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Lone Star Legacy
Roxanne Rustand


For Beth Lindstrom, the rundown caf? she inherited in the small town of Lone Wolf was simply a means to an end. Selling it and moving on was the young widow's only hope of a fresh start for her and her five-year-old daughter– though she doubted there was any place on earth they'd feel really safe ever again.However, she hadn't counted on Joel McAllen getting under her skin. The handsome ex-cop seemed to sense that her past held a terrible secret that kept her on the run. But it wasn't until her husband's killer followed her to Texas that she realized she'd need to trust Joel with her life– and her heart.









Lone Star Legacy

Roxanne Rustand







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


With many thanks to my husband and children,

whose patience and understanding have helped me

pursue my dreams. And with ongoing, heartfelt

thanks to my dear mom, Arline, who encouraged

those dreams from the very beginning.




CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY




CHAPTER ONE


NO WONDER the neon-yellow house had stood empty for the past six months. The surprise was that it hadn’t been accidentally-on-purpose torched by an appalled neighbor on some dark and moonless night. Situated alone at the far end of Canyon Street, its nearest neighbor was a vet clinic, and no one would have noticed it burn.

But whatever the color scheme or condition, it offered a safe haven and a chance to start over.

Gripping her four-year-old daughter’s hand, Beth Lindstrom gingerly stepped past a rusted bicycle, the twisted bumper of an old VW with flat tires, and walked up the dirt path to the front porch. The sign over the door, Crystal Mae’s Café—Home-Cooked Food, hung askew.

“Pretty, Momma,” Sophie whispered in awe, staring at the fuchsia shutters framing the tall, old-fashioned windows. Her gaze lifted to the high-pitched roof, where a pair of crescent-shaped windows was tucked near the eaves. “And look—it has eyes!”

“Sure looks like it, Poppin. And if I remember right, the inside is interesting, too.” Beth smiled, rmembering just how interesting her late Aunt Crystal had been.

A strong, independent Texas woman to the core, she’d turned the main floor of her home into a café after her husband’s death. With her ribald sense of humor and good, down-home cooking, she’d made a success of it.

“I gotta go.” Sophie looked up at her, clutching her favorite doll. “And Maisie does, too.”

“I’m sure you do. It’s been quite a while since we stopped.” Glancing over her shoulder at her SUV, Beth studied the deserted street, then hit her remote lock button twice and listened for the reassuring, answering honk before turning to fit a key into the front door of the house.

When she’d been here for Crystal’s funeral five years ago, the residents of Lone Wolf were comfortable leaving their cars and homes unlocked. Most of them probably still did, but after a lifetime of suburban living, the thought made her shiver…doubly so, after the harassment and accusations she’d faced back in Chicago.

Even though it was all over, the ring of the telephone or a sharp knock on the door still made her flinch.

Despite the cool April days and nights, the café was muggy and smelled of musty decay when they stepped inside. Saying a swift, silent prayer, Beth held her breath and flipped the switches by the front door.

The lights flickered, then bathed the small café in light. Thick dust covered the dozen round tables, most with four chairs, though some of the chairs were tipped over, and several were broken and tossed in a corner. A lunch counter spanned the back wall. Behind it, a faded poster taped to the milk dispenser still read SPECIAL—Eggs, Grits and Beef Hash, $4.95.

Crystal’s last special, probably. She’d died with her apron on, and the tenants since then had just rented the upstairs apartment, which had a private entrance. There’d been good renters at first, but then some had to be evicted, according to the Realtor. A few had stolen away in the night, after racking up months of unpaid rent.

“Where’s the potty, Momma?”

Jarred back to the present, Beth led her to an open door at the back marked Fillies. She turned on the light and again held her breath…but no mice or roaches scurried away. Thank God.

She quickly wiped the dust from the fixtures with a paper towel, and surreptitiously checked for spiders. “Here you go, sweetie.”

Sophie’s eyes rounded in alarm. “I don’t like this place.”

“I’ll stay right here. I promise.”

“But it’s icky.”

“It’s not nearly as bad as some of the gas stations we hit on the way down, right?” Once they’d left the freeways and started across rural Texas, the facilities along the two-lane highways had taken a major turn for the worse, and Sophie had hit her fastidious stage over a year ago. The trip had not been easy.

Pouting, Sophie finally gave in, but jumped back at the rust-orange water that poured from the faucet when she tried to wash her hands. Her eyes filled with tears. “I wanna go home.”

Me, too. But that home was gone forever and this one was going to take its place…at least for a while. Beth swept her daughter up into her arms for a big hug and a kiss. “We’re on a great adventure, honey. We’re like Dora the Explorer, finding out about new things, seeing new places. It’s going to be fun!”

Sophie’s lower lip trembled. “Where do we sleep?”

“Upstairs, where my aunt Crystal had her apartment. But…” Beth mentally calculated the cash in her wallet. “We might stay in that little motel on the edge of town, just for tonight, so we can get things cleaned up, first. Okay?”

Sophie nodded, then wrapped her arms tightly around Beth’s neck. “I’m scared, Momma.”

Beth hugged her back, murmuring gentle reassurances. But that inner voice still whispered through her thoughts, just as it had on the eighteen-hour trip south. Me, too, Sophie. Me, too.



JOEL MCALLEN WEARILY STEPPED out of the back door of his Uncle Walt’s vet clinic, hefted a circular saw into the back of his crew cab pickup and unbuckled his tool belt. He tossed it onto the front seat and climbed behind the wheel.

Walt appeared at the door of the clinic. “Dinner. Seven o’clock.”

“Home. A shower. Bedtime.” Joel grinned as he turned the key in the ignition. “You purely wore me out today.”

Walt snorted. “Always an excuse, son. Time you got out and partied a little. Maria’s made fried chicken, I hear. And your favorite pie. Don’t show up, and you’ll break her heart.”

Joel wavered at the image of pure heaven in the guise of Maria’s fresh peach pie. Juicy, fragrant, in an incredibly flaky crust no one could ever imitate. The housekeeper had worked for Walt since Joel was a boy, and she definitely knew how to pull his strings. “Pie?”

“Seven o’clock.” Walt winked. “You could even bring yourself a date, if you had a mind to.”

If Joel didn’t, it wouldn’t be due to a lack of matchmaking efforts by Walt, his former office secretary and a legion of the clinic’s female clients. Maybe there wasn’t much else to do in this town of nine hundred—even if their quarry was a guy who had a lot of forgetting to do, and who’d rather be alone.

“I’ll think on it,” Joe said dryly. “One of these days, you might be surprised.”

“And you might be surprised to find that there are some real nice women out there. Down-home girls, not like those city girls of yours back home. One of them just might keep you from turning into a hermit.”

Walt’s late wife had been the love of his life, and he’d never remarried after she died over thirty years ago. Being childless hadn’t stopped him from thinking of substitute grandkids, though, and dreamer that he was, he still considered Joel his best hope.

Joel backed out of his parking space and drove around the building toward the entrance, still shaking his head. He glanced at the property next door, then nearly sideswiped a light pole.

Slamming on his brakes, he backed up. Stared. Then threw the transmission into Park, his blood pressure escalating. Not again.

For all his laid-back, good-ole-boy humor, at seventy Walt was showing signs of forgetfulness and he wasn’t in the best of health. He didn’t need the stress of more troublesome neighbors.

According to Walt, the old Victorian house at the end of the road had once housed a pleasant little café run by a woman who lived on the top floor, but after her death there’d been a few good renters…and recently there’d been several who were pure trouble. One ragtag family littered the yard with trash, junker cars and rusted truck parts. Their insolent kids had run wild, skateboarding through the clinic parking lot.

After they moved out in the dark of night, there’d been the two burly guys who’d stayed just long enough to scam Walt into an investment scheme. They’d probably figured the isolated Victorian was safe from prying eyes of the law, because their subsequent arrest yielded even more: a crude meth lab in the basement.

The place had definitely gone downhill over the past year, and with its weathered condition probably wouldn’t attract more than riffraff now. But this time, Joel was here—and he wasn’t going to stand by and let trouble start all over again.

He got out of his truck and strode over to the far end of the clinic parking lot. Surveyed the growing jumble of boxes and black garbage bags being lugged out of the back of a trailer hitched to an old SUV. Just as he’d thought, the situation did not bode well. Joel cleared his throat and said, “Excuse me…can I bother you for a minute?”

