She’s home again, but not for long...

Unless this cowboy recaptures her heart

Returning home with a baby in tow, Paige Cordell’s determined her stay is only temporary. But to earn enough money to leave, she needs a job—and her only option is working at her first love’s dinner theater. With attraction once again unfurling between her and Jed Gilbertson, can the man who once broke her heart convince her to stay for good?

JENNIFER SLATTERY is a writer and speaker who’s addressed women’s and church groups across the nation. As the founder of Wholly Loved Ministries, she and her team help women rest in their true worth and live with maximum impact. When not writing, Jennifer loves spending time with her adult daughter and hilarious husband. Visit her online at jenniferslatterylivesoutloud.com to learn more or to book her for your next women’s event.

Also By Jennifer Slattery

Restoring Her Faith

Hometown Healing

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Hometown Healing

Jennifer Slattery

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09734-5

HOMETOWN HEALING

© 2019 Jennifer Slattery

Published in Great Bri tain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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“You hungry?”

Paige hesitated. Her heart still hadn’t recovered from their lunch after their museum trip. Sitting across a table from Jed a second time sounded much too intimate. Especially after their little shopping experience. She hadn’t had that much fun in some time.

Never could she have imagined Jed Gilbertson swapping his jeans and boots for flared polyester.

She worked to suppress a giggle.

“What’s so funny?”

Taking the hand he offered, she climbed into his truck. “Just thinking what a girl could do with thrift-store-shopping photos.” She held up her phone and wiggled it.

His eyes widened. “You didn’t. You wouldn’t.” He reached for it.

She inhaled sharply, her pulse accelerating as his gaze held hers.

He stepped back. “On second thought, I should get back to the theater.”

She straightened and nodded. “I should get home, too.”

She would not let him break her heart again...which was the only possible way things could end.

Dear Reader,

I visited my first murder mystery dinner theater around twenty years ago. I was newly married, went with my husband, and laughed and laughed when he was unexpectedly pulled into the performance. Since then, we were hooked and have sought out various dinner theaters while on vacation. They combine two of my loves—story and food!

As I was considering both Jed and Paige’s problems, an idea formed that merged the two aforementioned loves with a third—my affinity for all things Texas. The result: a small-town story centered on Texas-sized dreams and the love that ties them both together. I hope you enjoy Hometown Healing and feel inspired to pursue your own dreams.

Jennifer

Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me.

—Isaiah 49:16

To my husband—you’ll always be my hero.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Paige Cordell felt as if she had regressed back to that awkward, frizzy-haired bookworm who’d left Sage Creek, Texas, fourteen years ago. With no intention of ever returning.

And yet here she was. As a divorced unemployed single mother no less.

Nothing screamed failure like sitting in Mom’s driveway with all of her belongings crammed into a U-Haul hitched to her car.

She glanced back at little Ava, sleeping soundly in her car seat. She looked so peaceful with her rosy cheeks, the halo of red curls and the slight part of her lips. As if she hadn’t just spent nearly an hour fussing, not that Paige could blame her. They’d had quite the drive. Traffic, work zones, an accident just outside of Houston.

Her phone rang. Paige glanced at the screen. It was Mira, her old high school friend.

“Hey.”

“Just checking you made it into town okay. And to see if maybe you’d like to stop by my place for a nice cold milkshake.”

“Just got in.” She explained the reason for her three-hour delay. “And though I appreciate the offer, I’m wiped.”

“I imagine.”

“And discouraged. I know I’ll find another job eventually...”

“Have you prayed about it?” Mira’s statement sliced through Paige like an accusation. “Might help.”

“Please don’t talk religion to me. Not today.” She believed in God. But unlike her friend, she didn’t find comfort in tossing every decision up to Him.

Besides, she and God hadn’t exactly been on the best terms as of late.

“Well, like I said, this is only a hiccup.” Mira’s overly perky pep talk wasn’t helping. “Consider this an extended vacation.”

“I can’t believe Ardell let me go. I mean, I get budget cuts, but why me? I was a high performer. I never missed a deadline, pitched great article ideas...”

“You’ll find something even better with more job security.”

Paige inhaled a fortifying breath. “You’re right.” She’d never allowed setbacks to discourage her before, and she had no intention of starting now. “Maybe even for a better magazine with a larger readership.”

Only, Chic Fashions was about as big as they came. Not only was it Chicago’s premier fashion publication, but it was considered the top in the nation. She’d worked long and hard to land a position with them, only to end up jobless and living with her mother.

The antithesis of adulthood.

She glanced at Mom’s single-story brick house, heavily shadowed by a towering oak. Thick roots snaked through the grass, and a handful of dandelions dotted the lawn. The windows were dingy, like they hadn’t been washed in...ever, and the canary-yellow trim was beginning to peel.

Other than that, the place seemed well-kept, and the yard had been mowed, which was surprising if her sister were right about how much Mom struggled. Hopefully Paige’s arrival would help pull Mom out of this phase she was in.

A blur of red seeped into her peripheral vision, and she shifted to watch a shiny red pickup truck pull into the adjacent driveway.

Her pulse spiked as a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in jeans, boots, and a cowboy hat stepped out and then turned her way. “Seriously? Could this day get any worse?” she muttered.

“Why? What happened?”

With the phone still pressed to her ear, she sank farther into her seat with no intention of leaving her vehicle. At least, not until Jed Gilbertson was no longer standing less than fifty feet away. Staring at her.

She turned to the box of office junk on the seat beside her to avoid making eye contact. “Jed just pulled up at his grandmother’s.” It’d been too long, and her heart had been too shattered, for him to still have such a pull on her.

“I thought you were over him.”

So did she. “That doesn’t mean I want to see him.”

“I doubt you can avoid that, considering the close relationship he has with his grandmother.”

