Date: 2021-06-22 02:40:29+00:00
Keywords: Contemporary; Romance; Fiction
Description: He thought he was content, until she walked in the door... Keller Rafferty abandoned his dreams long ago to help his mom raise his brothers after his father's death. Duty, family and deep roots still guide him as he runs his family's Texas cattle ranch and cares for his new, grieving foster son. They're just beginning to find a balance when a beautiful and determined woman arrives on the ranch. Sydney Brock spent her entire globe-trotting life thinking she had no family except her ne'er do well, nomadic, irresponsible parents. When she discovers her parents lied and she has a newly-orphaned co
Publisher: Tule Publishing
Rights: Copyright © 2021 All Rights Reserved

Nothing But Cowboy

A Raffertys of Last Stand Romance

Justine Davis

Nothing But Cowboy

Copyright© 2021 Justine Davis

EPUB Edition

The Tule Publishing, Inc.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

First Publication by Tule Publishing 2021

Cover design by Croco Designs

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ISBN: 978-1-953647-80-1

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Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright Page

Acknowledgements

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

The Raffertys of Last Stand series

More Books by Justine Davis

About the Author

Acknowledgments

To everyone at Tule, especially Jane, Meghan, Sinclair, and Nikki, for making it such a great place that I wanted to stay in Last Stand a while longer!

Chapter One

When he found the kid sacked out on the hay he was supposed to be doling out to the horses in the barn, Keller Rafferty felt a spike of irritation. He’d thought after six months of this foster thing that he and Lucas had reached an accord, a balance of sorts, but maybe not.

Then he heard some chomping from the closest stall. He went to look, and saw his horse Blue contentedly munching on what was obviously fresh hay. He checked the stall next to him and found the little sorrel doing the same. He checked every one of the dozen stalls, down to the brood stall at the end, where the pregnant buckskin mare, Bonnie, gave him a curious look. It was a rerun every time.

Lucas had finished the job. He’d put in a full day working, to make up for the absence of two of Keller’s brothers who were gone this weekend, and had clearly been looking forward to dinner and some downtime when Keller had asked him to do the evening feeding.

“Now?” Lucas had asked. It hadn’t quite been a whine, but close.

“Some things can’t be put off just because we’re tired or shorthanded. Livestock feeding is one of them.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the kid had muttered. “I know, they eat before we do.”

And they had.

Great. Now I feel like an ass.

Keller lifted his hat and ran a hand over his hair. He’d only made the change to the cooler, straw Resistol this morning. He was stubborn that way, or so Mom said, waiting until it broke eighty to switch. And since she was usually right—about everything—he didn’t argue the point except to say if he was really stubborn, he would argue the point. That usually got them both laughing. And if it didn’t, the fact that she’d bought this one for him, the straw with the Cattleman crown and the ventilation holes in the shape of X’s, chosen because the style’s name was “All My Exes” after one of her favorite country songs, usually did. And they ended up hugging before she shooed him off to the day’s work. And he went, thankful that he only had one ex, and that she lived nowhere near Texas.

And neither of them ever mentioned the real reason he resisted setting the black felt cowboy hat aside for the hotter months. That it had belonged to the man they had both loved and lost. Kyle Rafferty had been killed overseas nineteen years ago in a place that made a dry Texas August look like a green jungle. And the family he’d left behind had never been the same.

But that they were still a family at all was because of the indefatigable Margaret Rafferty. A tornado of energy in a petite blonde with a pixie haircut, she had persevered, dedicating her life to raising alone the boys she had brought into the world.

As it always did, those thoughts brought on an echo of grief, one he doubted would ever go away. Some days it was stronger, some days more distant. Sometimes it swept over him with as much pain as if it were fresh, sometimes he was able to look back and smile. But in the beginning, at seventeen, he had barely been able to function at all, so overwhelmed had he been with pain and horror and anger.

And that’s where the kid is now. Cut him some slack.

It had been a little less than a year since Lucas Brock’s parents had died in a tragic crash ten miles out of Kerrville, where they’d been involved in preparing for the annual folk festival. The couple had shared a profound love for the music celebration, which of course meant their at the time twelve-year-old son loathed it and insisted on staying home in Last Stand with a friend.

It was the only reason the boy was still alive.

He reached out and nudged the kid’s foot with his own. Noticed the spots on the worn tennis shoes around the toes. Wondered if maybe he’d outgrown them; he seemed to remember his own feet growing an inch over one summer. And his mother explaining this was why the expensive cowboy boots could wait until he was full grown.

“Wha—?” Lucas opened his eyes and rose up on one elbow. Sleepy brown eyes widened when he saw Keller. “I finished,” he said quickly.

“I know. Good job. Now it’s time for dinner.”

“Oh.” Lucas scrambled to his feet.

“And Mom’s cooking tonight.”

“Oh!” He smiled then. It didn’t last, but it had flashed for a moment.

“Better get rid of that hay, though. You know how she gets.”

“I know,” Lucas said ruefully as he started to brush at the stuff that had such a knack for clinging to everything.

It was funny, the effort he had to make to talk to the kid, to try and relate. He saw mainly his family, and friends he’d known a long time, so he didn’t have to think about it much. With Lucas, however, he had to think a lot. All of which he supposed had a significance he didn’t really want to think about. He grimaced inwardly at the irony even as the thought formed.

So instead he made the effort. “I remember when I used to forget, and walk in and shed it all over her clean floor. I’ve never seen a volcano in person, but…”

Lucas glanced at him. “I’ll bet you cleaned it up fast.”

“I did.”

“You always jump to do what she says.”

“I do.”

“Why?”

He considered that, and the fact that Lucas was actually holding his gaze, not looking away as he usually did. “She’s earned it. She held us together. If it wasn’t for her, we’d all be scattered to the winds. This ranch would be condos or something by now.”

Lucas frowned at that. But then, slowly, he said, “The first time she gave me an order, I jumped, too.”

Something in the way he said it made Keller hold his gaze in turn and repeat the boy’s own question. “Why?”

“It was the first time I felt like…like I belonged here.”

Keller’s stomach knotted at the way he sounded. He tried for a little lightness. “Hey, my orders don’t make you feel that way?”

Slowly Lucas shook his head. “No, ’cuz she’s the boss.”

The moment the words were out the boy’s eyes widened, almost in fear. And Keller knew he was afraid he’d pissed him off, since he, nominally, was the guy who ran this place. So he didn’t try to hold back his laugh.

“Then you’ve got the lay of the land, kid,” he said with a grin. And was pleased when Lucas relaxed and went back to brushing off the hay.

That pleased feeling had him wondering, not for the first time, what it would be like to make this permanent. He might have made the first move, toward fostering Lucas, out of sympathy, but he’d gotten used to having him here now. And thinking about the kid leaving someday, if somebody else wanted to adopt him…no, he didn’t like that. Which surprised him; he’d never expected that.

Keller wondered how the kid would feel about him officially adopting him. He’d have to think about how to bring that up. Not just with Lucas, but with everyone.

They started toward the house.

“How bad do your toes hurt?” he asked when he confirmed his earlier guess by how the boy was walking rather gingerly.

Startled, Lucas gave him a quick glance before saying, “I…a little.”

“We’ll get you a new pair. In the meantime, maybe a pair of Cody’s will fit you better. In fact, maybe a pair of his boots, too. Better for working. Mine are too big, and Ry’s as well. And Chance only has combat boots.”

“What, he’s just going to give them to me?”

“Loan them.” Keller smiled. “Besides, we’ll probably have them back before he even notices they’re gone. You know how he gets.”

It was true that his youngest brother sometimes lost track of…everything when he was working on something with that quick brain of his, most likely something tech-related that none of the rest of them had a clue about. They laughingly called him Cody the Coder, which he inevitably answered with a twitch of his middle finger—except to Mom; she got only an eye roll.

But that was why this weekend Cody was at an exhibition in Dallas, of the latest and greatest in all the things he loved. Both Keller and their mother looked at it as an investment in the ranch. They were all fairly functional with computers thanks to Cody, and Keller himself kept the ranch records in a detailed software program his brother had developed for him to test out.

If it kept working as well as it had—and if he could ever get him to stop tweaking it—Keller thought he should really try to market it. There were unique aspects to running a ranch of any kind, no matter what you were raising, and Cody had covered them all. His last tweak had been to add an alarm notification, not when they were about to run out of hay or feed, that was already there, but when they should be about to…so they’d know if they weren’t on pace, and that maybe they should try to figure out why. He’d tied it to the current livestock population, and it updated all the data internally anytime they added to or subtracted from that number. Genius, Keller thought every time he used it.

And that didn’t even count his pets, the drones he kept building.

Out of habit they went inside by way of what his mom called the wash porch, because it had a tile floor, a boot scraper, a rack for boots that were too dirty or muddy, and a sink for washing up before dinner. But after today Keller had his mind set on a shower and some clean clothes. He sent Lucas on the same path; they’d both worked up a sweat today.

Mom’s cheesy chicken bake with pasta was perfect, and filled the hole he’d been building all day, especially since he hadn’t stopped for lunch in his drive to get the shoeing done. They’d had three of the working horses throw a shoe within a week, and that was one more than they had backup for. They had to be reshod, and he was the one who knew how to do it, so he’d spent the day over hot coals and an anvil. Which was what had precipitated the surrender to the straw hat this morning.

Lucas ate silently, keeping his eyes on his plate. Keller frowned inwardly; he’d thought they’d made progress there, too. And that since it was only the two of them and Rylan—his other brother, Chance, was as usual holed up alone at his place—with Mom tonight, that he might be more relaxed. He had been, for a while. Or at least Keller had thought so. Maybe he’d just been imagining it, been too hopeful.

He sighed inwardly, wondering if he’d let sympathy get the better of him in taking this on. Sympathy and the memory of what it felt like to lose the center of your life. But if he was serious about this adoption thing, he’d better get used to it.

When Lucas excused himself, a little too politely, to go up to his room and finish his homework before going back to school tomorrow, Keller noticed he took his plate, glass, and utensils and carefully put them in the dishwasher first.

When he was gone, Keller leaned back in his chair, fiddling with his fork.

“He was quiet tonight,” his mother said.

“Very.” He lifted his gaze to meet his mother’s. “I was hoping we’d made progress.”

“We have,” she assured him. “But I expected him to be a little withdrawn right now.”

“You did?”

“Keller, the festival is on.”

His eyes widened. Damn. Even when he’d thought about it earlier it hadn’t really registered that the Kerrville Festival was going on at this moment. He was usually aware of when it started from increased traffic in the area, but since it went on for nearly three weeks, he must have noted it and moved on.

“Crap. That was stupid of me. No wonder he closed up.”

“The anniversary date is coming up next week,” his mother said.

“Should we…do something? Like we used to do for Dad? Or would that make it worse?”

They had, in the beginning, acknowledged the date of his death by gathering at the cemetery out on Hickory Creek Road. It had been his mother who had, after several years, put a halt to that. They’d switched the date to his birthday then, and gathered to honor him, not to cry that he’d left them.

“I’m not sure. Everyone grieves differently. You know that. And there are so many stages…”

“And we spend a lot of time revisiting stages we think we’re past.”

“Exactly.”

“It would be a lot easier if it was a steady progression.”

His mother’s blue eyes were the tiniest bit shinier, and he knew, as always when speaking of his father, she was feeling the pain that never completely faded. But she’d always insisted they all speak about him. And looking back, he thought it the wisest course.

“It’s not meant to be easy, honey. I’ve always looked at the pain as a measure of the love. If we got over it easily, what does that say about that love?”

He couldn’t think of anything to say, and he doubted he could get words out at this moment anyway. So he reached across the table and took her hand in his. That small yet utterly capable hand, not soft and delicate but strong in that uniquely feminine way that could outlast the strength of any man, given the motivation. He had no doubt of that, not when he’d had this woman as an example all his life.

She spoke quietly. “Maybe we should just confront it and ask him what he wants. And—” she squeezed his fingers “—if I haven’t said so lately, I’m very proud of you, for taking on that poor boy.”

His mouth twisted wryly. “Moment of weakness.”

“Moment of compassion.”

“Maybe.” He let out an audible breath. “I sure never saw myself as a foster parent.”

“I know. That reminds me, I saw Lark Leclair in town this morning. She asked how things were going.”

“Could be better, could be worse.”

“About all you can ask for in life, isn’t it?” He smiled at that. “Why don’t you call her, find out if she has any advice on what to do?”

The woman who had walked him through getting custody of Lucas as a foster parent—to the point of calling on his old classmate and now police chief Shane Highwater to vouch for him—had spent several years working with Child Protective Services, and had likely encountered situations like Lucas’s more than she cared to remember. So he would take Mom’s advice and call her. Besides, he wanted to talk to her anyway about the next steps if he was going to proceed with the adoption.

“I will.”

“And by the way, she was sporting an engagement ring. Kane obviously popped the question.”

“Well that’s hardly a surprise,” he said with a grin.

“He’s come a long way. It’s quite admirable.” She sighed. “That’s the last of the Highwaters married or engaged now.”

He gave his mother a wary look. “That was a bit pointed.”

“I want my boys happy. So sue me.”

“We are happy.”

“Content, maybe. Cody and his gadgets, Rylan and his craft, Chance and his dogs, you running the ranch—”

“Ha. Everybody knows you run this place and I just dance to your tune. Even Lucas knows it.”

She blinked. “Lucas?”

“He told me you were the boss.” He smiled at her then, this indomitable woman. “He said just today that the first time you gave him an order, he felt like he belonged.”

The smile she gave him in return at that made him very glad he’d shared that moment. But then, when her gaze narrowed, he knew he hadn’t escaped. “That’s lovely. Thank you for telling me that. But quit trying to divert me. As I was saying, you boys are content, but there’s a difference between content and truly happy.”

He never knew what to say when she got on this particular horse, so as usual he clammed up and said nothing. He’d tried for that romantic gold ring once, and it had been a disaster. And only at the end had he realized Anna, his ex, had expected him to tire of ranch life and come back with her to the city, just as he had expected she would grow to love ranch life and stay here with him. Neither was going to happen, and so that gold ring got melted into a shapeless nugget he kept on his dresser as a reminder to believe what people did, not what they said. And over time he’d settled into simply not letting what anybody outside the family or his closest friends said or did matter at all, at least not in a personal way. And it worked.

He was, as his mother said, content.

Happy, he told himself, was overrated.

Chapter Two

“Can I ask you something?”

Keller glanced up from the fence post he was settling in place. Lucas wasn’t looking at him but was staring at the board he was holding as if he was afraid it might escape.

“I thought we settled you can always ask,” he said.

“Yeah, but this isn’t about chores or the ranch or anything like that.”

Keller went very still. Something in the kid’s voice told him this was…important. Meaningful. At least he thought that’s what his gut was telling him. “Ask,” he said.

“After your dad was killed…did you ever want to run away?”

Damn. Important? Only the most important thing of all.

“I did. More than anything.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because I learned there’s no running away from that kind of pain. It’s inside you, and you carry it with you.”

Lucas looked up then. And Keller realized he’d probably been avoiding looking at him because his eyes were a bit too shiny, like he’d been fighting tears. He’d been there, too. Wanting to be the man of the family at seventeen, but sometimes unable to hold back the liquid pain.

“When does it stop?” Lucas asked, his voice breaking in the middle of the sentence.

Keller turned to face the boy head-on. “You want the truth, or a pretty lie?”

“The truth.”

“It doesn’t stop. Ever.” The pair of brown eyes widened, as if no one had ever bluntly told him this truth before. Or maybe he’d just never asked the question before. “What it does, Lucas, is change. It gets to where instead of hitting you like a truck every time you think about it, it’s more like an occasional sideswipe. It’ll still knock you on your ass, but it won’t happen as often or last as long.”

For a moment the boy just stared at him. Then he lowered his gaze once more. And in a voice barely above a whisper, so low Keller wasn’t sure if he was supposed to have heard it, he said, “I’m not as tough as you.”

“There is a big difference between what happened to you and to me,” he said quietly. “When I said I learned I couldn’t run away from it? I didn’t just pick that out of the air, somebody taught me. Somebody who was carrying the same pain.”

“Your mom.”

“Yes. I still had her. Brothers to look out for. And a place to be. You didn’t.”

Lucas was silent for a long moment. Keller just waited. If there was anything helping raise his brothers, especially the youngest two who had been only nine and thirteen when Dad had been KIA, had taught him, it was patience.

“It’s really forever, isn’t it?” the boy finally said, and in his voice was all the heartbreak Keller knew had to be still roiling around inside him. “They’re really gone forever.”

“A very wise woman once told me you never really understand what the word forever means until you lose someone you love.”

“Your mom again?”

“Actually, no, that was from a teacher I had once. The inimitable and intimidating Mrs. Valencia.”

His eyes widened, but in an entirely different way than before. “I’ve heard of her.”

“I think every school kid in Last Stand has heard of her,” Keller said with a wry smile.

“What’s in—inim—that word mean?”

“It means there’s only one like her.” He was breathing a little easier with the change of subject. Who’d have ever thought that the terror of Creekbend High School would be a welcome topic?

“They said she’s really hard.”

“She’s also really good. I used to read ahead to try and stump her, but I never could.”

Fence repaired, they were almost back to the ranch house when Lucas spoke again. Rather gruffly. “Thanks. For telling me the truth.”

“Even though it sucks?”

“Yeah. Better than people who said I’d feel better soon, or it must have happened for a reason, or some other bullsh—”

He stopped, giving Keller the side-eye. Keller’s mouth quirked. “Yeah. That, too. Usually spouted by people who have no clue.”

“That’s them,” Lucas agreed.

“They mean well,” Keller said, remembering the days when he knew if he heard “He’s in a better place now” one more time he would have sent the person speaking to that so-called better place. “But I swear, sometimes I wished they’d just shut up and say nothing rather than that…crap.”

And that got him the best smile of the day. He’d count that as a win.

*

It was a full table that Sunday night. As usual they all contributed to the meal on this day of rest for their mother. Even Chance, who had picked up dessert from Char-Pie in town. Keller was grilling the steaks, a matter of careful timing for everyone’s preferences, Rylan sautéing up his family favorite mix of peppers and potatoes, while Cody, just back from Dallas, explained to Lucas that he always did the garlic bread because he was the only one who got the amount of garlic just right.

“The rest them are cowards,” he said with a grin at the boy. “They always stop short.”

Lucas paused working on the salad he’d been assigned—and had accepted without complaint, Keller noted—and considered that for a moment. “Did you ever go too far?”

Cody laughed. “I did. That’s how you learn, right?” Then he looked at Keller. “I like this kid. Let’s keep him.”

Keller saw the boy’s cheeks flush and he suddenly was intently focused on chopping up that onion. But Keller didn’t think it was the onion that had caused his eyes to gleam with moisture once more.

Let’s keep him.

His earlier thought about permanency came back to him. Again. He’d gone into this thinking it would only be temporary, until they found him a permanent adoptive home. Even when Lark had warned him it was harder to place kids at his age, he’d figured somebody would want a basically problem-free kid, one who hadn’t ended up in the system because he was always in trouble or in a horrible family situation.

No, Lucas had been beloved by his parents and as stable as a thirteen-year-old boy could be. Until his world had been ripped apart. Only then had he, understandably to Keller’s mind, acted out. And taken off from the group home they’d temporarily put him in.

He’d stayed on the run for two months. Until the morning Keller had found him hiding behind the chicken coop, hungrily devouring a couple of raw eggs. Not the safest approach, but Keller had taken one look at the boy’s scrawny build and protruding ribs and figured desperation explained a lot.

“What’s your name?” he’d asked.

“Lucas.”

“Lucas what?” Silence. “I wouldn’t make a habit of eating eggs raw. We’ve never had a problem here, but somebody else might not be as careful.” A shrug. So Keller had shrugged back. “Okay. Don’t say you weren’t warned if you end up in the hospital.” The boy had gone still. And Keller had taken a guess and added, “Which would likely mean you getting shipped right back to wherever you’re running away from.”

The kid had moved at that. Quickly. Wiped his hands on filthy jeans and stood. Keller guessed he was maybe five feet tall, but he didn’t have to guess that he was a lot skinnier than he’d once been, the rope knotted through his belt loops and still barely holding up the jeans told him that. Still, he was defiant.

“Going to have me arrested?”

That was when Keller had seen the look in the boy’s dark eyes. The same look he’d seen in his own so many times. Not just fear, but the look of someone whose foundation of life has been destroyed. And before he even thought about it, before he realized what he was going to say, the words had come out.

“Only if you don’t come up to the house and have a real meal.”

Lucas hadn’t believed him.

“Suit yourself,” he’d said as if it didn’t matter. “But you’ll miss out on my mom’s enchiladas, and even leftover they’re amazing.” He heard the growl of the boy’s stomach from three feet away. He laughed, again going on instinct. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s shut that poor thing up.”

He’d turned and headed for the house, not at all sure if the kid would follow, or take the chance and run.

He’d followed. And everybody’s life had changed.

He’d had to put it to a family vote, of course, before pursuing the crazy idea that had come to him. He knew how Mom would vote, and she did; she would never turn away a kid in need.

“A man’s gotta do,” was all Chance had said. But then he wasn’t much on talk anyway.

“Want to help save another one, huh?” Rylan had asked.

“Another?”

“Besides us,” he said, gesturing at his brothers.

“That was Mom,” he’d protested.

“Who couldn’t have done it if you hadn’t stepped up,” his mother put in.

That left Cody, who had just grinned and said, “Meaning I wouldn’t be the kid around here anymore? I’m all for it.”

And then Mom had suggested contacting Lark, and the ball had begun rolling. He’d never expected—

“Lucas, do you want to do something for the date next week?”

Keller snapped back to the present. He hadn’t been expecting that. And Mom had waited, Keller noted, until the boy had finished his dessert, the prime pecan pie Chance had brought home.

The clang as the kid’s fork hit his plate echoed around the suddenly quiet table. His mother went on in that utterly calm voice that had soothed many a childhood upset.

“We used to go out to the cemetery and say hello to the boys’ father every year,” she said. “If you want, we could head over to Kerrville and do the same for your folks.”

Lucas stared at his plate as if the few remaining crumbs held the answer to every question ever asked. “What good would that do? They’re dead. They won’t know.”

“But you would,” she said quietly.

He looked up at her then. “You said you used to.”

“Yes.” She smiled, and Keller thought there was no more loving smile in the world than his mother’s. She explained what he’d thought about earlier. “Now we go on his birthday. To celebrate that we had the great luck to have him at all.”

“But we had to go a lot of times to let the pain out first,” Keller said.

“Because it hurts so much,” an unusually serious Cody contributed.

“More than any physical pain,” Rylan said.

And then, to all their surprise, Chance chimed in, gruffly. “Bottle it up, it’ll poison you.”

Lucas looked from one to the other, finally ending up back at Mom. He looked down again. And slowly, he nodded.

“Then we’ll go.” She glanced around the table. “All of us. Next Saturday.”

Uh-oh. Keller was sure his brothers hadn’t planned on that. But that was definitely the “Mom’s orders” voice, and he knew none of them would cross it. Whatever they’d had on their agenda for that day just got changed.

He heard the sound of a vehicle outside. A couple of the hands had gone in to the saloon, to get in a last bit of Sunday celebration before Monday morning. They were back kind of early, though. They—

The knock on the front door nearly made him jump. If it was one of the hands, they would have come to the back door. But there had been no sound of the vehicle continuing around to the bunkhouse.

He stood up and headed out through the living room to the front door. The door was solid oak, installed by his father on the rotation home that had resulted in Cody. Although Keller hadn’t put that together until much later, since he’d only been seven at the time. He reached out and touched the door with his fingertips, as he always did before pulling it open.

He stood there, stock-still and staring. The first thing he registered was how small the woman was, about Mom’s height. But that was blasted out of his mind when he looked at her eyes, which were a color too amazing to be called simply gold. They looked like a glowing piece of amber he’d seen once. The next thing was her hair. Long, falling in waves, but oddly a very pale, almost white blond tipped with maybe half a foot of dark, almost black ends. His brow furrowed; wasn’t it usually the other way around? Dark roots as bleached blond grew out? Must be one of those trendy city things. Whatever it was, he didn’t care for it.

The rest hit him in a rush. The delicate features, upturned nose, and nicely, temptingly full—whoa—mouth.

She was also dressed in designer jeans that hugged every lovely curve, what looked like a very expensive silky top, and a pair of shiny boots that had never even seen a horse, let alone horse manure. But next to the boots was a backpack she’d set on the porch, one that looked as if it had seen much better days.

He lifted his gaze back to the bicolored hair. He couldn’t seem to stop himself and drawled, “Honey, I think you took a seriously wrong turn. You’re in Texas Hill Country, not New York City.”

She stiffened. And her chin came up. “I know exactly where I am. And don’t call me honey unless you mean it.”

He blinked. For a moment he forgot to answer, because her voice, low and silky smooth—just a bit too silky—caused a very strange sensation somewhere in his midsection.

“Who,” he belatedly asked, “are you?”

“I’m Sydney Brock. I’m here for Lucas.”

Chapter Three

Why was the man just staring at her? Sydney made herself hold his gaze; she’d stared down tougher men than this. Maybe. If there were any. Damn, he was big. Tall. Broad. Solid. The archetypal male, wide-shouldered and narrow-hipped. And wearing jeans and a snug T-shirt that only emphasized it.

Damned cowboys. Why did they have to be so…so…much?

“This is the Rafferty place, isn’t it?” she finally said. “The guy at the feed store, Mr. Diaz, gave the ride share driver directions. And,” she added pointedly, since she didn’t like the way this man was looking at her so suspiciously, “verified that you have Lucas here.”

“Son?”

It was a woman’s voice, from back inside the house. “It’s okay, Mom,” the big man said. “It’ll just be a minute.”

Mom? Her tension eased a little. How bad could he be if his mother still lived with him? Or maybe it was the other way around. She’d read some brochures and done some research on her way here, and realized that many ranches were still family operations, just as she’d often seen in her travels. And he was allowed to call her Mom. Which signaled a normal kind of family. Unlike her own.

She found that oddly comforting even as she felt the old, familiar ache of longing. And perhaps stupidly, she found the presence of the porch swing a few feet away also comforting.

Then he stepped outside. And closed the door behind him. Her pulse kicked up a notch.

“So much for all this Southern hospitality I kept hearing about,” she muttered.

“You ran smack into a wall of protect the family,” he said, still in that drawl that should have sounded stereotypical but instead sounded…perfect. And wall? Oh, yeah. That fit. He was solid as a wall.

It took her a moment to recover. “Protect? From me? I don’t even know your family.”

“Apparently you know one of them.”

The drawl had vanished, and the entire tenor of the thing shifted. Because his voice had gone hard, uncompromising. You know one of them. He meant Lucas. He had to mean Lucas.

Protect the family.

And he considered Lucas one of that family. And was reacting accordingly, like a guardian wolf or something.

She had no words for the feeling that hit her then. One of relief, gratitude, and wonder that of all the places Lucas could have landed, he’d ended up here, with someone who would stand up for him. In that way, he’d already had more than she’d ever had.

She took a deep breath. “I think we maybe got off on the wrong foot here,” she said.

“I’m not sure there’s a right foot here,” he retorted.

He was still staring at her. She’d never seen eyes quite that shade of green before, somewhere between a spring meadow and an emerald. And how unfair was it that he had the thickest, longest eyelashes ever, when she had to resort to half a tube of mascara to get that effect?

“What are you after?” he asked bluntly.

“Do we have to do this out here on the porch?”

He nodded toward the swing. “Take a load off, if you’re tired.”

She sighed. She’d had this all worked out in her head, how it would go. She’d introduce herself to Lucas’s foster family, and they’d be glad about it, Lucas would be delighted, and everybody would live happily ever after.

This was not going anything like she’d pictured. But then, why would it when she had no experience at all with the kind of family she had imagined building with a boy she’d never even met?

It had been a long trip, she actually was tired, and she needed a moment to think. So she did as he had—no doubt not seriously—suggested and walked over to the porch swing and sat. He followed, not sitting but turning to face her, leaning against the porch railing.

With that luscious backside. Damn cowboys for that, too; they did things for a pair of jeans no one else in the world did.

And she would know, since she’d seen a sizeable chunk of that world.

“May I start again?” she asked.

“No one stopping you.”

So much for the Southern charm she’d heard about, too. She drew in a deep breath. “I’m Sydney Brock.”

“So you said.”

“I’m Lucas’s cousin.”

He went very still. He crossed his arms in front of him, and she’d read enough body language to know that meant the same thing most places in the world. He was not liking what he was hearing.

“Lucas,” he said slowly, “does not have a cousin. Or any other living blood relatives.”

“But he does. My father is—was his father’s brother.”

“All of his father’s relatives died before he was born.”

Understanding washed over her. “Who told you that?”

“You want a list? Starting with him?”

She looked suddenly sad. “He told you that?”

“So did every official agency that dealt with him along the way.”

“But—”

“Hey, boss!” Sydney jumped; she hadn’t even heard the vehicle approaching. The driver called out again. “No pretty ladies at the saloon tonight, but looks like you found one!”

He lifted a hand, but didn’t turn around. They kept going, and she heard laughter. Belatedly she realized she’d been fixated on his face, and wondered if he’d just waved them off, or maybe flipped them off.

Belatedly it hit her. Boss? “So…you are a Rafferty?”

“I am.” He said it proudly.

“Are you…Keller?” Mr. Diaz at the feed store had supplied that much, that it had been Keller Rafferty who had been the one to take on a “runaway kid,” as the man had put it.

“I am,” he said again.

“Then I have to thank you, for taking Lucas in.”

“Don’t bother.”

“It was kind of you, to see to him until I could get here. But I’m sure you’ll be happy to be relieved of the responsibility.”

“Get here to do what?”

“Take custody of him, of course.”

“Like hell.”

She nearly shivered, his voice was so cold. She felt as she had when her parents had had the brilliant idea to winter in northern Finland when she’d been eight. At least she thought it was eight. Her parents weren’t much on tracking her age, so things had been confused for a while until she realized she had to keep track herself. She stared at him, trying to understand.

Finally she just asked, “Why are you so angry?”

“Angry? You think this is angry? You make a move toward that boy and you’ll see angry.”

“Why?”

He stared at her almost incredulously. “Why? That kid’s already been through a hell no one should have to endure. His entire life was torn apart. He had nothing, and no one. He’s finally stabilized a little and then you drop in out of nowhere, declare you’re his cousin despite the fact we know he has no relatives, and with no apparent proof of your claim expect us to hand him over, and to top it off you want us to be happy about it?”

By the time he’d finished, his volume building as he went, she was smiling. Which only seemed to irritate him more. But before she could explain he asked, his voice ice now, “You find that funny?”

She slowly shook her head. “No.” She bit her lip, afraid her voice was going to shake. But she held his gaze—that very, very green gaze—and finally managed to say softly, “I find it wonderful.”

Chapter Four

Wonderful?

He was building up to the maddest mad he’d felt in a while, and she thought it was wonderful?

He couldn’t decide if she was crazy, or just foolish. He’d never, ever harm a woman, or anyone smaller than him—his father had made sure that lesson was bone-deep—but she didn’t know that. For all she knew he could be a guy with a hair-trigger temper and no boundaries.

“Look, whoever you are—”

“I told you who I am. But I see your point, and appreciate you wanting to be sure.”

She bent to the backpack at her feet, dug into an outside pocket that he noted had a small padlock on it, although it was open now. He wasn’t sure what, if anything, that meant, but he took note nevertheless. He was feeling as on guard as if he were riding herd on edgy longhorns in a thunderstorm.

She pulled something out of the pack, straightened, and held it out to him. A passport? Most people would have gone for a driver’s license, wouldn’t they? Unless she’d taken that hired ride because she didn’t have one. But why wouldn’t she? Then again, that passport looked pretty well used.

“So Texas really is a foreign country to you.”

It came out a bit sour, but so be it. He’d been there before with a woman, and he wasn’t going there again. Although why that thought even occurred puzzled him. For a moment she simply looked at him, still holding out the passport he hadn’t taken. Then, a bit too brightly, she said, “It was once, wasn’t it?”

Okay, points for knowing that. “It was. But, wisely or not, we joined the United States some time ago.”

“In 1845.” He blinked. “And,” she went on, “if Texas was still an independent country, it would have the tenth largest economy in the world.”

He got it then. She’d been reading. “Long flight?” he asked dryly.

“From where I was, yes.”

