She’s everything he didn’t want…and exactly what he needs

McCarthy Temple, the last unmarried Temple brother, was happy with his safe, predictable world. He had his family, his accounting business and his numbers. He didn’t need love. He already had it all…except an assistant. Jacqueline Aimes was the least likely candidate. She was overqualified, gorgeous and only staying in Kilgore long enough to sell her parents’ land.

But as Jacqueline starts to permeate every aspect of his life, Mac finds it harder and harder to imagine life without her. Jacqueline’s passion is her work for children in international war zones, though, not small-town living. So Mac has to find a Texas-size miracle to get her to stay…

“What are you afraid of, Mac?”

“I’m afraid of you leaving. I’m afraid of you not leaving. I’m afraid of you being bored with me, with Kilgore, with an ordinary life. I’m afraid of the ways I’m changing because of you. Afraid of being happy. Afraid of life’s possibilities. Afraid of bad things happening. I just don’t want any more pain. Not for me, or anyone I love.”

He bent toward her and kissed her gently. She inhaled the scent of leather. Mac moved to lie on his side, sandwiching his long frame between her and the couch. She turned to face him, and they lay like that for a long moment.

But eventually Mac rose from the couch and found his coat on the stand. He covered her with it and tucked it around her.

“Good night, Jacqueline.”

Dear Reader,

My friend Mae Nunn envisioned the Deep in the Heart series set in her beloved home state of Texas. It has been a privilege to collaborate with her on the third and fourth books in the series, and to tell the stories of the two oldest Temple brothers, Joiner and Mac.

Texas Miracle is the story of the eldest brother, Mac. He’s a guy I can relate to, as I’m the eldest in my family. He loves his brothers and would do anything to protect them. As a numbers person, Mac wants everything to make sense. He’s afraid of loss, afraid of being hurt, afraid to take much risk. Mac is a rock—strong and sturdy. He loves Texas as much as Mae does. But he’s also a little stuck.

Enter Jacqueline Aimes, who is more of a rolling stone. She has no deep connections in Texas. No reason to stay in one place. She goes where her work in social justice takes her. So it’s something of a miracle when she walks through Mac’s door in Kilgore, Texas. But that’s only the first miracle between these two.

One of the most special things about this book for me was drawing on the memory of my nephew Hunter’s birth and what a miraculous time that was for my own family. We learned, as Mac does, that sometimes the most beautiful things in life come out of the scariest, most difficult moments. I hope your heart is warmed as you watch Mac’s family witness their miracle. And I hope you are inspired as the miracle of true love unfolds under the Texas sky.

Thanks so much for reading! I’d love to know your thoughts by email, gfaulkenberry@hotmail.com, or on Facebook at Gwendolann Adell Ford Faulkenberry.

A Texas-sized hug,

Gwen Ford Faulkenberry

Texas Miracle

Mae Nunn and Gwen Ford Faulkenberry

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MAE NUNN grew up in Houston and graduated from the University of Texas with a degree in communications. When she fell for a transplanted Englishman living in Atlanta, she moved to Georgia and made an effort to behave like a Southern belle. But when she found that her husband was quite agreeable to life as a born-again Texan, Mae happily returned to her cowgirl roots and cowboy boots! In 2008 Mae retired from thirty years of corporate life to focus on her career as a full-time author.

GWEN FORD FAULKENBERRY lives and writes in the Ozark Mountains of Arkansas. She and her husband, Stone, have four children: Grace, Harper, Adelaide and Stella. Gwen is the author of three Christian romances, a book of prayers for couples and three devotional books. A professor of English at her local college, she holds a master’s degree in liberal arts.

MILLS & BOON

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For Hunter James Ford, miracle baby

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

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

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

MCCARTHY TEMPLE SAT behind his mahogany desk and frowned over his glasses at the three stacks of unfinished paperwork. He straightened each one to make his desk tidier. It was fortunate his brothers got their tax documents to him early, as he requested, because their taxes were becoming more and more complicated to complete.

This was a good thing, of course. Joiner, who was the next oldest after Mac, was carving out a successful business with his wife, Stella. They owned Star Stables, which provided hippotherapy to special needs clients. There they also bred Joiner’s polo stallion, Pistol, a horse that seemed to be made of money. The business owned by McCarthy’s baby brother, Hunt, and his wife was also booming. As the famous Cowboy Chef, Hunt attracted more visitors every year to Temple Territory, their five-star resort. Hunt’s twin, Cullen, had the easiest taxes of the group. He was a university professor, and didn’t make much money. However, since his marriage to a sweet lady with three girls, his taxes had become more unpredictable, just like his life.

Mac pressed a button on his office phone.

“Yes, sir?”

“Ella, I’m going to work through lunch today. Will you hold all my calls?”

“Of course, sir. Can I bring you some fresh coffee?”

“That would be great.”

A few minutes later, a birdlike woman with short white hair and kind blue eyes appeared at his desk with a steaming cup. She placed it on a coaster shaped like a star and emblazoned with the words Lone Star Accounting, McCarthy Temple, CPA.

“Thank you, Ella.”

She nodded. “You’re welcome, sir.” Ella smiled at Mac, revealing perfect white teeth. Her skin was the color of peaches and cream, and her starched dress was tailored and classy, just like her matching jewelry.

His heart warmed at the sight of his longtime assistant, who had become something of a mother figure in the time they’d worked together. “You’re really leaving me, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir. I am, in two weeks.” She averted her eyes. “I have to.”

“Ella, really, what are Alaskan cruises and grandchildren compared to working here?”

Her eyes crinkled in the corners. “I will miss you, sir, but I am ready. I am getting too old for this.”

Mac laughed. She was a mere seventy-three and sharper than a tack. “Ella, we both know you could run this place. And besides, you make a mean cup of coffee.”

“It is simple to make coffee with your fancy machine. I’ll be glad to teach your new assistant if you ever hire one.” She tapped on her gold Timex watch. “Time is ticking, sir.”

“I know, I know. I guess I am in denial.” Mac removed his glasses and set them on the desk, then reached for his coffee. “But you have to admit we haven’t had any good applicants.”

“Don’t forget you have an interview at two today.”

“Oh, I’m glad you reminded me. I’d forgotten.” Mac set down his coffee. “That’s only two hours.”

Ella nodded and turned to leave. He heard her short heels clicking on the polished wood floor as she made her way back to the front desk. It was a comforting sound. Truth be told, Mac didn’t want to interview anyone else, didn’t want things to change. He was perfectly happy with Ella.

* * *

THE TIME FLEW by as it often did when Mac immersed himself in numbers. There was nothing more fun than working with them, making them add up, solving problems that were black-and-white and coming to clear solutions. Numbers were his sweet spot. He was deep in the middle of Star Stables’ health insurance billing when Ella appeared at the door with a file.

“Just thought you might want to look over this. She should be here in about fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Mac reluctantly set aside Joiner’s taxes and leaned back in his leather chair, propping his dark brown Ariats up on his desk. He opened the file Ella had given him to try to quickly familiarize himself with the applicant’s information. He wanted to ask good questions and get the information he needed. Ah, yes. Now he remembered whom he was interviewing and why. She was a hometown girl. And smart. Both of these things were valuable to Mac’s way of thinking.

Jacqueline Aimes had been a scrawny kid who’d gone to school in Kilgore, graduating with Joiner’s high school class. Her résumé said she graduated from college with a degree in communications and a minor in interdisciplinary studies. Probably way overqualified for a front-desk job. But like so many others he knew with those sorts of degrees, she was likely having a hard time finding a job.

If she was really good, he’d be willing to pay her enough to make it worth her while. Mac didn’t like turnover. After all, Ella had been with him since he opened his business. He really hated to see her go, which was maybe why he’d been so reluctant to replace her. But it was coming down to the wire, and tax season was upon them.

The phone on his desk lit up.

“Yes, Ella?”

“Miss Aimes is here to see you, sir.”

“Bring her on back.”

Ella appeared shortly in the doorway with a woman who looked like a model, and a barely suppressed smug expression.

“Holy cow, you are not the Jacqueline Aimes I remember!” Mac stood behind his desk and reached out his hand to shake the one that was offered. Her long fingers were warm, and she gripped his hand firmly. Color rose in her high cheekbones. “Have a seat!” He motioned to the chair across from him and sat back down.

Mac looked at Ella, who lingered in the doorway, eyebrows raised, a small smile on her face. She was obviously amused. Then he asked Jacqueline, “Would you care for some coffee?”

“I’d take some water, if you don’t mind.”

Ella exited and soon returned with a bottle of Evian.

“Thank you,” Jacqueline said.

“That will be all, Ella,” Mac said. She flashed him a mischievous look as she turned in the doorway, clacking her little bird feet as she headed back to her station.

