Getting in bed with the law

There’s a new deputy in Blackfoot Falls—and she just gave stuntman Ben Wolf a speeding ticket! That wasn’t exactly the welcome-home Ben was hoping for. After fifteen years away, he’s not the angry troublemaker he used to be, even if he was driving a little too fast. But if this is what the law looks like now, he may be tempted to misbehave!

Deputy Grace Hendrix is not in the mood to be sweet-talked by a sexy stranger. To become the next sheriff, she’ll have to outsmart her resentful coworkers...and stay out of trouble. Unfortunately, “trouble” is over six feet of mouthwatering, hard-bodied gorgeousness. It’s only a matter of time before this good cop indulges in a little bad-boy diversion...

You’ll never get enough of these cowboys!

Talented Mills & Boon Blaze author Debbi Rawlins makes all your cowboy dreams come true with her popular miniseries

Made in Montana

The little town of Blackfoot Falls

isn’t so sleepy anymore...

In fact, it seems everyone’s staying up late!

Get your hands on a hot cowboy with

Anywhere with You

(March 2015)

Come on Over

(June 2015)

This Kiss

(September 2015)

And remember, the sexiest cowboys are

Made in Montana!

Dear Reader,

The idea for this book took an interesting turn when I started to plot it out. In the second book of the series, the hero, Noah, was the sheriff of Blackfoot Falls. Since he’s leaving Montana and joining the Marshal Service to be near the woman who stole his heart, the town needed a new sheriff. So I figured it was time to bring someone in and make him the hero of Anywhere with You. A friend, another writer who often plots with me, asked if I’d considered making the heroine a sheriff. I loved the idea and decided to let it float around in my head for a while.

I live in a small town in central Utah not much bigger than Blackfoot Falls. The week after my friend made her suggestion, I stopped at the clinic, and sitting in the waiting room was a deputy. I try to walk the straight and narrow, so I’m not acquainted with local law enforcement and had never met this deputy. But I asked if I could bother him with a few questions, and he was a great sport about it. We’d talked for a bit before I told him I was thinking about having a woman sheriff. The flicker of surprise in his face and the fleeting expression that said, “you’re kidding” pretty much sealed the deal.

I hope you enjoy Grace and Ben’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Did I mention that the deputy I met had the most arresting blue eyes?

Sincerely,

Anywhere with You

Debbi Rawlins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

DEBBI RAWLINS grew up in the country and loved Westerns in movies and books. Her first crush was on a cowboy—okay, he was an actor in the role of a cowboy, but she was only eleven, so it counts. It was in Houston, Texas, where she first started writing for Mills & Boon, and now she has her own ranch...of sorts. Instead of horses, she has four dogs, five cats, a trio of goats and free-range cattle on a few acres in gorgeous rural Utah.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

Extract

Copyright

1

BLACKFOOT FALLS 26 MILES.

Ben Wolf smiled when he saw the warped metal road sign up ahead. No one had bothered to replace it, and now, fifteen years later, it still bore his mark—the large dent made by his baseball bat the day before he’d left town. He’d been leaning out of his friend Buster’s pickup going thirty-five miles per hour when he’d taken a swing, and nearly dislocated his shoulder.

He’d been so damn angry that day. At his mother for all the lies, at the father he could barely remember, at the McAllister brothers for being better than him. Sure, the family had accepted him as if he’d been one of their own—and not only their maid’s son—but that still didn’t make him a McAllister.

Ben pressed down on the accelerator as he passed the sign and steered the Porsche into the curve in the highway. He hadn’t thought about that day in years. Hell, he’d dislocated both shoulders since then, busted his ribs more times than he could recall and broken his jaw twice. The difference now was he got paid damn well to risk the occasional visit to the ER.

The sky was blue and cloudless, the air pleasantly warm considering the April sun was headed for the Rockies, their peaks still packed with snow. Patches of the mountainside below the tree line were still bare. Another month and the spring leaves would take care of that.

Northwest Montana was beautiful country. No argument there. In a way, Ben had been lucky to grow up on the Sundance. The ranch spread right up to the foothills, where clear water flowed in streams carrying all the fish a kid could catch. How many times had he fallen asleep in a grassy meadow, lulled by the warmth of the sun and the smell of wild sage?

Ben rolled down his window and breathed in the crisp, clean air. He watched a hawk wheeling and soaring through the sky. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the mountains. Working as a stunt man, he’d seen plenty of great spots all over the States, Canada and Mexico. Even Europe once for an indie film. But nothing could beat the scenery here.

Hollywood had hills. Some nice views. And the city had other charms. But after living there for so many years, the glitter and sparkle had started to dim.

Maybe if everything went okay with his mother, he’d stick around for a week. Claudia had warned him their mom had aged. His sister saw her a couple times a year. All Ben had managed since leaving were phone calls at Christmas and sometimes on her birthday.

Distracted by his thoughts, he didn’t swerve in time to avoid a rut in the road. The two right tires hit the packed dirt and sent dust flying everywhere. Ben cursed a blue streak for all the good it did. He’d gone an hour out of his way to have the Porsche washed and waxed in Great Falls. Just so it would be nice and shiny when he pulled into the Sundance.

Half the population of Blackfoot Falls would be there for Rachel McAllister’s wedding, including a number of folks who thought Ben would never amount to anything. Let ’em see he’d done well for himself. Few things screamed success louder than a shiny red Porsche.

He peered at the road ahead, then glanced in the rearview mirror. The dust hadn’t settled. A brisk breeze sent the airborne dirt swirling across the highway and chasing behind him. He accelerated, hoping that once he drove past the clearing, the scrubby brush would block some of the wind.

Taking another look in the mirror, Ben saw a flashing red light through the dusty haze. A second later, he heard the distinct blare of a siren.

A cop? Way out here?

“You gotta be kidding,” he muttered, tempted to floor the accelerator.

The white truck had to be county-issue. Too old to keep up with his Porsche. Hell, his sports car had to be the only one around for miles. They’d catch him sooner or later. With his luck, a deputy would cuff him at the wedding.

Right. A deputy.

Not highway patrol. This was a county road.

Ben smiled as he pulled off to the side. Chances were damn good he’d gone to school with whoever was driving that truck. Kids from Blackfoot Falls rarely left after graduating. They normally stayed to work on the family ranch or found local jobs.

After turning off the engine, he stared into the rearview mirror and waited. The truck stopped several yards behind him. He couldn’t make out the driver. Only that he was wearing a blue ball cap, which was odd. The sheriff and deputies had always worn Stetsons.

The truck door opened.

Ben turned his gaze to the larger reflection in his side mirror. The deputy was a woman. Medium height, slim, her tan uniform shirt tucked into snug-fitting jeans that showed off a small waist and curvy hips.

She closed the door and slowly approached him. Her hair was pulled back, the color somewhere between brown and auburn. Sunglasses covered half her face, but he didn’t think he knew her. He would’ve recognized her walk. Few women carried off that easy sensual sway. In his experience, it worked only if a woman was unaware of it.

Now, the ticket book in her hand he recognized immediately. Man, he did not need another mark on his record. His insurance premium had shot through the roof with the last ticket. But all wasn’t lost. Lucky for him, he had a way with women.

“Good afternoon,” she said with a small nod. “License and registration, please.”

He removed his sunglasses, hoping she’d do the same. “Deputy Hendrix,” he said, glancing at the name tag fastened just above her left breast. Then he gave her a slow lazy smile. “Is there a problem?”

Her lips parted slightly. “Really?” One corner of her mouth quirked up. “You’re going to pretend you weren’t speeding?”

At the unexpected response, Ben’s smile faltered. “Not by much.”

Her brows rose over the dark lenses, and she smiled a little. Not necessarily in a good way. “License and registration.”

Jesus. Here they were in the middle of nowhere and she was going to push the issue? Ben dug out his wallet and then rifled through his glove box. He was getting to be a pro at this, he thought wryly, and handed over everything.

“Thank you,” she said, her politeness annoying as hell.

Trying to keep his cool, Ben watched her step back and study his license. A faint sprinkling of freckles across her nose made her look young, probably midtwenties. If she’d gone to school in Blackfoot Falls, she would’ve been quite a few grades behind him.

“I know you, don’t I?” he said.

The deputy looked up. “I doubt it.”

Blue. He’d bet that was the color of her eyes behind the dark glasses. “Blackfoot Falls High?” He tried out another smile. “Obviously, I was ahead of you.”

She cocked her head to the side. “So you’re from here and know better than to go racing around these curves. Deer could come out of the brush at any time.”

Irritated, Ben snorted. “You giving me a ticket or a lecture?”

“Both, if necessary.”

So much for laying on the charm. He knew for a fact she hadn’t been following him because he would’ve seen her. That meant she’d been parked off to the side. “You didn’t clock my speed.”

“And you know this how?”

“A hundred bucks says you don’t have radar in that piece of crap you’re driving.”

She flipped open her ticket book. “You want to add gambling and harassment to the traffic violation? Be my guest.”

“Come on...can’t you just give me a warning? I’m only going to be here a few days.” He noticed her slight hesitation, toying with her pen and angling her wrist to see her watch. Probably getting off shift soon. “I swear I’ll drive like a nun.”

