Katie was pregnant

Booker couldn’t believe what he’d heard. Katie wasn’t only down on her luck, she was pregnant. Andy Bray, that sorry son of a bitch who’d come through town bragging about everything he was and everything he was going to be, when he wasn’t anything at all, had gotten her pregnant and left her to cope on her own.

Booker longed to make Andy pay for what he’d done. Then he reminded himself that he had no stake in Katie’s life. He might have loved her once, but she’d chosen someone else. Someone with all the trappings of responsibility—the preppy clothes, the supportive family, the college degree. That removed Booker from the picture completely. He should head over to the Honky Tonk, he told himself, and forget he’d ever seen her.

“She’s not my problem,” he muttered, punching the gas pedal. But he didn’t get farther than half a block before Katie’s parting words came back to him: Haven’t you ever done anything you regret?

Dear Reader,

I’ve written several other books in between the Harlequin Superromance novels I’ve set in Dundee, Idaho—all of which I’ve thoroughly enjoyed. But whenever I return to this fictional town, I always feel as if I’ve come home. Maybe it’s because I never planned on writing a series set in Idaho. But the characters in each new book simply beg me to go back and continue the story.

If you’ve read my earlier Dundee books, you’ll recognize the hero of this one. Booker Robinson is rather unique. He’s tough and weathered on the outside, but none of his critics can compare to the man he is inside. I think Katie Rogers does quite well for herself the second time around. I hope you’ll agree.

I love to hear from readers. Please feel free to contact me via my Web site at www.brendanovak.com. I frequently give away autographed bookmarks and sponsor drawings. Or you can write to me at P.O. Box 3781, Citrus Heights, CA 95611.

May you hold your family close, even if, like Booker’s, that family isn’t as conventional as most.

Brenda Novak

Brenda Novak
A Family of Her Own

To Sugar Novak, my mother-in-law, who will leave the world

a much better place for having been part of it. Sug, I’m

grateful to have you in my life. You’re one of the few

people I know who truly understands the meaning

of family. Here’s to all for one and one for all….

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

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

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

BOOKER ROBINSON SAT IN his truck at ten o’clock on a warm Thursday night, staring at the small rental house where Katie Rogers lived and telling himself he was crazy to even be here. He wasn’t the type to ask for anything. He’d made it a habit never to need anyone. He’d learned as a child that showing vulnerability was never rewarded.

But he’d heard that Katie and Andy Bray were almost engaged, that she was going to leave town with Andy soon. And he knew if she did, she’d be making a big mistake. Andy wouldn’t take care of her the way he would. Andy wouldn’t love her as he did. Andy loved only himself.

Taking a deep breath, Booker cut the engine, got out and walked up the driveway. He’d hoped Katie would come back to him on her own. For a few short weeks, they’d shared something that was heady, powerful and very mutual. He was sure she felt everything he did. But her family and most of her friends had convinced her she’d be ruining her life by taking a risk on someone like him, a man with a criminal past and not much of a future. And now she was running scared and on the verge of marrying someone else.

She might end up marrying Andy, Booker told himself, but she wasn’t going to do it without at least knowing how he felt about her. He lived with enough regrets already….

It took several minutes for someone to answer his knock. When the door finally opened, Katie’s best friend, Wanda, peered out at him.

“Oh…uh…hi, Booker.”

He could tell she was nervous about seeing him, so he didn’t bother with small talk. Wanda was one of the people telling Katie that he’d never amount to anything. “Is she home?” he asked, not bothering to specify Katie by name because they both knew who “she” was.

“Um…I don’t think—”

He broke in before she could finish. “I saw her pull into the garage from the end of the street.”

“Right.” She chuckled self-consciously. “I wasn’t sure if she actually came in or not, but she must have if you saw her. Just a minute.”

While he waited, Booker’s pulse raced. He’d never laid his heart open to a woman before, and he wasn’t sure where to start now. He hadn’t let himself love many people.

You’re a fool for even trying, you know that, don’t you? Who are you to say you’re any better than Andy? At least Andy comes from a good family and has a college degree. What do you have to offer?

He almost turned to leave, but then Katie appeared at the door.

“Booker?” She sounded surprised to see him. He’d known she would be. He hadn’t contacted her since they’d had that big argument several weeks ago—when she’d told him it was over between them, that she wanted to start seeing Andy, and he’d thought he could let her go.

He took a deep breath. “Can we talk?”

“I don’t think so,” she replied. “There’s really nothing to say.”

“You’re making a mistake, Katie.”

“You don’t know that.”

Maybe he didn’t know it. But he felt it. Letting her marry anyone else was a mistake. It had taken him nearly thirty years to fall in love, but the hell of living without Katie for the past few weeks had left little doubt in his mind that he was there now. “What we had was good.”

“I—I can’t argue with that, but…” She tucked her long blond hair behind her ears in a nervous gesture and glanced over her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’ve already made up my mind.”

The expression in her large blue eyes was tortured. He could tell that she was torn between what she thought and felt and what others were telling her. He knew she was afraid of what he’d once been. He wouldn’t want a daughter of his to marry an ex-con, either. But he couldn’t change his past. He could only change his future….

“Katie…” Reaching out, he ran a finger along her jaw. The contact made him yearn to hold her, and she seemed to feel something similar. She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek into the palm of his hand as though she was dying for his touch. “You still care about me,” he murmured. “I can tell. Come back to me.”

Tears glittered in her eyelashes, reflecting the porch light. “No,” she said, suddenly pushing his hand away. “Don’t confuse me. Andy tells me I’ll feel differently after a few months away from here. We’re going to get married, have a family—”

“But you don’t love Andy,” Booker said. “I can’t even imagine you with that self-serving yuppie.”

“He’s a nice guy, Booker.”

“Why? Because he helped you raise the money to replace that old floor at the Elks Club?”

“That was no small thing. Without him, I probably wouldn’t have been able to start my singles club for seniors.”

“He only did it to impress you. Can’t you see that?”

“Booker, I don’t want to argue about Andy. I’m trying to make a good decision for my future, and yours, too. I’ve got to go—”

“Marry me, Katie,” he said suddenly, passionately. “I know I can make you happy.”

Her eyes widened, and two tears slipped down her cheeks. “Booker, I can’t. You’re not ready to be tied down by a wife and family. You love your freedom too much. I knew that when we first started seeing each other.”

“Katie, maybe it wouldn’t have come to this quite so soon if—”

“I’m sorry, Booker. I’ve got to go.” The door closed in his face. When she drove the bolt home, he knew he’d lost her.

CHAPTER ONE

Two years later…

KATIE ROGERS SMELLED smoke coming from the engine of her car.

“Come on, you can make it,” she muttered, her fingers tightening on the steering wheel of the old Cadillac, which was pretty much the most valuable possession she had left. She’d purchased the vehicle three days ago after posting a Garage Sale sign near her apartment and selling off the last of her and Andy’s furniture. Then she’d packed up what remained of her belongings and headed out of San Francisco before he could come home and plead with her to give him one more chance. She couldn’t bear to deal with Andy Bray anymore. Not with a child on the way. Not when it seemed as though she was the only one who was finally growing up.

The smell of smoke became more pronounced. Katie wrinkled her nose and remembered, with longing, the nice new truck she’d owned when she lived in Dundee. She and Andy had used that truck to move to San Francisco. But once they’d arrived, Andy had talked her into selling it for the security deposit on a better apartment. “We don’t want to stay in a dump,” he’d said. “And we don’t need a car…. We’re in the city now, babe. There’re plenty of ways to get around. As soon as I start making the big bucks we can get another set of wheels….”

As soon as he started making the big bucks… Ha! Katie would’ve been satisfied had he earned just a few bucks. Or at least used some caution in the way he threw her money around.

Because they couldn’t afford parking, she’d finally agreed to sell the truck. But it was a decision she’d long regretted. If she’d had a reliable vehicle, maybe she would’ve left sooner.

The Welcome to Dundee, Home of the Annual Bad-to-the-Bone Rodeo, Population 1,438 sign she’d seen thousands of times in her youth appeared in her headlights. Breathing a huge sigh of relief, Katie began to relax. She’d make it home safely. After traveling 640 miles, she was only another ten or so from her parents’ house—

Suddenly the Cadillac gave a loud chung, and the lights on the dashboard blinked out. Katie frantically pumped the gas pedal, hoping to get a little farther, but it didn’t do any good. The car slowed, trailing smoke.

“No!” Katie shifted the transmission into neutral so she could crank the starter. Returning to Dundee in her current situation was pathetic enough. She didn’t want anyone she knew to see her stranded on the side of the road.

But the car wouldn’t start. She was pretty sure it was dead.

Her tires crunched on the snow-covered shoulder as she managed to pull over without the aid of the power steering that had gone out when everything else did. Then she sat, listening to the hiss coming from the engine and watching smoke billow out from under her hood. What now? She couldn’t walk the rest of the way to her folks’ house. The doctor didn’t want her to be on her feet. Just two weeks ago, she’d experienced premature labor pains and he’d told her she had to take it easy.

Sitting inside a dead car wouldn’t get her anywhere, though. For all she knew, the engine was on fire and the car would momentarily explode, like so many seemed to do on television.

Wrestling her luggage out of the back seat, she dragged it a safe distance. Then she perched on the bigger suitcase and shivered in the cold night air as she watched several cars pass. She didn’t have the heart to stand or make herself noticed. She’d hit rock bottom. Life had finally gotten as bad as it could be.

And then it started to rain.

BOOKER T. ROBINSON switched on his windshield wipers as he descended into Dundee. It was a chilly Monday night, cool enough that he thought the rain would turn to snow before morning. Dundee typically saw a lot of snow in February. But Booker didn’t mind. He was comfortable living in the farmhouse he’d inherited from Grandma Hatfield. And any kind of extreme weather was good for business.

Sticking one of the toothpicks from his ashtray into his mouth, a habit he’d developed when he quit smoking over a year ago, he calculated how much longer it would be before he had Lionel Richman paid off.

Another six months, he decided. Then he’d own Lionel & Sons Auto Repair free and clear. He could buy the lot next door and expand. Maybe he’d even give the business his name. He’d kept “Lionel & Sons” because it had been that way for fifty years, and the people of Dundee didn’t like change any more than they’d liked him when he first moved to town. But since he’d taken over, he’d developed a solid reputation for knowing cars and—

The sight of an old banged-up sedan parked off the highway up ahead piqued Booker’s curiosity enough that he braked. He owned the only tow truck in the area, which was currently at his shop. But he hadn’t received a distress call on his radio. Yet.

Where was the driver? He couldn’t see anyone inside or around the vehicle. Whoever owned the Cadillac had probably already walked or hitched into town, looking for help. But if the smoke pouring from beneath the hood was any indication, the car hadn’t been sitting too long.

Chewing thoughtfully on his toothpick, he pulled up behind the stranded vehicle, left his lights on so he could see and climbed out. If the car was unlocked and he could get under the hood, it would probably be smart to take a look while he was here. Chances were the car had a busted hose—a problem he could solve without going to the trouble of towing the Cadillac to his shop in town.

The moment he stepped out of his truck, however, he realized he wasn’t as alone as he’d thought. Someone—a woman, judging by her size—peered at him from around the front of the car. She was wearing a man-size sweatshirt with a hood that shielded her face from the rain, a pair of faded jeans with bottoms a little wider than he typically saw in these parts and—his eyes darted back to her feet—sandals? In February?

The car had California plates. Leave it to someone from sunny California to run around in sandals all winter.

He shrugged on his leather jacket as he walked over, stopping well short of her. He didn’t want to frighten her. He only wanted to get her car going so he’d be able to meet Rebecca and Josh for a drink at the Honky Tonk and not be interrupted later. “Having trouble?” he asked above the sound of the wind.