As did Paige. At least, she had, before moving away. She loved that woman dearly and wanted to see her, to reconnect—without Jed hovering nearby.

“He’ll probably be paunch bellied and balding in another five years.” Mira laughed. “Does that help?”

Paige envisioned him in his junior year, sneaking extra cookies off his grandma’s counter, something he’d done often. Laughter danced in his chocolate-colored eyes, and a scruff of a beard was just beginning to fill in.

He’d filled out some since then, though he’d always been muscular, and his features had sharpened. Other than his Stetson—he’d traded his signature black one for a tan variety—he dressed as she’d always remembered. Simple T-shirt, faded jeans and boots that were scuffed and worn but not tattered.

The man who had once been her entire world. For a while, she’d thought she’d been his, as well.

She hated to admit it, but he’d only grown more attractive, while she’d noticed the first hints of crow’s-feet on her own face.

“Your breakup was a long time ago, Paige. Let it go. Maybe you two can become friends again. You used to be so close. And if not, who cares? Guys like him peak in high school.”

And apparently women like Paige peaked in their thirties, then regressed.

As much as she wanted to remain in her car for the rest of the evening, Paige needed to get out before she looked even more foolish than she felt. “I should probably get going.”

“You’ve got this.”

“Thanks, Mira.”

“And don’t forget, you, me, coffee or dinner. Soon.”

“For sure.”

After ending the call, she took a quick glance at her reflection in the rearview mirror. Hair the color of a new penny, in a slightly frizzed bob that cost little more. The spider veins accumulated from three nights of poor sleep contrasted sharply with her pale blue eyes. And her peach-toned skin made the flush in her cheeks all the more noticeable. She eyed her yoga pants, which were splotched with bleach stains, and cringed. Of all the times to choose comfort over appearance...

Just then, little Ava began to fuss. “Mama’s coming, sweet girl.” She fluffed her humidity-flattened hair and stepped out into the hot August sun. Footsteps scuffed toward her.

Ignoring the tall, handsome figure standing an arm’s length away, she unfastened her daughter from her car seat and positioned the little one on her hip.

“Howdy.”

She turned to find Jed looking as handsome—and country—as ever. His chocolate-brown eyes made a visual sweep of her, pausing a fraction on little Ava, before locking onto hers. “Haven’t seen you in a spell. You...you look good.” He lifted his hat to scratch his head, revealing those wavy chestnut locks she’d always loved. Like she’d expected, he wore his hair short, almost shaved on the sides, but longer and fuller on the top.

Heat rushed to her cheeks. “Thanks.”

“Who’s the little princess?”

“Ava Marie, my daughter.” As if he hadn’t heard all about Paige’s relationship troubles and her gem of a baby-leaving ex-husband. She had to be on every prayer chain in Sage Creek, if not all of Texas.

“Need help?” Stubble covered his square jaw, and his lips curled upward in his characteristic crooked smile. The one that had captured, then shattered, her heart when she’d needed him most.

She took a deep breath, hoping her voice wouldn’t reveal her rush of emotions. Emotions she’d thought were long buried. “I’ve got it, thanks.” Then, to prove the point, she grabbed her computer bag from the back and slung it over her shoulder. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know, same ol’, same ol’.”

His response provided the perfect end to an awkward conversation. She forced a smile. “If you’ll excuse me...”

Little Ava squirmed in her arms.

He eyed her U-Haul. “You moving back?”

She swallowed but held his gaze, though his question zeroed in on all of her insecurities.

Divorced.

Rejected.

Discarded.

Proving she stunk at relationships. And choosing men—something she’d do well to remind herself of every time Jed’s deep brown eyes spiked her pulse.

“For a while. To help my mom.” Which was true. He didn’t need to know the rest. “How’s your grandmother?”

“Putterin’ around, as ornery as ever. She’ll be glad to see you. Does she know you’re back?”

Paige gazed toward Mrs. Tappen’s house. “Probably.” Her mom likely mentioned something to her. Still, Paige really needed to stop by, see how she was doing.

“Bet she’d even make a batch of those snickerdoodles you always loved.”

The mention of her favorite cookies brought back a slew of memories—of her sitting at Mrs. Tappen’s breakfast counter with her cold hands wrapped around a hot mug of cocoa that was topped with miniature marshmallows. Of her parents’ fighting, the reason Paige had always ended up at the sweet woman’s home. After her father had bailed and Mom had shut down completely, when Paige had been in desperate need of a friend, Jed’s grandmother had opened wide her arms and her house.

But the memories that most squeezed her heart were of the hot summer nights she and Jed had sat on Mrs. Tappen’s back porch, sipping lemonade. They’d talked about everything, from pop music to where they wanted to land as adults.

Back then she’d felt certain Jed’s future would include her.

He stepped closer, and his cologne teased her nose. “What can I carry for you?”

“I’m good, but thank you.” She marched up the walk to her mom’s house, locking her car en route.

She’d unload the rest of her things later. On her own.

Because despite Jed’s little welcoming act, she had no intention of being friends with the man.

Her heart couldn’t take another rejection.

* * *

With his hands in his pockets, Jed watched Paige march into her house. She was more beautiful than ever. Her auburn hair, streaked with blond, was cut in one of those modern, windblown styles. Her teeth were straight and white. Way back then, she used to wear braces.

She looked classy, even in workout clothes. And for sure citified. She looked nothing like the quiet, shy teenager he’d once kissed.

If he had to do it over...

If her abrupt departure was any indication, the girl wanted nothing to do with him. Did she hate him that much, or had she simply moved on, determined she was too good, too...elegant and proper, for guys like him? But he only had himself to blame. He should’ve held on to her when he had the chance, been there for her. Should’ve stood by her and fought for her. Instead he’d been too wrapped up in his own drama. Too busy chasing the next party and running from the high-dollar, fancy life his parents tried to force on him.

