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What She'd Do for Love
Cindi Myers
They have a chance to build something special… Christa Montgomery has faced many changes recently, but she draws the line at an overhaul of her hometown, Cedar Grove, Texas. When the community's livelihood is threatened by a new highway, she's determined to stop the project and its chief engineer, Ryder Oakes.Ryder almost swept Christa off her feet before she recognized who he was, and now she must struggle to resist his warmth and compassion. Torn between two loyalties, she can't support the new highway, even if his career is at stake. As his project runs into trouble, though, she's determined to come up with a way to have her town…and Ryder, too.


They have a chance to build something special…
Christa Montgomery has faced many changes recently, but she draws the line at an overhaul of her hometown, Cedar Grove, Texas. When the community’s livelihood is threatened by a new highway, she’s determined to stop the project and its chief engineer, Ryder Oakes.
Ryder almost swept Christa off her feet before she recognized who he was, and now she must struggle to resist his warmth and compassion. Torn between two loyalties, she can’t support the new highway, even if his career is at stake. As his project runs into trouble, though, she’s determined to come up with a way to have her town…and Ryder, too.
Christa didn’t want to feel for Ryder...
She didn’t want to empathize with a man who was turning her world upside down. But she was drawn to him in spite of trying to hold back. “We should talk about the project after I’ve asked my father a few things,” she said. “Though he probably won’t change my mind about this new highway. Or keep me from fighting it.”
“I’m happy to discuss it with you anytime.” His eyes met hers, and she read a kaleidoscope of emotions in their depths—determination, sympathy and maybe even affection. She had to look away. She was afraid of what he might read in her eyes.
“Just remember, Christa. I’m not out to hurt you, or your family, or anyone in this town. I really do want to make this work for everyone’s benefit.”
His words sent a shiver of apprehension up her spine. Wasn’t there a saying about guilty people who protested too much?
Dear Reader (#u645ed385-b1d2-56e0-884e-5165821d65a2),
My family moved around fairly often when I was a child, which is maybe why I’m drawn to stories of families who have deep roots in a place. How wonderful to know that, no matter how far afield you roamed, you could always come back to a place where almost everything you looked at reminded you of beloved family members and family history. When everything else in life is in upheaval, that kind of home is one thing you can depend on.
But of course, things change, and home doesn’t always stay the same. My heroine, Christa, has to cope with some big changes in this story. To me, big changes can be the perfect catalyst for romance. The right person comes along and helps you to be a stronger, better person. Ryder helps Christa, but she teaches him a lot, too, about taking risks and holding on to the things that really matter. Together, they’re going to write their own definition of the perfect home.
I hope you enjoy Ryder and Christa’s story. I’d love to hear your own stories of home. You can contact me online at www.cindimyers.com (http://www.cindimyers.com), on Facebook at facebook.com/authorcindimyers (http://facebook.com/authorcindimyers) or on Twitter @CMyersTex (http://www.twitter.com/CMyersTex). Or write to me in care of MILLS & BOON Books.
All the best,
Cindi Myers
What She’d Do for Love
Cindi Myers


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CINDI MYERS
is an author of more than fifty novels. When she’s not crafting new romance plots, she enjoys skiing, gardening, cooking, crafting and daydreaming. A lover of small-town life, she lives with her husband and two spoiled dogs in the Colorado mountains.
For Katie
Contents
Dear Reader (#ucf5eb297-5eb3-5dc6-8d8b-fde557f9043b)
CHAPTER ONE (#u7546a06c-2d30-561f-813f-ecf2eb3eed96)
CHAPTER TWO (#u024fff99-6874-5b1a-9a8d-db54a8d54e44)
CHAPTER THREE (#u69a3186b-3580-548a-8ea0-5bd4308b6c22)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u45c88d7b-a39a-5b26-8b42-6978417d9db5)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
THE CLOSER SHE drove to her hometown of Cedar Grove, Texas, the more anxious Christa Montgomery was to be home. She’d fought the idea of moving back to the family ranch, even temporarily, but losing a job she’d loved hadn’t left her with many options. With only a few more miles to go, she had a hard time keeping to the speed limit. All she wanted was a hug from her father, homemade cookies from her mother, and the comfort of her parents’ love and faith in her. With all the upheaval in her life of late, she needed the stability of home. Surrounded by their love and a familiar landscape, she’d regroup and find her feet again.
Her heartbeat sped up as she approached the sign for Cedar Grove town limits. She gripped the steering wheel more tightly and leaned forward, anxious for the first glimpse of the place where she’d grown up. The demands of working at one of the top marketing firms in Houston had kept her away except for brief holiday visits, which she mostly spent at the family ranch.
Elation turned to dismay, however, as she guided her car down the town’s main street. What had once been a lively hub of activity was now almost deserted. She counted three For Sale signs in the first block. The grocery store was empty, as was the office supply store, Mavis Butler’s dress shop, and the bookstore.
She knew, of course, that the economic recession and continued drought had hit the area hard, but she’d never expected this. The town where she’d gone to school, sat through movies with her friends and whiled away hours at the diner was practically a ghost town. The businesses that were left looked forlorn, windows dusty, the signs faded.
She drove on, out of town and onto the farm-to-market road that led to her family’s ranch, the Rocking M. She relaxed when she spotted the white fencing that marked the beginning of her father’s property, the paint fresh and crisp. A row of survey stakes topped with orange plastic streamers that snapped in the warm spring wind traced a line just inside the fence. Was her father planning to move the fence line?
A few minutes later she turned the car into the gravel drive beneath the welded iron archway with the Rocking M brand at its center. In the pasture beside the drive a few Black Angus cattle crowded around a metal stock tank beneath the gently turning blades of the windmill that pumped water to keep the tank filled. She looked for, but didn’t see Duncan and Rodrigo, the two cowboys who helped her father.
When she reached the house, she parked the car in the shade of the tall oak that had once held her tire swing. She sat for a moment and studied the house, with its low, sprawling profile and front and side porches. Compared to the trendy, modern townhomes and mansions of the city suburbs, the house was sadly out of date, and much smaller than she remembered from her childhood. But none of that mattered. This was still her favorite place in the world. No matter how far away her life took her, no matter how many changes she experienced, she’d always feel grounded here, in this place that always remained the same.
She waited, but the front door didn’t spring open, and her parents didn’t rush to greet her. She didn’t even hear the dog barking. Maybe she should have called ahead, but she’d wanted to surprise them—and to avoid all the uncomfortable explanations about why she was here. Those would come later, when she was with them and talking came easier.
Her father’s truck sat beneath a cottonwood her grandfather had planted, her mother’s SUV nosed in beside it. Maybe Mom and Dad were riding on another part of the ranch. They’d return soon and Christa would be there—unexpectedly—to greet them. She collected her suitcase from the trunk of her sedan, leaving the boxes of books and other items for later. At the front door she hesitated, wondering if she should knock, then decided that was silly and let herself in. “Dad! Mom! It’s me, Christa!”
The frantic scramble of toenails on the hardwood floor signaled the arrival of Jet, her parents’ elderly Jack Russell terrier. Though he was growing deaf and slowing down, he still greeted her enthusiastically, jumping up and down on stiff legs and letting out excited yips. She rubbed his ears and patted his back. “Oh, Jet, it’s good to see you, too.”
“Christa? Is that you?” Her father, his voice hoarse from years of shouting at cows and cowboys over the howl of wind or the drone of machinery, emerged from the back of the house. Dressed in faded jeans and a gray snap-button shirt with a patch on one elbow, he looked more like a down-on-his-heels ranch hand than a prosperous ranch owner. His hair, which had more silver in it than she remembered, curled up at his frayed shirt collar, and needed combing. She stared. Had she woke him from a nap? In the middle of the day?
Her father’s gaze dropped to the suitcase in her hand, then back to her face. “What are you doing here, honey?” he asked.
Not the enthusiastic welcome she’d expected. Her stomach tightened. Yes, she should have called ahead. She should have thought this out more. But she’d given up her apartment in Houston and put her furniture in storage. Only the thought of coming home, of being taken care of for a little while so she could regain her strength, had kept her from falling apart. “I’ve come home, Dad,” she said. “Just for a little while.”
His eyes narrowed and his expression hardened. “Who have you been talking to?”
“No one.” She felt like a kid again, caught joy-riding on the tractor, or staying out past curfew. She half-way expected her dad to tell her how disappointed he was in her and to sentence her to mucking out horse stalls every Saturday for the next month. “I lost my job. Pemberton Professionals laid off one-quarter of their employees and I was one of them. I thought...I thought I could stay here a while, until I decided what to do next.”
“Aw, honey.” Dad rubbed his jaw, his hand scraping against a day’s growth of beard. “You know your mom and I are always glad to see you.”
Except he didn’t sound very glad. “Where is Mom?” Christa asked. Suddenly, she wanted nothing in the world as much as a hug from her mother.
“She’s resting. You can see her later.”
“Bud?” Her mother’s voice, sounding old and tired, interrupted them. “Who’s there?”
Not waiting for her dad to intervene, Christa abandoned the suitcase and, with Jet on her heels, headed down the hallway that led to her old room on one side, with her parents’ room at the end. The flowered carpet runner that stretched down the hall muffled her footsteps. When she reached the partially open door to her parents’ room, she forced a cheerful smile to her face and took a deep breath. Her mother would be glad to see her, and Mom would have some reasonable explanation for Dad’s behavior. Then again, what was Mom doing in bed in the middle of the day? Maybe they had been up all night with a sick calf, or any of the other chores that could distract a rancher.