“No.” She pulled the hood of her sweatshirt farther forward. “Everything’s fine.”

The wind made it difficult for him to hear. He took the toothpick out of his mouth and moved closer. “Did you say everything’s fine?”

She moved back a distance equal to his advance. “Yes. You can go on your way.”

Booker glanced at the smoke rising from her car. He might’ve thought it was just steam coming off a warm engine on a cold night. Except steam didn’t explain the luggage or why this woman was standing on the side of the road in a sweatshirt so wet it dripped along the hem. And it sure as hell didn’t explain the distinctive scent of a burned-up engine.

“Everything doesn’t smell fine,” he said.

“I’m just letting the engine cool.”

The engine was going to need a lot more than a good cooling. He could tell that without even looking at it. But Booker didn’t say so because this time when she’d spoken, something about her voice had sparked a flicker of recognition.

The California license plate flashed through his mind. He didn’t know anyone from California, except…God, it couldn’t be…

“Katie?” he said, trying to make out her face despite the shadow of her hood.

He saw her shoulders droop. “It’s me,” she said. “Go ahead and gloat.”

Booker didn’t respond right away. He didn’t know what to say. Or how to feel. But gloating was pretty far down on his list. Mostly he wanted to leave so he wouldn’t have to see her again. Only he couldn’t abandon her, or any woman, on the side of the road in the cold rain. “You need a lift?”

She hesitated briefly. Then her chin came up. “No, that’s okay. My dad’s good with cars. He’ll help me.”

“Does he know you’re out here?”

A slight hesitation, then, “Yeah, he’s expecting me. He’ll know when I don’t show up.”

Booker put the toothpick back in his mouth. Part of him suspected she was lying. The other part, the stronger part, felt immediate relief that she was somebody else’s problem. “I’ll take off, then. Your dad can call me if he has any questions.”

He strode briskly to his truck, but she followed him before he could make his escape.

With a sigh, he rolled down his window. “Is there something else?”

“Actually I’m here a little earlier than planned and—” she hugged herself, shivering “—well, it’s possible that my parents won’t miss me for a while. I think I’d be better off taking that ride you offered, if you don’t mind.”

Everything’s fine…. She’d said so when he first pulledup. Why couldn’t he have taken her at her word and let her remain anonymous?

The pain and resentment he’d felt two years ago, when she’d closed the door in his face, threatened to consume him again. But considering the circumstances, he had to help her. What choice did he have?

“What’s with the sandals?” he asked.

She gazed down at her soaked feet. “I bought them in San Francisco. They’re one of a kind, designed especially for me.”

They were still only sandals, and it was raining, for Pete’s sake. She must have realized that he didn’t understand the full significance of what she’d just said because she added, “The day Andy and I bought these was the best day of the past two years. And the only day that turned out anything like I’d planned.”

So they were a symbol of her lost illusions. Well, thanks to her, Booker had a few lost illusions of his own. Not that he’d possessed many to begin with. His parents had taken care of that early on. “Hop in,” he said. “I’ll get your luggage.”

KATIE SAT WITHOUT TALKING, listening to the hum of the heater and the beat of the wipers as Booker drove into town. Of all the people in Dundee, he was the last person she’d wanted to see. So, of course, he’d been the first one to come along. It was that kind of day—no, year.

Clasping her hands in her lap, Katie stared glumly out at the familiar buildings they passed. The Honky Tonk, where she used to hang out on weekends. The library, where her friend Delaney, who was now married to Conner Armstrong, used to work. Finley’s Grocery. Katie had once knocked over a whole display of Campbell’s soup there, trying to get a better look at Mike Hill, a boy she’d had a crush on all the time she was growing up.

“You warm enough?” Booker asked.

He’d already removed his jacket so she nodded, even though she was still chilled, and he turned down the heat.

“So,” she said, hoping to ease the tension between them, “how’ve things been since I went away?”

She could see the scar on his face that ran from his eye to his chin—souvenir of a knife fight, he’d once told her—and the tattoo on his right biceps. It moved beneath the sleeve of his T-shirt as his hands clenched the steering wheel more tightly. But he didn’t respond.

“Booker?”

“Don’t pretend we’re friends, Katie,” he said shortly.

“Why?”

“Because we’re not.”

“Oh.” Booker’s friends had always been few. He regarded everyone, except maybe Rebecca Wells—Rebecca Hill since she’d married Josh—with a certain amount of distrust. So considering their history, Katie knew she shouldn’t be surprised. She’d lost his good opinion along with everything else. If she’d ever really had it. Even when they were seeing each other before she left, she’d never felt completely certain that he cared about her. He’d driven her around on his Harley and shown her one heck of a good time. But he was somewhat remote, and she’d always approached their relationship with a sense of inevitability, believing that it wouldn’t—couldn’t—last. Then he’d shown up at her door and proposed! She didn’t know how to explain it, except that his widowed grandmother, Hatty, had just died. He and Hatty had been so close throughout her final years that Katie could only suppose his sudden marriage proposal was triggered by his loss.

Now he was obviously holding a grudge that she’d turned him down at a difficult time, or been the one to cut things off between them. “I make a left at 500 South?” he asked after several minutes.

She pulled her attention from the rain beading on the windshield. “What?”

“Your parents still live in the same place, don’t they?”

Last she’d heard they did. But she didn’t know. She hadn’t talked to them since a year ago last Christmas, when they’d told her not to call again. “They’ve been on Lassiter nearly thirty years,” she said, infusing her voice with as much confidence as she could muster. “Knowing them, they’ll be there another thirty.”

“Seems I heard your father say something not too long ago about building a cabin a few miles outside of town.” He shifted his eyes from the road to study her. “They give up on that?”

Apprehension clawed at Katie’s insides. Her folks still had the same telephone number. She’d definitely heard her mother answer when she used the pay phone yesterday. She’d wanted to tell her family she was on her way home. Only she’d lost her nerve at the last moment and hung up.

“Yeah.” Having the same number didn’t necessarily mean they hadn’t moved within a certain geographic area, but Katie was sticking with the gamble. Doing anything else would reveal a rift she preferred to keep private. “They like living so close to their bakery. That bakery is their life,” she added.

The Arctic Flyer appeared on the right, evoking bittersweet memories. Katie had worked there the summer of her junior year because she’d wanted to try something besides her parents’ bakery, and she’d broken the ice-cream machine her first week. Harvey, the owner, had complained every day about the money she was costing him, until the part to repair the darn thing finally came in.

Booker turned up the radio, and she glanced surreptitiously in his direction. Her memories of him didn’t go back nearly as far as her Arctic Flyer days. She’d heard tales of him visiting for several months when he was about fifteen; he’d raised enough hell that the entire town still regarded him as trouble. He’d mentioned a few things about that visit himself, like stealing Eugene Humphries’s truck and wrecking it only a few hours later. But Katie was nine years old at the time. She hadn’t met Booker until years later when he moved in with Hatty.

“Aren’t you curious to know what I’m doing back?” she asked, turning to conversation to stanch the flow of memories.

He looked pointedly at her two suitcases, which he’d wedged into the back seat of his extended cab. “That’s pretty obvious.”

“Actually, it’s probably not what you think. San Francisco was fabulous, for the most part,” she said. Which was true—if she confined her comments to the city itself.

When he made no reply, she plunged ahead. “It’s just that I’m a country girl at heart, you know? I decided that San Francisco is a great place to visit, but nowhere I’d want to stay.”

He slung one arm over the steering wheel, and she supposed it was his rebel attitude that made him look both bored and on-edge at the same time.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” she asked.

His toothpick moved as he chewed on it. “Where’s Andy?”

“He—” she scrambled for something to crack Booker’s reserve “—he’s laid up and couldn’t come along.”

Booker arched an eyebrow. “Laid up?”

“He was…um…hit by a cable car,” she said with a grin to let him know she was joking.

She’d hoped to elicit a smile, but the line of Booker’s lips remained as grim as ever. Slowly he slid the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “You mean life in San Francisco wasn’t the nirvana you expected.”

She resisted the urge to squirm in her seat. “We all make mistakes,” she muttered as he parked in front of her parents’ white-brick rambler.

He easily yanked the suitcases that she could barely lift out of his truck, carried them to the door and punched the doorbell. Then he pivoted and headed back, leaving her on the doorstep without so much as a “goodbye” or a “good luck.”

“Haven’t you ever done anything you regret?” she called after him. She knew he’d done plenty; she just didn’t know if he regretted any of it. He certainly had never acted as though he felt any remorse.

But she didn’t listen for a reply. The door to her parents’ home opened almost immediately, and her stomach knotted as she saw her mother’s face for the first time in two years.

“Hi, Mom,” she said, praying that Tami Rogers would be more forgiving than Booker.

Her mother’s expression didn’t look promising. And when Tami glanced at Booker and his truck, her features became even more pinched. “What are you doing here?”

Katie peered over her shoulder at Booker, too, wishing him gone, well out of earshot. “I…” The pain inside her suddenly swelled. She couldn’t even remember, let alone recite, the eloquent apology she’d prepared on the way from San Francisco. All she wanted was for her mother to reach out and hug her. Please…

Her mouth like cotton, she searched for the right words. “I…I need to come home, Mom…just for a little bit,” she added because she thought it might make a difference if her mother understood she didn’t expect any long-term help. Just a place to stay and some kind of welcome until she could find a job that wouldn’t require her to be on her feet.

“Oh, now you want to come home,” her mother replied.

“I know you’re angry—”

“Andy called here looking for you,” she interrupted.

“He did?”

“He told us you never got married.” She folded her arms and leaned against the lintel. “Is that true?”

“Yes, but only because—”

“He also said you’re five months pregnant.”

Instinctively Katie’s hand went to her abdomen. She hadn’t gained any weight yet, so the pregnancy wasn’t apparent, especially in Andy’s baggy sweatshirt. “It—it wasn’t something I planned. But once it happened, I thought maybe Andy would—”

Her mother put up a hand to stop her. “I don’t want to hear it. I raised you better than this, Katie Lynne Rogers. You used to be a good girl, the sweetest there was.”

Katie tried not to blanch as her mother’s rejection lashed a part of her that was already terribly raw. “I’m still the same person, Mom.”

“No, you’re not the girl I knew.”

Katie didn’t know how to combat such a statement, so she switched topics. “Andy had no right to tell you anything. He’s the one who—”

“He’s a bum, just like we said. Right?”

Andy was handsome and debonair. He certainly looked like a stand-up guy. But he was full of empty promises and false apologies. She couldn’t refute that, either, so she nodded.

“We tried to tell you,” Tami went on. “But you wouldn’t listen. Now you’ve made your bed, I guess you can sleep in it.”

The door closed with a decisive click.

Katie blinked at the solid wood panel, feeling numb, incredulous. Home was the place that had to take you in, right? She’d hung on to that thought for miles and miles. She didn’t have anywhere else to go. She’d spent nearly every dime she possessed reaching Dundee.

She considered the last twenty bucks in her wallet and knew it wouldn’t be enough to get a room. She couldn’t even walk back to town, where there was a motel, without risking the baby.

Slowly it dawned on her that Booker hadn’t pulled away from the curb. Which meant he’d probably heard the whole thing.

Embarrassment so powerful it hurt swept through her as she turned. Sure enough, he was standing at the end of the walk, leaning against his truck with the rain dripping off him, staring at her with those shiny black eyes of his.

His learning about the baby this way, seeing what Andy had reduced her to—it was more humiliating than Katie could’ve imagined. She’d broken off her relationship with Booker because she’d wanted more than he could give her. And here she was….

