Here today, gone tomorrow?

When former army ranger Josh Manning comes to close-knit Covenant Falls, he knows he won’t be staying long. As soon as he’s renovated the cabin he’s inherited from a late fellow soldier, he and his ex-military dog, Amos, are getting out fast. That is, until Mayor Eve Douglas drops by.

Eve, a young widow, has a precocious son and a band of misfit pets. Definitely not his type. Besides, she deserves much more than he can give. Unless, against all his instincts, he’s ready to make one more promise.

“I don’t stay in places long.”

“Maybe it’s time you did.”

Josh touched Eve’s face again, this time letting his fingers linger and trace the line of her jaw. His body ached with longing. He wanted to dig deep under that calm serenity and ignite the fire he felt in her. But he couldn’t. “I’m a wanderer and you’re a nester, and I would bet everything I have that you’ve never had a one-night stand, or one-week stand, and that’s all I know. All I want. No complications.”

He was lying. He did want more, he just hadn’t known it until now.

But it wouldn’t work. He would leave one day, and it could break two hearts. Maybe three.

He stepped back.

She gave him a long, steady look, then nodded. She started to turn, then stopped. “About Nick?”

“You can bring him over tomorrow afternoon.” Bad decision, but the boy would be here with his mother. No temptation then. At least that was what he told himself.

“Thank you,” she said softly, and as he closed the door he wondered exactly what she was thanking him for.

Dear Reader,

Most of my story ideas come from today’s newspaper headlines. Life often holds more wonders than a writer’s imagination.

All my writer’s bells rang when I read a New York Times story about military dogs being retired because of post-traumatic stress disorder. Many are adopted by their handlers or the general public.

There were also news stories about veterans returning with PTSD and successful programs matching these vets and dogs rescued from the street. The matches often worked miracles for both.

My writer’s “what if” mechanism shifted into high gear, and Joshua Manning immediately strode into my mind. He was a throwaway kid who’d raised himself and saw the military as the family he never had. But when a wound meant leaving the service, he had no idea of what to do or where to go. None except saving the military dog handled by a friend who’d died saving Josh’s life.

And where better to heal than Covenant Falls, a fictional small town with a big heart and a lady mayor with an even bigger one.

Josh and his Amos, and Mayor Eve Douglas, her young son and their motley crew of rescues climbed into my heart and wrote their own story. I hope they will touch you as they did me.

Patricia Potter

The Soldier’s Promise

Patricia Potter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Patricia Potter is a bestselling and award-winning author of more than sixty books. Her Western romances have received numerous awards, including an RT Book Reviews Storyteller of the Year Award, a Career Achievement Award for Western Historical Romance and a Best Hero of the Year Award. She is a seven-time RITA® Award finalist for RWA and a three-time Maggie winner. She is a past president of the Romance Writers of America.

Besides writing, Patricia has a passion for accumulating dogs, specifically rescue ones. She’s learned that you don’t choose dogs, they somehow find you. She currently has two rescue Australian Shepherd sisters with two distinctly different personalities, but both overflowing with love.

In addition to dogs and books, she also loves travel and recently visited the magical, history-seeped Adriatic Coast, Spain and France.

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To our returning veterans and the dogs that protect them.

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

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Epilogue

Extract

CHAPTER ONE

TRACER BULLETS RIPPED through the night like shooting stars.

He hit the sand along with other members of his team. A rocket-propelled grenade exploded a few feet away, sending shrapnel slicing and burning his skin. Then the enemy poured out from rocks like locusts.

Adrenaline surged through him, smothering the pain. He slid behind a rock, called in copter support and aimed his M16 at the figures multiplying in front of him.

He cursed. Intel had said there was only a small group of Taliban here. One of their high-level couriers was supposedly passing this way.

He fired steadily but the enemy kept coming as his own men fell around him. The smell of gunpowder and the deafening sound of explosions filled the cold night air.

He glanced around. Four of his ten men were down. To his right he heard a steady return of fire. Dave? What about the other four?

Eric was down. Trying to crawl for cover. Gotta go after him, get him behind rocks.

Move. He sprinted toward his wounded teammate. His leg exploded in agony and he went down as more bullets ricocheted off rocks around him. Everything was burning. He reached for the M16 he’d dropped.... Too far...

Someone lifted him. Dave. “No,” he screamed. “Leave me!” Then he fell again, Dave falling over him, shielding him. He heard the sound of helicopters as everything went black....

Josh Manning jerked awake, the battle still alive in his head.

He reached for his gun. It wasn’t there.

Then the adrenaline ebbed as his surroundings came into focus. Not a battlefield. A room. Familiar now after a few days. The rapid beating of his heart eased. He sat. Breathe. Slowly. In and out. His face and body were wet with sweat. So were the sheets.

Another damned nightmare.

Beside him, Amos whined and tried to inch under the narrow bed.

Knocking. That was what had woken him.

What time is it? He glanced at his watch. 1000 hours. Later than he thought, but he hadn’t fallen asleep until dawn. He shook his head, trying to erase the remnants of the nightmare that so often cursed his few hours of sleep. Another knock at the door. Insistent. Damn it.

Whoever it was apparently wasn’t going away. He looked to the floor. What he could see of Amos’s hindquarters was quivering.

Josh knew he was in no condition to answer the door. He was still wet from the nightmares, and he hadn’t shaved in several days. He was wearing only skivvies in the warmth of summer. But more knocking would only exacerbate Amos’s terror. He pulled on a pair of jeans, limped painfully to the front door and threw it open so hard it bounced against the interior wall.

He did not feel welcoming. He’d been beset with unwanted visitors since he’d reached the cabin a week earlier, and each one seemed to make Amos more fearful. Didn’t make him happy, either.

A middle-aged lady stood at the door with an aluminum tin held out to him and a determined smile on her face. All he could think of was Amos’s frantic retreat and the bone-deep pain in his left leg when he’d first put weight on it.

What in the hell did it take to be left alone?

He scowled at her.

Her mouth formed a perfect O. Then she thrust the tin in his hands and practically ran from the porch. She didn’t look back as she scurried down the broken pavement that served as a driveway.

He must look a hell of a lot worse than even he thought. He went back inside, set the damned tin on a counter and grabbed a beer from the ice chest. He slugged it down and tossed the bottle in the garbage can. He reached for another, then stopped himself. Drinking in the morning! Damned bad habit to form. He’d never been a big drinker. No one in his unit had been.

But then he wasn’t with the Rangers any longer. He wasn’t with anything.

He swore in the silence of the room. He’d behaved badly. He must look terrifying with his scruffy face, uncombed hair and large size. A bare chest with scars probably hadn’t helped.

All he wanted was to be left alone. He and Amos.

Amos. He went into the bedroom and called his name softly.

No audible response. No wag of a tail. Not even a whine. Just heavy panting.

He gingerly lowered himself to the floor and started talking to Amos. “It’s okay. Nothing there to hurt us. Just civilians. No enemy. No explosives.”

He stopped, his breath caught by grief that was still raw. He continued in a low, rough voice. “I know you miss Dave. I do, too. But he wanted you safe. That’s why he asked me to take you.” He touched Amos’s butt, the only part that wasn’t under the bed. The dog gradually relaxed and finally eased from under the bed.

“Breakfast,” Josh announced.

Amos was not impressed. He put his head between his paws.

Josh braced himself on the side of the bed to get up. He’d shed a cast six weeks after a third operation and threw away the cane two weeks after that. His left leg resembled Humpty Dumpty’s after the fall, a result of the explosion that killed Dave. He could live with the injury, but he ached every time he looked at Amos. Amos had been his best friend’s canine partner, uncanny in finding explosives, unflagging on missions and ecstatic to play with his reward ball. He was a shadow of himself now.

Maybe it was a mistake coming here. Hell, he didn’t even understand why Dave had left it to him, especially since he’d never mentioned it in the years they’d been friends. Dave had talked about Colorado and how they might start a camping and fishing business since their skills outside the army weren’t much in demand. But a cabin? No. He’d racked his brain since an attorney contacted him in the hospital and said he was the sole beneficiary of Dave’s estate.

From what the attorney had said, Josh had thought the cabin was somewhere deep in the woods, somewhere he and Amos could heal quietly and on their own.

He hadn’t expected a parade of people invading his life and scaring the hell out of Amos. Perhaps a big No Trespassing sign would help.

He went to the door and looked at the deep royal blue of the lake that was several hundred feet from the cabin. It was the reason he’d decided to stay. At least for a while. That, and the mountain behind the cabin.

The small town of Covenant Falls snuggled on the side of a pristine blue lake and against forested mountains. The cabin was the last structure on a road that ran alongside the lake and dead-ended at the mountain. Shielded by towering pines and underbrush, the cabin was in dire need of repairs. It was apparent no one had used it in years, except maybe partying kids.

The attorney had told him a trust had paid the taxes and a certain amount of upkeep.

Not very much, from his point of view. Flaking paint, missing and broken appliances and rotting floors. The area in back was knee-high in weeds. But then he hadn’t expected much. He’d mostly lived in on-base bachelor quarters or tents or slept on the ground these past seventeen years.

He had gone through the cabin, trying to decide what to do. It had good bones. Maybe he could fix it up. He didn’t have anything else to do, and he’d learned a lot in the military about fixing things. When he finished, maybe he could sell the cabin. Find some someplace else to go.

He hoped it would be someplace without, God help him, curious neighbors.

His gaze caught the cheerfully painted tin on the cabinet. Now he did feel...chagrined.

Despite himself, he found himself taking off the lid. An enticing scent filled the room as he stared at rich, dark brownies that looked as if they’d just come from the oven. How long since he’d had homemade brownies? Not since some guy in the unit received some from his wife. They’d been stale and broken, but they’d been like manna from heaven.

He succumbed.

* * *

“THAT...MAN IN the Hannity cabin. June went over there to welcome him. He was practically naked, and he scared her to death.”

Covenant Falls mayor Eve Douglas tried to pacify the caller. Marilyn Evans wasn’t the first one in the past few days. Others had expressed concerns about the newest resident of their small community. Some were genuinely frightened. Others were offended at his rebuff of any welcoming overtures.

Marilyn ranted on for several minutes before Eve interrupted. “Has he done anything other than be rude?” Marilyn lived next to June Byars on Lake Road, three houses down from the Hannity cabin.

