ACCIDENTAL FAMILY?

For one crazy night, Annabeth Upton lets loose to forget her worries: Grandma Flo’s medical bills, little Cody’s stutter, the challenges of being a school principal and a single mom. Then Ryder Boone steps in to protect her from a rowdy bar patron...and in a hot half hour they create the biggest worry of all. Two of them, actually!

Ryder was always the rebel of the Boone family, but he does the right thing and proposes. Annabeth says yes—but thinks the marriage is temporary, meant to save her from scandal. The last thing she wants is to force Ryder into a loveless marriage forever, so she gives him an opt-out clause. The only problem is that as they grow even closer, she doesn’t want him to leave!

“Hot chocolate?” she asked, her voice sounding hollow.

Ryder attempted a cocky grin even though his skin was an alarming shade of white.

“Or something stronger?” Annabeth asked, nodding at the test on the bathroom sink. There was no mistaking the bright blue plus mark in the test window. “Definitely something stronger.”

He was staring at her, his blue eyes so piercing it was hard not to cringe away. But she didn’t. She met his gaze, refusing to buckle or fall apart. When he pulled her into his arms, she couldn’t decide whether to brush him off or melt into him.

“It’s late.” Ryder’s voice was soft, his arms slipping from her. “You... I... I should let you get some sleep.” He glanced at the test. “I better go.”

Keep it together, Annabeth. This is best. At least she knew what to expect. The biggest surprise was how devastated she felt when he pulled the front door closed behind him, leaving her with two steaming mugs of cocoa and one bright blue pregnancy test.

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Stonewall Crossing!

If you read A Cowboy’s Christmas Reunion, you know that Stonewall Crossing is a small town built on tradition and full of lively characters. I grew up in places like this. With corner stores and soda fountains, beauty salons and town-wide holiday celebrations. Where Friday nights meant packed high school football games or rodeo arenas. In a place like this, no one is a stranger for long—and no one has secrets.

Ryder Boone is the black sheep of the Boone family. He was a lot of fun to write—inspired by one of my all-time favorite bad boys: Dean Winchester from Supernatural. He loves cars and women. His devotion to his family is unwavering even if “it’s complicated.” And let me tell you, things get all kinds of complicated for Ryder.

Annabeth Upton is a widow, mother to a young son and the principal of Stonewall Crossing Elementary School. Life hasn’t been easy on her, but she finds a way to take things in stride and make lemonade out of even the bitterest lemons. But scandal in a small town isn’t easy to survive, and she’s facing the worst kind of scandal. Unless she can learn to trust her heart.

I love exploring the dynamics in a large family. In my experience, nobody is normal or perfect. But that’s part of being a real family, working through hard situations, finding the humor in things and holding on to one another. Ryder and Annabeth have a lot to learn in this book.

I hope you enjoy visiting Stonewall Crossing, and I look forward to seeing you again real soon!

Happy reading!

Sasha

Twins for the Rebel Cowboy

Sasha Summers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SASHA SUMMERS is part gypsy. Her passions have always been storytelling, romance and travel. Whether it’s an easy-on-the-eyes cowboy or a hero of mythic proportions, Sasha falls a little in love with each and every one of her heroes. She frequently gets lost with her characters in the world she creates, forgetting those everyday tasks like laundry and dishes. Luckily, her four brilliant children and her hero-inspiring hubby are super understanding and helpful.

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To the lovers of bad boys and those hoping to reform them.

Writing is hard work. But I have an amazing team! I am so thankful for my brainstorming (and “focus”) team: Allison, Marilyn, Patricia, Joni, Storm and Jolene. To the best agent, Pam Hopkins, and my wonderful editor, Johanna Raisanen, who make my books better. To cowboys, for your infinite hero inspiration. And for the love and support of my wonderful, funny and inspiring kids!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

If she’d been told she’d be spending the evening stranded in a honky-tonk bar, karaoke-ing her heart out to a roomful of truckers, Annabeth Upton would have laughed. She didn’t go to bars and she’d never been a fan of karaoke. But today had been tough. Tough as in her job was on the line, the phone creditors were getting nasty and her car slid across an icy road into a ditch. Tough might be an understatement.

In the past three hours, she’d played a few rounds of dominoes and won a game of pool while waiting for news on her car. And since she had no way home and the storm outside was still pelting the tin roof with hail and sleet, the only options left were karaoke or getting drunk. She wasn’t a big fan of hard liquor, so she’d start with karaoke. After that, and her day from hell, she might need a drink.

Thankfully, her audience wasn’t too picky. People started calling out requests when she finished the first song. Four songs later, she was ready to pass the microphone. But since Etta James’s “At Last” was one of her all-time favorite songs, she wasn’t about to say no to the old guy who requested it. “Last one, for you,” she said.

She cleared her throat, spun the microphone in her hand and waited for the music to play.

She could worry about the car and the repair bill later. And the courtesy call from the school board informing her that the job she was temporarily filling was opening for interviews. Hopefully she’d proved herself during her emergency appointment. Hopefully the whole interview and vetting process was a formality, not something to give her ulcers. She’d wanted to be principal of Stonewall Crossing Elementary since she was a little girl and she couldn’t imagine giving it up. Or how they’d make it if she had to go back to a teacher’s salary. Not that there was a thing she could do about that right this second.

Grandma Flo would tell her worrying would get her wrinkles, a bad taste in her mouth and not much else. She took a deep breath.

“At last—” her voice rasped out, steady and on-key. So far so good. She closed her eyes and let the music carry her.

She kept singing, her nerves easing. She should be grateful. Her accident hadn’t been too bad, and Cody was safe with her in-laws instead of with her. If he’d been in the car when she’d slid into the ditch... Nope, not going there. He was safe and sound and, other than the car, she’d walked away with only a bump on the head.

Her voice grew raw and thick as she continued.

Someone whistled, making her smile.

She fumbled the words as the door opened, blowing in cold air and sheets of ice before it slammed shut. A few people yelled, irritated by her singing or the interruption, she didn’t know which.

She sucked in a deep breath, hoping for a big finish. She held the last note, soaking up the applause from the inhabitants of Ol’ Ned’s BBQ & Bar. She held her long crushed-velvet skirt in her hands, crossed her boot-clad ankles and curtseyed. Then she headed straight for the bar.

Ol’ Ned was a mountain of a man, covered in a mask of long, thick facial hair. Other than his full lips—which were curved into a smile—he was fairly indistinguishable. He slid a shot glass across the bar to her. “That one’s from Mikey here.” Ned nodded at the older man sitting to her left.

She stared at the amber-colored liquid. Why not? She winced, swallowing the liquid before she could second-guess herself. It burned all the way down her throat. “Thank you,” she croaked to Mikey.

Mikey laughed.

“And the other’s on the house,” Ned rumbled, sliding another shot her way. “Voice like an angel.”

“Ain’t that the truth?” Mikey agreed.

She smiled, flattered in spite of herself. Her all-state choir days were long behind her, but she still loved to sing.

“Looks like one, too,” Mikey added.

Ned spoke up. “She’s too young and too pretty for you, Mikey.”

“Ah, Ned, come on now.” Mikey laughed. “A man’s never too old to appreciate a fine-looking woman. Besides, the missus would skin me alive if I tried to trade her in for a younger model.”

Annabeth’s smile grew. “I’ll try to remember you’re spoken for.” She saluted them both with her second shot and emptied the little glass, welcoming its warmth.

Mikey winked at her.

“Well, hell, darlin’, I’m not spoken for.” Another new voice had her spinning her stool around. This guy hadn’t been here earlier, because she would have noticed him. For one thing, he was under fifty. For another, he was easy on the eyes. But he was staring at her as if she was a prize elk and he was a big-game hunter. “Play?” He held a pool cue out to her.

Yes, she could play. But this cocky guy hadn’t been here earlier to know that. Greg had taught her to play. She was good—good enough to win a little money when she was in college. And right now, with two shots warming her belly, she was beginning to feel a little cocky herself. “Sure.” She took the cue, ready to wipe the confidence off Mr. Ego’s face.

“How about a bet?” he asked, stepping closer. “I’m feeling...lucky.”

You need a breath mint. She glanced at the floor, trying not to giggle. She was going to teach this joker a lesson, and enjoy it. “That’s nice.” She arched an eyebrow. “You’ll need it.”

Mr. Ego laughed, invading her personal space. “And the bet?”

She put her hand on her hip, thinking. “I win, you sing a song.” She winked at Ned, her tequila-infused courage goading her on.

“What do I get if I win?” he asked, looking at her boobs.

She poked his chest with her pool cue. “Eyes up here, buddy.”

“Troy,” he said. “I’m guessing your name is Angel?”

Oh, please. “No. Well, Troy, what were you hoping to get? And we’ll go from there.”