Curious now, he took the travel document. But rather than look at the first page of identifiers, he started at the back. The last stamp, on the last page, was in a language he didn’t recognize but that looked faintly Cyrillic to him. Before that he saw a couple of Nordic countries. Then African. Asian. Then it slid into…Arabic? He couldn’t be sure. From there to Tel Aviv—that must have been quite a trip—and then Australia.

“You’re going to need a new passport,” he said, but he supposed he should give her some credit for at least trying to learn something about a place that was obviously as foreign to her as most of the places on those pages were to him.

“That’s my third one,” she said. And in that moment she sounded unutterably weary. Which made him finally flip to the front of the passport.

His gaze snagged immediately on the photo. However old it was—passports were good for like a decade, weren’t they?—at the time her hair had been dark, even darker than the ends now. So was the blond natural and she had dyed it dark?

It did say Sydney Brock. But he was no expert on potentially forged documents. Maybe Shane could tell, or knew someone who could. As police chief he had friends at departments all over. He automatically noted her birth date: six years younger than him. Which made her seventeen years older than Lucas. That was a bit of a spread, for cousins, but not impossible.

Not that he was convinced she had any true connection to the boy.

Then his gaze snagged on her place of birth. His head came up and he looked at her sharply. “Seriously?”

She sighed. “Yes.” He stared at her. Waited. He’d stared down a stubborn longhorn before, this was nothing. Eventually she gave in. “What can I say, my mother has no imagination. Or too much. I’ve never been sure which.”

“So she named you Sydney because you were born in Sydney?”

“Yes.” He could almost see thoughts tumbling through her mind as she started to say more twice and stopped each time. Finally she grimaced and said, “I just consider myself lucky I wasn’t born where my parents were living when she got pregnant. Otherwise I’d be named Gogogogo.”

He blinked. “Try that again?”

“Four go’s. It’s in Madagascar. A commune. They were growing peanuts.”

“Madagascar.”

“That was after Mauritius. Which was after Namibia. Which was after—”

“I get the drift. They traveled a lot before you were born.”

“And after. As soon as they could.” She grimaced again. “They call the time when they couldn’t their ‘Stuck in Sydney with Sydney’ period.”

He drew back slightly. “Well, that’s…loving.”

She shrugged. He found that…significant somehow. “Anyway, then it was off to another continent. And another. They’re definitely nomads.”

“That’s one word for it. All this while you were a baby?”

That got a nod. “Obviously I don’t remember much until I was a toddler. Then I have vague memories of Hungary. And Poland. Although I’m not real clear on which memories go with which. From later I remember more, of course.”

He was being drawn in despite himself, probably because he couldn’t imagine a life more different from his own. “What do you remember most?”

She smiled, and it changed everything. Those amber eyes lit up as she answered instantly. “Slovenia. The Lipica Stud. When I was twelve.”

He blinked. Stud? “What?”

“It’s where the Lipizzan horses come from. I got to see them. It was amazing.”

Horses? She loved horses? Judging by the change in her voice, she did. “The Spanish Riding School Lipizzans? Airs above the ground and all that?”

“Those are them,” she said with a grin. “The white ones.”

“Gray, technically,” he said, not at all sure why he was carrying on this conversation, other than at least horses were something he knew about. Unlike her travels.

“I know,” she said, still grinning. “But only because they have a white coat over dark skin. And they’re born dark and only turn white—or gray if you insist—years later.”

He blinked again. Realized with a little jolt he’d gone from being mad and protective to being…interested? He wouldn’t go so far as fascinated, but interested. As if she were some type of creature he’d never encountered before.

“I actually got to pat one,” she said. As if patting a horse were akin to patting some rare, elusive creature. As perhaps it was, to her. “Did you know they always have one bay stallion, by tradition?” she asked.

“I…no.” He glanced again at the passport in his hand, making a mental note of the date of birth in case he needed to know it later, when he followed up on whatever she told him. Then she answered a question he hadn’t yet asked.

“Anyway, as you can see, I’ve traveled most of my life. My US driver’s license expired while I was gone this last trip, and I haven’t had time to get to that yet. I assume that’s what you wanted to know?”

He looked at her again. Those eyes really were amazing. But he couldn’t let them distract him from why she was here. Who she claimed to be, despite all evidence to the contrary.

“What I want to know is why you’re claiming to be related to a kid who by all accounts has no living relatives.”

She sighed. “I know it’s complicated. I didn’t realize it was this bad.” He waited her out this time. “Because I didn’t know, either.”

“That’s…convenient.”

“Convenient? Hardly.”

“Where are your parents now?” He looked again at the most recent stamps. “Where you were?”

“Lord, no. I haven’t traveled with them for years. And I’m sure they’re happier that way.” His gaze narrowed instantly. Interesting way to put it. And she looked as if she regretted saying it. “They prefer their own way of living,” she added hastily.

“So where are they now?”

“I have no idea. They were packing up to move on when I left them.” She gave a wave of her hand, as if to dismiss the topic. A very graceful hand, with long fingers he had to try not to think about doing…other things. What the hell is wrong with you, Rafferty? “That doesn’t matter. What matters is I’m here for Lucas.”

“Nearly a year later.”

“I didn’t know until a month ago, when I ran into my parents in Warsaw.”

He stared at her again. “Ran into them? You say that like it was an accident.”

“It was. I had no idea they were there, they had no idea I was coming. We hadn’t spoken in a few months.”

“You hadn’t talked to your parents in months?” This was getting more and more ludicrous to him.

“We’re…not close.”

“Obviously.”

“Says the man who still lives with his mother?” She said it sweetly, making it sound like he was one of those helpless ones who lived in his parents’ basement and spent his life online. Yet underneath the flippant tone was an edge, almost like pain. Like an injured animal that struck out even as it curled up to protect the wound.

He straightened, pushing off from the porch rail. He towered over her petite, still-seated form. And used it.

“My mother,” he retorted, “is the best and bravest woman I know. And I’ve had enough of this, Ms. Brock, or whatever your real name is.” He tossed the passport back to her. “Go back to wherever you came from.”

“Real name?” Interesting that she chose that to react to. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he said icily, “that if you think on the strength of what could well be a fake document and a wild story I’m going to hand that boy over to you, you’ve got another think coming.”

“How…colloquial.”

“You want colloquial? Then I think I just heard a box of rocks rattle.”

Her brow furrowed. Then, “You’re calling me stupid?”

“Only if you think you’re taking Lucas.”

“I didn’t come here to argue with you,” she began.

“Here’s another colloquialism for you. There’s two theories about arguing with a woman, and neither one work.” He hadn’t grown up with Shane Highwater for nothing. “Goodbye.”

“You expect me to just leave?” she said indignantly. “Without even seeing Lucas?”

“I expect you to leave without disrupting the life that’s finally back on an almost even keel. That kid’s been through five people’s share of hell, and I won’t have him hurt all over again by some supposed relative who flits in and out on a whim.”

She looked stricken. Or maybe even a little frightened, which he regretted. He didn’t normally snap at women. And he hadn’t meant to sound quite so angry, but when he thought of how hard they’d worked to get Lucas on that even keel it ticked him off that someone with such a suspect claim would show up out of the blue and try to upend it all. No matter how attractive she was.

His anger kicked even harder even as the last words formed in his mind. There’s a reason honeypots work, Rafferty. On people more worldly-wise than you.

People like her.

She stood up then, and he felt even worse when he was reminded of how small she was. But she stood straight and faced him. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Rafferty. But Lucas is my cousin, and I’m the only relative he has besides my parents. And you can’t keep him from me.”

“I can until you come up with some proof.”

She gestured with the passport. “I thought I had.”

“Even if it is your real name, that doesn’t prove anything. Or that you’re connected to Lucas. There are a few Brocks in the world. Including a town up in Parker county, a great baseball player, and the guy who designed the Corvette Sting Ray.”

Her eyebrows rose. Inwardly Keller thanked his mother for the conversation she’d had with Lucas about his name. The first he’d known because he knew Texas, the second because he liked baseball, but that last one he only knew because she’d looked it up and read it off.

It was a moment before she spoke again, more quietly this time. “And what would you consider proof?”

“More than you’ve shown me,” he said bluntly. Then, knowing that under the circumstances he’d be forgiven for the name-drop, he added, “Something that would stand up to my old friend Shane’s scrutiny.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why? Who’s he?”

He smiled then. “The police chief of Last Stand.”

Chapter Five

She had obviously made a serious tactical mistake.

Sydney paced the spacious room she’d rented at a local B&B. Realized she’d restarted the useless pacing process after making herself quit moments before. With a sigh, she stopped near the window that looked out over the stream below. Looking at the flowing water, still high now in late spring, she thought perhaps she should go down there to think this through. The idea clicked, seemed right, so she grabbed up her phone, decided she didn’t need anything else, pushed it into her pocket, and left the room.

She was glad that the woman behind the registration desk simply gave her a warm smile and waved. She didn’t feel like chatting with anyone at the moment. Wasn’t sure she was capable right now. She’d carried on conversations with people around the world, yet she’d made an utter mess of one of the most important ones of her life.

She paused as she neared one of the sets of glass French doors that led out onto the B&B’s deck. Through the trees that shaded it—something she was sure was very welcome in the high heat of summer—she could see the glint of water. But what had caught her eye was the portrait on the wall. She’d read, somewhere on the website while booking her room, that the place was owned by a former Texas Ranger. This must be him.

There was no smile for the portrait; this man was all business. Dark hair just touched with gray at the temples, a strong jaw, and a steady, penetrating gaze—even in a photograph. The omnipresent cowboy hat—did Keller Rafferty wear one? Silly question, of course he did—somehow added to the impression of power and strength. Funny how she, who hadn’t spent a lot of her childhood in her country of citizenship, still felt the little jolt she imagined most people felt simply at the name Texas Ranger. Fabled, storied, amazing, right down to the old saying she’d first heard, perhaps oddly, in Poland: “One riot, one Ranger.”

Once outside, she followed the sign she’d seen earlier, directing people to the creek overlook. That seemed promising.

When she’d first arrived, she’d been impressed that the small-town B&B had lived up to the online photos. The setting was pristine, peaceful, and pretty, accented by the quiet sounds of Hickory Creek flowing by. The building itself gleamed a clean white amid green grass and trees, the observation tower rising above promising a panoramic view of the Hill Country she’d spent so much time reading about on the flight here. The room itself was both elegant and functional, not to mention utterly spotless.

Add in the jack-of-all-trades, impossibly good-looking handyman with the incredible voice who sang as he worked, and this place was a treasure she’d like to blast out to the world if she didn’t want to keep it to herself at the moment.

She reached the spot where a limestone ledge jutted out, creating a bend in the stream. It also created a calm pool to one side that looked almost deep enough to swim in, while the main stream rushed by. Sort of a metaphor for life. Hers, anyway. She’d spent too much of it in the rushing part, and not enough appreciating the cool, calm, and quiet parts. Of course that was her parents’ doing, mostly. Whenever she’d gotten to feeling comfortable someplace, they’d pulled up stakes and moved on.

Hurry up, Sydney, or we’ll leave you here.

She mentally shrugged off the old memory and focused on where she was now. She sat on the ledge, looking out at the water, the quiet pool and the rippled stream. Tried to focus, not on the mistake she’d made but on what to do next.

She heard some quick, short chirps coming from above her. It was followed by a six-note song that ended on an attention-getting up note that made her smile. She looked into the tree just as a small bird took off. She thought she saw a flash of yellow on its head, but couldn’t be sure.

She found she was still smiling, and realized she should have come out here much sooner. She’d always been able to find a smile outdoors, in the sighting of an animal going about the day, or the sounds like that birdcall. No matter where she’d been, it had always brought her peace, even if the creature she’d spotted could be a threat.

Speaking of threats…

The police chief of Last Stand.

Somehow that put an entirely different cast on the whole thing. Coupled with the unexpected and unanticipated resistance, she was a bit at a loss. It had never occurred to her that Lucas’s foster family wouldn’t be glad she had turned up.

Glad to be rid of him.

Memories piled up behind the dam she’d built in her mind, threatening to break through. She fought them back. She stared at the water, at the spot where the calm met the rush. The water didn’t care which part it was in. She needed to find that mindset that would let her feel the same—that she could deal with whatever she landed in. She’d done it time and again, hadn’t she? It wasn’t like she was afraid of doing something new. How many times had her life been uprooted and she’d had to find her way in a new and strange place?

But somehow this was different. And despite all the hardships and sometimes even danger she’d been in, the idea of building a family, the kind she’d never had, with her young cousin was more intimidating than anything she’d ever tried. But at the same time, it seemed more important as well.

Maybe the most important thing in her life.

A man came walking up from farther along the creek, a fishing pole in one hand and a creel over his shoulder. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and had on a well-worn baseball cap over dark hair just touched with gray at the temples. A handsome man, who seemed familiar. Without the cowboy hat, it took her a moment to recognize the man in the portrait she’d stopped to look at. Ranger Buckley, the owner of this place.

When he saw her, he touched a hand to the brim of the cap as she’d seen every man wearing a cowboy hat do so far, and she guessed it was because he was used to it. She also noticed that hand was scarred, and that a couple of the fingers seemed rather stiff. Wondered if that was the reason for the end date of his service listed on the brass plate beneath that portrait.

“Frank Buckley,” he said, introducing himself as he paused. “You must be Ms. Brock.”

She smiled. “Sydney, please. Your place is lovely.”

He smiled back. “I see you found our guests’ favorite spot for solving the world’s problems.”

Her smile twisted rather wryly. “I’d settle for solving my own particular problem right now.”

“Sounds serious.”

“To me, it is.”

“Then it is,” he said easily. “Should I leave you to it, or would a sounding board help?”

She was a little surprised at his easy demeanor. She would have expected more…reserve from a Texas Ranger. But he wasn’t one anymore. Or maybe he’d been like this then, too. It would make him easy to talk to.

“Not unless that sounding board happens to know one Keller Rafferty.”

She didn’t think she’d mistaken the flicker of surprise in the man’s dark eyes. “As it happens, I do. Rather well, in fact.”

“You do?” Well, now, wasn’t that lucky?

“I do.” His expression shifted slightly, as if he were remembering something painful. “I was with his mother, Maggie, when she got the news her husband had been killed in action. Keller was seventeen. That boy stepped up like no one I’ve ever seen, except maybe Shane Highwater.”

The name caught her attention. “Is that…Mr. Rafferty’s friend Shane?” The one he practically threatened me with?

The man nodded. “It’s no wonder they’re close friends. They’ve got the same spine, the same rock-solid values.”

“Oh.” That sounded so lame she winced inwardly. But she didn’t know what else to say.

“What’s your business with Keller?”

Was it her imagination, or had his tone changed? Become sharper, as if the easygoing host had been replaced by the Ranger? “I…do you know the boy who’s living there?”

“The kid Keller’s fostering? I do.” He frowned. “If you’re with some agency looking into that, I can tell you firsthand that boy’s come a long way, with Keller’s help. He couldn’t be in a better place.”

Except with his own flesh and blood—She cut off her own thought. She of all people should know flesh and blood didn’t always mean what it should.

“I understand he’s there because they couldn’t find any family.”

“Wasn’t any to find, to my knowledge.” His frown deepened. “And before we go any further, you’d best tell me how you’re involved in this. With some identification, preferably.”

Sydney sighed inwardly. She had a feeling her effort at identifying herself to this man would go about as well as it had with Keller Rafferty. Or maybe not. At least this man didn’t make her feel like Rafferty had, as if every nerve had gone on alert, tearing her between the urge to run and the urge to…she wasn’t sure what.

And that alone made her feel as wary as she had been as a child when she’d had to ford that stream in Argentina right after hearing horror stories about the piranha that lived in it.

“That didn’t go so well with Mr. Rafferty. I showed him my passport and he still didn’t believe me.”

“Not usually the first form of ID around here,” he said, sounding interested. She didn’t know if that was good or bad.

“I don’t have a valid US driver’s license at the moment. My old one expired because I wasn’t here.”

“And where might you have been?”

She gave him a sideways look. “You want a list?”

“Let’s just start with, say, the most recent three.”

Was he laughing at her? She couldn’t tell. Which she supposed was a benefit, or had been when he’d had the badge on. “Australia, the UK, Sweden. Working backward,” she clarified. “I was on a buying trip for my company.”

“And those stops are on that passport of yours?”

“They are.”

“How long have you been back stateside?”

“Only a couple of weeks. I flew back as soon as I…found out.”

“Found out what?”

She had to decide whether to trust this man, and she had to decide now. She went with her gut, which had only occasionally steered her wrong, and those times had usually been when she’d lacked some crucial piece of information.

She drew in a deep breath. “When I found out my aunt and uncle had been killed.”

His brow furrowed. “What does that have to do with Keller Rafferty?”

“My aunt and uncle were Jessica and David Brock. Lucas’s parents.” He drew back sharply, and she finished it. “And now I know both they and my parents apparently lied to Lucas and me, all our lives.”

Chapter Six

“You believe her?” Keller frowned as he moved out onto the back porch of the ranch house to get a better cell signal.

“I’m saying she has a story worth checking out. It’s…interesting to say the least.”

Keller tapped a finger restlessly on the back of his phone. He trusted Frank Buckley completely; the man was a fixture in Last Stand, and his reputation with the Rangers was among the highest. He probably would have ended up heading the area Ranger company, if not the whole darned operation, if he hadn’t been shot and refused to take an offered desk job. Instead he’d come home to Last Stand, to the family property, which he and his wife had then converted into the quickly successful Hickory Creek Inn.

I had my run, and she stood up to being a Ranger’s wife for twenty years. It’s her turn now, time for her dream.

Keller remembered hearing that part of his mother’s conversation with the man, at the party celebrating the opening of the inn. And how it had moved his tough, cool mother to tears, a rare enough occurrence that Keller had always remembered it. He’d asked her about it afterward, and the answer had nearly brought him to tears in turn.

It’s what your father said. That I’d served just as he had, and when his last deployment was up he’d quit, that it would be my turn.

He hadn’t a clue what to say, so he’d merely hugged her and held her, marveling yet again at the Texas-sized strength in that small woman. And aching inside for the father who had, even in the short seventeen years he’d had him, taught him so much.

“You want to hear her out?” Frank asked, snapping him out of the memory.

Always hear them out, son. Then you’ll know for sure if you need to take action.

Odd, how Frank hit right on one of those things his father had taught him, right after that memory. If he believed in signs from the universe and that sort of rot, he might think this had been one.

“Maybe,” he said cautiously.

“Should I send her back out to your place?”

“No! I don’t want her anywhere near Lucas until I’m sure she’s who she says she is.”

Nor would he say a word to the boy; he couldn’t imagine anything worse piled onto his already badly damaged life than thinking maybe he did have a relative only to have it turn out to have been a lie. Keller wasn’t sure what she would be after if that were the case, but he wasn’t about to let her get to the kid until he knew if she was for real.

And if she wasn’t, he’d make damned sure she got what she deserved for playing that kind of game with a boy whose life had been practically destroyed.

“I get that,” Frank answered, and Keller thought there was a note of approval in his tone. “Then come here. Tomorrow. And maybe call out the troops. The chief, and maybe Ms. Leclair, since she was part of this?” A chuckle came into his voice then. “I seem to remember another formal meeting she put together here that turned out all right.”

Keller smiled in spite of himself. “You mean the one that turned out with her about to marry your handyman?”

He heard Frank chuckle. “Yeah, that one.”

Keller let out a long breath. “Let me talk to Lark first. I’ll call you back.”

Lark was as shocked as he had been when he gave her the digest version of what had happened, and Sydney Brock’s claim. “But it was specifically mentioned in the Brocks’ will and papers that there were no other surviving relatives.”

“Did anyone look beyond that?”

“Other than a standard name run, probably not. There was no reason to—Lucas verified there was no one else and never had been. His father had been even younger than Lucas when his brother died, only six I think it was. Then the parents, Lucas’s grandparents, died a few years ago. His mother had lost both parents some time ago. It was a real only child of only children of only children situation.”

“So his father did have a brother?”

“Yes, we found the birth records. He was ten years older than Lucas’s father, but reportedly died when he was sixteen.”

“Reported by who?”

“More than one person.” Lark sounded worried now. “Several friends, and Lucas, they all had the same story, and it was actually mentioned in the instructions his parents left that there was no one else. I’ll admit they didn’t backtrack thirty years to look for a death certificate, because it was so cut and dried, nobody was arguing the basic facts.”

“And why would they?” Keller said, afraid she was feeling she’d made a misstep when it had nothing to do with her really; all she’d done was help out a lost kid and a friend.

“But if she’s lying, what is she after? Money? There’s life insurance—they were good about that since there was no one else to look after him, or so they said—and the money from selling the house, but it’s not all that much, and it all went into a trust fund with a court-appointed trustee. He can’t get to it yet, and neither could she.”

“Good question.”

“What are you going to do?”

He explained Frank’s offer, and Lark immediately offered to be there too, if he wanted. “Please.”

“Can you give me until eleven? I have an appointment at nine that might take some time.”

“Sure.” His mouth quirked. “I’ll make Frank feed us, since he butted in.”

She laughed, and they ended the call on a less urgent note.

Keller felt thoughts and questions piling up in his mind. So he did what he always did when he had too much swirling in his head to even decide what to tackle first. He saddled up and went for a ride.

His brain was a little too occupied with the memory of the moment he’d opened the door to a pair of golden eyes that seemed to glow in the Texas sun. Well, that and the unusual bicolored hair. Which maybe he didn’t dislike as much as he’d thought at first. Or maybe those eyes, that lovely shape, that mouth outweighed it.

Not to mention the silky voice that emerged from that mouth.

Don’t call me honey unless you mean it.

He yanked his brain off that fruitless path, one that he most definitely did not want to travel.

By the time he and Blue—a to him logical but to his mother, who’d started a train of number names, boring name he’d chosen for obvious reasons, since the horse he’d raised from a foal was a blue roan—reached the upper pasture, he wasn’t much further on motive. He inspected his mother’s prized Angus, an experiment she’d waited years to try, who were grazing there, but his mind was back on the visitor with the two-tone hair. Had she really thought she could simply waltz in here and they’d let her just grab Lucas and go? Even if she was who she said she was?

And if she wasn’t, what the hell was her game? Was there some hidden inheritance they didn’t know about that she was after? But how would she know when none of the agencies involved in putting him into the system had uncovered it? He wasn’t one with utter faith in that system, but something like that seemed pretty basic.

The lack of a logical explanation was the determining factor. He pulled out his phone, checked the signal, decided the flickering one to two bars he got out here was enough for a text, and typed one out. Then he reined Blue around and headed back. Just as he topped the last rise and was in view of the ranch house, his phone rang. As he’d expected, it was Shane.

“Hi Highwater.” He said it without pause, as he always had back in school, so it sounded like Hi-Highwater. Shane chuckled. “You in the middle of something? Or is that a stupid question?” The man was the police chief, after all.

“Depends how much time you need.”

“Just a minute or two now. But maybe longer tomorrow.”

“I’ll work it out. What’s up?”

He explained again, as he had to Lark. And as he’d expected, Shane grasped the implications, including at least one he himself had not.

“Is Lucas at school?”

“Yeah.”

“Might want to call them and warn them not to release him during school hours to any stranger. It’s policy anyway, but a heads-up wouldn’t hurt.”

“Damn. I didn’t think of that. I’ll do that right away.”

“Good. I’ll do some digging on the family, although it sounds like if there is anything, it’s old and hidden deep. Which means I should put Sean on it.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Keller said fervently, knowing the tenacity of the detective who also happened to be Shane’s younger brother.

“It’ll do him good, to have to track something back to the paper ticket days. And I’ll tell him we need whatever he can find by eleven tomorrow morning.”

“Don’t,” Keller said with a laugh. “He’ll be up all night, chasing through that rabbit hole.”

The call ended with Shane’s promise to be there tomorrow, which was golden in the way few promises were.

Now he just had to keep all this from his too-observant mother.

Chapter Seven

“You did this?” Sydney stared at Frank Buckley. “You set this up?” She was reeling a little. A meeting with Keller Rafferty, his good friend the police chief, and the former Child Protective Services worker who had helped him become Lucas’s foster parent? Seemed a little one-sided to her.

“Eleven o’clock tomorrow,” the man said, “and you can hash this all out on neutral ground.”

“Neutral ground? You say that like we’re at war. And I’ll be outnumbered.”

“You may well be at war,” Frank said quietly. “Keller won’t surrender that boy unless he’s certain he should. And that’s if Lucas wants it. If that boy says no, Keller will fight you to the end.”

“You make him sound like…like…”

“A Texan? He is, to the bone. His mom’s family has been here since the revolution.” Her brow furrowed, but before she could ask, he added, “That’s the Texas Revolution, of course. Keller’s mother is a direct descendant of two of the most famous fighters at the last stand.”

She blinked. “The last stand? You mean there was actual fighting here?”

“You thought we picked that name out of the air? You need to take a walk downtown, by the statue at the library, and stop by the saloon.”

“I don’t drink much.”

“Slater Highwater won’t mind. He likes giving newcomers the history. And it was where the fight was.”

She blinked again. “Is he related to…the police chief?”

“His brother.”

“And he works…in a saloon?”

“He calls it a historical monument.” Then he shifted the conversation. “Will you show up tomorrow? Work this out?”

“I don’t know. It sounds pretty one-sided to me.”

Frank shook his head. “Lark will have the boy’s best interests at heart, and she’s not afraid to stand up to Keller if she thinks those best interests lie with you.”

“And the chief?”

Frank smiled. “There’s one thing you can say about Shane Highwater, whatever the situation. He’ll do what he thinks is right, even if it ticks some people off.”

“Including his friend Keller?”

“Even him. So, are you coming, or should I call it off and tell them you refused?”

She had to try, didn’t she? She eyed the older man warily. “Will you be there? Since you started this?”

He shrugged. “I could be. Feel like you’ll need a referee?”

“I feel like I need someone with an interest in keeping things calm,” she said dryly.

To her surprise he laughed. “Good point. Don’t want anybody busting up the furniture.”

“Why did you do this?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“It’s the nature of a Texan to fix problems.”

“And a Texas Ranger?”

He didn’t even blink. “Exactly.”

She let out a long breath. “All right. I’ll be here.”

He nodded, and she had the feeling if he’d been wearing his hat—baseball or cowboy—he probably would have tipped it to her. She watched him go, and stood there pondering for a moment. Then decided to do exactly as he’d suggested. It was time to see what kind of place this Last Stand was.

*

“I’m afraid not. He’s in class right now.”

Sydney nodded in understanding. “I don’t expect you to release him to me, I just want to speak with him.”

“I’m sorry, that won’t be possible.” The woman didn’t look sorry in the slightest. Sydney sighed; it had been an impulse to come by the school hoping to at least see Lucas, but apparently it had been a useless one.

“What if you stayed with us?” she suggested.

“Ms. Brock,” said the older woman, who reminded Sydney of a teacher she’d had in Switzerland, stern and as unmovable as the mountains above them, “I’ll be honest. We were warned you might turn up here, and told not to let you see Lucas. We will do as asked unless the situation changes.”

Warned? Warned, as if she were some nefarious felon or something? Maybe with evil intent toward the boy she only wanted to help, to give what he thought he no longer had—family?

“Mr. Rafferty called you?”

“Yes. And as he has legal custody of Lucas, he has the final word.”

She grimaced. “I’m surprised he didn’t have his buddy the chief call.”

“Chief Highwater?” The woman said the name with the greatest of respect. “Yes, they are friends. But neither of them is the type of man to cash in on that friendship. The chief would not step outside the bounds, and Keller Rafferty would never ask him to.”

Well, consider me…schooled.

She knew she was being watched as she gave up the perhaps not well thought out effort. She truly wasn’t doing well at this entire thing. Her mother would have told her this was the universe’s way of steering her off a wrong path. Her father would have told her this was the universe’s way of testing just how badly she wanted her goal. And that was the story of her life, two opposing forces. The only thing they truly agreed on was that staying too long in one place wasn’t for them.

She walked on. She was beginning to realize she’d reacted to this discovery she had extended family out of pure emotion. Unlike her approach to her business, which was methodical planning, although leavened with gut instincts and the occasional whim, on this very personal thing she’d just…reacted. The closest thing she had to a real, solid plan was to do whatever it took.

She looked at the tidy, pleasant school grounds as she walked. She’d never been to this kind of school, where children came, spent the day in classes, then went home in the afternoon. No, the second thing her parents did in any new place, after finding a roof for themselves, was to find a school and a local family that would take her in, short term. She hadn’t understood until the blowup that had ended what relationship they had that they resented her, and what they had to pay for her care, which limited their traveling. Which also explained those times when she’d not gone to school at all, so that they could indulge in the urge to see someplace that didn’t have such amenities.

She walked back toward the main street of town. Decided to detour through the expansive park that took up an entire block. It was a pleasant, shady place, and at the moment there were only a few people there—an older couple sitting on a bench, and a couple under one of the spreading pecan trees with a small picnic basket.

She spotted a tall statue of a man up ahead, in front of the building with the sign declaring it the Last Stand Public Library. The two-story stone building was impressive, and she studied the details as she walked.

She reached the statue, glanced at the plaque below the figure, declaring him Asa Fuhrmann, hero of the actual last stand the town was named for. But then she was diverted when her gaze snagged on the spot where a chunk of the pedestal was missing, the jagged edges looking scorched. There was a smaller plaque commemorating an accident that had happened here. According to the brief legend, the statue was credited with stopping an out-of-control vehicle that could have killed dozens. As it was, two lives had been lost. And, the final line said, it would have been three if not for the heroic actions of…Police Chief Shane Highwater.

Doesn’t that just figure? He’s not just Keller Rafferty’s friend, he’s a freaking hero.

And now she was going to have to face not only that man, but also the man who’d taken in Lucas and given him a home. She was very glad Frank Buckley had agreed to stick around. She had the feeling she might need a mediator against what was probably going to be a united front.

She looked around. Spotted a sign another block down that said Java Time, and thought a good, strong jolt of caffeine might be a wise idea before this meeting. Negotiating session. Peace conference. Whatever it was going to be.

She went for a shot of espresso added, because she had the feeling anything with her on one side and both Keller Rafferty and Chief Shane Highwater on the other was going to be a bit lopsided.

Chapter Eight

Sydney took the fact that the driver of one of the few taxis in town happened to be in the coffee shop while she was, and she was able to engage her for a ride back to the B&B, as a good sign.

The woman was a one-person chamber of commerce, extolling the virtues of Last Stand the entire trip. Figuring knowledge was a weapon Sydney asked her a few questions, and ended up with a gushing appraisal of both the men she was on her way to see. All three, actually, because the driver had some admiring words for Frank Buckley as well.

She found that man out on the deck near the edge of Hickory Creek. From here she could see across to the other side, past the rocky edge of the stream to a board fence a few yards beyond. That was where the man had been looking, but now he glanced at the cup she held.

“Fueling up?” he asked.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I get the feeling I’ll need it.”

“Neutral ground,” he reminded her.

She remembered the cab driver. “I’m not sure anyplace in this town is neutral ground if you’re going up against a Rafferty and a Highwater.”

To his credit, the man didn’t try to deny it. He gave her a wide smile. “They do have a high standing in these parts. And they have about four backbones between ’em. But they’re also honest as the day is long, and always give others a fair break.”

She gathered the extra backbones were a measurement of strength. Or maybe bravery. She’d believe either, actually, after meeting Rafferty and seeing what she’d seen about the chief. “Does that mean they’ll believe me?”

“It means they’ll listen to you,” Buckley said.

“Do you believe me?”

He studied her for a moment. “My gut says yes, but I also know that Keller will need more than that. He cares about that boy, and he’ll do what needs to be done to protect him.”

“When he gets here—”

“He’s here now,” Buckley interrupted, gesturing back toward the creek.

Brow furrowing, she looked. Saw nothing different. Then realized there was something, a horse and rider, approaching on the other side of the fence she’d noticed before. The horse gleamed in the sun, dark, but with an odd, almost blue cast to his coat. His rider wore a green shirt, jeans, and what looked like a straw cowboy hat. And sat the horse as if he were born to it.

As Keller Rafferty probably had been.

Even as she looked, the man put his heels to the horse and headed for the fence at a run.

She blinked. “He’s not going to—”

Before she could finish the question, it was happening. The horse visibly gathered itself and launched, and the pair sailed over the fence, which had to be over four feet high, with apparent ease. The animal showed no hesitation either at splashing into the water, and in mere moments they were across the creek and headed toward them.

She swallowed. “Wow.”

“That boy was born to ride. He’d have made it big in rodeo, if he hadn’t decided holding his family together after his father was killed was more important.”

