She’s Running From The Law…

Alexandra Hunt is living a lie. In fact, that’s not even her real name. But after the death of her estranged husband, Alex and her four-year-old daughter were at the mercy of ruthless people: her powerful, possibly crooked former in-laws. When they came after her child, Alex saw no choice but to flee. Small town Fredericksburg, Texas, offers unexpected sanctuary. Until she meets her next-door neighbor, by-the-book—and devilishly handsome—Texas Ranger Zane Winchester!

Single father Zane has to admit he has a thing for sweet, pretty Alex. Yet while the attraction is mutual, she’s definitely hiding something. And Zane can’t abide a liar. He needs to find out Alex’s secrets before he can truly allow her into his and his teenage daughter’s lives. But when he discovers the truth, will he help Alex—or turn her in?

“Dammit, Alex.” Frustration roughened Zane’s voice to a growl. “Everything’s private with you, everything’s too personal to share.”

She drew back, stung.

“Some days I catch myself obsessing, what is she keeping from me? Then I think, everything. You say this part of a relationship is for getting to know one another, but whenever I try, you shut me out. You change the subject, you refuse to answer questions, you get hostile. And over the past couple of days, you kiss me or give me ‘that look’ and the question gets forgotten. I think I prefer the direct hostility. It feels more honest.”

Tears blurred her vision. A dozen scathing replies came to mind, but she choked them all down. Because she’d been a fraud from day one. She didn’t have the right to fight with him over it.

“I’m obviously not ready for this,” she said. “Maybe I never will be. Maybe I’m damaged goods. You’re a great guy, and you should hold out for someone with more to offer.”

“Alex, wait—” He scrambled off the bed.

She paused in the doorway and gave him a sad smile. “On the bright side, you won’t have to worry about my distracting you with kisses anymore.”

Dear Reader,

I have enjoyed writing my Hill Country Heroes books almost as much as I enjoyed visiting the Texas Hill Country region! For my last book in the miniseries, I wanted to come up with a special hero, someone quintessentially Texan. Meet Zane Winchester, Texas Ranger, a brave lawman devoted to his community and his daughter. Unfortunately for Zane, sometimes raising a teenager can be just as tricky as tracking down bad guys.

Single mom Heather Hargrove is facing her own parenting challenges—namely how to keep her four-year-old out of the clutches of her wealthy and corrupt former in-laws. When desperation forces Heather into hiding under a false identity, she winds up living right next door to Zane. Just how is she supposed to keep her secrets from a man trained to solve cases and see through lies? Just as troubling, how is she supposed to keep herself from falling for the handsome neighbor who manages to make her laugh in the midst of her problems and values her advice as a parent?

Writing this book, I grew to care not only about Heather and Zane but their community of friends and family. Follow me on Twitter and Facebook to get the latest announcements on whether any of the characters might be popping up in future stories!

Happy reading,

Tanya

Rescued by a Ranger

Tanya Michaels

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Three-time RITA® Award nominee Tanya Michaels writes about what she knows—community, family and lasting love! Her books, praised for their poignancy and humor, have received honors such as a Booksellers’ Best Bet Award, a Maggie Award of Excellence and multiple readers’ choice awards. She was also a 2010 RT Book Reviews nominee for Career Achievement in Category Romance. Tanya is an active member of Romance Writers of America and a frequent public speaker, presenting workshops to educate and encourage aspiring writers. She lives outside Atlanta with her very supportive husband, two highly imaginative children and a household of quirky pets, including a cat who thinks she’s a dog and a bichon frise who thinks she’s the center of the universe.

It’s important for writers to recharge creatively and stay inspired.

This book was powered by the music of NEEDTOBREATHE and Rob Thomas.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Excerpt

Chapter One

Oh, God, what have I done? Panic crowded Heather Hargrove’s chest. Faced with the scariest threat of her life, she’d bolted—potentially making her circumstances even worse. In an attempt to calm herself, Heather watched her four-year-old daughter contentedly snore beneath a blanket on the leather sofa. Josie’s safe. For the moment, anyway.

I won’t let anyone take her from me.

Although they’d fled Houston earlier that day, the reality of Heather’s situation was just as grim here in Dallas. She did not have the long-term resources to fight Eileen and Phillip Hargrove. Her wealthy former in-laws were one of the most powerful couples in the state of Texas. They’d be nearly impossible to beat in a custody battle even if they let themselves be constrained by anything as plebeian as “conscience” or “law.” When Heather had first become engaged to their son, the Hargroves had attempted to end the relationship by bribing one of her former foster mothers to lie about her. With pockets as deep as theirs, who knew what kind of damaging testimony they could buy? If Heather had faced them in court, she would have lost Josie, her entire world. But her failure to appear this afternoon meant the judge could rule automatic forfeiture of custody.

“Here.” Bryce Callahan walked back into the condo living room carrying two mugs. One was chipped at the top and featured a cartoon alien. The other was a shiny cobalt blue, printed with the logo of his software company. “Sorry I can’t offer you anything to add to your coffee. I got used to drinking mine black because I never remember to buy sugar.”

When she took the drink without comment, he added, “I did see a jug of milk behind the take-out boxes in the fridge, but I think it’s been there since Christmas.”

She tried unsuccessfully to smile. “You should probably throw it out, then.”

“With St. Patrick’s Day only three weeks away? Pshaw. It’ll fit right in with all the other green beverages.”

Heather cradled the warm mug between her hands. The last thing her jangled nerves needed was caffeine, but she was grateful for the heat. After the rainy five-hour drive, she felt frozen from the unrelenting damp and pervasive fear. “I’m sorry I came here, Bryce. I didn’t really think this through.” She’d been operating on desperation and adrenaline.

“Hey, what are old friends for? You don’t have to apologize, Red.” His crooked smile and the unimaginative nickname took her back to when she’d been eighteen. “I told you at that fundraiser to call me if you ever needed anything, remember?” Their chance encounter at a charity gala last April had been the one bright spot of a mortifying evening.

He’d handed her his business card, eyes filled with worry, and said he hoped to hear from her soon. Prior to that night, the two college friends hadn’t seen each other since Bryce had flunked out of the University of Texas. The computer genius had prioritized all-nighters leveling up in video games above attending 8:00 a.m. sociology lectures.

Tonight, in plaid pajama pants and a black T-shirt boasting Total Domination, his sandy brown hair in need of a trim, Bryce looked more like the bighearted slacker he used to be than the successful game designer he was now. At the benefit, she hadn’t even recognized him in his tux. Of course, she’d been preoccupied, trying to deal with her uncharacteristically hostile husband at the last social function they’d attended as a married couple. Unlike his father, Christopher Hargrove’s favorite form of manipulation had always been charm, not bullying. But, by last spring, Christopher had become fed up with her questions about his family’s shadier dealings and her insistence that they couldn’t raise their daughter with the Hargroves’ flagrant disregard for rules.

Christopher had believed consequences were for other people, but being rich, good-looking and well-connected hadn’t saved him when he wrapped his sports car around a tree the month after Heather left him. The Hargroves blamed her, said his self-destructive actions had been fueled by his pain over losing his wife and daughter. Eileen Hargrove’s ice blue eyes had bored holes into Heather at the funeral. “You killed him, you ungrateful nobody. You killed my son! And you will pay.”

Heather shivered, and coffee sloshed over the rim of her mug.

“Easy,” Bryce cautioned, taking the hot cup away from her. He turned to set it on the coffee table, but the surface was buried under gaming magazines, napkins from local fast-food restaurants and illegible notes scrawled in half a dozen spiral notebooks. With a shrug, he shoved a stack of papers to the floor, then blinked at the corner he’d uncovered. “Huh. I forgot this had a glass top.”

“What am I going to do?” Heather asked. It was a rhetorical question. Her mess wasn’t his problem.

“I’ll tell you what you’re not going to do—let those soulless bastards take Little Red.” He lowered his voice to a whisper as he glanced at Josie’s fiery curls. “I know I only saw you with her father from across the ballroom, but he was clearly bad news.”

