Annie listened for sounds of Mitch, the stranger she was trusting to treat her and her son right.

A few minutes later the shower came on. She pictured him shampooing his hair, which curled down his neck a little, inviting fingers to twine in it gently.

Some time passed after the water was turned off. Was he shaving? Yes. She could hear the tap of his razor against the sink edge. If they were a couple, he would be coming to bed clean and smooth shaven …

Tonight she would sleep even better, knowing a strong man was next door. She could give up her fears for a while, get a solid night’s sleep and face the new day not alone, not putting on a show of being okay and in control for Austin.

Now, if she could just do something about her suddenly-come-to-life libido.

About the Author

SUSAN CROSBY believes in the value of setting goals, but also in the magic of making wishes, which often do come true—as long as she works hard enough. Along life’s journey she’s done a lot of the usual things—married, had children, attended college a little later than the average co-ed and earned a BA in English. Then she dove off the deep end into a full-time writing career, a wish come true.

Susan enjoys writing about people who take a chance on love, sometimes against all odds. She loves warm, strong heroes and good-hearted, self-reliant heroines, and she will always believe in happily-ever-after.

More can be learned about her at www.susancrosby.com.

The Cowboy’s Return
Susan Crosby

www.millsandboon.co.uk

With gratitude to Kathy Coatney, author and friend, who steered me to some brilliant experts in their fields, and who is a constant cheerleader.

And to Kirsten Olson, a cheerleader for family-run orchards and farms. Thank you for sharing your process and your passion. Without your generosity, I could’ve gotten it all wrong!

Chapter One

Nostalgia struck Mitch Ryder with unexpected force as he drove the final miles toward home. He’d been out of the country and might have continued to stay away longer except his father had issued his fourth edict—more emphatic than previous ones—to get home or else. The Ryders were cattlemen, having ranched in this particular area of Northern California since the gold rush. Mitch was expected to pull his own weight in the family business, something he hadn’t done for three years now.

As he drove, Mitch drew a deep breath, letting the heat of midsummer fill his lungs, savoring the magnificent view. The landscape changed with almost every mile—except for the spectacular sight of Gold Ridge Mountain, which was a constant, the centerpiece. The Red Valley surrounding it could be flat endless acres of hay or low grassy hills or orchards, all of it beautiful in its own way, but Gold Ridge Mountain dominated from every vantage point.

Nerves grabbed at Mitch as he neared the road leading to Ryder Ranch, gripped so hard he didn’t make the turn but kept going. Twenty miles later, his gut finally unclenched, just before his truck coughed and lurched. “Are you trying to tell me something, Lulu?” he asked his prized old vehicle as she smoothed out. “I shouldn’t have driven past the homestead?”

Mitch was only half kidding. He believed in omens. As a man who dealt with the realities every day of animals and often unforgiving land and weather, it probably seemed fanciful, but he’d learned to pay attention to his instincts, even if it was for something mechanical.

Like now. His truck coughed harder and lurched farther, signs of imminent death. He spotted the mailbox and private driveway of John “Barney” Barnard and turned in. Then Lulu died.

He checked his cell phone. No service.

Mitch didn’t waste energy getting angry. He’d been asking a lot of the old girl to be in top shape after three years of neglect.

He started walking. The land looked different, less abundant, not the well-tended orchard it had always been. Barney’s small, weathered house was blocked from view until Mitch got much closer, where the property looked better maintained, less of a jungle. Berry bushes stretched in orderly rows, and raised boxes held thriving plants, although the greenhouse was a dilapidated mess. Chickens pecked at the ground, ignoring him.

What had happened here? Barney had always been—

The front door opened, and out stepped a woman—maybe five-five, curvy, with long, blond hair pulled into a ponytail. Younger than him, he figured, but not by much.

“It’s about time,” she said, plunking her fists on her hips. “Did you get lost? Or go on a binge?”

“Um, no, ma’am,” Mitch said, entertained. He wondered who she’d mistaken him for.

“You were supposed to be here yesterday. That’s what you promised on the phone. Look around. You can see how much work there is to be done.”

Mitch swept his hat off and brushed it against his thigh as he considered her. She looked anxious, and sounded desperate.

“Well?” she asked. “Are you going to take the job? Room and board, just like we discussed, and a small salary. I can’t do more than that.”

His whole body relaxed as he settled his hat back on his head and moved a little nearer to the house. Mitch took her offer as an omen and went with it. She needed a handyman, apparently, and he’d just realized he could use a little adjustment time himself before going home. Whatever his father wanted was not something he was anxious to learn. “I keep my word, ma’am.”

“Please don’t call me ma’am. It makes me feel old.”

He’d gotten close enough that he could see she had eyes the color of the moss that grew on rocks by the stream he’d played in as a boy, a dark, rich green with bits of gold—and annoyance—giving them some glitter. “What should I call you?”

“Annie. Annie Barnard.” She stuck out her hand.

Mitch noted the dirt under her fingernails, the scrapes and scratches along her arms and hands. No wedding ring. He took a second, surreptitious, appreciative glimpse at her body. She would be a generous handful, that was for sure. He happened to like generous handfuls. A lot.

“Mom?”

“Come on out and meet … I’m sorry. I don’t know your name.”

“Mitch.” He hesitated, waiting to see if she reacted to it. The Ryder family, generations of cattlemen, was well-known, but Mitch had been gone a long time, and this woman was a newcomer. When she didn’t ask for his last name, he offered his hand to the boy standing beside her.

“This is Austin,” she said. “He’s ten. He’s a great help.”

The boy grinned, eyes the color of his mother’s lighting up just like hers, his hair a shade darker blond and buzz-cut.

“Are you hungry?” Annie asked. “We were just sitting down to lunch.”

“I could use a little something, thanks.”

“Where’s your gear?”

He hitched a thumb toward the road. “My truck broke down just as I arrived.”

They entered the clean, cared-for house. Mitch hadn’t been inside for years, but it looked pretty much the same as he remembered. Old, threadbare furnishings and rag rugs filled the space. Maybe the curtains were new. Framed photos scattered about were her own, but nothing else had her stamp on it.

“I’d like to wash up first,” he said.

“Second door on the right.”

He nodded his thanks and headed in that direction, wondering how any woman hired a guy off the street like that, without even knowing his full name, offering him a room in her house, trusting him around her son—and herself.

But then, he’d never been as desperate as she seemed to be. Maybe he would do all sorts of things not in the usual way if he found himself in the same straits.

He could give her a few days’ help, give himself time to feel at home again. Win-win, he figured.

Annie Barnard let out a calming breath as she ladled chili into a bowl for the man, Mitch. No last name, apparently. It was fine with her. He’d come recommended, and they’d agreed she would pay him in cash anyway. What was one more risk?

“Did you run a background check on him, Mom?” Austin whispered.

Her ten-year-old knew way too much about the scary parts of life, Annie thought. “I’m a good judge of character, honey.” The man spoke well, wore clean clothes, was freshly shaven. His dark brown hair had been professionally cut. And those brilliant blue eyes just plain ol’ looked honest.

Most important, she needed help. Desperately. Right now. Even if it came from a one-named drifter with an unreliable truck and a strong, powerful body. He looked like he could manage the heavy lifting around her little farm.

Annie closed her eyes for a moment. She could not fail at this. She needed to be successful—for herself, but especially for Austin. He was entitled to a stable home and good role models, more than she’d ever had. She’d grown up in a family where people didn’t live in houses long enough to establish a home or keep jobs long enough to become a career. She wanted roots for herself and her son. And she loved her ramshackle farm.