A slender woman crawled backward out of the trailer, juggling an overflowing box of stuffed animals. She staggered as she took a step to the ground.

Stuffed animals?

Her eyes lit up as she surveyed him head to foot. “Oh, thank you, God!”

Dropping the box into Joel’s arms, she dusted off her hands. “You are exactly what I was hoping for.”

At the incongruity of his grim expectations and her delicate appearance, his planned speech about responsible neighbors dissolved. “I—I am?”

“You bet.” She thrust out her hand for a quick shake. “Beth Lindstrom. Just help me get all of this inside.”

Bemused, he studied her smudged face and the dark circles under her eyes. She was sure a cute little thing, with that curly blond hair escaping its ponytail and those big blue eyes, but she looked as if she were ready to drop in her tracks—sort of like a soccer mom after a long, hard day.

Then again, she could be the girlfriend or wife of yet another undesirable tenant…and looks could be deceiving at any rate.

“This all needs to go in the front door.” When he didn’t immediately obey, she tilted her head and studied him for a moment, then smiled gently at him and spoke slower. “Just set it to one side in there, and I’ll put it all away later.”

“Ma’am—” He cleared his throat, attempting to discuss the situation with the cluttered yard and past problems with renters, but she glanced at her watch and shook her head.

“Please, we’ll have to talk later. I’ve got two hours to get this trailer clear back to Austin or they’ll charge for another day.” With that, she hopped back in the trailer and started rummaging around. A second later, she reappeared lugging a huge suitcase on wheels. She blew at her bangs and shot an impatient look at him. “Is there a problem?”

She had to be all of five feet and a hundred pounds, and he had to smother a laugh at her take-charge attitude. “None at all. I’ll be glad to help, though I think you must be expecting someone else.”

Her hand fluttered to her mouth, a rosy blush suffusing her cheeks. “A guy at the gas station said he’d send someone named Hubie. That…isn’t you?”

“Afraid not. I’m Joel McAllen.” He hiked a thumb toward a building she’d glimpsed through the trees. “I’m remodeling my uncle’s vet clinic next door.”

She groaned. “So I almost commandeered a total stranger?”

“Easy mistake.” He shrugged. “But since your helper isn’t here, I can pitch in.”

She hesitated, obviously embarrassed, yet her longing glance at the overloaded trailer spoke volumes. “Well…”

“Let’s get moving, then.” He took the suitcase from her, and shouldered a cardboard box. “This won’t take long.”

He dutifully hauled box after box into the old Victorian, though why a woman like her was moving into an abandoned café escaped him. Even in her jeans and a plain white top, she definitely had the air of someone who was upper class.

When he settled the last box on the floor he dusted his hands against his Levi’s and turned around to find her counting out a number of bills from what appeared to be a meager stash in her wallet.

“Here you are,” she said, thrusting out her hand. “As promised.”

He waved away her offer. “Just being neighborly. But I do—”

“Please, take it. I would’ve paid that Hubie fellow….” She earnestly held out the money. “It’s the least I can do.”

“I’d rather just ask a few questions, if you have a minute.”

He must have inadvertently slipped into his old interrogation mode, because her chagrin changed to frank wariness and she took a step back. “What about?”

Though he’d left the department last fall and had no intention of ever going back, years of experience with the Detroit police force instantly ratcheted up his curiosity at her tense expression.

“I see from your plates that you lived in Illinois.” He slipped an easy smile into place. “What part?”

“Chicago.” She bent over a cardboard box and began ripping back the sealing tape.

“City or suburbs?”

“We…moved around quite a lot.”

He whistled. “Quite a change, coming to a small town like Lone Wolf.”

“Just a temporary one.” She checked her watch. “Look, I’d love to visit, but I really don’t have time. Was there anything else?”

Temporary? That was certainly good news. “Do you know the owners of this house?”

Again, that flash of wariness. “Why?”

He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “The last renters obviously left it in poor shape, and they weren’t the best neighbors. My uncle Walt tried to buy it a few months ago, but the Realtor said it wasn’t for sale.”

“What would he do with it?”

“Bulldoze the buildings, then sell the land or turn it into more parking for the clinic, probably. The place isn’t worth much, anyway—and it would solve a lot of problems in the neighborhood.”

She bristled. “That’s what he thinks?”

“That’s the local consensus, and the owners obviously don’t care about it. All I need is a way to contact them directly.” He winked at her. “If they sell, you’ll be able to find a better place to live. I even know where there’s some free labor to help you move.”

“Actually, the owners do care—very much,” she retorted. “My sister and I inherited this property from our aunt, and it’s a beautiful house…or was, until recently.”

Surprised, he did a double take. “You?”

She stiffened. “And my sister. After the funeral, we had to clean out Crystal’s possessions, and we made sure things were in good repair. But Melanie lives in Billings and I lived in Chicago, so we hired a local Realtor to manage the property. As long as there was rental income, we assumed…Well, we obviously misplaced our trust. I figured I’d spend the summer on cosmetic improvements and some minor updating, but seeing it today was quite a shock.”

“So why not just get rid of it? Fast and easy sale, and you could be on your way.”

“Frankly, it’ll be worth a great deal more when I’m done.” She stuffed two twenties into his hand. “And then I promise you, it won’t be dirt cheap to someone who wants a parking lot.”

Something stirred behind the lunch counter. A moment later, a little strawberry blond preschooler rounded the corner, a rag doll clutched at her chest. From her tousled hair and drowsy eyes, she must have been asleep.

“Hi, there,” he said, taken by her winsome expression.

Her eyes grew wide and somber as she looked up at him. “You look like my daddy,” she whispered sadly. “But he’s dead.”

Speechless, he stared down at her as a sudden chill made him shiver. Like my daddy…

When his heart finally started beating again, he dredged up a ghost of a smile, then turned and walked out before his knees could give way.

He knew the woman was watching him leave and probably thought he was crazy, but it didn’t matter. He’d stopped by with a sense of righteous indignation over the welfare of his uncle, thinking that yet another pack of troublemakers was moving into the house next door.

Instead, he’d been taken aback by its pretty and very determined owner—and apparently had managed to get on her bad side in a matter of minutes. But none of that began to touch the searing pain that ripped through his heart at the little girl’s unexpected words.

The strawberry blond hair…the long, silky ringlets…the dusting of freckles across her pert little nose…he’d dreamed a thousand times about just such a child.

On long, sleepless nights, the image had often haunted him until he finally left the house and walked aimlessly through the dark streets of Detroit, half wishing that some carload of cocky young punks would pull over and challenge him with a .44 Magnum…and half wishing that he would lose. In the early days, it might have been a blessed relief to leave his guilt and pain behind.

The child was the image of what he’d always imagined his little girl would’ve looked like—if she’d lived.



DR. WALT STOOD on the front steps of the clinic and watched Joel’s pickup roar out of the driveway and head out into the country.

“Who set that boy’s tail afire?” Loraine Gilbert, who’d been in Walt’s high school class back in the dark ages and who was one of his longtime clients, stood next to him holding a squirmy black Lab pup in her arms. “You’d swear the devil was after him.”

“Maybe he is.” Walt tipped his head toward the place next door, where a little girl and her mother were climbing into an SUV hitched to a trailer, both with out-of-state plates.

The young woman appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties, and she was a hard worker, lugging much of the stuff out of that trailer alone, until Joel stopped over to pitch in. “And maybe it’s time he got shook up a little.”

Loraine snorted. “I thought you wanted to buy the place and get rid of that mess. Now you’re in for another siege.”

“Take a good look.” He nodded toward the woman next door. “Now who does she remind you of?”

Loraine squinted into the late afternoon sun as the SUV pulled away. “Same red hair.”

“Same skinny build.”

“Shorter, though. Not so tall and gangly.” Loraine shot a quick glance at Walt, as if trying to read his thoughts. “Though I guess you sort of liked ’em that way, back in the day.”

The wistful note in her voice caught him by surprise. “Crystal was just a friend. A good friend, Lorrie. You know I never looked at another woman after my wife passed on.”

“You should have, you know.” The pup pedaled its paws wildly until she finally put him down. He bounded to the end of his leash but then spun around and barreled back to collide with her jeans. “You would’ve had a passel of kids, and by now, you’d have a whole herd of grandkids.”

“I just didn’t have the heart. But Joel here isn’t going to make the same mistake.”

Loraine harrumphed, though there was now a twinkle in her eye. “I hear it’s not going so well just yet.”