The woman in front of him was a grown-up, filled-out version of the Jacqueline he remembered. Long dark hair hung in waves to the middle of her back. She wore little makeup, but huge eyes the color of dark-roasted coffee were defined by long, sweeping eyelashes. She wore an amethyst-colored swingy, flutter-sleeve dress with cascading ruffles at the neck, waist and back in a light-as-air feathery print. This was paired simply with amber-colored Covington boots and a leather wrap bracelet with sterling silver beads and semiprecious stones.

Jacqueline sat up straight on the edge of her seat and looked at Mac in a way that unnerved him, though he couldn’t say why. She had a penetrating gaze that seemed to see past the surface and into his soul. Was she bored? Mac didn’t know. But when she took a swallow of her water, he felt a stirring he hadn’t experienced in longer than he cared to remember. You are being ridiculous. Get it together! He shook his head as if to clear it and straightened his glasses. He picked up her résumé and searched it for something brilliant to say.

“Tell me a little bit about yourself, Jacqueline.”

“Well, after I graduated from high school here, I went to college in Arkansas.”

“I saw that on your résumé. Why Arkansas?”

“I was offered a scholarship at the University of Central Arkansas through their Honors Program.” Here she assumed a voice like Marlon Brando’s in The Godfather. “They made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

Mac chuckled, glad to feel more at ease. “Excellent. Did you like it there?”

“I did, very much. Like I wrote in my résumé, I earned my degree in communications and a minor in interdisciplinary studies. It was actually the Honors College at UCA that connected me with an international child-welfare organization called KARIS, where I’ve been working up till now.”

“Tell me about that.”

“I got a grant when I was a student to travel abroad. I did some extensive travel, first in Europe and then the Middle East. I wrote a big paper about my experiences, which I presented at the Honors College when I returned. My focus was on education for children—and specifically girls—in a hostile culture. Right out of college I accepted a lower-level position with KARIS, and have worked my way up to my current position, which, as you can see in my résumé, is chief of communications for the Middle East.”

“What prompted you to come back to Kilgore?” Mac couldn’t possibly imagine.

“We were evacuated. The situation in Afghanistan is just too dangerous right now. I am still doing some work for KARIS online, but it’s uncertain when we will be able to return.” Jacqueline looked down, brushing a few rogue hairs out of her eyes. “When I returned to the States, I went to my parents’ on the Atlantic Coast. They work for a foundation to protect wild horses there. They still own some acreage in Kilgore and asked me to come here and try to sell it for them—so here I am. When I saw your ad, I thought maybe I could make some extra money to support myself while I’m spending time in Kilgore.”

Mac set her résumé down on his desk and leaned forward. “That’s a pretty colorful story, Jacqueline. Frankly, I’m kind of amazed.”

It was her turn to laugh. “Why are you amazed?”

“Well, for one thing, you’ve been around the world. When I was younger, I went to Mexico on vacation with my parents and took a hunting trip to Canada with my dad and brothers, but that’s about the extent of my travel experience outside the United States.”

“Yes, but as I remember, you have roots here. A reason to stay put. I have no roots anywhere, never did. I guess you could call me a citizen of the world.” The way she said it sounded less glamorous than it did wistful, even a little sad.

“But, do you think you will be happy here?” Mac looked into her eyes as he asked the question, then glanced away. “I’m not looking for a temporary relationship. I need someone who is going to stay.”

Jacqueline fiddled with her hands and then clasped them in her lap. “I have no intentions of staying here permanently. That’s the honest answer. But I don’t know when, or even if, my job with KARIS will open back up.”

“To be honest, I need someone to start yesterday,” Mac said. “Ella wanted to be done by the end of the year—she’s had mercy on me by sticking around two extra weeks. But I haven’t gotten any applicants who seemed to fit. You’re definitely qualified—overqualified. I’m concerned it won’t be a fit for you, either.”

There was a long pause while they each studied the other.

“I’m good with numbers.” Jacqueline bounced a little on the edge of her seat.

“Really?”

“Yes. My ACT score was thirty-one in math. I just prefer words.”

Mac cringed. “Why? Why in the world?”

“Words have so many possibilities. I like to ‘dwell in possibility,’ like Emily Dickinson wrote. But I can also work with certainty, when I have to.” She grinned at him.

“Now I remember why you and Joiner were friends.” Mac snorted, thinking of his brother’s love of literature. “Emily Dickinson indeed.”

“I wonder if we could try it out. You said you need someone now. And I need a job. It might not work out, but it might turn out to be a great fit for both of us. We’ll never know unless we try.”

Clearly, she was good with small talk, which would be a plus with customers. Her computer skills were fine. An assistant who was good with numbers would be a big change from Ella, and Mac was pretty sure she could handle the coffee. As an added bonus, she was drop-dead gorgeous.

The only negative was she probably wouldn’t want to stay very long, and he’d have to go through the process of hiring all over again. But Mac was running low on other options. He shook her hand. “All right, Jacqueline. Let’s give it a try.”

CHAPTER TWO

BUDDY KING, THE real estate agent “King of Kilgore,” kicked a rock with the pointed toe of one of his snakeskin boots. He and Jacqueline stood on the site where Jacqueline’s parents’ school-bus-turned-camper used to be. “I’ll be honest with you. It’s a tough sell.”

“I know the land’s not great for farming,” she said. “My parents found that out. They bought it with plans to move here and live off the land. We nearly starved to death my last two years of high school.”

“Well, it’s a little hilly and rocky for crops or cattle. But someone who knew what they were doing might make it work.”

He seemed totally oblivious to the fact he had just insulted her parents.

“It would be fine for housing,” King continued, “but the market for that in Kilgore is rocky itself right now.”

“What do you suggest?”

He raised his eyebrows, which looked to Jacqueline like two fuzzy caterpillars. “Let’s put it out there at eight hundred dollars an acre and see what happens.”

“How long do you typically wait to see what happens?” Jacqueline wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that.

“As long as it takes, little lady.”

No way was Jacqueline committing to this indefinitely. “I’d like to list it with you for three months and then we’ll reevaluate.”

He smiled, revealing a gold crown on one of his front teeth. “Whatever floats your boat.”

Jacqueline called her mother on the way to Mac’s office. “Mom?”

“Hi, honey!”

“I just met with the real estate agent.”

“Oh. How did it go?”

“He wants to list it at eight hundred an acre.”

“Wow. That’s a lot.”

“It is?”

“Well, compared to what we paid for it.”

“Okay. So you’d be happy with that.” Jacqueline exhaled.

“Yeah, sure. Does he think he can get it?”

“I don’t know. He’s a little weird.”

Her mom chuckled. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know, he had on a polyester suit, and wears a toupee, and has a gold tooth.”

“Jacqueline! I can’t believe you’re judging someone by appearance like that. That’s not like you.”

“Oh, Mom. I’m not—I’m just telling you he totally looks the part of some sleazy real estate agent from a small town in Texas.”

“Well, he is from a small town in Texas.”

“I know.” Jacqueline bit her lip. “He also called me little lady.”

“That’s kind of sweet, except that you’re five-ten.”

“I know, right?”

“Why did you choose him?”

“He’s supposed to be the best in town.” Jacqueline exaggerated her words: “The King of Kilgore Real Estate Sales.”

“Sounds like you’re reading a billboard.”

“I could be. That’s what his billboard says.”

“What bothers you about him?”

“He didn’t seem very positive about the land. He was like, ‘We’ll try this and see what happens.’”

“That sounds better to me than someone who overpromises and underdelivers.”

“I guess you’re right. I just hope I can get it sold for you. I know you and Dad need the money.”

“We’re okay.” Her mother sighed. “I appreciate you working on it for us. How are things going for you in your new job?”

“I’m driving there now. And it’s going well. Ella, the lady who is leaving, has been so sweet to me the past two weeks. Today is her last day.”

“Oh. So you’re on your own after this.”

“Yes. But I’m ready. I feel bad getting paid for not doing much of anything but watching her.”

“And how do you like the boss?”

“He’s nice.” Jacqueline blushed at the mention of Mac.

“Jacqueline? You still there?”

“Yes. I was just saying he’s nice. Very professional. Smart.”

“Have you seen his brother, the one you were friends with in high school?”

“Joiner. No, not yet.”

“That might be fun, if you guys could get reacquainted.”

“Yes, I’d like to see him again. But he is married now, so...”

“Oh. I see. Well, maybe his wife would be a good person for you to meet, too.”

“I’m sure she is. I probably won’t be here long enough to really make friends, though.”

Her mother laughed. “How long does it take to make friends?”

“Oh, Mom, you know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t, really.”

Jacqueline sighed. “I don’t want to make a big investment in people I’ll probably never see again once the land sells.”

“I see.” Her mother cleared her throat. “I think I’ll let that one go for right now, but it’s a subject we might need to come back to.”