“Well, no,” she admitted, then added ominously, “Not yet.”

“You’ve complained many times that the Hannity cabin is an eyesore. If the owner is here, maybe he’ll fix it.”

“Fiddlesticks. Do you know he has a motorcycle?” Marilyn suddenly asked. “Maybe he’s one of ‘them.’”

Eve’s body tightened and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. Her father, then police chief, had been killed by a biker gang three years ago, and Marilyn knew that well. Eve knew she couldn’t condemn everyone who rode a motorcycle, but still...the sight of two or more riders still sent shivers down her back.

“And he drinks,” Marilyn continued in a lower tone. “Some bottles fell out of his garbage can when the truck came by.”

Eve doubted they’d fallen out. More likely Marilyn had checked the trash herself. Marilyn contributed a weekly column to the Covenant Falls Herald and considered herself the town watchdog. “You haven’t met him?” Eve asked, surprised that Marilyn hadn’t shouldered her way inside.

“I tried,” Marilyn said with a long-suffering sniff. “He didn’t answer the door.”

“Maybe he wasn’t there.”

“He was,” Marilyn insisted. “The motorcycle and Jeep were there. Someone who really belonged here would answer the door. What if he’s a serial killer?”

Aha. Therein was the problem, Eve thought. Marilyn was usually a good-natured, if overly inquisitive soul, but she took dismissal poorly. There was a silence, then Marilyn added stiffly, “I just thought you should know what’s going on in your town.”

“I appreciate that,” Eve said. “But we can’t send out officers without any reason.”

“If anything happens...just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Eve sighed. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

“And you’ll let me know?”

“Yes,” Eve said patiently, knowing she would also be telling the Covenant Falls Herald. “Thanks for calling, but I have a meeting, and I’m late. I’ll talk to you later.”

Although she hadn’t met the newcomer, she understood both the curiosity and apprehension. No one had lived in the cabin permanently since Michael Hannity had drowned in the lake and his nephew had been under suspicion of murder. Nothing was proved, however, and it was finally ruled an accident. David Hannity had left and hadn’t returned. The property had been rented on and off for four years until some renters practically destroyed it, then it had been empty the past twelve years, although the taxes had been paid.

Rumors had started several days ago when the power was turned on. Then talk accelerated when several residents of Lake Road reported seeing a man in a Jeep turn into the driveway and enter the house. It rankled Eve that the new resident was so abrasive. Her town was friendly and welcomed newcomers with open hearts and hands full of goodies. She hated to see them hurt even if, she admitted, they could be rather aggressive in their attempted neighborliness.

There was also a dog. A big one, according to reports. And it wasn’t on a leash. No one could describe it exactly because apparently the man and dog walked only in the middle of the night. And that in itself spurred more talk. Sometimes her small, eccentric town reminded her of a game she used to play when a child. Someone would whisper to the person next to her, and the secret would go around a circle, being embellished all along the way until a mouse turned into bigfoot.

As the beleaguered mayor of Covenant Falls, she didn’t need this nonsense today. Not when this afternoon there was an informal council meeting. The council planned to discuss hiring a new police chief within the month. The council wanted to name one of the current officers, Sam Clark.

Over her dead body.

She looked at her watch. She had a few more minutes. She called down to Merry, who served as both city clerk and bookkeeper. “Have you heard anything from the county about a change in ownership on the Hannity property?”

“Not yet,” Merry said, “but a Mr. Manning was in here around noon, asking about building permits for a porch. I told him we needed proof of ownership first, and he said he would provide it. He also wanted a copy of the property survey. I was so busy with the tax bills, I asked if it would be okay if I got it later in the day. He said yes, and he would be back tomorrow afternoon.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?’

“You were at lunch, then I was swamped with those bills.”

“How was he?”

“Polite enough, although he didn’t talk much. Looked a bit rough, but I liked him.”

Eve had to smile. She had yet to find someone Merry didn’t like.

She would probably like Genghis Khan. But it made Eve feel better. Obviously he was no squatter if he wanted a building permit and a land survey.

Ordinarily, she would have asked Tom MacGuire to quietly check out the newcomer.

He had been police chief for the three years since her father had been killed, and had been with the county sheriff’s department as head of detectives before that. He was genuinely kind as well as efficient. But he was at home today, and she really didn’t trust his officers to handle the matter with any finesse.

That drew her back to her immediate problem. Tom planned to resign because of heart problems. Finding someone to replace him was daunting, especially when small-town politics entered into the equation. There were less than three thousand permanent residents, and policing usually involved speeders, bar brawls and domestic conflicts. But there was the occasional fatal accident, lost child or robbery. She needed officers with diplomacy for domestic problems, and experience and judgment for the others. Tom had all that, and the affection and respect of the community. But he’d had a second heart attack, and his wife insisted he retire.

The problem was the city couldn’t pay enough to attract someone like Tom. He’d served because he loved Covenant Falls. He was also a second father to Eve and honorary grandfather to her son, and she wasn’t going to risk his life by trying to keep him.

She picked up her iPad and made her way to the small council chamber. Maybe she would visit the stranger in the morning. Quiet the rumor mill.

* * *

JOSH WORKED ALL morning on the interior of the cabin, and was just finishing cleaning the last room. The needed repairs were endless; the more he cleaned, the more problems he found. But he welcomed the work.

He’d temporarily fixed the roof and scraped most of the paint from the walls of the main room. He had to patch holes and sand rough spots, then prime the walls before painting.

He’d cleaned the windows, although he wasn’t sure that had been a good idea. Blinds were a necessity since the community was so interested in his affairs, but the local hardware store had none that fit.

He also needed furniture. All he had now was a folding bed, a cheap chest of drawers, the cooler and an old sofa that had somehow survived years of neglect in the cabin. Probably only the fact that it was alligator ugly kept it from disappearing with the other stuff.

But even as it was now, the cabin suited him. It was as broken as him and Amos, and the work kept him from thinking. Remembering.

He quit at midnight. The cabin was hot, but nothing close to the brain-searing heat in Iraq and Afghanistan. His T-shirt was drenched with sweat, some from the heat, some from work and the rest from the pain that never left him.

Josh ran his fingers over his cheeks. Stubble partially covered a scar. It wasn’t vanity that made him cover it, but he didn’t like questions and he sure as hell didn’t want sympathy. He didn’t deserve it. He’d been team leader and had lost eight of ten men. Their faces haunted him every night.

He grabbed a beer and went to the window that overlooked the lake and considered his future. The army had given him the only family he’d ever had, and the Rangers had given him pride and purpose and confidence. And then three months ago, he’d been discharged with several useless medals and a bum leg. Bitterness—and drink—had almost destroyed him until he’d finally found Amos. Then he had a new mission. Dave had asked one thing of him before that last mission, almost as if he knew he would die. He wanted Josh to do what he could to help Amos, the military dog Dave had handled for four years.

He was doing a pretty damn poor job of that one. Amos usually ignored food and ate the minimum to stay alive even when Josh tried to tempt him with steak.

“We’re a great pair,” he told Amos, hoping for a reaction. A thump of a tail. A lifting of an ear. Anything.

Nothing. Just that empty stare.

He went out onto the porch. Clouds nearly hid a new moon and most of the evening stars. He smelled rain, and a cool breeze brushed over him.

Time to walk Amos. He preferred walking late in the night when no one else was around. He went back inside and called to the dog.

“Duty time,” he said. Dave’s words every time they went on a mission. He remembered when Amos had snapped to attention, eager to go. But now he stood slowly. Years of training said obey, but that was all he did. There was no joy in it. Only reluctance to leave a safe place.

Canine PTSD, according to the diagnosis at the Daniel E. Holland Military Working Dog Hospital at Lackland Air Force Base. Josh was told that after Dave’s death, the dog had refused to obey any orders and cowered when approached. But Josh thought the behavior resulted as much from a broken heart as PTSD. Dave and Amos had been inseparable from the day they were teamed.

“Amos,” he said with more authority, and the dog finally moved to his side. Progress. Small, maybe, but progress nonetheless.

With the moon entirely blocked now, the night was black. There was no light, but neither of them needed it. Josh’s eyes were trained to see in the dark, or maybe he’d been born with that gift. He’d always been able to see better than his team members. They always said he was more cat than human, both for his night vision and the speed with which he could move.

With Amos plodding stoically at his heel, Josh followed Lake Road to where it ended in a path. He no longer moved like a cat, smooth and fast. Hell, an eighty-year-old great-grandmother could beat him in a foot race.

He walked until he feared his leg wouldn’t make it back, then turned toward the cabin. He would read until his eyes closed. Maybe tonight he could actually sleep. Maybe.

CHAPTER TWO

JOSH SLASHED THROUGH the weeds as though they were the enemy. One particularly tall one came in for special attention. Whack!

“Wow,” said a voice from behind him. “You really have it in for that poor weed.”

He swung around, the scythe in his hands swinging with him, and found himself face-to-face with an attractive woman. He was really slipping if someone could move in behind him without his notice. He hadn’t even heard a vehicle approaching. His attention had been riveted on clearing a path to an overgrown brick barbecue pit in back of the cabin. As far as he could tell, it was one of the few undamaged fixtures on the property.

He had gotten up at dawn. Made coffee, poured himself a cup then lured Amos outside. He’d instinctively started pulling the weeds that surrounded and nearly covered the pit. Finding it hopeless, he found the scythe he’d purchased the day before along with a number of other tools. Someone might have been mowing the front but they sure as hell hadn’t cut the back for a long time. It was snake heaven.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” the newcomer said, and he realized he must have been staring at her. “I rang the bell,” she continued, “but when no one answered I decided to try back here.”

He went still and studied her. She didn’t wilt under his gaze. A lot of people did. The lady yesterday certainly had.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” he said, hoping she would get the message, although she was certainly younger and prettier than his previous visitors. He rubbed his dirty hands against his equally dirty jeans. “What time is it?”

“Nine, or thereabouts,” she said.

He scowled.

“Now I know why June ran away yesterday,” the woman said, her eyes filled with something like bemused curiosity as her gaze ran over his sweaty T-shirt, stained jeans and, last, the sharp tool in his hands. Her eyes were hazel with flecks of green and gold. Mischief danced in them.

