despite his former reputation. Besides, all those women had just proved one fact to him over and over again.

They weren’t Emma Shaver.

“So it’s not an ex.” Brady gathered the reins and turned Nugget toward the road.

Max rolled in his bottom lip, stepping back to give the horse room. “I didn’t say that.”

“I really need to get this fence repaired, man. What’s with the guessing game?” Brady shifted his hat back on his head as he peered down at Max. Nugget snorted his own impatience, and Brady’s eyes slowly narrowed. “Unless it’s—”

Gravel crunched as an SUV parked a few yards from where they stood. Brady’s head swiveled to look just as Max recognized the vehicle. Emma was early. They’d agreed for her to show up first thing the next morning, Wednesday, yet here she was. And from the way she grudgingly heaved her suitcase from the backseat and blew her hair out of her eyes, she was tired. Maybe even grumpy.

This wasn’t good. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to Cody or do more than text the other counselors the news of the fill-in help. Hadn’t had a chance to tell Brady the turn of events.

Hadn’t had a chance to wall up what was left of his heart.

“I’m here.” Emma set her wheeled suitcase on the dusty ground at her feet, looking as if she thought simply being there would have to be enough. Good thing Max had turned off the idea of more a long time ago. Somewhere around the time she disappeared from his life, maybe. But no, it’d taken a lot longer than that.

Still was taking time, if he were painfully honest.

He shot a glance at Brady and let out a long sigh. The inevitable had arrived, right on time. “Welcome back.” He focused his smile on Emma, hoping he successfully hid the nerves wringing his stomach. “This is Brady, a neighbor and friend. And, Brady, this is the temporary counselor I was telling you about—Emma.” He swallowed, darting a glance as Brady automatically reached down a hand to shake hers. “Emma Shaver.”

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