“It will definitely have to be later, because I’m pulling up at work.” She was glad there wasn’t time to address the subject. It had never been easy for her to make friends as it was for her gregarious mother. She’d always wished she could be more like her mom in that way. But now that Jacqueline was an adult, she’d come to terms that it probably wouldn’t happen, and that was okay.

“All right, sweetie. I love you!”

“Love you, too.”

Jacqueline wheeled her brother’s silver Prius into the parking lot at Lone Star Accounting. He had left it with her parents when he sold all of his other belongings and moved to Kona, Hawaii, to become a part of Youth with a Mission the previous year. It worked out nicely for Jacqueline that she could use it for her time in the States. Checking her appearance in the rearview mirror, she decided she looked presentable enough, even though her hair was a little windblown from walking around on the land. She pulled her camel knit moto jacket around her, adjusted her blue-and-white bandanna scarf and stepped out into the brisk January air.

She greeted Ella seated on her perch at the front desk. After Jacqueline settled her things into her makeshift station, Ella tearfully sent her back to Mac’s office with a cup of coffee. “You might as well do it!” she said, blowing her nose into a starched white handkerchief.

As she walked down the hall to Mac’s office, Jacqueline hoped she hadn’t been wrong to wear jeans to work. At least her embroidered leather boots coordinated with the flowers embellishing her jacket, which she’d left on over the gauzy white blouse. It hadn’t been possible to change in time to get to work after meeting with Buddy King out on her parents’ property.

“Hey there.”

Mac looked up from his desk and instantly smiled at her. “Good morning!”

“Want some fresh coffee?”

“You bet I do.” He took the hot mug out of her hands. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She waited to see if he needed anything else, but he didn’t say anything. He simply stared at her. “Sorry about the jeans. I had to meet with the real estate agent at my parents’ place before work.”

Mac grinned in a way she might describe as wicked, if he were anyone else. But Mac was too professional and too straight-laced to be wicked. Then he said, “Jeans are fine. I wear them all the time. We’re in Texas, remember?”

She nodded. “Cool.”

“How did it go? With the real estate agent, I mean.”

“Okay, I suppose. He wasn’t very encouraging about selling it, but I guess we’ll see.”

“Who’d you decide to use?” Mac took a sip of his coffee.

“Buddy King.”

“Ah. He’s a character, isn’t he?”

“Yes. He is.” Jacqueline swept a few unruly hairs out of her face. “I could always try to sell it myself online, and maybe I should, but I thought I’d give a local person a try first. I listed it for three months with him.”

“Well, he is the king.” Mac grinned.

“Do you think it was a wise choice? Should I have used someone else?”

“I think he’s fine. They all do a lot of networking, anyway.”

Jacqueline turned the turquoise ring she was wearing on her middle finger. “Nothing against you, and being here and all, but I sure hope he can sell it in three months. My parents need the money.”

Mac’s brows knitted above his glasses, even though his eyes seemed kind, concerned. “Surely there are other ways they can make money. Maybe we can put our heads together, come up with some new ideas.” He sighed. “I sure don’t want to see you leave.”

His words were as sweet as the look in his honey-colored eyes. Jacqueline felt heat rising in her cheeks. Why was he so intent on her staying? And why did it mean so much to hear him say it?

CHAPTER THREE

“SO, TELL US about your new assistant, Mac.” Cullen forked a bite of the sixteen-ounce T-bone the server had set down in front of him moments before. It was Thursday night, and the Brotherhood, as the four Temples affectionately called themselves, was in session for its monthly meeting at the Wild Horse Saloon. Even Hunt, who was a five-star chef, admitted the honky-tonk joint’s steaks were hard to beat.

“She’s nice. Smart.” Mac adjusted his glasses. “Very good with numbers.” He was suddenly very interested in studying the intricacies of his loaded baked potato.

“I think what Mac is trying to say is that she’s smoking hot!” Hunt clapped Mac on the back, rattling the table.

“Really?” Joiner piped up. “Jacqueline Aimes? The bookworm? Are we talking about the same girl I knew in high school?”

Mac took a deep breath. “That’s the one. But as Hunt has so eloquently stated, she’s not exactly the same girl we all remember.” He blushed in spite of his best efforts to appear cool.

The brothers hooted and hollered as if they were back in high school themselves. Or maybe junior high.

Mac shook his head. “You guys are so mature.”

“Spill the beans!” Joiner insisted. “I’ve been meaning to pop by and say hello ever since you told me you hired her.”

“When you go, don’t forget you’re a married man,” Hunt cautioned. “I’m just sayin’.”

“Like anyone could turn Joiner’s head away from Stella!” Cullen laughed.

Hunt turned to his twin, rolling his eyes. “Like I think anyone else holds a candle to Gillian.”

“Sarah does.” Cullen smiled at the thought of his wife.

Mac sighed. “Will you guys shut up? You all have gorgeous wives. And I have a gorgeous assistant, which is a totally unrelated matter.”

“Unrelated for the meantime, maybe.” Joiner ribbed his older brother. “Seriously, though, tell us about her.”

“She’s had an interesting life since she left Kilgore. She went to college in Arkansas.”

“Arkansas?” The three brothers groaned in unison.

“Yeah,” Mac said. “But she’s not a Razorback. She won a great scholarship to one of the smaller state schools. Sounds like she had an amazing experience. She was really involved in their honors program.”

“That sounds like her,” Joiner said. “That girl is a brainiac.”

Mac nodded. “She had a chance to study abroad while she was there and then hooked up with KARIS, a group that helps children around the globe.”

Cullen whistled. “Impressive.”

“Yes, I think it was, or is.”

“What do you mean, is?” Hunt asked.

“Well, she worked her way up to a pretty high-profile position. Was the director of communications for the Middle East. She was working out of their office in Afghanistan until just recently, when they had to evacuate.” Mac took a sip of iced tea. “She’s still working for them online a bit, but I guess time will tell whether she’ll go back full-time.” He didn’t dare add that he hoped time would answer “no” to that option.

Joiner asked, “How’d she end up coming here?”

“She’s trying to sell her parents’ property for them, that acreage where they lived. Apparently, they are in some kind of financial difficulty.”

“That land is nothing special, if I remember it right,” Joiner said. “Too bad there’s not oil underneath it or something. That’s about the only way I can see anybody would want to buy it. Course then, they wouldn’t want to sell it, would they?”

* * *

THE NEXT MORNING when Mac arrived at the office, Jacqueline was already waiting for him in the parking lot. She got out of her car when she saw him, and they walked to the front door together, her gray suede high heels clacking on the pavement. Ever since the day he told her it was okay to wear jeans, it seemed she’d gone completely the other direction in her attire, and today was no exception. Embroidered black flowers traced their way from her shoulders to the front of her diaphanous gray dotted nylon mesh dress, layered over a black slip. The dress tapered at the waist before flowing into a raw-edged, trumpet-shaped, high-low hem. A short black jacket and fog-gray tights kept her warm, he assumed.

“I like your dress.”

Jacqueline smiled. “Thanks. It’s one of my favorites. I brought my old wardrobe with me when I moved here.” She tugged at the bottom of her jacket. “It’s kind of nice rediscovering all the things I had no use for in Afghanistan.”

It’s kind of nice for me, too. He enjoyed seeing her expressions of personal style each day, even looked forward to it. He’d never admit it, but in this, as well as a myriad of other ways, he was finding it harder and harder to keep his feelings toward her strictly professional.

Jacqueline stirred something in him that had long been buried. Her combination of smarts, compassion and exotic beauty were irresistible. It scared him and thrilled him at the same time. Maybe he should ask her out for dinner sometime, he mused. He’d not been on a date in ages, and she was so alluring. Mac would like to get to know her better outside of a work setting. But maybe he shouldn’t. He didn’t want to risk a good working relationship. And maybe there was more at stake than that. He didn’t know if he was ready to risk his heart.

“I guess I may need to get you your own key to the kingdom,” Mac joked, bringing himself back to the moment.

She smiled. “I’m a little early.”

As he held the door for her, he said, “Ella spoiled me. She was always early, had the coffee on by the time I got here.”

“You really miss her, don’t you?” Jacqueline strode directly to the coffeemaker and began their morning ritual.

“I do miss her. She’s my friend.” Mac paused at the front desk. “But you’re doing great. I’m really glad you’re here.” He thought he noticed the color heighten in her cheeks.

“I’m glad you’re letting me do more around here than I was at first. I need to do more than make coffee and answer the phone, for what you’re paying me.”

“Well, I’m not used to my assistant understanding the tax code as well as I do, but it’s a nice change. I could get used to it.”

Jacqueline snorted. “I’ve got a long way to go to understand it as well as you. But I’m glad I can help a little.”

Mac rapped his hands on the desk, unsure of what else to say.

She smiled at him. “I’ll bring your coffee in a minute.”

