She’s not who she seems…

Gracie Travers has a secret. She’s not the down-on-her-luck drifter she appears to be. Once America’s sweetheart, Gracie needs to keep below the paparazzi’s radar until she’s thirty. Then she’ll get her money and get off the street.

But one small mistake brings Deputy Sheriff Austin Trumball into her life. He’s attractive and oh-so-dangerous. If he learns who she really is, her anonymous days are over. Worse, Austin’s hard to resist, and their connection is terrifying. Soon he makes her want what she can’t have—a lover, a family and a home of her own.

Maybe they could sleep in the same bed tonight without it being too awkward.

Maybe this could work, Gracie thought as she looked to where Austin stood beside the window, big and calm and about as perfect as a man could be, except for a small scar beside his left eye.

He must have shoved his fingers through his hair, because it lay in sexy waves. She wanted to straighten it out, but that would be a big mistake.

Hands off, Gracie. You haven’t been attracted to a man in six years. Why start now when you’re so close to the end?

What appealed to her, though, was underneath the facade. Austin gave too much. She was a stranger who’d picked his pocket. He should have given her a night in jail.

Instead, he’d shown compassion, and it had her yearning for things that could never be.

She glanced at the bed. Maybe it would still be awkward. She hadn’t been attracted to a man in years, probably because she’d been focused on survival. But Austin had taken care of that. She was warm and fuzzy when she needed her defenses the most. If she wasn’t careful, she would let her guard down.

Don’t forget who you really are. This man must never find out the truth about you.

You’re almost home free.

Dear Reader,

Privacy is becoming a precious commodity in today’s world. We seem to know everything about everyone around us. The public craves the latest news about celebrities, and we are often pressured by those around us to become involved in social media.

I began to wonder what would happen to a woman who had reached her breaking point and decided to just opt out of today’s society. How difficult would her life become?

This is the story of one such woman’s journey.

As well, I wanted to follow the escapades of a couple of characters from previous novels—including Austin Trumball from No Ordinary Sheriff (Mills & Boon Superromance, May 2012). Many readers have asked me what happened to him. Here is his story.

There are also two young characters who were separated when they were only twelve years old through no fault of their own—Finn (Franck) Caldwell and Melody Chase from These Ties that Bind (Mills & Boon Superromance, November 2011). I wanted to explore what would happen to them if they met again as adults.

I loved writing these characters in my earlier books and have enjoyed creating happy endings for them as adults, but not before giving them plenty of conflict to overcome first!

Mary Sullivan

No Ordinary Home
Mary Sullivan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mary started her life living in a large city, and she loved it. Her early career was as a darkroom printer—a career ideally suited to her temperament. She left both the city and the job to start her family. Along the way, darkrooms became obsolete when computers took over. Searching for a creative alternative, she found writing. In particular, writing romance novels, which she enjoys thoroughly. She moved to smaller cities and then the country and then back to a big city, and the novel writing has followed her everywhere! These days she strives for a balance between her public life as an author and her private life, but she always loves to hear from readers. Don’t hesitate to contact her through her website, www.marysullivanbooks.com.

Thank you to all of the staff at Harlequin, who are unfailingly polite and lovely.

Thank you to every copy editor, line editor and proofreader who fixes my mistakes for me.

Thank you to every member of the art department for giving me stellar covers time and time again.

Thank you to Megan Long for helping me to make this the best book it could be!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

EXTRACT

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

AUSTIN TRUMBALL STOOD under the sickly green fluorescent lighting of a Wyoming truck-stop diner waiting for a table, with the devil eating a hole through his belly. He shouldn’t have waited so long to stop for lunch.

The smell of charbroiled burgers and greasy fries seeped into his hair and clothes. Short-order cooks called for servers to pick up orders. Waitresses yelled back, “Hold your horses,” or “Coming!” Not-so-nimble fingers slid into Austin’s back pocket and lifted his wallet.

The brazen act carried out so clumsily startled a laugh out of him.

Not only did the pathetic amateur lack skills, he had no idea he’d just robbed a cop.

Austin walked like one, talked like one, scoped out his surroundings like one, but the thief had failed to scope him out. Big mistake.

Leaning forward, he murmured to his buddy Finn, “Be right back,” and spun around just as a boy ran out the front door. Austin followed without calling. The biggest mistake people made was screaming they’d been robbed or yelling to the thief to stop. What sense was there in warning a criminal you were coming after him?

Outside, a flash of dark clothing rounded the far corner of the building.

Light-footed, Austin followed around to the back.

The boy stood beside a Dumpster that reeked of garbage left sitting too long in the sun. He stuffed Austin’s credit cards into his pockets and tossed the wallet into the bin. It hit the side and bounced onto the asphalt. Good thing, or Austin would be tossing the boy into the trash to fish it out.

The kid wasn’t even smart enough to watch his back, but actually stood and counted the money instead of hightailing it out of there. No shortage of stupid here.

Using the stealth he’d learned on the job, Austin snuck up right behind the boy just as he breathed, “Two hundred dollars,” as though he’d won the lottery. The boy was young; his voice hadn’t even dropped yet. Austin shook his head, disgusted with today’s youth. Or with their parents. What would drive someone so young out of his home, onto the road and into a life of crime?

The boy’s skinny neck peeked out from beneath a dusty baseball cap, narrow enough that Austin would have sworn he could circle it with his hands. The thought made him realize just how vulnerable this kid actually was.

Didn’t matter. The boy had robbed him. He was going to jail.

Austin grabbed the back of the kid’s hoodie. The thief let out a high-pitched yelp. “Who—?”

“That’s my hard-earned cash you’re counting.” Austin shook the boy.

“Crap on a broomstick.” Kid couldn’t even swear properly yet. Truly pathetic.

Austin spun him around then dropped his hand from the shirt. His jaw dropped, too. This was no green kid, definitely not a thirteen-or fourteen-year-old boy, but a twenty-something woman.

A woman?

After that observation came another one more interesting, considering she was such a poor thief. This woman had been around; she was pretty, but in a hard-knocks seen-too-much kind of way, skin baked by the sun, jaw defiant. Certainly no pushover.

The bill of her baseball cap shaded her eyes. A person’s eyes, Austin had learned, said everything about them. He needed to see hers. He knocked the hat from her head. Startled pale blue eyes shadowed with darkness dominated a hungry face.

“Hey,” she yelled and caught the cap before it hit the ground.

He had time only for impressions—high cheekbones, full lips, roughly shorn black hair to match coal-black eyebrows arched like birds’ wings ready to take flight—before she came to life, exploding like a Thoroughbred out of the gate.

She was fast. He was faster, and snagged her sleeve before she got far. The fabric tore in his hand, but he managed to grasp her arm.

“Noooo.” Desperation rode shotgun with terror in her scream. “Let me go. I won’t do it again.”

“Damn right you won’t, lady. You’re going to jail.”

The second she realized she wouldn’t get far—he was six-one, after all, and she all of five-five, if that—those big hollow eyes filled with more panic than Austin could remember seeing in anyone. In his hometown of Ordinary, Montana, they had homeless people, those who were needy, but this level of despair was something else altogether.

She bared her teeth like an animal, came alive in his arms and fought like a keening cyclone, elbows and knees everywhere at once.

“You aren’t going anywhere,” he said, calm because he had control. “I can read you like a book.” An autobiography. By the time Austin had turned twelve, he’d perfected the fight-or-flight response to a fine art, until one good man had tamed him, and another had given him a stable home, even if only briefly.

The woman cast her eyes about, looking for escape. There was none. He’d backed her in between the wall and the Dumpster. She growled and clawed his face.

“Enough!” he shouted, grasping her forearms and spinning her around so her back was against his torso, her wrists locked in one of his hands. He’d been gentle so far because he hadn’t wanted to risk cracking one of her bird bones, but nobody scratched him and got away with it.

He swiped his stinging cheek. Blood dotted his palm. That was a piss-off.

“Listen, stop fighting me. I’m bigger and stronger and this is going my way.”

“I won’t go to jail.” The raw anguish in her voice struck a chord with him—panic used to be both his best friend and his worst enemy—but he ignored it. This thief was getting what she deserved.

“How much would you have charged on my credit cards if I hadn’t felt you taking my wallet?”

“Nothing. I needed cash for food.”

“Then why didn’t you throw them away with the wallet?”

“What?” She sounded surprised. “You actually want some other stranger picking them up and using them?”

“You trying to tell me you pocketed my cards so no one else would use them?” How naive did she think he was?

“Yes.”

“You think I’m stupid? That I’ll believe that crap?”

Her slight frame bowed away from him like a willow branch, as though she could break free just on the strength of her willpower. Despite her weakness, her helplessness in his arms, tension resonated in her. She might be down, but she wasn’t out. Not yet, but he could tell how close she was to the end from the tremor that ran through her body as though she’d just run a marathon. Her legs shook and he was holding up much of her weight. What there was of it.

He admired her fight, her unwillingness to give in, even if he wouldn’t cut her a break.

“Let go.” She strained against his hold.

He didn’t budge. “Nope. You just broke the law, lady. Where I come from, we punish people for their mistakes.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“Everyone has choices. You just have to make the right ones.”

“Spoken like a man who’s never wanted anything.” Her bitterness rang loud and clear. “You’ve obviously never been starving.”

He thought of how many times Cash Kavenagh, when he’d still been sheriff of Ordinary and Austin’s Big Brother, had caught Austin Dumpster-diving behind both the restaurant and the diner on Main Street scrambling for leftovers. Austin’s stomach had been so hollow he’d thought he would die if he couldn’t find something, anything, to cram into his mouth.

More times than he could remember, Cash had bought him food because his mom had spent all their money on booze and cigarettes. Big Brothers weren’t supposed to buy their Littles gifts, but Cash had.

Once, he’d caught Austin smoking up behind Chester’s Bar and Grill, because any escape for Austin from the numbing drive of keeping his mom’s head above water was a blessing. But Cash had caught him and warned him away from drink and drugs with a simple lesson. He had tossed the twelve-year-old into a jail cell for the day so Austin would see how it felt.

If Austin got into trouble, who would take care of his mom? As much as the routine of the child taking care of the mother had worn thin, he loved her. She never would have survived on her own. Not then. He knew she could now. She didn’t agree with him.

That day, Cash had stepped out of the sheriff’s office for a while and had returned with the best winter coat Austin had ever owned, and mittens and a hat, too. The guy had achieved godlike status that day. No one, certainly not his father, had ever cared enough about Austin to give him anything.

Cash had scared him straight, and had cared for him enough that Austin had stayed straight ever since.

“Don’t make assumptions,” Austin ordered. “I’ve gone hungry, but I never stole a wallet in my life.”

She struggled in his arms. “Bully for you.”

Austin chuffed out a laugh and tightened his grip. “That the best you can do? It’s pretty lame.”

“I might be a thief, but I don’t swear.”

“You’re strange.”

“And you’re holding me too tightly. What are you? Some kind of perv looking to cop a feel?”

She was trying to get a rise out of him, probably hoping he’d get so mad he’d let go so she could get away. Not a chance. People said rude things to cops all the time. This was nothing.

“I’m not a pervert, but you were right about the cop part.”

He appreciated how she stilled in his arms, got a kick out of shocking her. Good. Maybe she’d think twice before robbing someone again.

“Gotcha,” he said. He could feel her pulse in her wrist under his thumb, and her panic sizzled like bacon on a griddle.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a cop. You just robbed a sheriff’s deputy.”

“Crap,” she whispered, not sounding so tough now.

“You picked the wrong person to rob this time.”

“There is no this time. I’ve never stolen a wallet before in my life,” she said, defiant, and he believed her. No experienced thief would have been so clumsy.

“Why did you do it?”

He sensed her pride warring with misery before she bit out, “I’m hungry.”

In those two words, he heard the stark terror he used to feel. He heard a hell of a lot more than just, I missed lunch. Her tone whispered, My body hurts and I’m scared I might never eat again.

She didn’t smell clean. She needed a shower and to shampoo her short, greasy hair. Her cheap, ill-fitting clothes needed a good launder. Her breath wasn’t so great, either. He knew homelessness when he smelled it.

“If you need money, get a job.”