A lump formed in her throat and her eyes began to burn. But she had a few shreds of pride left.

Bending, she picked up her small suitcase. She couldn’t lift the large one. It was too heavy to carry with any dignity, and she wouldn’t get far trying to drag it. So she sucked in a quick, ragged breath in an effort to hold herself together a little longer, threw back her shoulders and started down the street.

She didn’t know where she was going. But at the moment, anywhere was better than here.

CHAPTER TWO

BOOKER COULDN’T BELIEVE what he’d just heard. Katie wasn’t only down on her luck, she was pregnant. Andy Bray, that sorry son of a bitch who’d come through town bragging about everything he was and everything he was going to be, when he wasn’t anything at all, had gotten her pregnant and left her to cope on her own.

Booker longed to make Andy pay for what he’d done. Then he reminded himself that he had no stake in Katie’s life. He might have loved her once, but she’d chosen someone else. Someone with all the trappings of respectability—the preppy clothes, the supportive family, the college degree. That removed Booker from the picture completely. He should head over to the Honky Tonk, he told himself, and forget he’d ever seen her.

Climbing into his truck, he decided to do exactly that. But that damn suitcase sitting alone on the front porch nagged at him. Surely Tami Rogers would change her mind and take her daughter in. Any moment now, the door would open and some member of the family, Katie’s little brother perhaps, would go after her.

Booker waited, but the door didn’t open. Lightning darted across the sky, thunder boomed in the distance, and the wind rose before Tami so much as peeked out a window. Booker felt a moment of hope when he saw her glance furtively into the street. But when she realized he was still there, she jerked the curtains shut.

“She’s not my problem,” he finally muttered, punching the gas pedal. But he didn’t get farther than half a block before Katie’s parting words came back to him: Haven’t you ever done anything you regret?

He’d done plenty of things. He’d been so angry as a kid that he’d been kicked out of more schools than he could remember. He’d put a guy in the hospital simply for looking at him the wrong way. He’d spent two years in a jail cell for stealing a car he didn’t want in the first place. When he reflected on everything he’d felt and done before the age of twenty-five, he knew it was a miracle he’d ever reached thirty. If not for his grandmother, he might never have turned his life around.

In his rearview mirror, he watched Katie round the corner at the end of the street. With her wet clothing and sandals, she had to be freezing. And she was pregnant.

Slamming on his brakes, he spun around and pulled into the driveway of the Rogers house. He retrieved Katie’s suitcase, then rocketed down the street.

KATIE HEARD BOOKER’S truck coming up from behind and instantly improved her posture. She hadn’t managed to hold back her tears for long, but with the rain she doubted he’d notice.

He slowed as he drew parallel, and shoved open the passenger door. “Get in!”

She refused to look at him. She had to live with what she’d made of her life, but she didn’t have to show Booker her pain. “Go away.”

“I’ll put you up for a few nights until you can work things out with your folks,” he hollered. “Just get in before you catch pneumonia.”

“I’ll be fine,” she replied. But she didn’t feel fine. She felt sick at heart and angry and ashamed….

“Where are you planning to go?” he asked. “It’s after eleven o’clock.”

She didn’t answer because she didn’t know. She had friends in town, people she’d grown up with, gone to school with, worked with at the Hair and Now. She was sure someone would take her in for a night or two. But asking wouldn’t be easy when she hadn’t been in touch with anyone since she’d left—except her best friend Wanda, who’d married and moved to Wyoming.

“It’s going to start snowing soon,” Booker added.

“I realize that.”

“You’ll ruin your sandals.”

“They’re already ruined.” Everything was ruined and had been for a long time. The sandals were just the last to go.

Booker gunned the engine. The truck lurched forward but came to a squealing stop right in front of her. Leaving his door open despite the rain, he got out and walked over to confront her. “Give me your suitcase.”

She held her suitcase away from him, but he caught her hand and relieved her of it. Then they stood facing each other in the pouring rain and, as Katie gazed up at him, she was suddenly so hungry for one of his rare smiles she could have cried for that alone.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

The harshness in his face eased. “We’ve all done things we regret,” he said, and loaded her suitcase into the truck.

THE OLD HATFIELD PLACE hadn’t changed much. Booker went for a towel as Katie stood dripping in the mudroom off the back, remembering the woman who’d lived here, alone for the most part, for so many years. Hatty had been a fixture in Dundee for Katie’s entire life. She might have had blue-gray hair and looked as fragile as a bird, but she was more headstrong than anyone Katie had ever met. Hatty generally wore bright-red lipstick and a red suit to match, drove a giant Buick—if one could call what she did behind the wheel driving—and had a no-nonsense approach to everyone and everything.

But Hatty was gone now. She’d died just before Katie left. Katie had been so intent on getting away that she hadn’t given Hatty’s passing much thought. But she knew Hatty’s death must have hit Booker hard.

“Here,” Booker said, returning with a plush burgundy towel and a pair of sweats. He’d peeled off his own wet shirt and was wearing another simple T-shirt that stretched taut across his wide chest and showed the bottoms of the tattoos on his arms. He hadn’t bothered changing his jeans.

“I’ve got some sweats of my own,” Katie said when she realized the pair he’d handed her were probably his.

“I didn’t want to dig through your suitcase. You can give them back to me in the morning.”

He left her to dry off and went into the kitchen. Katie could hear him moving around, opening cupboards and drawers while she changed. She was still freezing and knew it would take some time to warm up, but she was glad to be out of the storm.

She entered the kitchen with her hair up in the towel and Booker’s sweats hanging loose on her body, trying to ignore his scent, which lingered on his clothes, and all the pleasant associations attached to it.

“You hungry?” Booker asked.

“Not really,” she said because she felt she had no right to impose on him any more than she already was.

He considered his sweats on her. “Looks as though you could stand to gain a few pounds.”

“I’m sure I’ll be gaining plenty over the next few months.”

When he frowned, she knew he’d made the connection to her pregnancy. “Eggs and toast okay?” he asked.

Secretly grateful for the promise of a meal, Katie nodded. She’d been so afraid she wouldn’t have money for gas that she’d skimped on food. “It’s really nice, you helping me out like this. I appreciate it.”

She took a seat at the kitchen table, recalling the day Hatty had made Booker varnish it. “The varnish seems to be holding up.”

Booker looked at her. “The what?”

“The varnish. We tried to tell Hatty that this set was mostly plastic. But she wouldn’t listen, remember? She wanted you to varnish it, anyway.”

A ghost of a smile curved Booker’s lips. “I remember. She had me wash the walls before I could paint them, too, and she made me restarch her doilies. I must be the only guy my age who’s ever starched a doily.”

Katie couldn’t help chuckling. Toward the end of Hatty’s life, Booker did almost anything she asked of him. Some people thought she’d bullied him like everyone else. Others claimed he was afraid of losing his inheritance. Katie had seen Booker and Hatty together often enough to know Booker indulged Hatty for only one reason—he loved her. “The place looks great,” she said.

“Gran had it in top shape before she died.”

But she’d been gone more than two years, and while the house hardly seemed different, Booker did. He’d always been a survivor, a man who could take care of himself. But he suddenly seemed so much more…domestic. Maybe it came with owning his own home. “I’ll bet you miss her.”

He dug through a drawer until he found a spatula. “What’s Andy doing these days?” he asked, changing the subject.

Andy was partying. But she wasn’t about to tell Booker that. “I’m not sure.”

He studied her in that way he had of looking right through people. “How long ago did you leave him?”

“It’s been three days.”

“And you’ve lost track of him already?”

Most of the time she hadn’t known what he was doing even when he was in the next room. Because she hadn’t wanted to know. It was rarely something of which she could approve. “I don’t want to talk about Andy.”

He went to the fridge. “One egg or two?”

“Two.”

“When did you eat last?” he asked, setting the egg carton on the counter next to the stove.

“Today.”

He paused. “Today?”

“Yeah, you know, earlier.” She tried to avoid a more specific answer by drawing his attention back to the food. “Anyway, it smells good.”

He broke the eggs into a frying pan, and Katie listened to them sizzle. As awkward as it was between her and Booker, she was beginning to get warm—and to appreciate the fact that she hadn’t been forced to knock on someone else’s door in the middle of the night.

When the silence grew to the point of discomfort, however, she asked, “What have you been doing since I left?”

“Working,” he said simply.

“Doing what?”

“He owns Lionel & Sons Auto Repair,” a third voice proudly announced.

Katie looked up to see Delbert Dibbs standing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. A rottweiler the size of a small horse sat at his heels.

“You’re back,” he said, recognizing her immediately. Delbert was wearing a pair of Buzz Lightyear pajamas that weren’t buttoned quite right. Where he’d found such a large size, Katie couldn’t even guess. He was her age. At least five foot eleven, he had to weigh a good hundred and seventy pounds—only about thirty pounds shy of what Booker probably weighed. “I’m so glad,” he added. “I missed you, Katie. I missed you cutting my hair.”

Katie didn’t have a chance to stand up before Delbert hurried across the kitchen and gathered her tightly in his arms. They’d never been close, but she’d cut his hair every once in a while. They’d also gone to the same elementary school for kindergarten and first grade. By second grade, it had become apparent that he wasn’t developing normally, and he was put in a special school. But she’d still seen him around town. Especially after he dropped out of school altogether and took to rambling up and down Main Street, hanging out at the Arctic Flyer or loitering near the auto repair shop.

Katie frowned at Booker while Delbert squeezed her with all the exuberance of a child and the dog sniffed her curiously. But Booker neither came to her rescue nor offered any explanation.

“What—what are you doing here?” Katie asked Delbert when he finally released her and she could draw enough breath.

“I live here now,” he said, showing crooked teeth in a wide smile. “I live with Bruiser and Booker.”

Bruiser was obviously the dog, but Katie didn’t get the connection between Booker and Delbert. How did such an unlikely pair wind up as roommates?

“Since when?” she asked.

His face clouded as he slumped into the chair next to her. Bruiser went over to Booker and wagged his tail in greeting. “My dad died. Did you know that, Katie? I came home one day, and he was just staring at me. Wouldn’t say a thing.”

“How awful,” she said. “I’m sorry to hear that. I didn’t know.”

His sadness lifted as quickly as it had descended. “Want me to show you what I made?”

“Uh…okay.”

He got up and raced from the kitchen, and Katie slanted a questioning glance at Booker. “Delbert lives with you? How did that come about?”

“I met him at the shop once I took over.”

“And?”

“You heard him. His dad died.”

“So you took him in?”

“He works for me,” he said. “I’ve actually been able to teach him quite a bit about cars.”

Teaching Delbert anything had to be a slow, frustrating process. That Booker would have the patience and go to the trouble when almost everyone else in town—including the local minister—barely acknowledged Delbert impressed Katie. “There must be more to the story than that.”

“Not really,” he said. “Delbert’s dad was all he had. Once he died, there wasn’t anyone left to care for him.”

Katie shook her head as she toyed with the salt and pepper shakers in the center of the table. Somehow Booker never failed to surprise her. “That’s really nice,” she said. “What would’ve happened to him if you hadn’t stepped in?”

“He would’ve gone to a special home in Boise.”

“Most people would’ve let him go,” she said.

He set her eggs on the table and went to the counter to butter the toast that had just popped up. “Maybe, but it didn’t make any sense to me. He grew up around here. Dundee is comfortable and familiar to him. And they wouldn’t let him have a dog or work on cars. Delbert lives for those two things.”

As if to confirm his words, Delbert returned with a model of an antique Ford. “See?” he said. “This is a Model-T, one of the first cars ever made. It came in pieces. Booker helped me put it together.”

