Marriage at Circle M
Donna Alward

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my husband and children….

Thank you for your tolerance,

your support, and your enthusiasm

through this journey to publication.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER ONE

WHEN MIKE GARDNER came walking up the path in just that way, Grace knew she was in trouble.

And when he stopped at the foot of her stepladder, hooked his thumbs in his jeans pockets and squinted up at her, she gripped her paintbrush tighter so as not to drop it. Mike was all long, lazy strides and sexy smiles, and despite her best intentions, she’d never been able to remain immune to his charm. Not since she’d hit puberty, anyway.

“Mornin’, Grace.” The words weren’t exactly drawled, but were drawn out just enough to give that impression.

Grace straightened her shoulders and did her best to look nonchalant as she swiped another stripe of white paint over the window trim. “Hello, Mike.”

Great. Now why in the world did those two words come out all breathless, anyway?

She had to remember that it wasn’t all that long ago that she’d made a fool of herself where Mike was concerned. It had been years since there had been anything between them. But she’d had a little too much punch, there’d been a little too much giggling and she’d blurted out one very ill-thought-out sentence. She still felt the heat of her embarrassment and every time they met now, she did everything she could to assure him—to assure herself, even, that Mike Gardner was completely resistible. Lord knew he didn’t need her fawning over him the way the rest of the female population seemed to. Without thinking, she tucked an errant strand of blond hair back behind her ear, leaving it streaked with paint.

“You’re up with the birds,” he commented, a lazy smile creeping up his cheek as she chanced a look down at him.

“And you knew I would be, or you wouldn’t be here so early.” She pointedly checked her watch. “It’s 7:46.”

“It is?” His chin flattened ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, I thought it was later.”

“You’ve likely been up and done chores already.”

“Yes.”

Darn him. She couldn’t just stand up on the stepladder like an idiot, carrying on a conversation that was barely holding its own. Besides, she was all too aware that his height, paired with her distance up the ladder, put his line of vision right at her backside. She sighed, put her brush across the top of the paint-smeared can and took a step down—and her dew-slick sneaker slipped on the metal step.

His hands were there to catch her.

“Whoa, there.”

She shrugged off his touch. It felt far too strong and too good. “I’m not one of your horses, Mike.”

He laughed. “No, ma’am. You sure aren’t.”

It wasn’t fair. She’d had a thing for Mike since she was fourteen, but he’d tended to treat her like a kid sister. An annoying one. For a brief time, when she’d been in high school, they’d been more. But that seemed a lifetime ago. For him to flirt now…weeks after she’d made a complete idiot of herself, it was too much. That one little slip of the lip was the only time she’d ever come close to telling him how she felt, and at the time he’d only laughed at her.

She was older…and far wiser now at twenty-seven. There was no room in her life for schoolgirl crushes. She planted her hands on her hips and stared him down. “Look, you obviously didn’t come around for idle chitchat. Tell me what’s on your mind so I can get back to work.”

Mike had to turn away to hide his smile. She was good and irritated, he could tell. And besides that, she looked wonderful this morning. Her blond hair was tucked into some sort of strange clip, and little pieces tangled around her ears. Her eyes flashed at him now, icy blue with annoyance. Looking up that stepladder at her slim, tanned legs had almost made him forget why he was here. And steadying her with his arms as she’d slipped had wiped his brain clean of any other thoughts whatsoever. He liked the feel of his hands on her skin.

He stepped back, ignoring her jab, instead turning to survey the small yellow bungalow she called home.

It had seen better days, but Grace had a way of making it welcoming. A caragana hedge flanked the west side of her paved drive—a driveway that was in need of some serious patchwork. He recognized the bleeding heart shrubs, next to some sort of bushes with tiny white flowers. Everything was dressed up by circles of lilies and stalks of purply blue flowers he remembered from one of his foster homes. The peeling trim on the eaves would soon be gleaming and white like the sections she’d already painted. Somehow she’d taken a plain, aging bungalow and made it home.

“You’re painting.”

She kept her eyes front as if refusing to look at him. “Your powers of deduction astound me. What tipped you off?”

He ignored that bit of sarcasm, too. She had to be tired, after all. The drips down the side of her paint can were fresh; she’d obviously been at it a while before he showed up. And he knew for a fact that she’d been up late last night, because her lights had been on when he’d been on his way back from town at nearly one o’clock. He wished…He wished she didn’t have to work so hard for everything. But he was the last person who could make things better for her. At least for right now he was.

“How do you find time to do everything, Grace? Whenever I see you you’re busy at something.”

By getting up at 5:00 a.m., she thought. Instead she shoved her hands in the pockets of her shorts. “It keeps me out of trouble.”

“Then I sure hate to ask what I’m about to.”

Mike was serious, she realized, pushing away the urge to use sarcasm as a shield against him. Normally he said nothing at all or what he did say was disarming and funny. But Grace had known him long enough to know when he was troubled. And the tone of his voice right now told her something was definitely going on. When he merely stared at her house longer, she wrinkled her brow and went to him, gently placing a paint-splattered hand on his forearm.

“What’s wrong?”

“Connor took Alex to the hospital yesterday afternoon.”

Grace’s eyes clouded with worry, a strange twisting in her belly at the news. Mike and Connor were like brothers, so much more than business partners. When Connor had to slaughter his beef herd, he and Mike had become partners in Circle M Quarterhorses.

“Is it the baby? Are they okay?” Alex had a baby due in a few months.

Mike didn’t seem to be able to look at her, but she could feel the worry emanating from him. His arm was tense beneath her fingers and his jaw clamped tight. “She went into early labor, so they’re keeping her in for a while. Doc says she’ll be on bed rest from here on out. That’s all I know for now.”

“What about Maren?” Grace looked up at his profile. Maren was the couple’s toddler, a princess with raven curls and sky-blue eyes like her mother’s. “Is that why you’re here? Do they need someone to watch her for a while?”

“No, no.” Mike turned to her then, his lips relaxing just a little. “Connor’s grandmother is looking after her. But…it’s not fair of me to ask, but I was wondering, I mean we were wondering, if you’d consider coming back and doing the books for the farm for a while.”

If it had been a less serious topic, Grace would have made a quip about that being a regular speech for Mike. Instead she just nodded. “Of course I will. I don’t mind at all.”

“I know you’re already busy, and…”

“Mike, it’s fine. Alex and Connor are my friends, too. I’m happy to help.”

His relief was clear. “Thank you, Grace.”

It was her own fancy that made his words sound like an endearment. But Mike didn’t think of her in that way anymore. He only looked on her as a friend, she knew that. He’d made it abundantly clear long ago.

