“Hey, man, I don’t want any trouble.”

The kid turned and lost himself in the crowd. Royce saw the angry sparks in Heather’s green eyes. She opened her mouth, but before she squawked a single protest, he snatched her arm and tugged her toward the exit. He made it as far as the door before she dug in her heels. It was either stop or drag her the rest of the way. He stopped.

“How dare—”

“Not now.” He flung open the door. His hand firmly against her back, he propelled her out of the bar.

The waiter’s eyes widened. “Problem, Mayor?”

“Problem’s leaving.” He followed Heather outside, grateful she hadn’t put up a bigger fuss. He grinned at the outrage on her face.

Compared with her teen years, tonight’s rescue had been relatively painless.

Dear Reader,

If there’s one thing I dislike, it’s someone telling me I can’t do something. That’s a surefire way to motivate me to prove that person wrong. In that respect, the heroine in this story is a lot like me.

Royce McKinnon, mayor of Nowhere, Texas, throws down the gauntlet when he tells Heather Henderson she doesn’t have what it takes to run her deceased father’s feed store.

Royce took Heather under his wing when her mother ran off, leaving a young Heather with a negligent alcoholic father. Heather admits she probably would have turned into a “statistic” if Royce hadn’t kept her in line and in school. But she’s all grown up now and doesn’t want or need Royce’s unsolicited advice.

Heather is Homeward Bound, not only determined to prove she’s capable of managing an almost-bankrupt business, but also determined to uncover the deep, dark secret she suspects is the real reason Royce doesn’t want her returning to Nowhere.

Sit back and enjoy the show as Heather challenges Royce’s sanity with her feminine wiles and spunky spirit. Who can resist a small-town girl with an attitude!

I’m always happy to hear from readers. Please visit me at www.marinthomas.com.

Happy reading!

Marin

Homeward Bound

Marin Thomas

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my high school girlfriends from Janesville, Wisconsin—

Jenny, Lynn, Sue, Holly, Kay and Dana:

What a talented bunch of girls we were at Craig High School. We had brains, beauty, athletic talent, acting talent, singing talent, musical talent…and even a salutatorian among us. We’ve come a long way in our individual lives and careers. Through the years and across state lines we’ve manage to keep in touch. I treasure our friendships and feel blessed to have so many fond memories of our high school days together…well, except for the spring break trip to Sue’s family cabin our senior year….

Books by Marin Thomas

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

1024—THE COWBOY AND THE BRIDE

1050—DADDY BY CHOICE

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

Prologue

Smoke tendrils curled into the air above the burned wreckage of the single-wide trailer. The debris continued to smolder under the late-May sky, the scorched ruins contrasting starkly with the bold pink-and-rose Texas sunset. The stench of singed fabric, melted rubber and seared wood saturated the air.

“Sheriff thinks it was accidental.”

Royce McKinnon shifted his attention from the yellow Caution tape strung around the rubble to his aging foreman, Luke. “Probably was.”

“Bet my best whittlin’ knife he drunk himself stupid, then passed out with a lit cigarette stuck in his craw.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Royce rubbed his brow, trying to ease the throb that had plagued him for the past hour. “As soon as the fire inspector gives the okay, I’ll make arrangements to have the wreckage hauled off to the dump.” The trailer fire was the first real catastrophe Royce had had to deal with since being elected the town mayor of Nowhere two years ago.

Luke shoved a wad of chew between his lip and gum. “You gonna call her tonight?”

“No.” The her was Heather Henderson. Daughter of the man who’d perished in the fire. Melvin Henderson had never been considered one of Nowhere’s exemplary citizens. Royce had had his share of run-ins with the man over the years—not one of them pleasant.

He wondered how Heather would take the news of her father’s death. On a scale of one to ten, Henderson had a negative number in the fatherhood department. Heather’s mother had split years ago, leaving her thirteen-year-old daughter at the mercy of a drunk, mean ol’ son of a bitch. In the end, Heather had had no one to care about her.

Except for you.

Royce had been nineteen when he’d stumbled upon the teen bawling her eyes out on the loading dock at the back of her father’s feed store. The lost look on her face when she’d sobbed that her mother had run away and left her behind had shaken Royce more than he’d cared to admit at the time.

That afternoon he’d sympathized with Heather’s grief as if it had been his own. He’d known all too well the feeling of being abandoned. Both his parents had died in a boating accident when he was a young boy. His childless aunt and uncle had taken him in but had treated him no better than one of the cow dogs. They’d given him shelter. Food. A place to sleep. And in return, he’d worked his butt off, learning how to raise cattle and work around a ranch—not an easy task for a boy who’d lived in Southern California near the ocean for his whole life.

He may not have had a storybook childhood full of warm fuzzies, but he’d had a home—which was more than some people got. His aunt and uncle had left him the ranch in their wills, and for that, Royce had forgiven them for not being the loving parents he’d wanted.

Twelve years ago, after witnessing the anguish in Heather’s eyes, something inside Royce had reached out to the young girl. He’d sworn he’d do everything in his power to make sure she believed at least one person cared—Royce McKinnon. But the friendship he’d envisioned between them had never materialized. Heather had turned into a hellion and had rebuffed his offers of help and guidance.

Keeping her in line became a full-time job. Many days he’d considered washing his hands of her, but something had compelled him not to give up on the teen. He didn’t need to pay a psychologist a hundred bucks a half hour to inform him that he’d turned the need to be cared for into a need to care for others. He glanced at Luke. “I’ll drive down to College Station tomorrow.” Maybe after the five-hour drive south, he’d figure out how to break the news to Heather.

“Where is she livin’ these days?”

“I believe in a house near campus.” Heather had moved several times from one apartment or rental house to another since enrolling at the University of Texas A&M seven years ago. “I’ll check the return address on her Christmas card.” Royce had kept every one of Heather’s holiday cards in a shoe box on his bedroom closet shelf.

“Seem to recall her writin’ that she was workin’ at a day care.”

Day care? Why hadn’t Heather put that information in her card to him? Maybe because the last time you paid her a visit, you did more than jump all over her for changing majors again and not finishing college yet. He supposed changing majors more than once and holding down a job made graduating in four years next to impossible.

As if it had happened only yesterday, the last visit flashed before his eyes. Heather at twenty-two had looked nothing like the gangly adolescent he’d remembered riding herd over. He’d never forget the sight of her in those hip-hugging short shorts and the strappy little top that had molded her full breasts and had shouted to him and every redblooded male within two miles of the campus that she was a desirable woman. For the first time, his body had reacted to her in a not-so-brotherly way, exciting him and scaring the hell out of him all at once.

He might have handled himself better if his attraction to her had been one-sided, but he’d caught the breathy sound that had escaped Heather’s mouth when she’d opened the apartment door and discovered him on the stoop. He’d noticed the sparkle of awareness in the blue eyes that had roamed up and down his body.

After he’d entered her apartment, he couldn’t stop staring at her. From her blond head to her pink-painted toenails, she’d mesmerized him. Gone had been any trace of the troublemaker teen he’d remembered. Flustered by his attraction to her, he’d started an argument about her taking forever to graduate. Then she’d done the most amazing thing—she’d kissed him. Her kiss had knocked the fight right out of him. To this day he could still remember the feel of her soft lips feathering across his. After he’d gotten over his initial shock, he’d kissed her right back. Again. And again. At least he’d come to his senses before they’d ended up in the bedroom.

After he left the university that day, he’d been determined to persuade Heather to return to Nowhere and spend the summer with him at the ranch. A small part of him had been convinced that what he’d felt for her had been more than just lust. But fate had foiled his plans, destroying any chance of a future with her. He’d found out the hard way that life sometimes plays dirty tricks on people.

In the end, Heather hadn’t spent the summer in Nowhere, and he’d tried to forget about their one passionate encounter and move on with life. Throwing himself into ranch work had helped, but the exhausting physical labor hadn’t been enough to chase the college coed from his thoughts. So he’d run for mayor, hoping the added responsibility would keep him too busy to ponder what might have been. For the most part, his plan had worked.

Until now. The trailer fire was another one of life’s nasty little jokes. Ready or not, he’d have to face Heather and deliver the news of her father’s death in person.

“Sure you don’t want me to tell her?” A stream of tobacco juice shot out of the gap between Luke’s front teeth.

