“Have you even seen a horse since you left Texas?

“I thought once the cattle were calm you and I could ride out to the draw and back in one day. But if you haven’t ridden in a while, you’d end up too saddle-sore to sit for a cross-country flight.”

“Don’t sell me short,” JJ said, further irritated because the sight of his large hands around the can made her insides squirm. “Magazine photography isn’t all glamour. I’ve trekked into some wild and woolly spots, and I always carry my own equipment.”

“Touchy, I see,” Mack drawled.

“You’re darned tootin'.” She tossed back some of the Texas lingo she hadn’t fully lost. “I’m no hothouse flower, Mack. If I wasn’t needed here today, I’d ride along and photograph your whole trail ride. And I wouldn’t need special privileges.”

“If it bothers you to stay behind with Zoey and Erma,” he snapped, “I’ll leave the guys to calm the herd and ride back here this afternoon.”

“I’m not bothered.” She drew back, giving him a puzzled look. “Are you bothered about leaving me here? Are you afraid I’ll run off with the Bannerman silver?”

Texas Dad

Roz Denny Fox

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ROZ DENNY FOX’S first book was published by Mills & Boon in 1990. She writes for various Mills & Boon® lines and for special projects. Her books are published worldwide and in a number of languages. She’s also written articles, as well as online serials for Mills & Boon. Roz’s warm home- and family-focused love stories have been nominated for various industry awards, including the Romance Writers of America’s RITA, The Holt Medallion, The Golden Quill and others. Roz has been a member of Romance Writers of America since 1987, and is currently a member of Tucson’s Saguaro Romance Writers, where she has received The Barbara Award for outstanding chapter service. She’s also a member of Desert Rose RWA chapter in Phoenix, Midwest Fiction Writers of Minneapolis, San Angelo Texas Writers’ Club, and Novelists, Inc. In 2013 Roz received her fifty-book pin from Mills & Boon.

To view her backlist visit her website at www.korynna.com/RozFox. Readers can e-mail her through Facebook or rdfox@cox.net.

This book is dedicated to my critique partners, Cindy, Suzanne and Laura. They are avid readers and talented writers. In addition to busy lives, they make time to read and constructively point out ways to strengthen my stories.

Thanks for being my writing cheerleaders.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Extract

Chapter One

“Seventh grade is so gonna suck.” Zoey Bannerman flopped down on her best friend Brandy Evers’s couch and accepted a bowl of potato chips. “Thanks. The Open House at the junior high was the worst! Did you hear that snarky Heather Reed say I dress like a cowboy? She said Jay Lowery and all his friends call me a loser.”

“Who cares what Heather says? She’s mean.” Brandy looked fierce as she passed Zoey a can of soda before sinking cross-legged onto the floor.

Opening the can, Zoey let it stop fizzing before she drank. “Things would be way better if I had a mom. I even heard Erma tell my dad he needs a wife. I wish I could help him find someone nice.”

“You say that a lot, Zoey. I dunno. My mother says you can’t just go out and pick a mom. It’s up to your dad. Maybe you should talk to him.”

“He might think I don’t love him. I do, but next year school will be different with coed dances and stuff. Dad and Erma think since we live on a ranch it’s okay if I wear jeans and boots all the time.”

“Your housekeeper makes the best cookies in the world, but she’s my grandma’s age. And Erma doesn’t shop anywhere except at La Mesa’s general store. What about setting your dad up with Trudy Thorne? Everybody knows she likes him.”

“She’s so phony. Erma says Trudy’s only interested in how much my dad and Turkey Creek Ranch are worth.”

“Then how about your dad’s veterinarian? You like Delaney Blair and her kid.”

“I love Delaney and Nick, but I heard Benny Lopez telling one of Dad’s new ranch hands that Delaney’s hung up on some guy who lives in Argentina.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. He sold Dad his prize bull.”

“Weird. I wonder why they aren’t married.”

Zoey shrugged. “Don’t ask me. If my dad wanted to date anyone from La Mesa, don’t you think he’d have done it by now?” She munched a few chips. “Your parents are so happy together. My dad’s been alone for a long time. He’s gotta be lonely.” She set her soda can on a coaster on the coffee table. “I wish a nice woman from someplace else would move to La Mesa. Someone who wants a family.” Hesitating, Zoey added, “Someone who’d love my dad, but who I could talk to about clothes and...and...boys.”

“But your dad would have to meet her and ask her out first.”

“Like that’ll happen,” Zoey lamented, twisting one of her braids.

“My mom said she’d take me to a big department store before school starts again in September—a place where they teach people how to put on makeup. And she promised I can get my ears pierced. If your dad says it’s okay, you can go with us.”

“Thanks. But I keep horning in on you and your mom.”

“It’s okay ’cause you don’t have a mom, Zoey. And Erma doesn’t even wear makeup, does she? Hey!” Brandy jumped up off the floor. “I have an idea. My mom gets a magazine called Her Own Woman. Last week her gourmet cooking club went on about a contest the magazine is running. With single men, one a month. My mom’s friend Lacy Doran said readers go online and write up what they like about a certain man. Readers get picked by the magazine to meet the guys and deliver a check to his favorite charity. They go on a big night on the town, sort of like a date. I bet your dad qualifies. Wait, I’ll show you.”

She crossed the room and dug some glossy magazines out of a rack. Dropping down next to Zoey, Brandy flipped pages until she found the contest. The girls huddled together, reading.

“They need photos,” Zoey said, frowning. “And an essay on why he deserves to be chosen. They’ve done January already. He’s a skier.” She opened the second magazine. “February is a mountain climber. Gosh, March and April aren’t wearing shirts. I don’t think my dad would go for this. And look...it says all nominees have to sign a release.”

“Only if he’s picked, Zoey. You can write an essay. It says they want a compelling story. Remember when Mrs. T. did that lesson in language arts about how certain words show emotion or sympathy or whatever? Just write that your dad’s lonely and you want him to be happy. It can’t hurt to mention that it’d be great if your dad makes the cut, if they’ll send a woman who knows about ranching...and teenage girls.”

Zoey mumbled, “I won’t officially be a teen till November.”

“Still, the sooner you put in a request, the more chance your dad has to win.” Brandy leaped up. “If they don’t choose him, we’ll figure out something else.”

“Okay. Help me write. When I go home I’ll start taking pictures.”

“Let’s go up to my room. I’ll borrow my mom’s laptop. If she comes in from her greenhouse, she’ll probably say this is a bad idea. Moms are fussy like that, Zoey, I’m just saying.”

* * *

MACK BANNERMAN STOMPED into the barn and began furiously pitching hay into a hay wagon.

“Worried about the drought?” asked Benny Lopez, who had been Turkey Creek’s ranch foreman since Mack was a boy. “You’ll feel better knowing I rode out to the spring that feeds Turkey Creek yesterday. There’s water bubbling up. Your plan to drive the herd to Monument Draw May 1st should give them a chance to fatten up on sweet grass before we take them to market.”

“Good. But it’s not about the drought. It’s Zoey. For three days she’s been obsessed with taking pictures and it’s driving me nuts. Every time I turn around she shoves a camera in my face. Today was the last straw. She barged into my bathroom when I was shaving and, bam, a flash blinded me. I cut my chin. We were both damned lucky I had a towel wrapped around my waist.”

Benny threw back his head and laughed.

“I might laugh, too, if I hadn’t had to give her a lecture on privacy. I hate scolding Zoey. Usually I support everything she does, but I’ll admit I freaked out when she told me she wants to take photography classes in junior high. Maybe it’s a passing fancy, but...” Mack sighed and leaned on the handle of his pitchfork.

“Ah, you’re thinking about Jilly.” Benny rasped a thumb over his stubbled chin as he eyed Mack, who winced. Benny’s remark propelled him back to the time of his father’s death from a massive stroke. He’d been madly in love with a girl from Lubbock, where they’d both attended college. They’d even been engaged. Jill Walker was a photography major who, instead of supporting him in his hour of need, returned his ring by mail and flew off to Paris to further her career. That much he’d learned from her mother, who said he should forget Jill. And he’d had to drop out of college to run the ranch.

“I rarely think of Jill,” he muttered. “But since you brought her up, you can’t blame me for not wanting Zoey to be a globetrotter?” Mack dug his pitchfork into the pile of hay again.

Benny grunted and went back to hosing out stalls.

Mack paused to rub his shoulder. Telling Benny he rarely thought of Jill Walker wasn’t true. He’d completed his agriculture degree online, so he received the college alumni newsletter—which often touted Jill’s accomplishments. And he kept two of her early photos hanging on his bedroom wall. One was of a sunset over South Padre Island that Jill had shot the weekend they first made love—after he’d asked her to marry him. The other, a picture of their group of friends, she’d taken on campus. She’d set up a tripod and snapped the photo via remote. They all wore sappy grins.