She’d already let girlish fantasy rule once in her life and look where that had gotten her. A few troubled years, a whole lot of hurt and then back here in small-town Alberta with a tiny yellow bungalow and a double bed with one pillow.

“You’re welcome. I’ll try to stop by tomorrow and get things up to speed.”

The morning sun grew warmer as they stood on her front lawn, the dew evaporating off in the heat. This was just what she needed. To torture herself further by seeing Mike day in and day out at Circle M, a reminder of wanting what she couldn’t have. But the truth was, she needed to do some repairs to the house and money was scarce. What she made by doing the odd book work and cleaning jobs didn’t leave her with a lot extra at the end of the month. Besides, Mike wouldn’t be there all the time now, would he?

“I guess I should be going,” he remarked quietly. “I have a few errands and then, well, we’re a man short at the ranch. And the building crew comes at nine.”

Grace’s head swiveled back to him. “Building crew?”

For the first time, Mike really smiled. The effect was devastating, making her heart thump ridiculously. Darn him for being able to cause such a reaction simply by smiling. His grayish-blue eyes lit up as he ran a rough hand through disobedient, coppery hair. “Yeah. We’re breaking ground for my new house today.”

How did I miss that bit of information? Grace wondered. Mike Gardner, with his own business and now a home. Was the eternal drifter really settling down? Wonders never ceased, it seemed.

“Anyway, if you need anything, just call Windover.” Mike called the house by its rightful name, even though the now defunct beef ranch was home of Circle M Quarterhorses. “I’m staying there while the house is going up.”

Not only at the ranch, but living in the house, too. So much for not seeing him, then. And for wanting what she couldn’t have. Surely she could stay immune to him for the short term, though, couldn’t she?

Grace’s hands were devoid of the white paint now, but bits of it still colored her hair. She pulled it back from her face, anchoring the twist blindly with pins at the back of her head. The heat lately had been cloying, and the only way to keep the tender skin of her neck from breaking out was to keep her heavy hair up.

She sighed, turning from the mirror and picking up the light cotton skirt from the foot of the bed.

The reason she kept busy…the real reason she kept taking odd jobs wasn’t really for the money, no matter how much it came in handy.

It was, simply, to keep occupied. To have idle hands meant admitting how empty her life was. How empty it would likely always be. She only had herself to worry about, and that wasn’t about to change. And so rather than sit at home, frittering away the time, she worked. Keeping her hands busy helped her forget about the disasters of the past. It gave her less time to sit and think about how everything could go wrong in the blink of an eye. Doing bookwork for the ranch again would fill even more hours.

And she absolutely wasn’t putting on a skirt today because she was going out to Circle M, she told herself. The light cotton print was simply cooler than anything else she had in her closet.

As she rolled down the windows of her car, she admitted that extra money wasn’t something to scoff at. The vehicle was past its prime and had only been a base model in its newer days. As a result, she had no air-conditioning and nothing more than an AM/FM radio with inconsistent reception. She pulled out, heading west out of town toward the ranch. The brakes squeaked as she stopped at the intersection to the highway. One of these days she knew the car was going to up and die without any apology.

The drive to Circle M was a pretty one. Now, in late August, there was a hint of gold on the cottonwoods, and hay lay in giant green rolls in the fields. Depending on the turn of the road or the elevation, she caught glimpses of the Rocky Mountains, snow-capped and the unforgiving color of steel. It was, to Grace’s mind, an almost perfect time of year. Another few weeks and the temperatures would mellow, the leaves would start to fall and everything would change from the dry, frantic heat of summer to the mellow, filling warmth of prairie autumn.

Turning north, she smiled at the pastures that had once held Black Angus and now held quarter horses, their hides gleaming in the sun, tails flickering at the flies hovering. Ahead, the main house at Circle M—Windover—stood tall against the azure sky.

It didn’t look any different from the outside. But everything else at the ranch had changed.

The barns that had once housed beef cattle now held livestock of the equine variety. Windover Farm, as it had existed for over a hundred years, was no more, and in its place was Circle M. The disease crisis of a few years back had meant the destruction of Connor’s BlackAngus herd, which was almost as surprising as the fact that Mike finally stopped rodeoing and settled down to a full-time, lucrative business.

Seeing Mike on a more regular basis had inspired more than a few dreams on Grace’s part. As she pulled up in front of the house, she pressed a hand to her stomach. It had been easier when he hadn’t been in town that often. She’d been able to forget about their brief relationship…if it even could have been called a relationship. She’d been seventeen and he’d been twenty-one. For a few weeks they had been more than friends. For a few weeks she’d been blissfully happy.

But when the rodeo season started up again, he went with hardly a word. She’d been okay about it for a long time, or so she thought. They’d gone back to being the friends they were before, the few times their paths had crossed. Now that he was back to stay, seeing him so often brought back longings she thought were dead and buried. She got tongue-tied and bashful. Fiddled with her hair.

No one man should have the power to cause a girl to get so fluttery, and, well, girly. She was supposed to be past that by now. She left girly behind when she and Steve had signed the divorce papers. When she realized that happily ever after didn’t really exist.

The house was quiet when she knocked, so she wandered around to the side of the house in case someone was outside.

She was in luck. Johanna, Connor’s grandmother, was kneeling at a small flower garden with the curly-topped Maren babbling happily at her side.

“Good morning, Mrs. Madsen.”

Johanna’s head turned, a smile lighting up her face. “Grace, dear. It’s so good to see you.” Rising, she brushed off the knees of her slacks and held a hand out to the toddling baby beside her. “Maren, you remember Grace, don’t you?”

Maren suddenly fell silent and popped a thumb into her mouth, and Grace laughed.

“She probably doesn’t remember me. I haven’t been around much.”

“That’s about to change, isn’t it?”

Grace nodded at Johanna, the two exchanging a solemn look. “I thought I’d stop in today and get up to speed.”

“Connor and Mike are both out, but you’re no stranger to the setup. I know they’re both happy you’re here.”

“How is Alex, then?”

“Being monitored.” Johanna picked up the baby and climbed the steps to the deck. “So far she’s doing okay, but at thirty-two weeks…”

“They want to buy her—and the baby—some more time.” Grace followed Johanna inside, standing back as Maren was placed in her high chair.

“Exactly. The doctor said that even another couple of weeks can make a big difference with the baby’s lungs. Of course Connor’s worried sick.”

Johanna put a sippy cup in front of Maren. “Connor’s spending almost all his time at the hospital, and Mike isn’t meant for bookwork, so I’m glad you’re here to help.”

“I’d do anything for…to help,” she finished, coloring at her almost mistake. Even if she knew she’d do anything for Mike, she didn’t need the rest of the world to know it. Thankfully Johanna seemed oblivious as she busied herself making cool tea.