That almost got a smile out of her. She held up his license for another look. “Mr. Wolf, you weren’t just speeding a few miles over— Do you even know how fast you were going?”

Deciding to plead the fifth, he kept his mouth shut.

“You’re lucky I don’t bump this up to reckless driving.”

His sigh came out low and desperate. “Don’t do that,” he said. “Please.”

It about killed him to get the word out. And she knew it. Which probably told her too much about his lousy driving record.

“Look,” she said, her voice softening. “I’m not trying to jam you up—”

The sound of a rough engine in need of a tune-up made them turn. A truck cruised down the highway toward them. White. Probably another sheriff’s department vehicle. Could be good news for Ben if he knew the driver. But something she’d said had distracted him. Jam you up? She wasn’t from around here.

He watched her mouth tighten and her shoulders go back. Nice high breasts. He couldn’t help noticing. Also, that Deputy Hendrix didn’t look happy.

“I won’t cite you for reckless driving,” she said, clicking her pen and opening her ticket book. “Just speeding.”

Shit. He’d thought he had her...

The truck slowed.

She kept her head bowed, ignoring the driver.

So did Ben. He was too busy watching her nibble her lower lip. She didn’t seem nervous so much as irritated.

Finally, she glanced over her shoulder. Her hair was pulled into a tight braid, all but a few wisps fluttering in the breeze. “Need something?” she asked.

“Nope.” It was a male voice.

Ben dragged his gaze away from her, but too late to see who was in the truck. All he caught was a glimpse of the driver’s tan uniform shirt as he drove off. Hell, it might’ve been someone Ben knew, and he could’ve saved himself this headache.

Deputy Hendrix resumed filling out the ticket. “I’m writing this for only ten miles over. Consider it a gift.”

“Right.”

She stopped and looked up, her eyes meeting his over the top of her sunglasses. Oh yeah, they were blue. As blue as the Montana sky. And brimming with annoyance at his sarcasm.

He smiled. “Thank you, Deputy.”

She tore the ticket out of her book and handed it to him along with his license and registration.

She smiled back. “You have a real nice day, Mr. Wolf.”

* * *

GRACE HENDRIX STOOD under the shade of a cottonwood tree, knowing she didn’t belong. Not here at the Sundance ranch. Not at the wedding. And not in Blackfoot Falls. Yet here she was, trying to hold on to a smile while staring at all these strange, happy faces.

The bride, Rachel McAllister, had been kind to invite her, but Grace didn’t really know Rachel. Or her three brothers. Or anyone else in the crowd of over four hundred people, all the women wearing dresses except, of course, Grace. If she still owned a dress, it was in storage along with most of her stuff. She’d packed in a hurry before leaving Arizona two weeks ago. Who knew what she’d crammed into the boxes?

Grace cast a quick glance at the two bars set up on either side of the huge white tent erected for the occasion. Her uncle Clarence was around somewhere, irritating someone, no doubt. Of that, Grace was quite certain. He was her mom’s brother, the mayor of Blackfoot Falls, and the main reason Grace had moved to town, even though she didn’t know him well. The last time she’d seen Clarence was at her mom’s funeral. Grace had been ten. And while she appreciated his support, he was embarrassing her with his blatant campaigning to get her elected sheriff in November, so she’d given him the slip about an hour ago.

The shade inched away with the sun, and Grace inched along with it. The weather was perfect. Bright. Warm. People had scattered, gathering wherever they could find shade instead of confining themselves to the tent. This made escaping tricky. But everyone was busy laughing and talking, so it was possible she could dash to her car without being noticed.

She spotted Roy and cringed. He stood with his wife, and luckily was more interested in the bowls of munchies at the bar than anything else, including Grace. Fine by her. She wasn’t interested in socializing with him or the other deputies, though she hadn’t seen any of them at the wedding. They probably hadn’t been invited. Which meant they’d have something else to hold against her. As if being an outsider and a woman weren’t enough.

She could hardly blame them. The sheriff had resigned. Noah would be gone in ten days, and she wasn’t the only deputy who wanted to take his place. In truth, the others had a right to view her as an interloper, regardless of the fact she was the best qualified. Just like she had a right to throw her hat into the ring.

Someone tested the mic, drawing everyone’s attention to the stage. Perfect opportunity for Grace to zip to the parking area. She pulled her cell out of her pocket and checked the time. It was already six. Preparing to bolt, she glanced toward the large three-story family home to make sure she wasn’t being observed.

“Well, look at that.”

The voice startled her. Grace whirled around, ready to make an excuse, when she saw it was three of the bridesmaids talking to each other. They weren’t even looking at her.

“Where? What?” The blonde in the royal-blue dress shaded her eyes, her gaze darting from the stable to the house.

“Right over there,” Katy said, her steady focus almost predatory. Grace had briefly met the tall brunette. She and the other two bridesmaids were Rachel’s sorority sisters, all of them wearing different styles and colors of dresses, which Grace thought was pretty cool. “He just got out of the red Porsche.”

Red Porsche?

Grace’s heart skittered from first to third in two seconds. Silly, since she’d guessed the speed demon was in town for the wedding.

“I still don’t see him.” The shorter blonde wearing emerald green—Grace thought her name might be Chloe—pushed up on tiptoes. “Where?”

“Tall, longish dark hair? He’s gorgeous.” The blonde in blue adjusted her neckline, tugging at it until her cleavage was just so. “I wonder who he is.”

“I bet he’s Hilda’s son,” Katy said. “Ben, I think.”

“Hilda?”

“You know...the McAllisters’ housekeeper. Rachel said he was driving from California.” Katy slid an arch look at the woman still fussing with her dress. “By the way, Liz, I saw him first, so don’t even think about it.”

It took a moment for Grace to realize she’d joined the pack and was actually waiting for a glimpse of Ben Wolf. If he spotted her, she wondered how he’d react. She knew he hadn’t expected her to ticket him. A hot guy like that probably got away with murder.

Admittedly, her intention had been to give him a warning. Stopping him had almost made her late for the reception. But once Roy had seen them, she’d had little choice but to write the ticket. The last thing she needed was to come off as a pushover for a good-looking guy.

“California, huh?” Chloe settled back on her heels and drained her margarita. “I wonder what he does.”

“Stunt man,” Katy murmured. “He grew up here, though.”

Chloe let out a laugh. “How do you know all this?”

“I overheard Hilda and Rachel’s mom talking in the kitchen. Now that I think about it, Rachel mentioned him back in college.” Katy straightened. “There he is. Walking toward her and Matt near the stage. Navy blue shirt. About six foot two. You can get a closer look when his arm’s around my shoulder.”

Grace smothered a laugh. But Katy had a good eye for details. According to his driver’s license, Ben was thirty-three and six foot two and weighed two hundred pounds. The sexy hazel eyes Grace had seen for herself.

A pair of stocky cowboys wearing Stetsons blocked her view. She moved slowly to the left. But caught only the briefest glimpse of him. She shuffled over a couple feet. And bumped into someone.

“Excuse me,” she said, spinning around to see who she’d...

It was a tree. Jeez.

Chloe turned and smiled.

Grace smiled back and pretended she’d been on her phone. This took crazy to a new low. She was hanging around just to get another look at the guy. Even if she was interested, which she wasn’t, Ben Wolf wouldn’t give her the time of day unless he wanted something. Her instincts said this guy was trouble, and her cop gut was rarely wrong. Which meant she needed to keep her distance. She couldn’t afford a misstep.

She’d come to Blackfoot Falls for a fresh start. To get her career back on track. To escape the lingering suspicion that she’d been involved in the death of her partner. Wrong place, wrong time was basically how Internal Affairs had ruled the tragic incident. But not everyone had believed her story.

Sighing, she slipped her cell into her pocket. Her car key was in there, as well as some lip balm. She hated carrying a purse. T.J. used to tease her about her stuffed pockets.

Damn. She couldn’t think about her ex-partner right now. It would only depress her.

She needed to make the most of this opportunity at a fresh start and stop second-guessing herself. Stop worrying that moving here wasn’t the answer. She’d deal with Uncle Clarence later. Make him see his nepotism was narrowing her odds of being named interim sheriff, much less getting elected in November.

“I should go see if Rachel needs anything.” Katy looked over her shoulder, spotted a tray and set down her empty flute.

Liz snorted. “Good luck.”

Grace’s sweep of the crowd stopped dead when she got a perfect view of Ben. He looked like he’d walked off the cover of American Cowboy. The confidence practically oozed out of him. While he wasn’t the only man wearing jeans, he seemed the only one who’d be comfortable wearing a tux to a softball game. It wouldn’t matter. Women would flock to him either way.

Yep. Trouble. No two ways about it.

Katy was almost at her target. Just a few more steps—

“There you are, Gracie.” It was Clarence. Hurrying toward her.

Terrific.

She dug deep for a smile. Why hadn’t she stayed home? Oh, wait. She didn’t have a home anymore. Just a small room at The Boarding House inn.

2

BEN HAD EXPECTED a few changes in Blackfoot Falls. Like the new filling station near the restored inn where he was staying. A pawn shop had replaced a burger joint. There were probably more surprises...he’d only stopped in town to check in and grab a shower. But damn, he never thought the Sundance would change. The ranch seemed smaller than he remembered. Both barns needed new roofs. And the east barn needed a coat of paint.