Troy winked. “Your number.”

She bit her lip to keep from laughing. Apparently tequila made her giggly. He was not getting her number. She glanced at Ned and Mikey. Ned’s arms were crossed, his eyebrows dipped so low she couldn’t make out any evidence of his eyes. Mikey was leaning back against the bar, sizing Troy up. So they weren’t Troy fans, either.

“Try again.” She smiled sweetly at Troy.

Troy shook his head. “A drink?”

That seemed harmless enough. After all, Ned and Mikey were keeping an eye on things. She was going to beat him, anyway. “Sure.”

He held out his hand, his smile a little unnerving. “Shake on it.”

She put her hand in his, a flick of unease racing down her spine.

“Annabeth?” That was a voice she recognized.

Ryder Boone, all intense and broody, was making his way to her side. She sighed, relieved to have someone familiar show up. But Ryder was staring at Troy, eyes narrowed and assessing. Ryder stepped between her and Troy, putting her eye level with his wall of a chest, and cupped her face in his rough hands. She frowned at Ryder, startled by his touch. Was something wrong? “Ryder, what are you—?”

And then he kissed her. Ryder was kissing her. Ryder Boone was kissing her?

Not just any nice-to-see-you peck, either. His lips always looked full, soft and inviting. Now she knew they felt that way, too. They were like heaven, nipping at her lower lip until she was gasping. She swayed into him, the steel of his arms catching her and pulling her closer. Her head was spinning, too mixed-up to process what she was feeling... Only one thing was absolutely certain—Ryder Boone could kiss. It might have been almost six years since a man’s kiss had every inch of her aching with want, but Ryder had her aching and wanting, desperately. Now.

His lips parted hers, the tip of his tongue touching hers. Her fingers dug into his leather jacket, clinging. His mouth lifted from hers, the rough pad of his thumb brushing across her lower lip.

Ryder. She was all hot and bothered. Over Ryder.

“Ready to go, Princess?” Ryder’s voice was gruff.

She shook her head, trying to shake the fog of desire from her brain. Why wasn’t he kissing her anymore? Wait. What the hell was happening?

“Princess?” he repeated.

Right, he was asking her something. “‘Go’?” she managed, staring up at Ryder. Was he serious? And if he was, did he mean what she thought he meant? They may have flirted for years, years and years, but he’d never touched her. Besides, it would have been weird, since he was Greg’s best friend.

“She’s not going anywhere.” Troy spoke up. “We just made a bet, didn’t we, Annabeth?” Troy might be grinning, but he wasn’t happy. The change in his stance was subtle but clear. Troy was bracing for a fight.

And Ryder was ready. His sky-blue gaze fixed on Troy, the slightest tick in his jaw muscle revealing his agitation. She shivered, stepping closer to Ryder warily.

Ryder’s hands rubbed her arms, his attention returning to her. He arched an eyebrow, smiling his I’m-going-to-rock-your-world-tonight smile at her. She’d seen it in action, many times. Not that she’d ever been on the receiving end of it...before. Was he serious? Or was she having a reaction to the tequila?

“What’s it gonna be, Princess?” His lips brushed her brow while his fingers threaded through hers. “You want to finish your game? Or you ready to go?”

His scent filled her nostrils, further clouding her mind. She blinked, the slightest tremble running down her spine. “Now?”

He bounced his eyebrows playfully, his gaze focused on her mouth. “Now.”

And then he kissed her again. It wasn’t a soft, slow sort of kiss, either. He twisted her hair through his fingers, tugging her head back as his mouth devoured hers. She went from light-headed to holding on for dear life. His breath, his tongue, his soft little growl as he deepened the kiss. She was drowning and she loved it.

He broke off slowly, breathing hard. He seemed just as stunned as she was. Could he want her the way she was wanting him? “Ready?” His voice was gruff.

She managed a nod. She was ready. Until this second, she hadn’t realized just how ready she was. And never in a million years had she expected to do this with Ryder. But now, yes please, she was ready.

“Night, boys.” Ryder touched the brim of his cowboy hat in mock salute, threw some cash on the bar, slid his arm around her waist and led her to the door.

It was frigid outside, but all she felt was the slow burn in her belly and the startling heat of Ryder’s palm against her side. By the time he’d loaded her into his truck and climbed up beside her, Annabeth was buzzing with anticipation. She didn’t think about why he’d decided tonight was the night or what might happen tomorrow. Nope, she climbed into his lap, knocked his black felt hat into the backseat, cradled his face between her hands and kissed him. It had been so long...so damn long. And she was lonely.

Ryder was Ryder. She’d never thought about having a hot one-night stand but, if she was going to, Ryder was probably the best candidate. He knew what he was doing, according to his conquests, and he didn’t want complications.

“Princess,” he growled.

“Shh,” she answered, sliding her hands under his shirt to feel the rock-hard abs beneath. She shivered, frantically sliding his belt free and unbuttoning his pants. “I need this, Ryder. I need you.”

* * *

RYDER HAD TO stop this.

Seeing Annabeth with Troy Clark, knowing the way Clark operated, had goaded him into action. He was running on a couple hours of sleep, so he wasn’t in the best condition for a fight. Kissing Annabeth seemed...easier. Clark was an ass, but he’d back off if he thought Annabeth was with Ryder. Ryder never guessed she’d react this way—that he’d react this way.

This was Annabeth. The Annabeth who’d defended him from bullies in first grade. The Annabeth who’d helped him with hours of English homework. The Annabeth he’d taught to drive stick. The Annabeth who’d married his best friend. She was Greg’s widow—off-limits, the “princess.” She was a good girl, too good for him—and always would be. He had no right to touch her.

But she said she needed this, needed him.

And, damn him, he’d always wanted her.

Her hands slipped into his hair, tugging frantically. He groaned, pressing her to him, savoring the feel of her. One hand slipped beneath her sweater, greedily cupping her full breast. The weight of it in his palm made him moan. She shook, a broken little sob spilling into the cold air. It was his kiss she craved, grasping the back of his neck and pulling him closer. And his touch that made her breathing hitch and her entire body tremble. He watched, letting her move against him. She was lost, pulling his hair, eyes closed, her long neck arched back as she came apart on his lap.

His heart was pounding. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Hair a mess, lips swollen. His fingers traced the seam of her mouth as she sighed, her arms wrapping around his neck. He couldn’t wait. His hands were relentless—stroking, touching, pushing her long skirt past her thighs to her waist. With one tug, her underwear ripped free. Nothing separated them. And he couldn’t wait. She was warm, encasing him deep inside her. Her ragged whisper of “Oh Ryder” drove him on.

His hands slid up her back, the silk of her skin and the brush of her soft curves inflaming him. He smoothed her hair back, his hands exploring her body, her curves, her softness. His nose brushed along the length of her neck, inhaling her scent. His lips latched on to her earlobe, making her gasp. Her hands moved up his chest, sliding along his shoulders to cradle his head. She arched against him, groaning hoarsely as they fit more deeply together. It was her groan that struck some sort of primal chord inside him. All at once, she was everywhere, holding him, overwhelming his senses. He gritted his teeth, fighting for control as she lost herself in the passion. Her body bowed, every inch of her tightening around him.

Her release sent him over the edge. His climax hit hard, rocking him from his boots to every hair on his head. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think... All he could do was hold on. He gripped her hips, desperate to keep her tight against him. Even when it was over, he couldn’t ease his hold on her, couldn’t let her go—he didn’t want to. He wanted to etch the feel of her, the smell of her, into his mind before she slipped away. His hands tangled in her hair as he kissed her. He’d do whatever he could to hold on to this intimacy before the reality of what had happened sank in.

Annabeth ended the kiss, shaking her head. “Ryder...” she gasped, her voice unsteady.

How could he make this better? He smoothed her hair, but couldn’t look at her. He didn’t know what to do. But he knew he needed to do something.

“Ryder?” There was already regret in her voice, he heard it.

“Annabeth—” But that was all he managed to whisper. What could he say? He was banging his dead best friend’s wife in the cab of his truck. His head fell back against the seat. He’d ruined everything—like he always did. “Shit,” he murmured, still gasping for breath. As soon as the word slipped out, he knew he’d sent the situation from bad to worse.

She tried to climb off his lap but wavered, her skirts pinned beneath him. He caught her, cradling her close and breathing in her scent. He wasn’t used to feeling uncertainty, or panic. But something about her pushing away from him, almost as if she couldn’t bear his touch, filled him with bone-deep loss. He pulled her skirts free and let her go, watching her smooth her clothing into place. She sat stiffly at the end of the bench seat, looking just as dazed and confused as he felt.

He started the truck, adjusting his clothes as discreetly as possible. His mind worked overtime, looking for something to say to break the silence filling the cab of his truck.