He should toss the pictures. For one thing, the members of the group had scattered, or worse. Tom Corbin, a quiet, likable Yankee, had been killed in a motorcycle crash a week after Mack’s dad died. And there was Faith. Her heart—damaged by childhood rheumatic fever—gave out during childbirth. Memories of Faith always came wrapped in sorrow and regret. Her life had never been happy. They’d dated for a while in high school, in spite of fierce opposition from her controlling, too-pious father. Even after they’d broken up because her parents were such jerks, Faith’s father had insisted she attend a religious college. In defiance, the next year she followed Mack to Texas Tech. But by then he’d fallen in love with Jilly. Yet, through a quirk of fate he and Faith had ended up married. And Zoey—Faith’s gift to him after so many losses in his life—came as a blessing.

He let his vacant gaze cruise past Benny.

“Maybe you should take a day off, boss. Go into town and have some fun.”

“What? Oh, no, I was just thinking. Have you noticed how fast Zoey’s growing up?” Mack’s tone was wistful. “I wish I could still pop her in that chest sling I used—remember when the only thing that lulled her to sleep was me riding around the lowing herd at night?” He grinned. “She was so excited the first day we let her ride Misty.”

“I don’t see her riding as much these days.”

“No. Erma thinks it’s a phase because of her age.... She mopes around. I don’t know what to do, Benny. And I see Erma slowing down when Zoey most needs a woman’s guidance.”

“That’s why Erma nags you to find a wife. If not for your sake, Mackenzie, then for Zoey’s.”

Shoving a lock of dark hair off his forehead, Mack stared out the open door into the nearby corral. “My heart’s not in the hunt, Benny. My heart’s not in the hunt.”

* * *

PHOTOJOURNALIST J.J. WALKER rushed into the weekly planning meeting at the New York high-rise offices of Her Own Woman magazine. She juggled her morning coffee, a bulging camera case and a portfolio from her most recent fashion shoot in Cancun, where she’d gone after covering the Mardi Gras in New Orleans. It was already April. She’d been on location for a month, and if her office assistant hadn’t reminded her about this meeting, she would have missed it. Settling into an empty chair, she took a big gulp of coffee, liberally laced with cream and sugar. When she glanced at the hundred-inch wall screen where editors were displaying upcoming layouts, she was bombarded by four up-close photos of a man she’d never expected to see again—the only man she’d ever pledged to marry.

Choking, she spewed coffee all over her skirt and new Dolce Vita wedge sandals, which even with her deep professional discount had cost a mint. She created a stir in the room as she noisily mopped up. When everything except her racing heart had calmed down, she asked, “Wh-what’s with the, uh, cowboy?” She wanted to deny it, but she knew the pictures staring down at her were of a more mature, but still handsome, Mack Bannerman.

A beaming features editor loudly announced, “He’s our Mr. August, J.J.”

“Yeah, our Mr. Hot August,” an art assistant joked as she fanned her face.

Though she didn’t intend to give anything away, J.J. blurted, “I thought all our featured men had to be single.”

“I hoped you might know him.” Donna Trent, the boss, turned in her seat to focus on the flustered J.J., even as the features editor went on to say, “According to the essay, Mackenzie Bannerman, Texas rancher, is very single.”

Last year someone on staff had proposed featuring one man a month in the magazine. J.J. had been one of the few dissenters. She continued to shake her head. “I must have confused him with someone else.”

Donna pounced. “Come on, J.J., he’s from La Mesa. Your hometown is Lubbock. I know you’ve been home recently. Didn’t you just help your mom move into an apartment in an assisted-living community? On the map, Lubbock and La Mesa aren’t too far apart.”

“Texas is big,” J.J. mumbled. “Okay—I know of him. Everyone within hog-calling distance of La Mesa, which by the way is pronounced La-mee-sa, not La-may-sa, knows of Mack Bannerman. He owns Turkey Creek Cattle Ranch, the biggest Hereford breeding ranch in West Texas.” Although what J.J. really wanted to say—that Mackenzie Bannerman was a two-timing rat—she couldn’t without opening a vein and releasing years of pent-up heartache. She thought she’d vanquished those feelings, but apparently she hadn’t.

“Perfect,” her boss said. “Since you’ll be interviewing and photographing Mr. Bannerman for his layout. He’s a hit. Readers are already clamoring online for a chance to meet him, based solely on his entry photos.”

J.J.’s heart dropped to her brightly polished toes, now sticky with cream and sugar. “Assign someone else, Donna. I’m still jet-lagged from back-to-back assignments. I haven’t had time to download the presummer fashions I took in Cancun yet.”

“Joaquin is in Miami filming Mr. July, who’s studying migrating sharks and dolphins. Our part-time photog is on maternity leave. I’d think you’d jump at the chance to check on your mom. I know you were worried that she’d have a hard time after losing your stepdad.”

“True. But honestly, Donna, after taking a closer look, Bannerman’s not all that photogenic. Let me scan our other prospects and find someone better.”

The room erupted in hoots of laughter. “What’s ‘better’?” an assistant shouted. “He’s gorgeous.”

The creative director waved the essay, silencing the staff. “Everyone on the selection committee thinks it’s so sweet, J.J. His daughter nominated him. She hopes we’ll send the check for his charity with a nice lady who might make a suitable wife for her poor, widowed dad.”

Donna broke in again. “This program has given us a huge jump in subscriptions. Almost triple compared to last year. If you write a story to capitalize on the sympathy angle, think of the publicity. Of course, we’ll have to do our best to send a reader who ends up marrying him. That will make a fantastic follow-up down the line.”

J.J. considered Donna a friend as well as a boss, but with Donna the magazine always came first, so she wasn’t surprised by the suggestion. However, the notion that she’d participate in setting Mack up with some unknown woman was appalling. J.J. knew, of course, that he had at least one child. She was only too aware he’d had that child with Faith Adams, his former girlfriend. Although they’d betrayed her, J.J. had been sorry to hear about Faith’s death.

The staff member with the essay said, “We’ll screen the candidates carefully. It’s obvious that his daughter wants her dad to fall in love and be happy again. And she’s yearning for a mother, so we’ll have to find someone nurturing. This poor kid lost her mother at birth.”

That shocked J.J., who had specifically avoided asking about Mack on her trip home. And her mother, who hadn’t wanted her to marry a rancher, would have never been the one to bring him up. However, the Mack Bannerman she’d known had been an intensely private person, and he’d be horrified to have a bunch of people mucking around in his life. Unless he’d changed.

She could still clearly recall the night thirteen years ago when she’d driven from Lubbock to Turkey Creek Ranch to tell Mack about a scholarship she’d been offered to study for her master’s in photojournalism in France. She’d hoped Mack would ask to move up their wedding date; she’d have gladly foregone Paris to be his wife. But she’d walked in on a touching scene with her fiancé consoling his sobbing former girlfriend. Faith was blubbering about being pregnant, and saying that her very religious parents would, if not kill her, make her life miserable for what they’d deem a terrible sin.

Mack had tenderly brushed away Faith’s tears, assuring her he’d speak to her father. Mack insisted Faith move to Turkey Creek straightaway. And he promised to keep her safe from her fire-and-brimstone preacher daddy.

J.J. had died a thousand deaths standing hidden from the entwined pair. She’d felt sick and humiliated to learn that Mack had gotten Faith pregnant. He and J.J. were engaged! The couple didn’t see her leave Mack’s house. She cried her heart out on the drive back to campus, but managed to harden it with help from her mother, who agreed to send back Mack’s ring. Skipping graduation, she’d grabbed the Paris opportunity and hadn’t looked back—until now.

She made one last effort to change Donna’s mind. “What can we really know about the women who enter the contest? Who would want to meet a man that way? What’s to say a winner isn’t a gold digger, or...crazy?”

Donna rolled her eyes. “You know we run background checks on the men we feature and on the readers we select to deliver the five-thousand-dollar check. And everyone signs a release.”

“Out of curiosity, what is Mack Bannerman’s charity?”

The director with the application answered. “He underwrites a steak-fry festival each year. Proceeds go to a Texas contractor who retrofits homes for disabled veterans.”

Impressed against her will, J.J. felt the last of her barricades crumble. Meeting Donna’s steady gaze, J.J. murmured, “Fine. I’ll wrap up this layout and go to Texas next week.”

As the room emptied, Donna kept J.J. behind for a minute. “If the article and photographs go smoothly, take an extra week to visit your mom. I’m going on vacation for two weeks myself. When we’re both back, I’ll help pick the reader we send to meet your Mr. Bannerman.”

“Thanks. I guess I feel extra responsible because he lives in my home territory.”

“Hmm. Is that all it is? I sensed it might be more.”

