Family sticks together, no matter what!

Wyatt Hawkins takes care of his family. So when he discovers he has a nephew, he vows to be there for Tyler until his father returns from overseas. Too bad the smart—and beautiful—judge in their custody case is interfering with Wyatt’s intention. He has to convince Judge Emily Ivers he’s good for Tyler!

But she seems to have strong feelings about a single rancher raising a child and Wyatt can’t help but wonder why. Is it the attraction between them? Or maybe it has something to do with the sadness in her eyes. Maybe his nephew’s heart isn’t the only one that needs healing….

“Ms. Ivers, I realize you have your concerns, but don’t judge me before you know me.”

Wyatt looked away briefly before turning his intense gaze to Emily. “I’ve been taking care of Tyler just fine these past weeks.”

Wyatt’s laughter was gone now, and Emily realized she’d squandered her opportunity to see the smile she’d wondered about earlier. He’d moved into her space, and she wanted desperately to move away. The cool glass of the window at her back stopped her. She looked up and realized how tall he was. And how close.

“I’m only trying—”

“To do your job? I know.” Wyatt’s voice softened. Could he actually have moved closer? “Don’t be the judge right now. Save that for the actual courtroom. You said you’d be the caseworker. Be that now and let me show you I can do this.”

Dear Reader,

Quite frequently I’m asked about where I get my ideas for stories. Most of the time I shrug and can’t quite pinpoint the exact thing that helped form the idea. This time, however, I have an answer.

Every Thursday night you’ll find me at my local bookstore, writing at my Improvisation Writers Group. We give each other prompts and then take off writing. A CHAIR AT THE HAWKINS TABLE came from one of those prompts and a discussion with my friend Helen. She shared with us of how she and her siblings had recently gone to clean out their mother’s house. They’d each returned home with one of the chairs from the dining room set because they had always gathered there, and the chairs reminded them of all those memories.

That night, the Hawkins clan was born. They’ve filled my mind, my imagination and my heart ever since. Especially Tyler, who I have to warn you, is a heart stealer.

Oddly enough, all the brothers and sisters didn’t come to me in order, or all at once. Wyatt has proven to be the most obstinate, as if he didn’t really want me to get to know him. But Emily and her protected, soft heart were just too much for him. He had to come out to find her. I think he feels it was worth it.

I hope you enjoy their story as much as I have. And thank you for taking the time to have a seat and read their story.

Hearing from readers always makes my day. If you’re so inclined, angel@angelsmits.com is the best way to do that. I look forward to hearing from you.

Happy reading!

Angel Smits

A Family for Tyler

Angel Smits

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Angel Smits lives in Colorado with her husband, daughter and brand-new puppy. (What was she thinking?) She thought winning the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart Award was the highlight of her writing career, until her first Harlequin book hit the shelves. Then all bets were off. Sky’s the limit now. Her background in social work helps inspire the characters in her books while improv writing gives her the means to torture those characters. It’s a rough job, but someone’s got to do it.

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I’ve been blessed in my life to have grown up in a close family, and to have built one of my own with my husband, Ron. But there are two people who complete our home. Jennifer and Joseph, you are, without a doubt, the best kids I could ever ask for. Thanks for putting up with all that goes with having a writer for a mom—and for not thinking I’m too crazy. I love you both.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

WYATT HAWKINS PULLED his black 4x4 pickup into the familiar drive and killed the engine. The huge truck was well suited for the wide Texas plains of his ranch, but here in Austin, at Mom’s house with all these close-knit homes, it seemed out of place. He stayed in the cab and stared through the dirt-streaked windshield at the place he still considered home.

But without Mom, it would never be the same.

The faint sound of footsteps made him glance in the rearview mirror. His sister Addie headed up the walk. Her shoulder-length blond hair and flowing black skirt rippled in the breeze. She stopped at the truck door and rapped, unnecessarily, on the window. He rolled the glass down and peered into her tired, sad face.

“You ready for this?” he whispered, hoping she’d say no and let them all off the hook. Being Addie, she didn’t, of course.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said on a deep sigh.

She hesitated a moment, then kept walking to the front door as if she knew by stopping she might never get started again. Wyatt climbed out of the truck and silently followed.

She unlocked the front door and pushed the heavy wood open.

The door didn’t smack against the wall like it had when they’d barreled through as children. Nor did the hinges squeal to remind Dad it was time to oil them.

It simply opened to a dark, musty room. A house full of stuff but empty of people.

Just then, a red convertible parked across the street. Both Wyatt and Addie turned to watch their younger sister Mandy climb out, her long blond hair shining in the sun. Her sky-high heels tapped across the paved street as she headed toward them.

Right behind her, the bumper of Tara’s Jeep almost kissed the chrome of the convertible. The engine rattled a moment after she turned it off. There was no door on the side of the vehicle to slam. She simply swung her legs out and landed on sneaker-clad feet and trotted up the walk.

The shiny gray Lexus that pulled into the drive next would normally turn heads, but they were all used to Jason’s flash. Even his black suit looked polished to a glow.

Last, as always, DJ arrived on his monstrous motorcycle, gliding up to the curb and just barely stopping from parking on Mom’s pristine lawn. After removing his dark helmet, he cut the rough engine and silence returned to the quiet neighborhood.

They were all here.

No one spoke a word. Wyatt watched his brothers and sisters traipse in one by one. His family. Three of the six wore sunglasses, even as they entered the dim interior of the house.

Oddly enough, they passed the living room, the front hall and, in a long-honed habit, settled around the kitchen table. Six chairs. Six kids. No need to pull out the spare ones in the hall closet. They hadn’t used them that often anyway, since they’d seldom all been home at the same time.

“Looks like we’re all here.” DJ spoke first, rubbing his hand over his military buzz cut as if even after two years, he still wasn’t used to it.

“I guess we should have brought lunch.” Tara’s voice sounded too much like Mom’s. They all smiled, missing the woman they’d said a permanent goodbye to only a few hours ago.

The laughter and tears mingled. The sunglasses came off and the healing began.

“Mom loved this room.” Tara stood and went to the cupboard. The coffee, sugar and creamer were just where Mom had always kept them. She started a pot and plunked the containers on the table.

“We all did,” Wyatt agreed, walking to the silverware drawer where he pulled out five spoons. Wyatt didn’t need one. He took his coffee black.

As the coffee brewed and they fixed their cups, they talked. Voices overlapped and memories entwined. Even Jason relaxed, pulling off his jacket and rolling up his pristine shirtsleeves. Mandy’s heels fell to the floor in a mangled heap of leather. “This feels right,” she said as she rubbed her toes.

Addie smiled sadly. “Mom would have liked this—us all here together.”

Wyatt silently leaned on the counter as Addie’s words jabbed at his heart. She was right. If only they’d taken more time when Mom was alive. Sipping his coffee, he took in the view. Normally this group was a rowdy, teasing, rambunctious bunch. Today, rightfully so, they were quiet. He missed them all, missed who they were. Not just because Mom was gone, and they’d just come from the cemetery...but because they were all scattered across the country and he didn’t see them often. Who knew when, or if, they’d ever be together again.

Addie was the only one who still lived in Austin. But the wear and tear of caring for Mom as she’d battled cancer showed on Addie’s face. He set his cup down and reached out to rub her shoulders.

She’d filled her coffee cup first yet it was the fullest. Not because she’d been doing most of the talking, either. He watched her, feeling the tension in her shoulders, noting the circles beneath her eyes. She’d been Mom’s caregiver clear up until the end. He’d helped when he could, driving in every weekend to give her a break, but the ranch was a full-time operation two hours away, never mind that he hadn’t known what to do. The toll that the past few months had taken showed in the lines around Addie’s eyes.

She turned her cup around, the ceramic making a soft grinding sound against the old wood. She turned it again. And yet a third time. He knew, without being told, that she was formulating what to say. He almost held his breath waiting for her.

“Those last couple days,” she began.

Wyatt reached out, as if subconsciously thinking he could stop her. Then he had to stop himself. She needed to say this.

She took a deep breath and started again. “The social worker at the hospice called it life review,” she whispered. “Mom talked about her childhood. I learned a lot about her family. Stories I’d never heard before.” She didn’t go into those stories, but he saw everyone perk up, hoping, like him, that she would.

The silence grew and for a minute Wyatt thought maybe Addie had decided not to go on. Tara spoke up first. “What kinds of things did she talk about?”

Tara looked ready to break. The youngest, she’d always been coddled by them. While that babying hadn’t necessarily been the best for encouraging Tara to grow up, the old habits helped Addie regroup. She shook off the trance and faintly smiled at Tara.

“Lots of things. I...I started writing them down. I’ll get them together for you all. But I think there’s one story you should hear now.” Addie took a deep breath. “About a week ago, we were sitting out on that big old porch. The orderly, William, you all met him?” She looked around and they all nodded. He was a big man with a gentle touch. “He carried her out there, all wrapped up in that quilt Aunt Bess gave her. We sat out on the swing.”

Addie cleared her throat and took a deep swallow of her obviously cooled coffee. Everyone waited. “She told me about when she met Daddy.”

Wyatt smiled. He’d always thought it was strange that his sisters, well into their adult years, still referred to their father as Daddy. Now he appreciated the affection that went with the moniker.

“I’d never heard her talk about that,” Addie continued. “Did you know he used to drive a cattle truck out to her dad’s ranch? Out where you live, Wyatt. He’d come out every week, just about the time she was getting off school. He’d pick her up and drive her the rest of the way home.”

Jason chuckled, the lawyer in him coming out. “Nowadays he’d get arrested, not marry her.”

Mandy laughed and swatted Jason’s arm. “You are so not a romantic. He was what, two years older than her? He had to have been only eighteen.”

Jason had the smarts to laugh at himself. “Go on, Add, tell us the rest.”

“Seems Gramps didn’t like him much. But Daddy’s father paid the best for the stock. Daddy was actually bribing him to let him see Mom.” Addie genuinely smiled. “I had no idea they snuck off and eloped the day after she graduated.”

“No, they didn’t,” Mandy protested. “What about all those wedding pictures?” The book was still upstairs, Wyatt knew. Addie was taking it with her. He’d helped her find it and wrap it up just this morning.

“They had the formal wedding the next summer, once Gramps cooled off.”

“Wow.” DJ got up to refill his cup. Shaking his head, he turned his back on them, looking out the kitchen window over the yard. “There’s so much we’ll never know about her.” His sadness filled the room.

“Maybe.” Addie turned in her chair and met Wyatt’s gaze. He nodded and moved closer to their youngest brother. The man was a soldier to the rest of the world, but here, he was the little boy they’d all patched up a million times.

“We all have our secrets, Deej. It’s not a bad thing,” Addie said.

DJ met Wyatt’s gaze. The soldier was back and Wyatt immediately missed the boy. “Yeah, I suppose.”

Addie stood, too, dumping her cold coffee down the drain. “Mom had a wonderful life, and she gave us all an amazing home.”

Addie took her gaze from him and looked over her shoulder at the others. Finally, Addie’s composure fled. Her shoulders drooped and Wyatt did as he always did; he tried to fix things by pulling her into a reassuring hug.

“I only hope I can be as good of a mom if I have kids someday,” she said.

Silence, punctuated by only a few soft sniffles, filled the room. Finally, Addie moved away and Wyatt felt cast adrift. He vaguely wondered who’d been comforting whom. As he settled back in his seat, Addie reached into her purse and took out several folded sheets of paper. She slowly handed them out.

“Mom divided everything. Here are your lists. All we have to decide on is this.” She ran a loving hand along the edge of the huge, old table.

They each looked down at the chair they were sitting in. Not a single eye was dry. Wyatt found himself caressing the chair’s arms, just as their father used to do so long ago. Mandy turned and ran a finger over the curved wooden back.

“Can... Do we have to... I mean...” Tara hiccuped and her words faded. Silence reigned for an entire moment. Then pandemonium broke loose.