“Why...were you here?” she asked, running her fingers through her long golden hair.

“Jasper called.”

She glanced at him. “Who?”

“The mechanic here. One that towed your car in? He told me what kind of car had slid off the highway and I knew it had to be you...your car. Figured you’d need help...or be stranded.” Greg’s car. No one else drove a midnight-blue 1967 Impala in this part of Texas. Which meant Annabeth, maybe Cody, was involved. Greg’s wife. Greg’s family. He swallowed, clearing his throat. She didn’t need to know the phone call had scared the shit out of him. He’d left all his lights on, and the door to his apartment was probably open. “I’ll have to order parts for Lady Blue.” Best thing about Greg’s car, it was all metal. He didn’t want to think about what might have happened to Annabeth if she’d been driving anything else. “Glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you.” She was using her principal voice now, never a good sign.

“On your way to get Cody?” he asked. She didn’t say anything, so he risked a glance her way. She was staring out the window, nodding. So she wasn’t going to talk to him. Fine. Why should he expect her to? He’d just taken advantage of her. In his truck cab. He shook his head, his hold tightening on the steering wheel.

What the hell was he thinking? Hadn’t he screwed up enough relationships in his life? Annabeth wasn’t just another woman, she was his friend. And he didn’t have many of those.

He glanced at her, wishing he had the words to fix this. Instead, he got caught up in how damn pretty she was. Pretty and smart and funny. Good and innocent and sweet. He stared straight ahead, turning the windshield wipers up.

Annabeth Upton was the marrying type, not the one-night-stand type. He called her Princess to remind him of that. Didn’t work tonight. He’d broken his promise to Greg and jeopardized one of the only friendships that mattered to him.

He hit ice several times, but he kicked his truck into 4x4 mode with no problems. It took twice as long to get back to Stonewall Crossing. By the time they turned into Annabeth’s neighborhood, the ice had turned to snow.

He pulled into her driveway, leaving the truck running and the lights on. “Let me check the power.” He held his hand out for her keys. All it took was a hard rain and half of the small town lost power. An ice storm could be downright crippling.

She put the keys in his hand, barely looking at him.

He slammed the truck door behind him and hurried up the first two steps of the porch, slipped and landed, hard, on his butt.

“You okay?” Her voice was laced with unmistakable laughter.

“Yeah, yeah,” he answered, sliding as he managed to stand. “Laugh it up, Princess.” But, sore butt and all, he’d rather she was laughing than giving him the silent treatment.

He made sure the tiny house had electricity and the faucets were working before heading back to the front door.

Annabeth stood just inside. She looked at him, blushed and then hung her coat on one of the pegs behind the door. “Sorry you had to go out in that.”

“Nothing else to do,” he shrugged. Which was a piss-poor thing to say. He’d gone because it was her—period.

She rolled her eyes. She’d been rolling her eyes since he could remember. It always made him smile.

“Good damn thing, too, or you’d have ended up alone at Ned’s place.” His shoved his hands into his pockets. “Troy Clark is bad news, Annabeth.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he snapped. “You don’t know what kinda guy he is.”

“Maybe. But I didn’t end up with my skirts around my ears in his truck tonight, did I?” She flopped into a chair, covering her face in her hands. “I can’t believe...” She shook her head. “I... I...”

He stared at her then, murmuring, “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t enough. His good intentions didn’t matter. He hadn’t stopped things from getting carried away. Instead, he’d held on to her for dear life, wanting her so bad it hurt. What was worse, he knew he’d do it again if he could. Only this time he’d love her the way she should be loved, take his time, in bed, and worship every inch of her.

“Ryder?” She looked up at him. Her huge hazel eyes sparkled with unshed tears.

If she cried, he’d be useless. He knew what needed to happen next. “It was sex, Annabeth, that’s all.” Damn fine sex, in his mind. “Best if we pretend tonight didn’t happen.” No matter how hard that might be for him.

She sniffed, nodding.

But then an awful realization occurred to him. “You’re on the pill, right?”

Annabeth went completely white, then red, her hands fisting in her lap. “No. No, I’m not. Because I’m a widow. A widow with a five-year-old. I haven’t...since Greg died. So no.”

It was Ryder’s turn to sink into a chair. “Shit.”

“You already said that once.” She stood, paced into the kitchen, then back. “Why didn’t you use something? I mean, you’re you.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t think... I never thought we’d...” He broke off, words failing him. “It’s you.”

“What does that mean, it’s me?” Her hands were on her hips. “You were all over me.”

“I was trying to get you out of there—”

“For sex.”

He shook his head.

“But...but you kissed me,” she argued, a range of emotions crossing her face. She stopped pacing, to glare at him. “Wait, back up. You came to get me because Jasper called. Then you saw me with Troy and went all caveman? Is that what you’re saying? You didn’t want Troy to have me, but you didn’t want me—” She broke off, red-faced and trembling.

He didn’t say a thing. She was right. Initially, that was what had happened. He opened his mouth, took one look at her, and closed it again.

“So, I was this pathetic—” Her voice broke. “You were trying to stop some sleazy hook-up guy and I—I forced myself on you?”

“You didn’t force anything.” But now wasn’t the time to tell her he’d always wanted her. “Annabeth—”

She held her hand up. “I really appreciate the ride home, Ryder, but I need you to go.”

“Wait.” He gripped her shoulders. “What if you are preg—”

“Do not finish that sentence.” Annabeth glared up at him. “It’s just...sex, right? Tonight didn’t happen. You picked me up and brought me home. The end.”

“Now, Annabeth—”

“That’s it,” she cut him off.

“Wait.”

“No!” she yelled.

He stared at her, gritting his teeth. God, she was stubborn. And beautiful. And soft...and warm. His stomach tightened.

“Just go.” Her voice was shaking. She was shaking.

Leaving didn’t feel right.

“Please,” she added. “Go.”

“I’ll go,” he murmured, forcing himself to release her.

She nodded, watching him.

He pulled his coat closed, opened the door and stepped out.

A gust of cold air blasted him, carrying a faint cry of distress to him. He froze, turning in the direction of the sound and slipped. He landed flat on his back. “Shit!” he yelled, half on Annabeth’s icy walkway and half in the icy-wet grass. He sighed, staring up at the sky.

He heard the noise again, a long, pitiful sound.

Annabeth’s voice rang out, “Oh my God! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Stay there.”

“Ryder—” She burst out laughing.

He heard the sound again, a long, pitiful wail. He pushed himself up into a sitting position. “You hear that?”

But she was laughing too hard to hear him.

He shook his head, pushing himself onto his feet. He stood, listening. The sound started again, then another. From the house behind Annabeth’s. “That house still vacant?”

“The Czinkovic place? Sadly, yes.” She wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “Why?”

“You don’t hear that?” he asked. “Now that you’re done laughing?”

She grinned, but didn’t say anything. They stood still, listening to the roar and whistle of the wind, and the faint cry coming from the empty house. “What is it?” she asked, stepping carefully onto the front porch.

“I’ll find out,” he said.

Chapter Two

Annabeth watched her sweet little boy’s eyes go round as her grandmother chattered away.

“And then I found my teeth in my underwear drawer.” Grandma Florence patted Cody on the head.

Cody put the escaping gray kitten—the kitten making such a terrible racket the night of the storm—back on Grandma Florence’s lap. “Oh.”

Annabeth shook her head, stirring the onions in the skillet. “Grandma, I can get you another case for your dentures.” At least her grandmother only lost the storage containers and not the dentures themselves. That would get expensive real quick.

“It won’t do any good.” Her grandmother leaned forward, her whisper low and conspiratorial. “Because they’re not lost. Someone’s taking them. I think it’s that Franklyn. He’s always in my things, digging around. And he has that look.”

Annabeth knew the medical assistants at Grandma Florence’s home didn’t get much pay or much thanks, but poor Franklyn didn’t have a thieving bone in his body. What he did have was the patience of a saint. “What look?” Annabeth glanced at the older woman.

“You know...that look.” Florence screwed up her face in horror. “Like he’s watching me. Plotting things. Up to no good.”

Cody burst out laughing at his great-grandmother’s expression, making it impossible for Annabeth not to laugh, too.

The tiny prick of needlelike claws drew Annabeth’s attention down to her calves. Tom was hanging from her jeans, his little white-tipped tail sticking straight up. He mewed, his pink tongue on full display.

“You’re adorable,” Annabeth said to the kitten. “But it’s a good thing I don’t have a spatula in my hands or—”

“Ma,” Cody reprimanded her, kneeling at her feet to gently detach Tom from her pant leg. “Be good.” Cody lifted the kitten in his arms, carefully cradling the animal as he carried it across the room to the box he’d made for its bed.