“N-no,” J.J. stuttered. “I pulled up my Texas roots a long, long time ago.”

The woman gave a crisp nod, squeezed J.J.’s arm and walked out of the room, calling to someone in the hall. J.J. was left feeling rattled. Damn it all, and damn Mack Bannerman for resurfacing from the rubble of her life and causing her to lie to a woman she admired—her boss, no less.

Resolutely but by no means happily, J.J. flew across the country a week later. While in the air she decided how to handle this inconvenience professionally. Once she landed in Lubbock, she’d rent a vehicle, drive to La Mesa and meet Mack’s daughter, as prearranged by staff. She’d ask the necessary questions to write an article, take photos of him on a horse herding cows or whatever he did during his workday. She’d spend one night in town, then go back to Lubbock and visit her mom. Afterward she’d zap straight back to New York—with her heart intact.

She had a plan, and she wasn’t prepared for it to go awry. But late that afternoon when she checked into the motel in La Mesa, her plan did just that. The clerk at the front desk handed her a phone message from Mack’s daughter, Zoey. The girl couldn’t meet J.J. as arranged, the note said, because her best friend’s mother couldn’t bring the kids to town today. The message instructed J.J. to meet the girls at the public library at ten the next day rather than going out to the ranch.

Once in her room, J.J. stared out the window at the Western town that had grown little in the time she’d been gone. She admitted to being curious about the child Mack had with Faith. She hadn’t known Faith well. It was Mack who had included the thin, pale woman in their college group. Sparing a moment to reread the message, J.J. felt a niggling suspicion that Mack might not be aware that he was going to be displayed in a high-circulation women’s magazine. But she knew the staff had sent him a release to sign, so J.J. would meet the kids, then proceed. The staff of Her Own Woman, most of them mothers, had empathy for the motherless Zoey Bannerman. It hadn’t occurred to them that anything might be amiss with the kid’s nomination of her father. And maybe nothing was. This uneasiness in J.J.’s stomach could well be her own reservations over seeing Mackenzie again.

Had she known of this delay earlier, she’d have phoned her mom and taken her to dinner. Too weary now to drive back to Lubbock, she elected to go in search of food in town before calling it a night.

Fewer than twenty minutes later, a short walk down the main street from her motel, she sat at the counter of a hole-in-the-wall café, checking her messages while awaiting delivery of her order. It was frustrating as she kept losing her signal. Purely by chance, she heard Mack’s name mentioned. A trio of rancher types in jeans and cowboy hats were discussing a year-long drought in the area that was of major concern, considering summer was just around the corner.

“If Bannerman has to sell his herd early and take a loss, he might not be able to underwrite this year’s steak-fry festival,” the man closest to J.J. said.

An older man bobbed his shaggy gray head. “Be a shame if Mack had to cancel the event when more wounded veterans than ever need retro-fitted homes. Last year Mack raised funds to help three local veterans.”

“Yep, I know. But our pastures are as dry as I’ve ever seen ’em in the spring,” lamented a man J.J. couldn’t see past the bulk of the others.

“Uh-huh, two bad grass fires already. Hey, Jody, how about a refill on the coffee,” he called to the waitress, wagging his cup in the air. “And slices of that lemon pie all around? My treat,” he told his companions.

J.J.’s soup and sandwich came, and the men quit talking to wolf down their pie, after which they dropped money on the counter and trooped out. J.J. found herself feeling sad to think Turkey Creek Ranch might be struggling. And Mack. He was the fourth generation of Bannermans to raise cattle. His great-grandfather was one of a few old-timers who’d built a Hereford herd with cows and bulls brought over from England. Mack had planned to crossbreed and produce a strain of hardier cattle more able to survive the extreme Texas weather. She’d once promised to support him in every way. Obviously he hadn’t wanted her help.

She pushed aside half of her sandwich, wondering why she’d recalled that or anything else about Mack. It had taken her a long time to bury her pain.

Paying at the register, J.J. walked back to her motel, determined to put Mack out of her mind for the night.

* * *

THE NEXT MORNING, just past 10:00 a.m., she hurried into the library. It smelled like all the libraries she’d spent time in during her school years in Texas. The odor of pungent wax didn’t quite hide the musty scent of old books.

The heels of her boots clacked on the weathered wood flooring. Rising late after sleeping better than she’d expected to, she’d hastily thrown on a citified version of cowgirl wear—skinny jeans, a sleeveless black linen blouse and understated gold accessories that were a staple when she traveled. Assuming she’d be driving to the ranch later, she’d pulled her hair in an easy twist that looked elaborate but really wasn’t. It kept her hair contained and out of her face when she shot photographs in remote locations. Slung over one shoulder she carried her ever-present worn leather bag filled with cameras, light meters and other equipment she never found time to unpack between trips.

“I’m supposed to meet a couple of teen girls,” she told the librarian. The woman pointed her to a round table partially hidden behind a counter on which sat two computers.

Crossing over to the waiting pair, J.J. smiled and said, “Sorry I’m a bit late. I’m J. J. Walker. I’m from Her Own Woman magazine.” She was surprised that she couldn’t readily identify which of them was Mack’s daughter, given that she’d known both of the girl’s parents. She’d forgotten Texas ranch kids tended to look younger and more scrubbed than teens she encountered on a New York subway.

For the girls’ part, they seemed struck mute.

Not wanting to intimidate them, J.J. slid out a chair, dumped her bag on the floor and sat. “Well, I don’t know who’s who, but you know why I’m here. It must be exciting to have your essay and photographs chosen by our staff,” she said brightly.

The girl with reddish brown braids sat up straighter. “I’m Zoey Bannerman. This is my friend, Brandy Evers. I took the pictures, and Brandy gave me suggestions for my essay.” She kept her gaze downcast, which didn’t allow J.J. to see if the girl’s eyes were gray like Mack’s.

Removing a folder and business card from her bag, J.J. said, “Our next step is for me to interview your father and take some professional photos. We want shots of him doing what he does every day on his ranch.” Her gold bangles clinked as she spun her watch around to check the time. “If we head out now, I should be able to wind things down by four o’clock.”

“Today?” The girls shared a look of consternation. Before J.J. could decipher it, the front door to the library flew open, creating a cool breeze. J.J. saw both girls stiffen as a man’s deep voice called, “Zoey.” Zoey jumped up and almost fell over the camera bag.

Leaning down, J.J. tucked the bag farther under the table, then let her eyes track over scuffed cowboy boots, up worn blue jeans, to a shiny belt buckle. Panic set in when she completed the journey and got stuck on the tanned, lean face of none other than Mackenzie Bannerman. Thankfully, he wasn’t paying any attention to her, and that gave her time to take a deep breath and pull herself together.

“You should’ve let me know you girls were coming into town, Zoey. I expected you to be at Brandy’s house. Erma fell down our back steps. She may have broken her hip. I had to bring her into the urgent-care clinic, and I wasted precious time tracking down Brandy’s mom, who didn’t hear her phone. Since I’m here, she asked if I’d drive you kids home. So grab your books and check them out. I have to swing back to the clinic to get the verdict on Erma.”

The girls remained glued to their spots, Zoey standing and Brandy seated across from J.J.

“What’s wrong with you two? Hop to it. Whether or not Erma broke her hip, she’s going to be laid up for a while. I need to stop by the employment office and see if they can scare us up a temporary housekeeper.” Only then did Mack seem to realize there was someone else at the girls’ table.

J.J. knew the exact moment he noticed her—and recognized her—because his breath escaped his lungs in a hiss. He reeled back on his heels and swore out loud.

“Mack,” she said, inclining her head ever so slightly to meet those incredible eyes. “It’s been a long time.” J.J. prided herself on the fact that her voice wasn’t shaking like her insides were.

Fury wafted off the man and surrounded them in oppressive waves. J.J. could barely breathe for the tension that crackled between them. But of the two of them, she’d at least managed to be civil. Perhaps Mack—the cheater—didn’t have it in him to do the same.

Chapter Two

Mack felt as if he’d gone back in time. He shut his eyes and opened them again slowly to see if he’d lost his mind. His heart was beating so fast that he wondered if he was about to suffer the same fate as his father—a stroke.

Nope, he wasn’t living a nightmare. There sat Jill Walker, looking more gorgeous than she had at twenty-one. Pulling himself together, Mack snarled at her out of renewed anger—how dared she waltz back into his life when she’d treated him so abominably? “Jilly,” he said icily. “What brings you to La Mesa? And why in hell are you with my daughter?”

Handing him a business card, Jill stared coolly at Mack. “I go by J.J. now...J. J. Walker. Believe me when I say I’m not here by choice. I’m on assignment. I assume you’re familiar with Her Own Woman magazine, since Zoey nominated you and you were selected to be our featured man of August.” She noticed then how the girls were frantically trying to signal her. She stopped talking, unsure what they were trying to convey.