“Stubborn. That boy is plumb stubborn, but no one can outlast pure temptation—not when Texas grows the prettiest little gals you’d ever hope to see. Like you, for instance.” He chuckled at her faint blush, thankful for their years of deep, comfortable friendship. “So what about that granddaughter of yours? She available?”

“Sissy’s only seventeen, you old goat. As you well know.” She elbowed him in the ribs, then shot a quelling glance at him as she scooped up the puppy and headed out to her truck. “Your nephew is a loner, and he’s carrying a load of trouble in that heart of his. He’s the last thing any girl needs.”




CHAPTER TWO


“IT’S A BIG SPIDER, Momma. Hurry!”

With a rueful shake of her head, Beth set aside her dust mop in the bedroom and followed the sound of Sophie’s voice.

It was hard to believe how radically life had changed. Twelve months ago, Beth had chaired a meeting of the Ladies Auxiliary League, with community beautification as the number one topic on the agenda. Afterward, she’d driven her new Escalade home to prepare steaks on the grill for Patrick’s boss and his wife. They’d dined out on the deck, where Beth had lit dozens of candles for just the right ambiance.

Given the events between then and now, those days might have been a century ago and on a different planet.

“Where is it, sweetie?”

Sophie pointed upward. “In the wall. I heard him.”

“Um…I think it’s probably another mouse.” Though she’d been setting mousetraps and sweeping spiderwebs for two days, there still seemed to be a plentiful supply. And she didn’t even want to think about the fire ants that might be outside, lying in wait on that dusty patch of grass in the backyard. “Just don’t touch anything that moves, okay?”

Sophie nodded solemnly, her doll clutched at her chest, and a fistful of crayons in her other hand. “Do we have to sleep here tonight?”

“Tonight’s the night, now that the new mattresses have arrived. It’ll be fun.”

Well, maybe not fun, but after a gallon of Pine Sol and countless hours of scrubbing, at least it would be clean. Beth turned slowly around and surveyed the upstairs apartment.

It was rather quaint, really, with its fanciful windows and hardwood floors. Just the basics—two bedrooms, a sitting room, a small kitchen and a tiny bathroom. But it seemed oddly bare without Aunt Crystal’s endless collections of dolls and curios filling every nook and cranny. And empty, without her raucous laughter and boundless joy over the smallest things.

Sophie settled down at the kitchen table with her coloring books. “Did you come here when you were little?”

As always, Beth turned so Sophie could see her speak. “Maybe once a year. I just loved running up the front and back sets of stairs.” She smiled, remembering. “And I loved all the little storage areas tucked away under the eaves. Some of them connect, so my sister and I used to play hide-and-seek.”

Sophie looked down at her coloring book and industriously scribbled orange on a page. “I wish I had a big sister.”

Saying that maybe she’d have a sister “someday” seemed so far-fetched that Beth couldn’t form the reassuring words. After her husband’s betrayal, remarriage wasn’t something she’d ever contemplate. “I know you do. But we have each other, right? And come fall, you’ll meet all sorts of kids at preschool when we finish fixing up this house and move to Billings.”

“Where Auntie Melanie lives.”

“Right. And she can’t wait until we get there. She’s already looking for a nice place for us to live—”

The sound of someone knocking at the door echoed throughout the first floor and up the stairs. “Oops, we’d better run down and answer that. Could be the curtains I ordered for us.”

“With My Little Pony?”

“My lace curtains and your pretty ones, too.”

But the man at the door wasn’t from UPS. He was the gray-haired veterinarian from next door, who waved every time he saw her, and had sent his office girl over with a cake yesterday. But friendly waves and treats would not soften her toward a lowball bid on this property, if that was his intent.

“Howdy.” He grinned at her and offered his hand as soon as she opened the door. “Walt Sherbourne.”

She wavered, then opened the door wide. “Beth Lindstrom.”

“Who has to be the spitting image of her…aunt?” He clasped her hand warmly, his broad smile deepening the crinkles at the corners of his bright blue eyes. “Seeing you brings back some good memories.”

“Crystal was my aunt, yes.” Beth felt some of her tension ease. “You knew her well?”

“She was a good friend of my late wife’s, when they were youngsters, and she ran the café for years. She must’ve had the biggest heart in the county.” His eyes took on a faraway expression. “I swear, she could make a statue laugh.”

“That was my aunt, all right.” Reassured, Beth smiled. “Won’t you come in? I’m afraid we’re not ready for company, but I’m working on it.”

He stepped inside, then surveyed the café with an approving gleam in his eye. “Planning to reopen? This town could sure use a place to eat, and you’d do a good business.”

Startled, she shook her head. After talking to his nephew, she’d expected him to disparage her efforts, then casually offer some ridiculously low figure—something she could not afford to consider.

“I’m here to fix up the place, so it can go on the market by August. Then we’ll be leaving for Montana.”

“Montana?” He appeared taken aback. “Now, why would you want to leave a dandy place like this? Friendly town.” He winked. “Nice neighbors.”

His words surprised her, but before she could form a reply, little footsteps came running across the floor behind her, then Sophie wrapped her arms around Beth’s waist.

Walt pursed his lips, his eyes twinkling. “You know, I thought I saw a bunny come hopping across the room—but it disappeared.”

Sophie giggled and peered around Beth’s side.

“Well, look at this—it’s not a bunny.” Walt rocked back on his heels. “It’s a girl!”

Sophie came out a little farther.

“And a right pretty one, besides.” He smiled down at her, then shifted his attention back to Beth. “I’m sorry I didn’t get over sooner to say howdy. My office manager went off and got married last weekend and left me high and dry, so things are a mite wild over at the clinic.”

Here it comes. He’ll assume I’m completely naïve, and…

“First, I want to loan you a cat.”

She felt her mouth drop open.

“A cat,” he repeated. “I know how these older houses are, and this place has been empty for quite a while. Figured you could use a good mouser, so I brought you a loaner.” He retrieved a small cage from the front steps. “Unless you have allergies or a strong aversion to cats, Darwin is your man.”

Darwin?

Sophie squealed with delight when he put the cage on the floor. “Black-and-white spots! He’s so pretty, Momma!”

“Yes, indeed,” she said faintly, oddly touched by the unusual favor. “That’s nice of you. But I don’t have litter, or a box, or food…”

“I’ve got all that next door in the clinic. Figured I wouldn’t haul it over until I knew you wanted help.”

Beth closed her eyes and thought of all the traps she’d set without catching a single mouse. “We do. Oh, my—do we ever.”

Walt glanced fondly at the cage. “He’s sort of the clinic mascot. He’s had all of his vaccinations, of course, and he’s declawed and fixed. So don’t let him outside. If you want to give him back, just say the word. I’ll take him back in a minute.”

“This is so nice of you.”

“The other thing is that my housekeeper has wanted to welcome your family to town. Maria thought about bringing over a basket, but she—and I—wondered if you might like to get out of here for a little while, and join us for supper on Saturday night.”

“Well, I—”

“The house is just on the other side of town—105 San Angelo. There might even be a batch of puppies to play with, if any young ladies are interested.” With that gentle grin and shock of pale silver hair, he reminded her of a kindly Santa Claus who’d managed to lose his belly. “And just so you know I’m not some crazy old coot—you can talk to the sheriff, or you can ask about me down at the bank.”

“I’m sure I don’t need to worry. But I have so much to do….”

“Please, can we go?” Sophie tugged on her sleeve. “Puppies! Please?”

Feeling as if she’d just been expertly outmaneuvered, Beth laughed. “I guess we’d better.”

A simple dinner. A nice old man who’d been a friend of her aunt’s. Puppies. It all sounded like a pleasant break from the endless cleaning and growing list of expensive repairs that would need to be hired out—if she could come up with enough money. So why did she have this odd premonition that Walt Sherbourne had something up his sleeve?

Before setting foot in his house, she would definitely be checking him out with some people around town, just to make sure it was safe.

Safe.

A chill slid through her. It was a word that meant a lot more to her now, after the fear and worry of the past six months. But here, she and Sophie would have a fresh start, far away from the troubles that had dogged them in Chicago. Luckily, that was all over, and who would ever bother to follow them to tiny Lone Wolf, Texas, anyway?

No one. Absolutely no one at all.



“I HAVE NO IDEA how you can find anything in this mess.” Joel shook his head, looking at the piles of papers on the receptionist’s desk. “You’re sure it’s here?”

