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Quit hovering, go to the car. She pivoted with renewed purpose. And crashed into a wall that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Okay, technically, the wall was a broad-shouldered man at least six inches taller than she. He wore jeans and a white polo shirt—which was a lot less white with Luke’s soda running down the front of it.
Kate opened her mouth to apologize but, “dammit!” was the first word that escaped. A high-pitched giggle snagged her attention, drawing her gaze downward.
Behind the startled-looking man were two blue-eyed little girls. They were dressed so dissimilarly that it took Kate a moment to realize they were identical. One wore a soccer jersey over camo shorts; tangles of white-blond hair hung in her face, and her sneakers looked as if they were about to disintegrate, held together only by an accumulation of dirt. The other girl was wearing a pink dress that tied at the shoulders and a pair of sparkly sandals. Someone had carefully braided her hair, and she carried a small sequined purse.
Great, she’d doused the guy with a sticky soft drink and cursed in front of his young, impressionable children. She’d been in town less than an hour and already needed a fresh start for her fresh start.
“I am so sorry.” She grabbed a handful of napkins off the counter next to the hot dog rotisserie and began frantically dabbing at his chest.
He covered her hand with his. “Let me.”
She glanced up, taking a good look at his face for the first time. Wow. Like the girls, he had eyes that were as blue as the Texas sky outside, a dramatic contrast to his jet-black hair. And his—
“Mom? What are you doing?”
Perfect. Her son picked now to return, just in time to catch her ogling a total stranger.
Without waiting for an answer, Luke scowled at the man. “Who are you?”
“Cole.” The guy had been handsome already. When he smiled, those eyes crinkling at the corners, the barest hint of a dimple softening that granite jaw, he was breathtaking. “Cole Trent.”
* * *
DESPITETHEEASY, practiced smile that came with being a public official, Cole’s mind was racing as he processed the events of the last few minutes. The jarring chill of icy soda, the rarity of finding himself face-to-face with a stranger when he knew almost everyone in Cupid’s Bow and, the biggest surprise of all, the jolt of attraction he experienced when he looked into the woman’s amber eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such an instant reaction to someone.
Was his interest visible in his expression? That could explain the waves of hostility rolling off her son as Cole introduced himself.
From behind him, Alyssa’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Daddy, can I have a candy bar?”
He turned, shaking his head. “A candy bar will ruin your appetite.”
“But I’m hungggrrry.” She drew out the word in a nasal whine.
“Which is why I’m taking you to dinner.” They’d only stopped because Mandy had insisted she needed to go to the bathroom and couldn’t wait another ten minutes to reach the restaurant; apparently, seeing him doused with soda had temporarily distracted her. “If Mandy will—”
“It’s not fair!” Alyssa’s lower lip trembled. “I didn’t get to go swimming like you said. They ran out of the color I needed to finish my picture at art camp. I don’t—”
“That’s enough,” he said firmly.
But Mandy, who could barely agree with her sister on the color of the sky, picked now of all times to demonstrate twin solidarity. She took a step closer to Alyssa. “It’s mean you won’t let her have a candy bar.”
He fought the urge to glance back at the woman with sun-streaked hair and beautiful eyes. Did she think he was inept at handling his own children? “You’re supposed to be in the bathroom,” he reminded Mandy. “If you’d hurry, we could be on our way to the Smoky Pig by now. But if the two of you don’t stop talking back, we’re headed straight home. Understand?”
The threat of having to return home and wait for Cole to cook something motivated Mandy. She navigated the tight aisles of chips and road maps in a rush. He returned his gaze to the woman. The gangly boy who’d called her mom had wandered away to refill his soda cup.
“Kids,” Cole said sheepishly. “You have days like this?”
“With a teenager?” She laughed, her dark gold eyes warm and understanding. “Try every day.”
“I keep waiting for single parenting to get easier, but sometimes I question whether I’m making any progress.”
She nodded. “Same here.”
So, she was single, too? That thought cheered him more than it should. He didn’t even know her name. Nonetheless, he grinned broadly.
