“There’s an old inn legend,” Abby said.

She glanced at Josh in his heavy coat and boots as he stood in the inn’s yard, white snow surrounding him. He was focused intently on her. “If two people kiss in the heart-shaped shadow the rising full moon creates on this tree, they will fall in love with each other for the rest of their lives.”

“Have you ever kissed in the shadow?” a deep voice asked beside her.

She turned to peek at Josh, thankful for the darkness that hid the blush warming her cheeks. “No, I haven’t. There—look, Josh, I think the shadow is forming,” she whispered, watching the shifting dark patterns on the dazzling white snow.

“We can’t waste that,” Josh said, taking her hand and hurrying down the steps.

“Josh, we can’t—”

He rushed her over to stand in the heart-shaped shadow. “It’s only a kiss.”

“This is absurd,” she said, laughing, her heart pounding wildly. “Suppose it comes true? We don’t even know each other. You’re tempting fate.”

He smiled at her, then pulled her to him.

* * *

Kissed by a Rancher is part of USA TODAY bestselling author Sara Orwig’s Lone Star Legends series.

Kissed by

a Rancher

Sara Orwig

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SARA ORWIG lives in Oklahoma. She has a patient husband who will take her on research trips anywhere, from big cities to old forts. She is an avid collector of Western history books. With a master’s degree in English, Sara has written historical romance, mainstream fiction and contemporary romance. Books are beloved treasures that take Sara to magical worlds, and she loves both reading and writing them.

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To David and my family with love.

Also, with many thanks to Stacy Boyd and Maureen Walters.

Contents

Cover

Excerpt

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Extract

Copyright

One

Josh Calhoun glanced at the red neon sign glowing through the swirling snow. The windows of the Beckett Café were frosted, so he couldn’t see if it had closed for the night. As hungry as he was, he was far more interested in finding a bed. Highway patrol troopers had closed the roads, and he couldn’t even get back to the tiny airport to sleep on a cold hangar floor or inside his plane. He glanced at the cab’s clock: a few minutes past ten. He felt as if it should be around 1:00 a.m.

The taxi left the two blocks of one-story buildings, shops and neon behind as the main street of Beckett, Texas, was swallowed in a white world of howling wind and blowing snow. In spite of the warmth of the cab, Josh shivered. He pulled his jacket collar up while he peered outside at the uninviting storm.

In minutes he spotted a sign swinging in the wind, a spotlight on the ground throwing a strong beam over the announcement of the Donovan Bed and Breakfast Inn. Glumly he stared at the bright red No Vacancy part of the sign.

Even wind-whipped snow could not hide the three-story Victorian-style house that loomed into view. A light glowed over the wraparound porch. Dark shutters flanked the wide windows spilling warm yellow light outside into the stormy night. The driver pulled to the curb.

“Ask for Abby Donovan. She runs the place,” the driver said.

“Will do. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll wait. Abby’s a nice person. I don’t think she’ll turn you out in the cold. You’ll see.”

Placing a broad-brimmed Stetson on his head, Josh stepped out of the warmth of the cab into the driving wind and streaming snow. Holding his hat against the battering wind, he trudged to the house to ring the bell. Through a window he could see a big living room with people inside and an inviting roaring fire in the fireplace.

When the door swung open, he momentarily forgot why he was there. A slender woman with huge, thickly lashed cornflower-blue eyes faced him. She wore a powder-blue sweater and jeans. He forgot the time, the howling storm and even his plight. Too captivated by eyes that widened and held him, Josh stood immobilized and silent until he realized how he stared at her.

“Abby Donovan?” His voice was husky, and he still was lost in her gaze.

She blinked as if as captured as he had been. “I’m Abby.”

“I’m Josh Calhoun. I flew in to see someone about buying a horse, and then I couldn’t get back to the airport. I was told to see you about a place to stay. I know you have a No Vacancy sign out, but at this point, I’m willing to sleep on the floor just to get in out of this blizzard.”

“I’m so sorry, but we’re overbooked. I already have people sleeping on the floor.”

“My cabdriver can’t get back to the airport. They’ve closed the roads.”

“I’m sorry, but even the overflow space is taken here. I’ve let two people come in tonight who will sleep on sofas, and we have two on pallets on the floor. That’s the most I can possibly accommodate. I have eighteen adults in rooms, plus nine children. Four other people live here at least part of the time. I don’t have extra blankets or pillows now—”

“I stopped and bought blankets and a pillow at the only store open in this town just as they closed. I’m desperate.”

“Oh, my,” she said, staring at him with a slight frown. Her rosy lips were full, enticing. He tried to focus on getting a bed for the night and stop thinking about the possibility of kissing her. He couldn’t recall ever having this type of reaction to a total stranger, much less under his present circumstances. His gaze roamed over her, and he was even more surprised by his attraction to her, because her sandy-blond hair was caught up behind her head in a ponytail, giving her a plain look that shouldn’t have done anything to his pulse. All he had to do was gaze into her eyes, though, and a physical response strummed in him. Her riveting blue eyes were unique.

“Abby, I’m desperate. I have bedding. I can sit in a chair. My cabdriver has little kids and wants to get home to them. Just any corner will do. Even a kitchen floor, and I’ll get out of your way in the morning. I’ll pay you double what you charge for a room.”

Her frown deepened. “Come in while we talk. The air is cold.”

“Yes, it is,” he said as he stepped inside a wide hallway dominated by winding stairs to the second floor. Warmth enveloped him, and his spirits lifted a fraction. A floor mat was close, and he stamped his booted feet. “I can provide payment in advance, an extra fee—whatever you would like. I can’t tell you how much I would appreciate this. I really am desperate. I was up until three last night working on a business deal in Arizona and flew in here today on the way home to see about the horse. I didn’t have dinner. I’m tired and cold. I can’t get home. It’s a miserable night and even more miserable without a place to stay. What can I do to help if I stay here? Order in breakfast for everyone?”

Shaking her head, her frown vanished. “There’s nowhere in Beckett you could order breakfast. I cook, and it’ll be better than trying to order in at this time of night or in the morning. If this snow doesn’t stop, no restaurants will be open.”

“I’m sure you’re right. You’re highly praised in town, and I also heard you’re softhearted, generous, kind—”

“Stop,” she said, a faint smile appearing. “Tell me more about yourself. We’re going to be in close quarters, more so than if you just called at an ordinary time and checked in for a room.”

Josh was amused by being asked to give a reference, because he was well-known in Texas. “I’m Josh Calhoun from Verity, Texas, and I own a business, Calhoun Hotels.”