Mitch took a seat where she’d set the bowl. She passed him a basket with saltine crackers. The meal wasn’t fancy, but it was filling. Soon they would have fresh vegetables from their garden. Almost everything she’d canned or frozen from last year’s slim crop was gone. They ate a lot of protein-rich beans.

“This is great,” Mitch said. “Good and spicy.”

“Thanks. We have it a lot.”

“A whole lot,” Austin added. “Sometimes she mixes spaghetti into it. I like that.”

“Sounds tasty,” Mitch said. “What’s first on your list of chores, Annie?”

“I bought a new high tunnel greenhouse, so the old one needs to be disposed of. We can pile it somewhere until we can get rid of it.”

“All right. Mind if I push my truck closer to the house first? I’m hoping I can fix what’s wrong with it myself.”

“I’ve got a tractor you can use to pull it. You can put it in the shed, out of the weather, if you want.”

“That’d be great, thanks,” Mitch said. “How long have you owned this place?”

“My ex-husband inherited it from his uncle two years ago. We decided to give it a try. He didn’t take to being a grower, but I did.” The truth was she’d fallen in love with the farm and out of love with him. And he’d fallen out of love with both.

“I’m going to visit him in San Diego before school starts,” Austin said. “My first airplane ride. You ever been on a plane, Mr. Mitch?”

“Just recently, in fact. I was working at a cattle ranch in Argentina. Do you know where that is?”

“No. Can we look it up on the internet?”

“We can do that.”

“Was it fun?”

“Yes, and hard work.”

“You can question Mitch after supper, Austin. For now we need to get to work.”

That brought an end to the conversation. Soon after, they went outside. Annie drove the tractor as Mitch and Austin walked alongside.

“Wow! Cool truck!” Austin said, running to it. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“Her name is Lulu and she’s a 1954 Chevy,” Mitch said. “She belonged to my grandfather. He gave her to me on my sixteenth birthday, so I’ve had her a long time.”

“She looks good.”

“I love this old girl. I’ve taken care of her.” He ran a hand over her fender affectionately. “Unfortunately she’s been sitting in someone’s garage for three years while I was gone.”

Annie wondered what that large, competent hand would feel like against her own skin. When she’d first spotted him from her kitchen window as he walked toward her house, she’d been worried. She couldn’t see his face, just the cowboy hat, solid belt buckle, tight jeans and boots—the whole cowboy thing. She’d been ready to send him on his way. She needed help, but she didn’t need anyone that good-looking, that tempting. Then he’d spoken respectfully and intelligently, including to Austin, and his appeal increased in a different way.

“Lulu’s got five windows,” Austin said as Mitch hooked up the tow chain from the tractor to the truck. “I’ve never seen that before. She kinda needs a paint job.”

“Maybe someday I’ll splurge for one. I’m fond of her flaws, though. I always think about my granddad when I drive her. Annie, would you like to steer the tractor or the truck?”

“I’ll take the truck. I’ve never pulled anything that big.” She hopped inside the spotless vehicle, noted a large duffel bag on the floorboard. He’d been gone a long time. Were these his sole possessions?

Mitch came up to the driver’s window. “Put ‘er in Neutral, would you?”

“Does the seat move up? I can’t reach the clutch.”

He opened the door, found a lever and held it while she slid the whole split-bench seat forward. He smelled good. Clean. Not like aftershave, but like a breath of fresh air among the farm smells.

“Where’s Neutral?” she asked, feeling ridiculous, but the gear knob wasn’t etched with a diagram.

“Step on the clutch. Excuse me.” He reached across her lap and wiggled the gearshift. “That’s it. Just keep her true and steady. I’ll do the work.”

It took him a couple of seconds to take his arm away. Her thighs were on fire where he touched them. No man had laid a hand on her for a very long time. Now this sexy stranger was going to be living in her house, sleeping in the room next to hers, using the same bathroom.

He shut the truck door and jogged up to the tractor, where Austin was sitting, already forming an attachment to the man. “You allowed to drive?” Annie heard Mitch ask her son.

He shook his head. If Austin said anything, Annie couldn’t hear it. It’d been a bone of contention between them. He thought he was old enough. Maybe he was. Maybe she babied him too much, overprotected him. Farm life was different for kids. Several of his friends drove tractors already.

But Austin was likely the only child she would have, because she sure wasn’t getting married ever again, so she probably clung to him too much. She would only have him for eight more years before he was a man, and she’d pretty much been mother and father to him since her ex left. If Austin really did get to fly to San Diego to visit his dad, Annie would be amazed, because he made a lot of promises he never kept.

At least Mitch didn’t interfere. He told Austin to slide over, then squeezed himself next to her son. After the first jerk to get the chain taut, it was a smooth, slow ride into the shed. She wondered if the truck really could be fixed. How did he get parts for a nearly sixty-year-old vehicle?

“Is this home for you? The Red Valley?” she asked him as he crouched to unhook the chains from his truck. Austin had taken off with his dog, an Australian shepherd named Bo, who loved to chase the chickens, satisfying his herding instincts.

“Yep.” Mitch moved to the tractor. Her gaze dropped to his rear as he crouched down again.

She could stare at that fine feature all day. The rest of him, too. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, slim hips. All man. She deliberately looked away. “Why were you in Argentina?”

“For work.”

Great. Now he’d decided to act more like a cowboy and go almost silent. “Cattle, you said.”

“The opportunity came up. I went.”

“Is your family still living in the area?”

“Yep. We’re not estranged. I’m just kinda independent.”

“Stubborn, you mean?”

He smiled at that as he stood, chains in hand. Using his wrist he tilted his hat back a little. His teeth were white and straight, his lips tempting. “Some have said so.”

“So, you’ve worked cattle. Have you farmed?”

“I’ve picked up a lot of life skills along the way. I’m thirty-six, in case you’re wondering.”

“I’m thirty. In case you were.”

He nodded but didn’t comment. No flattery. No, “you sure don’t look your age” compliment. Did she look older? Worn-out? Technically she should, since she was tuckered out from stringing her little farm along, hoping to turn it into a thriving enterprise again, needing to make enough money to live on with a few more comforts than they had now, which were pretty much nonexistent.

Mitch reached into the truck. “If I could stow my gear, I’ll get started on the old greenhouse.”

“I’ll show you which room is yours,” she said, walking beside him. “Austin, grab some gloves so you can help with the demo work. We’ll be right back.”

Annie led the way down the narrow hallway, pointing out Austin’s room and her own, then Mitch’s. It was beyond sparse, containing only a double bed, a dresser and a lamp.

“It’s not much,” she said, no apology in her voice.

“It’s fine. Don’t need more’n this. Thanks.” He tossed his duffel on the floor next to the bed.

She moved into the doorway, blocking his exit. He cocked his head. His mouth curled up on one side.

“Ma’am?” he said politely, pointedly, his eyes taking on some sparkle.

“I’ll be needing you to dump the contents of your bag onto your bed.”

The smile left his face. He crossed his arms. “That would be an invasion of my privacy.”

She moved into the room, shutting the door behind her in case Austin came flying in. “No. This would be your background check.”

Chapter Two

Mitch didn’t have anything to hide, but her command annoyed him nonetheless. Hell, he was doing her a favor, not vice versa. Although, to be fair, she didn’t know that….

He refrained from jerking the bag open, acting casual instead. He lifted out the contents. First, five pairs of Wranglers, the same ones he’d been wearing since he left home, so they were a little worse for wear. Then four T-shirts, four long-sleeved shirts, an extra pair of boots, swim trunks, socks, briefs, belt, gloves and a couple of different weight jackets. Nothing fancy. He’d lived as a gaucho, although he’d been employed by one progressive ranch, not roaming the plains looking for work as many did. He hadn’t needed possessions beyond the basics.