She returned the smile, but then ducked her gaze to the sodden napkins in her hand. “I, uh, should throw these away.” As she walked toward the trash can, he couldn’t help but appreciate the fit of her denim shorts.
Quit leering—there are children present. Well, one of his children, anyway. He turned to see if Alyssa had forgiven him yet. In his peripheral vision, he caught the blonde’s son pressing a quick finger to his lips as if sharing a secret with Alyssa. The boy quickly dropped his hand and moved away. Alyssa frowned at her purse.
“Sorry again about the soda.” The blonde was back, her tone brisk, as if she wanted to put their encounter behind her. “And good luck with the parenting.”
Cole hated to let her go. He wanted to know who she was and why she was here. Was she visiting someone in Cupid’s Bow or simply passing through on her way elsewhere? Maybe he would have asked if she hadn’t seemed so anxious to go. Or if he weren’t busy puzzling over Alyssa’s strange expression.
“Good luck to you, too,” he said.
With a nod, the blonde walked away, holding the door open for her son.
“Can we go now?” Mandy rejoined them, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I’m starving!”
“Same here.” He ruffled her hair, but kept his gaze on his other daughter. “What about you, Alyssa?”
She jerked her gaze up from her purse, a flush staining her cheeks. Even someone without Cole’s training in suspicious behavior would have spotted the guilt in her eyes.
“What have you got in your purse?” he asked.
“N-nothing.” She clutched the small sequined bag to her body.
He held out his hand, making it clear he wanted to see for himself.
Tears welled in her eyes as she pulled a candy bar from her purse. “B-but I didn’t take it! That boy gave me it.”
Cole’s blood pressure skyrocketed. Alyssa was, by nature, a sweet, quiet girl, but throughout her kindergarten year—after every field trip or class party where other students had mothers present—she’d grown increasingly unpredictable. The teacher who had once praised his daughter’s reading skill and eager-to-please disposition had started calling Cole about behavior problems, including a memorable graffiti incident. Now some punk was trying to turn Alyssa into a shoplifter, too? Hell, no.
* * *
“HEY!”
Kate jumped at the angry boom, nearly dropping her car keys. She turned to see Cole Trent, the single dad who’d melted her insides with his smile. He wasn’t smiling now.
He strode across the parking lot like a man on a mission. One of his daughters was sobbing. The other looked grimly fascinated, as if she’d never expected a simple pit stop to be so eventful.
“Aw, crap.” Luke’s barely audible words—and the resignation in them—caused Kate’s heart to sink.
Not again. Not here! In her mind, she’d built up Cupid’s Bow as a safe haven. But how could you escape trouble when it was riding shotgun?
“What did you do?” she demanded in a low voice.
He slouched, not meeting her eyes. “It was only an eighty-nine cent candy bar. Jeez.”
Cole reached them in time to hear her son’s careless dismissal, his blue eyes bright with righteous fury. “It’s more than a candy bar, young man. It’s stealing.”
Kate’s stomach churned. “You stole?”
Cole’s gaze momentarily softened as he glanced at her, registering her stress. When he spoke again, his tone was calmer. “Perhaps I should reintroduce myself. I’m Sheriff Cole Trent. What’s your name, son?”
“Luke,” he muttered.
“And did you put that candy bar in Alyssa’s purse?” the sheriff asked in an unyielding, don’t-even-think-about-lying tone.
The boy hunched his shoulders. “I felt bad for her.”
Was that even true, Kate wondered, or had her son simply seized an opportunity for petty defiance?
Cole gave his sniffling daughter a stern look. “Luke may have been the one to take the candy bar, but you should have put it back. Or told me what happened. Other people’s bad behavior is no excuse for acting badly yourself.”
Terrific. Now her son was a cautionary tale for younger children.
“The two of you are going back inside to admit what you did and apologize to Mr. Jacobs,” Cole said.
His daughter gulped. The man behind the counter had smiled pleasantly at Kate, but she could see where his towering height, all black clothing and tattooed arms might intimidate a little girl.