Damn, but she was fine to look at. He didn’t much like the sudden hot rush of blood through his veins. He didn’t need that. Not now. “I don’t seem to have the same effect on you,” he said wryly.

“No,” she said. “Takes more than a scowl, although you have a good one. Do you practice it?”

He ignored the question and asked one of his own. “What does frighten you, then?”

“Not a Weedwacker. I approve. This place has been an eyesore.”

He walked to the cabin’s back door and placed the scythe against it. He didn’t need this new...distraction. He had a full day’s work ahead. He had an appointment with the only vet in miles. He also intended to buy more tools and paint. Maybe he would get some fishing gear, as well. Once the barbecue pit was cleaned he could grill fish on it. He was growing tired of cold cuts from the cooler.

“You didn’t say why you’re here,” he said. It annoyed him that he sounded boorish. But then he’d never been good at conversation. Surprisingly, the mischief didn’t leave her eyes. “No,” she agreed, “I didn’t.”

He liked the fact she wasn’t intimidated. He couldn’t say she was a beauty, not in the classical sense. Her features were not that regular. The wide hazel eyes went with a pug nose and high cheekbones. Her hair, the color of rich mahogany, fell to just below her shoulders. It was held back from her face by a clasp. Simple, but on her it looked good. His gaze fell lower. She wore a sky-blue sleeveless vest over a short-sleeve white cotton blouse and dark blue slacks. Neat. Practical in the heat, and yet they complemented her body. Which was fine, too. Real fine. Not reed thin like too many women these days. There were curves in all the right places. He suspected she had great legs under those slacks.

The worn briefcase she carried didn’t quite go with the rest of her. An insurance saleswoman? That would be the ultimate joke. “You another member of the welcome wagon, then?” he said, sarcasm coloring the question. Sarcasm was his armor these days.

“No,” she said.

“God, I hope you’re not with the government.”

“Hate to disappoint you, but actually I am.” She thrust out her hand. “Eve Douglas. I have the dubious honor of being mayor.”

He was stunned for a moment. Then he shrugged, brushed his right hand against his jeans to shed some of the dirt and sweat and took her outstretched one. If she didn’t care about getting dirty...

A mistake. Her hand was slender in his large one, yet he felt calluses on her palm. That surprised him. So did the strength in her fingers. He found himself holding them longer than necessary as the very air around them seemed to spark with electricity.

He didn’t like—or trust—the hot awareness he felt, the instantaneous attraction blazing between them. Or was it all on his part?

He didn’t think so. Not with that startled, puzzled look in her eyes. He released his hold quickly, the warmth from her hand flowing up his arm. Their gazes met.

He was intrigued. She was holding her ground. He imagined he looked his worst, and his worst could be formidable as hell, or so he’d been told. But it didn’t seem to faze her.

He waited, not speaking. A form of hostile intimidation, a psychologist told him when Josh perfected it during unwanted sessions at the hospital. Now it was for an entirely different reason.

She finally broke the silence. Her voice sounded stilted, unsteady, and he realized she was as shaken as he. “Merry, the city clerk, told me you had been in and wanted a copy of your property survey. She felt bad she didn’t have time to find it then, so I said I would bring it over this morning. Save you a trip back into town. I also want to welcome you.”

“Do you welcome every new resident this way?”

“Eventually. It’s why I’m mayor. That and the hard truth that no one else wanted the job.”

She said it wryly, and he found himself liking her. Combine that with the heat still lingering in his belly and he knew he was in trouble. He recalled how she introduced herself. Not as Mayor Eve Douglas, but simply as Eve Douglas who happened to be mayor. It said something about her that the title was of lesser importance than who she was.

He was only too aware of her eyes and the way they lit up when she smiled. He tried to ignore them. “I had a visit yesterday from a lady. I think I frightened her. Didn’t mean to. She woke me up and scared the hell out of my dog, and I was a bit aggravated. Perhaps in the role of mayor, you can suggest that I came here for a little solitude.”

“People in Covenant Falls are friendly. We like to think it’s a plus, but obviously you don’t,” she said. “I’ll try to put out the word that you’re the hermit type and value your privacy.” She said it without judgment and added with that quick, infectious smile, “Can’t promise it’ll work.”

Concentrate, Josh. She was too damned disarming. He glanced down at her hands. She had a ring on her finger.

But it had been a damned long time since...

Down, boy.

He jerked back to the moment. “Mrs. Douglas,” he replied. “You said you brought my property survey. And the building permit?”

She looked startled and for a fleeting second he wondered whether she’d felt the same awareness that was galloping through his body. Then she gave him a more cautious smile. “The survey was easy. There’s a small problem with the building permit.”

She met his gaze directly, and he noted that she was tall, only four inches or so shorter than his own just over six-foot-three height. Perfect height to kiss without contorting himself. A wisp of wind caught her hair and turned a curl loose. He found himself longing to tuck it back in. To feel that smooth skin and see whether her hair was as silky as it looked.

She sure as hell wasn’t like any mayor he’d ever seen.

“And the building permit?” he asked, trying to divert the thoughts. Mind over matter. Or body.

“The city clerk said you didn’t bring a copy of the deed, and she checked with the county. The property is listed as belonging to David Hannity.”

“Dave Hannity is dead,” he said, barely keeping his voice steady. Even after nearly eight months, the words hurt like hell. “He left the cabin to me. An attorney in the county seat—Laine Mabry—just settled probate. The deed should have been transferred by now. I’ll check with him.”

“Good. Once we have a copy of the deed, there shouldn’t be a problem.”

He expected her to leave then, but she didn’t, and he was surprised he really didn’t want her to go. She challenged him. Intrigued him. He really had been too long without a woman.

Her gaze rested for a moment on the scar on his face. He could tell from her expression that she wanted to ask more questions. Still, she refrained, and that interested him, too, as did the way she stood her ground despite his scowl and lack of manners.

“The survey?” he prompted, silently cursing himself.

She lifted the briefcase and steadied it on the brick barbecue pit. She opened it and fished out a large piece of rolled draft paper.

Their hands touched, and he felt a surge of electricity streak through him. She suddenly backed away and bumped against the barbecue pit. He automatically reached out, steadying her. She smelled like fresh flowers, and he felt the calluses on her hand again. Oddly enough, that was sexy to him. Damn if she wasn’t sexy in every way.

He didn’t let go, and she didn’t pull away.

A flame leaped between them. He felt its heat sear him. She leaned against him for the barest of seconds, then pulled away. Confusion suddenly clouded her eyes.

What in the hell just happened? He must be more nuts than usual. She wore a ring, and he never played in someone else’s yard. Never. He’d seen too many guys open Dear John letters and knew what it did to them. He was no angel, but he’d sworn never to cause that kind of pain. And he didn’t think much of a woman who could. Maybe that was why he always preferred one-night stands with unattached women.

She looked at him with wide eyes now. He watched as she tried to compose herself. When she finally spoke, there was a catch in her throat. “Dave Hannity... I knew him years ago. Not well. He was older. Then he just seemed to disappear....”

That brought him back to reality. Dave was a subject he couldn’t—wouldn’t—discuss.

“You said inherited,” she continued. “What happened to him?”

“Does it matter?”

“It matters that I didn’t know. I liked him. I know my husband did.”

He didn’t answer immediately, hoping his silence would send her away.

When it was clear that it wouldn’t, he said simply, “He was in the army. He died in Afghanistan.”

“He must have been a good friend,” she said softly.

“Excuse me, Mayor Douglas, but I don’t know why that’s any of your business.”

She stiffened. “You’re right, of course, Mr. Manning. It’s not.” She started to turn, then swung back. “You said you have a dog.”

“Is that against the law?” He bristled again.

“Of course not.” Her smile faded. “But we do have some ordinances regarding animals,” she continued after a few seconds, as if she’d caught her breath. “Dogs have to be on a leash or...”

“Under the voice control of an individual,” he finished. “Amos is under voice control when we walk.”

The colors of her eyes seemed to change with her emotions. “I hope you’ll learn to like us,” she said. There was a not-so-veiled challenge in her tone. She wasn’t all sweetness. There was some spice, too.

“Not bloody likely,” he muttered, using an expression he’d learned from British counterparts. It was, he felt, appropriate at the moment as he tried to tamp down that sexual electricity that still hovered in the air. She looked so damn...intriguing. He sensed there was fire under that proper facade. He saw flashes of it in her eyes.

He reminded himself that she was married. And, God help him, a mayor. He’d never liked authority of any kind. Even in the army, he’d been a maverick and probably wouldn’t have lasted long if an officer hadn’t seen his independence as something that could be useful in Special Forces.

Mayor Eve Douglas was the last thing he needed.

He turned and limped inside, leaving her standing there.

But despite himself, he watched her through the newly cleaned window as she walked, ramrod straight, toward an elderly pickup truck. She stepped gracefully into the truck, not an easy thing to do.

A mud-splattered pickup truck? The mayor? Of course, it was a small town, but...

None of his business. He turned away. He tried to channel the persisting need into anger. Anger came easily these days. Right now, it was all he had to hold on to.

He went into his bedroom, where Amos still lay under the bed. The dog hadn’t even moved to see who was outside. A year ago, he would have been at full alert, eager and ready to inspect the newcomer.

The two of them were aliens in this place. They were military castoffs, and neither of them knew how to adapt. Josh lowered himself to the floor and sat next to the dog. He put his hand on Amos’s back and rubbed it. He knew it would be plain hell getting up, but right now he figured they needed each other.

“What in the hell are we doing here?” he whispered.

* * *

AFTER LEAVING MR. Manning’s property, Eve sat in her pickup for a while. Waiting...for what? Then she saw movement inside the cabin. Drat, what was she doing? She started the truck and drove out onto Lake Road, resisting the temptation to look back. One thing for sure, Josh Manning was no squatter. From the look of him, and what little she’d seen of the cabin, he’d been working like a demon.

She wasn’t sure what else he was. Her hand still burned from his touch, and her heart was hammering. She couldn’t remember that ever happening before. She was just flustered, she assured herself. He’d been rude and abrupt and...overwhelming.

She saw him now as he’d stood whacking at weeds, the ridges of his muscles straining under the damp T-shirt that clung to him, his sandy hair uncombed. There had been something elemental about him, something untamed and restless, and yet she’d also sensed control when he went to the trouble to harness it.