Mitch pulled out his shaving kit, unzipped it and passed it to her. Nothing was American-made, so the words were in Spanish, but each product was recognizable, including a strip of condoms, which brought color to her face when she pulled them out.

“Safety first,” he said, enjoying her discomfort. “They’re not for show. I always use ‘em.” The last thing he’d wanted was to deal with an unplanned pregnancy in a foreign country—or anywhere else, for that matter.

“That’s important,” she replied a little stiffly, uttering her first words since he’d started unpacking. She examined the empty duffel bag, checking for anything he might have tried to hide, he guessed. There were no pockets, no hidden contraband.

“I don’t do drugs, Annie. Never have.”

“Are you a drinker?”

“I like a cold beer now and then.” He’d done his share of drinking when he’d first arrived in Argentina. Still grieving his grandfather’s death, he’d sought oblivion from the pain, but it hadn’t taken him long to see how stupid that was. Granddad would’ve knocked him alongside the head for hanging on to his grief—and his guilt.

“You and your son are safe with me,” he said calmly as he transferred his clothes to the dresser, getting past his resentment, glad she hadn’t been stupid about the situation, after all. He almost felt Granddad patting his shoulder. “You’re welcome to check out my truck, too.”

“Thank you.” She opened the bedroom door.

“Like I had any choice,” he muttered under his breath as he followed her out. He’d lived in the Red Valley forever, not counting the past three years and during college, coming home to work the ranch during summer breaks. People knew him, trusted him. It was strange not to be trusted automatically. Although, maybe he would’ve been if he’d given her his last name.

Outside, Mitch attached a long, low trailer to the tractor and drove it up to the demolished greenhouse. The new structure she’d bought was lighter, and could be erected by one person, according to the packaging. High tunnel greenhouses had become familiar sites in farm country over the years, their Quonset-hut appearance easy to spot, their walls made of almost-clear plastic covering, a less expensive option to the old-style greenhouses.

The three of them hauled debris all afternoon. The dog and chickens got in their way frequently, but the atmosphere was congenial. Mitch caught Annie looking at him now and then. Whether she was taking his measure as a worker or giving him the eye, he didn’t know. He just hoped she wasn’t catching him doing the same thing in return. She was physically strong, able to carry much more weight than he’d anticipated. And she was tenacious, stopping only for a drink of water now and then, making sure that he and Austin did the same.

“What are you gonna plant in your new greenhouse?” he asked during one of their water breaks.

“Specialty potatoes and baby lettuces. I’ll get most of my seedlings started in there, too.”

“There’s a big market for baby lettuce?”

“An incredible one, especially organic. And a fairly new clamoring for organic flowers.”

“Who buys those?”

“People who care about the chemicals being used by the big international growers, which is where a large percentage of the flowers sold in this country come from.”

Austin piped up. “I pick off the bad bugs.”

Mitch knew all about organic, humane cattle ranching. His family had pioneered it, one of only a handful in the country who were certified. But flowers? “No one eats flowers.”

“Sure they do,” Annie said. “The upscale restaurants—and a lot of home cooks—use certain flowers in salads all the time. But mostly I’m talking about table flowers, not edible. Whether or not we eat them, we handle them. If a restaurant is going to all the expense and trouble to provide chemical-free food for their customers, shouldn’t their table flowers also be organic?” She drained her water bottle, set it aside, then tugged on her gloves. “My goals were taken into consideration when I applied for a federal grant for the high tunnel and got it. I want to build a standard greenhouse, as well. But first I need to prove I have enough business to warrant it. I’m not certified yet, but I’m working on it. I’ll succeed. I have to.”

“I gathered that,” he said, then shook his head. “Flowers. Who knew?”

She smiled, which took years off her face. “You probably don’t make a habit of decorating your dining room table with a bouquet.”

“How’d you guess?” He set his bottle next to hers.

“I didn’t know how successful the flower business could be. I found out by accident when I worked the farmer’s market for the first time last year. I brought a bouquet from the yard to decorate my stall. It was the first thing that sold. The next week I took along as many as I could put together. They all sold. This year I made it an official crop.” She pointed toward the back of her property. “I’ve got all that acreage out there that’s not being used. I’m thinking about having a real flower farm after I’m certified.”

“You’re ambitious,” he said as they carried a long, unwieldy beam together.

She nodded but didn’t add anything. The determined look on her face said more, however. He wanted to dig deeper and find out why, to understand. He’d never had to start a new venture on his own, had always known what his place in life would be.

And had sometimes fought against it.

He’d never struggled like Annie, although he’d often worked long, hard hours and fought Mother Nature on plenty of occasions. He’d been bone-weary, ached from head to toe and wished he was anywhere but on a horse chasing stray cattle, but he also loved it. Couldn’t imagine himself being anything but a cattleman.

Around six o’clock, Annie went inside to make dinner. The old greenhouse was mostly taken care of, split into two piles, reusable and trash. The salvageable items would be stacked in the barn, the rest hauled to the dump.

Mitch opened the hood of his truck, which brought Austin and Bo over to investigate. Austin climbed up on the bumper and looked inside, mimicking Mitch.

“What’d you think is wrong with Lulu?” the boy asked.

Mitch fiddled with various parts. “There’s some rust from sitting for so long. Could be that’s all it is, ‘cept I drove her about fifty miles before she conked out. The gas is fresh, but the oil isn’t. Know much about engines?”

“Nope. Mom’s always mad if something goes wrong with our truck because she can’t fix it. Too many computers in it or something. She calls it a con … cons something.”

“Conspiracy?”

“Yeah. She’s pretty funny when she’s mad.”

Mitch enjoyed that image for a minute. “She fixes trucks?”

“Her dad taught her when she was a kid. She fixes everything. Or tries to, anyway. Repairmen are not in our budget.”

The way Austin said that made Mitch smile. “Your mom seems like one mighty strong woman.”

Austin shrugged. “She cries sometimes. At night. In bed. When she thinks I can’t hear.”

The thought twisted Mitch’s gut tight. “Farming’s hard work.”

“Yep.”

“For you, too,” Mitch added, fiddling with a belt.

“I can handle it.”

The grown-up way the boy said the words got to Mitch as much as hearing that Annie cried sometimes. Once again, it reminded him of how simple his life had been in comparison. He’d always known there would be hearty food on the table and a solid roof over his head.

Mitch gathered his tools and started pulling parts. He explained the function of each piece to Austin and let him handle them, showing him how they fit together to make a working unit. Bo padded over and sniffed Mitch now and then, giving him a good stare with his direct blue eyes, finally lying down between them as they worked. Then a chicken came into view, taunting him, and the dog was off and running.

The peacefulness of the moment struck Mitch after a while. He couldn’t remember a time like it, except—Mitch swallowed around a lump in his throat. Except when he was a kid and his grandfather was teaching him how to work on the truck. It was their time, uninterrupted by chores or other demands. The bond they’d forged because of that time together never once weakened.

After a few minutes the screen door creaked open. “Dinner in five,” Annie called out.

“That means come in and wash up,” Austin said.

“Think we’re having chili?” Mitch asked as they climbed the front porch stairs. “That or omelets.”

But the scent that hit Mitch when he opened the door was of frying onions. His mouth watered. “Smell’s great,” he said, leaning a shoulder against the kitchen wall, waiting for Austin to finish up in the bathroom before taking his turn.

“Cheese omelets,” she said. “Fried potatoes and onions, sliced tomatoes. Plenty of bread, too.”

He spotted an electric bread maker on the counter. She must’ve put the ingredients in earlier.

“Anything I can do?”