“Okay.”

They worked methodically through the hours. Jacqueline suggested a system by which she viewed the tax packets people brought in first, cleaned them up and arranged them for Mac according to difficulty. He found that she filtered a lot of things he usually had to do himself. The work went smoothly and by the end of the day they’d accomplished a lot together—more than Mac thought possible. He felt oddly relieved of some of the pressure and responsibility he always felt.

“Jacqueline?” He buzzed her desk phone at quitting time.

“Yes?”

“Can I buy you dinner?”

She hesitated. “I can buy my own. I’m well paid.”

“I’d like to treat you,” Mac said. “I mean, unless you have other plans. You’ve been a tremendous help to me today.”

“Well, I don’t have other plans...”

He could almost hear the wheels turning in her brain and he wondered what she was thinking. He hoped he wasn’t crossing an invisible employer-employee line. As Ella had been more his mother’s age, this was new territory for him. “No pressure, of course.”

“I’d love to.”

“Do you need to go home first, or want to go from here?”

“We can go from here. That’s fine.”

After they closed down the office and Mac locked the door behind them, they walked together to his truck. He held the passenger door for her as she climbed up, no small feat in her high heels. Then he settled into the driver’s seat.

“What do you like to eat? I’m afraid we don’t have the greatest selection in Kilgore.”

Jacqueline smiled. “What I’m really in the mood for is Indian food. I don’t suppose a great Indian joint popped up since I left?”

“Actually...”

“No way! In Kilgore?”

Mac laughed. “Not in Kilgore. But I’ve heard about one in Tyler. My sister-in-law Gillian swears by it, and she lives with a five-star chef, so I imagine it’s pretty good. But I’ve never been there. Wouldn’t even know what to order.”

“You don’t like Indian food?”

“I’ve never tried it. I’m more of a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy.”

Jacqueline looked at him as if he had grown horns. “Do you mean to tell me you have never tasted Indian food? In your whole life?”

“Obviously, I am not cultured. In the least.”

“Do you have any interest in trying it?”

“I’m not opposed, especially since you are in the mood for it. I’d like to take you there.”

Jacqueline’s eyes warmed. “Let’s go, then! It is high time you experienced chicken tikka masala.”

“Chicken what?”

“Chicken tikka masala. It’s my favorite Indian dish. It’s spicy, aromatic, delicious.”

“Sounds scary.”

“You’ll love it.”

Mac called Gillian on his cell phone to get the name of the place, which was R and R Curry. She warned him it was a hole in the wall, and when he drove up to it after following her directions, he saw she wasn’t kidding. It was in the back of a gas station. “This is a little embarrassing,” he said to Jacqueline.

“Why?”

“Because.” Mac searched for the words. Because you look like a movie star and I’m taking you to a gas station for dinner? “I had no intentions of taking you to a dive for dinner.”

“Are you kidding? This is my favorite kind of restaurant.” Jacqueline practically bounced in her seat.

She wasn’t kidding. She was excited. In fact, this was the most animated he had seen her since she’d mimicked The Godfather in his office. He held the door open for her, and they walked to the back of the gas station, toward all sorts of exotic smells that tickled Mac’s nose.

CHAPTER FOUR

JACQUELINE ORDERED CHICKEN tikka masala for both of them with extra naan bread. Mac thanked the server for the ice water. She smiled to herself as he squirmed in his seat, fiddling with the tray of sauces when it was brought. He was obviously out of his element.

“I kind of like this arrangement.” Jacqueline smiled slyly.

“Dinner at a gas station?”

“Well, yes. I love a good dive. But what I meant was being in charge—knowing about something you don’t.”

Mac peered at her over his glasses. “Oh. I see. That’s how it is.”

“It’s a nice change from the office.”

“I’m sure you know more about a lot of things than I do about the world outside my office.” He bit into the naan bread. “I tend to be a little bit of a hermit. At least, that’s what my brothers say.”

Jacqueline saw something in his eyes and heard it in his voice. But what was it, exactly? Regret? Resolve? Resignation?

She traced circles on the surface of her water with a straw. “I know a little bit about a lot of things, but I don’t know anything as deeply as you know your world.” She met his intense gaze. “And I’m afraid I’m the same way with people.”

“What do you mean?” Mac leaned forward.

“It’s the way I was raised. We were gypsies—nomads—never stayed in one place long. My parents both make friends easily, but I’m not like that. By the time I started to feel comfortable with my surroundings and got to know anyone, it was time to move.”

Mac’s startled expression showed his horror. “I cannot imagine that. Honestly, I never would have survived.”

Jacqueline shrugged. She felt a little defensive, though she couldn’t tell why. “Well, it has its perks. I’ve seen a lot of places, met a lot of different kinds of people. You’d survive if it was all you’d ever known.”

The server brought their food. Mac thanked him as he helped set the table. Jacqueline watched with amusement as Mac inhaled the steam rising from his plate and his eyes started watering.

“I don’t know how it tastes yet, but this is good for the sinuses!”

She laughed. Mac watched as she spooned rice from a bowl onto her chicken, mixing them together and coating the rice with the pumpkin-colored sauce. He did the same. Then he dipped the naan bread she offered him into the sauce, tasting it before forking a piece of chicken. His eyes opened wide.

“You like?” she asked.

“Spicy.” Mac took a sip of water. “I like.”

She winked at him. “You need a little spice in your life.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Who else has told you that?”

“Mostly my three brothers.” Mac stirred in a bit more rice with his chicken. “And Alma. And Ella.”

“Who is Alma?”

“She was our housekeeper growing up. After my parents died, she became more like a second mother to me.”

“I think I remember meeting her once.”

“Really?”

“Yes. There was a study group one time that met at Joiner’s. She made the most amazing snacks for us. Tamales, chicken taquitos, guacamole, sopaipillas...”

“That’s Alma for you.”

“I was hungry a lot. You don’t forget food like that.” Jacqueline felt a pang at the memory and was sure it showed.

Mac’s eyes softened. “You were hungry? I never knew.”

“Joiner didn’t, either—I don’t think anyone did. I mean, it’s not like I was starving or anything. But food was pretty scarce.”

“I’m sorry. That must have been difficult.”

“Yeah, it was. Those days are over now, though.” Jacqueline grinned as she patted her tummy and took another bite of her food.

“Can I ask you about your work with KARIS? Tell me more about it.”

“What do you want to know?”

“How did you develop a passion for it? You said your focus was education for girls—how did that develop?”

Tiny butterflies erupted in her stomach at Mac’s serious expression. He seemed genuinely interested.

“Well, first, education has been so empowering to me personally. It was one stabilizing force in my life growing up, and then college broadened my horizons and opened up so many opportunities for me.” Jacqueline swallowed a sip of water. “One of those was travel abroad, and when I saw how girls in many places in the Middle East were denied this basic right, it broke my heart. I came to believe that helping girls get access to education was a real thing I could do to help the world.”

“That sounds so noble.”

Jacqueline frowned. “Not really.”

“Yes, really.”

“Mac, you have to think outside of Kilgore. At some point, I realized I could be any of those girls. The only difference between us is the geography of our births—nothing they or I chose. How could I not want to help them?”

“It’s still remarkable that you do.”

“I don’t think of it that way. I just think of it as human.”

Mac raised his glass of ice water. “Here’s to you, and Indian food, and being human.”

Jacqueline clinked her glass against his, but didn’t feel completely comfortable. Was he making fun of her? She didn’t know him well enough to be sure.

“What do you care about, Mac? Besides taxes.” She hoped there wasn’t an edge to her voice.

“I care about my brothers.” He paused after that, a little too long for her liking. “I care about hard work, and home, and my church.”

“Anything else?”

“I’ve been trying for some time to restore honor to my family name, but I’ve not been very successful on that project.”

“What do you mean?”

“You must be the only person in Kilgore who doesn’t know the story of my pap, Mason Dixon Temple. He was a wildcatter who went to prison for stealing oil. After he got out, we never saw him again. He died somewhere out west, but his grave has never been found, so there’s never been any closure to his complicated life.”

“You’ve tried to find his grave?”

“Yes—I’ve even paid a private investigator—but so far we’ve not been able to come up with anything. Joiner says he’ll go out west with me so we can look for ourselves. But I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like that’s the last resort—what would I do if we went out there and didn’t find it? It seems impossible to think about having closure without certainty. I guess that’s because certainty might clear our name.” Mac sighed. “It’s just a mess.”

Jacqueline understood what it felt like to be an outsider because of one’s family. She never thought of Joiner and Mac that way growing up, but clearly, everyone had their own set of troubles. “I’m sorry, Mac.”

He drank the last swallow of his water. “It’s no big deal. I’m embarrassed, to be honest, after talking to you about all of this. My concerns must seem pretty small-minded to someone with your kind of vision for the world.”