Her mother sat propped in bed, looking a little pale, but otherwise okay. Jet hopped onto the bed and curled up beside his mistress. “Mom, is something wrong?” Christa asked.
“I’m just resting my eyes.” Mom sat up straighter against the piled pillows and fixed Christa with the same look with which she’d questioned bad grades or poor choices in boyfriends. “What are you doing here in the middle of a work week?”
Christa sat on the edge of the bed. Though she’d rehearsed this conversation over and over on the drive up from Houston, and in the days before that, now that the moment was here her carefully prepared words deserted her. “I got laid off and between my student loan payments and my car payments things are really tight right now. I was hoping I could stay here a few months—just until I can get my life back together.”
Mom’s gaze darted to Dad, who had followed Christa into the room and stood in the doorway, his still-broad shoulders filling the frame. “Of course you can stay,” Mom said. “Your old room is just like you left it.”
“Are you sure everything is okay?” Christa asked. “You and Dad don’t seem very happy to see me.”
“You just caught us by surprise,” Mom said. “Of course we’re very happy to have you home.”
“Are you sure? I feel like I caught you at a bad time. Why are you in bed? Are you sick or something?”
“She’ll be fine. She got too tired yesterday, helping me move cattle. That’s all.” Her father’s tone was brusque, but the tenderness in his expression when he looked at his wife made Christa’s eyes sting. Something was going on here—some silent message passing between husband and wife in a code she couldn’t break.
“Then I’d better let you rest.” She stood and moved toward the door. Jet looked up and thumped his tail, as if to say “Don’t worry, I’ll look after her,” then laid his head back on his paws and closed his eyes. Father and daughter tiptoed from the room, and he shut the door softly behind them.
But Christa couldn’t as easily shut the door on her worries. Her mother was one of the most vibrant, active women she knew. Adele Montgomery had spent a lifetime riding horses, hauling hay, cooking for cowboys, and managing the Rocking M alongside her husband. To see her in bed in the middle of the day had been more unsettling than Christa could have imagined. “Are you sure she’s okay?” she asked.
“That’s enough now, Christa. She’ll be fine.” Dad sank into the leather recliner that over the years had formed itself to the shape of his body. Christa sat on the sofa across from him. “Tell me the truth about what’s going on with you,” Dad said. “Are you broke? Do you need money?”
“I still have a little left in savings. Staying here will allow me to stretch that out.”
“So Pemberton just let you go?”
“They let a lot of people go.” She struggled not to squirm under her father’s hard gaze. “I didn’t have a lot of seniority, so I got the ax.” Even though she knew losing her job wasn’t her fault, the loss hurt.
He nodded. “Times are hard all over. They say the economy’s picking up, but I think it’s like one of those big cruise ships—takes a while to turn it around. You’ll find another job.”
Absolutely she would—as soon as she worked up enough nerve to send out some applications. The layoff had been such a paralyzing blow all she could think to do was to come home. Here, she was sure she’d find the strength to recover and get on with her life. She just hadn’t expected things to feel so different in a place that had always been familiar. “Speaking of the economy, what’s going on in town?” she asked. “I was shocked when I drove through—so many closed businesses.”
“People would rather shop in the city these days,” Dad said. “Between the drought and folks having a tough time financially, it’s been a real challenge for some to hang on.”
“Maybe some new businesses will come in,” she said.
He shook his head. “I doubt it. The state’s going to build a new highway that bypasses Cedar Grove and offers a more direct route into Dallas.”
Why hadn’t Dad mentioned this in one of her weekly calls home? “When did this happen?” she asked.
“Oh, they decided it months ago,” he said.
“You never said anything.”
“I didn’t think it would interest you. After all, you don’t live here anymore.”
“But this will always be my home. Of course it matters to me. How can they just decide to divert traffic that way? They must know how much it will hurt the town.”
He shrugged. “It’s the state. They can do what they want.”
“Without even asking the people what they want? Didn’t anyone in town object— protest?”
“Oh, a few people wrote letters to the editor and to their congressmen. But it didn’t make any difference in the end. Now we’ve accepted it and are focused on getting on with things the best we can.”
“But you can’t...let the town die.” She felt like crying all over again. Cedar Grove was home as much as the ranch was. She’d bought her first prom dress at Mavis Butler’s dress shop, with money she’d made working part time at the grocery store. Her first date with Jordan Ledbetter had been to the movies at the Bijou Theatre, and her high school band had marched down Main Street every Fourth of July in the parade.
“The town won’t die,” Dad said. “It will simply change. Everything changes.”
“But not every change is good.” Her home wasn’t supposed to change that drastically—home was supposed to be the one constant in her life that she could count on. “Someone should do something to stop this.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” he said. “But I have more important things to worry about than a highway project.”
She waited for him to elaborate on what those things might be, but he’d fallen silent, staring off into the middle distance. She wondered if he even remembered she was here. With his graying hair and hunched back, he looked so much older than she remembered—her father wasn’t supposed to get old. He was always supposed to be the tough cowboy, sitting tall in the saddle, master of his domain. The man who could fix anything and solve any problem for his little girl.
But she wasn’t little anymore, and even though she’d run back home, she couldn’t expect her parents to solve all her problems. “Thanks for letting me stay for a while,” she said. “I promise I’ll do my share around here, and I’ll leave before I wear out my welcome.”
She expected him to say she was always welcome here, but that part of the familiar script had changed, too. He hefted himself out of the recliner. “Come on. Let’s get the rest of your things out of your car and get you settled. You’ll need to put sheets on the bed.”
“Don’t worry about it, Dad. I’m here to help, not to make more work.”
He surprised her then, by slipping his arm around her and pulling her close in a hug so hard she feared her ribs might crack. “It’s good to see you, Pumpkin,” he said. “You caught us by surprise, but now that you’re here, we’re glad.”
She blinked back stinging tears and laid her head on his shoulder. How many times over the years had he held her while she cried about everything from a lost dog to a boy who’d hurt her feelings? At least he hadn’t changed; he was still the strong cowboy she could always rely on to be there for her. “Thanks, Dad. I’m glad to be here.” Really glad. Now she could start her life heading in the right direction again, with home as the unchanging, fixed anchor point from which she could launch herself into the world once more.
The next morning Christa was surprised to find her mother seated at the breakfast table, sipping coffee and reading the paper, Jet curled at her feet, while her father scrambled eggs and made toast. “You’re making breakfast?” Christa asked, unable to hide her surprise. Her mother was the one who cooked, while her father read the paper.
“I can do a lot of things you don’t know about. Coffee’s over there.” He nodded to the current generation of the drip coffeemaker that had been a fixture in that corner of the kitchen for as long as Christa could remember.
She poured a cup of coffee and sat at her familiar place at the round wooden table in the corner of the kitchen. Her father slid a plate of eggs and toast in front of her, and Jet moved over to sit by her chair, hoping for a handout. She slipped him a bite of egg. “This looks good,” she said, noting the fluffy pile of eggs and just-brown toast with twin yellow pools of butter. “Good for you, Mom, letting Dad wait on you for a change.”
Her mother winced and set down her coffee cup. “Did you get everything sorted in your room?” she asked.
“Pretty much. I didn’t bring a lot.” She paused for a bite of egg and toast—not as good as her mom’s, but not bad. “I only plan to stay a few weeks—a couple of months at most. Just until I can regroup and find a new job.”
“It’s a shame about Pemberton,” Mom said. “You always sounded so happy when you talked about your work there.”
“It was the perfect job,” Christa said. “I got along great with everyone, and I loved the creative challenge of designing new marketing programs. We did everything from single print ads to lengthy television campaigns. My clients were a nice mix of private companies and nonprofits. My bosses were great, and the location was ideal.” She got a little choked up, just thinking about how lucky she’d been to land such a great position right out of college. She’d planned to stay there until she retired.
“I’m sure you’ll find something else you’ll love just as much,” Mom said. “Where have you applied so far?”
“Um, I’m still considering my options.” She enjoyed the last of the toast and egg. “I don’t want to rush into anything I’ll regret.”
“You can stay here as long as you like,” Mom said. “I’m sure it will be nice for you to touch base with your friends in town. What did you plan to do today?”
She pushed aside her empty plate. “I hadn’t planned on doing much of anything. I thought it would be nice for the two of us to visit.”
Mom and Dad tried to be subtle, but Christa would have had to be blind to miss the look they exchanged—as if they were two guilty crooks agreeing on a cover story. “I want you to run some errands in town for me,” Mom said. “I need a few things.”
“Why don’t we go together?” Christa said. “We could have lunch at the Blue Bell.” The Blue Bell Café was an institution in Cedar Grove. Christa and her mom had shared many confidences—from discussions of first bras and first boyfriends to the pros and cons of various colleges and career paths—over coffee and pie at the Blue Bell. Going there today would be like old times.
But Mom shook her head. “I’ll be much too busy here at the ranch. I’d rather you went for me.”
“All right. I can do that.” Christa wanted to ask what her mother would be so busy with, but another evasive answer would hurt too much, so she pushed her curiosity aside.
After breakfast, Christa washed the dishes, then took the list her mother gave her and headed to Cedar Grove. The town seemed somewhat more lively this morning, with cars parked in front of most of the businesses. Her first stop was the library, where Mrs. Franklin manned the front desk, as she had for most of Christa’s life. “I’ve got the books your mother requested right here,” Mrs. Franklin said. She slid the stack of volumes toward Christa and studied her over the tops of her half glasses. “Are you home to stay, or is this another quick visit?”
“I’ll be here for a few weeks. Maybe as long as a couple of months. I was laid off from my job in Houston.” She might as well admit it up front; it wouldn’t take long for the news to spread in a town the size of Cedar Grove.