His face, partially covered with a beard the color of gold, was hawklike with guarded emerald-green eyes that assessed her as if she was prey. She completely understood why June had been frightened. He had nearly apologized about June, but not quite. It was probably as much of an apology as anyone would receive.

But she hadn’t been frightened. Stunned at her body’s reactions to him, yes, but physically afraid? No.

And why did she still ache inside? She hadn’t been attracted to another man since Russ died four years earlier, nor even before that. And this man was the polar opposite of her husband. Russ had been her best friend as well as lover: warm and funny and very easy to love. He’d been everyone’s big brother, and his students adored him. This man was a hostile loner. And a rather unkempt one at that.

When she reached the road, she drove past a few houses, then stopped the truck. She tried to regain her composure. It wasn’t easy. She’d never been so affected by a man, and it didn’t make sense. It certainly wasn’t because she was lonely. Although she missed Russ with all her heart, she had a good life with her son, Nick, their small ranch and her job.

Still, she couldn’t deny the attraction that had streaked between them when he had taken her hand and steadied her. So much strength there.

Nonsense. She didn’t believe in looks across a crowded room...or a weed patch. And it wasn’t that she didn’t have enough problems already.

She realized she hadn’t seen the dog Marilyn had mentioned. And it was strange that a large dog would not have barked at a stranger’s presence. But Joshua Manning knew the law, had obviously checked into it, and she had no legal reason to demand anything. Especially with only Marilyn’s vivid imagination to go on.

Go. Just leave. She turned the key in the ignition, but her thoughts went back to when he’d mentioned Dave Hannity. There had been pain in his eyes. It had been there only for the briefest of seconds, but in that time she’d felt its impact.

He hadn’t said so, but she was sure he’d been in the service. That was probably why he limped. There was still pain in that leg. She’d seen that, too. She’d seen it in Russ when he’d been recovering from a football injury to his knee, the one that had ended his career as a college quarterback.

She wanted to look back, but she was too far away now. Her world had just been rocked, and she didn’t know why or how. She only knew she had to stay away from him. He aroused feelings she didn’t want or need. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel until they hurt. Then she drove toward the main road. Going to the office.

To a safe place.

CHAPTER THREE

WHEN EVE ARRIVED at the office, Tom was waiting for her. Although it was only midmorning, he looked tired.

His appearance worried her. “Should you be here?”

“I’m going crazy at home,” he said. “Maggie’s hovering around like I’m an invalid. Hell, Eve, I’m not ready for a rocking chair. Two days of doing nothing, and I’m going nuts. Besides, I’m still chief until you replace me.”

Eve was torn. Tom had been her father’s close friend for years, and as a detective with the county sheriff’s department had investigated his murder three years ago. A native of Covenant Falls, he had taken her father’s place as police chief after the funeral and hoped to find her father’s murderers, but he hadn’t. She knew he still fretted about that.

In those three years, he’d become even more a member of her family, rooting for Nick at Little League games, serving as her sounding board and being part of every family celebration. He was someone she didn’t want to lose. Couldn’t lose. But she also knew him well enough to realize he would not do well sitting at home.

“You look a bit flushed yourself,” he said. “Are you and Nick all right?”

She feared the flush was deepening. “Guess it’s from running around this morning. And Nick is fine. Only two more weeks of school, then I’ll be worrying all day long. I can’t keep him off that bike.”

“Your dad used to say the same about you.”

She didn’t have an answer for that.

He changed the subject. “I hear you couldn’t agree on a replacement for me.”

She sighed. The meeting yesterday had been contentious. One of the deputies vying for the job was the nephew of the council president. “In the first place, no one could replace you. But then Al, Ed and Nancy want Sam. I don’t think he’s ready. He’s a little too fast to assume the worst.” She didn’t add that her husband had coached Sam Clark on the Covenant Falls High football team and thought him a bully.

“I agree,” Tom said. “He has seniority over the other officers, but I purposely didn’t promote him to sergeant because I question his judgment.” He sighed heavily. “I think your father hired him for the same reason you have to keep him. You need Al’s support for your budget, and he controls three of the five votes on the council. Or, I should say, owns them. I could keep Sam under control, but if we can’t find someone too strong for the council to ignore, you’ll have a fight on your hands.”

Eve knew he was right. “You just have to find me that person at a salary we can pay. We couldn’t afford you if you didn’t have the county retirement.”

Tom shrugged. “You don’t get paid nearly enough for all the work you do. Grady Dillard just sat in that chair and drank with his cronies. You’ve put life back in Covenant Falls.”

“Our newest resident isn’t very impressed.” The words escaped before she could stop them. Why did Joshua Manning linger in her head?

Linger? No, dominate. It was annoying. Confounding. Maddening.

Tom raised an eyebrow and nearly looked like the man he’d been before all the heart attacks. “The guy at the Hannity place?”

“You’ve heard?”

“Marilyn called me, too. I don’t take her too seriously.” His face hardened. “Also had a burglary call this morning. That’s why I came in.”

“Where?”

“Maude’s. Someone broke into her diner last night. Took the late-night cash. About three hundred dollars or so, she said.”

Eve groaned. If she hadn’t stopped at the Hannity place, she would have heard the news sooner. The amount wasn’t much to a lot of people, but it was to Maude. And it was the first burglary in months. There had been vandalism in some of the cabins around the lake, but nothing more than that. Not in the past year.

“Could be teenagers,” Tom said, “but most of the locals are good kids.”

She suddenly knew who would be blamed. “Any suspects?”

He shrugged. “Not yet, but rumors are circulating, probably helped by Sam. He wants to talk to the new guy. I said no. I wanted to talk to you first.”

“His name is Joshua Manning, and I talked to him this morning. He didn’t say much, except he inherited the cabin from David Hannity, and that David had been in the army. I had the impression he’s ex-military, too, although he didn’t say so. He’s fixing up the place. I can’t see him breaking into a restaurant for a few hundred dollars.”

“You have good instincts, Eve, but if you want, I’ll quietly check him out.”

Eve hesitated. She was reluctant to invade the man’s privacy, and if it wasn’t for the burglary, she would have said no. But she knew how rumors spread in town. Too many would put together the arrival of an unfriendly and admittedly scruffy-looking resident with the first major crime of the year. Better to quash them fast.

“You said you thought he was former military. Why?” Tom was a Vietnam veteran, and she knew he had a soft spot for other present and former servicemen.

She shrugged. Casually, she hoped. “He’s not very talkative. In fact, he avoided saying much of anything about himself. Said it was none of my business, but everything points to it.”

Tom looked quizzical. “He said that to you, and you didn’t bash him?”

“Well, he was right. It really wasn’t my business, and bashing wouldn’t be very becoming of a mayor, would it?” She decided to change the subject. “But he does have a pronounced limp and a fairly recent scar on his face. It follows that he served with David.”

“Or he’s a relative,” Tom said. “Didn’t I tell you not to take things for granted?”

Something else she had learned as mayor. She nodded. “That could be.” She winced at the memory of how Joshua Manning had controlled the conversation and how completely inept she’d felt. She hated that.

Not to mention that she still felt all tingly inside when she thought about him. That was unacceptable.

“Want me to pay a visit?”

“I think he’s had enough of visits. Why don’t you just check with the attorney who handled the probate? You know everyone in this county. And run a quick background check. That should satisfy Sam.” She didn’t like the idea of having to satisfy Sam, but she knew him well enough to realize he might go snooping on his own. Especially if Tom wasn’t around to control him.

Tom nodded. “I’ll do that.”

“I don’t want you to do too much.”

“Just a few phone calls. I swear.”

“If you feel...”

“I’ll call the doc,” he replied.

She hesitated, worried about burdening him more, then said, “And while you’re at it, could you find out what happened to Dave Hannity? Russ used to run with him, and I would like to know. His disappearance was one of the town’s big mysteries after his uncle drowned.”

“Will do. I’m kinda interested myself.”

“Maggie’s not going to be happy about you sticking around here,” Eve said, stating the obvious.

“I’ll take it easy. I’ll also put out the word to some of my friends across the state that we’re looking for a police chief. Maybe someone who wants a second career in a nice quiet town will turn up. Having a good mayor is another benefit.”

“I’ll miss you around here,” Eve said, hugging him.

“I’ll be around. I don’t plan to kick the bucket yet. I sent Sam out to Maude’s. Maybe he can find something. At least it will keep him busy and out of Manning’s way.” He didn’t sound hopeful as he rose slowly from the chair and walked out without his usual bounce.

She closed her eyes for a moment. She wasn’t sure she should have encouraged him to make a few calls or delay his retirement even for a short time. But Tom was like an old warhorse, and she couldn’t help but think he would live longer if he had a purpose.

She looked at the pile of papers on her desk. She had to work on the budget for the next fiscal year. Too little money. Too many needs. And in the current economy, a tax increase was out of the question. Her people were all struggling. A little juggling here, a small cut there. She just wished that Joshua Manning’s face didn’t keep intruding on the pages.

* * *

AFTER THE MAYOR left, Josh refreshed his coffee and fixed a bowl of cereal for both Amos and himself.

He had an appointment in an hour with the only veterinarian in the area. She’d already been contacted by the Lackland AFB veterinarian and had been faxed Amos’s records, but Josh wanted to see her, take her measure. Hopefully, she might have some suggestions to help Amos.

He took a shower to cool the heat that still bedeviled him after his encounter with the mayor. A cold one. Then a hot one. After some repairs, the hot water heater was one of the few things that actually worked in the cabin. Then he dressed in a clean pair of jeans and soft cotton shirt.

He thought about shaving, then decided against it. He coaxed Amos out to his Jeep, but once in the passenger side the dog hopped back out and huddled next to the door. His entire body trembled, and Josh ached looking at him.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll try to talk her into coming out here.” He opened the front door and Amos headed for the bedroom and safety under the bed.

It was just as well. He had other errands to run. He needed paint for the walls and boards for the porch, as well as nails, screws and more large trash bags.

His first stop was to the vet. When he walked in, a bell jingled and a feminine voice from the back told him to take a seat.

He was too restless to sit. He walked around the office and peered at the bulletin board. Horses for sale. A lost dog. Puppies up for adoption. Advertisements for tick and flea medicine. After several minutes, an elderly woman holding an equally elderly poodle came out of the back.

He opened the door for her, got a “thank you, young man” for his effort.