“He did, huh?” Katie watched Booker clean up the mess he’d just made.

“Yeah.” Delbert gazed lovingly at his model. “Booker can do anything.”

Katie lifted her eyes to meet Booker’s and found him wearing a wry grin. “Some people are easier to please than others,” he said.

“WHERE ARE YOU?” Rebecca demanded as soon as the bartender at the Honky Tonk brought her to the phone. “Josh and I have been waiting here for over an hour.”

Booker returned the frying pan he’d dried to its place beneath the stove. “I ran into a slight complication.”

“What kind of complication?”

He looked toward the kitchen door to make sure he was still alone. “Katie.”

“What?” Rebecca nearly screamed the word. The fact that she could scarcely hear above the music pounding in the background probably had something to do with it. But he knew hearing Katie’s name on his lips had more impact than anything.

“Katie Rogers is back in town,” he explained.

“No way!”

“It’s true.”

She fell silent for a moment. “I thought you were over Katie. Just last week, you told me to quit bugging you about her. You said she was never going to contact you, and it didn’t matter anyway because you didn’t—”

“I remember what I said,” he interrupted.

“And now she’s back? Out of the blue? How do you know?”

“I found her stranded on the side of the road a few miles outside town.” He didn’t add that she’d been driving a hunk of junk, had dark circles under her eyes, looked as thin as a rail and was five months pregnant.

“Was Andy with her?”

“What do you think?”

“I think they lasted longer than I ever dreamed they would.”

They’d lasted longer than Booker had thought possible, too. For a while, he’d held out hope that Katie would reconsider his proposal and come back to tell him she’d made a mistake. But as month marched on to month, he’d finally realized he was stupid for continuing to hope and had forced himself to get on with his life.

Only now she was back. She just hadn’t come back to him.

“She should never have let you get away,” Rebecca said.

“Let me get away? Hell, she practically ran in the other direction.”

“Maybe it’s because you don’t give many people a chance.”

“She had more than a chance.”

Rebecca wasn’t listening. “You’re not unsociable, exactly. Just a little rough around the edges, stubborn—definitely stubborn—and a bit of a cynic.”

“That’s pretty funny, coming from you,” he pointed out, but Rebecca’s mind had already shifted gears.

“Hey, do you think she’ll want to work at the salon again?”

“Aren’t you ready to give up managing that place? It’s not as though you need the money.”

“I’m not managing the salon anymore, I’m buying it. I like having something that’s all my own. It helps me hold on to Rebecca so she doesn’t get lost in being Mrs. Joshua Hill.”

“You expect me to understand that psychobabble bullshit?”

She laughed. “You understand, and you know it.”

He only understood that Rebecca was one of the few people he could trust, and he valued her friendship. “So you want me to have Katie call you in a day or two if she’s interested in coming back to work?”

“Wait a second.” Suspicion entered Rebecca’s voice. “She’s staying at her folks’ house, right?”

Booker blew out a sigh. “Wrong.”

“Don’t tell me she’s staying with you!”

“I had to bring her home,” he said. “Her parents refused to take her in.”

“Why?”

If he’d been talking to anyone else, he might have said, “Because she’s pregnant and not married.” But he wasn’t talking to just anyone. He was talking to Rebecca, and she was very sensitive these days about who was having a baby and who wasn’t. Mostly because she wasn’t. She and Josh had been married a couple of years and they’d been trying to have a baby the whole of that time, but nothing they did seemed to work. Booker knew Josh had gone in for testing because Rebecca had shown up on his doorstep, when the doctors determined that she was the one facing fertility problems, and ranted about the unfairness of life. Of course it would be her, she’d said; Josh was never to blame for anything. Then she’d done something he’d never seen her do before—she broke down in tears.

“I guess they’re still upset about her leaving on such bad terms,” he said, glossing over the facts.

Rebecca snorted. “Give me a break. I didn’t like Andy any more than you did, but Katie’s got a right to make her own choices.”

“Tell her parents that.” He thought she just might, which was a happy possibility. Maybe Rebecca would get through to Tami Rogers. Maybe then Katie could move home….

“So you’re not going to make it out to see us tonight, is that it?” Rebecca asked.

“It’s pretty late.”

“That’s okay. Delaney and Conner decided to join us.”

Delaney had been Rebecca’s best friend while they were growing up. She’d married Conner Armstrong nearly three years ago. They had a kid right away and built a huge resort out of the Running Y Ranch. Booker knew Delaney and Rebecca would always be close. They weren’t much alike—but then, Rebecca wasn’t much like anybody.

“I beat Josh at pool,” she told him.

“Freak luck, that’s all,” Josh said in the background.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s a sore loser.”

“Play me again, and I’ll show you a sore loser.”

“I have to go,” she said. “Josh needs me to humble him.”

Booker figured she wouldn’t have any trouble bringing poor Josh to his knees. Josh loved his wife more than Booker had ever seen a man love a woman. But there were days when Booker thought this baby thing would tear them apart. He was glad they seemed to be getting along so well tonight. “Good luck,” he said.

“Booker?” Rebecca caught him just before he hung up.

“Yeah?”

“How did it feel to see her again?”

“It wasn’t any big deal,” he said.

But as he went off to bed, he hesitated outside Katie’s door, remembering the nights they’d spent together. There hadn’t been a lot of them. He’d known even then that he was fighting an uphill battle for her affections. She’d had a crush on Josh’s older brother, Mike, when they first met, but she’d had that same crush for over a decade and nothing had ever come of it. Booker hadn’t been intimidated. He’d assumed he’d have all the time in the world to convince her that loving a man who loved her back beat the hell out of idealizing some family friend who’d never shown any interest.

But then Andy Bray had shown up and changed everything….

Booker winced as he recalled the night he’d tried to talk Katie into staying with him. Marry me, Katie. I know I can make you happy. She’d almost made an honest man out of him.

Close call, he thought, and moved on to his own bedroom. If she’d made a different decision, she’d probably be carrying his baby right now.

Unfortunately that didn’t sound nearly as bad as he wished it did….

CHAPTER THREE

KATIE BLINKED AT the ceiling, wondering where she was. Letting her gaze sweep the room, she took in the white eyelet drapes, the faded roses on the wallpaper and the white finish on the dated furniture. Then it came to her. She was at Granny Hatfield’s, staying with Booker Robinson, the Harley-riding ex-con who’d made the whole town groan when he moved in, the guy who’d ruined her reputation before she’d ruined her life. Her parents hadn’t been pleased when she became engaged to Andy; their only consolation was—in her father’s muttered words—“At least she didn’t end up with Booker Robinson.”

Covering her eyes, she chuckled mirthlessly. In an ironic twist of fate, she was with Booker. Because he’d been kinder to her than her own parents….

But she wouldn’t stay with him long. She’d find herself a job and move out. She might be single and pregnant, easy pickings for the gossip-hungry, but she was going to get back on her feet.

Grabbing hold of that fresh resolve, she climbed out of bed. Then she caught herself in the dresser mirror, saw the way her short blond shag was standing up and noticed the dark circles around her eyes and the paleness of her skin, and sank back onto the bed. Who was she trying to kid? No one was going to hire a woman who looked ill and wasn’t allowed to stand for any length of time. She couldn’t work at the library, or the convenience store, or even the Arctic Flyer. She couldn’t wait tables at Hokey Pokey’s Ribs and Barbecue. She couldn’t even do day care because of the lifting, not to mention the possibility of picking up some virus or other infection that could harm the baby.

How was she going to survive until the pregnancy was over?

Andy should be helping her, she thought with no small amount of resentment. He was just as responsible for her situation as she was. But “responsible” was about the last word anyone would use in connection with Andy. She knew better than to even contact him. The best she could hope for was that he’d stay out of her life. If she went back to him, she’d only sit in their small San Francisco apartment day in and day out—an apartment that had no furniture now—wondering if she was going to be evicted while he was out snorting cocaine and chasing other women.

She’d sunk pretty low. But she hadn’t sunk low enough to go back to that….

A knock on the door startled her, made her heart thump loudly, because she assumed it was Booker and felt reluctant to face him in the light of day. “Yes?”

“Booker told me to bring you this,” Delbert said, entering with a tray of oatmeal, toast and jelly, Bruiser at his heels. “We’ve gotta go to work. I work for Booker,” he added as though he’d never mentioned it before. “I fix cars.”

“That’s wonderful,” she said. She was truly happy for Delbert, that he’d found someone who was so good to him. But Booker liked her considerably less and made no secret of it. “Do you think he could use any more help down at Lionel & Sons?”

Delbert nearly tripped on the rug, so she helped him steady the tray. “You want to fix cars?” he asked.

Katie put the tray on the nightstand. “I’d do anything at this point.”

“I change oil and air filters and spark plugs. I could show you how.”

“I was only joking,” she said. “I don’t think I’ll fit beneath a car very much longer.”

“Oh.” He gave her a puzzled look, but didn’t ask why. He just stood there, blinking at her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Booker said to tell you—” his brow furrowed in concentration “—he said the keys to Hatty’s old Buick are on the counter, if you wanna go anywhere today.”

“How nice of him.”

“Booker’s never hit me. Not once.”

That announcement made Katie wonder how Delbert’s father had treated him. But she wasn’t about to ask. She wasn’t sure she could take the answer right now.

“Delbert, let’s get going,” Booker called from downstairs.

“Tell Booker thank you,” she said.

“Sure, Katie. I’ll tell him.” Delbert gave her a sloppy grin as he and Bruiser hurried from the room, obviously anxious to reach Lionel & Sons.

Outside, the engine of Booker’s truck roared to life. Katie stood at her window and watched the dog jump in the back before they drove off. Then she ate, grateful for the meal in a way she’d never been grateful for such simple things before, and showered. Without Booker, she wouldn’t have had any clean clothes this morning, she realized. He’d been the one to retrieve her suitcase from her parents’ porch.

Carefully folding his sweats, she set them aside, wondering if her mother had gone out looking for her last night. If so, why hadn’t Tami contacted Booker? Surely she’d seen him at the end of the walkway. If her parents cared about her, if they were worried about her at all, they would’ve called to see whether—

A job. She needed a job, she reminded herself, steering her thoughts away from her parents’ hurtful behavior. If she didn’t remain focused on practical considerations, the sting of their rejection would quickly immobilize her.

Opening the larger of her two suitcases, on the floor because it was too heavy to lift onto the bed, she tried to decide what to wear. When she lived in San Francisco, she’d combed through the factory outlet stores at least once a week and found garments worthy of New York, Paris or Milan, all for pennies on the dollar.

But she’d had to sell most of her clothes, along with her shoes. Gone was the Jones of New York sweater with the faux fur. Gone was the low-riding, tight-fitting pair of Bebe jeans with the trendy dirty-denim look. Gone were the cool jackets, Ann Taylor blouses, Kenneth Cole boots and fine Italian leather heels.

Good thing she didn’t need much in Dundee. Wranglers were considered high fashion in this part of the country.

That brought her back to the issue of earning a living. The sooner she found work, the sooner she’d have options. The sooner she had options, the sooner she could stop taking help from Booker.

Unfortunately news of her illegitimate pregnancy was going to travel fast, which would definitely have a negative impact on her chances. Especially in a town so conservative and so small.

Hoping to beat the gossips, she pulled on a simple black dress so she wouldn’t look quite so silly wearing the sandals that were her only shoes. Then she put on some makeup and fixed her hair in a much more conservative style than she generally wore in the city, and located the key for Hatty’s Buick.

“Welcome back to Dundee,” she whispered.