“I want it.”

“Me, too. But I don’t have room right now.”

“I can’t imagine being without it.”

Wyatt listened as their voices mingled and no one seemed to fully hear what the others said. Finally, he stood, an idea forming. He whistled to get their attention. “I know what we can do.”

“What?” Addie looked at him, hope and a bit of panic in her eyes.

“None of us needs this whole set or this huge table. Let’s each take our chair. I know it sounds silly, but it’s the one thing that will always remind us of Mom and Dad.”

Again, silence. Then they looked around and everyone nodded. “What about the table?” Addie asked.

“Let’s leave it with the house. It’s too monstrous to move, anyway.” The real estate agent was scheduled to come tomorrow and put it on the market. Maybe a new family would love it, as well.

Again, they all agreed—an unusual occurrence. After they’d taken their lists and made plans to move their things out of the house, the chairs were lined up in the front hall. No one wanted to leave them behind today.

Wyatt and Jason helped DJ find bungee cords in the garage to strap his chair on the big bike. Then they worked to fit Jason’s in the backseat of the Lexus.

Mandy looked odd driving away in the red convertible with the four legs of her chair sticking up in the air, but no less strange than Tara’s Jeep with her chair strapped in the back with the remaining bungee cords.

Addie had walked over, her house being only a few blocks away. Wyatt put her chair in the truck’s bed with his and gave her a ride home.

She climbed into the big truck, not bothering to look back. Wyatt glanced in the rearview mirror and then quickly away. “Goodbyes suck.” He reached out and squeezed her hand.

“The decision about the chairs was good. Thank you,” she whispered.

“Yeah.”

They drove in silence until they reached her equally small drive. She didn’t open the door right away, then just as she curled her fingers around the handle, she looked over at him. The sorrow in her eyes nearly broke his heart.

But for the first time since he’d learned he had a baby sister and took on the unspoken responsibility for her, there was nothing he could do to fix her hurt.

* * *

THREE MONTHS LATER, to the day, Wyatt sat in his truck again and stared at another empty house. This one was clapboard with narrow windows. On the front porch that ran downhill, a small boy sat on the uneven steps.

The boy looked as if he’d lost his best friend. Which—if he was who Wyatt thought he was—he probably had. The world the boy had always known was about to change, irreversibly. Forever. Wyatt swallowed the lump in his throat, dreading the role he had to play in this mess.

The boy rested his chin in the palm of his hand and smacked a stick against the sidewalk in an uneven beat. Wyatt reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the letter he’d received nearly a week ago. The paper looked small and white against his suntanned hand, but what snagged his attention was the picture. Damn, the kid looked so much like DJ had at that age. It was spooky. He refolded the letter and slipped it back into his pocket.

He stared at the boy as his thoughts spun. How had this happened? How could DJ have had a child he’d never known about? And why the hell had the woman decided now to contact him? No answers came to Wyatt, which frustrated him even further.

It wasn’t the boy’s fault who his parents were, or how they’d behaved. But Wyatt knew he’d probably be the one to pay the heaviest price.

The hot Texas sun beat down on Wyatt’s shoulders as he climbed out of the truck. A warm wind slipped past, seemingly unnoticed by the glum boy.

The kid did, however, look up as Wyatt crossed the broken walk. The old metal gate creaked when he pushed it open. The boy’s eyes narrowed with distrust. “Who are you?” His words sounded more like an accusation than a question.

Wyatt stopped. “I’m your uncle, Wyatt Hawkins. You’re Tyler?” Silence. For a second Wyatt wasn’t sure if he’d get an answer.

“Tyler Easton, yes, sir,” the boy whispered, and continued smacking his stick on the sidewalk.

“Is your mother around?” The woman he’d talked to on the phone yesterday had assured him she’d be here. She had a lot to answer for.

The boy looked up again, and Wyatt swallowed the sucker punch that hit him. No child’s eyes should hold that much hurt.

“She left.”

“Left? When?”

“S’morning. Said someone from my dad’s family was comin’ and I was s’posed to go with ’em. Is that you?”

Wyatt didn’t know how to answer. He pulled the paper out of his shirt pocket and unfolded it. “I suppose I am.”

“I was ’fraid so.” The boy looked back at the ground, slowly drawing circles with the stick.

Wyatt read the letter again. How did you tell a child that his mother didn’t want him anymore? That she’d waited until his dad, a man he’d never met, shipped overseas? A man who couldn’t speak for himself from a thousand miles away.

Men didn’t deny their flesh and blood. Wyatt and DJ might have their differences, but at the core, he knew DJ took his responsibilities seriously. His brother would claim the boy, but until he could, Wyatt was all he had.

“You ready to go?” He didn’t think twice about his role in this boy’s life. Responsibility had always been something Wyatt easily shouldered, and he didn’t hesitate now.

He’d already gotten Jason’s legal advice, and his brother was working to contact DJ. Just looking at the kid, there was little doubt Tyler was DJ’s son. And Addie would be thrilled to have someone to take care of once Wyatt told her about him. But right now his sister needed the vacation he’d finally convinced her to take.

“I packed my stuff.” Tyler used the stick to point at two plastic grocery bags beside the door.

“That’s all of it?”

“Yep. Mama took the rest. She told me to be ready and not tick you off.”

“Is that so?” Wyatt’s chest hurt, for himself, for the boy and mostly for the man who didn’t even know he had a son. DJ was in for one heck of a surprise when, and if, he ever got back home.

Slowly, Wyatt stepped toward Tyler and sat on the step beside him. He figured he could take a few minutes to start to get to know his nephew, an apparently angry little boy of eight years old, who’d been totally unknown to him—to anyone in the family—until last week. If only Mom had gotten to meet him. She’d have loved Tyler, but would have killed DJ. Wyatt smiled and refocused on the boy.

Where did he start the conversation? But before he could say anything, Tyler jumped up. “Guess we’d better get goin’.” He grabbed a grocery bag in each hand and returned to stand next to Wyatt.

Wyatt stood. “Guess so. Need any help with those?”

“Nope.” The boy marched down the steps and was halfway across the bare yard before Wyatt moved. The wind had died down and the only sign of life in the battered neighborhood was a flutter of curtains in the house across the street.

Wyatt hurried to catch up and open the gate for Tyler. The sooner they got out of here and left this mess behind, the better. He helped settle the bags on the truck’s floorboards and buckled Tyler in before either of them said another word.

“Ready?” Wyatt met the boy’s stare.

“Yep.” Tyler looked straight ahead, not even glancing toward the old house as they pulled away from the curb. Wyatt glanced in the rearview mirror and thought perhaps Tyler was wiser than his years. It wasn’t much to look back on. With nowhere else to go, and not much else to say, they headed through Austin and on west to the ranch where Wyatt lived...and where Tyler would be living, too.

The hot Texas wind followed them, reaching in the window and ruffling the boy’s blond hair just as Wyatt used to ruffle DJ’s hair. DJ had always hated anyone touching his hair. Now he was in some godforsaken corner of the world with all his blond hair long gone to the barber’s razor.

Wyatt leaned back and returned his gaze to the two-lane blacktop.

What in the world were they going to do now?

CHAPTER TWO

EMILY JANE IVERS liked—no, demanded—predictability in her world. Unfortunately, few people or events lived up to her expectations.

Just like every other morning, she headed to her office. She checked with the clerk, scanned the docket and arranged her day’s schedule. She loved the consistency of her calendar. It shook up her whole day if there were cross outs or Wite-Out on it.

Today, she could only stare at the normally orderly page on her desk. The bright yellow sticky notes were not expected and she felt herself tense at the events spelled out on them.

“I don’t do juvenile cases.” She ripped one sticky from the page and headed to Dianne’s desk. “I don’t do juvenile cases,” she repeated to her clerk’s face.

The tiny, bespectacled woman behind the counter peered over her dark frames. “You do this week. Judge Ramsey is out sick and we’re covering any emergency situations.”

“Emergencies?” No one really had emergencies; they just thought they needed something done now and called it an emergency. She and Dianne had had that conversation often enough.

“There are already two cases scheduled.” Dianne rounded the desk, her arms loaded with files. She moved from desk to desk, delivering a few to each clean blotter.

“Can’t they be rescheduled?” Emily picked up the datebook that served as the department’s master calendar, needing something to hold on to.

“No.” Dianne grabbed the datebook and slapped it back on her desk. “It’ll be good for you.” Dianne’s blue eyes sparkled behind those infernal glasses.

“No. It won’t.” Emily knew there was no way this was going to end well.

No case was simple, not in family court, and certainly not in the juvenile arena. Emily didn’t like messy cases, and it drove her crazy whenever she had to preside over one. That was why she’d left that division. Well, part of the reason, anyway. “Do I even have any of the reports?”

“Nope.” Dianne glanced up at the old clock on the wall. “You’d better hustle if you’re going to get over to Ramsey’s courtroom in time.”

How did Dianne take control like that? Who was in charge around here, anyway? Emily resisted the urge to smile. Dianne, of course. Magistrates and judges came and went over the years, but good law clerks were priceless and Dianne was the best. She’d been in the building for nearly twenty-five years.

As Emily hurried through the familiar dim halls of the courthouse, her mind worked. She’d never had second thoughts about her job. Heck, she’d never been one to look back or second-guess her actions, period. Right now, though, she was tempted.

Reminding herself that she knew how to do this, she headed to the second floor. Still, as she climbed the steps, her hand curled tightly around the cool bar of the handrail, her heart raced.

To save time, she cut through the common area. She wasn’t supposed to mingle with the public on court days, just in case she ran into one of the case participants. But she didn’t have time to go all the way around to the back stairs.

Still, all the people crowding around her set her on edge. By the time she reached Judge Ramsey’s chambers, her palms were damp and her heart had hit a painful pace.

She barely had time to catch her breath before Rita, the judge’s clerk, descended. The distraction shook Emily out of her impending panic.

“Oh, thank goodness.” The older woman jumped up. “I’ve tried to get hold of you, but didn’t have your cell number.”

Emily refrained from telling her that no one had her cell number.

“The first case begins in ten minutes.”

“But I haven’t reviewed the files yet,” Emily protested.

“That’s okay. There aren’t any. Just listen. The first is a pretty obvious bad situation we need to get the kids out of ASAP. The one this afternoon is pretty cut and dried. You can look at those files over lunch.”

The woman grabbed the file and put it into Emily’s hands, then guided Emily toward the inner door. Was People Moving 101 a class in law clerk school?

“Then why is it an emergency?” Was that her blood pressure going through the roof? Rita looked over her glasses, much as Dianne always did. Emily frowned, reminding herself she was the magistrate, but they both knew she abhorred situations where a child was at risk.

“Mother’s missing. Dad’s overseas with special forces. The uncle’s requesting temporary custody until Dad’s back.”

Emily’s entire body tensed. Her heart froze in place. No she could not, would not do this. Images of William Dean’s face came to mind.

“Not permanent?” Her mind worked even if the rest of her seemed frozen in place.

“No. He’s convinced his brother is coming home and will take over full parental responsibility. He just wants it temporarily.”

Shadows from her last juvenile case stretched out to her and she shivered.

Cut and dried, indeed.

“The first participants will be here any minute.” Rita’s voice pulled Emily out of her thoughts.

Opening a small closet, Rita grabbed a thick black robe and helped Emily slip it on. Before she could ask, Rita explained. “Dianne sent it over first thing this morning.”

She’d always loved her judicial robe, and today it felt like the shield she often envisioned it to be. A shield that could protect her from all the hurt and pain that entered her courtroom each day. A shield that kept her emotions hidden from the people sitting in the seats below her bench.

The ritual complete, Emily met her reflection in the door’s glass. Gears in her mind shifted, and she left behind Emily Ivers and became E. J. Ivers, magistrate.

* * *

WYATT DRESSED EACH morning in jeans, a button-down shirt and his hat. Black Stetson in the winter. White straw in the summer. He was a traditional cowboy.