Royce’s chest tightened; he was so tempted to take the old man up on his offer. “Nope. After I speak with the fire inspector in the morning, I’ll hit the road.”

If there was any good to come out of Henderson’s death, it was that once the man’s estate was settled, his daughter would have no reason to return to Nowhere.

And Heather Henderson would finally be out of his life for good.

Chapter One

“Duck…duck…duck…Bobby, that’s cheating. Sit on your bottom.”

Heather pressed her lips together to keep from laughing at the disgruntled five-year-old’s freckled face. As soon as he wiggled his rump back down on the campus day-care’s blue-carpeted floor, she patted the next head.

“Duck…duck…” Her hand hovered over a bright pink bow on top of a mountain of blond curls. If she “goosed” Rebecca, freckle-face would throw a temper tantrum, and carrot-top, on the other side of Rebecca, would most likely stick his hand out and trip the little girl.

Tapping the bow, Heather moved on. “Duck…duck…goose!”

A quick pat on Tommy’s head and Heather was off as fast as her knees would move. The kids loved her duck-duck-goose rule that adults play the game on their knees. She almost made it back to the empty spot, but Tommy’s fingers grazed her shoulder. She toppled over and tugged the boy to the floor.

“Dog pile!” Brian yelled, jumping through the air.

Heather clenched her stomach muscles right before Brian’s butt landed on her midsection. The hundred-per-day situps she struggled through every morning at the campus gym paid off tenfold in this job. The other five children joined in and she ended up buried beneath bodies that smelled like peanut butter and jelly, laundry detergent and Play-Doh.

She wiggled her fingers against a pair of legs covered in pink tights and smiled when little Sonja, normally quiet and withdrawn, belly-laughed along with the rest of the preschoolers. The sound of rambunctious laugher warmed Heather’s heart. She couldn’t remember ever laughing with such abandon and glee as a child.

“Excuse me, Heather.”

Peeking between the squirming bodies, Heather spotted her supervisor’s mud-colored Easy Spirit shoes inches from her nose. “Yes, Mrs. Richards?”

“There’s someone here to see you. Come along, children. Snack time.”

One by one, the munchkins popped off Heather and dashed across the room. Feeling as if she’d narrowly survived a school of hungry piranhas, she lay sprawled on the carpet, her clothes in disarray and her ponytail smashed to one side. She turned her head—and spotted a large pair of worn cowboy boots.

Uh-oh.

Inch by inch, her gaze strolled up denim-clad legs, slowed across solid thighs, then came to a complete stop at a well-endowed…One hip shifted, jarring her attention upward, past the shiny silver belt buckle. Past the six pearl snaps on the sky-blue western shirt. Past a whisker-stubbled chin. Straight to his eyes. Eyes that stirred up memories of—

“Heather.”

Sucking in a deep breath, she braved a smile.

Eyes dark as chunks of coal stared solemnly down at her from under the brim of a seen-better-days black Stetson.

So he was going to pretend they’d never shared glorious kisses three years ago. Okay, fine. She could pretend, too. “Hello, Royce.”

Her self-appointed guardian angel glowered. She imagined any sensible women would take one look at his expression, which hinted at a not-so-sunny disposition, and steer clear of the cowboy. Not Heather. She’d always admired his temperament, not to mention his strong stubborn jaw, deep-set brown eyes and equally dark slashing brows. Royce McKinnon was downright handsome in a rugged, manly-man sort of way.

His sober gaze fastened on her bare tummy, where a dainty silver butterfly ring pierced her navel. His stare, moving and mysterious, turned the simple act of breathing into a strenuous exercise. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she struggled for control. Three years ago this man had rocked her world. If her skittering nervousness at the moment was any indication, she hadn’t succeeded in putting the past—rather, this man—behind her.

With one last gulp of air, she shoved her T-shirt back in place and hopped to her feet. Desperate for a moment to corral her frazzled nerves, she brushed at an imaginary wrinkle in her jeans, then fixed her lopsided ponytail.

At six feet two inches—minus the cowboy hat—the mayor of Nowhere, Texas, didn’t exactly blend in with the gaggle of preschoolers running loose in the room. “If I’d known you were stopping in town I would have asked for time off.” Well, that was brilliant. He’ll think I’ve been pining for him all these years.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Some things never change.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I left a message on your cell phone.”

The brooding, arrogant egghead was accusing her of not checking phone messages? Rolling her eyes, she sighed. “I see you brought along that trusty soapbox of yours.”

“When you decide to grow up, I’ll leave it at home.”

The fact that he thought her plenty grown-up three years ago, when he’d kissed her, hung in the air between them like wet laundry on a windless day. “For your information, this isn’t a job. Working at the day care is part of my student-teaching requirements.”

Heather waited for a comeback that didn’t come.

Royce’s attention switched to the back of the room. Puzzled by the expression of deep sadness that filled his eyes as he watched the group of towheads devour their snacks, she touched his shirtsleeve.

The feel of the soft cotton material brought back a long-ago memory of Royce finding her bawling her head off behind the feed store. Even though her crying had embarrassed him, he’d offered her his shirtsleeve to wipe her nose. From that moment on Royce had been her hero.

After a while the novelty of his attention had worn off and she’d focused her efforts on ignoring his meddling presence. But nothing she’d done or said had made Royce go away and leave her alone—thank goodness. Because she would have been truly lost without this overbearing interfering man. For that reason alone she reined in her temper. “Look, if you’re here to lecture me on failing to graduate next week with the rest of my class—”

“You’re not graduating?”

Oh, crud. He didn’t know? “Isn’t that pretty obvious, since I didn’t send you a graduation announcement?”

He rubbed the sexy little bump in the middle of his nose with his index finger. “I assumed I wasn’t invited.”

Did he think so little of her? Just because they’d shared one magical afternoon of intimacy and then…then…nothing didn’t mean she hated him or didn’t want him to celebrate her graduation. With all she’d put the man through over the years, he at least deserved to see her accept her degree. “I’m six credits short.” His silence compelled her to explain. “I’ve signed up for the first and second summer sessions. If everything goes as planned I’ll have my degree by summer’s end.”

“Degree in what now?”

“Psychology.”

His brow dipped below the hat’s brim. “Come again?”

“Psychology, with an emphasis on family and children.”

His tanned complexion faded several shades, as if her choice of major and area of focus stunned him.

Perturbed by his reaction, she demanded, “What? You don’t believe I would be good with kids?”

“You’re nothing but a big kid yourself, Heather.”

“People change. Maybe I wasn’t the quintessential good-girl back in Nowhere, but I hope my past experiences will help other troubled children.” She motioned to the crowded snack table. “Besides, I love kids.”

A rude snort popped out of his mouth. He removed his hat, then tapped the edge against his thigh.

Shocked, she stared at the long, jagged scratch marring the underside of the brim. Another memory flashed through her mind: Royce parked outside the diner on Route 8, twenty miles outside of Nowhere, just over the Arkansas border. He’d sat in his truck for two hours, watching her and then boyfriend Buddy Mansfield through the plate-glass window. Then he’d followed them back to her trailer, his truck’s brights beaming into the backs of their heads.

“You kept the hat,” she whispered around the lump clogging her throat.

As if noticing the imperfection for the first time, he smoothed his thumb over the mark.

“I ruined the Stetson.” Because you ruined my plans to elope with Buddy. Thank goodness Royce had. A marriage to the hometown bad-boy would have ended in disaster. Last she heard, Buddy was doing time in the Huntsville prison for armed robbery.

The lines around his Royce’s eyes crinkled. “Only a fool would toss away a perfectly good hat because of a minor scratch.”

An ache filled her chest. “Minor? I slashed the thing with a pocketknife.” She hadn’t known if she or Royce had been more stunned by the vengeful act.

“Yeah, you were full of piss and vinegar that evening.”

She’d been thankful the moonless night had concealed the tears in her eyes as she’d struggled to find the words to apologize. Words she’d never found the courage to speak. Half of her had hoped she’d finally succeeded in driving Royce away. The other half had prayed he wouldn’t give up on her.

When he shoved his fingers through a tuft of thick, reddish brown hair, the fluorescent lights in the ceiling highlighted a splash of silver along his temples.

“You’ve got gray hair,” she blurted.