Her gaze swept over him from his wide-brimmed Stetson to his hand-tooled boots. “You’re buying a horse, but you’re in the hotel business?”

“I’m a rancher, too. The hotel headquarters are in Dallas, where I have another home, so you can check that out easily by calling the hotel’s front desk. The sheriff of Verity can tell you about me because we’ve known each other all our lives,” Josh said as he withdrew his wallet and flipped it open to show her his driver’s license and fishing license. He was turning to the next license when she placed her fingers over his.

The contact sizzled, startling him and causing him to look up. She had stepped closer, and he could detect an old-fashioned lilac perfume. Again, he was caught and held by her stare.

She shook her head slightly. “You don’t have to show more identification,” she said, stepping away. “All right, you can stay tonight. You can sleep on the sofa in my suite, but I will not share my bathroom, so you’ll have to go across the hall to a central one.”

“That sounds like paradise,” he said, smiling at her. “Thanks, Abby. This means a lot to me, because it’s a deplorable night.” He wondered if he could talk her into going to dinner with him some night. The cold and relief of acquiring a room must have affected his judgment, because she definitely didn’t look like his type of woman. He didn’t know her, either, and he didn’t ask strangers to go out with him. “I’ll get my bedding and pay the cabbie. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“The front door will be unlocked. I’ll lock it after you’re back inside.”

He stepped closer to her. “You’re not going to regret this.”

She blinked as if startled. “I certainly hope I don’t,” she replied breathlessly.

He turned and left, pulling the door closed behind him. Holding his hat squarely on his head again, he sprinted to the taxi and climbed inside. “I got the room. Thanks for the ride,” he said, drawing bills out of his wallet. “Thanks for getting me back into town after seeing about the horse. And thanks for your encouragement and for stopping so I could buy a pillow and blanket.”

“Glad you found a place. Sorry I couldn’t help more, but with the kids plus my in-laws staying, my two-bedroom duplex is not the best place, although you could have come if nothing else had turned up. Good luck to you. When the roads open and you’re ready to go back to the airport, call—you have my card. I’ll come get you.”

“Thanks, Benny,” Josh said, glancing at the man’s identification card attached to the visor, knowing he would have stayed anywhere he could find before imposing on the cabbie and his family with four little ones plus in-laws in a tiny place. “I won’t forget all you’ve done.” Josh tucked an extra-large tip in with the other bills he gave the cabdriver.

“Mister, you made a mistake,” the driver said, seeing how much money he had in his hand.

“No, I didn’t. That’s a thank-you. Take care of yourself and your family,” Josh said.

The man smiled. “Thanks. That’s a generous tip.”

Josh started to step outside but stopped and looked back. “Does Ms. Donovan have a husband who helps her run the inn?”

“No. She’s single—from a big family. Her grandmother used to run the place. Now Abby does, and Grandma Donovan lives up on the top floor with some other elderly relatives or over at her daughter’s house, which is next door.”

“I see,” Josh said, deciding the town was small enough that everyone knew everyone else. “Thanks again.” He stepped out into the snow to dash back to the inn.

Abby appeared instantly to lock the front door and switch off the porch light. Wind whistled and howled around the house.

“I’ll show you where to put your things,” she said, walking down the hall and turning as it branched off. “This is my suite.” She stepped into a room and turned on a ceiling light. The room had a polished oak floor with a hand-woven area rug, antique mahogany furniture and bookshelves filled with books and family pictures. Green plants gave it an old-fashioned, cozy appearance that made him think of his grandparents’ house. A stone fireplace had a smoldering fire with a screen in front of it.

“I started the fire a while ago so my room would be warm after I told everyone good-night,” she said. “Most of the guests are in the big living room, and they go to their own rooms about eleven, when I shut everything down. Tonight is a little different because no one can get up and leave in the morning, so I think some will watch a movie. Suit yourself about what you do. You can leave your things and join us, or if you prefer, you can stay in here. There is a door from my bedroom into the hall, so I can come and go that way and not disturb you. You’ll have this room to yourself. As soon as I get towels for you and get you registered, I’ll go join them again.”

“I’ll go with you,” he said, placing his pillow and blanket on the sofa before shedding his coat. He wore a thick brown sweater over a white dress shirt, jeans and boots and was glad he had dressed warmly.

“You’ll be too long for that old-fashioned sofa. Would you rather sleep on the floor?”

“I’ll be fine. Just to have a roof over my head is paradise. I don’t mind my feet hanging off the sofa,” he said, smiling at her. Once again he received a riveting look that momentarily immobilized him until she turned away.

“I’ll get your towels,” she said and left. He watched her cross the hall and disappear into a room. She returned to hand him clean towels and washcloths.

“If you’ll come with me, you can register.”

Josh followed her to the front desk of polished dark wood with scratches from what must have been years of use. He glanced around at the decorative staircase rails. “This place looks Victorian.”

“It is. It’s been in my family for five generations now.” She turned a ledger toward him. “Please sign your name. I’ll need a credit card. Since you’ll be on the sofa, I’ll just charge you a discounted rate. Here are the rates and details about staying here,” she added, handing a paper to him. “And here’s a map of the inn and a map of the town of Beckett, although you won’t be leaving tomorrow, because we’re supposed to get a lot more snow and possibly sleet.”

“No, I’m stuck probably through tomorrow at least.”

“Everything has shut down—highways, roads and businesses will be closed tomorrow. They’ve already had the announcements on television and said schools will be closed Monday.” She reached under the desk and produced a small flashlight. “We heard on the radio that half the town is without power because of ice on electric lines. I’m giving all the guests flashlights. This is an old house, and candles are dangerous.”

“Thanks.” Pocketing the flashlight, Josh barely glanced at the papers she handed him as he studied her instead. Her smooth, flawless skin and rosy cheeks added to her appeal. What was it about her that fueled this tingling awareness of her? It wasn’t her personality, because he barely knew her and had spoken with her only briefly. Her fuzzy sweater came to her thighs and hid her figure, so that wasn’t the electrifying draw. She was a nice person who was being helpful. That should be all. Instead, he had a scalding awareness of her that made him think about asking her out, fantasize about dancing with her and holding her, and wonder what it would be like to kiss her and make love with her. She was providing shelter and comfort; maybe it was his long hours of work over the past few days and now the storm that caused his reaction to her. He had slept little for over a week.

When she turned the register around, she read what he had signed. “This gives a Dallas address. Do you consider Dallas home instead of Verity?”

“I live and work in Dallas most of the time. I also have a ranch in west Texas. The closest town is Verity,” he replied. She nodded as she gathered more papers to hand to him.