He wasn’t fool enough to think they could ever have anything between them again, but he hoped they could at least be friends. And that somewhere beneath her sad eyes, he’d catch a glimpse of the girl he’d fallen in love with. Did she still exist, or had city life squeezed that out of her?

Couldn’t be easy raising a kid on her own. Was that what had brought her back? There’d been a time when he would’ve known that. When she told him everything.

Before stupid rumors and his reckless, party-chasing behavior had destroyed her trust and broke her heart. And the fact that she had believed the lies a bunch of high schoolers had spewed had broken his.

She should’ve known he hadn’t cheated on her and never would have.

Surely she wasn’t still nursing that grudge?

With a sigh, he turned toward his grandmother’s house and sauntered up the walk.

Inside, he hung his Stetson on a peg near the door. The aroma of baked goods—peach pie and chocolate chip cookies, if he were to guess—wafted toward him, causing his stomach to growl. His grandmother’s high-pitched voice emanated from the kitchen. She was singing a country song he didn’t recognize.

Smiling, he shucked off his boots and proceeded past the formal sitting room, which was decorated with family pictures, and headed down the hall. In the kitchen, he found her at the sink with her back to him, and her hips and head swaying in opposite directions.

“Hey, Grandma.”

She squealed and whirled around. “Oh, Jed! You scared me, boy.” She wiped her hands on a towel, then deposited it on the counter.

He surveyed the slew of sweets occupying nearly every surface. “What’s with all this? Trinity Faith throwing a charity bake sale I wasn’t aware of?”

She nodded. “To help with the library’s new book campaign.” She grated orange peels over a cream pie. “So, what’d you find out about my grass?”

“You’re overwatering, for one. The backyard was swampy wet, especially by the fence. You might have a mess of take-all patch.”

“Take what?”

He chuckled. “That’s the name of the fungus.”

“Makes no difference what it’s called. Question is, can you get rid of it?”

“I’ll grab some fungicide next time I stop at the hardware store. I’ll give it a good spray when I come back to mow on Saturday.”

“I hate to put you out. I know you’re busy with the theater and all.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I could use the exercise.”

“How do things look for this weekend?”

His heart ached to see the worry in her eyes. She loved that dinner theater and all of the memories it represented. Seemed weird that they’d been talking about changing the name, but Murder, Mystery and Mayhem wouldn’t fit their new branding. They were taking a risk, but they needed to do something.

Jed’s grandfather had purchased the business some twenty years ago, and for a while it’d been thriving. The place had drawn folks all the way from Austin. But when Grandpa had gotten sick, the business had taken a hit. After he had died a few years ago, she’d fought hard to keep it, and had even refinanced her home to pay off the mounting debts. It hadn’t been enough.

That was when Jed had stepped in and purchased half of the business, using the equity he’d built into his place.

“We’ve got quite a few empty seats left.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But I’ve placed a couple ads. I’m sure things will pick up soon.”

“What do you think the problem is?”

“Not sure.” He suspected the place had developed a bad reputation, thanks to a string of cheesy productions put on by the former manager. Bad scripts could drive a dinner theater into the ground. Plus they’d cut corners on the menu, when she had lacked the funds to buy quality ingredients.

“We just need to figure out a way to turn things around,” he said. According to Dad, a smart man would’ve followed his advice and finished his law degree. Joined the firm, like Jed had been groomed to do. But Grandma had needed him. Still did.

“You think your Western idea will help?”

“Hope so.” It’d either save the place or shut it down for good. “You saw the estimates I forwarded you?”

“I did. That’s some chunk of change.”

The last thing he wanted to do was sink more money into that place, but what choice did they have?

She opened the oven, and the scent of chocolate wafted toward him.

“No hard feelings intended—” he sat at the breakfast bar “—but I don’t feel our production’s unique enough to draw folks in.” The truth was that their show was cliché. A fancy inn with a butler, maid, waitstaff and guests.

“I get that.”

“By turning our place into something rustic, uniquely Texas, we can separate ourselves from the pack. And hit the tourist market.” If he could tap into some of the area’s Texas pride, the business might just take off. Assuming he could transform the place on their tight budget.

She gave a brisk nod, keeping her mouth firm. “It’s time we make a change, because we for sure know what we’re doing now isn’t working.”

“We’ll have to shut the theater down during the remodel.”

“When does Drake think he can start?”

“Hopefully within the next few days.”

“Good.” She angled her head and drummed her fingers on the counter. “Wild West Murder Mystery. This just might work.”

“You don’t know any scriptwriters, do you?”

“You can’t find one online like we always have?”

“Haven’t found any that fit my idea yet, at least none that are any good.” And they were short on time.

“Hmm...” She tapped a finger against her chin, then smiled. “Matter of fact, bet you Marilyn’s daughter could help us out. I told you she and her little one were coming for a visit, right?”

“Nope.”

The twinkle in her eye said she’d withheld that tidbit intentionally. Why? Was she worried he’d try to avoid her if he knew? Or that he’d chase after her and maybe hurt her more than she already was?

His grandma had said Paige’s divorce had hit her pretty hard.

He grabbed a candy from a dish on the counter. “But I figured that out quick enough when I saw her sitting in her car in her mama’s driveway.”

“She’s here already? Oh, how wonderful.” Grandma scurried to the pantry and brought out flour and sugar. “You remember she’s a writer?”

He nodded. She’d always said she wanted to be a journalist someday. Had even submitted a few things to the school paper. But there was a big difference between news stories and script writing. Not to mention, she’d seemed to cart quite the grudge back into town. He wasn’t so sure she’d lift a finger—or pen—to help him.

Though, she just might help Grandma...

He popped another candy into his mouth. “Doubt she’d be interested. We can’t pay much. Plus we need something pretty quick.”