“Easy for you to say. Do you have any idea how hard it is? Even when you want to?” Her voice cracked, but she forged on. “I don’t have money. I went in there for breakfast. I wanted food, but I wasn’t asking for charity. I told them I would work for it. They wouldn’t let me wash dishes. They wouldn’t let me sweep the floors. I even offered to clean their toilets. I wasn’t asking for a freebie, but they kicked me out anyway.”

He eased her out of his arms, but held on to one wrist while he studied her. The hollows under her cheekbones and the dark circles under her eyes tugged at him. He remembered how exhausting hunger was.

But he’d been a kid. She was an adult. On close inspection, he figured she had enough miles on her tires to be nearer to thirty than twenty. So how had she fallen so low?

Everyone had a story, and sometimes the fall wasn’t such a long drop. His mom came to mind. With that thought, Austin knew he wouldn’t press charges.

When he’d caught her, he’d scared her. When he’d mentioned jail, he’d witnessed an unholy terror shoot through her. Maybe she’d learned a lesson today.

Before he went back inside, he needed his stuff back.

He held out his hand. “My money.”

She stared at the bills crumpled in her fist. During their struggles, she’d had the presence of mind to hold on to them. Slowly, as if it physically hurt, as though her fingers were crippled with arthritis, she opened her hand enough to pass him the money.

“Here,” she mumbled, but her eyes said mine. No doubt about it, she had a fierce need.

He bent down to pick up his wallet and opened it. “Give me my credit cards.”

She pulled them out of her pockets. Only when he was certain he had everything did he let go of her wrist.

“You telling the truth? About this being your first time stealing?”

“My first time stealing a wallet.”

Right. Of course she’d stolen before. Wallet robbing didn’t start in a vacuum. “What else have you stolen?”

“Two date squares from the counter of a diner. Two days ago. They wouldn’t let me work, either.”

“And you didn’t get caught?”

Her eyes slid sideways and down. Here it comes, whatever lie she’s concocting. Then her gaze shot to his. She’d decided on honesty. “I nearly got caught. I had to run into a field with a bull in it to get away from the waitress.”

It sounded like a joke, but she wasn’t laughing. Neither was he. As petite as she was, she could have been torn apart by a bull in a rage.

“He didn’t charge?”

“He tried to, but I was fast and climbed up into a tree. He butted it, but I held on until he lost interest and left. I climbed out onto a branch and jumped off over the other side of a fence. Then I ran for it.”

She’d been taking too many chances.

He turned the subject back to what he really wanted to know. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Those date squares.”

“Jesus, are you shitting me?”

Her mouth tightened. Pride. He understood pride. “I’m serious.”

No wonder she’d stolen his wallet. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and cradle her to a safer place.

Whoa, buddy. She’s nothing and no one to you.

She touched a spot deep inside him that he’d thought long buried, the kid who’d gone without too many times. The kid whispered, Help her.

His adult self shouted, Don’t.

He fought the urge to tuck her under a protective wing.

Don’t do it, buddy.

He’d been taking care of someone else all his life. Now, when he’d wrangled and scratched and clawed his way out of Ordinary, Montana, for his first vacation ever, when his only problems should be deciding what fishing rod and bait to use tomorrow, or whether to buy the cattle he was checking out when they got to Texas, he was actually contemplating getting entangled in this woman’s issues.

You got a screw loose or something, buddy? Leave her be. Did you hear me? Leave her be. She can be someone else’s problem. You don’t need this.

Damn right I don’t. I’ve got two weeks of footloose and fancy-free to take advantage of.

Even as his thoughts whirled, he knew he wouldn’t turn his back on her, and wasn’t it a piss-off that he was so honorable? That he couldn’t keep himself from helping any wounded or sad creature who crossed his path? Life would be a heck of a lot easier if he could just walk away.

He sighed, giving in to the inevitable rush of misguided decency. Damn.

“Come on.” He headed back around to the front of the diner. When he didn’t hear her behind him, he tromped back.

“You coming?”

She stood where he’d left her, rigid, her intelligent brow furrowed.

“Are you arresting me?”

“No.”

She relaxed her spine and eased her fists open. “Then why do I have to follow you?”

“I’m going to feed you.”

A frown knit those raven’s-wings eyebrows together. If she’d been on the road for any length of time, he figured her distrust of strangers was hard-earned.

“I can’t let you walk away hungry,” he admitted.

“Why not?”

Might as well tell her the truth. She’d figure it out soon enough. “Because I’m a hopeless sap.”

She still didn’t seem to believe him.

“Look, I know you probably see the worst of people on the road, but you can trust me. I come from a small town, where we treat others kindly.”

For some reason, that won her over. Her frown cleared.

“Are you coming to eat, or what?”

She might have had a pack of hounds on her tail, she shot forward so quickly, ready to follow wherever he might lead if it meant a meal.

Yeah. He could read her like a book. He knew how hunger felt when you’d gone past the point of a grumbling stomach to sheer hollowness, to the ceaseless physical ache. To dreaming about food, thinking about it endlessly, obsessing about it, until it shut all else out of your mind.

He didn’t need the reminders of a hard past, should leave her here and be on his way, but God, she was thin. Holding her had been like wrapping his arms around a sapling.

He stepped away from her abruptly because the last thing he wanted was more memories coming back to haunt him. They got worse before they got better.

She stumbled and he caught her arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I wrenched my ankle when I jumped out of the tree.”

“How far did you jump?”

She shrugged, lips tight. Fine. She could keep her secrets.

For a tough woman, she needs a keeper.

Damned if that’s going to be me. I’m sick of that role. I’ll feed her and get rid of her. No “taking care” of her beyond one hot meal.

Even so, he led her around front to do exactly that—take care of her.

* * *

FOOD.

Food had dominated Gracie Travers’s every waking moment for days, weeks, every minute, every painful second.

Hunger was a vicious, angry rat gnawing at her stomach walls. Relentless. Overwhelming. Unwilling to give her a moment’s peace.

She’d been through rough patches before, but nothing like this. No one would hire her to do even the most mundane, unskilled work. She wasn’t asking for a paycheck. Just for food. Nothing else. Just a meal.

Food.

She didn’t want a handout. She could work. Would work. In her former life, she’d been known as a hard worker. She still knew how to be one. She just couldn’t get a real job.

She couldn’t work full-time. She had her reasons. She certainly wouldn’t share them with a cop.

Food.

Every time her stomach cramped, all of those years of taking her blessings for granted haunted her.

Things hurt so badly now that she wondered if her internal organs were starting to eat each other. How did starvation work? What did it do to the body that made it hurt so much?

The scent of charbroiled burgers drifted out of the diner’s vents, so strong she gulped it.

She kept pace with the man who said he would feed her, but hobbled because her ankle still throbbed.

There were so many things Gracie should be worried about right now. Was the guy really a cop? Had he been lying about not arresting her? About wanting to feed her? Why would a guy she’d stolen from want to help her?

Ahead of her, he walked with a long, confident stride, his shoulders broad and square.

What would he expect in return? She’d fallen so low lately she’d actually stolen food two days ago and a wallet five minutes ago, but that was as far as her crime spree would take her. Did he want her body in exchange for food? She wouldn’t do that.

Despite the questions, the one word that overrode all of them—food—won out.

She chased the tall, handsome stranger around to the front of the building. Tall, handsome stranger sounded like something out of a palm-reading session or a romance novel. Ha. As if there truly were happy endings in real life. She knew better.

What did he want in return?

If this guy wanted to feed her, fine and good, but she would owe him what she chose to owe him. She would polish his shoes, do his laundry if he gave her the chance, or wash his car, but he would take nothing from her other than what she chose to give. She was long past the point of letting people take advantage of her.

But what if he wouldn’t feed her if she didn’t give in to his demands? Where would she be then?

Her head hurt—from the hunger, but also from the endless uncertainty. It was time to stop running. In two days, she would.

Only two more days to go.

In two days, she would say goodbye to the road forever. No more running.

So close.

She stepped into the diner, desperate for the comfort of a full belly. Her lizard brain just wanted the food this stranger offered. Her developed brain would have to worry about consequences—and how to deal with them—later.

The smells overwhelmed her, of hot fat, bacon, eggs frying. Toast. They’d burned a slice or two. Even if burnt to charcoal, she would eat it. With or without butter. Or jam. Oh, jam. How long had it been?

Another scent teased her. The man beside her smelled clean, more than clean, as though the soap he used was part of him, oozing from his pores like the purest thing on earth.

She hadn’t showered in weeks. A month, even? At the last gas station, she’d washed her underarms using cold water, a cheap paper towel as rough as sandpaper and industrial hand soap. Her armpits had burned afterward. They still itched.

Grease and dust coated her hair. What could she do about that? When you were hungry, shampoo was a hell of a lot less important than food. And conditioner? A luxury. She hadn’t used it in a couple of years.

She hadn’t really cared until this man with his disheveled blond hair, clear blue eyes and broad shoulders made her want to comb her hair. Maybe put on a little lipstick.

She’d given up on all of that six years ago. Cripes. Had she really been on the road that long? Only two more days until the end of her journey. Another couple of days and her money problems would end. For too many years, she’d been running from. Now, she was finally traveling to.

Inside the diner, the stranger talked to another man and Gracie’s instincts for self-preservation kicked in. Did this guy think she’d be good for an afternoon three-way?

She might be homeless, she might have fallen lower than she’d ever been in her twenty-nine years, but she was not, never had been and never would be a prostitute. Not even for food.

She stomped out of the diner.

A second later, a hand clamped down on her shoulder and spun her about. For a big man, he sure could move quietly.

“I thought you were hungry. Why are you running off?”

“I saw you talking to your friend. Did you think I’d sleep with you both in exchange for a meal? I’m not a whore.”

He reared back. She’d offended him. “I didn’t think you were. I was just going to feed you. What kind of guy do you take me for? I’m a cop.”

“Cops aren’t always lily-white.”

“Neither are homeless women who hang around truck stops and steal wallets.”

Shame flared in her chest, hot and unwelcome. She used to have a conscience, before life and desperation had taken over. She shouldn’t have touched this man’s wallet, or stolen those date squares two days ago. Gran would be disappointed in her. “I told you I’ve never done it before. This was the first time.”

“I think you’re telling the truth and that’s the only reason you aren’t already sitting in the back of a police cruiser.” He hooked his thumbs into his back pockets. “Figured you just needed a good meal. That’s all I’m offering.”

Gracie wanted to believe him, not because she trusted anyone anymore, or because she had any naive belief in the innate goodness of humanity—a lot had been burned out of her by experience—but because if she didn’t eat soon, she was going to pass out.

“And the other guy with you?”

“He’s a good man.” He didn’t need to add too. She could see in his face he was probably exactly who and what he said he was.

“Let’s pretend we trust each other for the hour it’ll take for lunch.” He watched her steadily, like a poster boy for good health.

Shaggy, dark blond hair framed a face carved by a hard, but loving hand. Sharp, intelligent and wholesome with a generous side of sexy. GQ could put him on its cover and women would swoon. Blue eyes drooped down at the outer corners in a languid parody of sensuality, but the awareness in their depths was anything but lazy.

He differed from the people she saw on the road—too many truckers with potbellies from hours spent sitting behind a steering wheel, or the obesity of housewives and kids who watched too much TV or spent too much time at computers.

But this guy? He exercised a lot.

“Let’s start over.” He stuck out his right hand. “Austin Trumball.”

She didn’t want to touch him, because she knew she was unworthy of him. If she hadn’t stolen his wallet, he would never have given her the time of day, not only because she was down and out, but because she had chosen to be that way, a position most didn’t understand. If he knew that, he’d boot her to the curb.

The choice had been hers and she had long ago accepted it as the right one. Lately, though, as she’d grown so thin her ribs were prominent, she’d had her doubts.

Now here was this man offering not only food, but also decency. Accept, she ordered her pride. Take his free meal and then move on.

Keep a wary eye, but trust him long enough to eat.

She shook his hand. “Gracie Travers.” Why was it that after so long on the road, she still stumbled when she said Travers? She should be used to it by now.

His warm fingers wrapped around hers, hard and assured. She hadn’t been warm in years, not even in the middle of summer. Not even on a beautiful July day as hot as this one.

He shook once, all business, then let go of her hand. She felt the loss of his heat.

“Let’s eat.” He turned back to the diner and she followed without hesitation this time. She wanted a meal, just one big, hot meal to get her through the next two days until she made it to Denver. Then she would be home-free for the rest of her life.