“To the right, by the phone,” Walt called out from the back room, where he was castrating an Australian shepherd. “Blue paper.”

Slips of paper fluttered to the floor while Joel searched that stack, then the amorphous pile in the center of the desk. “Nothing. How come you didn’t hire a replacement when Elena told you she was leaving?”

Long silence.

“Walt?”

Concerned, Joel hurried down the hall. He found Walt standing beside the surgery table, his palms braced on the stainless steel surface and his head bowed. The dog in front of him was still out like a light. “Are you okay?”

Walt lifted his head and gave Joel a tired smile. “Fine. Just…thinking.”

“You know this is too much for you.”

Walt shrugged as he reached over to turn off the gas on the anesthesia machine, then finished up a few more stitches. “I’ve got another vet starting in December, and your cousin Liza will be done with vet school next spring. I’ll be able to slow down, then.”

“If you make it that long. What about office help? A vet tech?”

“You find one who’ll come out to this town, and she’s got a job. Want to help me move this guy to the floor? You take the hips—easy, now.”

They gently positioned the dog on a soft bed of blankets.

“What about hiring some high school girl? Someone who loves animals.” Joel studied the sleeping dog. “Someone who can lift fifty pounds of dead weight and not suffer the next day.”

Walt’s eyes gleamed. “Sorry, maybe I should have moved him myself.”

“I’m talking about you. Next thing you know, you’ll be in traction.”

Walt stared up at the ceiling. “I’ve advertised. I’ve asked around. Town this size, the labor pool is more like a puddle, and half the people I could think of were ones I wouldn’t trust with my animals or my books. But there is someone…she’s new around here, and she looks like she could use a job. Got a little girl to feed.”

“Not the new neighbor.”

“Why not? Looks like she’s a hard worker.” The dog twitched. Coughed. Walt bent down to remove the trach tube, then he straightened and watched as the dog started to wake up. “Lord knows, fixing up that place of hers will cost a fortune, and I’m guessing she doesn’t have a lot to work with.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Pretty little thing like her can’t do it all, but she sure hasn’t hired anyone to help her out. And that SUV of hers looks like it’s about to breathe its last. Sounds like it, too.”

Walt was right—she was definitely pretty, and Joel had found himself thinking about her way too often since he’d helped her move in. But he’d picked up on some bad vibes—and after fifteen years in law enforcement, he’d learned to listen to them. When he said he’d like to ask her a few questions, she’d gotten skittish. Wary.

It was nothing he could put his finger on, exactly, but until he knew more about her, she wasn’t someone who ought to get her hands on Walt’s books. It was sheer common sense.

“I think you should hold off a while. What do we know about her? Nothing.”

“Her aunt was Crystal Mae, and that’s enough for me.”

“Right. But even serial killers have normal people in their family tree.”

Walt snorted. “That’s what you think of that sweet little gal? That she’s a serial killer?”

“Of course not. But you need to be cautious. Remember telling me about how your dentist lost nearly everything to that accounting firm?”

“I hardly think—”

“And Beth plans to leave town in a few months, at any rate.” Joel thought fast. “Think of all you’d have to teach her. And,” he added after a deep breath, “I’d guess she needs time to work on that place of hers and get it done.”

Walt laughed. “Whale of a lot of protest, over a gal you don’t know.”

“Consider it professional advice. Steer clear.”

“Evil isn’t hiding behind every shadow, Joel,” Walt murmured as he started writing in the dog’s medical chart. “Maybe you worked at that detective job of yours too long.”

Okay, so maybe he was just a tad cynical. Burned out. He’d been through hell in more ways than one back in Detroit, and he wouldn’t even be in this town if that weren’t the case.

Beth Lindstrom might be the most honest person on the planet, but she’d seemed oddly edgy, and Walt was far too trusting. That recent asphalt scam wasn’t the only time he’d been taken in the last couple years. With just one crafty, light-fingered employee, everything he’d ever worked for could go up in smoke.

Joel was going to make sure that didn’t happen.




CHAPTER THREE


AFTER SPENDING the day with a calculator, a legal pad and two local contractors, Beth felt too overwhelmed to even think straight.

The house had termites, black mold starting in the café storeroom, and a cracked foundation, for starters—nothing unusual in this part of Texas—but together they represented more money than she’d been able to salvage from selling her heavily mortgaged home in Illinois.

And that didn’t begin to touch the cosmetic projects that would enhance the café’s curb appeal for future buyers.

Once the walls were patched, the house would have to be painted, inside and out. The deeply scarred oak floors needed stripping. Several windows and doors had to be replaced, and if the stains on the upstairs bedroom ceilings were any clue, the roof had serious problems, too.

And the plumbing—she closed her eyes, trying not to remember the plumber’s look of shock that soon brightened to an avaricious gleam as he’d studied the antiquated pipes. A new water softener and iron filter alone would be over five hundred.

Her sister, Melanie, on yet another marriage and perpetually broke, had given Crystal’s property little thought since they’d received the inheritance five years ago. Beth had been equally guilty, caught up in her own world, and they’d let a careless Realtor manage both the upkeep and the rentals. No wonder the house had attracted just low-end types.

After Beth recouped her expenses, she and her sister planned to split the remaining profits. Beth had hoped her share would provide a significant down payment on a decent place to live in Billings, but that dream had faded with the last contractor. The cost of bringing this place up to code for a buyer’s mortgage inspection would probably approach or even exceed its market value.

She could do a lot of cosmetic work herself, but it still would have to be sold as a fixer-upper for a ridiculously low figure. Maybe Joel had been right about bulldozing the place and simply giving up. Unless…

Her heart picked up a faster beat as she took another hard look at the main floor, then walked into the kitchen, where she found Darwin on top of the old refrigerator, a foreleg, rear leg and his tail dangling down the front surface. He gave her a bored look and went back to sleep.

She studied the possibilities in the kitchen. Her excitement rose. Then dissolved.

Walt had mentioned opening the café again, and he’d said there wasn’t any competition for thirty or forty miles in any direction. Reopening the café would create income, and would increase its value to prospective buyers. But to open, she’d have to meet an entirely different set of codes, and that would take money she didn’t have, either.

“When can we go see the puppies?”

Sophie had been asking all day. “I don’t think…” Beth looked at the clock, wanting nothing more than to cancel that dinner invitation. But one glance at her child’s hopeful expression and she just couldn’t do it.

After seeing her entire life tipped upside down, Sophie had still taken everything in stride—leaving her pretty pink bedroom, the kids next door, the only house she’d ever known. And this was really such a small thing. What was the harm?

She managed a weary smile. “Guess we’d better get dressed and get over there. Can’t keep those pups waiting, right?”



AFTER A LONG, hot shower, Beth gave Sophie a bath and then lingered over her own closet, uncertain over what to wear. Until now there’d been no question—her worst jeans and shirts, because she’d been endlessly cleaning and scrubbing, and today, she’d started clearing out some of the rubbish in the yard.

But for an evening? Sophie immediately chose her favorite purple Dora dress, but most of Beth’s wardrobe was in storage back home. She finally grabbed cream slacks and a peach knit top, added gold hoops and a bracelet, then twisted her hair up in a loose bun.

Walt’s friendly greeting and his housekeeper’s welcoming smile made her thankful that she’d taken those few extra minutes to look nice. “You have a lovely home,” she murmured.

And it was. Most of the houses in town were single story with wood siding, and nearly all of them had deep, open porches to shade against the blistering Texas sun.

Walt’s home was a two-story brick, spacious and inviting, but with no pretensions of grandeur. Every bit of woodwork and furniture glowed softly from Maria’s loving care, and a mouthwatering aroma of some sort of Mexican entrée filled the air.

“Are the puppies here?” Sophie said eagerly. She tugged on Beth’s hand. “Can I see them?”

Walt laughed. “You bet. They can’t wait to see you, either.” He led the way through the living and dining rooms, then down a hallway leading to the kitchen and back door.

When he ushered them through the door to the screened porch, a litter of yellow-and-black lab pups tumbled out of their blanket-lined box.

Their mother, a gleaming black lab, lifted her head to check out the newcomers, then flopped back down, clearly exhausted by her rambunctious family.

Sophie squealed with delight when the pups swarmed around her, licking her fingers and crying to be picked up.

“The screen door is locked and ole Shadow is a good watchdog,” Walt said. “So your daughter should be okay, if you’d like to come inside for a drink?”