Granted, fifteen years was a long while, but in a hick town like Blackfoot Falls, time and people were supposed to stand still.

As Ben drifted through the wedding crowd, he recognized a few faces, but was unable to put names to them. Several old-timers nodded as he passed. Most of the guests just stared. He wondered if they remembered him or thought he was simply another stranger.

Sure, he’d grown up here right alongside the McAllister boys, gone to the same school with Cole and Jesse, played the same sports, shared a love of horses with Trace. But Ben had never been one of them. How could he have been when half the town never let him forget he was the maid’s son. The other half just thought he was trouble.

He slipped off his sunglasses and stopped at a bar, or rather, a folding table set up with booze, a keg and glasses for people to help themselves. So typically Blackfoot Falls and so different from his Hollywood life of excess and decadence.

He poured himself a scotch, neat, thinking about how he’d been a mere kid when he’d left, barely eighteen. Not old enough to drink legally. Of course, a small thing like breaking the law had never stopped him. He tossed back the scotch, feeling the burn all the way down, then left the glass on the tray with the others to be washed. He needed food in his empty belly, not more alcohol.

His mother would be plying him with her homemade tortillas soon enough.

The thought surprised him. He wasn’t sure how he felt about seeing her. He had only started calling her in the past ten years because his sister had nagged the hell out of him. Claudia had never understood how he could stay angry, and he didn’t get how she’d so easily forgiven Hilda for tearing them away from their father.

The man was dead now. And Ben would never know him. All he had left of his dad were the vague memories of a six-year-old. That, and the bitterness over his mother’s betrayal. It still lingered like a hot stone at the edge of a fire. At thirty-three, he was just better at hiding it.

Damn, he wished Claudia was here. She’d always acted as a buffer between him and Hilda. But she was pregnant and couldn’t make the trip, so she’d begged and pleaded for him to come.

He’d finally given in last week, not just for Claudia’s sake, but for Rachel’s, too, and he didn’t want to mess things up as a wedding memento. Where was the little firecracker, anyway? He scanned the crowd. How hard was it to find a redheaded bride?

“Oh, my God, Ben, you made it!” Her voice came from behind him.

He turned to find Rachel’s green eyes filling with tears. The last time he’d seen her, she’d just celebrated her twelfth birthday. She’d grown into a beautiful young woman.

She dabbed at her eyes, then picked up her dress and launched herself at him.

He caught her and stumbled back. “Jesus. How many tons of lace are you wearing?” She laughed and hugged him until he set her at arm’s length. “Man, you’ve grown up.”

“Hey, watch it. She’s taken.”

“Matt Gunderson.” Ben smiled at her new husband and shook his hand. “Good to see you.”

“Yeah, it’s been a while.” Matt yanked his tie loose with a relieved sigh.

Rachel smacked his wrist. “Stop it. We haven’t finished taking pictures.”

“Oh, yes, we have.”

“Please.” Rachel leaned into Matt. “When will I ever get you in a tux again?”

“Never.”

“Exactly.”

Matt slumped in defeat. “So this is married life, huh?” he muttered while letting Rachel redo his tie. “Stay single, Ben. Do yourself a favor and just stay single.”

“Way ahead of you on that one, bro.” Ben grinned at Rachel’s eye roll.

He liked women. He liked sex even more. Fortunately, he rarely went without. But give a woman that much power over him? Wouldn’t happen.

“Have you seen your mom yet?” Rachel asked.

Ben shook his head and looked at Matt. Time to change the subject. “I read somewhere you’re going to quit rodeoing.”

“I’m done. I rode in Vegas for the last time.”

“Why? You were earning big.” Ben glanced at Rachel. Would she miss the big prize money, or had she put the screws to him?

Matt shrugged. “I had enough.”

“Matt’s father died last year and left him the ranch,” Rachel said. “So he’s running the Lone Wolf and raising rodeo stock.”

“We’re running the Lone Wolf,” Matt corrected her, slipping an arm around her.

“Not really. I’m not much help yet. The Sundance guests keep me hopping.”

Ben frowned. “Guests?”

“Cole didn’t mention it when he saw you in LA,” Rachel said with a wry smile. “I’m not surprised. My poor brothers...” She sighed. “We’re now part dude ranch.”

Ben couldn’t have been more shocked. He thought again of the patched roofs and warped wood siding on the barn. The McAllisters had been proud, wealthy cattlemen going back several generations. “Since when?”

“About a year and a half now.” She shrugged. “Between the poor economy and drought, all the ranches around here have been suffering. We needed to generate income.”

“A dude ranch,” Ben murmured. No, he didn’t figure Cole would’ve volunteered that information.

“It was Rachel’s idea,” Matt said, his tone defensive. “If not for her, they would’ve had to lay off half the men. Not to mention she had to put her career on hold.”

“It’s okay, Matt,” Rachel said softly. “Ben didn’t mean anything. You were just as shocked when you found out, remember?”

“Hey.” Ben spread his hands. “I’m surprised, that’s all. I’m in the process of buying a ranch myself, out in California. But now you’ve got me nervous.”

Rachel and Matt both frowned. “What, and give up working in Hollywood?” Matt asked. “Dating hot women and walking the red carpet?”

Ben laughed. “Don’t believe everything you read on the internet.”

Matt inclined his head at Rachel. “It’s not my fault. She looks up everybody.”

“I do not.” She lifted her chin, sending Ben back fifteen years. She’d always been an independent kid. “So you’re buying a ranch and giving up stunt work?”

“Eventually. But I’d still be in the business, so to speak. I plan to raise stock that I can supply to films and TV shoots. I’d train the animals, horses in particular, and work with them on the sets. Even commercial ads pay well. In Hollywood, it’s all about who you know, and I’m lucky in that department.”

“Snag a Super Bowl Ad. That’s got to be—” Rachel’s gaze shifted to something behind him. “You’re about to meet my friend Katy.”

“What took her so long?” Matt murmured, then responded to Rachel’s stink eye with an innocent look. “What?”

“Be nice,” Rachel muttered under her breath and then said to Ben, “I want to hear more later. Hey, Katy.”

Ben smiled at the tall, striking brunette who’d joined them, her strapless red dress held up by generous breasts.

“Katy,” Rachel said, “this is Ben. I’ve told you about him. Ben’s like another brother to me.”

“Yes, I remember.” Katy leaned forward to shake his hand, her breasts plumping over the top of the dress, her smile sultry. “I believe you mentioned he wasn’t as bad as Trace.”

“Thanks.” Rachel laughed. “Thanks for that.” She looked at Ben. “I meant when I was a kid. You both teased me unmercifully and don’t deny it.”

Ben forced a smile. His memories weren’t quite that benign. “Where is Trace, anyway?” He looked past Katy to do a quick sweep of the crowd, but stopped at a familiar face. Whoa.

Deputy Hendrix had let her hair down in loose waves that skimmed her shoulders. The sunglasses were gone, and she’d traded her uniform for tan slacks and a tailored white blouse that showed off her fit, toned body.

Nice. Very nice.

He wondered if she had her ticket book with her. Maybe after a little champagne, she’d have second thoughts about the one she had written him.

Rachel glanced around, frowning. “I don’t see Jesse or Cole, either. They know the photographer wants to take more shots of the wedding party.”

“We could go look for them,” Katy said, and Ben knew the “we” included him.

He wasn’t in the mood for company. Maybe later. “I’ll be heading to the house soon,” he said. “If I see the guys, I’ll send them over. Or drag them out of their rooms if I have to.”

“Perfect.” Rachel’s smile lasted only a second. “Wait. Knock before you go in. Girlfriends may be involved. Or in Cole’s case, his wife.”

“Cole’s married?” He’d never said anything about taking the plunge.

“He and Jamie eloped a month ago to avoid having a big hoopla.” She lowered her voice. “Not common knowledge. Just the family knows.” She gestured inclusively to Ben. “And now you, too, Katy. But don’t say anything.”

A group approached to congratulate the newlyweds, and Ben used the opportunity to slip away. He could feel Katy’s eyes on his back. He might have played that better, but he’d lost sight of the deputy.

While he searched for her, Ben realized how easy it had been with Rachel and Matt. It felt good that she still considered him family. And so did Cole. As long as Ben did nothing to hurt Hilda. The McAllisters had always been fiercely protective of his mother. Starting with Gavin and Barbara.

Thinking of Gavin McAllister tightened Ben’s chest. Missing the man’s funeral would haunt him for life. Gavin had treated him like a son right alongside his own boys, never taking sides when they squabbled and disciplining without bias.

Time had a way of lending perspective. Ben understood now that he’d been damn lucky to have Mr. McAllister as a role model.

He looked toward the house, hoping he’d finally catch sight of the deputy, but she wasn’t among the people crowding the wide porch. People sat on rockers. Some lounged against the railing. A short, dark-haired woman wound her way through them carrying a large pitcher. He studied her for a moment, taking in the frail stoop of her narrow shoulders. Realization hit him square in the gut.

Mom?

She set down the pitcher and glanced up suddenly, as if she could feel him watching her. He turned, hoping she wouldn’t see him.