“While you’re there,” Kate told Luke, “ask what you can do to make up for it.” He was too young for an official part-time job, but it was clear Kate needed to find ways to keep him busy and out of trouble. “Maybe they could use a volunteer to come by a few times a week and pick up litter in the parking lot.”
Cole’s gaze swung to her. “A few times a week? So you aren’t just passing through or visiting? You’re sticking around?”
Was that surprise she heard in his voice, or dread? Given his duty to maintain law and order in the county, he probably didn’t relish the idea of a juvenile delinquent moving to town. And Gram deserved better than a great-grandson who caused her problems in the community. Was this experiment doomed to fail?
“We’re staying with family in the area. Indefinitely.” She forced a smile and tried to sound reassuring. “But I plan to stay out of public until I learn how to properly carry sodas, and Luke may be grounded for the rest of the summer. So you don’t have to worry about us menacing the populace, I promise.”
The size of Cupid’s Bow might make it difficult to avoid someone, but she was willing to try. Between the terrible impression her son had made and Kate’s aversion to being around cops since Damon’s death, she rather desperately hoped never to see Sheriff Trent again.
Chapter Two (#u87771900-785f-5a4a-b95c-f70e1d544b75)
After Luke and his unwitting accomplice apologized to the gruff but fair Mr. Jacobs, Kate and her son resumed their journey. He had the good sense not to resume his complaining.
It wasn’t until they were jostling along the private dirt road that led up to Gram’s house that Luke spoke again. “Are you going to tell her about the gas station? And the sheriff?”
She sighed. “Well, it wasn’t going to be my opening. I thought we’d say hi first and thank her profusely for taking us under her roof before we hit her with news of your exciting new criminal activities.”
“I apologized,” Luke grumbled. “I even paid the guy, although no one ended up with the candy bar.”
“‘The guy’ is Mr. Jacobs, and you’re going to treat him with respect when you see him next weekend.” It turned out that the inked man with the gravelly voice visited the pediatric ward of the hospital once a month and gave a magic show. Luke’s penance was that he would sacrifice a Saturday morning to work as the man’s assistant. “And paying for what you took after the fact doesn’t justify what you did. You know better than to steal! Your own father was a policeman, who—”
“My father is gone,” he said flatly.
She parked the car, and turned to look at her son. “I miss him, too. And I get angry—at him, at the man who shot him, at the unfairness of life. But lashing out and doing dumb things won’t bring your dad back. It only drives a wedge between you and me. I’m still here for you, kiddo. Try to remember that?”
Without responding, he climbed out of the car.
She blinked against the sting of tears, preferring to meet her grandmother with a smile. Joan Denby had lost her husband even more recently than Kate. The two women were supposed to bolster each other, not drag each other further down.
Either Gram had been watching for them, or Patch, the eight-year-old German shepherd, had barked notice of their arrival. Kate had barely removed her seatbelt before Gram hurried out onto the wraparound porch to greet them. In a pair of purple capris and a polo shirt striped with hot pink, Joan Denby was a splash of vivid color against the white wood railing. She looked much the same as she had all those summers when Kate visited as a girl, except that the cloud of once-dark hair framing Gram’s face was silver and her lively hazel eyes now peered at the world through a pair of bifocals. Still, few would guess that she was the great-grandmother of a teenager.
“Luke! Katie!” The exuberant welcome in her voice carried on the breeze, and the knot in Kate’s stomach unraveled.
Home. Whatever happened during the next few weeks of transition, Kate was suddenly 100 percent certain this was where she was supposed to be. Her vision blurred again, but this time with happy tears. She jumped out of the car, not even bothering to shut the door before rushing to hug her grandmother.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered fiercely. Even though she now stood taller than the woman who’d been equal parts mom and grandmother to her, Gram’s embrace still made Kate feel safer, just as it had when she’d woken from nightmares as a girl or been rattled by a Texas thunderstorm.
“Missed you, too, Katie. So much.” Gram patted her on the back, then pulled away to reach for Luke. “And you! I can’t believe how tall you’re getting. Strong enough to help with farm chores, I reckon. But don’t worry,” she added with a smile, “I promise to make sure you’re well-compensated with your favorite desserts.”