“Cats in the kitchen.” Grandma Florence clicked her tongue. “Never heard of such a thing. Cats are barn critters. ’Course one time we had a cat that got too close to the—”

“Grandma Flo.” Annabeth was quick to interrupt. Her grandmother was rarely lucid enough to have a real conversation, but the old woman had a never-ending stream of stories to share. And not all of them had child-friendly endings. “How’s work?”

Florence sighed. “I’ve never met such a lazy group of people in my life, Hannah.”

Annabeth turned back to the cooking with a smile. Grandma Florence had dementia. On good days, Florence would call her Annabeth. But sometimes Annabeth was Hannah, Florence’s daughter and Annabeth’s mom, or Glenna, Florence’s sister.

“You do the best you can,” Annabeth encouraged her.

“I do.” Her grandmother nodded. “I do. Someone’s got to run a tight ship.”

Grandma Florence ran the assisted-living community where she lived. At least that’s what Grandma Florence thought. And the staff cooperated, within reason, to keep the feisty old woman under control. So far, it was the only facility Grandma Florence hadn’t successfully escaped. Annabeth hoped it would stay that way, or they’d have to move her again—and the next facility was two towns over.

Cody giggled, making Annabeth glance his way. He lay with the kitten on his chest. Tom seemed just as delighted, nuzzling and licking Cody’s nose.

The sheer joy in his laughter warmed her heart. God knew she didn’t want or need something or someone else to look after. Managing Cody, work and her grandmother didn’t leave her time for herself—let alone a stray fur ball. But Ryder had worked for a half hour to free the little guy from the abandoned house next door, and she couldn’t turn it out into the freezing cold.

Cody’s giggle jerked her back to the present. He pulled a colorful string of yarn across the floor, and Tom scampered after it, all ears and tail and gray fluff. Her sweet boy never asked for anything, so how could she tell him no when he’d asked to keep Tom? She didn’t. And now Cody and Tom were inseparable—unless Tom was climbing up her pants, panty hose, the curtains or the tablecloth.

There was a knock on the door. “Anyone home?” Ryder called out.

Ryder... She’d spent four weeks refusing to think about that night. Or Ryder. Or how mortified she was. She never acted without thinking things through. She could blame either the two shots or Ryder’s kiss for her outrageous behavior. She hoped, for everyone’s sake, it was the shots.

She took a deep breath before calling out her standard “Nope.” Sure, he hadn’t dropped by for dinner since it happened, but he used to. All the time. If she was being completely honest with herself, she—and Cody—had missed him. And there was no point in getting weird about things, either. Ryder was a part of her life. She liked having him around.

She’d just have to try harder to forget every touch, scent and sound from that night...or the way she ached when she thought about his hands on her. So she just wouldn’t think about it.

“You sure?” Ryder called out.

“R-r-ryder,” Cody laughed. “Mom’s m-making ’sgetti.”

“With meatballs? Smells good,” Ryder said. Annabeth turned as he walked into her small yellow kitchen, heading straight for Florence. “Well, if it isn’t the prettiest gal I know.”

Florence waved him to her wheelchair. “Get yourself on over here and give me a kiss.”

“Try to stop me,” Ryder said, hugging the older woman’s frail body tightly and kissing her cheek.

“I was wondering when you were coming home, Michael. It’s not good to spend so much time at the office. Especially when you’ve got a pretty little wife like Hannah, here, waiting at home.” She patted Ryder’s hand. “You’re a lucky man. You need to treat her right.”

Ryder looked at Annabeth. “Don’t I know it.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes, wishing his teasing didn’t sting. He might have chosen to be alone, but she hadn’t. Life was work, work she’d always thought she’d share with someone. She wanted to treasure the same memories, the same people, with someone who knew and loved her soul. But Greg was gone. Dating wasn’t on her detailed master plan for the next five years or so.

“Cody,” she spoke to her son. “Wash up and come to the table, please.”

“Yes, Ma.” Cody put the kitten in its padded box bed. “Stay put,” he whispered, rubbing its little head before he hurried down the hall to the bathroom.

“Cats in the kitchen,” Grandma Florence said. “Never heard of such a thing.” Ryder steered her wheelchair to the table.

“You staying for dinner?” Annabeth asked him as she set another place. At this distance it was hard to miss the bandage around his wrist and the dark, greenish-yellow smudge on his brow. “What happened?” She didn’t know which was worse: fighting or bull riding. She wasn’t a fan of either, but Ryder was Ryder.

“Bull wanted me to get better acquainted with the wall of the arena. So I obliged and flew straight into the pipes.” He held up his wrist. “Just a sprain. Almost healed up now.” Ryder cocked an eyebrow, his crooked smile doing a number on her. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head over me.”

She sighed, loudly. He laughed.

“Did it h-hurt?” Cody asked, staring at his wrist.

“Nah.” Ryder shook his head. “After breaking my collarbone, this was nothing.”

She remembered visiting him in the hospital then. “You were in so much pain.”

“Your lemon bars helped,” he answered, with a wink.

“I imagine the pain meds did, too.” She shook her head.

“Ma’s l-lem-mon bars are great,” Cody agreed.

“Totally.” Ryder nodded, sitting at the table. “And, since you’re asking so nicely, I’d love to stay for dinner.”

“Ma,” Cody sat. “Can I take T-T-Tom for show-and-tell?”

“Tom, huh?” Ryder asked, serving Florence some spaghetti.

Cody nodded, watching Ryder.

“Good name.” Ryder nodded at the boy.

And, just like that, her son was grinning from ear to ear. She loved to see him smile like that, as if he was a carefree five-year-old. “We can’t take animals to school, baby.” She grinned at him, cutting up Grandma Florence’s spaghetti. “But you can take in a few pictures if you want.”

Cody nodded. “’Kay.”

“Lady Blue’s ready. Parts came earlier this week,” Ryder said around a mouthful of spaghetti. “She’s purring like a kitten—” He winked at Cody. “Good as new.”

“Great.” She poked at the pasta on her plate. If Lady Blue was ready, then so was the bill. She still had almost twenty thousand to pay off on Grandma Florence’s last hospital stay. But she’d figure something out. She always did. “Guess it’s a little harder to work with an injured hand?”

“Not really. I’m good with both my hands.” His words made her warm all over.

“How’s Mags, Teddy?” Grandma Florence asked Ryder. Teddy was Ryder’s father, Mags his mom.

“She’s fine, Flo.” Ryder didn’t miss a beat.

“You tell her I’m still waiting on her chicken pie recipe. That recipe...” Florence sighed and shook her head.

Dinner conversation flowed. Ryder had funny stories from his latest rodeo stint, how his cowboy hat had a hole “clean through it” after getting hooked by a bull. Somehow he managed to make his almost serious injury into a comedy. Cody could hardly wait to show Ryder the model car he was building. And Grandma Florence told them that there was a flasher running around the retirement home.

Sunday nights were her favorite. She didn’t let herself think about the next day, the stress she was feeling—she tried not to.

She’d spent the past year being the principal Stonewall Crossing needed, and hopefully that was enough for the school board. But try as she might, she couldn’t ignore that her assistant principal Ken Branson knew the right people, had money, and a wife and kids. He was the total package. And serious competition for the job—if he applied.

She realized Ryder was watching her and shrugged off her worries. Her worries would keep until the company was gone and Cody was in bed.

She stood, clearing the table while the others chattered on. When that was done, she pulled out the apple pie she and Cody had made earlier that day. The scent of cinnamon and sugar filled the air and soothed her nerves. She loved baking. She loved cooking. There was something about preparing a meal and feeding friends and family that made her happy.

She cut two decent pieces for Cody and Grandma Florence and a larger piece for Ryder.

He nodded at her when she put the plate in front of him, his blue eyes lingering on her face a little longer than normal.

“You got your momma’s gift in the kitchen, Annabeth.” Florence reached for Annabeth’s hand.

Annabeth took it, kneeling by her chair to savor her grandmother’s moments of clarity. “She said she learned everything from you.”

Tears filled Florence’s eyes. “’Course she did. It’s a momma’s job to train her daughter in the kitchen. What sort of a wife and mother would she be if she couldn’t take care of her menfolk?” She winked at Ryder and smiled at Cody. “She’d be so proud of the woman you’ve become. Your daddy, too.”

“I’m trying.” Annabeth smiled.

“I know, Annabeth.” Grandma Florence shook her head. “You work too hard sometimes.”

“I do what needs to be done.” Annabeth kissed her cheek.

Grandma Florence shook her head. “Who takes care of you?”

Annabeth couldn’t answer that.

“Me,” Cody piped up, kissing her on the cheek. “Right, Ma?”

Annabeth nodded, hugging him to her. “Yep.”