Over the past two weeks, he’d struggled to understand his nephew’s enchantment with T-shirts. Seldom-white T-shirts with words, pictures and at times, sayings that could be taken more than one way. Every day, Tyler pulled the T-shirt down over his worn jeans and slipped on battered tennis shoes that he never tied.

In the kitchen, filling his morning’s first cup, Wyatt leaned against the counter. He had to admit he looked forward to each day’s billboard or insult.

Today, Tyler didn’t disappoint. He came barreling into the kitchen at breakneck speed. Across his thin chest was a tabby cat, ears perked, fangs exposed and claws extended. Wyatt took a deep swallow of his coffee as he read the bold orange words: Stressed out! He smiled. It wasn’t typical for most eight-year-olds. But then, Tyler wasn’t a typical eight-year-old.

Tyler wasn’t exactly stressed, but he was definitely in training to lead a type-A-personality life. The pockets of his jeans bulged and Wyatt wondered what he’d stuffed inside.

“That what you’re wearing to court?” Wyatt asked softly, trying to sound as if it didn’t matter to him. He’d learned that pushing Tyler was like pushing DJ at that age. A waste.

“S’all I got.” Tyler didn’t look at Wyatt. He busied himself dragging a box of cereal out of the cupboard and grabbing the milk carton from the fridge.

“We could stop at the store and pick up a button-down shirt for you. We have time.”

Tyler stilled. “I ain’t got no money.”

“You know, your dad does. We’ll use his.” Wyatt had learned early on that Tyler didn’t like taking money from him. He’d sworn he “wasn’t no charity case.” That backbone would serve Tyler well, later. Wyatt had circumvented the boy by telling him it was DJ’s job to support him. Tyler liked that idea. Wyatt used it all the time now.

“Well, I s’pose I should look businessy.”

The kid seriously needed grammar lessons, but Wyatt knew that was the least of their problems at this point. “Then it’s settled. Hurry and finish breakfast so we can get going.”

“I can wear my jeans, right?” Tyler looked up, panicked, from his cereal.

“Yeah, those are fine.” Wyatt wondered what was important about those particular jeans.

Another thing he’d learned was that Tyler’s emotions weren’t hidden, they just didn’t always make adult sense. Settling in the kitchen chair, Wyatt finished his coffee as Tyler worked out the games on the back of the cereal box.

Again, Wyatt cursed DJ as he reminded himself that DJ didn’t even know he had a son.

Taking care of Tyler until DJ came home was all Wyatt could do right now, and this afternoon’s court date would get that ball rolling. As he looked down at the boy, Wyatt realized it wasn’t enough. But it was all he had.

Tyler was silent the entire trip into town but by the time they reached the courthouse, the new white shirt already had a dirt smudge on one elbow. Wyatt could only shake his head and smile.

Despite the quiet trip, the whole process of getting into the courthouse fascinated Tyler. His eyes grew wide with wonder as they went through security. The guards smiled at his questions, and Wyatt felt an innate sense of pride for his new nephew.

Now both of them stared at the double doors leading into the courtroom. “Well, here we are.” Wyatt spoke with as much reassurance as he could.

“Yep,” Tyler whispered.

“Come on. Let’s get this over with.” The sound of Wyatt’s boots and the scuff of Tyler’s tennis shoes seemed loud as they pushed open the doors and walked across the marble floor.

The courtroom didn’t look at all like the intimidating rooms he’d seen on TV. This room was smaller with only two tables, a desk that sat up on a dais and a high chair, which he presumed was a witness chair. A brass tag on the desk read, E. J. Ivers, magistrate.

“That desk is big.” Tyler’s eyes were still wide with wonder.

“Sure is.” Just then, the young attorney Wyatt had met with a few days ago arrived. She smiled distractedly and guided them to the table on the left.

Soon a woman came in and sat down at a small side desk and a man in a uniform opened a door at the back of the room. The judge entered and the entire mood of the room became formal.

Wyatt saw Tyler swallow, and he resisted the urge himself. He put his hand on Tyler’s shoulder and squeezed.

* * *

“YOUR HONOR.” THE attorney finally spoke. Emily forced herself to concentrate on the young woman’s words instead of on the faces of the man and boy seated at the big table. They weren’t the ghosts in her mind, she reminded herself.

“We’re asking that Mr. Hawkins be given temporary custody of Tyler Easton until his father, David James Hawkins, returns from overseas.”

“Temporary?” Emily looked over at the boy, Tyler. “What about the mother?” The sadness that filled the child’s eyes was quickly blinked away.

“She’s abandoned him.” The attorney lifted a thin sheet of paper. “I’ve labeled her letter Exhibit A.”

“Could you bring that to me?”

The woman’s heels were a sharp staccato on the tile floor as she approached the bench.

Emily read the letter and frowned. “Is this correct?” She faced the man sitting beside the boy. “Your brother doesn’t even know he has a son?” Mr. Hawkins looked surprised at being addressed.

“Uh, yes. We’re trying to reach him. He’s special forces, so it’s tough. He hasn’t been informed yet, as far as I know.”

“What makes you believe he’s going to be willing to take on a child, when and if, he returns?”

“My brother will accept his responsibilities.” The man’s voice was hard, telling Emily that even if his brother didn’t want Tyler, this man would do everything in his power to make him accept the boy.

She leaned back in her chair, the swivel giving her a better view of the man. Her stomach did a strange little flip-flop and she struggled to ignore it. “Who’s the caseworker?”

“Elizabeth Morgan is assigned to this case. Unfortunately, she just went out on maternity leave,” the attorney said.

Messy, Emily reminded herself. Juvenile cases were always messy. She knew the answer to her next question, but needed it in the record. “Can’t we get another caseworker on it?”

“The county is already overloaded. With the recent budget cuts, all caseworkers are carrying double loads.”

Emily sighed. They didn’t need a caseworker today, but she would prefer one. If she’d just gone on leave, there should be a preliminary report here somewhere. Damn. She wished she’d had time to review the whole file thoroughly.

“I’m not comfortable with the state of this case,” she said directly to the attorney. “What did the caseworker recommend?”

“There are no recommendations in place yet,” the attorney explained.

“What about provisions in case something happens to the father?” Emily nailed the attorney with a direct stare. “The military requires that.”

“Yes, ma’am. But the father left without knowing the boy existed. That’s not been set up.”

Emily looked over at the man. His jaw moved and he seemed to want to speak. She held up a hand. She needed to think without being interrupted. “Temporary custody isn’t an option here.” She met both the attorney’s and the man’s stares, daring them to disagree. “I’ll only grant permanent custody.” There needed to be someone there for the long haul, someone who’d be there when the parents didn’t show up or take on their responsibilities.

“No!” Tyler spoke for the first time.

Emily looked down at the boy, who seemed unable to remain in control any longer. “Don’t you want to have your uncle as your guardian?” Images of The Boys Home flashed in her mind and she cringed. Families needed to stay together.

“I don’t want it to be forever.”

“Why not?”

“Mama’s coming back. She promised.”

Emily’s heart broke and hurt for the boy. This was part of why she hated juvenile cases. People didn’t keep promises, and unless she forced them to, this boy would end up a ward of the court like so many before him. No, this man needed to be held accountable and not just for the short-term.

She drummed her fingers on the desktop and leaned forward in her chair. “Young man, why don’t you come up here so you and I can talk?”

Tyler glanced up at his uncle, the apprehension strong in his eyes.

“Go on, Tyler. It’s okay,” the man urged, his big hands patting the boy’s shoulder.

“Right here.” Emily tore her gaze away from the poignant sight and walked down the two steps to stand beside the witness chair. Tyler walked slowly toward her, and she helped him climb up into the high seat.

“There, now I can see you better.” She smiled to reassure him.

“I can see you better, too.” He grinned and her heart caught. He was going to be a looker someday, and the resemblance to his uncle was all too close. She cleared her throat and her mind. “So, Tyler. Do you know why your mom left?”

He shrugged. “Nope. She just said I’d be better off and safer with my dad.”

“Not your uncle?”

“We didn’t know my dad was gone.”

Emily nodded, not pleased with the lack of family connections.

“Does your mom have family?”

Tyler nodded. “Grandpa and Grandma Easton are old. Too old, Mama said, for a boy like me. My aunt Nancy has two kids. Mama said they caused enough headaches since Uncle Willie left last year.”

This story just got better. Emily realized his mother—Tammie, was that her name?—would have no secrets if Tyler knew them. She could pump him for information, but didn’t think she needed to. Not yet, anyway. The knowledge did give her a higher level of comfort.

She looked back at Wyatt Hawkins. “Do you know any of these people?”

He shook his head. “I’m in the process of trying to find them. No luck yet.”

“Keep looking,” she instructed then turned back to Tyler. “So you’ve never met your dad?”

“Nope. But Mom told me lots of things. And I have stuff that proves I’m his kid.” The boy’s chin notched up.

“You do?”

“Uh-huh.” Slowly, Tyler stood and reached into the bulging pockets of his jeans. He pulled out a couple plastic lizards, an old playing card and a key that had been wound with neon-green yarn. “This is stuff Mama said my dad gave her.”

She couldn’t wait to hear this one. “What are they?”

“These two lizards are like the ones on the beach where they met. In Florida.” He handed Emily each one very carefully. “This is a card from when they played stip poker.”

“Stip?” She nearly bit her tongue. She shouldn’t have asked but the question just came out.

“Yeah. When you bet your clothes.”

Emily was proud of herself for not reacting, though she heard a stifled groan come from his uncle. “And the key?”

“She said it went to somethin’ he had back home where he kept his really special stuff.”

Emily took the key and held it up. “Do you recognize this, Mr. Hawkins?”

He was looking at them both, his gaze intense, and he squinted at the key. She walked over to the table where he sat and handed him the key. He turned it over a couple times.

“Yeah.” His voice broke. “It goes to Dad’s old shop.”

His voice sounded sad and wistful. For a long minute, she looked down at the seated man, realizing that she had possibly misjudged him. He tilted his head back and their gazes clashed.

There was no angry glare, no macho attitude. Just emotions she couldn’t quite identify, and a pleading question. Her gut told her he was a good man. She swallowed, uncomfortable with the idea. To give herself a moment to think, she walked slowly back up to the judge’s seat.

“I’ll make you a deal.” She faced Tyler, hoping she wouldn’t regret this, and made an offer. “I’ll make it provisional. If at any time, either of your parents returns, we can meet again. Okay?”

Tyler responded, “What’s ‘probisional’ mean?”

“It means it can be changed,” she explained. “But until they come back, your uncle’s responsible for you.”

“It’ll work out, Ty,” the man mumbled as if he didn’t want her to hear. She appreciated his reassurances to the boy, but she couldn’t quite let herself believe him. The expression on the boy’s face told her that he wasn’t buying it, either.

“And—” she said.

The man stared at her.

“Until the caseworker is back to work, I want you to meet with me. I’ll be your caseworker for now.”

“Your Honor, that’s rather irregular,” the counselor objected.

“I don’t much care. This case doesn’t make me comfortable. Until it does, I’ll keep an eye on things. Write up the orders, counselor, and I’ll sign them. Anything else?”

“No, Your Honor.”

“We’re adjourned.” Emily stood and didn’t bother to look back at the man or the boy. She needed to keep a clear head in her work and that small face and those reassuring hands were already tugging at something she never allowed in her courtroom.

Her heart.

CHAPTER THREE

A WEEK LATER, Wyatt found himself headed toward the county court offices. The building was old. Not ancient old as to be pretty, but built-in-the-1970s old, with harvest-gold siding. Wyatt stared at the ugly-as-sin building and frowned. Why had the judge asked to see him without Tyler? What was she up to?

Not knowing the answer made him uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. He’d climbed out of his truck into the late-spring heat and headed for the glass doors. By the time he entered the cool air-conditioned inside, he was irritated.