The day after tomorrow, she would turn thirty. Her money would be hers, free and clear. She needed to get to a bank. Denver was the closest large city.

What she wouldn’t give to stop moving, to find a small place to live—nothing ostentatious, just a modest roof over her head and three square meals a day—but that would require a permanent job. To get one she would have to provide a social security number. Once that happened, her freedom would be gone, and that she wouldn’t give up.

If she could access her money, her problems would be solved. She could buy a new identity. She could buy a small house somewhere. If she lived normally without extravagant spending, she would be okay for life. No one would ever need to know who she really was.

Inside the crowded restaurant, Austin’s friend sat in a booth. When he saw her beside Austin, the corners of his mouth turned down.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “Who is she?”

“She’s having lunch with us. I invited her. Her name’s Gracie.” He gestured for her to slide into the booth across from the other guy. She did. “Gracie, this is Finn Franck Caldwell.”

She nodded to him while Austin slid into the booth beside her. He took up a lot of room. She studied both men. About the same age, she guessed, or close to it. Early thirties. Finn wasn’t as big as Austin, but he looked equally as fit.

It didn’t take a genius to see Finn wasn’t happy she was here. Tough. As if that was going to hold her back from a free meal. At least, Austin had assured her there were no strings attached. She wasn’t yet sure she believed him 100 percent.

A harried waitress brought menus. “Coffee?”

“Yes,” they all said and she returned a minute later with a full pot.

Gracie doctored hers with plenty of sugar and cream, sipped it, sighed and sipped again. Nothing had ever tasted better than this hot drink sliding down her throat.

When she opened her eyes, she found both men staring at her.

“What?” she asked, defensive.

“Nice to see someone appreciate a good cup of coffee, that’s all.” Austin had a strong voice, deep and rich like the coffee in her cup. He could make a fortune with that beautiful voice. “What do you want to eat?”

All of it.

She studied the menu. “How much can I spend?”

“As much as it will take to fill your belly.”

His friend still hadn’t said anything. He didn’t have to. The flare of his nostrils signaled his disapproval.

“I’m paying him back,” she shot at Finn, because she wasn’t the deadbeat he thought she was.

“How?”

She turned to study the bench hog beside her. Cripes, he was big. “What do you need?”

Finn snorted and she glared at him. “Not that.”

She turned back to Austin and glanced at his messy hair. “You could use a haircut. I’ll do that.”

Without waiting for a response, she gave her attention over to the menu as though it were the Holy Grail. She couldn’t waste another minute talking. The sooner she ordered, the sooner she could kill the pain in her gut. Perusing the options, she blinked to clear mistiness from her eyes. Not tears. No. She was just tired, but God, look at the choices. Saying yes to one thing meant saying no to another.

When the waitress returned, Gracie ordered steak and eggs, because she would need the protein to get her to Denver. Not many truckers picked up hitchhikers anymore, not like they used to. How could she blame them? The world was a dangerous place.

She thought back to when she was a teenager flirting with veganism. These days, she was far more practical. She needed meat.

This afternoon, and for the next few days, she’d be hoofing it toward Denver. As always, she broke the trip down into segments. If she could make it as far as the next small town by this evening, she might be able to work a full day tomorrow and get herself a cheap motel room for the night. Maybe grab a hot shower before continuing on to Denver and visiting a bank. She should look respectable for that.

If someone would hire her for the day, that is.

The meal came with hash browns and toast.

“Do you have rye bread?”

“Sure, but I have to charge you an extra dollar for it.”

Gracie avoided looking at Austin. “Make my toast rye, and bring marmalade. And I want rice pudding for dessert.” She would need the iron from the raisins. “And a large glass of milk.” Lately, she’d been worrying about calcium. Were her bones weakening because she wasn’t getting enough? Would she pay for it later in life?

Her head still pounded, especially as she wondered whether she’d made the right choice in running away. Then she thought of her mom and dad, and that jerk Jay, and the circus her life had been, and her regrets faded.

Better to be on the road than to be involved in that again, but some days she was so tired she just wanted to quit. Then she would remember she already had. How did a person go about quitting...quitting?

Get your hands on your money.

That will solve your problems.

CHAPTER TWO

GRACIE ATE LIKE a half-starved animal, which Austin guessed she was. Man, could she pack it away.

“Careful,” he warned. “Don’t make yourself sick. You’re putting all of that into an empty stomach. You’ll fill up too quickly.”

“I can take care of my own stomach.” She stopped eating. “Sorry,” she said. She must have realized her tone had been caustic and remembered that he was paying for her meal. Austin almost laughed. He figured if she’d been on the road awhile, on her own, she’d learned to take care of herself pretty well.

She was a prickly one, all right.

“We going to get a move on soon?” Finn nursed the last of his coffee. Both he and Austin had finished their meals, but then they’d ordered less than Gracie had, and she was still plowing through hers.

Finn was still watching him, as he’d done all through lunch, but Austin had avoided his gaze. Now he met Finn’s cynical glare head-on. Finn’s left eyebrow sat cocked. The man could carry on whole conversations with his unruly eyebrows.

That raised brow said everything he wouldn’t utter in front of the woman. They’d been best friends for more than fifteen years. Austin could almost read Finn’s mind, imagined every word he wouldn’t say out loud.

Are you for real, Austin? We’re on the road, on vacation, and you pick up a stray? You can’t stop yourself from helping people, can you? Not even on vacation.

Ready to defend his actions, Austin halted at the quirk of Finn’s lips, because the man was glancing from his scratched cheek to the small woman beside him.

Again, man, really? You let that little thing get the better of you? Some cop you are.

Austin wanted to say she was stronger than she looked, but shame had him holding his tongue. And a certain odd loyalty to the woman he’d only just met. Then his humor kicked in and he grinned and shrugged.

Finn grinned, too, and the tension between them eased.

It would be a shame to let a woman, a stranger, come between a pair of good friends.

Even so, at the moment, Austin’s loyalty was to Gracie, because of her hunger and poverty. Finn had never known a day of need in his life. Austin had. He understood desperation. He totally got despair.

To his credit, Finn had held himself back from asking what had happened while he’d waited for Austin inside the diner.

“As soon as Gracie is finished we can go.” Austin turned his attention to her. “Where’re you going from here?”

She shrugged. He didn’t like the thought of her on the road, even if she was tough enough to handle anything that came along. He wondered if she fully understood the dangers to a woman alone in these places.

If she’d robbed a different kind of man, if it had been late at night with fewer people around, she might have been in more trouble than she could handle. And behind the building, no one would have heard her scream. The thought chilled him. She might be stronger than she looked, but hunger had left her depleted.

“Where did you sleep last night?”

She shrugged again. He grasped her wrist and repeated the question.

She put down a spoonful of rice pudding and wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. She’d been raised to have manners. He’d noticed her speech was good, her grammar correct, better than his. She hadn’t been raised poor. He’d bet on that. So, what was her story?

“I know you’re feeding me and I appreciate it,” she said, tugging on her wrist until he let go, “but where I sleep is nobody’s business but my own.”

“You made it mine when you stole my wallet.”

“She what?” Finn leaned forward, expression fierce. “Why haven’t you called the cops? Instead, you’re feeding her?”

Austin raised a hand to placate his friend. “She stole my wallet, but I caught her and got everything back.” Finn looked angry enough to spit bullets. Or maybe that should be tranquilizing darts. After all, the guy was a veterinarian. Naw. The way he was staring at Gracie was pretty lethal. Austin figured he’d better appease him. “She apologized—didn’t you, Gracie?”

She nodded. She’d returned to her pudding and her mouth was full. Good thing. It prevented her from lying. Or maybe she lied easily. He knew nothing about her.

“Where are you headed?” he asked again. “Where are you sleeping tonight?” Last thing he needed was a woman depending on him—he’d had a bellyful of that, more than one man should have to bear in only thirty-one years—but he couldn’t help worrying. The world was a dangerous place, especially for a woman on her own.

“I’m trying to get to Denver. I’m hoping to hitch a ride from here to the nearest town.”

She was heading to Denver? So were they.

Finn must have seen the wheels turning in Austin’s mind because he shook his head. “No. No, no, no. Stop thinking what you’re thinking, Austin.”

Finn had sat through enough of Austin’s griping sessions to know exactly how hard Austin’s life was with his mom. Finn’s eyebrow shot up again. Don’t take on another needy woman, man.

Sensing the tension, Gracie’s head shot up. “Are you heading to Denver?”

Austin nodded.

She swallowed the last gulp of her milk. “Can I hitchhike to the next town? I’ll be no trouble. You can drop me off there and I’ll find my own place to sleep. I promise,” she said, her voice full of both desperation and hope. “Just give me a ride that far. I can make my own way to Denver later. I’ll be no trouble. Honest.”

Finn groaned. Austin knew why. They’d been best friends since high school, and he knew Austin inside out. He knew there was no way Austin would—could—say no.

“Okay, but only as far as Casper. We’re stopping there so Finn can visit a friend.” They could drop Gracie there. The last thing, the very last thing Austin needed was a woman hanging on to him.

* * *

GRACIE SAT IN the back seat of Austin’s old SUV doing sums in her small notebook. She wouldn’t pay him back for the gas since they were going this way anyway, but she would pay him back for everything she’d ordered at lunch.

She remembered to add the extra dollar for rye toast.

This ride to the next town would give her ankle a chance to heal. Things couldn’t have worked out better.

Fascinated by the bantering between the men in the front seat, she eavesdropped shamelessly. She’d been on the road so long she didn’t know what a normal friendship felt like. Thinking back, she couldn’t remember having had one.

The friends she’d had as a child had all been adults and transitory, coming and going as careers and jobs changed.

These men had a strong friendship. She sensed how deep and real it was and it filled her with envy.

Finn talked; Austin listened. She’d learned this lesson about relationships—in many, one was the talker and the other the listener, one the social butterfly and the other happy to take a back seat.

“No way will they lose this year,” Finn said. “Even on their bad days, they’re miles better than the Broncos.”

She’d lost track of the conversation, something about sports teams, but she’d missed which sport they were discussing, distracted by a gurgling in her stomach. She rubbed it.

In the rearview mirror, Austin glanced at her. She settled her hand back into her lap. The man didn’t miss much. Good cop. That was all she needed, to have this guy pester her with an I told you so.

“They’re an awesome team,” Austin said. “Even if they did lose this year. They could go all the way next year.”

If he said I told you so, he would be right. She should have eaten less food more slowly.

Finn popped the lid on a can of nuts and, one by one, tossed them into the air and caught them in his mouth. “They choked, man. No way will they take the championship this year.”

He offered the can to Austin, who shook his head. He ignored Gracie, she noticed. Just as well. Her tummy gurgled and roiled.

Austin’s response was quiet. “We’ll see. They lost. Let’s get past it and hope for a better result this year.” The voice of reason. He probably made a good cop.

Teams. Athletes. She knew nothing about sports, or popular culture, or TV shows. Ironic when you thought about it, because—

A stomach cramp had her hissing in a breath. Fortunately, Austin hadn’t noticed. Or had he? His eyes flickered to the mirror and back to the road.

She studied his profile. Where Finn was lean, quick and full of nervous energy, and a couple of inches shorter than Austin, Austin could probably out-calm the Dalai Lama. He didn’t have the Dalai Lama’s charming wit and smile, though. She knew. She’d met the man once, and had been enchanted by him. It had been difficult for her, though, with him so pure and kind, and her a fraud.

What held Austin back? What caused the sadness that lurked in his fine blue eyes?

“What’s so great about this herd we’re going to see?” Austin asked. Everything about him, even his strong, straight profile, was serious.

“I went to college with the owner. A great guy. He’s giving up his hobby ranch. Needs to sell the herd.” Finn tossed peanuts into his mouth then offered the can to Austin again, who shook his head and pointed over his shoulder to her in the backseat. Finn offered them to Gracie, reluctantly. Odd as it was for someone who’d been starving a short while ago, the thought of eating even one left her nauseated.

She shook her head.

“Knowing this guy—” Finn turned around again “—those cattle will be top quality and in good shape.”

“Can’t wait to see them.” Ah, a spark of excitement lit Austin’s voice. So, they were on a trip to see some cows. She wondered why, so eavesdropped some more.

The gist was that these guys were apparently on their way to Texas, where Austin was going to buy a herd of cattle. So...Austin was not only a sheriff’s deputy, but also a rancher?