“Lemme see that kitty o’ yours, Cody.” Grandma Florence patted Annabeth’s hand. “Thank you for dinner, Annabeth. You never forget our Sunday dinner.”

“It’s something I look forward to every week, you know that.” Annabeth held her grandmother’s hand in both of hers. This woman had been the one to teach Annabeth what it was to be strong while keeping a sense of humor. There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t hear one of Grandma Flo’s bits of wisdom in her head, guiding her.

“Here he is, Grandma,” Cody announced. Tom was squirming in his arms but settled down once he was placed on Grandma Flo’s lap.

“Well, he’s a fine tomcat.” Grandma Florence held the cat up, turning the mewling animal this way and that. “He’ll have long legs. A good mouser.”

“He will be fast.” Cody babbled on, his stutter barely tripping him up he was so excited. And Grandma Florence, bless her, didn’t say a thing.

Now if Annabeth could get the boys at school to stop teasing him, Cody might not be so quiet all the time.

* * *

RYDER PULLED THE dish towel off the hook by the sink. He smiled as he fingered the row of lemons stitched along the trim of the towel. No doubt Annabeth had stitched each one herself. Lemons were Annabeth’s thing. She had a yellow kitchen with lemon-print curtains and lemon-print towels. Hell, she even smelled fresh and sweet like the fruit itself. He swallowed, her scent tickling his nostrils as she leaned closer to place a dish on the rack.

“You don’t have to,” Annabeth murmured. “Rest your wrist.”

He didn’t say anything, just dried off the plates she’d stacked in the dish rack.

What would she say if he told her the injury was her fault? After he’d left the kitten in her hands, he’d spent the rest of the night drinking. He hadn’t had more than a couple of hours’ sleep when his riding and drinking buddy DB picked him up and took him to the rodeo. If he’d been thinking clearly, not torn up with guilt yet wanting her, it wouldn’t have happened. He’d have been thinking about the ride, not her. Not that she’d see it that way. No, she’d argue with him, tell him he was a grown man capable of making his own decisions...

She sighed as he dried another dish. He smiled.

It was the least he could do after inviting himself to dinner. Annabeth always made something special for Florence’s Sunday-night dinner. Annabeth always made him feel welcome. Florence and Cody made him feel wanted. Two things he never felt at his father’s table. He’d stayed away the past few weeks and he’d missed it. But tonight, he had news he had to share.

All of his hard work, endless tinkering and attention to detail might just pay off. He was a master mechanic; engines just talked to him. And his bodywork was a work of art. Apparently, the owner of a big custom garage in Dallas agreed. According to his boss, John, Jerry Johannsson, known as JJ, had seen some of Ryder’s bodywork and was impressed enough to track down Ryder’s whereabouts. JJ had badgered John, who wasn’t much of a talker, with all sorts of questions. Whatever John had said convinced JJ that Ryder should come for a visit. John wasn’t happy about Ryder’s interest, but he kept his opinions to himself. Maybe now Ryder would finally get out of Stonewall Crossing and away from his past.

As soon as John had told him, Ryder had headed to Annabeth’s house to share the good news over dinner. If there was one person who would support him, it would be Annabeth.

But something was wrong, he could tell. Tension seemed to weigh Annabeth down, and he didn’t like it. Whatever it was, his news could wait until he could fix whatever was wrong.

She tucked a long strand of her golden hair behind her ear, drawing his attention to her. To her ear...her neck. He spent plenty of time thinking about her—them—even though he knew better. Best thing he could do was find some sweet thing and wear himself out. Hell, the pretty medic that wrapped his wrist had offered to take him home for a more “thorough assessment.” He’d been curious. Her cherry-kissed lips and fiery red hair were tempting. But in the end he’d gone home alone. Just like he had every night since the night he’d shared with Annabeth. And it scared the crap out of him.

“Dishwasher broken?” he asked.

She nodded. “I still remember how to operate a sponge, so we’re good.”

He grinned at her. “Bet I can fix it.”

She shook her head.

“You don’t believe me?” he teased, nudging her with his elbow.

She looked up at him, her hazel eyes so big he paused. “I know you can, Ryder. It’s just...” She shook her head, plunging her hands back into the soapy water. “It’s fine.”

“Sure, if you like washing all your dishes by hand, maybe.” He set the dish in the drying rack and waited.

She couldn’t hold back her laugh, a free and easy sound. “Maybe I do.”

“I know better, Princess.” He took the plate she offered.

“Stop calling me that.” She sighed. “You don’t need to fix it. Okay? It’s not a big deal.”

“Right.” He frowned. “It’s a dishwasher.”

She glanced at him, a tell-tale flush on her cheeks.

He sucked in a deep breath. “What?”

She shook her head, turning back to the dishes.

“What’s eating you, Princess?” he murmured, willing her to look back at him.

“R-Ryder,” Cody held up the kitten. “Tom saw Doc F-F-Fisher. Says Tom is a good cat.”

“My brother would know. Fisher’s all about cats and dogs.” Ryder smiled at the boy and took the kitten, holding it up so they were eye to eye. The kitten swatted at Ryder’s nose. “Plenty of energy.” He laughed.

Cody nodded.

“That’s an understatement,” Annabeth added.

Ryder turned the kitten so it was nose to nose with her. The kitten started purring, his little paws kneading the air. She shook her head, but took the kitten and held it under her chin. “Yeah, yeah, you’re adorable.”

Ryder winked at Cody, who winked back. It was then that he noticed Grandma Florence snoring softly in her wheelchair.

“Naptime?” Ryder asked softly.

“She d-does that.” Cody grinned. “Any new cars?” Cody loved talking about cars—he was a lot like Greg that way. Every now and then, he’d take Cody to John’s garage with him. The boy had an endless fascination with the way things worked. He loved to tinker, putting things together, taking them apart. And Ryder respected that. A man should know how to work with his hands, to take care of things around the house and in the garage.

“Wh-what about the Cadillac?” Cody asked.

Ryder grinned. “Finished.”

“Can I see it?” Cody asked.

Ryder looked at Annabeth in question.

“Not tonight,” she hedged, not meeting his eyes. She handed Tom back to Cody, but Ryder saw the quick kiss she planted on the kitten’s head. “I’ve got to get Grandma home and finish the laundry before bed. Then I have a little work to do.”

He heard the exhaustion in her voice. “What can I do?” Ryder glanced at the clock.

She scowled. “Cody, go get your clothes picked out for tomorrow while I get Grandma’s things together.”

Ryder waited, knowing once Cody was out of the room he was going to get an earful.

“Ryder, you can’t keep doing this.” She pointed around the room. “People will talk.”

“People? Like who?” he asked, resting his hip against the kitchen counter while she wiped down the stove top.

“People,” she grumbled. “Like Lola Worley.”

“Yeah, sure, Lola Worley probably is talking.” He shrugged. Lola was one of three sweet blue-haired ladies who owned the only beauty shop on Main Street. She was courting the owner of the only bakery on Main Street, ensuring she’d hear all the gossip Stonewall Crossing had to offer. Lola had big ears and an even bigger mouth. But, according to some, she had an equally big heart. “What are they talking about?”

“Us,” she snapped, clearly exasperated. “You. Being here all the time. Taking care of things.”

“All the time?” He scratched his head. He hadn’t been here in a long time. Too long. She was worried about him being here? She’d never given a hoot before.

“Things are...different now.” She swallowed.

He stiffened. Damn it all. “Why?” But he knew why.

“Because this is a big deal.” She took the towel from him and hung it up.

His attention wandered to her mouth. So she had been thinking about what had happened between them? He wasn’t the only one losing sleep over that night—

“The interim appointment is up in two months. The school board has already opened the principal position to applicants.” Disappointment hit him hard, but he shoved it aside to listen to her. That was news to him. It explained the tension. She worked hard, harder than anyone he knew. She turned away, pacing the floor. “They have to, I know that, but I need this job.” She sighed. “I’m sure Ken Branson will apply, and he knows everyone.”

“Branson is a tool.” Ryder snorted, trying to ease her mind. He’d never seen her this worked up. He placed his hands on her shoulders, aching to pull her close. “Annabeth, you’ll get it.” He smiled. “I’ve never known anyone as stubborn and persuasive as you, Princess. And that says a lot, coming from the family I do.”

She smiled, relaxing a little.

“It’s just, you’re single and I’m single...” She shrugged.

“Good thing Grandma Flo’s here to chaperone us,” he teased, but knew there was more. “What else is going on?”

She shook her head, but her gaze wandered down the hallway to Cody’s room.

“Cody?” he encouraged.

Her lips tightened, as though she was reining in her temper.

“He okay?” he spoke softly.

“The boys, at school,” she whispered. “They’re giving him a hard time about his stutter.”