He hadn’t dealt much with the legal system—that was his brother Jason’s arena—but he’d been in the cattle industry a long time, so he had plenty of experience with government agencies. This felt very similar.

Hat in hand, the brim cupped in his wide palm, he took a calming breath and approached the desk. The brunette sitting there looked up at him over a pair of half glasses that seemed to practically glow in the dark. What color were those supposed to be?

“Can I help you?”

“I have an appointment with Magistrate Ivers.” Wyatt didn’t even recognize his own voice. So formal. So distant.

“I’ll let her know.” The woman stood and walked down the short hall to disappear behind a thick wooden door.

He sat down on one of the chairs lined up neatly along the far wall. He was the only person here and the room was quiet. Where the outside of the building had hurt his eyes, this office was polished and modern. He liked the marble and glass.

A rack of brochures on how to be a guardian caught his eye. He’d just read the titles on the third row when the woman returned. “She’ll be right out.”

Wyatt nodded and stared at the sign beside the door. E. J. Ivers. He leaned closer to read her full name printed in smaller letters beneath. His frown deepened.

In Wyatt’s book, E. J. Ivers, magistrate, was not supposed to be Emily Ivers of the soft, feminine variety. Before last week, he’d had a vision of a graying older man with a booming voice. Or maybe one of those polished judges like on TV. Showed what he knew.

All through court, Wyatt had been stunned by the much younger, much prettier, definitely female judge. The long, black robes had hidden everything except the collar of the vibrant pink blouse that had set off her dark hair.

On the bench she’d been thorough and direct, and intelligence had snapped in her dark eyes. He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. Now here he sat outside her office wondering what the hell to expect next.

* * *

EMILY GLARED AT the stacks of papers and files lined up on the conference table that took up nearly half her official chambers.

Even if she wanted to have a meeting here, she couldn’t. The piles never really seemed to shrink, though she knew Dianne frequently shuffled them around.

Emily stalked past the stacks and flopped down into her desk chair. She arranged the current file neatly on the blotter, reluctant to add more to the table.

She was tired. Court had been exhausting this week, covering for Judge Ramsey as well as her own responsibilities. And then there’d been Wyatt Hawkins and his nephew.

Emily leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Half of last night she’d tossed and turned, seeing Wyatt’s handsome face and feeling his reassuring hand on her own shoulder. She’d awoken before dawn this morning from a particularly vivid dream so clear she’d known there was no sleep left.

Now here she sat, waiting for the man to arrive at her office, barely able to keep her eyelids open. Shaking herself out of the stupor, she sat forward and opened the file.

Tyler Easton was an adorable kid. Instead of seeing the brown folder, she pictured his earnest young face. He wanted so badly to believe his mom was coming back for him and that his dad would want him. He’d pulled every worldly possession from his pockets to prove to her how important he was, to prove he belonged.

She smiled, wondering at the depth of those pockets. How could a boy carry so much around with him?

Once again, Wyatt Hawkins’s face came to mind. He cared for the boy—it showed in the softening of his eyes as he watched Tyler, in the protective hand he kept on the boy’s shoulder as they sat together and the reluctant smile that tugged at his lips. By granting provisional custody, she’d preserved Tyler’s hopes and given the uncle an out, if necessary.

Emily flipped through the file and reread her notes. Next she pulled out the preliminary caseworker’s notes that had been in the file, but which she hadn’t had time to review until afterward. She frowned as she reread the tightly typed paragraphs.

Wyatt Hawkins lived in the country in an aged ranch house. He’d owned it for just over five years. He was single and his family lived in Austin, a two-hour drive away. No one here to help him raise a child. No wife. No mother. No sisters. Not even a girlfriend?

That thought lingered just a moment too long.

The caseworker had managed to visit the house before going on maternity leave, billing for eighteen point seven miles from town. The house had been clean, uncluttered and drafty. It sat just yards away from the barn and outbuildings. An environment fraught with potential for risk and danger.

Emily almost smiled. She’d grown up on a farm far from the safety of city streets with their gang shootings and drug deals.

The woman’s final remarks were short and to the point. The caseworker didn’t believe Wyatt Hawkins could provide a safe family environment for a little boy.

Emily sighed. Why did she feel as if he was the enemy? She’d never felt like this before about a case or a man. It totally unnerved her. He unnerved her.

One last look at the caseworker’s notes and she moved them to the back of the file. Something about all this didn’t feel right. She needed to figure out what that something was.

Dianne didn’t bother knocking when she came in. She never did if Emily was alone. She grinned broadly and winked at Emily. “A hunky cowboy is here, right on time. Whew.” Dianne fanned herself. “That man’s sure got somethin’ goin’ on.” She grabbed half a dozen files off the table. “And if you don’t want some, I’m ready for a hefty helpin’.”

The clerk left the room before Emily could respond. She never should have asked him to come here. She should have kept it all in the courtroom where she had distance and her robes to protect her. And where Dianne couldn’t add her two cents’ worth. Standing, she took a deep breath and smoothed her skirt. This was just a case. He was just a man.

Just a man. If only.

* * *

WYATT LEARNED THAT “right out” meant at least another five minutes. Finally, the woman he’d last seen in the courtroom stepped through the doorway. Instead of the dark robes, she wore a pale blue blouse and narrow black skirt. There were the curves he’d suspected.

Her hair hung loose around her face instead of being pulled back. For an instant, he simply stared. She was pretty. Very pretty.

“Mr. Hawkins. Welcome. Won’t you come in?” She smiled stiffly and extended her hand.

She sounded so distant and formal. He frowned, trying to chase the worry away as he followed her down a narrow hall.

The walls of her office were lined with shelves of thick legal books. She led him past a conference table stacked high with files to a pair of wing-backed chairs that faced a Chippendale desk. Not a thing was out of place on the desk, but she straightened the blotter before sitting down behind it, anyway.

He got the impression she was trying to intimidate him for some strange reason. She didn’t know him, he reasoned, or she’d have realized she was wasting her time. Wyatt Hawkins wasn’t easily intimidated.

“I know you’re wondering why I asked you to come here without Tyler.”

“Yeah, it’s crossed my mind.”

“I need to know the truth.” She scooted back in her chair. “Please be honest with me—do you really want to take on the responsibility of being Tyler’s guardian?”

There was no hesitation in her stare. He knew she hadn’t become a judge by being a wilting flower, but the distance in her eyes sent a shiver through him. He knew a smokescreen when he saw one.

And this lady had more than smoke around her. She’d put up full, solid walls. What the hell had he done to piss her off? Taken aback, he shifted into negotiation mode and met her gaze with a stubborn one of his own.

* * *

EMILY STARED AT the man from across her desk. She’d purposefully put the desk between them. Originally, she’d thought to sit in the other chair, beside him, seeking a friendly, nonthreatening meeting.

That plan had flown out the window the minute she’d seen him sitting there in the lobby. He’d taken up all the space in the narrow chairs. Now he seemed to inhabit her entire office, stealing all the oxygen from the room.

She took a deep breath, waiting to hear him admit that he really didn’t want the boy. That he had a life, and a nephew he’d never met before had no place in it. It was what she expected. His words startled her.

“Ms. Ivers,” he said through clenched teeth. “You don’t know me, I get that.” He turned the brim of his cowboy hat along his palm. “That’s why I’m not totally ticked off by your question. That, and I know you want what’s best for Tyler. But let me explain.”

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, hat in hand. He looked up and that deep blue stare held an intensity that made her flinch.

“I’m the oldest of six kids. My dad died when I was fifteen and ever since then I’ve been taking care of my brothers and sisters. And my mom.” His eyes grew distant for an instant. “A man doesn’t turn his back on responsibility. Right now, until DJ comes home, Tyler is my responsibility.” He waited a long beat, letting his words soak in.

She analyzed them as her gaze roamed over him. His gaze intensified, if that were possible, and the lines around his eyes and lips indicated he smiled often. He wasn’t smiling now. She didn’t expect him to, but suddenly she wanted to see him smile. Wanted to experience his strength. He was a strong man.

“Mr. Hawkins.”

“Please, call me Wyatt. This feels too danged formal for me.”

She tried to smile. “Wyatt.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve been a magistrate for too long to trust the initial impression. I have to ask the hard questions. If I don’t, someone, and that someone is usually the child, gets hurt.” She couldn’t let her mind go any further. If she thought about the abuse she’d seen...that she’d experienced...

Stop. She put her thoughts on hold, refusing to go there. Not now.

“I understand,” he said, saving her from the threatening morass in her mind.

“Actually, I don’t know that you do.” She couldn’t sit across from him any longer. Even with the desk between them, he was too close, too real. “You said you cared for your siblings. Who took care of you?”

“I took care of myself.” He didn’t seem to think that was odd. “My mom worked and supported us. She was always there for me, but I didn’t need her to take care of me.” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. “She passed away a few months back. She’d have loved Tyler.” His voice cracked hard.

“I’m sorry.” Emily paced to the window to look out over the lawn that stretched across nearly a city block. She didn’t look back, but she could see him in her mind’s eye. Tall. Intense. Strong.

Everything she expected. That was what worried her most. He couldn’t really be that good. There had to be some flaw. She had to find it, had to expose it. Then she’d know if this was really going to work. For Tyler’s sake. “Your sisters don’t live nearby, do they?” she asked. “Do you have any family here?”

“At the ranch? No.”

“And you’re not married, are you, Mr. Hawkins?”

He laughed, but the sound held little humor. “No.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Is something funny?”

“Well,” he drawled, “either you’re channeling my mother—she always bemoaned the fact that her kids had yet to marry—or you’re making a pass at me.”

She glared at him and spun around to fully face him. “I am most certainly not.”

He laughed again, this time warmly. “At least now you’re looking at me.” He stood and moved around the desk toward her. “I realize you have your concerns, but don’t judge me before you know me. I’ve been taking care of Tyler just fine these past weeks.”

His laughter was gone, and she realized she’d squandered her opportunity to see the smile she’d wondered about earlier. He’d moved into her space, and she wanted desperately to move away. The cool glass of the window at her back stopped her. She looked up and noticed how tall he was. And how close.

“I’m only trying—”

“To do your job? I know.” His voice softened. Could he actually have moved closer? “Don’t be the judge right now. Save that for the actual courtroom. You said you’d be the caseworker. Be that now. Let me show you I can do this.”

She stuck to her guns. “Words are easy to hear, not necessarily to believe.”

His eyes narrowed and he clenched his jaw. She’d hit a button somewhere.

“Then come see the world I live in, the one I’m sharing with Tyler.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a worn wallet. “Here’s my business card. Come out to the ranch and then we’ll start this conversation over again.”

He tossed the card onto the desk and turned on his heel. He reached the door before he spoke again. “Afternoons are best, and no, I’m not trying to hide anything.” He frowned at her over one broad shoulder. “Tyler starts school tomorrow, and I refuse to have him miss any more class than he has already.”

And with that, he left.

* * *

WYATT STALKED TO the elevator, resisting the urge to slam his fist into the lit button beside the double metal doors. The woman was a pain. She’d practically called him a liar, which grated on his nerves.

She obviously thought a woman made a better caregiver than a man. He’d done just fine with his brothers and sisters, thank you very much. Granted, he’d had his mother around part of the time, and Addie. He cursed. He should have told her about Addie.

No. That would be admitting defeat. He wanted her to realize he was perfectly capable of taking care of Tyler.

“Mr. Hawkins.”

He turned around and saw the judge walking toward him. He tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore the sway of her hips and how her hair rippled with her movement. She looked as ticked as he felt. Good. That meant they were in the same boat. “Yes?”

“I’ll be there tomorrow. At three. Does that work with your schedule?” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

Wyatt would have laughed if he weren’t so ticked. She’d be on his turf. He felt much more comfortable with that. “Perfect.”

The tiny ding of the elevator announced the car’s arrival. The doors swished open, and he stepped inside. He lifted his hat and settled it on his head before tapping the brim just as the doors closed.