“So you’re a hobby rancher,” she said.

“Yes, at least for now. Someday I’ll move to the ranch and do that full-time and let someone else run the hotel business for me. I go to the ranch when I get a chance, but that rarely happens,” he admitted, thinking there weren’t many people who knew he missed ranching and wondering why he was telling a stranger.

“Here’s the schedule for tomorrow,” she said. “Normally breakfast runs from seven-thirty until 9:00 a.m. Since no one can get out tomorrow, we’ll start at 8:00 a.m. and go until nine-thirty.”

“Thanks. The breakfast time is fine.”

“I’ll be going back to join the others now unless you have anything else you want to ask me about,” she said, looking up, those wide eyes capturing his full attention again.

“Thanks, no. I’ll follow you.”

“We’ve been singing. I play the piano or leave it to a guest.”

They entered a large living room that ran almost the length of the east side of the house and was furnished in early American maple with a hardwood floor and area rugs. A fire burned low in the fireplace, adding to the inviting appeal of the room. Two small children slept in adults’ arms. Five children sprawled on the floor or in an adult’s lap. A couple of men stood to offer Abby a seat. Smiling, she thanked them and asked the men to sit.

“We’ve been waiting. Let’s sing some more,” someone said.

“Folks, this is another guest—Josh Calhoun of Dallas, Texas,” Abby said, smiling and glancing at him while he acknowledged her introduction with a nod and wave of his hand.

People said hi as Abby crossed the room to slide onto the piano bench. She played a song Josh had heard his grandmother play, a song from his childhood that he was surprised to discover he still knew when he joined in the singing.

As they sang, he watched her play. She was not his type in any manner, other than being a woman. He couldn’t understand his reaction to her. She was plain, with her hair in an unflattering thick ponytail, and she wore no makeup. She ran a bed-and-breakfast inn in a small west Texas town. He would never ask her out.

He looked out the window at the howling storm blowing heavy snow in horizontal waves. Snowflakes struck the warmer storm window, melted slightly, slid to the bottom and built up along the frame. It was a cozy winter scene, but he wished he were flying home tonight.

Relaxing, he leaned back in the chair and sang with the others while he reflected that he hadn’t experienced an evening like this in years. He felt as if he had stepped back to a different time and way of life, and he began to relax and enjoy himself.

After another half hour, Abby turned and slid off the piano bench to take a bow. “That should do for tonight’s songfest. Does anyone want hot chocolate? If so, I’ll be glad to make some. The entertainment room is open, and Mr. Julius said he will be in charge of the movie. Right now, for hot cocoa, just come to the kitchen.”

She left the room. People followed her out until Josh was the only one left. He turned off all the lights except one. He sat again, stretching out his legs and leaning back to gaze at the snow. A few red embers of the dying fire glowed brightly in gray ashes.

He heard tapping and looked again at the window. Sleet struck the glass, building up swiftly on top of the snow at the bottom. He placed his hands behind his head. He couldn’t go anywhere or do anything for the rest of the night and probably all day tomorrow. As a peaceful contentment filled him, he thought that an unplanned holiday had befallen him, and he intended to enjoy it.

“You don’t want any hot chocolate?”

He glanced around to see Abby entering the room. As he stood, she motioned to him to be seated. “No, thanks,” he said. “I’m enjoying the quiet and the storm now that I’m inside and it’s outside. I’m beginning to think I’m getting a much-needed vacation.”

“That’s a good way to look at being stranded. I usually let the fire burn out this time of night. Did you plan to sit here a lot longer?” she asked.

“I’m fine. Let the fire die. I’ll turn out the light when I go. If you aren’t going to watch the movie, sit and join me,” he said.

“Thanks. I will while I can. Mr. Julius knows how to deal with the movie.”

“My cabdriver said you’re single. This is a big place to run by yourself.”

“I’m definitely not by myself,” she said, smiling as she sat in a rocker. “I have a long list of people I can rely on for help. I have a brother and a sister nearby, and my grandmother lives here part of the time. I can turn to her for advice if I need it because she used to own and run this place.”

“So there are three kids in your family?”

“Right. I’m the oldest. The next is my brother, twenty-year-old Justin, in his second year at a nearby junior college on an academic scholarship. He helps with the bed-and-breakfast and lives at home with Mom. Arden, the youngest at seventeen, is a junior in high school, and she also works here at the inn and lives at home. What about you?”

“I’ve got two brothers and one sister. This is a big bed-and-breakfast—I’m surprised it doesn’t hold more people than you listed earlier.”

“I mentioned the people on the third floor who are permanent residents. My grandmother stays here about half of the year. I have two great-aunts who live here part of the year, and I have Mr. Hickman, who is elderly. His family is in Dallas. He’s told me that his married sons run a business he had. They have asked him to move to Dallas and live with them, but he grew up here and came back here when he retired and his wife was still living. I think she’s the one who wanted to return to Beckett because she still had relatives here. His wife was my grandmother’s best friend, so he lives here. He has a little hearing problem, but he’s in relatively good health. There is an elevator the elderly residents can take, so they don’t use the stairs. My aunts and my grandmother are gone right now—my grandmother at Mom’s and my aunts visiting their families.”

“Do you have to take care of them?”

“No, not really. I have a van and drive them to town once a week, and I’ll take them to church. My brother or sister or I take them for haircuts, little things. They just need someone around. By living here, they have that. My great-aunts’ families have scattered and are on both coasts. They don’t want to move, but they may have to someday. Right now, they’re happy here with my grandmother and our part of the family.”

“That’s commendable of you to let them live here. You’re young to be tied down to a bed-and-breakfast.”

“I’m over twenty-one,” she said, smiling at him. “Twenty-five to be exact.”

“This is a lot of responsibility,” he remarked, noting that her attire hid her figure, except for the V-neck of her sweater, which revealed curves. Also, even in suede boots, it was obvious she had long legs as she stretched them out and crossed her feet at her ankles.

“It’s fun, and I meet interesting people. I can work here in my hometown, actually work at home.”

“For some, working at home in your hometown is a drawback, not a plus,” he said, thinking he didn’t know a single woman like her with such a simple life.

“For me it’s a definite plus. I’ve never been out of Texas and never been out of my hometown much beyond Dallas or north to Wichita Falls or around west Texas, south to San Antonio once. I don’t really want to go anywhere else. Everyone I love is here.”

Thinking of his own travels, Josh smiled. “You’re a homebody.”

