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Back to Texas
Amanda Renee


TO TELL THE TRUTH… Bridgett Jameson is the talk of Ramblewood… and not in a good way! With her newfound sister moving to town, her true father being exposed, and the knowledge that her mother has lied to her since birth, Bridgett wants to get the heck out of Dodge. But when a handsome, mysterious stranger arrives, she finds her determination wavering.His family wants nothing to do with him, and Adam Steele can’t say he blames them. He’s denied their existence for years in his pursuit of fame and glory. Now he just wants to be a regular guy. Ramblewood may be the best place for a fresh start… especially if Bridgett sticks around. But will exposing his past—and the lies he’s told—cost him a future with the woman he loves?







TO TELL THE TRUTH...

Bridgett Jameson is the talk of Ramblewood...and not in a good way! With her newfound sister moving to town, her true father being exposed and the knowledge that her mother has lied to her since birth, Bridgett wants to get the heck out of Dodge. But when a handsome, mysterious stranger arrives, she finds her determination wavering.

His family wants nothing to do with him, and Adam Steele can’t say he blames them. He’s denied their existence for years in his pursuit of fame and glory. Now he just wants to be a regular guy. Ramblewood may be the best place for a fresh start...especially if Bridgett sticks around. But will exposing his past—and the lies he’s told—cost him a future with the woman he loves?


Bridgett tried not to stare at the man who’d just entered the luncheonette.

“Welcome to The Magpie,” she said, reminding herself to breathe.

He was definitely easy on the eyes—gorgeous brown eyes—almost familiar in a way, but she was positive she hadn’t seen him before.

“How may I service you today?”

Please tell me I did not say that!

Mortified, Bridgett closed her eyes and vainly struggled to keep a nervous laugh of embarrassment in check. She failed. “Let me try this again.”

“It’s okay,” he drawled. “I’m intrigued by your offer.”

If she’d thought his eyes were gorgeous before, they were downright intoxicating up close. And his voice reminded her of a song, but she couldn’t place which one. She needed a distraction, and this sexy newcomer had just claimed top billing.


Dear Reader (#ulink_e9187ac3-f387-52a9-9f8c-784784254d8c),

Ever since I wrote Betting on Texas, the first book in the Welcome to Ramblewood series, I’ve wanted to give Bridgett Jameson her own book. The Magpie waitress is one of those small-town girls who has never been much past the town’s border. She refuses to settle for the average cowboy and figures she’ll recognize “the one” when she sees him. But who? I asked myself that question for over a year.

After an online chat with fellow Mills & Boon author, Sarah M. Anderson, I knew exactly who Mr. Right would be. Our late night Twitter banter sparked the idea for Back to Texas. Mix one country girl with a rebel newcomer who’s hiding from his notorious past and there’s bound to be some Texas-sized trouble.

Adam Steele is a departure from my usual cowboy heroes, but he quickly grew to become one of my favorites. Everyone has their own story to tell and often those stories are full of regrets. Adam certainly has a mile-long list of them. While life doesn’t allow for do-overs, sometimes all it takes is the kindness of strangers for us to begin again.

Feel free to stop in and visit me at amandarenee.com (http://amandarenee.com). I’d love to hear from you. Happy reading!

Amanda Renee


Back to

Texas

Amanda Renee






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


AMANDA RENEE was raised in the northeast and now wriggles her toes in the warm sand of coastal South Carolina. She was discovered through Mills & Boon’s So You Think You Can Write contest and began writing for the American Romance line. When not creating stories about love, laughter and things that go bump in the night, she enjoys the company of her schnoodle, Duffy, photography, playing guitar and anything involving horses. You can visit her at amandarenee.com (http://www.amandarenee.com).


For my unbiological sister Kelli.

All the bra throwing, crazy wine tastings and epic

road trips wouldn’t have been the same without you.


Contents

Cover (#ue397b67a-eb3c-5c76-8397-3cbd9cf7c98d)

Back Cover Text (#u1fda97cf-0513-534d-bcdc-31ef8056c68f)

Introduction (#u304d1a4c-deb0-5496-b2b3-d203fef96f6f)

Dear Reader (#ulink_97b154e2-d033-5737-b8b1-43d0912dafd3)

Title Page (#u4d7e4b39-b3ed-525b-b4c6-6b641efe8297)

About the Author (#u32b3a07e-a2f6-551f-91ca-7e05c2a9c7b8)

Dedication (#u8da6fff8-be8b-5b02-a9a5-a24fa24a5673)

Chapter One (#ulink_7874410c-028b-587f-b71d-86c564028dd6)

Chapter Two (#ulink_6071f8f8-ef95-5d82-a328-31f7115e01d3)

Chapter Three (#ulink_906a2f7c-7f93-5e75-ab2b-2e91eef29631)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

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)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#ulink_1d255289-2175-5c58-8724-4fe4ad735988)

“Who do you think should play us in the movie?”

“Do actresses even come in your size?” Waitress Bridgett Jameson poured her newfound sister, Abby Winchester, another cup of coffee. She drummed her fingers on the luncheonette counter waiting for her next order. This wasn’t a conversation Bridgett wanted to have so early in the morning—let alone smack dab in the middle of The Magpie, where every word you said spread across town faster than a sneeze through a screen door.

Abby pouted. “What I lack in stature, I compensate for in charm.”

Lack in stature. The nine-inch height difference between them made their recent discovery even more shocking. Fraternal twins. Bridgett didn’t think she’d ever get used to the idea.

She grabbed a rag and wiped the counter, hoping someone would come to her rescue. She didn’t dislike Abby. It was the situation she hated. A month ago, they’d been well on their way to becoming good friends. Maybe they’d have a chance at it again once Bridgett absorbed the fact that her mother had lied to her for the past twenty-eight years. And the revelation that her biological father was the town’s mayor, Darren Fox. A man she’d seen almost every day of her life, but who had never acknowledged her existence. Heck, he didn’t even leave her a decent tip.

Gutted by the lies private investigator Clay Tanner had unearthed regarding her and Abby’s parentage two weeks ago, Bridgett was uncertain what she should do next. Up until then, she’d had a rather normal life in her hometown of Ramblewood, Texas. The people she worked with at the luncheonette, along with her friends and mother, had collectively formed the only family Bridgett had ever known, and it’d suited her just fine. Of course, she’d fantasized about who her father was. Who wouldn’t? Especially after the way her mother had glamourized him.

Her mother had claimed Bridgett was the product of a love affair, and that Bridgett’s father had been an Air Force pilot who had transferred overseas before Ruby had known she was pregnant. Never to be heard from again. Well, she was half right. Bridgett was the result of an affair. And Darren had been in the Air Force. But that was where the truth had ended and twenty-eight years of lies had begun.

“Why would anyone want to make a movie about us?” Bridgett stole a quick glance at the kitchen pass-through window once more for her order.

“All the crap we’ve just been through has amazing movie-of-the-week potential.” Abby removed a bundle of magazines and notes from her bag, fanning them across the counter. “Please help me plan this wedding. New Year’s Eve is in a few months. If Clay has his way, we’ll be married in the barn with a beer-and-pretzel main course.”

The private investigator hadn’t merely discovered she and Abby were sisters, he’d officially become Abby’s fiancé last week. In the span of seven days, the two of them had gotten engaged, packed up what Abby needed from the house she’d shared with her brother in South Carolina and moved her across the country to Clay’s ranch.

“Between working here and at the Bed & Biscuit, I don’t see where I’d have the time.”

“But you have to.” Abby reached for Bridgett’s hand, her smile desperate, almost pleading. Bridgett suspected her sister was on the verge of asking her the question. The one Bridgett had hoped to avoid. At the very least, she hadn’t wanted it to be a public event where the neighborhood busybodies listened in on their conversation. “I’m hoping you’ll be my maid of honor,” Abby said.

Bridgett stared down at the all-too-personal contact, recognizing that if she moved away she’d offend Abby. “I’m flattered, but we’re virtually strangers. I’d think one of your friends would appreciate the honor.”

“Sure, yeah, you’re right.” Abby withdrew her hand, returning her attention to the magazines. “One of my friends—no problem.”

So much for trying to spare her feelings.

Abby dropped her eyes and rapidly thumbed through the pages. To say their lives had changed overnight was an understatement. On top of the twin-sister revelation, Darren had suddenly grown a conscience and had decided he wanted a relationship with his daughters. He could wait an eternity for all she cared. The likelihood of a reunion was zilch. Bridgett found it impossible to face the man who’d demanded her mother to get rid of her before she’d been born. At that time, Darren had known of only one baby. The birth of twins had been a surprise to them both.