It had been obvious to anyone with eyes and ears what kind of night she and her husband had been having. Bryce hadn’t bothered trying to catch up with her about old times; he’d simply waited until Christopher went to the restroom to say hi and give her his number. She’d called Bryce for moral support after she and Josie had moved into an apartment. Shame welled inside her, humiliation that it had taken her so long to admit her husband would never change. Her old friend had seen Christopher’s true colors in a single evening. Why had it taken her years?

In her defense, Bryce had only witnessed her husband drunk and antagonistic. He hadn’t seen the determined charmer who’d pursued her or doted on her during their first blissful year of marriage. Plus, Bryce had been looking through the eyes of an adult, not the eyes of a young woman who’d grown up in the foster care system and felt cherished for the first time in her life.

“Chris had his moments,” she said softly. She liked to think that some of her late husband’s good qualities would live on in Josie.

Bryce waved a hand. “My point was, you make his parents sound about a thousand times worse than him.”

“Agreed. But running was a mistake.” All she’d ever wanted growing up was a family of her own, yet now she’d endangered her daughter’s chances of a normal home life. Josie was still reeling from losing her father. How could she be expected to cope if Heather’s impulsive actions landed her in jail? After her arguments with Christopher about operating outside the rules, her failure to appear made her a terrible hypocrite.

“You’re not thinking about going back?” Bryce asked dubiously.

Dread knotted her stomach. Her in-laws had scared the hell out of her from the day she’d met them. At first, it had been because she hadn’t believed she was good enough for their son—an opinion Eileen Hargrove reinforced at every opportunity. But over the past few years, she’d become apprehensive for other reasons. Christopher had joked that Hargroves were “above the law...because we can afford to be.” Though Heather lacked specific details, she knew her father-in-law’s criminal activities weren’t limited to bribing his way out of traffic tickets.

Not that I can prove it.

“I can’t go back,” she finally said. “They have unlimited funds and a lawyer who makes great white sharks look cuddly in comparison.” From things she’d overheard during her marriage, Phillip Hargrove might also have judges and state officials in his back pocket.

“You mentioned funds.” Bryce peered at her through his wire-rim glasses, his concern unmistakable. “Need a loan?”

She rose, crossing to the expensive ottoman to hug him. “You are a prince. Why couldn’t I have fallen for you in college?” She’d been nineteen and vastly inexperienced with men when she’d met Christopher at a museum near campus.

“A diligent scholarship student like you with a wastrel like me? Pshaw. You couldn’t have been expected to put up with this.” He gestured toward the cluttered tabletop and the magazines now scattered haphazardly on the unvacuumed carpet. “It would be an affront to your artistic sensibilities. Now stop trying to change the subject, and tell me if you need money.”

“No. At least, not yet. If I’m careful.” When she’d first considered leaving Christopher, she’d begun quietly squirreling away cash. It had taken her a long time to work up the courage. She’d later supplemented her new bank account by selling jewelry. She’d realized she might have to pay for a contentious divorce, but at the end of the day, despite his faults, she’d known Christopher loved Josie. She’d prayed that would guide him to some reasonable decisions.

Eileen and Phillip Hargrove didn’t love anyone. They saw Josie, the only child of their only child, as the Hargrove heir, belonging to them by rights—as much a possession as Eileen’s BMW or Phillip’s Jag.

“What I need—” Heather sighed “—is a plan. Other than hauling ass toward the Mexican border.”

“With customs security checkpoints? Definitely not the direction you want to head if there’s possibly a warrant out for you.” His forehead crinkled in concentration. “I might know a place you can go. Ever been to the hill country? I have a cousin in Fredericksburg.”

“It’s bad enough I imposed on you,” she said, not following his train of thought. “I can’t show up on your cousin’s doorstep.”

“You can if she’s not home.” He was starting to look excited, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. “My cousin Kelsey is married to a guy in the military. He’s been overseas a lot but now he’s got a six-month assignment in Alaska. She’s going to join him, and I arranged for a friend to house-sit. All the regular bills are set for automatic drafts out of Kelsey’s bank account. As long as you’ve got cash for stuff like groceries, you and Little Red would be set. It’s perfect!”

“I don’t understand. What about your friend who already agreed to do it?”

“She’ll be inconvenienced when I tell her Kelsey’s changed her mind. And a little peeved,” he admitted. “But I’ll make sure she lands on her feet. You have a hell of a lot more at stake, Heather.”

She was all too aware of the high stakes. To keep the panic at bay, she tried to lighten the moment. “Heather, huh? I think that’s the first time you’ve ever called me anything but ‘Red.’”

“About that.” He tilted his head, considering. “You stand out with that hair color. Ever thought about going brunette?”

She pressed her fingertips to her eyes. “Not until just now. I’m new at this whole fugitive thing.”

“Different hair would help. So would different names. I can assist you there.”

She glanced up, startled. “There’s a limit to what I’ll let you do for me.” Even as she said the words, she prayed they were true. How much risk would she let a friend take if it meant protecting her daughter?

“I didn’t mean like create new social security numbers for you or falsify a passport,” he clarified. “This isn’t a Bourne movie. But I might know someone who, uh, dabbles in fake IDs. It would have an upcoming expiration date because the new ones are too hard to copy and it probably wouldn’t fool a professional beyond a quick glimpse, but it’s a start.”

Counterfeit identification and lying about who she was? Bryce’s intentions were good, but did she dare continue on this path? Then again... She cast one more anxious glance in Josie’s direction. How could she dare not take Bryce’s help?

Chapter Two

“You haven’t said anything since we left the steak house.” Stupid. Since when was Sergeant Zane Winchester reduced to stating the obvious? His razor-sharp instincts had helped solve cold cases and take down crooked politicians. Colleagues sought his input because he was known for having a quick mind, but a few hours in his teenage daughter’s company made him feel like an inept rookie fumbling with a gun for the first time, capable of shooting himself in the foot with one stray word.

Eden glared from the passenger seat of the truck. “What do you want me to say? Thanks for ruining the first nice time I was having since I got shipped to this godforsaken town?”

There were so many things wrong with her retort that he didn’t know where to begin. My fault. Too out of practice. He hadn’t tried hard enough to keep a close bond with her while she and his ex, Valerie, lived in California. Eden didn’t let an hour pass without reminding him that she hated her parents’ decision to relocate her. She saw her mother as selfish for ditching her, and she clearly viewed Zane more as prison warden than father.

“What exactly did I do?” Zane asked, trying to better understand the daughter he no longer knew.

“You practically threatened that cute waiter at lunch! You might as well have pulled your gun on him.”

“You’re exaggerating by a mile. And that ‘cute waiter’ was too old to be flirting with my fifteen-year-old daughter.” He steered onto their street. “You may think you’re an adult, Eden Jo, but you’re not. Adults face the consequences of their actions. You blame your mama for sending you here, but you refuse to take responsibility for your part in forcing her hand.”

“Why are you defending her?” To Eden’s credit, she sounded genuinely baffled rather than sarcastic. “You should be mad, too. You didn’t want me here.”

“That’s not true!” Rather than take the time to pull into the garage, he angled crookedly in their driveway and cut the engine so he could focus on her. He studied her face, marveling at the changes. This wasn’t the little girl with blond pigtails he used to carry on his shoulders. She was a young woman now, with two thin streaks of hot pink framing her face.

Strips of neon aside, she looked so much like Valerie that he couldn’t help a twinge of nervous déjà vu. As a teenager, Val had been beautiful, fascinating and self-destructive. He prayed the similarities between mother and daughter would prove superficial.

He put a hand on Eden’s shoulder, an awkward substitution for a hug. “I love you. Even if I’m not crazy about the behavior that led you here, I’m glad to have this time with you.”

Her green eyes glittered. “Yeah, I can tell how much you care by all those visits to California and the dozens of phone conversations we had.” She wrenched open her door and hopped to the pavement.

He followed, still trying to frame his explanation as he unlocked the front door. On the other side, the dog was already going nuts, barking in manic greeting.