“Just tea or lemonade, if you’ve got it.” She inclined her head toward Sophie. “I think I’d better stay close by in case she gets overwhelmed.”

Walt called out to Maria, and she returned a few moments later with a tray of lemonade, tortilla chips and homemade salsa that she set on a glass-topped wicker table.

“Dinner will be in ten minutes.” She shot a questioning look at Walt. “Okay?”

Walt glanced at his watch. “Perfect timing.” He settled into one of the four white wicker chairs at the table and waved Beth toward the one across from him.

The chairs sported bright cushions that echoed the massive pots of red geraniums on the porch steps. Graceful ferns hung from the porch ceiling, and at one end, a long, low table was filled with colorful Mexican pottery bearing a variety of plants.

“This is so pretty. I hadn’t realized just how nice it would be to get away for an evening,” Beth said. “And Sophie is thrilled, as you can see.”

The puppies scrambled over each other, whining and vying for attention when Sophie sat down, though a couple toddled back to their nest.

Walt smiled. “We don’t have the pleasure of young folks here very often, and that’s the best part of having pups. What do you think, Sophie? Aren’t they fun?”

She ignored him, and Walt gave Beth a curious look.

“She can’t hear you,” Beth said quietly. “She’s facing the other way, and the puppies are noisy.”

“Bless her heart.” Walt’s voice was filled with compassion.

“She had partial hearing loss after an accident, but she’s slowly improving. She manages pretty well if someone speaks up, and does best when she can watch your lips and expression.”

“My brother Gerald was hard of hearing. Though for him, it was sort of selective,” Walt added with a twinkle in his eye. “The man never missed hearing an invitation to dinner.”

Walt’s gentle humor reminded her of her late grandfather, and for the first time in weeks, Beth felt herself relax. “I’m so glad you invited us over tonight.”

“How is Darwin working out for you?”

“He’s quite a mouser.” Beth shuddered. “I hate to tell you how successful he’s been, though I’d swear he never leaves the top of the refrigerator, and does nothing but sleep. He lined up his prizes on the floor by my bed this morning. So far, he’s massacred six.”

“He’s just showing off.” Walt took a sip of his iced tea, set it aside, then braced his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepled his fingers. “How’s everything else going?”

She felt her smile waver. “Fine. Working hard.”

He gazed at her thoughtfully. “It’s expensive, doing everything up right. I imagine that house will need a lot of work. More than just a paintbrush and scrub bucket, at any rate.”

“True.” Disappointment flooded through her as she realized that this dinner invitation was probably nothing more than a sociable way to make a bottom-dollar offer on her place. One she couldn’t afford to accept, because she still had hopes that it would be worth a little more after she’d spruced it up.

“I have a little proposition for you.”

Here it comes. She sipped her lemonade. “What is it?”

The screen door to the house swung open, and Joel stepped out into the porch. His face registered surprise when his gaze landed on Beth. Surprise that quickly faded to a hint of exasperation. “Walt.”

“Did I forget to tell you about our other guests? You’ve met, I believe.”

Joel spared Beth a brief nod of acknowledgment, then pulled up a chair and sat at the table. “What’s this about a proposition?”

“I know what I’m doing,” the older man said mildly.

“I think we should talk a bit first, don’t you?” A muscle ticked on the side of Joel’s lean jaw.

He’d recently showered, and his dark hair was still damp and swept back. She’d caught the scents of soap and a faint touch of Stetson aftershave when he passed by, and in those khaki slacks, loafers and a black polo shirt that molded to his broad chest, he could have been some urban guy heading out for an evening in the city.

A dark and handsome one, at that—all lean, tanned angles and planes, and a flash of white, perfect teeth when he smiled. Which, come to think of it, he’d managed just once since she’d met him. There was a world-weary depth to his compelling, whiskey-brown eyes that suggested he’d seen the worst life had to offer and rarely found a reason to smile.

“I think this young lady would be a real asset,” Walt said. “And God knows things at the clinic are getting worse by the day.”

“The clinic?” She raised her hands in protest. Good grief—were they talking about hiring her? “Hey, I really don’t—”

“You’d have to fill out an application, of course.” Joel leaned back in his chair and angled his attention toward her. “With references. Do you have any work experience?”

“I—was catering manager at a hotel, until I had Sophie. And then I stayed at home.”

“Why did you move to Texas?”

“I think we’ve discussed that already.” Anger flared deep in her belly at his subtly confrontational air. “I didn’t come here looking for a job, so maybe it’s time for Sophie and me to leave.”

“Hold on, hold on.” Walt shook his head and motioned them both to settle down. He directed a benevolent smile at Beth. “Please, forgive us. Maria and I truly did look forward to having you over.”

She wavered, wishing she’d never come.

“But then I also started thinking that you might be interested in a short-term job,” Walt continued. “Just until I can find someone permanent. And,” he added with a nod at Sophie, “I’ll bet Maria could even help you find some good child care.”

Joel cleared his throat and fixed Walt with a stern look.

“For Pete’s sake, Joel. Lighten up.” Walt waved a hand at him in dismissal. “I’m sure a few references would be no big deal.”

Beth looked over and found Joel’s gaze riveted on her face. She had the uneasy feeling that he was picking up on her thoughts, examining them and judging her.

Suddenly determined to stay, if only to defy him, she gave Joel a bored glance and turned to face her host. “Since we’re all getting to know each other so well, I’m curious about your nephew. He certainly isn’t very friendly, for a small-town guy.”

Walt chuckled. “He’s pretty new to these parts, too. What—going on six months, Joel? He bought some livestock and a ranch way out in the country. I hardly ever saw him until he started remodeling the clinic. Holed himself up out there, thinking he could just—”

“Walt.” There was a hint of warning in Joel’s voice.

The older man scooped up some salsa with a tortilla chip and waved it at her, grinning. “Guess he’ll just have to tell you himself. Maybe you two can get together.”

“I’m sure it’s a fascinating tale. Maybe another time.” She left the table to sit on the floor with Sophie and the puppies until Maria came to call them in to dinner.

Walt clearly imagined himself something of a matchmaker, but he couldn’t be more wrong. It was obvious that Joel wasn’t interested, and she sure wasn’t. Tall, dark and paranoid just didn’t meet her basic standards.

But then, no one did—not anymore. How could she ever know whom to trust?

She only had to remember the accident last winter, and a betrayal she’d never imagined. She’d never forgive herself for being so blind.



JOEL SETTLED BACK with one elbow propped on the arm of his chair, his coffee cup in one hand. As always, Maria’s tamales and enchiladas had been incomparable, while the rich, creamy caramelized flan and fluffy sopaipillas were the perfect, sweet balance to her strong coffee.

But the conversation around the table couldn’t have been more awkward.

Between the glowering looks Walt shot at him and the tension radiating from the woman across the table, Joel figured this would be a three-Rolaids night for everyone except the little girl, who seemed blissfully unaware of the emotions swirling above her head.

After seeing Sophie the first time, he’d gone home, tossed back too much Scotch, then lost himself in his own grim memories. The hangover and his strength of will had helped shove those images back into some dim recess of his brain, and he’d vowed that he wouldn’t let them surface again.

But now, looking at the little girl’s sparkling eyes and listening to her childish chatter about puppies and cats and some friend from back home named Lizzie, his melancholy resettled over him like a suffocating cloud. He wanted nothing more than a quick escape.

“…so what do you think?” Walt lifted his coffee cup toward Beth in salute. “Want the job?”

Joel jerked his thoughts back to the present. “I thought we—you—were going to do the usual reference check, and all that.”

Walt ignored him. “Well?”

Beth shot a defiant glance at Joel. “I’d be glad to give it a try.”

Joel exhaled slowly, considering. His caution was probably misplaced, but as a cop, he’d seen more than his share of con artists who were experts at charming the socks off easy marks, and it didn’t pay to be careless. On the bright side, he’d be working at the clinic, too, and could keep an eye on her for a while. In fact…

“You know what, I was just thinking.” He bared his teeth in what he hoped came across as a friendly smile. “I’m looking for more construction work. I could come over Monday morning and shoot you an estimate on your remodeling projects.”

Definite alarm flared in her eyes. “I…think I’m pretty well covered already.”

“How far out are those contractors booked?”

“A—a month or so.” She set her jaw. “Which will work just fine.”

“That’s a long time to wait,” he said mildly. “And you know those dates are probably very optimistic, in order to snag your business. At least let me take a look.”