“You want a mouser for the barn?” Finn asked. “I’ve got a real little cutie in the office right now.”

What office?

“No one’s adopting her. All everyone wants these days is kittens.” He ate more peanuts. “I don’t want to put her down. Worst part of the job is putting down healthy animals just ’cause they don’t have a home.”

Finn was a veterinarian?

“I’d really like to find her a home.”

“You can’t take her to your dad’s ranch?” Austin asked.

Finn grinned. “Dad would kill me if I brought home another stray. He knows how much I love animals, but put his foot down after the last dog I brought over.”

Austin smiled. “Yeah, I remember all the strays you took home even before you became a vet.”

Ah. So he really was a vet. He had at least that going for him even if he was a jerk in other ways.

“Sure.” Austin shifted gears. “I’ll take the cat.”

A satisfied grin lit Finn’s face.

Finn made a joke about a bunch of cows in a field they were passing and Austin laughed—so the man could laugh—the affection between them palpable.

Again, that pang of envy.

Even before Gracie had run away, there had been few people she could trust. There’d been Gran and...that was it. No one else.

Now Gran was gone and Gracie was alone.

The men laughed and she pulled her gaze away from the fields flying past the vehicle.

Her stomach cramped. Crap, she felt sick and shivery. Her stomach churned.

It cramped again, hard and sharp.

“Stop the car,” she croaked.

“What?”

A strong breeze rushed through the open windows, but it wasn’t enough to stem the rush of bile into her throat.

“Stop the car,” she shouted.

Austin jerked the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes. The car fishtailed on the gravel shoulder.

Gracie just managed to scramble out and make it to the ditch before losing her lunch.

She retched until there was nothing left, and she wanted to cry. All of that food wasted when her body needed it so badly.

She heard footsteps on the road behind her, calm and measured. Had to be Austin.

She felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Here.” A hand held a tissue in front of her face.

Embarrassing. It wasn’t bad enough the man had to see her as a homeless person, now he had to witness this indignity?

“Sorry,” she said.

He rested his hand on her back while she retched one more time, his touch reassuring. She wiped her mouth.

“You have any gum or mints?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He removed his hand. She missed the warmth. She heard him walk to the car. He returned a minute later with a pack of gum.

“Thanks.” She took two sticks because her mouth tasted like crap and the gum was sweet and minty. The chewing and her saliva helped to settle her stomach.

She wiped her damp forehead and brushed sweat from her upper lip. When her legs stopped shaking, she returned to the vehicle with Austin keeping step beside her.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. Just sorry I had to lose that food.”

He climbed into the driver’s seat while she got into the back. She had to give him credit. Not a single I told you so. There was something to be said for the strong, silent type.

Trouble started, though, once they reached the small town midway to Denver when Austin parked on the street near a small hotel and Gracie walked into a back alley to sleep for the night.

“What?” Austin gaped. “No way am I letting you sleep in an alleyway.”

“Letting me?” Gracie asked, voice dangerously quiet. “You bought me lunch. You gave me a drive. I appreciate it. That doesn’t give you rights, or any say in what I do or where I go.” She set her knapsack on the ground on the far side of a Dumpster, where she could hide from the prying eyes of anyone walking past.

Austin followed her. “You can’t sleep here.”

“I can and will. It’s a warm night.” Although the sky had darkened on the drive and thunder rumbled in the distance. Gracie walked to the back door of a store that fronted onto the street they’d parked on, where bales of compacted cardboard had been put out for recycling.

Taking a folding knife from her back pocket, she slit the baling wire and dragged a couple of large boxes to set up a bed for herself.

“You’re going to sleep out in the rain when I’m offering you a place to stay, free of charge?”

“That’s right. I’ll cut your hair in the morning. That’s for lunch. I can’t afford to pay you back for a hotel room.”

He stood arms akimbo and brow as thunderous as the approaching storm. “I’m not asking for payment.”

“I know, but I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t give you something in return.”

“You don’t like taking.” His quiet tone said he understood too much.

“No,” she answered. “I don’t like owing anyone anything. Not one dime. I like my independence.”

Fat drops of rain fell, settling the dust and the stench of garbage. She ignored the rain. What Gracie couldn’t ignore, though, was the cramping in her gut. At that moment, it returned with a vengeance. It wasn’t going to be vomit this time. She could vomit in an alley, but the runs were another thing altogether.

Crap. Double crap.

When another sharp pain hit, she suppressed a groan. More than shelter from the rain—she had spent many nights exposed to the elements—she needed a washroom. She wasn’t going to have a choice. The cramps in her stomach became fierce. She would have to take a hotel room and figure out later how to pay Austin back.

“Okay, thanks. I’ll take the room.” She picked up her knapsack and quick-stepped out of the alley.

He didn’t question her change of heart. Maybe he thought it was his manly powers of persuasion. “Wait in the car,” he said. “I just have to pick up a few items.” He stepped into a pharmacy just down the street.

Gracie climbed into the backseat. Hurry, she thought, squeezing her knees together.

Tension sizzled between her and Finn.

“You don’t like me, do you?” she asked.

“I don’t like what you represent.”

“Which is?”

“People looking for a handout.”

“I told Austin I would cut his hair for the food he bought me for lunch. It wasn’t my idea to get a hotel room. I tried to sleep in the alley tonight, but I’m learning he’s persistent when he’s got his mind made up.”

Finn snorted. “Yeah, he’s stubborn.”

He turned around in his seat to pin her with a glare. “I’m giving you fair warning—you hurt my buddy and there won’t be a truck stop in the States where you’ll be safe from me.”

Finn might look easygoing, but he had a sharp edge. She didn’t blame him. If she had friends, she would be just as fierce in her defense of them.

“Warning duly noted.” Not that she needed it. She had no intention of hurting Austin because they would be parting ways tomorrow morning.

An itchy silence reigned until Austin returned and dumped a plastic bag onto the backseat.

They stepped into the foyer of a small hotel and the heavens opened up behind them, rain drumming hard on the sidewalk, Gracie secretly glad she’d agreed to stay in the hotel. She would have been drenched sleeping outdoors.

Austin and Finn went to the desk to sign in. Gracie shifted from foot to foot. Her stomach hurt. She couldn’t wait for a room.

“Excuse me?” she asked the clerk, who checked out her old clothes, her dirty backpack. Yeah, yeah, she knew how bad she looked. “Is there a washroom on this floor?”

He pointed down a hallway. “Past the elevators.”

She managed to make it to a toilet before her stomach voided.

* * *

AUSTIN STOOD AT the front desk and watched Gracie run for the washroom. She couldn’t even wait until he rented her a room.

He tried not to shoot her an I-told-you-so look as she ran off. Putting all of that food into a severely empty stomach had been a bad idea.

It took him a moment to catch what the desk clerk was saying.

“What do you mean you don’t have rooms with singles?”

“There’s a ranchers’ conference in the area this week. Rooms are booked for miles around. We have only two small rooms left, both with only a double bed.”

“Okay,” Austin said to Finn. “I’ll get one for us and one for Grace.”

At the thought, a shiver ran through Austin. He could imagine the two of them sleeping like a pair of two-by-fours clinging to the edges of the mattress. There weren’t many limits to their friendship, but this was one of them.

They were both big men and a double bed wouldn’t hold them. Austin had a double all to himself at home and spent most of his nights sprawled across the thing.

He shivered again. He couldn’t sleep with Finn.

Apparently, it weirded out Finn, too, because he stared openmouthed. “Are you nuts? I love you, man, but there’s no way I’m sharing a bed with you.”

“Is there any way you can set up a cot in one of those rooms?” Austin asked the clerk, thinking that Gracie could sleep in a bed and he could take the cot. Or vice versa.

“We’re all out. You’re lucky to get these rooms because of a cancellation we received ten minutes ago. This is a small hotel. We don’t usually see this volume of traffic.”

The clerk waited for his decision.

“There are two rooms,” Finn said. “One for you. One for me. Leave that woman to find her own accommodations.”

Aware of the clerk listening in, and probably speculating, Austin pulled Finn aside. “I can’t leave her to sleep outside. Listen to that rain.”

“So what? She smells like she’s been doing exactly that for a while. Maybe the rain will clean her up.”

“And give her pneumonia.”

“She’s not your responsibility.”

“She’s in the washroom right now probably puking up her guts. She’ll be weakened and unable to defend herself if she needs to. She could get robbed or raped.”

“Seems capable of taking care of herself.”

Austin’s anger flared. Finn didn’t have a clue. “You’ve never gone hungry. You’ve always had a good home. You’ve never slept in dirty sheets let alone outside with nothing over your head. You’ve never even camped without a tent. Am I right?”

Finn had the grace to look sheepish. “I know. I get how fortunate I am. I really do.” He pointed at Austin, nearly jabbing him in the chest. “But you’re getting sucked in again.”

“No. I’m not.”

Finn held up his index finger. “Your mom. You’ve spent thirty-one years taking care of her.”

“Technically, only twenty-five. She didn’t fall apart until my dad died when I was six.”

“Your dad?” The sarcasm in Finn’s voice rankled.

Austin didn’t talk about his dad. Ever. “Don’t go there,” he warned. “Besides, Mom wasn’t much use on her own. I couldn’t have left her to live alone until now. You know that.”

Finn shrugged because they’d debated that point to death. Austin knew his buddy thought he should have walked away years ago.

He held up another finger. “How about the kids?”

The kids were a group of teens in Ordinary with whom Austin spent time shooting hoops and making sure they stayed out of trouble. He planned to help by giving them jobs on his ranch when it was up and running, by teaching them skills they would need when they got out into the world. They had nothing, reminding him too much of himself at that age.

“That’s good work that keeps them off the streets. Besides, if it’s so bad, why are you going to help teach them about animals once I get the ranch?”

“Because I like animals and kids, not because I’m neurotic about helping every sad-eyed waif who comes along.”

Finn had hit the nail on the head. Despite Gracie’s tough shell, a sad-eyed waif lingered inside. Finn wasn’t as oblivious and unaffected as he pretended to be. There was more depth there than met the eye. Just as there was with Gracie.

Finn held up a third finger. “Roger.”

Ordinary, Montana, was small but had a couple of poor old drunks whom Austin threw into jail periodically just so they could sleep indoors. He’d organized a system of sorts to find them beds every night during the winter—in the back room of Chester’s restaurant, in C.J.’s barn for a few nights, wherever Austin could get them a spot. One of those homeless men was old Roger, who’d fallen apart after his wife of forty-two years had died. He had no one on this earth on whom he could depend but folks in his hometown. What was so wrong with Austin taking care of him?

Guys like Roger had mental health issues. Who knew what Grace’s problem was?

“Gracie needs help, Finn. She was desperate enough to rob me. She said she’d never done that before and I believe her.”

“You’re a sucker. You’re supposed to be on vacation, taking a holiday from helping people.” Finn paced in the foyer to offset his nervous energy. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

“Do what? I’m giving her a bed for the night and breakfast tomorrow. That’s it. Nothing more. Then we’ll go our separate ways.”

“That woman is trouble. She even has us fighting.”

“Fine,” Austin said, testy. “Let’s stop fighting. You take one room and I’ll take the other with Gracie. Okay?” He didn’t like the idea, but it had to be done. He’d already told her he would get her a room for the night and he wasn’t a man to go back on his word. If he had to, he would sleep on the floor, even if that thought held as much appeal as a bad case of fleas.

Finn didn’t respond, just nodded, but it looked like he was maybe biting the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t argue more. Or so he wouldn’t laugh.

Austin punched him on the arm.

“Ow. What was that for?” But Finn laughed openly at Austin’s discomfort.

Austin sighed. How had the night come to this?

Grace came out of the washroom down the hall, pale and sweating.

Damn. Great start to their vacation, the two of them bickering over a woman Austin didn’t even know, and that woman looking sick as a dog.

* * *

GRACIE COULD HAVE CRIED, her gastric distress a waste of calories she desperately needed. She didn’t know how long she’d stayed in the washroom before she was done, but was finally able to emerge with her hands washed and her face rinsed with cold water.

In the lobby, she found the men waiting, Finn’s expression an odd mix of triumph and dismay, while Austin looked tense and unable to meet her eyes. What was going on?

Once they got to their rooms and Gracie saw the double bed in the hotel room—and Austin dumping his hockey bag onto that bed—she ran for the door, shooting at him over her shoulder as she left, “I told you I wouldn’t pay for lunch with sex.”