It had hurt like hell to let go of his daughter, but he’d thought it best. When he and Val had divorced, Eden had been just starting that tumultuous journey from adolescence to physical maturity. He’d known there would be questions and scenarios she’d be embarrassed to discuss with him. Instead of an acrimonious custody battle that would compound the pain of the divorce, he’d let Val take her. As Val had reminded him, at least she was around for their daughter, rather than chasing bad guys all across the state of Texas.

With Eden’s displeasure filling the foyer, it seemed even colder in the house than it had out in the brisk March breeze. “I never would have given up custody so easily if I hadn’t believed it was in your best interest. I figured you’d be better—”

“I was better off in California,” she interrupted. “If you really loved me, you’d let me go back to my friends and my life there!” Tears spilling from her eyes, she stalked down the hall to the guest room. A moment later, the little ranch-style house shook with the force of her slammed door.

He shifted his weight, torn between the urge to go hug her and the urge to reprimand her for the temperamental display. At the rate she was going, he’d have to replace all the hinges in the house by the time she went back to school on Monday.

“I need some air,” he told the dog, a black border collie and shepherd mix splotched with white and gold. “Want to go for a walk?”

Grabbing the leash that hung on a nearby Peg-Board, he called out, “Eden, I’m taking Dolly for a walk around the neighborhood.” Unsurprisingly, there was no answer.

Zane hesitated. Was it better to intrude, to hammer home the fact that he was here for her, or should he give her space to adjust to their new arrangement? He wasn’t used to feeling conflicted. In years past, Zane and his ex-wife had argued about his “rigid” black-and-white worldview, but having a teenager in the house certainly challenged that perspective. Throwing tantrums and slamming doors were inexcusable for a fifteen-year-old, yet it was difficult to fault Eden’s behavior when he was so ashamed of his own. As a father, it had been his responsibility to stay involved in her life, no matter how many miles separated them.

A couple of years ago, when Eden had asked to skip visiting Fredericksburg for the summer because she wanted to attend camp with her friends, he’d agreed instantly. He’d been mired in task force duties as the Rangers sought to shut down a cartel whose members kept slipping across the border. The following June, Eden had stayed in California because her uncharacteristic dip in grades necessitated summer school. He’d seen her for a few days at Christmas, but awkwardly exchanging presents before sticking her back on a plane wasn’t real parenting.

With a sigh, he hooked the leash on Dolly’s harness and stepped outside. After only two weeks, Zane was feeling as weary as Val had sounded on the phone.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with her,” his ex-wife had complained. “Maybe she’s acting out because she wants your attention. Or maybe I just suck as a role model. But the way she’s been behaving, these kids she’s been hanging out with...” Her voice had quivered with maternal fear. “You’ve gotta fix her, Zane. Before she lands in real trouble.”

Could he do it? He’d spent a chunk of his life trying to “fix” Val, to no avail. The day he’d signed his divorce papers, he swore he’d learned his lesson. No more rehabilitation attempts thinly disguised as romance. If he ever got involved with a woman again, it had to be as equals. He didn’t want to be anyone’s life coach or shining knight. The only rescues he’d perform would be in his professional life—a philosophy he’d stuck by, with the exception of Dolly.

After a few weeks of steady meals and belly rubs, Dolly had idolized him. Repairing his relationship with Eden would be far more complicated.

“Doggy!”

Zane glanced up and saw a little girl shoot out of the house next to his. Probably no older than four or five, she looked like a walking accessories department. Her pink shirt and sweatpants were nondescript, but she’d worn them with a sequined scarf and sparkly plastic high heels. The yellow sunglasses dominating her face were so large they made him think of circus clowns. A tiara perched crookedly on her red-gold curls, its fake gemstones sparkling in the sun; clip-on earrings dangled from her lobes, and a feather-trimmed purse hung from her forearm. Peeking out of it was a plastic Tyrannosaurus rex whose snarling expression and sharp teeth were incongruous with her rather exuberant glamour.

He paused, overcome with nostalgia. It seemed only yesterday Eden had been in the throes of her sparkly princess phase. Yet now she was a sullen stranger who stood as tall as his shoulder. The T-rex-toting girl wobbled on her dress-up shoes, then went down with a splat in her front yard.

Shushing Dolly’s frenetic woofing, he hurried toward the kid. “Are you okay?”

Her bottom lip trembled. Patches of mud covered her knees. “Ow!”

Previous parenting experience had taught him that sometimes too much sympathy reminded the child she was in pain, while matter-of-fact conversation could work as a distraction. He reeled in Dolly’s retractable leash to keep her from licking the girl’s face. “Why do you carry a dinosaur in your purse?”

“It’s a dog, but you hafta use your imagination. My chihuahua got ripped.” The way she said the word, it came out “chowawowa.” She sniffled. “Mommy’s gonna fix her but she’s been too busy with other sewing.”

He helped the little girl to her feet. “So, why do you carry a chihuahua in your purse?”

“Because I’m fabulous.” She punctuated her statement with an exasperated duh look.

“Get your hands off my daughter!” A dark-haired woman flew through the open door at such high speed that he half expected her to face-plant on the lawn, too. She snatched the girl into a protective hug against her body.

The child wiggled, either in embarrassment or protest at her mother’s grip. Zane had the absent thought that the freckles smattering the woman’s cheeks seemed out of place, too sweet and potentially girlish for someone who’d barreled down on him like an avenging angel.

He took a step back, murmuring softly to Dolly, whose hackles had risen at the woman’s shrill approach. “Ma’am, I was just checking to make sure she wasn’t hurt when she fell. Zane Winchester.” He tipped his white cowboy hat in greeting. “I live next door. You must be the lady Kelsey and Dave got to house-sit?”

She cast him a fleeting glance before returning her attention to the little girl. “You scared me, Belle. What are you doing outside? Never, never open the door without me! I told you we’d play in the yard after I went to the bathroom. And after you changed shoes.”

The girl’s eyes, which were the same golden-brown as her mother’s, grew wider and wider, then filled with belated tears. Her left leg buckled dramatically as if she were in too much pain to stand. Zane tried to suppress his grin. And the award for best actress under ten goes to...

“I hurt my leg, Mommy.”

“Leaving the house without an adult, you’re lucky you weren’t hurt much worse!” The woman plunged a hand through her short hair, let out an aggrieved sigh, then turned back to Zane. “I suppose I should apologize for snapping your head off.”

“You were worried about your child and don’t know me,” he said. “I’m a parent myself. I get it.” She was new to the area, surrounded by strangers—he’d been in California collecting his daughter when the brunette had moved in two weekends ago. Maybe she’d lived in a bad neighborhood before this. It would certainly explain her eyeing him as if he were a convicted criminal.

She tugged on her daughter’s arm. “We should get you cleaned up.”

“Then can we blow bubbles?” Belle negotiated. “We’ve been inside all day. It’s boring!”

“Maybe. In the backyard.”

“I still haven’t pet the doggy,” Belle said pitifully. “What’s his name?”

“She’s a girl,” Zane said. He should walk away. It would be easier for Belle’s mama to coax the child inside without the temptation of the dog. But he found himself curious about his new neighbors. “Her name’s Dolly.”

“Dolly? That doesn’t sound like a dog name.”

“Tell me about it,” he commiserated. “I’d feel a lot less silly yelling something like ‘Scout’ across the dog park. But I found her while I was doing cleanup after Hurricane Dolly and started calling her that before I realized I was keeping her.” In a lot of ways, it had been fitting to name her after a natural disaster. Only a puppy back in 2008, she’d done some significant damage to his belongings in the first few months he’d owned her.

“Change her name,” Belle instructed as she patted Dolly on the head. “That’s what me and Mommy did.”

He frowned, puzzled. “You changed your pet’s name?”

At the same time Belle informed him in tragic tones that she did not have a pet, her mother stammered, “N-nicknames. She means nicknames! Belle is short for Isabelle and I go by Alex instead of Alexandra. Alex Hunt.”

“I’m Zane,” he repeated. “Nice to meet you.” He held out his hand, but it took her a moment before she shook it, watching him warily the entire time. She was a stark change from bubbly Kelsey.

Alex raised her gaze, starting to say something, but then she froze like a possum in oncoming headlights.