Bridgett cut Abby a slice of rum vanilla cream pie as a peace offering and set it next to her coffee. While the truth may have been hard for Bridgett to accept, she’d known who her mother was all along. When Abby had learned her parents had adopted her, she’d been rightfully outraged.

Ruby’s reasons for separating her twin daughters disgusted Bridgett. Not knowing she even carried twins, Ruby had decided to give her baby up for adoption months earlier. When Abby was born, Ruby had refused to hold her, banning the infant from the room. She had already promised to give Abby to a couple in town—Darren’s Air Force buddy and his wife. When Bridgett had unexpectedly arrived a half hour later, Ruby had believed it was a sign to keep the second baby.

Abby sliced her fork through the pie’s tip and took a bite, appearing to savor the mouthful. “I think this became my favorite dessert the first time I ate here. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Bridgett grabbed the almost-full sugar dispenser in front of Abby and topped it up. Afraid her thoughts would betray her, she pretended to be busy.

Bridgett had mixed emotions about Abby. She’d always wanted a sister, but Abby’s arrival had unearthed a mountain of drama. Ramblewood, Texas, might be a tiny dot on the map, but when Darren’s paternity secret had surfaced the day before he’d announced his much-anticipated run for senate, their unsuspecting Hill Country town had become quite the spectacle. Complete with constant media coverage. If one more person asked her for an interview or snapped her photo, she’d scream. Luckily, it had begun to die down over the past two days when Darren had renounced his senate run. It still hadn’t quelled the local gossip, though.

Ruby’s lies had compounded from the day of the twins’ births. The extent of the deception sickened Bridgett. Ruby had claimed she and the twins’ grandparents had had a major falling out when she’d told them she was pregnant. Ruby maintained to this day that she had no idea where they lived. Bridgett wondered if the story was true or another fabrication. Their grandparents would probably be easy to locate, especially since Abby was engaged to a private investigator. But since they’d never tried to contact Bridgett, she had no desire to search for them.

Growing up, Bridgett had suspected Ruby was keeping secrets based on the quick way her mother had dismissed any questions she’d had regarding her grandparents or the name of her father. Eventually, Bridgett had given up and stopped asking.

Now Bridgett just wished people’s tongues would stop wagging long enough for her to regain her footing. The media coverage had turned her and Abby into local celebrities. It irritated Bridgett how the reporters always found the need to mention their ages along with the fact that Bridgett was single. Since the news broke it seemed as if every bachelor within a ten-mile radius had asked her for a date. She didn’t need any coddling and she certainly didn’t need any extra baggage in her life. Besides, she refused to settle for just anybody.

“Order up,” Bert called through the pass-through window, giving Bridgett the opening to walk away from the increasingly uncomfortable conversation with her sister. Her sister. Bridgett doubted she’d get used to those words anytime soon. She used to take waking up in a good mood for granted. Now she prayed for a normal day. No stares or whispers. No tearful phone calls from her mother. Normal was miles away from Ramblewood and she’d rather be anywhere but here. And hopefully that day would come sooner than later.

Bridgett refused to leave anything else to chance. Every afternoon she made of point of checking the Help Wanted ads online in the towns at least a hundred miles from Ramblewood. She’d jump at the first offer. For now, she kept her plans to herself, not wanting to risk anyone trying to talk her out of it. She wanted to secure a job before she left town. Her ultimate goal was to open her own restaurant, but until she found one she could afford, she’d make do managing someone else’s.

Bridgett grabbed the plates and headed for her customer’s table at the front of the luncheonette. When she passed Lark she whispered, “Take over counter duty for me.” The other waitress nodded.

Bridgett had been hesitant when Maggie Dalton, The Magpie’s owner, had hired Lark Meadow a few weeks earlier. Lark had rolled into Ramblewood on the bus. Disheveled, with not much more than a duffel bag and a guitar, Lark had said she was on her way to New Mexico after a disastrous string of Nashville auditions. She’d sold everything she had owned to take a gamble on her big dream and no longer had a home to go back to. Refusing to turn the woman away, Maggie had helped Lark rent a studio apartment above the florist’s shop across the street.

Bridgett had a hunch the newcomer was on the run, but if Maggie wasn’t concerned, she wouldn’t pry, either. Lark seemed to appreciate the privacy and she’d turned out to be a welcome addition to The Magpie. Considering Bridgett planned to leave town soon, she felt less guilty knowing another waitress was already trained and in place.

Bridgett took a few more orders before she noticed Abby packing up her wedding explosion. The normally perky pint-size blonde’s shoulders slumped as she mumbled a quick “see you later” on the way out. Bridgett sighed, wishing she hadn’t been so abrupt with her sister. If only Abby hadn’t asked her to stand up for her at the wedding.

Bridgett wanted to get to know Abby on her own terms, but Abby was relentless. She stopped in the luncheonette every morning for breakfast, called at night to share what she’d learned at her new job and sometimes she showed up at the Bed & Biscuit uninvited. It was too much, too soon.

Through the vinyl magpie-bird cutouts on the luncheonette’s picture window, Bridgett watched Abby trudge to her car and drive away. She hated hurting Abby, but Bridgett wasn’t ready to embrace the happy family-unit idea yet.

“May I have a refill, dear?” Charlotte Hargrove, one of Ramblewood’s biggest gossips, waved her cup in the air. Bridgett removed the coffee carafe from the brewer and wondered how long it would take before her mother called and demanded she be nicer to Abby. Twenty minutes was the norm for Charlotte’s gossip to spread, but it had been known to travel faster than a bee-stung stallion when it was particularly juicy.

“Are things okay between you two?” Charlotte asked when Bridgett arrived with the coffee.

Hesitating, Bridgett tried to figure out how to answer the question without feeding into the rumor mill. “Abby’s a bit overwhelmed with the wedding plans.”

“Won’t she be a beautiful bride?” The older woman’s round cheeks brightened when she spoke. “Tiny as she is she’d probably pass for a cake topper in her gown. I do hope they start a family soon. I bet they’ll have the most darling children.”

And there was the knife twist. Charlotte wasn’t a fool. She knew Bridgett wanted kids. Growing up, Bridgett had longed for a big family, begging her mother to marry and have more children. Ruby had delighted in her daughter’s dreams and shared them with her clients. Because of her mother’s well-intentioned meddling, half the town seemed determined to set Bridgett up on one embarrassing blind date after another.

After many failed attempts and a few short-term romances, Bridgett had learned to say no to any further matchmaking. So she hadn’t found the one. She refused to settle. What was the rush anyway? Although, she did have to admit, it had smarted when her sister had blown into town and snagged herself a husband. Not that Bridgett had been interested in Clay. She never went for the strong silent types. But he and Abby suited each other perfectly.

Bridgett totaled Charlotte’s bill and left it upside down on the table. “They’ll have beautiful children. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

Hoping for a mental break, Bridgett headed into the kitchen. From his position at the grill, Bert briefly glanced her way. No one worried about their beloved, yet rough-around-the-edges cook asking too many questions. Bert kept mostly to himself.

“Do you need any help?” Bridgett asked. The breakfast rush had wound down and she’d had enough of the remaining customers’ endless stares. They acted as though she’d break at any moment.

“I’m good.” Bert plated a stack of pancakes and set them on the pass-through. “Lark, table four.” He smacked the silver service bell.

“I’ll take it out.” Since she’d asked Lark to cover the counter, Bridgett could manage delivering one of her orders. Besides, Charlotte was on her way out.

Bridgett had begun waitressing at sixteen and twelve years later here she remained. The Magpie wasn’t exactly her career choice. She enjoyed her job to a certain degree, but she’d meant for it to be a stepping-stone to owning her own place. When Bridgett was nine, she’d stumbled across a weathered Betty Crocker cookbook at a yard sale. Her mother couldn’t cook to feed an ant, so Bridgett had begun preparing their meals out of necessity. Cooking for two had been fine at first, but the more Bridgett experimented with different spices, the more she wanted to share her creations with someone other than her mother. Maggie gave her kitchen time when they were slow. A few of her recipes had been house specials, and her Mexican cemita sandwich filled with pork, avocado, cheese and chili had become a regular menu item. When Maggie had converted the upstairs offices into a second kitchen, she’d asked Bridgett to be her sous-chef during catering events. It allowed her more cooking time and the extra money she made went into her restaurant fund.