He figured she’d be there right at three. He’d be ready at two-thirty, since Tyler got off the bus at two forty-five.

Suddenly, Wyatt felt all of his thirty-two years. He couldn’t let Tyler down, but for the first time since he’d picked up his nephew at that godforsaken house, he didn’t want to go home. He couldn’t reassure Tyler that things were going to be okay, when one wrong thing tomorrow could end it all.

Once Wyatt reached his truck, he sat in the cab and stared at the uglier-than-sin building. How long he sat there, he didn’t know, but the West Texas heat had permeated the very air he breathed before he turned the ignition. The air-conditioning kicked on but did little to alleviate the scorcher of an afternoon. “Damned infuriating woman,” he mumbled as he pulled out of the parking lot.

All the questions she’d asked him rang through the air in time with the whine of the tires on the highway. No, he didn’t have a wife. No, his sisters didn’t live nearby. No, he had no intention of taking Tyler to Mars anytime this week.

He growled at his own stupidity and frustration. He knew what he had to do. He didn’t want to admit that he couldn’t do this by himself. He’d always been the one to take care of things. The one in charge. The one who needed no one.

This time he needed help.

He wasn’t a fool. His pride might get in the way, but keeping Tyler was far more important than his ego. He’d learned that a long time ago, when he’d been young and stubborn.

He thumbed open his cell and pushed the speed dial for his sister. Addie had gotten back from vacation last night. When he’d first received the letter from Tyler’s mom, he’d toyed with the idea of calling Addie, but she would have cut her trip short, and he hadn’t wanted that.

He’d almost given in a couple times, especially that first night Tyler had come to stay at the house. But they’d gotten along well, and while the boy had been sad when he’d gone to bed, he hadn’t made any fuss. Only later when he’d peeked in on the boy had Wyatt seen the tear tracks on the boy’s cheeks.

Now he had no choice. And if he thought the judge had given him a rough time, it would be nothing like the tongue-lashing he knew Addie would give him for keeping this a secret.

Part of him hoped it would roll over to voice mail. It didn’t. “Hi!” Addie’s voice sounded like the girl he remembered instead of the tired woman he’d come to know since Mom’s diagnosis.

“Hi, yourself. How was the trip?”

“Awesome. Stupendous. I’m exhausted.” She laughed and Wyatt knew it wasn’t the bone-weary kind she’d lived with for years. This was a happy tired.

“That’s great. It wasn’t the same without you.” They usually talked several times a week, and her absence reminded him of all that was missing in his life. “I have something to tell you.”

“Uh-oh.”

“It’s not bad. Not really.”

“Double uh-oh.”

He laughed, thinking that maybe he’d avoid the tongue-lashing after all.

“Spill it, brother dear.”

Okay, maybe he’d been thinking too positively. Here goes. “Right after you left, a registered letter arrived.” He paused and sucked in a couple lungfuls of hot Texas air. “Apparently, DJ has a son.”

The silence on the other end of the call grew heavy and thick. Was that a storm brewing or just shock?

“I... Tyler is with me. He has been for almost three weeks.” There, he’d said it.

“Tyler?” she whispered.

“That’s his name. He’s eight. God, Addie, he looks just like DJ at that age.” Wyatt’s voice broke. He missed his brother and worried where the special forces soldier was in the world. And if he still was.

“How... I don’t understand.”

“His mother abandoned him. She sent a letter and just left the boy.”

“He’s with you, there?” He heard her moving around and hoped it meant she was heading to her car.

“Not right here. He’s back at the ranch with Chet and the crew.” He knew his foreman, a father of four, was well acquainted with little boys. “I’m just leaving the judge’s office. I’m trying to get custody.”

“Good.” More rummaging. “I’ll be there in a couple hours.”

“Thank God.”

“What?” She was silent a long minute. “Who are you and what have you done with Wyatt?”

Her comment did as he knew she intended and he laughed. “I... The judge keeps asking me about a woman in my life to help take care of Tyler.”

Addie laughed this time. “Oh, this is gonna be fun. I’m on my way. ’Bye. Oh, and we’ll discuss your failure to tell me about this later.” She hung up.

Wyatt groaned. Addie’s ire was legendary, but at this point he couldn’t let DJ or Tyler down.

CHAPTER FOUR

EMILY DIDN’T MIND coffee. She actually enjoyed a cup, heavily laced with cream and sugar on a bitterly cold, winter day. Otherwise, she’d rather drink pretty much anything else.

There was, however, something comforting about its scent that reminded her of the mornings before she left for school, back when it had been just her and her mother. Mom would make a pot while she fixed Emily’s breakfast, then halfway through the second cup, she’d scoot Emily out the door to the bus.

It wasn’t until just this instant that Emily wondered what her mother had done with the rest of the pot...or even what her mother had done the rest of the day. Helen had never worked outside the house. And to Emily as a child, it was as if either her mother vanished while she was at school, or just sat there, in a holding pattern, waiting.

Emily sat outside Sunset Haven, the assisted living that had been her mother’s home for a couple months now, staring through the windshield, the scent of the coffee wafting around her.

It felt good to sit. Emily leaned her head back and closed her eyes, though she couldn’t do that for long for fear of falling asleep. She was so tired.

With Judge Ramsey still out on medical leave and Judge Helton announcing his retirement yesterday, Emily was swamped.

And to top it off, she’d barely slept last night. Why couldn’t she get Wyatt Hawkins and his nephew out of her mind? At the most inopportune moments yesterday, his words had echoed back at her. She’d tossed and turned all night, seeing his face, hearing his accusations.

And why the uncle? Why not the little boy? That was whom she really cared about, wasn’t it?

Maybe it had something to do with where he lived. She sighed, knowing that she’d started thinking about Wyatt Hawkins again the instant she’d looked up his address online.

He and Tyler lived out in ranch country. The same part of the county she’d grown up in.

Emily knew she was stalling. She wasn’t in the mood for Mom today, and no one, except a few staff members at the facility, would ever know if she didn’t visit. No one would begrudge her. But Emily would know she’d let her mom down. Again.

For Emily, her mother had been gone a long time already. All that was left was the shell of a woman whose mind, as well as her body, had faded.

Slowly, she reached for the door handle and climbed out into the hot Texas sun. She grabbed the two cups from the holders and closed the door with her hip. Her heels sank in the soft black pavement, and she hurried to the concrete walk. If she slowed down or stopped now, she might not make it. Luckily, the air-conditioning was on in full force today and the small lobby felt blessedly cool inside.

“Hello, Ms. Ivers.” The bouncy little receptionist greeted Emily. She was always there, always chipper. Emily hadn’t a clue how the woman could be so happy.

“Hello.” Emily nodded and headed down the hallway. It seemed eternally long today, though she only had to pass four doorways before she reached her mother’s.

The large bundle of yellow silk roses attached to the door were just as she’d last seen them. They were from the house, something the staff here had encouraged Emily to bring in to help Helen find her own room more easily. It worked sometimes, though Emily had received several reports about her mother being found in other people’s rooms. It saddened her. The mother she remembered would have been mortified by such behavior.

“Mom?” she called from the open doorway, knowing that startling her mother was a bad thing. It only increased Helen’s confusion. “Mom, are you here?”

“Oh, yes, deary.”

Uh-oh. Deary. Emily’s heart sank. That meant her mother didn’t remember who she was today. Deary was her catchall name for everyone. Her mother stuck her head around the divider curtain and smiled blankly at Emily.

“Well, hello.” Helen stepped around the curtain. “Can I help you?”

Emily’s heart hurt. She missed the long-ago days when she’d come home from school and her mother would open her arms to give her a big hug.

“It’s me, Emily.” She often had to remind her mother who she was, but just because she was used to it didn’t mean she liked it. “I brought you some coffee.” She lifted the cup marked decaf. She’d learned that trick a long time ago, too. No caffeine for Mom. Not if the staff here ever wanted her to go to bed at night.

“Oh, how lovely. You shouldn’t have.” Helen frowned, but gladly took the cup. “Won’t you come in?” She led the way to the sitting area just inches away. The two chairs that had been in Helen’s front room all Emily’s life were situated just as they had been at the house. Yet another clue for Helen as to who and where she was that the staff had suggested. Sitting in the chairs was a comfort to Emily as well, and she smiled. They were worn and comfortable. Home.

“How are you today, Mom?” She sipped her own cinnamon-laced, caffeine-enriched chai. She needed to stay alert so she had no qualms about a fully leaded drink for herself.

“Oh, Emily!” Helen shook her head. “When did you get here?”

Emily smiled. “Just a minute ago. How’s your coffee?” she asked, reminding her mother of the drink in her hand.

Helen looked down at it with a frown that quickly vanished. She took a tentative sip then smiled. “Very good.”

Emily knew not to let the conversation stop or she’d lose the connection with her mother, but she couldn’t think of anything to say. Work filled most of her waking hours, and she couldn’t tell Mom about the cases she was working...though it wasn’t as if Mom would remember.

God, this sucked. Emily wished she had someone to talk to, someone whose advice she could trust.... She missed her mom even more right now, though the woman sat right in front of her.

The sudden wave of sadness took Emily by surprise and made her quickly change her train of thought. She immediately slammed into the image of Wyatt Hawkins.

Cursing under her breath, she stood and paced the tiny confines of her mother’s room.

“What’s the matter, hon?” Helen’s voice broke into her thoughts.

“Oh, nothing.” What a lie.

“Now, you can’t hide from me, you know.”

Emily laughed. Mom might be disconnected, but she was still Mom. “No, I never could. It’s just work stuff.”

“Are you in trouble?” Helen frowned over her coffee cup.

Emily laughed again. “No.” The fern in Mom’s window looked healthy, but Emily busied herself cleaning dead leaves and rearranging the tiny branches. “Hey, Mom? When we lived out at Grandpa’s place, did you know anyone named Hawkins?” She could have bitten her tongue.

“Hawkins. Hawkins.” Helen repeated the name several times before looking up with a smile. “I do remember them. Lots of kids in that family. Five or six, I think.”

Emily wasn’t sure if her mom meant her generation or the current one. She knew there were six in the current one.

“Nice family.” Helen took a sip of her coffee, the cup hiding her face for an instant. Once the cup was back down, Emily felt a little hitch. The distance was back. She wasn’t going to learn any more from Mom about Wyatt and his family. Maybe that was a good thing. It wasn’t appropriate to combine her personal life with business.

“Have you heard from your father?” Helen asked. “I haven’t seen him.”

“Me, either,” Emily whispered. It always hurt when Mom asked about Dad. She never asked about Earl, which Emily was thankful for—she couldn’t discuss that jerk. But it was also hard to discuss the father she missed so much.

“Helen?” A man’s voice came from the hallway, and Emily looked up to see an elderly gentleman leaning on his walker, standing in the open doorway.

Helen frowned for just an instant, then smiled. “Hello.” She didn’t say the man’s name, so Emily knew she didn’t remember it. But she did recognize the man, if the warmth of her smile was any indication.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know you had company.” He started to move away, but Emily knew an escape when she saw one.

“I was just getting ready to leave.” Emily stood.

“Oh.” He smiled. “I came to see if Helen was ready to head down to dinner. They’re having a round of bingo beforehand, and I thought we could play.”

“I think Mom would like that.” Emily smiled at Helen and stood, hoping her mother would get the hint. Thankfully, she did. Setting her coffee on the table, Helen headed to the door.

“I love bingo.” Helen fell into step as the man led the way down the hall, Emily once again forgotten.

Emily stood there, a half-empty cup in her hand. Suddenly she didn’t want any more. She just wanted to get out of here and go back to the office. She could think there. She knew what to expect from the stack of files that needed to be read.

“Did Helen already go to dinner?” A nurse’s aide entered the room.

Emily recognized her as Rose from her earlier visits. She liked Rose. “A gentleman with a walker came by and is going down with her.”