“Ms. Hunt? Everything okay?”

She eyed the encircled silver star pinned to his denim button-down shirt. He’d been working this morning and hadn’t bothered to remove the badge. “Interesting symbol,” she said slowly.

“Represents the Texas Rangers.”

“Like the baseball team?”

“No, ma’am. Like the law enforcement agency.” Maybe that would make her feel safer about her temporary home. He jerked his thumb toward his house. “You have a bona fide lawman living right next door.”

Beneath the freckles, her face went whiter than his hat. “Really? That’s...” She gave herself a quick shake. “Come on, Belle. Inside now. Before, um, before that mud stains.”

“Okay.” Belle hung her head but rallied long enough to add, “Bye, Mister Zane. I hope I get to pet Dolly again soon.”

From Alex’s behavior, Zane had a suspicion they wouldn’t be getting together for neighborly potluck dinners anytime in the near future. Instead of commenting on the kid’s likelihood of seeing Dolly again, he waved. “Bye, Belle. Stay fabulous.”

She beamed. “I will!”

Then mother and daughter disappeared into the house, the front door banging shut behind them.

“Is there something about me,” he asked Dolly, “that makes females want to slam doors?”

The only response he got from the dog was an impatient tug on her leash. “Right. I promised you a walk.” They started again down the sidewalk, but he found himself periodically glancing over his shoulder and pondering his new neighbors. Cute kid, but she seemed like a handful. And Alex Hunt, once she’d calmed from her mama-bear fury, was perhaps the most skittish woman he’d ever met. If she were a horse, she’d have to wear blinders to keep from jumping at her own shadow. Zane wondered if there was a Mr. Hunt in the picture.

Not that it mattered. The Hunts would only be here for a matter of months, and he had more pressing priorities than getting to know them. He didn’t have the time or energy to win over a nervous neighbor. He still had to figure out how to win over his daughter.

* * *

A RANGER. ALEX LEANED against the closed door for support, her palm pressed to her racing heart.

Plenty of women would experience an increase in their pulses at the sight of Zane’s green eyes and coal-black hair, but she was more concerned with his occupation than his chiseled cheekbones or broad shoulders. An honest-to-God, badge-wearing, gun-toting, sworn-to-uphold-the-law Texas freaking Ranger! Bryce had neglected to mention that.

Josie, without a shy bone in her body—or any concern for the expensive area rug that didn’t belong to them—plopped right down in the entryway and began stripping off her muddy leggings. Not Josie, Alex reminded herself. Belle. If she was going to keep from blowing their covers, the new names had to be all the time, even in her own thoughts. Otherwise, someone was going to address her as Alex in public and she was going to forget they meant her.

“Belle” happened to be the name of her daughter’s favorite Disney princess. She’d seen the movie for the first time last month and had watched the DVD approximately six hundred times since then. Making the switch to the new name had been easy enough, especially once Alex explained that Belle meant beautiful. Her little girl had liked that, even if she hadn’t understood why she had to commit to a single new name and couldn’t keep changing it every week.

Alex’s alias had been chosen for her. When Bryce had handed her the ID, she’d been so fixated on how odd she looked in the picture—her hair dyed espresso with auburn highlights and cropped in a sleek bob that hugged her jawline—that it had taken a moment for the name to even register. She’d told Bryce to surprise her, paranoid that anything she picked would subconsciously hold meaning for her and somehow provide a lead for an astute private investigator.

“Alexandra Hunt?” she’d read, trying to imagine herself as an Alexandra. It seemed too exotic and sophisticated for a single mom whose life consisted of more macaroni than martinis. Then again, being a fugitive was pretty exotic.

Bryce’s face had reddened. “She was a character from an old video game, one of the first that got me hooked on gaming. I had kind of a cyber crush on her.”

“You named me for a character?” she’d shrieked. “Bryce, anonymity is our goal here! Why not just send me out into the world calling me Lara Croft?”

He’d been unfazed by her anxiety. “Okay, first, there could be lots of civilians who coincidentally have that name. Secondly, no one’s going to make the connection. This wasn’t a bestselling game. The ideas were solid, but the packaging and distribution...” Then he’d gone on a tangent about software platforms and market shares.

“Mommy?” Belle stood naked, hands on her hips. Alex had been too lost in thought to realize her daughter hadn’t stopped with the muddy pants. “Since I got dirty outside, don’t you think I should take a bath? Do we have any more of those crayons?”

The sudden attention to hygiene was an obvious ploy to pull out her favorite tub toys and splash around, but Alex was all in favor of that plan. Though she knew she couldn’t keep her daughter housebound for the next five and a half months, she didn’t like the idea of Belle hanging out in the yard, within easy conversational distance of the lawman next door.

“A bath sounds like a great idea,” Alex said. Maybe she’d treat herself to a similar luxury tonight—a long hot bubble bath after Belle was asleep and the doors were securely locked. She still couldn’t believe her daughter had taken advantage of the few minutes Alex had been in the bathroom to bolt out the front door, but dogs were a powerful enticement to the little girl. Belle’s fifth birthday was next month; the only present she’d asked for was a puppy.

That’s all I need. Then I’d be a fugitive on the lam with my fugitive princess daughter and our fugitive dog. A bubble of hysteria rose in her throat.

“Mommy? Why are you laughing?”

“No reason, punkin. Come on, let’s get you clean again.”

She followed her daughter upstairs to the bathroom, where Belle’s hot pink towel hung alongside the more color-coordinated linens belonging to the home’s owners. It was surreal to be here, surrounded by someone else’s furniture, someone else’s keepsakes, someone else’s wedding picture hanging on the wall. Everything was foreign. Between the unfamiliar setting, the ugly used car she’d given Bryce cash to purchase, the new hair and the new name, Alex hardly knew who she was anymore.

I’m a mother. And I have a daughter to keep safe.

Everything else—including her nausea over lying to a law enforcement officer and the terror that she might get caught—was unimportant.

Chapter Three

As soon as Eden rounded the corner to the ladies’ room, Zane turned to Officer Ben Torres. “I’m sorry.” The words caught unpleasantly in Zane’s throat. Having to apologize for his daughter stung. He wished others could see the sunny, sweet girl he remembered. “We’ve been lousy company tonight.”

Ben, a Fredericksburg police officer, was recovering from an on-duty injury. When the two men had talked on Monday, Ben had mentioned that he had a doctor’s appointment on Wednesday and was scheduled to graduate from a wheelchair to crutches. Since he’d received the medical okay this morning, Zane had offered to buy him dinner in celebration. Ben had suggested the Torres family restaurant where he ate for free, assuring Zane it was the thought that counted. Zane hadn’t cared where they ate as long as it got him out of the house. The strained suppers at home, with Eden barely responding to questions about her new high school, were taking their toll. Especially after yesterday’s call from the guidance counselor that she was using her midsemester move as an excuse for not doing homework, claiming that she was still trying to catch up and that her workload was daunting. Zane knew his daughter, a former honors student, was capable of far more when she applied herself. He was angry, but he hadn’t meant to inflict their prickly relationship on innocent bystanders.

“Don’t worry about me,” Ben said. “I’m growing accustomed to lousy company. My brother’s been living with me since he and his wife separated. He was always a serious guy, but now he’s downright grim. Next to him, Eden’s full of bubbly cheer.”

“She used to be. There was a time...” Zane trailed off uncomfortably, not in the habit of discussing personal matters.

Recalling Eden’s childhood exuberance reminded him of the spirited girl who’d accosted him and Dolly over the weekend. Instinct told him Belle Hunt didn’t have a father in the immediate picture. For one thing, Kelsey had said she was leaving the care of her house to a lady, not a family. Had Alexandra Hunt needed a place to get back on her feet after her marriage fell apart? He silently wished her luck—single parenting wasn’t for wimps.

He ground his teeth. “Do you think all children of divorced parents turn bitter?”

“Divorce is tough, but you’re oversimplifying,” Ben chided. “Don’t you think it’s difficult for a teen to change schools midyear and make new friends no matter what her parents’ marital status? Besides, moodiness is normal for teenage girls. I grew up with a sister, remember?” He contorted his face into a comical mask of horror.