Austin followed and slammed the door closed before she could leave. “For God’s sake, be quiet before someone calls security.”

He looked genuinely offended. “I don’t want sex,” he shouted. “This is all that’s available.” He slammed his hand against the wall. “I’m not asking you to sleep with me. How many times do I have to say it? Who’d want to go to bed with someone as skinny as you, anyway?”

His remark hurt. She might be homeless, but she was still a woman. He explained about the hotel having no more rooms left with single beds or with two doubles. Not even a spare cot. Nothing. This was it. Or the alley, but that wouldn’t work. She suspected she wasn’t through yet with stomach problems.

She heard Austin’s frustration and saw it in the way he scrubbed his hands over his face.

“Okay. Fine.” She moved away from the door.

She didn’t know why he wanted her to stay, except for this strange feeling that he couldn’t let her go off on her own. Foolish man. She’d been doing it for years.

He sweetened the deal with two words. “Hot shower.”

Getting clean won out over all of her objections. Oh, to not have to use heavy-duty cleaning solvents in gas stations.

“Here.” He handed her the bag of stuff he’d bought.

She peeked inside then stared at him, tried to glare, but couldn’t pull it off because she wanted what she held in her hands too badly to turn it down. He’d bought her pieces of heaven. She laid them out in a row on the bed. A brand-new toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste. Dental floss. Body wash. She snapped up the lid and inhaled. Strawberries. Matching body lotion. Hand cream. Skin cleanser. Facial moisturizer! Shampoo and conditioner that smelled like coconut and pineapple.

Oh. Oh. It had been so long since she’d had any of this stuff.

“Okay,” she said, but her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and said, “Okay,” again, because she’d become too emotional too quickly, his thoughtfulness so sweet, so unexpected, it left her speechless. She shouldn’t take any of this, but as far as she could tell, it was freely given. In six years, the only times men had offered her anything had been with the understanding that she pay for it in ways she wouldn’t.

Austin hooked his thumbs into his back pockets and stared at the carpet. “I hope it’s all okay. It’s not the most expensive stuff out there.”

“It’s perfect.” And it was. In her former life, she’d bought only the best. Until doing without, she hadn’t realized how truly fortunate she’d been. This, though, was an unparalleled gift. Who was this guy? Why would he care so much for a stranger?

He’d set the bait securely. Of course she would stay. They would make the sleeping arrangement work somehow because there was no way she wasn’t having a long hot shower tonight. “I’ll sleep on the floor. You can have the bed.”

The weird hum Austin made sounded noncommittal.

“If it reassures you at all, I’m not any happier about this than you are.” Austin gestured toward the double bed. He rummaged in his bag and pulled out a fresh shirt. “You want to shower before dinner or after?”

“I guess you’d prefer before?”

“Yeah. We’ll be going to a nicer restaurant than a truck-stop diner. You’re pretty ripe.”

She gathered the things he’d bought her, but hesitated just outside the bathroom.

“I won’t come in and attack you. You’re safe with me.” She registered his hurt tone at being silently questioned; she’d already seen that he was a decent man.

Gracie entered the small bathroom and closed the door behind her. She locked it. Wrong. That only added insult to injury. In an act so foreign to her that it required a leap of faith she hadn’t taken since she’d run away six years ago, she unlocked the door. Right.

* * *

AUSTIN HEARD THE lock click and disappointment hit him. Then Gracie unlocked it and he smiled. Progress. He listened to the shower turn on and stay on for a long time; Gracie must be making full use of the hot water. Good. She needed it and it would give him a chance to call his mom. He picked up his cell, but didn’t dial right away, just stared at the wall, steeling himself.

Tension that hadn’t been there five minutes ago tightened his neck. He rolled his shoulders, but it didn’t ease.

He should have checked in earlier. Should. Too much of his relationship with his mom was clouded with too many shoulds.

Well, you didn’t call earlier, so quit with the guilt trip and do it now.

No phone call had ever been tougher to make. A moment later, she answered.

“Hey, Mom. It’s me.”

Silence. What else had he expected? People didn’t change overnight just because others wanted them to.

“How are you? Did Deputy Turner stop by today?”

A long hesitation followed, but he wouldn’t break it. The ball was in her court.

Finally, he heard, “He came by,” in the small voice he knew too well. He could hear the subtext as clearly as a bell: I’m helpless. I need you.

It tugged at him, but he hardened himself.

“Good. I’m glad he visited.”

“He didn’t bring me anything.”

“No reason he should. The milk would still be good. You’ll have enough fresh fruit and vegetables for the next few days.”

“He said you shouldn’t have gone and left me alone.”

Austin doubted that. Turner had been one of the ones urging him to get away. Mom must have misinterpreted something the deputy said. Deliberately, no doubt.

“Mother.” Austin kept his tone firm. “You’re not an invalid. You’re only fifty. You can take care of yourself. You have no diseases, no dementia.”

She made a sound that was hard to characterize. It might have been a humph. He’d called her on her so-called helplessness in the past, and yet he still took care of her.

Breathe deeply. Hold. Exhale the guilt.

“Listen, I have to go,” he said. “I’m meeting Finn for dinner.”

“Go. Have fun.” Her clipped words came out loaded with resentment.

Holding his anger in check, Austin decided he’d better cut the call short. “I’ll call again tomorrow. Good night, Mom.”

He tossed the phone onto the bed. Better than throwing it at the wall.

For years, he’d been trying to rehabilitate his mother, to prop her up, and he was exhausted from taking care of her. It had to end soon. He was sick of it. She—

A sound of distress from the bathroom caught his attention.

Gracie! In her weakened state, had she fallen? He barged in.

CHAPTER THREE

GRACIE STOOD BENT over the toilet with a towel wrapped around her, shivering and retching.

As far as Austin could tell, nothing was coming up.

“You must be pretty well cleaned out by now.” He rubbed her back, all of the knobs and bones and sharp edges along her spine. Too bad she’d lost her lunch. She sure needed the calories.

Austin grasped her shoulders and held her steady while she retched some more. “Don’t think you’re going to lose anything else. I think you’re done.”

She nodded. “Why are you in here?”

“Heard you retching.”

“Crap on a broomstick,” she said like it was some kind of badass imprecation. Austin grinned until she burst into tears.

Aw, goddamn, he hated to see a woman cry. He held her and patted her back awkwardly, because this wasn’t how he usually held a woman. He never hugged strangers. At least she was clean now and smelled like flowers and coconut.

She hiccupped and cursed again. “I don’t do this,” she said and he could tell she wanted to sound fierce. Hard to do when her teeth chattered like a pair of maracas.

“Don’t do what?” He led her into the bedroom.

“I don’t cry. Ever. I haven’t in...” He wasn’t sure but he thought she was doing calculations in her head. “Six years. I haven’t cried in six years. This is so dumb.”

He rummaged in his bag and pulled out a hoodie and a T-shirt. “Put these on.”

He turned his back while she dressed.

She hissed, “Don’t go thinking I’m weak just because I cried.” He heard the zipper rasp on his hoodie.

When he turned back to her, her cheeks were bright red, hot against her pale skin. Nothing worse than having a woman cry and then having her get angry ’cause you saw her doing it.

“I don’t think you’re weak.” He watched her dig through her bag until she came out with a comb. “You’re one of the strongest women I’ve met.”

From the way she looked at him, she didn’t know what to do with his compliment. She entered the bathroom and he followed. She dropped the comb into the sink and poured a few drops of body wash on it.

Good. He’d hate to see her using something dirty to comb her clean hair.

“What was the crying about?”

She studied him in the mirror, pale eyes challenging, embarrassed but tough. “That food wasted. I needed it, really need the nutrition. It’s been a rough couple of days.”

More than a couple, he guessed.

Her face went hard-edged, as though she had to be superstrong now that he’d seen her vulnerable.

Note to self, Austin. Do not, I repeat, do not show pity.

Man, she was tough. A couple of the women he’d dated in Ordinary would have played the pity card for all it was worth. Not this woman.

“I need to brush my teeth.” Her stomach made gurgling noises. “I’d better not go out to dinner.”

Despite the sadness lurking in her eyes, the clear regret at missing another meal, Austin kept his tone neutral, saying only, “I don’t think you should, either. Stay here.”

He left the bathroom and heard her brush her teeth. While she finished cleaning up, he called room service. She might not be able to go out for supper, but she should eat something, or she would be starving by morning.

* * *

GRACIE LEFT THE BATHROOM, wishing she could hide in there all night.

How humiliating to have cried in front of Austin. She hadn’t cried since she’d learned of Jay’s infidelity. Once she’d gotten that out of her system, she hadn’t planned to ever cry again for the rest of her life.

So why today? And why in front of a stranger?

Because I’ve almost reached the end of my road—and my rope—and I’m exhausted.

Hunger had left her depleted. No other explanation for it.

She stopped and stared. Austin had lined the middle of the bed with the spare pillows in the room and had put an extra folded blanket on top of her side of the bed. He’d even turned down the covers.

Such thoughtfulness. Oh. Waterworks threatened again. Stop it. What’s wrong with you?

Nothing! I’m not going to cry, okay? I’m just really, really moved.

Maybe this would work. Maybe they could sleep in the same bed tonight without it being too awkward.

Austin stood across the room beside the window, leaning on the frame, big and calm and about as perfect as a man could be, except for a small scar beside his left eye.

He must have shoved his fingers through his hair because it lay in sexy, rumpled waves. She wanted to straighten it out, but no. That would be a big mistake.

Hands off, Gracie. You don’t need to be attracted to a man right now. You haven’t been for six years. Why start now when you’re so close to the end?

What really appealed to her, though, was underneath the great facade. Inside that broad chest beat an understanding heart. The man gave too much. She was a stranger who’d picked his pocket. He should have given her nothing more than a night in jail.

Instead, he’d shown compassion and it made him too attractive, had her yearning for things that could never be.

She glanced back at the bed. Maybe it would still be awkward. She hadn’t been attracted to a man since Jay, probably because she’d been preoccupied with survival, but Austin had taken care of that for tonight, and that made her warm, soft and fuzzy when she needed to keep up her defenses the most. If she wasn’t careful, she would let her guard down.

Don’t forget who you really are. This man must never find out the truth about you.

You’re almost home free.

She had a long way to go before she could relax into her new, safe life. She didn’t need anyone getting in her way.

Lucky for him she was too sick to complain about it. She had both her pride and her independence to consider. She didn’t need anyone to take care of her. She’d grown sick to death of handlers in her old life.

A residual rumble overturned her stomach. Yeah, all right. She would let him take care of her, but only for one night.

She crawled under the blankets and pulled the covers over her like a cocoon, running her hand across the cheap comforter with the ubiquitous bland design. In her old life, she’d slept in the best hotels, but no bed had ever felt better than this one did.

She hadn’t realized how fortunate she’d been in some areas of her old life until it was all gone.

Someone knocked on the door and Gracie assumed it would be Finn, but a bellhop came in with a tray, setting it onto the small table and leaving after Austin tipped him.

Food.

“What’s that?” she asked. “I thought you were going out with Finn.”

“I am. This is for you. Sit up.”

For her? How much was she going to owe by the time they parted, and how was she going to pay him? One haircut wouldn’t cover it. Whatever the bellhop had brought in smelled good and her stomach grumbled. Austin was going out to dinner. If she didn’t eat the food, it would go to waste.

She sat up and leaned against the headboard.

Austin brought a steaming bowl to her. “Here.” He grasped a pillow from his side of the bed and put in on her lap then set the bowl on top of it.

Chicken soup. It smelled even better than it looked.

“Take a few sips. Make sure it sits well in your stomach. I also ordered a poached egg and toast.”

She hated poached eggs, but she would eat it. Gladly.

He folded his arms across his chest while his cheeks turned pink as though his own kindness embarrassed him. The masculinity of his biceps exaggerated by his crossed arms in contrast to the vulnerability of his blush charmed her. “I don’t really know what you like, other than eating too much too fast.”

“I was starving. You would have eaten the same way if you were in my situation.” The words spurted forth hot and defensive before she realized he was teasing her.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

Unflappable, he ordered, “Try the soup.”

Did nothing upset this guy?

How about having his wallet stolen?

Oh, yeah. He hadn’t liked that. Otherwise, though, he looked like he could withstand a cyclone, mayhem and anarchy all at the same time and still keep his cool.