Something twisted painfully inside his chest, and he had the sudden urge to make a run for the Porsche, drive so fast and far that he’d forget all about the Sundance. Forget about the family who’d given him a home. Forget about the mother who’d never trusted him enough to tell him the truth about his own father.

Hell of a time to figure out he wasn’t ready to see her. Certainly not in front of all these people.

Shoving a hand through his hair, he stared at the distant Rockies and the crimson sun sinking behind them. He was struck by the sudden notion that he’d missed more than the mountains. He’d missed the McAllister family. The Sundance. And in spite of her betrayal, his mom.

He hadn’t expected this, wasn’t prepared to do anything but push the feelings aside. Clear his head.

What he needed was another drink. He’d promised his sister he’d do this thing. Reconnect with their mom. Make some peace. Which felt impossible at the moment.

He found another makeshift bar and was about to pour a scotch when he saw her.

Deputy Hendrix. From the strained curve of her mouth to her stick-straight posture, she seemed uncomfortable. Probably trying to get rid of the old guy in the loud sports jacket who was bending her ear. Ben could help her with that. He smiled, practically seeing her void his ticket.

Before he could approach them, the man walked away. She turned a longing glance toward a row of parked cars, looking as though she wanted to be here as much as Ben did.

Keeping an eye on her, he exchanged the whiskey for a bottle of champagne sitting in an ice bucket and filled two flutes.

* * *

GRACE WAS BEGINNING to wish she’d brought her gun. If her uncle didn’t stop annoying her, she was pretty sure she could make a case for justifiable homicide. Although since she didn’t have a squeaky-clean record, maybe she’d be better off hiding the body. Plenty of good places around here.

Grace swallowed. Dear God. How could she joke about this? Even if only to herself. She was a horrible person. And now she’d lost track of Clarence. He’d disappeared into the crowd. But he’d pop up again and motion for her to meet yet another person who simply wanted to enjoy the party and not be bullied by the mayor.

Maybe she should make a run for her car. Now. While she had the chance. She hated that Rachel might see her, but Grace could always apologize later and pretend she’d been ill.

“Well, don’t you clean up nicely.”

The deep voice sent a flutter down her spine. Taking a moment to compose herself, she met his eyes. “I’m not tearing up the ticket.”

Ben just smiled and passed her a flute. “I’d planned to rescue you a minute ago. I figured that might soften you up, but I was too late.”

“Rescue me?”

He glanced back at the crowd. “I saw some guy bothering you.”

“Who?”

“An old guy with a bad comb-over.”

Grace laughed. Oh, wouldn’t Clarence love to hear that description. “Better watch it. He’s the mayor.”

“Figures.”

“And my uncle.”

“Ah. My apologies.” With that lazy smile of his, he looked about as apologetic as a tomcat toying with a mouse. No, he didn’t care who Clarence was to her or the town. “I didn’t want him chasing you off before we could get better acquainted.”

Grace snorted a laugh. He was smooth, a real charmer. In her line of work, she met quite a few, usually trying to talk their way out of an arrest.

“You don’t believe me?” He was watching her, studying her face with a faintly bemused expression that she didn’t care for. Though fair was fair. She’d given him the once-over earlier. The difference was, while she’d admired his bronzed skin, he was probably counting her freckles.

She stared at the champagne she’d absently accepted from him. “I really shouldn’t drink this,” she said and took a sip. “I have to drive.”

“You can’t have far to go. Not in this town.”

She moved slightly so his shoulder blocked the remaining rays of sunlight and she didn’t have to squint at him. He had a strong jaw, a symmetrical face. “Most accidents happen within five miles of home.”

Amusement brought out the gold flecks in his eyes. “Makes sense. Statistically speaking.” He paused. “Are you going to tell me your first name?”

“You can call me deputy.”

He seemed momentarily startled, then threw his head back and laughed. So loudly that people turned and stared. Including Chloe and the other blond bridesmaid standing by the tent pole. Grace got the feeling they’d been watching her and Ben all along. They were probably wondering why he’d approached her. Grace wondered the same thing.

She cleared her throat. “It’s Grace.”

“Grace,” he repeated, and surprised her by offering his hand.

His palm was rough against hers, which wasn’t exactly soft and tender, either. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Grace. The name suits you.”

“Um...really not so much.”

Ben’s brows lifted, just a tiny bit, as though she intrigued him. He’d be disappointed. If only she’d left when she had the chance.

After studying her a moment, his attention drifted toward the house. He watched the guests gathered on the porch and then swept a gaze over the tent crowd. Most likely plotting an escape.

“Lucky it didn’t rain today,” she murmured, searching the sky. A few clouds hovered but none threatened. “I heard Rachel pushed the date back, hoping for an outdoor wedding.”

He said nothing, but she sensed his amusement at her feeble attempt to change the subject. She saw a band setting up on the stage and realized the oak planks in front of it served as a dance floor. No way she’d stick around for dancing. It would be just like Clarence to drag her up there with some cowboy. Not Ben, though. She imagined her uncle would give him a wide berth.

Katy had joined her friends and they all were staring at Grace and Ben. The brunette looked sulky and Grace wondered what had happened between her and Ben.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Ben murmured.

Grace blinked. Talk about rude and unexpected. Not that he’d get a rise out of her. “They’re Rachel’s sorority sisters,” she said, turning back to him.

He frowned. “Who?”

“The bridesmaids. Rachel’s friends.”

He followed her gaze, his frown deepening. With a short laugh, he looked at Grace. “I was referring to the Rockies.”

“Oh.” She silently cursed herself and her fair skin, then gave the mountains her complete attention. “Yes, they are breathtaking.”

“That snow melts and comes streaming all the way to the foothills,” he said, pointing. “Four-wheelers can make it clear to that ridge when it’s not too muddy. People go up just to see the wildflowers.”

She squinted, trying to follow the direction of his finger. “Why am I not seeing a ridge?”

“Come here.” He took her arm and stationed her in front of him. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he ducked down to her eye level, his cheek close to hers. “Right there,” he said, gesturing with the champagne flute. “See where the aspens are still bare?”

She nodded, the movement causing her cheek to rub against his stubbled jaw. Her skin tingled. Not just at the point of contact, either, but all the way down her back.

Grace didn’t like it. Didn’t like that she could so acutely feel the heat from his body. Hated that his touch had awoken a sudden yearning. She didn’t need the aggravation of wanting something she couldn’t have.

She swallowed. “That’s pretty high up for a quad to go,” she said, moving her shoulder and shifting to the side.

“You can’t be squeamish. On some of those trails, your tires are hugging the edge.” Ben finally lowered his hand. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. You tip over and sure, you’ll get beat up some, but you won’t slide all the way down. Eventually the trees will stop your fall.”

That made her laugh. “So, you could break your arms and legs, and God knows what else. And likely total your four-wheeler. Explain to me how that’s not so bad.”

His smile alone would make any sane woman run and hide. “Hell, if you put it that way...”

“I heard you’re a stunt man, so your perspective might be skewed.”

He shrugged. “Kids go up there all the time. Back in high school, Cole, Jesse, along with half the football team, we all used to go up there. We survived.”

She sighed. “I miss those days. Being certain I knew everything was so comforting.”

Eyes narrowed, Ben searched her face, giving her the feeling he’d taken her casual remark personally. “You’re not from the area,” he said finally.

“I moved here two weeks ago.” She paused when she heard someone call his name. “I think you’re being summoned.” She nodded toward the tent.

Ben turned. “Is that Trace?”

“I believe so.” She hadn’t actually met the youngest McAllister brother, but no mistaking the resemblance to Cole and Jesse.

“Jesus. He was thirteen when I left. Tall and skinny as a rail.” Ben lifted his hand in acknowledgment, the fondness in his gaze kind of sweet. “The kid talked horses and trucks nonstop. And girls. He was worried his brothers and I weren’t going to leave him any.”

“Did you?”

His slow smile was ridiculously sexy. “A few.”

“They’re motioning for you to join them. Go ahead. I think they’re taking pictures.”

“Come with me.”

“No.” Grace shook her head, surprised he’d asked. “They’re your family. I’d feel awkward.”

He hesitated as if he wanted to argue the point, but then just nodded. “Don’t go anywhere. Okay?”

She simply smiled. She never made a promise she couldn’t keep.

3

BEN WASN’T IN a hurry to reach the group. He scanned the people surrounding Rachel and Matt, not keen on unexpectedly coming face-to-face with his mother. He’d see her soon, but not with everyone watching.

“Get over here, Carter.” Trace held a pair of longnecks in one hand and motioned with the other.

Ben hadn’t gone by Carter for a long time. His last name was Wolf now and had been for thirteen years, since he’d scraped together enough money to legally change it. Carter had never been his real name, anyway. Nor Hilda’s. She’d made it up after she’d run out on his father, whose name she refused to divulge.

Jesse was standing beside Trace. Cole was there, too, along with a couple of women Ben didn’t recognize. Rachel was trying in vain to get everyone’s attention while an older man set up a camera.

“Rachel got you in a tux, huh?” Ben extended his hand to Trace, who ignored it and gave him a hearty one-armed hug.

“Man, it’s good to see you,” Trace said, his voice deeper now.

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” Ben said casually, unprepared for the emotion washing over him. He’d been fairly tight with Cole and Jesse. They were close in age and shared many of the same interests. But with Trace, the bond was different.