“If that’s not total bullshit, I don’t know what is.” Mack crushed her card in his hand.

The girls swooped around him at the same time the librarian hurried over to shush them. “You four need to take your noisy discussion outside,” she ordered. “There are people here trying to concentrate.”

Giving J.J. another angry glance, Mack collected the girls’ books and bags, and hustled Zoey and Brandy out.

J.J. gathered her folder and camera bag, slower to follow. No matter how prepared she thought she’d be to see Mack, he was far more potent in person than in those photographs.

Mack and the girls stood at the base of the library steps when J.J. descended. He was waving his hands, and as she got closer she heard him demanding answers from Zoey. Huge tears rolled down the girl’s face while her friend stood to one side biting her lower lip. J.J. might not want to be here, but she felt sorry for Mack’s daughter.

“Girls.” She broke in. “I suspect you haven’t been up front with Zoey’s father regarding my magazine’s contest. The truth is we can’t feature anyone who objects. In fact, Zoey, the magazine mailed you a release you were instructed to have your dad sign.”

“I, uh, we... Brandy and me thought he could sign it later.”

“I’ve got no intention of signing anything,” Mack said, glaring down his nose at J.J. as he hooked his thumbs over his belt. “Release for what? What’s going on? I didn’t enter any contest.”

“Nothing,” Zoey wailed. “Everything’s ruined. I didn’t think you’d win, but if you did I planned to surprise you.”

“That you have succeeded in doing,” Mack said, drawing out a long sigh.

Brandy slid in next to Zoey. “Zoey did it for your steak-fry, Mr. B. Every winner gets a check from the magazine for his favorite charity.”

Zoey scrubbed her wet cheeks. “The magazine people choose a reader to bring the check. And they send you and the reader to a nice restaurant...kind of like a date. Oh,” she sobbed, “it’s hopeless. Now you’ll never go out with someone nice who can help me dress like a girl,” she cried. “Next year Heather Reed and all the boys will keep laughing at me.”

Mack stood in stunned silence a moment, unable to process the bulk of Zoey’s ramblings. She was more upset than he’d ever seen her, and her sadness cooled his anger the way nothing else could. He used his thumbs to wipe away her lingering tears. Kneeling, he pulled her close.

J.J. noticed how his demeanor changed and his face softened when he gently tugged one of Zoey’s braids.

“You look like a girl,” he murmured. “Who says you don’t? Help me understand, Bug. What check? What reader? Why do you think that girl laughs at you? And why does it matter if I date or not?”

“Don’t call me Bug. Boys are bugs. Brandy’s mom and dad call her honey.”

Slanting J.J. an embarrassed little smile before he cradled Zoey’s splotchy face in his big hands, Mack murmured, “I’ve called you Bug since you were born, because you were cute as a bug. If you don’t like it, I’ll stop. But the rest, especially the dating part, isn’t a subject to be discussed in public.”

Brandy interrupted again. “Mr. B., how come you know a magazine photographer from New York?”

He didn’t answer, still peeved as he switched his focus to J.J. “I swear this is the first I’ve heard of any of this. I have no idea what’s going on. I probably should have asked Zoey why she was stalking me with a camera a few weeks ago. But tell me how any reputable magazine can encourage children to invade a person’s life without obtaining that person’s permission?”

Beginning to steam at Mack’s holier-than-thou attitude, J.J. flipped her folder open and yanked out a blank sheet of paper. “Like I said, the rules state that candidates must sign a release. The girls followed the rules. Our staff found Zoey’s essay compelling, and the photos, well, intriguing. I was on a shoot out of the country when the decision was made to put you in the lineup. But no problem, Mackenzie, we can end this ASAP and I’ll be on my way home. All I need is for you to jot a brief note declining to be included in our promo.” She shoved the folder and pen toward him as he knelt in front of Zoey.

He reached up for the folder. Zoey looked stricken.

Gesturing with the pen, J.J. said, “By declining, you will forfeit the five-thousand-dollar donation to your charity. I imagine that’s the biggest shame, especially if you’re forced to cancel your steak-fry. I admit I was impressed by your charity.”

“Forced to...? I’m baffled as to why you’d think there’s some doubt about me underwriting our annual steak-fry.” His expression even more confused, Mack rose to frown first at J.J., then Zoey. “Zoey, please stop crying. I’ve left Erma in the E.R. and we need to go see about her.”

“Do you mean Erma Fairweather?” J.J. asked.

“Yes.”

“I’d love to see her. Oh, but she probably won’t remember me. I always liked Erma. I hope she’s okay.”

“You liked her, yet you had no trouble dropping out of her life and mine?”

J.J. flared at his unfair assessment, but rather than strike back in front of the girls, who were clearly hanging on everything passing between her and Mack, she bit back her comment.

Following another uncomfortable silence, punctuated by Zoey’s sniffling, Mack threw up a hand. “Enough! Let’s take a minute and get to the bottom of this. I hate seeing you so upset, Zoey.” He knew he’d never handled her tears well. And Jill Walker seemed far too anxious to be rid of him. The way she’d stomped on his heart before blithely abandoning Texas still rankled. Having her here felt like unfinished business to Mack and he disliked leaving things undone. Maybe he’d reconsider this stupid contest for no reason other than to annoy the hell out of Jill—or at least put himself in a position to finally extract a bit of revenge.

“Don’t everyone rush to explain,” he said. “How about I take a look at the entry the girls sent in?” Mack held out his hand to J.J.

Thrown off-kilter by his turbulent gray eyes, she leafed through her folder. As she did, she chanced a glimpse at Zoey. The pleading expression in the girl’s teary eyes left no doubt that Zoey didn’t want her dad reading the story she had concocted. Could it be that Mack wasn’t aware of how much his unhappy daughter wanted a mother? J.J. recalled incidents from her own childhood, things her mother later claimed she’d done for the sake of giving J.J. a normal life. When the truth came out, J.J. had been resentful. Despite that, she wasn’t here to offer the Bannermans advice or otherwise interfere in their lives. She wasn’t a psychologist. But...Zoey looked so miserable, the very least J.J. could do was avoid causing added anxiety.

“I have the photos, but apparently not the essay,” she fibbed, carefully extracting the four-by-six photos taped to a blank page. She passed it to Mack, and watched both kids sigh in relief.

Mack studied the top two prints dispassionately. He cringed when he got to the one at the bottom—the one Zoey had taken of him in the bathroom.

J.J. noticed a crimson blush rising up his neck and staining his tanned cheeks. He tugged on one ear, and she recognized it as an old habit of his, especially prevalent whenever he felt uncomfortable. She used to consider it an endearing trait in a guy who was tough in other ways. Her veneer of disinterest started to crack. Perhaps Mack wasn’t so changed from the man she’d once known and loved, after all.

His color still high, Mack handed back the photos. “I can’t pretend to have a clue why Zoey pulled this little stunt. I’m a rancher, not a male model, for God’s sake. Zoey, you said you planned to take photography in junior high next year. If that’s true, I can’t imagine your teacher approving of a student doing this.” He stabbed a finger at the pictures J.J. was busily tucking away.

Brandy was the one to answer. “The fact that Zoey’s photographs were good enough for New York magazine people will impress teachers, Mr. B.” She grinned while Zoey only looked more uncomfortable.

J.J. was beginning to find the whole thing amusing, since Mack didn’t see himself as hot the way Her Own Woman’s staff did.

J.J. didn’t like the contest, either, but for now she would keep the girls’ secret, mostly because she liked seeing Mack stew over his decision. Clearly he loved Zoey and didn’t want to disappoint her. How could J.J. not give the guy points for that?

Mack checked his watch. Again he frowned in obvious frustration. “Bug, uh, Zoey, I wish you kids had talked to me before you did any of this. But if you entered me hoping to earn money for my charity, I guess your hearts were in the right place.”

Zoey hunched into her shirt collar. “I’m sorry. We didn’t think you’d totally hate it if you won. I thought it was cool that the magazine picks a reader to bring your check. I thought you’d like a nice woman to go out to dinner with.”

“But why not enter some young guy like Trevor?” Mack asked, referring to the younger of his ranch hands.

“I heard Mom’s cooking club talking about the contest,” Brandy admitted. “You sponsor the charity, Mr. B., so you’re the one who needs to be in the magazine. Last year our class collected stuff like toothpaste and deodorant to send to soldiers. The teachers talked about how you give money to build homes for hurt veterans, so Zoey and me wanted to help get you more money.”

J.J. saw Brandy dig her elbow in Zoey’s side, which prompted that girl to nod vigorously. “Yeah,” she agreed, her big hazel eyes still glossy with tears.