“I’m sorry to hear that, dear. I can’t say you’ll find a lot of job opportunities in this neck of the woods, but if I learn of anyone hiring, I’ll let you know.”
Christa seriously doubted she’d find a position in town that would utilize her marketing degree, but she appreciated Mrs. Franklin’s concern. “That’s very thoughtful of you. I’m really here because I thought it would be nice to spend more time with my folks while I’m between jobs.”
“That’s good. I’m sure both your parents appreciate the help.” Mrs. Franklin tapped a few keys on her computer and studied the screen. “Your old library card is still good, so feel free to use it while you’re here. And we have a women’s book club that meets the second Thursday evening of every month. You should come.”
“Maybe I will. Thanks again.”
Next on the list was the Blue Bell Café, for a jar of Etta Mae Cook’s strawberry jam. “I thought Adele made all her own jam,” Etta Mae said, after she’d given Christa a hug and slipped the jar of jam into a brown paper sack.
“Maybe she didn’t have time this summer,” Christa said. “She said she’s been busy—too busy to even come to town with me today.”
“Well, you tell her I’m flattered to know she likes my jam so much. She should stop by for coffee and a chat next time she’s around.”
“I’ll tell her. Thank you.”
“And you should come back Friday morning. The Chamber of Commerce eats breakfast here and everyone is invited. They’re always looking for volunteers.”
“Thanks, but I think I’m going to be pretty busy updating my résumé and applying for jobs.”
“I hope you find one, honey. I wish Cedar Grove had more to offer young folks like you. Maybe this new highway will bring some new businesses and jobs with it.”
“But I thought the highway was going to bypass the town,” Christa said.
“Well, it is, dear. But there’s talk of development out by the highway, so I guess businesses will gradually move out that way. I’m hoping for the best.”
Christa wished she shared Etta Mae’s optimism. The highway project might just as well be the death knell for the little town she loved. “I guess I’d better see to these other errands.” She held up the list her mother had given her. “But I’ll be back soon for a piece of your wonderful pie and a cup of coffee.”
“I’ll save one for you.” Etta Mae winked, then turned to wait on the next customer.
By the time Christa walked into the Cedar Grove Bank an hour later, she was beginning to suspect that her mother had written her list with the goal of reacquainting Christa with as many familiar faces in town as possible, and luring her into all the clubs and activities. The teller, whose nameplate identified her as Traci, was a stranger to Christa, which was almost a relief. At least here, no one would feel obligated to invite her to join the gardening club or to volunteer with the 4H, as had happened at the Post Office and the Seed and Feed. “May I help you?” Traci asked.
“My mom sent me for paper coin sleeves,” Christa said. “I guess she has a bunch of change to roll.”
“Oh, sure.” The teller opened a drawer and took out a fistful of coin wrappers for pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters, and slid them across the counter to Christa. “Here you go. Anything else?”
She glanced at the sign that offered free checking. “I’m going to be here a little while,” she said. “Maybe a couple of months. Could I open an account for just that time? It would make banking easier.”
“Sure you can.” She looked past Christa to the young man who sat at the desk across from her. “Paul, can you help this customer with a new account?”
Christa recognized a boy who had been a couple grades ahead of her in school. So much for thinking she could come to the bank without seeing someone she knew. “Paul Raybourn, it’s good to see you,” she said.
“Christa. Great to see you.” She sat in the chair across from his desk and they spent a few minutes catching up. She learned Paul had married a classmate of hers, Didi Moffat, and they had a baby boy, Alex. She told him about her job loss and her plans to spend the summer at the ranch.
“After living in the city, the ranch is going to seem dull as dirt,” he said. “I predict in two weeks you’ll be dying for any excuse to get out of town.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” she said. “I liked Houston, but I’m a small-town girl at heart. After so much upheaval in my life lately, I’m looking forward to a stable, comfortable routine.”
“If you say so. I could do with a bit more excitement, myself.”
“I guess the new highway is going to bring a bit of excitement to town,” she said.
“It already has, what with folks taking sides over whether or not this project is a good thing for Cedar Grove.”
“And what do you think?” Christa asked.
“My view is, it’s already a done deal, so we might as well make the best of it.” He gave her the forms to complete to open a checking account and she was busy writing when Paul looked over her shoulder and said. “Hey, Ryder. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
She turned to see a good-looking, tall man striding across the bank. Dressed in pressed khakis and a sport coat, he stood out among the jeans and snap button shirts of most of the men. When he smiled, dimples formed on either side of his mouth. His sandy brown hair dipped low across his forehead, above a pair of deep blue eyes.
“Christa Montgomery, I’d like you to meet Ryder Oakes. Ryder’s staying in town for the summer, too.”
Christa rose and took Ryder’s offered hand. “Hello, Mr. Oakes.”
“Please, call me Ryder. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His voice was soft and deep. A caressing kind of voice.
Where had that thought come from? She wasn’t the type of woman who was easily bowled over by a handsome man—but she had to admit Ryder Oakes made her heart flutter a little. The thought almost made her laugh. Talk about bad timing. She needed to focus on finding a new job and getting her life back on track—the last thing she needed was the distraction of a romantic relationship.
“What brings you to town, Ryder?” she asked, determined to regain her composure.
“Work. My job takes me all over.”
“Ryder’s an engineer,” Paul offered. “He’s a University of Texas alum, like you.”
Too bad she’d never run into him on campus. He looked a few years older than her, tiny lines fanning out from the corners of those gorgeous eyes. She searched for some remark to keep the conversation going. “Traveling all the time must get old.”
“I grew up in a military family. My dad was in the army, so I’m used to moving a lot.”
“Christa’s family owns the Rocking M, just south of town.” Paul apparently felt his role was to fill in details, like a teacher coaxing two reluctant children together.
Or a matchmaker. She bit back a groan.
“It’s a beautiful place,” Ryder said.
So he knew the ranch. That wasn’t so unusual. If he’d spent much time around Cedar Grove at all, he was bound to have driven by her parents’ place. “We think so.”
“I’m sure Bud and Adele are happy to have you home.”
His use of her parents’ first names surprised her. “How long have you been in Cedar Grove?” she asked.
“Not quite a month. I’ve really been trying to get to know people though.”
He’d covered a lot of ground in that month—odd for someone who was only going to be here temporarily.
“Christa could introduce you to a lot of people,” Paul said. “She was Miss Cedar Grove her senior year of high school. And growing up here, she knows pretty much everybody.”
Paul was definitely matchmaking—as if a man like Ryder would be impressed with her brief stint as the local beauty queen. “You know more people than I do now,” she said. “After all, I’ve been in Houston the past few years.” She handed him her stack of papers. “I think that’s everything.”
Paul looked at the papers in his hands, as if he’d forgotten why they were all gathered around his desk. But he recovered quickly. “Great. Let me get you an account number and you’ll be all set. We can transfer funds from your account in Houston and you’ll have access right away.”
“Are you moving back to town from Houston?” Ryder asked.
“Just staying here for a little while, visiting my parents.” She wasn’t about to explain her job and money woes to this handsome stranger. She might not be interested in dating Ryder, but she didn’t want to come off like a loser in front of him, either.
Thankfully, he didn’t ask for more details. His phone buzzed and he slipped it from his pocket. “I’d better get this. It was nice meeting you, Christa. I hope I’ll see you again.”
These last words sent another shiver of awareness through her. Oh, Ryder Oakes was something all right. Too bad it was impossible for her to get involved with anyone right now.
CHAPTER TWO
THE CALLER ID on Ryder’s cell indicated that the call was from his mother. His mother who, as far as he could remember, had never called him in the middle of a work day. “Mom! Is everything all right?”
“I’m fine. Why would you think something is wrong?”
“You never call me during the day.”
“I’m on my lunch break and I wanted to catch you while you were still in cell range. I know how it is on some of those ranches—no cell tower for miles.”
“Okay.” He relaxed a little. “So what’s up?”
“I’ve been thinking—instead of you coming for dinner on Saturday, I’d like to come there and see you. We can go to lunch somewhere.”
“Sure. If that’s what you’d prefer.” His mother lived in Dallas and since Ryder had relocated to Cedar Grove, she’d made it a point to have him over for a meal at least once a week. He hadn’t spent so much time with a parent since he’d graduated high school, but he had to admit, it was nice having Mom close.
“I want to see where you live,” she said.
“It’s nothing fancy—just a furnished rental.” He didn’t need more, since his stay here wasn’t going to be permanent.
“Humor me. Now give me your address.”
He rattled off the details and the main cross streets. “My new car has GPS,” she said. “I’m sure I can find it. I’ll see you about noon Saturday, then.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
He pocketed the phone and added “Clean apartment” to his mental to-do list. He wondered if his mom wanted to see him so much because she was lonely. After all, she’d married Ryder’s dad right out of high school. To be on her own at this point in her life had to be tough. Of course, she’d been the one to ask for a divorce—something that still shocked Ryder. He’d thought his parents were happy in their marriage, or as happy as any couple ever was.
He’d better pick up some soft drinks and snack stuff at the store this afternoon; his provisions were limited to coffee, a loaf of bread and some lunch meat and condiments. He ate out for most of his meals. He fully expected Mom to fuss about his lack of a proper diet, a proper home or even a steady girlfriend. She rarely pried into his personal life, but she had strongly hinted that she thought it was time for him to settle down.
Hard to do when his job kept him on the road. His stint in Cedar Grove was likely to be one of the longest of his career, but even though plenty of women had indicated they’d be interested in getting to know him better, so far he’d kept his distance. Relationships always complicated things, especially when it came time to leave town.