His anger was hot and fast, but he suspected she didn’t need that right now. “Kids are mean, Princess, you know that. And Cody is tougher than you think.” His hands tightened on her shoulders. “Who is it?”

She shook her head. “Nope.” Her smile warmed him through.

He grinned. She knew him. “What?”

“The last thing I need is you threatening some schoolkids.” She rolled her eyes.

“Kids, no.” He shook his head. “Parents, maybe.”

She giggled. And he loved the sparkle in her eyes as her gaze connected with his. “Ryder—”

“Joking, Princess.” He laughed. “Not that it’s not tempting.”

She nodded. “Yes. Very.” Her expression shifted then, from amused to intense. Her gaze fixed on his, carefully searching. “You don’t owe us anything, you know?”

His hands fisted. “Don’t start that again, Annabeth—”

“Stop, Ryder.” Her smile grew tight. “Greg wouldn’t expect you to babysit Cody and me. Stop doing what you think he wants you to do.”

Yes, he’d promised Greg he’d look out for them, but... How could he explain that he did it because he needed to? Taking care of them made him feel better, too, as though he was important to someone. “That’s not why I do it.”

Her forehead creased slightly. “It’s not?”

“Time for checkers before I go.” Grandma Florence sat up, her sudden declaration sending the kitten scurrying across the kitchen and into his box.

He smiled as Cody’s squeal of delight came from his bedroom. “Think Cody heard you, Flo.”

Two seconds later Cody came barreling into the kitchen with his checkers box. “Ryder, you can play the w-w-winner,” Cody said.

“Deal,” he agreed, squatting in front of the dishwasher. “Gives me time to see what we need to fix this thing.”

“Ryder,” Annabeth started to argue.

He opened the dishwasher and peered inside. “Got a flashlight, Princess?”

“Ryder,” she tried again, her tone sharper.

He smiled. “It’s a little dark in here.” He held his hand out.

“Here.” Cody gave him a flashlight.

“Thanks, champ.” Ryder clicked on the flashlight, inspecting the motor in the base of the near-ancient dishwasher. “It’s the least I can do to pay you back for dinner.” He heard her little grunt of frustration and grinned. “Why don’t you go put your feet up for a second, relax.” He could be just as stubborn as she was. And if she wouldn’t tell him what was eating her, he’d take care of what he could.

Chapter Three

“You don’t seem to understand how important this is.” Winnie Michaels dabbed at the mascara running down her cheeks. “They’re fifth graders, for Pete’s sake. And it’s one lil’ bitty ol’ point, Annabeth.”

Annabeth kept her I’m-listening expression firmly in place. The principal before her, Davis Hamburg, had told her it was important to convey sincere empathy while never losing control of the situation. She’d been repeating this over and over for the past thirty minutes, but Annabeth and Winnie had been in the same class growing up and they hadn’t exactly been pals. Annabeth had been one of the lucky recipients of Winnie Michaels’s especially effective public shaming techniques. Winnie used to call her Annabeth Banana-breath and encouraged more than a few of her posse to chant along during gym class or recess. She received more than her fair share of banana bread, banana muffins, banana skins and browning bananas throughout her school years. It was ironic that the one thing Annabeth had craved when she was pregnant was bananas.

“That’s just it, Ms. Michaels. Kevin was two points from passing. He’d have to get his grade up to audition for a solo in the spring concert,” Mrs. Schulze, the music teacher, calmly explained.

But Annabeth didn’t say a thing. Kevin Michaels was a pain in her rear on a daily basis. He lied, cheated and picked on the younger kids—Cody among them. But when push came to shove, none of the kids would turn him in. Out of fear, she suspected, and there was nothing she could do about it. Kevin was just like his mom.

Winnie stared at her.

Annabeth stared back.

“I never thought you were the spiteful type,” Winnie spoke softly. “That you’d punish my son for our childhood rivalry.”

Mrs. Schulze looked acutely uncomfortable, glancing back and forth between the two of them expectantly.

Annabeth’s eye twitched. “Once Kevin gets his grade up—”

“He’ll be in middle school.” Winnie shook her head, opening her cavernous purse and digging around inside it. “This is his last concert here.” She pulled out a pair of gloves, three tubes of lipstick, a scarf, two phone chargers and a bag of what appeared to be pulverized goldfish crackers.

“He’ll still perform in the chorus, Ms. Michaels,” Mrs. Schulze tried again.

“With all the little kids.” Winnie sighed. “It’s embarrassing.”

“There are only four solo parts, Winnie,” Annabeth spoke calmly. “Over thirty kids signed up to audition for the solos.” She glanced at Mrs. Schulze, who nodded. “All of the other students will be in the chorus, that’s most of fourth and fifth grade. Even if Kevin’s grades were passing, there would be no guarantee he’d get a solo.”

Winnie pulled out a wadded-up handkerchief and blew her nose. “Well, I think this is unfair, that’s all there is to it.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Annabeth continued. “Did Kevin turn in the extra-credit assignments Mr. Glenn gave him?”

Winnie shrugged, shoving her things back into her purse. “You tell me, Annabeth. Since you know everything.”

Annabeth resisted the urge to bury her head in her hands.

“This was a waste of my time, plain and simple. You don’t like Kevin so you’re singling him out. I don’t know why we had this meeting,” Winnie sighed.

Because Winnie had called and called and been so rude to the school secretary that Annabeth had given in. She knew it was useless. Parents signed a grade contract at the beginning of every year, they knew that only passing students were allowed to participate in extra-curricular activities—from field trips to school performances. Why Winnie thought Kevin was different was a mystery. But she’d keep her mouth shut and her concerned expression in place until she was alone in her office.

“I know people on the school board—” Winnie started in.

“I encourage you to bring your concerns to them, Winnie,” Annabeth interrupted, stealing the other woman’s threat. “If you feel the grade contract is unfair, the school board should review the policy.”

Winnie pushed herself to her feet, scowling at Annabeth, then Mrs. Schulze. “I will. I will tell them my concerns. About you. And the way you’re running this school.” And with that Winnie Michaels stormed from her office.

“Can I get you anything, Ms. Upton?” Mrs. Schulze asked. “You look a little green around the gills.”

Annabeth smiled. “I’m not a fan of confrontation.”

“Well, you handled it like a pro. I’m sorry Kevin isn’t up for a solo—” Mrs. Schulze broke off, crossing her arms over her chest. “Actually, I’m not. I’m not the least bit torn up about it.”

Annabeth allowed herself a small grin. “It sounds like you have plenty of kids to audition. I’m sure you’ll pick the best for the parts.”

Mrs. Schulze nodded. “You go on home and get some rest. Don’t let this hiring nonsense get to you. Everyone at the school knows you’re the one for the job.”

“Thank you, that means a lot.” Annabeth shrugged. “Let’s hope the school board agrees.”

Mrs. Schulze paused in the doorway. “Cody does really well singing. Not one stutter. And he has a lovely voice. Just like his mama.”

Annabeth grinned after the retreating teacher. She was lucky to have such a supportive staff.

“Sorry.” Ken poked his head in. “Did I miss the meeting?”

“Yes.” She stood, putting away two of the student files she’d pulled earlier in the day.

“How did Winnie take it?” he asked, leaning against the door.

Annabeth rested her hip against the desk. “She wasn’t pleased.” Which was why he’d missed the meeting. No one wanted to get on Winnie’s bad side. But that was part of the job, following the protocol and enforcing the procedures in place—even if it meant an unhappy parent now and then. “But that’s the necessity of the grade contract. Mr. Glenn tried to accommodate Kevin but he didn’t do the extra credit.”

Ken nodded.

She went back to straightening her desk, more than ready to leave for the weekend. “Anything else we need to talk about?” she asked nonchalantly.

“I’m interviewing for the position next week,” he offered. “I know things could get awkward, but it’s business, after all.”

She looked at him, hoping she looked enthusiastic rather than nauseous. “Of course, Ken. I appreciate the heads-up. Good luck. I’m sure it will go well.” She wished she could mean it, she really did. But it was the right thing to say.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “I’m not a big believer in luck, Annabeth. It’s all about working hard and fighting for what you want. And, to be frank, I want this position. But I hear I’m not the only one they’re interviewing.” He was watching her closely. “Besides you, it’s me and two others. One from San Antonio and one from Illinois, with years of experience from what I hear.” His laugh was forced. “Since that’s something neither of us have, looks like a tough race is ahead.”

Perfect. Just what she wanted to hear. Her phone rang.

“I’ll let you get that.” He pushed off the door frame. “Enjoy your weekend. Get some rest, you’re looking worn-out.”

“Night, Ken. You, too,” she said before answering the phone. “Annabeth Upton,” she snapped.

“Um... Hey, stranger,” came Josie Boone’s voice. “I was hoping to take you out to dinner tomorrow night. Sounds like you could use it.”