Bridgett delivered Lark’s order and started another pot of coffee. Life wasn’t perfect, but whose ever was? Bridgett had been reasonably happy up until recent events, and although she still kept an eye out for Mr. Right, it wasn’t a priority. She had enjoyed her quiet, unassuming existence until she’d headlined the evening news. She’d contemplated dipping into her savings account and leaving town immediately, but her restaurant dream was the one thing that kept her going on most days. Until she could find a better solution, she’d opted to move out of her mother’s house.

When her friend Mazie had offered Bridgett a room at the Bed & Biscuit, she couldn’t have packed fast enough. She needed to break away from the one person she’d never imagined would betray her. Of course, Mazie had given her a room rent-free, but Bridgett refused to be a charity case. Bridgett assisted Mazie in the kitchen and cleaned the inn to repay her friend’s generous hospitality.

Bridgett thought she had made it clear she wanted—scratch that—needed time to think, but very few people seemed to listen. She was confused by the truth and hurt by the lies. Surely a little breathing room wasn’t too much to ask for.

Bridgett clipped another ticket to the order wheel and spun it to Bert. He and Maggie may have taught her how to run a restaurant, but Mazie instructed her on the finer cooking techniques she had learned at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris. Bridgett studiously took notes and added each lesson to her own overstuffed dream book.

Unlike most of her friends, Bridgett hadn’t had the desire to go to school to learn a trade or earn a degree. She preferred the hands-on approach. That was the lie she told herself anyway. She couldn’t afford to go to school then or now. Darren had managed to send all three of his legitimate children to Ivy League schools. Abby’s parents had sent her to college—seven years’ worth for her to become a physical therapist. Out of Darren’s five children, Bridgett was the only one without a career or college degree. Her jaw tightened. Jealousy wouldn’t solve anything. She had the strength and determination to make it on her own. And she would make it, too. Someday.

Bridgett bussed a table, mentally envisioning the floor plan of her own restaurant. As she nudged the kitchen door with her hip, the bells above the entrance jingled.

“Welcome to The Magpie.” Halfway through the door to the kitchen, Bridgett caught a glimpse of the man standing just inside the luncheonette’s entrance. The plates precariously balanced on her arms began to slip. He smiled at her. “Oh, my stars,” she whispered, struggling to prevent the stack from crashing to the floor.

Quickly depositing the dishes in the kitchen, she ducked down and made her way to the pass-through to sneak a peek at the man without appearing too obvious.

“What on earth are you doing?” Bert asked from the grill.

Bridgett shushed him and attempted another glimpse. The man was definitely easy on the eyes—gorgeous brown eyes—almost familiar in a way, but she was positive she hadn’t seen him before.

Crap. Lark greeted him and led him to the counter. Bridgett crouch-walked to the door, stood and took a deep breath.

“He’s just a man, sweetheart,” Bert chuckled as he plated another order. “Don’t get yourself in a state. Go on out there and act natural.”

Since when did Bert give relationship advice?

Bridgett couldn’t bear to turn around and see the expression on the cook’s face. Shoulders squared, she casually entered the dining area and strolled behind the counter.

“Thanks for your assistance before, Lark.” Bridgett touched the woman’s shoulder. “I’ve got this.

“How may I service you today?”

Please tell me I did not say that!

Mortified, Bridgett closed her eyes and vainly struggled to keep a nervous laugh in check. She failed. “Let me try this again.”

“It’s okay,” he drawled. “I’m intrigued by your offer.”

If she’d thought his eyes were gorgeous before, they were downright intoxicating up close. And his voice reminded her of a song, but she couldn’t place which one. She needed a distraction, and this sexy newcomer had just claimed top billing.

* * *

ADAM STEELE HADN’T eaten since yesterday—a day he’d rather forget. When he’d arrived at his sister’s in a sorry state, she’d taken him in. She’d cut and colored his hair from bleached blond to its natural brown, then forced him to shave off his jet-black beard. The new Adam was unrecognizable, even to himself.

“Are you in town for this weekend’s Harvest Festival?” the waitress asked. The name Bridgett was embroidered on the front of her pink-and-white fifties-style uniform, next to where the zipper began to reveal a hint of cleavage. Normally he’d pass on the whole retro vibe, but it worked on her.

“The festival’s a pretty big deal here, huh?” The main reason he’d pulled into town had been his growling stomach. He also wanted to test out his new look to see if anyone would recognize him. Bodyguards usually accompanied him and his band when they traveled. Outside of the quick shopping spree he and his sister had made to buy some normal clothes for his trip, this was his first solo performance and he needed to be sure he’d be able to travel incognito. How ironic his “disguise” was his real identity.

Bridgett’s eyes widened and Adam feared he’d already blown his cover. “You’re not a reporter, are you?” She took a step back. “Because I’ve had my fill of those lately.”

Adam inwardly cringed. “A reporter? People have called me many things, but a reporter hasn’t been one of them. Why would I be?”

“Because you answered my question with a question. It’s what they do. And I’ve endured enough questions to last forever.”

Okay, retro girl has a problem with reporters. After countless world tours and the tabloids’ constant fabrications about him and his band, they ranked at the bottom of Adam’s list also.

“No, I’m not a reporter or remotely connected to journalism. What do they want with you?”

“Corrupt mayor, political scandal.” Bridgett quickly broke eye contact, reached into her apron pocket and removed her order pad. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“The sign for the festival caught my attention and I thought I’d check it out. Can you recommend a hotel?”

“New to the area? I haven’t seen you in here before.”

“I’m from Katy. Three hours to the east.” Adam almost flinched at his own answer. When had he last told the truth regarding his hometown? Nine, or, ten years ago—maybe. After that long, he hadn’t expected it to roll off his tongue so easily. Tension usually surrounded the question. This morning it was absent. The fear someone would expose his lie vanished with the truth. If anyone had recognized his “true” identity in the past, his credibility in the industry would have ended. He’d managed to keep the truth from everyone, including his band. The world knew him as The Snake. It was the biographical lie his first manager had created and he’d never been able to escape it. An extremely lucrative persona had grown from that lie, playing on people’s emotions. The orphaned street kid from one of Miami’s roughest neighborhoods, discovered on a corner playing guitar. Only it wasn’t true.

It wasn’t until this last tour when he’d finally came clean with his drummer, Phil, telling his best friend how he actually hailed from Texas. Strangely enough, the story hadn’t surprised Phil. Bogus childhoods weren’t unusual in Los Angeles. But most people hadn’t gone to the extremes Adam had. He’d created a career based upon that lie. If the truth surfaced, Adam knew he’d lose all credibility in the music industry. The products he currently endorsed would take a hit, as well. Why would anyone want to be associated with a man who had not only lied to the world, but also shunned his family in order to make millions of dollars?

“We don’t have much in the center of town, except for the Bed & Biscuit—biscuit as in dog biscuit. Mazie, the owner, caters to people with pets, although oddly enough she doesn’t own one herself. But her sister, Lexi, is an equine veterinarian and... Good heavens, I’m rambling.”

Adam enjoyed the pink tinge flooding Bridgett’s cheeks. Her high ponytail enhanced her long, slender neck. He’d love to loosen those thick honey-red waves and watch them fall down around her shoulders.

Adam caught himself staring at her, neither one of them making a move to speak. Form words, Adam. You’re no stranger to women. He had certainly partaken in his fair share of the opposite sex in his younger days, but none of them had caused his heart to beat like a revolutionary war drum.

“Bridgett!” A voice boomed from the kitchen. “For the third time, order up, table seven.”

“Huh?” Bridgett shook her head and Adam wondered if she’d figured out who he was. “I need to— I’ll be— I—”

“She’ll be with you in a minute. Meanwhile, you can look this over.” The other waitress thrust a menu at him, placed her hands on both of Bridgett’s shoulders and turned her toward the pass-through window. Adam couldn’t hear everything the other woman whispered to Bridgett, but he clearly understood the words, “What the heck is wrong with you?”

Bridgett swatted the woman away when she offered to take his order instead. He’d had women stumble over him before, but this was different. He genuinely didn’t think they knew him from...well...Adam.

“I’m sorry.” She returned, her voice interrupting his thoughts. “Let’s start from the beginning. I’m Bridgett, welcome to Ramblewood.”

She offered her hand. Her skin felt soft as velvet against his callused fingers. Adam wondered if his attraction to her was real or if the sudden freedom to roam where he wished had seduced him. He probably had a ridiculous grin plastered across his face, but he didn’t care.

“Adam. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Not waiting for her answer, he rose slightly on his stool and leaned on the counter, her hand still in his. “Are the boysenberries really local in the Local Boysenberry French Toast?”

