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“I’m sure it won’t be a problem. You’ve done so much of the preliminary work already, you barely even need me!” Meredith frowned, aware that, for the sake of her commission, she should have left off that last statement. She recovered quickly, smiling up at Ethan. “Why don’t we see if I can get a little negotiating room in the price?”
“You know the owner?” he asked, canceling the impulse to admit that he already knew this was McGuire land.
“I’ve lived in Beaumont for only a couple of years, so I can’t say we’re tight, but everyone knows the Flying M. Shall we go talk to the seller?”
They got back into the car. Meredith left the area in a swirl of dust as the vehicle bounced onto the dirt road. Ethan remembered that, from here, the Flying M was no more than a three-minute ride.
He wanted to see what information he could get from Meredith about the McGuires, but before he could lead her into answering questions she went off on problems she was experiencing with her own horse, a pinto named Goody that wouldn’t walk through standing water.
Ethan nodded and listened with half an ear. He tried to convince himself that he was calm inside, but there was no denying his heart was racing about as fast as a Thoroughbred coming down the homestretch.
Thirteen years since he’d left this place, and only once had he ever come back. He’d changed so much since that frantic, frightening night in Beaumont’s E.R. Sometimes the year he’d worked on the Flying M seemed like a blur, a dream.
Especially when he thought about Cassie.
He had walked out of the hospital and out of her world, broken and bloodied, but determined not to be defeated. At first, bad luck had dogged his heels like a faithful hound, and everything he’d touched had turned to shit. He hadn’t much cared. A hollow feeling had lain inside him, as though someone had scooped out his vital organs. He’d thought he would be part of Cassie’s future, and the next thing he knew, he’d been drop-kicked into her past.
There was no denying that a part of him had embraced bitterness and an irrational desire to prove himself. Leaving Cassie and the Flying M behind, he was back at square one, which meant doing whatever it took to survive.
He soon realized that the most dangerous, least desirable work often paid the most. Hazardous jobs in remote, unpleasant places became his bread and butter.
Eventually he found his way to a new life. A college degree, a few solid investments that paid off. Somehow, he beat the odds. Somehow, he made a modest success of himself, one he was damned proud of.
With savage pleasure, he’d spent long hours envisioning a time when he would return here and show Mac McGuire how wrong he had been to discount him. When Cassie would see what she had thrown away.
What will you think when you see me now, Cassie? Good enough for you?
The day after the accident, he had called Josh Wheeler from a bus stop in Oklahoma. Nothing that happened to him in the intervening years had ever seemed as scary as waiting for the young rancher to tell him the outcome of Cassie’s surgery. After hearing the news that her leg had been saved, Ethan thought he could face anything, including a murky future.
Two weeks later, he’d called Wheeler again. Cassie would soon be moved into rehabilitation; one corner of the ranch house had been outfitted with therapy equipment. She’d probably always have a limp, but she was healing. There wasn’t much more Ethan could ask for than that, and in spite of his resentment and anger, he was relieved.
But like a child unable to stop scratching a painful itch, it hadn’t been possible to leave it alone. He had to see for himself.
Three months after that disastrous night, Ethan had contacted Josh Wheeler one last time. The man had been a little more distant this time, but he’d eventually told him that Cassie almost never left the Flying M. She had thrown herself into her rehabilitation, and only occasional doctor visits to town interrupted her self-imposed seclusion.
Knowing he would never be welcome by Mac McGuire, Ethan had hitchhiked back to Beaumont and the ranch. He’d walked up to the house without a soul seeing him. Just as he’d been preparing himself to march up to the door and knock, Cassie and her father had come outside. Ethan had slid back into the shelter of trees beside the house and watched as McGuire helped Cassie into the company truck.
She’d said nothing, not even offering one of her dynamic smiles to her father. Her face was thinner, paler. She’d leaned heavily on a cane, and her limp was very pronounced. Once she’d settled in the passenger seat, she had seemed carved out of stone and lost in her own thoughts.