The front door slammed and Grace jumped. When Mike strode into the kitchen, she took a step back, her gaze drawn undeniably toward his.

God, he looked fabulous. All coiled strength in his faded jeans and corded muscles beneath a blue T-shirt. His hat, the cream-colored Stetson he never worked without, was on his head, but when he saw her standing there he automatically reached up to remove it.

His hair clung to his scalp in dark curls and Grace watched as one solitary bead of sweat trickled from one temple down his jaw.

Maren smacked her cup on the tray of her chair while Johanna watched, clearly intrigued with the silent interplay between the couple.

“Grace.”

“Mike.” His name sounded strangled to her as it came out of her mouth. And she knew she was glad she’d chosen a skirt and pretty blouse after all.

“I, uh, just came to get something to drink.”

“I think Johanna’s making some iced tea.”

Still their gazes clung and she remembered the feel of his hands on her arms yesterday morning. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Goodness, they were staring at each other like idiots.

He broke away first. “Iced tea sounds perfect, but you’re not here to look after me, Mrs. Madsen.”

Johanna poured three glasses without batting an eye. “I’d like to know where all this Mrs. Madsen nonsense came from all of a sudden. I’ve known both of you so long I used to wipe your runny noses, so call me Johanna or Gram like everyone else.”

Mike’s lips quivered as he struggled not to smile. The Madsens were as close to family as he had, not counting his cousin Maggie.

Johanna took one look at Maren and plucked the girl up from her chair. “I’ll just go change the baby,” she suggested blandly. “Grace, I’m sure you remember your way to the office.”

“Of course I do. I’ll sort things out, not to worry.”

“I’m sure Mike will help you. Won’t you, Mike?”

His lips pursed together and he let his eyes twinkle at the older woman. “Indeed I will…Gram.”

Her rusty laugh disappeared with the baby and he was left with Grace.

She looked beautiful today. As usual. But he thought he saw hints of purple beneath her eyes. Lord only knew what work she’d taken on now. She was always working. And now he’d helped her exhaustion along by asking for a favor. He should have found another way.

But another way would have meant that he wouldn’t have an excuse to see her. And after she’d let the cat out of the bag, so to speak, at the Rileys’s anniversary party, he thought about seeing her more and more. He’d been shocked to say the least, but not unpleasantly. Knowing Grace still felt some attraction for him seemed to legitimize his own for her. He’d let her get away once before, and had always been sorry. But knowing she still thought of him in that way changed everything. Heck, not that he’d admit it to her, but he’d made the excuse for a midmorning drink just because he’d seen her car pull into the yard.

Her hair was sneaking out of the twist, curling around her temples in damp tendrils. The warmth of the morning gave a glow to her skin. To him, she was a picture of femininity, of innocence, purity. Certainly too fine of a woman for a man like him to tangle with.

“You’re looking tired. I hope this extra work won’t put unnecessary strain on you.”

That was it? Grace tried to keep her lips from falling open but failed. All those long stares and all he came up with was “you’re looking tired”? Her elation at seeing him flew out the window.

“Your compliments make a girl all warm and fuzzy.”

He at least had the decency to look chagrined. “I didn’t mean to say you looked bad.”

“Even better. You know, I can’t imagine what the women around here see in you.”

It was out before she could think better of it and she instantly flushed. They both knew it was a lie. He knew very well that she was one of those women. She’d said it herself as they’d danced. She covered the slip with more offensive:

“But I can assure you I can handle a little unnecessary strain, as you put it. I’m not made of china, Michael.” She used his full name and watched his lip curl a little. She knew how much he hated being called Michael.

Mike had put his hat back on, the brim shading his eyes and making him look even larger than his six-foot-two frame.

“Is there anything I can do to help you then?”

Grace looked up and saw his eyes were earnest even though his tone was cold, and she nearly backed down. She acknowledged the attraction, but that was where it stopped. Mike didn’t feel anything for her, that much was clear. Men who were interested told you how nice you looked, gave you compliments instead of remarking on the presence of bags beneath your eyes or asking you to balance the books. She’d done the longing gaze thing for far too many years, and it had gotten her nowhere. It hadn’t been enough before. And it wouldn’t get her anywhere in the future, either. Men didn’t want women like her, not once they realized that she was more than the quiet, girl-next-door that they thought she was.

“Yes, Mike, there is something you can do for me. You can get out of the way and let me do my job.”

CHAPTER TWO

GRACE SHUT THE checkbook and sighed. Alex had done a good job with the books, but she was behind by a month or two. Not much wonder, Grace thought, taking a brain break. She leaned back in the desk chair and took a sip from her pop can. Alex was pregnant, chasing after a toddler and summer was the busiest time on a farm. Now it was up to Grace to straighten things out and keep things up-to-date. Even if Alex did get home soon, she was under orders for bed rest, and then after the baby came she’d be too exhausted to worry about payables and receivables. Grace wasn’t sure if being close to Mike so often was going to be a blessing or a curse.

But she was all too happy to fill in. She loved accounting. It was gratifying to see all those numbers line up just right and have things balance out at the end of the day. It was neat and orderly, and every time she finished printing a report or balancing an account, she got this great sense of accomplishment. With so much of her life feeling arbitrary and out of sync, balancing those columns was like something in her life was where it was supposed to be.

The downside was, in order to put food on the table, she had to do other jobs just to make ends meet. It was a small town, and without her C.P.A., she didn’t make enough to pay the bills with the few accounting jobs she had. She hired herself out as a cleaning lady as well. It supplemented her income and, to be honest, kept her from being too lonely. Yesterday she’d spent the entire day cleaning for Mrs. Darrin. When the cleaning was finished, she’d planned to go back home and finish painting the trim on her house. But Mrs. Darrin was feeling poorly and had asked Grace to tend to her garden as well, so Grace stayed and cut the grass and weeded the feeble bed in front of the house. After that, she’d stayed for tea. She appreciated the social contact almost as much as the paycheck. But because she’d put in a longer day, she’d been up since five this morning, finishing up the painting so she could spend the day at Windover.

“How’s it going?”

She swiveled hard in her chair, her hand swinging out so that some of the liquid splashed out of the pop can and landed on her white capris. She scowled up at him, her heart pounding from the sight of him standing in the doorway. He was so tall in his boots that it seemed that his head almost grazed the top of the door frame.

“God, Mike, how on earth do you manage to sneak up on someone like that?”

“I made enough noise to wake the dead. You were in the zone.”

Zoned out, more like it, but she wouldn’t admit that.

Her eyes lit on a rivulet of sweat beaded at the hollow of his throat. There was something so elementally attractive about a hardworking man. Something that didn’t come with expensive toiletries and business suits. It was that little bit of dirt, the little bit of scruff and the dedication and muscle it took to do what he did. When she didn’t say anything back to him, he raised one eyebrow in question.