“Hi,” said a voice behind him. He turned around and faced an attractive woman in jeans and a white coat. “I’m Stephanie Phillips. Just call me Stephanie. You must be Mr. Manning.” She looked around. “Where’s Amos?”

“He objected,” Josh said. “He started shaking, and I...wondered whether you could come out to the cabin.” He hesitated, then added, “He was a basket case when I picked him up at Lackland and during the drive here. The only place he seems to feel even a little safe is the cabin. I understand the vets at the dog training center at Lackland sent you his records.”

“They did. Extreme anxiety,” she said. “Physically healthy, but Amos wouldn’t respond to any trainers. Practically goes over the fence when there’s lightning. Rest of the time huddles in the safest place he can find.”

He nodded. “That’s about it. I can take him for short walks at night when there’s no traffic. Most of the time he stays under my bed.”

“Appetite?”

“He eats enough to stay alive and that’s about it. This from a dog who used to gobble food like it was his last meal.”

“You knew him before...?”

He nodded. “His handler was in my unit.”

“Was?”

“He was killed ten months ago.” It hurt like hell to talk about it, but talk he must. For Amos. “He was...close to his handler. Because we were often on the move and there weren’t always kennels, Amos usually slept near him. Even when there were kennels, Dave found a way to keep Amos at his side.”

She waited for him to say more. He was reluctant, but he knew he had to explain everything. That’s all that matters now. The promise. “I was wounded, and Amos’s handler was killed in the same engagement. I was sent to a hospital, but I heard from other members of the team that Amos had been sent to Lackland. Nearly starved to death.”

“But he does respond to you?”

“Barely. Sometimes.”

“After Lackland contacted me,” she said, “I did some research on canine PTSD. It’s not uncommon. I imagine it’s worse when the handler is killed. Dogs grieve, too.” She paused, then said, “I can come over in the morning. I have a mare about to foal this afternoon, and I’m not sure how long it will take.”

He nodded. “I’ll be at the cabin all day.” He gave her his cell number, only the third person to have it. His shrink at the military hospital was one—he’d promised—and the other was Dave’s attorney.

“I look forward to meeting Amos. I’ve never treated a military dog.”

“One other thing. I would appreciate you not speaking to anyone in town about Amos’s condition. People might think he’s dangerous. He’s not. I think it’s more that he’s missing his...handler. Amos wasn’t with us the day Dave died. As far as he knows, he was abandoned.”

“How long was Amos with him?”

“Four years.”

The phone rang and she picked it up. “Excuse me,” she said. “I have to answer this.”

She walked to the other side of the room, said something then returned.

“The foal is coming. I have to go. I’ll be over tomorrow.”

He nodded, encouraged by her interest and questions.

He left and headed for the hardware store. He’d been there before to get tools.

Four people were in the store, two of them talking to an elderly man at the counter. A younger one had been there during his previous visits. Father and son, he surmised.

He went directly to the section with paint. He found a primer, then selected a color from the limited selection and took the cans to the counter. He looked at some thick pieces of lumber to temporarily repair the porch.

“Do you deliver?”

“Sure do.”

“I live...”

“I know. End of Lake Road.”

He should have known. “Maybe you’d better add an electric saw,” he said.

“Got a real good one. On sale, too.”

Josh nodded.

The man held out his hand. “Glad to have you in the community. I’m Calvin Wilson, and I own the store. Me and my son.”

Josh had no choice but to shake hands. “I met him on my previous visit.”

Wilson totaled the tab. Josh paid with his bank card and started to pick up the paint cans.

“My son will help you carry everything out,” Wilson offered.

He wanted to say yes. The damn leg was hurting like hell after his work in the backyard. But he’d never asked for help before and he wasn’t going to start now. “I can do it,” he said, then added a belated, “Thanks.”

He was suffering when he got everything into the dusty Jeep Wrangler, and he realized he’d been a damn fool. But he wasn’t ready to depend on anyone else. His entire life had been built on self-sufficiency. He’d never needed anyone, not since he was ten years old and he’d taken care of his mother rather than the other way around.

He sure as hell wasn’t ready for women waking him with brownies or a mayor wandering into his backyard when he was working.

Even a very pretty mayor. To be honest, it wasn’t her he didn’t like, but rather the superheated attraction that had sprung so quickly between them. It scared the hell out of him. The last thing he needed now was complications.

He glanced at his watch. After two, and he was starved. Maybe he would try the diner down the street. Shouldn’t be too many people there at this time. And he was tired of cereal and sandwiches.

He passed Monroe Real Estate and Insurance Company and glanced at the photos in the front window: several farms for sale, a ranch five miles out of town and a hunting cabin in the mountains. There were also several small homes.

Once he finished fixing the cabin, an advertisement for it would probably go up there, as well.

He stopped to pick up a newspaper from a rack in front of Maude’s Diner. Reading usually kept people away. As he’d hoped, the restaurant was nearly empty. A couple of elderly men sat at the counter with coffee and two young guys sat in a booth chowing down burgers. A young woman behind a counter eyed him as he entered and hurried over as he sat down. “Good afternoon,” she said brightly, holding out a paper menu.

He nodded and declined the menu. “You have a steak?”

“We do. Several of them. The sirloin is the best.”

“Then I want one, rare, and a second one to go,” he said.

“Comes with two sides. Fries or mashed potatoes, green beans, salad, corn, squash.”

“Fries,” he said. “And beans.”

“And with the order to go?”

“Just a steak,” he said. “Also rare.”

She nodded and hurried off. He took up the newspaper. A weekly, and not much in it. The restaurant door opened, and he looked up. A youngish man in a deputy’s uniform walked in. He came to Josh’s booth, his eyes cold. “You must be the one living out at the lake.”

Josh didn’t answer. Just waited.

“Had a burglary here last night,” the deputy said.

Josh raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “It happens.”

“Not until you came to town. Mind telling me where you were last night?”

“I do,” Josh said. “Unless you have more of a reason than I just moved here.”

The deputy put his hand on his holstered gun.

Josh locked gazes with him. The door opened again, and Josh watched the mayor walk in. His stomach muscles tightened as she moved toward them, a frown wrinkling her brow.

“Mr. Manning,” she acknowledged, then turned to the deputy. “Sam,” she said, “Find anything?”

“No, ma’am. I just arrived.”

“Then I suggest you talk to Maude.”

“I was just asking this...person where he was last night. He refused to answer.”

“Why don’t you see if you can find some evidence first?” she asked patiently.

Anger sparked in his eyes, but he turned away and went to the back of the restaurant.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said. “Sam’s a little eager. There was a burglary here last night, and we’re all a little protective of Maude. She cooks the best food around.”

“Glad to hear it,” he said evenly. “About the food, I mean.”

“Your first time at Maude’s?”

“You don’t already know that?” he retorted.

“Well, I know you just bought paint in Calvin’s store,” she admitted. “I thought you might come here.”

“And...”

“I wanted to explain about this morning. No one’s lived in that cabin for a long time and...” She faltered as her gaze met his. He was suddenly warm, too warm. And he saw her stiffening as if bracing against something.

An almost palpable tension leaped between them. Time seemed to slow, and he wasn’t aware of anyone else in the room. Heat simmered inside him like the sun hitting desert rocks.

The moment shattered when the waitress shoved a cup of coffee before him, as well as a napkin and utensils.

“How’s Nick?” the waitress asked the mayor.

The mayor’s face lit with that infectious smile, breaking the tension. “Doing great. He’s going to pitch tomorrow night. You going to be there with Jamie?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” The waitress grinned down at Josh. “Our boys play Little League together.”

Josh stiffened. God, he should have remembered that ring. Not only was she married, but she also had a son.

He turned back to his paper. The signal was undeniable. Leave me alone.

The mayor started to turn away. “Enjoy your meal,” she told him. Then said, “I’ll see you tomorrow” to the waitress.

She left, and some of the light seemed to leave the room with her.

* * *

EVE WAITED AT the school to pick up Nick. It was two miles to her house and she’d resisted his pleas to ride his bike. She wasn’t quite ready for that yet.

She needed the time to think. She was still unsettled by the meeting with Joshua Manning. Something slammed into her each time they met. She felt tongue-tied and unsure, and she hated that feeling. She certainly didn’t understand why she’d felt compelled to go into the diner when she’d seen Josh Manning inside.

Or why she’d lied when she went in.... She hadn’t meant to apologize at all, but she’d been drawn inside like metal to a magnet. And then she’d just uttered the first thing that came to her mind. Stupid.

She told herself it was just to prove to herself that the attraction in the morning was her imagination. Or something fleeting.

It hadn’t been, and that terrified her.

The sound of yelling interrupted her as kids poured through the school doors. Nick came running when he saw Miss Mollie—who could miss the old pickup?—and climbed in next to her.

“Got an A on my essay,” he said with a relieved grin. “That means a dollar, right?”

“That’s for an A on a report card,” she replied, suddenly cheery that the love of her life was here. It had been a long time—more than four years to be exact—since he had stood beside her as his father was buried.

She put her arm around him and kissed the top of his head. She wanted to do more. She wanted to hug him with all the strength she had, but she knew he wouldn’t like that. Not here.

She started the car and tried to relax. Just having Nick next to her made her feel better. Cleared her mind. He was everything that was important. And he was so like his father. Considerate, likable and always ready for a challenge.

She sighed, listening to Nick chatter about the essay. It had been about his father, and at first he had been reluctant to write it. But once he’d started he’d written like a whirlwind. He hadn’t let her read it, although she usually helped with homework.

“Can I read it when we get home?” she asked.

He went silent for a moment, then nodded.

“I know you didn’t want me to read it before you turned it in.”

“’Cause I was afraid it wasn’t good enough.”

“And your teacher said it was?”

He nodded again.

Her heart nearly burst with love for him, and regret that he’d lost the father he loved so much. It was so wrong. So unexpected. A tear slipped down her face and she rubbed it away, relieved that Nick was looking in the other direction.

They were home in a few moments. They lived two miles from the heart of town and one mile from the lake. She and Russ had saved during the first years of their marriage, then bought a five-acre piece of land inside the city limits. Russ and his buddies had built a ranch house and barn, and she still had the two horses they’d bought together. She also boarded Stephanie’s horse, which paid for her many vet bills.