Ethan had no idea where they were headed, but the time was right to approach. He’d step out of the shadows, despite knowing McGuire would pitch a fit. But Ethan had to find a way to talk to Cassie, to make her talk to him.
As it happened, no part of his less-than-brilliant idea had panned out. Not because father and daughter had driven away too quickly. Not because McGuire had had him tossed off the property the moment he’d seen him.
It hadn’t taken place because Ethan just couldn’t do it. He’d stood in the protection of the trees and realized that he couldn’t let go of his pride, his sense of being treated unfairly, his anger at being considered unfit to be part of Cassie McGuire’s life.
As much as he’d longed to talk to her, he couldn’t humiliate himself that way, begging for scraps from people who were no better than he was. He would always regret the part he had played in Cassie’s injury, but she was recovering. She obviously didn’t need him, didn’t want him. It was time he left her alone and moved on.
As the years had passed, he’d deliberately resisted the temptation to check up on her. But now, as he and Meredith reached the front drive to the ranch, he couldn’t help wishing he’d at least bothered to do an Internet search or make a few calls. Anything to keep from arriving blind like this.
Two iron arches with winged Ms announced that they were on McGuire land. It hadn’t changed much. Broad pastures spread out behind wooden perimeter fences on either side of the drive. Black-eyed Susans clustered around the base of both entrance posts. Cassie had loved flowers. Had she planted those? Had her recovery been complete enough to allow her that kind of mobility?
Up ahead, the big, handsome house Mac McGuire had built came into view. All log and glass beneath a sky bright and almost tropically blue.
Ethan felt his gut tighten. It was finally here, the moment he had imagined for so long. He could feel excitement flickering through him like an electric current. Something inside him was hungry for this.
“I lived here once,” he found himself saying.
“Here?” Meredith asked, turning her head to give him a curious glance. “At the Flying M?”
“When I was twenty-one. Mac McGuire hired me to wrangle stock.”
“The place probably hasn’t changed much. Although I understand that Cassie’s father died some time ago. Since then, she’s kept the place running as best she could, considering.”
The knot in Ethan’s stomach turned into a spasm of dread and panic. It hadn’t occurred to him that Mac McGuire could be dead, and he suddenly didn’t want to know what Meredith might tell him about Cassie. “Considering what?” he managed to ask.
“Considering the economy, the hurricanes and the influx of foreign investors who want to turn every bit of ranch land in Texas into shopping malls. Everyone says Cassie’s done a great job following in her father’s footsteps.”
His breath came back. Not a disability, then. “I’m glad everything’s worked out well for her.”
“Of course, it didn’t hurt that her father got her married off before he died.”
Ethan looked at the woman sharply as a sinking feeling settled inside him. “She’s married.” The words sat like stones in his mouth. They didn’t belong there.
“Uh-huh,” Meredith said. “To someone who can help her run this big ole place. A local rancher, I hear.”
CASSIE SLIPPED A doggy treat out of her denim pocket and tossed it toward Ziggy, who caught it with no effort at all. The border collie wolfed it down in one gulp, then sat eagerly waiting for another.
“I don’t have any more,” Cassie said, showing the dog her empty hands. Ziggy just kept staring at her, tail wagging, mouth shiny with energy and anticipation.
“You’re spoiling him,” a male voice behind her scolded.
She turned to find Josh approaching from the back porch. He looked handsome in jeans and a pale green, long-sleeved shirt with button-down pocket flaps. His lanky stride was pure Texas cowboy, and even after all these years, she could still admire those slim hips and broad shoulders. He wore his hat, but he’d slipped it back on his head so that she could see the wide smile he gave her.
“That’s what I do,” she said, as he joined her midway down the outside row of her herb garden.
Leaning over, Josh snapped off a woody stem from a large rosemary bush, releasing the strong aroma. “What are you up to? Mercedes says you’ve been out here most of the day.”
“I’ve been replanting all afternoon, but when Donny got home he said he wanted to show me something, so I’m just waiting. I’m not sure what he’s up to.”
“How did he seem?” It was a question they had asked one another a lot in the past few months.