Even when she’d robbed him, he’d seemed angry, yes, but she’d only feared being sent to jail and the notoriety that would cause. She hadn’t worried that he’d hurt her. And wasn’t that strange considering she hadn’t known him.

His posture, his demeanor, everything about him screamed decency.

She sipped the soup. It slid warmly down her chest like sunlight pouring through an open window. It hit her stomach with a resounding aaaaah. “It’s good.” Just as the bed felt amazing, she didn’t think soup had ever tasted as good, even though it was modest. She sipped more, eating it carefully although she wanted to inhale it.

While she ate, Austin went into the bathroom and showered. When he came out, hair damp and smelling of soap, he asked, “How does your stomach feel?”

“Good. Stable. I think I’ll survive.”

He lifted the cover from a plate on the tray and brought it to her.

“Sorry it’s not much. I didn’t want you throwing up again.”

“Me, either.” She took a bite of toast. After she chewed and swallowed, she asked, “Why are you being so nice to me?” She didn’t mean to sound cynical, but life on the road had taught her a lot about people, and their often questionable motives.

Sliding his wallet into the back pocket of a clean pair of jeans, he shrugged then strode to the door, all without meeting her eyes. “See you later.” He hustled out into the hallway as though she’d threatened to shoot him.

So, he had secrets. Fair enough. She had hers, too.

Going slowly, she finished her meal. When she got out of bed, her legs gave out and her ankle ached.

She’d let herself go too long without nourishment.

Taking baby steps and small movements, she retrieved her knapsack from a chair then got back under the blankets and opened it. She didn’t have much time. Austin could be gone for a few hours, or as little as one, and she had work to do.

First, she took out her notebook and snagged the room service menu from the bedside table. She calculated how much the meal had cost Austin and then added what she thought he would tip.

Men tended to tip better than women, and he was a generous guy, so she guessed the tip would have been good.

She added the total to the sum she already owed him and returned the book to the outside pocket of her knapsack.

Shoving aside her old clothing, she pulled her laptop from the big inner section. Crazy to own a laptop, even if it was ancient, and not sell it for food, but this machine fed her soul. It also brought in the only bits of money she earned while on the road.

With a little luck, the room would have Wi-Fi. Most did these days.

She booted up her computer and opened her blog then eased herself out of the harsh reality of her life and into her fantasy world.

When she was ready, she started to type.

Dear readers,

I’m sitting here in (Where should she be today?) the Langhe region of Italy on a stone terrace looking out on (she glanced around the generic hotel room, bland by anyone’s standards) the Nebbiolo vineyards with their soft hillsides in the distance, the evening sun turning them to gold. I’m sipping a glass of the excellent local Barolo, which is made from the grapes grown below. Heavenly. Day after day, grapes bathe in the warm, magical sunlight particular to the Mediterranean and scent the region with their sweetness. Then the little darlings are plucked and made into the delectable wine for which the region is known.

I sit here contemplating how good life is, how one needs little more than the sun on one’s face and a glass of wine for all to seem right with the world. The ennui of daily life fades to nothing and one is left in a state of bliss.

She cast long tentacles into her memory to fill out the post, unearthing details of her own trips to Italy years ago, memories flowing from her fingertips like old friends. Those were the days. Only they weren’t. All of the beauty of the land couldn’t erase everything around those trips. The people. The circus atmosphere. The dreadful hoopla. Here, in her blog, she shared only the best. When she felt she had shared enough, she closed off.

Tomorrow will find me in La Morra and the day after in the Barbaresco wine region, where I will visit Neive, a picturesque town, and later will sample the delightful Spumante in Alto Monferrato.

Until then, fellow travelers, be well. Arrivederci.

Lina Vittorio

Gracie Travers posted the blog—yes, the room had Wi-Fi—turned off her computer and sighed.

Thank goodness for her alter ego, Lina, who gave her a rich pretend life. Where would she be without her fantasies to lighten the unrelenting darkness of her reality?

She had once traveled those very roads in Italy, but that was a long, long time ago, with the few golden moments committed to memory. She’d been a girl then. Now she was a twenty-nine-year-old woman, alone, with no one to depend on but herself. That suited her just fine, most of the time, except for those rare moments when it wasn’t enough. When she wanted more. When loneliness could no longer be kept at bay.

Stop it, Gracie. Save the pity party for a night when you aren’t sitting cozy and warm in a soft bed.

If wishes were horses, she would either really be in Italy, or she would live in the home of her dreams, nothing grand, just a roof over her head and regular meals. Despite her upbringing, she wasn’t spoiled. She really did need very little, only the basics. Food.

Now so close to the end of her odd, self-imposed lifestyle, she had reached her limit. She could no longer tolerate the moving, having no place to call home, without anchor, companionship or loved ones. In her travels, she’d envied each and every couple she met and the homes they lived in, whether large farmhouses on rural land, or tiny urban bungalows on postage-stamp lots.

She wanted to belong, but on her own terms, and so she kept on traveling.

She’d been on the move for too long and it exhausted her, but what else could she do? She had only one talent and had already tapped it dry. Too early. A burnout and she wasn’t even thirty yet.

Crap, she was tired. She closed her eyes to rest. Just for a minute.

* * *

“WHAT THE HELL are you doing?” Finn eyed Austin across the restaurant table with the mulish jut to his jaw that had been there since Austin had picked up Gracie. Finn was a good guy in general, solid, salt of the earth and all that, but he could get mad like nobody’s business. “Haven’t you had enough of taking care of a woman? You need to cut yourself some slack and just have a good time.”

Austin figured Finn had a right to be angry. This was their buddy fishing vacation. They’d both needed this for a long time and had turned themselves inside out to make sure it happened, Finn by getting a veterinarian from the next county to cover his calls, and Austin by dealing with his mother.

“Let it go, Finn.”

“I can’t. You’re being irresponsible.”

Austin couldn’t have heard that right. “Irresponsible? Me? I’m the most responsible guy on the planet.”

“Yeah, okay, maybe that was the wrong word. How about impulsive?” Finn amended.

Impulsive fit. It never had before, but it did where Gracie was concerned.

Her hunger, her need, resonated with him, but there was more. He liked the fight within her, her drive for independence and her refusal to give in. He even kind of understood why she’d stolen from him. But, cripes, the woman needed a long-term goal to get herself into a safer life.

“You shouldn’t be doing this, man.”

No, he shouldn’t, but Finn had his own thing going on, too.

“What about you?” Austin asked.

“What about me?”

“We’re on vacation, but you’re going to see a girl you knew nearly twenty years ago. Why?”

“She needs help.”

“So does Gracie.”

“Gracie is a stranger.”

“So’s your friend.”

“Nope. We’ve been in touch for ten years.”

“But you haven’t seen her in twenty.”

“So what? When I told her we were going to Denver, she asked me to stop in on the way.” He picked at his food. “Don’t you remember how great she was?”

“I wasn’t in your orbit at that time. I was a year younger than you and you were new in town. I heard a bit about it, but not much.” He’d been too busy trying to find sustenance and keep body and soul together.

“But you know the story, right? It was huge. The paper carried it for a week.”

Austin didn’t remind Finn that the only newspapers he ever saw as a kid were at the bottom of trash bins covered in garbage. He shook his head.

“Her mom was driving past my dad’s ranch just as a deer jumped out. She crashed into the tree at the end of our driveway and the car caught fire. Man, I’ll never forget how brave my dad was that day. Melody’s mother got thrown from the car, but Melody was trapped in the backseat. Dad didn’t hesitate. Just reached right into the fire and pulled her out. Saved her life.”

The waitress hovered ready to pour more coffee, her eyes on Finn. He’d inherited his dad’s good looks.

“That’s cool.” Finn’s father was cool. Austin, yet again, felt the lack of a father figure in his life. Every boy should have a father. Austin had had two of them. One had died when he was only six and the other hadn’t wanted him.

Not that he cared.

Really.

For the tenth time, Finn glanced across the street.

Austin checked out what he kept looking at. Storefronts. What was so interesting? Ah. The apartments above them.

“She’s in one of those, isn’t she? That’s why you chose this restaurant?”

Finn nodded.

“Are you going to see her after dinner?”

He shook his head. “She isn’t expecting me until tomorrow. I’ll go across after breakfast.”

Finn had a lot of confidence. So why the edginess? “Why are you nervous about seeing her?”

“She left town suddenly. One minute she was there and the next gone. I never had a chance to say goodbye.”

“You’re angry about that?”

Finn’s mouth angled grimly down on one side. “You know what? You see too much.”

“I had to learn to be perceptive.” Living with an alcoholic did that to a kid.

“Yeah, I’m still angry,” Finn admitted, “but I want to see her, too. We’ve been writing letters for over ten years. Well, she writes letters. I email my responses. Had enough writing in college.” He placed his cutlery across his empty plate and pushed it away. “Melody’s no stranger. And she isn’t a pickpocket. There’s no similarity between our situations.”

Austin shrugged. Maybe not.

He felt Finn watching him. Finn knew him about as well as anyone did. He probably thought he knew what Austin was thinking.

“This has nothing to do with my mom.” Even to Austin’s own ears, he sounded defensive. “This is nothing like dealing with Mom.”

“No? You take your first vacation ever. We’re barely more than a day away from home, and you pick up a stranger. A mighty sad one, I might add.”

He thought of Gracie taking small sips of the soup he’d ordered when he knew she wanted to gulp it down. He thought of her tears when she’d lost the last of her lunch. Yeah, sad, for sure. But strong, too, with a lot of pride. He liked that about her.

“She’s got problems, Austin. That woman is trouble. Why’d you bring her here?”

Good question.

Figuring he might as well be honest with his best friend and himself, he answered, “I don’t know.”

* * *

FINN STOOD IN front of his hotel-room door and watched Austin walk down the hallway to his own room, hating this tension between them. They’d been best buds for a dozen years. They weren’t normally like this.

It was that woman’s fault.

“Hey!” he called, not sure why except wanting to get back on good terms with his buddy.

Austin turned around, walking backward to his room at the end of the corridor. “What?”

“Don’t forget to keep a hundred bucks handy for when I catch the biggest fish on this trip.”

“In your dreams.” Austin grinned and spread his arms. “That hundred bucks has my name on it.”

Austin entered his room and Finn stepped into his own, breathing a little easier. Things were good. No permanent damage done.

He should have been honest with Austin. He wasn’t nervous about seeing Melody. Nope, not nervous. Terrified.

Holy freakin’ Batman was he scared.

Ever since the day a couple of weeks before his twelfth birthday when he’d watched his dad pull Melody out of a burning car, he’d been fascinated by her.

Every kid had pivotal moments in his childhood. That had been one of his. Man, oh, man, to see Remington Caldwell as a hero. To see that girl pulled out alive, but with her hair afire. To watch his dad put out the flames with his bare hands.

It didn’t matter that he hadn’t known at the time that the guy was his father. He had been a hero to Finn ever since. What a bonus it had been to learn, a couple of weeks later, that the great courageous man was also his dad.

His mom, a nurse, had made him visit Melody in the hospital. He’d dragged his heels. What boy his age wouldn’t have at being forced to visit a sick girl?

Melody had been a revelation. Despite all she’d gone through, she’d had more character and spunk than any other kid he’d ever met.

Even in a hospital room with a turban of bandages around her head, she’d been beautiful and strong-willed. She wouldn’t let him get away with any of his “boy” crap, and he’d respected that.

Hell, he didn’t even know what color her hair was.

Finn sat on the bed, took his wallet out of his pocket and slipped out the photo taken of him and Melody in her white turban of bandages at his birthday party at Grandma Caldwell’s house.

They perched on each side of the bed, flanking his grandma. Grandma C looked down at Melody with a drunken smile, courtesy of the stroke she’d suffered. In that not-quite-right smile there was affection. Even Grandma had liked Melody right away.

At one point during the party, Finn had run in from outside to find them asleep, Melody curled into a tight little ball against Grandma’s side.

Something in his boy’s heart had melted, shifted. Nothing had been the same since.

He smiled down at the photo. He hadn’t looked at the thing in years, had refused to. He’d been so damned angry with her for leaving the way she had, without a word to the boy who’d fallen for her hard.

Then, after a nearly ten-year silence, a letter had arrived. From Melody. From the girl who epitomized perfection. And Finn had fallen all over again.