Grandma pulled what appeared to be her last baking dish out of the cupboard. “Well, at least talk to Paige. It never hurts to ask.”

“I guess.” She was as apt to take the job as a heifer was to eat moldy grain.

“And bring her a nice fresh plate of cookies while you’re at it. To welcome her home. Matter of fact, I’ll come with you. Soon as I’m done baking these snickerdoodles. Those always were her favorite, you know.”

He did. He knew almost everything about her. At least, he had, back in high school. But it’d been fourteen years. She’d probably changed a lot since then.

He had half a notion to find out just how much.

Chapter Two

Paige deposited her suitcase on the entryway floor, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting in her mother’s home. The place smelled like eucalyptus and peppermint.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” Mom rose to meet them and instantly took Ava from Paige’s arms. She gave her a squeeze, then blew raspberries into her neck, producing a high-pitched squeal. “A child needs to be near her grandma. Why, she’s almost three years old, and I could count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen y’all.”

Paige studied her. “How are you?” She’d dyed her hair nearly black, but two inches of gray roots showed. She’d lost weight, giving her face a pale, sunken appearance, and dark circles shadowed her golden eyes. “Stacy says you’re not sleeping?” Her sister had also told her the doctor indicated most of Mom’s health issues were most likely psychosomatic. What did that mean exactly, and how could Paige best help her? Or, at the very least, not make things worse?

Mom waved a hand and shifted Ava to her other hip. “That’s the least of my problems.” Moving into the living room, she stepped over a box of papers on her way to her recliner. “The good Lord knows I’ve got plenty of other things to tackle, like my chest pains and breathing issues.”

She grimaced and sucked in a series of quick, shallow breaths. “Been to more doctors than I can count, and not a one of ’em can figure out what’s ailing me. Some days I’m so tired, it’s all I can do to pull this aching body out of bed.”

She sat and bounced Ava on her knee. “But enough about my health woes. Your uncle Ken called. To check on how you’re feeling about leaving Chicago, I suspect.”

“I’ll call him later.”

“He said he was heading out for a business trip but would call you next week sometime.” She eyed Paige’s things. “That all you brought?”

“I’ll unload the rest later.” When she was certain Jed wasn’t around. Obviously she couldn’t avoid him forever, not with his grandmother living next door. But she could delay their next encounter, at least until she had a better handle on her feelings.

After fourteen years, she was starting to wonder if that day would ever come. She’d expected to feel awkward seeing him again. But she hadn’t anticipated how raw her emotions would be.

Then again, she’d been through a lot over the past year and a half, first with the divorce, and now losing her job and having to move... Her recurring bouts of insomnia certainly weren’t helping.

Crossing to the green couch, she glanced about at the mess. Papers piled on a rudimentary desk shoved against the wall, a mix of clutter crowding out the old computer.

A foot or two away stood a metal folding chair that had a torn seat cushion with wads of paper scattered near its legs and overflowing a plastic garbage can. Next to this, Mom had stacked manila folders, notebooks and what looked like medical dictionaries. Had working from home been good for her? Or had it allowed her more time to obsess? If only Paige knew how to help her.

She kicked off her shoes. “How’s work going?”

“Busy. Stressful. It’s not helping my health issues—that’s for sure.” She started talking about a slew of tests her latest doctor had given her. “If they don’t figure things out soon, I may need to find me one of those specialists they got in Houston. Though I imagine they cost a pretty penny.”

Paige listened, but other than with the occasional “Uh-huh” and “I’m sorry,” she wasn’t sure how to respond.

The doorbell rang, and she raised an eyebrow. “You expecting someone?”

Mom huffed. “Probably one of those cleaning-supplies salesmen. Last thing I need is more lemon-scented spray bottles under my sink.”

“I’ll get it.” Paige opened the door to find Jed and his grandmother standing shoulder to shoulder on the stoop.

“Oh, sweet Paige, it’s so good to see you.” Mrs. Tappen swooshed inside, set the plate of cookies in her hands on the entryway console and then swept Paige into a tight hug.

The familiar scent of her almond-cherry lotion warmed Paige’s heart. And almost soothed the unexpected jolt at finding Jed a few feet away, waiting to be invited in.

“What a pleasant surprise.” Mom crossed the room. Ava ran over and tugged on Paige’s leg.

“I hungwy.”

Paige scooped her up and held her close.

“There’s that sweet little girl of yours.” Mrs. Tappen smiled and tickled Ava’s ribs. “Not going to scare the poor thing by asking to hold her—just yet.” She winked at Paige.

Mom laughed. “Oh, I’m sure she won’t act bashful for long.” She glanced at the cookies. “My, these look delicious. Would you like some coffee? I can make some right quick. My heart’s been giving me fits, racing for no good reason, but my hands work just fine.”

“I’d hate to put you out.”

“Not at all.” Mom led the way to the kitchen. Mrs. Tappen followed, leaving Jed and Paige in the living room, staring at one another. Ava began to squirm. Paige set her down and she scampered after her grandmother, calling out, “Me some? Pwees? Me want some.”

“Hey.” He hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. “Long time no see, huh?” He gave a half-hearted chuckle.

“Right.” She followed his gaze to a mound of what she hoped was clean laundry, piled on one end of the couch. If he and his grandmother had called first, she could’ve cleaned up some.

“Have a seat.” She motioned toward a plaid love seat with sunken cushions, made sure Ava was occupied with some toys and then followed Mom into the kitchen.

“Grab some napkins or something, will you, sweetie? For the cookies.” Mom filled a dingy coffee carafe with water, which she then poured into the percolator. She faced Paige with her hands planted on her hips. “Have you had supper?”

“We had plenty of snacks on the drive.” Paige grabbed four dessert plates from the cupboard—using just napkins felt too...shabby. Whenever she’d been to Jed’s place, which had been a total of three times back in high school, all she’d seen was fancy china.