That didn’t stop people from trying to match him up with eligible females, though. Christa Montgomery was beautiful, no doubt about that, with dark brown hair that fell just to her shoulders, and clear brown eyes that had met his gaze with no hint of coyness or flirtation. That air of confidence and calm assuredness made her all the more attractive. He’d like to get to know her better.
That wasn’t a new feeling for him; he met women all the time who might interest him, as he traveled around the state, overseeing various highway and bridge projects. But he was always careful not to start what he couldn’t finish. He’d told the truth when he’d said his job required a lot of travel. He didn’t mind, but being away from a home base so much made it tough to form relationships. He might date a woman one week, then not see her again for six or eight weeks. Texting and e-mailing couldn’t take the place of a physical connection. And he wasn’t the type to have a girl in every town, like some of the other engineers in his group.
But he’d settle for friendship—or a summer romance. If Christa wasn’t planning to stay in Cedar Grove, maybe she’d appreciate some company for a few months. It would be nice to have someone to hang out with, to take in a movie or dinner, without the worry that she’d expect a more lasting commitment.
He stepped back into the bank, but Christa was gone. Paul looked up from his desk. “Is there something I can help you with, Ryder?” he asked.
Ryder remembered why he’d come to the bank in the first place. “We’re going to have a lot of workers in and out of Cedar Grove for the next couple of years as construction on the highway progresses,” he said. “I wanted to make sure there won’t be a problem cashing their checks.”
“No problem at all.” Paul laughed. “I mean, if the state isn’t good for the money, we’re all in trouble.”
He scanned the lobby once more, wondering if Christa had slipped out the side door—to avoid him?
“If you’re looking for Christa, she said she had more errands to run,” Paul said. “I take it she just got back to town yesterday afternoon.”
“I guess she’s staying at the Rocking M, with her parents?” He regretted the question as soon as he saw Paul’s eyes light up.
“She is,” the banker said. “She’s been living in Houston since she graduated a few years ago, working at some big marketing firm. I guess the economic slump hit them the way it has almost everyone else. They laid off a bunch of people and she was one of the casualties. But I’m sure another firm will snap her up. She was always sharp.”
“So she’s only here temporarily, until she finds a new job.”
“I guess that’s the plan. But we all know plans can change.” He grinned. “The number at the ranch is in the local directory, if you want to give her a call.”
He bit back the impulse to tell Paul that he didn’t need anyone else to set him up with a woman. He already had to dodge the local women who went out of their way to flirt and even outright proposition him. Something about a new, single man in town sent some females into overdrive.
But Christa wasn’t like that. She’d been friendly, but cool. Not the kind of woman to throw herself at any man.
Which, in the perverse nature of the human spirit, made her all that much more attractive. But he wasn’t going to let Paul know that. For some reason, the banker had made it his mission to introduce Ryder to every eligible woman in the county.
Time to change the subject. “Are you going to be at the public forum tomorrow night?” he asked. This was the last in a series of community gatherings in the area to answer questions about the new highway project. Ryder’s job was to persuade people that the project was a good and positive thing for the people around here.
“I wouldn’t miss it.” Worry lines formed on Paul’s forehead. “Are you concerned about the reception you’ll receive?”
“I know some people are unhappy with me, but I’m hoping when I explain the benefits, I can sway them to my side.” He believed the highway was a good thing, though he understood people’s fears about having traffic siphoned from an already dying town. But the new route meant new opportunity. He’d help people see that.
“The other meetings—with the other people the state sent to talk to us—didn’t always go so well,” Paul said.
“I’m not those other people.” The state had chosen him because of his ability to interact with a variety of people. Another lesson he’d learned from life as a military nomad.
“There are some pretty tough old cowboys around here. Set in their ways.”
“I was never one to back down from a battle.” His father had taught him that much. Except his weapons of choice were logic and control, not firearms. Facts and figures beat raw emotion any day, though it took some people longer than others to see that.
* * *
PINK GERANIUMS BLOOMED in half barrels flanking the door to the Cedar Grove Salon, where Christa had received her very first permanent wave from her best friend Kelly Jepson’s mother, Janet. Someone had added the words “and Day Spa” after “Salon” on the familiar sign, but when Christa stepped through the front door, the salon was just as she remembered it. Black padded chairs faced antique dressers that served as the stylists’ stations, and the air smelled of peroxide, hair spray and fruity shampoos. An older woman sat under a dryer in the corner, and Janet was just finishing a cut on another woman at her station.
As the string of sleigh bells on the back of the door fell silent, Kelly hurried from the back of the shop. “Christa!” she cried, and ran forward to hug her friend. Short, with a halo of brown curls framing her face, Kelly had gone into business with her mother right after high school. She and Christa kept in touch via Facebook and too-infrequent visits. “Etta Mae stopped by a little while ago and told us you were in town. For a while, I hope.”
“A few weeks. Maybe a few months. Did Etta Mae tell you I’d lost my job?”
“She didn’t say—I’m so sorry. I know how much you loved your work.”
“To tell you the truth, I’m still kind of in shock.”
“So you had no idea the layoff was coming?” Kelly asked.
“None. No one did. Apparently, the company had been in trouble for a while and we never knew.”
“That’s tough, but you’ll bounce back. In the meantime, I’m thrilled you’re home. And your hair looks gorgeous.” Kelly fingered the blunt-cut ends of Christa’s hair with a proprietary air. “Come see me when you’re ready for a trim.”
“Of course.” She waved at Janet, who nodded even as she wielded her blow-dryer and comb. “Stepping in here is just like coming home—everything so familiar.”
“Not everything,” Kelly protested. “Didn’t you see the sign? We’re a day spa now, too. We have a massage therapist who works three days a week, and I’m certified to do facials and waxing.”
“I guess that’s good,” Christa said. “Just don’t change too much.”
“We’ve got to keep up with the times,” Kelly said. “Do what we can to bring in new customers.”
“Not that any of it’s doing us much good.” Janet joined them at the front counter as her customer left. “I guess you noticed how many businesses around town have closed or are for sale,” she said.
“My dad said the drought and the economy have hit everyone hard,” Christa said. “It’s awful.”
“And now that new highway is going to send everybody flying right by without even knowing Cedar Grove is here,” Janet said.
“Some people are talking about moving out nearer the new highway,” Kelly said. “A developer has plans for a big new shopping center there.”
“Where the rent will be twice what we pay here,” Janet said.
“Mom has been a little stressed out about all of this.” Kelly frowned.
“Don’t get me started.” Janet waved her hand as if shooing a fly. “It’s good to have you back, Christa. I’ve got to go see to Mrs. Newsome.” She turned and headed for the woman under the dryer.
“Are you really thinking of moving the salon?” Christa asked.
Kelly shrugged. “Maybe. Mama doesn’t like change, but I think it could be a good thing. Along with the shopping center, there’s talk of a new housing development going in. The new highway will shorten the commute to Dallas, so the theory is more people will want to move out to the country. We could have a whole bunch of new clients for the salon. If we don’t move, some chain will set up shop and take all our business. I think Mama will come around—I just have to work on her.”
“I always admired your ability to see the bright side of things,” Christa said. “I guess I’m with your mother—I don’t like change. Did anyone even try to persuade the state that the route they chose for the highway wasn’t the best? It seems to me they didn’t have to bypass Cedar Grove altogether.”
“Some people raised a fuss at first, but you know how it is—the state always has an answer for every objection. They said this route was the only economical one. They held a series of meetings to present their plans. There’s another one tomorrow night.”
“Are you planning to attend?”
Kelly sighed. “I wish we didn’t have to, but Mama insists on going, and I go to help keep her calm. Frankly, I’ll be glad when they break ground. Once construction is under way, I think she’ll see there’s nothing we can do to stop it. Besides, I’m looking forward to another advantage of the construction project.”
“What’s that?” Christa asked.
“There’ll be lots and lots of men working on the project and they’ll be staying in town for up to two years. Some of them are bound to be young and single.”
Christa thought of Ryder Oakes. He’d said he was an engineer. Was he connected with the new highway project? The idea left a bitter taste in her mouth. She couldn’t be as optimistic as Kelly about the effect the highway would have on her hometown. “I think I’ll go to the meeting, too,” she said. “If Mom and Dad don’t need me for anything. I want to hear what the state’s representatives have to say.”
If nothing else, focusing on this new highway would take her mind off her own problems, for a few hours, at least.
* * *
ERRANDS COMPLETED, CHRISTA drove back to the ranch, where everything was exactly as she’d expected to find it yesterday, but hadn’t. Today her father, dressed in a crisp long-sleeved Western shirt, freshly shaved, his hair neatly cut and combed, waved at her as he rode across the front pasture on his favorite horse, a sorrel gelding named Peanut. Mom, looking fresh and rested in denim capris and a pink blouse, opened the door as soon as Christa stepped out of the car and greeted her with a hug. At her side, Jet barked happily and wagged his tail in greeting. As Christa followed her mother into the house, the smell of roasting meat and baking pies greeted her.
The events of the day before might have been a bad dream. “Thank you for running those errands for me,” Mom said, relieving Christa of her packages. “It was a big help. How was your afternoon?”
“Fine. Etta Mae says hello. She wants to have coffee with you soon.”
“I’ll have to do that. Did you stop by the salon and see Kelly?”
“Yes.” Christa trailed her mom and Jet into the kitchen, where a pair of peach pies—Christa’s favorite—sat cooling on the counter. “She told me they might move the salon after the new highway is built.”
“That sounds smart.” Mom dumped the coin papers in the drawer beneath the phone—the repository for all the miscellaneous items no one knew what to do with.