Rose laughed. “That describes most of the men here. I’ll bet it was Hal. He’s taken a shine to your mom. Keeps her out of other people’s rooms by getting her back here after every meal.”

Relief that Mom had someone watching over her slid through Emily. She grabbed her mother’s barely touched coffee and took it to the sink to pour it out. She emptied her own as well then tossed the cups into the trash.

“She really is doing well.” Rose came to stand beside Emily. “She’s going to activities, she cooperates with care most of the time and she even joined in yesterday’s sing-along.”

Such simple progress...and yet it was very big news. Helen was different now from the skin-and-bones, withdrawn and frightened woman who’d been brought here just a couple months ago. She was still thin, but she was clean, neat and eating regularly. Though it didn’t help ease Emily’s guilt.

“I’m glad.” She smiled at Rose. “And I appreciate everything you all do for her, really I do.” She gathered her purse and headed to the door.

“She talks a lot about you, you know.”

That stopped Emily. She slowly turned back to look at the aide.

“When I help her get ready for bed, we talk.” Rose stepped close. “She’s so proud of you. She talks about you and your horse, Sugar. She told me how hard you worked to get into law school.”

“She remembers all that?”

“Yeah.” Rose took a deep breath. “The best part of this job is that I get to see that. She’s still in there, she just doesn’t show up often. Usually at night, after the sun sets, she’s more...” Rose seemed to struggle with the words. “More aware? I don’t know how to describe it. But she seems to wake up, just for a little bit.”

Emily was surprised. “I wish—”

Rose interrupted her. “Don’t do that. Just accept her for who she’s been and who she is. She’s a very sweet lady.”

Emily nodded, fighting the tears that were tight in her throat. “I know. You should have known her when I was a kid.” She laughed as a myriad of images flashed through her mind. Happy times, not the painful memories from after Dad’s death, or when Earl had entered their lives. She recalled sitting on the couch reading storybooks, putting together puzzles and watching soap operas on school holidays.

“You keep those memories.” Rose patted her arm. “I think she’d like you to.”

Emily watched Rose leave the room and head to the dining room. She’d needed that today. Needed to be reminded that she was still important to someone. She didn’t even cringe when she went past the dining room and saw her mother struggling to read the bingo cards. Emily just smiled, waved at Hal, at Rose and the other dozen people seated at the square dining room tables.

The sun was low in the afternoon sky as she reached her car, though the heat hadn’t lessened any. The door handle was still hot and she cursed as she gingerly opened it. She dreaded getting inside the scorching car.

She was just a block away when her cell phone rang. She pulled to the side of the road to dig it out of her purse. She’d never paid attention to the thing before, but now, with Mom where she was, she tried to keep it handy. It would help if she had a smaller purse. Her heart pounding, she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the number was her office. She glanced at the clock. What was Dianne still doing at work?

“Hello?”

“Emily? It’s Dianne. Are you coming back to the office?”

“I’d planned to. Why?”

“I, um... There’s a man here.” Dianne’s voice lowered. “He says his name is Drew Walker? He says he knows you?”

Emily’s heart sank. Drew? She hadn’t seen her stepbrother in five years, and then only for a few hours—which was fine with her. What did he want? “I’m on my way. Is he willing to wait—” she glanced at her watch “—fifteen minutes?” She heard Dianne ask someone the same question.

“Yeah, he’ll wait. See you soon.” Dianne hung up.

Emily sat there for a long minute. She closed her eyes, forcing her mind to shift gears. She was no longer the heartbroken daughter. Now she was back in legal mode. Much better. Much easier.

* * *

WYATT WATCHED AS Addie stared down at the little boy lying in the huge double bed. He could almost hear her thoughts, he knew his sister so well. They’d been together all but a few years of their lives, the first two before she was born and then the four years she’d been away at college. They were close, and he realized he should let Tyler go live with her. She’d make a great mom.

He turned his focus to the sleeping boy. It was eerie, really. He looked so much like DJ. Wyatt swallowed. The worry about DJ that had taken up residence since he’d gone overseas leaped into his throat.

“I want to reach out and hug him,” Addie whispered. “It’s almost like I’d be holding DJ. I wish I knew where he was.” No one in the family had heard from him in nearly three months. This wasn’t the first time since he’d joined the military that he’d essentially disappeared off the face of the earth. No news was good news, Wyatt kept telling himself.

“I’m not sure we really want to know.” Wyatt turned away from the door and headed to the kitchen. There was no escaping the nightly news or the daily headlines. Wyatt had a pretty good idea that whatever DJ was doing would scare the hell out of Addie.

Grief and worry shone in her eyes and she stepped away from the door, leaving it ajar.

“What if he never gets to see Tyler?” She followed Wyatt to the kitchen.

Wyatt poured himself a cup of coffee and sat in the chair he’d brought from Mom’s house after the funeral. Dad had sat like this, at the head of the table, hundreds of times when they were kids. Now Wyatt took that spot. It felt right. Maybe some of Dad’s wisdom would seep out of the worn wood.

“We’ll cross that bridge when, and if, we get to it.” He took a sip of his coffee.

Addie headed to the stove. “How can you drink that stuff this late and not bounce off the walls until dawn?” She made herself a cup of the chamomile tea he kept at the ranch especially for her before sitting down to face him. “Have you learned anything about the mother? How could anyone just abandon him? He’s such a sweet kid.”

Wyatt laughed. “You’ve only been here a few hours. Give him a chance. He’s a boy, remember? And he’s DJ’s son.” Amazingly, Mom hadn’t died of a heart attack from some of DJ’s antics.

“The letter didn’t say much. No one seems to know a thing about his mother except Tyler, and he isn’t saying much. I’m not pushing him.”

“Where’s the letter?” Addie asked.

“The judge has it. I’ve hired a private detective to look for his mother, but he hasn’t come up with anything.”

“I’m still confused as to how she found you.”

He sighed. Might as well get the tongue-lashing over with.

“She didn’t. She sent the letter, registered, to Mom’s place. As executor, all the mail’s being forwarded to me, so it came here.”

“Gotcha.” Addie sipped her tea thoughtfully. He was surprised when she didn’t say more, like “Why didn’t you call me?” or “Don’t you think I should take care of him?” The thought of Addie taking Tyler home with her twisted something inside him. Wyatt didn’t like admitting it, but he was getting attached to the kid.

“So tell me about this judge.” Addie interrupted his thoughts.

“What’s there to tell?”

“What’s she like? I need a little preparation. She’s going to be here tomorrow to scrutinize everything about us, about this place. We have to be ready.”

“I know that.” He set his cup down and stared at it for a long minute. “She’s younger than I expected. I pictured some crotchety old goat of a judge, like half the other judges in the county. But she’s probably our age. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Smart. She listened to everything Tyler had to say. She’s got a way with kids.”

Silence permeated the room. And then Addie laughed. “What?” Wyatt frowned at her.

“You’re attracted to her.”

“I— What are you talking about?” Wyatt felt the heat rise up his neck. “You asked what she’s like,” he accused.

“I asked about her as a judge. You just described her as a woman.”

“I—” This time he didn’t even bother to deny or say anything. What was the use? It’d be a lie. He was attracted to her. Damn it.

“Oh, this is good.” Addie leaned back, obviously enjoying the moment. Her grin widened.

“Stop it, Addie. This is serious.”

“Oh, I’m definitely serious. You know, big brother—” She’d always loved reminding him of that relationship at times like this. “You could make this work. Is she attracted to you?”

“Addie!”

“What? I’m only looking at the realities. Come on, Wyatt. You’re single. Good-looking. Available. Wine and dine her, for God’s sake. Win her over.”

“I can’t believe my sister actually paid me a compliment.” He turned away and shook his head, but not before he felt a flash of guilt. He’d already thought about and discarded the idea Addie was suggesting.

The silence grew long before Addie spoke again, and her words came out soft. “What if she comes back?” Addie sat quietly sipping her tea, not meeting Wyatt’s eyes.

“Who?” he asked, knowing full well who Addie meant. “The judge?”

“Don’t be obtuse.” Addie suddenly shot to her feet and moved to the fridge. She opened the door and stared inside.

“What are you looking for?” They’d just finished dinner. Addie wasn’t hungry. She was anxious despite the usually relaxing tea. Wyatt sat for a moment watching her.

“Nothing.” She closed the door and sat back down, only to squirm in her chair.

Something about all this was bugging Addie, something more than the judge’s impending visit. Something about Tyler had set Addie on edge, had turned his normally calm and together sister into someone he barely recognized. “You gonna tell me what you’re thinking?”

“I—” Finally, she looked up. Wyatt was shocked to see a flash of deep pain run through her eyes. “What if DJ doesn’t make it home?”

“Is that what all this fidgeting is about? Don’t think about that. He’ll come home safe.” Even Wyatt doubted his own words.

Addie curled her fingers around the mug, not lifting it to her lips, just staring into the cooling contents. “His mother could come back at any time and take him.”

“Yes, she could,” Wyatt admitted, reaching across the table to cover Addie’s hand with his. “But legally, she can’t. She abandoned him, and the judge wants this custody to be permanent. I agree.”

She sighed, breathing deeply, before looking at him again. That look struck a note inside Wyatt. This was his family, and while Tammie Easton had given birth to DJ’s child, he didn’t see where she had any place here. She’d given up that right.

The protective instinct that was so ingrained in Wyatt surged to the surface. “She shows up here and she’ll have one hell of a fight on her hands.” He spoke the words loud and strong, ignoring the doubt they covered.

He could fight her, legally, but what would that do to Tyler? What would DJ do? He’d obviously felt something for the woman at some point. What would he feel once he learned she’d kept his son a secret for eight years?

With a curse, Wyatt rose to his feet and dumped the rest of his coffee down the drain. “I’ll be back later. Don’t wait up.”

He shoved the screen door open, letting it slap shut behind him. The night engulfed him within only a few feet, but he didn’t have to see where he was going. He knew the path to the barn well.

His eyes easily adjusted, and he soon could make out the forms of the barn, the stable, the corral, the garage. Movement caught his eye and a sense of relief washed over him. His feet made their own way to the corral fence. Prism waited for him. The beautiful white horse shook its big shaggy head, greeting Wyatt as it always did. A friend saying hello.

“I should’ve brought you a treat, huh, boy?” Wyatt whispered and rubbed the smooth brow. Long minutes passed. The horse’s breathing, the distant croaks of the frogs down at the pond, the faint whisper of something—probably a rabbit in the grasses—soothed him. He closed his eyes and took it all in, letting home comfort him.

Addie’s question haunted him. What if Tyler’s mom did come back? What would he do?

“You up for a ride, boy?” He patted Prism’s neck and the horse seemed to nod his agreement. “Come on.” Wyatt opened the gate and just as he had dozens of times before, he climbed up on the horse’s bare back, hanging on to the thick mane. “Let’s go.”

This was no orderly canter; they both knew this. Prism knew him. Prism understood. And Prism ran. As if the troubles of the world were on his tail. Just as Wyatt wanted and needed.

* * *

FROM HIS PERCH on the dresser by the windowsill, where he’d climbed after Aunt Addie and Uncle Wyatt had gone to the kitchen, Tyler stared out across the yard at the starry sky. He’d waited until they’d walked down the hall to open his eyes. Playing possum, as Mama called it, had let him learn lots of things grown-ups didn’t tell him.

He could still hear Uncle Wyatt talking. Aunt Addie seemed nice enough, but her questions worried him. Especially the ones about Mama.

Tyler liked Wyatt. Liked him a lot. For an instant, his view wavered, and he rubbed the heel of his hand against his right eye, then his left.

He refused to cry. Big boys didn’t cry, Mama had always said. Then she would describe how Tyler’s dad was big and tough and strong. He was a soldier, and Tyler didn’t think soldiers ever cried.