KATIE SPENT THE MORNING searching for a job. She approached the real estate office on the edge of town, hoping to get a receptionist position or a secretarial job, but Herb Bertleson, the broker, wasn’t hiring and his only agent, Fred Winston, couldn’t afford any help. She tried Lester Greenwalt, an insurance agent located not far from the real estate office, but he was content to have his daughter answer the phones and his wife do the filing.

After Greenwalt’s office, she visited the local elementary school to see if she could take lunch tickets or something. But the school year was more than half over and all they needed was a temporary crossing guard because Rosie Strickland had come down with mononucleosis a few days earlier. Standing out in the rain and cold was something Katie couldn’t do while she was pregnant, so she moved on, but the answer was the same everywhere she checked.

Jerry’s Diner was at the very end of her list. When she’d stopped by Finley’s Grocery a few minutes earlier to see if anyone there had heard of any openings, Louise, the cashier, told her to talk to Judy at the diner. Louise said she heard Judy’s daughter was quitting her job at the video store to go back to school. Katie wondered if working there would require her to be on her feet much and if the position would pay her enough to get by.

Managing to squeeze the boatlike Buick into the only parking space available at the diner, Katie got out.

“Isn’t that Hatty’s car?”

Katie shaded her eyes to see Mary Thornton standing beneath the small overhang of the restaurant. “Hi, Mary,” she said. Six years older than Katie, Mary walked and talked as though she considered herself some kind of perennial prom queen. But she was really just the divorced mother of an eleven-year-old boy—a woman with the single-minded ambition to capture one of Dundee’s eligible bachelors.

“Don’t tell me you’re back with Booker,” Mary said, eyeing the Buick.

Everyone who saw the Buick was going to jump to the same conclusion. Katie hated that. She had enough disadvantages already. But she needed some way to get around. She couldn’t seclude herself at the old Hatfield place for long. Not if she planned to survive. “Booker and I are just friends. He—he’s helping me out.”

“Booker’s not the type to do favors for free.” A taunting smile curved Mary’s freshly glossed lips.

“How do you know?” Katie asked, but before Mary could retort, Mike Hill strode out of the restaurant. He was in the process of returning his credit card to his billfold, but when he glanced up, his face lit with recognition.

“Katie! I didn’t know you were back.”

While she was growing up, the sight of Mike Hill had always made Katie’s knees go weak. Even when she was only five or six, she’d stand on her front lawn and wait for him to come by on his bicycle while he was delivering papers.

He was still the handsomest man she’d ever met, in a predictably pleasant, hometown sort of way. With the long thin body of a basketball player, he was always clean-shaven and kept his fine brown hair neatly trimmed. Better yet, his green eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, which he did quite often—far more often than Booker, for instance. But as attractive as he was, he was thirteen years her senior. He’d always treated her like a baby sister. And she was through with men. At least for a few years.

“Hi, Mike,” she said. “How’ve you been?”

“Good. What brings you to town?”

The fact that she was broke and pregnant came to mind, but Katie knew he’d find that out soon enough. “I moved back yesterday.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Really? So you’re home for good?”

She nodded.

“That’s great.”

In the past, his words would’ve left Katie stewing over the sentiment behind them. “Great” as in he missed her? Or “great” as merely a generic “that’s nice”? Today she took them at face value. Cynicism had its advantages.

“It’s good to be back,” she lied. Then she realized that Mary hadn’t moved and was looking up at Mike as though—as though they were together. When Katie left town, Mike had been dating someone from McCall. They’d been seeing each other for months, so everyone had expected them to get married. That must not have worked out. But Mike was thirty-eight and had never even been engaged, so maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised. “You two just have lunch?” she asked.

Mary smoothed her hands over a suit that was, to Katie’s trained eye, a designer knockoff and not nearly as impressive as Mary seemed to think. “We did.”

Had Mike picked up where his brother, Josh, had left off when Josh married Rebecca instead of Mary? The thought made Katie feel ill even though she no longer had designs on Mike. Mary had her better moments—when she’d helped Katie start the Senior Singles Club two years ago, for instance—but on the whole, Katie had never liked her much.

Mike glanced at his watch. “We should go. I promised Slinkerhoff I wouldn’t keep Mary over an hour.”

“You’re still working at the law office, Mary?” Katie asked.

“We’re taking a deposition this afternoon,” she explained, as though that made her someone important.

“Who’s getting divorced?” Katie asked. Everyone knew Slinkerhoff’s practice survived on marital unrest. When she’d passed his office a few minutes ago, she’d half expected to see a sign posted near the door saying, “Leave him now. Ask me how.”

“This isn’t a divorce case,” Mary said. “It’s a criminal trial.”

Katie shifted her purse to the other arm. “Slinkerhoff is moving into criminal law?”

“His nephew is accused of robbing two houses in your old neighborhood,” Mike explained.

“His nephew?” Katie responded. “I didn’t realize he had a nephew.”

“You’ve probably seen him around,” Mike said. “He’s got to be twenty-two.”

“Oh.” Katie thought the mother of Slinkerhoff’s young nephew would be much better off hiring an attorney from Boise to defend him, preferably someone who knew what he was doing. But who was she to offer advice? She only knew that Warren Slinkerhoff and his sidekick, Mary, were the last two people she’d trust with the freedom of anyone she loved.

“You planning to go back to work at Hair and Now?” Mike asked.

“No, I’m looking for something else.” She kept her answer vague because she didn’t want to face Mary’s reaction to the truth.

“That’s too bad.” He pulled his cowboy hat a little lower. “No one cuts hair as well as you do.”

“I could come out to your place and give you a trim once in a while,” she said. Staying on her feet for only one or two cuts certainly couldn’t hurt the baby, and Lord knew she needed the money.

He grinned. “That’d be great. Give me a call once you get settled.”

Their exchange was simple enough, but Mary’s eyes narrowed and her gaze suddenly dropped to Katie’s feet. “Are you wearing sandals for a reason?” she asked.

“I bought them in San Francisco.” Katie smiled as though her shoes weren’t completely out of season.

Mike shrugged indifferently. “They’re nice.”

Mary chuckled and shook her head. “There’s snow on the ground, silly,” she said, then she tugged on Mike’s arm, scarcely giving him a moment to wave, and they were gone.

Katie watched them drive away in a new champagne-colored Escalade before trudging into the restaurant. “What do guys see in her?” she muttered, but when the bell jingled over the door, she promptly forgot about Mary. She needed some sort of break. And she hoped to find it here.

The place was packed, as usual. Several waitresses wearing maroon uniforms bustled around, carrying plates back and forth, getting drinks, taking orders. Judy was busy wiping the coffee area, so Katie sidled up to the bar between an older man and a woman with a young girl. Nothing at Jerry’s had changed since she’d left. Katie felt momentarily relieved about that. She wanted to go back in time….

“I’ll be with you in a second, hon,” Judy said in her deep smoker’s voice and rushed off, carrying a stack of menus.

Katie toyed with the sweetener packets next to the napkin-holder, trying to distract herself from the food coming out of the kitchen. The smell of onion rings, French fries and burgers was making her stomach growl. But she wasn’t about to spend her last twenty bucks on lunch when she’d already had breakfast.

Judy returned a moment later, her weathered face breaking into a smile. “So our girl’s come home, huh?” she said. “When did you get back?”

“Last night.”

“How long you planning to stay?”

“For a few months, at least.”

“Great.” She wiped up a spill on the back counter, near the hot chocolate machine, then tossed her cleaning rag into the sink and pulled a pad and pencil from the pocket of her apron. “What can I get you?”

Jerry’s Giant Baconburger sounded good. Katie nearly broke down and ordered it, but $5.85 was $5.85. “Nothing, thanks. I stopped by to talk to you, if you’ve got a minute.”

Judy’s shoes made a sticking sound as she moved closer. The floor obviously needed to be mopped, and the lamp-shades needed dusting. But folks ate at Jerry’s because the prices were right and the portions were large. They weren’t excessively concerned with cleanliness. “What’s up, kiddo?”

The man on Katie’s right had his face close to his plate, devouring an open-face turkey sandwich. The child on her left picked at a club sandwich. Both meals looked so good. Forcing her attention away from the food, Katie said, “Louise told me she heard your daughter might be quitting her job over at the video store. I was wondering if that’s true.”

“It better not be,” she said. “She’s got to buy diapers and formula for Nathan.”

“So she’s not going back to school?”

Judy shielded a quick cough. “No. She talks about it constantly, but she blew her chance at school when she got pregnant. If she’s going to live with me, she has to contribute.”

“I see. Of course.” Katie tried not to let her disappointment show, although she had no idea where she could turn next.

“You looking for a job, kid?”

“Yeah.”

“What about doing hair?”

“I—I can’t do hair right now.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t be on my feet.”

“That pretty much narrows things down.” She shoved her pad and pencil back into her apron.

Katie blinked several times, once again fighting tears. She wanted to say, “Everything will be fine.” Only the words wouldn’t come.

Judy moved closer. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

Katie knew she could lie and keep people guessing for a few weeks, or at least until she began to show. But there wasn’t much point, not anymore. She’d already applied for every job available and been repeatedly turned down. And everyone was going to find out eventually. Especially if her mother and Booker were sharing what they knew of her situation. “I’m pregnant,” she said. “My doctor told me I could lose the baby if I don’t take things easy.”

Leaning on the bar, Judy lowered her voice. “Where’s that fella you married?”

“We never actually tied the knot.”

“Oh.”

“He’s still in San Francisco.”

“And I take it he’s not coming back.”

“No.”

Her face registered compassion. “Well, I’ll put the word out that you’re looking for a job.” She straightened. “But I’m afraid there’s not a lot around here.”

Katie forced herself to get up and step away from the counter, even though it felt strange to leave the diner hungry. “I know.”

“Can’t your folks use you at the bakery?”

“No…er…not right now.”

“If I hear of somethin’, where can I reach you? Their place?”

Katie shook her head. “No, I’m staying out at Hatty’s.”

One eyebrow lifted toward the black roots of Judy’s bleached hair. “You mean Booker’s? You’re staying with Booker?”

Katie sighed. “Yeah.”

An appreciative smile stole over her face. “If that’s the case, I’d give just about anything to be in your shoes.”

“It’s not like that.” Katie felt her cheeks heat. “He…he’s just helping me out for a little while.”

Judy fanned herself as if the mere thought of living with Booker was enough to give her heart palpitations. “Well, I know I’m not the only one who’d love to trade places with you.”

“I’m not interested in a man.”

“Are you crazy? Even Booker? I’ve never seen a better pair of bedroom eyes.”

Booker’s hands weren’t bad, either. Katie knew from experience the havoc they could wreak on a woman’s body. She’d been a bona fide Goody Two-shoes before she met him, yet he’d broken through her reserve. He seemed to know moves the average man, like Andy, didn’t. But at twenty-five she’d already made more than her share of mistakes. If she’d learned anything, she’d learned that life wasn’t about personal gratification. It was about deeper things, lasting things, and it was time for her to grow up and start building the right foundation. “I don’t care about bedroom eyes. I’m going solo for a while.”

“Then I suggest you move out of Booker’s house immediately,” Judy said. “Because the bedroom’s where you’re going if you stay.”

CHAPTER FOUR

KATIE RETURNED TO BOOKER’S around four o’clock. She’d spent the afternoon at Hair and Now, catching up on all the gossip and getting reacquainted with the people she used to work with—Mona, the middle-aged manicurist, Erma, who was selling the shop to Rebecca but still worked part-time, Ashleigh, who’d been there about two years, and Rebecca.