The back door opened and Dad stepped inside, removing his Stetson as he did so, and setting it, crown down, on a shelf above the row of coat hooks. “How are things in town?” he asked Christa.
“Everyone’s talking about the new highway,” she said. “It’s really disrupting everyone’s life. Some of the businesses are talking about moving to a new shopping center near the new route. If they don’t, they’ll probably go out of business.”
“They have to go where the customers are,” Dad said.
“But they shouldn’t have to move,” Christa said. “The state should have kept the highway close to town, instead of bypassing Cedar Grove altogether.”
“I’m sure they had their reasons for choosing the route they did.” Dad washed his hands at the kitchen sink, then dried them on a dish towel. “Those pies look good, Adi.” He kissed his wife’s cheek.
“Behave yourself and I might let you have some,” she said, her smile taking any sting out of the words. She turned to Christa. “While you were in town, did you happen to run into Ryder Oakes?”
So she hadn’t imagined Ryder’s familiarity with her parents. “I met him,” she said. “How do you know him?”
“Oh, we met somewhere in town.” Mom gave a vague wave. “Such a nice young man, and about your age.”
Of course. Her mother saw Ryder Oakes as a potential match for her twenty-six-year-old-and-still-single daughter. “Paul Raybourn at the bank introduced me to Ryder,” she said.
“What did you think? He’s very handsome, isn’t he?”
“He is.” She couldn’t very well lie; with that thick sandy hair, brilliant blue eyes, dimpled smile and broad shoulders, Ryder was classically handsome. And he seemed like a nice guy. “But I really don’t have time to date anyone while I’m here. I have to focus on finding a new job, and a new place to live after that. Besides, Ryder is probably already involved with someone else.” The great guys always were.
“I’m sure he isn’t,” Mom said. “I think he’s been out with a few women, but Etta Mae says he’s never come into the café with the same woman twice. And did you know he went to the University of Texas, too?”
“Paul mentioned it.” As if graduating from the same university guaranteed they’d hit it off.
“Ryder has a good head on his shoulders. I like him.”
Christa stared at her father. This assessment of a stranger was the equivalent of the Pope’s blessing—at least in her house. Dad wasn’t one to throw around praise, and over the years Christa couldn’t remember him having much to say about any of the boys and men she’d dated. “How do you know Ryder?” she asked.
“Oh, we’ve talked a time or two.” He turned away. “Call me when supper’s ready.”
“How does Dad know Ryder Oakes?” Christa asked after her father had left the room. The casual acquaintance her mom had alluded to didn’t add up to the praise Dad had given the man.
Mom lifted the lid on the slow cooker and studied the roast. “I suppose they ran into each other in town. At Cattlemen’s Club meetings and things like that.” She reached for the salt shaker.
“But Ryder isn’t a rancher,” Christa said. “Why would he be at a Cattlemen’s Club meeting?”
Mom replaced the lid on the cooker. “I don’t know, dear. Why don’t you go freshen up? I’ll call you when supper’s ready.”
“I can help, Mom. Just tell me what to do.”
“That’s all right, dear. Go on.” She made shooing motions with her hand.
Christa started to argue, but decided to give in, for tonight, at least. She drifted into the living room, where Dad had assumed his usual place in his recliner, Jet in his lap.
“Kelly told me there’s a public meeting tonight about the new highway,” Christa said as she settled onto the sofa. “I’m thinking of going.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“Maybe you and Mom would like to go with me.”
“I don’t think so, honey.” He stroked the dog, whose head was resting on her dad’s knee.
“Aren’t you curious to know what the state has to say? How they can justify destroying the town?”
“Cedar Grove was dying a slow death before the idea of this highway project ever came along,” Dad said. “The new highway could actually be a good thing.”
“I don’t see how.” Her father’s easy acceptance of such a big change bothered her. He’d lived in Cedar Grove all his life; was he really content to let the town just fade away?
“Maybe going to the meeting tonight will help you see things in a different light,” Dad said.
“Maybe.” Though she doubted it. Her father’s eyes were already closed. Was he really napping, or merely avoiding discussing this with her?
She stood. “I guess I’ll go freshen up before dinner.”
“Say hello to Ryder for me when you see him tonight.”
She froze halfway to the door. “I’m going to the meeting with Kelly, Dad. I won’t be seeing Ryder.” Did he think the meeting was some kind of excuse for a secret rendezvous with Ryder Oakes? She hadn’t done that kind of thing since she was in high school. Had her dad forgotten she was a grown woman—a woman who wasn’t interested in dating right now?
“Oh, I imagine you’ll run into him.”
She would never have used the word ‘smug’ to describe her father, but that’s exactly how he looked right now. As if he knew something she didn’t.
Then again, both her parents had been acting strange ever since she’d arrived home. She couldn’t help but feel they were hiding something from her, but what?
* * *
RYDER LOOKED OUT over the school auditorium which, as he’d expected, was filled with what must be ninety percent of the people who lived in or near Cedar Grove. From his position in the wings of the stage he could see men in checked shirts and cowboy hats standing along the back wall and children racing up and down the aisles.
A trio of women in summer dresses moved down the front row and he couldn’t keep back a smile as he recognized Christa Montgomery, in a sleeveless, flowered shift that showed off tanned arms. She was just as lovely as he remembered. Maybe after the meeting he’d find her and exchange a few words. He’d try to gauge her interest in a casual, dating relationship—no strings attached. Since she only planned to stay in town a little while, he didn’t have to worry she’d expect any long-term commitment from him. Spending more time with her would certainly make his own stay in Cedar Grove more pleasant.
“You ready to get this show on the road?” The high school principal, who was serving as the night’s master of ceremonies, asked.
Ryder nodded. “Let’s not keep people waiting.”
While the principal droned on about the need to listen quietly and then ask questions, Ryder studied Christa. She sat next to a younger woman who had curly hair. The curly-haired woman did all the talking, while Christa studied the large map showing the highway route that was projected onto a screen in front of the stage. She frowned at the map, looking more severe. Apparently, she wasn’t pleased.
He understood people’s objections, but he figured she’d feel differently once he’d made his case for the project.
“And now here’s Ryder Oakes. Mr. Oakes is the chief engineer overseeing this project. He’s going to say a few words and answer your questions.”
Ryder straightened his shoulders and strode onto the stage. He wore pressed khakis and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Nothing too fancy. He was a working man, just like most of these people. A man working to make their lives better, though not all of them saw this yet.
“The new highway, to be known as Spur Eighty-seven, is going to bring a lot of changes to life in Cedar Grove,” he began. “And change isn’t always easy. As humans, most of us are programmed to not like change. But sometimes change is good. When we switched from using horses to cars for transportation, most people didn’t like it at first. Yet how many of us would give up our cars now? We still have horses, but we use them for recreation, and to work in situations where cars don’t make sense.”
A few people nodded. Many of them still worked with horses every day.
“Some of you are worried that your town will die without the traffic a highway brings to it,” he continued. “More people will use the new road and forgo the back way that runs through your town. But I don’t think Cedar Grove will die. New people will come to live near the highway, and they will want to shop and use the services in town, as well as a place to take their kids on Saturday afternoons. You’ll have the opportunity to expand and add new businesses.
“You’ve probably had friends and family who have left town to live in the city, closer to jobs. The highway will make the commute to Dallas faster and easier, so some of those friends and family will move back home. Others won’t have to leave to find work. The state is also offering grants to rural transportation districts to establish bus service between rural areas and the city. That’s something that could make commuting even more affordable and easier.”
He set aside his sheaf of notes. “That’s all I have to say by way of introduction. Now I want to hear your comments and questions.”
Christa was one of the first people to raise her hand. He pointed to her. “Ms. Montgomery?”
She stood. “You paint a rosy picture of happy families and the town growing. But isn’t it just as likely—more likely, even—that those families will go to Dallas for recreation? They’ll shop in the big box stores in the city, where they can get cheaper prices. They won’t patronize a small town to which they feel no connection.”
“That might happen,” he conceded. “But while those families may not have the roots here that you and your family have, everyone craves connection. Towns like Cedar Grove hold a strong attraction for people who are looking to be a part of a community. If you reach out to those families and give them a reason to shop here—to be a part of your lives—I believe they will come.”
She opened her mouth as if to say something else, but the older woman on the other side of the curly-haired woman rose to her feet. “It’s all well and good to talk about what a great community we are now,” she said. “That doesn’t make up for the state coming in with the route for the highway already laid out and not even consulting us. You bought the land for the route at bargain prices, cutting ranches in two, even forcing families to move out of their homes altogether.”
“Everyone who sold to the state did so voluntarily,” Ryder said. “At a time when the real estate market is severely depressed, we have offered the best price possible.”
Objections rose from several quarters of the room. The principal stepped forward. “Everybody settle down,” he said. “This is supposed to be a calm discussion.”
From there Ryder moved on to answering questions about the new shopping center and housing development. Could the town annex the land to add to their tax base? Would those families be in the Cedar Grove school district? “I’m not part of the local government or school district,” he said. “But I believe the answer to both those questions is yes.”
More murmurs rose as the possibility of more money in the town coffers and growth in local schools registered. “So when are you going to get started?” one man asked.
“We hope to break ground in a couple of weeks,” Ryder said. “Though it may take a bit longer to close the deals for the last of the right of way. But we want to get started as soon as possible, while the weather is on our side.”
Others asked questions about traffic, the effect on local wildlife, fencing along the highway, and even trash pickup. Ryder answered as best he could. Christa raised her hand again and he called on her. He liked that she was still engaged in the discussion. And he liked the way her expression became so passionate and intense as she confronted him. “Why was this route chosen for the highway?” she asked. “Why not something closer to town?”