J.J. rolled her own eyes as she listened, sure Mack was being manipulated. The girls were cute as could be, but what a pair. She saw Mack begin to cave and wondered if the kids knew to quit digging themselves a deeper hole when they might be winning.

“Hmm. So, it’s only a one-time story in your magazine, right?” Mack’s eyes bored into J.J.

She could lay out his daughter’s real reason for sending the essay and scare him off, or she could give the girls a break. She’d probably come to regret this later, but she elected to play along for Zoey’s sake. “One time, yes. Each monthly winner gets a four-page spread in the center of the magazine. Yours is slated for our August issue, with a follow-up on the check presentation the next month. I can give you our web address if you’d like to see the other men we’ve worked with. Basically I interview you and write an article about your life, your work and your charity. We’ll include photos of you on a horse and with your cattle, like the pictures Zoey provided, but professional.” She shrugged, figuring he’d bolt for sure if she said readers specifically liked beefcake.

“Well, about the photos Zoey took...” He scowled. “Just so it’s clear...I don’t usually work around the ranch without my shirt on.”

“So, are you gonna do it, Daddy?” Zoey asked, hope creeping into her voice.

Mack was still teetering. He didn’t want Jill Walker here. He certainly didn’t want her poking in his life. He didn’t want her following him around the ranch. But, dammit, neither did he want her to go before he had a chance to ask why she’d dumped him so unceremoniously when he thought they’d settled on a life together. Not that it mattered after all these years. Common sense said Jill wouldn’t be straight with him, anyway. But his common sense fled as he faced her. She still had the power to ignite ripples of desire no other woman had sparked in more years than he could count.

“All right,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll agree because the girls already did what they did, and because your magazine shelled out some bucks to send you here. So I’ll go along with it, Jilly—uh, J.J.”

Zoey and Brandy discreetly bumped elbows, a move so practiced that J.J. guessed it held special meaning for the friends.

J.J. separated another page from her folder. “First things first. Sign and date this release giving me permission to proceed. I’ll scoot on out to the ranch for a few tests with my light meter while you check on Erma. This shouldn’t take more than a few hours to wind up.”

Nodding, Mack ran a thumb over his lips before he took the pen she held out to him. He scribbled his name where J.J. indicated. As he jotted today’s date he was starkly reminded of how many years had passed since this beautiful woman had hurt him so badly. He needed to keep his distance and be vigilant about not letting her hurt him again. Him or Zoey. Mack recognized hero worship in both girls’ eyes, and he was already regretting his decision.

“Shouldn’t Ms. J.J. ride with us so she can find our place?” Zoey asked, sunny again.

“My rental car has a GPS system, Zoey. I left it at the motel, but I’ll be fine on my own,” J.J. said.

Mack’s cell rang and he excused himself, turning his back as he took the call. They all saw him massage his neck and heard his tense voice, so their chatter ceased. J.J. was afraid it was bad news about Erma. Instead, he exclaimed, “Trudy, this is a surprise....Uh, Erma’s still in the E.R. How did you hear about her accident so quickly?...It’s kind of you to, uh, want to rush to the ranch to help out....Really, there’s no need. Thanks, though....Hey, sorry to cut you off, but I’m heading to the clinic for a verdict on Erma.” He closed his phone, straightened and turned in time to see Zoey and Brandy making ugly faces.

“Girls! That’s rude. Erma might have a few things to say about Ms. Thorne, but she has a good heart and was just being neighborly.”

J.J. alone caught the mock gags the girls exchanged, because Mack had dug out his keys, dropped them and had leaned down to retrieve them. On rising, he motioned the girls toward a big, black, extended cab pickup. J.J. had already guessed it belonged to him based on the chrome cowcatcher bolted to the front bumper.

Zoey stopped, looked back and waved shyly. “See you, Ms. J.J. I like your boots a lot,” she added. “I hope you don’t mess them up tramping around our ranch. We have a lot of dirt.”

J.J. smiled. “Please, girls, call me J.J. without the ‘Ms.’” She cast a glance at Mack and interrupted him in the act of checking her out from head to toe. She felt her cheeks grow hot. Her boots were fashionable, with high heels, but they were black leather and should wipe free of dust easily. “I can wait and photograph you with your cattle tomorrow. I brought sneakers and a sturdier pair of boots for navigating around cow patties,” she said, flashing him an exaggerated smile.

* * *

CAREFUL TO CONCEAL his real thoughts, Mack hoped his face didn’t show the admiration he felt for how fantastic she looked. So good, in fact, his heart skipped several beats. Jill had always had a knack for enhancing her natural beauty. Once, she’d been his life. His love. For a year or so she’d been a favorite around the ranch. His dad, Erma and Benny all loved her. Then, poof, she’d up and run off, leaving him to grieve the loss of his father and her at the same time. Standing near her now, watching how the sunlight made a halo around her honey-gold hair, it was easy to forget how cruelly she’d walked away from everything they’d pledged each other. His question remained—why? Again the answer punched him in his gut—to further her career. Hadn’t her mother admitted as much to him? Mack hated that even now her smile turned him inside out.

Zoey called for him to unlock the pickup. That brought Mack crashing back to the present. Stepping aside, he said curtly, “There’s something we need to get straight, Jill. Take your photos and ask me any questions you have. Don’t bother Erma if she comes home, and don’t involve Benny Lopez. And stay away from Zoey.”

Spinning on worn boot heels, Mack strode to his vehicle and jumped in. In his haste to leave the woman who shaded her stunning blue eyes as she watched his departure, Mack flooded the engine.

Zoey and Brandy had climbed into the backseat of the king cab but had yet to buckle in when Mack reversed sharply out of his parking space. His jerky move knocked the girls together.

“Slow down, Dad! You didn’t give us time to fasten our seat belts.”

“Sorry.” Mack braked and studied the girls in his rearview mirror. “I told Erma I’d collect you from the library and come straight back to the E.R. I certainly didn’t expect to be confronted by...” Cutting off his admission, he again took off too fast.

Brandy leaned forward. “So, Mr. B., you didn’t get around to telling us how you know J.J.”

“Yeah, Dad, it’s weird, but cool, too.”

“It’s a small world, girls. Jill, that is, Ms. Walker and I went to the same college a long time ago. Most kids who graduated from La Mesa High went to Lubbock. And Jill grew up in Lubbock.” He wouldn’t call their recent encounter cool. He’d call it a punch-to-the-gut shock.

“Oh,” Brandy murmured, sliding back in her seat. “My folks met in college, too, and fell in love. They lived in Utah.”

“Here’s the clinic.” Mack jockeyed his pickup into an open slot between two subcompacts. “I’ll go see what’s up with Erma. You two stay put. And don’t open the doors or you’ll set off the alarm.” Mack removed the keys, slid out and hit the automatic lock on his key chain. He hauled in a gulp of fresh air, glad to take a break from the kids’ interest in him and Jill. Of all the photographers in the world, it was more than weird, as Zoey had said, that Jilly was the one sent from New York to handle a stupid contest his daughter shouldn’t have entered in the first place.

As he stepped into the clinic, Mack curled a hand around the back of his neck to soothe the throbbing headache that had begun at the library. Stopping at the reception desk, he said, “I brought Erma Fairweather here. Is she ready?”

“Ms. Fairweather is still in X-ray. She should be finished shortly. We’ve been swamped today—we’re blaming last night’s full moon,” the woman said with a twinkle in her eyes. “E.R. visits double when the moon is full.”

“I’ve heard that about the full moon,” Mack said. “More cows drop calves then, too. I’ll be over there if you need me for anything,” he said, pointing to an empty chair by the window. “I left my daughter and her friend in my pickup, so I want to keep an eye on them.”

“Help yourself to coffee,” she said, stabbing a finger toward an alcove where Mack saw an industrial-size pot. Coffee sounded good. He went over and poured a cup. He’d always drunk his coffee black. Oddly, he remembered Jilly laced hers with so much sugar and cream it couldn’t even legitimately be called coffee. A stupid thing to dredge up. But he wondered if that habit of hers or other quirks he recalled had changed.

* * *

WAITING IN THE truck, the girls were quiet until Mack disappeared into the hospital. “I hope Erma’s all right,” Zoey said. “If her hip is broken, d’you think my dad will have to hire someone else?”

“Not Trudy Thorne.” Brandy grinned.

“Unless he’s desperate. Erma does all our cooking, and for Benny and the cowboys. She cleans everything. I don’t want to do my own laundry!”

“Broken hips are serious, Zoey. If Erma can’t drive, you may have to come school shopping with me. Or I guess your dad can take you.”

“Oh, my gosh. My dad has no clue what girls wear.”