“You…you don’t have your hat on,” she stammered, immediately feeling stupid at such an inane comment.

His other eyebrow lifted. “It’s around here somewhere.”

Oh, this was crazy. Every time he was out of the way she swore she wouldn’t be so affected the next time they met. Promised herself she’d forget about the past. Then she’d see him and she’d become a babbling idiot. She turned away from him deliberately, picking up her red pen and twisting it in her fingers.

“I still have work to do, so unless there’s something you needed…”

Even without his customary hat, he towered above her until he lowered himself by her chair. His knees cracked as he squatted, balancing on the heels of his boots. He put a hand on the arm of her chair and swung it a little so she was semifacing him.

“I came to ask another favor. I’d ask Johanna, but…”

“But a woman her age…chasing after a nearly two-year-old is taking its toll on her. I know. What’s up?”

He lifted his gray eyes to her. It was like magnets of opposite poles when she met his eyes with her own, pulling them together. As if nearly ten years hadn’t elapsed and they were back in Lloyd Andersen’s meadow on a cool Sunday morning. She was unable to turn away, instead drawn into the earnest depths.

“Alex is coming home tonight, and I wondered, that is…I know she’s supposed to be on bed rest and all, but…”

His words drew her out of her reverie. “You want to do something nice?”

“Yeah.” He smiled a little sheepishly and her heart warmed. It was one of the things she liked about him. He came across as all male and tough, then at the most unexpected times showed a thoughtful side.

“And you want me to help.”

“It’s not like I know much about this kind of thing. And Connor’s with Alex and not here to see to it.”

“I can make a special dinner,” she replied. “Dress Maren up in something pretty, make it a low-key welcome home with just the family.”

“Thank you, Grace. That’s perfect.”

She had a dirty house of her own, but it didn’t matter very much right now. She sighed. It wasn’t like anyone was going to see it besides herself. Spending the evening with the Madsens was just what the doctor ordered.

Mike heard the sigh and misinterpreted it. “I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have asked.” He straightened his knees, looming above her once more. “You’re already busy and tired. I can just order something in.”

“No, it’s not that. I’m happy to…”

His mood changed so quickly her head spun. His lips thinned and his jaw hardened at her words. He almost seemed like he was angry at her, and she didn’t have an idea why.

“You always are, Grace. Happy to. Every time someone asks for a favor, there you are. You’re working yourself to death, and for what? You’re clearly exhausted. Ordering in might be better—that way you get a break. Get some rest. I should have thought of it sooner.”

Here he was again, telling her how tired she looked. Her temper fired. What did Mike know about anything? And who was he to tell her what to do? He’d never asked for her input before, not even when they’d been dating. He’d just been…gone. That certainly hadn’t earned him the right to start dictating things now. “You know what, Mike? I’m a big girl. I think I know my own limits.”

“I don’t think you do.” His voice was sharp and her eyebrows lifted at the tone. “You’d work yourself into the ground if I let you. Don’t worry about dinner. Forget I mentioned it.”

“You know, you’re really starting to make me angry,” she answered, the words low. It might have sounded threatening to someone other than Mike, but there wasn’t much that got under his skin, and it was another thing about him that was making her mad right at that moment. “If you let me? I don’t recall requiring your permission, Mike Gardner. If I didn’t have time to do it, I’d say so. Whenever has it been a hardship spending time with Connor and Alex? It just so happens my evening is free, so there.”

Great. Now, in her anger, she’d made it sound like she had no social life whatsoever.

“And you could spend it sleeping, from the looks of it,” he continued, undeterred by her sharp tone. “I see how hard you work, Grace. You clean half the town, and do books for the other half. You’re on just about everyone’s ‘fill-in’ list and if there’s something going on, you’re in the thick of it! One of these days you’re going to make yourself sick!”

She stood from her chair, tears of absolute anger threatening. “Who in the world do you think you are, to criticize me?” She was gratified when he took a step back. “Who died and made you my sole protector and guardian?”

“Well someone clearly has to, if you’re not going to look after yourself!” His voice thundered through the room as they argued.

“I’m a grown woman, in case you hadn’t noticed!”

“Oh, I noticed all right!” He blurted it out, then everything fell silent.

He noticed, her heart rejoiced. Stop it, you ninny, she chided herself on the back of the thought. She was supposed to be infuriated with him right now. She was angry. She was in no mood to be played with. Not by Mike, not by anyone.

She cleared her throat, letting her hands drop to her sides. “Good, then. I’m glad we straightened that out. Now get out of my way so I can get started. If I’m making dinner, I need to finish this up.” She sent him a withering look. “Without your interference.”

Mike turned on a heel. Get out of her way? No problem! Not when she attacked him like that. She could just forget about him showing any concern for her welfare again!

He stalked out of the house, heading toward the east section where the concrete foundation for his house was being poured. Grace didn’t understand anything.

He’d always thought of her as a kid sister. When he’d finally settled here in eighth grade, she’d been in fourth. When he’d graduated high school, she’d just finished middle school.

Then she had grown up, and he’d taken notice. She’d been a picture of innocent beauty, and for a while he’d let himself care about her. He’d let her care about him. For a brief time, he’d let his heart dictate his actions instead of his head. He’d held her, kissed her. Cherished her like she deserved. But he’d fallen too fast and he knew once she saw him for who he really was, she’d cut and run. So he’d made sure he’d done the running first. As soon as the rodeo season started up that year, he’d hit the road and hadn’t looked back.

When she’d moved back after her divorce he’d been in town for a few weeks and was floored the first time he saw her. He kicked at the dry path with a leather toe, sending up a puff of dust. The years had made full the promise of the woman he’d thought she’d become. She was more than beautiful. She was exactly what a woman should be. Her beauty was natural, pure. It shone out from her, lit up by her generous heart and kind manner. The fact that her husband had seen fit to break her heart…he’d stewed about that one for a good long time, even partially blamed himself. It was a good thing the jerk didn’t live close by. Mike didn’t tend to let people get away with treating his friends like dirt beneath their shoes.

Because she was his friend, first and foremost, and he was torn between the girl she’d been and the woman she’d become. Stupid thing was, he had this uncanny urge to protect them both.

He wandered through the jobsite, joking with the men, grabbing a shovel and helping out. Still, she remained on his mind. Earlier in the summer, at the anniversary party for the Riley’s, Grace had indulged in a few too many vodka coolers and he’d laughingly danced with her. Old friends. Only she’d smiled up at him widely and said, “Mike, you’re so pretty.”