“I’ve only got peanut butter and corn chips in the pantry.” Mom swiped hair from her face with the back of her hand. “I meant to go shopping—wanted to cook up some steak and potatoes, along with baked squash for little Ava. But I just didn’t have the energy. I told you how tired I get.”

Paige nodded. “I’ll go tomorrow, Mom. No problem.” She’d do an inventory of her mother’s cupboards in the morning. Then she’d stock them up with healthy foods. Was she eating well? Getting out of the house? Spending time with friends?

“You should’ve told me you were running low on groceries.” Mrs. Tappen frowned. “Jed would’ve picked up whatever you needed. Matter of fact, write him up a list. He’s grabbing a few things for me tomorrow—he’s sweet like that.”

Mom poured four cups of coffee and then placed them on a porcelain tray, one of the few nice serving sets she owned. “You’re lucky to have him so close by.” She led the way to the living room.

Paige followed to the archway that signaled the end of the kitchen, and then she stopped short. Jed was sitting on the ground, next to Ava, and had begun playing with her grungy stuffed cat, talking to it as if it were real. The image triggered memories of dreams—of her and Jed and their happily-ever-after—she’d long since let die.

She could not—would not—allow them to resurface.

Two heartbreaks in one lifetime were more than enough. Besides, by summer’s end, she’d be back in Chicago with its museums, restaurants and shopping malls.

Upon seeing Paige, he stood and sort of hovered there, as if uncertain where to land. He eventually chose the edge of the couch where her mom hadn’t piled laundry.

Paige took his place on the floor, largely to distance herself from him.

She grabbed some board books from her backpack and handed one over. Ava started flipping through the pages, repeating random words from memory.

That entertained the adults for a bit, but soon the conversation, which had already felt stilted, stalled.

Jed shifted. He scratched at the back of his neck, looked at her and then at Mom with his brow pinching in that way it always did when he was trying to come up with something to say but had reached a blank. But then he grabbed a cookie and shoved half of it into his mouth.

Paige was tempted to do the same, if only to distract herself from the much-too-handsome man sitting in her mother’s living room.

It was almost like old times.

But if her divorce had taught her anything, it was that she had no business dabbling in romance. The deeper one fell, the more it hurt when everything came undone. And based on the way her breath stalled every time his chocolate eyes latched on to hers, she was dangerously close to regressing back to her teenage years, when Jed’s crooked smile and laughing eyes had threatened to steal her reason. She’d responded to her ex-husband in much the same way and had allowed his sweet talk and promises of forever blind her to some major red flags.

Mrs. Tappen folded her hands in her lap. “Not sure I’m used to seeing you all grown-up, Paige. I still remember when you were a freckle-faced youngster who could never decide if you wanted to play the dainty little princess or go prancing through the mud.”

Paige offered a slight smile.

“Seems to me, she always had an instigator,” Mom said.

Mrs. Tappen eyed Jed. “Oh, there’s no doubt about that. ’Course, I don’t remember her putting up much of a fight when it was all laid out on the table.” She shook her head. “Still can’t believe those two went diving in that stinky old pond, looking for buried treasure of all things.”

Mom laughed. “Took three cycles in the washing machine to get that smell out those jeans of hers. I had to throw Paige’s brand-new sneakers away.”

Jed had thought that was the funniest thing—at least he’d had the sense to take his shoes off before diving into the muck. Back when they were best friends. Before things had turned romantic and then had ruined everything. She glanced his way to find him looking at her with an intensity that unnerved her.

Averting her gaze, she cleared her throat. “That was a long time ago. I’ve since given up my affinity for dirt.” She wasn’t up for any more treks down memory lane—of talking about the “good old days” when she had spent almost every free moment with Jed, the first man she’d ever truly, fully given her heart to.

Other than her daddy—the first man to leave her and break her heart.

Had every male relationship she’d developed ended in pain?

Mrs. Tappen smiled. “I see that. You’ve grown up right beautiful. And that child of yours is precious.” She faced Mom, and her expression sobered. “How you been feeling, Marilyn?”

Mom sighed. “My stress level is through the roof. Not only over my health, which is enough to knock any woman down, but work’s been busy, too.” She rubbed her temple. “Sure wish I could be more like Paige with nothing to worry about other than what to eat for lunch. I keep telling her to enjoy herself a bit, but she insists on following that silly planner of hers. She has everything scheduled to the half hour. Isn’t that right, honey?”

Her cheeks flamed. As soon as this conversation ended, she and Mom needed to establish some boundaries regarding what could and couldn’t be discussed in front of Paige’s ex-boyfriend.

“So, Paige...” Mrs. Tappen wrapped both hands around her coffee mug. “What have you been up to?”

Mom brushed cookie crumbs from her hands. “I told you she lost her job.”

“Mom!”

“What? It’s the truth. And you have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. That boss of yours did you wrong, honey. Her and all those suits-and-ties in that big, fancy high-rise you worked in wouldn’t know a talented writer if she landed smack in their lap.”

“Ardell didn’t have a choice.”

“Budget cuts.” She scoffed. “Right.”

“Their loss—our gain.” Mrs. Tappen smiled and cast a veiled look toward Jed.

“No truer words, my friend.” Mom stretched her legs out in front of her and crossed her ankles. “I’ll for sure enjoy having her around. But I have a feeling she won’t be putting down roots here, not unless one of us can do some strong convincing.” Her face sobered, and with a deep breath, she fiddled with a button on her shirt. “As much as I’d love for her and little Ava to stay, her heart’s in Chicago.”

Paige watched Ava occupy herself with the buckles on her backpack. Could this conversation get any more uncomfortable?

“It’s such a shame they couldn’t find some way to keep you.” Mrs. Tappen pulled her long braid over her shoulder and tugged at the end, twisting it around her finger. “Your mama told me all about it. If you ask me, seems they could’ve at least moved you to another department.”