He’d been a baby when Ben moved to the Sundance. Trace had grown up thinking of Ben as his older brother, often confiding in him instead of Cole or Jesse. The day Ben had told him he was leaving, Trace had punched a door and broken his hand.

Cole and Jesse joined them, only briefly. After the handshaking was done, the photographer asked them to move a few tables.

Trace left the task to his older brothers and nodded at Ben’s empty flute. “You don’t have to drink that champagne crap. Here.” With a grin, Trace offered him a longneck. “We saved the good stuff for immediate family.”

Ben accepted the beer, saw Trace’s jeans and cowboy boots, and laughed.

Trace tugged at the lapel of his tux jacket. “Rachel hasn’t noticed yet.” He looked guiltily over his shoulder. “I didn’t know she wanted more pictures so I went inside and changed. As long as that photographer dude shoots from the waist up, it shouldn’t matter.”

Ben shook his head. “She’s gonna kick your ass.”

“I know. If she doesn’t, Nikki will.”

“Your girlfriend?”

Trace shrugged. “In three months, we’ll be getting hitched, too, so she’s a little more than that, I guess.”

“Ya think?” Ben’s laughter turned a few heads.

“Nice. Get me in trouble,” Trace said, glancing around. “By the way, the Porsche...yours or a rental?”

“I bought it last year and got ticketed twice in three weeks.”

“Only twice?” Trace took a pull of his beer. “You gonna let me take it for a spin?”

“You finally learn how to use a clutch?”

Ben waited for Trace to remember the driving lessons. Teaching a twelve-year-old to drive hadn’t been one of his wiser ideas.

Trace winced. “Ah, man, that was humiliating.”

The second time he’d gotten behind the wheel of the ranch’s old Ford, Trace had clipped a tree and smashed the side mirror. Ben had taken the blame rather than admit his stupidity.

“You still owe me,” he said. “Your dad made me pay for the repair out of my salary.”

“Yep, I do. I’ll even tack on interest.”

Ben smiled. “I had no business letting you drive.” He flashed back to another day, another time, and took a gulp of beer. “I didn’t know about your dad,” he said quietly. “About the cancer, or that he’d passed away. I found out much later.”

“I know.” Trace clapped him on the back. “Everyone knew you would’ve come back if you’d heard in time.”

“My fault for not keeping in touch.” Ben surprised himself with the admission. He’d always felt his mom was to blame for everything that was wrong in his life. Her claim that she’d run from abuse didn’t completely add up. Why isolate herself and her kids from her own family? Ben didn’t know his grandparents. Or where he was born. Or if he had uncles, aunts and cousins.

It was one thing to lie to a couple of kids, but once they’d turned eighteen, he and Claudia had a right to know, even if the truth was messy. Hilda’s silence was a barrier he’d never been able to cross. The longer his mother continued to lie to them, the more convinced Ben became that she was hiding the truth not just about their father, but also about herself. Why else would she keep her silence? The man was dead.

“Ben?” Trace’s tone indicated it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get Ben’s attention. “Rachel wants us. The photographer’s waiting.”

“She wants you, not me.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Benedicto,” Rachel’s voice carried over the murmurs of the bridal party who’d gathered near the stage. “Get over here.”

“See?” Trace grumbled. “Still bossy as hell.”

Ben had to smile. He gave Rachel a small shake of his head, and her glare turned pleading.

“For what it’s worth, your mom’s busy in the kitchen,” Trace said quietly, then strolled toward the waiting group.

Ben glanced at Katy and the other bridesmaids eyeing him as if he were a juicy steak. Normally, he’d already have decided on his companion for later. But he was restless, edgy.

And there was Grace to consider. Something about her quiet beauty and wit appealed to him. Add the fact that she was a refreshing challenge. She hadn’t flirted with him once. He turned to see if he should pick up another drink for her. She could probably tempt him into...

She wasn’t where he had left her.

He looked toward the house, then panned across a group of women huddled near the bar. Grace wasn’t among them. He could tell they were local women, though none he recognized. A pair of older cowboys carrying guitars emerged from a row of parked trucks.

Ben squinted at a blur of movement behind them and caught a glimpse of her. Only for a second. He waited a moment, watching to see if maybe she’d gone to get something out of her car. A minute later, a silver compact drove out the driveway.

Disappointment settled like a weight on his shoulders. He shrugged it off. Now wasn’t the time for a hookup, anyway. Especially not with the local law. He had too much crap swirling in his head. He craned his neck for a look at the Porsche. He’d parked it between the stable and a tree, where another vehicle couldn’t fit. He didn’t need his doors getting dinged.

Arriving late had been by design. He’d wanted everyone to see him driving the Porsche, prove to them he wasn’t a charity case. Yet he’d forgotten all about the damn thing until Trace had mentioned it.

Ben drew air deep into his lungs. Nothing was going the way he’d expected. And he’d prepared for plenty...anger, resentment, even nerves.

But shit.

He’d never expected to feel like he’d come home.

* * *

GRACE GRABBED KEYS out of her desk drawer and holstered her gun. She didn’t have to look at Danny and Roy to know they were smirking like a couple of jackasses. They did every time she brought out her Glock, as if they’d never seen a woman carry a gun before. Scary to think those two were actually deputies.

“So, how did you enjoy the party last night?” Roy asked, leaning back in his chair, his fingers locked behind his head, his round belly straining his uniform shirt.

She’d been waiting for him to mention the reception. Just to cause trouble. “It was great.”

“You left early.”

Grace raised her brows. “I hope your wife didn’t notice you were keeping track of me. She might get the wrong idea.”

Danny chuckled, and Roy shot him a dirty look.

“Tell me something, Grace,” Roy said, “why do you suppose that you, being a newcomer and all, got an invite to the wedding and Danny, Wade and Gus didn’t?”

Of course this was about her being the mayor’s niece. “I guess you’ll have to ask Rachel or Matt that question.” She set her blue ball cap on her head.

“Quit wearing that stupid thing. Get yourself a Stetson so you look like a real deputy,” Danny said and abruptly swung his boots off the desk.

“Oh, I should emulate you two so I can fit in?” She turned for the door, muttering under her breath, “Maybe if I lost fifty IQ points.”

Noah was standing in the open doorway, not six feet away.

That’s why Danny had snapped to attention—

Oh, God. “Hi, boss,” she said, her cheeks burning. Of course Noah had heard her. She’d apologize for the unprofessional remark later. But damned if she’d do it in front of Roy and Danny.

At least the sheriff didn’t look annoyed. In fact, he seemed to be controlling a smile. She liked Noah. An ex-Chicago police detective, he was sharp, professional and moving on to work for the marshal service.

“I thought you were off today, Noah,” Roy said, remaining relaxed in his chair, exercising his familiarity with their boss for Grace’s benefit.

“I just came by to get something.” Noah stopped and eyed Roy. “Do me a favor.”

“Name it.”

“Order another uniform shirt.”

“But, boss—”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Shaking his head, Noah walked to his desk. “We’ve had this discussion twice already.”

Roy moved his hands from behind his head and glared at Grace. So now she was to blame for him blowing his diet?

“Who’s on patrol?” Noah asked.

“I am.” She paused with her hand on the doorknob. “I was just headed out. Need something?”

“Take a few traffic cones with you in case you run into any mudslides. The rain came down fairly hard around midnight.”

Grace nodded, making a mental note to jot down the information. She’d started a notebook to record all the little things the other deputies already knew from growing up here. The doorknob shook. Someone outside was trying to open the door, so she pulled her hand back.

It was Clarence. Oh, great.

“Good morning, Mayor,” she said and stepped aside.

He crossed the threshold, his sour expression changing the instant he noticed the men. “Mornin’ Sheriff Calder, deputies,” he said, nodding at them. He stopped in front of Roy. “Don’t we have money in the budget for uniforms? Get yourself a bigger size, son, before you pop a button and take out someone’s eye.”

Roy’s face turned red. He straightened, sucking in his gut.

Grace sighed. Clarence was a politician. How could he not understand diplomacy? And how on earth had he stayed in office for so long?

“What can I do for you, Mayor?” Noah pulled a folder out of his desk drawer.

“Actually, I stopped by to see Grace.” Clarence turned to look her up and down, frowning first at her jeans, then at her cap. “Where are you off to?”

“I’m on duty.”

“We should discuss a proper uniform for the department. Maybe tan slacks to match the shirt,” he said, glancing at Noah. “What do you think?”

“Waste of money. Peace officers in this county have been wearing jeans as far back as I can remember. The shirt’s enough.”

“Just because something’s always been done a certain way doesn’t make it right,” Clarence said, his tone querulous.

Noah smiled. “No, but tan slacks aren’t going to help the public identify the sheriff or deputies. Anyway, not my call. Hash it out with the new sheriff.”

Clarence grunted. “What do you think, Grace?”

At first, she was speechless. She refused to look at Roy or Danny. “Sheriff Calder is right. Whoever replaces him should help make that decision.”

Her uncle’s gaze narrowed. “I’ll walk you out. I need to have a word with you.”

Nodding, she briefly met Noah’s sympathetic eyes. He was a good sheriff, a good man. Filling his shoes wouldn’t be easy.