“Good question,” he said. He picked up a pointer and carried it to the projected map. “It’s a matter of geography. There’s a formation here, alongside the town.” He pointed to an area that would bring the highway much nearer to Cedar Grove. “There’s a granite uplift sitting over an underwater reservoir—an aquifer. Building here would require blasting through the granite—an expensive process. The probability of opening fissures to the aquifer is strong. At a minimum, that would cause problems with flooding of the project, requiring expensive dams, pumps and greatly increasing both the timeline and the cost of the project. At worst, it could have disastrous consequences for the local water supply.”
Murmurs rose from the crowd. After three years of drought, water was more valuable than oil to these people. They wouldn’t want to risk losing a drop, much less a whole aquifer.
“What about on the other side of town?” Christa asked. “Couldn’t you have routed the highway there?”
“Taking the highway in that direction makes the route longer and adds to the expense,” he said. “Our goal was to shorten the distance to the city and to do so as economically as possible.”
“And we end up paying the cost.” But she sat down, still frowning. Ryder’s heart sank. So much for him winning her over.
The questions wound down. “I think that’s all we have time for,” the principal concluded.
“If you have any more questions, you can catch me around town,” Ryder said. “If I don’t know the answer, I’ll find someone who does.”
As people moved out of the auditorium, he left the stage and slipped past a pair of men who looked as if they wanted to waylay him. Christa stood with her back to him, talking with her curly-headed friend. “He doesn’t care about the people here,” she said. “It’s all cold logic to him. Just the facts, ma’am.”
The words stung. He could have argued that basing decisions on facts and logic was more sensible than following blind emotion, but she wouldn’t have listened. He needed more time to win her over to his point of view. He intercepted her as she stepped into the aisle. “You asked good questions tonight,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you more—maybe over coffee?”
“I don’t know.” Her gaze slid sideways, avoiding him. “My parents...”
“Your parents will be snug in bed, watching crime dramas,” her curly haired friend said. “I know because they’re just like my mom.”
“Kelly, have you met Ryder? Ryder, this is Kelly Jepson.” Christa made the introduction.
Ryder nodded to Kelly, but focused on Christa once more. “It’s just coffee,” he said, wanting to reassure her, in case she suspected him of ulterior moments. “I’m just trying to avoid going back to my empty apartment. I’m not a fan of crime dramas.”
This admission earned him the hint of a smile. “All right. But where can we get coffee this time of night?”
“The Blue Bell stays open late on Thursdays,” Kelly volunteered. “The Lions Club used to meet then, and after they changed their meeting time, Etta Mae just kept the same hours.”
“The Blue Bell it is,” he said. “Should I drive?”
“I’ll meet you there,” she said, and left before he could protest.
CHAPTER THREE
BEFORE EXITING THE school parking lot, Christa called home to check with her parents. As Kelly had predicted, they were watching TV. “I thought I’d stay and have coffee with a friend,” she said. Though her parents knew Ryder, she didn’t want them jumping to conclusions. This wasn’t a date—they were merely continuing their discussion about the highway project.
“Have a good time,” Dad said. “You have your key to let yourself in.”
“Yes.” Later, she’d give her dad a hard time about not warning her that Ryder was the highway engineer. At least that explained how Ryder knew so many people in town; he’d been schmoozing the locals, winning them over to his side. Her dad had probably thought it was a good joke to play on his daughter.
“All right then. Good night.”
She ended the call, fighting a nervous flutter in her stomach. Maybe agreeing to meet up with Ryder had been a bad idea. He’d been so warm and charming in the meeting, but were those emotions real, or merely a show to get what he wanted?
Ryder was waiting in front of the Blue Bell when she parked a few doors down. It looked as if a good number of people who had attended the highway forum had retired to the café for coffee and pie. “Just sit anywhere,” the waitress said when they entered.
Ryder escorted her to a booth along one wall, his hand resting very lightly against her upper back, guiding her through the crowd. The warmth of his hand through her dress made her heart beat a little faster. What was it about him that affected her so?
Several people greeted him as they passed—more than said hello to Christa, even. “You seem to have made a lot of friends in town,” she said, as she slid into the booth across from him.
“Acquaintances, anyway. You know how people are around here—welcoming.”
“Where are you from?” she asked.
“All over. I’d lived in three different countries by the time I entered first grade. We went wherever the army told my father to go, wherever he was needed.”
She couldn’t imagine what such a nomadic life would be like. She’d been born and raised in Cedar Grove; no matter where she lived from now on, this would always be home. She wouldn’t want to be like Ryder—rootless.
The waitress came to take their order. “Just coffee,” Christa said. “With cream.”
“I’ll have black coffee,” Ryder said. “And do you have any of that blackberry pie left?”
“For you, I might be able to find a couple of slices.” The waitress smiled at him, clearly flirting.
He looked at Christa. “You sure you won’t indulge? It’s homemade.”
Her mouth watered at the memory of Etta Mae’s pies. “All right. Thanks.”
When the waitress left, Christa continued their conversation. “And now you’re in a job where you travel a lot. What’s the longest you’ve ever stayed in one place?”
“I’m hoping this will be it. This is the biggest job I’ve been on and it should take over two years.”
Something about the pride in his voice made her hazard a guess. “Is this your first time overseeing a job this big?” After all, he couldn’t be much older than her.
“Yes. I was only recently promoted. Obviously, I want my bosses to feel they made the right decision to put me in charge.”
“You certainly seem to be winning over people in the meeting tonight.”
“Present company excepted?” The dimples showed on either side of his mouth.
“I don’t dislike you.” She shifted in her seat. The opposite, really. He was a very easy man to like. “But I don’t like what you’re doing. I don’t think it’s right.”
“You don’t like the route chosen for the highway.”
“I think it should be closer to town, so that the town is the focus and not some new development ten miles away.”
“What about the rest of the route, beyond the town?” His expression grew wary, though she couldn’t imagine why.
“I didn’t pay much attention to that,” she admitted. “I’ve never been very good at reading maps or envisioning things in space. I had to take remedial geometry in school.” She was an idea person, not a picture person.
“Paul Raybourn said you worked for a marketing firm.”
“I did.” She hesitated, tempted to gloss over her unemployment, or even outright lie. But she wasn’t a dishonest person and besides, she hadn’t done anything wrong. “My company laid off a bunch of people and I was one of them. It’s why I came home—to regroup and save money while I look for another job.”
“Traveling for my job, I’ve met a lot of people in the same boat, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I hope you find a new job soon.”
“I’m sure I will.” The job hunting seminar she’d attended in Houston had emphasized remaining positive. Of course, finding a new job also meant sending out résumés, putting in applications and networking with contacts in her field—all things she hadn’t gotten around to doing yet. But she’d start the job hunt soon. She’d just wanted a little time to lick her wounds and regain her equilibrium.
“Have you thought of going into business for yourself?” he asked. “That’s an option a few people I know have taken.”
“When I first graduated college, I thought of starting my own business,” she said. “After I’d gained some experience working for others. But I don’t know what I’d do.”
The waitress returned with their coffee and pie. “That looks great.” He admired the pie, and then returned his attention to Christa. “What would you really like to do?”
“Something service oriented, I think.” She added cream to her cup. “I want to help people and solve problems. I’d like to make a difference.” At her old job, she’d had the opportunity to work on a couple of campaigns for nonprofits. She’d enjoyed that work most, though the majority of her time was spent on other, less-satisfying projects.
“Then we’re not so far apart. I want to help folks, too—help them get to jobs and spend less time commuting and more time with their families.”
“People could do that if they stayed here in Cedar Grove.”
“Except there aren’t many jobs here—not that pay what jobs in the city do.”
That was another problem altogether, one neither of them was likely to solve. But she wasn’t going to let him off so easily. “I don’t buy your argument that you had to choose the shortest route,” she said. “A route to the north of Cedar Grove would still be shorter than taking the current road. It would meet your goal of a faster commute and it would be more convenient. Travelers could stop in Cedar Grove and get gas or a bite to eat, or to use the restroom.”
“The new shopping development will have gas stations and restaurants. But a rest area with comfort stations and picnic tables is a good idea. I’ll have to look into that.” He pulled out his smartphone and tapped in a note.
She took a bite of pie. The combination of sweet-tart berries and flaky pastry was better than anything she’d had in the city—the kind of treat tourists would line up to buy, if they only got to town and discovered it. “You talk as if the highway is a done deal,” she said. “As if it’s too late to change anything. But all I’ve seen is drawings. You admitted in the meeting that you don’t even have all of the right of way.”
“We have commitments from everyone we need, but we’re not rushing people. Despite what people like to think, the state doesn’t bully its citizens. We’ll complete the negotiations soon. We’re surveying and expect to break ground on schedule.”
“Until you start pouring concrete, there’s still time to rethink this.”
She focused on her pie, aware of his gaze on her. She couldn’t remember a man looking at her with such intensity. What did he see? He wasn’t hostile—when she glanced up, she was surprised to find only sympathy in his expression. “I know this isn’t what you want,” he said, in the gentle voice that had first attracted her. “But not every change is bad.”
“This one isn’t good.” She tried to keep her attention on the pie, but was aware of him still watching her.
“You’ve had too much change in your life lately, haven’t you?” he said after a moment.
“What do you mean?” Her heart was racing again. She hated that he unsettled her so.
“It can’t be easy, losing your job and moving back home. That’s a lot to adjust to.”
And she wasn’t adjusting well—was it so obvious, even to a stranger? Was he so perceptive, or just making a lucky guess? “I’m looking at this as a much-needed break. A vacation.”
“And this highway project is just one more thing to deal with. One more upheaval.”
“Yes. I guess you could say that.”