“Very much of one,” she said. “I suspect you’re not, and you sound as if you’re a busy man. Are you married, Josh?”

“No, I’m single, not into commitment at this point in my life. I travel a lot, and this is a job I like,” he said. “Or have liked. At heart I’m a rancher, which is why I came to Beckett to see about a horse.”

Big blue eyes studied him, and he thought again how easy it was to look at her.

“You have two vastly different interests—I guess, vocations—ranching and the corporate world,” she said. “Does your family live close?”

My siblings are here in Texas, but our parents retired in California. Are both your parents next door?”

“Mom is. She’s divorced. She’s Nell Donovan, a hairdresser who has a shop in her house. Her story is well-known in town, so it’s no secret—my dad ran off with a younger woman he met on his business travels. That was when I was fourteen. He traveled a lot.”

“Sorry that he left your mother and your family.”

“We hardly saw him anyway because of his job.”

“So besides this inn and family, what do you like to do?”

“Gardening, swimming. I’d like to have a pool here, but so far, that hasn’t worked out. I like little kids. Once a week I have a story hour at the library and read to preschool kids. I also like movies and tennis.”

The thought flitted to mind again to ask her to dinner when the storm was over and the snow melted. Instantly, he vetoed his own thought. She was the earnest type who would take everything seriously. With a sigh, he turned back to look at the fire, trying to forget her sitting so close. It was even more difficult to ignore the tingly awareness of her that he couldn’t shake.

“Is there a guy in your life?”

“Sort of,” she said, smiling. “There’s someone local. We’ve grown up knowing each other, and we like the same things, so we occasionally go out together. I always figure someday we’ll marry, but we seldom talk about it. Neither of us is in a hurry.”

“That doesn’t sound too serious,” Josh said, wondering what kind of man the guy was to have that type of relationship.

She shrugged. “We’re after the same things. He wants never to move from Beckett, and I don’t either. Our lives are tied up here. He’s an accountant, and we’re both busy. It’s pretty simple.”

They lapsed into silence. Josh wondered if in a few months he would even remember her.

“I hope no one else appears on your doorstep and wants shelter,” he remarked after a time. “I have two blankets, and I’d feel compelled to give him a blanket and let him sleep on the floor in the room I have.”

“I’ve turned off the porch light, and I can’t take anyone else. In the morning I’ll have to cook for thirty-five people. We barely have enough of certain food items, and my brother and sister are both out of town, so I’m without help. I can’t handle another person.”

“I’ll help you cook breakfast,” Josh volunteered, the words coming without thought.

She laughed softly. “Thanks. You don’t look like the type to have done much kitchen work.”

He grinned. “I’m a man of many talents,” he joked. “I’ve cooked. I’ve camped and cooked, cooked as a kid. Occasionally I cook at home, but rarely, I’ll admit. I can help. I can serve and that sort of thing.”

“Watch out, I’ll take you up on your offer.”

“I mean it. I’ll help you,” he said, still wondering why he was so drawn to her. He should have gone to bed an hour ago or when he arrived. “What time will you begin cooking?”

“About six. You don’t have to get up that early.”

“I’m usually up that early. I’ll set the alarm on my phone,” he said, getting his phone from his pocket. “I haven’t had a call since I arrived,” he added, realizing that was a switch in his life, as different as so many other things about this night.

“You surely don’t get many calls at night.”

“Sometimes. Not getting any is a unique change in my life, and I can live with it tonight easily.” He put away his phone. “It’s like a holiday. Tell me more about your family.”

He settled back in the chair, listening and talking to her as the fire died into gray ashes. It was after one in the morning when she stood. “I should go to bed. Six a.m. will come soon.”

He stood to walk with her, stopping at the door to his room for the night. “I’ll see you at six. Thanks again for this room.”

“Thanks for offering to help in the morning. Good night, Josh.”

“Good night,” he replied in a husky voice, gazing into her eyes and as riveted as he had been the first moment he had seen her. Still puzzled by his reaction to her, he turned to his door.

Then he glanced down the hall to see her ponytail swing with each step as she walked away. There was nothing about her that should set his heart racing, but it did. He still wanted her in his arms, wanted to kiss her at least, before he left Beckett forever. What made his heart beat even faster were the slight reactions she’d had—her blue eyes widening, a sudden breathless moment in which neither of them spoke—that told him she had felt something, too. He didn’t intend to let that go by without doing something to satisfy his curiosity.

Two

Certain Josh stood watching her, Abby felt her back tingle as she walked to her door. What was it about him that made her heartbeat race and took her breath away? She hadn’t had that kind of reaction to anyone since she was a teenager. She occasionally dated Lamont Nealey, who lived close by. She had grown up friends with him, closer friends than with any other man, but he never stirred a quicker heartbeat. A slight physical contact with Lamont never made her tingle all over.

As she changed into flannel pajamas, she kept glancing at the door that separated her from Josh. She couldn’t shake her awareness of him so close at hand.

She smiled as she thought about his offer of help with breakfast because he had to be wealthy and influential. He probably had a lot of people working for him and keeping him from everyday tasks. She didn’t really expect him to pitch in and help.

* * *

The first thing Abby did on waking was slip into her robe and shove her feet into fuzzy slippers to walk to the window. While the wind continued to howl, she opened the drapes and stared at the falling snow. It meant more business, but she never lacked long for business. It was the third weekend in March. A snowstorm rarely occurred so late, but this had been a cold winter in Beckett. With more snow, no one would be leaving the inn, and her brother and sister couldn’t get home, so she had a day of work ahead of her.

She glanced at the closed door to the sitting room and wondered how Josh had fared on her short sofa. Her gaze went to the clock, and she hurried to shower.

She spent too long deciding what to wear, finally giving up and pulling on faded jeans, a green sweater and her suede boots. She had told Josh 6:00 a.m. but went to the kitchen half an hour earlier so she could get started alone.

At six on the dot she heard his boots against the wood floor, and her pulse speeded—something she wished wouldn’t happen.

“Good morning,” Josh said, bringing a dynamic charge into the air as he smiled at her. He had on a navy sweater, jeans and boots and looked like a cowboy in an ad in one of the Western magazines. “Or at least it’s a good snowy morning. I see more of the white stuff coming down.”

“Sorry. I think you’re stuck for a time. Did you get any sleep on the short sofa?”

“Yes, I did. I’m enormously grateful that I didn’t have to sleep in the lobby of your town’s only hotel.”

“I’m sure they would have let you sit in a chair all night.”

“They had some employees who couldn’t get home, so they were as booked up and as overcrowded as you. I think I was in the town’s only available taxi.”