Bridgett moved closer to him and whispered, “Yes, and it’s to die for...my personal favorite.”

“Well, on that recommendation—”

The sound of a woman clearing her throat caused them both to look down the counter. The other waitress stood with both arms full of dirty dishes, one eyebrow raised.

Releasing him, Bridgett stood up straight and adjusted her apron. “And this is Lark.”

“Charmed,” Lark grumbled. “Unless you want more gossip floating around, I suggest you two cool it until you find a more private place to ogle each other.”

“More gossip? Involving you?” Adam asked. Could there be more to the reporter story than Bridgett indicated earlier?

“She means small-town gossip in general.” Bridgett may have dismissed the question, but Adam caught the slightly aggravated inflection in her voice. The sidelong glance she shot Lark was a clear message for the other woman to shut up. “Where were we? Oh, yes, the French toast. A local farmer grows and cold-pack cans the boysenberries so we have them year-round. Maggie’s boysenberry syrup is incredible. And a few of our pastries have a boysenberry filling.”

“Maggie?”

“Maggie Dalton.” Bridgett checked her watch. “She owns the luncheonette, but she ran to the farmers’ market this morning. She should return any minute.”

Bridgett’s green eyes reminded him of the dew-covered clover he’d seen in Ireland last summer. “I’ll have an order with a side of bacon and a coffee.”

“Coming right up.”

Bridgett bounced into the kitchen, her ponytail swinging. Adam swiveled on his stool, checking out the rest of the luncheonette. The complete opposite of the clubs and expensive restaurants he usually frequented. Only a dozen tables and booths filled the narrow space. He’d once enjoyed eating in similar places. Comfortable and cozy. Where everyone knew everyone else. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed those simpler days until now. He’d trade every cent he’d made to have his family back.

The vibration of his cell pulsed in his leather jacket. He tugged it out of the pocket, powered the phone off and tossed it on the counter. Twenty-four hours ago, Adam had knocked on his parents’ door and pleaded for forgiveness. He probably would have gotten further with them if he hadn’t reeked of whiskey and stale cigarettes. The final night of a tour meant an enormous party for the band and crew. In the spirit of the celebration, Adam had drunk more than he should have. He’d celebrated for a different reason...his final show. Period. He’d decided to quit when another fight had broken out between the bass guitarist and drummer minutes before hitting the stage. Tempers and egos had reached a boiling point and they hadn’t discussed future projects in ages.

As the band’s front man, Adam knew he needed to let them and their management in on his decision. But he’d rather do it in person. He’d bailed early on last night’s party. Houston had been their final concert—an hour away from his hometown. The fact that he had to be assisted by the limo driver to climb out of the car should have been his sign to wait another day or two. But he couldn’t wait. He had wanted to share his decision with his parents first. When he’d rung their bell at four in the morning, his mother had appeared in the sidelight window next to the door. She hadn’t recognized him until he’d shouted, “Mom, it’s me” loud enough for her to hear. Adam had placed his palm on the glass. Slowly she’d lifted hers, matching his on the other side of the window. She’d held his gaze. The longing and loss etched into her face had broken his heart. Squeezing her eyes shut, she’d mouthed his name and disappeared from view.

He had repeatedly rung the bell, calling to her. He’d stopped when he heard the deadbolt unlock. His father had swung the door wide, stormed onto the portico and demanded that Adam leave before someone overheard him and called the police. He’d thrown in a “have you looked at yourself in the mirror” followed by the crushing blow “you’re no longer a part of this family.” When Adam had tried to explain he wanted to move home to Katy, his father had cut him short, reiterating that he needed to leave.

Adam’s jaw clenched at the memory. When he’d arrived at his sister Lizzy’s, she’d been waiting for him, tipped off by their parents. She’d had no choice but to let him in since he owned the house she lived in. Adam had purchased it two years ago, after Lizzy’s ex-husband had beaten the crap out of her. The home was tucked away in a gated community boasting its own security guards. Adam had added an alarm system rivaling Fort Knox to ensure her safety.

It had irked his parents how he’d provided for Lizzy. Especially when they’d offered her a place to live on their small ranch. Her violent marriage and the traumatic end to her career because of those injuries had almost been too much for Lizzy to bear. Moving in with their parents would have been the final blow to Lizzy’s pride. And although Adam had arranged for a generous bank account for Lizzy to draw on if she needed, she hadn’t touched a dime of his money.

He’d still been dressed in his fetid stage leathers, and Lizzy had demanded he shower before she’d permitted him to sit on any of the furniture. She had thrown his clothes in the trash can outside and had given him a pair of sweats and a T-shirt her new boyfriend had kept at the house. Determined to convince his family he wasn’t the terrible person they’d presumed he was, Adam had asked his sister to transform him physically into someone more socially acceptable.

Lizzy may not have approved of his choices, but she’d stood by him when no one else had. She’d offered to explain Adam’s decision to their parents while he wrapped up things in Los Angeles. He dreaded the fallout from management and his fans. But if he wanted his family to take him seriously, he needed to make real changes and put an end to the lies.

“Cream and sugar?” Bridgett interrupted his thoughts.

Adam swiveled to face the counter. “Yes, thank you. I guess I’ll need a dog to stay at the Biscuit Shack. Have one I can borrow?”

“Bed & Biscuit.” The corners of her mouth lifted. “The Biscuit Shack’s on Highway 87 in Boerne—great food. It wouldn’t matter even if you had a dog because it’s booked solid this weekend.”

“Order up.” Bert called from the kitchen.

Bridgett set the breakfast platter in front of Adam, along with a small stainless steel pitcher of boysenberry syrup. He poured it over the berry-filled toast. Bridgett propped an elbow on the counter, waiting for him to take the first bite. Normally he’d have been self-conscious of someone watching him eat, but the aroma of warmed berries and bacon beckoned. He lifted the fork to his mouth and winked at Bridgett. Then the euphoria set in.

“This is the best French toast I’ve ever had.” And he’d tried various countries’ versions of it throughout his travels. Adam closed his eyes and savored another bite. “It’s incredible. Put in another order for me, because one won’t be enough.”

Bridgett slipped a pad from her pocket and wrote another ticket. “Just don’t make yourself sick,” she cautioned. “I’ll put it in now. I have to check on my other customers, but I’ll be back.”

Adam ate the rest of his meal, reveling in his anonymity. He could adjust to this. The physical and mental exhaustion from traipsing the globe for almost a decade had left him craving a simpler existence. Ramblewood may not have been a planned stop, but he needed a vacation from stardom and a chance to regroup before he announced to the world that his life had been one giant lie. Besides, no one would think to search for him in the sleepy Texas town.

He’d have to be careful not to get too close to the beautiful waitress, though. There was no sense pulling an unsuspecting person into the mess his life had become, especially if she was trying to avoid the media.


Chapter Two (#ulink_822983c6-2bd9-57a7-8179-1de4243c4163)

“I can’t remember when I last saw a smile on your face.” After her shift at the luncheonette, Bridgett had beelined for the inn. Mazie stopped chopping onions long enough to contemplate the favor being asked of her. “If Adam is responsible for it, I guess there’s no harm in him staying here.”

Bridgett flattened her lips, sucking them inward to hide the goofy smile threatening to expose her excitement. “Thank you, Mazie.”

She fought the urge to hug her friend. Heck, she barely believed she’d had the grit to ask that Mazie rent Adam the room reserved for out-of-town family. She still hadn’t figured out what had prompted her to be so brazen, especially since the room was just down the hall from hers. That thought alone caused her stomach to do a few somersaults.

Although the town of Katy was three hours away, it was still close enough for them to see each other again after the Harvest Festival. If he wanted to. Why it even mattered baffled her. She hadn’t planned to stick around town much longer herself. Then again, maybe she’d add Katy to her job-search locations.

Mazie’s smile tightened before she returned her attention to the chopping board. “Please be careful. You’ve been through quite a bit and I don’t want to see you jump at the first guy you meet as a way to forget what’s happened. Whether this man’s here or not, you still need to deal with your family.”

“My eyes are wide open.” Bridgett grabbed a fallen dish towel from the floor and tossed it onto the counter. “He needs a room for the weekend and I’ve no intention of running away with him. Although, who’d blame me for wanting to ditch this town.”

Mazie stilled her knife, looking at Bridgett. “You and I have watched out for each other since the day we first met in pre-school. I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I didn’t say your interest in this man worries me. There are plenty of hotels with vacancies outside of Ramblewood.”