He’d made a joke of it but she’d been undaunted. “I bet you’re good in the sack, too. We’ve been ssspeculating.” She swept an arm to encompass a group of young women, all giggling behind their hands and watching Mike and Grace dance. “All that…mmm,” she’d finished, her eyelids drifting closed as she swayed her hips to the music.

He’d been shocked, to put it mildly, and more than a little embarrassed. Grace had come on to him and he hadn’t had a clue how to answer. He’d thought she’d put their fling in the past, especially when she’d moved to Edmonton and married. Heck, he’d only been back in town permanently since spring, setting up business with Connor. As they moved to the music, her curves felt soft and sexy in his arms and he’d asked plainly, “You think about that?”

She’d suddenly seemed to realize what she’d said, because her posture straightened and she’d colored to the hue of fireweed. “Shut up,” she’d snapped, trying to cover. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Her quick change of tone had relaxed him, giving him the upper hand again and he’d managed to tease her about it.

But the problem was, it had gone to his head. He’d done nothing but think of it since. Wondering how they’d be together. Wanting to kiss her, wondering if it would be the same as he remembered. Wanting to hold her—all night long. In his mind he could see what being with Grace would be like.

But Grace deserved more than an ex-saddle bronc rider with a spotted past, and he knew it. And somehow, he was going to show her that he was more than that. He just needed more time.

Mike halted before the screen door, taking a deep breath. He’d been too hard on her, he’d realized. He hated seeing her working so much, but somehow all his well-intentioned concern had come out wrong and now she had gotten angry with him. Hopefully she wasn’t still, but just in case, he’d cut across the field and come home along the ditch after leaving the building site.

He resisted the strange urge to knock. Instead he swung the door open and stepped inside.

He left his boots on the mat and made his way to the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway, watching Grace as she moved about the room.

Her slacks and blouse were protected by a flowered cobbler apron that she’d borrowed. As she carried plates to the table, the scent of frying chicken filled the air.

“Your table’s missing something.”

Her head snapped up. “When did you come in?”

“Just a minute ago. Supper smells great.”

She resumed setting the table. “It’s only chicken and salads. Something we can eat whenever they arrive. I dressed Maren and Johanna took her in. They’re all coming back together.”

“I thought you could use some decoration.” He stepped inside the room, holding out his hand.

“Flowers. You picked flowers?” Her fingers put down the cutlery as she stared at him.

“I thought they might make things a little more special.” He handed them to her, a mass of daisies and greenery he couldn’t name but knew by sight. He hadn’t picked weeds for a woman since he was in primary school and he’d tried to impress one of his foster moms.

Grace took the blooms from his hand, and he suddenly realized that he hadn’t exactly given them to her. He’d made it sound like they were for a centerpiece, that was all.

“I also thought they might soften you up for my apology.”

Her hands stilled over the vase she’d taken from the top of a pine buffet in the corner. “Apology?”

“I’m sorry we fought earlier.” He couldn’t bring himself to say he was sorry for everything. He found he wasn’t sorry for being concerned about her welfare. But he was sorry for upsetting her.

She turned to look at him, the vase of flowers in her hands. “I am, too.”

Their gazes met across the room. Lord, she had a way of looking at a man that made him want to do all sorts of things for her. Her lips were open just a hint, ripe for kissing, and her eyes were soft and wide. For a fleeting moment he wondered what she’d do if he simply closed the distance between them and kissed her like he’d wanted to for weeks. But the timing was wrong and the moment passed. Grace looked away.

“I was just worried, that’s all. I’ve known you a long time, Grace. I just want you to look after yourself.”

She put the flowers in the middle of the table and stood back. “Thanks for your concern, Mike, but it’s not necessary. I’ve been looking after myself for a while now.” She moved back to the stove, taking the lid off the electric frying pan and capably turning the chicken with metal tongs.

Of course she had, he acknowledged silently. She’d been back in town for what, five or six years? Living on her own all that time. Without him. But that didn’t stop the protective streak that seemed to rear its head every time she was around.

The screen door opened and voices filtered through the hall to the kitchen. “I think they’ve arrived,” Grace remarked, grabbing a platter. “Timing’s good, too. Chicken’s done.”

When Alex and Connor entered, Maren on Connor’s arm, Mike forced a smile. “Welcome home.”

Alex’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, you guys, you shouldn’t have.” She walked carefully, like she was afraid of breaking something. She looked over her shoulder at Johanna, then to the stove and Grace who was standing with the platter of chicken in her hands.

“You did this?”

“It was Mike’s idea. Be thankful I did the cooking and not him.”

Everyone laughed, including Mike who agreed. “I’ll make the coffee. Everything else I’ll trust to Grace.”

“Wise move,” Grace countered, but he was gratified to see her treat him to a genuine smile.

Alex’s smile widened and she leaned up to give Mike a quick hug. “You softie,” she whispered in his ear.

“Be quiet. That’s a secret,” he whispered back. Straightening, he chided her. “No work. We’re going to look after everything so you can just look after that bundle in there.” He pointed at her belly.

“That’s what I’ve been telling her,” Connor said, putting Maren in her high chair and handing her a cracker. “Nothing’s more important than looking after our baby.”

Mike looked at Grace. Her face carried a strange expression as she looked at Alex. He’d almost swear she looked…wounded, he supposed. Her eyes were luminous, wide with hurt. He’d never quite seen that look before and didn’t know what to make of it. There was concern, he was sure, but there was something else. A deep, lingering sadness. But why would seeing Alex make her sad?

She caught him watching her and pasted on a smile, the expression disappearing as if it had never been. “Put the chicken on, will you, Mike? I’ll get the rest of the food out of the fridge.”

They all sat down to a celebratory dinner, but Mike couldn’t forget that haunted look on Grace’s face.

Connor and Alex were putting Maren to bed; Johanna was cleaning up the kitchen. Grace had tried to help but Johanna had shooed her away, saying the cooks didn’t need to wash dishes. Grace knew she should just get in her car and go home, but instead she wandered out to the garden in the twilight, smelling the fragrant sweet peas that climbed the white latticed pergola.

The moon started its ascent. Frogs chirped from the pond down behind the barn. Grace sighed. If she went home now she’d end up feeling sorry for herself and spending the evening with a bowl of ice cream and a box of tissues. Despite the worry of the present, the Madsens were a happy family. Strong and bonded. She’d thought she’d have that, once, but now knew it would never happen. Most times she was okay with it. But times like this…times like this it hit her hard, made her mourn what she’d lost and what she’d never have.

She’d never have her own family.

“Beautiful night, isn’t it.”

Mike’s voice interrupted the quiet sounds of dusk and Grace swallowed the ball of emotion that had gathered in her throat. “Sure is.”

“You going to tell me what’s making you so blue?”

He was standing a little behind her and she kept her back to him. If she looked at him she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t lose it, and what an awkward mess that would be.