“I know you were. We have only one taxi, with people taking different shifts to drive.”

He smiled. “What can I do to help? It looks as if you’ve been up awhile and working. How about I get the pots and pans washed?”

“Wonderful,” she said, surprised he would pick such a job. “I’m getting the breakfast casseroles made. The biscuit dough is rising. I’ll get the fruit and coffee soon. The table is ready. We’re moving along.”

“What you mean is, you’re moving along. Pretty good for working without any help. You will make someone a good wife,” he said, smiling at her as he crossed the kitchen.

“Are you interested?” she teased, certain there was no way he would have any designs on her—or anyone right now—as a wife. He had been about to pass her, but he stopped and turned to look at her. He stood close, and she wished she could take back her flirty remark.

“If I were looking for a wife, I would want to find out what other qualities you have along with capable, kindhearted and fun. Without looking for a wife, it might be interesting to find out,” he teased back, his eyes twinkling and making her insides flutter.

“I should have stuck to talking about what work needs to be done,” she whispered, wishing she weren’t breathless. “I don’t usually joke like that with the guests.”

“You mean flirt like that with the guests,” he said with amusement, and she could feel the blush that swept across her cheeks. Something flickered in the depths of his eyes, and his smile vanished as he looked more intently at her. “Now I really do want to find out,” he said in a deeper tone of voice.

“No, you don’t. It wouldn’t possibly interest you. In every way,” she whispered, “I lead a quiet life without excitement, without the outside world intruding, without—” She stopped to stare at him.

“Without what?” he prompted, stepping closer, his gaze searching hers.

“If you wait a lifetime, you won’t get an answer from me on that one. It’s my fault we’re on a subject we don’t need to discuss. Let’s go back to talking about breakfast.”

“That makes what you said all the more interesting,” he remarked, placing his hands on both sides of her and hemming her in against the counter, leaning even closer. His eyes were a dark brown, his brown hair straight and neatly combed. His jaw was clean-shaven and she could detect the fresh smell of his aftershave. Her heart pounded, and she couldn’t get her breath.

“Josh, maybe I should take care of breakfast alone,” she said.

“I disturb you?”

“You’ve disturbed me since you rang the bell last night at ten,” she said bluntly. “I need to get back to breakfast before I burn something.”

A faint smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “My morning has started out better than I ever dreamed possible,” he said quietly and dropped his hands, moving back.

She passed him, going to the dining room even though she had the table set and ready. She opened a drawer in a buffet and got two serving spoons, moving without thinking about what she was doing, trying to give her pounding heart a chance to slow to normal.

For a moment she had thought he was going to kiss her. With the kind of reaction she had to him, she shouldn’t be alone with him. She didn’t need distraction from her routine life, or a charmer like Josh, a man who’d merely stopped in Beckett because of a storm. He was another man like her father. The charmer, the traveler, the businessman who could not settle or be faithful. Josh had the same knack for making friends with people he met, and any man with a private jet did a lot of traveling, constantly reminding her of her father. She shivered and turned back to work.

When the weather permitted, Josh would leave, and he would not return. Her heart did not need to get caught up with someone who would go on his way without a thought for Beckett or anyone who lived here.

Returning to the kitchen, she glanced at Josh as he stood at the sink filled with soapy water with his sleeves pushed up, his watch on the windowsill while he scrubbed pans. Amazed that he would work on a tedious, routine job he didn’t have to do, she went on to get breakfast, trying to forget Josh or her response when he had stood close or when he flirted.

They worked quietly together, but even as she concentrated on breakfast as the morning progressed, she was aware of Josh working nearby.

Though it was still early for breakfast, she heard shuffling in the hall. As she expected, her tenant Mr. Hickman entered the kitchen, smiling at her. “Good morning, Abby. You look as beautiful as ever.”

“Good morning, Mr. Hickman. Thank you. What can I do for you?”

He pulled his brown cardigan closer over his white shirt. “The snow has made me hungry. Can I get a poached egg and a piece of French toast? I don’t suppose that’s on the menu for this morning.”

“I’ll fix it for you and you can sit in here to eat. You remember our agreement?”

“Certainly. If I ask for something special, I’ll eat it in the kitchen so the others do not expect special favors,” he said, chuckling. “I brought yesterday’s paper because I don’t think we’ll get one today.”

“I don’t think we will, either. Josh, our latest guest, is helping. He can eat in here with you and keep you company,” she said, and Josh turned around, drying his hands. “Josh, meet Mr. Hickman. Mr. Hickman, this is Josh Calhoun from Verity and Dallas. He came late last night.”

“How do you do, Mr. Hickman,” Josh said, shaking the elderly man’s hand gently.

“Come join me for breakfast,” Mr. Hickman said.

“Mr. Hickman’s having a poached egg and French toast,” Abby told Josh. “Would you like that, too?”

“I’ve seen the breakfast casserole and the biscuits—I’d like them if you have enough.”

“We have plenty,” she said. “I’ll get coffee and juice for both of you.”

“Go on with what you have to do,” Josh said, “and I’ll take care of us. If you need help with serving out there, I’ll do it.”

“Thank you,” she replied, surprised again that he was willing to work.

It was after eight and she expected people to begin showing for breakfast, so she hurried to get things ready, poaching the egg and making French toast for Mr. Hickman. She wondered whether Josh minded sitting with him, but in minutes she heard them in conversation and realized Josh seemed happy talking to the elderly man and vice versa. She knew Mr. Hickman was happy, because he spent many long hours without anyone to talk to.

When the first guests came downstairs to be seated for breakfast, she picked up a large serving dish holding the casserole. Josh stepped in front of her, his fingers brushing hers as he took the dish from her. “Let me. You just fill the plates or whatever you do. I’ll take things to the dining room. I waited tables in college. I told Mr. Hickman I’d be right back, and he’s reading his paper.”

“You’re nice to sit with him,” she said.

“He reminds me of a grandfather I was close to. I like Mr. Hickman.”

She felt a pang. She realized she had been hoping Josh would disappoint her and not like eating in the kitchen or with the elderly man, which would cause her to lose some of her attraction for him. Instead, she was more drawn to him in spite of wishing she weren’t.

She handed the plates to him and went back to fill more. She wondered about his life, and if he had needed a job waiting tables to make the money to go to school. It had been late last night so she hadn’t looked him up on the web, but today she would do a little research on him.

Soon she was too busy dealing with her guests to think about Josh. Finally the dining room was empty and Mr. Hickman had gone to the living room, taking his paper with him.