“God, yes.” Annabeth collapsed into her desk chair. “Just promise there will be wine.”

“Tough week?” Josie asked.

“You could say that.” She yawned. “I’m not sure I can get a sitter—”

“Bring him over to my dad’s. He and Lola can play checkers or make cookies,” Josie cut her off. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She sighed, knowing she sounded defensive.

Josie laughed. “Well, you sound pretty wound up.”

“Sorry,” she groaned. “Guess I am.” She powered down her computer. “I’ll try to shake off the attitude before then, I promise. I’m picking up some fried chicken and watching a superhero movie with Cody tonight.”

“A superhero movie, huh? Will there be a shirtless scene?”

“If I’m very lucky.” She grinned. “Not all of us get to go home to a hunky husband.”

“I am one lucky woman,” Josie agreed. “So, tomorrow?”

“Sounds good. I’ll call Lola first and make sure it’s okay with her.”

“Okay. Text me later. And enjoy your date with Cody.”

Five minutes later she was collecting Cody from the gym. “Sorry I was a few minutes late, Cody.”

“It’s fine, Ma. Look.” Cody started dribbling the basketball.

“Wow.” She put her hands on her hips. “Look who’s a dribbling pro.”

“Coach taught me.” Cody was still all smiles.

“Principal Upton?” A very fit, very handsome man approached. “Coach Goebel, just started. I’m subbing for Coach Hernandez while he’s recovering from his back surgery.”

She shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.” Ken was in charge of all the substitutes, so meeting Coach Goebel was a surprise. Even more so because none of the teachers had mentioned him. Well, they might have. She’d been a little preoccupied with her upset stomach—and Winnie. But still, she could only imagine what the reaction to Coach Goebel had been. It wasn’t every day a new, good-looking man came to town—married or not.

“You, too.” He nodded. “Cody’s a natural with a basketball.”

She ruffled Cody’s hair. “His dad was, too.”

“Does he still play?” Coach Goebel asked, watching Cody dribble in a wide circle.

“Who? Cody’s dad?” Annabeth drew in a deep breath. “No, Greg was killed in Afghanistan about six years ago.” It was getting easier to say. The ache was there, but the pain didn’t bring her to her knees anymore.

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I lost a lot of buddies. Nice to be back and part of the world again. Don’t miss it over there.”

“You were military?” she asked.

“Army.” He nodded. “Now, I’m a substitute coach. Single, carefree and loving every minute of it.”

She heard the way he stressed single and looked at him. “Guess it’s a pretty big change of pace?”

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling nicely. “No complaints.”

“Well, thanks for keeping Cody occupied while I closed up shop.”

“It was fun.” He shook his head. “Principal Upton—”

“Call me Annabeth.”

“Bryan.” He swallowed, clearly interested. “It was really nice talking to you, Annabeth.”

Bryan Goebel was the last thing she needed. Besides the distraction he was likely to cause amongst her single and desperate staffers, he was a threat. All it would take was one look, one misconstrued conversation, and her already precarious employment situation would become ten times worse. God, Ken would have a field day... Her thoughts came to a screeching halt. “How did you hear about the position? Stonewall Crossing’s a little off the beaten path.”

“Ken.” Bryan Goebel grinned. “We go way back. I was thinking about a change of scenery. And he can be very persuasive.”

Annabeth forced a smile. I’ll bet. “Ken’s always thinking.” He was such an ass. “You ready, Cody?”

Cody nodded, dribbling the ball to the storage closet, and then running back to her side.

“You have a good weekend,” Coach Goebel called after her.

“You, too, Coach,” Cody answered.

Annabeth nodded in return, but her smile was forced. She’d like to think Ken was just helping out a former serviceman and friend. But she knew Ken. After all, he’d just said he’d fight for the job. And using a hot, single guy would definitely cause talk, if not serious problems, for her.

Right now, she had bigger things to worry about. She couldn’t ignore it anymore, she had to get answers. She only hoped the answers were the ones she wanted.

* * *

RYDER KICKED THE blankets off and sat up. His phone was ringing. His pulse was racing ninety-to-nothing, his heart in his throat.

“Yeah?” he grumbled.

“Ryder?” It was Annabeth.

“What’s wrong?” He rubbed a hand over his face, glancing at the alarm clock. It was midnight. “Everything okay?” Which was a stupid question. She wouldn’t be calling if it was.

“No.” She sounded strange, tense.

He froze, waiting for more information. “Annabeth?”

“Can you come over?” Her voice broke. “Now, please?”

He stood, pulling on his jeans. “On my way.”

“Thanks,” she murmured before hanging up.

He tucked the phone in his pocket, hurriedly tugging on a black T-shirt and leather jacket, and hopping into his boots as he headed out the door. He forced himself to take a few deep breaths, clearing his mind, before starting his motorcycle and heading toward Annabeth’s place.

He wasn’t a worrier by nature—he’d always sort of rolled with what life gave him. But the panic in Annabeth’s voice had triggered an immediate response. She didn’t scare easy. Or get rattled. Annabeth was solid, grounded...

She was home, not at the hospital—which meant she, Cody and Flo weren’t injured or sick. Which was good. Still, she had called him, so there was something seriously wrong. He parked in her driveway. Her living room and kitchen windows were illuminated.

The door opened before he had time to knock. Annabeth stood just inside, pale, with red-rimmed eyes. He stepped inside, pushing the door closed behind him. “Hi.”

She nodded, sniffing. “Can you...can you sit down? I need to talk...we need to talk.”

“Everyone’s okay?” he asked, adrenaline and anxiety coursing through his veins.

She had a hard time meeting his gaze. “Cody and Flo are fine.” Her hazel eyes finally met his. “I’m sorry I woke you. And called you over...”

“It’s fine.” He rubbed her arms, his eyes searching hers. “All good.”

She nodded, waiting for him to sit before she took a deep breath. “I know it’s late... Actually I didn’t realize how late it was.” She frowned. “My mind wouldn’t shut off. And I knew it couldn’t wait. I mean, it could, but it couldn’t—you know?”

No, he didn’t know.

“Let me start by saying, I know you. I have no intention of attempting to change who you are.” She was fidgeting, twisting her hands in front of her. “But what sort of person would I be if I didn’t tell you?”

Ryder leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. What the hell was she talking about? “Annabeth—”

“I have two charts,” she said, holding up one finger before hurrying into her small kitchen. She returned with two poster boards. Each had some sort of graph, with different color tabs and her clean script in the margins. “Option A or Option B. I’ve mapped out how much time we have, how we can handle this, who needs to be involved... I’m thinking the fewer the better.”

Ryder glanced at the two boards, but it didn’t clear anything up. “Annabeth—”

“Hold your questions,” she interrupted. “Or I’ll never get it all out.”

He ran a hand over his face, sighed and sat back in the chair. Sure, why not? Not like he had someplace to be—like bed. Sleeping. “Shoot.”

“Okay.” She nodded, smiling tightly. “Okay. So, we’re six weeks or so in. There’s another couple of months before it goes public.” She held up the two posters. “Option A is with you temporarily, Option B is without.” She shrugged. “John mentioned something about a Dallas job when I picked up Lady Blue? Is that happening?”

He nodded, slowly answering, “It’s a done deal.”

“Well, congratulations.” She scanned her posters, putting the Option A poster behind the couch. “I guess that’s the question then. I’m sure you’re excited to get out of Stonewall Crossing. I can do this on my own. No need to mess things up for you.” She sat opposite him, gripping her poster.

“Princess,” he murmured, smiling at her scowl. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh.” She blinked, placing the poster facedown on her cluttered coffee table. “Ryder, I... We are...” She sucked in a deep breath and shook her head.

He heard that strange nervous tension in her voice and moved to crouch in front of her. “Don’t fall apart on me now.”

“I won’t.” She sniffed. “I’m stronger than that.”

“Don’t I know it.” He didn’t resist the urge to smooth a strand of her long hair. The way she was looking at him...as if her world was falling apart and she needed rescuing... She wanted him here, but she still hadn’t said why. This from a woman who was never short on words or opinions.

But she didn’t say a thing. She just sat there, tense, quiet and pale.

He’d never wanted to hold someone as much as he wanted to hold her, right now. He said the first thing that came to mind. “Like the pajamas.”

She ran her hands over her knees—clad in pale blue flannel pajamas, covered in rainbows and butterflies. “Cody got them for me last Christmas. Greg’s folks took him shopping. They’re my movie night pj’s.”

“What did you watch?” he asked, looking at the half-eaten bowl of popcorn and the empty juice box containers.

“Superman.” Her eyes were huge, boring into him with an intensity he felt deep in his bones. He ran his thumb along her temple, tucking a long strand of golden hair behind her ear. Touching her seemed to ground him, to ease the growing anxiety in his chest.