She tried to imagine Keller Rafferty as some rodeo cowboy, riding in to cheers and applause. It was all too easy.

Sydney had never been a coward, a runner, but she suddenly felt the urge. Almost wished she’d never started this. But the memory of how she’d felt when she’d learned too late that she had had an aunt and uncle, and that they had a child she’d never known about, that she had been lied to her entire life about all of it, flooded back to prop her up.

She watched, still feeling a little numb, as the horse and rider came toward them, stopping in a small grassy patch between the deck where they stood and the stream. He dismounted in one fluid, lithe motion that had her fascinated, just by the way he moved. Not to mention the way he was put together. She gave herself an inward shake. She needed all her wits about her for this, and losing them in contemplation of an admittedly very attractive man was not going to help.

He slid the reins he’d been holding over the horse’s head and let them drop on the ground. Then he turned and started walking toward the steps up to the deck.

Sydney’s brow furrowed. “Doesn’t he need to…tie up the horse?”

Buckley chuckled. “That’s called ground tying. He won’t wander with those reins on the ground. Not a Rafferty-trained horse.”

And then he was there, having taken the half-dozen steps in two strides. He walked toward them, and she found herself inanely wondering if all cowboys had that distance-eating way of walking. When he got close enough, she was struck by how vividly green his eyes seemed today, maybe because of the green shirt. Did he know that it turned his eyes into something you could drown in? Had he worn it as a distraction, knowing any breathing woman would look at those deep green eyes and—

Do not start again.

“Ms.…Brock,” he said, the pause intentional, she was certain, but at odds with the removal of his hat at the same time. He held it against him, crown out, as if it were habit. Perhaps it really was deeply ingrained, that habitual politeness to a lady she’d read about.

“Mr. Rafferty,” she said formally, trying not to notice how he ran his fingers through his thick, dark hair.

His voice changed entirely, taking on a note of respectfulness as he nodded at Mr. Buckley. “Frank.”

“Keller,” the man acknowledged with a nod in turn. “The others are on their way.”

“Good,” he said shortly. “You have coffee on?”

“The big pot’s in the lobby,” Frank said with a half grin.

Even though she’d noticed that the place had a coffee station in the lobby, she hadn’t thought of that when she’d bought her own. She had been, she admitted, more than a little distracted by how everything had gone sideways on her.

When they got to the room Sydney guessed served as a private dining room, she was so restless—okay, nervous—she felt like pacing. But Keller Rafferty was in the way, standing beside the table. He’d set his hat down not on the table but on an adjacent chair, she noticed.

Did he have to be so darn tall? She wasn’t used to feeling small, because she wasn’t next to the average male in many parts of the world. But next to this man she felt tiny.

“You going to sit down?” she finally asked.

“Not until you do, Sydney,” Frank explained.

She blinked. Nearly gaped. He was here for a confrontation with her, but he was observing some code of…what, gentlemanly behavior?

Before she could tangle herself too deeply in that thought, she heard the door to the room open and turned. A petite, pretty blonde woman came in, followed by a tall, powerful-looking man who was maybe even a bit taller than Keller. So maybe it was just Texas men. He was holding a straw cowboy hat the same way Keller had been, at least until he hung it on the rack just inside the door. She saw the glint of a gold wedding ring on his left hand as he did it, and wondered what kind of woman it would take to live with a man like this in the job he had.

When he looked at her, Sydney had the distinct feeling she was being quickly and no doubt accurately assessed, because she had no doubt about who he was. The man looked every inch the hero he obviously was. She drew herself up, even though she was a bit shaky inwardly. She thought something shifted in his gaze, as if he’d somehow seen the effort she’d made.

Frank made a quick introduction of her to Lark Leclair and Chief Shane Highwater. She realized then that she’d seen the woman before, when she’d arrived here at the Hickory Creek Inn. She’d been talking to the handyman, the man with the incredible voice she’d first heard as he’d sung while laying some fresh gravel in the parking area. And now she saw that the woman was carrying a stylish but practical leather bag that was very familiar.

After they were all seated at the table, Frank told them he would be staying at her request, as a neutral party, unless someone had an objection. No one did, in fact they all smiled. Such was the respect the man obviously had around here. And she thought she understood; he hadn’t had to get involved in this, but he had anyway.

To her surprise, however, it was the other woman who began it. “Frank told me the bare bones when he called,” she said, her voice a quiet, gentle, soothing thing. “Would you like to flesh it out for me?”

This, at least, she was prepared for. She’d even sat down last night and written out what she needed to say. She’d spent a long time trying to guess at what they would ask. She hoped it would come out at least semicoherently.

She drew in a deep breath, meeting the woman’s pretty, light green eyes, an entirely different shade than Keller’s dark green. She could talk to her, she thought. More easily than she could talk to the imposing man sitting beside her. And certainly more easily than she could talk to Keller Rafferty.

“I’ve only found all this out recently, so it may be a little jumbled up,” she began. “I was told all my life—as, apparently, was Lucas—that I had no other family besides my parents. That any family was long dead. I grew up believing this.” She had to suck in a deep breath before she could go on. “Then I saw my parents, and happened to overhear them discussing a news article they’d found online. About a fatal car accident near Kerrville, Texas. And what they were saying made no sense to me. I confronted them, and it all came out. That they had lied. I’d had—up until this accident in the news—an aunt and uncle.”

She suppressed a shudder. To her surprise, Lark reached out and put a hand over hers on the table, as if to offer comfort. And she managed to go on.

“When I forced the issue further, they admitted my uncle had been alive all this time. But that he and my father were estranged and had been since before I was born.”

She risked a glance at Keller. He was staring at her, brow furrowed, as if he were having trouble believing. Was it her he doubted, or the story? She thought again of Frank’s words about him holding his family together after his father was killed. As apparently Chief Highwater had done as well. Perhaps they simply couldn’t conceive of that kind of self-centeredness. She felt wistful wondering what that must be like, to be part of a family unit like that.

“So you didn’t know they even existed?” Lark asked. “Including Lucas?”

She looked back at the blonde woman and nodded. “I only found out because that’s what I first overheard. They were speculating what would happen to the kid now. And…” She had to steady herself. “And hoping they couldn’t be forced to take him because he was technically their nephew.”

She heard a smothered oath from Keller. The chief had gone rigidly still. Only Lark gave her a look of sad understanding, and Sydney guessed she had probably seen worse in her days with CPS.

“That was right before they said—” She cut herself off. She couldn’t say it. She didn’t even like remembering it.

“Said what?” Lark asked.

“It’s not relevant to this,” she said. “The point is, until that moment I didn’t know my aunt and uncle had even existed, let alone Lucas.”

“When was this?”

When Shane Highwater spoke, his voice was deep and powerful, and for a moment all Sydney could think of was how he must sound when booming out orders. She shook it off and answered. “About a month ago. It took me this long to track down where Lucas had been sent.”

“And just how did you manage that?” Keller asked, and her head snapped round before she could stop herself.

“I researched,” she said. “Found the group home, where they knew that Lucas was in a foster home situation here.”

“And they just told you this?”

“Not by his name. They wouldn’t do that. It just came up in conversation that a boy whose family had been killed near the music festival was here.”

“Conversation? With who?”

“One of the workers there.”

“One of the workers at the group home?” the chief asked, sharply enough that she quailed a little inside.

“He was a gardener, actually.”

“Great,” Keller muttered, and she looked at him again. “So you turned those pretty golden eyes on him and fluttered those eyelashes and he told you everything you wanted to know, right?”

Pretty golden eyes?

She blinked those eyes, chastising herself inwardly for letting that statement take the breath out of her.

She risked another glance at the chief, who was looking across the table at his friend. Or, judging by both their expressions, at this moment it was the police chief who was looking. “I’ll have a little talk with them about loose lips,” the man said, his expression stern.

“Don’t mind that now, Sydney,” Lark said. “You were obviously on a mission.”

Grateful for the understanding, Sydney nodded. “I was. I had to find him. I just…had to find him. And now…now that I know he was lied to as well, I have to tell him the truth, so he won’t grow up like I did. Believing in a life that’s a complete lie.”

Keller shifted in his chair then, but she forced herself not to look at him.

“Go on,” Lark encouraged.

“Once I got here, it didn’t take long to find someone willing to talk about…things.”

Again Keller muttered something, and she couldn’t stop her quick look. He did not look happy about this, so Sydney was glad when Lark said lightly, “Ah, the Last Stand grapevine, ever-efficient. Let me guess. Mr. Diaz?”

She managed a smile. “Exactly.”

“That man never did learn how to keep his mouth shut,” Frank observed from the head of the table, the first words he’d spoken since they’d begun. “Remember about twenty years ago when someone made that sign that said Gossip Central and hung it over the doorway of the feed store?”

Sydney knew she hadn’t mistaken the way Keller and Chief Highwater looked at each other at that moment. Almost…guiltily.

“Ah-hah,” Frank said with a grin. “I always suspected that was you two.”

“Hey,” Keller said with a frown, “he ratted me out to my dad about taking his car for a drive when I was fifteen.”

“And burned me when I was trying to play it cool about liking Lisa Watters and wanting to ask her to prom,” Chief Highwater said.

And suddenly the hideous pressure inside Sydney eased. It was the normalcy of it, she guessed. These weren’t just a police chief and Lucas’s foster father, weren’t just her adversaries, they were two guys who had once been teenagers together and had apparently had the same problems most teenagers had.

And in that moment, she decided to change her mindset from adversary to simply someone with the same concern Keller had for Lucas’s welfare.

Because, in the end, that was what she was.

Chapter Nine

“Where are your parents now?” Lark asked.

When the golden-eyed woman didn’t speak, Keller found himself answering for her. “She doesn’t know.”

She looked at him then. And he sensed something had changed, although he had no idea what. All he was sure of was the sense he’d gotten of wire-drawn tension had eased. Perhaps it was Frank’s joking.

“That’s true,” she answered, and the tension was gone from her voice, too. “Do you always remember everything?”

He shrugged. “When it’s important. Lucas is important.”

“How did you leave it with them?” Lark asked, with a concern that was obviously genuine. Leave it to Lark to worry about the possible imposter in their midst. Although he had to admit he was less convinced of that now, if for no other reason than the story she’d told was too outlandish to expect anyone to believe.

He tried to imagine a family like that, but failed utterly. If something had happened to any of his relatives, leaving a child orphaned, his mother would have been first in line to take that child in.

Ms. Brock—he needed to keep thinking of her that way—turned back to Lark. “I…not well. They truly didn’t understand why I thought what they’d done was so wrong.”

“They sound charming,” Keller said dryly.

“What they are,” she said just as dryly, “is pathologically self-absorbed. They’re the perfect match for each other, and each other is all they’ve ever needed or wanted. Everything else is…extraneous.”

He was taken aback at both the cool assessment and the implications. He supposed that was what made him ask, “Including you?”

Something changed in her expression then, and a bleak, weary knowledge showed in her gaze. And although she didn’t respond directly, he knew the answer to his question was a grim yes.

“Especially me,” she finally said.

“Surely not,” Lark said, sounding distressed. No wonder she’d had to quit working at CPS, if every case got to her like this.

Ms. Brock turned to look at her. “When we landed in Slovenia—” she glanced at him, and he knew she was remembering telling him about the Lipizzans “—I loved it there. When they decided it was time to head out somewhere else, I didn’t want to go. So they offered to leave me there.”

He stared at her. Remembered what else she’d said. “You were twelve,” he said incredulously. She nodded. “They wanted to leave a twelve-year-old girl by herself in a country you’d only visited?”

“Sydney,” Shane said. When she turned to look at him, he held her gaze in that direct, sees-all way he had and asked, “What else was it you overheard your parents say?”

She sighed audibly. “I said it wasn’t relevant to this.”

“Wasn’t it?” Shane asked, and Keller frowned, wondering what his friend had latched on to. He didn’t doubt it was something, because there was no one he knew better at reading people than Shane, except his own mother. “They said they hoped they couldn’t be forced to take Lucas, and…?”

She grimaced and, surprisingly, glanced at Frank. He gave her a little nod, and Keller wondered what they’d talked about before he’d arrived.

Not looking at any of them but staring down at her hands, Ms. Brock said quietly, “They said it was bad enough they were stuck with me.”

“Son of a—” Keller bit back the oath. And looked at Shane. “I swear, if they showed up and tried to take Lucas—”

“We’d have another last stand in Last Stand,” Shane said wryly. “I know. Let’s hope they don’t, because I’ll be in a real pickle. Keeping the peace is hard when you loathe one side.”

Frank chuckled. “You’d come down on the right side,” he said. “And we all know which side that is.”

“Lucas’s side,” Lark said firmly. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? What’s best for Lucas?”

“Exactly,” Keller said flatly. “And having anything to do with a family like that is not what’s best for him.”

Ms. Brock murmured something, so quietly he couldn’t hear it. But he gathered from the way Lark again reached out and put a hand over the other woman’s that she had. “No,” Lark said, “you’re not like them. If you were, you wouldn’t have bothered to come for him.”

Keller felt a twinge of sympathy. Something he didn’t want to feel, not now, with what was at stake. “That’s a big jump, Lark,” he said. “But even if she isn’t…like them, that doesn’t mean she’ll be good for Lucas. Especially since she was raised by them.”

Sydney—that jolt of sympathy made it hard to keep using that formal Ms. Brock in his mind—looked up sharply then. “Like…heck I was,” she said. “I was raised by whoever they could find wherever they were. Mostly good people, who had families like…like yours. Who cared, who loved their children.”

“How did that make you feel?” Frank asked, and Keller had the feeling he was, albeit subtly, letting them know he believed her, at least about this. And coming from Frank Buckley, with his decades of experience as a Ranger, that meant a lot.

The words came out in a torrent that made Keller suspect they’d been walled back for a long time. “It made me cry inside. Wonder what was wrong with me, why they didn’t want me. It took a long time for me to realize it wasn’t me, specifically, it would have been the same for any child.”

She turned away from Frank and closed her eyes, shaking her head as if she regretted letting that all out. Keller could understand that; if that had been his story, he’d never have wanted to tell anyone, let alone a roomful of strangers. And if this was a deft playing of the sympathy card, he couldn’t deny it had worked.

He tried to steel himself, but the pain in those golden eyes was getting to him. “So what is it, exactly, that you want?”

“I want to be…to make a family, with Lucas. A real one.”

“By all accounts,” Keller said, “he had one.” It came out almost gently, somewhat to his surprise. “A good one.”

Her brow furrowed, and her gaze went slightly unfocused. “Dead to me,” she murmured.

“What?” Keller asked.

She refocused on him. “I just realized that when I was a kid, really young, my father always said his brother was dead to him. I didn’t even understand what dead meant, yet, let alone that phrase. Only later did it become…just dead.”

“How did that happen?” Lark asked quietly. “The estrangement, I mean.”

Sydney—okay, he gave up on the Ms. Brock thing—turned back to the other woman. “Getting the truth was worse than pulling teeth, it was freaking brain surgery. But what he finally told me was that his parents were a couple of judgmental, holier-than-thou types who kept trying to keep him from doing what he wanted. Which is,” she said with a wry grimace, “my father in a nutshell. Anyway, he said he left home at sixteen, when his brother had only been a little kid. Later my mother said that he’d told her his father had disowned him after he got in some kind of trouble. She didn’t know or wouldn’t tell me what.”

“Just to be clear on all this,” Shane said, “you’re saying your father ran away at sixteen, perhaps after some misdeed, his then six-year-old brother was told he’d died, and when your father later had a child—you—he told you the same thing about that brother?”

Keller thought he heard an element of sympathy in Shane’s voice. Wondered if he was thinking about his youngest brother, Kane, who had been missing and feared dead for so long.

She nodded. “Yes. That he had died before I was born. I always thought maybe that was why my father…wanted to always be moving. Like he was trying to escape the memories.” She seemed to shiver slightly but said nothing more.

“And your mother was okay with this?” Keller asked.

She took in a long breath before saying, “She is a wanderer by nature. Or maybe a searcher would be a better term. Whenever we would pack up and leave a place, she’d be sad and say, ‘I really thought this might be it.’”

Keller remembered her passport. Her third passport, if that was true. “That must have gotten kind of old after the first hundred or so places,” he said dryly.

“It did,” she said simply.

“For the record,” Shane said, this time in the neutral tone Keller knew he used to make sure he didn’t influence the interview, “that passport is a US one?”

“Yes.” Her smile was a bit bitter then. “Funny how they spent their lives moving and saying how they would never come back here, but made sure they had all the paperwork in order just in case.”

“Sounds like they were real good at living a lie,” Keller said.

She turned back to him, met his gaze head on. “It gets worse. My father told me that a few years ago, after his parents died, he contacted his brother. To try and make it up, he said. And found out David had been lied to just as I had been all this time, told that his brother had died.” She grimaced. “He said David at first didn’t believe him, then accused him of only wanting money from the estate. There was a big blowup and that was the end of any relationship between them forever.”

“And what do you think of that accusation?” Shane asked, his tone still inflectionless. She took in a deep breath and said, with a look Keller could only describe as pained, “Contacting him after all those years? Coincidentally after his parents died? I think it’s probably true.” She sighed. “If any of it’s true. Not like my parents are particularly trustworthy.”

Keller found himself wanting to believe her. As outlandish as the story was, something of the pain in those golden eyes got to him. Because you’re a soft touch, Rafferty. Lucas proves that.

That thought brought him back to the bottom line and put the edge back in his voice. “That still doesn’t change anything. Your story isn’t proof that you’re related to Lucas.”

“I think we can resolve that easily enough,” Shane said.

“How?” Keller asked, looking at his friend of more than twenty-five years.

Shane shrugged. “DNA. We can do a test on them both.”

Keller’s gaze shot back to Sydney, and he wished he’d been looking at her when Shane had said it, so he could have seen her reaction. But there was no sign of fear or hesitation.

“Absolutely,” she said. She let out a disgusted, compressed breath. “Who knows, maybe my charming parents are still lying.”

And Keller had the thought that if even half of what she’d said about them was true, it was entirely possible. It was also the saddest damn thing he’d ever heard, in some ways even sadder than Lucas’s horrible story.

When he got back to the ranch, he was going to find his mom and give her the biggest hug he could.

Chapter Ten

“I hate sounding so pitiful,” Sydney exclaimed as she stared out at the creek streaming by.

Somehow the woman standing beside her on the deck seemed to get through her barriers, and she ended up talking to her as if she were a friend instead of someone who might be a part of a plan to keep her from ever even seeing Lucas, let alone becoming part of his life.

Lark Leclair gave her a sympathetic smile. “You care. That’s not pitiful.”

She turned to face her. She’d had the feeling from the moment she’d met this woman that she was someone who genuinely cared. So Sydney went with her gut. “You believe me?”

“I believe what you’ve said is what you believe,” Lark said.

“Nice equivocation,” Sydney said, unable to help the edge in her tone.

“But better than thinking you’re lying, I would hope.”

Sydney sighed. “Sorry. Yes. Much better. I’m not sure Mr. Rafferty or his friend the chief are convinced, though.”

“Shane will look for the truth. Keller will look for what’s best for Lucas. I’m not sure you could ask for anything more than that.”

“If I’m telling the truth.”

“Yes.”

Sydney studied the woman. She believed the concern she saw in those light green eyes.

Pretty golden eyes…

She shook off the memory, and another one took its place. “You know the…handyman at the Hickory Creek Inn, don’t you? I saw you with him when I arrived.”

“Kane?” To her surprise the woman blushed faintly. “Yes.”

“He’s…quite something.”

Lark’s expression changed, and the soft smile that curved her mouth was warming. “He is that.”

“Why isn’t he a worldwide music star?”

“He’s happy to be the hottest thing in the county at the moment,” Lark said.

Sydney noticed her thumb was rubbing at the engagement ring on her left hand, as if she wasn’t quite used to wearing it yet. And the logical reason for the look in her eyes hit.

“And your fiancé?” she guessed.

If Lark was surprised, she didn’t show it. But the smile widened. “Yes. But that doesn’t affect what I think of his brother. I’ve known Shane Highwater most of my life, and he’s a rock.”

Sydney blinked. “Wait…the handyman is the police chief’s brother?”

“Yes. And that’s a very, very long story that’s not mine to tell. So let’s focus on you.”

“Actually, I have a question for you, if you don’t mind.”

“Me? I’m an open book. Ask away.”

“Where’d you get your bag?” she asked, nodding at the combination satchel and briefcase slung over Lark’s shoulder.

Lark’s eyebrows rose, but she smiled. “I found it in an online store, a great place where I’ve bought several things, for me and as gifts. They carry specialty items from around the world. In fact, it’s called—”

“The World in a Gift,” Sydney said.

“Yes! You know them?”

Sydney hesitated, then half shrugged. “I am them,” she said.

Lark blinked. “You’re…”

“Well, not just me anymore, but it was just me for a few years, when I started it.”

“You’re the founder of The World in a Gift?”

“I am.” Sydney couldn’t deny she was savoring the woman’s stunned expression a bit.

Lark smiled, an almost wondering smile. Then she suddenly looked thoughtful. “Are they—you—doing as well as I think?”

Sydney smiled widely. “We are doing quite well. Enough that I now have nearly a hundred people working for and with us, in fifty countries, and people trying to buy us every month.”

Lark nodded toward the room behind them, where Sydney could see that the chief was on the phone, and Mr. Rafferty was talking to Frank. “Do you think maybe you could have mentioned that in there?”

Sydney’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

“Because it would remove the idea that you were in this for…financial reasons.”

Sydney knew she was probably gaping, but couldn’t help it. They thought she was after money? Was there even any? Had Lucas’s parents been rich?

“Either you’re a very good actress, or you had no idea there even was any money.”

“I didn’t. I wouldn’t. Even if I needed it, which I don’t.”

Sydney felt moisture start to pool in her eyes. Did Lucas’s foster father, and his friend the police chief, really believe that? Could they really think she was that greedy, that she would go after any child’s inheritance, let alone one she was related to?

Lark studied her for a moment. “I believe you.”

“About the money, but what about…the rest?”

“If Shane is putting his brother to work on it, the truth will out.”

She blinked. “His brother? Who works here at the inn?”

Lark smiled. “No. This is another brother, who’s a detective. A very, very good one.”

“A detective. To go with the saloon guy, and your fiancé. Interesting family you’re marrying into there.”

“They are,” Lark said rather blithely. “It will never be dull. But right now, it’s the Raffertys you need to focus on.”

“And what do I do about the fact that that—” she nodded toward the building “—Rafferty doesn’t trust me any further than he could throw me?”

A deep male voice answered from behind her, making her jump. “He’s used to tossing bales of hay and hundreds of pounds of squirming calf around. He could probably throw you pretty far.”

She spun around to see the police chief standing there. This close he seemed to tower over her, and she remembered the photo she’d found in her research, of him working on building a barn. Shirtless. And the caption deeming him a sex symbol. If she hadn’t seen Keller Rafferty first, she might have voted him the most gorgeous Texas man she’d met so far.

What was it with this town? Was every male here so…imposing? Intimidating? Impressive? Or maybe it was just Texas. Maybe the mythos was really true.

She summoned up all her poise and nerve. “And what would you do if he did, Chief?”

“Not an issue,” the man said coolly. “Keller would no more hurt a woman than he’d kick a puppy.”

“Not sure I’m liking your categorization. I’m not a helpless puppy.”

The chief didn’t even blink. “It was a comparison, not a categorization. Now, if you’re ready for the test?”

She realized he was holding out a small tube with a swab inside. “What, you carry one of those around with you?”

He raised a dark brow. “I had someone come by with it.”

“Ah. The perks of being chief.”

“My sister was already at the station.”

Sydney glanced at Lark. “There’s a sister, too?”

Lark grinned at her. “Oh, yes. And she takes them all on.”

Sydney found herself grinning back. “Good for her.”

She turned and took the encased swab. “Inside of the cheek will do,” Shane Highwater said.

He seemed to be looking at her somewhat differently, although she didn’t know why. Didn’t suppose it mattered, until this test came back. She used the swab, put it back into the tube, and handed it over.

“You realize,” he said, “this could come back inconclusive. Cousin matches are always iffy.”

“But it could show a relationship of some kind, right?”

“Yes. Or it could disprove the connection.”

She wondered for a brief moment what she would do if it came back a negative or inconclusive match. But that didn’t matter. Yet. “Then we need to know that,” she said firmly.

“Yes, we do.” He said it neutrally, but Sydney didn’t think she mistook what flashed in his eyes for a moment. More of that assessing, as if her response had been a checkmark on a list.

She held the man’s gaze a moment longer, then he nodded and left. And Sydney stood there silently wondering why, despite Chief Highwater’s position and obvious power, she still found Keller Rafferty much harder to face.

Chapter Eleven

Keller shoved his phone back into his hip pocket and stood for a moment, staring out the kitchen window, thinking.

He’d left the Buckley place as soon as Shane had collected the DNA swab. He hadn’t spoken to Ms. Brock, hadn’t wanted to. He was too unsettled, and too annoyed that the even keel he and Lucas had finally achieved might soon be upended.

And now he had this to process. Maybe it shouldn’t, but the bit of news Lark had just dropped on him seemed to change everything again.

“Problem?” His mother’s voice from behind him made him spin around, startled. She smiled. “Sorry, didn’t realize you were on another planet.”

“Just…distracted.”

“You have been since that woman showed up here yesterday.”

“Yeah. About that…” He hadn’t explained any of what was happening to her yet, and he knew he needed to. But they’d need every hand on deck for this, including his brothers, and he didn’t want to have to go through it repeatedly for each of them.

And Lucas. That, he was not looking forward to.

So instead he asked, “Have you ever heard of a company called The World in a Gift?”

She looked disconcerted, not an easy thing to do with Maggie Rafferty. “Yes, of course. I’ve bought a couple of things from them. Remember that carved toolbox I gave Rylan last Christmas? That was from them, an artist from New Zealand. And that travel bag out of Scotland that I love so much is one of theirs. Why?”

“I…we’ll get there. But you like them?”

“I like the whole idea of them. That they bring together craftspeople from all over the world, each one with their own specialty, and give them a worldwide market they might never otherwise have.”

“And they’re successful, as far as you know?”

She was looking more and more puzzled, but didn’t push him. Yet. She would, if she felt she had to, he knew that. And soon; he sensed she was about at the end of her patience for vagaries.

“Very, I think,” she said. “When I first found them, a few years ago, they were fairly small. Now they’re huge, but they’ve hung on to that personal touch, and that says a lot, I think. Now, why?”

He let out a long breath. Grimaced. And said, “I need to call a family meeting.”

Her brows rose. “Oh? When?”

He glanced at his watch. Only an hour until school let out, and then another half hour before Lucas was here. “Now,” he said flatly.

She didn’t even blink, or ask any further questions, she just went into Mom mode, as they’d always called it, and started organizing. “Rylan’s in his studio, and you know he’ll have his phone off, so I’ll go get him. Cody’s out testing one of his flying contraptions, but he’ll have his phone, so call him. Then we’ll try for Chance.”

“Maybe the drone Cody’s testing works well enough to deliver the message,” Keller said. “And if not, he can just go over and get him, since he’s already out.”

“Good.” She turned to go, still without asking a single other question. When he’d said the magic words family meeting, something none of them tossed around lightly, it had galvanized her. Because nothing, but nothing mattered more to his mother than her family.

“Mom?” She looked over her shoulder at him from the doorway. “I love you.”

She gave him the smile that had warmed his heart for his entire life. “Back at you, boyo.”

He watched her go, then pulled his phone back out and called up Cody’s number. And started thinking about what he was going to say when they all got here.

*

“Morning, Mark,” Keller said to Mark Latham, Shane’s uber-efficient aide. He left off the “good” in the greeting. He wasn’t sure if it was. He’d been sleepless too much of the night, worrying. The family meeting had gone well enough, with everyone ending in agreement that they would protect Lucas above all else, but he was still jumpy.

“It is,” Mark answered, telling Keller he hadn’t missed the omission.

“Is he in?” Keller asked.

“Yes, he is but…his wife is in with him at the moment.”

Keller grinned, with raised brows. He’d known Mark for a few years, and felt safe teasing him. “Meaning I don’t dare go in there?”

“I wouldn’t,” Mark came back quickly. “I get embarrassed easy.”

They both laughed, and were still grinning when the inner office door opened and Lily Highwater stepped out. The former reporter, now becoming a well-known human-interest essayist, pulled the door closed after her. Keller noticed her long, red hair was a bit tousled, and her mouth looked a little bit…

Yeah, good thing he hadn’t gone belting in there.

“Keller,” she said, with a wide smile when she spotted him. “Have you changed your mind about that profile I’d like to do?”

He frowned. Surely Shane wouldn’t have talked about this with her, spiking her interest even more? Yes, she was his wife, but this was…well, private. For now, anyway. And he’d like to keep it that way, at least until the tests came back and he knew if he had to give…that woman access to Lucas.

“What makes you ask that?” His voice was a little bit sharp.

Lily looked startled, then her brow furrowed as she responded, “Because I always ask you? Ever hopeful and all that.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

She was still looking a bit puzzled, and he regretted his tone. She might have left crime reporting behind, but she was still a bulldog when it came to something she wanted. Shane could attest to that. And she wanted to do a profile on him, and how, as she put it, “a rising rodeo star gave it up to come home for the sake of his family.” She’d been after him to sit down with her even before Lucas, but now she was really avid about it, because she said it would add even more depth and texture to the piece. Whatever that meant.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like and admire Lily’s work. She’d managed to make the intimidating Mrs. Valencia, the icon of Creekbend High School, not only human but even more admirable than she’d already been, and that took some doing. Considering the last piece he’d read of hers had been on Sage Highwater’s war hero fiancé, Scott Parrish, he was flattered she’d even want to, but hardly thought himself worthy of that heady territory.

All Keller had done was what had to be done. And when Lily told him he didn’t realize how rare that was, he couldn’t quite believe it.

“I’m not giving up,” she warned him.

“I have it on good authority you never do,” he said wryly. But he smiled when she grinned at him.

Lily turned back and pulled the office door open again, and called out, “Keller’s here.”

“Well, that’s a comedown,” Shane drawled from inside.

“No question,” Keller responded easily, and winked at Lily as he stepped through. She laughed and waved as she left, stopping, Keller noted, to speak to Mark for a moment before she headed for the outer door. “You know,” he said as he pulled the door shut behind him, “I both envy you and don’t want to be you.”

Shane grinned at him. “She keeps life interesting.”

“And worth living?” Keller suggested, seeing the pure love practically glowing from his old friend’s eyes.

“Yes,” Shane said simply.

Then, as was his way, he turned briskly to business. They sat on the leather couch that was against the wall opposite his desk. It was a new addition to the décor, and thinking of Lily, Keller couldn’t help wondering if Shane had added it for less than official reasons. That office door did have a lock, after all.

“If you’re looking for the DNA results, you’re a bit early,” Shane said. “Maybe way early.”

“I figured. But…maybe way early?”

Shane’s mouth quirked. “According to Sean, looking for cousins is trickier. He gave me some long rundown on STR versus the more recent SNP testing.”

“STR versus SNP? Sounds very…Sean.”

Shane laughed. “Yeah. All I’ve ever worried about before was if it worked as evidence for court.”

“But this is different?”

Shane nodded. “STR is…tandem repeats or some such jargon. But the SNP checks all the chromosomes instead of just the X and Y, and gives more definitive results out as far as even second cousins.”

Keller went still. “Meaning it could actually confirm her story?”

“Looks like. We’ll have to send it to a different lab than our usual, though, and it’ll take a little longer.” Shane gave him an apologetic look. “Especially without a case number attached to it.”

Keller nodded in understanding. Then went to what he’d really stopped by for. “What’s your take on her, now that you’ve had time to process?”

Shane leaned back on the couch cushions and rested one ankle on his other knee. Keller couldn’t read anything in his expression, because now he had his work face on. Nothing, but nothing—except Lily—ever got to this man when he was in that mode.

“She comes off as very sincere.”

Keller heard the guardedness in his tone. “But?”

“But the very best con artists always do.”

“Yeah,” Keller said glumly, not exactly sure why that fact bothered him so much.

“Look, if she’s a scammer, if she’s crooked, we’ll find out. Sean’s on it now, so you can take that to the bank.”

“I know that. I’m just worried about what damage she might do in the interim.”

Shane nodded. “Understandable. But given that we’ll find out if she’s lying, what about if she’s not? What if everything she told us is true?”

“Then she’s had a hell of a life.”

“With parents I wouldn’t wish on anyone,” Shane said.