“Now I’m going to have breakfast,” she told Josh, helping herself. “Can I get you something else?”

He stood to pour another cup of coffee. “I’ll get what I want. When you sit, I’ll join you.” He headed to the dining room and returned carrying dishes, which he placed in the sink. When she finally sat down at the table to eat, he picked up his cup of steaming coffee and sat facing her.

“So what did you and Mr. Hickman talk about?”

“He’s interesting. He’s a fisherman, so we talked about fishing holes and fly-fishing and the biggest trout caught around here, which of course was in a pond that had been stocked.”

“So you have time to fish on top of being a businessman and a rancher.”

“No, not as often as I’d like. I miss it.”

“Maybe this snow is good for you—chance to stop the constant work and enjoy life and that sort of thing,” she said.

“Oh, I know how to enjoy life,” he said quietly, giving her a look that made his remark personal.

“Relax, Josh. Enjoy this snow. I’d be as lost in your busy corporate world as you are in mine.”

“Do you like to dance?”

“I love to dance but do little of it. I don’t get out often. If I go out, it’s with Lamont Nealey, whom I’ve known forever—the friend I was telling you about last night. When we go out, we go to a movie or something on that order.”

“You think I’m missing out on life,” Josh said, “and I think you are. At the same time, I think we have a bit of common ground where we view life the same way. You’re a family person just as I’m a family person.”

“So tell me about your family.”

He reached across the table and wrapped his fingers lightly around her wrist with his thumb where he could feel her pulse. “Coward,” he accused her softly. “I’ll leave it alone now, but we’ll take up this subject again sometime soon.”

“You didn’t see the sign when you came in that reads ‘Guests do not flirt with the staff,’” she said, smiling at him.

“I sure as hell didn’t see any such sign, and if I had, I would pay no attention to it. Not when I get a response from the staff like the one I’m getting right now,” he said, his thumb pressing slightly on her wrist. “Your pulse is galloping.”

“That means nothing,” she said, too aware of his brown eyes that seemed alert, observant and curious.

“Not where I come from,” he retorted. “You want me to tell you what it means?”

“No. You tell me about your family or I’m going to join the guests in the living room.”

With a faint smile, Josh sat back in his chair. “I have three siblings,” he said. “Two older brothers, Mike and Jake, plus a younger sister, Lindsay.”

She listened, learning about his family but still knowing little about his background. From what he had said last night, she suspected a lot of Texans knew who he was. She had an idea he was well-known by wealthy Texas businessmen and probably by Texas socialites.

She was interrupted when a guest came for a late breakfast. As she served it, Josh poured coffee.

Through the morning he worked, doing whatever she needed, and he was a big help to her. Breakfast was over and the kitchen cleaned by a quarter past ten.

“Josh, thanks so much,” she said. “Now I’ll have a break before lunch, which I’m serving because of the weather. No one can get out for lunch.”

“I’m getting the hang of it. I can help with lunch.”

That surprised her—or maybe it shouldn’t have. “I’m taking a short break. Come back in a little while and we can get started.”

“Sure,” he said, jamming a hand in his pocket and leaving the kitchen.

As she headed out and walked past the library, Mr. Hickman lowered his paper and motioned to her to come in.

“Perhaps you should close the door,” he said, stirring her curiosity about what he wanted. “Do you know who your guest Josh Calhoun is? Or his company?”

“I don’t know much about him. He said his business is Calhoun Hotels, and he’s a rancher occasionally,” she said. “He’s just staying until the roads open, and then I’m sure he’ll be gone forever.”

“Oh, no. I think he’ll come back to fish with me.”

“I hope so, if that’s what you want, but he sounds as if he’s wrapped up in his work,” she said.

Mr. Hickman’s brow furrowed, and his watery blue eyes gazed into the distance. “Perhaps at the moment.” His attention returned to her, and he stared at her a moment before he smiled. “He asked a few questions about you. He’s a very nice young man. A knowledgeable fisherman, from his conversation. I liked him.”

“Well, that’s good, because he’s here for a few days.”

Mr. Hickman whispered, “If I were Josh Calhoun, I would ask you out to dinner.”

“I think Josh has a girlfriend,” she whispered back, not knowing whether he did or not, but wanting to stop Mr. Hickman from pursuing that topic with Josh or anyone else.

Mr. Hickman nodded. “Nice fella. Too bad.”

“Mr. Hickman, you like Lamont. That’s who I go out with sometimes.”

“If I were Lamont, I would not wait two or three months between dates. I would never have won my Barbara if I had done that.”

She smiled and patted his hand. “Lamont is nice, and we’re very much alike. That’s what counts.”

“Lamont is my accountant, and you’re my landlady. Frankly, I don’t think you’re as much alike as you seem to think.”

“Do not be a matchmaker, Mr. Hickman. I’m very happy with Lamont. Now I’m going to my room. Are you going upstairs?”

“No, I’ll sit and read the rest of yesterday’s paper,” he said. “You may leave the door open when you go.”

Smiling, she left to go to her room, but her smile faded when she glanced at the closed door between her bedroom and her sitting room, where Josh had slept. He was in his room now, just on the other side of the door. What was he doing? She thought about her reassurances to Mr. Hickman regarding how alike she and Lamont were and how happy she was going out with him. She gazed at the door as if looking at Josh instead and thought about how he had flirted and what fun she had had with him this morning—something that was totally lacking in her relationship with Lamont. Lamont was an old friend. There was none of the electricity that sparked between Josh and her, no flirting, no fun in that way.

She hadn’t stopped to think about it before. Was she really that happy with Lamont? Would they ever marry or just go through life as friends? What did she really want? She had never questioned her relationship with him.

Always, her thoughts turned to her parents—she never wanted to be hurt the way her mother had been when her father had walked out on them. Shaking her head as if she could get rid of thoughts about Josh, she knew Lamont was the type of man she needed in her life: steady, reliable, dependable. Those qualities were what counted and meant a satisfying life.

For an instant, a memory flashed of her father, who could coax a laugh from her and make the whole world seem magical. She focused on the inn, trying to avoid remembering how much she had loved her father. The hurt still came after all these years any time she recalled the shock when he’d suddenly left them.

She went to her computer and pulled up Calhoun Hotels and read about Josh’s business, but she found little actual information about him.

When she returned to the kitchen to start on lunch, she was surprised to discover Josh already had the table set and was preparing a pitcher of ice water.

“You’re a help. You don’t have to keep working. You’re a paying guest, so go do something enjoyable,” she said.