“All right, I suppose. He seemed to think I should be delighted that he got a C on his history exam. He’s never going to pass if he doesn’t bring his grade up. You know what he said when I told him that?”
“What?”
“‘What’s the point of studying about the past if you can’t change it?’” She straightened, pulling the kinks out of her spine. Her back ached from bending over, and her bad knee was determined to show her who was boss. “I swear, Josh, I wanted to wring his neck. His behavior lately has been deplorable.”
“He’ll come around. You’ll see. He just needs more time.”
“I’d feel better about that theory if you hadn’t been saying it since last October.”
Josh knelt to pluck a few stray leaves from a ragged line of thyme plants. “You worry too much.”
She couldn’t refute that claim, so she remained silent. But really, why shouldn’t she worry? Donny would be thirteen later this year. Puberty. Hormones out of whack. Mood swings. And on top of that, he was in the midst of the crushing reality that he had not been able to keep his parents from getting a divorce.
Cassie moved along the row of herbs, gathering empty plastic pots, stacking them as she went.
It had been six months since she and Josh had called it quits. Amicably and fairly, without a single harsh word between them. Their breakup had been as civilized as their marriage.
Last year, she’d been the one to broach the subject of divorce after she’d discovered Josh had cheated on her. One time, he’d sworn, and meaningless. But once given an opening, the truth emerged, though Josh had had a hard time articulating the dissatisfaction Cassie had been sensing in him for a long time.
“You know I love you, Cassandra,” he had said sadly. “I always have. I thought it would be enough for us to start from there. But let’s face it. You’ve never felt the same about me. And over the years, there are times…I can’t help thinking maybe…what if…I want a houseful of kids. And I don’t want to be too old to enjoy them…”
As though ashamed to have such thoughts, he had looked away. Personally, Cassie could have wept at his honesty. She’d never been unfaithful in all her married years, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t entertained some pretty unwifely thoughts. Josh was too good for her. Too nice. It made her want to behave badly just to see if he could be pushed into passion.
Well-mannered coupling with him had left her feeling cheated, and the man had never stirred more than feelings of deep friendship in her. She didn’t know why. It was just a fact, like the sun rising tomorrow.
For years she had tried not to think about the only other man she had ever made love to. Tried not to recall those times when she had kissed Ethan Rafferty and his mere touch had been the end of decency and good manners. Going there only brought back a memory of grief and pain so raw that she could hardly breathe.
Not that it mattered much whether she consciously thought of Ethan or not. She had the constant reminder of him in their son—Donny’s dark hair and sky-blue eyes. That devilish twist to his lips when he was up to mischief. God must have a sense of humor, after all, to give her a child who looked so much like his father.
Thinking of her son, Cassie scanned the land behind the house. The yard ended at the beaten trail that ran from the side of the house to the barns. Beyond the trail, fenced paddocks held a few horses that munched grass contentedly. There was no sign of Donny.
The afternoon sun was brutal on her back, and she wanted nothing more than to strip off her clothes and slip into the tub for a soothing soak. Where was he? And what was he up to?
Josh had followed her down the row and now stopped in front of her. His hand touched her cheek, and she caught the scent of sweet, pungent thyme. “You have dirt on your nose,” he said, swiping his finger across it.
She didn’t pull away. Their relationship had always been so easy, so uncomplicated. His brief fling hadn’t changed that. Neither had divorce. And no matter what, he was still a wonderful father to Donny.
He glanced over her shoulder as Ziggy began to bark. Cassie turned to see what had caught their attention.
A man and woman were coming around the corner of the house. They were no more than silhouettes because of the rusty light of the lowering sun behind them. Cassie squinted and shaded her eyes, waiting.
The woman wore typical Texas casual, and Cassie thought she looked familiar. A Realtor, maybe. Melody? Meredith? Yes, that was the name.
As for the man, he was dressed in a suit, distinctly out of place here amid longhorns and chaps. Cassie supposed he could be a businessman from Houston, but even in the city the men wore boots and Stetsons. He looked…
She pulled in a sudden, shocked breath. She felt as though she’d been kicked, hard and fast. Josh must have heard her, or sensed her stiffening, because his arm came around her possessively, protectively.