“Oh, please. Grace is one of the most hospitable people I’ve ever met!”

The three Torres siblings jointly owned The Twisted Jalapeño, but Chef Grace Torres was the one who ran the restaurant.

Ben rolled his eyes. “Sure, she’s the soul of hospitality now, as an adult trying to drum up repeat business for this place, but you should have seen her at fourteen! Maybe what Eden needs is a woman who can relate to her. Too bad your last date was back when dinosaurs were leaving those footprints in the Hondo Creek bed.”

“I haven’t noticed anyone special in your life, either,” Zane grumbled. Although he had noticed Ben sneaking surreptitious glances toward Amy Winthrop, the bartender. “Speaking of women, do you know anything about Alex Hunt? She’s living next to me temporarily, house-sitting for Kelsey and Dave Comer.”

“We should ask Grace.” Ben nodded at his crutches. “I haven’t exactly been man about town lately. Thank God the festival starts this weekend. I’m going stir-crazy.”

Frederick-Fest was a weeklong annual tradition that attracted tourists from all over the state and vendors from all over the country. Zane would be working some shifts to assist with security and crowd control.

“Will you be mobile enough to volunteer at the festival?” Zane asked.

“Not in my usual capacity, but I can work the first aid booth when other people need a lunch break. And Amy and I are going to sit at a table handing out promotional stuff for the restaurant.”

“Ah.” Zane smirked. “The lovely Amy.”

“Who’s Amy?”

Both men started as Eden slid back into her chair. Apparently she’d killed as much time as she possibly could in the restroom by braiding her blond hair and applying far too much makeup.

Zane did a double take. “Any particular reason you’re trying to make yourself look like a raccoon?”

Slashes of red appeared on her cheeks, and he regretted his words. He didn’t approve of the pound of cosmetics she’d slathered on her face, but he shouldn’t embarrass her in front of Ben. He was grateful when Ben answered her question, heading off any sarcastic retort.

“Amy is my sister’s roommate. She works here.” He gestured toward the bar and waved.

A pretty woman with purple-tinted hair waved back, making Zane ashamed of his knee-jerk reaction. Amy, with her tattoo and the line of earrings adorning her ear, was kindhearted and responsible. Maybe he shouldn’t let a couple of pink streaks in Eden’s hair and her enthusiastic use of eyeliner bother him so much.

“I was just telling your dad,” Ben continued, “that Amy and I will be working a shift at the festival. It starts this weekend.”

“Yeah, I heard some kids in class talking about a festival.” Eden sounded intrigued.

“We used to go every year as a family,” Zane said. “You remember the pony rides and all the food? I used to dance with you.”

“Ew.” Eden’s grimace made it clear she would not welcome a dance with her father at the polka pavilion.

Their waiter appeared, plates of hot entrées lined up his arm in such a seemingly precarious way that it was a miracle he hadn’t dropped everything on his walk from the kitchen.

“You’re going to love the food,” Ben promised. He’d expressed surprise when he’d learned this was Eden’s first visit to the Jalapeño, admonishing Zane that two and a half weeks was far too long a wait.

Ben’s words proved prophetic. After the first few bites, Eden wolfed down her food with the gusto and appetite Zane remembered from his own teenage years—when his mother used to tease that he couldn’t come grocery shopping with her because he’d eat half the purchases in the car before she could get them home. Between Eden’s enjoyment of the food and periodic questions about the festival, it was the most animated Zane had seen her since her arrival.

God bless the Torres family, he found himself thinking at the end of the evening. Chef Grace Torres had come to their table to say hi and make sure everything was delicious, and Eden had seemed a little starstruck to meet someone who was going to appear on a reality show.

Grace had explained that the producers wanted to film the cooking competition during the festival. “When the first episode airs, Amy and I are going to host a viewing party. You and your dad will have to come. Unless of course I lose. In which case, I plan to hibernate for a year in the longest pity party Gillespie County has ever seen.”

“There’s no way you can lose,” Eden had protested. “Your food is awesome!”

But once they were in the truck after dinner, Zane was on his own again, without Ben or Grace to ride to his rescue. “Glad you liked dinner,” he told his daughter. “We’ll have to eat there more often.”

Eden nodded promptly—confirming that the Jalapeño was the first thing she officially liked about Fredericksburg—but remained quiet.

He cleared his throat. “I, uh...I shouldn’t have said you look like a raccoon.”

She flinched, which wasn’t the reaction he’d hoped to get.

“I have to be at the festival most of the weekend,” he said. “Want to come with me and check it out?” When she shrugged noncommittally, he played the ace up his sleeve. “Ben mentioned the other day that Grace and the other contestants on that reality show will be doing some live demonstrations. You want an in-person sneak peek? Who knows—if the camera crew pans the audience, maybe you’ll end up on TV, too.”

She swiveled in her seat. “You think so? That would be awesome.”

“I don’t see why not. It happens at sporting events all the time. The producers might even interview people to get their opinion on the food. If there’s one thing the festival has plenty of, it’s food.”

“What about rides?” Eden asked. “I love roller coasters.”

“Well, there aren’t any big coasters, but there are some carnival rides.” He was giving her a rundown of attractions and scheduled events when they pulled up in front of the house.

Eden was engaged enough in the conversation that when he walked down the driveway to get the mail, she came with him rather than disappear into the house. A high-pitched “Hey, Mister Zane!” caused them both to turn at the same time.

In the driveway next door, Belle and her mother were walking toward their beater of a car. The vehicle was easily older than Eden. Hell, it might be older than him.

Even in the dim illumination provided by the streetlight, he could see Alex scowl. Now that he’d had time to mull it over, he was almost certain she was going through a divorce. Maybe she was at that stage where she disliked all men. It was a more palatable explanation than her hating him personally, for no discernible reason.

“Hey, Belle,” he called back, not breaking stride as he proceeded to the mailbox. The Hunts were obviously on their way out, and he didn’t plan to intrude on Alex’s evening.

“Who’s the cute little kid?” Eden asked.

“Temporary neighbors, house-sitting for the people who live there. They moved in about the same time you got here.” Too bad Belle wasn’t a decade older. Then maybe she and Eden could commiserate about both being new girls.

Eden seemed unbothered by the age difference, though. She was already walking toward the other two females. “Hi,” she chirped. “I’m Eden Winchester. I like your crown!”

Belle wore yet another tiara—this one paired with a feather boa. She preened at Eden’s compliment, but then frowned. “Did you get hit in the face? I saw a movie where a bad guy got hit and his eye looked like that. But it was just one, not both.”

Alex slapped a palm to her forehead. “That’s not nice, Belle.”

“I didn’t get punched,” Eden said. “It’s makeup.”

“Oh!” Belle brightened. “I love makeup. I have a whole kit. Nail polish and lipstick and skin glitter. You should play makeup with me, and I’ll show you how. Yours looks funny.”

“Like a raccoon?” Eden flashed a grin over her shoulder, and Zane’s heart squeezed in his chest. He felt as if he and his daughter shared a joke, as if they were finally a team rather than two opposing sides. Her smile bought years of memories cascading back. That’s the Eden I know.

He ambled toward the three women, suddenly loath to let the Hunts get away. “Where are you ladies headed?”

“The store,” Belle announced. “Mommy forgot dinner.”

“I didn’t forget,” Alex insisted. “I made a pot of homemade sauce, and it’s been simmering for hours. I just didn’t realize we had no spaghetti. I’m still not used to living out of someone else’s pantry. At home, noodles are a staple.”

Zane wondered where “home” was. “I think I have spaghetti. Why don’t you come over, and we can check?”

She actually retreated, bumping into the side of her car. He was half-surprised the door didn’t fall off the ancient sedan. Surely her former home was within a few hours’ drive. That clunker wouldn’t have made it far.

“Oh, no,” Alex said in a rush. “Belle and I don’t want to impose.”

Her daughter had other ideas. “Yay! Can I pet Dolly? Come on, Mommy.” She raced into the Winchesters’ driveway, telling Eden, “I met Dolly the other yesterday. She likes me!”