The server returned to fill their waters and Mac asked for the check. When he paid, she noticed he gave the server a hefty tip.

Jacqueline’s heart softened toward Mac. They were as different as night and day, but he was a good person. And his simplicity was somehow refreshing to her. Steadying. “Not at all,” she told him. “It takes all kinds.”

He drove them back to the office. Dark had fallen early on the January night, and the streetlamps glowed with warm light. As they pulled into the parking lot beside her brother’s Prius, Mac said, “I’d like to follow you home, if that’s okay, just to see you in.”

“That’s really not necessary. I’m a big girl.”

“Still, I’d feel better. Humor me?”

Eyes the color of dark amber smoldered at her with what seemed like more than just concern. This guy could be pretty intense, it seemed, and she liked it. She raised her eyebrows. “You’re the boss.”

CHAPTER FIVE

MAC FOLLOWED JACQUELINE across town. She turned down what Kilgore locals called “Church Row,” a street that was home to the Episcopalian, Methodist, Presbyterian and First Baptist churches. Jacqueline pulled into the driveway of a tiny old stone house across from the Methodist church. The house was shrouded by a craggy oak tree in need of trimming. The porch light flickered a soft white, revealing a grapevine wreath on the door and green welcome mat. Mac pulled his truck in behind her.

Jacqueline got out of her car, but instead of going to the door of her house she walked toward his truck. He rolled down the window. “Since you’re here, you want to come in for a cup of decaf?”

“I don’t drink decaf.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. He felt unnerved, as though he’d insulted her somehow.

“But I would like to come in.” He slid out of his seat, worrying a bit about the appropriateness of what he was doing, but he quickly dismissed those thoughts. There was nothing wrong with being friendly.

She used her key to go in a side door, and they took their coats off and hung them on hooks. A small lamp illuminated the table by the doorway where she laid her keys. She flipped a switch to turn on another light and Mac followed her into a tiny kitchen. White cabinets framed a white stove, from which she grabbed a red teapot. She filled it with water and returned it to the stove, clicking the gas burner till it ignited. She motioned for him to sit down at a round ice-cream shop table with an oak top in the corner of the room. Then she brought two mugs and an assortment of teas to the table and sat down in the chair opposite him.

“Which one of these is best?” he asked, turning the teas and reading labels.

“I like the chai or the ginger peach. But the peppermint is also nice.”

Mac unwrapped a peppermint tea bag from its package and hung it over the side of his mug. When the kettle whistled, Jacqueline brought it and filled his first, then poured her own mug full of chai. She giggled.

He frowned. “What? What is it?”

“You don’t look very cozy in that chair.”

He smiled. His six-foot-four frame made the set seem like doll furniture.

She rose. “Come on. Let’s go in here where it’s more comfortable.”

Jacqueline led Mac out of the kitchen and down a short, narrow hall into the living room. She sat down on a horribly patterned sofa and he took the mismatched chair adjacent to it, putting his feet up on the pea green–colored ottoman. “That’s something nice,” he commented, settling in. The chair was surprisingly comfortable.

She laughed and the sound was like music. “Nothing but the best Kilgore Goodwill store had to offer.”

“I like it. The whole room is—creative.” Mac looked around, taking in the macrame design on the wall, orange shag rug and the beat-up coffee table where a wooden bowl full of pecans with a silver nutcracker sat. He tried to suppress thoughts of who the previous owners of this collection could have been, and what hygienic habits they might have been lacking. Breathe. He took a sip of his tea.

Jacqueline eased off her heels and put her feet on the table, wriggling her toes inside her gray stockings. “It was kind of you to follow me home.” Her eyes sparkled with warmth as she peered at him over her tea mug.

“It was kind of you to invite me in.” For some reason, Mac wasn’t bothered by her feet, even though he had a foot aversion. At least with other people’s feet.

“Are you cold?”

“A bit. Is it hard to keep this little old house warm?” Mac looked around for a thermostat.

“Check this out.” Jacqueline set down her tea and walked across the tiny room to the fireplace. She picked up a brass key off the mantel, fit it into a square on the hearth and turned it. Then she lit a match and tossed it into the firebox. Poof! A fire blazed, but there was no wood.

“Whoa! That’s old-school!”

“This whole house is old-school. I kind of love it.” Jacqueline sat back down on the couch, crossing one of her legs under her and picking up her tea again.

“How did you end up renting it? The King of Kilgore?”

“No, believe it or not. I found it on a website. It’s owned by the Methodist church. They rented it to me for three months.”

“That’s all?” Mac knew he sounded as disappointed as he felt.

“I think I’ll have the option to renew.”

“Good.”

“You may not want me on your payroll longer than that.”

“Are you kidding?”

Jacqueline grinned. Mac thought he detected a note of wistfulness when she said, “I told you from the beginning I wasn’t planning to stay.”

“That doesn’t mean I won’t try to change your mind.” He set down his mug.

They both stared at the fire for a long moment. To Mac, a flame was mesmerizing.

“Well.” Jacqueline finally broke the silence.

“That’s a deep subject.” Mac straightened his glasses. “My dad used to say that.”

“Tell me about him.”

Mac took a deep breath. He never talked about his parents, didn’t know where to begin. “He was a doctor. A good guy.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Yes. Sometimes. All of the time, if I let myself.”

“Are you like him?” Jacqueline’s voice was breathy, soft.

“I think I’m the most like him of all of my brothers, except maybe Cullen.”

“The professor?”

“Yes. We’re both more studious, and that’s like my dad. But Cullen’s into history. My dad was very scientific, meticulous, also loved numbers.”

“That’s like you.” She grinned.

“Yes. We both need—or he needed—certainty. That’s how he died, you know. Trying to find Pap’s grave. I still want to find it, but I don’t know if I ever will.”

“I remember the plane crash. That must have been so impossibly difficult, losing both of your parents.”

Mac nodded. There were no words.

“I envy you, you know.”

Jacqueline’s comment seemed so strange, he searched her face for meaning. Surely he misunderstood what she’d said.

“Roots.” She put down her mug and reached for the bowl of pecans. Bypassing the nutcracker, she took two pecans in her palm and squeezed them together, cracking them both.

“Man, you must have a grip of steel,” Mac said with admiration.

She picked the pecans out of their shells, depositing the remains in her empty tea mug, and offered one to Mac. When their hands touched, Mac felt an electric shock. He took the pecan. “Thanks.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Mac. I know you’ve suffered horrible losses that no one would envy. And I’m truly sorry.” Her eyes burned with intensity. “But what I envy is how grounded you are—your roots. You know where you belong.”

“It’s funny, but I’ve never considered that as a big deal. It’s just who I am.”

“It is a big deal. It’s something a lot of people don’t have.”

“But do you want to be grounded, Jacqueline? Really? To put down roots somewhere? I don’t want to talk myself out of a good assistant, but it seems like that kind of life might be too boring for you. Too—limiting.”

Jacqueline sighed. “My parents definitely raised me to think so. But I don’t know. My maternal grandmother—her name is Violet—believes the opposite. I never saw her much growing up because my mother broke with her when she met my father. But the few times I’ve seen her are the closest things I have to memories of a home.”

“Where does she live?”

“Iowa. In the middle of a cornfield.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I need to go see her sometime while I’m in the country. It’s been years.”

“Why so long?”

“It was up to my parents to take me when I was a kid, and that didn’t happen much. Then in college I didn’t really have the means. But we wrote letters.”

“I see.” Mac couldn’t fathom it. He’d always had the means, just no living grandparent to go visit.

As if reading his thoughts, Jacqueline asked, “Are any of your other grandparents still living?”

“No. They’re all gone—all passed before my parents.”

Jacqueline nodded sympathetically, her hair falling forward over her shoulder like a dark silk curtain. Mac suddenly had the urge to reach out and touch the strands. But instead, he rose. “I guess I better get going.” He wanted to stay with every fiber of his being. But the reasons he should go were more certain than his feelings: Jacqueline was in his life for only the short-term. She was like some exotic bird of paradise, and nothing he was or could do would ever be enough to keep her in Kilgore. So he’d best not get too close before she flew away.

“Oh.” Jacqueline seemed a little surprised. “Okay. You have something going on tomorrow?”

“We have a workday down at the church. I’m cooking breakfast.”

“Really?” She smiled, eyes gleaming.

“And why does that amuse you, Ms. Aimes?”

“I, well.” She raised a finger and touched her pillowy lips. “You’re just full of surprises, boss.”

“Next time I’ll cook you dinner.” The words were out of his mouth before he could retrieve them. Embarrassed, he started toward the back door, but she stopped him.

Jacqueline’s eyes flickered with delight. “The front door will be closer to your truck. I’ll just get your coat.”