“It’s under control, thanks.”

Mitch watched her turn out a large omelet onto a plate, then she pulled two plates from inside the oven, with smaller omelets already on them, and started piling them with potatoes and onions. She knew her way around her kitchen, her movements smooth and practiced. His gaze landed on the apron bow that rested just below the small of her back, inviting a playful tug, he thought, then a sweep of his hands over her smooth, tight rear.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. He turned to one side, the doorjamb blocking her view before she could notice he was getting aroused. That would be the quickest way to be sent packing, for sure.

“Thanks for your patience with Austin, Mitch. He’s a very curious boy. I know he asks a lot of questions.”

“He’s a good kid. You’ve raised him well.” He hears you cry during the night, and he worries about you, is protective of you. “He told me you can fix just about everything.”

“‘Necessity is the mother of invention.’ I’m grateful for the internet. I can pull up instructions on how to do most anything.”

“Then why’d you need a handyman?”

“Muscle. Can’t get that online, can I?”

Austin came running down the hall and took a seat at the table. Mitch didn’t spend a lot of time cleaning up, either, anxious to dig in. The omelets were light, perfectly cooked, the bread fresh and hot, no butter necessary, which was a good thing, since she hadn’t put any on the table. The potatoes and onions were browned and mouthwatering.

“I’d forgotten how good a tomato can taste,” he said.

“From vine to table in ten minutes. Can’t get better than that,” Annie said.

Mitch saw her shoulders drop, her face smooth out, and was glad for the visible signs of relaxation. “What do you do after dinner?”

“We commune with nature,” Austin said, grinning.

Annie swatted him playfully. “We chase the chickens into their roost. Actually Bo herds them, and we shut them in. After that we tidy up the grounds, do a little raking, that sort of thing. Then we sit on the porch and admire our land.”

“Or play video games or watch TV,” Austin added.

“And I have lots of computer work to do. Then we’re in bed pretty early.”

“The life of a farmer,” Mitch said.

“And ranchers,” Annie said.

“Definitely. So, who does the dishes?”

“Mom washes. I dry.” Austin stood and gathered plates.

“How about if I dry tonight?” Mitch suggested.

Annie zeroed in on him, wondering why he would volunteer to help with dishes. Because it would put them close to each other? She hadn’t missed all the looks he’d given her while they’d worked.

“Unless there’s a chore you want me to tackle instead, boss?”

Boss? She saw his mouth twitch just slightly. She was also aware of Austin waiting for her answer. Drying dishes wasn’t his favorite task. “If you feel like raking, Mitch, I’d be happy to turn that task over to you.”

“No problem.” He took his own plate to the kitchen, winked at her, then left the house.

She let out the breath she’d been holding. The man was easy to be around. Too easy—except for the feelings he stirred inside her, dead so long she’d forgotten such feelings existed. Those weren’t easy at all, creating a complication she didn’t want or need.

At least he uses condoms.

The thought made her smile.

“What’s so funny, Mom?”

She rinsed a handful of silverware and passed them to Austin. “I just feel good.”

“It’s Mitch.” Austin nodded sagely. “Even Bo likes him, and Bo doesn’t usually let strangers near me. I hope he’s around for a while,” he added in almost a whisper, as if wishing it out loud would destroy the possibility.

“Can’t afford him for long, honey. Sounds like he doesn’t stay in one place for any amount of time, either.”

“I know. Why doesn’t he tell us his last name? Do you think he’s hiding from someone?”

“I don’t have an answer for that, Austin. He must have a good reason.”

Done with the dishes, she nudged him with her hip until he smiled.

“A day at a time,” she said, crooking her pinky finger at him.

He hooked hers with his, something they’d done every day since her ex left. “Day at a time.”

An hour later the evening chores were done. They sat on the porch, Annie and Austin on a glider, Mitch in a rocker. No one spoke for a few minutes.

“Your coop needs some repairs,” Mitch said.

Annie pulled up a knee and wrapped her arm around it, staring at the horizon. “Yep.”

“Got any chicken wire?”

“Nope. So far they haven’t figured out they can escape. It’ll have to wait until the new greenhouse is up. That’s my priority. That’s my income. The chickens just help keep us fed.”

“I’d be just as worried about something else getting in. Foxes, even wild dogs, valley coyote. Even a cat could cause damage.”

Annie’s heart sank. Of course he was right. She hadn’t even considered it.

“Chicken talk,” Austin said with a sigh. “Can I go play video games instead?”

“Sure.”

He disappeared inside almost before she said the word.

Mitch stretched out his legs, crossing his ankles, looking comfortable. “You mentioned something about expanding your flower beds into the acreage behind the orchard. Is that something you plan to do this year?”

“Probably not. I’ll leave it as is, in case I need to sell part of the property to stay afloat.”

“Can you sell just a portion?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t checked into it.” She sighed. “Two people tried to buy my entire property last year. I turned them down, obviously.”

“Who were they?”

“Cattle ranchers. Shep Morgan and … I forget the other guy’s first name, but his last is Ryder. You probably know them.”

He shoved himself out of the chair and moved to the railing, his body stiff. “Did they pressure you?”

“Nicely, but yes. I continued to say no. Nicely. They seem to be rivals who seem to be on the same page.”

“In what way?”

“They’re waiting for me to fail. One of Morgan’s sons pops in now and then, and asks if I need help with anything. Just being a good neighbor and all that. His name is Win. I see it for the ploy it is, since I discovered that the Morgans own the land surrounding mine.”

Curious at how quiet Mitch was, she joined him at the railing so that she could see his face. “My ex, Rick, would’ve sold to them, but I bargained for keeping it as my part of the divorce settlement.”

“Is this your only income?”

She didn’t know why she was giving him so much personal information, except that he was easy to talk to. “Rick’s faithful with child support. How about you? Do you have any kids?”

“No. I was married once when I was very young. It didn’t last long.” He eyed her. “Do you have a long-range business plan?”

She laughed softly. “Long, short and everything in between.” She spent every evening on the internet searching out grant money, any way of making income that could help her hang on longer, until she could succeed on her own labors. She would have gone back to waiting tables in the evening to generate extra income, but she couldn’t leave Austin on his own, and paying a sitter would cancel out her earnings. “I love this place. I’ll do anything to keep it.”

“There’s no sense driving yourself to an early grave over a piece of land, Annie.”

“Spoken like a vagabond. Well, I’ve been a vagabond. Roots are so much better.” She shoved away from the railing. “I have work to do.”

Annie went inside, her good mood having fizzled. What did he know about the need to own, to succeed? He didn’t have a child to support and raise right. Who was he to give such advice?

Mitch hadn’t come in by the time Austin went to bed and she’d showered and retreated to her own room. It wasn’t even dark yet. She pulled down her shades, blocking the dusky sky. Usually she dropped off almost the instant her head hit the pillow.

Tonight she listened for sounds of him, the stranger she was trusting to treat her and her son right. After a while, she heard him come in, then the click of the front door lock. A few minutes later the shower came on. She pictured him shampooing his hair, which curled down his neck a little, inviting fingers to twine it gently.

Some time passed after the water turned off. Was he shaving? Yes. She could hear the tap of his razor against the sink edge. If they were a couple, he would be coming to bed clean and smooth-shaven….

The bathroom door opened and closed, followed by his bedroom door. After that there was only the quiet of a country night, marked occasionally by an animal rustling beyond her open window. She’d finally stopped jumping at strange noises, had stopped getting up to look out her window, wondering what was there. She could identify most of the sounds now.

And tonight she would sleep even better, knowing a strong man was next door. She could give up her fears for a while, get a solid night’s sleep and face the new day not alone, not putting on a show of being okay and in control for Austin.