Rebecca had been a little reserved at first. Considering how close Booker and Rebecca were, Katie could understand why Rebecca might not be thrilled to see her. But then Delaney had walked in to have her little girl’s bangs trimmed, and Rebecca had warmed up considerably while playing “aunt.” They’d all sat around talking and laughing—until LeAnn, Andy’s cousin, arrived for an appointment. At that point, Katie decided it was time to leave. Mona wanted to trade a manicure and pedicure for a haircut and color, which sounded pretty appealing, but Katie felt she should have dinner ready when Booker and Delbert came home. She had to do something to repay Booker’s generosity in letting her stay with him, something to compensate him for the fact that he didn’t really want her around. Her self-respect demanded it.

Besides, she was so hungry she could almost eat cardboard, and she wasn’t about to help herself to Booker’s food without working to earn it.

Unfortunately Booker’s cupboards weren’t well-stocked. Salt, cold cereal, a few cans of tuna, the heel of a loaf of bread…Probably he and Delbert ate out a lot.

What was she going to do?

She opened the refrigerator. Beer, a cube of butter and some eggs. Not much better.

Sitting down, because her empty stomach was making her a little light-headed, she considered her options. She could make tuna salad. Or she could go to the store, spend her last twenty dollars on groceries and make a meal of which she could be proud.

Somehow, after her mother’s poor reception, the rejection she’d experienced while attempting to find a job, and facing one of Andy’s cousins, she needed to be able to contribute—even more than she needed money. Getting up, she grabbed her purse and headed back into town.

GLANCING AT HIS WATCH, Booker realized it was nearly eleven o’clock. Much too late to tear apart the wheels and repack the bearings on Helen Dobbs’s Chevy Suburban, which was next on his list.

Shoving himself out from beneath the red Mustang he’d just fixed, he dodged the space heater that hummed nearby and crossed to the sink at the corner of the shop. He’d let his full-time mechanic, Chase Gardner, leave hours ago. Delbert had taken Bruiser and wandered over to the Honky Tonk at nine o’clock to play some pool. But Booker had kept working. For once, he wasn’t interested in hanging out at the Honky Tonk. And he sure as hell didn’t feel like going home. Not with Katie there. Word was spreading that she was staying with him. He’d been hearing about it all day.

“Hey, I hear Katie’s in town…You two back together…? Is she finished with Andy…? Why is she staying with you instead of her parents?”

In retrospect, Booker wasn’t sure exactly how he’d wound up with Katie under his roof. There was her smoking car, then the rain, then her mother standing at the door looking down her nose at both of them. And suddenly he had a roommate.

It was just plain bad luck that he’d come across her before anyone else had.

Peeling off the heavy coveralls he typically wore over his clothes in winter, he pushed up the sleeves of his long-sleeved T-shirt, lathered his hands and arms with laundry detergent and used a brush to scrub off the grease. In the extra hours he’d spent at the shop, he’d worked on Katie’s car, which he’d towed into town first thing this morning, and finished repairing a Mustang and a Nissan truck. He was tempted to keep working through the night. Heaven knew he had enough backlog. But he had to go home sometime, or he knew he wouldn’t be worth anything tomorrow.

The telephone rang. It had rung at about ten, while he was working under the Mustang, but he hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone badly enough to interrupt what he was doing. Now he thought maybe Delbert hadn’t been able to catch a ride home, as he normally did if Booker wasn’t around, so he headed into the small front office.

“Hello?” He propped the handset against his shoulder while he finished drying his hands on the paper towel he’d brought with him.

“Is everything okay?”

Not Delbert—Katie. Mildly surprised, Booker threw the paper towel in the garbage. “Of course. Why?”

“I thought maybe there’d been an emergency.”

“No.”

“So what’ve you been doing?”

“Working.”

“Just working?”

“Were you expecting something else?”

“You didn’t think to let me know you wouldn’t be coming home tonight?”

“Was I supposed to let you know?”

“Well, I assumed—I mean, I made…” She sighed. “Never mind.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Forget it,” she said and hung up.

Booker blinked at the phone, then called her back, but she didn’t answer.

Rubbing his temples, he gave a long sigh. One day. She’d been there one day. And it was already one day too many—for a variety of reasons.

BOOKER SHOOK HIS HEAD as he read Katie’s note taped to the refrigerator. There are plenty of leftovers if you’re hungry. K.

“Smells good in here,” Delbert said, coming in from the mudroom, where he’d just taken off his boots.

Booker opened the fridge and gazed inside to see a large pan of lasagna, a green salad, a foil-wrapped loaf of garlic bread and a pitcher of lemonade. Judging by the number of pans drying in the drainer next to the sink, Katie had gone to a lot of effort.

He felt a little guilty for not bothering to let her know he wouldn’t be home. He’d considered calling but refused to feel as though he needed to check in. It wasn’t as though he owed her anything. Two years ago, he’d asked her to marry him. She’d turned him down flat, then she’d left town with another man. That hardly obligated him.

“There’s food in the fridge if you want to eat,” he told Delbert.

Delbert was feeding Bruiser, who’d actually started out as Booker’s dog. Earl Wallace, owner of the local feed store, had found him roaming around his back lot. When no one claimed him, Booker stepped in to keep him from going to the pound. But Delbert moved in about the same time, and Booker simply couldn’t compete with the kind of love and devotion Delbert lavished on the dog. Bruiser became Delbert’s dog and began shadowing his every move. Now the pair were almost inseparable.

Delbert got Bruiser some fresh water before pulling the lasagna out of the fridge. Booker headed into the living room, where he could hear the television. He wanted to talk to Katie, to find out whether she’d spoken to her parents today or made any decisions about her future. He recognized the difficulty of her situation. He blamed Andy for much of it. But he was determined not to get personally involved with Katie again—on any level. Which meant they had to make other arrangements as soon as possible.

The television flickered in the corner, providing the room’s only light. Booker could see Katie lying on the couch in front of it, but when he drew closer, he realized she was asleep.

He was just deciding whether to wake her, so they could get their little talk out of the way, when the telephone rang. Who’d be calling at midnight? he wondered and grabbed the cordless phone off its base.

“Hello?”

Whoever was on the other end slammed down the receiver.

“Was that my parents?” Katie asked, obviously struggling to wake up.

“Maybe.” He replaced the phone. “Why? Are you expecting them to call?”

She blinked up at him. Her mascara was smudged, her face bore the imprint of the fabric covering the couch, and her hair stuck up on one side. She looked her worst. But he didn’t care. His mind immediately conjured up the feel of that soft pouty mouth beneath his and the expression in her blue eyes when he’d first cupped her breast….

Resenting how the past two years seemed to fall away so easily, he reminded himself that what they’d had was over. For good.

“Not really.” She tried to smooth down her hair. “I…I thought they might try to contact me. You know, just to check up.”

Her brittle smile and casual tone didn’t ring true, but Booker refused to feel any sympathy. He needed to get rid of her, and he needed to do it fast, before his memories undid all the progress he’d made over the past two years. “Maybe we should call them in the morning,” he said.

She grimaced and stared at the phone. “If they wanted to talk to me, they would’ve done so by now, don’t you think?”

He settled in the recliner. “What about your father? Have you tried contacting him? Maybe he doesn’t feel quite as strongly as your mother does.”

“Maybe,” she said, but her voice held no hope. And Booker knew her father usually took a harder line than her mother did. “I—I’ll stop by the bakery tomorrow.”

“Good.” Booker thought perhaps he should visit the bakery beforehand and try to rouse Don to his familial duty.

“What did you do today?” he asked, even though he already knew a little about her movements. Lester Greenwalt had stopped by to pick up the flat he’d brought over for repair, and mentioned that Katie had visited him looking for work. Why she’d applied at an insurance office, Booker couldn’t say. He’d assumed the beauty shop would be her first stop.

“I put in a few job applications,” she said.

“Did you go by Hair and Now?”

“I popped in this afternoon. Why?”

“Was Rebecca around?”

“For a while. Until she went into the back room to take her temperature. Then she rushed off to meet Josh.”

The baby thing again. Rebecca wasn’t giving up, yet every time it didn’t work out she got that much more upset. “Didn’t she tell you she’d hire you back?”

“We talked about it briefly.”

“And?”

“I’m going to try something different for a while.”

From all indications, she was on her last dollar. Now wasn’t the time to be selective. “Why?” He scowled to let her know he didn’t agree.

She scowled right back at him. “Maybe I need a change of pace.”

“Katie, I towed the Cadillac to my shop and got it running again, but—”

“How much do I owe you for that?” she interrupted, worry clouding her face.

“Six hundred dollars.”

She winced.

“That’s giving you a good deal,” he said because it was true. Six hundred dollars represented his costs in labor and parts, nothing for profit. “You cracked the block, and I had to have the engine rebuilt. It took my top mechanic nearly all day. I worked on it some more tonight, and we’re still not quite finished. I’m waiting for another part to come in.”

“I appreciate the effort,” she said, “but you didn’t even ask me if…if I wanted it fixed.”

“What were you planning to do? Leave it on the side of the road?”

“No, I…” She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. “I hadn’t decided, I guess.”

Silence fell, during which Booker could hear Delbert talking to Bruiser in the kitchen.

“How much is the car worth out here, if I wanted to sell it?” Katie asked after a few seconds.

Booker couldn’t supply an exact figure, but he knew it wouldn’t be much. “I don’t know.”

“Well, it’s probably not worth the $4,000 I paid for it, but as soon as I sell it, I’ll give you the money.”

God, she was that desperate? What had happened in the two years she’d been gone? “I’m not going to let you sell your car,” he said flatly.

Her troubled eyes finally met his. “But I can’t pay you, Booker. Not now, anyway. I don’t even know when.”

Booker had dreamed of running into Katie again, thousands of times. She’d hurt him so deeply when she left that he’d thought he’d like nothing better than to find her penniless and repentant. But he felt no triumph. Only anger, plenty of anger, directed at her and Andy. Maybe he didn’t have a family who’d supported him all the way through college, like Andy’s. Maybe he wasn’t a slick talker with wrinkle-free clothes and a pretty face. But he would’ve starved before letting Katie go without. “What happened in San Francisco?” he finally asked. “Why hasn’t Andy been taking care of you?”

She drew up her legs and hugged them against her. “You can be so old-fashioned,” she said with a slight grimace. “I wouldn’t need anyone to take care of me if it wasn’t for this baby. I was working in a nice salon, making good money. I was the one paying all the bills. But then—”

He waited when her words drifted off, watching the emotions play across her face.

“—then I got pregnant and the pregnancy hasn’t been going well.”

A trickle of unease heightened Booker’s senses, telling him the story was about to get a hell of a lot worse. “What does that mean?”

She shrugged, but it was hardly a careless movement. “I can’t work on my feet.”

“Or…”

“Or I could lose the baby, okay? That’s why I can’t cut hair. That’s why I can’t go back to Hair and Now.”

Releasing a long sigh, Booker wiped his face with one hand. “And you have no savings.”

“No. Andy made sure of that. He barely waited until I could make the money before he spent it.”

“Wasn’t he bringing home a paycheck of his own?”

She shook her head. “I tried to get him to work, but—” She fell silent. “Never mind. I’m sure you don’t want to hear about that.”

Booker’s heart was pounding against his chest. He wasn’t even sure why. Maybe it was because, painful though it might be, he did want to hear the details. “What about Andy’s parents?”

“What about them?” she asked. “Have you ever met them?”

“No, but from what his cousins say, they’re pretty damn supportive of their only boy. According to LeAnn and her brother, Todd, he never had to work a day to put himself through school.”

“His parents cut him off a few months after we reached San Francisco.”

“Why would they do that after paying his way until then?”

She turned her attention to the remote and muted the television, but he got the impression it was just to give herself something to do so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “They had…reason.”

“Are you going to tell me what that reason is?”

She dropped the remote into her lap. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“I’d like to know.”