Those letters were damned fine. The woman could write. She could probably sell snow to the Inuit. She’d melted his resistance and he discovered that inside his grown man there was still that twelve-year-old boy who’d never stopped waiting for Melody Chase to return.

In the past ten years, her letters had come from a P.O. box, not a home address. Until this evening, he hadn’t known if she lived in a house, an apartment or a condo. She’d shared her dreams, her fears, tidbits about her life as a journalist, but not enough else, and he was starving for more. He didn’t know where she’d been, or why she had waited a freakin’ decade to contact him.

Where had she been? What had she been up to? Had she been safe? And that had always been at the root of his anger, of his unreasonable urge to see a girl he really barely knew. Was she safe? For years, he had worried.

And then, a letter.

How are you? Where are your comics? Why can’t I find them in the bookstores? On the internet?

And then, her heart-rattling, I’ve thought about you. I think of you.

And his heart had exploded, expanded and then rearranged itself into familiar patterns. Or not, like a bone reset, but not quite aligned. He’d been off-balance and wanting to see her ever since.

She hadn’t allowed him to visit. He didn’t know why.

A month ago, she’d changed her mind.

Come. I need help.

And here he was.

And tomorrow morning, he would see her again.

* * *

GRACIE’S EYES POPPED OPEN. She came awake suddenly, unsure what had disturbed her. A quick glance around the room confirmed that she was still alone. She caught her computer a split second before it slid from her lap to the floor.

Then she heard it—Austin’s voice in the hallway. Crap! She tossed aside the covers and had only just gotten the laptop back into her knapsack when he came through the door. What would the guy say if he knew she owned a computer?

She tried to look casual. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” He looked from her to her bag and his eyes were full of suspicion. Maybe he thought she did drugs. Not her. She was one of the lucky ones. She’d survived without them, and without alcohol, too, unlike many of her colleagues. She’d chosen a more literal escape from reality—running away and living on the road.

Austin’s cop’s eyes bothered her. She didn’t like it when he looked at her with pity, but she didn’t like this hard edge, either. She wanted that sweet, caring tenderness of earlier.

Come on, Gracie. You know how to act. You can do better to put off his suspicions.

“How was dinner?” That sounded more natural. She wandered back to the bed and slid under the covers. “Where did you go?”

“Mexican restaurant down the street.”

“Mexican.” She heard the longing in her own voice. She loved Mexican. “What did you have?”

“Enchiladas.”

“Oh.” She adored them. She salivated. “Were they good?”

“For a small town, yeah, surprisingly good.” He tilted his head. “You sure do like to talk about food.”

“I think about it, dream about it, fantasize, plan when I can eat again. Yeah, it’s a big part of my psyche these days.”

He nodded as though he understood, but how could he? He had a good job and, she presumed, a roof over his head. She doubted he ever went hungry or wore hand-me-downs, or worse, ate something found in the garbage. He couldn’t possibly relate to homeless life.

“Did the meal stay down?” he asked.

“It stayed down, probably because it was small. I nodded off after I ate. That helped.”

“Are you still hungry?”

“Always.”

Humor crinkled the corners of Austin’s eyes. He had nice eyes, blue and bright, warm when he let down his cop’s guard. He picked up the phone from the bedside table. “What do you want?”

“Anything.”

“You mean that, don’t you?”

“Yes. I’ll eat anything you order. Except maybe raw fish. I doubt I could keep that down right now.”

Austin’s smile lit up his face like fireworks piercing the night sky. She could sell tickets to the women staying in the hotel and make a bundle. Lordy, lordy.

“Doubt it’s on the menu,” he said.

Gracie returned his smile, surprised how good it felt to be playful with this man, to not be serious and worried every second of the day.

“Grilled cheese okay with you?”

“That would be good, yeah.”

He ordered a sandwich for her and a big bag of chips and a soda for himself. After they arrived, he pulled off his cowboy boots and settled himself on top of the covers, leaning against the headboard and shoving chips into his mouth while she ate a sandwich made with two cheeses on whole wheat bread, forcing herself to slow down and savor each bite. The last thing she needed was to screw up her stomach again.

Austin picked up the TV remote. “Let’s see if there’s anything on worth watching.”

When Gracie finished the sandwich, Austin caught her licking butter and grease from her fingers. She flushed. “I’m sorry. My manners have slipped while I’ve been on the road.”

“How long has that been?”

“Since I—” The sentence came to a screeching halt, like tires squealing before a car wreck. His casual tone had nearly sucked her into betraying her secrets. The ambience of the room, the low lighting that cast a soft glow on one end of a dark room, the camaraderie of two people sitting on a bed watching TV together as friends do, had lulled her. The situation was so unusual for her that she’d been seduced into trusting this stranger.

Frantic, she rebuilt the mental barriers that had slipped. Even so, part of her still wanted to pretend she could enjoy some of this time together. The pillows running the length of the bed between them offered the illusion of safety. She could appreciate his company without fear of him wanting more.

He flipped the channels, pausing briefly on a couple doing the dirty.

“Um,” she murmured. “We should watch something other than porn.” It had been so long, she couldn’t remember how making love felt. This man stretched beside her, in his confident easy male glory, made her sap run.

None of that, she ordered her unruly libido.

“Probably a good idea to switch.” He sounded subdued. “Let’s see what else is on.” He flipped channels.

“Hey! The Television Food Network. I want to watch.”

“You would. Naw. Let’s find a movie.”

They settled on The Bourne Identity. “This movie’s great,” Austin said.

“Macho spy thriller full of action. No wonder you like it.”

“Matt Damon looking pretty buff. No wonder you like it.”

“He’s okay.” She tried to sound nonchalant while her eyes were glued to the set. Buff understated it. He didn’t hold a candle to Austin, though.

She never saw the end of the movie, just quietly slipped under the covers when sleep claimed her. She thought she felt someone pull the covers over her shoulders.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE HEAT AGAINST his chest and belly burned with a flame Austin hadn’t felt in too long. His thumb stroked skin as velvety as the leaves of the geraniums he’d planted in pots in the spring, for his mother. Not that she’d noticed.

The woman in his arms smelled of coconut and exotic flowers.

His lips found her neck, her tiny mewls of pleasure a waterfall of delight.

He came awake slowly, the dream too good to give up, his hands caressing and exploring soft skin. She curled against him as though she could burrow inside of him. Whomever he’d slept with last night sure was affectionate.

Slept with!

His eyes flew open.

Gracie lay nestled against him as sweetly as a puppy against its mother. There was nothing sexual in the way her fingers curled around his arm, or the way her forehead lay in the curve of his neck, but it was morning, he was male, and she female. His first thoughts had been sexual.

If she knew, she would hate him for it. He knew she didn’t want him to think of her as vulnerable, but he did. She was. What would she think of him if she knew he wanted her?

He shouldn’t have made that nasty remark yesterday about her being too thin, but he’d been sick of her accusing him of being interested in only one thing and he’d snapped. What would she think if she woke up now and noticed that his body sure didn’t mind her being so thin?

Before she could feel the effect she had on him, he eased out of bed. Like a trusting puppy, she followed him, murmuring in her sleep, her hand caressing his arm. He found the gesture poignant and sweet, his thoughts changing, no longer sexual, but tender. He should move, get away from her, but he liked this natural, honest woman with her prickly defenses down.

The pillows he’d used to separate them had been tossed to the floor sometime during the night. He was pretty sure it hadn’t been by him.

She didn’t stir. He glanced at the clock. Seven.

The sun shimmering through the sheer curtains lit her face with a soft glow. Her hair, clean now and blue-black in morning sunlight, framed high cheekbones, a sharp chin and a stubborn jawline. Those fierce raven’s-wing eyebrows were less intimidating in sleep.

Her cheeks glowed pink against alabaster skin.

She cleaned up well.

Looking younger and not as hard-edged as she had yesterday, was this the real Gracie? Or was yesterday’s tough woman the real one?

He didn’t know. She had secrets. That much he could tell. She could keep them. He hardened his heart against the tenderness of a few moments ago. He didn’t need to carry anyone else’s burdens.

He grabbed a clean T-shirt and underwear, and yesterday’s jeans, and went to the bathroom to shower and get dressed. No sense having her wake up and catching him semi-aroused. She would stop trusting him.

So what? After breakfast, he would never see her again. He and Finn would be on their way to fish until they were sick of it.

* * *

GRACIE LAY STILL until she heard the bathroom door close and the shower turn on. Then she exhaled the breath she’d been holding since she’d rolled over and tried to follow the warmth of arms that had let her go too soon.

When her mind had registered where she was, who she was with and what she was doing, she had lain still with her eyes closed. Awkward.

Austin had rocketed out of the bed, probably propelled by her trying to cuddle with him, and most likely disgusted by her skinny body.

Tough.

People got thin when they didn’t have enough to eat.

She rubbed her arms. The room wasn’t cold, but she wanted him and his heat back anyway.

Those few moments before she had realized she was in the arms of a man she shouldn’t be with had been glorious.

It had been too long.

Which one of them breached the barrier Austin constructed yesterday evening? Probably her. A cuddler by nature, she missed it more than anything else, maybe even more than regular meals.

Jay had been good at cuddling. That was about the only positive memory she had of him, and about the only compliment she could give him. It had taken her four years to discover just how big a mistake she’d made when she married him. She hadn’t known him at all. Since the divorce, she hadn’t looked back.

She missed his hugs, though. Any human contact, in fact. Sensory deprivation was a tough thing.

She wanted to touch people. She’d had too little of it in her past life. Maybe that’s why she’d been drawn to Jay, and willing to overlook his flaws for too long, because he’d offered a warm pair of arms and a solid chest to cuddle against. Not to mention she’d been young and naive enough to believe his lies.

She crawled out of bed. She didn’t want to. It was the first clean bed she’d slept in in a long time. The first real bed, clean or otherwise. Her pillowcase smelled like a tropical island from her hair.

She pulled on her pants, so Austin wouldn’t see how skinny her legs had gotten. She used to have shapely legs. They were strong from all the walking, but too thin, pared to the bone by the miles she’d traveled.

When Austin stepped out of the bathroom in jeans and a snug-fitting white T-shirt, he looked good enough to have her consider climbing back into bed with him, and that was a shocker. She hadn’t been attracted to a man since Jay.

In fact, she’d thought her libido had died with news of his infidelities. Yes, plural. Devastating.

Boy, had she been wrong. Apparently, her libido had only been dormant and waiting for the right man to bring it raging back to life.

A drop of water fell from Austin’s damp hair and landed on his neck.

If she knew him well, if they were a couple, she would walk right over and lick it off and who knew where that might lead.

In those first few months, when Jay had still been wooing her, she’d adored the love play, the giggling, the sex.

Yes, sex. She missed it. Six years was a long time to go without.

Stop. Austin isn’t for you. No man is. Stop thinking about love games and desire. You can’t have them.

No sense getting maudlin and wishing for things that couldn’t be hers. Time to screw on her head right, to put the practical ahead of the whimsical.

It was time for her to hit the road. Before she did, she was taking one more shower and washing her hair again, just for the pure pleasure of it.

She didn’t say a word when she passed Austin and closed the door behind her. Neither did he.

Did he feel as awkward as she did?

She had gone to bed with a stranger, and had awakened in his arms. Oh, those arms. Oh, that warm touch.

Get a grip, Gracie.

As though she might not be able to use conditioner for another year, she slathered it on, even though her hair was short. She cut it regularly. Herself. It showed.

When she finished washing and dressing, she forced herself to look in the mirror. Austin’s body had reacted to her purely as any man’s would to waking up with any woman. What man would want her—an escapee from a Charles Dickens novel, a waif with big eyes in a too-narrow face, who wore ragged clothing and picked pockets for a living? Well, not for a living, but that was what she’d done to Austin yesterday.

Too bad he’d been a cop.

Too bad he was a decent guy.

She’d met every kind of person on the road. She could have stolen a wallet from a jerk, but no, she had unwittingly dipped her fingers into the pocket of the most decent guy she’d met in years. And, in the space of twenty-four hours, she already liked him.

Don’t go getting any ideas. It’s because he didn’t have you arrested when he could have. This is nothing more than gratitude, pure and simple.

Even so, she liked him more than she should, and far too quickly. Holy crapola. She needed to get away from him.

She left the bathroom to find Austin already packed and on the phone.