“Just remember, this isn’t really that important. Not like your future.”
His words confused her. “You don’t think this highway is important? Then why are you so unwilling to consider altering the plans?”
“The highway is important to me. And it will be important to a lot of other people, some who don’t even live here yet. But it’s a road, not a person. Even cold, logical engineers know the difference.”
Her cheeks grew hot as she remembered what she’d said to Kelly. “I didn’t mean for you to hear that,” she said. “I was frustrated.”
“I’ve been called worse.” He sipped his coffee, still watching her over the rim of his cup. “Have you talked to your parents about the highway project?” he asked.
Why was he asking about her parents? “Not really. We’ve had other things on our minds.”
“Of course. But ask your dad what he thinks. You might be surprised.”
“He said he knew you. He even said you had a good head on your shoulders.”
“I’m flattered. I like him too.”
“He talks as if you two are friends.”
“I like to think we are. Bud was one of the first people I met with when I came to Cedar Grove. One of the best.”
“He hasn’t said much, but he doesn’t seem very upset about the new highway.”
“Talk to him. You might learn some things that surprise you.”
“Neither one of my parents have talked to me all that much since I got here,” she said. “Not about anything important. They seem, I don’t know, distracted.”
“But they’re happy to have you home, I’m sure.”
“I don’t know about that either.” Despite their attempts at enthusiasm this afternoon, dinner had been quiet, conversation strained. Neither parent had asked more about Christa’s job, though she would have thought they would have wanted to know the details of her layoff. “Sometimes I think they’d be happier if I wasn’t here. Mom seemed anxious to get me out of the house this afternoon, and she keeps urging me to get involved with clubs and things in town. She has a whole calendar of activities planned for me, as if she doesn’t want me around the house any more than necessary.” Telling Ryder these things was like letting air out of an over-inflated balloon. Tension eased from her shoulders and she felt better than she had in days.
“It’s a big adjustment for all of you,” he said. “It’s something I’ve never had to deal with.”
“Where do your parents live?” she asked, ready to change the subject.
“My dad is in Wyoming. We lived there when I was small, but I don’t remember much about it. My mom is in Dallas. She teaches at a private school.”
“They’re divorced?”
“It only happened last year. I’m still trying to get used to the idea.”
Maybe he knew more than she’d given him credit for about unsettling changes. “Were you surprised they split up?”
“Very. I thought they had a good marriage.”
“I think divorce is hard on everyone involved, but sometimes people are happier after the split.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, as if trying to massage away a cramp. “I have mixed feelings about it. Part of me wishes they’d found a way to work things out and stay together. But Mom says she was unhappy for years. She wanted to stay in one place—make friends, have a job, join clubs. I thought she could have done all those things and stayed married to my dad, but she says no.”
“What does your dad say?”
“Not much. He’s always been pretty stoic.”
“Your mom must like having you close to her.”
“She does. And she does seem very happy with her new life. So maybe you’re right, and this is for the best.” He waited while the server refilled their coffee. “She’s coming for lunch on Saturday. She says she wants to see where I live. I’m afraid she’s going to be disappointed.”
Christa stiffened. “Does she have something against small towns?”
“No. She’ll love Cedar Grove, I’m sure. But my apartment is just a furnished rental, nothing fancy. I know she’ll expect better, but it doesn’t make sense for me to spend money on a house when I’m not going to be here that long.”
Such logical practicality seemed so cold to her. How could he feel at home when even his furniture wasn’t his own? “Where do you think of as home?” she asked.
“I don’t really think about it.” He pressed the back of his fork into a few stray crumbs on his plate. “I’ve learned to be content wherever I am.”
“Do you think you’ll ever want to settle down? I mean, if you have a family...” She let the words trail away. Maybe she was getting too personal.
“Maybe then I would want to find one place and grow roots,” he said. “Moving so often was tough when I was a little kid. I was always the new guy, always trying to catch up. On the other hand, it taught me to relate to a lot of different kinds of people. I grew used to the moves, even learned to like them.”
He sounded so matter of fact and upbeat. But she remembered his comment about not wanting to go back to an empty apartment. Having no deep connections to other people implied a loneliness she couldn’t begin to imagine.
She didn’t want to feel sorry for Ryder. She didn’t want to empathize with a man who was turning her world—her connections—upside down. But she was drawn to him in spite of wanting to hold back. “We should talk again, after I’ve had a chat with my father,” she said. “Though I don’t think he’s going to change my mind about this project. Or keep me from fighting it.”
“I’m happy to talk with you anytime.” His eyes met hers, and she read a kaleidoscope of emotions in their depths—sadness, determination, sympathy, and maybe even affection. She had to look away, afraid of what he might read in her own eyes. “Just remember, Christa. I’m not out to hurt you or your family or anyone in this town. I really do want to help.”
The words sent a shiver of apprehension up her spine. Wasn’t there a saying about people who were guilty protesting too much? Ryder was hiding something from her, she was sure. But she couldn’t imagine what that might be.
* * *
THOUGH RYDER LINGERED over coffee with Christa as long as possible, by 8:30 the crowd at the café had thinned and Etta Mae was starting to wipe down tables and stack chairs. “I guess we’d better go,” Christa said, pushing out of the booth.
“I guess so.” Admittedly he was reluctant to end the evening. Though he’d learned over the years to talk to almost anyone about anything, seldom did those conversations delve as deep as his discussion with Christa tonight. He hadn’t talked about his parents’ divorce with anyone before. Knowing that she understood his mixed emotions about the situation made him feel closer to her.
The parking lot alongside the café was almost empty when he walked Christa to her car. She stopped beside the sedan and looked up at the sky. “Living in the city, I’d forgotten how bright the stars could be,” she said.
He joined her in admiring the night sky, spangled with glittering stars. A memory of another night, standing under a similarly bright sky, hit him like a physical pain. “When I was six, we moved from Virginia to Kyoto,” he said. “I caught the flu on the transport over and was pretty miserable by the time we got there. I had a meltdown, crying and screaming that I wanted to go home. To calm me down, my mom took me outside and told me to look up at the stars. She’d been teaching me the names of the constellations, and she pointed out that I could see some of the same ones in the sky over Japan as I could in the United States. It was like seeing old friends who’d be there wherever I lived.”
“Your mom sounds like a pretty smart woman.”
“I guess she is.” He shook his head. “Funny—I hadn’t thought of that in years.”
“It’s a good memory to have.” She touched his arm—the briefest brush of her fingers, yet the sensation lingered, a warm acknowledgment of the connection they’d shared. “Good night, Ryder. Thank you for the coffee.”
“Thanks for the talk.”
He waited until she’d driven away before he climbed into his truck and started the engine. He didn’t want to go back to his apartment, but he could think of nowhere else to go, so he took the long way home, down a back road that skirted the edge of town. He’d rented rooms above the garage of what once must have been one of the finest homes in town, a large Greek Revival home with stately columns and rows of tall windows. The garage sat to the side and a little behind the house, accessible from a side street. Ryder parked beneath the large live oak out front and made his way up the stairs to the suite of rooms that had been furnished in the 1970s, judging by the plaid upholstery and dark wood furniture.
He’d lived in half a dozen similar apartments since his college days. The outdated décor never bothered him. All he needed was a bed to sleep in and a comfortable chair in which to watch TV. But now he saw the rooms as his mother or Christa might see them: worn and sparse and devoid of personality.
He sank onto the sofa and studied the scarred coffee table and thought of the base housing they’d lived in over the years, which had ranged from cinder-block barracks in Mississippi to a neat, nearly new bungalow in Germany. His mother had transformed every one of those rooms into a home, hanging pictures and slip-covering furniture. Within a week of their arrival even the most foreign of places would seem familiar. What a gift she’d given them, with this ability to ease the transition from one place to another. He’d have to remember to thank her.
What would his dad do, now that he didn’t have Mom to work her magic at each new posting? Maybe, like Ryder, he wouldn’t notice at first. He wouldn’t consider furniture or pictures important. But a man who had had his family around him for years was bound to be lonely now.
Ryder pulled out his phone and punched in his dad’s number. It was only a little after eight in Wyoming, not too late to call.
“Hello.” His dad’s voice was brusque. The voice of command.
“Hey, it’s Ryder.”
“Hello, son. Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s good, Dad. I just thought I’d call and see how you’re doing.”
“I’m well. I was thinking of calling you tomorrow, in fact. I’m moving to a new posting and wanted to give you my new address and contact information.”
Ryder relaxed. “Where are you headed?”
“D.C. It’s a very coveted posting and I was lucky enough to snag it.”
“Congratulations.”
“You’ll have to come see me once I’m settled. It’s a great town—lots to see and do.”
“Maybe I’ll do that, though I doubt I’ll be able to break away from this project for a while.”
“Where are you again? Texas, I know, but where?”
“Cedar Grove. It’s a small town outside of Dallas.”
“Your mother is in Dallas now.”
“I know. I drove over to see her a couple of times, and she’s coming here this weekend. She’s looking well.”
“Your mother has always been an attractive woman.”
“Yes, she is. She seems happy.”
“And I’m happy about that. I know she blames me for what happened, but when we married she knew the kind of life I had to lead. She went into it with her eyes wide open. She couldn’t expect me to give up a career I’d put years of my life into, simply because she changed her mind.”
“Dad, you don’t have to justify yourself to me.” The last thing Ryder wanted was to be caught between his parents.
“I know, son. You were always the easiest of the kids. The girls would carry on and cry crocodile tears every time I announced a new posting, but you always took it in stride. Too bad you didn’t opt for a military career. You’d have been good at it.”