“Fine.” A touch of belligerence entered her voice. “They came to visit us in San Francisco and were pretty disappointed by what they saw, okay? At that stage, Andy was hardly someone to be proud of.”

He raised his eyebrows in place of demanding an explanation, but she got the point. Groaning, she rested her forehead on her knees. “Andy rarely bothered to come home. When he did, he was usually wasted.”

“You mean drunk?”

“High, although he drank, too. He got involved in the party scene almost the first week we lived there.”

Booker didn’t feel he could say much about Andy’s partying. There’d been a rough patch in his own life when he’d deadened the pain with whatever he could beg, borrow, buy or find. And he’d acted out in other ways, too, and paid a heavy price. Only now, years later, was he glad his actions had caught up with him. Prison had changed him. Forced him to realize that his behavior was more self-destructive than anything else. Taught him to appreciate the simple things in life. He wasn’t proud of his past, but he’d finally come to terms with who and what he was.

“By the time his parents left, his mother was crying,” Katie went on. “And Andy’s father told him not to bother calling with any more sob stories about being laid off or losing his last paycheck. He said they weren’t going to send him any more money and, as far as I know, Andy hasn’t heard from them since. I’m guessing he’ll contact them now, though. I’m not sure he can survive without me there to pay the rent.”

“So his folks don’t know about the baby?”

“Not yet.”

“Are you going to tell them?”

“I don’t know. Andy wanted me to have an abortion. Right now, I feel the baby’s pretty much exclusively mine.”

Wonderful. Katie’s life was the complete mess he’d been hoping for since she’d rejected him, yet Booker couldn’t feel good about it.

He got slowly out of the recliner. “Don’t worry about paying for the car. You need some way to get around.”

“Booker, I can’t accept—”

“We can settle up whenever you have the money,” he said brusquely and started to leave before he could ask the one question that burned in his mind. But he only got as far as the door. Then he stopped, turned, and asked it anyway. “You love this guy?”

Katie twisted a lock of hair around one finger as she stared at him. He could see a shine in her eyes and thought maybe they were filling with tears, but the room was too dark to tell for sure. “I don’t think I even know what love is,” she said softly.

THE SMELL OF freshly baked doughnuts enveloped Booker the moment he entered Don and Tami’s Bakery the following morning at six o’clock. The bell went off over the door, but Don barely glanced up before going right back to what he was doing—transferring fresh apple fritters, glazed doughnuts and maple bars from rolling metal trays to the display case.

“I need to talk to you,” Booker said.

“We don’t have anything to say to each other,” Katie’s father responded.

Booker knew Don didn’t like him. Don was one of the locals who still took his car to a neighboring town or to Boise for service and repair. But Booker wasn’t asking for his business. He just wanted Don to take Katie off his hands and to see that she was safe and well cared for. “I think we do,” he said. “Katie’s staying out at my place.”

Don shifted to the bottom shelf and start lining up custard and jelly-filled doughnuts. “That’s what I hear.”

“She’s pregnant.”

Don craned his head around, as if he expected Tami to come out of the back room where they did their baking, but no one appeared. “I’m afraid that’s her problem. We tried to tell her what she was in for with Andy, but she wouldn’t listen. He lived here in Dundee, off those cousins of his, for months and never got a job. What does that say about him?”

Booker didn’t want to get into an argument over Andy. “You’re her parents,” he said. He knew from experience that parents didn’t always care. But from what he’d seen in the past, Don and Tami Rogers were certainly more supportive than his own parents had been.

“She’s of age.” Don finally stopped long enough to catch and hold Booker’s gaze. Eyes narrowing, mouth tightening, he added, “So don’t come in here thinking you can criticize us. She probably wouldn’t have made the mistakes she made if she hadn’t gotten involved with you first.”

Booker felt the old anger—the dark kind of anger he hadn’t felt for years—coil inside him. He’d loved Katie. That should have redeemed him somehow. But because of his reputation, it didn’t seem to matter. Even though his reputation didn’t have a damn thing to do with any of this. “Don’t you care what happens to her?” he demanded.

“We love her enough to let her feel the natural consequences of her actions.” Don wiped powdered sugar from his hands onto a towel. “How will she ever learn if we’re always there to rescue her?”

“There’s a baby involved,” Booker said. “The baby hasn’t done anything wrong.”

Tami poked her head out from the back. “I’ve been reading some of those parenting books that are so popular these days,” she said, “and they all say you’ve got to have tough love.”

“What’s tough love? Telling someone you care about, ‘tough luck’?” he asked.

“I’m sure Rebecca will hire her back at Hair and Now,” Don said. “Katie will pull herself up by her bootstraps eventually.”

“And when she does, she’ll thank us.” Tami nodded self-righteously. “She’ll gain perspective and confidence from working through her own problems.”

The only catch was that Katie couldn’t work. Obviously they didn’t know that. Booker considered breaking the news to them. He wanted to see their faces when they realized they were expecting the impossible. But something inside him rebelled. The only reason they didn’t know about the difficulty with Katie’s pregnancy was that they’d treated her so poorly. They hadn’t even bothered to ask how she was doing. In his view, they didn’t deserve contact with her or the baby.

“Forget it. She’ll be better off without the two of you,” he said and walked out.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE PHONE RANG, finally waking Katie at eleven o’clock. She’d actually opened her eyes earlier, when she heard Booker and Delbert leave for work, but she hadn’t been able to drag herself out of bed. She didn’t have anything to get out of bed for. No job opportunities. No one to see. She didn’t even know if Booker and Delbert would be home for dinner, or if she’d spend the entire day alone.

She remembered that Mona had offered to give her a manicure….

A manicure was a hopeful thought. But when she considered the logistics of getting to the salon…She’d have to get up. Then she’d have to shower, which meant washing her hair and shaving her legs. Then she’d have to brush her teeth and put on makeup….

It was simply too overwhelming. Besides, by now, word of her pregnancy would’ve spread, and she had no way of knowing who she might encounter at Hair and Now. She could run into her own mother, for crying out loud. Or Mike and Josh’s mother, who wouldn’t think any better of her than Tami did. Or worse, the smug Mary Thornton.

It no longer felt safe to go anywhere. When had the world become such a dangerous place?

With a groan, she pulled the covers over her head. She wasn’t going to answer the phone. Whoever was calling could leave a message on Booker’s answering machine. It was probably for him, anyway.

After another few moments, blessed silence fell, and Katie began drifting off to sleep—only to have the phone start ringing again.

“Go away!” she yelled at it. But whoever was calling wouldn’t give up. If she wanted any peace at all, she had to answer.

Stumbling out of bed, she moved slowly into the hall. Hatty’s house was too old to be wired for a phone in the bedroom, and Hatty had been too set in her ways to change that.

“Hello?” Katie snapped.

“Katie?” It was Booker.

Katie softened her voice. “Yeah?”

“Where’ve you been?”

“Uh…in the shower,” she said, because she didn’t want to tell him the pathetic truth.

“Are you going over to the bakery to talk to your father?”

“I was thinking about it.” Not. She’d pretty much decided it was useless. Her parents hadn’t even called to check on her. She could be living on the streets for all they cared. Which was a distinct possibility for the future. But she wouldn’t think about that. That made her feel even more tired, and she was barely moving as it was.

“Well, don’t bother,” he said.

She could hear the wind outside, the trees brushing against the house. If she hadn’t been staring at the sun streaming in through the window of the closest bedroom, she would’ve thought it was storming. “Why not?”

“I’m working on a different plan. We’ll talk about it when I get home.”

“Fine.” She covered a yawn, too indifferent to wonder what he meant, let alone ask. Nothing Booker did would make any difference. Straightening out the mess she’d made of her life was something she’d have to do on her own. Only she couldn’t manage it today. She’d deal with it tomorrow, when she felt better.

“I’ll be home at six o’clock,” he told her.

“Okay. I’ll have dinner waiting,” she said. But then she went back to bed and slept the entire day.

WHEN BOOKER AND DELBERT got home, there was no dinner on the table. The place was dark and seemed empty.

“Where’s Katie?” Delbert asked as he and Bruiser followed Booker inside.

Booker couldn’t hear anything. No TV or radio. No one speaking on the phone. “Katie?” he called.

“She’s gone,” Delbert said, and Booker felt a trace of hope. He’d been planning to offer her a bookkeeping job at his garage. Even though he knew it wouldn’t be easy to spend so much time around her, he hadn’t been able to think of anything better. But maybe someone had come to pick her up. Maybe she’d found another place to stay and a job that wouldn’t require her to be on her feet. If so, her problems, which had become his problems, might already be solved….

If only he could be so lucky.

Heading upstairs, he knocked on the walls as he neared Katie’s bedroom to announce that he was coming. “Anyone home?”

No answer. Darkness had fallen outside, but her door was shut, and there wasn’t any light glowing beneath it. “Katie?”

“Did you find her?” Delbert asked, standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“Not yet.” Booker turned on the hall light and knocked softly on her door. No answer. He looked inside to see a round lump in the middle of the bed—a round lump that was beginning to stir.

“What? Who is it?” Katie sounded groggy. Shoving herself into a sitting position, she blinked against the light spilling into her room.

Booker let the door swing wide, and leaned against the lintel. “This shouldn’t come as any kind of a shock, since I own the house, but it’s me.”

“Booker?”

“You got it.”

She groaned and fell back. “God, I thought I was only dreaming that I was pregnant and broke and having to rely on the pity of someone who hates me.”

Booker felt a wry smile claim his lips, and stuck his toothpick in his mouth to stave it off. He wasn’t about to let his heart soften where Katie Rogers was concerned. Not after the way she’d thrown his proposal back in his face two years ago. “What did you do today?”

“Nothing.”

“Is she there?” Delbert called up to him.

“She’s here,” Booker said. “Go ahead and make yourself a sandwich.”

“Oh, good, she’s here,” Delbert told Bruiser, as though the dog was especially worried, and galloped to the kitchen.

“What time is it?” Katie asked.

“Six-thirty.”

“Six-thirty!”

He pulled the toothpick from his mouth. “Time flies when you’re having fun, hmm?”

“Ugh.” Her voice sounded muffled because she’d ducked completely under the covers.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“I just slept the whole day away and I still feel too tired to move.”

“Tell me that has something to do with the pregnancy.”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been pregnant before. But then, I’ve never been shunned and penniless, either. This is all new to me.”

Booker couldn’t help chuckling. “You’ll get through it.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” she told him, now sullen. “You’ve never been pregnant.”

“No, but I’ve been shunned and penniless most of my life.”

No response.

“Are you getting up?” he asked.

“No.”

“Do you think you might get up later?”

“No.”

“You’re not making me feel particularly comfortable here.”

Nothing.

Booker searched his mind for something he could say or do. “Can you feel the baby move yet?” he asked at last.

The question obviously took her off guard. Rising onto one elbow, she stared at him. “I felt the baby move for the first time while I was driving here.”

“What did it feel like?”

Her expression mellowed. “Like…like a butterfly’s wing inside my belly. Why?”

“Because you need to remember that moment. Tomorrow you’ll get up for the baby,” he said and left.

LETHARGY WAS SPREADING through her like a slow-moving drug, incapacitating one muscle after another until she felt almost paralyzed. She’d been in bed for two nights and a day, but it didn’t seem to matter how long she slept. She was more tired now than when she’d first hit the sack. Worse, she knew she looked terrible, but she didn’t care. Brushing her teeth was suddenly too much effort.

There was a brisk knock at her door.

Katie didn’t respond. She was afraid it was Booker coming to make her get up, and she wasn’t ready. She needed more time.