CHAPTER SIX

MAC PULLED UP at Star Stables, where Joiner was supposed to meet him, at six o’clock sharp. He waved to Buster, Stella’s father, who was already feeding his goats. At six ten, Mac squinted his eyes and spotted a dot that had to be Joiner sitting on a bigger black dot that had to be Pistol. They were kicking up dust across the frosty acreage that separated the stables, which were located near Buster Scout’s ranch house, and the north forty, the parcel of land he had given Stella and Joiner for building their house.

When Joiner jumped into the truck at six fifteen, after handing Pistol off to Buster, he apologized. “I’m sorry, man.”

“Rough night?”

“Stella’s having those pains again. We don’t know if they are Braxton Hicks contractions or what.”

“Braxton what?”

“Braxton Hicks. They’re contractions that get you ready for the real contractions when the baby comes.”

“I see.” Mac suppressed a smile. Joiner was a long way from the playboy polo player he’d been in college. A long way for the better.

“Only thing is, the pain’s not really in the right place for Braxton Hicks. It’s more right here.” Joiner pointed to the area right under his sternum.

“Did you call the doctor?”

“Yes. We called and got the doctor on call, of course, since it’s not during office hours, and she told Stella to take two Tylenol and two Benadryl and lie down.”

“What time was that?”

“Five fifteen.”

“So Stella did? Did it help?”

“At six o’clock, she was finally getting some relief. I couldn’t leave till then. Guess I should have called you.”

“Of course, I understand.” Mac nodded. “You don’t even have to go. Hunt, Cullen and I could handle it.”

“I know, but Stella wanted me to. Said she was fine and just going to sleep.” Joiner looked at his phone. “She’ll call if it starts hurting again. The doctor said if it did, to head into Labor and Delivery.”

“Good grief!” Mac said. “She’s not thinking Stella might deliver, I hope. Surely, not this early.”

“No. I don’t think so. It’s so they could monitor her where they have all of the right equipment.”

The parking lot of Grace Baptist Church was empty except for Cullen’s Subaru station wagon and Hunt’s Harley-Davidson motorcycle. Douglas, a guy who always volunteered to help the brothers with breakfast, pulled up about the same time as Mac and Joiner. Mac inwardly cringed. As if reading his mind, Joiner chuckled and punched Mac’s arm. The well-meaning Douglas, with his perpetual sneezing, was the ultimate challenge to Mac’s germophobic tendencies.

“Brotha chothas!” Hunt called from the kitchen as Mac stepped through the fellowship hall door. Hunt, ever the Cowboy Chef, waved a spatula high in the air to greet them.

“The king with his scepter is already ruling the kitchen.” Cullen grasped Mac’s arm and then Joiner’s. Patting Douglas on the back, he offered them all rubber gloves.

Douglas took his, wiping his nose with his hand before putting them on. A cold sweat broke out across Mac’s forehead. He wiped it with a handkerchief and then headed to the sink to wash his hands.

“What’s that mean? Chothas?” Douglas asked.

“It’s a corruption of the language,” Joiner explained, washing his hands, as well. “A twin thing.”

Cullen interjected, “When Hunt and I were two, or so the story goes, Alma tried to get us to sleep in separate beds, but we both cried. Hunt told Alma, ‘But we can’t sleep apart. We need we’s chother.’”

“Oh!” Douglas exclaimed. “Like each other. I get it.” He laughed from deep in his belly. “That’s cute.”

“I’ve always been cute.” Hunt winked. The rest of the brothers groaned, rolling their eyes.

Each one took up his usual station in the church breakfast assembly line: Cullen cooked the bacon and sausage, Joiner made pancakes, and Mac rolled out homemade biscuits. While Hunt used his considerable skills on maple-cinnamon rolls, they all worked to keep Douglas contained to the fruit cutting. By seven thirty, when church members began to filter in, the coffee was on and the table spread. It was a delicious-smelling feast.

The brothers ate last, at a table with Sarah and her girls, as well as Gillian, Hunt’s wife. Both women were dressed in work clothes. As there was no call from Stella, they took that as a sign she was resting peacefully and decided not to bother her. Pastor Craig assigned the Temples to painting the youth wing, since Sarah’s girls were both in Youth, and the family worked through the morning making white Sunday school classes a more hip red, yellow and green.

When it was time to leave, about noon, Mac offered to treat everyone to pizza. The girls clapped their hands. Joiner said, “Could we pick it up and take it out to the house?”

“Great idea,” said Gillian. “I wanted to check on Stella myself.”

Sarah nodded. “Why don’t you guys pick up the pizza and we’ll go get fruit drinks for everyone?”

“Good deal.” Mac motioned for Cullen to jump in with him and Joiner while the women all piled into the station wagon with Sarah. “See you at Joiner’s in a few minutes.” He had a flickering thought of what it would be like to have Jacqueline there with him—like the others had their wives. But that was jumping the gun.

When everyone arrived, they found Stella on the couch in flannel pajamas and wrapped in a white terry-cloth robe. Propped on a pile of pillows, she looked tired, her swollen feet spilling out of her slippers. “I feel much better,” she declared. “That doctor’s instructions were the ticket. I’ve had a good rest.”

“Want some pizza?” Joiner smoothed her hair back from her head. “We got the kind you like just in case.”

Mac shared a look with Cullen and Hunt—a look that was somewhere between admiration for Joiner and a desire to make fun of him. For now, admiration won out.

Sarah and Gillian distributed pieces of pizza on paper plates while the girls passed out napkins along with everyone’s respective drink. They scattered around Joiner and Stella’s giant great room, sitting as near Stella as they could, some on the floor, some on the hearth of the fireplace, and some in chairs and the love seat nearby.

“Call Buster,” Mac said. “We’ve got plenty.”

“I already did,” Joiner said between bites. “He’s on his way.”

“So, exactly how many weeks along are you, Aunt Stella?” Meg asked, pulling out her phone.

“Thirty-two.” Stella patted her bulging belly.

“Baby weighs around four pounds,” Meg read off her screen. “Lungs and digestive system will develop to full maturity in the next few weeks.”

“We definitely need this little girl to stay in there awhile longer.” Stella rubbed her tummy. “I’ll admit I was getting worried in the wee hours of this morning.”

“I’m so glad what the doctor suggested worked and the pains have stopped,” Sarah said.

“What doctor? What pains?” Buster Scout burst through the door and wobbled on bowed legs to the couch where Stella lounged.

Stella smiled at him with tired eyes. “Hey, Pops.” She patted one of his gnarled hands. “Nothing to worry about. I was having some pains earlier, but they’re gone now.”

Buster scowled at Joiner with bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“We didn’t want to worry you.”

“‘We didn’t want to worry you!’’’ Buster mimicked Joiner in a high-pitched voice.

“Really, Pops.” Joiner put his hand on Buster’s shoulder and walked with him into the kitchen, showing the older man the pizza. Mac followed them and poured Buster a drink of soda.

“Thanks for taking care of Pistol for me this morning,” Joiner said.

“You’re welcome. That why you were ridin’ hell for leather?”

“Well, yes. I waited till she wasn’t having pains—or I wouldn’t have gone to the breakfast.”

“And here I figured you two was just honeymoonin’ and lost track of time.” Buster winked at Mac. Mac cleared his throat while Joiner reddened. Buster, a retired bronc rider, could not be further from their real father in appearance and manner. And yet with his heart of gold, he’d become like another father to Joiner. Mac was grateful.

As he stood in the doorway between kitchen and great room, observing the gathering of his people—his brothers’ easy banter, their wives’ concern and care for one another, how this closeness was already manifesting in the next generation—Jacqueline’s words from the night before came back to him. It was a big deal. This family network, the life he had with his brothers and the security it meant for all of them. Not everybody had that. Regardless of whom and what he had lost in his life, Jacqueline was right. Mac knew where he belonged. He resolved to play it safer—focus his efforts more on his family—rather than chasing whatever passing feelings he had for her. The Temple family was here to stay. And as bad as he might like it to be different, Jacqueline had made it clear she was just passing through.

CHAPTER SEVEN

JACQUELINE WOKE UP to the sound of meowing. After finding her glasses on the bedside table, she checked the clock. Six thirty-five. Almost time to get up, anyway. The sun was just rising, and an orangey-pink light streamed through her window. Where was that meowing coming from?

She followed the sound to the front room. Opening the door and stepping onto the front porch, she spotted a tiny calico kitten peering at her and howling as loud as its little lungs could muster. “Oh, you poor baby! Where did you come from?”

Jacqueline picked up the kitten and stroked its soft fur. She looked around and saw no one else, and no other signs of another cat. An icy wind blew open her robe and she wrapped it more tightly around herself, cuddling the kitten. We can’t stay out here, she thought. She took the kitten inside and warmed up some milk.

By the time Jacqueline was dressed for work, the saucer of milk was empty and the kitten curled, purring loudly, on the blanket she put down in the corner of the laundry room. “You be good today,” she told the kitten. “I’ll try to check on you at lunch.”