“You left the party early,” Clarence said once they were on the sidewalk. His face lit up at the sight of a blonde middle-aged woman walking toward them. He passed a hand over the sparse strands of auburn hair slicked across his pink scalp.

“I wasn’t feeling well.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Between him and Ben, she’d felt a bit off.

“Morning, Laura.” Clarence and the woman exchanged smiles as she passed.

“Do you know where the traffic cones are stored?”

He snapped his attention back to Grace. “How would I know? Don’t try and change the subject.”

“What subject?” She remembered the storage closet behind the office and studied her set of keys. “That I left early? So what?”

“Not that. I want to know about Ben. Hilda’s boy.”

Grace glanced up. “What about him?”

“It seemed you two had a lot to talk about.” Clarence’s small, shrewd eyes searched her face.

She hurried her pace in case she blushed. “Yup, the McAllisters and the weather. It was a fascinating discussion.”

“Don’t you sass me, young lady.”

“Mayor Leland, I’m on duty. I am working.” She turned left down the narrow alley.

“Where are we going?”

“The storage closet behind the office.”

“Why did we have to come this way? We could’ve used the back door.”

She preferred that he hadn’t followed at all. Ignoring him, she located the correct key, found the cones and carried them to the truck. Of course, Clarence stayed on her heels. She opened the driver’s door.

“You hold on a minute,” he said. “I know that boy, and what I have to say is for your own good. You should appreciate I’m looking out for you.”

Grace wanted to tell her uncle that whatever it was had to wait until she clocked out. But she couldn’t stand waiting all day. “Okay, what is it?”

“His mother, Hilda, is a good, God-fearing woman. She raised a fine daughter, and I’m sure she tried with Ben.” Clarence shook his head. “He was just one of those kids who couldn’t seem to keep his nose clean. The minute he entered his teens, he was nothing but trouble.”

“What kind of trouble? What did he do?”

Clarence seemed surprised by the question. “Now, you don’t need to be concerned with details,” he said, his condescending tone suggesting she shouldn’t worry her pretty little head. “Just take my word for it. You steer clear of him before he tarnishes your reputation.”

Grace smiled. Her uncle had no idea what he was talking about. He’d probably heard some rumors or knew Ben hadn’t seen his mom in some time, which made him plain bad to the bone.

“You know I’m telling you this for your own good, don’t you, Gracie?”

“Well, while we’re on the subject,” she said sweetly, “I’ll remind you again that singling me out in front of the other deputies is not helpful. They already resent me.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, this isn’t the city. We all know each other around here. You and I are related. So what?”

She forced a smile. “Have a nice day, Mayor,” she said and climbed into the truck.

Fortunately, he spotted a couple of his constituents and glided along the sidewalk to shake hands, letting her go without an argument. Good. The election was months away, but the more he campaigned to get reelected, the less he would bother her.

After an hour of driving around checking for mudslides, Grace pulled over and opened her thermos. She’d left a few orange cones at the base of a popular hiking trail, but that was it. Everything looked okay.

One thing Montana had over Arizona was rain. And lots of it. She’d been leaving her window open at night. The inn where she was staying was located on Main Street, and a couple times she’d heard noise coming from the bar several blocks down. But it was worth it just to hear the patter of rain on the windowsill.

She sipped her coffee, anxious for the much-needed caffeine to give her a boost. Kind of a shame, really. The peace and quiet made her pleasantly mellow. She glanced into the rearview mirror. Nothing but blacktop, blue sky and woods for miles.

What the—?

She stared at the red blur until she could make out the shape of the Porsche. The car hugged the curve of the road, then raced toward her. Was he out of his mind?

Ben had been right. She didn’t have radar, but she’d bet anything he was going well over the fifty-mile speed limit. Grace started the engine and hit the flashing lights just as the car came up on her. The vehicle whizzed past.

She hesitated, torn between anger at his recklessness and a reluctance to give him another ticket. Depending on his record, it could cost him his license. But then, maybe it should. Maybe this was the lesson he needed. Either way, this was her job.

Hastily getting the truck on the road, she cursed at the spilled coffee wetting her jeans. She pushed the accelerator all the way to the floor. The older model truck didn’t have a chance of catching up to the Porsche. So it surprised her when Ben slowed and coasted until she came up behind him.

She glimpsed his dark hair as he pulled onto the shoulder, and she felt a little sadness that her uncle might be right about Ben. Mostly, though, she was mad.

Breathing deeply, she grabbed her ticket book and pen, then climbed out of the truck. She kept her sunglasses on, unwilling to let him see her anger and disappointment. Did he think he could charm her out of another ticket?

“This seems all too familiar,” she said as the tinted window lowered. “License and—” She blinked. “Trace?”

“Mornin’, Deputy,” he said with a sheepish grin.

“I thought you were Ben.” She cleared her throat, annoyed at the surge of relief she felt. “Do you know how fast you were going?”

“Too fast.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “You’re going to ticket me. I know and I deserve it. But so you don’t think I’m a total idiot, I cut loose for only a couple miles to see what the Porsche could do.” He reached into his back pocket. “I don’t usually speed, not in my truck.” His mouth curved in a boyish grin. “Not by much anyway.”

Grace watched him slide his license out of his wallet. She sighed. “I’ll give you a verbal warning,” she said, lowering the ticket book to her side.

Trace’s face lit up, and he was quick to make his license disappear. “Thanks. I mean it. You won’t catch me speeding again.”

“Good. Because next time, no mercy. Not even at five miles over.”

His expression fell. “Five,” he repeated. “Huh.”

Hiding her smile, she headed back to the truck, wondering if she dared analyze why she was so pleased the driver hadn’t been Ben.

4

THE TENT WAS GONE, along with the tables and chairs. Ben shouldn’t have been surprised. People in the country woke early and went right to work. He’d been one of them once.

He stood near the stable waiting for Trace to bring back the Porsche. In the bright sunlight, the Sundance looked even more run-down than it had last night. The place wasn’t an eyesore, nothing like that. In fact, their paying guests might consider the buildings quaint and rustic. And for all he knew, that was the point of not keeping things pristine. But he doubted it. The McAllisters had too much pride.

A dude ranch...

Ben still couldn’t believe it. Gavin McAllister must be turning over in his grave. He’d been a cattleman to the bone, and proud of it. But he’d been a husband and father first, and willing to do anything to take care of his own. And that had once included Ben.

Blocking the sun with his hand, he squinted down the gravel driveway. Trace had been gone awhile now. What the hell...was he halfway to Kalispell? Maybe Ben should’ve warned him about Grace. The other deputies wouldn’t ticket him. To some extent, Ben understood why she had to be a hard-ass. Still, she could’ve given him a warning.

He glanced at his watch and shook his head in amazement. Trace had been gone only seven minutes. Hardly long enough to get the Porsche revved.

No mystery what had Ben edgy. He turned to the house, wondering if Hilda was standing at a window, watching him. The chaos in the kitchen had kept him from seeing her last night. Okay, fine. Nothing would have stopped him if he’d truly wanted to see her. His sister had slung the accusation after waking him with an early call. Claudia hadn’t tried his cell phone. No, she’d rung the inn and asked someone to pound on his door at 8:00 a.m. when she knew he’d still be sleeping. Probably to punish him for not staying at the Sundance.

Claudia refused to understand he couldn’t just waltz in after a fifteen-year absence. Hilda would want to know everything that had happened to him. He’d never admit he’d had it rough in LA after leaving the Sundance. A big olive-skinned kid like him who fit a nice, neat stereotype of a freeloading illegal brought a lot of unwanted attention. For months, he’d been stopped, questioned and frisked almost daily. Sometimes the shakedowns had been warranted, most times not. So no, he wasn’t overly fond of law enforcement in any form.

It had shocked him to learn Noah Calder was sheriff of Blackfoot Falls. When they’d been kids, Noah had practically lived at the Sundance, getting into his share of trouble right alongside Ben.

Maybe he should stop by the office when he got back to town. And just maybe he’d see Grace.

Giving in to the inevitable, he started toward the house. Distracted by thoughts of Grace’s pale, creamy skin, he almost didn’t see Cole walking out of the stable.

“Hey, Ben.” He pulled off his work gloves. “I didn’t know you were here. Find me before you leave. I want to show you something.”

Ben veered his way. “What’s that?”

“It can wait,” Cole said, glancing at the house.

“We’re here now.”

Cole smiled. “Okay. Come on. It won’t take long.”

As they entered the stable Ben breathed in the familiar scents of saddle soap and leather. He was glad to see the tack wall was in primo condition.

They passed five stalls before Cole stopped and motioned with his chin. “Look familiar?”

Ben stared at the long-legged colt, noticed the identifying snip of white between the nostrils. “Is Zorro the sire?”

“Yep.” Standing with his arms folded, his feet planted wide, Cole looked on like a proud papa. “This is Milo.”

“How old?”

“Four and half months. Just been weaned.”

“You gonna sell him?”

“Nope. He’s staying right here.”

“You ever change your mind, call me.”

Cole looked over at him. “So you’re going through with it. You’re buying that ranch?”

Ben had forgotten he’d mentioned it to him in LA. “As soon as I get back to California and sign the papers.”

“Good for you, bro. You should be working with horses. Dad always said he’d never seen anyone better with an Arabian than you.”