“Speaking of that...isn’t J.J. about the coolest lady you’ve ever seen? Well, except maybe for Lacy Doran. Lacy flies to Dallas for Neiman Marcus sales. I’d love to do that, but my folks say it’s stupid to spend money on planes to go clothes shopping. When I’m grown up I’m gonna be rich so I can buy all my clothes at Neiman.”

“Didn’t you love J.J.’s earrings, Brandy? She probably shops in fancy stores in New York.”

“She’s an old friend of your dad’s, Zoey. You should ask her to take you shopping before she leaves.”

“I don’t know if they’re friends.” Zoey worried her lip. “My dad didn’t sound friendly when he saw her sitting with us.”

“He acted weird. She kinda did, too. Like my mom and dad after they argue, before they make up.” Brandy nudged Zoey.

“I guess I didn’t notice ’cause he was mad at me, too. My dad finished college before I was born. That’s a long time to stay angry at somebody, Brandy.”

“Do you think the magazine sent someone who used to know your dad on purpose? You did ask them to send a possible mom.”

“Yeah...the reader who delivers his check and goes on a date with him, not the person who writes the article for the magazine.”

“I’m just saying, J.J. had cool jewelry, but no wedding ring,” Brandy pointed out.

Zoey’s mouth turned down. “Except J.J.’s only gonna be here a day or so.”

“But if Erma’s hip is broken, maybe J.J. would stay longer. J.J. said she likes Erma. Plus, she didn’t give us away to your dad.”

“Lucky for me.”

“Zoey!” Brandy shook her head. “Think, okay? Hang around her until she leaves, and ask her advice about taking pictures. Maybe she’ll take you to get your ears pierced. She wouldn’t have to stay long to do that.”

Zoey’s frown turned into a smile. “What would be perfect is if I could convince her to stay long enough for my dad to start liking her.”

“You mean, like...fall in love with her?”

Zoey nodded. “But how?”

“Well...I’ll do a Google search on love and see if any ideas come up.”

“Would you? My dad has our internet blocked. I can’t exactly tell him why I want to look up love.” She wrinkled her nose.

“I’ll call and tell you what I find out, okay?”

The girls high-fived and bumped elbows in their special signing-off code. Giggling, they changed the subject, talking instead about the party Brandy hoped her parents would let her have for her upcoming thirteenth birthday.

* * *

AS MACK STOOD by the window, he saw the girls chattering a mile a minute, and he was glad the Everses were such nice people. He counted himself lucky that Brandy and Zoey had gotten along like sisters from the day they met in third grade. Dan Evers sold tractors in town. His wife, Amanda, loved gardening. They’d moved to La Mesa and bought the old Thompson ranch so she could set up greenhouses. Several days a week she sold flowers and seasonal vegetables to local residents. Although Erma used to tend a large garden at Turkey Creek Ranch when Mack was a kid, she bought fresh produce from Amanda now. He knew she was slowing down.

He heard louder voices and turned in time to see a technician pushing Erma, in a wheelchair, into the waiting room. Mack tossed his empty coffee cup in a nearby wastebasket and rushed up to her. “How do you feel? What’s the verdict?”

A harried-looking doctor showed up before Erma could answer. He handed her a prescription. “The pills are for pain,” he said. Turning to Mack, he added, “She needs the pills for when the shot I administered wears off. I explained to Erma that her hip is badly swollen and bruised. I don’t see a fracture, but I’m sending the films to a radiologist in Lubbock. I should have an answer in two or three days. This is no simple injury, and there could be a chipped bone. Of necessity, due mostly to Erma’s age, I don’t want her bearing weight on that leg for four to six weeks. This is a loaner wheelchair. You’ll need to rent or purchase one and bring ours back as soon as possible.”

“Mackenzie, I am so sorry,” Erma said even as she adjusted a blue ice pack she held to her right hip and thigh. “I told Benny last week about that loose step. In my rush to gather eggs this morning, I plumb forgot about it and caught my heel. It was my own dumb fault.”

Mack patted her shoulder. Taking in everything the doctor and Erma said, he was trying to figure out how they’d care for Erma and handle her many chores while she was laid up. His phone rang as the doctor impressed on Erma the need not to skimp on the pain medicine. “Take two of these as soon as you get home, and two more before you go to bed. Then the same dose twice a day until we get answers from radiology.”

Excusing himself, Mack went into the entry to take the call. Benny’s booming voice caused him to hold the phone away from his ear.

“Boss, where are you? Someone we were just talking about a couple of months ago showed up. She says you know she’s here. It’s Jilly Walker.” The old ranch foreman whistled through his teeth—a wolf whistle that grated on Mack’s already frayed nerves.

“Don’t let her get too cozy, Benny. Jill is only a temporary pain in my butt. I’m with Erma. The doc’s not sure if her hip is just bruised or fractured, too. But she’s gonna be laid up for at least a month. We have to swing by the pharmacy for her prescription, and to see if they sell wheelchairs. I’ll stop and see Leitha Davidson at the employment office. We need a housekeeper to fill Erma’s shoes for a while. I hope they can supply someone. By the way, can you fix up some type of ramp into the house? Erma says she tripped on a loose board on the back steps.”

“Dang, she told me about that last week. It’s on my to-do list. But it came after hauling water to a thirsty herd, and bringing in cows with new calves.”

“I’m not blaming you, Benny. This is our busiest season. The last thing any of us need is to have Erma down, to say nothing of Jill messing up my life again. She promises it’s for a day or two. Why she’s here is a long story. I’ll fill you in later.”

“I might have a solution to one problem, boss. My cousin Sonja may be able to fill in for Erma. Sonja’s youngest daughter just got married and moved away, so she’s kind of blue. Hold off talking to Leitha until I call my cousin. She’d fit in here and I can vouch for her cooking.”

“That’s music to my ears, Benny. We’ll be home within the hour. Let Jill, uh, take her trial pictures, and send her on her way.” He ended the call and went back to fetch Erma.

Because Mack didn’t really want to explain Jill’s presence to Erma in front of the girls, he hurriedly mentioned the untimely visit as he wheeled the housekeeper out.

“Praise the Lord,” Erma said.

“From my perspective it’s more like a curse,” Mack muttered as Erma’s excited response made his heart flutter.

“What brought her back here?”

“Zoey and Brandy got it into their heads to enter me in a lame magazine contest. They won. Worse luck, Jill is who the magazine sent to do a story and take pictures of me around the ranch.”

“Mmm, seems like serendipity.” Erma shot Mack a broad smile over one shoulder.

“You’re far too cheerful for a woman in your condition. I’ll chalk it up to the pain shot the doc says he gave you. But there’s one thing we all need to get straight. I am not the least bit happy to have Jill Walker land back in my life, even for a couple of days.”

“Oh, I hear you, Mackenzie.” Erma closed her eyes and tucked her chin against her chest.

Chapter Three

As soon as Mack unlocked his pickup with the remote, Zoey hopped out and ran to hug Erma. That pleased Mack. Zoey really was a good kid, although he should probably still dole out some disciplinary action for sending embarrassing photos of him to a women’s magazine. He could take away a few of her privileges, he supposed, but he hated doing that to a lonely, only child. He knew what growing up alone was like.

“Zoey, will you please open the front passenger door? Stuff this bed pillow Erma brought under her right hip. Be gentle, she’s in some pain.”

“Is your hip broken?” Zoey asked Erma after her dad lifted the housekeeper into the truck. He folded the wheelchair and slid it under the canopy covering the pickup bed.

“The doctor won’t know until a specialist in Lubbock reads my X-rays, Zoey. I sure hate causing your dad so much bother. He has better things to do than waste half a day taking caring of me. I made a dumb mistake, tripping over a board I’d already said was loose.”

Mack boosted Zoey into the backseat, then rounded the pickup to the driver’s side. Then he said, “Come on, Erma. You’re family. Dad gave thanks every day that you happened to be looking for work when Mom’s cancer got bad.”

“Such a long time ago. Twenty-five years,” Erma murmured as she leaned back against the headrest. “You were younger than Zoey when your mom died, Mackenzie. The years sure roll on by quickly, don’t they?”

“I was eight,” Mack said softly as he pulled out of the parking lot.

Brandy rustled around in the backseat. “Gosh, Mr. B., you didn’t grow up with a mom, either?”

Mack frowned in the rearview mirror. He was surprised at the old sense of loss that arose, given how many years had passed. “Zoey and I are lucky Erma landed at the ranch equipped to mother us,” he told Brandy.

Erma stirred. “It was me who got lucky, y’all. You may remember, Mackenzie, but I was engaged to be married. My fiancé, Johnny, went MIA in Vietnam. It was right near the end of that awful war. I didn’t have any real skills. Johnny’s family and mine were both dirt poor. I attempted a series of odd jobs but couldn’t live on what I got paid. Back then there weren’t many good jobs available to rural farm kids. But I couldn’t bear to leave La Mesa in case the army found Johnny. Since I wasn’t his wife, they wouldn’t have tracked me down. Seems like yesterday, but it’s been forty years.” She passed a trembling, wrinkled hand over her eyes. “Shoot, it’s gotta be that danged shot making me lonesome. You kids don’t need to hear an old lady ramble on.”