* * *

SHE BEAT MAC to the office and used her key to let herself in. She went through the “sacraments of puttering,” as Ella called it, turning up the heat, making coffee, flicking on all of the lights and computers. Soon Mac’s truck rumbled into the parking lot. At the sound, her heart rate quickened just a bit and she checked her appearance in the foyer mirror before settling behind her desk to seem more nonchalant than she felt. Why did her boss have to be so handsome? But you are not complaining, her inner voice reminded her. She smiled to herself.

“Good morning, Jacqueline,” Mac said as he stepped through the door. His glasses were fogged. He cleaned the lenses with a handkerchief and then replaced them on his nose. “Nice to see a smile this early.”

“Good morning.” She grinned, unable to help herself.

Mac removed his coat and cowboy hat, and placed them on the rack in the foyer. Eyes the color of dark, sweet honey glistened from the cold, and his hair, brown with natural gold highlights, was a bit crushed by his hat. He ruffled it with his hands to an unkempt perfection. This was uncharacteristic of him, but she liked it.

“I need a haircut,” he said, glancing in the mirror. “How was your weekend?”

He took the mail from the counter but didn’t look at it yet. Instead he studied her. He was waiting for her answer.

“It was good. Uneventful except for this morning, when I found a cat on my doorstep. Cutest thing ever. I’ll need to go check on her at lunch.”

“You left it in your house?” Mac’s face showed signs of horror.

“Well, I was going to bring her here but decided against it.”

“Good decision.” He thumped the mail with his hand.

“And of course I put her in my house. She’s an itty-bitty kitten. You don’t think I’d leave her outside to freeze?”

“Bleeding heart.” Mac scrunched up his nose. “Cats are so...nasty.”

She blinked in astonishment. “How can you say that? Have you no heart?”

“I have a need to be in control. Especially when it comes to hygiene and my surroundings. And cat hair, cat food, cat smells, cat, well, you know...bodily functions...pretty much everything about a cat contradicts that.”

Jacqueline rolled her eyes. “Come with me at lunch and meet her. We’ll see if you can say that to her face.”

“I have no problem with that. You’re on.”

* * *

AT NOON JACQUELINE popped her head into Mac’s office. “I’m going to check on the kitty.”

He jerked his head up from the paperwork he was studying, looked at her and then the clock on his desk and back to her. “It’s already noon!”

“I know. You don’t have to go. Want me to pick you up something?”

“I’m going.” He rose from his chair. “Someone has to confront this furry mass of germs before it’s too late.”

Jacqueline shook her head at him. “Famous last words.”

He helped her into her black trench coat and then slid on his own. Donning his hat, he turned the sign on the door from Open to Closed. Then he held the door for her and locked it behind them.

“I’ll drive,” Jacqueline offered.

Mac squeezed his tall frame into the Prius and she laughed. She had the feeling lack of legroom was far less disconcerting to him than not being in control, and she exulted in it. She revved the engine and Mac glanced at her sideways. What did it say about her that she enjoyed torturing him?

“I don’t have anything good for lunch at home.”

“That’s okay because I couldn’t eat with a cat, anyway.”

“Drive-through somewhere?”

“Let’s go to Suzie Q’s for burgers.”

“I didn’t know that place was still around.”

“Same location as always.”

“Sounds good.”

She pulled through the drive at the old-fashioned burger joint and ordered the brown-bag special: two burgers, two fries and two shakes. Mac tried to pay, but Jacqueline wouldn’t let him. She footed the twelve-dollar bill.

“I haven’t consumed this many calories in a day in I don’t know when. And here I am scarfing them all in one meal!” she said, eating a fry as they drove away.

“The shakes are probably over-the-top.” Mac stuck a straw in her banana shake and another in his peanut butter one. They both took a big sip. “But they’re so good, aren’t they?”

“Yes. I’d forgotten how good they are.” Jacqueline took another swig. “Joiner bought me a few of these in high school.”

“Did you guys ever—?”

“No, no, no.” Jacqueline half smiled. “I mean, I would have dated him. But he was way out of my league.”

Mac almost choked on his burger, but quickly recovered.

“I was the biggest nerd ever, Mac.”

“I remember you being pretty nerdy.”

“Thanks.” She threw a fry at him, which he caught and ate.

“Keep your eyes on the road.”

“Joiner was nice to me. I think he was a closet nerd. We had that creative writing class together. He wrote beautiful poetry.”

“I’ll have to ask him about that.”

“No, you don’t. How’s he doing, anyway?”

Mac finished his burger and folded the wrapper in his hands. “He’s good. Married a great girl, Stella, and they’re about to have their first baby.”

“That’s wonderful. I’m really happy for him.”

“Me, too.”

Jacqueline pulled into the driveway of her house. She took a couple of more bites of her burger and then wrapped it up. Mac got out of the Prius and appeared on her side, opening the driver’s door.

“You’re quite a gentleman,” she said with appreciation. “I’m not used to that since I left Texas.”

“That’s why you should stay in Texas.” Mac grinned. “One reason, anyway.”

He followed her to the side door again and inside the house. The minute they stepped inside, they heard meowing.

“She’s in the laundry room—just straight through here.”

They crossed the kitchen and opened the laundry room door. Mac smelled it before he saw it—a tiny rope of cat poop. He backed away.

“Oh my goodness! Yuck!” Cringing, Jacqueline looked into Mac’s green face as he scrambled for the door.

“Have to get air!” he squeaked, and burst back outside.

Jacqueline cleaned up the mess with bleach, erasing every trace of the smell. Scooping up the kitty, she found Mac sitting on the stoop just outside the door.

“She’s just a baby,” Jacqueline said, holding the kitty in her lap and petting her head. The kitty began to purr.

“She’s an assassin.” Mac scowled at the tiny animal. “I almost threw up.”

“I can get a litter box.”

“Disgusting.”

Jacqueline held up the kitty so he could see its pink nose and big gold eyes. “Say that to her face.”

“You’re nasty,” he said, looking in the other direction.

“Mac, look into her eyes.”

He glanced at the kitten and then down at his boots. “You’re disgusting.”

“Meow?”

Mac looked back at the kitten, whose ears were perked as if waiting for his reply. His clenched jaw seemed to soften a little. Jacqueline took his hand in hers, bringing it to the downy fur of the baby calico. He squeezed his eyes shut as if it hurt him to pet it.

“You can wash your hands later,” she reassured him. His fingertips were surprisingly rough. “Where’d you get these calluses?”

“I play guitar.”

“Really.” It was more of a statement than a question. “Cool.”

“Not well or anything.”

“I’d like to hear you.”

Mac caressed the kitten’s ears. “You probably wouldn’t like it.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

Jacqueline let her hand rest on top of Mac’s larger one while he continued to pet the kitten.

“What are you going to name it?”

“Her. She’s a she.”

“What are you going to name her?” He tousled the kitten’s fur and bent to touch his nose to her tiny pink one. Then he eased Jacqueline’s long fingers between his own, cupping his hand.

“I don’t know. Do you have any suggestions?” Jacqueline squeezed his hand back.

His mouth curved into a crooked grin. “How about Nemesis?”

CHAPTER EIGHT

MAC AND JACQUELINE had been back in the office for only thirty minutes when Mac received a group text—along with his other brothers—from Joiner:

At hospital in Tyler with Stella. Pain came back along with dizziness about 10:00. Left Duane in charge at Stables. Buster here. Stella on pain meds, lots of testing. Think it may be gallbladder. Baby on monitor and good.

Mac replied, Do you need anything?

Prayers.

The brothers texted back.

Cullen: Praying now.

Hunt: Me, too.

Mac: Ditto.

He prayed while he packed up his desk quickly, putting anything urgent into his briefcase. Then, grabbing his MacBook Pro and his keys, he headed for the front desk.

“Is something wrong?” Jacqueline, startled, looked up from her computer. There was fear in her eyes.

“Stella is in the hospital. She had some weird pains over the weekend and they came back today, along with dizziness. The doctor had them go to Labor and Delivery.”

Jacqueline raised her hand to her mouth. “Oh, no! How far along is she?”

“Thirty-two weeks.”

“Oh, Mac, I hope everything will be okay. What can I do for you—and them?”

“Joiner asked us to pray so you can do that. I can’t stay here, though. I need to go and be with them.”

“Yes, go. I can take care of the office.”

“Thank you, Jacqueline.” He stared at her for a long moment, warmth washing over him. “I am so glad you are here.”

She smiled and then rose from her chair, coming around the counter to where he was putting on his coat. Taking him by complete and sweet surprise, she pulled him into her arms. She hugged him tightly around the waist. He smelled jasmine in her hair, which felt like satin against his cheek. For a moment, he closed his eyes and breathed in the comfort of her affection. Then he raised his hand to her face, touching it gently, and whispered, “Thanks,” before going out the door.