“That, too.” Keller shook his head slowly, remembering what she’d said about her parents’ fears they’d get landed with Lucas, and complaining it was bad enough they’d been stuck with her. “I just don’t get it. How parents can be like that. And I’m very glad I don’t.”

“You and me both.”

Keller knew that some would say he and Shane had had more than their share of sadness in their lives. But he also knew that both he and Shane counted themselves more than lucky to have had the fathers they’d had for as long as they’d had them. It was their example that had driven them to do what had to be done, Shane leaving school and coming home to see to his family, and Keller giving up his rodeo dreams for the same thing.

“By the way,” Shane said, “I got a phone call this morning with some interesting information.”

Keller blinked. “So did I, but you first.”

Shane lifted a brow but nodded slightly. “It was from Mrs. Heidel, at the middle school.”

Keller went very still. “And?”

“It seems your maybe Ms. Brock went there yesterday, before our meeting, and tried to see Lucas.” Keller swore with a grimace. “She wasn’t allowed to, of course.”

Keller met his old friend’s gaze. “Thanks for the heads-up on that, then. Obviously you were right.”

Shane gave him that “It was nothing” shrug he had down to perfection, and that just about everyone he’d ever gone out of his way for—which was probably half the population of Last Stand—had seen.

“What was your call?” Shane asked.

“It was from Lark. Ever heard of a company called The World in a Gift?”

Shane frowned. “Sounds vaguely familiar.”

“It’s an online gift shop place. Carries stuff from artists around the world.”

He left it at that and waited for Shane’s prodigious brain to put it together. Which it did, as usual, quickly. “She’s connected to that? All the traveling?”

“She is that,” he said flatly.

He pulled out his phone and called up the website from the search he’d done after talking to Lark this morning. He handed it to Shane, who took one glance at it and murmured, “Ah. That’s why it was familiar.”

“What?”

“Lily’s laptop bag has that logo on it.”

Keller gave a wondering shake of his head. “Does every woman around shop there?”

“A lot, I’d guess.”

Shane was reading the page Keller had opened for him, about the company’s founder, one Sydney Brock, and her colorful history. The bio was mainly about her travels and how she’d had the idea of giving all the wonderful artisans she’d met in her nomadic life a worldwide marketplace. Many of them had limited Internet access, or little knowledge of how to utilize the possibilities of the web, so she had begun simply as an intermediary. Her small idea had morphed into an international success. The short bio ended with some figures on the company’s size when she’d started it, and its size and scope now.

When he’d finished, Shane looked up at him. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Keller said.

“If this is true,” he began.

“Then obviously she’s not after Lucas’s little bit of money.”

“And it would be a lot harder to impersonate someone with this high a profile.”

Keller let out a long, audible, nearly disgusted sigh. “Yeah. Which means it’s likely really her.”

“And narrows the odds of her lying about her connection to Lucas.”

“But her scummy parents could still have been lying.” Keller tried not to sound too hopeful.

“Could have.” Shane gave him a level look. “You really don’t want this to be true?”

And that quickly Shane found the button to push, the one that made Keller feel a bit scummy himself. “I guess I kind of got more attached than I expected,” he muttered.

“Easy to understand. He’s a good kid.”

“Yeah.”

“Lily thought you might be thinking about making it permanent. Adopting him yourself.”

Keller’s mouth twisted. “Your wife,” he said, “is way too perceptive.”

“You’re telling me?” Shane said it in the way of a very contented husband.

“Well, that’s certainly on hold now.” Keller let out a compressed breath. “I know I should be glad that Lucas has a blood relative who wants him. I’m just…wary.”

“Of course you are. So am I. Enough that I’ll do a background check and verify what I can about this.” He gestured at the bio. “And even if that checks out, we’ll stay wary until we’re sure she has his best interests at heart, that this isn’t just some temporary whim she’ll lose interest in once she has to deal with the reality of a teenage boy still dealing with a lot of emotional baggage.”

That easily Shane explained Keller’s own reservations. And made it clear which side he was on. Just as Keller would, Shane would stand for Lucas.

“Thanks,” he said. It came out low, and a little wobbly.

“Shut up,” Shane said amiably. “Now let’s go dump all this on Sean, too. He’s been a bit too short of work lately, and a Sean at loose ends gets into trouble.”

That made Keller grin; Shane’s younger brother was a unique and gifted soul. And a brave one, since he had barely blinked at the idea of the redoubtable Mrs. Valencia as his mother-in-law.

He followed Shane out and down the hall to the detective’s office, a little amazed that he was smiling.

Chapter Twelve

Sydney strolled more than walked along Main Street. The luscious scents emanating from the bakery named Kolaches almost drew her in. The name made her smile; although the treat had originated in Central Europe, she’d first had it at a breakfast in South London. The smile widened as she passed the Western store named Yippee Ki Yay, which got her to thinking about her reaction when she’d first realized she’d be coming to Texas.

She’d seen enough movies growing up—her parents thought nothing of parking her in a theater for a few hours, to watch the same film two or three times in a row until they were ready to deal with her again—and enough of those had been Westerns that she’d pretty much had a Hollywood idea of Texas in her imagination. So far, some of it had been proven to be typical exaggeration and fictional—not everyone wore a cowboy hat or boots, and as many didn’t have what she guessed they’d call a Texas drawl as did. But a lot of it seemed to hold. The independent spirit, the “go big or go home” outlook, and, she had to admit, the friendliness. Her seatmate on the flight, a charming woman headed home to Tyler, had told her Texans were the friendliest people around, but at the same time the “Don’t Mess With Texas” sentiment was more than just a bumper sticker.

She was pondering the truth of that as she paused once more at the statue in front of the library. She read the plaque again, describing how Asa Fuhrmann had made a run for more ammunition when the Last Stand fighters were pinned down in the saloon, had carried back enough to let them hold on, but suffered a fatal wound in the process. It was odd—she’d come across many monuments to heroes in her travels, had seen people who would fight for their country if asked, but here it seemed no one waited to be asked, they just did what had to be done. There was something special about that.

What had to be done. Her gaze slid down to the second plaque, below the damaged section of the pedestal on which Asa Fuhrmann stood. And now that she had met Shane Highwater, she had no trouble believing it had happened exactly as the short description said; he was clearly a man who took his job seriously, and to heart. And after facing death in the form of a terrorist wearing a suicide vest, what was a mere pulling someone out of a burning vehicle?

She was sure there must be some less-than-stellar sorts who lived in this huge, varied state. And she’d seen enough from naysayers, who had nothing but criticism for the state and its people. But so far she hadn’t encountered anyone she would apply those criticisms to. The woman on the plane had also told Sydney that Texans didn’t care when outsiders criticized them or insulted them. “It just means they won’t come to Texas and try and change us,” she said. “Leave Texas to us, because we love it just the way it is.”

Sydney had thought that a wonderful way to feel about your home.

And a feeling she’d never had, because she’d never really had a home, not in that way at least. She was American because her parents had been, but she hadn’t spent more than six months at a time on American soil until she’d broken away from them. And it had taken her a while to realize the near constant ache inside had been a wish that she’d grown up here. Maybe even here in Texas, in a small town like Last Stand. A town with a charming Main Street vibe, and indeed friendly people, a sense of community, with a shared history, and a whimsical touch with the establishment called the Last Stand Saloon directly across the street from the staid, stone courthouse.

She remembered what Frank had told her about that saloon and its place in Last Stand history. That it was actually the foundation of Last Stand history. She was tempted to go take a look, but the fact that the brother of the chief of police—Keller Rafferty’s best friend—ran the place made her hesitate.

I’ll need sustenance for that.

She smiled at herself, knowing deep down she’d just been looking for an excuse to go back and dive into that bakery, to buy something sinful and rich and full of luscious calories.

She ended up with a turnover type thing with the lightest, flakiest pastry she’d ever seen, and the most amazing filling that the gray-haired woman at the counter had assured her was made from the first harvest of fresh, locally grown peaches. When she took her first bite, before she’d even left the bakery, Sydney believed it; she’d never tasted anything peachier. It was nirvana in a layer of flaky dough.

She’d turned around, intending to back the door open so she didn’t drop a single precious crumb, when the door suddenly opened behind her. It threw her off a little, and she nearly collided with the man who stood there holding the door. Belatedly she realized he was holding it open for her. More of those Texas manners. Or maybe not; this guy was wearing a baseball cap. Then again, as she’d already noted, not everyone here wore a cowboy hat all the time. But the cap had a big T on it, and a Lone Star flag patch on the side, so she revised her revised guess.

“Thanks,” she said with a wide smile. A smile that froze as, a bit too late, she looked at his face. That chiseled, strong-jawed, brilliant green-eyed face.

Keller Rafferty.

“You’re welcome,” he said politely.

“I…the peach is great,” she said, more than a little lamely, lifting the turnover with the big bite gone.

“I gather,” he said, one corner of his mouth twitching. Then, oddly, he lifted a hand and reached toward her, as if he were going to touch her face. Then he seemed to catch himself and pulled back. “You’re wearing a little of it.”

“Oh.” She swiped at her mouth with the napkin they’d given her with the pastry. “Thanks,” she said, wondering if he’d really been going to wipe away the bit of peach filling with his fingers.

Wondering what that would have felt like.

“Here for something sweet?” she asked, then groaned inwardly when something flickered in his vivid eyes.

But he didn’t take the unintended bait. “You could say that,” he answered levelly. “I’m here to drop off a check.”

“Hey, Keller, we can’t afford to air-condition the whole town!”

The words came from the woman who had been behind the counter but had now walked over to them. She was smiling at him widely, taking any sting out of the words.

“Sorry, Mrs. Parsons,” he said. He pulled a folded check out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Mom says hello, and thanks for doing this.”

“We’ll make it special for that clever brother of yours.”

“I know you will. And I’ll close the door now.”

“Our power bill thanks you,” she said, reaching up to pat his cheek as if he were a precocious child instead of a tall, muscled chunk of man.

“Make what special?” Sydney asked when the door had closed and they’d stepped clear of the entrance.

“My youngest brother’s birthday cake for this weekend.”

“Youngest? How many do you have?”

“Three.” He eyed her narrowly. “And if that was a trick question, I should explain that I look at Lucas more as a son than a brother.”

She hadn’t expected that headfirst dive into the chasm between them. But she fielded it as best she could. “It wasn’t. I just have no idea what that must be like. Being an only of onlies myself.”

He studied her for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“What?”

“That all your relatives are dead. Or that there isn’t…someone else, some other family.”

She let out a compressed breath. “Believe me, it occurred to me to wonder, once I found out how much they’d lied about. But as far as I could backtrack, I couldn’t find anyone. Not that I’m an expert at it.”

“My mother could help with that. She’s big on family roots, knows all the websites and how to track.”

She stared at him. He was being…not just polite, but nice. And she didn’t know why. “Frank told me she had ancestors who fought at the actual last stand.”

He nodded. “Been to the saloon yet?”

“No.” She hesitated, then gestured with the turnover. “I decided I needed nourishment before I ran into the police chief’s brother.”

He laughed. And damn it, he had a great laugh. And as if that wasn’t enough, he had a dimple that flashed in his right cheek. “Slater’s an entirely different kettle of fish than Shane,” he said. “And he doesn’t bite. He’ll leave you in the dust conversationally, but he’s a good guy.”

“Like his brother?”

“Yes. Although it didn’t used to be so good between them. They were always butting heads. Joey fixed that, though.”

“Joey?”

“The assistant librarian. And Slater’s wife now.”

She blinked. “The saloonkeeper married a librarian?”

“Sounds like a bad rom-com, doesn’t it?”

She couldn’t help chuckling at that. Inwardly, she wasn’t sure what was unsettling her more, that he was talking to her so easily—no, nicely—or that she was enjoying it so much. She didn’t know what else to say, so she took another bite of the turnover.

“Come on, I’ll show you the saloon. If you want to know about Last Stand, that’s where you start.”

She’d been going to go anyway, and she couldn’t think of any inoffensive reason to turn him down—especially while he was inclined to be nice; he was her access to Lucas, after all—so she simply nodded. She thought about offering him a bite of the turnover, but the idea of sharing food she’d had her mouth on felt rather too intimate with this man, so she didn’t.

She’d finished by the time they crossed the street between the courthouse and the saloon, and dropped the wrapping and the napkin—would he really have touched her to wipe her face?—in a convenient trash receptacle on the corner.

Moments later she was staring at the outside wall of the limestone building. Not at the plaque a couple of feet away, but at the oddly hollowed out indentations in the limestone near the front doors.

“Are those…?”

“Bullet holes. Yes.” He pointed at one in particular, and when she looked, she saw something discolored and misshapen buried deep in the stone. “And the occasional actual bullet. Or more accurately, a musket ball. We’re guessing based on size and range this one came from an 1812 Tower flintlock.”

She had no idea what that meant, but it still gave her a shiver. “It’s…eerie, almost. To see that, left from all those years ago. To realize there was an actual battle here.”

“It was the only place built of stone, that could stand up to the fire from Santa Anna’s troops. Everybody who could get here holed up inside.”

“Including your ancestors?”

“Yes,” he answered, easily enough. “My great times five grandparents. He died here. She was reloading her husband’s rifles until he fell, then she grabbed one up and started shooting herself. And helped them hold out long enough to convince the troops outside this little outpost wasn’t worth the lives they were losing to a band of Texas sharpshooters.”

She stared at him, more interested by the tale than she cared to admit. She dug back to what little she knew about this period in American history. “Was this before or after the Alamo?”

“After,” Keller said, looking oddly approving at her question. “So they knew what would happen to them if they lost.” His voice went very soft then. “She was eighteen. Already the mother of two.”

She stared at the plaque on the front of the building that told the story, and again at the pockmarks of bullet holes that marred the stone. There was something chill-inducing at seeing, over a century and a half later, this real evidence of the fight.

“Good for you,” she murmured to the young woman she would never know, except in the descendants she had left. She felt another shiver creep down her spine, not of cold but of something else entirely. “This is one of those places,” she said.

“I know what it is to us, but what do you mean?”

“There are very few places I’ve been in the world where…” She hesitated, wondering if he’d find it silly, then plunged on. “Places where I can actually sense the…spirit, if you will, of the people who died there. As if their will to live, to fight was so strong it still lingers. This is now one of them.”

She glanced at him, to see if he was, as people often did, laughing at her fancifulness.

Keller Rafferty was looking at her as if she’d said something remarkable. And then, as if on a sudden impulse, he said, “Come on in. I’ll introduce you to Slater—there was a Highwater here for the fight, too—and buy you a drink.”

“A bit early for me,” she said.

He grinned. It was killer. “He makes a wicked peach lemonade.”

“More fresh local peaches?”

“Absolutely.”

“Is he going to…interrogate me?”

His expression turned serious, and he accurately guessed what she was thinking. “Shane would never discuss a personal situation without permission, if that’s what you’re worried about. Come on, I want to show you something. About that ancestor of mine.”

She gave in then, telling herself this was a fascinating place and she was merely curious. It had nothing to do with Keller Rafferty’s sudden niceness.

Or his killer grin.

Chapter Thirteen

“Hey, Slater. Meet Sydney.”

She gave him a quick glance, and Keller knew she’d noticed he wasn’t hesitating on her name anymore. He’d resigned himself to the apparent fact that she was, at least, who she said she was. Whether she was who she said she was in relation to Lucas, he’d be waiting for the test results.

Slater Highwater looked at Sydney with assessing interest, and Keller was suddenly reminded he’d hadn’t brought a woman in here in…well, longer than he could remember just now. Not that this was anything like…that. Still, he was oddly thankful that none of the few people here this early in the day looked familiar.

“Welcome to Last Stand,” Slater said to her.

“Thanks,” Sydney said, and Keller couldn’t help but notice that, unlike a lot of women, she didn’t stand there gaping at Slater’s blue-green eyes. But then, his wedding ring was in plain view, so maybe that reined her in. Not that it would stop some. But she seemed more interested in the original drawing of the saloon that hung on the wall behind him.

He ordered up a couple of the lemonade specialties—somehow Slater had found the perfect balance of peach sweet and lemon tart—and as they were poured asked, “So what’s the quote of the day?”

Slater lifted a brow at him as he answered, “‘The empty vessel makes the greatest sound.’”

Sydney grinned. “Shakespeare in a saloon. He’d like that.”

“That he would,” Slater agreed with a smile, and tossed a maraschino cherry in each tall, cool glass before he slid them across the bar.

So she’d been right about the source. He’d read some Shakespeare, but not enough for him to pull that out of the air. She apparently had and could.

A small group of obvious tourists had come in after them, so Keller merely thanked him and got them both out of the way.

“Quote of the day?” she asked. “He has one every day?”

“Pretty much.” He gave her a considering look. “The guy’s a genius. Certifiable. With a master’s degree in philosophy.”

“Wow. But he’s here running a saloon?”

He led her over to a quiet booth in the back before saying, “He went for happy instead of famous.” He smiled as they sat down. “And he says there’s no better place than a saloon to polish up your philosophy.”

“I imagine he has a point.” She looked around the interior of the saloon. “Especially this saloon. If it wasn’t for that sense of the people who died here, and the scars outside, it would be hard to believe there was fighting here, let alone a full-on siege.”

“It was definitely a siege,” Keller said. “When they chose Last Stand for the town’s name, it was appropriate.”

“Are there many people connected to the last stand still here, like your family, and the Highwaters?”

“A lot, in fact.”

She let out a sigh he barely heard. Perhaps because he was so focused on watching her pluck the cherry off the top of the lemonade and plop it in her mouth. She seemed to be sucking the drops off, then pulled the stem free and laid it on a napkin. A simple act he’d seen dozens of times. So why did it put him into overdrive now? He looked down at his own glass before she started on the pit. He scrambled to remember what they’d been talking about, and for something to say about it.

“Probably seems strange to you, staying in once place for generations,” he finally got out.

“Different,” she corrected. “And in many ways, wonderful.”

There was an undertone in her voice, a sort of almost wistfulness that tugged at him. He’d never wanted to live anywhere but here, although he intellectually understood those who wanted to see the world. But he’d never thought about what it must be like to be someone who had seen much of the world, but never had a place to really call home. It wasn’t in him to live like that, and he knew it.

“The roots of a born Texan go deep,” he said. Then, after a beat, he added, “They have to, to survive the place.”

She laughed, and it made him feel…he wasn’t sure what.

“Your five times great-grandmother survived, though, right?”

He nodded. “That’s what I was going to show you.” He reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He pulled out the folded, well-worn piece of paper next to his cash. “We all carry a copy of this. Used to be just a copy of the words, but then Cody—the birthday brother—had the idea to scan the original so we could each have it in her own hand.”

He unfolded it carefully. Traced, as he always did, the ragged line of the edge of torn paper, the brownish smear that they suspected was the blood of the man the writer of this short note had fought beside.

“Looks like it’s time for a new copy,” she said.

“Soon,” he agreed as he slid it over to her; he didn’t need to look at it, for the words had long ago been committed to memory.

My little loves,

Things are looking bad here. Your father is down, and I fear he is gone. This may well be our last stand, but we fight on. We are outnumbered, outgunned, the only hope we have now is that this Texas stone will hold. But if it does not, know that we loved you with all our hearts.

You are Texas born and bred, so I know you will survive even if we do not. Never forget that you are proud sons of this land we love. Make your own stand here, and never run. That is all that is required of a Texian.

They are circling back now, and we must be ready. If this is goodbye, my beloved boys, then so it must be. Know that you are ever and always loved.

Your mother

He knew when she reached the end by the way she blinked rapidly. And swallowed visibly. Then she looked up at him. “She wrote this during the actual battle?”

He nodded. “She clearly thought she, too, would die. She wanted them to know how much she loved them.”

She gave a slow shake of her head. “Wow. Just…wow.”

“If she had died, we likely never would have seen it. If they followed the pattern of the troops who took the Alamo, it would have burned up with her body.”

She looked at the page again, gently touched the dark smear. “I’ve seen sites where awful things happened, all over the world. Oddly, I’ve never had the nerve to go to the Alamo.”

“You should. If you want to understand Texas, anyway.”

“I do. I need to understand. For Lucas.” She looked up again. “Don’t I?”

He nodded. “Lucas is a Texan. He’ll never voluntarily leave.” He left it at that, because in his mind that said it all.

“What is it about this place?” She sounded as if she were musing out loud.

“I could give you a list, but it would be meaningless to you. Some things you just have to learn for yourself.”

“I’ve…never felt that way about anywhere.”

He leaned back, considering. Remembering what she’d told him. Compared it to his own history, thinking back to those Texians referred to on that page, those who had been here since the land had belonged to Mexico, and who had fought to free it. “It sounds as if you were never given the chance to.”

She shrugged as if it didn’t matter.

Or as if it hurt too much.

“Do your parents know where you are, what you’re doing?” He wasn’t sure what made him ask. Maybe it was just the difficulty he was having imagining a life like the one she’d led. Because he was fairly certain now that when Shane got the background check back on her, it would say it was all true.

“No.”

“Do they even care?”

“No.” He didn’t know what to say to that, so said nothing. And after a moment she gave a slow shake of her head. “And here you are, with proof that even your five times great-grandmother cared enough for her children to write this—” she touched the worn page almost reverently, nearly the same way he did “—when she was in danger of dying in the next moment.”

“Yes. And she inspired my father to do the same.”

“Your father?”

“Each time he was deployed, he knew there was a chance he wouldn’t come home. So every time, he wrote us each a letter.”

He saw her blink rapidly. She lowered her gaze, and he saw her bite her lip before she said, “That’s beautiful.”

“He knew just how to word it, what to talk about, to each one of us, because…he knew us. Individually. And what he’d given us. Me, the love of the ranch. Chance, the love of country. Ry, his artistic talent. And Cody, his tactical mind.”

“And your family is still that way.”

“Pretty much, yes. We pull together.”

There was a prolonged, silent moment. She took a long draw on the straw in her lemonade. Keller abandoned the straw, preferring a good, healthy gulp. When she looked up at him again, those golden eyes were a bit too shiny.

“A real family.”

He nodded. “Lucas’s parents were the same way. They were very, very close. From what he’s said they adored him, and he knew it. I think that was one of the reasons he had so much trouble. Why he couldn’t stand another day at the group home.”

She lowered her gaze then, and when she swiped at her eyes, he told himself he couldn’t be sure if this was real or an act. Except…he was starting to believe her. Things were starting to stack up in favor of her tale being true. He would, of course, wait for the DNA results, and Shane’s investigation, but…

Another long stretch of silence spun out between them. She sipped her lemonade, he took another couple of big swallows. Finally she looked up at him again.

“Frank told me…about your father.”

His fingers tightened around his glass. He consciously loosened them. “Did he?”

“He said you were only seventeen, but you held the family together.”

He let out a compressed breath. “No. That was my mother. We would have scattered to the four winds by now if not for her.”

“So you stayed to take care of her?”

That idea blasted away the remnants of the grief that had tried to rise up anew. And he laughed. “My mother doesn’t need anyone to take care of her. She’s a dynamo, a force of nature, the brightest star in the sky, take your pick of clichés. There’s nobody in this town who wouldn’t stop and listen if she had something to say.” His mouth quirked. “Which she often does.”

“She sounds…amazing.”

“She is. She’s…our gravity. Our center.”

“You love her.”

“I do. We all do. And she us. That’s been the one certainty of all our lives.”

Something came into those golden eyes then, a look of longing mixed with sadness that wrenched at his gut. This much, that she had never known that kind of love, he believed now, because that look in her eyes was proof enough. And he couldn’t imagine what growing up like that must have been like. Even if she was a fake, if this was all some kind of scam for some reason they didn’t know yet, he still felt sorry for the child she’d been. He—

“Hey, Rafferty.”

His head snapped around at the feminine voice. A familiar voice. Brittany Roth stood there holding her own lemonade in a to-go cup, clad in her usual jeans and worn cowboy boots, today paired with a summer tank top. A tank top that displayed a rather vivid bruise on her left shoulder.

He stood up. “Britt,” he said. He made a quick introduction to Sydney, by name only, which both women acknowledged with a brief hello and nice-to-meet-you. And then with a nod at the bruise, he added, “Ouch.”

“Yeah. You can thank your brother for that.”

“Uh-oh. Which one?” He already knew the answer, but it was a game they played.

“As if you don’t know. Cody and his damned creations. One of them spooked my mare and she threw me.”

He raised a brow at her. “That’s not an easy task.”

“Flattery from you won’t get your brother a pass.”

“Wasn’t flattering. I know how hard it would be for you to take a header. Or in this case, a shoulder.”

“Ha-ha. Just tell him if I see one of those things again, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

“I’ll pass along the warning. Or was it a threat?”

“I’m not sure yet,” she said wryly.

As he watched her go, Keller slowly sat down again. Saw that Sydney was watching him assessingly. Very assessingly. And it suddenly occurred to him that, if the story and the bio on the website were true, he wasn’t just dealing with some lost soul with a horrible life story. Or even someone who might have a legitimate claim on Lucas.

He was dealing with a business powerhouse.

Chapter Fourteen

“Old friend?” Sydney asked, glancing at the departing woman one last time before she stepped out the door of the saloon. There hadn’t seemed to be any sparks between her and Keller. Why that would matter, or why she’d even thought it, she wasn’t sure. Or wouldn’t admit.

“Lifetime neighbor. Her family’s ranch backs up to ours.”

She took another long draw on her straw as she pondered. Someone he’d known for years, yet he still stood when she’d approached them. She found that…she wasn’t sure what. Nice, probably, after some of the places she’d been where women were still chattel, or worse.

“She looked like she would live on a ranch.”

He seemed to stiffen. “Meaning?”

“Those boots weren’t for show.”

“Oh.” He relaxed again, and she found herself liking that he’d bridled—she smiled inwardly at the horsey-sounding word—at the perceived insult to a friend.

“But that was a nasty bruise.”

“She’s had worse.” At her look, he explained. “She’s a barrel racer, and trains barrel horses. It comes with the territory.”

Her brow furrowed. She had no idea exactly what a barrel racer was. But something else seemed more important at the moment.

“She seemed…upset.”

He shrugged. “She and Cody are at odds again. They’re the same age and they never did get along.”

“This is the birthday boy?” He nodded. “And his…creations?”

“That’s ‘damned creations,’” he corrected, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Cody’s a serious tech-head.”

“What’s he building? Robots?” She had a vision of some huge mechanical horse lumbering across the Texas hills.

“Drones.”

She blinked. “The flying kind?”

He nodded. “He’s been trying to build the perfect drone for years.”

“Perfect?” Didn’t the military have the best and brightest already doing that?

“For him, that means silent.”

“Oh. They aren’t?”

“They can be, on battery power. But their range on battery is so limited they aren’t of great use. So they need engines, and those make noise.” He nodded toward where the woman had been standing. “I’m guessing that’s what spooked Britt’s horse.”

“Oh.”

She sat silently for a moment. Watched as he finished the last of the admittedly delicious and startlingly reviving peach lemonade. He fished out the cherry, and she pondered the fact that he’d left it until the end. She’d say saving the best for last, if the lemonade itself hadn’t been so good. She wondered what that said about each of them, that she’d gobbled it first, as if afraid it wouldn’t be there when she was done, and that he’d left it until he was done, as if…he’d had to earn it. She had the strangest feeling she’d stumbled onto something important, although she couldn’t say exactly why.

Just as she couldn’t say exactly when she’d given up thinking of him as Mr. Rafferty.

He dropped the stem and pit back into the glass. She quickly finished her own lemonade, not wanting to make him wait around. Because he would. The man was nothing if not polite. That corny Southern gentleman stuff wasn’t a myth.

She put her empty down on the napkin and slid it back a little. “Where do we put the glasses?”

“Nowhere,” he said, but he was looking past her and nodding. “Somebody needs something to do. Or an excuse to come over.”

Puzzled, she looked around just as a young man wearing an apron appeared at the table.

“’Lo, Mr. Keller.”

“Hi, Luke. How goes it?”

“’Kay,” the young man said, not even looking at her. In fact, he was barely looking at Keller, whom he obviously knew. “Thank you. For helping.”

Keller just smiled. “No more, my friend. Three thank-yous are my limit. How’s the computer working out?”

The young man—he looked not much more than a boy—raised his head, and now he was smiling. “Great. Perfect.”

“Good,” Keller said with a warm smile. “I’ll tell Cody.”

“Tell him…thanks. From me,” he added.

“I will.”

She looked at Keller curiously when the boy gathered up their glasses, put them carefully in the plastic tray he carried, and headed off toward the bar. “Computer?”

“Cody builds systems, among other things, and he and Sean Highwater built one for him. He’s got some…issues communicating, and they designed it specifically to help him with that.”

“Together? So they’re friends, too?”

“Yes. Sean’s a couple of years older, but they’ve got the computer and tech stuff in common, so they relate well.”

“Is he…allowed to work in a saloon? Age-wise, I mean?”

“He’s older than most people think.”

“So it’s the…communication issue that makes him seem younger.” Keller nodded. “And yet the other Highwater brother hired him.”

“Yes.” He tapped a finger on the table. “He thought it might help him. And it has. He’s got the history of the saloon down pat now, and can give the spiel to tourists without a pause. That’s close to a miracle, his folks say. And Slater says he does a better job cleaning up than the last two helpers he had in here.”

“He thanked you, too.” He only shrugged. “While very expressive,” she said pointedly, “a shrug is not an answer.”

“Didn’t hear a question.”

Was he truly avoiding answering, or was he just trying to be annoying because it was her asking? “Then let me rephrase. Why did he thank you, in addition to your brother and yet another Highwater brother?”

He let out a breath as if he were the one annoyed. She let the silence draw out until he finally said, “I…might have suggested to Slater he give the guy a shot.”

It didn’t surprise her. She sat back against the upholstered back of the booth seat. Remembered her discussion with Ranger Buckley. “So that’s a habit of yours? Helping out?”

“It’s a habit of Texans,” he retorted.

“Along with extravagant pride in your home state.”

“No.” At her look, he went on. “Extravagant implies unwarranted. Not the case.” She couldn’t stop her smile. “Amused, are you?” he drawled.

“I just like the way you put that.”

“Coherently, you mean?”

She gave him a sour look. “And here I was thinking how nice you’ve been.” He blinked at that, looking disconcerted enough that she risked going on. “And wondering why.”

He lowered his gaze, then started tapping on the table again. She wondered if he simply wasn’t used to just sitting still, and it resulted in this small tic of a sort. Although he hadn’t done it during the meeting at the inn. But that had been pretty intense, so maybe it was a mental outlet as well as physical.

Meaning he was bored? That this—she—wasn’t holding his attention as that meeting had?

Rein it in, Syd.

She nearly laughed out loud at herself as she realized she’d used yet another horsey-related figure of speech.

“So,” she said when he didn’t speak, “why are you being nice to me?”

He looked up at her again. Answered, but didn’t. “Lark says she believes that you believe you’re telling the truth about your connection to Lucas.”

“I am. What do you believe?”

There was a long moment of silence before he said, “That I misjudged you in the beginning.”

She hadn’t expected him to admit that, this quickly or even at all. “Thank you.”

He grimaced slightly. “I just mean I don’t think you’re after money. Obviously you don’t need what small amount you might finagle out of Lucas’s inheritance.”

She drew back, stung. Just? Meaning he thought she was after something else…nefarious? Then the rest of what he’d said registered. “And just how would you know I don’t need it?”

His mouth quirked then. “Apparently every female in my family and Shane’s shop at your online store. And they all say it’s a big deal.”

She hadn’t expected that. And couldn’t deny that the answer, if not his grudging admission, pleased her. “Oh. I’m glad to hear it.”

“How’d you get into that?”

She shrugged. “All the traveling, I kept seeing people who created useful tools that were also beautiful. Many of them were living in poverty, but making things I knew could be sold and improve their standard of living. Except they had no way to expand their reach beyond their local region, had no access to marketing. So I started with just a small storefront, and…it ballooned.”

“And you stayed with it.”

“So far. Although it’s established enough now, with reps all over, that I don’t have to do as much as I used to. Which means I can spend time with Lucas,” she added, turning the conversation back to the most important thing to her right now. “You said you don’t think I’m after money. Which infers you think I’m after something else. What?”

“I don’t know. And I’m not going to spend time and energy on speculating between now and when the DNA results come back. Which, by the way, Shane says may take a while.”

“What, you mean it’s not like on TV and done in half an hour?” she said dryly.

He didn’t laugh. “There’s a newer kind of test that can match out as far as second cousins.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Neither did I. Or Shane, for that matter, but Sean did. That’s the kind of thing he keeps up with. But this test takes longer. And since it’s not part of a police case, they can’t put a rush on it.”