A cacophony came from the house as Nick jumped out of the truck and waited impatiently as she unlocked the door. Nick opened it, and four dogs, barking madly, rushed out.

Braveheart, a mismatched pit-bull mix, hung back as usual. Badly scarred and terrified of people, he’d been found half-dead alongside the road. Nick had named him Braveheart because he thought the encouragement might help cure his fear.

Miss Marple—the part beagle and who knew what else—charged to the front. Eve couldn’t help but grin at Nick’s naming processes. Miss Marple was so named because she was always on the prowl for a misplaced sock. She, too, had been found along the road, but, unlike Braveheart, she didn’t lack self-confidence. Captain Hook, a three-legged Chihuahua mix, added her high, piercing voice. Fancy, who was anything but Fancy, was probably the plainest dog Eve had ever seen, but she was also the most loving. Inside was Dizzy, a coon cat that spent his time chasing his tail.

Nick had named them all after much thought, and it said much about him the way he turned their weaknesses into strengths. Her son had been boisterous and curious and active until his father died. Then he climbed inside himself, but now he seemed to be emerging again. She watched as he gave each dog a moment of attention, then ran to the barn, the troop of dogs following him.

Lord, but he filled her with joy. She ached with it. She wanted to hold him so tight nothing could ever harm him. She knew how fragile life was. Russell had been all strength one day, and the next...

It didn’t bear thinking about. Watching the dogs following Nick as if he was the Pied Piper reminded her that she hadn’t seen the dog at Joshua Manning’s home, the one that had Marilyn so upset. She suspected Marilyn used the dog only as an excuse to learn more about her neighbor. To tell the truth, once Josh Manning had mentioned voice control, she’d relaxed. She hadn’t seen an ill-treated dog on voice control. And, truth be told, as rude as Josh Manning had been, she hadn’t sensed meanness in him.

Who was he? If she was right about him being a soldier, it followed that he wouldn’t want to talk about his experiences. But he seemed to carry it to the extreme. Or maybe she was wrong. Maybe he’d met Dave Hannity somewhere else. Or, as Tom had surmised, maybe he was a relative.

She wished she could remember more about Dave Hannity. His family had spent summers at their cabin on the lake. She’d met him at the annual Fourth of July picnic and other summer events for several years. He’d been a swimmer and runner, and Russ had known him better than she.

Now David, too, was dead, apparently in the service of his country.

They had lost other young residents in Iraq and Afghanistan. Too many for a small town, but then the military attracted small-town kids. There weren’t many other opportunities.

As for Mr. Manning and Dave Hannity, maybe Tom would have some answers tomorrow, and she could reassure Manning’s neighbors.

His image sprung into her mind again. His face was hard, the angles stark. It was...more interesting than handsome. There was a presence about him, an I-don’t-give-a-damn attitude that perversely intrigued her.

“Mom, I’m hungry.” She hadn’t seen Nick approach from the back of the barn. Again he was followed by his four little tagalongs. She looked at him and hoped he would never have to go to war. She hugged him—hard—until he wriggled free. She didn’t want to let him go. She never wanted to let him go. She wanted to protect him against grief and loss and disappointments.

He’d already had too many.

And, she suspected, so had Joshua Manning.

CHAPTER FOUR

JOSH WOKE WITH a start. Sunlight was streaming though his windows.

He stretched and glanced at the clock. A little after 0700 hours. It was the first time in days that he’d slept more than four hours without the nightmare. Or night sweats.

But then he had worked late into the night, first replacing the rotten boards on the porch, then scraping paint from the walls of the main room. Work, it seemed, was the best sleeping aid.

He thought about the day ahead and the growing list of things to do. Not for the first time, he wondered why in the hell he didn’t just walk away.

He heard the soft snoring of Amos and knew why. Amos needed a safe place where he could learn to play. Learn to feel safe. Being dragged from one temporary place to another would not be helpful.

But, he admitted to himself, maybe part of him wanted to stay, too. A part hidden deep inside. He’d never belonged to anything but the army and his buddies, and that, he’d learned, had no permanence.

He needed a challenge, and the cabin was certainly a challenge. He hadn’t known what to expect, but he sure as hell hadn’t anticipated the amount of work needed. He welcomed it. Bringing order to chaos was something he knew.

And once this place was fixed, it wouldn’t be half-bad. He envisioned a large porch that overlooked the lake and the mountains beyond. But then what?

Josh turned to the edge of the bed and ran his hand over Amos’s back as he’d seen Dave do countless times. Amos would usually roll over and beg a belly rub. But Amos ignored the overture, merely looked at him with a gaze that held a sorrow and confusion that broke Josh’s heart.

He’d read and heard about dogs like Amos. Greyfriars Bobby for one, the little Scottish terrier who wouldn’t leave his master’s grave until he died, or more recently tales of other service dogs who’d mourned for their handlers.

“Aw, Amos,” he said. “One of these days you’ll offer your belly to me, too.”

He hoped. It was the least he could do for Dave—Dave, who’d had his own demons. Maybe that was why they’d bonded as much as two loners could.

Time to get up. The vet—Stephanie—was coming today. He needed to clean up as much as possible. He stood slowly, ignoring the pain that flared. He needed to do the exercises he’d neglected the past few days. But first Amos had to go outside.

“Come on, Amos. Latrine time.” Josh pulled on a pair of jeans and opened the door. Amos reluctantly left the safety of the cabin and did his business, then returned immediately to the door. No sniffing. Or playing or wriggling with delight.

“What am I, chopped liver?” he asked Amos as he opened the door. Amos didn’t bother to answer as he slunk inside.

Josh stayed outside and soaked in the cool breeze. The sun was a huge golden ball rising in the east, and the fresh, spicy scent of evergreens filled the air. He was beginning to understand the appeal of the cabin.

He needed his coffee. He brewed his in an old-fashioned percolator he had found in the general store. He’d had enough bad coffee to appreciate the good. He poured cereal into a bowl, got milk from the cooler and knew he had to do something about a fridge.

Josh spent the next thirty minutes on the exercises prescribed by his doctor and physical therapist. His leg would never be what it once was. New manufactured parts had taken the place of old ones, particularly in his ankle. There had been three operations, including two bone transplants and one to fuse his left foot where the main nerve had been severed. He would never have the old mobility, but he was grateful for what he did have. A lot of guys in the hospital had much, much less, and their courage was humbling.

He was sweating when he finished. He took a hot shower, then dressed in a clean pair of jeans and polo shirt before the vet arrived. The cabin was bad enough without his looking like a deadbeat. Amos could still be taken away from him if the army thought he wasn’t being treated properly.

Josh stared at his image in the mirror and thought about the visit from the mayor. He needed a haircut. Bad. There were touches of gray in his sandy hair although he was only in his mid-thirties. Lines had deepened around his eyes and tightened around his mouth. He looked tired and cynical. Face it. You look like hell. It hadn’t mattered for months but, for some reason, it did now.

His cell phone rang. He recognized the number immediately. His attorney. He’d called him yesterday about the deed.

“I got your message,” Laine Mabry said. “The deed was been received by the clerk’s office but not recorded. I raised hell and today it’s official. I faxed a copy to the mayor and I’m sending you a copy.”

“Thanks.”

“There’s something else,” the attorney said. “The police chief in Covenant Falls called me. We’re old friends. He wanted information about you.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“That as far as I knew you were an upstanding citizen and anything else involved attorney/client privilege, as per your instructions.”

“The police chief, huh? What time would that have been?”

“About eleven yesterday.”

So the call was made after the mayor’s visit. He felt like he had been kicked in a tender region. Yeah, he had been a smart-ass, but he’d liked her and thought she felt the same. More than liked her. If she hadn’t been wearing a ring...

But then what would she want with a broken-down soldier with few prospects? “Thanks,” he said.

There was a pause. “It’s your business, but why not just satisfy curiosity? People in small towns are naturally curious.”

“There’s things I want to forget, that’s why,” he said. “I sure as hell don’t want anyone to thank me for my service, not when it killed my best friend and a bunch of other really good guys.”

“Understood,” his attorney said, and hung up.

Josh put the cell in his pocket and wondered who else the police chief had contacted.

Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised. He’d gone out of his way to be rude and avoid people. Rudeness hadn’t worked with the mayor, and he’d found himself enjoying the verbal duel. And he was intrigued with her...even though she wasn’t his type at all.

He tried to brush away the attraction he’d felt for the mayor, tried to do the same with the arousal that had an irritating way of returning when he thought about her.

It was nothing but the fact he’d been too long without female company.

The list. Back to the list. He had finished scraping paint and filling in holes on the living room walls. He planned to prime it today, then paint it tomorrow.

There was also the Harley outside, but that was at the bottom of his list.

Other than giving it a brief inspection, he’d hadn’t had time to work on it since the bike had arrived from Georgia, along with his other belongings. It hadn’t been used since before his last deployment to Afghanistan.

He missed it. It was one of his few big purchases, and he’d ridden across the country on it while on his leaves. It had been his only vehicle until he’d bought the used Jeep Wrangler to pick up Amos.

He sipped a second cup of coffee as he looked around. He wondered how the property had looked when Dave’s family had owned it. Or why his friend had clung to it despite never coming back.

He finished his coffee and went into the smaller, second bedroom and searched through the cartons that had been shipped from Georgia. He hadn’t gone back to the base to do it, just asked a friend to pack everything except his uniforms. He’d wanted those left behind.

When the boxes arrived, he’d discovered his off-duty clothes had been way too big after months of hospital food, and now he lived in newly purchased jeans and T-shirts. The other boxes included his stereo and CDs, a small television and a couple of paintings he’d bought to brighten his rooms in the bachelor quarters for noncommissioned officers.

Then there were the six boxes of books, everything from biographies to history to novels. He’d opened one of the boxes and was currently reading a suspense novel when he couldn’t sleep.

Bookcase. He added that to the furniture list.

Then there was the box containing dog toys he’d purchased just before picking up Amos. Like other military dogs, Amos was trained with toy rewards rather than treat rewards, and he’d dearly loved his ball and rubber KONG toy that Dave had carried all over hell and back. But Amos hadn’t been interested in the new batch. Still, Josh placed several toys in each room, then went back to work priming the living room walls.

The vet arrived at noon.

Stephanie Phillips looked around as she stepped inside, her gaze going to the primed walls, the cans of paint, the ladder and the fireplace. “You’ve been busy.”