Ben’s chest tightened. He didn’t remember that, but he believed Cole. “You been doing much breeding?”

He shrugged. “Not really. Why?”

“I’ll be in the market for stock soon.” Ben hadn’t considered the possibility before now, but he liked the idea of being able to give them some business.

“You must have closer ranches and auctions,” Cole said, the interest in his eyes at odds with his nonchalant words.

“I’ll need startup stock with good lineage, a few smart, trainable horses. If you decide to breed, we’d be talking more about stud services. I may do some breeding myself later on, but for now I’m more interested in doing the training. Bottom line? Whatever we work out, I trust you. You wouldn’t believe what a rare commodity that is in Hollywood.”

Cole rubbed his jaw, squinting at the colt while he thought. “Sure. You know Trace...he’s always been more interested in horses than the cattle. He’d be all over a breeding program.”

Cole’s cell rang. He was needed in the east barn, so Ben walked out with him. They agreed to talk more before he left for LA, and then Ben headed toward the house.

He’d barely knocked once when Barbara McAllister flung the door wide. “Ben. Oh, my goodness, you’re even taller than when you left,” she said, and pulled him into a hug. “I’m glad you came.”

Ben smiled. She was so tiny that her arms couldn’t reach all the way around him. “You look good, Mrs. McAllister. How are you?”

“I’m fine.” She leaned back. “Look at you, so handsome. I saw you last night from the porch, but with all those people here, I couldn’t get to you before you disappeared.”

“I knew you all were busy, so I stayed away from the house. I figured today would be better.”

“Well, your mom is very anxious to see you. How about we go to the kitchen? I bet you still know the way. It was always your favorite room in the house.”

“Mrs. McAllister, are you implying I ate like a horse?”

“Of course not. None of you boys did.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re an adult now. Call me Barbara so I don’t feel like I’m a hundred and ten.”

“Come on now, Barbara, you know you could be Rachel’s twin.”

With a laugh, she wagged a finger at him. “You,” she said, “are too charming for your own good.”

She had to be in her midfifties, but she still looked youthful, her skin smooth and unlined except for the laugh lines around her eyes. He was about to follow her then realized something was different about the house. Sunlight shining in through a two-story window flooded the foyer and living room.

“That’s new,” he said, amazed he hadn’t noticed last night.

“It was Cole’s winter project a few years ago. Before—” She sighed. “Before things got a bit tight around here. I don’t mean only the Sundance. The whole community has suffered.”

Jesus, he hadn’t considered how the poor economy had affected small rural towns. The film business had felt the pinch also, though obviously not like the rest of the country. Made him more eager to do business with the McAllisters.

At the door shared by the dining room and the kitchen, Barbara stopped and lowered her voice. “I’ll let you go in by yourself.”

“No, you don’t have to—”

“Yes.” She gave him a gentle smile and squeezed his hand. “I do. We’re all so glad you’re here,” she said and slipped away.

Ben inhaled deeply. Feminine laughter wafted from the back of the house. It would be so easy to find a distraction. Postpone seeing Hilda for another day. He didn’t have to be back in LA until the loan was finalized. In just over a week, the Ventura ranch would be all his. Well, his and Lena’s, but she was a silent partner, a venture capitalist with one foot in the film business. She had her hands in a variety of projects and knew nothing about ranching or horses. Turning a profit was all she cared about.

It was eerily quiet on the other side of the door. Normally, he’d hear pots banging around, Hilda humming. The woman loved to hum or sing. It didn’t matter what kind of music or in what language. She was probably wringing her hands, waiting for him to come through the door.

Might as well get it over with. He pushed the door open. She sat at the oak table, her hands clasped tightly together.

“Benedicto,” she murmured, her voice catching as she got to her feet. “I can’t believe you’re really here. You’re a man now. Tall and handsome.”

Wrinkles lined her face. Her eyes looked tired. Partly because of him, he imagined. And partly because of the lies she’d been unable to keep straight over the years. All variations on a theme. Why his father never came to see them. Why they’d left the house he and Claudia had loved. Why they had no grandparents or cousins. And finally, that his father was dead. Regardless of the cause, her dark brown eyes were filled with sadness, and his chest tightened in unexpected sympathy.

“Hello, Mom.” He went to her and she opened her arms to him. A tear slipped down her cheek just before he hugged her. Some of the resentment that had weighed him down lifted as memories—good ones—from his early childhood rushed through his mind.

All was not forgiven, though. He still had questions, and if she thought him being here absolved her of the lies and deceit, she was wrong.

When she finally released him, Ben expected her to lead him to the table so the long overdue talk could begin. But after she ran a hand down his chest, she went straight to the fridge.

Ben sighed. She would fill him with a homemade meal, tell him...whatever, and barely look at him again. At least he recognized the ground rules: she wouldn’t tell the truth and he wouldn’t confront her. The relief was instantaneous. He was off the hook for now. And so was she. But he wasn’t leaving Montana without knowing exactly what happened with his father.

* * *

GRACE SENSED SOMEONE standing behind her and turned to see Roy looking over her shoulder as she finished her end-of-shift report. “Yes? Did you want something?”

“Give out any more tickets today?” Roy chuckled. “Can’t believe you cited Ben. I bet that pissed him off real good.”

“Not my problem.” She shuffled some papers and obscured Roy’s view. “He shouldn’t have been speeding.”

“That hard-ass attitude ain’t gonna win you any friends around here.”

A sarcastic remark almost slipped out. But that would be stupid. Curious, she asked, “So, you wouldn’t have given him a ticket?”

Roy walked over to the coffeemaker sitting on a metal filing cabinet. Only the two of them were in the office. Danny was out on patrol, and it was Wade’s day off. And Gus, he worked a couple days a week. She’d never heard of a part-time deputy position before.

Roy’s eyebrows drew together as he refilled his mug. He’d never impressed her as someone who thought before speaking.

“It’s not a trick question, Roy. I’m honestly just curious.”

He studied her for a moment, then dumped a ton of sugar into his coffee. “I doubt it,” he said finally.

“Does anyone ever give speeding tickets?”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “Out on the highway. But here? Not too often. Usually it’s the high school kids we stop. Or tourists.”

“Thank you.” She smiled at him. “That’s good to know.”

“No problem.” Frowning, he concentrated on stirring his coffee.

She wanted to tell him not to worry. He wasn’t consorting with the enemy. She was merely another deputy trying to do her job. And contrary to popular belief, whoever was named acting sheriff wasn’t guaranteed a permanent position. The November election would settle that.

In the meantime, they didn’t have to be friends, but it would be nice to have a tension-free work environment. Roy could be decent at times, Danny was a follower, but Wade was a problem. The self-appointed ringleader had quit the department months ago and then returned thinking he’d slide right into the vacant sheriff’s position. Roy wanted the job, too, but when it came down to it, he was no match for Wade.

According to Clarence, Noah didn’t think either man was qualified. But knowing her uncle as she was beginning to, she’d be wise to believe only half of what he told her.

Roy sipped from his chipped blue mug, staring at her over the rim. “You think you’re gonna like it here?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. It’s very different from where I grew up.”

“I’ve been to Texas once,” he said. “But not Arizona.”

“Well, this is the first time I’ve been this far north. It’s pretty country, though I’m not too anxious to drive in snow.”

“Ah, you’ll get used to it. We keep the roads clear.” Roy sat down, which delighted her.

They were both officially off duty. He usually left the moment he finished his report. Instead, they were having a civilized conversation.

“You lived in Tucson, right?”

“No, about eighty miles west of the city. I grew up in a fairly small town. Maybe twice the size of Blackfoot Falls.” Her father had been the sheriff there for thirty-two years before he had retired. Just as her grandfather had held the office before him. It hurt to think she would never carry the torch.

“Were you close to the Mexican border where they have all those drug problems?”

“Close enough to keep us on our toes.” She hoped he didn’t pursue the subject of drugs or anything that would lead to questions about her last job.

“See, I’d take snow over chasing drug dealers or cartel honchos any day,” he said with a grin.

Grace relaxed. “You have an excellent point.”

“Now, I heard you were part of a joint task force with the DEA and Tucson PD. Is that right?”

Her heart sank. Being as truthful as possible was her best bet. “Briefly,” she said, wondering if she was being set up. Had Roy pretended to befriend her to dig for dirt? Or was he just curious? “When the cartels switched routes to ship the drugs north, some of the outlying counties were forced to become involved. We were one of the lucky winners.”

Roy frowned, shaking his head. “That’s rough. I mean, you don’t sign up for that horse pucky, and all of a sudden, it’s on your doorstep. Bet you were glad to leave that crap behind.”

Grace smiled. There was no cunning plot to uncover her past. The guy was simply trying to make conversation.

Her cell rang. She saw it was Clarence and hesitated, not sure she wanted to answer. Though he’d find her eventually.

The second she said, “Hello, Mayor, what can I do for you?” she realized she’d made a face, and that Roy had seen it.

* * *

THE WATERING HOLE was crowded for a Sunday evening, every wobbly table and mismatched chair taken. Grace suspected Rachel’s friends had something to do with the abundance of cowboys sidled up to the old mahogany bar or playing pool in the back room. Katy and the other two bridesmaids were there. So was another woman Grace recognized from the party. The four of them were having a fine time flirting and dancing.