“Okay, we’ll see you in fifteen minutes.” He hung up.

He turned from the window. “Good morning.”

She said the same thing, just as quietly.

“Are you hungry?”

“Starved.”

“What else is new?” he teased, as though they were good friends used to ribbing each other. “Come on. Let’s get going. Finn’s waiting.”

“Go where?”

“To breakfast.”

“You know I don’t have money. You fed me yesterday and last night and paid for this hotel room. I can’t take any more from you.”

“What are you going to do about breakfast?”

“Nothing.”

“Listen, I’m not going to let you walk away hungry. It isn’t in me to do that.”

She wanted food. She wanted what this man had to offer with no strings attached. He’d sure proven his decency last night. She’d curled against him and he hadn’t taken advantage. Other men would have. But it hurt to take, to compromise her independence. She couldn’t do it.

“It’s too hard for me to keep taking from you. I’ll go for breakfast—thanks—but only if we come back here afterward and you let me give you the haircut I promised.”

He ran his fingers through his hair, leaving ridges in the damp waves. “That bad, huh?”

No. Not bad at all. “A bit.” She liked it long, but needed to give him something and this was all she had to offer.

“Okay.” He stuck out his hand to shake. “Deal.”

She took it with a sigh, relief flooding her. She didn’t like dealing with people, didn’t like owing, and no longer liked giving. Her current motto, Live and let live, and leave me alone, had served her well for six years. No need to change it now.

She would cut his hair, then leave. Run. Get away from this guy who tempted her with possibilities that just couldn’t be.

He zipped up his bag. “I’m done packing. Let’s go.”

“What about your other stuff?” she asked.

“What stuff?”

“The shampoo and conditioner, the body wash and toothpaste you bought yesterday.”

“Those are yours.”

“Mine?” she squeaked. Whole bottles. Not samples she managed to pick up at drug stores. Or tiny travel bottles that lasted through two shampoos.

“You think I want to walk around smelling like coconut and pineapples and strawberries? Go get it and pack it.”

Feet on fire, she scrambled back to the bathroom. No way was she leaving anything behind. She picked up everything he’d bought, but also took the bottles provided by the hotel. In the garbage can, she found the paper from the tiny bar of hotel soap and wrapped the bit that was left after Austin had used it. Waste not, want not.

It all went into her backpack.

When she left the room, he said, “You don’t have to carry that with you. We’ll be coming back after breakfast to check out.”

“This goes with me. I take it everywhere.”

“The room will be locked.”

“It goes with me.” It was a point on which she never compromised. Everything she owned was in her bag. Like a turtle, she carried her home with her. It wasn’t much, and it was cheap stuff, but it was all she had.

She walked with him out of the hotel and down the street until they stopped in front of a Mexican restaurant.

“Is this the one you mentioned last night?”

“Yep.”

“I’m going to order enchiladas.”

“I don’t know. It’s breakfast. You might want huevos rancheros.”

“Ooh. You have a point.”

He reached past her to open the door. So strange. No one ever treated the homeless, the nomads of the world, with courtesy. Most times people ignored them, or didn’t see them, the invisible of the streets.

With the slightest touch at the base of her back, he directed her into the restaurant ahead of him. It should have offended her. She could make her way into a building on her own, thank you very much, but that feather-light, brief and respectful touch charmed her.

Mr. Decency.

“Finn might already be here,” he said.

He wasn’t. They got a booth by the window to wait for him.

They spotted him standing across the street in front of a low-rise apartment building, unmoving.

“What’s he doing?”

“His friend lives there. He’s going to visit her while we’re passing through. He hasn’t seen her since they were kids.” He gestured with his chin toward Finn. “That’s why we stopped to stay here last night instead of driving straight through to Denver.”

Austin pushed his menu aside. “You should let me drive you to Denver.”

“No.”

“That’s it? No discussion. No thank you for the offer.”

Gracie blushed. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. Thank you for the offer, but no.”

The waitress poured them coffee.

“Finn might be a while. Let’s go ahead and order.”

Thank goodness. The smells in this place had Gracie’s mouth watering. She ordered huevos rancheros. So did Austin.

Who was this guy who treated her so well? While they waited for their food, she asked, “What’s your story?”

He paused with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth. “My story?”

“Yes. Where are you from?”

“Ordinary, Montana.”

The waitress brought a basket of warm tortillas. Gracie took one and bit into it. Heaven.

“Have you lived there all your life?” Her fascination with happy homes and secure childhoods seeped through. She couldn’t help sounding wistful.

“Yeah. I grew up there. The guy we’re visiting in Denver was the sheriff when I was young. He influenced me to enter law enforcement.” It sounded like an ideal life. Lucky guy.

“You said you’re a deputy, right? Think you’ll ever be sheriff?” She could see him in a position of authority. Easily.

“Probably.”

“People have to vote for you.”

“I treat the people of Ordinary with respect. They respect me in return.”

She studied his face. No arrogance. “You’re that sure of yourself? Think you can do the job?”

“I’ve been trained for it, but I also want to do it. It’s my life’s work. No doubts there.”

His life’s work. How did it feel to be so sure of yourself and your future that you’d already mapped out your life? How did it feel to know where you belonged?

“What about you?” he asked.

“What about me?”

“Why are you homeless?”

None of your business.

When she didn’t respond, he said, “You’re young and healthy with no apparent mental-health issues.”

“How do you know?”

“I know.” He sounded confident of her mental state, but how could he be? The guy didn’t have a crystal ball.

He was right, though. Her mind was sound.

“So? Why are you homeless?”

Thank goodness their meals arrived. She ate without answering.

* * *

HOLY LEAPING BATMAN.

Finn stood in front of the door to an apartment that might turn out to be a Pandora’s box, once again channeling the twelve-year-old kid who’d loved comic books, for whom writing and illustrating comics were more important than anything else on earth—and he hadn’t even seen the grown-up Melody yet, hadn’t talked to her and or seen the changes adulthood had brought.

Back then, he’d had no interest in girls—until Melody had exploded into his life, and had appreciated his work. Had loved it.

He’d wanted to write and illustrate comic books for the rest of his life.

Where had that boy gone? He’d grown up and had left foolish dreams behind. He lived in the real world now, working as a vet with a steady income, not as the cartoonist he’d always thought he would be.

Aw, hell, everyone had to grow up at some point.

He jiggled the keys in his pocket.

Nuts, he shouldn’t be this nervous, not as a grown man. His heart raced as though he were a scared kid who’d been locked in a dark basement. Crazy. Someone was playing a nasty trick on him, turning his nervous system into an arcade game, with balls of both excitement and dread careening every which way.

Melody Chase had played a trick on him twenty years ago when she’d run out of his life.

Come on, man, get real. She didn’t play the trick. She was a kid. She went where her mother told her to go when she told her to.

Yeah, I know, but she never called. She never wrote.

He’d been crazy about her, but in her mind, he’d been what? A footnote? A blip on the radar of her existence? Just a boy who’d kept her distracted in the hospital with card games and cartoon drawings...and that was it? Was that all he’d been to her, while it had taken him too freaking long to get over her?

Yeah, he was still mad, even though he knew it was that twelve-year-old kid’s unreasonable feelings that lingered. This wasn’t the rational response of a grown man. He raised his hand to knock. He wanted to see Melody anyway, just to see if she was as perfect as in his memories.

How much had she changed? How much had he? Would she like what she saw? Did it matter? God, he’d been such a hopeless kid with a childish crush. He was a thirty-two-year-old man now, not a boy given to flights of fancy.

He’d had plenty of girlfriends. No need to be nervous.

His knock echoed loudly in the empty hallway.

He’d measured all other women against his childish memories. Not fair to the women he’d dated. Not fair at all.

What if he’d imagined the crush she’d had on him all of those years ago?

Didn’t matter. She was in trouble. She needed him. He was here.

He ran his fingers over his hair, bringing it under control. He should have gotten that homeless chick to trim it.

Footsteps approached the door from the other side. He swallowed.

The door opened...and there she was.

Melody.

Words backed up in his throat. He was a smart guy. He could string sentences together. Normally. Not now. Not a single word came to him other than her name.

“Melody.” His voice broke. He cleared his throat.

She’d grown up, not much in height, but in maturity. So pretty.

Her smoky-gray eyes widened, misted, softened. “Finn,” she whispered.

If she hadn’t invited him here, if he’d met her on the street, he would have known her, would have recognized her striking face, and her full lips—the kind of lips a lot of women spent good money to get. He knew women’s lips. These were real.

When his gran had been bedridden after a stroke, he’d painted comics on her bedroom wall to entertain her. Melody had been the heroine in those stories.

No wonder.

She could get any man’s pulse racing.

They stared at each other, frozen in a bubble of both memory and anticipation. Tears formed in her soft eyes but her mutinous chin jutted forward. She’d always been a fighter, but what was she fighting now?

Her lips trembled and she pressed them together, defiance so clear on her face that Finn knew she’d fought this battle many times before.

He couldn’t stand to watch her like this—defiant, yes, but also vulnerable, as though he might find her lacking in some way. What did she have to feel vulnerable about? Had she guessed he was still angry, even after all this time?

Gently, as though she were a wild and balky horse he had to calm, he wrapped his arms around her. The moment seemed to call for it.

A sigh slipped out of her and she melted against him, holding him close with her arms hard across his back. He sighed. He still meant something to her.

He nuzzled his chin against her soft dark hair, so damned glad it had grown back in after the fire. The damage hadn’t been as great as he’d feared.

When she eased out of his embrace, he asked, “Can I come in or are you going to make me stand on this doorstep all day?”

A shaky laugh burst out of her. He remembered that laugh. “Yes, of course. Come in.”

He stepped into a sparsely furnished but comfortable apartment. Nothing was cheap. Whatever she’d done with her life had been good. She wasn’t in need.

His pulse beat in his ears. She was safe. All of those years of worry for nothing.

After the way she’d left town, he’d always worried. Before rational thought could stop his unruly tongue, he blurted what he’d been sure he could control. “Where the hell did you go?”

She’d come into his life in dramatic fashion and six weeks later had left just as dramatically.

He’d missed her, had ached for her, the lost friend who had never once, not once, bothered to stay in touch with him so he would know where she was, so he would know she’d cared as much about him as he had about her.

She’d never called to let him know she was safe.

How dare she disappear for so many years and then contact him ten years later, out of the blue, with letters. Great letters, yeah, but not her, and not to say I’m coming back, but only to chat. To touch bases. To give him piddly, stingy bits of her life, but not the whole thing.

She didn’t answer. He gripped her shoulders and all of those years of worry spewed out of him. “Melody Chase, where the hell did you go?”

* * *

MELODY STARED AT the boy she’d dreamed about so many times over the years. He wasn’t a boy any longer. He’d grown handsome like his father, not as tall, but lean and strong, his arms ropey and muscular. His vet work must include more than just domestic animals. But then, Ordinary, Montana, was a ranching community. He had to be a farm vet, too.

The women of Ordinary must crawl all over him, a modern-day James Dean with darker hair, but the same sexual intensity.

Thick hair curled in a wave back from a broad forehead. His black eyelashes were longer than hers, for Pete’s sake, and framed silver-gray eyes.

Where her eyes were a soft smoky-gray, his were keen and sharp, with cleverness snapping like bed sheets hung out to dry in a brisk wind.

He’d grown more beautiful with age, while she’d become more bizarre.

Life wasn’t fair.

But then, hadn’t that been the story of her life?

Open-heart surgery when she was a kid and getting burned in a car accident at eleven, then spending years on the run, left a woman feeling somehow diminished, less than others, especially good-looking men.

He had a right to be angry. She had been taken away from Ordinary suddenly and hadn’t contacted him for ten years.

“My mom wouldn’t let me get in touch with you.” But Melody knew she should have defied her and found some way to let him know she was safe.

Finn frowned. “Why not?”

“She was afraid my dad would find out.”

“That’s a stretch. It’s not like the FBI was monitoring my mail.”

“No, but Mom always worried. She was paranoid. You don’t know what it’s like to live with an abusive man. She did.”

He relaxed his rigid stance, but only a fraction. “No, I don’t.”

She touched his arm. She didn’t want him angry with her. She needed him, but more than that, she wanted his friendship. She’d lived too many years without friends when she was growing up. Those few weeks in Ordinary had been a lantern glowing in the darkness, with Finn the flame.

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