“I’d think the chief would put in a word, good buddies that you are. Surely just his position carries weight.”

“It does. As does his name, anywhere in Texas and a good many places all over the country. But he wouldn’t. Only time he’s ever used that weight for personal reasons was to find his missing brother.”

Her brow furrowed. “Wait, which brother was missing?”

“Kane. The youngest brother.”

“The handyman. Lark’s fiancé?” At his nod she asked, “He was missing?” Was this the long story Lark had alluded to?

“For nearly thirteen years.”

Her eyes widened. “Wow. What—”

“Long story. And not—”

“Yours to tell. Yeah, I’ve been getting that a bit.”

He shrugged. “Lot of history in this town. Old and new.”

“Including yours.”

He went still. “Mine?”

“I’m just looking out for my cousin. And that would include knowing more about the man who took him in.”

He stood up abruptly. “That,” he said flatly, “is none of your business until and unless we know you’re really his cousin.”

She frowned suddenly. “Wait, does that mean you’re going to try to stop me from even seeing him until those results come back?”

“No.” She felt a rush of relief. It lasted until she realized that answer could be interpreted two ways, that he wouldn’t stop her, or…that he wouldn’t try, he would succeed.

Before she could formulate a response he turned on his heel, toward the doors. “Keller?” she said before he took a step. He stopped. And it was a moment before he looked back. She wondered if it was because this was the first time she’d called him by his first name to his face. Or his back, as it were.

“What?” He sounded just as frosted as he had when he’d stood up.

“Thanks for the lemonade,” she said.

He let out a short, compressed breath. She couldn’t tell if he was irritated or amused. “You’re welcome.”

She watched him head for the door, once more pondering the way he moved, with that long-legged, powerful stride.

And enjoying the view a little too much.

Chapter Fifteen

“What’s going on?”

Keller looked at Lucas, who stood there with his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face as he spoke in a demanding tone. Inwardly, he was glad to hear that tone, because it meant the boy felt secure enough to use it.

“I’m guessing you don’t mean this,” he said, nodding at the fence they had been working on repairing since Lucas had gotten home from school.

Lucas gave him the kind of look the deflection deserved. “I’m not stupid. You’re all looking at me funny. You have been all week.”

“It’s only Tuesday,” Keller pointed out.

“So you’re gonna be stupid?”

Keller couldn’t help it, he grinned. “Got me.”

That seemed to relax the boy a little. He’d been pondering what to say when the kid inevitably realized something was going on—Lucas was smart, and quick—but all he knew for sure was the most important thing. The truth. So he started with that.

“I won’t lie to you, Lucas. There is something going on, but I’m not sure you need to worry about it yet, if ever. If you do, I promise you I’ll tell you.”

Lucas’s brow furrowed. “But you’re worried about it?”

“A little. But I’m waiting on some news before I get really worried.”

“News?”

He hadn’t wanted to use the word evidence because of the implications; Lucas indeed was far from stupid. “Just something that’s being checked on. Once I know that, then the…problem will either go away and be forgotten, or we’ll have a full family meeting about it to decide what to do.”

Lucas dropped his gaze, studied the toes of the shoes they’d surreptitiously borrowed from Cody. It was a moment before the boy said, quietly, “Does that include me?”

“Of course it does, cowboy,” Keller said, putting as much support as he could into the words. It was funny, how he’d only been considering making this permanent, adopting the kid, but now that it was possible he might not be able to, it had solidified into actually wanting that. Want to know how much you want something, just have somebody come along and threaten to take it away. He shook off the thought and focused on reassuring Lucas. “But for right now, let the adults worry about it.”

Lucas’s mouth twisted wryly. “Maybe I’m not in such a hurry to get older after all.”

Keller couldn’t help laughing. “That wisdom right there proves you are growing up. But to grow up you have to eat, and if we don’t finish this fence, Mom will never feed us again.”

Lucas’s head came up sharply. “You mean we’d have to eat your cooking?”

“Or worse, Chance’s.”

“Yikes,” Lucas said, with an appropriate amount of horror.

“Yeah. You know what that means. If it can’t be eaten as it comes, doesn’t come out of a sealed packet, or can’t be tossed in a microwave, Chance doesn’t do food.”

“Then why does he do the grocery shopping so much?”

“Because everybody’s got to pull their weight. He doesn’t cook, so he has to go get the stuff to be cooked.” Keller suspected that solution had also been Mom’s way to make sure Chance had some human interaction, otherwise he’d probably hole up in his cabin in the west quadrant with his dogs and never come out.

“Oh,” Lucas said. Then, brow furrowed, he asked, “He doesn’t always eat with us, though.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Is that because of his dogs?”

“A lot of the time, yes.” But not all.

“I think it’s cool, that he gives a home to the military dogs no one else will take.”

Keller smiled, although it wasn’t a steady one. “So do we, buddy.”

And not just for the sake of the dogs. Sometimes he thought the only reason his brother was still around was to see to them, and he hated the idea. But Chance had been through so much, had paid not just a physical cost, but the price of his peace of mind to serve his country.

Just as their father had paid the ultimate price.

It was after dinner—during which he’d warned Cody that Britt was after him for spooking one of her horses again—when Lucas had gone off to his room to do his homework that Mom turned those vivid blue eyes on him and asked, “Any news on the newcomer front?”

He gave them the rundown on what had happened today, both the news from Shane and his unexpected encounter with Sydney Brock.

For Chance, this was the first he’d heard of the business she’d begun. “So she’s not likely after money. Either from Lucas, or us, to buy her off.”

“No,” Keller said.

“I’ve checked out that company,” Rylan said, surprising them. “I did it after Mom gave me that carving. Found out they carry stuff from some people I’ve met.”

“Other artists, you mean?” Keller asked.

Rylan grimaced. Keller knew he never considered himself an artist, but rather a craftsman. But the rest of the country had hung that tag on him, and it had stuck. “Yeah. People who probably wouldn’t be able to sell their work otherwise, at least not enough to make a living. They’re doing a good thing.”

“Do you feel differently about her now that you’ve spent a little…less antagonistic time with her?” Mom asked Keller, rather carefully.

“My mother, the soul of tact,” Keller teased.

“I have my moments,” she said with a grin. “And I have all evening to wait for an answer,” she added.

He smothered a sigh. “She said her parents don’t know or care where she is or what she’s doing. That she’s never felt about anywhere the way we feel about Texas. She was in awe about our ancestors at the last stand, and was amazed that they thought of their children then. She even said she could…feel them there, the fighters, as if their spirits linger.” He took a deep breath. “And she had tears in her eyes when she talked about us being a real family.”

“Well, damn,” Chance muttered.

“My sentiments exactly,” Keller said.

“You feeling sorry for her, big bro?” Cody asked.

Keller thought of the woman he’d seen so far, her quick wit, the toughness it had taken to survive her early life—and her parents—and the smarts and effort it had likely taken to build a worldwide business. And he thought of the way she’d sounded talking about the spirit of those who had fought, and about never having felt that way about anyplace she’d ever been, which he already knew was a very, very long list.

And then he thought of her eyes, and the way tears had pooled there, as she was no doubt thinking of her parents. Neglectful, uncaring, apparently even abusive, emotionally anyway. And yet she’d still done what she’d done, turned her life and her travels into a successful enterprise.

“No,” he said slowly. “She’s not the kind of woman you feel sorry for.”

Admire? Respect? Marvel at? Yes, all that.

Get the hots for?

Uh-oh.

Okay, so she was beautiful. Even with the two-tone hair. Which was really a silly thing to get stuck on, considering the owner of the most popular hair salon in town, Bella’s, had at one time or another had her hair every color of the rainbow, and sometimes all at once. He remembered seeing her and her husband, Dr. Graham McBride, at the Christmas ball last year, and she’d done a red and green thing with sparkly stuff that had everybody smiling.

He, of course, had been there with his mother. And fortunately, she was of such standing in town that nobody was about to comment on the fact that yet again the oldest Rafferty was dateless. Well, except his mother herself; she had no shortage of opinion on his stubbornly single status, which he had no intention of changing. He’d done that once, and it had descended into ugly chaos so quickly it had been embarrassing.

No, he’d stick with the occasional fling or short-term connection where everybody was clear on what would and wouldn’t come of it. No expectations that would go unfulfilled. No trusting your heart to someone who would inevitably break it. Someone who never intended to stay.

“A real family,” his mother said, very quietly. “From everything you’ve told us, it seems as if she has no idea what that even is.”

“She doesn’t,” Keller confirmed.

“Then how does she expect to build one with Lucas?”

“Good point,” Ry said.

“She got a plan, or is she just going to charge in blind?” Chance asked.

Good questions, Keller thought. And he should have thought of them himself. And long before now. But no, he was too distracted by a pair of golden eyes, the quick brain behind them, and a swath of two-tone hair.

But that, he vowed, was going to change.

*

Sydney had done this before, stopped in a local place to adjust her attire so she didn’t stand out so much wearing what she’d had on from wherever she’d flown in from, but she had to admit few places had fascinated her like this one had. The name alone had brought her in; how often did you get to shop in a place called Yippee Ki Yay?

She’d picked out a pair of utilitarian lace-up boots and some jeans that would fit over them, and was wandering the store just looking when a display caught her eye. She walked over and found herself staring in no small amount of awe at the intricate carvings on the small selection of leather belts. One had a field of bluebonnets in seemingly impossible detail, while another had an amazing panorama of the Hill Country between two Lone Star flags. She’d seen this kind and quality of work before, and recently. And if her suspicions were correct—

Before she could finish the thought the clerk who had helped her find the boots came up beside her.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“They are,” she agreed. “Amazing craftsmanship.”

The woman smiled. “The creator would be glad to hear you say that. We keep trying to call him an artist, and he denies it.”

She thought her suspicion was now confirmed, but she asked anyway. “He’s local?”

“Oh, yes. Rylan Rafferty. He’s a famous saddlemaker, but he does these just for us.” The woman grinned. “And if you think this work is gorgeous, you ought to see him.”

She smiled and asked, “Does he live here in town?”

“No, he’s out on their ranch, west of here. All of the Raffertys are.”

Before Sydney could ask anything else, the woman had to leave to answer a ringing phone. Sydney left with her boots, jeans, and information she’d needed but not expected to find so easily. She wanted one of the belts, too, but decided it might be best to wait on that.

Back at the inn later, Sydney stared at her tablet screen as she sat near the creek, under the big pecan tree. It was fairly early in the day, but she could feel the heat building already, and was thankful for the shade. She wasn’t acclimated to Texas, and the forecast she’d glanced at said it was going to be an unseasonably hot spring day. Which apparently happened often enough that she wondered if that “unseasonable” really applied.

She’d read the article that was now on the screen repeatedly—she’d lost track of how many times—because it had taken a while for her to process that she was reading about the deaths of people she’d never known existed, people she was related to, by blood. Family she had never known, never had the chance to know.

But this time something else had registered. That it would be exactly a year since the accident in just a couple of days. She wondered how her cousin felt about that.

They adored him and he knew it.

Keller Rafferty’s words echoed in her head. He’d said them with such certainty she knew it had to be true.

She wondered what it was like, to grow up knowing your parents loved you that much. What it must have been like to be a part of the family, not just a tagalong they had to tolerate. What it must have been like to have been welcomed, wanted.

It must have made losing them…horrific.

Her stomach knotted. She wanted to hug him, hold him, tell him he wasn’t really alone, that he had at least one relative left who cared. But she also knew that it would be a shock to him, since he’d grown up as ignorant as she had, lied to every step of the way.

Her breath caught. His parents had lied to him. Those loving parents he was grieving had lied to him. She’d been so furious with her own parents, she hadn’t really thought about it from Lucas’s point of view. She would have expected it from her parents, but from what Keller had said, Lucas would likely never have expected it from his.

And she hadn’t really thought about the fact that her appearance now meant he would have to know that, accept that. And she couldn’t see any way around that except more lying to him.

It was all starting to give her a headache. She wished she had someone she trusted to talk to about it. But since it was hardly something she liked to discuss, few people had a clue about her parents.

Except Keller Rafferty.

That brought her up short. The idea that a man she’d just met, and a man who was, at least for the moment, an adversary, was the only one who had an inkling about the truth of her family, was disconcerting. True, there was also the intimidating police chief, and the sweet, kind Lark Leclair, but no one knew as much as Keller did.

Sure. Why don’t you just go to him, pour out some more of your pitiful story, and convince him even more you shouldn’t be allowed anywhere around Lucas?

“You’re looking pretty grim.”

She looked up, startled, to see the handyman looking down at her. “Oh. Hi. Yes.”

Well, that sounded stupid, but she guessed any female would be forgiven for forgetting how to talk for a moment; the man was uncannily beautiful. That face, those multicolored hazel eyes, the pure grace of his movements, and that was not even counting his incredible voice.

Oddly, she found that while she could admire him, she preferred Keller’s more rough-hewn, rugged male beauty.

She tried to gather herself. “I’m just…thinking.”

“Good place for it,” he said, taking a seat on the ledge a couple of feet away and indicating what had become her favorite spot at the Hickory Creek Inn with a nod. “Done a share myself here.”

She smiled at him, then said rather wryly, “If I could just calm my brain down a bit, it would help.”

To her surprise, he chuckled. “You’re talking to the wrong guy. I’m kind of all or nothing when it comes to thinking.” Then his expression changed as he added softly, “And sometimes my thinking turns out to be all wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“I spent a lot of years believing a lie.”

She went still. She felt her cheeks heat. “Who told you? Your brother? No, wait, your fiancée. Did she blab my whole sad story?”

He shrugged. “Lark would never do that. She only said you’d been lied to, a big lie, all your life. She knew I could relate.”

She remembered what Keller had told her about this man being missing for all those years. Wondered if they’d believed him dead, as she had believed her aunt and uncle to be dead. “Wanna compare lies?” she asked with a grimace. “I’ll go first. I spent my whole life believing I had no family other than my parents, only to find out I had an aunt and uncle who by all accounts were much better, nicer people.” She grimaced. “Maybe that’s why my parents lied to me, because they knew that.”

“Maybe their own heads were messed up,” he suggested.

She wasn’t sure she was willing to grant them even that much dispensation. “What was your lie?”

“I spent thirteen years believing I murdered the man who was my father in all but blood.”

She felt her jaw drop. She stared at him. “That’s what you believed?”

“Down to my bones, until it even distorted my memories. And letting go of that lie was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.”

“I…wow.”

“Yeah. And I never would have been able to do it without Lark.”

“She’s…an amazing woman.”

“That she is. Besides all the other reasons I love her, she’s the most caring person I’ve ever met.” His expression shifted slightly. “And she says Keller Rafferty is one of the best people she knows. That’s why she went to bat for him, when he wanted to foster Lucas.”

“Seems to be the universal opinion around here. Too bad he hates me.”

“You sure about that?”

“Well,” she amended, “I’m sure he doesn’t trust me.”

“He gets a little protective of the people he cares about. But he’s a good guy. If you give him a chance to be. Just be honest with him.” His mouth quirked. “I’d say you know as well as I do what damage a lie can do. Don’t let it do more than it already has.”

She sat there long after Kane Highwater had left her to go about his varied duties. She was tempted to follow him, in the hopes he’d start singing and she could just listen. But she had some things to work out. She’d had a lot of experience in getting reluctant artists or craftspeople to let her take their work wide. Surely she could convince one man to at least give her a chance?

She sat there by the creek until she had a plan. And then, because it was her way, she set out to implement it, first thing in the morning.

Chapter Sixteen

Keller watched his brother deal with the clearly unsettled dog from a safe distance. He’d learned enough to know staying stock-still was his best course of action, once he’d seen the animal’s ears go down and its hackles up. At first he’d seemed curious, but once Keller had dismounted and taken a step toward him, the demeanor had changed with a jolting swiftness. It took Chance a good two minutes of talking, so quietly Keller couldn’t hear him, to soothe the ruffled, battle-weary veteran.

Takes one to know one.

If there was an axiom that fit his brother’s work with these animals, that was it. Chance took on the tough ones, the edgy ones, the ones others had written off. The ones who’d been headed for a needle full of life-ending drugs, because no one could or would risk handling them. But Chance took them on, and he worked as long as it took. And if the dog who had risked its life to protect its pack—be it a platoon or an individual soldier—never was able to adapt to a new, peaceful life enough to be placed in another home, then he kept it.

He only had three permanent residents right now. And Keller knew at least two of them would die to protect Chance. The problem was, his brother said, their threat assessment was off. As in anyone, human or animal, that came too close was a threat.

The third one was this new arrival, a scarred and battered Belgian Malinois Chance had gone to get two months ago, when he’d gotten word the dog had landed on the euthanasia list after over a year of effort on the part of the military program to rehab him. His handler—a man Chance had once served with—had been killed by a suicide bomber, and the dog had barely survived, losing his left front leg. He’d been shipped home, but once there seemed to view everyone as the enemy. He’d be dead now if one of Chance’s contacts hadn’t called him. Keller didn’t envy him the task of trying to get through to the traumatized creature.

Once he had the dog safely in the run—which was, Chance had explained, in the dog’s mind, a safe place where no one could get to him—he approached again.

“Need something?” Chance asked as he reached him.

“Just making sure you remember we’re heading to Kerrville Saturday.”

“I remember.” Chance wasn’t a social sort, but he knew the same thing they all did about Mom’s orders: they were to be followed. “How’s the kid doing?”

“About like you’d expect.”

Chance gave a weary shake of his head. The weariness fit the touch of premature gray at his temples, and the seen-too-much look in the blue eyes that were a direct gift from their mother. “He’s on a tough road.”

“Double what we went through,” Keller said.

“And add in the…unexpectedness.”

Keller knew Chance meant that with their father being deployed several times, the chance of his death had been ever-present, although rarely mentioned. “Yeah. Anyway, Mom wants to leave right after breakfast, so you might as well come up and eat with us.”

He waited, wondering if his brother’s isolationist tendency would have him saying he’d get there on his own. So he could quietly fade away as soon as he’d fulfilled the family obligation. He could almost see the conflict going on in Chance’s mind.

“I’ll just—”

“He needs us all for this, the first time,” Keller said quietly.

His brother gave in with a sigh as weary as that distant look in his eyes. But his voice was steadier. “All right.” His mouth twisted, and his tone was lighter when he added, “But the food better be worth it.”

“Got to be better than that breakfast in a box stuff you live on,” Keller countered, relieved at the shift.

Chance flipped a rude gesture at him, and Keller laughed. “How’s Dodger doing?” he asked.

“Good,” Chance said. “Really good.”

The German shepherd Chance had taken on nearly six months ago had made great strides. Chance had deduced early on the too-clever animal needed work to do and had had the idea of trying to get him to revert to his roots. The dogs had initially been bred for herding, and Chance had hoped he could call that up in the quicksilver animal. So far it seemed to be working; in a very short time Dodger had gotten the general idea, and the same intensity that had made him so good at his military work had him already handling small groups of cattle.

“Think he’ll make it to where we can use him on the ranch?”

“He met Quinta the other day,” Chance said, referring to their mother’s perfectly trained—by Chance—dog, “and they got along, so I think so.” Keller was glad to hear the satisfaction in his brother’s voice. And so he was caught off guard when Chance abruptly shifted the subject. “Heard you ran into the wannabe cousin in town.”

“Who told you that?” Keller asked sourly; he knew Chance only went into Last Stand when he had to, because he only went anywhere when he had to.

“Cody.”

“How’d he know?”

Chance shrugged, then grinned, enough of a rarity that Keller found himself half smiling back just to see it. “Maybe he had a drone following you.”

“Now that wouldn’t surprise me,” Keller said.

“So how was it?”

“She’s…determined.” Among all the other things she was.

“Do you believe her?”

“I’m waiting for the test results.” That didn’t seem like enough for some reason, so he added, “I believe she thinks it’s true.”

“If it is,” Chance said, “then what’s she’s doing is…admirable.”

Depending on what exactly her plan is. “I guess.”

“Could be good for the kid.”

“Yes. At least, until she takes off again, on one of her world tours.” Keller studied his brother for a moment. “You’ve seen a lot more of the world than I have. Is it worth it?”

Chance’s mouth twisted wryly. “I’ve seen chunks of it, yes. But usually only when they were in chaos. Don’t recommend that.”

Keller gave a slow shake of his head. “I’m just glad you made it back.”

Chance lowered his gaze, as if his old, scarred combat boots were somehow new and strange to him. And he didn’t answer. Worry spiked through Keller, as it always did when his brother withdrew like that. And as he mounted up for the ride back to the main house, he was trying not to think about the number of veterans who committed suicide every damned day.

He was about halfway back when his phone beeped Cody’s signal.

Hey, bro. Incoming.

Keller stared at the screen as an image slowly loaded. Cell reception on this section of the ranch, in a word, sucked. He suspected that was one reason Chance had chosen this sector for his facilities, the other being the old cabin that had already been there.

After a moment there was enough for him to see it was an aerial photo.

Cody’s been playing with his drones again.

The image filled in from the top, until he saw the roof of a car he didn’t recognize. And then, through the side window, he saw a head. The image stalled there for several seconds, and wasn’t that clear through the window glass anyway, but it didn’t matter. He’d known who it was the moment he’d seen the two-tone hair.

When? he texted back.

Nearly live. She’s through the gate just now. It’s her, isn’t it?

We need a lock on that damn thing. Yeah. Heading in. Ten minutes out at a run. Can you play interference?

Stall a beautiful woman? Hmm… The emoji that followed was vaguely obscene.

Never said she was beautiful. She was, but he’d never said it, not to his incorrigible little brother.

Right. Take your time, bro.

Keller stuffed the phone in his pocket, wheeled Blue around, and let the horse loose. The animal hadn’t had a good hard run in a couple of days, and he threw his heart into it. Especially now, when he knew they were headed for the barn. And for these few minutes, before he had to face what awaited, he just let himself savor the near perfection of a full-tilt run through his beloved Hill Country with a great horse under him.

When they were within sight of the ranch house, Keller pulled Blue down to a fast walk. The horse, his blood still up despite the sweat that had broken out on him, tossed his head in protest but settled into the pace. Just as well, he thought as he did so, even this early in the day it was hot enough the animal was going to need some cooling out.

He saw the two figures, still out on the front porch. Cody had obviously done as asked, and stalled her. He was no expert at body language, but something about the way Sydney Brock was standing, her arms crossed in front of her, and her head tilted slightly as she looked at Cody, told him she wasn’t happy. Which should make him happy, given she’d shown up again without notice.

“All yours, bro,” Cody said the moment he pulled Blue to a halt and dismounted, all in the same motion. Keller read clearly his brother’s desire to escape. So it hadn’t gone well, for all Cody’s protestations about beautiful women.

Keller could have warned him. She’s a beautiful woman with a mindset of her own and a stubborn streak.

“Fine,” he said to his brother. “But if you want out, you can see to Blue.”

“Gladly,” Cody said, and jumped down from the porch and grabbed the reins. “Come on, sweaty nag, let’s get you cooled down.”

Keller instinctively took off his hat, then ran a hand through his hair. He felt a bit sweaty himself, but if Ms. World Traveler was going to just drop in like this, she could take what she got. This was a working ranch, not a dude camp. He tossed the hat onto the small table next to the porch chairs, then pulled a bandanna out of his back pocket and leaned down to turn the spigot on the garden faucet. It was his mother’s pride and joy, this flower garden outside the front door where she kept things growing through the worst of the Texas summer heat.

He wet the cloth, then wiped his face with it before slinging it around his neck. Then he straightened, and for a moment just looked at her. She was dressed more casually today, almost as if she were adapting. Jeans—nice and snug but not city-tight and skinny—and a T-shirt almost the color of her eyes, made out of something that clung to all the right places. Even her shoes were more utilitarian today, a pair of low-heeled lace-up leather boots instead of the shiny, never-seen-dirt boots, although these looked brand-new.

“Run out of patience, did you?” he drawled when she didn’t speak.

Her chin came up, and he belatedly realized he’d said those words that way just to see exactly that reaction. “I wanted to come while Lucas was still in school. So you couldn’t accuse me of trying to trick my way into meeting him.”

He had to admit that if she had shown up while Lucas was home, he might have thought just that. “Points to you,” he acknowledged.

He leaned one shoulder against the post of the covered porch. He kept his tone light; he didn’t want to antagonize her into doing something that would somehow rebound on Lucas. Because it was looking more and more likely that her tale was true.

“So why are you back here?” he asked.

She drew in a deep breath. Uncrossed her arms. A sign? Of what? “I presume you—or your best friend, the chief—have checked up on me?”

“Six ways from Sunday, as Shane puts it.” At her expression he chuckled. “Just another Shane-ism. He’s got a ton of them.”

She seemed startled at even that small laugh. “I can imagine,” she said. Then took another deep breath before going on. “If he checked, then you know I don’t have a criminal record or any outstanding warrants and have never actually had a direct encounter with the police before, except for once in—”

“London.”

She blinked. “I…yes. He found that?”

“Sean did. Man never stops until he’s got all there is to get. And that London thing was hardly a negative. They told him you stopped a potential rape, maybe worse.”

She nodded. “She was just a child. And so scared.”

“So mega-points to you, then,” he said. “But what does that have to do with why you’re here now?”

“I just wanted to be sure you know I’m…not a bad person. I’m not some con artist, and I have no ulterior motive.”

In truth, he’d reached that conclusion yesterday, at the saloon. Her reaction to the history, specifically his family’s history, had convinced him of that much.

“So let’s say I know that,” he said. “That still doesn’t answer why you’re here now. Before we know for sure that your connection to Lucas is what you say it is.”

For the third time she drew in a breath, the deepest yet. Whatever her motive, this was not something she was doing lightly, or carelessly.

“I want to ask you if you will…let me meet Lucas if I swear not to tell him who I am.”

He hadn’t expected that. He frowned. “And just who do you suggest we tell him you are?”

“Maybe…a friend?”

“He already knows the family friends.”

“Maybe just of yours, then.”

“He knows all of them, too.” She just looked at him for a moment. “You really don’t get small towns, do you? Everybody knows everybody.”

She sighed. “What about an old school friend or something?”

“Creekbend High School. An even smaller sort of town.” His gaze narrowed. “And before you ask, no I didn’t take off for some fancy college in the east.”

“Why not? You’re obviously smart.”

“Maybe that’s why, huh?” he said in a saccharine tone. He’d had enough of people who assumed a college degree was a necessary component of a successful life. And he wasn’t about to discuss the reason he’d abandoned even the idea of college after his father had been killed in action.

To his surprise, she laughed. When he lifted a brow at her, she said, “That’s what I’ve always said. That I was too smart to go to college.”

He frowned again. “But your bio said—”

“I did go, eventually. Because I had to learn some business and accounting things. But it was reluctantly, believe me.”

He studied her for a moment. Thought about her life, where she’d been, what she’d done. “I’ll bet you learned more from your life than most of them could ever learn in school.”

She looked startled. He winced inwardly; maybe he’d been a little hard on her, if a simple compliment like that could surprise her. “I did learn a lot. About different places, and ways of doing things, and how people are both different and the same, no matter where they come from. Things I’d like to…tell Lucas.”

Keller didn’t doubt that would be fascinating to the kid. Heck, it’d be fascinating to him. “So we’re back to who do we tell him you are.”

She gave him a sideways look. “I suppose new girlfriend is out of the question?”

He drew back sharply. Hell yes, it is. He managed a short laugh to cover his reaction to the idea. “Nobody’d believe that.”

“Why? Are you gay?”

He refused to react; he’d already betrayed too much. “Straight as Main Street,” he drawled.

“So I’m just not your type?”

Hardly. Hard being the operative part of that word at the moment.

He tried to shake off his reaction. One little joking suggestion—it had been a joke, hadn’t it?—and he was suddenly hot for her? Sure, he’d been very aware she was an attractive woman from the first time he’d opened the door to her, but this, this was something different. It was what he’d started to feel in the saloon, only heightened and honed to a much, much sharper edge.

“I don’t do girlfriends,” he said flatly.

She looked at him consideringly, then quietly said, “Too bad.”

She was completely disconcerting him, and he didn’t like the feeling. She’d begun as a ripple in his quiet, peaceful, chosen life. He could deal with that. Life threw ripples at everyone, all the time. But it was starting to feel like more of a storm surge now, or like the creek building to a spring flood.

“Rylan Rafferty is your brother,” she said abruptly then, startling him in turn.

What the hell?

“Yeah. So?”

“I know his work. It’s amazing. Incredibly detailed and utterly beautiful. Not just the belts on sale in town, I saw one of his saddles on display in Dallas, at a Western Museum there.”

He stared at her anew. “You just happened to be there, or was this part of your research on our rustic, unsophisticated way of life here?”

She tilted her head, giving him a look he couldn’t define. “You are just full of assumptions about how I think and feel, aren’t you?”

He grimaced inwardly; she was probably right. He went with the only thing he could think of to say. “It was the patent leather boots.” And once more she surprised him with a light, amused laugh. A little relieved, he asked, “What does Ry have to do with this?”

“You know what my business is. I could be here to talk to him about his work.”

“Ry does custom work on commission, not to sell online.”

“So he’ll say no.”

He considered this. “So you want to, in essence, lie to Lucas twice.”

“I look at it more as delaying the truth. I would never directly lie to him. And in fact it wouldn’t be a lie, because I would love to talk to your brother about his work. And we sell plenty of custom items,” she added. Then she looked suddenly weary. “I want to meet Lucas, know him. If you won’t let it happen any other way…”

“What if he hates you?”

She blinked. “Before or after he finds out who I am?”

“Either.”

“Then I’ll just have to deal.”

“Or fade back out of his life again?”

She straightened, as if she were stiffening her spine. “No. I am—once my connection to him is verified—in it for the long haul. I’m not one of those who would worm their way into a kid’s life and then drop him. Or ignore him. Or only see him on a whim, when it suited me.”

“Meaning you’re not your parents.”

“Exactly,” she said, and he didn’t think he was wrong that a slightly bitter note had come into her voice.

“Do you have a plan?” The thought of maybe losing Lucas made his voice sharper than he’d intended. Damn, he should have started the adoption thing sooner. Although that might just have complicated things more. “What exactly do you intend?”

“I’ve told you—”

“You’ve said you want to be part of Lucas’s life. You’ve never laid out exactly how. You—”

He stopped as he heard the sound of a vehicle approaching, and glanced toward the long, winding drive that led in from the lockless gate. Saw the small, light blue SUV approaching slowly. Then he looked back at Sydney.

“We’ll get back to that, but right now I need a couple more answers. One, what happens if I tell Lucas who you are and he doesn’t want to know you?”

“Then I keep coming back until he does.”

His mouth quirked wryly. “Is that a promise or a threat?”

“Whichever works.”

“Hmm. And what about how he’ll feel about you meeting him and not telling him?”

“You’re the one who won’t tell him,” she pointed out.

“Until we have proof,” he pointed out in turn.

Her chin came up again. “Then it sounds like you’re the one who will have to explain.” Despite the seriousness of the subject he had to smother a grin; she had sand, this woman. “You have more?”

“What if those DNA tests prove you’re not related to Lucas?”

“They won’t.”

“But if they do—”

“Then I’ll do that fadeaway you talked about. And he’ll never have to know.” Her voice went very quiet then. “Even if he wasn’t my family, I would never want to hurt a child.”

Because you were hurt too often yourself to wish it on anyone else?

Of everything she’d said, he believed this the most. And that decided him.

“Then you’ve got two more people to convince to go along with your little gambit.”

“Your brother Rylan and who else? Not the other brother I just met, I hope.”

He shook his head. “Cody’ll go along. And Chance won’t care, unless you hurt Lucas. Nope, that other person will be the hardest sell of all.”

She stared at him, clearly disbelieving. “A harder sell than you?”

“Much.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“Be afraid. Be very afraid. Because here she comes now.”

Sydney blinked. “Who?”

“My mother.”

Chapter Seventeen

Sydney’s mind raced, gathering all the things she’d heard about this woman, from various sources, whenever she’d brought up the Rafferty name.

Maggie Rafferty is where the phrase “pillar of the community” comes from.

No nonsense. Don’t try and tap-dance around Maggie.

Even Chief Highwater would think twice before taking her on. You don’t cross Maggie.

Amazing how a woman so soft for her family can be so tough when fighting for them.

They didn’t all seem possible in the slim, petite blonde woman—the source of Cody’s hair, she guessed—who slid agilely out of the light blue SUV and headed toward them immediately. Obviously she had spotted them long before the vehicle had come to a halt. And her confident stride backed up everything Sydney had heard about her. A dog trotted at her heels, medium-sized, tricolor, and looking like it had some border collie or Australian shepherd in it.