Was his dad like Wyatt? Tyler wondered. They were brothers. Tyler wondered what it would be like to have a brother. He thought he might like it. Sisters, he wasn’t so sure about. Sometimes, he thought, he’d just like to have someone around when he was lonely.

He hadn’t felt lonely since Uncle Wyatt had come and gotten him, though. But the lady judge scared him. He didn’t want to be alone again. He’d tried really hard to make her understand that he wanted to stay with Uncle Wyatt, that he wanted to get to know his dad when he got home. And that Mama wasn’t bad; she just had stuff to take care of.

That word, abandoned, didn’t sound good. Uncle Wyatt’s frown had told Tyler he agreed with the lady judge. But Mama hadn’t left him forever. No, his heart cried. She’d be back. He knew she’d come back. She’d promised him.

But would she even know where he was? Panic made him hiccup and his eyes watered again. Aunt Addie had asked Uncle Wyatt about Mama’s letter and he’d said it had been delivered someplace else. Was that where Mama would go to get him? But he wasn’t there—what if she couldn’t find him?

Tyler scrambled off the ledge and reached for his jeans. In the right front pocket he pulled out the one thing he hadn’t shown anyone.

Mama had called it a locket. She had shown him how to open it, but he couldn’t remember how she’d done it. Instead, he curled his small fist around the locket and its chain before stuffing it back into his pocket.

When she’d given it to him, she’d promised she’d come back for it and for him as soon as she could.

He believed her.

He had to.

She was Mama.

His eyes burned and he curled his arms around his knees and rested his face on the patches of his jeans.

She’d be back.

She would.

Wouldn’t she?

CHAPTER FIVE

“I DIDN’T GO to kin-de-garden.” Tyler answered Wyatt’s question without turning from the video game on the television screen.

Exasperated, Wyatt sat at the kitchen table, trying to fill out the school paperwork. Since Tyler wasn’t his kid, and without any records to guide him, the forms weren’t easy. Luckily, Tyler’s mother had managed to pack his shot records or they’d be in a whole different mess.

“What do you mean you didn’t go to kindergarten? I thought you had to?” Why was he asking an eight-year-old about this? He hadn’t a clue. Too much time in said eight-year-old’s company, he guessed.

“That’s rule stuff. Maybe you could ask that lady judge ’bout it.”

“I don’t think so.” Lady judge. An image of Emily Ivers flashed through Wyatt’s mind. Those long black robes and that tiny pink collar peeking out...

“I went to Walt Whitman Elementary for part of first grade then some other place till the end of the year.” Three more monsters disintegrated before Tyler spoke again. “Second grade was some place named after a tree. I was supposed to start at Wilson something for third—”

“Slow down.” Wyatt scribbled as the boy once again listed off the schools, then looked over at him. “How many times have you moved?”

“Lots.” Tyler focused on the screen, zapping more monsters with two swift finger blasts.

None of those school names rang a bell with Wyatt. “All in Texas?”

“Nope. Florida and Louisiana.” The monsters fought back and Tyler didn’t say anything else.

Wyatt leaned back in Dad’s captain’s chair and wished it were the man instead of a piece of wood. Dad’s death when Wyatt was fifteen had made him grow up damned fast. Since that time, though, Wyatt had called on a lot of his dad’s lessons and wisdom—at least what he’d managed to absorb in those short fifteen years. But nothing seemed to fit this situation.

He’d give anything to have his dad’s input now.

“Okay, buddy. Let’s get moving. I’ll drive you to school today since I have to turn in these papers.”

Tyler shut down the game, meticulously saving his play then grabbed his backpack. He struggled under the weight for an instant.

“What’ve you got in there?”

“Stuff.” Tyler glared up at him and Wyatt backed off.

He’d approach that issue later. Tyler still didn’t trust him completely. One step at a time. He heard his father’s memory and smiled.

Yep, one step at a time.

* * *

EMILY SHOULD HAVE known. Drew lied. Again. Last night he’d told Dianne that he’d stay until she got there. It took her longer than the fifteen minutes she’d said—it had taken her seventeen, thanks to one obstinate stoplight—and he’d been gone when she got to the office.

So here Emily sat at her desk today, waiting. She’d spent all last night awake, dreading the confrontation, because it would be a confrontation.

Now as she read through the legal briefs for Monday’s cases, her mind was only half focused on the words in front of her. He’d show up when he was ready, not when it was convenient for her.

Just like Earl.

Her phone rang and she nearly jumped a foot. As it was, she knocked the file to the floor, pages scattering across the polished wood. “Yes,” she answered.

“He’s here,” was all Dianne said before disconnecting. Emily knew she wasn’t going to escort Drew back. Dianne would happily let him cool his heels in the lobby for hours, except Emily didn’t want her clerk to have to put up with him any longer than necessary. Dianne was too good for that.

Emily straightened her desk, readjusted her skirt a couple times then grumbled at herself as she walked to the lobby.

Drew was a big man, just like his father. If anything he’d grown bigger, and not in a good way. He scowled at her, but as she looked back, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen him without a scowl on his face. She’d first met him when their parents had married. She’d been thirteen. He’d been fifteen...and trouble.

His father had forced him to wear a buzz cut back then; now his chin-length hair was slicked back from his forehead with something that looked a lot like...Vaseline.

“Drew. Nice to see you again.”

For an instant he looked taken aback and then the scowl deepened. “This isn’t a social visit, Emily. I’m here on business.” His voice came out deep and coated with impatience.

What kind of business could Drew have with a family court judge? “Let’s step into my office.” She didn’t wait for him to follow, knowing that he would.

Much as she had yesterday with the tall cowboy, she sought protection behind the wooden desk. Where Wyatt had completely ignored the barrier, Drew settled uneasily in the spindly wing-backed chair facing her. She resisted the urge to gloat.

“So, Drew, what can I do for you?”

“I want Dad’s stuff.” He leaned forward, apparently trying to look menacing.

“What stuff?” She had no idea what he was talking about. Mom had given away all of Earl’s clothes when he died and had tossed most everything else. Drew hadn’t asked for anything then. What was this about?

“I know your mom has moved out of the trailer. I was out there yesterday. I want the keys so I can get my half.”

The idea that he’d been out there made Emily shiver. What if Mom had still been out there alone?

“Your half?” she repeated. “Of what?”

“The ranch.”

Ranch? The single-wide trailer out in the middle of the desert, a ranch? Last she’d seen, the barn, what was left of it, was falling over. The small corral was long gone. The only thing of value might—might—be the desert land it all sat on. But she doubted it.

“That land was my mom’s before she married Earl. Besides, she’s still alive, Drew.” Even though the dump her mother had lived in was a dump it was hers as long as she was living.

“It became half his when they got married. I know, he showed me the paperwork. Anyway, it’s not like she’s using it.” His voice rose and he leaned even farther forward.

“Using what? The land or the trailer?”

“I want my half of the estate. Now.”

Emily stared across the small office. She wasn’t up to explaining that there was nothing for him. One second she wanted to laugh, the next she had to bite her tongue to keep from letting loose nearly twenty years of pent-up anger.

Estate? The man was delusional. “We don’t know that she won’t go back. Besides, there’s nothing there, Drew. Just a pile of junk.”

She forced her mind not to see the hellhole she’d moved her mother out of. The hovel she’d had to live in until she’d been old enough to escape.

“There has to be.” Drew shot to his feet, leaning over her. His eyes practically glowed with rage and he wiped away spittle from his lips with the back of his arm. “That bastard had to leave me something.”

Emily refused to be afraid of Drew anymore. She had been once. One night in the barn, she’d been hiding from Earl—again. Drew had found her, at first friendly, cajoling and soothing. Then when he’d tried to pin her down to the hard wooden floor, she did what her real dad had taught her. And the well-placed kick had kept him away from her for the rest of that summer. Months later, after Earl had belted Drew one too many times, the boy had run back to his mom’s house. He’d never returned for any extended stays.

“If you won’t tell me where it is, I’ll get the answer out of your mother.” Drew headed toward the door. Emily resisted the urge to run after him and grab him. She couldn’t let him see her fear, but she wasn’t letting him near her mother.

“Where what is, Drew? You’re not making sense.” He didn’t stop walking. “You go near Mom and I’ll have you arrested.” She didn’t move, but the tone of her voice stopped him.

“What the hell for?” He rounded on her, his hands curling into big meaty fists. Just like Earl. She refused to let memories scare her. She was a judge, a grown woman with power, not a young girl scared of her own shadow and getting hurt. And she was all that stood between Drew and her mother.

“Well, menacing an at-risk adult to start. You take anything from her and I’ll have you arrested so fast your head will spin.” The flare in his eyes told her she might have gone too far. He took a step toward her, but stopped.

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”

Suddenly, Dianne appeared at the office door, breaking the tension in the room. “Your Honor?”

Your Honor? Oh, how official Dianne sounded. Emily swallowed back her thankful smile. “Yes?”

“You need to leave if you’re going to make your appointment.”

“We’re not finished.” Drew ground out the words.

Oh, yes, they were. “Well, we’ll have to finish later. It’s court business.” She didn’t elaborate. Emily stood and walked to the coatrack by the door, effectively shutting off anything Drew had to say. “I’ll walk you out.” The last thing she’d do was leave him in her office unattended.

He beat her to it, stomping down the hall and slamming the outer door. His last words of “I’ll be back” were nearly cut off by the sound of the wood hitting its frame.

“Well, isn’t he a charmer,” Dianne drawled from behind her desk. “Your family reunions must be a real joy.”

Despite her nearly flippant words, Emily could see the concern in Dianne’s eyes. Emily leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes and taking several deep breaths. “Lord. I need to call the facility. He can’t see Mom.” She didn’t have to explain anything to Dianne. She’d heard every word.

“He seems like the kind who will, no matter what you do. Just be prepared.”

Emily’s heart sank. Dianne was right. Earl had never listened to anyone and Drew seemed much the same. He was after something and wouldn’t give up until he got it, or was satisfied with the results. Thinking of the pathetic balance of their parents’ combined lives, she realized he’d never be satisfied.

Slowly, Emily peeled herself away from the wall to dial the all-too-familiar number, and spoke with the administrator. She explained the bare minimum. Being a judge, she didn’t have to elaborate and she took advantage of that. She was afraid that if she said too much, she’d lose it.

Finally, with the administrator’s empty promises that Drew wouldn’t be allowed to see her mother without her permission, Emily sank into the nearest chair.

Why couldn’t things have been different? Why had her father died? Why had her mother had to meet Earl? If only...

With a determined shake of her head, Emily once again prepared to leave.

The look on Dianne’s face, however, told Emily there was more than the appointment on her clerk’s mind. She knew Dianne wouldn’t volunteer.

“Okay, what’s up?” she prodded.

Dianne tried to pretend surprise. “Why? Nothing.”

“I can see the wheels turning in your head.”

“Oh, fine.” Dianne paused. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”

“With Drew? No.”

“No. With this court case.”

“Of course I do.” Emily grabbed her purse and the briefcase she’d stuffed with the case files she thought she might need, plus files to read at home tonight.

“Mmm-hmm.” Dianne looked over those infernal glasses. “The caseworker has done most of the required work. Just because it’s not in the final form doesn’t mean you have to double-check it.” That look—over the glasses—said there was no escaping her questioning.

“Look.” Emily leaned against Dianne’s desk. “I’ll feel better seeing things for myself.” She really did appreciate Dianne’s concern. “Besides, you’re always after me to get out of the office.”

“I meant to do something fun. Not more work.”

“Hey, maybe this will be fun.” Emily smiled and hustled out the door before Dianne’s words could totally catch up to her.

“Someday you’re going to have to learn to trust someone.” Dianne’s words slipped through the door right behind Emily and kept bouncing around in Emily’s mind as she drove through the desert.

Warm midday sunshine poured in the sunroof and landed squarely on Emily’s shoulders. The car’s air-conditioning made the West Texas heat bearable—but she still felt the damp sweat drench her body.

She was nervous doing something she really shouldn’t, something totally out of her routine. Out of her element.