“Lots to do.”

“You’re going to stay, then.”

Josh shrugged. “It needs repairs whether I stay or not.”

“That’s not a very definitive answer,” she said.

“Maybe because I haven’t decided yet.”

“And it’s really none of my business.”

He let the silence answer for him.

“I hope you do. We need some new blood in town.”

“Or at least a new patient.” The ungracious words popped out before he could stop them. She’d agreed to make a house call, and he needed her. But the old protective wall had gone back up after discovering the mayor had had him investigated.

“Now, that’s cynical.” But her smile belied the cut of the words.

“And you don’t deserve it. I apologize.” He moved across the room to an open door. “Amos is in the bedroom.” He turned and gave her a wry look. “Neither of us bite. It’s safe.”

“Didn’t doubt it for a second,” she said.

He led the way into the bedroom and watched as she knelt beside Amos, who had crawled halfway under the bed after hearing the door open.

“Dr. Phillips...”

“Stephanie,” she corrected. She started talking to Amos in a voice so soft Josh could barely hear the words. Her fingers ran through his fur.

“You’re a fine fellow,” she said softly. “And you have nothing to fear from me. You just don’t know who to trust, but that’s okay. You’ll learn. You’ll like it here. Woods. Rabbits to chase.”

Amos had tensed when she first touched him, but now under her gentle hands and soft voice, the dog started to relax.

“He’s a very handsome dog,” she said. “I’ve not seen a Belgian Malinois around here before.”

“He’s smart as hell. He saved a lot of lives out there. He deserves some peace.”

“He was trained to detect explosives?”

“He was what they call a dual-purpose dog. He could detect explosives as well as track enemy combatants.”

“We always need trackers around here. People keep getting lost in the mountains.”

“He’s not ready for that.”

“Not now, but...”

“I’m not concerned with anything but now,” he said shortly.

She nodded. “He’s thin. Too thin. What does he eat?”

“Not much of anything. I tried dog food at first. Some that the vets at Lackland recommended. He ignored it. I tried hamburgers and steaks on the trip. He would nibble after leaving it for a while, but never much. Same yesterday. I got him a steak from Maude’s Diner. He couldn’t be less interested.”

“And those are good steaks,” she said. “My dogs would die for them.”

She whispered something to Amos, then stood. “Amos, can you sit for me?”

“Sit, Amos,” Josh said, trying to reinforce the command.

Amos slowly moved his butt from under the bed. Amos usually cringed now when a command was given. Today was no different, but after a moment he obeyed.

“Good boy,” the vet said. She took a small package from her pocket and pulled out a piece of cheese and offered it to Amos.

To Josh’s surprise, he accepted it.

“Few dogs can resist cheese,” she said. “Works a lot better than most dog treats.” She continued whispering to Amos as she inspected his ears and then her hands checked the rest of his body. “Muscle tone is still good.”

“I’ve been taking him for walks at night when there’s no traffic. Sudden noises scare him. And any kind of loud noises. Knocking on the door, for instance.”

“Is that why you’ve scared off visitors?”

“You’ve heard that, too?”

“Everyone in town has. I know you don’t want to say much about your service. Or Amos’s. But it would be a quick way to stop the visitors. They’ll understand.”

He shrugged. “We don’t care if they understand.”

She gave him a long, searching look, then turned back to Amos. “You’re speaking for him?”

He had to crack a smile. “Guess so.”

“From what you’ve said, his sitting is a big deal. Next step seems to be what you’re doing. Walking him when you can. Try to stimulate him. I understand he was trained with dog toys.”

“He has a box load of every kind of toy imaginable. Squeaky ones, long stuffed snakes, the KONG toys loaded with treats. He’s just not interested.”

She shrugged. “Give him time. Amos has had a lot of changes. And a huge loss. You said yesterday that you thought the problem was more a broken heart. But he knew you. You were a familiar piece of his old life. That should help.”

He had thought it might. But though Amos tolerated him, he’d reserved his loyalty and devotion for Dave, who’d always loved dogs and had worked hard to become a handler for the unit.

“I thought so, too, but Amos apparently is a one-person dog. He’d only had one handler.”

Stephanie nodded. “You must have been a very good friend of the handler to take this on. I’ve discovered it’s not the easiest thing to adopt a retired military dog. A lot of paperwork and a lot of time.”

“I owed his handler.”

“Why?”

“Dave was my best friend. He was killed...on my last patrol.”

“David Hannity?”

He stared at her.

“It makes sense,” she said. “From both what you said and didn’t say.”

He nodded. “Others died that day, too. An ambush.” He didn’t know why he’d said that. Especially to a stranger, but then she’d guessed most of it.

“And you feel responsible?” She paused, then added, “It’s none of my business, and you can be sure I won’t repeat anything to anyone. But I wanted to know your commitment to Amos.”

“Dave saved my life that day. Do you know now?”

“I think I do,” she said softly. “Start taking him on mountain trails during the day. No cars or loud noises there. Talk to him. Don’t give up on the toys. If there’s no progress in several weeks, then maybe we will try something else.”

He nodded. “Thanks for coming.”

“I’m not sure I helped much.”

“None of the vets at Lackland could, either. Maybe time...”

She looked at him directly. “He’s lucky to have you.”

“Not so much. If he was lucky, Dave would still be alive.”

She turned to leave.

“What about the bill?”

“I didn’t do anything. No charge.”

He walked her to the door and watched her leave. She walked with athletic grace. She was attractive, but there was none of that sexual electricity he’d felt with the mayor. So it hadn’t been just a need for female companionship. He’d hoped that was the case.

The mayor, for God’s sake. He’d truly lost his mind. Dave would have laughed his head off.

* * *

EVE RACED TO make her son’s first softball game of the season.

Her in-laws, Abby and Jim, had picked up Nick after school and driven him to the baseball field since she wasn’t sure whether she could make it in time.

It seemed everyone in town was there. No stands, but everyone seemed to have brought their own chairs. There was even a rocker for old Mrs. Evans.

The smell of corn dogs and popcorn floated across the field from a truck manned by mothers, as did the sound of laughter from younger children who played their own version of baseball in a smaller field.

This was why she loved Covenant Falls. It was stuck in a time warp. Sure, there was a problem with kids getting drugs, but it was mostly weed and alcohol. When the biggest news was a new resident, she felt herself lucky.

Abby turned to her. “I heard you met the man who is at the Hannity cabin.”

“He owns the cabin,” Eve corrected.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said. “Because there was so much talk, I went against my better instincts and asked Tom to check on him. He has good credit, no record and a clear title to the cabin, and that’s more than anyone needs to know.”

Abby’s hurt look stabbed her. Both she and her husband had always been wonderful to her. They looked after Nick when she had to work, Jim helped out at the ranch and they had loved her as a daughter. She was just so tired of all the suspicion surrounding the new resident.

But Abby was just voicing the gossip she knew was running around the community like wildfire.

A roar went up from the watching parents, and she saw a ball shooting through the air. Nick was running to first base. Second base. He rounded third as an opposing player caught the ball on the ground and threw it.

Nick slid into home plate and grinned at the cheers. Pride exploded in Eve. He was so much like his father. And that open, happy grin had been rare since first his father, then his grandfather, had died.

Maybe he was finally letting go, just as her mother-in-law had told her she should do. Memories were fine things, Abby had said, but not when they haunted the living.

She’d never been tempted, though. At thirty-three, she’d found that the good guys were already taken, and she didn’t care much for those who were left. At Abby’s urging, she’d tried a couple of awkward dates, but she couldn’t wait to get home. Most wanted something she wasn’t willing to give.

She’d had a great husband and she wasn’t going to settle for less. Nor was she willing to lose someone again. And Nick? She didn’t even want to think what another loss would mean to him.

It was, therefore, troubling—no, maddening—that Joshua Manning had been in her head all day. Flashes of his guarded but brilliant green eyes lingered in her brain, as did the sexual awareness that shook her to the core. She’d felt it like a bolt of lightning.

She tried to will it away, but the need was stubborn. Her skin warmed at the thought. He exuded primal masculinity. Control. Assurance. The memory of his chest straining against the T-shirt...

Go away.

“Anything wrong?” Abby asked. “You look a little flushed.”

Drat him. “I’ve just been rushing all day,” she said. Could everyone read her thoughts?

But Abby just looked concerned. “You work too hard.”

“It’s budget time, and we need a new police chief.”

Another shout went up. One of Nick’s teammates reached second base. She tried to concentrate. What inning was it? And what would they have for supper? Mundane things that were, nonetheless, important to her son, and that was all that should matter. Her son already had more losses than was fair for a ten-year-old. He deserved her full attention.

And he would get it, she promised herself.

Macaroni and cheese. That was what she would make. It was Nick’s favorite, and she always kept the fixings available for emergencies.

She wondered if Covenant’s newest resident liked macaroni and cheese. Despite that hard chest, he’d looked thin. Not thin. He was too corded for thin. But lean...

Quit it!

Then the game was over, and Nick ran up to her. “Did you see my home run?”

“I did, indeed. I’m raising a major leaguer.”

“I wish Dad and Grandpa were here.”

She hugged him hard. “So do I, slugger. So do I.”

He looked up with an earnest gaze that pierced her heart.

“Let’s head home,” she said. “What about some mac and cheese tonight?”

His face lit up, and her heart flooded with love.

He was all she needed. All she wanted.

CHAPTER FIVE

EVE ARRIVED AT her office early after a sleepless night. She kept second-guessing herself after authorizing Tom to run a check on Joshua Manning. She had never done such a thing before, never thought she’d let gossip influence her.

She would be furious if she went to a new town, then heard someone had started asking questions about her for no reason other than the way she looked or dressed. Or the fact she didn’t wholeheartedly welcome strangers to her door.

But then that was his right. If it was because of war experiences, he had every right to his privacy, and his wishes should be honored. Even if it wasn’t because of war, she still had no business questioning him. She had an apology to make. Even a bit of groveling. She would do just that this afternoon.

Her clerk told her that a copy of the Hannity cabin deed had arrived via fax. She would go bearing gifts: a copy of his deed and a building permit for his expanded porch.

That was the only reason she going. Absolutely the only reason.

She wondered if he knew she’d authorized a background check. She hadn’t seen Tom this morning and wondered how far he had gone with it.