“Please don’t feel obligated.” Bridgett poked her head out of the kitchen wanting to ensure Adam hadn’t wandered in and overheard their conversation. “If you’re uncomfortable with him staying here, I understand.”

Mazie added the onions to a large, blue-and-white speckled enameled pan. “We’re having roasted ratatouille and goat-cheese-stuffed crepes tonight. I’ll set an extra place at the table for Adam.”

Bridgett couldn’t help grinning, and her body tingled in anticipation. With Adam staying down the hall from her, maybe they’d be able to spend some time together.

“Well don’t stand here.” Mazie waved her away. “He’s waiting outside, isn’t he?”

Bridgett blinked rapidly. “Oh. Right.” She spun to leave. “Thanks again, Mazie.”

“And don’t run off to Vegas and get yourself hitched.” Mazie still held a tiny grudge against her sister for eloping last year, although she’d never admit it aloud. Lexi’s elopement had stunned Mazie, along with the rest of Ramblewood. But it hadn’t compared to the snub she’d felt when she’d found out Lexi had asked Bridgett to be the maid of honor. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision—Lexi hadn’t meant to hurt her sister.

Bridgett tried to tamp down her excitement as she walked to the front porch, where she’d asked Adam to wait. She may be desperate for a distraction, but she wasn’t desperate for a man. She pushed open the screen door. “Adam, I—” Where was he? And where was his truck? He’d parked it at the curb in front of the Bed & Biscuit earlier.

Disappointment tore through Bridgett. Heaviness in her chest replaced the tingling sensation she’d experienced moments earlier. She had permitted herself a small piece of happiness and as quickly as it’d come, it had vanished.

A voice called out to her when she headed inside. “I asked him to move.” Bridgett turned toward the street. One of Ramblewood’s men in blue stood on the other side of the front gate. “The weather’s supposed to remain nice tonight and the festival vendors decided to set up early. His truck was in the way, so I asked him to move it to the side lot.”

Bridgett let out a huge breath and sagged against the porch railing. She had no right to feel relief, disappointment or any emotion for a man she’d met hours ago. Not for a stranger passing through town. Mazie’s words echoed through her head. Bridgett’s first instinct had been to take a gamble on a new life and love, just as her sister had. Abby had managed to snag a fiancé, find her dream job and move half way across the country in under a month. If she had the opportunity to begin again in a new town, she’d jump at it. One way or another, she needed out of Ramblewood. And who knew, maybe after getting to know a little more about Adam, Bridgett would be glad he was moving on. Or, maybe she’d want more...

“Thank you.” Bridgett waved goodbye to the officer and straightened some of the potted flowers along the porch. She’d waited patiently for Mr. Right. Of course, it was too soon to know where Adam fit into the mix. When Bridgett experimented with a new dish, she tried different ingredients to test how they tasted together. Sometimes she had a hit, other times a flop. Relationships weren’t any different. Bridgett had stopped dating after her last boyfriend, not wanting to risk another disappointment. But Adam was a new ingredient in Ramblewood. And she welcomed the opportunity to explore the possibilities.

* * *

ADAM POCKETED HIS keys as he approached the inn’s front porch. Unnoticed, he watched Bridgett rearrange various fall plants. His mother would be able to rattle off every plant’s common name along with its genus and species. To him, they were just puffy flowers. Mums possibly, but he couldn’t be certain. His mother had a passion for horticulture, but she’d never treated it as more than a hobby. Adam had once promised his mother he would build her a huge nursery so she could run the business she’d always envisioned. She’d laughed off the prospect and Adam knew she hadn’t taken him seriously. When he’d stumbled upon the sketches she’d tucked away in a drawer, he’d vowed to make her dreams a reality. And he would have, except for one problem. By the time he’d acquired the financial security to give his parents anything they desired, they’d already disowned him.

It wasn’t just his band’s notoriety for destroying hotel rooms or the leaked cell-phone photos of him with a certain centerfold. Adam hung his head as he remembered the time he had attempted to explain the pictures to his family. The groupies appalled his mother, although Dad had once hinted that he was a bit jealous of his son. Lizzy said his parents had questioned the tabloid rumors about his supposed drug addiction and a reported sex tape, and even if they had been true, they might have moved past it. When he didn’t fly home after Lizzy’s ex put her in the hospital or when his father had a heart attack, he’d sealed his own fate.

Adam’s gut clenched at the thought. It shouldn’t have mattered where he was touring. He could have postponed the shows...but he hadn’t. With that, and the way he’d misrepresented his upbringing, refusing to acknowledge their existence, he couldn’t blame them for disowning him.

The Snake’s persona claimed he had bounced from one foster home to another, barely remembering his mother. Some reports suggested she was a prostitute, others said she had died. Either way, it hadn’t sat well with his parents. He’d even given interviews about his hatred for his parents and how they had better not show up asking for a handout.

Adam’s hands fisted. It was an act. An image created to sway the public into believing good could come from bad. None of it was true. Adam had hated the idea from the start. But that hadn’t stopped him from going along with it. All connections to Texas vanished with his new name and look. The country-singer hopeful had become a hard-core rock star.

Adam raked a hand through his freshly shorn hair. The plan had drifted off course. The country labels thought his edgy songs and playing style pushed the genre too much and suggested he either dial it back or head in the hard rock direction. He wouldn’t allow anyone to stifle his creativity. Toning it down wasn’t an option. Amping it up was.

The money and fame had been amazing at first, but it had come at an enormous expense. His first manager had only seen dollar signs when he’d created Adam’s image. But he’d done his job well, because it had gotten Adam in front of the right record labels. When he’d formed his backup band, Adam had kept the facade. Feeling they could do better, the band had collectively fired their manager and hired a new management company. They’d signed a five-album deal within three months. Their big break had arrived and Adam had told his new manager the truth, wanting to end the lies before it cost him more than it already had. But the record label wouldn’t budge. They’d bought the entire package and feared they’d lose too much money if Adam’s innocuous Texas upbringing was revealed. A booking agent had scored them a world tour and Adam hadn’t wanted to risk losing it.

Adam shook his head. There had been ways out of it. He could have easily let it slip in an interview. A random post on any of his social media accounts would have fed the flames enough to get everyone talking. But he hadn’t. He’d loved the fame. Loved the money. And he had assumed if he waved enough of it at his family, they’d understand. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

He understood why they’d given up on him and why the Katy townsfolk ignored him when he occasionally drifted into town to visit Lizzy. It hadn’t been often. A handful of times in ten years. Adam wasn’t sure how to win their trust again, but he knew he needed to make some major changes and Ramblewood seemed like a great place to start. Maybe now he could focus on his dream of opening the music school he’d been planning for years.

“There you are.” Bridgett leaned over the railing “I should have told you to use the side parking area earlier.”

“No biggie.” The late afternoon sun cast a soft, warm radiant glow upon Bridgett, almost ethereal. He knew he should stay away from her. Wasn’t that what he’d told himself at the restaurant? But he was drawn to her. Hadn’t been able to resist asking her to help him find somewhere to stay. Bridgett intrigued him.

She may be leery of reporters, but she still maintained a cheery attitude toward her customers.

He’d wandered around town for a while waiting for Bridgett’s shift to end. He’d met a few people, visited some of the shops and even caught himself smiling in a storefront window. Ramblewood reminded him of home...his real home. He could envision himself rebuilding his life here. Maybe he still had a chance of moving back to Texas.

Adam made a habit of taking each once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that came his way. Sometimes they panned out, but usually they had gotten him into a hell of a lot of trouble. This—Ramblewood—was different and real. For once, Adam vowed to follow his heart instead of doing whatever his people told him to do.

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to head back to your truck.” Bridgett glanced down at her white Keds and sighed.

Adam’s heart sank. The disappointment was more than he’d anticipated. “I appreciate you trying, though. I’ll check out one of the hotels off the interstate. I do hope to see you again.”

“Oh, you’ll be seeing me.” Bridgett lifted her head and playfully wrinkled her nose as she smiled. “I’ll be the one sitting next to you at dinner tonight. Mazie has an incredible meal planned. One of the perks of staying at the Bed & Biscuit. She serves two meals a day.”

“I don’t understand,” Adam said. Bridgett gracefully glided down the stairs. She was still in her waitress uniform but in his mind, she could have been a model on the runway in Milan. He had been invited to quite a few fashion weeks over the years and none of the women compared to Bridgett. Though she had a natural beauty and aura about her—if you plied her with makeup, hair spray and couture gowns, you’d suffocate her. “I can stay?”