The corners of his mouth lifted in amusement. “Your name is on every one of them.”

Her name and those of the rest of the good folks in Nowhere. Apparently, being rancher, mayor and saver of lost souls was taking a toll on the thirty-two-year-old.

The longer she studied him, the more she saw beyond his don’t-mess-with-me expression. The rumpled state of his clothes reflected the long drive to the university. The tight lines around his mouth hinted at fatigue, not anger. She suspected a headache, not frustration, created the furrow in the middle of his brow. And exasperation didn’t deepen the brown of his eyes—the dusky rings beneath them did.

Forbidding and unapproachable—not today. Exhausted and troubled—yes. But how could that be? Royce McKinnon had always been unshakable.

He checked his watch. “Can we talk in private?”

“I get off in fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll wait outside.” He headed for the front door.

An uneasy feeling skittered down her spine as she watched his retreating back. Shoving the sensation aside, she hurried to the snack table to help Mrs. Richards quickly clean up the mess.

A short time later she sat in the front seat of Royce’s big Dodge truck as he drove through the small campus side streets toward the rental house she shared with two roommates.

Royce hadn’t said a word since he’d pulled out of the day-care parking lot. His silence bothered her more than the country music blasting from the CD player. He’d never been a talkative man…unless he was firing off one of his lectures on taking responsibility for one’s own actions and other such drivel. She’d never given much consideration to his quiet nature, but right now she’d kill to know what was going on in that brooding mind of his.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply. The clean crisp scent of his cologne wrapped around her like a warm hug, bringing with it a flash from the past: his mouth hovering over hers as they struggled to catch their breath.

Royce turned the corner and drove south on Conner Avenue, where most of the homes on the street were university rentals. She pointed out the windshield. “The bright yellow one.” He parked at the curb in front of the house.

“What are those guys doing on your property?” he asked, referring to the two males sitting in rocking chairs, drinking beer on the porch.

“‘Those guys’ are my roommates.”

“Roommates?”

His jaw worked as if he’d gotten a six-inch piece of rawhide caught between his teeth.

She hustled out of the truck and shut the door, cutting Royce off in mid sputter. Taking a deep breath, she marched up the sidewalk, determined to act like an adult even if he couldn’t. A chorus of “Hey, Heather” greeted her as she climbed the porch steps. Ignoring Royce’s hot breath fanning the back of her neck, she handled the introductions. “Seth, Joe, meet Royce McKinnon. He’s the mayor of Nowhere, Texas.”

“Cool,” the two grunted in unison. Neither student stood or offered a hand in greeting. No one had ever accused Heather’s roommates of having too much on the ball.

“Follow me,” she muttered, moving across the porch. Once inside, she veered right, through a pair of French doors. “It’s a two-bedroom house, but I converted the front parlor into a third bedroom.” She set her purse on the chair in the corner.

Royce stopped in the doorway and glanced around. He cleared his throat. “Do you mind?” Without waiting for an answer, he stepped farther into the room and shut the door.

She held her breath as his hand hovered over the door-knob. She didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved when his large masculine fingers fell away without securing the lock.

Shoving his fists into the front pockets of his jeans, he rocked back on his heels. The stubborn lug looked so out of place standing in the peach-colored room with flower-stenciled walls and a mint-green velvet canopy hanging over her bed. Barbed wire was definitely more his style.

“Your room’s nice, Heather.”

A compliment? Admiring comments from Royce had been few and far between over the years. “Anything is better than that hovel I grew up in.”

“If I’d known you cared, I’d have given you money to spruce up the trailer.”

A knot formed in her chest. She had cared. Once, she’d started to paint the kitchen a soft buttercup yellow, but her old man, in one of his drunken rages, had stumbled and fallen against the wall, smearing the paint and cursing her for ruining his clothes. After enough of those “instances,” she had realized caring was a waste of time and energy. Besides, acting as though living in a trash dump hadn’t mattered to her gave Royce one less thing to butt his nose into.

She sat on the end of her bed, smoothed a hand over the white lace spread and swallowed twice before she could trust her voice.

“Have a seat,” she said, motioning to the chair at the desk by the window.

As he crossed the room, she noticed the way his western shirt pulled at his shoulders. Noticed his backside, too. The cowboy was in a category all his own. Ranching was physical work, but most of the ranchers she’d known growing up didn’t have bodies like Royce. She’d touched a few of his impressive muscles when they’d kissed long ago, and this cowboy was in a category all his own. She wondered how he managed to stay in such great shape. She knew for a fact there wasn’t a health club within fifty miles of Nowhere.

Some fool named Sapple had opened a small sawmill in the 1920s south of town, but like so many other East Texas sawmills, the place closed up five years later. Sapple and most of the loggers and their families had moved on, but a few people stayed behind. The town was officially named Nowhere when the interstate went in twenty-five miles away, leaving the local residents out in the middle of…nowhere. Aside from a barbershop, a bank, her father’s feed store and a couple of mom-and-pop businesses, the town, surrounded by miles of ranchland and pine forests, boasted little else. If a person wanted excitement they had to get back on the interstate to find a popular restaurant or a honky-tonk.

Royce sat on her desk chair, expelled a long breath, then clasped his hands between his knees and stared at the floor.

Stomach clenching with apprehension, she asked, “What’s so important you couldn’t have told me over the phone?”

Her question brought his head up, and she stopped breathing at the solemn expression in his dark eyes. “What I have to say should be said in person.”

She almost blurted, Three years ago you had no trouble telling me that our kiss had been a terrible mistake. That you didn’t want to see me again. That you didn’t want me to come back to Nowhere. Instead, she settled for “A long time ago you had no trouble telling me over the phone to get lost.”

He stiffened, then cleared his throat and studied the Titanic movie poster hanging on the wall beside her bed. He turned his attention to her face, embarrassment and regret pinching his features. This time she looked away.

“How are you situated for money?”

The news must really be bad if Royce was stalling. “If I get the job that I applied for at the law library, I’ll be able to make ends meet this summer.” She’d already exhausted all the partial scholarships and government grants she’d been eligible for during the first four years of school. From then on, she’d had to work to pay for tuition and books, expenses and rent. She hated admitting it, hated that she was still dependent on him, but without Royce’s more-than-generous Christmas and birthday checks she would have had to drop out of college long ago.

Shifting on the chair, he removed his checkbook from the back pocket of his jeans. She had only one pen on her desk, a neon-pink one with a bright yellow feather and beaded ribbon attached to the end. She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling at the disgusted expression on his face when he tried to see around the feather as he wrote out the check.

“I don’t want your money, Royce.” Her face heated at the lie, but she felt compelled to offer a token protest.

He didn’t hand the check to her. Instead, he set the draft on top of her psychology text. “For someone who had to be forced to go to college, you’ve hung in there and beaten the odds.”

Two compliments in one day. This must be some sort of record for Royce. But knowing that she’d done something he approved of made her feel good. Proud. Vulnerable. She smiled sheepishly. “To be honest, I’m a little surprised I didn’t drop out my first year.”

“Just think. If you hadn’t been involved with that group of misfits who held up the Quick Stop, you might never have gone to college.”

Heather groaned. “Please. Let’s not bring that up.” She’d just as soon forget that fateful July night seven years ago when Royce had bailed her out of the county jail after being arrested in connection with the gas station holdup. She’d been using the restroom, unaware that the other teens had planned to rob the place. Because she hadn’t been in the store during the robbery, Royce had been able to convince the judge to let her off the hook. But the judge had added a condition of her own—college.

“The expression on your face when the judge announced your sentence was priceless. One would have thought you’d been sentenced to death, not college,” Royce chuckled, then his face sobered.

“What are your plans after you get your degree in August?”

“I want to work with children. Socioeconomically disadvantaged kids.”

He started to protest, but she held up a hand. “You’re thinking I wouldn’t be a good role model, right?” Why was it so hard for Royce to believe she’d changed since going away to school?

Shrugging, he slouched in the chair. “As long as I’ve known you, you’ve always been the one receiving help, not giving it.”

Ouch. That stung. Irritated with herself for allowing his comment to hurt, she changed the subject. “Enough reminiscing. Why the surprise visit?”

“I wish there were an easier way to say this.” He dragged a hand down his face.