Now if she could just do something about her suddenly come-to-life libido, all would be right in her world.

Chapter Three

At five-thirty the next morning, Mitch climbed the porch stairs. He’d been up for a while, Bo joining him as he walked the property and made a list of what needed to be done, sorting through a personal dilemma at the same time.

His father wanted Annie’s land. So did Shep Morgan. Morgan’s interest was understandable, since he owned the land surrounding her property. But his father? His only reason would be if he wanted to use it as leverage for a deal later. Mitch’s dad and Shep were both smart businessmen.

Ever since the gold rush more than a century and a half ago, the Ryders and the Morgans had ranched these parts, were stewards of this majestic land. Over time, however, cycles of drought, pestilence and the Great Depression had forced both families to sell much of their land. In the past forty years they had been buying back property, reclaiming their heritage and rebuilding their dynasties.

Theirs wasn’t a Hatfield-and-McCoy-style feud, but a fierce, relentless competition for domination of land and cattle holdings.

And now they both wanted Annie’s land. If she knew Mitch was a Ryder, she would send him packing, maybe even decide he was part of a ploy to get her land for his family. He wasn’t ready to go home yet, but also she needed him—someone, anyway—to get her greenhouse operational, if she stood a chance at all to turn a profit.

The irony didn’t escape Mitch. His father needed her to fail, and here Mitch was trying to help her succeed.

Except he couldn’t see how she stood a chance of surviving another year financially.

Mitch carried his empty coffee mug into the house for a refill and came upon Annie standing in the kitchen perfectly still, staring straight ahead.

“Morning, Annie.”

“You made coffee.”

Crap. He’d screwed up. Maybe she kept coffee for a special occasion. Maybe the price was too—

“Thank you,” she said. “This is going to sound maudlin, but no one’s done anything for me for so long.”

Honestly, he’d made coffee because he wanted some and didn’t want to wait for her to get up. He didn’t know what to say so he poured himself another cup, avoiding conversation. After a few seconds, he grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured one for her. “How do you take it?”

“Black, thanks.”

He finally looked at her face. She smiled. Her hair was freshly brushed, falling down her back in golden waves, reminding him of the Cinderella poster on his sister Jenny’s wall when she was a kid, the one of Cinderella scrubbing floors, her mice friends around her, which Jenny preferred to the ball scene with the prince.

Annie leaned against the kitchen counter, the mug cupped in her hands. “You’re up early.”

“Always. What time does Austin get out of bed?”

“I let him sleep until six-thirty, more for my sake than his. I like a quiet start to the morning. Once he’s awake, it’s noisy. I generally fix breakfast around seven. If you’d like something to tide you over, toast or—”

“Seven’s fine.” What he’d like was to untie her robe and see what she was wearing under it, what she wore to bed, although he doubted she slept in the nude. “Stick to your regular schedule. I’ll adapt.”

Mitch pulled a folded-up paper from his back pocket and passed it to her. “I made a list this morning of what I could see needing fixing. Anything you want to add, just write it down. We’ll get the high tunnel up today, provided it really can be installed in one day, as the literature says. I also came across some chicken wire in the barn, enough for three small patches anyway, which will do for a temporary fix.”

“Where’d you find that? I thought I knew every nail and post stored on this property.”

“Tucked behind some old boards covered in spider-webs.” He took a sip from his mug, stalling before he broke some bad news. “Um, are you aware there’s a leak in your barn roof?”

She sighed. “Yes. Will a patch do for that, too? I can’t swing a new roof yet.”

“We can try.”

“It’s going to have to be you, not we. I don’t deal with heights well.”

He wasn’t fond of heights himself, and that ladder of hers looked pretty rickety. Apparently she thought he was a superhero who could do anything. He wondered how long he could stall the roof job. The chance of rain was slim at the moment.

“Had the place been abandoned for long before you got here?” Mitch asked, copying her stance of leaning against the counter.

“A year, but Rick’s uncle hadn’t been able to take care of it for a while before that, so no one had been working the land. It was a mess. It had taken Barney’s lawyer a long time to find us, because we moved around a lot. Rick was surprised to be Barney’s heir. He hadn’t seen his uncle since he was a boy.”

“Where had you been living?”

“When they found us? In Reno. We were both blackjack dealers, working different shifts.”

“I can’t picture that,” Mitch said, more surprised than he let on. “You seem like Mother Earth.”

“I took to this land instantly. I was so glad to get out of the casino, where you’re barely aware of day and night, much less actual time. And then there’s the noise and desperation. It got to be too depressing for me.”

“I’ll bet you were good at it, though.”

“I make it a point to be good at whatever job I’m doing. I’m kind of fanatical about that. But this land? I’m willing to work my fingers to the bone to stay here, to raise Austin where he’s outdoors a lot and in a real community, even if we have to eat beans most of the time. I’m finally home.”

Mitch admired her determination but was worried about her, too. Someone that driven, that single-minded, often didn’t see it was time to quit until they were broken, which made for a much longer recovery.

“Where’d you grow up?” he asked, sipping his cooling coffee.

“Everywhere—although always in cities. My parents moved all the time. I ended up marrying a man who lived the same way. By the time we landed here I was worn-out from it all, but more than ready to settle.”

She was still worn-out, but in a happier way, he supposed.

“I’m going to go read the instructions on the greenhouse,” he said.

“Really? A man who reads instructions?”

He leaned around her to set his mug in the sink, intentionally brushing her arm while trying to make it seem unintentional. She didn’t move out of the way. In fact, she went very still.

“I’m out of my element,” he said. She smelled good. Fresh. Female. “But I’m pretty good with my hands.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

He liked that she didn’t let him get away with trying to unsettle her a little. He also liked that she seemed to have the same attraction that he did.

Although he had no idea what to do about it.

“There’s a video on YouTube that shows a high tunnel being put together,” she said. “I can pull it up, if you like.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

She found what she was looking for then stood behind him as he watched. He was completely aware of her. If he angled back just a little, his head would rest against her breasts. He’d already deduced she wasn’t wearing a bra. On some women, that wouldn’t matter much, but Annie’s breasts swayed when she moved. At one point, she rested her hand on his shoulder and leaned closer to the monitor, the fluffy fabric of her robe brushing his ear. She pointed at something he couldn’t see through a sudden burst of desire, which affected even his vision.

“This is the part that confuses me,” she said. “Do we have to bend all those poles ourselves?”

The only reason he knew the answer was because he’d unwrapped all the parts and inspected them. “They were pre-bent at the factory.”

“Oh. Good.”

He turned around in the swivel chair. She didn’t move away, not one inch. He decided he needed to have some amount of truth between them, to be honest about how she was making him feel. “You plannin’ on keepin’ this up, Annie?”

“What?”

“Puttin’ yourself this close to me. Makin’ me want you.”

She stared back at him for a full ten seconds. “I didn’t mean to. But I can’t seem to control it.”

He appreciated that she didn’t apologize or make excuses or pretend innocence. “Well, if you want me to, you’d best be careful what you do. If you don’t want me to control it, that’s good, too. But I’d like to know where we stand on this.”

Her voice was quiet, and a little shaky. “I haven’t been touched in a very long time. And I’m attracted to you. That’s a hard combination to ignore.”

“You have a son in residence.”

“Which will keep me on the straight and narrow.”

“While I stay on the straight and up,” he said, then watched her drop her gaze to his lap. “Every man has a limit to how much teasing he can take, even a man like me who was raised to respect women and to step away when she says no.”

When she still didn’t answer his question, he pushed his chair out of range. “I think I need to watch the video again. Alone.”