He didn’t seem to receive her telepathic “Stay away,” because he came in anyway. But he didn’t say anything. He paused briefly at the foot of her bed. Then he opened the blinds and left.

Grateful for the reprieve, Katie rolled over on her side and stared at the square patch of sky he’d revealed. The sun was just beginning to rise, painting the horizon a delicate pinkish-orange. Booker had said she’d get up today—for her baby—but he didn’t understand. She couldn’t get up for anything.

Booker’s truck started outside.

Tomorrow, she promised herself as he drove away. She’d get up for her baby tomorrow. Surely she’d feel better by then.

“THAT OLD CADILLAC’S RUNNING, but I can’t promise how long it’s going to last,” Chase said, standing in the doorway of Booker’s office.

Booker glanced up from his cluttered desk to acknowledge his mechanic’s words. Chase was only nineteen, but he had a real talent with engines. “It’s old. There’s nothing we can do about that.”

“You wanted the keys?”

“Yeah.”

Chase tossed them over. Booker caught them and slid them in his pocket. The Cadillac might be running, but Katie wouldn’t be driving it anywhere if he couldn’t get her out of bed.

“Go ahead and start the tune-up of Lila Bronwyn’s Jeep,” he told Chase. Then he turned down the radio they had blasting and tried to reach Katie. He let the phone ring nearly twenty times, hung up and called again. But she wouldn’t pick up.

“Answer, damn it,” he muttered, losing patience.

“What’s wrong?” Delbert wiped his grease-covered hands on a rag as he and Bruiser came into the office. “Are you mad? Are you mad at me, Booker?”

“I’m not mad,” Booker said, but he was getting worried. What was he going to do with Katie? She’d completely withdrawn from life. She wasn’t getting up. She wasn’t eating. She wasn’t doing anything.

He thought of her parents. Should he have told them that she couldn’t work? Would it have made a difference?

He certainly wasn’t the best person to handle this, but remembering how Tami had treated Katie at the door, how both her parents had reacted to him at the donut shop, quickly convinced him that they were part of the problem, not the solution. And it wasn’t as if he saw anyone else stepping up to help her…. She’d been gone too long and apparently hadn’t kept up with relationships. Which meant, crazy as it seemed, he was the closest thing she had to a friend.

Mike Hill’s new Escalade cruised by out front, catching Booker’s eye. Watching Mike turn on First Avenue, he thought of all the times he’d heard, from almost everyone in town, that Katie had had a crush on Mike nearly her whole life. She’d once told him herself, flat out, that she wanted to marry Mike Hill someday. But Booker hadn’t taken her too seriously. He’d never seen Mike show any interest in her, couldn’t imagine them together. They were both…good. In his opinion, they each needed a counterbalance.

But Mike was rich and dependable. Maybe the best thing Booker could do for Katie and her baby was to throw them into Mike’s lap. A friend would do something like that, right?

Picking up the phone, he called Rebecca at the salon.

“Hello?”

“Is Rebecca there?”

“Hi, Booker.”

From the voice, it was Ashleigh Evans. “How’s it going?”

“Good. Where’ve you been? I’ve missed you.”

They’d danced last Friday at the Honky Tonk, but Booker knew if he pointed that out, she’d just say Friday seemed too long ago. “I’ve been busy.”

“You promised me a ride on your bike, remember?”

How could he forget? She reminded him whenever he talked to her. “I’ll stop by the salon sometime.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

The phone changed hands and he heard Rebecca’s voice. “I think she has a thing for you.”

“Ashleigh?”

“Yeah.”

Booker already knew that. She’d been coming on to him ever since she’d broken up with that bull rider from Boise. She’d even invited him to her place last Friday night, but his response had been decidedly lukewarm. “I need a favor,” he said.

“Really? Wow! You’ve never asked me for anything before,” Rebecca said. “You must be desperate.”

He ignored her teasing because it hit a little too close to home. He didn’t like asking for favors. He didn’t like needing anything. But this wasn’t for him—exactly. “Katie’s looking for a job.”

“I heard she’s pregnant.”

Booker braced himself for her reaction. “That’s true.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, her voice filled with accusation.

“I figured you’d find out soon enough.”

She released a long sigh. “Some people have all the luck.”

Booker pictured how rumpled and dispirited Katie had been sitting up in her bed last night and doubted she was feeling very lucky. “I’m sure Katie would be surprised to hear you say that.”

“I’d do anything to have a baby, Booker. Especially Josh’s baby. Sometimes I love him so much I can’t even breathe, and yet I can’t give him the one thing we both want most in the world.”

Bill Peterson arrived to pick up his Camaro. Booker could hear Chase talking to him in the garage, and started searching his desk for the work order. “You’re too tense about it, Rebecca.”

“But I’m nearly thirty-three.”

“A lot of women have babies at thirty-three.”

“And everyone else is having one.”

“Everyone?”

“Delaney’s pregnant again.”

“She is?”

“She’s been holding off telling me, hoping I’d get some good news, too. But she’s gaining weight, and I guessed.”

“You’ll just have to keep trying,” Booker said. “I’m sure Josh doesn’t mind that.”

“No, he likes all the trying. He just doesn’t like how upset I get when it doesn’t work out.”

“It’s that watched-pot thing. You need to forget about it, and then it’ll probably happen.” Finding the paperwork he was looking for, Booker waved to let Mr. Peterson know he’d be right out.

“I don’t think it’s the watched-pot thing. I’m going to start taking fertility drugs,” Rebecca said.

“Do whatever works, Beck.”

“A lot of people have fertility problems.”

Fortunately Chase came in and took the paperwork out to get Bill on his way.

“I know.” Booker cleared his throat. “About that job…”

“I already offered Katie a job,” she said. “She came by here a couple of days ago. But she told me she can’t be on her feet.”

“I wasn’t thinking of having her work at Hair and Now.”

“Where, then?”

“What about the resort?”

“It’s wintertime, Booker. The resort’s overstaffed as it is because Conner and Delaney won’t lay anyone off. They’re trying to limp by until summer, but I have the impression that finances are getting tight. They need to be careful.”

“Do you think Josh and Mike might have an opening out at the ranch, then? She could do bookkeeping or answer phones behind a desk, couldn’t she? Katie’s a good friend of their family’s. Surely they can help her out until she has the baby.”

“They could probably come up with something for her to do but…I never would’ve suggested it because of you. Are you sure you want her working with Mike, Booker?”

Booker shoved away from his desk and stood. “I think it’s time Katie got what she wants.”

Silence. “What about what you want?”

“I already have what I want.”

“O-kay.” She didn’t sound convinced, but after a moment she said, “I’ll call Josh and get back to you.”

BOOKER REFUSED TO GO AWAY. He stood over Katie’s bed, scowling at her. When that didn’t work, he started pulling off blankets.

“Leave me alone,” she grumbled. “I’m tired.”

“How can you be tired?” he asked. “It’s nearly three o’clock in the afternoon, and you’ve been sleeping for two days.”

“I think there’s something wrong with me.”

“It’s called depression.”

“I’ve never had trouble with depression.”

“Then get up.”

She curled into a ball to compensate for the warmth she’d lost when he stole the covers. “I’ll get up tomorrow.”

“You’ll get up today,” he said, and from the determination in his voice, she could tell he meant it. “I’ve set up a job interview for you.”

“Where?” she asked, but she didn’t really care. Who’d want her? She couldn’t even function anymore.

“Mike Hill is looking for a secretary.”

She raised her head to blink at him. “Mike Hill?”

“That’s what I said.”

“You’ve got to be kidding!”

“No.”

She covered her eyes with her arm. “I don’t know anything about ranching.”

“You’ll be doing some type of bookkeeping.”

“I don’t know anything about bookkeeping, either.”

“He’ll teach you.”

“I’m not going out there.” She didn’t want to see anyone in her current state, but she especially didn’t want to see the man she’d always hoped to marry.

“Oh, yes you are.”

“Does he know about the baby?” she asked.

“I have no idea.”

“I’ll go anywhere but there.”

“Come on,” he said. “This is the man of your dreams, remember?”

She definitely detected sarcasm in his voice. Men weren’t part of her dreams at all anymore, but she didn’t feel quick-witted enough to explain that right now. “He’s seeing Mary Thornton, so don’t talk to me about my dreams.”

“There’s no accounting for taste.” Booker jabbed a finger at the small brown sack he’d brought in with him. “There’s a deli sandwich in there. Eat it, then go shower.”

“Okay,” she said, but only so he’d leave her in peace. As soon as she heard him move away, she grabbed the covers he’d thrown off the bed and burrowed beneath them again. Mike Hill…No way!

“Katie?” Booker spoke from the doorway, his tone a warning.

“I thought you’d left,” she grumbled.

“Don’t make me drag you out.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“That’s it.” He stomped back to the side of her bed and yanked off her covers. Then he put his hands under her arms and lifted her to her feet as though she were a child.

Katie’s legs didn’t feel strong enough to support her. She swayed and nearly crumpled, but Booker caught her against him. For a moment, before she came to her senses, she wanted to grab him and hold on for dear life. He had more street smarts than anyone she’d ever met. He was tough. And he was always his own man.

After living with a chameleon like Andy, Katie admired that. Booker was probably the only person she knew who did what he wanted and offered no lies, excuses or apologies. To anyone.

And he could be gentle. She remembered the way he’d lightly rub his whiskers on her neck while they were watching TV, then chuckle deep in his throat when she tried to fend him off. They’d end up laughing and wrestling until—

She didn’t want to remember what happened next. She’d been right to break things off with Booker. If only her intuition hadn’t abandoned her when it came to Andy…

She needed to go back to bed.

“Don’t even think about it,” Booker said when she tried to slip out of his arms. “You’re going to get cleaned up, and you’re going to do it now.”

“Yes, sir.” She tried to salute in response to his commanding tone, but she made no effort to stand by herself, let alone walk toward the bathroom.

“We can do this the hard way. Or we can do it the easy way,” he said. “Which will it be?”

Katie wasn’t sure what he was talking about. There wasn’t an easy way for anything anymore. “I told you, I’ll get up tomorrow,” she said. “I just need a little more time.”

“You need a shower, that’s what you need.” He was impatient now, and who could blame him? He was the last person she had any right to impose on. At twenty-five, she had no right to impose on anyone. But she couldn’t stay with Andy, she couldn’t work, and she couldn’t rely on any of the people who were supposed to love her. She didn’t seem to have a whole lot of options. Who would’ve thought one tiny baby could make such a difference? She should never have let her birth control lapse. She wouldn’t have, if she and Andy had been making love. But before they created this baby, they hadn’t touched in weeks. Then one day Andy broke down crying, acknowledged his need for help, agreed to go into rehab, and begged and pleaded with her to make love with him one more time to prove that she was willing to forgive him. Katie had been stupid enough to feel sorry for him, to want to console him. And they’d used a condom, but it hadn’t been enough.

Booker sat her on the bed and stalked into the bathroom. The pipes clanged as the water went on a few seconds later. She could hear him moving around, walking in and out of the room, but she wrapped herself in the covers and paid no attention.

When he returned, he didn’t drag her off the bed again. He merely pushed the bedding away and started pulling off the sweatshirt she’d been wearing, with nothing but a pair of panties, for two days.

She used her arms to block him before he could discover that she wasn’t wearing a bra. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think?” he asked. “Since you won’t get up and take a shower, I’m going to give you a bath.”

“Don’t you think I’m a bit too old for that?”

“You’re not leaving me any alternative.”

“Fine. Good luck.” Strangely indifferent, she dropped her arms. He’d seen her naked before. He didn’t seem particularly interested in seeing her again. And she had no energy with which to fight him. A woman had to care to be humiliated, and Katie simply didn’t.

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