“I’m fine. Just enjoying the evening.”

“Grace Lundquist, you’re a bad liar.”

She sighed, willing him to stay behind her. Her eyes closed. “Just leave it be, Mike.”

He was quiet for a moment and Grace wondered if he’d gone. Then his voice came back, low and rumbly.

“I can’t.”

Oh, why did he have to be so concerned and caring all of a sudden? Mike didn’t think of her in any way besides a friend, and even if he did, it wouldn’t make sense to pursue anything, no matter how long she’d had a crush on him. He didn’t stay anywhere for long, or with anyone. In all the years she’d known him, he’d only had brief, fun relationships. Nothing serious. And Grace didn’t do brief and fun.

She had, once. And she’d thought Mike had really cared about her. She supposed in his own way, he had. But not enough. He hadn’t even broken up with her. He’d just gone.

She cared about him, yes. She admitted that much to herself. But she couldn’t let herself get too close. She didn’t trust him not to leave her again, and she wasn’t into making the same mistake twice.

No, they’d get along much better if they stuck to friends only.

His hand rested on her shoulder and she leaned into the reassuring contact. “I’m okay. I promise.”

“You didn’t look fine at dinner. You looked like your whole world was crashing in around you.”

Grace forced a smile and finally turned to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark with concern as his hand slid from her shoulder down to grip her fingers.

She pulled her hand away, attempting a laugh. “When did you get so dramatic, Mike? Worlds crashing around. As if.”

“If you weren’t upset, then what are you doing out here in the dark?”

“I didn’t want to intrude. I should just head home.”

A horse whickered softly in the moonshine. Mike turned his head toward the sound, smiling a little. “You shouldn’t worry about intruding. I’m living here. You can’t get much more in the way than that.”

“It’s only temporary.”

“Yes, it is. I’m looking forward to having my own place.”

Grace studied him, glad that the topic of conversation had been diverted away from her. He’d spent so many years without roots. Other than Maggie, his cousin-turned-foster parent, he’d never had a home. It just hadn’t been his way. A home had always seemed to represent a commitment he didn’t want to make.

“It seems funny, thinking of you with your own house, tied to a business. You’ve never been that type of guy.”

His gray eyes penetrated hers. “I wasn’t. Not for a long time. Things change.”

“What things?” She tilted her head curiously.

“It didn’t make sense to roam around without a purpose, looking for something yet not knowing what it was. I found myself wanting to settle, find a place for me. Build a business. Make a home, maybe even have a family.”

And just like that, her world dropped out from under her. It was like her bones had suddenly turned to jelly and everything got too heavy to move. He watched her quietly, his strong body between her and the house.

She had to escape.

Mike and a house and a family. Words she never thought she’d ever hear from his lips.

Why had it taken him so long to figure it out? If only he hadn’t taken a decade, things might have been different after all. A whole can of “what if’s” was opened, the contents spilled out.

After the long, emotional day she’d had it was too much. Her eyes burned with tears she tried desperately to hold inside and her mouth twisted. She chewed on her lip to keep it from quivering.

“I’ve gotta go,” she choked out, pushing past him and making a run for her car. She wrenched open the door and got in, turned the key to the ignition.

Just her luck. The one thing Mike was looking for now was the very thing she’d never be able to give him.

CHAPTER THREE

GRACE DRAGGED HERSELF out of bed. With a stroke of impeccable timing, she’d caught an early fall cold and it had completely knocked her out. Her head felt like a giant boulder sitting atop her neck, which might have been all right if only she could have breathed. But no, her nose was plugged, her throat was sore, and the only thing she wanted was to stay in bed and hide under the covers. Which was a crying shame, because outside everything was gilded and warm. The leaves were changing, her asters were blooming and bees hummed lazily in the mellow autumn sunshine.

With the teakettle on, she suddenly realized that tomorrow was payday at Circle M. Alex was confined to bed; it was up to Grace to make sure the checks got written. She sat at the table, resting her plugged head on her hands. No way was she heading out to the ranch. The last thing Alex—or Maren—needed was for her to pass on her cold.

Maybe someone from Circle M could drop off the paperwork and checkbook, she thought, getting up to pour the boiling water in her mug. Inspired, she picked up the phone and made the necessary call. After hanging up, she took the bag from her cup and added a squirt of lemon juice and a teaspoon of honey. Perhaps after her cup of tea she’d run a hot bath and try to steam away the congestion. And then maybe, just maybe, she’d feel human again.

Mike pulled into the driveway, grabbed the files from the passenger seat and hopped out of the truck. He skirted around the hood, heading for the back door, where there was a porch filled with natural light and plants and where he knew she liked to sit with a book, letting the breeze blow through the windows. He’d just drop off the ledger and checkbook, make sure she was okay and be on his way. Lord knew there was no shortage of work at Circle M lately. At least Connor was back, now that Alex was out of hospital.

It seemed to take Grace a long time to answer his knock, and when she did it took all he had not to gape.

She was dressed in snug jeans and a silky blue top that made his mouth water. He swallowed. The soft fabric dipped to a vee in the front, triangling the shape of her breasts, then flowing in folds to her waist. The sleeves clung to her upper arms, draping away gracefully past her elbows. It was a combination of innocent and sexy and for a brief moment he envisioned himself sliding his fingers over her soft shoulders while he kissed the daylights out of her.

The towel wrapped turban-style around her head might have made that difficult, however.

“I’m interrupting.”

“It’s okay.” The words came out “it-th okay;” the steamy bath hadn’t relieved all of her congestion. She sniffled, tried again. “Come on in.”

Mike followed her in, still holding the materials she’d need to do payroll, his customary hat still shielding his eyes.

“Thank you, Mike, for delivering the books.”

“Your cold sounds bad.” When Johanna had told him that Grace was sick, his first thought hadn’t been about working with the horses, or helping with the construction of his house. Instead he’d volunteered to be a delivery boy. He’d thought he could make sure she was all right after her outburst the other night. He wanted to take care of her. There was something about Grace that inspired that urge to protect, even though he knew she deserved better.

“I tried tea and honey and I took a decongestant, but it hasn’t kicked in yet,” she explained, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

“Yes, well, you can drop off the checks when they’re done then. Payday is tomorrow, but the guys’ll understand if you’re a little late. You deserve a day in bed.”

Grace looked up into Mike’s eyes and he noticed how flushed and pretty she looked. The thought of her in bed didn’t help his current mental state, either.

“I’ll have them there on time, you know that.”

“It’s okay. You need to rest,” he insisted.

“Someone make you a doctor all of a sudden?” She drew away from the counter, crossing her arms in front of her.

His chin drew back at the sharp edge of her tone. “You’re sick. It happens to everyone.”