“I don’t think so. She glanced at Walt, who gave her an encouraging smile. “It would probably be a waste of your time.”

“He does mighty fine work,” Walt said. “Just look at what he’s done so far in the clinic. But of course, I’m probably biased.”

“I…” She wavered, biting her lower lip. Then her shoulders sagged, and Joel knew she felt trapped by common courtesy to her host—and new boss—to at least let his nephew look at the project. “I…suppose another estimate wouldn’t hurt,” she said after a long pause, her voice noticeably devoid of enthusiasm.

She clearly didn’t want anything to do with him, and Joel could hardly blame her for that.

So he was going to make an offer she couldn’t refuse.




CHAPTER FOUR


“ARE YOU SURE?” Beth looked down at the paper in her hand with a dubious expression, apparently adding up the numbers a second time. “This is way below the other estimates.”

Joel shrugged. “Seemed fair enough to me.”

“B-but the materials. Your time.” She looked up at him and frowned. “Have you actually done much remodeling?”

“You can check out what I’ve been doing over at the clinic. I also worked my way through college on a construction crew.”

Joel watched her expressive face as she sorted out what was, in truth, an estimate far below the going rate. He didn’t need the money right now—he’d only started the remodeling work for Walt to fill his time with something worthwhile, though if he stayed in Texas, he might turn it into a business.

But in this case, he’d wanted to make doubly sure that the client would accept.

The irony was that perhaps he’d gone too low.

“Honestly, I hadn’t intended to even consider you, but this estimate is just too affordable for me to pass up,” she said slowly. “I know you’re still working on the clinic, though, and that should come first.”

He nodded. Either way, she wouldn’t be far out of sight.

“So how about this—quote me an hourly rate for your labor if I go pick up the materials myself.”

He suppressed a grin, and again he shot her a low quote—one that barely topped the wage of a convenience store clerk in Dallas.

“Let’s go one project at a time, then,” she murmured. “If that’s okay with you, then I guess we have a deal.”

“So…where do you want to start?”

She led the way from the café into the dark and dingy kitchen. “Once I can get the café up and running, it will help finance the rest of the work, and might also make this place more desirable to buyers.

“I’ll do the painting.” She tapped her copy of Joel’s estimate. “But all of those old wooden butcher-block counters have got to go. The floor tile needs to be replaced. The vent system is filthy, to say the least. The three-compartment sink leaks. With this low estimate of yours, I’ll be able to afford a small commercial dishwasher, but it will need to be installed.”

“Not a problem. So tell me,” he added casually, “why are you tackling this whole place on your own? No steady guy around to pitch in?”

“I…” She turned away and picked up an old teapot. Studied the label underneath. “You probably heard my daughter mention her father, on that first day.”

He nodded.

“He died about a year ago. Unexpectedly—in a single car accident.” She unconsciously touched a thin white scar tracing the edge of her cheek and temple. “Sophie and I were with him.” Her mouth curved into a faint, sad smile. “She was just three, and now she thinks every tall, dark-haired man looks like her daddy.”

Sophie was napping now, thank God, but at just the mention of her name, painful images from the past blindsided him. She was so sweet, so innocent. So very, very fragile.

And in the space of minutes, a precious child could be gone forever. It was a responsibility he never wanted to face again.

“Joel?” Beth was staring at him, the wariness back in her eyes.

He jerked his thoughts back into the present and scrambled for a response. “I—I’m sorry about your loss.”

“We’re doing okay. It’s harder for Sophie, because she suffered some hearing loss and she still has nightmares.” She stared over his shoulder, her brow furrowed. “I’ve tried and tried to remember what happened, but it’s all a total blank from the time we left home until I woke up in the ICU sometime the next day.”

Some of his perceptions about Beth shifted.

Of course anyone who’d been through such a tragedy would be deeply affected. Her wariness was probably a perfectly normal reaction by a grieving, vulnerable widow alone in a strange town.

“Perhaps that’s for the best.” He suddenly felt awkward, out of his depth. “Not remembering the accident, that is.”

“No.” Her knuckles whitened around the spout of the old china pot. “Sometimes Sophie wakes up screaming, saying things that make no sense. If I could remember, maybe I could help her.”

She winced, then opened her hand and looked down at her palm. The spout lay there broken, and blood welled from a cut at the base of her thumb. “All I can do is hold her, and tell her that everything will be all right. But that’s no help at all.”



BY THE END OF THE WEEK, Beth knew two things—that she’d never make it as receptionist/bookkeeper, and that no project was ever as easy as it looked.

“Tell me again about Elena,” she grumbled at Walt as he passed by the front office with a Schnauzer tucked under his arm. “She was a paragon, right?”

“She was.”

It was always interesting to hear Walt’s views about his former employee while trying to make sense of Elena’s innovative filing system. “Um…doesn’t P usually come after L, or is it just my imagination?”

He backed up and peered over her shoulder. “That’s the Petersons’ file. They have llamas.”

“But it’s under L. She filed under types of animals?”

He smiled patiently at her. “Now, that surely would be too confusing for a ranch, wouldn’t it?”

Beth bit back a growl of frustration. “Yes, it surely would. But you say Elena got married, and she won’t be back. Is that correct?”

“Afraid so.” He shook his head sadly and moved on down the hall.

“Then I’ve got a month or so to fix this filing system before some other poor soul has to deal with it,” Beth muttered under her breath. “Unless I go mad before then.”

Joel walked in the front door with his tool belt slung low on his hips and an armload of two-by-fours. He lifted an eyebrow, apparently picking up on her frustration. “How’s the job?”

“The animals are great, and that’s as far as I’m going. Except for Walt, of course.” She paused, considering. “And I guess you aren’t as grumpy as I first thought.”

He laughed. “Admit it. You’ll miss this place when you open that café of yours.”

“Not the filing system.” She smiled back at him, relieved at the easier camaraderie they’d gradually developed over the last four days.

He probably just felt sorry for her, what with the loss of her husband and the all-too-visible scars she tried to hide with a loose hairstyle and long-sleeved shirts. But as much as she disliked pity, it was better than his sharp-eyed suspicion from the week before.

She truly did enjoy being here at the clinic for a few hours at the end of every day, and it had to be good for Sophie to spend time with other children at her new babysitter’s place, too.

“I’ll be stopping by again tonight,” Joel said as he passed the desk empty-handed, heading outside for another load. “I can install stainless steel counters for the café from a set I found in an old bar, if you’re interested. The owner says you can have them all for fifty bucks.”

“That’s fantastic.” Filled with gratitude, she watched him go out the door, then flopped back in her chair and sighed.

He’d been over nearly every evening, working until midnight. Finding shortcuts and cost-saving materials that were as good or better than she would have paid for new.

In another place, another time, she might just be a little infatuated with him, watching that smooth ripple of muscle play beneath those T-shirts, hearing his deep laugh. Seeing his skill at making something beautiful out of almost nothing. But there were a dozen reasons why that wouldn’t happen, and she only had to think about Sophie—whom Joel carefully avoided—or Patrick to bring the biggest ones to mind.

Being a fool once had been bad enough.

Walt strode back down the hall and handed her a slip of paper. “Payday. Every Friday, so you can keep up on things at home.”

She accepted it with just a glance at the number, then took a longer look. “This has to be a mistake.”

“No mistake. You’re saving this place from total ruin, and me from keeling over from stress.” He grinned and turned on his heel. “I’m heading for home now. Just forward all the calls to my cell when you leave.”

“But really—”

He waved and went out the back door, leaving her to fan herself with the check. Could it be that things would actually work out here?

The café phone had been installed yesterday. It wouldn’t be long before she could decorate the little place and then start ordering food supplies.

She smiled, imagining a bakery case of lovely almond crescents. Cream-filled croque en bouche. Baguettes. Tempting little salads, artfully arranged, with a golden brioche on a matching plate, and a select variety of teas and coffees to tempt the palate.

How could she go wrong?



THE NEXT DAY, Joel stopped by the front desk and stared over her shoulder at the menu she’d drawn up on the clinic computer during her coffee break.

He was speechless for a moment, then he burst into laughter. “Sugar, do you know where you are? You’re in the middle of rural Texas. Home of roadhouse barbeque, chicken-fried steak and sweet tea. Folks in this town aren’t gonna know your fancy teas from a turnip.”

Affronted on behalf of all the Texans in…well, Texas, she drew herself up to her full height. “If they haven’t tried my kind of menu before, they’ll be surprised. And happy.”