Paige shrugged. It wasn’t like they could’ve offered her an accounting position.

“I agree,” Mom said. “Staff reduction, my big toe.” She slapped her thigh.

“Mom, please.” Based on the heat radiating from Paige’s neck, she feared she was beginning to turn blotchy. Lovely. Now seemed like a great time to leave the room, but leaving wouldn’t end this incredibly embarrassing topic of conversation. It’d only prevent her from knowing what had been said.

“It’s true, and by no fault of your own, I might add.” She faced Mrs. Tappen. “Girl worked hard for that magazine. Barely had time to herself. Hasn’t dated in...what? Over a year.”

That was the last straw. She grabbed her wallet from her backpack and stood. “I hate to dash out like this...” All eyes shifted her way. “Can you watch Ava for a bit?”

“You’re leaving so soon?” Mrs. Tappen scooted to the edge of the couch cushion.

“I’ve got...” She’d never been a good liar, and had no intention of becoming one now. But neither did she plan to sit here, while her Mom openly discussed her failures. “To pick up a few things.” Which was true enough, if she wanted to feed her daughter something other than corn chips and peanut butter for supper. Maybe she’d buy a tub of ice cream for herself while she was at it. Chocolate fudge macadamia with brownie chunks. “I’ll see you later.”

“Wait, please.” Deep lines etched across Mrs. Tappen’s furrowed brow. “I—We’ve been wanting to speak to you regarding...” She looked from Paige to Jed, then back to Paige. “I...er... What I mean to say is...” She nudged Jed. “Did you have a question, dear?”

He blinked. “Question?” He cleared his throat and stood. “Right. I...um...” He stepped forward. “Can I call you? Maybe we could meet? For coffee? I’d like to talk with you about something.”

She studied Mrs. Tappen. “Are you feeling all right?”

She laughed. “Oh, nothing like that, dear. Jed here’s just got...an idea, is all.”

Paige wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that.

“You know where to find me.” She forced a smile, but it felt wobbly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really do have things I need to attend to.”

Chapter Three

Late Friday morning, Jed met his contractor friend, Drake Owens, at the theater, to get an estimate on the needed renovations. Seemed he wanted to make more changes than he had the money for.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear,” Drake said as he tucked his pencil behind his ear. “And of course this is all a guestimate. Won’t have real numbers till I price things out. But based on your budget, it’s fair to say you’re going to have to make some choices.”

Jed rubbed the back of his neck. “Sounds like I need to separate the must-dos from the want-tos.” The carpet was top on the gut-it-and-burn-it list. Maroon with a gold paisley pattern, darkened to a dingy yellow in high-traffic areas. The chairs and wallpaper, both a faded burnt yellow, needed to go. The stage could use new paint, maybe new flooring. Then there was the lobby. And the outside. Plus he’d need a new sign.

Was he foolish trying to turn this place Western? Everything was costing much more than he’d expected, but if he could do some of it himself... And maybe if he got a few of his buddies to help...

His thoughts drifted to Paige and the job offer Grandma wanted him to give her. That’d add yet another expense, and probably more than Grandma had considered. With all of Paige’s big-city experience, she’d probably want a paycheck to match it.

One they couldn’t afford, no matter how many ways Grandma crunched the numbers. Even so, he had to try—had to ask Paige. Grandma wouldn’t let up until he did.

He cracked his knuckles one at a time. “How’s the bed-and-breakfast-ranch deal coming?”

Drake gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Slow but steady. You oughta stop by sometime and see what Neil’s got planned for that adventure/training course of his. That guy’s got one creative imagination.”

“Might need to.” Hopefully his friend’s business venture would bring in tourists—the kind who liked murder-mystery dinner theater. “Thanks for coming.” He shook Drake’s hand.

“My pleasure. I’ll be in touch.”

Jed nodded and walked him out. As he was returning to his office, his chef called to him from the kitchen doorway.

“Coming.” He followed the scent of freshly brewed coffee. “What’s up?”

Decked in a stained apron and the toque he insisted on wearing, Dillon Tedford stood with his backside resting against the edge of the worktable. “We’ve hit a few snags.”

“Such as?”

“The asparagus is nasty. We can’t serve it.”

“Great.” Jed sighed. “Can you substitute summer squash?”

“Don’t have any, but I’ve got some canned beans in the pantry.”

“We talked about this. Fresh produce. Quality meat.” He couldn’t elevate guest opinions of the place otherwise. “Guess you’ll have to hit the store. And see if you can get a refund on the rotten stuff.” He should’ve checked the produce when their supplier had dropped it off. Now it would cost double what they’d budgeted for.

Jed glanced at the meal-plan calendar on the wall. Some nights Italian, and others Mexican. Hard to establish any sort of brand when their dishes were all over the place. He needed to talk to Dillon about the menu changes he wanted to implement once the renovations were complete, but based on the man’s scowl, today wasn’t the day.

“I’ll let you get to it, then.” As he turned to leave, his phone rang. He pulled it from his back pocket. His mom. He answered en route to his office. “Hey. Sorry I haven’t returned your call.”

“You’re busy. I know.”

“How are you? You get enough donations for the charity auction you’re working on?” Their conversations always went better when he focused on her. And away from his “wreck of a life plan,” as she liked to call it.

“Yes, plenty. But that’s not why I’m calling.”

“Okay.” He shucked his Stetson, placed it on the corner of his desk and then sat behind his computer. He pulled up his emails. Hopefully he’d received those Gold Rush script samples he’d requested. What he really wanted was a train heist, but he hadn’t found anything like that. Would Paige be able to write what they needed in time for the reopening? If he didn’t land on something by midweek, he’d have to make do with what he could find. And soon, so his cast had time to rehearse.