Ethan.
Here. Back on Flying M property.
The man who had made her heart slip again and again into overdrive. The man who had helped to shape her entire existence. The man who had given her Donny, the most precious thing in her life.
How could he be walking toward her this very minute? How could the fragile universe she’d created for herself crumble so quickly?
Some animal instinct briefly flared, then just as quickly burned out. Disgusted by her reaction, Cassie forced herself to draw a deep, fortifying breath, while sanity made a welcome return.
She could handle this. No need to let old memories stir and ridiculous hungers awaken. She was no longer a lovesick eighteen-year-old girl. Lovesick. Even now, the word made her cringe when she remembered how foolish she’d been thirteen years ago.
“Ziggy!” she admonished the dog, who immediately began running silently in happy circles.
The couple reached them. The blonde held out her hand. “Hello there! Your housekeeper said everyone was out back. I hope you don’t mind if we join you.” She handed Josh her business card, offering him a big smile. “Do you remember me from the last town meeting? I’m Meredith Summerlin, from Summerlin Realty.”
“Yes,” Josh said. “Nice to see you again.”
Meredith indicated her companion. “This is my client, Ethan Rafferty. He says he used to work on the Flying M years ago.”
Josh nodded. “Of course we remember him.”
Something in her ex-husband’s tone told her that he was just as surprised as she was, but Cassie couldn’t have glanced at him if her life depended on it. She had not been able to stop looking at Ethan, no matter how determined she was to remain composed. The truth was, her heart was racing, and she couldn’t make it slow down.
“It’s nice to see you both again,” Ethan said politely, and held out his hand.
She took it. What else could she do, really? She was dimly aware that his calluses and nicked knuckles had disappeared. He carried himself well, and his muscular body seemed honed to new hardness. Every inch of him looked sophisticated, tamed, important.
“Hello, Ethan,” she said simply, keeping her tone neutral even though her nerves were a jumbled mess.
He gave her a quick smile as if he appreciated and even admired her attempt at indifference. Then his features were unreadable once more.
Thank God Meredith Summerlin was in full business mode. “Mr. Rafferty’s interested in the acreage you have for sale off Jackalope Road. I was wondering if we could sit down sometime soon and discuss the particulars.”
Cassie frowned at Ethan. “You want to ranch that land?”
“No, that’s not—”
“Mom! Dad!” a distant voice shouted. “Check it out!”
Everyone turned to see a palomino come flying around the corner of the house, ridden along the grassy trail by a boy who waved wildly at them.
It was Donny, on his new gelding, Cochise. He’d had the animal less than two weeks—a surprise present from Josh because he’d outgrown his older mount. Cassie didn’t think the two were used to one another yet, and she wished Donny would take things more slowly. Right now, he had the reins clenched in his teeth as he spread his arms wide and guided Cochise only with his legs, like a rider in a Wild West show.
A wave of tenderness for so lively and charming a child ran through her, but she couldn’t help that her heart jumped a little. Be careful, she wanted to shout. Don’t you know what can happen?
Then, just like that, a different kind of panic zoomed up her spine. A fluttering sensation spread out from her abdomen. If Donny came any closer, Ethan was sure to notice the resemblance. He would see his own features in his son’s face.
He would know the truth.
“Way to go, Donny!” Josh yelled, clapping his hands. Ziggy began barking his support, too.
Cassie kept silent, trying to think what to do.
Donny and Josh often accused her of being too protective. Having put up with her father’s smothering concern for so long, she had never wanted to be that way, but she knew how quickly things could go wrong.
And yet you couldn’t grow up on a working ranch without spending hours in the saddle. Donny had been on horses since he was a toddler. Josh had seen to that, and he was right. Her incident with Bandera mustn’t be allowed to poison the boy.
Could she play the “worried mother” card? Not difficult to do since her son often frightened her with his antics these days.