Sydney glanced at Keller, who stood quiet, waiting. No doubt for her to blow this completely. And maybe she would. But maybe not.

Sydney braced herself as the woman came to a stop. The dog sat instantly, without command. Right at her side, as if anything else was inconceivable.

Another comment, or maybe a warning, she’d heard came back to her. Don’t ever try lying to Maggie. She’ll see through you in a millisecond.

Syd made a decision and ran with it. And spoke before the other woman could. “I’m told you’re tough when you’re fighting for your family.”

The older woman looked at her assessingly. Was clearly not thrown by the abrupt launch. “As tough as I need to be.”

“I’m also told you consider Lucas part of that family.”

“I do. And I’ll fight for him, if necessary.”

The fierce honesty that rang in the words and Maggie Rafferty’s voice made Sydney smile. “I’m glad,” she said quietly. “Very glad.”

The woman considered that for a moment. No doubt deciding whether she believed it or not. Sydney held her gaze steadily, sensing the woman would have little patience with someone who couldn’t meet her eyes. Blue eyes, Sydney noticed, very different from Keller’s green. Beneath the fringe of her tousled, flattering pixie haircut, they were bright and clear…and perceptive.

On the thought, the woman switched her gaze to her eldest son. “Rude to keep her out here in the heat,” she said.

“I know,” Keller said, sounding unconcerned.

“I think it’s part of my trial by fire,” Sydney said, keeping her tone neutral. The assessing gaze turned back to her, and she added, “And I understand. I would expect—or want—nothing less. For Lucas’s sake.”

Her honesty seemed to win the day, and she decided the rest of her course then and there. Honesty was definitely the way to go with this woman.

“In that case, let’s go inside. We have things to discuss, and it’s too warm today to do it out here.”

“Welcome to spring in Texas,” Keller said. “It’ll probably be pouring rain tomorrow.”

“I’ll take it over a sandstorm,” Sydney said. But she noted he made no protest when his mother led the way inside. And she had the feeling her sons numbered first among those who wouldn’t cross her.

The cooler air inside was a relief. She hadn’t been focused on the heat while dealing with Keller and his wariness, but once she stepped inside, she realized how warm she had gotten. True, she’d been overheated a time or two in desert climes, with no relief such as this to be found, but she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t trade that for the tension she was feeling now.

You’ve faced down worse than this. The memory of an angry man wielding a curved blade shot through her mind, and how she had truly feared her life might be forfeit if she didn’t convince him she had meant no offense when she’d asked where he’d gotten his embroidered tunic.

But there’s never been more at stake than here and now. She knew that was true. Because this was family. And regardless of how lightly her parents took that term, Sydney had seen all over the world that in most places, it mattered a lot more.

And she had the feeling here it mattered most.

Maggie Rafferty looked at her son. Lifted a delicately arched brow at him.

“All yours,” he muttered.

“Then you can get us something cold to drink,” his mother said. “There’s a pitcher of sweet tea in the fridge.” She gave Sydney a questioning look.

“That would be nice,” Sydney said politely.

Keller walked into the kitchen—a spacious oblong with sleek stainless steel appliances and a polished stone counter—while Mrs. Rafferty gestured Sydney to a seat in the equally spacious living room.

She looked around with interest as she sat down; it was a large room, with walls that reminded her a bit of the saloon, as if they were made of the same stone. This one was sans the bullet holes, thankfully. It was furnished with a pair of rough-finished leather sofas, a couple of coordinating chairs, and two large ottomans providing footrests. The floor was a utilitarian—and cooling—tile, covered in the seating area with a large, colorful rug. A pillow here and there completed the color scheme, except for the big, bright painting on the wall, which coordinated perfectly with the patterned rug.

She stared at the piece of art. She could tell it was an original from the texture of the paint on the canvas. And it was good. Very good. A view out over a piece of this Hill Country was her guess, perhaps a piece right here on this ranch, either at sunset or sunrise. The colors of the sky and the clouds tinted by the sun were vivid, but believable, a fine balance.

Impulsively she looked at the woman who had taken one of the chairs opposite Sydney’s seat on the couch. “Which came first, the painting or the rug?”

Mrs. Rafferty—oddly for her, she felt too intimidated to even think of her as Maggie now she was inside the woman’s home—gave her a faint smile and then a small nod, almost as if in approval. “The painting.”

Sydney nodded in turn. “That would have been my guess. It’s beautiful work.”

“It is,” Mrs. Rafferty agreed as Keller walked back in with three iced glasses. He gave one to his mother first, then to her, before he sat down in the other single chair.

“Thank you,” she said politely, then nodded toward the painting. “Local artist?”

She didn’t think she’d imagined Keller stiffening. But his mother answered evenly enough. “He was.” Again the raised brow. “Looking to add oils to The World in a Gift?”

Sydney didn’t turn a hair at the name-drop. “No,” she answered evenly. “Proper shipping and provenance is a bit beyond our kind of operation. I was just…appreciating.”

“Tell her what you want,” Keller said abruptly.

Odd, he hadn’t sounded that edgy a moment ago. In fact, he’d seemed almost amused at the prospect of her presenting her idea to his mother. She glanced again at the painting, wondering. But then she turned to look straight at Mrs. Rafferty and repeated her request. And what she’d already agreed to with Keller. The woman listened without comment until Sydney finished.

Mrs. Rafferty took a long sip from her glass while she looked at Sydney consideringly. “Is there a reason you can’t wait until the test results come back?”

“None,” she admitted. “Other than my own impatience to right a years-long lie.”

“Your parents’ lie.”

“And his parents, too,” she felt compelled to point out. “They never told him they’d found out my father was alive.” But then, reminding herself of her decision, she added, “But since I know my parents, I can at least understand his parents not wanting him to know them.”

Something changed in the older woman’s eyes then. “And that,” she said softly, “may be the saddest thing I’ve heard in a very long while.”

“They are who they are. And,” she added pointedly, “I am not anything like them. I’ve worked hard not to be.”

“I see.” The woman took a long sip of her tea. “Tell me, exactly how do you picture this relationship with Lucas that you want to build?”

That put her in a quandary. She had the feeling her images of a happy, loving family connection would sound silly and maybe a bit syrupy to this woman who’d raised four sons practically on her own. With the help of her eldest. She wanted to glance at Keller, but guessed it would be a mistake to look away. At least as far as selling her case, to this steady-eyed woman.

“I want him to know he has family still,” she began.

“That include your parents?” Keller asked, his voice that drawl again. It seemed to get thicker when he was jabbing at her.

“No,” she said instantly. “I don’t want anything to do with them myself, why would I think he would?”

“So is this about what Lucas wants? Or you?” The drawl had faded a little, back to the slight touch she heard in his normal speech. But his tone had become, while softer, somehow more pointed. More…dangerous. To her, anyway.

“Both,” she admitted.

“Then what about what’s best for him?” Mrs. Rafferty asked bluntly.

She blinked. “Isn’t being with family best?”

“He is with family,” Keller said, his tone so controlled it made her a little nervous.

“I mean—”

“You mean blood family?” he asked. “Like yours?”

Her breath caught. For a long moment she stared into his eyes, those impossible green eyes that looked a bit too chilly for comfort at the moment. Then she lowered her gaze. Felt heat rise to her cheeks. No, she wanted nothing to do with her family, nor did she want Lucas to.

“No. A new family,” she said quietly.

“Are you assuming,” Mrs. Rafferty asked, “that you’ll be in charge of Lucas, since you’re older?”

She made herself meet the woman’s gaze. “I envision being more of an aunt to him, yes. But as he gets older, then more on an equal footing.”

“That’s what, now how about where and how?” Keller said, his tone still that touch chilly.

“What?”

“If you’ve got a plan in place, I’d like to hear it. Where you’ll live—I told you he won’t ever want to leave Texas—and what happens when you go gallivanting around the world again? You plan on dragging him with you like your parents did you?”

That stabbed hard, and she couldn’t help wincing.

“Keller,” his mother said softly, but he kept going.

“We’re talking about the boy I intended to adopt here, so I want details.”

He intended to adopt Lucas? Formally? She glanced at his mother, wondering if she knew. From the way she was looking at her eldest son, she’d either known or guessed his intentions. She certainly wasn’t surprised.

“You…never mentioned that.” She sounded as shaken as she felt.

“Lot of things I haven’t mentioned.”

“Let’s deal with the immediate question right now,” Mrs. Rafferty said to Sydney rather briskly. “Which is you meeting Lucas before we have those test results.” She shifted her gaze to her son. “Downside?”

He gave a half shrug. “Lucas thinking we lied to him, not telling him right away who she is. Assuming she is who she says she is.”

She seemed to consider that. Then she turned back to Sydney, but said nothing, as if she were weighing options. Sydney had the feeling that was something this woman had had to do often. Finally Sydney asked, “Do you believe he will be that upset? Or will the shock outweigh all that?”

“He’s a pretty level-headed kid, for a thirteen-year-old.” She gave Keller a sideways look. “Unlike some I could mention.”

That startled Sydney into shooting a look at him. He was grimacing, but it was half a smile, as if his mother had teased him about…whatever had brought that on before. Maybe often. She was seized with a fierce desire to know what it was. Tried to imagine Keller Rafferty as an impulsive, thirteen-year-old troublemaker. She couldn’t make the idea fit.

“I think,” Mrs. Rafferty said after a moment, “that Lucas is smart enough to understand why we waited. To think of how he would have felt if we’d told him he had family after all, and then to have it turn out to be a lie.”

“It won’t,” Sydney felt compelled to say. “It’s not.”

“In which case, it will be up to you to convince him this is a good thing.”

Sydney couldn’t help but hear that as a warning. But then it hit her. “Then…you’ll let me meet him? Now?”

The woman glanced again at her son. So clearly, while she was the matriarch and had them all in awe of her, she still looked to her oldest son, at least for input.

“She’s got one more obstacle, if she wants to tell this tale of hers. Ry.”

“He’s working,” Mrs. Rafferty said.

“I know.”

“So he’ll be cranky if we interrupt.”

Keller looked at Sydney then. “She’ll just have to deal.”

And Sydney didn’t like the fact that the idea made him smile. “Then I’ll deal.” She set down her glass and stood up. “How about now?”

For the first time Maggie Rafferty smiled, widely. “I like the bull-by-the-horns attitude. Good luck.”

“You’re not coming?” Keller asked, his tone dry.

“Far be it from me to interfere with genius burning.”

When Keller answered her, his tone was entirely different. Softer, even gentle. “You’d know.”

“Yes. I would. Off with you both, then. Let me know how it goes.”

Sydney was tempted to ask what that had been about but had the feeling she’d get one of his stonewall answers if she did. So instead she simply followed him back outside, although she blinked when she realized they were headed for the smaller of the two barns across the large yard.

“Does he work in the barn, or are we saddling up?”

He gave her a sideways glance. “Could you?”

“Saddle up? I think I could manage.”

“You’ve ridden? Don’t tell me the Lipizzans.”

“I have. And no. Not,” she added, “that I didn’t ask.”

That got a twitch of a smile out of him. “Then where?” His tone was back to normal now, as if the earlier fierceness over Lucas had been banked. Temporarily only, she was sure.

“Mongolia, actually.”

He stopped dead. “Mongolia?”

She stopped and turned back to him. “Yes. They have this centuries-old festival of archery, wrestling, and horse racing called—”

“Naadam.”

She blinked. “Yes. You’ve heard of it.”

“Not bad for a country bumpkin, huh?”

“Little defensive there, Rafferty? I didn’t give an opinion. I was simply surprised because not many people here have heard of it, unless they’ve studied or been to east Asia.”

“I read about it. Remembered it because it’s not our kind of racing, it’s more endurance than short bursts, and I liked that.”

“They are tough horses,” she said, smiling. “And that is what it’s for, to show off what the horses can do. Big difference between a mile and a half on the flat and over eighteen miles cross-country. Riders just go along…for the ride, as it were.”

“Are you saying you rode in that?”

“I did,” she said proudly. “And finished.” She grinned. “Not first, but finished.”

“On whose horse?” he asked, clearly genuinely interested.

“A local whose kid got sick. He let me work a little with the horse, and decided I’d do.” She flicked at her hair. “I was still blonde then, the only one around their village, and I think he wanted the showiness as much as anything.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “Is that why you dyed it?”

She was a little surprised he’d picked up on the undertone in her voice. “Yes. It sometimes drew the wrong kind of attention in some places.”

“I can imagine,” he said.

“When it gets a little longer, I’ll have the dark cut off. The two-tone sometimes draws the wrong kind of attention in some places, too.”

She didn’t say it with any particular emphasis, but his gaze narrowed. “Like on my front porch?”

She grinned at him. “You said it, I didn’t.”

To her surprise—no, shock—he laughed. “I’ve gotten used to it. Don’t cut it on my account.” He started walking again, and she kept even with him. “But if you want it cut, Bella’s is the place, Mom says.”

“If they cut her hair, I agree. They’re in town?”

He nodded. “Across from the big church.”

“Do they do yours?” she asked innocently.

He laughed again. Dang, he had a great laugh. “I do mine. With dog clippers. Can’t you tell?”

“And here I pictured you spending into triple digits for that trendy, every-which-way look.”

“That’s the hat,” he said, jerking a thumb back over his shoulder, where his straw cowboy hat still sat on the table on the porch. “And I’ve never been trendy in my life.”

She was grinning again, but she couldn’t seem to help it. And to her amazement he was grinning back. That dimple was just too much. Everything about him was too much.

And she liked this, when they were not going at it tooth and nail, far too much.

Chapter Eighteen

Sydney heard the blasting music when they got within about ten feet of the smaller barn. She stopped dead, listening. Not the country or Americana she would have expected less than a hundred miles from the bustling music center of Austin, or even anything else contemporary, but instead a surging, pounding piece it took her a moment to put a name to because the arrangement was unusual.

“Verdi’s Requiem?” she asked with a sideways look at Keller, who had stopped when she did. That manners thing again.

“So I’m told,” he said. “Not my thing, but he says it helps him work.”

“Pretty intense. And driving. I can see where it would. I didn’t recognize it at first, without the choir.”

Keller shrugged. “Cody put it together for him. Something about a virtual orchestra.”

“Fascinating,” she said as they started walking again, meaning it on several fronts. Not just the unexpected music, but that connection, that brotherly thing. Never having had a sibling, she had no experience with that kind of bond, the kind that was obvious within this family. Obvious and strong.

And the uncooperative Cody Rafferty clearly had more talents than just flying drones to upset the neighbors—and telling unwanted visitors they weren’t welcome. Of course, he hadn’t said it, not in words, but the message had been clear in his eyes. Eyes that were a paler, springtime green as opposed to Keller’s near-emerald.

Stop it.

He halted just outside the small door that was cut into the larger barn door; while smaller than the other barn, this was by no means a small building. A fitting studio for a saddlemaker, but again unexpected for the level of artist Rylan Rafferty had become.

“You sure you want to take your life in your hands?” Keller asked.

She looked at him assessingly. She couldn’t decide if he was warning her or merely amused at the prospect. “Will he take a break any time before Lucas gets home from school?”

“Not likely. When he gets rolling like this sometimes we don’t see him for days.”

She blinked. “Days? Doesn’t he eat?”

“Not much. He’s got jerky and water in there, and he kind of lives on that when he’s on a tear.”

She thought about Maggie Rafferty, and her fierceness about her sons. And what she’d read was normal, with normal parents. “Doesn’t your mother worry about that?”

“She’ll put her foot down if she has to, after three days. But she gives him that much time because she remembers what he was like before he found his calling, as she puts it.”

“What was he like?”

“Headed straight for trouble. Cutting school, fights, and worse.” He hesitated, then said, “He was Lucas’s age when our dad was killed. I think that’s partly why Mom is so determined to help him, because she remembers how Ry was.”

That touched her, especially now that she’d met the no-nonsense Maggie Rafferty. She needed to thank her for that. It was more than many would do. Certainly more than her own mother would ever do.

And on some level she was aware they were having a friendly, nearly normal conversation. She had the feeling she owed that to his mother as well. Apparently she had passed a test.

“And now he’s a huge success,” she said, remembering the article she’d read about the Texas man who’d turned saddlemaking into an art form and had made custom saddles for everyone from celebrities to heads of state.

“We look upon it more that he’s got an outlet for that…whatever it is that drives him.”

“A smothered artist is sometimes a dangerous thing.”

There was a touch of surprise in his expression at her words. “Yes. We learned that. Nearly the hard way.” His expression changed again as his focus seemed to shift inward. And he added one more word, barely above a whisper. “Twice.”

Local artist?

He was.

The short exchange with Mrs. Rafferty, and Keller’s stiffening at the topic shot through her mind, along with what Keller had said before, about their legacies from their father. Me, the love of the ranch. Chance, the love of country. Ry, his artistic talent. And Cody, his tactical mind. And then, because she couldn’t stop herself, she asked, very quietly, “Who painted that picture in the house?”

His jaw went rigid. “None of your business,” he ground out.

It was pain, not anger, that was obvious in his voice, in his face. And that gave her the answer he’d refused to give.

“It was your father.”

She didn’t make it a question or make her tone questioning. Because she knew. And that he looked away when she said it, giving a half shake of his head, the way he stared at the ground, only proved it. Thus far Keller Rafferty had dodged nothing, had confronted her every step of the way. But this pain ran too deep, still fresh after all these years.

At first she didn’t know what else to say. But then she sensed he was about to move on, and this moment seemed too important to let slip away. Why, she wasn’t sure. Nor did she stop to analyze why it mattered to her. She simply counted on the innate good manners he’d already proven he had to keep him from walking away while she was speaking.

“I met an old man once, in a village that had known decades of strife and conflict. He was revered as a warrior, as the greatest of warriors. I heard about him long before I met him, because his image was in every home, in an honored place. When I finally did meet him, I was stunned to learn he was the brilliant artist I’d come looking for, who created incredible sculptures out of a local clay unique to the area. I asked him—through a translator, since I couldn’t speak the local dialect—how he reconciled the two.”

She paused, waited. Silence spun out for a long moment. Then, at last, his head came up. Stupidly, her first thought was how much she liked his “dog-clippered” hair, shorter but not shaved on the sides, and long enough to be almost spiky on top. There were guys in big cities who’d pay hundreds to get that look. But it wouldn’t matter, because none of them could wear it like this Texas cowboy.

Finally, he spoke, and it sounded beyond reluctant. “How did he?”

“He told me the one fed the other. That without his art he would not be the warrior he was, and if he did not fight, his art would not be what it was.”

She saw the slightest widening of his eyes, those vivid green eyes that seemed to bore right through her. His lips parted as if he were about to speak again, but instead he closed them again and swallowed visibly.

She heard the music from inside start over from the beginning. As if the portion of the piece he wanted—or needed—was on a loop. Keller turned his head, clearly having heard it as well.

“He says it just works, playing the same piece, over and over,” he said.

“So it’s there but he doesn’t have to think about it, doesn’t get caught up in it?”

“I don’t know. You can ask him, if he doesn’t take our heads off.”

The fraught moment behind them, he walked over and pulled open the small door within a door. “No lock?”

“We supposedly know better than to interrupt,” he said dryly.

She was barely two feet inside when movement drew her gaze. A man walking across a large open space, pausing in front of an easel holding a large sketch pad. Then moving again, pacing. No, not just pacing, because he wasn’t walking, he was…prowling. The man moved like a big cat, like one of the leopards she’d seen in India. His dark hair was a little long, with a couple of errant strands falling forward over his forehead, and the worn T-shirt he wore was snug enough to reveal he was built nearly as powerfully as his older brother.

There had been a photo with the article she’d read, but it had utterly failed to portray the reality she saw now. Because in the flesh, Rylan Rafferty looked more like a street fighter than an artist. And the contrast between his almost dangerous looks and the art he created, along with the classical music, was dramatic and then some.

“Try not to drool.” She heard Keller’s amused whisper in her ear and looked up at him.

“Does that happen often? Women come in here and drool?”

“No one, woman or otherwise, is usually allowed in here.”

Apparently oblivious to them, the man had stopped in front of the sketch pad again, this time making a swiping move with one hand that she now realized held a drawing instrument of some kind. He drew quickly, in long, sweeping curves, then tighter, closer lines. She couldn’t see from here exactly what it was or was supposed to represent, but the flow of it was visible and tangible.

And then it was gone, as the man ripped the page from the pad, wadded it up and tossed it, without a second glance. And it wasn’t the first time, she realized, because there were several crumpled balls of the same kind of paper on the floor behind the tall easel. He turned as if to start pacing—prowling—again. And then he suddenly spun around to stare at them.

His brows lowered, and she had that thought about a street fighter again. He reached out and hit something on a workbench to one side, apparently a remote that shut down the towering music.

“Sorry, bro,” Keller said into the oddly echoing silence.

Sydney almost felt the man’s focus shift to her, saw his gaze flick over her. Darker eyes, she thought. Not blue, or green like his brothers—the ones she’d met, anyway—but a smoky sort of gray. No, the gray of storm clouds. Fitting, since he was practically glaring at her for the interruption.

Then suddenly his expression changed. And he looked at his brother. “This is her?”

“Yes,” Keller said.

“She’s still pushing?”

“She wants to meet Lucas.”

“Not until we’re sure she’s really his cousin.”

“She’s right here,” Sydney said sweetly. “Don’t ruin my good impression of Southern manners.”

His gaze shot back to her. The street fighter was looking at her now. “I’m a Texan. We have our own.”

“Seems you have your own everything. Perhaps you should have stayed a Republic.”

“More than one would agree with that,” he retorted.

And this was not how she’d hoped this would go. But she’d learned early on to stand up for herself, because no one else would.

She glanced at Keller. And the darned man was grinning.

Chapter Nineteen

Keller realized with a little jolt that he was enjoying this. Or maybe it was just that watching these two spar was better than thinking about the fact that somehow she’d guessed about the painting.

Without his art he would not be the warrior he was, and if he did not fight, his art would not be what it was.

For years he, his family, and others had tried to reconcile those two things. They each had a piece of his work hanging in their rooms, and he knew that sometimes they all stared at them and wondered. They’d all understood why Chance had gone, that he’d felt compelled to pick up the mantle and defend the country they all loved so dearly. But understanding how their father, a man with the eye and soul of an artist, had felt compelled to take up arms was something else altogether. Keller had never heard an explanation that made sense to him.

Until now.

Sydney Brock had made sense of his father’s life and death with her story about the old man in a village. Had explained the dichotomy that was Rylan Rafferty in the same way. That simply she had seen, understood, and managed to explain what his entire family had never quite grasped.

“So why are you back here again?” Ry glanced at Keller. “I thought we were waiting on tests?”

“Ms. Brock is a bit impatient, it seems,” he said.

“Tough,” Ry said.

Keller looked at her. “Over to you. Convince him.”

She turned to face Keller, purposefully. “Will he even listen?”

“He’s capable of it, if that’s what you mean.”

“Why is he so resistant?” she asked, never even glancing at Ry.

“Same reason as the rest of us. Protecting Lucas.”

“Then he and I are on the same page.”

“Okay, I get it,” Ry said wryly as she continued to ignore his presence and speak of him in the third person. “I was rude.”

She glanced at him then. When he didn’t go on, she lifted a brow at him and said, “That kind of acknowledgment is usually accompanied by an apology.”

“I’m getting there,” Ry said, his mouth twisting up at one corner.

“Artistic types,” Keller said blandly. “You know how they are.”

She looked at him. “Yes. The most supremely confident or self-doubting people on earth. Often both at once.”

Ry looked startled, and Keller laughed. “Nailed you, bro.”

His brother finally let down. He leaned back against the workbench scattered with his tools, in an almost relaxed posture. But his arms were crossed in front of him, far from relaxed. Often both at once.

She really had pegged him. But he should have realized she would, because it was what she did—deal with artists. And while Ry would deny up one side and down the other that that’s what he was, Keller knew better. He had their father’s innate sensibilities that saw patterns and designs in the world around them, and turned that into impossibly beautiful works of art. That they were found on utilitarian items like saddles, bridles, belts and the like was the way Ry had found to put a wall between himself and that world that would consider him an artist, and expect all the characteristics they had decided came with that.

He listened as she explained what she wanted and why she wanted it. And what she would do if it turned out that the DNA test proved her wrong—while again swearing it would not.

“And you want to use me to do it,” Ry said flatly when she finished.

“You’re exactly the kind of artist I would approach anyway. Or rather, you would have been before you did that magnificent piece for the governor. Now you don’t need me.”

“I’m not an artist. It was a saddle, not ‘a piece.’ And he uses it.”

“You think art can’t be both beautiful and useful?” Ry shifted slightly, and his gaze narrowed. She was getting to him—Keller could see it. “I’ve built my business on that very concept. Beautiful things that are useful.”

“The World in a Gift.”

“Yes.”

Ry sighed audibly. The crossed arms came down. And he pointed to the workbench he was leaning against, where the tool case their mother had given him last Christmas sat. The large wooden box had a lid that was an intricate bas-relief piece, which somehow produced the feel of tall, waving grass, and a perfect rendition of a small raptor soaring free above it.

Sydney lit up. There was no other way to describe it. Her eyes widened, she smiled, and those golden eyes fairly glowed. “Nikau!” she exclaimed. “Oh, he does wonderful work! I’m so proud he agreed to deal with us. Not that he made it easy,” she added with a laugh.

“But you convinced him,” Keller said quietly.

She looked at him then. Straight on and focused. “Once he realized that he could trust me.”

“Trust you to what?” Ry asked, and she turned back.

“To be honest with him. Not to cheat him on money or anything else. To do my best to get his work out to the world, and to make him enough money that he could quit his second and third jobs and make this his first.”

Ry’s gaze shifted to Keller. He saw the question in his brother’s eyes. “Your call,” he said. “It’ll be an interruption for you, since you’ll be the excuse.”

“Not an excuse,” Sydney said. “Or out of the ordinary. I’ve met lots of artists simply because I wanted to learn about their work, their process. Not just for my business, but because it interests me.”

For a moment no one spoke. Then Ry let out a compressed breath. “If you trust her enough for this, that she’ll just leave without Lucas ever knowing if it comes to that, then I won’t blow it. Now can I go back to work, please.”

It wasn’t really a question. When he turned away, then reached for the remote and the music came back on, Sydney looked at him and said, “I gather we’re dismissed?”

“You gather right,” he agreed, and they headed back out the door.

When it had closed behind them, he looked at her. “Mom said that box was from an artist in New Zealand.”

“It is.”

“And you went there to meet him.”

She nodded. “After I ran into someone traveling in Europe, someone who knew him and showed me some photos.”

“So you promptly flew to New Zealand?”

“Well, not so promptly, since I was meeting a bag maker in Prague at the time, but Auckland was my next stop. He lives outside the city, and does a lot of work that portrays his homeland.” She nodded back toward the barn. “That’s a New Zealand falcon. A brave and very feisty bird, he told me.”

“Fits, then,” Keller said.

She looked up at him steadily as they walked back toward the house. “You’re very close to him, aren’t you.” It was more statement than question.

“He’s my brother,” he said simply.

*

“You see?” she said quietly as they walked. “That’s what I want Lucas to have, and to have with him. That no questions asked, well of course we’re close, we’re family kind of thing.”

“Which you’ve never had.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Then how do you expect to build it? That kind of connection doesn’t just happen because you wish it.”

“Believe me,” she said with a grimace, “I know that. I wasted a lot of time wishing it for myself.”

He stopped walking, turned to face her. “So what, you’re now expecting Lucas to fix that for you? Is this all about what you want, or what’s best for Lucas?”

He didn’t sound angry, just concerned. And she couldn’t deny she’d started to wonder a bit about that last part herself. “I just want him to have what I never did. A real family.”

“I might argue what ‘real’ means, but you do realize,” he drawled, “that means you’re still stuck with that family when they do something stupid, or that really ticks you off?”

She smiled. “I can’t wait.” At his look, she added, “But I will. Because I gave you my word.”

Something shifted in his gaze then, she wasn’t sure exactly what. “Your mom and dad,” he began, but stopped when she shook her head.

“I was never allowed to call them that. I had to use their names.”

He blinked. “What?”

“I think it helped them deny they’d ever been stupid enough to have me. At least, when I got old enough that I wasn’t as useful to them as they’d hoped.”

“Useful?”

“People are often more welcoming to strangers if you have a baby or small child. But the older that child gets, the less helpful it is.” Her mouth quirked. “And the harder to keep that child in line, especially while traveling all over.”

“What about school?”

“Frighteningly enough, my mother had been a teacher. She did the basics. I did a lot online. And in places where she found a temporary position, my going to school there was part of the deal.” She shrugged. “Once I learned to read and write, it was kind of moot, though. She just handed me a book and told me to read it and write a report.”

“Efficient,” he said dryly. “Depending on who wrote the book.”

She laughed. “I wrote a book report once, when I was about thirteen, calling the whole thing stupid and wrong, with a list of the reasons why. It was one of her favorites, so she didn’t like that much.”

One corner of his mouth twitched, as if he were suppressing a smile. “Sounds like you had your own thirteen-year-old moments.”

“I did,” she said cheerfully.

Suddenly, decisively, he glanced at his watch, a utilitarian, well-used piece that looked slightly military. Maybe it was. His father’s? Then he looked back up at her. “We’ve got about three hours before Lucas gets home. Feel like going for a ride?”

“On a horse?”

His brow furrowed. “What else?”

She shrugged. “A camel or an elephant, or worse, an ostrich.”

He stared at her. “And you’ve ridden all those?”

“At one time or another, yes.”

“Sorry, not a single ostrich.”

“Don’t be sorry. The one I rode was the crankiest, nastiest creature I ever encountered.” She smiled then. “And I’d love to go for a ride. I want to see where Lucas has been living.”

“It’ll probably bore you to tears, after all the places you’ve been.”

She thought of the painting again, of the colors, the expansiveness, of the pure love of place that had been poured into it. “Don’t miss the beauty just because you see it every day,” she said softly.

He looked startled, then thoughtful. “I try not to. I love this place, but sometimes there’s so much work I forget to stop and remember that.”

Curious, she tilted her head as she looked at him. “What’s the farthest you’ve ever been from Texas?”

His mouth quirked. “Geographically, Mexico City. Philosophically, Austin.”

She couldn’t help the laugh that burst from her. And realized, with a jolt, just how much she was coming to like this man.

Chapter Twenty

Sydney patted the horse on the neck; he’d noticed she’d taken several minutes to get acquainted with the good-tempered paint. He’d been right, she clearly liked horses, and wasn’t unfamiliar.

“What a sweetheart you are,” she murmured to him, “as well as beautiful.” She looked at Keller. “What’s his name?”

Keller grimaced. “Latte.” She blinked. “His sire’s name is Cappuccino. What can I say?”

She smiled, and he managed not to grin stupidly. Barely. “Fits, if he’s as laidback as you say. Was he born here on the ranch?”

He shook his head. “We got him from the Walkers, over in Whiskey River.” At her questioning look he explained, “Town about twenty miles from here. They breed good horses.” He smiled crookedly. “And expensive. We only got him because he tested positive for a gene variation that can cause fatal problems in foals if matched with a mare with the same, so they gelded him.”

“Sounds…sad but responsible.”

He nodded. “They are. And good people. Some breeders would have just put him down as a foal.”

“I would say those breeders shouldn’t be allowed to breed themselves,” she said sweetly.

“I would not argue that,” he said with a smile. But then he might have said the same about her parents, and if it were so, she wouldn’t exist. And the world would be short a very unique person.

Well, now, Rafferty, that’s a weird thought to be having…

She patted the horse’s neck again, then moved back toward the saddle. The paint was a big boy, nearly sixteen hands, so he walked over. “I’ll give you a leg up.”

“I can do it.”

He nearly laughed; she’d sounded like Lucas. “Didn’t say you couldn’t,” he drawled. “But you can barely see over his withers, and I’m here, so take the lift.”

She grimaced, but nodded. He bent and held out a hand. Just one; she was a tiny thing, and if he couldn’t handle it, he needed to go throw some more hay bales around. She stepped on his outstretched palm, and got aboard smoothly enough. She reached out and took up the reins, gently. He watched, strictly for assessing purposes. Of her riding ability, not her…body.

Although as female bodies went, he had no complaints. What he did have a complaint about was how his own body reacted to being that close to her. He spun on his heel and walked around to Blue’s left side. Stood there for a moment, needlessly fiddling with the knife sheath Ry had made for him, for their father’s Ka-Bar combat knife, which he always carried when riding out on the ranch. You never knew when you might need a good knife.