“I’ll get dressed,” Annie said in a rush, retreating, almost running to her room, where she shut the door and leaned against it, breathing hard. She hadn’t recognized herself, coming on to him like that. She’d never been the instigator, having been rejected by Rick too often. They’d been almost strangers for the last few years of their marriage.

She covered her face with her hands, could feel the heat there, from embarrassment and desire. She’d wanted to drop her robe and climb onto his lap, to kiss and be kissed, to feel him, strong and sure, inside her. To feel desirable.

She was going to have to take big steps back, in thought and deed. As a single woman, she might be able to fulfill fantasies with him, but as a mother, there was no way. Austin was rarely gone, just an occasional afternoon movie with a friend from school, no overnighters, which was Austin’s choice. He wasn’t comfortable away from home overnight yet, although he’d had friends stay over with him.

Annie pulled on her jeans and boots. She grabbed a bra from her dresser and sighed. It used to be white, until she’d accidentally washed it with her jeans once. Now it looked gray and tired. She hadn’t bought new clothes for herself in so long, just new things for Austin as he outgrew them. And occasionally Rick would decide to send Austin a care package, usually when he was feeling guilty about not following through on a promise. The box would be filled with clothing and video games, this last time even an iPod.

Dressed, she made her way tentatively into the living room, but Mitch was gone. Through the window she saw him dragging large metal poles over to the spot where they would erect the high tunnel.

She decided not to join him, even though it went against her work ethic not to be there helping. She figured he wanted some time alone.

How long will you stay? she asked him silently. Would he give her notice before he left or just take off? They’d only agreed on a few days, no more than a week. She couldn’t afford him for longer than that.

So. Get Austin to the movies with a friend and enjoy this opportunity with a man who wants you.

She shoved her hair back, pulled it into a ponytail so hard it hurt. Who was this Annie Barnard, thinking about having a onetime fling with a drifter whose last name she didn’t even know?

He comes with condoms.

She finally laughed at herself. She was a woman in the prime of her life who’d been denied intimacy for far too long, and it was manifesting itself by turning her into some kind of … tart. That made her laugh harder. She dropped onto the couch and buried her face in her hands, stifling the sounds.

“Are you okay, Mom?”

She felt the grin on her face as she looked up at her son, all sleepy-eyed and adorable. “I am A-okay.”

“It kinda looked like you were going crazy.”

“In a good way.” She pulled him into a big hug, then offered her pinky. “A day at a time,” they said in unison.

“Where’s Mitch?”

“Outside, I believe. He’s anxious to get started on the high tunnel.”

“Me, too!”

“Then I’ll get breakfast going so we can do just that.”

Breakfast was scrambled eggs plus oatmeal with blueberries from their garden. Annie was grateful that Austin filled the dead spaces in the conversation, as Mitch said little. Then they all headed to the yard and the immense project awaiting them.

Maybe one person could have erected the structure, but it would have taken days. By dinnertime, there was still work to be done, even with three of them working almost nonstop on it. But the construction went smoothly and would be finished by the next day. Then there would be end walls to construct and water lines to update from the old greenhouse remains—if they could be salvaged.

Annie was beyond pleased. She sat on the porch late in the day, sipping water and admiring what they’d accomplished so far. If Mitch had to leave now, she and Austin could finish it. Her relief was beyond measure, as the greenhouse was a huge part of her future success.

Yes, there were a lot more projects that needed attention, but none as important.

With Austin inside computer-chatting with a friend, she closed her eyes and pushed the glider with her toes until she heard Mitch’s boots as he climbed the stairs.

“Good day’s work,” he said, not sitting beside her, not sitting at all, in fact.

“Tremendous. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Teamwork.” He looked out over her land. “It’s peaceful here.”

“It took me a while to get used to,” she said. More than a while, especially after Rick left and it was just her and Austin. The isolation occasionally got to her. Although she was friendly with a few people in the area, she didn’t have a true girlfriend yet. For one, she was too busy. Then it also cost money for gas to head to town to have lunch now and then, not to mention the price of the lunch.

Her only real social time was on Monday nights at the farmer’s market.

“Someone’s coming,” she said, sitting up at the sound of a vehicle turning into her road.

“I’m not ready for anyone to know I’m back yet,” Mitch said.

“Okay.” She wasn’t sure she should be protecting him, but for the moment, she would.

He jogged over to the shed where his truck was stored, shutting the big doors to block the vehicle from view inside.

A truck with a Morgan Ranch sign painted on the door pulled up. Win Morgan got out and sauntered over to her. He was younger than Annie and looked much like his father, Shep, who’d tried to buy her land. His brown hair and eyes might be commonplace, but his face wasn’t. He was about the handsomest man Annie had laid eyes on, especially when he smiled, like now.

“Evenin’, Ms. Barnard,” he said, all slow and charming.

“Mr. Morgan.”

“Now, I told you to call me Win.” He’d eased his way to the bottom of the steps. She didn’t go down to greet him, didn’t want to give up the advantage of height. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by and see if you need anything.”

“I appreciate the offer, but everything’s under control.”

“I see that. I’d heard through the grapevine that you got yourself a high tunnel and thought I’d offer to help you set it up, but I see you’ve already done it.”

There was a question in his words but not his inflection, so she didn’t answer him.

“Still don’t trust my motives, I guess,” he said with that charming smile. “Takes a while for a city girl to figure out we do things differently here. We help each other.”

“I have heard that. I just don’t need any help at the moment. But thanks.”

The screen door burst open. “Mom! Ben wants to—” He stopped, seeing Win. “Hi.”

Annie prayed Austin wouldn’t mention Mitch, but at the same time she didn’t want her son to lie for him, either. “Do you remember Mr. Morgan, Austin?”

“Sure.” Austin lifted his chin in acknowledgment. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” Win said. “Nice to see you again.”

Austin looked around. “Where’s—”

“What does Ben want?” Annie asked, diverting her son.

“For me to go bowling with him. His mom would pick me up and bring me home. Can I?”

She didn’t want to discuss specific times, since Win would then know when she would be home alone. “We’ll talk about it later. Right now you need to finish cleaning your room.”

He frowned but obeyed.

“I wouldn’t harm your son,” Win said, also frowning. “Nothing wrong with being friendly.”

“Your father put a lot of pressure on me to sell, which didn’t sit well. I’m suspicious of your offer of help—for good reason. Maybe in time I’ll relax about it.”

“Good enough.” He touched the brim of his hat in farewell, then he was in his truck waving a final goodbye.

Mitch moseyed over. “Thanks.”

She crossed her arms. “Why the secrecy?”

“My dad will want me back working at the family business. I want a little vacation between jobs.”

She laughed. “This is a vacation?”

His smile was crooked. “I’ve always considered a change of scenery to be a vacation. Hard work doesn’t bother me. I wouldn’t know what to do with idle time, anyway. In that sense, this is a vacation.”

“As long as you’re not hiding from the law.”

“No, ma’am. Not me.”

She decided he’d used the word ma’am to show he was serious and accepted that at face value. “You must be pretty well-known, since you got out of sight even before you knew who was coming up the drive.”

“As I said before, born and raised here.” Mitch came up beside her on the porch, close enough to touch but not doing so.

“I can’t ask my son to lie about you. He may very well tell his friend Ben, and therefore his parents, since he may be going bowling with them. In fact, I’m sure he would say something.”

Mitch shrugged. “If it happens, it happens. It’d just be sooner than I want.”

“I’m done,” Austin said as he pushed open the screen door and joined them.

“Thanks, honey. Now tell me about the invitation.”

“Tomorrow right after lunch. Ben’s big brother will be there, too. He’s thirteen. Their mom’s gonna do errands then come back and get us.”