The suspense rattled her nerves. “Spit it out, Royce.”

“Your father’s dead.”

She opened her mouth to suck in air, but nothing happened. Her lungs froze as her body processed the shock. After several seconds, her chest thawed, and she gulped a lungful of oxygen.

“I’m sorry, Heather.” He leaned forward again and squeezed her hand.

Numbly, she stared at the tanned hand, wondering whether the rough, calloused touch of his skin against hers or the news of her father’s death shook her more.

“How—?” Her eyes watered, surprising her. After all these years, she didn’t think she had any emotion left for her father. That she still felt something for the old man made her stomach queasy.

“A fire.”

Her gaze flew to his face. “The feed store burned down?”

He tugged his hand loose, and she bit her lip to keep from protesting the loss of his warmth and gentleness.

“The trailer caught fire. The county fire investigator believes it was accidental.”

No need to explain the gory details. As a child, how many times had she gone to bed, only to get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and find her father asleep on the couch, a lit cigarette dangling from between his fingers?

“A tourist passing by called 911. By the time the volunteer fire department got there…” Royce shook his head, sympathy in his eyes. “Nothing but a burned-out shell remained.”

“When?”

“Late yesterday afternoon.”

Her father was dead. She was alone in the world. Really alone. But maybe that was okay. Even when her father was alive she’d been alone. Still, Royce had always been there.

And he’s here now.

Royce stood. “I’ll wait in the truck while you pack.”

Dazed, she mumbled, “Pack?”

His eyebrows dipped. “For the funeral.”

“Funeral?” Why wasn’t anything making sense? She rubbed her temples, wincing at the onset of a headache.

He lowered his voice. “There’s usually a funeral after someone dies, Heather.”

“Why bother? No one will show up.” Not one person in Nowhere had liked her father, including her. The man had been an alcoholic, chain-smoking, card-gambling jerk.

“People will want to pay their respects to you.” He moved toward the door. “We’ll keep the service simple.”

“Simple.” She laughed at the absurdity of the whole situation. “I guess good ol’ Dad handled the cremation himself.”

Royce’s eyebrows shot straight up into his hairline. “I realize you didn’t have the best relationship with the man. But there are times when you have to do what’s right. This is one of them.”

Wondering if he could see the steam rising from the top of her head, she popped off the bed. “Ever since my mother ran off, you’ve pestered, nagged and lectured me! Well, I’ve had enough. Find yourself another hopeless cause to champion.”

His head snapped back as if she’d slapped him, then a shuttered look crept into his eyes. “Pack your bags, Heather.” His tone could have freeze-dried a whole cow. “You’re coming home.”

Home? She’d never considered the filthy, rattrap trailer she’d grown up in a home. Now, thanks to her father, there wasn’t even that.

And why would the good folks of Nowhere want to pay their respects to a girl who’d done nothing but cause them grief during her rebellious adolescent years? She wouldn’t last ten minutes in town before they ran her out. “No funeral. I’m not going back with you.”

Mr. Responsibility pinched the bridge of his nose, and guilt stabbed her. Undoubtedly, he’d already put in a hard day of ranching, then stuck his mayor cap on and solved the town’s problems, after which he’d driven three hundred miles to College Station. She didn’t doubt he’d return to the ranch tonight, wake up at dawn and start the whole boring process all over again.

“I’ll make the funeral arrangements. All you have to do is show up.”

She shook her head, hating the way her throat swelled and tears burned her eyes. Darn! She would not cry for her father. He didn’t deserve one single tear from her.

Royce’s brown eyes turned stormy. “You might consider yourself a grown-up, but when are you going to start acting like one?”

Ashamed to shove the burden of her father’s burial on Royce, she forced the words past her lips. “I’m not going back.”

The muscle along his jaw ticked. “What about the feed store?”

As far as she cared, the building could sit and rot before she’d ever set foot inside it again. “I don’t want the business. Sell it.”

“You don’t have to decide right this minute.”

“No, really. Just get rid of the place.” She lifted her chin, determined to stand her ground.

“Think about it some more. In the meantime, I’ll contact a Realtor.”

When he headed for the door, her heart skipped a beat. Part of her wanted him to leave so she could sort through the mishmash of emotions knotting her insides, yet part of her yearned for the comfort of his physical presence. Darn! She’d handled his visit badly. But for the life of her she didn’t know how to make things right.

“Royce.”

He stopped but kept his back to her.

“Thank you. For coming all this way.”

A quick nod, and then he was gone.

Just gone. She should be happy she’d escaped without having to suffer through one of his infamous hour-long sermons. Why then did she wish he’d stayed and lectured her?

Because you still haven’t gotten over him!

She flung herself across the bed and buried her face in the pillows, fighting the sting of more tears. Deep in her heart she believed she’d made the right decision not to go back with Royce. Summer classes started soon. And any day now she’d hear about the job at the law library.

Then an image of Royce’s tired face behind the steering wheel of his truck flashed through her mind. She rolled off the bed, went to her desk and lifted the check he’d left there. A thousand dollars! Her eyes zeroed in on the memo line in the bottom left-hand corner…Happy 25th birthday, Heather.

He hadn’t forgotten that tomorrow was her birthday.

She threw herself back on the bed and burst into tears.

Chapter Two

Oh, hell.

Royce hefted the last hay bale into his truck bed, then stopped to watch the cloud of dust trailing the Ford pickup that barreled toward the barn. After checking on the cattle this morning, he’d called the fire inspector and received permission to have the damaged trailer hauled to the dump. The inspector had officially closed the case, declaring Melvin Henderson’s death accidental. Royce had hoped he’d get out of here before his nosy foreman returned from an overnight visit with his ailing sister. No such luck.

Guilt nagged him at the uncharitable thought. Luke was like family. The foreman had hired on at the ranch ten years ago when Royce’s uncle had been diagnosed with cancer and been given only a few months to live. At the time Luke was fifty-five. Royce’s uncle had died in August, and the following winter his aunt had succumbed to pneumonia. After Royce had buried his aunt, he’d insisted Luke move out of the small room at the back of the barn and into the main house.

The truck came to a stop next to the corral. As soon as Luke opened the door, his old hound dog, Bandit, hopped down from the front seat. Tail wagging, the animal hurried toward Royce as fast as his arthritic legs would carry him.

Royce scratched Bandit’s ear. “How’s Martha feeling?”

“Spry as a spring chick.” Luke grumbled a four-letter word. “There wasn’t nothin’ wrong with the woman in the first place. Just lonely is all. No wonder she ain’t never married all these years. Can’t keep her trap shut for nothin’. Yakkin’ about this, yakkin’ about that. I had to get out of there before my ears shriveled up and fell off my head.”

Luke and Martha were twins, and Martha took great pleasure in bossing her brother around. Royce swallowed a laugh at the disgruntled expression on his foreman’s face, then suggested, “Why don’t you invite her to stay at the ranch for the summer. We’ve got plenty of room.”

“Hell, no! You think I want that old biddy askin’ me if I got fresh drawers on every mornin’?” Luke pulled a pouch of Skoal from the front pocket of his overalls. “How’d Heather take the news?”

“Better than I’d hoped.” He hadn’t expected her to feel much of anything at learning of her father’s death. Then he’d caught the glimmer of tears in her baby blues. The lost expression on her face had convinced him that she’d been deeply affected. He supposed no matter what kind of relationship Heather and her father had had over the years, a part of her had always yearned for his love.

“She comin’ home after graduatin’?”

“She won’t be graduating next week.” Royce slammed the tailgate shut and wiped his sweaty palms down the front of his threadbare jeans. He wasn’t in the mood to discuss Heather Henderson with anybody—not even Luke.

Last night had been hell. He’d returned from College Station right around midnight and had fallen into bed exhausted and agitated. He’d lain awake for hours, tossing and turning, his insides and outsides tied in knots.

After his accident three years ago, he’d have sworn he had put Heather behind him. Heck, he’d even had a couple of affairs. A summer fling with a tourist and an off-and-on thing with a local divorcée, whom he’d probably still be seeing if she hadn’t taken a job in Arizona.

But one glimpse at Heather—just one glimpse—and all the feelings for her that he’d thought long dead and buried had rushed to the surface, stunning him with their intensity.