What you really need is to keep your eyes—and your hands—off of her.

She looked at him. “Is there a name for his coloring?”

“He’s a piebald overo. Overo is the color pattern—and the link to the genetic problem—piebald’s the black and white.”

She eyed Blue. “And him?”

“Blue roan.”

“Blue? I mean I see the effect, but—”

“Equal mix of black hairs and white.”

“Oh,” she said with a nod. Then she leaned forward to pat the horse once more, straightened, and lifted the reins, although in more of an English style.

“He’s trained to neck rein,” he said neutrally.

“Okay.”

She acted like someone who knew the basics but maybe hadn’t done it in a while. Which was exactly what she was, apparently.

A camel or an elephant, or worse, an ostrich.

He couldn’t even imagine a nomadic life like that, with no ties, or why, after her childhood, she’d kept at it. And as they rode out, he decided he’d never have a better chance to find out, as long as she was already talking.

“When you were roaming the world with them, how did your parents decide where to go next?”

“There was never any rhyme, reason, or plan that I could see,” she said. “They’d see or hear something about some new place and decide to go.”

“Just like that?”

She shrugged. “They aren’t big into research or examining anything closely.”

“Not even about possible hazards or travel warnings?”

“Especially not that,” she said, and now her tone had that tinge of almost bitterness again. “And we once ended up in the middle of a local territorial dispute because of it.”

“What about you, now?”

She gave him a sideways look. “I do my homework. And have yet to end up in a war zone.”

“Wise,” he said neutrally. “But how do you decide where to go?”

“I go where the artisans are. I have a pretty good network now, of people who let me know when they find someone they think is a good fit. And they spread the word.”

“So your childhood was what…good practice?”

For the first time he saw a flash of weariness in those amber eyes. “It was all I knew. I just managed to find a way to make a living at it.”

He thought she’d done quite a bit better than just make a living, but he didn’t push it. He was too busy thinking about the words that seemed almost sad to him. It was all I knew.

They rounded the main barn and headed north. He had in mind where he wanted to take her, the high spot near Chance’s place that had the best view on the ranch, in one direction looking toward Hickory Creek, the other out toward the Pedernales in the distance, the rolling hills and a couple of dramatic drop-offs where a limestone outcropping jutted out. The bluebonnets had mostly died back by now, but there was one sheltered spot near the Lacey oak that seemed to cling to them longer. There might still be some there.

He wasn’t really sure why that mattered, or even why he was doing this. But it appeared they’d decided to let her into Lucas’s life, so she was going to be around for a while.

What would happen after that, only time—and maybe the courts—would tell.

After a moment, she spoke again. “In the beginning, when I got old enough to realize that few people lived the way they did, I used to admire them for it.” She smiled wryly. “Then when I was a teenager and started thinking with all that teen drama, I wondered if they were on the run from something horrible they’d seen, or been victims of.”

“I’d be wondering if it was from something they’d done,” he muttered.

“Oh, I got there eventually.”

“Did you ever ask them?”

“I did.” Her hand moved up to her cheek as if involuntarily. “I got backhanded for my trouble.” He winced. “I suppose you never got hit?”

“No. Yanked a bit, when I was ten or so. I whined too often about my father being deployed all the time. My mother yanked me into a chair, called me disrespectful and selfish, and gave me a lecture about duty, pride, and loving my country that I’ve never forgotten.”

“I can picture her doing that.”

“Worst thing she ever said to me.”

“Selfish? Wow.”

“What was the worst thing for you?”

“‘Hurry up, Sydney, or we’ll leave you here.’” She grimaced again. “Or rather, the day I realized it wasn’t a joke.”

He couldn’t describe the feeling that came over him when he realized she wasn’t kidding. “Your parents,” he said slowly, “are the most supremely selfish people I’ve ever heard of.”

“I know that. Now.” The sadness in her voice and on her face made his throat so tight he couldn’t speak. “I finally realized they never really grew up. So they keep wandering, looking for whatever they’re looking for, but never finding it.”

A squirrel darted out of the brush, startling Blue into a quick sidestep, while Latte stayed placid, merely turning his head to watch the creature as it sped across the faint trail and into the thicker brush on the other side.

“He’s very calm,” she noted, patting the paint’s neck again.

“He’s rock solid,” Keller agreed.

She gave him a sideways look. “Yours, not quite so much.”

He couldn’t help it—he grinned. “Blue and I have reached an agreement. I put up with the occasional tap dance, and in return he’ll work the legs off any other horse on the ranch.”

She smiled, widely, and he felt a pleasure all out of proportion to the simple fact that the sadness had gone from her expression.

They rode on for a bit in silence, but a question he hadn’t asked was nagging at him. Finally, he just went for it. “So how do they afford all this traveling?”

“My mother’s trust fund.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Her late father was very successful. And smart—he set it up so she could only get a monthly stipend until she was thirty.” She sighed. “But when she could draw on it at will, they really started going through it. Once I got fairly decent at math, I warned them they were going to drain it. They blew me off. I was just a kid; what did I know?”

“And now?” he said, although he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

Again she shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. “They come to me when they need money.”

“And you give it to them?”

“They’re my parents.”

He studied her for a long moment. “I thought you didn’t know anything about family ties.”

She laughed, and it had the same bitter note as before. “Are you really comparing that to what you have?”

“No. There is no comparison.”

They rode on. He pointed out the green kingfisher flying overhead. “Hill Country’s the only place you’ll see them,” he said, and she jokingly—he thought—asked if she’d see an armadillo anytime soon.

“You’re being very open,” he said finally.

“I’m being honest,” she said. “Because I’m pretty sure that’s a Rafferty requirement.”

He blinked. Smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.” Then, feeling more than a little baffled, he asked, “How did you ever turn out like you did?”

The bitterness was gone when she answered softly, “Maybe I got it from the same place my aunt and uncle did.”

Her aunt and uncle. “Lucas’s parents.”

“I know what it feels like not to be wanted. To not have…a place in life. I don’t want him to ever feel that way.”

And yet Lucas, if her account was true and he thought it was, had had more of a good start in life than she ever had. And her words, that she’d said them at all, removed the last of his doubts about her sincerity. She meant everything she’d said. She wanted to be part of Lucas’s life.

He just wondered how Lucas would feel about a globe-trotting relative who dropped into his life and then flitted back out again on another distant jaunt. Because Keller was certain she would. A woman like this would never settle down here in small-town Texas, any more than Anna had. Lucas had better be aware from that at the outset.

And as they rode on, he had the thought that Lucas wasn’t the only one.

Chapter Twenty-One

Sydney wasn’t sure what had made him change, only that something had. He’d been less antagonistic since the meetings with his mother and his brother, but now he seemed practically…accepting. She was almost afraid to speak, for fear she’d somehow say something wrong and send them backward. Because she knew for certain that this man had the power to stop her in her tracks. Yes, his respect and love for his mother was obvious, but so was hers for him. And if he put his foot down, as the eldest son, she had a distinct feeling it would carry as much weight as his dead father’s would have.

She’d met a lot of men from a lot of places, some of them soft and some hard, some wastrels and some productive, some followers and some leaders…some cowards and some courageous. But she’d rarely met one that exhibited the better of all those opposite qualities. She had the feeling she had met one now.

She already knew Keller could be hard. That he was productive. That he was, in his way, a leader. And given what she knew about what he’d done with his life, how he’d stepped up when his father had been killed, there was no doubting his courage. That he was attractive…no, make that sexy as hell, that was just gravy.

Gravy on a dish you have no intention of sampling.

The self-warning sounded very stern, even in her head. She tried to focus on looking around instead.

She had been a lot of places, more than most people she knew or knew of. That much of it hadn’t been by choice hadn’t stopped her from being awestruck by some of the places she’d seen. But that pleasure had ever and always been tempered by the fact that they never stayed. No matter how much she liked a place, they never stayed. Because what she liked hadn’t mattered. Ever.

“You dislike it that much?”

Startled, she looked at him. “What?”

He gestured ahead of them, at the rolling hills punctuated by outcroppings of stone. “This.”

“I…no. It’s not that at all.” She smiled. “It’s actually quite beautiful. I see why you love it.”

“I do,” he said, and there was a touch of fervency in his voice she found appealing.

Face it, you find a lot about him appealing.

“I was just…” she began, but stopped.

“Just what?”

She sighed. “Feeling sorry for myself. Because I’ve never felt that kind of hold, the kind this place has on you.”

“Maybe you’ve never stayed long enough for anyplace to get a grip,” he said.

“As a child, I was never allowed to,” she said quietly. “And now…even if I want to, I don’t know how.”

He reined in the bluish horse, who shook his head slightly in apparent protest at the command. She gently reined in the paint in turn, who stopped politely. Keller was looking at her, almost staring, and something in his eyes unsettled her yet again.

“I didn’t say that to make you feel sorry for me, too,” she said quickly. “I just…was trying to explain. Why I’ve never felt the way you obviously do about this place.”

“Where’s home now?”

“I have a condo in LA, a small flat in London, and a place in Australia.”

He lifted the reins, and they started off again. “That’s an answer, but not exactly to what I asked.”

“If you mean where do I spend the most time, it has been LA lately.”

“No, I meant what do you consider home?”

She sighed again. “I have the place in Australia because I was born there, London because it’s a base for my travels, and LA because I’m a citizen of the US and I want to maintain a presence here.”

For another long moment he just looked at her. Then he said, as softly as she had spoken before, “You really don’t know what ‘home’ means, do you.”

“I want to learn. And I want Lucas to have it, too.”

“He does.”

She couldn’t deny that. “I…didn’t know you’d planned to adopt him.”

“Neither does he, so let’s not bring that up in front of him.” There was no missing the warning in his voice. “If you’re planning on dragging him around the world with you—”

“No, of course not. Do you think I want him to have the life I had?”

“Then you’re going to settle down somewhere? You don’t even know how.”

She couldn’t deny that. But she’d done harder things, much harder. Surely she could do this. But a little doubt began to niggle at her. Maybe she really hadn’t thought this through. Not enough, anyway. Or not in specifics.

That’s what, now how about where and how?

Keller’s chilly words echoed in her head. And she realized she’d been looking at this through an emotional lens, when she needed to look at it more through a…logistical lens. She’d built a worldwide company, so coming up with a plan should be a snap. It was the emotion that had derailed her usually logical brain.

She pondered this as they rode on, until at a spot where the faint trail divided—one path going downward, the other staying at the level they were at now—he headed right.

“Watch out for the prickly pear,” he said, pointing slightly up ahead.

She looked, saw the thick stand of the familiar cactus. “Aptly named, isn’t it? Do you know that in Malta they make a liqueur from the fruit? It tastes sort of like a honeydew melon.”

“Malta? As in the isle of, the knights of, the Malta Conference, and the Malta Summit?”

She smiled. “Exactly.”

“What were you doing there?”

“Meeting with a weaver who turns out some of the most magnificent tapestries I’ve ever seen, and I’m including museums in that.”

“You really do find things everywhere, don’t you?”

“Talent knows—”

“—no borders.” At her look when he finished the slogan he shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve looked at your website. Very…global of you.”

She shrugged back at him. “It’s the kind of message that appeals. It also happens to be true. Of talent, anyway. Some other things, not so much. Or shouldn’t be.”

He gave her a wry smile. “There are some imports I could do without.”

“Me, too.” She was grinning now. She couldn’t help it. “Funny thing is, the things people feel that way about are often similar, no matter where you are.”

He studied her for a moment. Then, quietly, he said, “You’ve had a mind-boggling life.”

She let out a short breath. “The difference is, you’ve never longed for my kind of life, and I’ve always longed for yours.”

Something flashed in his eyes then, something that made the rich green even more vivid for a moment. But then, as if he’d physically tamped it down, he said not quite dismissively, “You’d be bored within a week with life here.”

Not if you were in it.

For an instant she was terrified she’d said it out loud. But he didn’t react, there was no change in his expression, and she knew she hadn’t. Thankfully. The last thing she needed messing this up was telling him how attracted she was to him. She didn’t even want to admit that to herself.

“I’m not bored yet,” she said carefully. “This is a fascinating place. The history of Last Stand, of Texas in fact, rivals any I’ve encountered. It’s just more recent.”

“You want Texas history, you need to talk to my mother. She’s got it down.”

So perhaps that was where his affinity for history had come from. “I’d like to. I want to understand what it is about this place that makes it so different.”

And she meant it, despite the fact that the idea of dealing with Maggie Rafferty was intimidating. Odd, since she’d walked into situations around the world that should, by rights, be more intimidating, and she hadn’t felt this way.

But the rest of my life didn’t depend on that one encounter.

She didn’t want this to devolve into some kind of legal hassle, once her claim to the relationship was confirmed. She didn’t want—and wouldn’t—put poor Lucas in the middle of something like that.

Something caught the upper edge of her vision and she looked up. A large bird was circling above. Wings outstretched and steady, just sailing.

“Red-tailed hawk,” Keller said.

She could see why it had that name, since with the sun shining above it, the big bird’s tail did look red compared to its body. “Are they local, too?”

“If most of the Americas are local to you, then yeah.”

“Looking for lunch?”

“They can, but don’t usually hunt from the air. They’re more the sit up high and watch and wait for lunch to be served type.”

She laughed. He gave her a look as if she’d surprised him.

When he brought his horse to a stop and dismounted, she gathered they’d reached the spot he’d picked. As she slid off the gentle paint herself, she could see why; it was high enough that the vista of the rolling hills seemed endless. In the distance off to the right was what looked like a small house or cabin with some outbuildings and a lot of fencing. Straight ahead she could see the glint of sunlight on water. The hawk still circled overhead, as if simply enjoying the view just as she was.

“A few of them are hanging on,” Keller murmured, and she looked at him curiously. He pointed almost behind them. She turned and saw, tucked in the shelter of the small gap between the hillside and a stone shelf, in the shade of what looked like an oak tree, a small but brilliant cluster of bright, vivid blue flowers. And she knew these had to be the famous Texas bluebonnets.

“They’re beautiful!”

“They’re mostly gone by now, but in April, they’re all you can see for miles.”

“That must be amazing. Is it like that every year?”

“Pretty much.”

“I’m trying to picture it, but…”

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He tapped the screen a couple of times, then held it out to her. It was a picture obviously taken from this same spot, except the hills were indeed covered with an explosive carpet of these same blue flowers. It changed everything, and not just her perception of this place. Because the fact that this tough, stubborn cowboy had taken a photo of a profusion of flowers moved her in a way she’d rarely felt.

“What a welcome to spring,” she said.

“It’s kind of our billboard announcing winter’s really over.”

She laughed again. She could really get to like this Keller Rafferty—the one who joked, even smiled, and said things in ways that made her laugh.

She could get to like him a lot. Maybe too much.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Keller was surprised when she wanted to stay awhile. She sat down on a large stone that had crumbled from the outcropping next to the sheltered patch of flowers. She didn’t seem inclined to talk, but he knew she was thinking. He wasn’t sure which was better, in her case. Most of the time, with most women, he’d have gone with preferring the silence, but with an agile mind like hers, he wasn’t sure the thinking wasn’t more dangerous.

Dangerous?

To Lucas, of course. That’s all the thought meant.

The moment the boy popped into his mind she said, reaching out to stroke one of the lingering blossoms in a way that made the day seem suddenly warmer, “Did you bring Lucas out here to see the bluebonnets, when they were at full strength?”

“Yes,” he said, and stopped there, because it hadn’t been the most pleasant experience. But she seemed to pick up, as she so often did, on something in his voice, even in the single, short word. Her gaze shifted back to his face.

“What happened?”

He didn’t have the words to describe Lucas’s reaction, wouldn’t embarrass the kid by speaking them even if he had them, so he said only, “They were his mother’s favorite flower.”

“Oh. Difficult, then.”

“Very.”

A pause, and obviously more thinking before she asked, “How long has he been here?”

“Six months. Since right before Thanksgiving.”

“Was that…hard for him, too? The holiday?”

His first thought was that that was a stupid question. But then he remembered her own story, her parents, and decided maybe it wasn’t stupid, but more sad that she had to ask. “The first big holiday without his folks? Yeah.” He grimaced. “But at least he wasn’t sitting at the same table as always, looking at their empty chairs.”

She stared at him for a moment before saying softly, “Like you had to?”

He went still. Yes, the thinking part was much more dangerous. “It sucks either way,” he said bluntly.

“I can only imagine,” she said.

Keller realized that in her case, the words weren’t just a turn of phrase, they were the literal truth. And although he knew she hadn’t meant it to be, it was one of the saddest things he’d ever heard anyone say.

He supposed it was that that made him say, on impulse, “We’re taking Lucas to Kerrville tomorrow.”

She blinked. “What?”

“It’s about forty miles west of here.”

Perhaps the idea he’d had wasn’t wise, could be a mistake, but he was going to go with his gut on this one. Besides, it was already going to be so awful for Lucas he doubted it would make any difference to him, if he didn’t know who she was. Or claimed to be, he amended. And ignored for now the thought that it was getting harder and harder to remember that disclaimer. Because he was finding it nearly impossible to believe that that DNA test would come back anything other than a positive verification of the genetic link.

“Kerrville is where they were…” she began.

“Yes. They’re buried there. And this week…it’s been a year.”

“That’s…nice. That you thought of doing that.”

“I didn’t. Mom did. She took us to Dad’s grave every year. She didn’t want us to ever forget him.”

“Wasn’t that painful? I mean, I can see how much he meant to all of you.” She sounded merely curious. And he was reminded again that she had little experience with the kind of love that caused that kind of pain.

“It got better when we switched to going on his birthday,” he said. Then, before he could be diverted or change his mind, he plunged ahead. “Maybe, if Mom’s okay with it, you should go with us.”

Her eyes widened. “With Lucas?”

“He’s the point of it.”

He saw her swallow, and he knew she’d never expected the offer. Hell, he hadn’t expected to make it. And hoped fervently he didn’t regret it.

“You’re all going?”

“Yes. Mom’s orders.”

“And her orders get followed?” He got the feeling she was grasping at distraction; he truly had blindsided her. He wasn’t sure if that made him feel good or bad.

“She runs a tight ship.” He smiled then. “Even Lucas gets that. He says the first time she gave him an order was the first time he felt like he really belonged here.”

“Maybe it was the first time he saw that she thought he was going to be all right.”

Keller blinked. His brow furrowed. “I never thought about it like that, but you may be right. Up until then, we pretty much treated him with kid gloves. Well, except for the smoking.”

She drew back slightly. “Smoking? He was smoking?”

He nodded. “Just testing for limits, I think. I caught him out behind the main barn.”

First thing that happens if you’re staying is, that stops.

Gonna give me the cancer lecture?

No. If you don’t give a damn about your lungs, so be it. But I give a big damn about my horses.

He described that exchange to her, and was interested when her first question was, “Did he get it?”

“After I pointed out that cigarettes around a barn isn’t just stupid, it’s dangerous. To them. And how would he feel if Latte here—he’d started to learn to ride on him—burned to death because of him.”

“And I’m sure it worked. Because he knows what death is.”

He grimaced. “I didn’t think about that part at the time. I was pretty mad.”

“Understandable. When we take animals into our lives, especially into our service, we owe them safety in return.”

She might not have ever had loving parents, but somewhere she had learned. And he felt better about making the rather rash offer.

Which she still hadn’t given him an answer to.

“I would have thought, given why you say you’re here, you’d have jumped at this. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To meet Lucas, even before the DNA test comes back?”

“Yes,” she said, and there was an undertone in her voice he’d never heard from her before. It took him a moment to recognize it as fear, which surprised him, given how bold and confident she seemed.

But what surprised him even more was his reaction to it; he didn’t much like the idea of her being afraid.

“But?” he prodded.

She let out a long sigh. “I have met complete strangers in wild places where I did not know their customs or even their language, and it didn’t scare me this much.”

She really was afraid. With every place she’d been and everything she’d done, she was afraid. He was a little surprised she’d admitted it in so many words.

“What scares you?”

She met his gaze then, and he saw worry in her amber eyes. “What if he doesn’t like me?”

It was such a basic, emotional question, delivered in such a heartfelt way, that for a moment he couldn’t answer. He hated conversations like this. Especially when he hadn’t expected it; he’d thought she would simply jump at the opportunity she wanted so much.

After a moment spent discarding possible answers, he finally said honestly, “I don’t think that’ll be an issue tomorrow. You’ll be the last thing he’ll be thinking about.”

She brightened at that. He wondered how many women would cheer up at an assessment that they wouldn’t matter to someone.

Only one who truly meant what she’d said.

“All right,” she finally said. “Maybe, later when he knows who I am, he’ll understand not telling him right away was for the best.”

He nodded, but reminded her warningly, “We’ve still got to convince my mother it’s a good idea.”

“We will,” she said confidently.

Keller lectured himself all the way back to the house that it was beyond stupid to like the way she said that “we” so much.

And ruefully admitting he’d been the one to say it first.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“That boy could have been ranked the best calf roper in the country,” Maggie Rafferty said as she watched her eldest son take the debris from the quick lunch they’d had into the kitchen—including the jar of horseradish Keller had used on his roast beef sandwich that had made her eyes water the moment he’d opened it, even from across the table.

Sydney didn’t know a lot about American rodeo, but she knew what a big deal it was, especially here in Texas. She glanced at Keller, who was loading dishes into the dishwasher, then back at the woman across the table. “Does he still regret it?”

The bright glow faded a little. “He’ll never say so. He’s tough, because he’s had to be. But he missed out on so much, because he did what had to be done. I don’t know what would have happened to this family if he hadn’t.”

“He says you are the one who held things together.” As she said it, Sydney couldn’t help wondering what her life might have been like, had she had even one parent like Maggie Rafferty.

“But because he was the oldest I leaned on him, far too much. Made him grow up before his time.”

She sounded sad, and Sydney felt a pang. And felt the urge to change the subject. “Keller says if I want Texas history, you’re the go-to.”

As if she understood perfectly, Keller’s mother lifted one delicate brow at her. “Do you? Want Texas history?”

“I’m trying to learn, yes.” She abandoned the flattery tactic. “I mean, it’s hard to miss that everything is…bigger here.”

“That’s because we’re bigger. You can start here in Last Stand and drive ten hours, over five hundred miles, and still be in Texas.”

She remembered something she’d seen online, a picture of a billboard that looked more brag than anything. “Is it true El Paso is closer to California than it is to Dallas?”

“It is.”

“And I read that the monument at San Jacinto is taller than the Washington Monument.”

“It is,” she said again. “It’s an important piece of that history.” Something flared in those blue eyes. “But not the most important.”

“What is?” Sydney asked, although she thought she already knew.

“We may have won our independence from Mexico at San Jacinto, but it was paid for in blood—”

“—at the Alamo,” Sydney finished softly.

There was a moment’s pause before the other woman nodded. And Sydney didn’t think she’d mistaken the approval in both the gesture and the look in her eyes.

Keller came back to the table, but he didn’t sit. Instead he just looked down at his mother, waiting. Silently.

“We’ll need to take your SUV to fit everyone,” she said briskly to him. Then she looked back at Sydney. “Be here at ten.”

*

“You’re really all going?”

Lucas was looking at the family gathered at the kitchen table, his expression a little stunned.

“We are,” Maggie confirmed, pulling off her apron.

Keller had noticed when he’d first come into the kitchen that beneath the protective apron his mother wore a tailored black blouse and long skirt, and well-polished black boots. On her orders, they’d all dressed for the remembrance. Since the morning had dawned gray and overcast, with the threat of a spring rain, it seemed appropriate.

“Of course we are, buddy,” Cody said.

Lucas gave Chance a sideways glance, eyeing his black shirt. “Even you?”

Keller waited as no one answered for the most reticent Rafferty. They’d quit doing that a while ago, hoping that the manners ingrained in him since childhood would win out if he was forced to talk or be rude.

“Even me,” Chance said wryly. Then, to his—and Keller suspected everyone’s—surprise, he added, “They were good people. They deserve all the respect we can muster.”

The boy lowered his eyes to his plate, but he was blinking rapidly. And Keller saw his mother giving Chance a warmly approving look. Which made his brother mimic Lucas’s action of staring at his plate, although minus the fighting tears. Keller wondered if his weary brother even had the capacity for tears anymore. He suspected that well had long ago run dry. Not that he would let it show anyway. None of them would. Not Rafferty men. Except when they made a trip similar to this one, to honor the prototype, the man who had fathered them.

“You’d better finish those pancakes,” Keller said rather gruffly. “You’ll need the fuel today.”

The boy picked up his fork and dug in obediently. But then, they were the Rafferty specials, made with his mother’s particular flair. Keller looked across the table at her. She nodded. He glanced at Ry, who shrugged. He cleared his throat.

“Uh…somebody else is coming, too.”

Lucas looked up at him. “Who?”

“You know Ry’s toolbox?”

The boy’s brow furrowed. “With the bird?”

He nodded. “The lady Mom bought it from is in town. She’s never been to Texas before.”

“Oh.”

Keller was about to continue, even as he dreaded going on because all the rest would be a sort of lie, even if of omission. But a little to his surprise, Lucas merely shrugged much as Ry had, and went back to his pancakes. Keller shot a glance at his mother, who gave him a raised brow and a nod. Ry, who would have been the biggest party to the story they’d concocted, seemed relieved, and shot his brother a “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth” kind of expression.

When they were done with breakfast, Keller went to check his string tie in the mirror by the door, while his mother went with Lucas to help him with his. Not something he could do for the kid. He’d never had the knack she had, or Ry, who seemed to see tying one as an artistic challenge, or Cody, whom he guessed had it diagrammed in his head complete with labeled loops and strands.

He did his best and was turning away from the mirror when he heard the car. Instinctively he glanced at his watch. Ten to ten.

“That your girl?” Cody asked, his tone a hair too innocent.

“Just because you pissed her off at first sight, don’t take it out on me,” Keller retorted.

He started to head for the door, but not before he saw Ry and Chance exchange a look, one punctuated by raised brows from Chance and a grin from Ry. And remembered that Chance hadn’t met Sydney yet, or even seen her. That ought to be interesting. He reached for the door and pulled it open before she knocked, already anticipating his brother’s reaction to—

He forgot to think. He damned near forgot to breathe. Wasn’t sure he remembered how.

It was her, he knew it was. He’d never forget those eyes, that face, that body, but…

“You cut your hair,” he said lamely, because it was the only thing he could think of to say that didn’t involve the way that silky, dark gray dress slid over her curves, the way it bared her legs from the knees down to the shiny short boots, and the way those legs looked in the dark stockings she wore.

But she had cut it; the dark color was gone, leaving nothing but a sleek neck-length cap of pale blond that seemed to want to flip up slightly at the ends. It moved with her in a slippery sort of way that had him imagining what it would feel like to have it slip over his skin.

“Actually, Bella McBride did,” she said with a smile.

“Oh.”

“Your mother was right,” she added when he couldn’t think of another word. “She did a great job.” She flicked a hand at the ends of her hair, obviously pleased.

“She’s…good. And nice.”

“Yes. She was such a sweetheart, and made room for me first thing this morning.” She tilted her head as she looked up at him. “I thought it would be one less thing to have to explain.” Then, more anxiously, she asked, “Does he know? That I’m coming with you, I mean?”

“I…yes.” He gave himself a mental shake. “It went better than I thought it would. We only told him you’re the one Mom bought Ry’s toolbox from, and that you’d never been to Texas before. That seemed to be enough for him.”

“So no lies,” she said quietly, sounding as relieved as he and Ry had felt.

“You gonna make her stand out there until we leave?” Ry’s voice came from behind him. Belatedly he stepped aside and gestured her inside. Then his brother stepped around him and gave Sydney a nod. “He did take it well. Of course he doesn’t know the whole yet.”

Sydney drew in a visible breath. “I won’t say anything until you say it’s okay.”

Chance came over, clearly curious enough to bestir himself. Keller introduced them. His brother studied her for a moment, glanced at Keller with understanding in his gaze. As if one look at her had explained…something.

“Keller told me what you do with the dogs,” Sydney said. “I think that’s wonderful.”

Chance shifted his gaze back to her. “They’ve earned all I can do and more. If not for one of them I wouldn’t be here.”

He said it rather gruffly. Keller was surprised he’d said it at all. While the fact that an MWD had saved his life overseas was in the info on the website Cody ran for the operation, it was something Chance himself rarely talked about at all.

“What’s the name of your organization?”

“They Also Serve. Mom picked it.” Chance grimaced. “But there’s no organization. Just me.”

She considered that. “Makes sense. A single pack leader.”

Chance’s expression changed, and Keller knew he hadn’t expected that. Won’t be the first time she surprises you. She sure as hell has surprised me.

“Are you open to outside donations?” she asked.

Keller went very still. Chance’s gaze narrowed. “Donations for the work, yes. Bribes, no.”

“Trying to buy your way into our good graces?” Cody’s too silky tone from behind Chance was one Keller was wary of; his little brother might be a bit geeky on the surface, but he’d learned early on that that clever brain could devise paybacks that were almost frightening in their execution and in most cases, appropriateness.

Sydney looked utterly disconcerted, and Keller was certain the idea that her offer might be interpreted that way had never occurred to her. “I didn’t mean…my company has a charitable wing, and this is exactly the kind of thing we look for to sponsor.”

“Right,” Cody said, and went past them and out the door without another word.

“What’s with him?” Ry asked, frowning.

“I don’t know,” Sydney said. “He disliked me on sight, almost before I said a word. And I have no idea why.”

“Almost? What did you say?” Chance asked.

“I just asked if he—” she nodded at Keller “—was here. And he went feral on me.”

Keller frowned, as much at the looks his two brothers exchanged as at her answer. But before he could dwell on it, he heard the sound of footsteps coming from the back of the house. And his mother’s voice.

“—can’t make it easy. The right thing to do often isn’t.”

Sydney went very still. Her head turned in the direction of the footsteps. He kept his gaze on her face, wanting to see her expression the first time she laid eyes on her cousin.

And he didn’t even blink this time when he thought it, because deep in his gut, he knew it was the truth.

Chapter Twenty-Four

She’d been right to be afraid, Sydney thought. Because her brain seemed to freeze up and her knack with words vanished the moment she looked into Lucas Brock’s eyes. Eyes whose shape and color—that deep, dark brown—were all too familiar.

Her father’s eyes.

Even his hair was similar, kicking forward from a cowlick in the back. And his build; slight, wiry. She thought that even had she just run into this boy on the street, without knowing, she would have seen a resemblance. And she wondered just how alike her father and his brother had been, if they had looked alike while being so different on the inside. If the boy had photos of his father, and surely he did, she could ask to see—

“Lucas, this is Sydney,” Keller’s mother said, ending the near-panicked skittering of Sydney’s thoughts.

“Hi,” the boy muttered, barely glancing at her.

“Hi,” she returned, barely managing even the short word past the lump in her throat. The boy moved past her, clearly having put her in the category of adult he didn’t have to interact with.

They went outside to where the large SUV she’d seen before was parked. “Sydney, you sit up front,” Mrs. Rafferty said briskly, startling her. But then she realized the front had two separate seats. So no one would have to sit next to the interloper?

“Dibs on the wayback,” Cody said pointedly, and yanked open the back door and slid the second seat forward so he could get to the smaller, third row of seats. Before she could react to his obvious desire to be as far away from her as possible, Keller had opened the passenger front door. He stood waiting as his two other brothers, much more good-naturedly, squabbled. Sydney climbed in as she listened.

“I claim height advantage,” Ry said. “You get to sit with the dronemaster.”

“For an inch? Fu—get about it,” Chance said, with a glance at their mother as he changed the expletive midword.

“Good call,” Mrs. Rafferty said with a stern look Sydney had the feeling was just that, a look, and that underneath she was amused. She was sure of it when the woman said easily, “The rest of us can all fit in the second seat. That way Cody can sulk all by himself back there.”

Startled at the words, Sydney snapped her gaze to Mrs. Rafferty’s face. And realized she’d just gotten a taste of what it would be like to have this woman on her side. She still didn’t know why Cody had taken such an instant disliking to her, but she couldn’t imagine anyone, let alone one of her sons, holding out for long against this woman if she decided to accept Sydney’s presence in Lucas’s life on a permanent basis.

Settled in the passenger seat she fastened the seat belt. And belatedly realized this meant that Keller was driving. Which she should have figured. Now she was thankful for those bucket seats; there would at least be a foot or so between them.

She waited until they were out the ranch gate and onto the road before she twisted in her seat to look back at Lucas, seated between Keller’s mother on the end behind the driver’s seat, and the two other Rafferty brothers. The boy seemed to sense her gaze and looked up.