He’d been a “good little soldier.” Ryder remembered how proud he’d been when his father used those words to describe him. But a military career wasn’t for him. He didn’t want a life that was so regimented, where other people made most of his decisions for him. “This is a better fit for me,” he said. “You should come down and see me sometime, Dad. The country’s wide open, with lots of ranches, and good people.”
“Maybe I’ll do that. I need to get settled into the new posting first. Tell your mother I said hello when you see her.”
“I can give you her number, if you want to call her.”
“No, that’s okay. I’m sure I’m the last person she wants to talk to. Take my advice, son. Stay single as long as you can. There was a time when a woman married a man and took it for granted she’d follow him wherever he led. But those days are long gone. Women are more independent. I’m not saying it’s wrong, but it makes it harder on a marriage—at least if a man’s career requires him to move around.”
“Did you ever think of doing something different—leaving the military and staying in one place?”
“What would I have done? I’m trained as a fighter—a military strategist. Even if I could translate that to the corporate world, I’m not cut out for the daily grind of staying in one place for years. I’d suffocate. You’re the same way—you and I are just alike.”
Ryder couldn’t tell if his dad meant this as praise or not. He’d always admired and looked up to his father, but he didn’t want to end up like him, alone and lonely in his fifties. “I hope you can come see me, Dad,” he said. “I’d like us to spend some time together.”
“I’d like that too, son. I’ll say good night now. Have to get up early in the morning.”
“Me, too. Good night, Dad.”
He laid his phone on the coffee table; his gaze transfixed on the pattern of scars and cup rings. Was he really so much like his father? While he had always looked forward to going to new places and seeing new people, none of the places he’d lived had ever felt suffocating. His moves hadn’t been driven by restlessness or boredom, but by the need to prove himself. He was moving up in his career. If anything, all that moving had been done to try to establish his place in the world.
He wouldn’t be like his dad, always on the move. One day he’d find a location to settle. He’d have a home and family, and a position that would allow him to live where he wanted. It might be a big city, like Dallas, or even a small town, like Cedar Grove. He could see himself settling here, but not yet. He had other things he needed to do first.
CHAPTER FOUR
CHRISTA DIDN’T HAVE a chance to speak with her dad the next morning. Her parents left before dawn to drive to Dallas on some mysterious errand they refused to divulge. “We just have some things we need to take care of,” Mom said as she finished her coffee.
“I could go with you,” Christa said. “We could do some shopping after you finish with whatever you need to do, or have lunch—”
“We won’t have time for that.” Mom avoided meeting Christa’s gaze.
“Besides, I need you to stay here and take delivery of a load of hay.” Her father finished his own coffee and stood. “Rodrigo will help you. Adi, we’d better go.”
They left before Christa could ask any more questions. She stood at the front window and watched until her dad’s truck disappeared down the drive, feeling the same way she had when she was a kid and her parents went on a rare date, leaving her behind.
Ridiculous, she told herself. She wasn’t a kid anymore, and her parents didn’t have to take her everywhere. But it was her parents’ secretiveness that hurt more than their going off without her. She’d expected to come home and easily slip into her old lifestyle, where she and Mom and Dad shared meals and laughter and confidences. But they didn’t seem to want that.
Maybe this was a not-so-subtle way of telling her to grow up and move on. But she couldn’t imagine ever being so mature she wouldn’t want to be close to her family.
She pondered the problem as she changed into jeans, boots and a long-sleeved shirt and tied her hair back in a ponytail. Unloading hay was hot, itchy work, but it would be a better workout than any she’d achieve at the gym. When the tarp-covered eighteen wheeler turned into the drive, she was ready. When her parents returned, they’d see she hadn’t forgotten her cowgirl upbringing.
Rodrigo, a forty-something cowboy, all sinew and muscle, who had worked for her family for as long as Christa could remember, helped unload the big square bales into the hay shed, while the terrier, Jet, sniffed for mice among the stacked bales. They slipped into an easy rhythm, dragging the hay from the truck and across the shed, muscles straining, nose itching. But the hard work felt good, and after an hour or so, the sweet-smelling hay filled the shed in neat rows, like bricks in a wall. Christa signed the manifest and the driver climbed into the truck and rumbled back down the drive.
Christa joined Rodrigo in the shade of the stacked bales. “Why isn’t Duncan helping, too?” she asked. Duncan Walters had also worked for her family for many years.
“Old Dunc decided to retire back in March.” Rodrigo swept off his hat, wiped the sweat from his brow, before replacing the battered Stetson. “Your dad figured we could get by with just him and me.”
The Rocking M had always employed at least two hands—sometimes more. Was Dad cutting back because he really didn’t need the help, or because he couldn’t afford it? She checked the shipping manifest in her hand against the tower of hay stacked in the shed. “I’m surprised he’s buying hay this time of year,” she said. “He used to grow all his own.”
“Hard to grow enough with the drought,” Rodrigo said. “He sold off a lot of the stock last year because they were too expensive to feed. Might have to sell more this year. Prices are still pretty good.”
“I didn’t realize things were that bad.” Her parents hadn’t confided in her. She thought of all the money they had spent on her education. They could have used it here on the ranch. Maybe her being here now, another mouth to feed, was straining their budget, too.
“You don’t have to worry about your dad,” Rodrigo said. “He’s one of the savviest ranchers I know. He plays it safe and always knows what he’s about. When the rains come and the economy picks up again, he’ll be ready.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” She leaned back against the hay, the sweet, summery smell filling her head, reminding her of the days she’d spent helping in the hay fields. The hot, sweaty work was made bearable by the promise of swimming in the stock tank when they were done, and Popsicles on the back porch after that. So many memories.
“I guess there’ll be a lot of changes around here, with the new highway coming through.” Rodrigo interrupted her thoughts.
The highway! She couldn’t even get away from it here. “I guess so.” She straightened. “What do you think of it all?”
He snorted. “I think people are in too much of a hurry to get to places. It’s not like I left anything in Dallas that I need.”
She hid a smile. Rodrigo wasn’t alone in his disdain for the city. Once upon a time people in Cedar Grove had found everything they needed in the small town, and had no need to leave. Now they had to travel for everything from groceries to medical care. She hated that it had to be that way.
“What time are you expecting your folks back?” Rodrigo asked.
“I don’t know. They didn’t say.”
“Looks like we’ve got company.” Rodrigo nodded toward the dust cloud that announced the approach of a vehicle on the long drive leading to the barns and hay sheds. A late-model white pickup with some kind of seal on the driver’s door crept toward them. Jet hurried to stand in front of Christa, barking, his tail wagging furiously.
The truck stopped and Ryder, dressed in his usual crisp khakis and white shirt, stepped out. Today he wore a tan Stetson, similar to the ones Rodrigo and her dad always sported, though much newer.
Christa scooped up the dog and shushed him as Ryder touched his hand to the brim of the Stetson in a salute. “Hello, Christa. Rodrigo. Is Bud around?”
“He’s not here,” Christa said.
“Is he up at the house?” Ryder glanced in the direction of the ranch house.
Clearly, he knew his way around the place. “He and Mom are in Dallas,” she said. “Why did you want to see him?”
“Nothing important. How are you doing?”
Jet had quieted and was wriggling in her arms, so she set him down and resisted the urge to smooth her hair, which she knew was a mess, along with the rest of her. She wore no makeup and was dusty and sweaty, with hay sticking to her clothing, her hair a tangle. “We’ve been unloading hay,” she said, by way of explanation.
“I’ve got some other work to do, so I’ll get on with it,” Rodrigo said. He nodded to Ryder, and sauntered away. Christa resisted the urge to call him back on some pretense. Last night she’d been easy with Ryder, in the café full of people, but now she couldn’t seem to relax. Without the buffer of other people around them, would he sense her attraction to him and get the wrong idea? Even Jet deserted her, distracted by some scent he’d uncovered on the other side of the shed.
“So you grew up here.”
He was still looking toward the house, which sat in the grove of oaks her grandfather had planted when he built the house. “I was born in a hospital in Dallas,” she said. “But I came home to here and didn’t leave until I went to Austin for college.”
“What was that like—being a little girl here?”
“I don’t think I could have asked for a better childhood. I mean, people pay big money to vacation in the kind of environment I lived in every day. I rode horses, swam, went to movies with my friends or hung out at the soda fountain. I knew almost everyone and could safely go almost anywhere in town.” She’d been hoping to recapture a little of those stress-free, uncomplicated times when she’d moved back here. She’d lost more than her job in the city—she’d lost her place in life, her identity. She needed to return to the one place she was always sure of herself in order to figure out where she belonged and what she was supposed to be doing.
“You didn’t long for malls and drive-throughs?” His dimples showed when he smiled and her heart did its trapped butterfly imitation again.
“Maybe sometimes I did,” she said. “I mean, I was a teenage girl. When I left for college in Austin, I was excited about living in the city, being closer to shopping and restaurants and all the things we didn’t have here. But after a while, I missed all of this.” She gestured around her, at the wide-open prairie, the ranch buildings and the little house. “There’s just something about home.”
“I never felt that kind of tie to a place. I’m a little envious.”
He was standing close enough she could smell the faint pine scent of the soap he used, or maybe it was aftershave. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to just below the elbows, revealing muscular forearms dusted with dark hair. She’d worked around men all the time growing up, riding horses, bucking hay and mending fences alongside Rodrigo and Duncan and the other cowboys, but none of them had seemed as masculine and desirable as Ryder did right now.
As if sensing her uneasiness, he stepped back, putting more distance between them. “Would you show me around?”
The request surprised her. “I thought you’d been here before.”
“I have, but that was to talk to your dad. I’d like to see the place through your eyes.”

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