After shoving a wad of chewing tobacco in his mouth, Luke offered Bandit a small pinch and the dog ran off and buried it beneath the sugar maple tree by the front porch. “How come she ain’t gettin’ her degree?”

“She still has a couple of classes to finish, first.”

“After that, is she comin’ home?”

“Nope.” Not if he had his way. Royce marched toward the barn and the old fart followed him like a pesky fly.

“Full of ‘nopes’ lately, ain’t you.”

“Yep.”

Luke stopped inside the barn doors. “You ain’t said how she was?”

“She’s fine.” Royce searched through the junk in the corner for a bushel basket. Fine didn’t come close to describing Heather. She was more than fine. She was beautiful, full of energy and life, and she possessed a new self-confidence that hadn’t been there the last time he’d seen her.

“Just fine, huh?”

“Yep.” He knew he was being an ass. But he couldn’t seem to find the words to tell Luke about Heather’s desire to work with children. About how right she’d looked sprawled on the floor buried under a pile of preschoolers. He couldn’t tell Luke that it had almost physically hurt to watch her wrestle with the kids.

Luke had been the one to find Royce lying unconscious alongside the road. Royce had awakened from surgery and the doctor had given him the bad news. In his own way, Luke had grieved along with Royce. And when the time had come to stop grieving and move on, Luke had been the one to plant his boot heel in Royce’s backside and force him out of his depression, and back into the world of the living.

Compelled to say more, Royce added, “Heather seemed excited about getting her degree at the end of the summer.”

“What kind of degree?”

“In counseling, psychology to be exact. She plans to work with disadvantaged kids.”

Bandit barked somewhere outside the barn and Luke hollered at him to hush. “What about the funeral?”

“There isn’t going to be a funeral.”

“Why not?”

“Heather doesn’t want one.”

“Can’t blame the poor gal.”

“I spoke with Pastor Gates, and he’s agreed to say a few words about Henderson during the service on Sunday.”

“Don’t deserve much more.”

No argument there. Melvin Henderson had been a first-class loser. He hadn’t had a nice word for anyone the whole time he’d been alive.

A stream of tobacco juice sailed past Royce’s face.

“How long ago did that gal start college?” asked Luke.

“Seven years.”

The geezer made a whistling sound as he sucked in air through the gap between his front teeth. “Least she didn’t up and quit on you.”

Pride surged through Royce. When Heather had chosen college over juvenile detention, he’d never expected her to last more than a semester or two. “You’re right. She might have taken her sweet time, but she didn’t quit.” He shoved aside several wooden crates, until he found a dented basket; then he carried it to the other side of the barn, where the freshly picked garden vegetables were stored.

Switching the ball of chew to his other cheek, Luke motioned to the loaded pickup. “I thought you was ridin’ fence today.”

“Change of plans. I’m meeting with a Realtor to put the feed store on the market.”

“Ain’t that Heather’s business?”

Should be. Heather might have done some growing up since going away to college, but she still ran the opposite direction when faced with the big R—responsibility. “She doesn’t want anything to do with the store.”

“Don’t seem right.”

Where Heather was concerned, nothing was ever as it seemed. If Royce were honest with himself—something he tried to avoid at all costs in order to keep his sanity—he’d admit Heather had left a void in his life when she’d gone off to college. Prior to that, his weeks had been filled with chasing after her, righting her wrongs, fixing her mistakes. When she’d graduated high school and moved to College Station his life had become…well, dull.

“It’s her decision, Luke.”

“Since when did you ever give that gal a say-so?”

“She’s had plenty of say-so’s.” Like the damn fool major she’d ended up in. Psychology. How the heck a person who’d made a mess of her own life thought she could help straighten out someone else’s baffled him.

“So you’re tyin’ up all the loose ends for her?”

“Haven’t I always kept her life tight and tidy?” Royce rubbed a hand down his face, regretting the testy remark. Heather hadn’t asked for his help; he’d offered. Now, if he could only figure out why he was so all-fired pissed off about it.

“You think she’s gonna look for a job ’round here after graduatin’?”

God, he hoped not. For the sake of his heart he prayed Heather would find a job far, far away from Nowhere. “She didn’t say.”

“What about the car?”

He glanced at the yellow Mustang sitting under a tarp at the back of the barn. His chest tightened when he thought of how he’d helped her purchase the vehicle after she’d worked her tail off to pay for the thing. He hadn’t even had to convince her to leave the Mustang behind when she left for college. She’d known the car was safer in the barn than on campus.

“Luke, I don’t have time to worry about Heather and her plans. I’ve got enough troubles with the town’s sewer system deteriorating as we speak.”

“Heard anything from the governor?”

“His aide called.” Royce carried the bushel of vegetables out of the barn, opened the tailgate and set them in the truck bed next to the hay bales. He pulled a bandana from his back pocket and mopped his brow. At ten in the morning, the temperature hovered near eighty degrees. The above-normal temperature for late May promised a long, hot Texas summer. “To a certain extent the governor is sympathetic.”

“Sympathetic how?”

“If Nowhere turns in a sizable campaign donation, the governor may be able to pull some strings and move us up on the list for government funding for a new sewer.”

“Aw, let him blow it out his ear. There ain’t enough money in this town to build a meetin’ hall, let alone throw away on a politician who don’t give a rat’s turd about our little map dot.”

“Amen. I refuse to use our five hundred and fifteen citizens’ tax dollars to finance the governor’s reelection campaign, when I can’t stand the guy in the first place.” Royce shut the tailgate.

His face puckering like a withered apple, Luke asked, “What’ll you do ’bout the sewer?”

Royce wished that every business in town had its own septic system. But during the 1940s the federal government had laid down sewer pipe as part of a work program to improve the quality of life in rural areas. As far as Royce was concerned, his town’s quality of life was disappearing faster than the water flushed down the toilets. “With a little luck, the system should hold out another year.”

He hopped into the truck, then shut the door before his foreman decided to ride along. “By next spring, I’ll figure out something.” And he would. He’d never before let down the citizens of Nowhere. One way or another he’d find the money to at least repair the sewer. He turned the key and gunned the motor. “Don’t expect me back anytime soon. After I meet with the Realtor, I plan to drop off the hay and vegetables at the Wilkinsons’ place.”

Another brown glob of tobacco flew past the truck window and landed with a splat near the front tire. “When you gonna stop givin’ everybody handouts?”

“I’m the mayor, Luke. I won’t stand by and watch four kids starve because their father’s out of work with a broken back and their mother’s run off to God-knows-where with who-knows-whom.” Right then, Heather’s mother came to mind, making Royce wonder what it was about Nowhere that had women running off in the middle of the night.

“Broken back, my ass.”

Royce would have to call Martha later and thank her for twisting her brother’s undershorts in a knot this morning. “Kenny will be over next week to help with chores.” Kenny, the eldest Wilkinson boy, helped Luke around the ranch in exchange for hay for his rodeo horse.

“Just what I need. A snot-nosed brat followin’ me ’round.” Luke called for Bandit, then shuffled toward the house.

Grinning, Royce drove off. His foreman did a lot of complaining about the smart-mouthed teen, but Luke appreciated the kid’s company. It was a win-win situation. The boy was good company for Luke, and Luke was good company for Kenny, who needed a swift kick in the butt from time to time—something Luke had perfected on Royce over the years.

At the end of the ranch drive, Royce took the county road south. Tall pines bordered the asphalt, some as high as one hundred and twenty feet. Most of the trees were second-generation. The area had been gutted by the lumber industry at the turn of the twentieth century. The once-dense pine forests were now broken up with large sections of ranch land. Sprinkled in among the yellow pines were clusters of southern red oak, sweetgum and water oak. This part of East Texas received enough rainfall to be classified as an upper wetland area, which meant that spring put on a pretty impressive display. His favorite tree was the flowering dogwood, with its abundant white blooms.

The area boasted a great fishing lake. During the summer months, campers took advantage of the wilderness that surrounded Nowhere and Lake Wright several miles to the northeast. The town’s small business owners relied heavily on summer tourism to keep afloat. That was one of Royce’s goals as mayor—to find a way to bring more tourists to the area.