As he shook his head, he grinned. “I don’t mind, and it keeps me busy. It’s a change of pace for me and keeps my thoughts off what is piling up in my office while I’m gone.” He glanced out the window. “The snow has finally stopped.”

“I checked the weather report before coming down—we might get more before morning.”

“As soon as the roads open, I’ll rent a car and drive home. I can rent a car in Beckett, can’t I?”

“Oh, yes. We have car rental at the airport. But I don’t think you’ll get out tomorrow or the day after.”

“I don’t think so, either.”

She glanced at him. “You were nice to Mr. Hickman this morning. He enjoyed talking to you.” Why had she brought up Mr. Hickman when the elderly man was clearly trying to matchmake?

“Edwin Hickman is an interesting fellow, and I enjoyed talking to him, too. He told me more about Lamont Nealey.”

“Pay no attention to whatever Mr. Hickman said about Lamont.”

“He said Lamont takes you out about once every three months. He also said you’ve told him you’ll probably marry Lamont someday.”

“Mr. Hickman exaggerates, and he doesn’t remember accurately. Lamont and I go out when we want. Going out occasionally is good and makes it special,” she said, thinking it really wasn’t special, just a change from her routine to go to a show she wanted to see or Lamont wanted to attend. She had no intention of sounding as if she wanted Josh to ask her out, although she didn’t think there was any chance of that ever happening. He should have no interest in her or a town like Beckett. Not the cosmopolitan Josh Calhoun, head of Calhoun Hotels.

“As for marrying Lamont, that may happen someday. We’re compatible, we’ve known each other forever and Lamont is ideal. He’s grown up here, works here and doesn’t want to leave here. That description fits me also. How many men would feel that way?”

“Have you ever heard the old saying ‘opposites attract’?” Josh asked with a faint smile.

“I’ve heard the saying, but it’s no part of my life. Lamont is the ideal man for me—very plain tastes, will never leave Beckett, tied to his family—which in his case is only his mother and a married aunt and her family. We’re alike, we’ve known each other since we were children and neither of us is in a rush to marry. That’s all I want.”

“You’re damn easy to please. More than any woman I’ve ever known.”

“I’m sure I’m not like women you’ve known,” she said, smiling at him. “I know you can’t imagine such a simple life as Lamont’s or mine, but that’s what I know and like. My mother falls into your ‘opposites attract’ category. My dad was a charmer, a traveling salesman. He was delightful, but oh, so unreliable, and after three kids, he finally left Mom for another woman he met in California. When he did, it broke her heart, and I don’t like to remember that time. It was sad for all of us.”

“That doesn’t mean all men with personalities like your dad’s won’t be faithful or honor their marriage vows.”

“I’m not sure I believe that. I’ve heard he now has his fourth wife. I don’t want someone like that in my life. What about you, Josh? You’re single. I seriously doubt if you’re searching for your opposite,” she said, amused. “You would be bored beyond measure.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he said, smiling with her. “Right now, I’m not at the point where I care to get tied down. You’re already tied down with this inn—that’s 24/7. You work more than I do, and that’s saying something.”

“It doesn’t seem like work,” she said. “I enjoy the people and the job and taking care of the inn. I enjoy my family and Mr. Hickman, Aunt Trudy and Aunt Millie.”

“Well, you’re good at what you do, and I will be forever grateful for getting to stay here.”

“I’d better get moving because lunch will come before you know it.” As she walked away, her back tingled, and she had to fight the urge to glance over her shoulder. She was certain he watched her. But what was he thinking?

* * *

Along with sandwiches that Josh helped her make for lunch, she had a pot of vegetable soup, a salad and choices of chocolate or lemon cake, yogurt or cookies for dessert.

All the time she worked, she couldn’t lose the sharp awareness she had of him. She thought it would diminish as she got accustomed to him being at the inn and working with her, but it didn’t diminish one tiny degree.

Far from it—as she felt a constant, tingling consciousness of him wherever he was or whatever he did.

Through lunch she tried to ignore her fluttering insides. Afterward they sat and talked for an hour over cups of coffee. Then Josh helped her get dinner started, peeling potatoes while she prepared a roast. By the time they cleaned up and sat down with cold drinks, the delicious smell of the roast and potatoes in a slow cooker filled the kitchen.

“You’ve been such a help. I’ll owe you when you leave.”

“No, you won’t. Your inn has been a lifesaver.”

A clock chimed in the hall. “Oh, my word. I need to check the inn’s email account before dinner. They begin to drift down after five for a cocktail,” she said, standing and carrying her glass to the sink.

Turning, she almost bumped into him as he did the same.

“Sorry,” she said, causing him to smile.

“Slow down. I’ll help with serving dinner and with the cocktails. Where do you keep glasses? Do you have a bar?”

“There’s a small bar in the corner of the back room. We were in the living room last night because of the piano, but usually we gather in the back sitting room because it’s the largest. Through that door. I’ll hurry and be in the kitchen in about twenty minutes.”

He set his glass in the sink and caught up with her to head toward his room. They parted at the door, and she rushed on to her entrance. She had spent the day with him, and it had flown by swiftly. She liked being with him, still had the dizzying response to him physically and anticipated with a growing eagerness being with him again soon.

She knew that Josh would disappear from her life, but it had been fun while he was here—because she wasn’t letting herself fall for him.

She showered and dressed in another thick sweater, this time pink. She pulled on jeans and her suede boots and brushed her hair into a fresh ponytail.

With an uncustomary eagerness, Abby went to the kitchen to check on dinner and set the table. Josh was already there in a charcoal sweater, chinos and his Western boots, his straight, short brown hair neatly combed. He hadn’t shaved today, and a faint dark shadow of stubble on his jaw gave him a rugged look and added to his appeal. He was handsome enough that she had to fight the temptation to stare. Once again, Josh was helpful, setting the dining room table without even being asked.

When the first guests came downstairs, Josh left to serve them drinks. She was busy all through dinner and afterward until the kitchen was clean and everything put away. She heard Josh join the guests about five minutes before she did. As she went into the big sitting room, she could see through an open door some of the men playing pool in the billiards room. In the sitting room, some of the little girls sat at a table with crayons and coloring books. Other kids worked a puzzle, while two teens were busy with their phones. She looked at the fire Josh had built before dinner and saw it would soon go out.

Crossing the room to a game table, she stopped beside Josh, who sat playing cards with Mr. Hickman.

“Can I trade places briefly with you and get you to bring in some logs from the woodpile so the fire doesn’t die?”

“Sure,” Josh said, standing. “It’s your turn, Mr. Hickman.”

“I know, I know,” he said without looking up.