She phoned him. She didn’t want surprises.

“Tom?”

“Sorry I didn’t get back to you about Manning,” he said, “but we’ve had another burglary. This time Gus’s gas station. Gus swears he locked the door last night, and it was locked this morning when he went in. But someone got inside. Someone who knows his way around locks, and that lets out most of our possibles.”

A knot lodged in Eve’s stomach. Because there was so little crime in Covenant Falls, few of the merchants, aside from the bank, took security seriously. With the exception of the motorcycle gang that had roared into town three years ago and killed her father, Covenant Falls had few problems. It was far away enough from the interstate to miss that kind of crime.

“Any ideas?” she asked.

“None, but I suspect a number of people do.”

“Joshua Manning.”

“Right on. But I don’t think so. The background check produced darn little except he’d been an army staff sergeant with an honorable discharge for medical reasons. The army wouldn’t release anything else.”

“Staff sergeant?”

“Pretty responsible job. Staff sergeants make the army work. Incompetent or dishonest guys don’t make it. Don’t even come close.”

Eve wasn’t surprised. It validated all her instincts. A dangerous man who’d lived on, and probably for, the edge. Nothing like her peace-loving husband or her father, who, despite being police chief, would go a mile out of his way to avoid trouble. Except for one time, and that one time killed him.

“Thanks. I think you should end any further searching.”

“I agree. I’ll steer Sam away from him.”

“Good.”

“But something like this burglary can escalate. The town will go into a frenzy if there’s a third. I’m going to start Fred and Mike patrolling the downtown area at night.”

“Good idea. If you need overtime I’ll find the money. Somewhere. Do what you have to do.”

“I think I’ll process the crime scene myself and see what I can find. Are you going to be here?”

“I have that budget to finish and I plan to meet Stephanie for lunch so we can talk about the fund-raiser for the community center. Then I have to leave early to pick up Nick for baseball practice, but you can reach me anytime on my cell.”

She didn’t tell him she planned to drop by the Hannity place sometime in the afternoon. She hoped Marilyn wouldn’t be home, either. Because of the trees, Marilyn couldn’t see the Hannity cabin from her house, but from the information flowing in, Eve would bet she had taken many walks down his way.

Eve worked all morning on the budget, trying to eke out funds for the community center. It was to be located in an abandoned building on Oak Street across from the city park and ball fields. The owner had died, and the heirs had moved away long ago and didn’t want to invest the money it would take to bring it to code. The city claimed the building in lieu of taxes, and volunteers had painted and repaired it. It had required a lot of work, but it was something she’d wanted for a long time: a place for club meetings, for craft groups to work, for Cub and Boy Scout meetings. A room was set aside for computer use, and another for a library. She wanted computers available for kids whose families couldn’t afford them and for adults who wanted to learn how to use one. The library area would replace the current library, a corner in her father-in-law’s drugstore.

But looming over all the other city business was finding a chief for the police department. Tom had contacted friends in the Colorado state police and some chiefs he knew around the state. The job was perfect for a retired officer. Not much happened in Covenant Falls, although the town limits included a large geographical area. The cost of living was inexpensive compared to other parts of the state. But pressure was building to name Sam Clark. She worried how long she could hold off on the appointment without presenting a reasonable alternative at a salary the city could afford.

She worked for nearly three hours, then gave up.

* * *

STEPHANIE WAS WAITING for her at Maude’s for their lunch date. Eve slid into the booth opposite her. “Hi.”

“Hi, yourself. I heard Nick practically won the game all by himself. Takes after his dad, and you, I hear.”

“I wish you would forget that,” Eve said. She had been a dedicated tomboy, a daddy’s girl, despite her mother’s attempt to “civilize” her. Her father had treated his only child more like a son than a daughter and taught her to fish, shoot and play poker. He’d taken her on volunteer work sessions when someone needed a home painted or repaired. Most of all, she’d loved playing ball with him, and she was darn good at it. She’d sued to play in Little League. Her mother nearly died of embarrassment. She lost, but it was another battle that had torn her parents apart.

“How’s the motley crew?” Stephanie asked. “Haven’t seen you in the office lately.”

“That’s a good thing,” Eve said with a grin at Stephanie’s description of her four dogs, cat and two horses. “I’m just glad you’re boarding your horse at my place or I would probably be bankrupt.”

“Since I stuck you with two of the dogs, it’s only right.”

“Nick thinks they’re all wonderful and the best dogs ever.”

“He would. He’s a great kid. Wouldn’t mind having one like him some day, but probably won’t happen now. You have to have a husband, or at least someone you think could be a good father, and I’m not too keen on going that route again.”

Eve knew Stephanie had been married twice, the first when she was young and a bit wild. The boy was killed while buying drugs. The second husband was the total opposite, a lawyer who’d liked the idea of an independent wife until he had one.

“Think about adoption?” Eve ventured.

“Not with my schedule. I never know when I’m going to be away all night with a sick cow or pregnant mare.”

Mary came to take their order, although they usually got the same thing. Their guilty pleasure, they both agreed, and to be enjoyed once a week.

“Let me guess,” Mary said. “Two patty melts with fries, and iced tea, one sweet, one without sugar.”

“Got it.” Eve beamed up at her. She would have a salad tonight and make Nick a hot dog. He ran all his calories off.

“I heard you went out to the Hannity place,” Stephanie said.

“Marilyn again, I suppose,” Eve replied with a deep sigh.

“Yep. I think she sits at that window all day long, just praying for more gossip fodder.”

Stephanie nodded. “Mr. Manning came to my office day before yesterday to discuss his dog.”

“And—” Eve held her breath “—was the dog as starved as Marilyn charged?”

“No,” Stephanie said. “I can’t talk about it. Mr. Manning requested that I don’t, and I won’t. I can say, though, that he is a responsible owner and, hopefully, that will end the talk.”

That shut down that subject. Eve had heard harsh words come from Stephanie when talking about owners who did not take care of their animals properly, and her defense of Joshua Manning told her a great deal.

She couldn’t help but pry a bit more. “What did you think of him?”

Stephanie shrugged. “It’s clear he’s carrying a lot of weight on those shoulders. Don’t know what, and it’s none of my business, but I like him. He doesn’t bullshit.” She peered at Eve. “Rumor is that you went by his place.”

“I did. I took him a land survey he’d requested.”

“Do you usually do that?”

“I wish people would stop asking me that,” Eve said.

“Ah,” Stephanie said. “Same question you asked me, then. What did you think of him?”

“Prickly. Defensive. Secretive. Rude.”

Stephanie’s face creased into a smile. “And you liked him! I’ll be hornswoggled.”

“I didn’t say that,” Eve protested.

“Yeah, you did,” Stephanie said with a big grin. “Not exactly with words but...”

Eve’s face flushed.

“Okay,” Stephanie said. “I’ll drop it. But one small warning. He is attractive in a rather rebellious way, but he’s a loner. I’ve seen them before. I know the type. My first husband was one of them.”

Eve started to say something, then stopped. Why was she even carrying on this conversation? She’d had her love. It was as love should be: warm and caring and gentle.

And safe.

She wanted to tamp down the last word. But she knew there was some truth in it. Her mother and father had been passionately in love in the beginning, but they were entirely different. He loved the outdoors; her mother didn’t. She was an Easterner who hated guns; guns were part of her father’s life. He liked animals and wanted his daughter to have one; her mother believed dogs belonged outside. She’d watched her mother change through the years into a bitter woman and when Eve’s father was killed in the line of duty, it had confirmed all her mother’s fears and dislikes. The day after his funeral, she’d left Covenant Falls, never to return.

Passion, Eve had learned, was not enough for any relationship. Eve hadn’t wanted to go through that, or turn into the person her mother was. She was grateful that Russ chose to be a high school coach rather than go into law enforcement or soldiering or some other dangerous profession. The irony was that he had died before her father. She shrugged. “He’s definitely not my type, and I’m most definitely not his.”

“Just how do you know that, my friend?”

“I just know it,” she said. “This whole conversation is ridiculous. My life is just as I like it right now. I have Nick. I have a great job. Well, most of the time. I like my independence. I don’t need any problems, particularly a large, walking, talking one like Joshua Manning.”

“I think thou doth protest too much.”

Maybe she did. She didn’t even know why he held such a fascination for her. She decided to change the subject, wipe that man right out of her mind, to put a new slant on an old song. “How’s Sherry doing?”

Stephanie’s eyes lit up. “Great. She’s one of the best rescue dogs I’ve had. Head of the class at field training in Denver. Stryker, on the other hand, did not do so well. He has the nose for it but not the discipline.”

“I hear you’re doing an obedience training session at the fund-raiser week from Saturday. And donating your training services to the highest bidder. You think anyone in town will admit they have unruly dogs?”

“Why not? You do.”

“What can I say? They had sorry puppyhoods.”

“True. You’re also a soft touch for anything with four legs and a tail. Which brings up a request I want to make. I need a volunteer for the obedience session. One of your tribe of little miscreants would be good. Nick can be my stooge,” she said with a grin.

“I don’t think he would care much for that description. Which specific miscreant are you considering?”

“I’ll let Nick choose, although Miss Marple would be the biggest challenge.”

“I can almost guarantee it will be Fancy. He wants everyone to see her for the gentle soul she is.”

Stephanie grinned. “He would pick the plainest one.”

“Well, Braveheart is certainly not ready to confront a crowd, and Captain Hook can’t keep still for a second. Miss Marple wouldn’t stay still long enough, either. Besides, Nick thinks Fancy is misunderstood because of her looks. He’ll want to prove to everyone that she’s charming.”

“He really should be a vet,” Stephanie replied.

“I wish. He’s fixated on detective shows. He wants to be a cop like his grandfather and catch the guys who killed him. I’m trying to steer him toward a different path. Doctor. Lawyer. Rodeo clown. Anything but a cop. Or a soldier.”

Stephanie shuddered. “Not a lawyer. Please.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m late. I have some inoculations to do at the Morgan ranch.”

“I’ll see you Saturday, then, if not before,” Eve said.

Then she was off. Eve paid the bill and left a hefty tip.

She was having second thoughts about another visit to the Hannity cabin. Steph had seen too much. More than she had. She needed to keep a distance. And yet she felt like a magnet drawn toward a lodestone.

Which made no sense. No sense at all.

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