Pressing the gas pedal until the speedometer hovered near seventy, he switched his thoughts to the feed store. Over the years, the local ranchers had begun purchasing the bulk of their supplies from big discount chains along the interstate. But in emergencies, or to save time, they shopped at Henderson Feed for smaller items. For the past two days the business had remained closed. Royce needed to find someone to work in the store until the building sold.

Fifteen minutes later, he swung the truck into a parking spot outside the dilapidated redbrick building. Frank Telmon waited by the door, briefcase in hand, jowls sagging two inches lower than usual. The Realtor must have bad news.

“Frank.” Royce greeted him as he climbed the steps and unlocked the door with the key he’d confiscated from the store register yesterday. He’d had to enter the stockroom through a broken window to get inside. He’d ransacked the place, searching for bookkeeping records or any paperwork that would show what kind of financial shape the business was in. All he’d found were old tax documents, a few bank statements and the store ledger with the names and numbers of suppliers and bookies. He’d handed the ledger over to Telmon before heading down to the university.

Telmon, who doubled as an accountant, followed Royce inside. “I’m afraid I have unpleasant news.”

“Figured as much.” Royce walked to the back of the store, then leaned against the checkout counter next to the outdated cash register.

“Henderson wasn’t much of a businessman.” Frank set his briefcase on the counter. “I went over the papers you dropped off at the office.” He removed a file folder from inside.

“And…”

Shaking his head, Frank pursed his lips so hard the corners of his mouth disappeared into his cheeks. “I don’t understand how he stayed in business as long as he did.”

“Give me the bare facts.” Royce should have figured selling the store wouldn’t be as easy as he’d hoped.

“The business is two years in arrears on taxes. The building needs a major overhaul, and inventory is basically nonexistent. Nothing short of a miracle and a hell of a lot of cash will put this business back in the black.”

Great. Just great. He’d hoped there would be enough money left over from the sale of the store for Heather to live on until she found a job and an apartment after graduation. “What do you suggest putting the place on the market for?”

A harsh bark fired from Telmon’s mouth, the sound smacking off the rotting brick walls like a rifle shot. “Sell? You won’t be able to give the place away.”

As Royce glanced around, he was hard put to disagree. Swirls of yellowish brown water stains covered the ceiling—a leaky roof. A musty, damp smell saturated the air inside the building—mold. The plank floor groaned, creaked and popped—wood rot. The mortar in the brick walls had all but crumbled away, leaving holes big enough to shove a fist into. Oh, hell. The building needed a wrecking ball, not a For Sale sign. “Heather doesn’t want anything to do with the feed store. The place will have to go on the market as is.”

Nodding, Telmon returned the file to his briefcase. “First smart decision the girl’s made in a long time.”

Royce bristled at the insult to Heather. He himself could talk about her that way, but he sure didn’t approve of others criticizing her. Heather was smarter than most people realized. Although she’d skipped a lot of classes and had driven her teachers nuts with her rebellious behavior, she’d scored higher on her college entrance exams—Scholastic Aptitude Test—than two-thirds of her high school graduating class.

The Realtor shut his briefcase. “If you’re sure she has no plans to make repairs before listing the place, then I’ll write up a contract and get back to you in a couple of days.”

Royce offered his hand. “Thanks for your help.”

“My pleasure.” Walking toward the front door, Telmon shook his head, his loose jowls reminding Royce of a bulldog.

As soon as the door closed behind the man, Royce flipped open his cell phone. He’d give Heather the bare facts, then let Telmon answer any questions she had. His finger froze over the keypad.

Once Heather graduated and sold the store, she’d no longer be his concern. And maybe, just maybe he’d finally be able to put the memories of their passionate kisses behind him for good. He waited to feel a sense of relief—it didn’t come. Annoyed, he smacked the counter with an open palm.

No, his sanity wouldn’t stand a chance if Heather decided to move back home. He should thank his lucky stars she wanted nothing to do with Nowhere.

Or him.

Chapter Three

“Drat!” Heather sputtered into the warm shower spray, as she listened to her cell phone in the bedroom play the theme song from Gilligan’s Island. Lathering her hair, she sang along to the music. Already thirty minutes late to a pregraduation party for two of her friends, she didn’t have time to chat. Since she’d be starting her new job at the law library tomorrow, she wouldn’t be able to watch her friends graduate at the Saturday-morning ceremony. Tonight’s party would be her last chance to say goodbye and wish her friends well.

Abruptly, Gilligan shut up.

A moment later, the phone went off again. Okay, already! Worried that her supervisor might be calling with a change in Heather’s work schedule, she ignored the shampoo in her hair and turned off the water. She grabbed the towel from the hook on the door and made a mad dash into the bedroom. “Hello?”

“It’s me.”

The sound of Royce McKinnon’s low, rusty voice shot a bolt of heat through Heather’s body, causing the phone to slip from her slick hands, smack the desk, then land on the floor with a thunk. The towel followed. Naked, shampoo bubbles streaming down her back and front, she gaped at the phone, which lay next to her big toe.

As if in a trance, she lifted her gaze to the mirror on the wall in front of her, and gasped at the bright red color rolling like great ocean waves down her body. She looked as if she’d been dunked in a life-size jar of maraschino-cherry juice. The garbled sound of a human voice pulled her out of her stupor. Good grief! He couldn’t see her naked body. She scooped the phone off the floor. “Hello?”

“Is everything all right, Heather?”

“Yes. Just a minute.” Annoyed by her adolescent reaction, she set the cell on her desk, then swiped the beach-size towel off the floor and wrapped the terry cloth around herself. Twice.

She drew in a deep, calming breath and put the phone up to her ear. “Sorry. I’m here.”

“Did I call at a bad time?”

More than likely, he assumed he’d interrupted an in-between-class quickie with one of the porch boys—her roommates. “You caught me in the shower.”

Dead silence. Then he cleared his throat. “I’ll call later.”

“No, no. I’m covered now.” She swallowed a groan at the stupid remark. Time to turn the conversation in a different direction. “The funeral…did everything get—”

“I took care of things.”

Although she assumed he would follow through on his promise to arrange her father’s burial, she’d been hoping for at least a brief phone call explaining the details. Evidently, he hadn’t thought she deserved even that. Not that she could blame him, after she’d shoved the responsibility onto his shoulders. “Thank you for handling the arrangements.” She tensed, waiting for some kind of smart remark about accountability, commitment…whatever. Only a faint huff filtered through the connection. Odd, she could have sworn the huff sounded tired.

Like a swift kick in the butt, guilt caught her by surprise. Of course Royce was worn-out. He arranged not only her father’s funeral, but more than likely he handled everything else that had come up as a result of the trailer fire. He had every reason to be short with her—

“I’m calling about the store,” he said.

A twinge of disappointment pinched her. Stupidly, she’d hoped he’d contacted her because he wanted to find out how she’d been coping with her father’s death. Agitated, she shoved a hand into her soapy hair, then glared at the sticky residue coating her fingers. “What about the store?”

“An offer came in.”

“There’s a buyer already?”

“Yeah. Surprised the heck out of me, too. The owner of a chain of ranch-supply stores in eastern Arkansas called F & F Supply is interested in buying the business. He doesn’t seem concerned about the condition of the building and money isn’t an object.”

“If he’s rich, why doesn’t he build a new store?”

“Telmon thinks he’s looking for a tax write-off. The guy checks out. He’s legit.”

“But—”

“The good news is that after the sale, there’ll be money left to tide you over until you figure out what you’re going to do after graduation.”

She struggled to summon some excitement. “Great.”

“You don’t sound ‘great.’ What’s the matter?” he demanded.

“I’m just surprised that anyone would want to buy the business.” What was wrong with her? The store was her last remaining tie to Nowhere—except for Royce. She should be elated someone wanted the dump. If she sold the business, she’d have no reason to return there. All the better. Nothing waited for her in Nowhere anymore.

Crazy as it seemed, the thought of saying a final goodbye to her birthplace saddened her. After her mother had abandoned her, she’d stopped thinking of Nowhere as her home…it had been just a place she’d survived.

“The offer is one hundred and fifty thousand.”

“That’s all?”

“Considering the financial mess your father made of the business, the amount is damn generous. You’ll be left with five thousand after paying the bank note, back taxes and creditors.”

“Oh.” Sighing, she collapsed on the end of the bed.

“Heather—”

The ominous undertone in his voice set off a warning bell in her head.