“They aren’t going to be happy. They’re gonna be mystified. Now give ’em corn bread and a pot of pinto beans, and they’ll know what you’re talking about.”

“I’ve been to Dallas. It’s a very cosmopolitan place.”

“Right. But this is a bitty town two hundred miles from nowhere.” He raised his hands, palm up, in a gesture of defeat. “Do what you want. I’m just saying…”

He turned away, but apparently couldn’t help himself, because he came right back. His lips twitched. “And another thing, you buy breakfast out here, and it isn’t brioche and a latte. It’s hot biscuits. Jalapeño roast beef hash or fried ham. Eggs. Fried potatoes. And don’t forget the grits and hotcakes. These ranchers want good fuel, not an international experience.”

“They’re looking for a heart attack.”

A teasing glint came into his eye. “Show them your menu, and you’ll probably give them a good one.”



SOPHIE CUDDLED close to Beth on the couch in their apartment. It was ten o’clock and the poor child should have been asleep over an hour ago, but she’d awakened screaming, with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I don’t want to go to the babysitter. Not anymore.”

“I thought you liked Mrs. Garcia. We heard very nice things about her, you know.” Beth stroked her daughter’s silky hair. “Can you tell me what happened today?”

Sophie sniffled against Beth’s shirt. “It’s every day.”

Beth pulled her onto her lap and held her close. “What happened?”

“The k-kids.”

“Her kids?”

“Th-the others. They say—” Sophie dissolved into renewed tears. “Th-they say I’m st-stupid.”

Beth hugged her tighter and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Oh, sweetheart, you know that isn’t true. You’re the smartest little girl I know.”

“They laugh at me!”

Her words were muffled against Beth’s shirt, but still cut through her sharp as any knife. “Do you remember what the doctor said?”

“U-use my good ear?”

“He said this was because of the accident, so it has nothing to do with you being smart, sweetie. He said to turn your better ear toward people, and that your hurt ear would get better over time.”

“But it isn’t.”

“It has—you’re doing so much better already. And in the meanwhile, we just need to make sure people understand that they should talk directly to you.” Beth slowly rocked Sophie in her arms, treasuring her warmth. Wishing she could take away every hurt her daughter would ever have. “I’ll talk to Mrs. Garcia tomorrow. Then she can tell the kids to speak up.”

Sophie pulled away in alarm. “They’ll say I’m a tattletale!”

“No, I’ll ask her to be really subtle—er, careful—so they won’t think that.” Beth gently pulled her back into her arms and snuggled her close. “Things will be okay.”

Sophie whimpered, but finally her breathing slowed and her little body relaxed into the boneless warmth of sleep. Beth savored her closeness for a few minutes more, then carried her back to bed and tucked her in.

The unfamiliar jangling of the phone—the first time she’d heard it ring—startled her into a fast search for where she’d left the portable receiver.

She nabbed it on the fourth ring from the serving counter in the kitchen. But no one responded when she said hello.

“Crystal’s Café,” she repeated. “Can I help you?”

“You’d better hope so,” the man said on a harsh laugh. As usual, his voice was low and gritty, slightly muffled. As if he purposely lowered its register and was speaking through a heavy cloth over the receiver. “The question is, how fast. It won’t be that hard to get to you, if that’s what it takes.”

She gripped the receiver, her heart hammering against her ribs and her palms sweating. “I—I swear to you, I searched everything. I don’t have what you want.”

“You owe me, sweetheart, and you’d better think twice, because my patience is wearing thin.”

“I…don’t have it, and I don’t even know who you are. I owe you nothing.” She swallowed hard, her fear warring with anger. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. “You’re crazy.”

“You don’t think the Chicago police would like a little information on you? I figure you’re good for fifteen to twenty, federal time.”

A familiar wave of dizziness careened through her midsection, leaving nausea in its wake. “Th-there’s nothing to tell them, because I did nothing wrong. They didn’t press charges of any kind.”

“Oh, but they will…when they know more.” His voice lowered to a growl laced with pure menace. “Don’t make me come after you and that little girl of yours. One way or another, you’re gonna give me what I’m after. And believe me, until I get the key and that file, you aren’t safe anywhere on this planet—so don’t think your little move to Texas was any help at all.”

The line went dead.

Beth sagged to the cold floor, the receiver still in her hand, her pulse still pounding in her ears.

From the first anonymous call, she’d desperately started searching for what he wanted, planning to turn it all over to the police—hoping that it would lead to the arrest of the man harassing her.

But there’d been nothing.

No paperwork on any mysterious bank account and no key—though she’d been through every inch of the house in Chicago twice, and had gone through all of her possessions a third time while packing for the move to Texas.

Back in Chicago, she’d reported the man’s four threatening calls, but tracing them had led to public phones all over the city. There’d been nothing to go on. Though reporting them had brought the cops back into her life again, and she’d seen the suspicion in their eyes. Then an investigator had shown up at her door—the same one who’d interrogated her after Patrick’s death—and his hard-hitting questions had shaken her even more.

What if the caller was telling the truth—and had some sort of evidence that could lead to her arrest? And what would happen to Sophie then?

Wrapping her arms around her knees, Beth closed her eyes and tried to slow her racing heart. There was so much about her husband’s secret life that she hadn’t known until the police had shown up after his funeral with a thousand questions she couldn’t begin to answer.

Oh, Patrick, what on earth did you do?




CHAPTER FIVE


BETH RAPPED SOFTLY on Anna Garcia’s front door, then entered when the day-care provider’s greeting echoed from somewhere inside.

The usual five-thirty confusion was in progress, with two other moms walking in the door just ahead of Beth to round up their children. A little boy was crying in Anna’s arms. Two girls Sophie’s age were playing with dolls, but Sophie sat alone with a book and watched them from across the room.

Beth’s heart squeezed at her daughter’s forlorn expression. Her own time at the clinic flew by, but what were those hours like for Sophie, feeling like an outsider at the age of four? After three days, she still hadn’t made any friends.

The taller mom, a slender woman in a pretty mauve sweater and matching skirt, motioned to her daughter, then turned to Beth. “We haven’t met yet. I’m Gina Carlton. I’m the principal of the elementary school over in Horseshoe Falls, so these kids will get to know me pretty well in a few years.” She nodded toward the other woman. “And this is Tracy Evans.”

Beth introduced herself to them both, but Tracy, expensively dressed in matching ivory linen slacks and a cashmere sweater, simply looked over her shoulder and sized Beth up, then turned back to her daughter.

Beth felt a pang at her cool dismissal, so much like the arrogance of her most recent neighbors in suburban Chicago. Two years ago, Patrick had insisted on buying a home in an upscale neighborhood, saying it represented all he’d ever worked for, but she’d never been comfortable with such a high mortgage or in such an affluent area.

Gina smiled warmly. “I understand you’re thinking of reopening the café.”

“Maybe. It’s turning out to be more work than I expected.”

“Well, I hope you persevere. Lone Wolf hasn’t had a nice place like that in ages. Won’t that be great, Tracy?”

The woman in ivory arched one perfect eyebrow. “Bob and I were just talking about it, actually. A lot of folks in town hope the place will be torn down.”

Beth drew in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Tracy shooed her daughter toward the front door. “No offense intended, of course, but there certainly wouldn’t be much business in a town like this, and the property is already in ruins. If I were you, I’d save myself the money and the embarrassment.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Gina murmured after the door swung shut. “She and her husband own a restaurant in Horseshoe Falls, and she’s been a know-it-all since we were in high school. I think reopening the café would be wonderful for this town. Don’t you, Anna?”

The boy in the caregiver’s arms had finally stopped whimpering. She gently settled him down next to a stack of wooden puzzles, then walked over to Beth and gave her a quick hug. “Absolutely. I know you plan on leaving at the end of the summer, but we can always hope the new owners will keep it open. And maybe,” she added with a twinkle in her eye, “you’ll even decide to stay.”

Beth glanced between Gina’s daughter and Sophie, then chose her words carefully. “I’d love to stay, but we don’t have much choice….”

Gina’s brow furrowed. “Barely here, then going so soon? This town really wants to keep nice newcomers like you.”

“I need a stable job, good enough to support us. Sophie needs a school district large enough to offer special services for preschoolers.”

“Special services?”

“She has some hearing loss. It isolates her, because kids her age either ignore her or think she’s ‘different’ and don’t accept her.”