He smiled at her, earning a small smile in return. Ever since she’d tripped Tyler Gladwell on the playground and offered Ryder her hand, he’d known Annabeth was the kind of girl a fellow should hold on to forever. But Greg had beat him to it.

She blew out a shaky breath, her gaze slipping from his. It was easier for him to breathe then. Where had this pull come from? All he wanted was to touch her. Which was the last thing he should do. The last thing he had the right to do.

“So...” She stood, putting space between them.

“Why don’t we start over?” he said, standing beside her. “I’m guessing you had a rough day?”

“Yes.” She glanced at him, then swallowed.

“I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s wrong, Princess.” He took her hands in his, squeezing gently.

She nodded. “I’ve been cranky and tired and frustrated. I have every reason, you know? Grandma’s bills aren’t going to pay themselves. Greg’s settlement covered the first two strokes and the resulting complications and therapy, but there’s nothing left, and bills keep coming in. And Cody... Ryder, I know growing up is hard, but his stutter makes it that much harder. Ms. Chavez is amazing, our new speech teacher, but it’s not like his stutter is going to go away overnight. Stress can complicate it, too.” She spoke quickly, her words pouring out of her. “And the job. I need this job, you know? So I assumed all of this was why I was feeling so out of sorts. But that’s just not me, you know?”

He nodded.

“But there were other things...well, actually two things. I thought it was stomach flu. And then I was late. And I’ve never been late. Except when I found out I was expecting Cody. I wanted to pretend this wasn’t happening but I’m not a coward. I had to know.” Her eyes met his. “You need to know.”

He couldn’t breathe. He tried, but it felt like a horse had kicked him square in the chest. He knew what she was saying. Damn it.

“Ryder...” She paused. “I’m pregnant. I’m fine doing it on my own. I know now’s your time to get out of Stonewall Crossing. I understand. I won’t stop you. I just thought you should know—so there’s some sort of plan.”

“Plan?” he repeated, his mind racing. She was pregnant. He got her pregnant.

She nodded.

He stood, needing space. Her words seemed to echo in his ears. She was pregnant but didn’t expect his help. That was good...wasn’t it? Shit. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t breathe. The walls were closing in, making him hot and uncomfortable. “Be right back.” He hurried into the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face.

* * *

ANNABETH WATCHED HIM GO. She should have waited. She should have waited until morning, after a good night’s sleep. As if she’d get any sleep.

As soon as she’d come home from work, she’d closed the bathroom door, ripped open the pregnancy test box and read the directions. Then she’d read the Spanish version of the directions, then the English version again. She’d opened the foil package holding the test and put the innocent white plastic stick on the edge of the sink. The “Results in 3 Minutes” outlined in bold was almost a threat. And three minutes later, her world changed forever.

She’d had a few hours to process it. Superman was a long movie. Considering what she’d told him, Ryder was handling it pretty well.

The question was simple: Would he want to be a father? But with his dream job and the promise of a new life outside Stonewall Crossing, she had her answer. And she didn’t blame him—not really.

She wrinkled her nose, willing the tears back. It didn’t matter. She’d been managing on her own just fine so far. She didn’t, wouldn’t, need him.

“I need some hot chocolate,” she called out to Ryder as she headed into the kitchen. “Want some?”

He didn’t answer.

She pulled the milk from her refrigerator, needing something to do while Ryder was doing whatever it was he was doing. With a few clicks, the old gas burner flamed to life. She turned it down low and poured two cups of milk into the saucepan. She opened the cabinet, moving cans and boxes until she found the hot chocolate packets.

She glanced down the hall. No Ryder. He needed time, and she’d give it to him.

The first bubbles in the milk appeared. She couldn’t leave it, the milk would scorch. She stirred the milk with a wooden spoon, feeling colder with each passing second. Once the milk reached a nice rolling boil, she sprinkled in the cocoa and turned down the burner. She poured the cocoa into two mugs and carried them to the bathroom.

Ryder was bent over, his hands on his thighs. He was breathing hard, as though he’d been running for miles and couldn’t catch his breath.

“Hot chocolate?” she asked, her voice sounding hollow.

He straightened, attempting his normal careless stance and cocky grin even though his skin was an alarming shade of white.

“Or something stronger?” Annabeth asked, nodding at the test on the bathroom sink. There was no mistaking the bright blue plus mark on the test window. “Definitely something stronger.”

He was staring at her, his pale blue eyes so piercing it was hard not to cringe. But she didn’t. She met his gaze, refusing to buckle or fall apart. The longer he stared at her, the more nervous she became. She jumped when he took the mugs from her, placing them on the bathroom counter. When he pulled her into his arms, she couldn’t decide whether to brush him off or melt into him. Then he made the choice easy for her, pressing her head against his shoulder and running his fingers through her long hair. She could hear his heart, racing like crazy, under her ear. His breath was unsteady, too. But he stood straight, holding her so close his heat warmed her. It would be easier if he didn’t feel so damn good, if he didn’t feel so right...

“It’s late.” Ryder’s voice was soft, his arms slipping from her. “You... I... I should let you get some sleep.”

She stepped back, grappling with his words and what they might mean. “Okay.”

“Give me time...to think.” He kept looking at her, his gaze wandering over her face, her stomach, before he glanced back at the test. She saw the muscle in his jaw harden, the leap of his pulse along the thick column of his tan neck. “I’ll go,” he added.

She stepped back, out of his way. If he wanted to leave, she wasn’t going to stop him. But the look on his face, the shame and self-loathing, made her wonder if she’d ever see Ryder again.

Keep it together, Annabeth. This is best. At least she knew what to expect. The biggest surprise was how devastated she felt when he pulled the front door closed behind him, leaving her with two steaming mugs of cocoa and one bright blue pregnancy test.

* * *

RYDER SAT ON his bike, staring at the closed door of Annabeth’s house.

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t think.

A baby.

He stared up, sucking in lungfuls of bitter cold night air. A shooting star caught his eye, giving him a point of focus. He had to get his head on straight, had to think about what this...a baby...meant.

Being a parent? A father? He didn’t know how to do that.

With a quick kick, his bike roared to life. He headed straight to the gas station on the edge of town and picked up two longneck beers. After they were tucked into his saddlebag, he headed out of town.

The city had built a fence around the Stonewall Crossing cemetery after a few headstones were shot up with a pellet gun. Kids probably. His family donated the stone and wood for the decorated, and highly effective, fence that now surrounded the cemetery. It didn’t stop anyone who really wanted in, but most kids looked for an easier target.

Ryder parked his bike, shoved the beers into the pockets of his leather jacket and jumped onto one of the four-foot-tall decorative stone posts of the fence. He gripped the top of the fence, shoved his boot into the chain link and swung himself over. The drop was a little farther than he expected, making him wince when he hit the dirt.

He paused then, his nerves unexpected.

With another deep breath, he headed across the fields. He knew where he was going, even if he hadn’t been there in five years. He’d never planned on coming back. Greg sure as hell wouldn’t expect him to stop by. But, damn, right now he needed his best friend.

He stood staring at the white marble headstone. He read the inscription four times before he got the nerve to step closer. Gregory Cody Upton. Loving Husband and Father. He’d never had a better friend—except maybe Annabeth.

Annabeth. He looked up, staring blindly at the star-laden sky.

“Hey.” He cleared his throat. “Brought you something.” He pulled one beer out, using his pocket knife to pop the cap off. “Figured you were going to need a drink.”

He set the beer on the headstone and opened the other beer for himself, taking a healthy swig before he spoke again. He couldn’t say it, not yet, so he said, “Cody’s getting big. Good kid, smart as a whip. He can look at something and see the way it fits together, how it works. Bet he’ll be an engineer or something. He’s got Annabeth’s smarts—he’s gonna be a man you’d be proud of.” He stooped to remove the dried leaves that piled around the base of the headstone.

When the stone was clean he sat, leaning against it as he turned his gaze back to the sky. “I need you to hear this from me.” He swallowed down some beer, easing the tightening of his throat. “Annabeth—” He broke off and took another sip. “I had no right to... I... She’s going to have a baby.” He cleared his throat again, the press of guilt and self-loathing all but choking him. “My baby...and I’ll do right by her.”

He paused, closing his eyes. “You know. You know how I felt about her.” He turned the bottle in his hands. “I’m not you, never will be. Cody’s always gonna know who you are and what kind of man you were.” He took another sip. “I’m hoping you’ll be okay with them being my family now.” He stared up, letting the howl of the wind fill the night.

“I’ll take care of them,” he promised softly. He meant it, wanted it, but had no idea where to start.

He sat there, ignoring the bitter cold, and finished his beer with his best friend.

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