“Your father cut his trip short. He’ll be home this weekend, and I’d really like us to go out to dinner. As a family. It’s been so long since we’ve all been together.”

“I love the idea, but I’ve got a show both nights. You know that.”

She let out a long sigh. “Well, I’m sure you can miss one. Rhonda said she drove by last Friday and the parking lot was nearly empty.”

“We’re doing fine.” At least, they would be. Once he revived the place.

“Well then, there shouldn’t be a problem with taking the night off.”

“Actually, there would be. As part owner, I need—”

“The place won’t fall apart if you step away for an evening. Your grandmother’s quite capable. I’m sure she’ll be able to manage things on her own.”

No, she couldn’t; otherwise he wouldn’t have needed to help her out. But he didn’t want to admit that to his mother.

“I just wish you’d go back to school and finish your degree, Jed.”

“I did—in business. Which I’m utilizing now. Tell you what. Why don’t you and dad come out here this Friday, on me? We’ll grab coffee and dessert after.”

“At the theater, you mean?” Her voice sounded pinched. Was she envisioning herself serving dinner guests while wearing a waitress’s uniform? “No, no. I appreciate the sentiment, but your father will be tired, I’m sure. He’ll want a much quieter environment.”

“Some other time, then.” He ended the call and set his phone on his desk. He knew his mom was just worried about him, though it’d be nice if she were a little more supportive regarding the dinner theater.

Had Paige stopped by his grandmother’s yet? To snag a cookie or mug of hot cocoa, like old times? Grandma would be happier than a calf in the clover patch if Paige brought that giggling little one of hers. Ava. She had her mama’s nose, slender but round as a button at the end. Her curly hair, too, like shiny copper coils. And a mischievous glint in her eyes that reminded him of Paige.

A smile tugged as he remembered her from high school, always thinking up something fanciful. When she wasn’t hunched over a book. He’d been a fool to let her go. Maybe if things had been different for both of them, he never would have. He doubted there was any chance of them rekindling what they had, but hopefully they could rebuild the friendship.

* * *

On Saturday morning, Paige sat on the living room floor with Ava snuggled in her lap. Toys and books were spread out to her left, and her calendar and notes to her right. Still dressed in her pajamas, she checked the time and then her agenda, and penciled in her day planner. At some point, she needed to send out article queries and follow up on all of the places she’d sent her résumé.

“Mama, pway wiff me?” Ava held out a doll with blue hair.

“Sure, baby. Who am I?”

She scrunched her neck into her shoulders and put her arms out in the most adorable “I don’t know” pose.

Paige laughed and kissed her cheek. She smelled like peanut butter and strawberry shampoo. “How about I be the mama and you be the little girl.”

“Uh-uh. Me big giwl.”

“That you are, and an adorable one at that.” She gently tugged on her big toe.

The one highlight of her unemployment—more time spent with her daughter. And her mom.

She glanced toward the kitchen and the sound of clanking dishes. Though she still didn’t understand the hypochondria, or whatever the doctors called it, and hadn’t a clue how to help, she was here. She had to believe that meant something.

A low rumble outside caught her attention. It sounded close, like in Mom’s yard.

“Oh, no.” She glanced toward the living room windows. The blinds were lowered. “Please don’t tell me...” She sprang to her feet, crossed the room and parted the blinds to see out. What in the world?

Jed Gilbertson was mowing Mom’s yard. What was he up to?

“Hold on, sweet girl.” She kissed Ava’s forehead. “Mama will be right back.”

She hurried outside, stopping a few feet from Jed and his lawn mower. Close enough that bits of grass flew back at her, causing her to sneeze.

With his back to her, he remained oblivious to her presence.

Dressed in cut-off jean shorts, a gray T-shirt that stretched across his muscular frame, a straw hat and—boots? Who wore boots with shorts? Didn’t matter... He looked amazing in them.

She shook her head. She wasn’t a stupid teenager anymore, and she would not go all goo-goo eyed for this man. She’d had enough heartbreak in the past couple of years to last the rest of her life.

She waited for him to notice her.

He did on his way back. Releasing the lever, he let the mower die, then removed his hat and wiped his sweaty forehead with a bandana he fished out of his pocket. “Howdy.”

“Hey.” She shifted and brushed grass flecks from her face. “I...um... I don’t want to sound rude or anything, but...what are you doing here?”

“Mowing your mom’s yard.”

“Why?”

“I do it every Saturday. On account of her being ill and all.”

So he thought Mom was sick. Like sick-sick. And there was no way she could correct him without embarrassing her. Or herself. “That’s very thoughtful, Jed, but I can take care of this.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes started to itch and water, probably due to the grass dust that had bombarded them. She swiped the ends of her fingers under her bottom lashes. Oh. She wasn’t wearing makeup. Feeling her face heating, she cast a glance at her pajamas—froggy boxers with a mismatched, baggy T-shirt decorated with a big old coffee stain. And her hair...

She touched her curly—and no doubt frizzy—locks and winced.

Too late to hide under a rock now. Straightening, she raised her chin and forced a confident smile. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but it’s really not necessary. I’ll manage my mother’s yard work from now on.” Or at least for as long as she stayed in Sage Creek.

“You got a mower?”

“What? Of course.” She glanced toward the garage, which was closed and likely jam-packed with Mom’s clutter.

She left Ava well occupied by her mother and returned less than ten minutes later. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, and with her hair tamed by curl cream, she pushed a rusted mower with cobwebs clinging to it. The thing had to be at least twenty years old, and probably hadn’t been used in twice that time. She pressed the little gas button thingamabob numerous times, widened her stance, grabbed the lever and cranked.

Nothing. Not even a putter.

She tried several more times, jerking faster and faster, until her hands felt slick and sore. Same outcome. She studied the contraption. Then cast a nervous glance Jed’s way, grateful to find him focused on mowing his grandmother’s yard.