Eden nodded, her voice a pseudo-whisper. “Dolly has very good taste. She only likes the most special people.”

And the most “fabulous,” Zane thought with an inward smile. Perhaps he should feel guilty about their ganging up on Alex. She looked like she’d rather drink strychnine than investigate the contents of his kitchen, but after all, he was trying to do the woman a favor. She and Belle were probably starving. Why drive all the way to the grocery store?

“It’s no imposition,” Zane assured her. He gazed pointedly to the girls, who had linked hands, and lowered his voice. “Don’t look now, but I think you’re outvoted.”

“Are you going to the festival?” Eden asked Belle.

The little girl’s forehead puckered. “What’s a festival?”

“It’s a fair. There will be rides and performing animals and games to play.”

“I like animals!” Belle turned wide eyes on her mother, imploring, “Please? It sounds fun! I never get any fun.”

Eden tousled the girl’s hair, knocking the tiara askew. “You, either, huh?”

“One thing at a time,” Alex said, a thread of desperation in her voice. “Let’s worry about getting some dinner into you. We’ll talk about the festival later.”

“So you’ll accept the offer to raid my pantry?” Zane pressed.

“Doesn’t look like I have much choice.”

It wasn’t the most gracious thank-you he’d ever received, but luckily for Alex, he’d had a lot of recent practice with a grudging female. After a couple of weeks of Eden’s attitude, his neighbor’s surliness bounced right off him. As they approached his lawn, they could hear Dolly barking inside the house. Belle ran on ahead as if she could somehow get through the locked door.

Eden hung back long enough to confide, “I always wanted a kid sister. But an adorable neighbor is good for now.” Then she caught up to Belle, leaving her father startled.

He’d never thought about whether Eden wanted siblings or not. Both he and Valerie had been only children, so it had seemed natural to have just one. Besides, he and Valerie hadn’t shared a bed much in the final years of their marriage, not after he’d caught her sharing other men’s.

Alex walked beside him, her stiff body language screaming her reluctance. “I’m guessing there’s no wife at home to resent our intrusion?”

He shook his head. “Divorced single parent. You?”

She was silent for a long minute, and he watched her gnaw at her bottom lip. Finally, in a tone so soft it was barely audible, she said, “Widowed. Since last spring.”

Her answer hit him with tangible force. He’d been so sure she was divorced or separated. It had never occurred to him Belle’s father might be dead.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

“I...apologize if I haven’t seemed very neighborly. It’s been hard.” She gave a quick, brittle laugh. “Understatement.”

“Well, if there’s anything I can do,” he offered. “Spaghetti noodles. Car maintenance.”

“That’s kind of you, Mr. Winchester, but Belle and I have to learn to stand on our own feet.”

“An admirable sentiment.” He crossed to his porch and unlocked the front door. Dolly practically knocked him down in her excitement.

Eden grabbed the dog by the collar. “Belle and I will take her out back.”

He motioned for Alex to come inside. “After you.” He couldn’t help noticing how she tried to shrink her body as she passed him, flattening herself against the doorjamb to insure they wouldn’t accidentally touch.

Though she clearly wasn’t comfortable around him yet, maybe they could help each other. She was new in town and might need a tour guide of sorts. Their daughters had certainly hit it off; he’d never seen Eden warm to someone so instantaneously. Alex Hunt might not think she was in the right state of mind to make new friends, but Zane resolved to prove her wrong. That smile Eden had flashed him when she made the raccoon remark still warmed him from the inside, like hot chocolate.

I’m not a bad guy, he silently promised Alex. And I think you’ll grow to like me. He hoped so, anyway.

Because if he had anything to do with it, their families would definitely be spending time together.

Chapter Four

Alex waited while Tess Fitzpatrick, a local dance teacher, counted out bills from the petty cash drawer. Tess was a cheerful redhead with a round face and pert features that made her look younger than she was. The first time Alex had come into the studio, she’d hesitated, not sure if Tess worked here or was a teenage student.

“We are so lucky you answered our ad,” Tess said as she handed Alex an envelope. “With all of our age groups and classes performing at the festival, we really need the extra help with costumes and sets.”

Last week, Alex had seen the notice for a seamstress who could alter ballet costumes that didn’t quite fit and do minor repairs on older pieces from the studio’s wardrobe closet. Alex had learned to sew early in life, often refurbishing or embellishing ill-fitting hand-me-downs so she wouldn’t feel like such a loser wearing them.

She returned Tess’s smile. “I’m happy to lend a hand—especially since you’re paying me.”

“Only a nominal amount,” Tess fretted. “As skilled as you are, you should be better compensated.”

“I’m not complaining. I’m just glad you didn’t mind paying me in cash.” She’d rather not tempt fate by trying to cash checks made out to “Alexandra Hunt.”

Alex had stammered through a clumsy explanation about her bank not having local branches and how it wasn’t worth starting a new account since her stay here would only be temporary. Tess was too good-natured to question the awkward rambling, but Alex knew she was a terrible liar. Hell, she felt guilty and self-conscious just standing in the same room with another redhead. Tess’s ginger curls made Alex nervous that her dye job was blatantly obvious in comparison. Even though Bryce had assured her she looked great, her new, sleek, dark hair occasionally made her feel like an actress in a bad spy film.

If only this were a movie and not her real life! Tension knotted her stomach, but she tried to keep her voice light as she addressed her daughter.

“Come on, punkin.” The little girl stood watching through an interior window into the ballet studio. “Time to go grocery shopping.”

Belle kept her gaze on the dozen six-year-olds who jumped and spun in a whirl of black leotards and gauzy pink skirts. “They’re pretty,” she said wistfully.

Alex was so on edge that she almost jumped when Tess reached out and cupped her wrist.

“Sorry.” Tess’s brown eyes were contrite. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I was trying to be discreet.” She glanced in Belle’s direction and dropped her voice to such a hushed whisper that Alex was nearly reduced to lipreading.

“I don’t want to speak out of turn,” Tess began. “Although, I am sort of known for that around town. Anyway, I realize you won’t be here long and it may not be in your budget, but if she wanted to attend a class, we could work something out. Maybe trade a few more sequin maintenance jobs for—”

“Class? Can I, Mommy? Can I take a class?” Belle’s attention was fully on her mother now, the spinning dancers behind the glass forgotten.

Tess winced. “I didn’t mean for her to overhear that.”

“Don’t blame yourself.” Alex shot her daughter a reproachful look. “She has bionic hearing or something. I’ve never understood how she does it.”

“Please?” Belle asked.

“That’s for me and Miss Fitzpatrick to discuss later. Right now, it’s time to buy groceries.” Alex herded her daughter toward the door, trying not to think about how many puppies and dance lessons Eileen and Phillip Hargrove could afford. Yeah, they’re loaded, but giving Chris every single thing he ever asked for didn’t do him much good, did it? She couldn’t let the Hargroves get their cold hands on her daughter. Even if her suspicions about their criminal tendencies were exaggerated—which she doubted—she knew they were dangerous in other ways.

Belle walked silently to the car, doing nothing to help while Alex buckled her into the booster seat. “Miss our old car,” the girl finally grumbled.

Me, too. Alex had insisted Bryce find her something with at least minimal safety features, but she hoped she never had to put any of them to the test. In the event of a collision, the air bags in this piece of junk seemed more likely to whimper in defeat than deploy. She bit her lip, recalling Zane Winchester’s unexpected offer last night, when he’d told her he was willing to help with anything from pasta to car maintenance. As a mother, she couldn’t help wondering if it would be worth the risk to let him look over the vehicle and make sure it was roadworthy, for Belle’s sake. But as a woman on the run, inviting the law over to look under her hood was a really bad idea.

In the backseat, Belle remained uncharacteristically silent. She didn’t recover her normal verve until the produce section of the grocery store. She stood next to the cart, bouncing on the balls of her feet as Alex compared fruit prices.

“Mommy, apples are healthy, aren’t they?”

Alex picked up a bag of seedless grapes. “Mmm-hmm.”