Grace felt badly for occupying a table for forty minutes. But she’d stupidly expected Clarence to show up at 6:30 p.m. like he’d promised. Meeting here hadn’t even been her idea. He’d claimed he wanted her to meet a couple of his friends and, trying to be cordial, she agreed.

Now she was thinking it might’ve been a ploy to force her to get out and mingle with the townsfolk. She had no problem with that since she wanted to get to know people. But in her own good time. In fact, she’d visited The Watering Hole twice already. The drinks were cheap, the people friendly, the decor quaint, but of course, the atmosphere was nothing like the neighborhood bar she’d frequented with her cop buddies in Tucson. The reminder that her life had changed forever depressed her.

On the upside, she liked Sadie, the older woman who owned the place. Most of the area’s hired hands dropped by at some point during the week, and they all knew better than to break one of her rules. It was awesome how she’d get a rabble-rouser to tuck his tail with just a single look.

Grace returned the smile of a good-looking blond cowboy sitting two tables down, eyeing her. If it turned out he couldn’t tell the difference between a friendly smile and a flirty one, she wasn’t worried. He’d cool off the moment he found out she was the new deputy. It had worked like a charm so far.

Taking a sip of her now-warm beer, she waited impatiently for Nikki to deliver pitchers to the pool players. Grace wanted to catch her so she could pay her tab and take off.

The door opened and she glanced over, hoping it wasn’t her uncle. Ben strolled in, pausing, his gaze sweeping the bar. Grace looked down and took another gulp of the disgusting beer. She’d be foolish to think he wouldn’t see her. Even so, he’d most likely ignore her. She’d done something very stupid...stopping Trace and not giving him a ticket...Ben had to have heard...

“It’s Ben!”

Rachel’s friends had perked up. Good. They wouldn’t leave him alone for long.

Chancing a peek, Grace watched Ben head straight to the bar. He spoke with Sadie, his back to everyone. Damn, but the man knew how to wear a pair of jeans. The denim hugged his long legs and butt as though they might’ve been tailored for him. Even the plain black T-shirt stretching across his broad shoulders seemed anything but ordinary.

She wondered if he’d ever wanted to act instead of do someone else’s stunts. He certainly had the looks. But he’d also need the acting chops.

Digging into her pocket for money, she found lip balm and her room key. She tried the other pocket, deciding she needed to get more organized or start carrying a purse. Like that would happen. Finally she pulled out some bills and found a ten.

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

She looked up.

It was the blond guy who’d been watching her. He smiled and touched the brim of his hat. “If you aren’t expecting anyone, I’d sure like to join you.”

“The lady’s waiting for me.” Ben set a frosty mug in front of her, his steady gaze and faint smile daring her to contradict him.

Her mouth opened, but she couldn’t think of anything fast enough.

The cowboy nodded at Ben, then returned to his table. Ben pulled out the chair across from her and sat down with his beer.

She raised her brows at him. “What makes you think I’m not expecting someone?”

“Sadie said you’ve been sitting here for quite a while.”

Figures. Grace looked toward the back. Nikki was taking forever. “Actually, I was just leaving.”

“You can’t have one beer with me?”

At his brusque tone, Grace stiffened. “Sure,” she said and met his detached gaze. She had the feeling her earlier error in judgment was about to take a bite out of her. Not that she had to explain herself to him. Damned if she’d do that.

5

BEN HAD SWORN he’d keep his cool when he saw Grace again. But he hadn’t expected it to be this soon after his visit with his mother. The whole time he’d been at the Sundance with her, she’d been doing something for someone. Filling a thermos, making sandwiches, keeping the floor swept. She never forgot she was the McAllisters’ maid even as she asked him questions, while avoiding his with a laugh or a wave of her hand. It made him want to run and never turn back.

And now he was looking at another reminder of where he was in the pecking order. Grace was already friends with the McAllisters and probably hadn’t said two words to his mom.

Okay, maybe Grace was different, but he wouldn’t bet on it. Already she was giving the family preferential treatment.

Still, she looked great in a plain button-down red shirt and jeans, though he wished she’d left her hair down.

He wondered who’d stood her up. “I heard you stopped Trace.”

“I did.” She took an unhurried sip of beer. “Thanks for this, by the way.”

“My pleasure.” He kept his voice even and waited for her to offer an explanation. Obviously, it wasn’t going to happen. “I’m curious about something...”

“What’s that?”

“Why is it that Trace received a warning, but I got a ticket?”

“You would’ve preferred I wrote up your friend?”

“Nice try.”

Grace sighed. “What do you want me to say? I won’t apologize for doing my job.”

“See, that’s the thing...I would’ve expected you to be more consistent.” He saw the moment she realized he’d pushed her into a corner. She blinked and glanced away. “And frankly, more fair.”

Her gaze shot back to him. “I don’t give locals a pass and zing out-of-towners, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“You know what I mean. I’m referring to the McAllisters. You’ve been here, what...two weeks...and already you’re bowing to them.”

“What?” She gaped at him. Her astonishment wasn’t an act. “What are you talking about?”

“I want to know why you let Trace off and not me,” he said, no longer sure he’d pegged her correctly.

She gave him a long, hard look. “Are you trying to get me to void the ticket? Is that what this is about?”

“No.” Leaning in, hoping to lighten things up, he asked, “Is it working?”

She smiled a little. “Look, Ben, let’s not waste each other’s time. I know your type.”

The words were like a slap in the face. He hadn’t been wrong, after all. He sat back, disappointed as hell. He’d been typecast most of his life. Nowadays, he didn’t run into that sort of ignorance much, and when he did, he took it in stride. But coming from Grace...

“Is that right?” he asked. “And what type is that?”

“Do I need to spell it out?” She stared him square in the eye. “Fine. The quintessential charmer. The consummate flirt. You think you can sweet-talk your way out of anything. And you’re probably quite successful at it. Not this time.”

Ben hardly knew what to say. He’d been wrong again. The only thing left was to hit the ball back into her court. “Guess we’re even, because I know your type, too.”

She held his gaze, waiting out the silence, then finally asked, “Which is?”

“You’d rather do a pole dance than tear up a ticket.”

Grace let out a loud laugh, then briefly covered her mouth. “You really underestimate me.” She cleared her throat. “How did you come up with that one? A pole dance?”

He smiled. “A man can dream, can’t he?”

“Pole dance,” she muttered, shaking her head. Someone drew her attention toward the bar, and she nodded.

“Your friend show up?”

“Who?” She frowned at Ben. “Oh, Clarence. No.” After taking another sip, she lowered her gaze along with the beer. “I think I let Trace skate because I was so relieved it wasn’t you.”

He thought for a moment, not sure what she meant. “Huh.”

She looked up. “Don’t make me regret admitting it.”

Ben smiled at the light blush spreading across her cheeks. “I’ll work on that.”

“Please do,” she said in a dry tone. “How long are you in town for?”

“Maybe a week, give or take.”

“You going back to LA?”

He nodded, still confused over her comment about being relieved it was Trace driving. Though he doubted he’d get an explanation. “LA’s been home for fifteen years.”

“You don’t miss Montana?”

“Hollywood has its upside. Though I don’t live there anymore. I moved to Valencia.”

“I’ve never been to California. When I was a kid, I begged to go to Disneyland.” Her smile dimmed. “It didn’t work out.”

“So go now.”

“I’m a little past that stage. Blackfoot Falls is more my speed.”

He didn’t believe that. And neither did she, judging by the wistful look in her eyes. “Wait till you’ve been living here a few months. Disneyland will start looking good.” He saw it again, that small seed of doubt before she shuttered her expression. “Where are you from?”

“Arizona. A town not far from Tucson.”

“Why the move here? Not for your uncle.”

“No,” she agreed. “I didn’t know him very well before coming here. But he said there was an opening in the sheriff’s department, and here I am.” She lifted her mug, pausing midway to her lips. “I’m very grateful to him for recommending me. I hope I didn’t give you a wrong impression.”

“You took care of that by writing me a ticket.”

“Oh, and you bore no responsibility by driving like a lunatic.”

Ben grinned. “Were you in law enforcement in Arizona?”

She nodded and took a long time to sip a small amount of beer. The waitress stopped at the table, and there was no missing the faint sheen of relief in Grace’s eyes. “What do I owe you?”

He did a double take at the petite brunette. Trace’s fiancée? “Nikki?”

“Hey, Ben. I saw you at the Sundance this morning, but you left before I could catch you.” She winced at the sound of her name being yelled from the back room. “Anyway, Trace and I were hoping we could get together before you left. For drinks, dinner, whatever. You, too, Grace...we can make it a foursome—” Another shout had Nikki sighing.

Ben glanced at Grace for her reaction. Whatever she thought of the idea, she kept it to herself.

“Would you excuse me while I go teach that cowboy some manners?” Nikki said with a deceptively sweet smile.

“Go get ’em.”

Grace hurriedly put money on Nikki’s tray. “That should cover me, right?”

Nikki gave it back to her. “Your beer’s on the house.”

More hollering cut off Grace’s objection. Her eyes shooting daggers, Nikki stormed for the pool tables. With a hand on her hip, she got in some guy’s face.

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