Bridgett nodded. “Grab your luggage, and we’ll check you in.”

Crap. That was something Adam hadn’t thought of. Checking in meant showing ID and he no longer resembled his driver’s license photo. Plus if he was from Katy, Texas, how would he explain the California driver’s license?

After grabbing a small duffel bag from the truck, he met Bridgett inside the inn’s foyer. The white-and-red Victorian wasn’t the type of place he was accustomed to, but it possessed an inviting charm. And although he’d never admit it to his friends in LA, he’d rather lodge in a quaint and cozy B and B than an obnoxiously garish and overpriced hotel.

“Adam, this is Janie Anderson. She handles all guest relations.” Bridgett introduced him to a middle-aged woman coming down a dramatic, richly stained oak staircase ending at a large semi-circle landing that created the room’s focal point. “Janie, I would like to introduce you to Adam—I’m sorry, I don’t know your last name.”

“Steele.” He hoped Bridgett hadn’t noticed the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He turned to Janie, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“She’ll register you while I check on your room. Janie, Adam will be staying in the Balcony Room. I’ll be back down in a minute.”

“Oh, you must be one of Mazie’s cousins.” Janie removed a leather-bound registry from the front desk drawer. From the landing, Bridgett shook her head when Adam almost corrected the woman. Janie ran her fingers across the top edge of the pages until she reached the ribbon marker, opened the book flat and turned it to face him. “If you’ll fill in your name, address and phone number—although with you being a relative I’m sure Mazie has it already—you’ll be good to go.”

No identification, no license plate number, just a person’s word. How ironic that his own family wouldn’t take him at his word, but strangers would. When he finished filling out the registry, Bridgett was ready for him. He followed her to the second floor, enjoying the sight of her bare legs and pert backside while she led him to his room.

“Here you are. Mazie keeps this room for out-of-town family, but she made an exception for you. And before you ask, it’s easier for Janie to think you’re a distant relative than endure her third degree.” Bridgett crossed to an elaborate glass-framed and oak-paneled door. “You have your own private balcony looking onto Ramblewood Park, a fireplace and a private bathroom. Mazie decorated this space with mid-1800s Victorian furnishings. Each room is different, but this is the nicest one. Of course, she designed it with pets in mind so there’s no frilly lace to snag tiny toenails. I don’t think you’ll find it too feminine.”

And feminine it wasn’t. Warm, rich oak accents carried throughout the crimson-painted room, from the chair rail to the hand-carved fireplace, giving the space an air of male sophistication.

“It’s perfect,” Adam said. “How can I repay Mazie for her generosity?”

“Don’t break her heart, that’s how you can repay me.” Adam jumped. A woman in her late twenties stood in the doorway, rivaling Bridgett in height. “I’m Mazie Lawson and welcome to my Bed & Biscuit.”

Bridgett gave Mazie a meaningful look. “I apologize for my overly cautious friend.”

Adam extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you and thank you for making room for me.” Adam wasn’t sure what he’d expected Mazie to look like, but he’d figured she would’ve been more than twenty or thirty years older.

“Well, I need to finish preparing dinner. We’re eating at six-thirty. Bridgett, would you mind stopping by Bridle Dance to pick up a sack of pecans Kay has for me? You can take my car. I ran short and I’m determined to win the pie contest this weekend. I won’t allow Maggie Dalton to take the blue ribbon fifteen years in a row. And I do wish you’d reconsider not dropping out of the competition. You had your heart set on entering.”

Bridgett shook her head. “I’d never beat you or Maggie, anyway,” Bridgett said, laughing. “Maggie and Mazie...the two pie queens of Ramblewood. Let me guess. You’re going to remain in this house, miss the majority of the festival and bake pies until the contest on Sunday afternoon.” Bridgett turned her attention to Adam. “The Magpie was a bakery before it became a luncheonette. Miss Parisian Le Cordon Bleu here is jealous that she hasn’t been able to beat a woman who made a career out of pies and cakes.”

“The Le Cordon Bleu?” Adam asked. “I’m impressed.”

“As you should be, mon cher,” Mazie said in a horribly Americanized French accent before turning to leave. “I must cook. Au revoir!”

“I’ll head out to the ranch in a bit,” she called after Mazie. Bridgett faced Adam. She shifted from one foot to the other and then scanned the room. An awkward silence filled the air as she flicked her thumb under her index finger repeatedly. Adam wondered if she’d just realized they were alone together. “I need to shower away the luncheonette.” She inched back toward the hallway. “Would you care to join me—I mean drive out to the ranch with me?”

“Sure, I’d love to see more of your town.” Adam’s mind veered off in a whole other direction as he envisioned her showering. “Do you live here, too?”

“Temporarily,” Bridgett said. “It’s a long story. I’ll meet you downstairs in thirty.”

Adam waited until he heard Bridgett’s footsteps fade away before he stuck his head into the hallway. A door closed at the opposite end. Ducking back inside his room, he relaxed against the wall and closed his eyes, amazed how things could change overnight. He had decided to alter his life when he’d left his sister’s earlier. A few hours later, a fresh start had fallen into his lap.

* * *

BRIDGETT SWORE SHE’D never taken a faster shower. She attempted to blow her hair out, cursing its thickness. Getting it to a half-way decent point, she reached for her cosmetics bag. The no-makeup look took more of an effort than simply slapping on blush and lipstick.

Almost mid-October and the weather was still on the warm side during the day. The nights brought about a welcoming chill after the scorching summer they’d had. Jeans, a form-fitting tank with a loose white sleeveless linen shirt over it and her favorite inlaid-heart cowboy boots comprised her first-date outfit.

First date? What a delirious thought! A quick run to Bridle Dance for pecans did not constitute a date. An outing maybe. Bridgett slipped her long silver-and-jade pendant necklace around her neck, took one last glance in the mirror and reminded herself to descend the stairs slowly or else she’d end up riding them on her butt. Mazie still hadn’t replaced the runner they’d torn out due to a pet guest destroying it a week earlier.

After she said a quick goodbye to Mazie and Janie, Bridgett stepped out onto the front porch.

“Did you even try?” Adam stood near the wrought-iron gate leading to the street, his cell phone to his ear. “Okay, I’m sorry, but you need to understand where I’m coming from, too.”

Bridgett knew she shouldn’t eavesdrop, but curiosity got the best of her. Not wanting to be seen, she slipped back into the house, listening through the screen. She managed to pick up bits and pieces of the conversation as Adam paced the width of the front yard.

“Lizzy, look at it from my side. This wasn’t what I wanted, either.”

Lizzy? Could he be married or involved with someone? She hadn’t thought to ask. And, why had he been on the interstate driving past Ramblewood? Was he heading to or from home?

Bridgett chewed on the inside of her cheek. How could she be so naive? He could be an ax murderer for all she knew. And here she’d invited him to stay a few feet away from her bedroom. Bridgett covered her face with her hands, debating what to do next.

Take a risk. That’s what Abby would do. Her sister had driven all the way to Texas on a hunch, and it had changed her life. Pushing back her shoulders, Bridgett flung open the door just as Adam reached for the handle. Startled, they both laughed.

“Do you want me to drive?”

“Are you married?”

They both spoke at the same time. Adam tilted his head to one side. “Married? No, I’m not married, dating or otherwise attached. You?” Adam asked. “It’s not why you’re living here, is it? Fight with your husband?”

“No, I haven’t been lucky in the love department.” Bridgett’s toes curled in her boots at the mention of his single status. “The last real date I had was—” Bridgett cut her own sentence short before she embarrassed herself. “Sure, you can drive.”

“You look great, by the way,” Adam said from behind her. “I like your hair down.”

“Thank you.” It wasn’t the first time she’d ever been complimented, but coming from him it meant more somehow.

* * *

THE CAB OF his truck quickly filled with an exotic floral scent when Bridgett climbed in beside him. Adam hoped wherever they headed would take a while. He enjoyed having her to himself, although he’d enjoy it more if his tongue would connect with his brain. Known for usually saying too much, Adam struggled to find ways to keep the conversation going. There was so much about his life he had to hide that it was hard to find a safe topic of conversation. He wondered if Bridgett even listened to his music. Her boots screamed country but he detected a slight edginess waiting to break free. Besides, some of his ballads had actually crossed over to the country stations.

Bridgett directed him where to turn, pointing out various places in town. The freedom associated with driving down rural roads, without traffic, smog and constant noise reminded him of his early twenties, before his world had changed. Wanting to enjoy that freedom, he hadn’t turned on the radio since he’d left Lizzy’s and unless he was using his cell phone, he kept it off, as well. His voice mail was probably full and he couldn’t care less. Adam wanted to remove himself from that world and embrace a simpler life.