He reached Tyler Memorial in record time. Finding the Labor and Delivery area quickly, he parked his truck and ran up the stairs two at a time to the third floor. “Stella Temple?” he inquired at the front desk, and a nurse showed him to observation room number two.

Joiner sat beside Stella, who was lying on a gurney hooked up to several machines. She opened her eyes lazily and greeted Mac. “He needs some lunch.” She motioned at Joiner, her speech a drunken slur. “And Pops.” Then she dozed back off. Joiner, whose face was drawn with worry, broke into a smile at this and released her hand, rising out of his chair to embrace Mac.

“Hey, buddy.” Mac squeezed him hard.

“Thanks for coming. You sure got here fast.”

“Where’s Buster?”

“Gone to the bathroom.” Joiner sat back down beside the gurney, taking Stella’s hand again. Mac sat down in the seat beside him.

“What’s going on?”

“They’ve ruled out the gallbladder. Now they’re saying it could be reflux or possibly something to do with her liver.”

“And the baby?”

Joiner pointed to a screen hooked to one of the monitors. “That’s her. See the heartbeat and oxygen levels? Everything’s great right now. No problems.”

“That’s good news.”

“Yeah. We were really worried when we got here.” Joiner sighed. “It’s a big relief that the baby is fine. But we’ve got to get this pain figured out with Stella.”

“Looks like she’s feeling pretty good right now.” Mac smiled wickedly, nodding at the snoring Stella.

Joiner kissed her hand. “They’ve got her doped up pretty strong. She was in terrible pain when we got here.”

“Poor thing.” Mac smoothed Stella’s hair.

Buster appeared in the doorway with a cup of coffee for himself and Joiner. “Hey there, Mac. You want a cup? It’s right around the corner.” The older man’s overalls were worn in the knees and his boots caked with mud.

“No, thanks, Buster. But I’ve had instructions to go get you men a bite to eat.”

“Stella?” He looked lovingly at his daughter.

“Yes. She doesn’t want you going hungry. Woke up just long enough to give me orders.”

“Ha, ha. That sounds like ’er.”

Stella opened her eyes and stuck out her tongue at them, then recommenced snoring.

“What are you in the mood for, Joiner? Buster? I’ll go pick something up.”

* * *

MAC RETURNED WITH two sandwiches and jalapeno-flavored potato chips, along with lemonades. Joiner and Buster devoured their food like starving men. Buster looked up at Mac between bites and explained, “We eat breakfast early on the ranch.”

Mac took the chair opposite them and waited. It seemed as if the room had a revolving door of nurses, phlebotomists, ultrasound technicians and doctors. Cullen and Hunt arrived just in time after Cullen’s afternoon class to hear the news: blood work confirmed that Stella had HELLP syndrome, a form of preeclampsia. She would need to deliver the baby early. In fact, she’d be admitted, moved to a room and prepped to induce labor—the baby would be born the following morning.

While Joiner and Stella asked the doctor questions, the brothers got on their phones and let wives and families know. Mac called Alma, who, in excited Spanglish, instructed him to text her a list of things Joiner and Stella needed so she could go to their house to pack a bag for them. Then he called Jacqueline.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“I think I’ll stay here all evening and then come home, but I’ll need to come back in the morning. I want to be here when the baby is born.”

“Sure. Of course.”

She seemed to understand all he wasn’t saying. “Would you like to have the day off?”

“I’ll do whatever you need me to do, Mac. We’ve had several people bring in their tax stuff today and I imagine it could be that way all week. I kind of hate to close the office.”

Mac smiled. She hated to close the office.

“But I understand if you want me to. I mean, if you want it closed without you here.”

“You are spoiling me, Jacqueline. Not closing never would have been an option before. But your skills have rendered my presence a lot less valuable.”

She snorted. “Not less valuable. Just a little less required.”

He grinned. “Well, thanks a lot. I think.”

She laughed, that musical sound again.

“Don’t work too hard,” he said.

“Keep me posted when you can.” Her voice turned tender with concern.

“I will.” As Mac hung up the phone he felt warm, content. It was nice to have someone to call, to share his news.

* * *

THE ROOM STELLA moved to was sumptuous by regular hospital standards. It seemed pains were taken to make Labor and Delivery friendlier, more comfortable. “It’s the happiest wing of the hospital!” a chipper Certified Nursing Assistant sang out as he brought in extra chairs to accommodate the family. The expression on Joiner’s face, however, was not happy.

“Superman,” as the brothers had dubbed him since the movie Man of Steel featured Joiner’s look-alike in the role, was drawn up as tight as a bowstring. When Gillian and Sarah arrived, the brothers suggested they take him and Buster out for a bite to eat. But Buster, assessing the situation, said, “Joiner, you go on and get outside for a minute. You’ve got a long night ahead of you. I’ll stay here till you get back, then I’m going home to my own bed. I’ll tend the animals and be back in the morning.”

Stella nodded. “I’ll be out of it in a few minutes, anyway. They just gave me another dose of pain medicine. Go eat. Get out of here.” She shooed him with her IV-laden hands, smiling bravely.

“We’ll be here, too,” Sarah said.

Finally, Joiner agreed. “I guess I’ll go since Mac’s buying.” He managed a grin in Mac’s direction.

They piled in Mac’s truck, which had front and backseats, and he drove just a few blocks away to a steak house. Although he was the most conservative spender of his brothers, he also believed there was a time for extravagant gestures, and he ordered a blooming onion, Aussie fries and beers with limes for everyone. He watched as Joiner’s shoulders visibly relaxed.

“So tell us everything,” Hunt implored Joiner.

“Everything went fast there at the end, didn’t it, Mac?” Joiner began. “All day they’ve run tests, thinking it could be gallbladder, acid reflux, different stuff. But that last blood work came back with wacky liver enzymes and I guess that’s when they knew it was this HELLP syndrome.” Joiner rubbed his eyes. “You heard what the doctor said. The only way to stop it is to get the baby out.”

“I didn’t hear everything you asked him, though,” Cullen said. “Did you ask something about the timing? Like why the baby has to come now?”

“I did. You know the baby looked good all day on the monitor. So Stella and I were both wondering if she could stay in there awhile longer, you know, like maybe two more weeks, if they could just control Stella’s pain.”

“Yeah, makes sense.” Hunt said. “Give those lungs a little longer to develop.”

“That’s exactly what we were thinking,” said Joiner. “But the doctor said absolutely not. He said if they didn’t take the baby out, both she and Stella would be dead in two weeks.”

“That’s terrifying!” Cullen’s eyes were as big as Texas.

Joiner nodded gravely.

Mac adjusted his glasses with shaking hands. “I’m just thankful you brought her when you did, and they caught everything quickly. From what I heard, the prognosis sounds very hopeful.”

“Yes. Yes it does.” Joiner nodded. “Dr. Laws seems to think babies are pretty safe to be born after twenty-eight weeks and we are in the thirty-second.”

“That’s great,” said Hunt.

“It’s not ideal.” Joiner squeezed his hands into fists. “But probably—surely—everything will be okay.”

Mac patted Joiner on the back. “I believe it will. Stella is a strong woman.”

Joiner sighed. “It’s not how we planned it, but I have to trust God has a plan.”

They ate their steaks in relative silence compared with the usual brotherhood meetings back in Kilgore. It seemed there was everything and nothing to say. The gravity of the situation—its danger as well as its potential joy—hung in the air around their table.

Joiner didn’t hurry them, but Mac knew he wanted to get back to the hospital. He tried to pay the bill in secret. Mac saw and stopped him. “This one’s on me. It’s not every day a guy becomes an uncle.”

* * *

THEY ALL HUNG out in Stella’s room for a few hours after Buster left. Alma and her husband, Felix, arrived with a bag of clothes and toiletries for Joiner and Stella, along with hot sopaipillas and honey. Thirty minutes or so after they left, Hunt and Cullen drove back to Kilgore with their wives. Mac stayed till bedtime.

“I’ll see you in the morning. Try to get some rest.” He kissed Stella on the cheek.

She squeezed his hand. “Thanks for taking care of us.”

“Love you, girl,” Mac said.

“Love you back.”

As he and Joiner walked toward the door, his brother said, “The plan is to start Pitocin about seven o’clock.”

“I’ll be here at eight—that good?”

“How will you manage that with work?”

“It’s already managed. New assistant, Jacqueline, remember?”

“That’s good.” Joiner hugged him hard. “Thanks for everything.”

On the way home, Mac decided to call Jacqueline, not because he had any new news to report or even because he was curious about what might have happened at the office. He wouldn’t admit this to her, and most certainly not to himself, but he decided to call simply because he wanted to hear the sound of her voice.

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