But as she’d told Dianne, she needed to do this. It couldn’t hurt, and if the little boy was at risk, as Emily feared, she’d save herself and the system a great deal of pain—not to mention Tyler.

And so she drove through the backcountry, through places that reminded her of so much hurt, risking her impartiality in a case simply to give herself peace of mind for a while.

Emily hadn’t driven out here in ages. The grasslands and desert of Southwestern Texas was a place she barely acknowledged, much less thought about. She stayed in town, lived her life, ignored where she’d come from.

The two-lane highway wound through the hills, dissecting the desert along with dozens of dirt roads and driveways that led deep into the ranches. Ten miles to the north her grandfather’s ranch sat, abandoned, its pastures rented out to another rancher up the road. The plot of land her mother had recently left sat another ten miles beyond that.

The Hawkins ranch was closer to town than Emily had ever lived. She’d looked at it on the county map. He might live modestly, but he was land rich, with a large spread that ran along one of the large rivers that bisected the area.

Her hands sweaty around the steering wheel, she tried to focus on the pavement reaching out in front of her, staring at the yellow stripes. All she had to do was get there, take a look around and head back to town.

Breathing in deep, she swallowed the panic rising in her throat. Maybe she should just turn her car around and trust in the system she’d always believed in. She slowed again, this time her eyes on the road ahead instead of the potholes in her past.

A movement at the edge of the road ahead startled her. She hadn’t passed anyone in nearly a quarter of an hour. Surely no one was out walking in this heat. It must be the shimmering illusion on the horizon.

Whatever or whoever it was ahead kept moving. She braked to slow down even more. It was someone walking. A child. She pushed the brake again.

Tyler.

Her heart sank. What had happened? Why had his uncle let him come out here alone? She envisioned the tall, handsome man who’d been in her office yesterday. He’d been very clear that he wasn’t the type to abandon anyone, but the evidence was right before her. Then another thought came to mind. What if something had happened to Wyatt?

She slammed on the brakes this time, pulling off the two-lane road and onto the soft dirt at the shoulder. Dust settled around the tires as she opened the door. Hot air slammed into her, and she wanted more than anything to crawl back into the air-conditioned interior.

But the sight of the little boy trudging along beside the road stopped her. “Tyler?” she called, not wanting to scare him.

He stilled then looked up at her. His eyes widened and rather than stopping, he broke into a run. The backpack he’d been carrying tumbled to the ground and he dragged it through the dust. The scrape of the cheap plastic on the rough rocks was loud.

“Tyler, wait!” She jogged after him. She was wearing a suit with a knee-length skirt and matching pumps. Definitely not running clothes.

But Tyler’s eight-year-old legs were short and the backpack was obviously heavy. She was out of breath and soaked with sweat when she finally caught up to him. He yelped and tried to kick her as she grabbed him.

“No,” he squealed.

“Tyler. Stop that.” Guilt almost made her let him go. Common sense told her he’d perish out here in the heat. She trudged back to the car, struggling to hold on to him. She’d have dozens of bruises, but at least he’d be alive.

The backpack scraped loudly beside them. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she tried to reassure him.

“I know that,” he yelled back, and she realized he was angry, not scared. The little rat. Her guilt faded a little.

Finally getting him to the car, she pulled open the passenger door and felt the last of the cooled air wash over them. She grabbed her water bottle and after plopping him on the seat, she handed it to him. “Here.”

He let go of the backpack, and she grabbed it and tossed it into the backseat. She pulled on the seat belt and awkwardly buckled him in. If she ran around the car, she might get in before he was loose. Maybe.

With a wary eye, she closed the door and hustled around the front of the car. He had his belt unbuckled but hadn’t gotten the door unlocked or open before she was inside. She wrestled him for the belt and finally got it back in place.

“Sit,” she commanded, and it was enough to take the steam out of the boy. She thought for an instant that he was going to cry. But he didn’t. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and stuck his bottom lip out in a huge pout.

“Thank you.” She leaned back against the seat. “What are you doing out here?”

At first she wasn’t sure he’d answer. “Goin’ back to town.”

Emily’s heart sank. What had happened? All her fears leaped out of the hot desert. She’d been right to come out here.

The click of the seat belt brought her out of her thoughts. “Hold it.” She clicked the buckle back in place again. “Start talking.” She leaned back in the seat and cranked the ignition. After a second, cool air blasted from the vents. She aimed two of them at the boy. Tyler’s face was flushed but he nearly emptied the water bottle, so she thought he’d be okay.

“You can’t take me back.”

“Why not? Tell me why. I promise I’ll listen. Is your uncle so bad?”

“N-no. He’s okay. Even lets me ride horses.” The sound of longing was thick in his voice. “And pet a baby cow.”

“You like baby cows...er...calves?” He didn’t say anything, but the way his eyes lit up told her he did. “Then—did he hurt you?”

“No!” He glared at her. “He’s not bad.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Only the blow of the air conditioner broke the heavy silence.

“Mama won’t be able to find me out here,” he finally whispered.

Emily’s chest tightened. She wanted to pull him close and ease the uncertainty cloaking those words, but she knew he’d never allow that. His mother wasn’t coming back for him, but Emily didn’t have any desire to tell him that right now.

Instead, she put the car into gear and pulled back onto the road, heading to the ranch. She heard him sniff and forced herself to ignore it. She was a judge. An officer of the court, sworn to protect children, not put them at further risk. Even if her heart hurt as she made the decision.

Emily’s eyes darted back and forth from the road to the boy. Tyler slouched in the seat beside her, his legs in constant motion.

“Sit still, Tyler.”

“Why?” Tyler increased the rhythm of his legs.

“I just need to concentrate, okay?” Emily muttered.

They didn’t have far to go, but it seemed to take forever. Finally, she saw the turn-in to Wyatt’s land. The metal reflectors at each side of the drive winked at her as she slowed and steered in between them.

She’d read the initial caseworker’s notes, but the neatly kept house with its yard and large trees was a bit of a surprise. It was homier than any place she herself had ever lived. The wraparound porch stole her heart.

She didn’t look over at Tyler, but saw out of the corner of her eye that his eyes were large and damp.

“It’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” She knew her promise was empty but she had to say something.

She was surprised at what she saw once she faced the big ranch house. It had to be a hundred years old, judging by the style, but it was immaculate. Old-fashioned metal fencing stretched between posts to surround the big white house with a lush green lawn. She pulled up to the fence, just a few yards from the gate.

A gate that stood wide-open and for some reason, Emily knew that Tyler had left it that way. She hoped Wyatt didn’t have a dog or other pet that could now be loose in the wilderness. She laughed. Wilderness. Ranch land was not wilderness, not really.

A woman came out of the door, the wooden screen slapping loud against the frame. “Tyler?” The woman’s blond hair fell in long ringlets. Was this a friend—a girlfriend of Wyatt’s? Emily frowned. Had he been distracted by the woman, thereby allowing the boy to run away?

Tyler reached for the door handle and turned to climb out of the car. Before he could move, though, Emily clamped her hand around his thin little wrist. “Hold on.”

He frowned but slowly turned his head to look at her through the mop of hair hanging in his face. “What?”

Wow! Plenty of attitude in that half-hidden glare. But that attitude made something in her shift. Her anger evaporated, drifting around for an instant to land somewhere near her heart.

“Are you sure you’re okay here?” She tried to see Tyler’s face, see what he was thinking. Was he afraid? Was he comfortable here? Was there something here that had caused him to run away?

None of those answers stared back at her.

“She’s waiting for me,” he informed Emily and finally pulled his arm free. He shoved the door open with his tennis shoe and bounded out. “I’m here,” he called just before he slammed the door closed.

Emily took a deep breath, wishing desperately that she’d never decided to do this. She should have kept it all in her courtroom, where she was safe behind her robes, behind the bench, across the room from any of the participants.

Her palms grew damp, and she rubbed them around the warm steering wheel once, twice, then before she could shove the car into Reverse and turn tail and run, she opened the door and climbed out. She refrained from slamming it as Tyler had done, though barely.

The hot Texas sun beat down on her head, but she stood up straighter and shoved her purse over her shoulder. She curled her hands around the strap as if it were a lifeline and stepped forward.

The woman knelt in front of Tyler, her hands on his shoulders. She was speaking, but for some reason, Emily couldn’t hear her words. Maybe it was the roaring in her ears. She took a deep breath, noting the relaxing scents of the fields and heat. She could do this.

She stepped forward, moving through the open gate. She extended her hand just as the woman started to speak to Tyler again.

“He was walking into town,” Emily interrupted.

The blonde’s jaw dropped open. “That’s over ten miles.”

“He didn’t get there.” Anger and a dose of panic rippled through Emily. She should have trusted her gut. She should have sent this boy to social services. She should have—

“Tyler, you scared us half to death.” The woman had none of Emily’s hesitation in grabbing him and hugging him tight.

“Sorry,” he mumbled from inside her tight embrace.

She finally let him go and took his hand in hers. “Let’s go call Wyatt.”

“He’s not here?” Emily felt her brow rise.

“No.” The woman turned back with her own frown. “He’s been out searching for this one. I hope his cell works in the gullies and canyons he’s checking.”

“Oh.” Emily felt silly. Her suspicious nature always made her feel like a shrew. “I’ll... I’ll get his backpack from the car.”

“Oh, thank you. Please. Where are my manners? I’m Addie Hawkins. Wyatt’s my brother. Guessing by the time, you’re Judge Ivers.”

Relief slid through Emily and she forced herself to ignore it. This was his sister...not—she forced her mind to focus on her steps and the task of getting the backpack—not a girlfriend.

The beaten backpack was heavy in Emily’s hand. What had he packed? She pulled it out and walked around the car.

A thundering roar grew in the distance, freezing Emily in place, stealing the words she was about to say. She’d heard that sound before, a long time ago—a lifetime ago. She shook her head, looking up at the sky, hoping to see a building thunderhead somewhere, anywhere. Clear blue skies stared back at her.

Her heart pounded in her chest. The damp that had been in her palms spread throughout her body. Her breath froze.

Emily watched the solitary rider appear on the horizon. Wyatt sat atop a wide-shouldered horse whose mane and tail were silhouetted in the afternoon light. He was riding quickly toward the house, and she nearly expected his hat to fly off like in all those old cowboy movies she’d watched as a kid.

He drew closer, the shadows let go and she could see the details of him. He was dressed the part of a cowboy, unlike the man who had appeared in her courtroom just days ago wearing an expensive tailored suit. No, this cowboy wore a blue shirt that contrasted with his worn Levi’s. Costly but worn Ropers were snug in the stirrups.

She’d just turned her head, catching a glimpse of white, when the great white horse rumbled into the yard, clearing the low fence with ease. He landed with a heavy thud just inches from her.

Wyatt jumped down from the horse’s back, landing with a similar thud.

“Where is he?” Wyatt barked out the words as he swung out of the saddle.

She looked up at him. Sweat glistened on his face and he yanked the Stetson off and swiped his brow with his sleeve.

“In the house.”

Before she could say or ask anything more, he tossed the reins to her and loped across the lawn.

She caught the reins—a habit she’d thought long forgotten. He’d made the assumption, like everyone did, that people who lived in Texas knew horses. She did, of course, but she hated his assumption.

She stood there a long, silent moment.

Big. Huge. Brown eyes stared at her. She could see the horse’s long lashes as it blinked at her. It—she glanced around and amended—he.

The horse tossed his head and whickered before taking a step forward. Emily froze and dropped the reins. The well-trained horse didn’t move, but Emily saw a whole new set of images. Of another horse. One not as big, but whose eyes were just as beautiful and soulful. Whose coat was just as pure white.

“Sugar,” she whispered. But Sugar was gone. Long gone.

The horse’s big chocolate eyes stared at her, slowly batting its big eyelashes. The horse took a step toward her, and Emily crumbled into the darkness.

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