“Exactly. And the world doesn’t stop just because someone has the sniffles. I said I’d have them done and I will. Besides, I have other work besides Circle M. I don’t want to get behind.”

“Work, work. That’s all you ever do!” The words burst out of his mouth before he could stop them. Why was she being so stubborn? All he was trying to do was cut her some slack, and she wouldn’t have any of it.

Grace put her hands on her hips as the towel slipped sideways on her head. Here we go again, she thought. Yes, she worked a lot, but it wasn’t as though she had a family at home to look after. It was just her, and more than that, it was her time to do with what she wished. She’d bought this house all on her own after the divorce, and without a regular nine-to-five job, sometimes making the mortgage payment was difficult. Not to mention repairs and the fact that she tried to make it look like a home…And all that cost money. Instead she had to deal with Mike today, coming in and bossing her around. Why he felt it was his right to treat her like the girl who used to tag after him, she had no idea.

“Yes, I work a lot. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have an overflowing social calendar and like the rest of the world I have bills to pay!”

She spun away, angry with herself for letting Mike provoke her. The towel slipped all the way off and she caught it while strands of dark blond hair straggled down her back. With her free hand she pushed them back out of her face.

He studied her for a long moment before speaking.

“You having money troubles, Grace?” He said it quietly. Not criticizing. The way Mike, her old friend would have. His obvious caring was comforting in a way.

But seeing Mike lately was only making her more confused. She cared about him; always had. Yet he’d broken a bit of that trust, and she couldn’t forget it.

“No…I’m not,” she sighed. “But my cup doesn’t runneth over, either.”

“Let me help.”

She looked up into his eyes, faltering for a moment at the genuine concern she saw there. But no, it wasn’t Mike’s problem, and she’d learned long ago that she could only depend on herself. She squared her shoulders.

“Thanks, but I’m fine. I like working, Mike.”

“Aren’t I allowed to be concerned about you?”

She sniffled once more and tucked her untidy hair behind her ears. “I’m not twelve anymore, Mike, and you don’t need to keep the playground bullies in line.” She swallowed, struggling to keep her voice cool and even.

He laughed, lightening the mood a little. “Seems to me there was a time that you kept the bullies in line for me.”

She flushed, wishing he’d just forget about that. Even as a child, she’d stood up for him when others didn’t. She knew now how silly it must have looked, a little squirt of a thing taking up for a boy much older than she’d been.

“Thanks for your concern, but I’m fine. You must have work to do today. I’ll bring the checks over when they’re done.”

She didn’t wait for him to leave, but took the books from the table and went into the living room. When the back screen clicked quietly, she let out a long breath.

Mike gave Thunder’s chestnut hide a final, affectionate slap and left the stall, shutting the half door behind him. He’d bought Thunder and Lightning together as colts, the first horses he’d owned. They’d been named by the previous owner’s young son, and while Mike thought of changing their names to something less clichéd, one look at the boy’s crestfallen face had sealed the deal. When he’d loaded them into the trailer, he’d promised that he’d keep the names that the youngster had given them. And he’d kept that promise.

Lightning was out in the corral. Thunder was inside today, waiting for the farrier. The last thing Mike needed now was a lame animal.

Over the years his path had crossed with Grace’s, and during those times he’d always looked out for her, whether she knew it or not. He’d been off on the circuit when she’d met her husband, and when he’d come back she was already gone…married at nineteen and living in Edmonton. He couldn’t change that. He had been the one to leave, after all.

Over the years he’d passed through town occasionally and it struck him that she’d been so sad when she’d moved into the tiny bungalow all alone. He saw glimpses of that sadness still. It made him want to bundle her in his arms and make it better. He wanted Grace for himself. In every way, no matter how much she deserved better. For a long time he’d despaired of it ever happening, thinking he’d squandered his chance. But now…now he was back for good and he knew if he bided his time, did things right…there was hope.

He strode down the length of the barn, his boots echoing on the concrete floor. Reaching the door, he saw her car come creeping up the driveway. She was true to her word no matter how sick she was. The paychecks would be handed out on time. His face darkened with a scowl.

He should walk away, let her deliver her things to the office and leave again. Instead he left the barn door open and strode toward the house.

This time Grace heard him open the front door. She’d been listening for it, to be honest, and had chosen to stay in the kitchen rather than the intimate, closed space of the study. She didn’t plan to be there long; she didn’t want to spread her germs to either Alex or Maren. Mike had been such a hardheaded idiot at the house earlier, she frowned. She had to keep her cool. The last thing she wanted was yet another spat with him. It seemed to be all they did lately, and she didn’t quite understand why.

She made her hands busy, stuffing checks in envelopes and writing names on the front. She didn’t look up from her work but knew when he was at the threshold. The air simply changed.

“Hello, Mike. Got your checks done.”

He stepped in. “That’s great. I’m glad you could fit it into your busy schedule.”

When she looked up, it was work to keep her mouth from dropping open. Mike looked…formidable, standing squarely in the doorway, his hat still on his head and his jaw so tensed it almost made a right angle.

She took a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm. Funny how by just standing there, he could provoke her. His whole manner told her he was angry about something, although she didn’t have a blessed idea what it was this time. Still, she attempted a light smile as she responded.

“I took some meds and had a nap.” The words were slightly thick; the congestion hadn’t quite cleared, although she was feeling much better. The tip of her nose wasn’t even showing that much redness anymore. “It was no trouble getting them drawn up.”

She didn’t look up, but turned her attention back to the envelopes. “I wanted to get them here. I have a couple of jobs lined up for tomorrow.”

“While you’re sick?”

“I’m much better, thank you, and for your information my plan was to go home, make some soup and watch a movie with a blanket before falling blissfully into sleep and waking up completely cured.” She didn’t even attempt to keep the sarcasm out of her tone.

Mike waited several seconds before speaking again.

“It didn’t occur to you to maybe rest for a few days? Do you have a hard time telling people the word no?” he bit out.

She goggled at his sharp tone. So much for keeping her cool and not letting him get to her. “As a matter of fact, I don’t. How’s this? Do I want to discuss this with you again? No!” She spun away, fiddling with papers on the table without really seeing.

Why, oh why, was everything an argument with Mike these days? He’d always had this protective streak when it came to people he cared about. People like herself, like Connor. But lately, it was different. He acted almost like he was entitled to have a say in how she lived her life, and he absolutely did not.

“You couldn’t have heard me this morning.” She tried to muster her iciest tone, but failed when her plugged nose interfered. “I’m not discussing my schedule or health with you.”

“Well, that’s just fine.” Mike swept an arm wide. “That’s just great, Grace!”