“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

“Maybe.” If not for Royce’s visit last week she’d probably have jumped at the offer.

But Royce had shown up at the day care and he’d sent her world spinning. Since then, not an hour had gone by that she hadn’t reminisced about the past. About the one time they’d kissed that Saturday afternoon in April three years ago…about the night she’d called him a month later before her end-of-the-year finals in May to accept his offer to spend the summer at his ranch…about the cruel way he’d rejected her, insisting that their kiss had been a big mistake.

If not for his unexpected visit last week, Heather would never have believed that Royce might have been lying three years ago when he’d told her to get lost. But she’d caught the naked longing in his eyes when their gazes first clashed—the same longing she’d seen when they’d kissed that first time. Heather was convinced Royce felt…something for her. Why he denied his feelings was a mystery she was determined to solve.

Her father’s death had brought Royce back into her life. This time she wasn’t letting him push her away until she understood why he’d rejected her. The fact that Royce wanted her to stay away from Nowhere was her first clue that he was hiding something from her.

The store was the excuse she needed to return home and do a little digging into the past.

“Listen, you can’t save the business unless you come up with a truckload of money.”

“Sheesh, Royce. Have a little faith in me, will you?” Just like all the other good folks in Nowhere, Royce believed her nothing more than an airhead.

“You’re not exactly the queen of capability and commitment.”

“I’ve changed since going away to school.”

“You haven’t changed that much.”

Royce had just laid down the gauntlet. “Oh?”

“You don’t really want to run the store.”

She cringed. Unloading sacks of corn feed held as much appeal as gutting fish on a hot, humid day. But pretending to care about the business was as good an excuse to go home as any. If she could persuade her professors to allow her to take her two remaining classes by correspondence, she’d still earn her degree by the end of the summer. Then if things didn’t work out with Royce, she’d leave Nowhere, find a job and begin a new chapter in her life. “I could run the business until I get a better offer.”

“A better offer? You’re kidding.” Yep. The hint of desperation in his voice convinced her that he was harboring a secret. “Heather…you are joking, aren’t you?”

“I’m not ready to sell.”

“The store isn’t a game or a toy you can toss aside when you’re tired of playing around.”

“I never thought of the business as a toy.”

“C’mon, Heather.”

“Decline the offer.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to call them back. Change her mind. Run for cover. There was no guarantee she’d even find the answers she sought, and if she did…could she handle the truth?

“Haven’t I always looked out for your best interests?”

“Whether you approve or not, Royce, I’m coming home.”

Returning to Nowhere might prove to be the most rash, absurd, worst decision she’d ever made in her life—so far. But once she gave voice to her plan, a sense of peace filled her.

“You’re not dropping out of college. Christ, Heather. You’re too close to getting a degree to quit now.”

“What makes you think I won’t get my degree?”

“Heather—”

“Listen up, buckaroo. I’ve managed to stay in college and not drop out. I’ve managed a B average in all my classes—and that’s a lot of classes over seven years. I’ve managed to work several different part-time jobs to help support me while in school. I’ve managed—”

“Stop.” His shout startled Heather into silence. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” he added in a quieter voice. “But managing a business, an almost bankrupt business, is a lot of responsibility.”

She admitted that he had every right to believe she’d run when the going got tough. She’d done plenty of running in the past. Well, actions spoke louder than words. She was through running.

Proving she could oversee the store would be the first step in earning his respect. And for some reason, she yearned for Royce’s respect. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ve made up my mind.”

A burst of pure, sweet rebellion broke free inside her, and she reveled in the exhilarating sensation. She unknotted the towel over her breasts and flung it across the room. Stark naked, chin high, she faced her adversary…through the cell phone signal. “It’s time I, not you, decide what’s best for me.”

“Heather. Stay put.”

“Goodbye, Royce.”

“I’m warning you, Heather—”

She flipped the phone shut, cutting him off in mid threat. After returning to the bathroom, she finished her shower, then shimmied into a pair of sparkling purple panties and a matching bra. She tingled with excitement and fear. Dealing with the feed store on her own terms would help her put the past to rest and determine her future—with or without Royce.

Monday she’d visit her professors and explain about her father’s death and her wish to settle his estate. She was positive they’d allow her to complete her courses by correspondence. Tomorrow, she’d quit her job at the law library and put an ad in the paper to sublet the house. If all went well, she’d return to Nowhere by the first week of June.

Now, if she could only figure out how to save her father’s business. An idea started to form. If she used psychological profiles to chart the wants and needs of customers…Later tonight, after returning from the graduation party, she’d sit down and draw up a business plan.

“OH, MY! What is such a handsome devil doing in the middle of Nowhere?” The Marilyn Monroe look-alike’s sultry voice drifted over Heather’s bus seat, startling her like a slap to the back of the head.

Leaning forward, she peered around the gray-haired granny she’d shared the trip with from College Station to Nowhere. The little old lady continued to snore, oblivious to the Greyhound’s turn into the almost-empty church lot.

Holy cow. Heather’s thoughts echoed Marilyn Monroe’s sentiments. She stared at the lone male leaning against a black Dodge four-by-four pickup. The vehicle was big and menacing and familiar.

So was the man.

Eight days had passed since she’d informed Royce of her plan to return to Nowhere and run the feed store. She hadn’t expected to find him waiting for her bus in the middle of a Thursday afternoon. She’d intended to arrive in town without anyone the wiser. She swallowed back a sigh. Some things never changed—like “the mayor” knowing her every move…even before she did.

Tall, broad and dark, he resembled a bad-boy more than a rancher. He wore scuffed cowboy boots, a black T-shirt tucked into tight, faded button-fly jeans and the same battered Stetson, with the brim tilted low over his forehead to block the late-afternoon sun.

Good heavens, the man was a looker. The driver swung the bus in a wide arc until the front end faced the street. Her attention remained on the lone figure by the truck. His powerful physique lent him an air of authority. Not that he needed an air. He came by his demanding, bossy nature naturally.

When the bus stopped, she slipped her purse over her shoulder and grabbed her backpack from under the seat in front of her. She was the only fool getting off in Nowhere.

Marilyn Monroe smacked her gum. “Go get him, honey.”

Heather’s heart thumped. But it had nothing to do with the rancher’s sex appeal and everything to do with his temper. With steady steps she made her way to the front of the bus, her fingernails sinking like talons into the cushioned seat backs.

You shouldn’t have hung up on him.

A tiny voice in her head insisted it wasn’t too late to turn back, reclaim her seat and ride to the next town, to forget proving anything to anyone. Royce would finally be able to wash his hands of her, and she’d never have to set foot in Nowhere again.

Stupidly, she ignored the voice.

No matter how afraid she was of the answer, she couldn’t walk away from the chance to finally learn why Royce had ended their relationship before it had even had a chance to get off the ground.

And while she was unearthing the past, she might as well show the good folks of Nowhere that Heather Henderson had changed for the better. As she neared the door she cringed inwardly. You’re in for the fight of your life.

When her shoes hit the pavement, a gust of hot wind smacked her in the face and blasted her loose hair six inches in the air. Her legs jiggled like cooked noodles, and she locked her knees, refusing to appear weak in front of her nemesis. She shielded her eyes from the sun’s glare while the driver unloaded the two suitcases and two boxes of college mementos she’d brought home with her.

A bead of perspiration trickled between her breasts. Royce’s relaxed pose didn’t fool her. He’s ticked. Obviously, she wouldn’t be receiving a warm mayoral welcome and the key to the city.

The bus driver shut and locked the storage door. “Have a nice stay, ma’am.”

She mumbled a quick thank-you. A second later, the motor coach shifted gear, belched a cloud of black exhaust and drove off leaving…

Her.

And him.

And the sweltering June heat.

He wore mirrored shades, but a sixth sense told her he looked her straight in the eye.

In one smooth motion, he removed the glasses. From fifteen feet away his hot brown glare threatened to melt her. If he were any closer, she’d burst into flames.

“Heather.”

Oh, man. He was more than ticked. His lips hadn’t moved when he spoke.

She lifted her chin. “Royce.”

“I thought I told you to stay put.”

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and wiggled in indignation. “You should realize by now I don’t listen too well.”

He rubbed a hand across his brow, and Heather almost felt sorry for him.