“Anything but candy bars,” he mumbled.
Kate suppressed a groan at the reminder of their inauspicious entry to town. “We should start bringing in bags,” she told her son. “The car’s not going to unpack itself.”
Gram followed them. “I expected to see you hauling a trailer of stuff.”
“We brought most of our personal items, but the furniture’s in storage back in Houston.” She didn’t add that she hadn’t wanted to move it all twice in case this relocation didn’t work out.
Gram insisted on helping, and Kate gave her the lightest things she could find in the backseat. Kate faltered at the box of Luke’s art supplies. It had been sheer optimism on her part to bring them; he’d told her she could leave them in storage—or throw them away.
There’d been a time when he’d never been without a sketch pad of some kind. A few months before Damon was killed, Luke had started working on a comic book series about a superhero on another planet. The interstellar crime-fighter didn’t have a family and he’d possessed larger than life mystical powers, but the physical resemblance between Luke’s fictional champion and his dad had been unmistakable.
His earlier statement echoed in her mind. My father is gone. But he hadn’t only lost Damon. In the last two years, he seemed to have also lost his inspiration and his direction. Although there was no need to get the heavy box inside before dinner, she vowed to put the supplies in his room later. Maybe, with time and patience, he’d find his direction again.
Shifting a large satchel against her hip, she pulled a rolling suitcase from the trunk. “Am I in my usual room, Gram?” Even during her trips to the farm as an adult, Kate had stayed in the bedroom where she had so many happy childhood memories.
Her grandmother nodded. “Of course. And for Luke, I cleared out the room where Jim used to work on his model planes. It’s not huge, but it’s the least girly space in the house.”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” Kate said gently, hating the thought of Gram boxing up all of her late husband’s beloved planes alone. She wished her father was more reliable, that he lived close enough to regularly visit his widowed mother. Not that geography was any guarantee he’d pull his head out of his textbooks long enough to remember his family. The cliché “absent-minded professor” aptly described James Sullivan Jr. The last time he’d had dinner with Kate and Luke, he’d seemed sincerely shocked that his grandson wasn’t still nine years old.
Patch met them at the front door with baritone yowls and a tail wagging wildly enough to generate a windstorm. It took a few minutes to get past the excited shepherd and into the living room. Kate took in the familiar surroundings, recalling her grandfather’s good-natured complaints about the pink curtains and throw pillows on the sofa. Gram had told him that, if it made him feel better, the color was technically “country rose.” He’d also pretended to be annoyed by her collection of carousel-horse figurines, but he’d built her the gorgeous display cabinet that housed them.
The room had barely changed in the last decade. Even the warm, inviting scent was the same. Gram’s house always smelled like a combination of the lemony cleaner she used on the hardwood floors and pecan pie.
Luke raised his head, sniffing appreciatively, but it wasn’t floor cleaner and nostalgia that captured his interest. “Food!”
Gram laughed. “I have beef stew in the slow-cooker and made a batch of corn bread muffins.”
He immediately dropped the large duffel bags, as if preparing to bolt for the kitchen.
“We’re not just leaving our stuff all over Gram’s house,” Kate chided, familiar with his habits. Their home in Houston had often been an obstacle course of discarded tennis shoes, an unzipped backpack with class binders spilling out of it and dirty glasses that should have been carried to the sink. “Once you’ve got the bags in your room and washed your hands, we’ll see about dinner.” He must have been genuinely hungry because, rather than flashing one of his mutinous scowls, he dashed down the hallway.
“It’s gratifying to cook for someone other than just myself,” Gram said, a trace of sadness beneath her smile.
Kate’s heart squeezed, but she kept her tone light. “As much food as Luke puts away, you may get tired of it pretty quickly. I insist you let me help with meals. And everything else—cleaning, gardening, whatever needs to be done. I know how seriously you take hospitality, but Luke and I are roommates, not guests who have to be waited on hand and foot.”
Gram’s eyes twinkled. “Well...now that you mention it, I suppose I could use your help with a welcome party I’m hosting. Tomorrow.”