Mitch wondered why Annie was hesitating. Because she kept her son tethered? Was she afraid to let him go somewhere without her? Because she didn’t know this boy Ben’s family well enough?

Because with Austin gone, they would be alone?

Mitch decided that was wishful thinking on his part. Attraction didn’t mean action. They were adults. They could control themselves.

Unfortunately.

“Pleeease,” Austin begged.

“Okay.”

She’d barely gotten the word out when Austin leaped into the air, spun a hundred and eighty degrees and opened the screen door, all at the same time.

Mitch smiled at his exuberance. “He must love bowling.”

“He’s never been before,” Annie said, staring at the door. “I think he’s happy to be getting out of some work.”

“I get that. I always had to work, too. Not much downtime, even during summer breaks. I missed my friends a lot when school was out, even with five brothers and sisters.”

“Five? Wow. I have a brother somewhere. He stopped communicating about ten years after he had a big fight with our parents. I really miss him.”

“Do you see your parents?”

“Now and then. They’re still moving from town to town, job to job. At the moment they’re in Florida working as campsite hosts. Rick’s parents are AWOL, too. Austin’s never had a chance to know his grandparents. Every time you talk about your grandfather, I feel sad for Austin.”

“He was my best friend,” Mitch said, but not wanting to talk further about him. “Need help making dinner?”

“Is that code for I’m hungry?”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll get it started.”

“I don’t mean to rush you.” He grinned, belying his statement. He’d been hungry for a couple of hours.

She laughed and went inside. He followed, intending to use the bathroom then see if he could fix the chicken coop before dinner. As he walked past the computer, he saw the boy Austin was talking to via Skype. They were exchanging energetic dialogue about video games and levels and blasts. In the background a woman walked by. Mitch stopped and stared as she came closer to the screen and waved.

Stunned, Mitch backed up as she spoke.

“Hi, Austin! See you tomorrow.”

“Okay! Thanks for inviting me.”

“You’re always welcome, sweetie.”

“Something wrong?” Annie asked from behind him.

“That’s Ben’s mom?” he whispered.

“Yes, Marissa Mazur. Do you know her?”

Mitch faced her. He wondered whether it was an omen or just fate laughing at him. “Pretty well, yes. She’s my ex-wife.”

Chapter Four

Annie tried to remember what she knew of Marissa. Had she spoken of an ex-husband? Their conversations had taken place at the boys’ school, at PTA events and bake sales and back-to-school night, or when one of the boys was being dropped off or picked up. Brief conversations about nothing in particular.

“If she has a thirteen-year-old son,” Annie said, “you must have been really young when you were married.”

“Older than you were, I think,” he said. “You’re thirty and have a ten-year-old.”

“Touché.” She smiled, not taking offense.

“She was my only girlfriend. We’d started dating when I was a junior and she was a sophomore, then got married when I was twenty-one. It lasted a year.”

“So, she’s from around here? I got the impression she’d moved here fairly recently.”

“She moved away before the divorce was final. I heard she’d remarried and was pregnant. I hadn’t heard she was back. But then, I’ve been gone.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Let’s just say our divorce was not amicable. What were the chances that Austin and her son are friends?”

“I can’t ask Austin not to go, Mitch.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that.” He shrugged. “Well, what happens, happens. It only means my father would know I’m back. Doesn’t change anything.”

Annie studied him, wondering why he didn’t want to go home. He’d said he and his family weren’t estranged, but something was keeping them apart.

“I’m gonna work on the coop until dinner,” he said, then walked out the door.

She returned to the kitchen. She’d put up a large quantity of tomatoes last year and used one of her last jars now to make spaghetti sauce. While she worked, she considered Mitch’s comment that his divorce wasn’t amicable. Hers had been, or reasonably so. She’d wanted the farm and Austin, and Rick hadn’t fought her on either, hadn’t even asked for joint custody. He called Austin every so often, sent him “guilt” gifts, but otherwise had stopped being his parent.

When Austin was younger and less jaded, he’d cried a lot because of things his father did or didn’t do. Now he was more philosophical about it, especially once she’d convinced him it had nothing to do with him, but his father’s immaturity. She always said Rick loved him—and he did—but that he just didn’t know how to show it.

If she gave Rick more credit than he deserved, that was okay. She only cared about how Austin felt.

She and Rick had parted ways with sadness but resignation. They were better apart.

So, what did “not amicable” mean? And why? Could she ask Mitch about it or wait for him tell her when—or if—he was ready?

“None of your business,” she muttered as she added herbs to her tomato sauce. Except—had it scarred him in a permanent way?

“Really none of your business,” she said aloud. She’d gathered greens from the garden earlier and now ripped them into pieces for salad, uncomfortable with how invested she already was in the stranger.

She leaned around the kitchen door to speak to her son. “Time to wrap it up, honey.”

“Hey, Annie!” Marissa shouted then came into the picture. “How’re you doing?”

Annie wiped her hands on a kitchen towel as she approached the computer and crouched over Austin’s shoulder. “Everything’s going well. How about you?”

“We found out I’m pregnant. With twins. Surprise!”

Annie felt a twinge of envy. “Congratulations.”

Marissa laughed. “Maybe. Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow around twelve-thirty.”

“Thanks for inviting him.”

The screen went blank. “Go see if you can help Mitch with the coop, please. It’ll be about a half hour until dinner.”

“Okay.”

Usually Bo was at his feet, but he’d already followed Mitch into the yard.

Annie plopped into the computer chair. Marissa had always seemed fun and upbeat. She was pretty, although she wore quite a bit of makeup and always had her hair fixed just so. But then, maybe Marissa thought Annie didn’t spruce herself up enough.

She tried to picture Mitch and Marissa together. She was tall and slender, when she wasn’t pregnant, anyway. They would look good as a couple.

But looking good has nothing to do with being right for each other.

“For heaven’s sake, stop obsessing,” she muttered, returning to the kitchen, prepping the garlic bread and finishing the salad before she called them in, wishing she had some hamburger to add to the sauce.

By the time dinner was over, the dishes were done, and the chickens rounded up, they all landed in front of the television, worn-out.

“Thanks for repairing the coop,” she said to Mitch.

“Won’t hold forever.”

“The story of my life.” She smiled. “I should rename this place Superglue Farm.”

Austin was channel surfing but laughed.

“Does the farm have a name?” Mitch asked. “There isn’t a sign out front.”

“The Barn Yard. I had to get rid of the old sign, there was so little left of it. Someday I’ll build a new one.”

“You’ve got plenty of wood from the old greenhouse,” Mitch said. “Rustic is a popular look, I understand.”

“You mean I’d be in style? Imagine that.”

“Austin and I could build you a sign in the morning before we finish up the high tunnel.”

“Don’t forget I won’t be here after lunch,” Austin said earnestly. “And I don’t wanna be too dirty before they come pick me up.”

Mitch smiled, appreciating the ploy for what it was. He’d tried to get out of work when he was that age, too, had gotten just as creative. “Well, maybe we should go build it now instead, before you shower.”

Austin looked toward his mother, as if she would get him out of it somehow.

But Annie only said, “I’ve got some outdoor paint in the barn.”

“Aw, Mom.”

Annie glanced at Mitch, her brows raised in question. He gave her a thumbs-up then a thumbs-down. She considered it for a few seconds then turned her thumb down.

Mitch was struck by the sense they were working as a team. Parenting. It took him a moment to come up with something to say to the boy. “I guess you’ve worked hard enough for one day. But as for tomorrow, you know you can take a shower after lunch. I’d planned on having you dig a trench for the water lines in the high tunnel.”