“Where were you headed to when you stumbled upon Ramblewood?” Bridgett asked.

“Promise you won’t laugh when I tell you.” When Adam had decided to drive to California instead of fly, he’d borrowed a pickup he’d purchased for Lizzy but she’d never driven, having said it wasn’t her style. “I had planned on taking my dream trip across the United States, visiting all those crazy tourist attractions like the world’s largest ball of twine and the biggest iron skillet. I saw it in a movie once, but I never had the time to do it myself. After the falling out I had with my family, I wanted to take a mindless, fun trip.” The drive to LA had been a bucket list item he’d decided to knock off while he tried to sort through his plans.

“Falling out?” Bridgett asked. “What happened?”

Adam gripped the steering wheel tighter. He’d said more than he’d intended.

“Let’s say I didn’t exactly turn out the way my family had expected me to.” He wished he could tell her the whole story. But if he wanted a second chance in Texas, he needed people to accept him as he was today. Not as he used to be. Plus, he couldn’t take the chance on his transformation and whereabouts being leaked to the media. Not that he thought that was Bridgett’s intention, but sometimes people let things slip. No, The Snake needed to stay in the past...for now.

“Understood,” Bridgett said. “It’s none of my business, really. What was your first stop?”

“I haven’t made it there yet. I grew up near the world’s largest Igloo cooler. I guess you could say I started my trip with a freebie. My first stop was supposed to be the Toilet Seat Museum in San Antonio followed by the Cadillac Ranch in Amarillo.”

“Isn’t the Cadillac Ranch the place with the cars sticking halfway into the ground?”

“That’s the one,” Adam nodded.

“I can understand the cars, but a toilet seat museum?”

“This ninety-something-year-old man has turned a thousand plus toilet seats into works of art over the last fifty years. If he can create it, I can take the time to see it.”

“I’m sensing an art theme with you.”

“I love art,” Adam declared. “Tell you what. If I go to San Antonio, I’ll take you with me and you can see it for yourself.” Bridgett’s face remained stoic. No laugh or smile. Just a continued stare past the windshield. “Was it something I said?”

“No,” Bridgett sighed. “Something I promised myself and Mazie earlier.”

“I’m a good listener, if you want to talk.”

“I promised myself to be free and live more, so yes, I’d love to join you and see toilet seats. But, I promised Mazie I wouldn’t rush into anything with you. What she doesn’t know—and I’m not sure why I’m telling you this—is that I’m planning to leave town, anyway. As soon as I find a restaurant that I can afford, or one of the places I’ve applied at hires me I’m out of here. Whether I see toilet seats with you or leave on my own I risk being strangled by my friend. I’m trying to figure out if that’s worse than letting myself down by staying put.”

Her voice held a twinge of humor, but Adam sensed the weight of the world was on her shoulders as she contemplated her next step in life. But leaving home? He could relate and it didn’t sit well with him for some reason. He should stay out of it. It wasn’t his place, but he found himself unable to resist trying to reason with her.

“If I may be so bold to offer one piece of advice, and I learned this lesson the hard way: Follow your heart, but don’t burn your bridges. It’s not always easy to go home again.”

Adam turned to see Bridgett watching him closely. A shiver ran up his spine. Suddenly he felt exposed.

“Are things bad with your family?” Her tone was warm, not a hint accusatory.

Unable to speak without his voice cracking, he only nodded. Bridgett reached out and laid her hand on his arm.

“I understand more than you realize,” she said softly.

Covering her hand with his, he drove the rest of the way to the ranch in silence.


Chapter Three (#ulink_13025f01-aa1a-59b3-b73e-ef122d95d034)

Bridgett was a mess. Sitting with Adam’s hand over hers, she felt at ease one minute and nervous the next. Who knew one person could hold so much power over her emotions, especially someone she’d just met.

A hint of raw vulnerability had emerged in Adam when he’d owned up to letting his family down. Despite his casual tone, his eyes had betrayed him and held a sense of deep regret. An expression Bridgett knew well—it was identical to the one Ruby wore each time they had crossed paths these past few weeks. Her mother had asked the same of her as Adam wanted from his family. A second chance. Her mother’s lies had broken the trust they’d shared. No matter what her mother said, Bridgett had difficulty accepting that she was finally telling the truth. She wanted to forgive her mother, but she hadn’t figured out how. So how could she possibly tell Adam not to give up without coming across as an absolute hypocrite?

“Turn left here.” Bridgett rubbed the back of her neck, rolling her shoulders. She’d always loved coming out to the Bridle Dance Ranch. Not only had she grown up with the Langtry men, their father had taken time out of his busy schedule to teach Bridgett to ride. And it had been no easy feat thanks to her fear of horses back then. Joe had passed away two years ago, but Bridgett would never forget his kindness and ability to turn a scared little girl into an accomplished rider.

“It’s magnificent.” Adam peered over the steering wheel and up at the wrought-iron Bridle Dance lettering balanced between two rearing bronze horses on either side of the dirt road. “I’d love to know what foundry they used for those horses.”

“Foundry?” Bridgett asked.

“The place where they create the mold and cast the bronze.”

“Ah, okay.” Toilet seats, cars stuck in the dirt and now sculptures...the man definitely had a passion for art...if you could call toilet seats and cars art.

“My sister studied sculpting before she got married.”

“She doesn’t sculpt anymore?”

“No, her ex-husband almost killed her and brutally broke both her hands. She’s never been able to return to it.” The words may have flowed freely from Adam’s mouth, but his jaw flexed when he spoke, cautioning Bridgett to leave the painful subject alone. “Are those pecan trees?”

Rows of large trees with weeping branches formed a thick canopy above the entrance road, some limbs still heavy with fruit, others almost bare. Men gently shook the branches with a long padded pole as ripe nuts fell to the ground. An older Ford tractor towed a bright red harvester, sweeping the closely shorn grass and gathering the nuts for transport to the pecan cleaner.

“Yes. The Langtrys may use some modern equipment to gather the nuts, but they shake the trees the old-fashioned way. And if anyone wants to pitch in for an hour or two, they’re given a ten-pound burlap sack filled with fresh pecans to take home.”

“Calling this place a ranch is an understatement.” Adam slowly continued past the white-railed fencing that surrounded the pastures and led to the showcase of the quarter-of-a-million-acre property: the three-story log castle—at least that was how Bridgett had referred to it as a kid. The house even had a log turret on the back.

“Pull off to the right and take the driveway to the main house,” Bridgett directed.

She hopped from the truck and waited for Adam to join her at the gate leading into the side yard. Reaching over the fence, Bridgett petted Kay Langtry’s midnight-black standard poodle.

“This here is Barney.” Bridgett squeezed through the gate, grabbed hold of the dog’s collar and waited for Adam to enter.

“You don’t have to hold him—I’m good with dogs.”

“You sure? Because Barney’s a wild one.”

“Let him go.” Adam began to bend forward at the same time Bridgett released Barney. The dog had the upper hand, er, paw, and knocked Adam into the gate.

“Barney, sit!” Kay demanded as she crossed the lawn. “I’m sorry. My boys thought it was cute to teach him to ‘give people huggies,’ but the dog doesn’t know his own strength. Bridgett, it’s wonderful to see you.” Kay gave her a hearty hug. “And who’s your young man?”

“Adam Steele. He’s staying at the Bed & Biscuit for the weekend.” Bridgett turned to Adam. “And this is Kay Langtry, a second mother to most of Ramblewood.”

“It’s a pleasure, ma’am,” Adam said, nodding. “You have a stunning piece of land.”

“Adam was captivated by the entrance sculpture,” Bridgett said.

“Those were my husband’s favorites.” Kay laid a hand above her heart. “If you’re not in a hurry, I can give you a mini tour.”

The three of them strolled through the main stables, or horse mansion as Joe Langtry used to call it, where Kay introduced Adam to two of her sons, Shane and Cole. While they talked, Bridgett caught sight of Lexi exiting one of the stalls. She excused herself and joined her friend.

“What are you doing here?” Lexi removed her latex gloves and tossed them into a covered trash bin. “I’d give you a hug, but I’m horsey and you look stunning in that outfit. Who’s the guy you walked in with?”

“Geesh, you don’t miss a thing, do you?”

“Usually not, but I do have to confess. Mazie called and told me to check out the eye candy you’re with.”