“I didn’t realize.” Gina blew out a long sigh. “That has to be tough on her, poor thing.”

“She does fine if she can see the face of the person talking and if they speak clearly. Otherwise, she misinterprets certain words.”

“What about surgery?”

“The specialist wanted to wait a while. This happened because of an accident, and she’s showing gradual improvement. If there’s not enough change in six months, we’ll need to look at other options…so by then I’ll need a job with good benefits.”

“But in the meantime…” Gina glanced at Sophie, her eyes filled with sympathy. “You know, maybe my Olivia and Sophie can get together for some play dates. Just the two of them, where it isn’t so noisy and distracting. Do you suppose Sophie could come over on Saturday?”

The offer was more than Beth had hoped for. “I know she’d love that.”

“It might even help her feel included here, if she has a friend.” Gina gave Beth’s arm a gentle squeeze, then she dug around in her purse for a business card and handed it over. “This has my cell, home and work numbers on it, so we can figure out the details later.”

Scooping her daughter up into her arms, Gina started for the door, then turned back. “Don’t even think about what Tracy said. You reopen that café and I promise you’ll end up busier than you want to be. I must be related to half the people in this county, and I’ll pass the word.”

“Thanks!” But Tracy’s words kept coming back to her for the rest of the evening. Was it foolish to even think about trying?



“NO, HE’S NOT MARRIED.” Following Dorothea Wilbert’s intent stare, Beth glanced over her shoulder and saw Joel disappear into Walt’s office, where he was installing an entire wall of oak shelving for Walt’s library of veterinary books and professional journals. Anticipating the next question, she added, “And far as I know, he is not attached.”

“If I was a few years younger…” Dorothea’s eyes gleamed. “He’s quite a hottie, you know.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Beth tried to smother a smile, but failed. A hottie? The woman had to be eighty if she was a day and her slang was a tad out of date, but she definitely deserved points for sheer spunk.

Dorothea lifted her cat carrier from the counter and angled a look at Beth’s bare left hand. “If I were you, I’d snap him right up.”

“If I ever decide to start looking, I’ll give that some thought,” Beth retorted dryly.

At least this was a variation on an all-too-familiar theme. One week at this part-time job, and she’d already fielded questions from at least a dozen women about Joel’s marital status. Women who were interested for themselves, or who just happened to have daughters, granddaughters, or nieces who might like an introduction.

Joel tried to avoid them.

Beth found it amusing when he couldn’t.

But that interest was no surprise, really. Other than a few grizzled cowhands who’d flirted with her while stopping in at the clinic, she hadn’t seen many eligible guys around town.

A situation that suited her perfectly well.

With Walt out in the country on farm calls, the clinic was quiet this afternoon save for a handful of people who’d either stopped in to buy pet supplies, or came to collect their pets after boarding them.

Beth stretched, working out the stiffness in her muscles from last night’s siege with a wallpaper steamer, then she turned back to the bank of file drawers behind her.

Joel sauntered up the hall, a carpenter’s pencil tucked above one ear, and that gunslinger tool belt riding low on his hips. With a nod in her direction, he went outside.

What was it about him that made her pulse pick up a faster beat whenever he walked by?

He certainly wasn’t her type…and she wasn’t in the market, at any rate.

In college, she’d gravitated toward the guys with armloads of philosophy books, who talked about the meaning of life, politics or social reform. White-collar guys who were safe, responsible. Who impressed parents and promised the kind of security a smart girl wanted.

Joel had an edge. An air of darkness and danger that promised he could handle any threat that came his way. But she’d learned early on that the bad boys in school were exciting, but they were the ones who casually broke hearts and disappeared. At the age of thirty she’d not be playing that game with Joel or anyone else—especially a man who was so clearly uncomfortable around Sophie.

Luckily, she and Joel had moved past that initial suspicion of his to a fledgling level of friendship, but that was as far as Beth would ever go.

According to Walt, the man had been a cop. A chill swept through her at the thought of what he could uncover if he got a little too curious and began researching her past. What if her anonymous caller was right—and Patrick had somehow tangled her up in the paperwork on his illegal dealings? Or she’d been implicated through some false evidence, by the very person who kept calling her? And then there was that suspicious fire….

She’d been cleared once. But what if the investigators had second thoughts and looked closer?

The clinic door opened and Joel came back in with a box of wood screws and a level. But this time, he didn’t just walk on by. He strolled into the receptionist’s area and leaned a hip against her desk, his too-long hair disarrayed by the windy day; his dark, thick lashes and smoldering brown eyes entirely too sexy and compelling.

But it was the hint of a boyish twinkle in those eyes that calmed the nervous flutter in her stomach.

“Ma’am, I need a favor. A big one.”

Surprised, she gave him a glance. “If it involves sewing or ironing, you’re flat out of luck.”

The laugh lines at the corners of his eyes deepened. “What would you say about a date on Saturday night?”



IF HE’D TOLD HER the entire town was afire, she couldn’t have paled any faster, though she quickly masked her initial look of shock with a forced laugh. “I…don’t think so.”

He raised an eyebrow and grinned at her. “Dorothea would say you’re making a mistake.”

“You heard that?” Some color came back into her cheeks.

“Couldn’t help it. She has the voice of a revival preacher on Saturday night. Not,” he added wryly, “that I believe a thing she said.”

“Half the female population of Lone Wolf does, though.” She tipped her head and surveyed him from head to foot. “You being a mystery man from the far reaches of the U.S. and all. Most people here probably know each other from birth to death.”

“Anonymity is a good thing.”

“And speaking of that, I need some facts, so I know what to say to these people. As in, where you are from exactly, and why you came here.” She tapped a forefinger against her lips, thinking. “Oh, and what you did for a living. That’s for starters. Unless you just want the local gossips to take care of things.”

Joel felt his defenses rise, his muscles tense. “Gossips?”

She gave a delicate shrug. “People know I work here and that you’re remodeling the clinic, so they ask me. Walt said you were a cop, but I’ve heard rumors that you are an ex-CIA agent, an FBI agent, or a private investigator.”

He sighed heavily. “Detroit PD. Worked a lot of areas, though the last was homicide. I…just burned out, and needed a change.”

He’d made a career of being good at noticing small details. Reading body language. Analyzing behavior and motivation. But even a rookie couldn’t have missed the subtle shift of her position, or the brief flare of uneasiness in her eyes.

And he realized that though she’d been superficially friendly, she’d probably been even less forthcoming about her background than him—and was better at blithely skirting subtle questions, too.

“I’m sure it was a tough career,” she murmured.

“Challenging. So about Saturday—”

“Mistake. A big mistake.” She seemed to cast around for an excuse, then brightened. “Since we’re working together and all.”

“There’s a rule? In Walt’s clinic?”

“I’m sure there must be.” Her gaze skated away. “Or there should be.”

He tried to remember if he’d been turned down with such determination. Probably never, because he and his wife had been high school sweethearts and married young. Later, he’d lost all interest in any sort of social life after the heart-wrenching loss of their daughter, and a subsequent divorce so acrimonious that he still felt singed by Andrea’s anger and accusations.

Then he realized that he hadn’t quite made his intentions clear. “The town’s annual street dance and barbecue is Saturday night. I just thought the evening could be casual—something between friends.”

Beth’s brittle smile was tinged with disbelief. “You step out on the sidewalk, and I’ll bet some gal will swoop by and gladly help you out.”

“I am not looking for a relationship, period. The last thing I’d ever do is settle down again, but the local mommas all have hopeful young things looking for a white picket fence and commitment, and they aren’t taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

“So, say it louder.”

“And disrespect someone’s mother? I just figure bringing a date might cool down some of the interest that has come my way.”

Her hand fluttered to the thin white scar that traced a faint line from her temple to the corner of her jaw, just below her ear. “I really don’t think—”

“Just two acquaintances out for a good time, nothing more than that. Hey, we can talk business the whole time. And the more people see you around town, the more they’ll sit up and take notice when you open the café.”

“Now that,” she retorted with a dry laugh, “is a pretty far reach.”

“Whatever it takes.” And oddly enough, he realized it was true.

Walt had insisted that Joel meet him for some good Texas barbecue at the festivities, and Joel had figured it might be a good chance to learn a little more about Beth—away from the constant flow of clients in the clinic. But now, he realized just how much he enjoyed her company, and that he really wanted her to come along. She was smart, and witty, and—




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