“Me? But … you’re the one with all the muscles!”

Mitch laughed. “Gotcha.”

Austin dived at Mitch, laughing, too. They tussled a bit. Bo joined in, too, at first protectively then barking and hopping, as if playing the game. It took Mitch back to childhood, wrestling with his brothers, challenging each other.

Austin finally sat back, panting, rubbing his hands down Bo’s fur as he panted, too. “That was fun!”

“Who wants dessert?” Annie asked, standing.

“We have dessert?” Austin’s eyes went wide. “Or just peaches?”

“Sugar cookies.”

Austin’s arm shot up. “Me, Mom!”

Mitch mimicked him. “Me, boss!”

Austin finally found a TV program he wanted to watch. Annie was in the kitchen. Mitch had time to think. He should tell Annie his last name before she found out another way. If Austin talked about him and Marissa figured out her ex-husband was hiding out at the Barnard place, she would spread the word, maybe not maliciously but the result would be same.

On the other hand, if Mitch told Annie, she would jump to the conclusion that he’d been there on behalf of his father. Why else keep his last name to himself? He doubted there was anything he could say to change her mind about that.

Hell, he wouldn’t believe him, either.

Not wanting to examine it further, he went into the kitchen. “Need help?”

He caught her crying, quietly, smiling unapologetically, dabbing at her tears. “Thank you for playing with Austin. He’s missed out on so much, especially family life.”

Mitch let her words sink in then came close, keeping his voice low. “I’m not going to be here long, Annie.”

“Oh, I know. I know. It was just fun to see him like that. I know you’re leaving.”

Maybe he should go now, before the boy got too attached. He hadn’t considered that. He’d just been enjoying him. “There are other places I can stay, you know. I could come back during the day and work, then not hang around. Then when the work’s done …”

He let the words trail off, because he didn’t know how to finish the sentence. He should be just as worried about the attachments he was forming as he was about Austin. And Annie, too, maybe. Although hers might just be physical.

“Marissa is pregnant with twins,” Annie said into his swirling thoughts.

The Marissa he knew had never wanted kids—although he didn’t learn that until after the wedding. “She’ll have four, then?”

“Five. She has a daughter younger than Ben.”

He realized Annie was watching him for a reaction. “Well, good for her.”

She’d stacked cookies on a plate and poured milk for all of them. He picked up two glasses and headed to the living room. From that point, the evening was more subdued. Austin showered and went to bed when told. Annie went next.

Mitch couldn’t deal with being within hearing range of her showering, so he went outside and sat on the glider. Bo came along, abandoning Austin’s bed when he heard the front door open.

The quiet night washed over Mitch in soothing waves. It wasn’t quite dark yet. The sun had set but the sky held a tinge of orange and purple. It would fade soon, too soon. He’d always loved summer evenings, the welcome cooling after a long day of being out in the sun.

She’d created a home. He understood why she was fighting so hard to keep it. He had a house he’d hadn’t seen in three years, one he’d helped build and he’d missed it like crazy, but he’d figured he would appreciate it even more when he came back. Now he had a hankering to see it again, to sleep in his own bed.

He must have made a noise because Bo whined then set his head in Mitch’s lap as if sympathetic. He hadn’t felt homesick while he was in Argentina, just sick with grief, which had lessened in time, and guilt, which hadn’t.

He’d been able to set aside his anger and disappointment when his marriage ended after a much shorter period of time, and had barely thought about Marissa for years. Now here she was, back in Red Valley, mother of three and pregnant with twins. He’d never known someone could change to the degree she had. Not even close.

Bo hopped up a moment before the door opened and Annie came out. Mitch stood, offering the glider to her.

She waved him off. “I just wanted to say good night.”

“Night.” He couldn’t get rid of the image of her crying because he’d played with her son. She might be strong, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel the same things every mother felt.

She didn’t move.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“I’ve been considering asking Austin to keep your secret.”

Mitch moved toward her. “I appreciate that, but I don’t want to ask him to lie.”

“He wouldn’t be lying, just not talking about you. There’s a difference.”

“Why would you do that, Annie?”

“Because I trust you. I think you must have good reasons for keeping your identity a secret.”

“For the moment. Not forever.”

“I understand that. I think we can enlist Austin for a short time.”

Mitch considered it, but not for long. “I’m willing to let fate have her way.”

“Fate’s a she?”

“Isn’t she? The three goddesses of mythology, if I recall ninth-grade English correctly. Anyway, we all know women control human destiny.”

“We do?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Are you thinking about Marissa?”

“Not at all. Just life in general. From my experience, anyway. In relationships, women lead the way, therefore have control.”

She leaned against the doorjamb and crossed her arms. “I’m going to take a stab at this—you have trust issues.”

“I—” Did he? He’d known Marissa for years before they got married, and she’d been hiding her dreams and desires all that time, not cluing him in on the important issues a couple should settle before they marry. “Maybe I do. How about you?”

“No, although I’m careful. I’m too tired to have issues of any kind.” She smiled in a way that touched his heart, then she patted his chest lightly and went indoors.

He put a hand where hers had been.

He wanted to believe her, that she didn’t have issues, but it couldn’t possibly be true. He hadn’t met a woman who didn’t harbor secrets about herself. They always revealed themselves in time. Which hadn’t stopped him from enjoying their company, but had stopped him from letting himself become involved in what might be considered a real relationship.

He wasn’t giving up half of what he’d built ever again. Once burned, twice shy, that was his touchstone.

Mitch snapped his fingers at Bo to go inside with him. A shower would feel good. A back rub would feel better.

Spending some quality time with Annie in bed would be perfect.

And tomorrow they would be alone for a few hours.

Also tomorrow the truth about him might be revealed.

Maybe it was just all meant to be.

Chapter Five

Annie had been dirty before, filthy even, but never from head to toe like today. They’d dug trenches, tested water lines, redug and retested, delaying going inside for lunch until they were done with the messy, muddy work. Austin had been allowed not to dig, but sent to pick blueberries to give to Marissa as a thank-you gift. He’d made himself a sandwich and was ready to go.

“They’re here!” he called out, racing to the greenhouse. “They’re coming up the drive.”

Annie didn’t even attempt to brush herself off. She would’ve only been rubbing the muck in deeper.

“Come meet my friend,” Austin said to Mitch, who exchanged a look with Annie before answering.

“Another time, bud. I need to stem this leak before we create a sinkhole.”

Austin frowned. “But—”

“Ben will be back,” Annie said as Mitch went deeper into the tunnel, out of anyone’s line of vision from the driveway.

“When they bring me home, okay, Mitch?”

“We’ll see.”

“They’re waiting, honey,” Annie said, urging her son toward the car.

“Well, aren’t you a glamour shot waiting to happen,” Marissa said, laughing, as Annie came up to her window.

“You think?” Annie held out her shirt like a tutu and curtsied. “I left my tiara in the safe.”

Questions about Mitch crowded Annie’s thoughts. She couldn’t ask them, not even in a vague way. “You’re not showing yet.”

“I can’t button my jeans anymore. I’m held together with rubber bands. Thank goodness for long blouses. All buckled up, Austin?”

“Yes, ma’am. Here.” He passed her the bag of berries.

“My favorites, thanks, sweetie. I figure he’ll be back between four and five, Annie. They’ll want to play the arcade games for a while.”

“Two treats in one. Have fun, honey.” Annie waved at her excited son, who was already in deep conversation with Ben and barely gave her a second look. She smiled as they drove off. It was heartening to see him having a good time with friends.

“So, how was it?” Mitch asked from right behind her, startling her so that she jumped.

She pressed a hand to her throat for a second. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

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