“You’re bound and determined to take the store on?”

“Yes.”

“Until you get a better offer?”

Let him think that. If Royce were to find out why she was really in Nowhere, he’d hit the ground running. “Yes.”

He studied her as if he wanted more than her words as reassurance. “Where are you staying?” He asked the question warily, as if he feared she intended to move into his ranch house.

“I’d planned to live in the store.” Rent-free, no commute. Life couldn’t get any better. And a little distance between her and Royce was a good thing—just until he got used to her being around again.

“You can’t stay at the store. The place is a dump. Besides, where would you sleep?”

“There’s a large closet off the storeroom. I can fit a cot in there.”

“I saw the commode in the back, but what about bathing?”

Next thing, he’d be asking what she planned to do about toilet paper! “The storeroom has a showerhead.” She just hoped the water ran clear and didn’t come out all rusty and smelling like dead fish.

He fumed in silence, as if contemplating how to throw her over his shoulder and haul her back to College Station.

“Fine. We’ll take your things over to the store, then head out to the ranch. There’s an old bed in the attic you can have, and the mini fridge in the barn.”

No more arguing? Amazing. “Thanks. And if it’s all right with you, I’d like to get my car so I have a way to get around.”

“Your father’s truck wasn’t destroyed in the fire. It’s parked behind the store.”

She helped Royce load her luggage and the boxes into the pickup bed, then hopped in on the passenger side. “I’ll use the truck for business and the Mustang for pleasure.” She flashed a smile across the seat.

Frowning, he turned the key and the motor roared to life. “You’re sure about this?”

She crossed her fingers. “Absolutely.”

“I hope to hell you know what you’re doing, Heather.”

So do I, Royce. So do I.

Chapter Four

Royce gripped the steering wheel until pains shot up his forearm. Five minutes on the road with Heather and he felt like kicking a fence post barefoot.

Without even trying, the woman lit his fuse. As if he’d stepped on a land mine, she scattered his emotions and shredded his common sense into useless fragments of illogic—and she’d accomplished all that without uttering a single word since getting in the truck!

While he’d waited for the bus to arrive, he’d had a long talk with himself. He’d decided that the only way to survive Heather this summer was to avoid her.

One way or another he had to resist the natural urge to run to her aid every time she got herself in a pickle. He figured it was only a matter of time before she hopped a bus back to College Station, or accepted another offer for the property.

While Heather was playing store, he had a whole list of things to keep him busy this summer. Aside from looking after his small herd of Angus cattle, he had plenty of ranch repairs that needed his attention and if he still had time on his hands, he’d paint the blasted house. Add the extra responsibilities of being a mayor and he doubted he’d run into Heather more than once or twice during the entire summer—if she lasted that long.

With a disgusted huff, he gave in to the urge to study her. He’d intended to focus on her face, but his gaze slipped past her dainty freckled nose and stubborn chin, then landed on her midriff. Hip-hugging jeans and a sleeveless crop top offered him an unfettered view of the dreaded belly ring. Heather sighed and the silver butterfly slipped below the waistband, then a moment later popped back into view, fluttering its wings.

“Royce!”

Jerking the steering wheel to the right, Royce swerved back into the proper lane. “Sorry,” he grumbled. Good thing the roads were deserted this time of day. He’d better drag his mind out of the gutter if he expected the two of them to arrive at the ranch in one piece.

He opened his mouth to ask if she’d planned to finish earning her degree next fall, but stopped himself. The subject of Heather dropping her summer classes would only end in an argument. Even though he believed quarreling was the safest path to take with Heather, she didn’t deserve to be provoked. “Luke will be happy to see you.” His foreman was a safe topic. The aging cowboy had always had a soft spot for Heather.

“How’s Luke doing?” Heather shifted against the seat, the movement sending a wave of honeysuckle-scented perfume his way.

“Ornery as ever. The arthritis is slowing him down some, so he doesn’t work the cattle anymore. But he watches over the horses and weeds the vegetable garden.”

She nibbled her lower lip, and he caught a glimpse of her crooked eyetooth. He’d always thought that tooth made her appear winsome when she smiled. She had pretty teeth. White and, except for the one tooth, remarkably straight for not having had braces.

“I’ve missed Luke, too.” She fingered the stack of mayor-mail sitting on the seat between them. “Your life must be pretty hectic…being the mayor and playing cowboy.”

He caught himself from blurting out that his life had become a lot less complicated the day she left for college. And a lot more lonely. “Do you remember the Wilkinson family?”

“The name sounds vaguely familiar.”

“Their eldest son, Kenny, is sixteen now. He gives Luke a hand a couple of days a week. And every fall I pay several high school seniors to brand the cattle and get them ready to ship to market.”

“What about the rest of the year?”

“I only run a few hundred head now. Most of the time, I manage fine on my own.”

“Sounds like a lot of work for one man.”

No argument there. By the end of the week he was exhausted. A year ago he’d thought about hiring another hand, but Luke had gotten all blustery and defensive and had insisted he could still lasso a cow. To prevent the old man from working himself into an early grave, Royce struggled along on his own and kept his mouth shut.

“Why did you decrease the size of your herd?”

“Beef prices aren’t what they used to be. The first year after you graduated from high school, we suffered a drought. Four years later, I lost a hay crop to blister beetles. Ended up spending more money on cattle feed than what I got for the animals at market.”

Heather’s delicately arched eyebrows rose. “But things are better now?” Was it his imagination or did he hear genuine concern behind the question?

“We’re back on our feet again.” Not living in luxury, but the last of the loans and bills got paid off this past Christmas.

“If things were so tight, you shouldn’t have sent me money.”

Not once during her years away at college had Heather phoned or written him for money. He’d sent checks in her birthday cards, and Christmas cards, but she hadn’t asked for a dime. “I wouldn’t have given you the money if I couldn’t have afforded to.”

He turned off the county road and drove under a rickety wooden arch with the name Full Moon Ranch burned into the wood.

“The place hasn’t changed much.” Heather lowered her window, then stuck her head out.

With a critical eye, Royce studied the land. For once, the ruggedly beautiful terrain did not soothe him. Since his accident three years ago, things had lost their rosy glow. As the truck reached the top of a small incline, the east border of the property, which butted up against the towering pines of Atlanta State Park, came into view. To the west and north, he owned a thousand acres.

Two corrals, three outbuildings and the stereotypical red barn dotted the ranch yard. From this distance the gray, two-story house stood majestically beneath several sugar maple trees. But up close, the home lacked a grand appearance. The exterior hadn’t been painted in twenty years and the sagging wraparound porch begged for tender, loving care. Except for new appliances and a television set for Luke’s bedroom, nothing inside had been updated since he’d landed on his aunt and uncle’s doorstep twenty-three years ago.

“Wow. Even the house is the same. Ever think about painting the place a different color? Maybe yellow with green shutters. Lots of Shasta daisies along the front and rosebushes by the steps would make the house more festive.”

Festive was Heather’s middle name. “If I have time this summer, I just might do that.”

“I could lend a hand.”

He conjured an image of Heather in cutoff jeans and a tank top, standing on a ladder, wielding a paintbrush. “You’ll be too busy with the store.”

As he pulled up to the house, he spotted Luke resting in the chair on the front porch, Bandit stretched out at his feet. Royce had lost count of the number of times he’d found the foreman and his useless dog snoozing away in the middle of the afternoon.

Aw, heck. He didn’t care if Luke slept the whole day. After ten years of helping Royce with the ranch for little more than minimum wage, a bed and free meals, the old codger had more than earned his retirement.

Before Royce had even shifted the truck to park, Heather opened her door and hopped out. “Hi, Luke! Hi, Bandit!”

“Well, if you ain’t the prettiest thing these ol’ eyes have seen in a long time,” Luke called as he shoved himself out of the chair and hobbled to the steps.

Heather met the foreman halfway.

With veiled envy, Royce watched Heather and Luke hug and laugh and smile at each other. Even the mangy dog got into the action, nudging Heather’s hand with his head. She went down on one knee and ruffled the fleabag’s fur as if they were long-lost friends. Her happiness at seeing Luke and his hound unsettled Royce. Three years ago she had wanted to spend the summer at his ranch, but his stubborn pride and aching heart had made sure she stayed away.

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