Mack squeezed Erma’s arm. “I’ve heard they’re still finding dog tags over there.”

They drove in silence for a little while. “What’s MIA?” Zoey finally asked as Mack angled into a parking spot outside a chain pharmacy a ways out of town on Lubbock Highway.

“The letters stand for missing in action, Zoey,” Mack said, preparing to climb out. “I’m going in to fill Erma’s prescription and see if they have any wheelchairs— I’m hoping this pharmacy carries medical equipment.”

“What about the wheelchair you put in back?” Zoey jerked a thumb behind her.

“It’s on loan from the E.R. We can’t keep it for the four to six weeks the doctor said Erma needs to stay off that leg.”

“That long?” Zoey gasped. “Who’ll take care of us?”

Mack reached back to tap her nose. “Aren’t you ready to be our chief cook and bottle washer?”

Her eyes went wide.

“I’m teasing,” he said. “I talked to Benny earlier. He has a cousin who may be able to help us out. Everyone keep your fingers crossed.”

“I will,” Erma said as Mack’s door slammed. Silence filled the cab for a time, and it was plain to see from the way Erma’s head fell forward that she was nodding off. Then Brandy whispered to Zoey, “How old do you suppose Benny’s cousin is?”

Zoey shrugged. She kept her voice down, and said, “Benny’s seventy-two. I know because Erma baked him a cake for his birthday last month. There wasn’t room on the cake for so many candles, so Dad bought two in the shape of a seven and a two. Why?”

“Duh, our plan to find your dad someone to date.”

“Yeah, but maybe I should forget trying to find a new mom. I forgot how young my dad was when his mom died, and he turned out okay. Erma took care of him. Maybe I’m being selfish. Am I, Brandy?”

“I don’t know, since I’ve got a mom, a dad and all my grandparents. And from what you say about your grandparents, you don’t talk to them, either.”

“They’re so preachy! If I had to live with them like they wanted, I’d never mention getting my ears pierced or learning to wear makeup. They think TV and cell phones are sinful. I’m lucky Daddy’s lawyer fixed it so I only have to see them once or twice a year. And my dad goes with me.” She shuddered.

The back gate of the pickup squeaked open. Peering out the rear window, the girls saw Mack slide a big box in beside the wheelchair. Then he slammed the tailgate shut and got into the cab with sufficient noise to jolt Erma awake.

“Are we home?” she asked groggily.

“No, sorry. I didn’t realize you were sleeping, Erma. Here’s your pain medication.” She didn’t reach out for the paper bag, so he asked, “Are you okay?”

“I think I need to lie down. I can’t seem to keep my eyes open.”

“We’ll be home soon. Well, in fifteen minutes or so, after we drop Brandy off.”

“Can she come home with us? I thought J.J. might take our pictures. For fun.”

Mack ground the key in the ignition. “Jill will be long gone by the time we get home, Zoey. Plus I told Mrs. Evers hours ago that I’d collect you girls from the library.” He passed his cell phone back. “Call your mom and apologize for how late we are, Brandy. Explain that the E.R. was superbusy.”

Brandy took the phone. “I’m probably going to get my own cell for my birthday,” she said, sweeping her long hair back behind one ear as she waited for the number she’d punched in to connect. “Wait, I have to try again. I wish we had better cell service.”

They were on the road by the time she got through and relayed Mack’s message, then passed back his phone. “Mom said thanks. She was picking tomatoes and lost track of time, anyway.”

“Dad, can I get a phone for my thirteenth birthday? Some kids already have them.”

“At twelve?”

“Yes, and if I had one you wouldn’t have needed to bother Brandy’s mom to find out we were at the library. You could have called me.”

“That, young lady, is something you should have settled with me before you left the house. Responsibility doesn’t start with owning a phone.”

“Oh, brother,” Zoey drawled, flopping against her seat back.

Mack pulled slowly down the Everses’ lane. He beeped his horn at Amanda Evers, who was in her produce stand talking with a customer. “Erma, those tomatoes look great. Want me to send Zoey to buy some?”

Erma, who was dozing again, gave a start. She grabbed her hip and grimaced. “Darn, I’m afraid that pain shot is wearing off. Sorry, Mack, what about tomatoes? I, uh, thawed hamburger to make meat loaf. I sure hope I can stand long enough to fix supper.”

Mack chewed his lip. “The doctor said to take two of those pills when you get home, and he wants you off your feet. The kitchen counter is too high for you to work from a wheelchair, even if you were in any shape to make supper tonight. Zoey and I can figure it out after I haul water to the herd.” Turning in his seat, he said, “Zoey, run and see if Brandy’s mom has some lettuce and sweet onion to go with those tomatoes so we can have a good salad. I hope Benny’s cousin can come ASAP.” Digging in his pocket, Mack handed Zoey a twenty-dollar bill.

She crawled out and ran to the stand with Brandy.

Amanda Evers listened to the girls natter on about Erma’s accident as she bagged produce, took Zoey’s money and gave her change. “Honey, tell your dad to call me if he needs meals until he hires help. I’ll round up neighbors to bring casseroles you can pop in the oven. Or better yet, tell your dad Trudy Thorne can come and stay at your place. She stopped by a while ago and mentioned Erma’s fall. She wanted Mack to know she’d be happy to pinch-hit until Erma’s up and around.”

The girls traded a dark expression that Brandy’s mom intercepted. “Girls, be nice. I realize some people think Trudy is pushy, but she probably has a lot to offer you and your dad, Zoey. Brandy tells me you’re feeling the loss of your mother a lot lately. And the teen years can be rough. Trudy spent her teens here in La Mesa.”

“Yes’m,” Zoey said, although she pursed her lips. “I’d better go. Erma needs to get home and take her medicine.”

Brandy walked back with Zoey. “Mom thinks everyone is nice.”

“What if my dad likes Trudy? He called her neighborly.”

“He called Erma family.”

“Well, she kinda is. It’s just that Trudy acts all gushy with me when Dad’s around. When he leaves, she turns off all that sugar.”

“You’ll have J.J. around for two days. If Trudy brings a casserole, pretend J.J.’s staying longer. Pretend your dad really likes her.”

Zoey brightened. “Good idea. Thanks. I’ll call you later, Brandy. I’m excited that school’s only a half day on Monday and then we’re out till September.”

Mack jumped out of the pickup and took the produce. “Honestly, Zoey, I told you Erma’s in pain and we need to hurry home.”

“Sorry.” Zoey climbed unaided into the backseat.

“I’ll take it as easy as I possibly can on the graveled section of our road, Erma. You seem like you’re in even more pain now than when I took you to the doctor.”

“The nurse said I don’t have much padding over my old bones. She said to expect it to be bad for a week or two. I thought I was a tough old bird, but I hurt everywhere.”

“I’m sure you tightened your muscles when you hit the cement. If it turns out you didn’t chip or break a bone, it’ll be pure luck.” Mack soon left the smooth highway for a gravel track that led to the ranch. He slowed way down, but he could see tension building on Erma’s face. The last thing Mack expected when he entered his circular drive was a strange SUV parked at his house. Did that mean Jill was still here?

Zoey squealed happily and unbuckled her seat belt before Mack had completely stopped. “J.J.’s at the corral with Benny, Trevor and Eldon.” Leaning into the front seat, Zoey pointed so her dad and Erma would look the right direction. “J.J. must like dogs. She’s petting Jiggs.”

Indeed, his herd dog, a two-year-old border collie, sat at Jill’s feet, lapping up her attention. So did his foreman and wranglers. They were huddled around her, laughing and gesturing animatedly. A red haze of anger clouded Mack’s vision. It wasn’t until after he stepped out on his vehicle’s running board and bellowed, “Since when doesn’t time equal money on this ranch?” that he realized his irritation was due more to seeing Jill being lavished with attention from his wranglers than the fact his men were sloughing off work. He’d never been a hard-nosed boss.

* * *

HEARING THE BITE in Mack’s voice, J.J. quickly scooped up her camera bag and gave the dog a last pat. She jogged across a patch of dry grass to his truck. “It’s my fault the guys took a break,” she said, squinting into the sun as she faced Mack. “When I arrived Benny was waiting for your veterinarian—you had a laboring cow in distress. The vet asked Benny to call your wranglers to hold the cow while she and Benny pulled the calf. I wanted to make sure everything turned out okay, so I stuck around. The whole process was worrisome but thrilling, especially when they got him. Once everything was okay, I took some candid shots of the work that goes on at your ranch. The fact that one of your cowboys is a former army sergeant will be great in my article on your charity work. Oh, hey, is that Erma you’ve brought home?” J.J. lowered her voice as the woman in Mack’s truck struggled to open the passenger door. “How is she?”