The checks were forgotten behind her as she squared off. “You know, Mike, I’m not fond of this proprietary attitude you seem to have lately. What gives you the right to dictate to me how I live my life?”

“The right?” He took two steps forward until she had to tilt her chin to meet his gaze. “The fact that you obviously need someone to, instead of letting you make disastrous decisions!” His voice thundered throughout the room.

“Keep your voice down,” she warned. “There are other people in this house who are probably trying to rest.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets, but didn’t move.

“This is my life, Mike,” she whispered harshly. “My decisions to make. My mistakes. Nobody—and that definitely includes you—is going to tell me what I can or can’t do. Frankly going to work when one has a cold can hardly be called a ‘disastrous’ decision.”

“I hate it that you look out for everyone else but yourself. Someday, Grace, that’s going to catch up with you, and then where will you be?”

With a sigh, he dropped his shoulders from their offensive stance.

Surprise had her rooted to the spot when his hand lifted and his fingers grazed the soft skin of her cheek.

“I just want to look out for you.”

The resistance drained from her body as her eyes fluttered closed against his touch, so suddenly tender and gentle. “I can take care of myself.”

“Maybe.” His other hand lifted so that now both his thumbs gently rubbed the crests of her cheekbones.

Her breath caught in her throat as she opened her eyes to find Mike’s staring down at her. Staring through her, right into her core, it seemed, his gray eyes shadowed by the brim of his hat.

“Why does it matter to you?”

“It matters.” His gaze dipped to her lips and clung there. “You matter.”

She swallowed. She mattered? To Mike? And he wasn’t looking at her now like he usually did. For the most part it was like they had never been more, like it was a blip on the road to where they were now. But now…friends didn’t stare at lips the way he was looking at hers, or let their fingers caress cheeks.

Still cupping her jaw, he leaned in, his mouth only a breath away as he whispered, “I just can’t let you get hurt, Grace…”

She reached up, circled his wrists with her hands and pulled them away from her face. She stepped back, putting distance between them. Longing still curled through her, a wanting that was almost too strong. She could feel his arms around her even though it had never happened. And it would be wrong, she realized.

“You can’t let me?” Her words were soft in the confused silence. She chanced a look at Mike. He was rooted to the spot, his brows pulled together. He didn’t understand. It was even more reason for her to pull away.

“You don’t get it, Mike. You say you can’t let me get hurt. And I can’t let you make decisions for me.” Not again, she almost added.

“Even when you make mistakes?”

“Then they’ll be my mistakes, not yours. Thank you for your concern, but it’s unwarranted.”

“You almost kissed me a moment ago.”

Her tummy flopped over. Yes, she had. And her body still hummed, yearning to know if kissing Mike would be the same. Or different. Or better. She’d been that close.

“I think you almost kissed me.” She tried to joke but it fell flat.

“Don’t do that. Don’t change the subject. There’s more going on here than you’ll admit.”

Memory hummed between them, drawing out the silence. What if things were changing between them? What then? Would he back off, leave her when it suited him? Would she give him the chance to do that again? Could her heart take it?

She’d said enough while they were dancing, and had no desire to humiliate herself again, or set herself up for heartbreak.

“That’s right, there is more going on,” she averred. “There’s you being very heavy-handed with me, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know what to think right now.”

“That makes two of us.”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “Dammit, Grace, I’m just trying to protect you.”

“And I’m telling you I don’t want or need your protection.”

“Fine. Then there’s nothing left for us to say.”

He spun from the room and seconds later the front door slammed. A few seconds after that, she heard Maren’s cry; the noise had awakened her from her nap. Johanna’s muffled voice filtered down from the upstairs. In a few moments they’d both be up and about and Grace wanted to be gone before that happened. The last thing she needed was more questions.

Hastily she shoved the final check in an envelope and scribbled a quick note, putting it all in the center of the table. When she went out to her car, Mike had left.

Men, she thought irrationally, slamming into the car and shoving it into gear. She was two miles down the road when something felt wrong. Grace pushed on the gas pedal, her eyes widening with alarm at the sudden loud clunk that shook the car. Everything seized…she cranked the wheel and her foot instantly hit the brake. Her head snapped forward, hitting the wheel just above her right eye.

She was finally stopped dead, square in the middle of the road. Her heart pounded so loudly she could hear it in her ears.

She couldn’t just sit here. She shifted into Park and then into Drive again. Nothing. She could not move.

“No, no, no,” she chanted, shifting again, desperate to get off the road. “Do not quit on me, baby.”

Unfortunately the vehicle wasn’t listening, because it stubbornly stayed in the middle of the dirt road. She turned off the engine, unbuckled her seat belt and got out.

Something smelled hot. She got down on her hands and knees and looked underneath. Reddish-pink fluid dripped on to the ground.

Grace got up, dusting off her pants and taking several deep breaths. She was fine. This wasn’t like the other time. The car was stopped but she was unhurt. She left the driver’s side door opened, grabbed the wheel with one hand and managed to push the hunk of metal a few feet closer to the shoulder of the road.

She hadn’t gone off the road, hadn’t hit anything. It could be worse, she reminded herself, knowing exactly how much worse it might have been. Panting from the exertion of pushing the car, she took a few moments to sit on the front bumper and catch her breath. Her hair was askew around her face, so she let it down all the way, letting it cascade over her shoulders.

Of all the things to happen today. First the cold, then fighting with Mike, twice even. Their arguing had to stop, and she had to come up with a way to get it through his thick head once and for all that she was running her own life. It had been much easier when he’d kept his distance, going about his business and just being the regular friend he’d always been.

Tears threatened. “Stop it,” she chided herself. Just because she was tired and still a bit sick was no reason to get all emotional. And neither was Mike a reason. She got back up and lifted the hood, as if magically looking beneath it she’d figure out exactly what had gone wrong. Now that he seemed to be paying her more attention it was driving her crazy. But she’d asked for it, hadn’t she? Asked for Mike to look at her differently.

She put the hood back down and sighed, remembering the feel of his fingers on her face, how close his lips had been to hers this afternoon. He was right. There was something between them.

But Mike was changing. He was settling down. He had his own business now, and was building a house…looking to the future, and probably a family. All the things she’d wanted back then.

For that very reason, there shouldn’t be anything between them. Not if she were to be fair.

She grabbed her purse from the car and squinted up at the sun. At least there was no chance of rain. That would have been the icing on the cake. Her thin-soled sandals slapped on the light asphalt of the road as she started back toward the ranch. She’d have to go back and call for someone to tow the car. And who knew how much that would cost to fix. Her budget was already stretched too thin.

She was about a half mile from the vehicle when she saw a figure on horseback cutting through the pasture on her left. She kept walking. It could be any number of hands; she knew exactly how many because she’d written their checks that very afternoon.

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