“And exercise is healthy. There was a song about it on my show this morning.” With projection a vocal coach would applaud, she belted out, “‘Gotta move, move, MOVE to find your healthy groove! You gotta—’”

“Shh!” Alex pressed her fingertips to Belle’s mouth.

Her daughter squirmed away. “Don’t do that.”

“Sorry, but you’re not supposed to be so loud in the store. They probably have rules about that. We don’t want to get in trouble.” Not that Belle had any concept of how much trouble they could attract. Was there anyone in the world less suited to lying low and not drawing attention? “No more singing until we get home, okay?”

“Okay.” Belle nodded in prompt agreement, a cherubic picture of obedience. “Is dancing exercise?”

Alex sighed, realizing where this exchange had been leading all along. “I said I’d consider the lessons with Miss Tess. I need time to think about it.”

Alex’s top priority was to keep her daughter hidden and safe. Ballet classes were unnerving. The less Belle interacted with others, the better. But on the other hand, how was the nearly-five-year-old supposed to develop socially and emotionally if her mother kept her isolated in a strange house? Every bit as vivacious as her father had been, Belle needed to be around people.

“Guess what?” Alex changed the subject. “I decided we’re going to the festival this weekend.” It was a stopgap measure, one that would make Belle happy without being as risky as regular dance lessons where she might make friends and unwittingly confide in her classmates.

“We are?” Belle stretched her arms out and spun in a circle. “They have balloon animals at the festival! Eden said so. And pony rides.”

As Alex steered the cart down the bread aisle, Belle kept up a monologue of everything she planned to do and eat at Frederick-Fest. For the first time since they’d showed up in town, Alex felt as if she’d done something right. Maybe the festival would be good for both of them. Lord knew she could use the diversion.

They finished their shopping and progressed to the checkout line, where the cashier took note of the five boxes of spaghetti noodles and smiled. “Having a dinner party?”

Alex’s face heated and she didn’t bother answering as she paid. She hadn’t realized she’d grabbed that many boxes. Had she subconsciously thought that if she armed herself with enough pasta she could avoid running into Zane Winchester again? Unlikely. The man lived next door. It would have been nice if she could park in the Comers’ garage, all the better to dodge her neighbors when she was coming and going from the house, but the garage was full.

Full of the Comers’ belongings. Because it’s their home. This house-sitting situation was fortuitous but temporary. Now that she and Belle had settled into a “safe” place long enough to regroup, Alex had to come up with a long term plan to protect her daughter.

In a perfect world, Alex could stay one step ahead and the Hargroves would never find them. But she couldn’t count on that. She desperately wished she had ammunition against them, insurance she could use to make them relent. For the sake of her marriage—and because she’d thought it prudent to stay beneath the Hargroves’ radar as much as possible—she’d tried for years to ignore her instincts about her parents-in-law. If she’d dug deeper, would she now have enough information to be a real threat to them?

Not necessarily. Even if she’d been brave enough to ask questions sooner, who would have given her straight answers? Besides, if evidence of Phillip Hargrove’s corruption was so easy to come by, someone would have used it by now. No matter how many smiling people clapped him on the back at the country club, the man had a few enemies. But Phillip did enough social and financial damage to his opponents to discourage people from acting against him. He wasn’t used to being thwarted.

A perverse grin tugged at her lips. The man who didn’t tolerate ever being told no must have been downright apoplectic when he learned his “mousy nobody” of a daughter-in-law had defied him. She wished she could have seen the look on his face when he’d realized she wasn’t walking into that courtroom. Her self-congratulatory moment faded as quickly as it came, though. She’d caught them off guard the first time simply because it had never occurred to them that she would have the gumption to leave, just as Chris had underestimated her ability to walk away from him. Now Eileen and Phillip had a better understanding of the lengths she would go to in order to keep Josie out of their clutches.

Without the element of surprise on her side, what other weapons did she have in her arsenal?

* * *

FOLLOWING DINNER THURSDAY night, Zane delegated the job of walking the dog to Eden. “Don’t go far. They’re predicting a storm tonight. And don’t forget to take some baggies with you to clean up after her.”

She made a face. “Gross. Come on, Dolly, let’s get this over with.”

“So you can beat the rain and hurry back to focus on that makeup homework, right?”

He’d found several opportunities during dinner to stress the importance of her grades—and remind her he’d be checking her work from now on to make sure it was complete. At this latest mention, Eden shot him a look that could pierce Kevlar. But she didn’t make a surly retort, which was progress. Maybe I’m getting through to her.

He’d had a brainstorm at lunch on how to further encourage his daughter to become an upstanding member of society. At the restaurant, Ben had commented that it might benefit Eden to have a woman she could relate to as a role model. Would it also help Eden to be someone else’s role model? She’d doted on Belle Hunt. She’d been so patient and good-natured with the little girl; perhaps giving them more time together would motivate Eden to be a sterling example.

He just needed Alex Hunt’s cooperation.

Today he’d found himself thinking about the lovely widow far more than he should; the sadness in her eyes haunted him. He wanted to help her smile again. Granted, she’d been a bit skittish in his presence so far, but if she got to know him better... His divorce had been difficult even with friends and his parents nearby to help him through it. He could barely fathom how Alex felt, alone with no local support network. Zane could take her to dinner, officially welcome her to town and let her know he was here for her.

For a second, doubt gripped him—was this another ill-advised attempt at rescuing a damsel in distress? No. It was simply an invitation to dinner. According to Ben, men issued such invitations to women all the time.

Zane scrawled a quick note saying he’d be back soon and changed into a faded San Antonio Spurs T-shirt with his jeans. Both times he’d interacted with Alex, she’d seemed intimidated. To put her at ease, he wanted to appear as casual and approachable as possible.

About a month ago, when he’d been eating alone at The Twisted Jalapeño, Grace Torres had stopped at his table to tease him about looking stern and hyperalert. “At least three patrons have asked if you’re here tonight to take down a criminal,” she’d said. “I would take it as a personal favor if you could at least pretend to relax and enjoy my food.”

Smile, he reminded himself as he cut across his lawn into the Comers’ front yard. Be friendly. He wanted to coax Alex into seeing things his way, not scare her. That outdated monstrosity of a car was in the driveway, so he assumed the Hunts were home.

He knocked at the front door, calling “Hello?” for good measure. “It’s Zane.” He could understand a single woman not wanting to open the door to unexpected visitors after dark.

There were footsteps on the other side, followed by the metallic rattle and click of the chain being unfastened and the dead bolt being unlocked.

Alex greeted him in a resigned tone. “Mr. Winchester. What brings you here?”

Her eyebrows were raised in a quizzical expression. They were a ruddy gold, much closer to the color of Belle’s red curls than to Alex’s dark hair. Many women liked to experiment with different shades, but he couldn’t help wondering how Alex looked with her natural color. Beautiful, he imagined.

She would be beautiful anyway if her features weren’t so often pinched with apprehension.

Realizing he’d yet to speak, he gave her a broad smile. Friendly, approachable. “I, uh, have something to discuss with you. Can I come in for a second?”

“Hi, Mister Zane!” Belle joined her mother at the door. “Want a hot dog? We’re eating dinner.”

“I deduced that,” he said, trying not to laugh at the little girl’s colorful cheeks and chin.

She wrinkled her nose. “What’s ‘deduce’?”

Alex glanced down at her daughter, the tenderness in her gaze transforming her appearance. “It means using clues to figure something out. The mustard and ketchup all over your face are pretty big clues.” She stepped back, allowing Zane inside. “If you’re done eating, Belle, go upstairs and wash your face. You can play in your room while Mr. Winchester and I talk.”

When Belle frowned, obviously not pleased at being banished, Zane added, “Listen to your mama now.” The little girl hesitated, then nodded and scampered up the stairs. At Alex’s surprised expression, he said, “Hope I wasn’t out of line, telling her what to do. Force of habit.”

“From parenting Eden?”

“From the job, actually. In law enforcement, we provide backup for each other.”