By then Benny and Jiggs the dog had crossed the yard from the corral.

“We had a cow in trouble?” Mack asked Benny. Stepping off the running board, he walked around the cab and reached for Erma to keep her from falling out the door. “Erma, you can’t get out until I bring the wheelchair. Will someone please stay with her for a moment?”

J.J. rushed to comply, and Benny followed Mack to the rear of the pickup.

“Around noontime, Trevor stumbled across a young heifer set to deliver her first calf,” Benny said. “He brought her to the barn because she seemed to be laboring too hard. We tried to help her, but she went berserk. She kicked me a good one on my shin. I called Delaney, who gave her something to calm her down.”

Mack lifted the hospital wheelchair out and opened it, locking the seat in place. He listened to Benny with half an ear. The majority of his attention was focused on Erma exclaiming over how great it was to see Jill, and Jill responding with sympathy for Erma’s plight.

“Benny, I’ll take a look-see at the cow and calf after I get Erma inside. She needs to take her pain meds now.”

Erma held on to her hip when Mack lifted her from the pickup and carefully set her in the wheelchair.

“I should have fixed that loose back step,” Benny said sheepishly.

“I knew it was loose,” Erma said as Mack wheeled her toward the house. “Accidents happen, Benny. Hey, did anyone gather the eggs? That’s where I was headed when I fell.”

Benny shook his head, so Mack said to Zoey, “Bug, you can gather eggs. Uh, sorry. I’m not going to have an easy time remembering you don’t want to be called Bug.”

“I hate gathering eggs, ’cause those old hens peck me.”

“I’ve never gathered eggs,” Jill said. “But maybe I can distract the chickens for you.”

Erma waved a hand feebly. “Good idea. After you bring in the eggs, Jill, perhaps you can, uh, help me out of these clothes and into something more comfortable. These jeans are rubbing my sore hip.”

Mack stopped at the base of the front porch steps. Anyone could see his displeasure.

“What’s the matter, boss?” Benny eyed the makeshift ramp. “I cobbled boards together like you asked. Is there too much slope?”

“Huh? Oh, no. The ramp is fine. Jill is only here to do a job for her magazine, Erma. I believe she was headed back to town, weren’t you?” He shot the query at their visitor.

Erma handed Mack the now-warm ice pack. “I’m really wobbly. I doubt Zoey has the strength to steady me and help me undress or dress. And that’s definitely not a chore for you or Benny.”

“I don’t mind lending Erma a hand,” Jill said.

Scowling at her, Mack said, “So, Benny, what’s the verdict on your cousin? Can she get here right away?” Turning the wheelchair, he pulled Erma backward up the ramp and onto the porch.

“Sonja wants this job, but she can’t get here till after next week. She’s in Galveston taking care of her grandchildren while her oldest daughter and husband are on vacation. They left yesterday on one of those eight-day cruises to Mexico.”

“Well that’s a problem.” Continuing to frown, Mack reached back to open the screen door.

Erma glanced over her shoulder at Mack. “Why’s that? Seems to me we’ve got a solution. If Jill is taking pictures at the ranch, it makes sense for her to stay here instead of driving back and forth to town. I need a woman to assist me with private matters, like helping me in and out of the shower. I’m not a stork, you know. Can’t stand on my one good leg.”

“I’m pretty sure nursemaid isn’t on Jill’s professional résumé,” Mack said. “Benny, I wish you’d phoned me about your cousin while I was still in town. I need to sign a contract with Leitha Davidson to find us someone even short-term.” Mack’s frustration couldn’t be more obvious.

“Leitha won’t go to all the work of hiring until Benny’s cousin arrives,” Erma stated firmly. “Jill’s here. She said she’s willing to help. Besides, I’m dying to hear all about Paris and where all else her work’s taken her since she left Texas.”

Zoey burst out, “J.J., you’ve been to Paris? That’s so cool! Wait till I tell Brandy. Where else have you been?”

Mack bristled and interrupted before Jill could answer.

“Zoey, the eggs! You don’t have time to hear how Jill gallivanted off to Paris and London and Rio and Tokyo...” He broke off, seeing Jill’s eyes glitter, clearly curious about how he knew where she’d traveled. “I get the college alumni newsletter,” he said. “They’ve mentioned you.”

Jill nodded, but Erma didn’t let up. “This house has four empty bedrooms, Mackenzie.”

“Listen,” Jill jumped in, spreading her hands. “I’m fine staying in town. I don’t want to cause a family feud. If it’s okay with you, Mack, I’ll help Zoey gather the eggs, then settle Erma in. I’ll come back tomorrow to begin our interview and take more photos.”

Erma said something to Mack that J.J. couldn’t hear. It served to make him duck his head and rub the lines creasing his forehead. A few seconds ticked by before he cleared his throat. “Erma’s got a valid point. It’s not like me to be inhospitable. I appreciate your willingness to help us out of a jam, Jill.” Raising his head, he gazed squarely into her startled eyes. “Truly,” he added. “My main concern should be doing what’s best for Erma.” He opened the door. “If you’re okay with it, let’s call a truce.”

“Of c-course,” J.J. stammered. “I’ll just go put my camera bag away.” She pointed to her SUV.

“Bring it in,” Erma said. “Mackenzie means you should pick a bedroom and stay as long as you want. You and Zoey go collect the eggs while I take my pills. After you get me settled for a nap, you can check out of your motel. I wouldn’t mind your help fixing meals for a few days.”

Although she felt trapped, J.J. nodded. She wanted to bolt then and there—Mack couldn’t have made clearer that he’d rather walk over spikes barefoot than have her stay at the ranch. Erma had to have twisted his arm, and who in their right mind would volunteer to be an unwanted houseguest?

“Awesome!” Zoey shouted. She dashed over to throw her arms around J.J.

From the porch, Mack watched Jill smile at Zoey and smooth her hands down the girl’s braids. The simple, caring gesture hit him hard, chipping away some of the ice he’d built around his heart against Jill Walker. Her ready smile used to be something he loved. He vividly recalled the sweet taste of her lips, and unexpected heat moved through his groin. “So now that that’s arranged,” he muttered, “let’s get this show on the road.”

Benny said, “Don’t forget, boss—we’re planning to move the cattle to Monument Draw tomorrow. The summer range will make prettier pictures with the trees and all, but the herd’s bound to kick up a passel of dust on the drive up there.”

“Damn.” With everything that had happened, Mack had forgotten. “Trailing the herd can mean a couple of days before any of us get back to the ranch.”

“I have some extra days built in for this shoot,” J.J. said. After all, Donna had urged her to spend an extra week visiting her mother. “I’ll take a few pictures before you head out. Readers will like seeing you on a horse with a sea of steers as a backdrop.”

“That would be a good plan except that we’ll be leaving before daylight. It’s a dry, hot drive between Turkey Creek and the next available water. The farther we get before sunrise, the better.”

“Well, do whatever is necessary. I don’t want to interfere. I’ll keep Erma and Zoey company.”

“I suppose we could delay the drive.” Mack wasn’t keen on the notion of leaving Zoey and an incapacitated Erma with Jill. The last time she was in his life, she hadn’t thought twice about abandoning him. She probably wouldn’t do that now, but she also didn’t have any reason to stay. “There’ll be time to figure this out at supper, which we won’t have if we keep talking all day.” He eased the wheels of Erma’s chair over the threshold and disappeared inside.

J.J. worried her lower lip with her teeth as she followed Zoey to a row of chicken coops set away from the house in the shade of scrub oak. They were on a good-size plot, encompassed by a sturdy wire enclosure. “You have a lot of chickens,” she said, pausing to latch the gate behind her.

“Erma uses a lot of eggs. Wait until you see how many Benny and Eldon eat at breakfast.” Zoey unhooked one of the coop doors and exposed two shelves of nests, empty of chickens.

“So Erma cooks meals for the ranch hands as well as for your family?”

“We all eat together.” Zoey reached into a nest and began placing eggs in one of her baskets. J.J. picked up a second basket and scooped the eggs out of the higher nests. They collected about twenty eggs, closed the coop and moved to the next. Hens were sitting on the nests in this one. One screeched and flew straight at J.J., pecking her arm.

“Ow!” She jumped back and dabbed at a trail of blood, trying to keep from dropping her basket.

Zoey unhooked a long-handled whisk broom off the inside wall of the coop and swatted the squawking hens. “Shoo.” She flapped her arms at birds dive-bombing their legs. “We need to hurry and grab the eggs. The hens get braver the longer we stay.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.