She turned back to the hunk of metal that was causing every last drop of her patience to evaporate. Stupid thing was probably broken. Now what?

The steady hum drifting from Jed’s direction stopped, and she stiffened. She squeezed her eyes shut, then gritting her teeth, gave the lawn mower’s lever another hearty yank.

Nada.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Jed approach with his cedar-citrus scent preceding him.

“Need a hand?”

She smoothed rogue strands of hair from her eyes and faced him with what she hoped to be a casual smile. “I appreciate your concern, but...” What? She had this handled? Obviously not.

His crooked grin sent a jolt through her. “As stubborn as ever, I see.”

She crossed her arms. “As cocky as ever, I see.”

He laughed, and his chocolate-brown eyes danced. “Let me take a look.”

She stepped aside to give him access to the contraption, and then she waited while he gave the mower a thorough once-over.

After a few minutes, he straightened and dusted off his hands. “Out of gas.”

Great. But at least it wasn’t broken. “Thanks. Guess I better fill it, then.” Did Mom even have one of those portable gas cans? She stepped toward the house to grab her keys, knowing full well he’d likely mow Mom’s lawn while she was gone.

* * *

Shaking his head, Jed watched Paige pull her car out of the driveway and exit the neighborhood. That girl was as bullheaded as...as a...as a bull. But a whole lot cuter. Especially when annoyed. Not that he intended to provoke her, except maybe by tackling her mother’s lawn before she returned.

Now, there was a challenge.

Then, once she’d calmed down a bit—she never had been good at accepting help—he’d mention the script-writing job. Or send her to Grandma’s. No. As tempting as it was to pass the buck, he wasn’t going to chicken out on this one.

Why was he so nervous to talk to her? He’d never been this way before...except during that summer when he’d first realized he’d fallen in love. Man, he had been a wreck, stumbling over his words and blurting out stupid, nonsensical statements. When he’d finally mustered up the nerve to ask her out, he’d botched it so badly, she’d laughed.

In the most adorable, shy way.

Then she said the word that practically made his heart spring from his chest—yes.

Moving quickly, he pushed her rusted lawn mower aside, then started up his. He’d made it three-quarters of the way through with sweat trickling into his eyes and down his back by the time she returned. But rather than quit, he stepped things up, as if daring her to stop him.

He made a sharp turn at her fence and almost laughed out loud. This was more fun than calf wrangling. He cast Paige a glance as he maneuvered around the thick, protruding roots of her mama’s oak tree, feeling amused to find her standing in her driveway. Watching him. A red gas can sat at her feet. It looked brand-new.

Once finished, he lifted his hat and mopped his face with his bandana.

Fighting a victorious grin, he sauntered over to her. “I normally weed eat every other Saturday. I’ll take care of that next time.”

“It’s really not necessary.” The sun lit her peach complexion and highlighted the most endearing splatter of freckles on her nose and forehead. “And thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. “So, how long are you staying?”

“At my mom’s, you mean?”

He nodded.

Her gaze dropped. “Awhile.”

Tight-lipped, just like she’d been at the house. Everything about her, from the hard glint in her eye to her stiff stance, said “back off.” But he couldn’t do that. Not yet.

“Listen. About your job...” Probably not the best intro. “You remember my grandparents’ theater?”

She nodded, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun.

“We’re partners now, Grandma and I, and we’d like to hire you on. As a writer. If you’re interested.” He told her about his renovation plans and his difficulties finding a workable script. “Can’t pay you a whole lot, unfortunately...”

“I appreciate the offer, but...” She lifted her chin. “I’m a journalist. What makes you think I could write a mystery?”

“You won that short-story contest in junior high.” She’d written a modern-day Peter Pan meets Cinderella love story.

“That was a long time ago.”

“Thought maybe you could give it a whirl. If it doesn’t work out, no harm done.” Except then they’d be out of time and without a script.

“I don’t think—”

He raised a hand. “You don’t have to answer now. Just chew on it.”

She gave a slow nod.

With his hands in his pockets, he watched her a moment longer. Long enough for three cars and a bicyclist to pass through his peripheral vision. He knew, because he counted, while trying to ignore the pull of her vanilla-cinnamon perfume and blue eyes.

“’Spect I should let you go.” With a tip of his hat, he left, before things became any more awkward. It felt like high school all over again, only harder, because now a canyon of confusion and misunderstanding stretched between them.

Two hours later, he arrived at the theater a few minutes before rehearsal to go over the night’s menu with the chef. They had two requests for gluten free and one for no dairy. Fresh asparagus lay on the counter, washed and ready to be cooked, and a quick glance into the walk-in verified steaks were marinating.

“Looking good.” He smiled at his kitchen staff and shot Dillon a thumbs-up. Then he migrated to the dining area to wait on his cast, who should be arriving soon for the preshow rehearsal.

He made a visual sweep of the theater’s interior, imagining how it would look after the renovations. Wild West Murder Mystery. The notion might seem absurd, but sometimes it took the unexpected to make things work. He smiled at Paige’s old phrase, remembering the fun, giggling girl she used to be. Before life had stolen the joy from those sweet blue eyes. From what he’d heard, that ex-husband had really hurt her something awful. Lying, manipulation... Before abandoning her and her sweet little one.

What kind of father could just up and walk away from his baby girl?

Then again, wasn’t that what Paige’s dad had done years ago?

No wonder she acted so guarded around him.

What would it take for her to learn to trust again? he wondered.

Back in high school, when she’d first started pulling away, he’d thought she was done with him. That he’d annoyed her something fierce. He knew now she’d been hurting. And when Paige hurt, she withdrew. Pushed people away.

Kind of like she was doing now. He didn’t know how to deal with her any more today than he had back then. But he desperately needed her help. So he better start learning. Fast.

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