Alex would do anything for her daughter, but she had to admit, single parenting could get difficult. On Belle’s occasional Holy Terror days, it would be nice to know someone else had her back. Bath times and bedtimes might be easier if she could depend on a partner. Cover me, I’m going in.

Zane gave her an expectant smile. “So where can we talk?”

Maybe the reason for his dropping by was as simple as letting her know about a neighborhood garage sale. But her self-preservation instincts wanted to manufacture an excuse to shove him back out the door. This was the first time she’d ever seen him without his omnipresent white hat. His dark hair was appealingly rumpled, and he wore a black T-shirt with jeans. Inexplicably, she found him more dangerous like this than if he’d shown up with a gun and badge. At least the badge was a reminder that she couldn’t let her guard down.

“Let’s go in the kitchen,” she said. “But if you don’t want Belle to overhear, it might be easier to pass notes back and forth on a sheet of paper. As I told Tess Fitzpatrick today, my daughter has some sort of sonic superhearing.”

“Oh, you know Tess? That’s great!” He beamed at her. What was with him tonight? Spokespeople for teeth whitener didn’t smile this much. “Making lots of new friends in town?”

Not especially. It was difficult to bond when you were lying about who you were and considered the day a success if you’d managed not to speak to anyone. She went into the kitchen, busying herself with rinsing dirty dishes and loading them into the washer.

He leaned against the island behind her, far too close for her peace of mind. “Anything I can do to help?”

Leave. “No, I’ve got it.” She cringed at the abrupt edge in her voice. “Thanks anyway, Mr. Winchester.”

“Zane,” he corrected. “I’d like to be on that list of new friends. After all, we’re neighbors. Plus, we’re in the same boat.”

The Texas Ranger and the failure-to-appear outlaw mom? They weren’t even in the same ocean.

“With both of us raising girls on our own,” Zane said, “you and I have a lot in common. We know how stressful single parenting can be. When was the last time you had a night out, just some adult conversation and a few hours to relax?”

Warning sirens clanged in her head. All his smiling tonight...had he been flirting with her? “Are you asking me on a date?” She lost her grip on a slick wet glass. It hit the tile floor and shattered.

Zane swore under his breath. “You’re barefoot. Where can I find a broom?”

“Laundry room around the corner,” she said, feeling clumsy and foolish. If she didn’t want to draw attention to her and Belle, she had to stop overreacting to everything. But the thought of Zane asking her out caused her head to spin.

While she waited, she bent to pick up the largest pieces. She wondered if she could find the Comers a replacement glass that matched the one she’d broken. “Ow!” A drop of blood bloomed on the tip of her finger.

Zane hurried back with a broom and dustpan. “Did you step on a piece?”

She pointed to the large jagged hunk of glass that sat on the counter. “I was getting the biggest pieces out of the way to make sweeping up the shards easier.”

He set the broom against the island and reached for her. “Put your arms around my neck.”

“What? No, I—”

But he was already lifting her as if she weighed no more than Belle. Alex’s heart thudded in erratic tempo. When was the last time a man had held her? Up close, she realized just how green Zane’s eyes were. Not blue-green or a diluted hazel, but clear and—

“There you go.” He righted her next to the kitchen table and took her hand in his, examining it beneath the Comers’ funky chandelier. “I don’t see a sliver. First aid supplies?”

She waved her free hand toward the kitchen drawer where she kept Belle’s adhesive bandages.

He chuckled when he found them. “You want one printed with polka-dotted puppies or kittens wearing crowns?”

Alex sank into a chair, wishing she could rewind to when she’d first opened the door and do everything differently. For starters, I wouldn’t open the door. “Surprise me.”

He returned a moment later with an adhesive strip and antibiotic ointment.

“Thanks.” She didn’t meet his eyes as he took her hand. His grip was warm and strong and he was slow to let go of her after he’d bandaged the cut.

“Alex?” His voice was a husky rumble, and she couldn’t help wondering how he would sound saying her real name.

She stiffened at the mental slip. For all intents and purposes, Alex is your real name. Keep it together.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable earlier,” he apologized. “I just thought maybe you’d like to have dinner sometime. You’re new in town and don’t know anyone. And...I’d really like to get to know you.”

Their gazes locked. For a moment she desperately wanted to say yes. In addition to being undeniably attractive, Zane seemed like a great guy, straightforward and dependable. Trustworthy. Unlike me. She belatedly remembered that it was imperative he didn’t get to know her, not the real her.

“I can’t,” she blurted. “Thank you, but no.”

“I see.” Disappointment clouded his gaze as he turned away. He began sweeping broken glass into the dustpan. “I’m tempted to try to talk you into it anyway, just an evening out as friends, but I was raised to be more chivalrous than that. A gallant man should accept a woman’s refusal gracefully.”

She steered the subject away from her personal life. “So who instilled this code of chivalry, your mom or dad?”

“Both.” His mouth curved in an affectionate smile that seemed more natural than his earlier toothy grins. “He was a fireman and she was a nurse. They’re retired now, living in an apartment at Gunther Gardens, but age doesn’t stop them from volunteering around the community. They share a strong drive to help others.”

“They sound like good people.” It made sense that two civic-minded, everyday heroes had raised a strapping lawman with a penchant for wanting to help.

“What about your parents?” Zane asked. “Are they retired or still working?”

“Don’t actually know,” she said, her voice tight. “I was a ward of the state.”

Was it folly to share that personal fact with him? Did it make her more identifiable, should anyone ever ask about her? Zane didn’t need to know she’d been abandoned as a sickly toddler. She’d needed so much extra care that no one had adopted her. Eventually, she’d become as healthy as any other child, but she’d never found a permanent home.

“I don’t really like to talk about it,” she added. She glanced pointedly at the cheap digital watch that was light-years away from the diamond-studded Cartier Christopher had given her when they’d learned she was pregnant the first time. “Not to be rude, but I need to run Belle’s bath soon.”

“Right. One quick favor to ask, then I’ll go. Would you let Eden babysit for your daughter sometime? If you and Tess ever wanted to go see a movie, for example. I would owe you big-time.”

“You would?” Alex blinked, not sure how hiring his daughter to babysit was a favor to him. “Is Eden trying to save up for a car or something?” She knew parents of teens often encouraged their kids to seek employment, but Zane’s going door to door on his daughter’s behalf seemed a touch overzealous.

“This isn’t about money,” he said. “It’s about responsibility. My ex asked if Eden could come live with me because she’d fallen in with a bad crowd in California, developed some dangerous habits. She was becoming argumentative, disrespectful, sneaky.”

“You realize you’re not painting a picture of someone I want to entrust with my only child?” she asked wryly.

“She’s still a good kid deep down,” he maintained, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself as much as Alex. “I catch glimpses of it, like last night. Watching her with Belle was encouraging. She was the Eden I remember, the young woman I believe she can be. There are a lot of rehabilitative programs that focus on giving offenders more responsibility as a way to improve self-worth and behavior.”

Damn it. Alex understood too well the need to do what was best for one’s child; she empathized with his goal. And after turning down his dinner invitation, saying yes to this seemed like the least she could do. Further entangling her and Belle’s life with Zane and his daughter’s, however, was too big a gamble to take.

She was slow to answer, trying to frame her refusal gently. “I appreciate your being so candid with me.” Didn’t she owe him some honesty in return? If she’d stepped on the broken glass, it wouldn’t have stung more than her conscience did now. “The truth is, I’ve always been a little overprotective of my daughter, even before my husband’s death. Belle wasn’t my first pregnancy. Before her, I...lost two. Then I went into labor with her prematurely. I was terrified. She’s my miracle, and I can’t let anything happen to her. The idea of letting a teenager I don’t know well, one with a history of irresponsibility—”

“I understand,” Zane interrupted. “And I won’t take up any more of your time.”

He looked so dejected that it was on the tip of her tongue to offer a compromise, such as suggesting they discuss this again after she was better acquainted with Eden. But Alex couldn’t afford to get any better acquainted with the Winchesters! It was temptingly easy to talk to Zane. In one short conversation, she’d mentioned being a foster child and her miscarriages, both of which were private matters she rarely discussed.

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