She smiled at Josh, who stood only inches away. She hoped he never realized the extent of the reaction she had to his presence. “The woodpile is below the east windows of this room,” she said, pointing. “You can go out through the kitchen. Thanks.”

She slid onto his seat and watched Mr. Hickman. His wrinkled hands were poised on the edge of the board as he studied his cards.

They each played several cards before Josh returned carrying logs. He paused near Abby. “Folks, there is a huge full moon that you can see rising over the horizon if you step outside and look to the east,” he announced, looking around the room. He glanced at Abby. “It’s marvelous out,” he added, setting down the logs. “Let’s go look and then I’ll build a fire.”

“Mr. Hickman, do you want to look at the moon?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll get my coat. It’s supposed to be seventeen degrees tonight.”

“Can I go upstairs and get it for you, sir?” Josh asked.

“It’s down here in the hall closet,” Abby said.

“Thank you very much anyway,” Mr. Hickman said to Josh.

Once Mr. Hickman had on his coat, Abby got hers out of the hall closet, and Josh held it for her as she slipped into it. “Ready, Mr. Hickman?”

“Ready,” he replied.

Abby linked arms with Mr. Hickman and was aware of Josh moving to the other side of him. Josh held the door, and finally they stepped out onto the porch and walked around the house. Her guests were clustered there, some huddled together because they hadn’t bothered to get their coats. Some gasped at the wintry scene. The wind had finally died, and the snow had stopped falling. It was a cold, clear night, and an enormous moon hovered over the horizon. The moon was a huge white ball with gray patterns on its surface. Nobody had walked through the snow beyond the house yet, and it was pristine, glistening in the bright moonlight.

“Just a minute,” Abby said, releasing Mr. Hickman’s arm and walking to one side of the crowd. “Folks, we have an old Texas legend about the moon. If you’ll move over here on the porch where I’m standing, you can see two oak trees in the yard with entwined branches.” She waited a moment as the group clustered around her.

“The full moon shining on those oak trees sometimes casts a heart-shaped shadow. There’s an old legend here that if two people kiss in that shadow, they will fall in love with each other for the rest of their lives. If you want to see the shadow, you have to stand on this part of the porch, or if you’re in the yard, stand right in front of the porch at this place.”

“Has anyone who has stayed at the inn ever seen it and kissed in the shadow?” someone asked.

“Oh, yes,” Abby said. “Including my grandparents. My grandfather died very young, so my grandmother wasn’t married long, but she always loved him and has never remarried.” Talking softly, people turned to watch as shadows across the snow changed gradually.

“So, have you ever kissed in this shadow?” a deep voice asked beside Abby. She turned to glance at Josh, thankful for the darkness that hid a blush warming her cheeks.

“No, I haven’t. There—look, Josh, I think the shadow is forming,” she whispered, watching the shifting dark patterns on the dazzling white snow. The crowd became silent, seemingly transfixed.

There was a collective gasp when a heart-shaped shadow became visible. People began to call out about it and hold up their phones to take pictures. One couple ran down the porch steps to kiss in the shadow. Two more couples joined them, and little kids laughed and clapped. Someone whistled.

“We can’t waste that,” Josh said, taking her hand and hurrying down the steps.

“Josh—”

“It’s only a kiss,” he said, rushing to stand in the shadow of the heart and pull her to him.

“This is absurd,” she said, laughing, her own heart pounding wildly. “Suppose it comes true? We don’t even know each other. You’re tempting fate. We might not like each other—”

“We’ll find out,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and leaning down to kiss her. His mouth covered hers.

Shocked, excited, caught off guard, she thought this kiss was the craziest thing she had ever done in her quiet, ordinary life. And then she stopped thinking and was consumed by his kiss, which built a fire deep within her. She couldn’t get her breath. She became oblivious to the cold, the snow and the people around her, as well as the knowledge that she barely knew Josh. All she was aware of was his mouth on hers, his arms banding her tightly, holding her against his solid, warm length.

She had never been kissed like this, held like this. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately in return. The reason for their kiss vanished. All she knew was Josh, his hard strength, his tongue that took her breath completely and stirred her desire to a level she hadn’t experienced before.

With Josh’s kiss, her world and her life underwent a change as subtle as the shifting shadows around her, but in another way, a change far more monumental. Desire burned hotly, enveloping her, permeating her being. She clung tightly to him, kissing him in a way she had never kissed any other man.

At some point she realized where she was and what she was doing. With an effort she stepped back. As they broke apart, people clapped again, laughed and whistled. She was thankful for the darkness, because her face burned from embarrassment as she tried to smile but couldn’t.

For once, Josh’s ever-ready smile didn’t appear. He stared at her.

“We drew a crowd,” she said quietly. “That shadow is long gone.”

“Yeah.”

She turned away. Josh caught her hand as people clapped again. “Bow,” he said. “We have an audience. Let’s join the fun, and the moment will pass. Sort of.”

She curtsied as Josh bowed again.

The crowd broke up. Kids were tossing snowballs, and several had started a snowman. The snow crunched beneath their feet as they walked back to the inn. They stopped to accompany Mr. Hickman.

“Josh is an enterprising young man,” Mr. Hickman said, laughter in his voice. “I shall try to prevail upon him to go fishing with me.”

“That would be nice,” she said, thinking Josh would never come back to Beckett, and he probably was too busy to fish often. When he did, she suspected he flew to Colorado or Idaho or some location where fishing was much more challenging and satisfying than a stocked pond in a small west Texas town.

They went inside and put away their coats. “Want to finish our game?” Josh asked Mr. Hickman.

“Yes, indeed, and then it will be my bedtime.”

“See you later,” Josh said to her, and the two men turned to go to their game. One of the guests stopped to ask her if they would be having cocoa later.

“Yes. Would you and your family like some now? I can make it now just as easily.”

“That would be wonderful. I’ll come help.”

“You don’t need to. I’ll announce it as soon as it’s ready. It doesn’t really take long.”

“Thank you, Abby. We all look forward to your homemade hot cocoa,” the petite blonde said. “I’ll tell my family and the others.”

Abby hurried to the kitchen, trying to focus on making hot cocoa for everyone and keeping Josh’s kiss out of her thoughts for now. She failed to stop thinking about him, but she had made cocoa so many times in her life, she could do what she needed to without much thought.

Finally she escaped to her room for a moment to catch her breath. As soon as she shut her door, she leaned against it. Remembering Josh’s kiss, she closed her eyes. Why did she have this huge reaction to Josh, of all people, who would go out of her life as swiftly as he had come into it?

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