“Your sister’s a real piece of work.” Bridgett crossed her arms. “Did she tell you what she told Adam before I even introduced them?”

“Yes and she told me you looked pretty annoyed about it, too. He has a sexy rebel vibe going on, doesn’t he? What’s his story?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Bridgett recounted what she knew about Adam, and it wasn’t much. “I’m hoping to find out more this weekend.”

“How long is he in town for?” Lexi slinked along the stable walls for a better look at Adam, which only made her stand out even more. “Do you need Shane and me to give him a little nudge? We can double-date. My husband owes me a night out.”

“Thank you, but—” Bridgett swatted Lexi’s arm to stop her from spying.

“Ouch!” Lexi feigned. “What’s wrong with you?”

“You’re scaring the horses with your prowling. Let’s see what happens this weekend before I call in the reinforcements. I have no idea how long he’s staying.” Or how long she’d remain in town herself.

* * *

“THIS IS OUR Dance of Hope Hippotherapy Facility and the Ride ’em High! Rodeo School.” Kay stopped in front of the massive Craftsman-style building. “That’s my Joe on top of the one sculpture and my granddaughter on the other.”

Adam gazed from the bronzed girl perched on a horse to the twenty-something man atop a bucking bronco. “I take it he was a rodeo man himself.”

“Come inside and I’ll show you the inspiration photos for both pieces.” Kay pushed open the carriage doors leading into a magnificent stone entryway, dividing the two businesses. “This photo was taken during Joe’s last ride—my oldest, Cole, was born the next day. And, this one I took the day Joe met my granddaughter, Ever. She was the inspiration for this place.”

“Forgive me for asking, but what kind of therapy facility did you say this was?”

Kay beamed at his question. “Come with me and I’ll show you.”

Adam followed her down a hallway and outside to four separate corrals. Each of them contained a horse, rider and a few other people leading the horse slowly around the grassy area.

“This is hippotherapy.” Kay waved to one of the passing riders. “Watch the hind end of that horse and notice how his hips rise and fall. Their walk so closely mimics a human’s, by sitting astride a horse, a person with cerebral palsy—like my granddaughter—or a person recovering from a spinal injury, can increase their muscle strength and improve neurological function. It may lead to them walking again. It’s not all physical though. We have an occupational and speech therapy side, too.”

“I had no idea this existed.” Adam rested his arms on the top fence rail and watched the riders. He noted the saddles were different from any saddle he’d seen before. Instead of leather, they were fabric with two large handles on the top for the rider to grip.

Horses’ neighs and hooves clomping against the dirt reminded Adam of his parents’ ranch. Closing his eyes, it almost felt like home. He opened them as a man in military fatigues rode proudly past. With a few exceptions, most of the patients were children. “You said your granddaughter inspired Dance of Hope?”

“See the rambunctious girl in the far corral.” Kay pointed out a tiny brunette with pigtails. “That’s Ever. A friend of ours told Joe about hippotherapy and the concept fascinated my husband. By the end of the day, Joe had researched the nearest facility. It was quite a distance from here. He called them up and we took a trip there the next morning. It’s where he met Ever. At the time, she was wheelchair-bound. She had grit and determination and Joe loved her the moment they met.

“Ever’s adopted?” The girl waved when she spotted her grandmother.

“Since Ever was a foster child, the opportunity for her to continue with this type of therapy wasn’t guaranteed. Joe and I had inquired about adopting her, but we were—how’d they put it—above the ideal age range. My son Cole and his wife adopted Ever. Once they’d met her, they had found it impossible to allow her to stay in the system. She’s a very special child.”

Adam watched the girl dismount next to a platform. “I thought you said she was wheelchair-bound.”

“She was.” Kay touched Adam’s shoulder. “Would you like to meet her?”

“I’d love to.”

Despite the greater part of her legs being encased in braces over her jeans, Ever practically ran to her grandmother. Adam found himself battling tears that threatened to choke off his words.

“She can walk because of a horse?” Adam raked his hands down his face. “How come I haven’t heard of this before?”

“It’s still not widely accepted, but with nonprofits like this one, we’re making progress in the field. I only wish my husband had lived long enough to see his dream come true.”

“Don’t be sad, Grandma.” Ever reached for Kay’s hand. “Grandpa Joe’s watching us from heaven.”

Any chance Adam had of keeping his emotions in check would officially be lost if the kid kept this up. Crouching down, he smiled at her. “How old are you to be this wise?”

“Six, but grandma says I’m going on thirty.” Ever lifted her eyes to Kay for approval. “Right?”

“Understatement of the year.” Kay playfully tugged on Ever’s hair. “I’m so proud of you, kiddo.”

This was the kind of impact, the kind of good, he wanted to make in the world. Sure, his music entertained people, but it didn’t change lives. His money would be much better spent helping others than funding a lifestyle he no longer wanted.

Adam made a mental note to call his accountant later and have a donation sent to Dance of Hope...anonymously.

* * *

“I HEARD YOU enjoyed yourself at Bridle Dance,” Mazie said to Adam across the expansive dining table.

“Adam hasn’t stopped talking since we left.” Bridgett playfully nudged him with her knee under the table.

“What’s Bridle Dance?” Mrs. Phelps, one of the inn’s guests, asked.

“You have to see it,” Adam answered before Bridgett had a chance to open her mouth. He leaned forward, his hands moving animatedly as his words tumbled forth. “It’s a horse ranch, but they have a center where they use this process called hippotherapy to help people walk again. And a state-of-the-art rodeo school and a pecan grove and—”

“Dearest me.” Mrs. Phelps patted Adam’s arm. “I’m getting worn out just listening to you.”

Adam sheepishly glanced around the table, “Sorry. I guess I’m overly enthusiastic, but amazing doesn’t begin to describe it.”

“Do you travel much?” Mr. Phelps asked.

“I’ve been a few places.” Adam said.

Bridgett had originally thought a large communal table was an awkward idea when Mazie had first planned the Bed & Biscuit. Who’d want to sit and eat with strangers? She still wasn’t used to it, but tonight she loved how the other guests asked Adam questions because she had no clue where to begin without it coming across as an inquisition.

“What brings you in our direction?” Mazie asked. “Katy’s not exactly next door.”

Adam set his fork on the side of his plate and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I had a bit of a falling out with my family, and until we can work through it, I thought I’d drive cross-country and take in the sites. I ended up here when I saw the Harvest Festival sign. I had planned only to stay for the weekend, but I might hang around a little longer. If my sister, Lizzy, can smooth things over for me, I’m close enough to get back within a few hours.

“Lizzy’s your sister.” Bridgett felt her cheeks heat. “I’m sorry. I accidentally overheard your conversation earlier.”

“It’s okay,” Adam shrugged. “Lizzy’s the family mediator and I have no idea which way it will go. Since I’m here, do you think anyone would be willing to hire a stranger?”

Bridgett’s pulse increased. Not only did Adam plan to stay past the weekend, but a job meant longer. That meant she’d have the chance to get to know him better. But what if he decided to stay forever? She could be stuck in this Podunk town if she fell for him. On their way home from the ranch, she’d permitted herself the fantasy of leaving Ramblewood with Adam and visiting the ridiculous tourist attractions he had told her about. Crazy? Absolutely. But for a second, it was a possibility. Tucking her head closer to her chest, Bridgett tried to forget the silly notion and focused on her crepes.

Someone bumped her foot and she immediately looked at Mazie, who was passing a dish to Mrs. Phelps. When it happened once more, her eyes met Adam’s and his smile told Bridgett he’d caught her thinking about him. Heat rose to her cheeks again. Oh, please. She’d rather die than turn into one of those blushing females.

“What kind of work do you do?” Mazie asked, saving Bridgett from further embarrassment.

“My parents own a ranch, and I’m familiar with most aspects of farming and livestock.”

“My sister’s an equine vet,” Mazie said. “I can have her ask around for you.”

“Lexi,” Adam acknowledged. “I met her and her husband at Bridle Dance.”

“They’re usually hiring.” Bridgett added. She knew Mazie couldn’t let Adam remain at the Bed & Biscuit much longer seeing as it was booked for the entire fall season. A job at Bridle Dance meant he’d have a bed in the bunkhouses. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

“That would be great,” Adam enthused. “Thank you.”

Bridgett couldn’t help feeling excited. It wasn’t as if she already had a job waiting for her in another town, after all. She could continue to look while spending time with Adam. It was amazing how much things could change in a day. This morning she’d craved peace and normalcy and by nightfall, she had something much better. Excitement of the sexy male persuasion.




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