“Thank you for letting me join you today,” she said softly.

“Can’t make it any worse,” the boy muttered.

“No, I can’t. Nothing could.”

That earned her a sideways look and a blunt, “They get it. Do you?”

Start as you mean to go on. Honestly. “Not really. My parents…aren’t like yours were. I was more of a nuisance to them than anything.”

He didn’t question her knowledge of what his parents had been like. And he seemed surprised. At the honesty? He focused on her, with those eyes. “Sucks,” he said flatly.

“I’d say that definitely applies,” she agreed.

“My parents were pretty strict, though,” Lucas said, surprising her. Be glad he’s at least talking to you.

She considered that for a moment before saying, “Well, that gives rise to an interesting question. Is it worse to live with strict parents, or parents that don’t give a…horse’s patoot what you do?”

She saw with her peripheral vision that Keller glanced at her at the change in phrase. Or the question itself. But she didn’t look at him, never moved her gaze from her cousin’s young face. And he looked as if he were seriously pondering the subject. “I don’t know,” he finally said.

“I think somewhere in between would be the sweet spot,” Sydney said.

Lucas grimaced. “Does that even exist?”

Sydney glanced at Maggie Rafferty. Then looked back at Lucas. “Yeah, I think it does,” she said.

The boy hadn’t missed her glance, and followed it with one of his own. “Maybe,” he agreed, hesitantly.

The older woman beside him in the back seat moved then, slipping an arm around the boy in a rather fierce hug. But she was looking at Sydney, and her expression made Sydney feel a warmth unlike anything she’d ever felt before. It was crazy how the slightest sign of approval from this family made her feel as if she’d truly accomplished something.

And the figurative slap in the face from the youngest brother?

She gave an inward shrug; she’d meant it when she said she had no idea why Cody Rafferty had taken such an instant dislike to her. Distrust she could understand, but this was something more.

She refused to dwell on it, not now, when she was finally here with Lucas. But her instincts, such as they were when they came to situations she’d never expected to find herself in, told her not to push, and she turned back to face front as the boy relaxed into the hug from Keller’s mother.

Silence fell in the vehicle, lasting long enough to feel slightly uncomfortable. Then she heard Rylan Rafferty ask his brother, “How’s your problem pup coming along?”

It was a moment before she heard movement from the seat right behind her, as if the reticent-seeming Chance had had to snap back to the present. Or reality. She didn’t know much about him, other than he’d been in the military, and was utterly dedicated to his work with the more difficult K-9 cases. That alone would have made her favorably disposed toward him, and she supposed she couldn’t blame him for thinking her question about donations might have been out of self-interest.

“He’s making progress,” Chance said, his voice sounding a bit rough, not with emotion but as if it didn’t get much use. She wondered if he ever talked to anybody outside his dogs and his family. “But it’s slow.”

“Think he’d tolerate me for a while yet?”

“Soon,” Chance said. “You still want to do that sketching?”

“Yes. There’s something special about that dog.”

“They’re all special,” Chance said, and this time the emotion was there. So however closed off the man might be, he wasn’t to those dogs. And Sydney vowed to make a call tonight to Harumi, who ran the charitable operation of The World in a Gift, telling her to begin the process. No matter what might—or might not—happen with her and Lucas didn’t change the value of what he was doing.

Silence reigned again. A glance told her the grouchy Cody was engrossed in something on his phone, Chance was back to staring out the window at the passing landscape, while Rylan was doing something with a pencil and a sketch pad. As she looked, Lucas straightened up, away from Mrs. Rafferty. Not as if recoiling, more like he’d just remembered he was thirteen and too old to tolerate coddling for long. She didn’t protest, only smiled at him, and Sydney guessed she was all too familiar with this stage of a child’s—especially a boy’s—development.

In the moment that she noticed the billboard ahead promoting the famous Kerrville Folk Festival, she heard Lucas mutter, “I hate that music. I never liked it, but now I hate it.” She understood, of course. It was only natural that he’d hate everything about the event that had brought his parents to the place where they’d died. When he saw her looking at him, he said, almost rebelliously, “If they hadn’t liked it, they wouldn’t have come here and they wouldn’t be dead.”

“I get that,” she said, feeling out of her depth once more; how did you deal with the kind of love Lucas had shared with his parents, when she’d never known it? She’d seen it, around the world, but she’d never experienced it firsthand. So instead, she went with a simpler truth. “But you know, for me it makes me feel I know them a little, even though I never had the chance to meet them.”

She heard Keller make a sharp move, guessed his head had snapped around to look at her. Thinking she might break from the plan and tell Lucas who she was? When she said nothing more, he quickly averted his gaze, back to the road ahead. Traffic was picking up a bit, no doubt from the festival, since this was the ending weekend for it. She’d done her research and knew that thousands of people swarmed the otherwise relatively small town.

“That makes sense, I guess,” Lucas said slowly.

In the end, the day was both grimmer and happier than she’d thought it would be. Not just for Lucas, but for her, too, which she hadn’t expected. But somehow seeing the names on the joint grave marker got to her, and she truly resented her parents in those moments, for stealing this from her, the possibility of knowing her aunt and uncle.

But her resentment vanished in a still moment beside the graves, when Lucas wiped furiously at his eyes and turned away as if to deny he was crying. And Sydney heard Keller say quietly to the boy, “If there’s ever a time a man shouldn’t be ashamed of crying, this is it. They deserve your tears, Lucas. They earned them.”

It took a moment, but then the boy’s head came up. He looked up at Keller, and then nodded sharply. And didn’t try to hide his face any longer.

Keller Rafferty was quite a man.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Keller was only half listening to his mother’s Kerrville history lesson as they sat with the big sandwiches they’d picked up, at the picnic table overlooking the river in Guadalupe Park, on the River Trail. Lucas, however, steadier now, seemed rapt as she ran through the considerable accomplishments of the man the town—and county—were named for. James Kerr had had an impressive résumé for any era, from doctor to surveyor to Texas Ranger to politician.

But Keller was watching Sydney, albeit surreptitiously, who seemed almost as fascinated as the boy was. And trying not to notice the way that dress clung to her, the shape of her legs in the dark stockings, and the way her now single-color hair slipped like polished silk whenever she moved her head.

“He was born in Kentucky, as was his friend who founded the town and named it after him. But we forgive them for that,” his mom said with a wink that actually got a brief smile out of Lucas, and a laugh from Sydney.

“So you don’t have to be born here to be an acceptable Texan?” she asked.

“No,” his mother answered, “you just have to be a Texan at heart. True Texans have no patience for people who swoop in here and immediately start trying to change things.”

His mother went on with the familiar story, including the fact that Kerr had picked the site and named the community of Gonzales, which eventually would be the scene of one of the most famous battles in Texas history. Lucas seemed particularly fascinated by the story of the eighteen defenders who had held off a hundred Mexican soldiers sent from San Antonio to get back a cannon. The eighteen responded with the now equally if not more famous “Come and take it!”

“You should be a teacher,” Sydney said, rather fervently. “You make it come alive.”

Keller wasn’t the only one who went still. But they left it to their mother to answer. “I was,” she said quietly.

Keller saw her process, realize. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Not just that you had to give it up, but for the reason why.”

There was nothing but simple, honest sincerity in her voice. And his mother responded accordingly. “As am I. He was the best man I’ve ever known, and I adored him.”

Sydney shook her head in obvious wonder. “I’ve never… I’ve seen it, a few times, but… That’s why you never remarried?”

His mother laughed. “I’ve quite enough testosterone around these days,” she said, waving around the picnic table at her sons, and carefully including Lucas in the gesture. “Besides, I wouldn’t subject any poor man to trying to live up to their father. It’s a test no one could pass.”

“I don’t know,” Sydney said. “I think his sons might manage it.”

That earned her the warmest smile yet. His brothers lowered their eyes, as if embarrassed. Except for Cody, who rolled his eyes.

“If that was flattery,” his mom said, “it worked. There’s nothing I like more than my sons being appreciated.”

Keller still stayed silent. In part because he knew perfectly well that none of the Rafferty boys would ever consider themselves as having lived up to their father. And even though their mother had been careful to point out that had he made it home who knows what would have happened, that he might have disappointed one or all of them, Keller knew none of them really believed he would have.

And because he was wondering what the hell had set Cody off. He was going to have to have a talk with his little brother. For all his admitted geekiness, Cody wasn’t usually antisocial or judgmental, so something had to have brought this on. And if she was going to be around a lot, it would be easier if his brother could at least turn off the glare.

He wasn’t quite sure how to make her being around a lot easier on himself. He couldn’t avoid her—Lucas was his, he’d been the one to take this on, and he’d have to oversee this huge shift in the boy’s life. Poor kid, first his folks, then the group home, then landing here and having to adjust all over again, and now this.

No, like his mother’s focus had been on her sons, his focus had to be on what was best for Lucas.

And developing a case of the hots for Lucas’s newly discovered cousin was not the way to do that.

*

Sydney spent a lot of the ride back to Last Stand just thinking. Pondering the kind of family this was, headed by the woman who gave up her career to see to her family. Her own mother wouldn’t have given up a cup of coffee for her, yet expected her to bail them out whenever they ran through what money they had. Their reasoning was that they were the ones who had introduced her to the world, therefore the success of her business based on things from all over that world was, in effect, because of them.

By the time they got back to the house Lucas seemed to have recovered his equilibrium. She, on the other hand, felt as if she were mired in chaos, and utterly lost. Which was crazy; how did it happen that she was the one confused while Lucas seemed to be handling this grim anniversary if not well, at least calmly?

Because he’s got this family behind him, and he knows it.

She was only vaguely aware of being ushered inside by Mrs. Rafferty. She heard a quiet exchange between the older woman and the quietest Rafferty brother, the one with the touch of gray at his temples and the haunted eyes.

“I’ll take him now.” At her nod, he turned and called out to Lucas, “Hey, kid. Want to give me a hand? I’ve got a dog ready to meet some new people.”

She noticed Lucas’s widened eyes as he said excitedly, “Help you with the dogs? Yeah!”

They were gone before she could focus on what was happening, and she couldn’t help wondering if the man had been trying to get Lucas away from her, especially when he didn’t even look at her before they left. Rylan went practically on their heels, although at least he gave her a goodbye nod. And Cody had vanished before they even set foot inside.

“Is that…safe for him?” she asked, remembering what she knew of the kind of dogs Chance worked with.

“We wouldn’t let him go if it wasn’t,” Keller said, rather edgily. “Chance would die to protect him if he had to.” He was quite serious, she could tell.

“They get along well,” Mrs. Rafferty said, her tone more even. “I think they recognize that they have things in common.”

Loss. She meant loss. And she wondered how many brothers-in-arms Chance Rafferty had lost.

“And,” his mother went on, “he’s opened up a bit since Lucas has been here. So the boy’s good for him.”

If this was opened up, she didn’t want to think about what Chance Rafferty had been like before.

“I was just worried,” she said, sounding lame even to herself.

“I understand that,” Mrs. Rafferty said.

“Thank you, Mrs. Rafferty,” Sydney said, meaning it.

“First thing, you need to stop calling me that. Maggie will do. Margaret will get you decked.” Sydney couldn’t stop the laugh that broke from her. “Ah, that’s better. You were looking a bit shaky there for a while. Keller, that one’s over to you, I’ve got some bookkeeping to do.”

The petite, slender blonde spun on her heel and was gone almost before Sydney could register it.

“Is she always like that?”

“The tireless dynamo, you mean?” Keller said dryly. “Yes.”

“Actually, I meant so…perceptive.”

“That, too. Rare were the times any of us could put one over on her, and don’t even try to hide anything from her.” He looked at her consideringly. “So, why were you so shaky? You didn’t say a word all the way back here.”

“I was…” She hesitated, then went on. “I was feeling guilty.”

He drew back slightly. “Guilty?” His gaze narrowed. “About what?”

She guessed he was probably expecting some confession that she’d been lying all along. And she knew only the truth would counter that.

“About feeling…there at the gravesite…that…” She swallowed, thinking how horrible the truth was going to sound. She felt her eyes well up, and blinked rapidly. Finally, it came out in a rush. “I felt guilty because they were so obviously good, loving parents, and I looked at Lucas and saw his pain, how much he’d clearly loved them, and I couldn’t help thinking that…the wrong parents had died.”

She couldn’t look at him, didn’t want to see the revulsion in his face at the awful words. Still, she sensed him go very still. A chill swept over her, and she shivered, helpless to stop it.

“Damn,” he muttered, and she knew he was indeed repulsed by what she’d said and—

Suddenly she was enveloped in warmth, and a pair of strong, impossibly strong arms came around her. She didn’t even think about resisting; it felt too good. She turned her head, rested it against the solid wall of his chest. The warmth, the strength, the powerful beat of his heart, it was all like a drug, making her tangled emotions drain away. In this moment, nothing mattered except how good this felt.

With her ear against him, she felt as well as heard him say, almost under his breath, “I used to think about how unlucky we were, to lose Dad so young. But at least we had him. Knew he loved us. And we still had Mom.”

“Keller?” she whispered, not even sure what she was asking.

“You remind me it could have been worse.” He let out a compressed breath. “Degrees of hell, I guess.”

“But it was such an awful thing to think.”

“From what you’ve told me, they’ve earned every bit of it.”

“But…I’m afraid I’m like them. Until today, when I met Lucas, until I looked into his eyes, I didn’t realize I was being just as selfish as they are. Worried about what I wanted instead…” She gulped in a deep breath. “You tried to tell me. You asked me if this was about what I wanted, or what was best for Lucas. I told myself it was both. But maybe I was kidding myself.”

“You’re not like them,” he said.

She sighed. But didn’t move, afraid if she did he’d let go. And she didn’t want him to let go.

Ever.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Careful what you wish for.

The old warning replayed in Keller’s head as he yawned yet again. He’d spent Saturday night, after Sydney had gone back to the inn, wishing he’d never given in to the urge to comfort her. He’d slept little, and spent most of the night telling himself what an idiot move that had been.

And trying to forget how good it had felt to hold her.

Lecturing himself that she’d been in such obvious pain it was instinct alone that had made him move didn’t help. Chastising himself that it was a bit twisted that holding a person in such pain felt so good didn’t help, either.

By Sunday night, after a day spent trying to get all his ranch work done in time for Cody’s birthday dinner—followed by the funny cake decorated with an amazing accurate image of his brother’s computer array—he’d reached his last resort, telling himself that he’d just neglected that part of his life for too long. It had been more than a year, he’d realized with a little jolt, since his last relationship, which had barely lasted long enough to be called that, had ended when Vanessa’s ex had shown up wanting her back. She gone with delight, and just enough regret to salve his ego. Although he hadn’t really been all that upset, since he’d always known it was a rebound relationship for her. In fact, that had been somewhat of an escape hatch for him; it was easy to not care so much when you knew there was an expiration date.

That rationalization allowed him to finally get some sleep. Unfortunately for his weary brain, his body seemed to be sending signals that translated into the hottest dreams he’d had in years, erotic images that featured him kissing every inch of Sydney’s lovely, naked body, lingering at the one part he’d actually seen that way, the newly bared nape of her neck beneath the silky, now all-blond hair. The dreams were so vivid, so real, that there was a moment of disconnect when he woke up early Monday and she wasn’t there.

And that heated, restless night had brought on the old axiom. He’d wished for sleep and gotten it…but he wasn’t sure it wasn’t worse than no sleep at all.

He needed to roll out. There was a lot on his mental agenda for this Monday, but he couldn’t quite make himself move. He glanced at his bedside clock, saw that it was a little after five. Just starting to get light. Light enough to work, though. If he doubled up on the caffeine intake.

A cold shower woke him up, and chilled his other problem. Body reluctantly more cooperative now, he dressed quickly and headed for the kitchen. He yawned again as he hit the button on the coffeemaker Ry had set up last night. They rotated setting it up the night before, and anyone who forgot heard about it the next day. Even Lucas took his turn, although he complained he didn’t drink the stuff so it wasn’t fair. Keller had pointed out how much worse a mood they were all in without their morning coffee, so it was in his best interests to do his part. Lucas had frowned, thinking, but then had nodded and never mentioned it again.

“Well done,” his mother had told him after the boy had been off to school.

He’d grinned at her. “I had a good teacher.”

“I’m just glad he feels safe enough here now to complain.”

She was right. The skittish, scared kid who had first arrived here after the juvenile court proceedings would never have said a word.

Now, as he waited for the coffee, he allowed himself a wry smile at what his life had become, a thing where the whining of a young teenager was a good thing.

He was downing that second mug of the brew when his phone chimed an incoming text. He pulled it out, and stopped breathing for a moment when he saw it was Shane. Barring an emergency, there was only one reason he could think of for him to be contacting him at this hour.

He sucked in a deep breath, opened the app, and read.

Results back. Call me.

Shane had to have put some pressure on, to have this more complex test back this fast. He had such respect in the county, hell in the entire state if not the country, just him calling to check on progress could speed things up. Or maybe they’d just caught the lab at a slow moment. Or—

Stop stalling.

He hit the phone icon and it dialed.

“Figured you were awake,” Shane said without preamble.

“You live on a working ranch, you should know,” he managed to retort fairly evenly. And thankfully, Shane didn’t torture him with chat.

“Likelihood of the relationship is ninety-seven percent.”

Keller let out a long breath. “Not surprised.”

“And now you get to tell Lucas. Know how you’re going to do it yet?”

“No,” Keller admitted.

“Maybe you should leave it to her.”

“But I’m the one he trusts, I think.”

“I know he does. Look, I need to notify her, too, but I’ll wait until business hours,” Shane said, which made Keller appreciate even more the early heads-up.

“I’ll tell her.” He wasn’t even sure why he’d volunteered for that. He’d brought Shane in, and knew that made it semi-official, and that Shane being Shane he’d have to confirm. “This morning. I’ll let you know when…she knows.”

“All right.” A pause, then, “Maybe you two should tell Lucas together.”

That Shane echoed the idea that had, unbidden and unwanted, formed in his mind the moment he heard the confirmation of what he’d known in his gut was true, made him feel it was almost inevitable.

“Yeah. Maybe,” he muttered.

“Work out how, then go for it,” Shane suggested.

Easy for you to say.

After ending the call he stood there, coffee forgotten, staring rather blankly at the familiar pattern of the stone counter. Only the sound of the outside kitchen door opening and footsteps snapped him out of it.

“It ready?” Ry asked.

“It is.”

His brother had some time ago converted the upper level of the smaller barn into living quarters, saying there were times when ideas struck at odd hours and he didn’t want to wake everyone up by heading to his workshop at three in the morning. Given the amazing results, none of the Raffertys were going to argue with him. Even Mom, who preferred everyone under one roof, had gone along, saying it was better than him moving away entirely. Just as it had been better to have Chance in his own place but still on the ranch. So they all had their own space—Mom the expansive master suite, Keller’s rooms expanded to almost the same size, and Cody in the back third of the house with his adjacent workroom for all his tech gear—but they could still come together at a moment’s notice.

Besides, having only the three of them still in the main house had meant there was plenty of room for Lucas. And the expression on his face when they’d first led him to what was to be his room, complete with his own bathroom and a big window looking out toward the hills, Keller had gotten his first glimpse of how bad the kid’s life in that group home must have been. At least, compared to the life he’d had before.

“You look grim even for a Monday morning at the crack of dawn. What’s up?” Ry asked, eyeing him over the rim of his coffee mug.

“My question exactly,” came the familiar voice from behind them as their mother walked in. “I know that expression.”

“I should be the one asking why everyone’s up so darned early,” Keller muttered, acknowledging to himself even as he said it that he was stalling.

“I still know when my boys are worried,” Mom said, walking past him for her own coffee, but giving his arm a squeeze as she did.

He took a long swallow of the hot brew, needing the jolt. Finally, with Mom’s and Ry’s eyes still aimed at him, he set down the mug, grimaced, and answered. “Shane got the results back.”

Mom frowned. “I thought that was going to take—”

“So did I,” Keller agreed glumly. “Never underestimate the power of the Highwater name in this county.”

Ry looked at him consideringly. “Since you’re not happily planning the exit of Ms. Brock, I gather the results were…would that be positive, or negative?”

“Depends on your point of view,” he said dryly. “What the results were was conclusive. The genetic relationship to Lucas is confirmed.”

“So,” his mother said softly, “Lucas has family. That’s good news, isn’t it?”

“It might be, if the family in question had the slightest clue what the word family even means.”

Ry frowned. “Little harsh, bro.”

He sighed. Reminded himself he was the one who’d spent the most time with her. The one she’d told the most to. The one who knew just why the idea of a family like theirs amazed her.

The one who ended up holding her when she got the shakes.

He had to tell them everything, so they’d know what they were dealing with. Because obviously they were going to be dealing, and soon. As soon as she found out they had the results back. So in the most abbreviated version he could manage, he told them what he’d learned about her life. When he was done, Ry let out a low whistle. “Makes us look pretty lucky.”

“Exactly.” Exactly what I told her. When she was in my arms.

“Well,” his mother said briskly, although her eyes were suspiciously bright, “for Lucas’s sake, she needs to learn what a real family is like. And that is obviously up to us.”

It was so her that for a moment Keller couldn’t speak. He swallowed tightly, then said softly, “Mom?” She lifted her gaze to his face. “Thank you. For holding us together. For saving us. For…everything.”

“Amen,” Ry said, sounding as if his throat were just as tight.

The tears won this time, those beloved eyes overflowed, and Keller knew he didn’t say that often enough.

“Off with you now,” she said, swiping at her suddenly wet cheeks. “Ry, you don’t want the senator mad at you for being late with that saddle. Keller, you…” She stopped, then finished it. “You know what you need to do. Go tell her.”

Oh, he knew all right. “I think,” he said wryly, “I’ll wait a couple of hours.”

“But no longer,” she ordered—and by then she was back in control enough that that’s what it was. “I need to go get Lucas up for school. That boy takes forever in the mornings, just like Cody.”

Cody. Keller smothered a grimace as she headed for Lucas’s room. He still had no idea what about her set his little brother off, but something obviously did. And had from the first moment.

“Cody doesn’t like her much,” Ry observed, as if he’d read Keller’s expression. Probably had; he was annoyingly observant. Must be the artist thing.

“On sight, she said. No idea why.”

“It is strange. She’s a beautiful woman. You’d think he’d appreciate having her around.”

Something stirred in him at his brother’s words, something deep, almost primal he couldn’t put a name to. “Maybe she reminds him of someone,” Keller said, rather hastily.

Ry studied him for a moment before saying, “Maybe.”

He left it at that, but Keller was still glad when his brother headed back to his studio. Because it had hit him what that strange sensation had been. What he’d been feeling at the idea of Cody or anyone else appreciating Sydney.

Possessive.

Crap.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Sydney watched the morning sun glinting on the water as Hickory Creek slid by. This truly was a good place for thinking, this spot on the stone ledge under the big tree. There was something peaceful, almost elemental about it. She’d been many places that had the same feel, but none where it had been more powerful.

“Syd?”

The voice in her ear startled her out of the state of contemplation she’d slipped into. She’d never done that before, completely forgotten she was on the phone with someone, especially from the office.

“Sorry, Alicia, I was…distracted. What?”

“I asked if you’re sure.”

She smiled at the note of unease in the woman’s voice. She’d been her assistant buyer for three years now, but the thought of doing a buying trip on her own had the usually steady woman edgy. “Feeling nervous?”

“Yes,” Alicia answered frankly, which made Sydney’s smile widen.

“You’ll do fine. You’ve been prepping for this for more than a year.”

“But still, they’re used to you, and—”

“They’ll be delighted at a new face,” Sydney assured her. “They all know it will be you on this trip, and will treat you well, I promise.” It would feel strange, to think about someone else doing what she’d always done, to think of that plane taking off without her on it. But she’d made her decision. “It’s time. I’m more than ready to step back.”

The instant she ended the call she realized she’d been, on some level, aware. For a moment she didn’t look, trying to compose her expression so she wouldn’t betray the sudden leap her pulse had taken. When she finally did look up and saw him standing there, she wasn’t in the least surprised. And took a moment to be thankful that had been a business call, and not something personal, like her whining to her best friend how difficult it was to deal with all this when the guy she had to go through to get to Lucas could do this to her before he even said a word. When the guy she had to get past was the first guy in forever she didn’t want to get past, but wanted to get close to.

Very, very close.

He had, she noticed, stopped a few steps back, giving her at least the illusion of privacy to complete her call. Those manners again. She found she was starting to like that, which surprised her; she never would have thought it mattered that much to her.

As he walked toward her, she found herself wondering yet again what it was about a pair of blue jeans that made them so darn sexy.

“Frank told me you were here.”

That voice. It sent a little ripple of…something through her. Okay, so maybe it was the guy wearing them that made the jeans sexy. Crazily, she kind of missed the cowboy hat, but as he went a few steps past her to look out at the rushing creek, the backside view had her thinking the hat didn’t matter a bit.

She gave herself an inward shake; instead of dwelling on how sexy the guy was, she should be wondering what he was doing here, apparently looking for her, this early in the day.

“It’s a good place to think,” she said carefully.

“Yes.”

Hands shoved in his pockets, he stood staring out at the creek. She saw him draw in a long, visible breath. Something was clearly bothering him. Were they going to have the “stay away from Lucas” talk again? Had he decided it had been a mistake to let her go with them Saturday? Her own breath caught as a horrible thought came to her: Had Lucas complained? She’d thought they’d gotten along well enough, considering she was a stranger to him, but it hadn’t taken much more than showing up to make Keller’s youngest brother take an obvious dislike to her.

“Is it Lucas?” The words burst from her as she was unable to bear the silence any longer. “Did he not like me going along? Or just not like…me?”

Keller turned sharply, hands coming out of his pockets. “No,” he said quickly, as if he’d registered the upset in her voice. “No, he’s fine, he—” He stopped, grimaced. Then he walked back from the edge of the overlook and sat on the rock outcropping next to the bench where she sat. She stopped herself from launching into a cacophony of thoughts about why he didn’t just sit on the bench too, that he didn’t want to be that close to her.

But when he finally met her gaze, she realized he’d chosen that spot because it was facing her.

“The test results are back.”

Her breath caught. “But I thought it was going to take—”

“So did I. But I should have known that because it was Shane’s request, they’d put a rush on even if he didn’t ask them to. He called me this morning.”

That put her back up a little. “He didn’t call me.”

“It was six in the morning. He was going to wait until a more…civilized hour. But I told him I’d tell you.”

“But he called you at six a.m.?”

“He knew I’d be up.” He paused, looking at her steadily. “You haven’t asked.”

“For the results? Why would I? I know the truth. Especially after seeing him.”

He frowned. “Seeing him?”

“He has my father’s eyes. And way of moving. His hair even grows the same way.”

He let out a long, compressed breath. “Yeah. Well. So do we now.” He gave her a sideways look. “I’m not going to apologize for wanting proof.”

“I don’t want you to. You were looking out for…my cousin.” She couldn’t help smiling as she said the last words. But she was still worried, and after her earlier thought about Lucas not liking her, she had to know. “Have you…told him?”

“No.” One corner of his mouth—that mouth she kept catching herself staring at—quirked downward. He took another deep breath. “I know now you have the right to handle this however you want. You’re blood family. But Lucas trusts me, as much as he trusts anyone. I think he’s more likely to…believe it if I’m there.”

“To tell him I’m not lying?”

He nodded.

Sydney quashed her instinctive reaction; she was not used to people thinking she was a liar. But it was clear to her now that everything this man had done, every roadblock he’d thrown in her way, was for one simple reason. He cared about Lucas. He honestly cared about him. And he’d helped him, when there had been no one else. Her cousin had no claim on him at all, but he’d stepped up anyway. Just as he had stepped up for his own family.

Keller Rafferty could not be more opposite to everything she’d grown up with.

“You,” she said quietly, “are the best thing that could have ever happened to Lucas.”

He blinked, drew back. He didn’t speak, and for the first time he lowered his gaze from her face.

She wished she knew what he was thinking. But all she said was, “I agree you should be there. How should we do it? And when?”

“As soon as possible, I think.” He looked up then. “As to how…maybe we should work on that a bit.”

“Good idea,” she said briskly. “But I think better after breakfast. Have you eaten yet?” The words were barely out before she rolled her eyes at herself. “Of course you have, if you’ve been up since six.”

“Five, actually,” he said, and something in his tone had changed, just as something different had come into those green eyes, something less worried and more…something. Something unsettling. But his voice was back to normal when he went on. “But if you’re talking about Karina Buckley’s brunch spread, I could be convinced.”

She smiled. “It is wonderful, isn’t it? I’ve hit it every day of the week I’ve been here.” Had it really only been a week? Then why did she feel as if her life had changed unalterably, and in more ways than confirming Lucas was her cousin? And why did she feel as if that change centered not just on the boy she’d barely met, but also on this man? She stood up, because she had to move. “I swear I’ve gained five pounds,” she finished, unnerved by her own thoughts.

He stood up as well, but his gaze slipped over her. “If you have, they’re in all the right places.”

She was sure she was gaping at him, but she couldn’t help it. And she was aware that what bothered her most was the way he was now avoiding her eyes. Did he regret giving her the compliment? Or feel it had been…inappropriate? She half expected him to apologize, but he didn’t. And when had she started analyzing everything someone said, except when bargaining with a potential supplier? Nothing, but nothing had seemed normal to her since she’d arrived here.

She felt better once they were in the main dining room and she had something else to focus on. And managed not to keep looking at the door into the more private room where they’d had the meeting. She felt self-conscious as she chose items from the bountiful spread for her plate. She, who had dined on foods she’d never heard of, and some she knew had been given to her as a test, was feeling twitchy about the luscious but familiar fare in this all-American Texas town.

Or the company.

Whichever it was she needed to focus. They had important things to decide, to plan, and she couldn’t let herself be distracted. She decided to open with an acknowledgment of his place in this, a concession to what he’d done for Lucas.

“You know him, obviously, much better than I. What do you suggest?”

“Tomorrow,” he said. She lifted a brow at him. He gave her a very male half shrug. “Get it done. Because then you’ll have to build on it.” His gaze narrowed. “You haven’t said yet what your plans are. I’m taking you at your word, that you want to be there for him. That you won’t get bored in a few days and leave, with him wondering what he did wrong.”

She didn’t miss the undertone; it was both explanation and warning. She remembered that sinking realization that in a way, she was being as selfish as the people who’d birthed her. But she answered coolly despite her nerves over the actual act of telling Lucas who she was. “You wanted my plans. And,” she added, feeling she owed it, “you were right. I was so caught up in the emotion of it all that I hadn’t laid it all out. I’m in it for the duration, and you said he won’t want to leave Texas, so I’ll find a place here. Or stay at the inn long term. I’ll see him regularly, until we can all be sure what Lucas wants, and what’s best for him. And tomorrow is fine.”

He merely nodded. “After he gets home, then. I talked to his school. He can miss Wednesday without missing too much.”

“Not go to school?”

“I have a feeling he’ll need some processing time. And that way,” he said, looking at her over his forkful of the wonderful eggs from the buffet, spiced with something that gave them the perfect amount of kick, “you can bond. Isn’t that what they call it?”

She was a little taken aback at the change. He’d gone from the bulwark guarding Lucas to a facilitator. “I…thank you. For thinking of all that.”

“What, no accusation of me taking over, being dictatorial?”

She set down her own fork. “I told you, you know Lucas. I don’t. And I know that you have his best interests at heart.”

“I do.” He smiled at her then, and it nearly took her breath away. “And now I know you do, too. So we’re on, Ms. Brock.”

“Only if you stop calling me that.”

“Sydney, then.”

“Or just Syd.”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “Everyone else can, but I don’t think I can do that.”

The way he put it made her ask, “Why?”

“I had a dog named Sid, when I was about ten. You bear no resemblance whatsoever.”

She laughed, and the tension eased. And for the moment, she felt simply like a woman sharing a delicious meal.

With a very attractive man.

Who could make her pulse race with a smile.

*

“I had an uncle, but he died before I was born,” Lucas said. Then he frowned. “But was he really my uncle if I hadn’t been born yet? I never figured that out.”

Of all the reactions Sydney had expected when, the next day, the three of them had gathered in the living room of the Rafferty ranch, that wasn’t on the list. “You…knew you had an uncle?”

Lucas nodded. “My dad told me he’d had a brother, but he died when my dad was just a little kid.”

“That was a mistake,” she said gently. “He didn’t die.”

Lucas gave her a disbelieving look. Then he shifted his gaze to Keller, who was sitting to one side, leaving it to her, but being there.

“It’s true,” Keller said, just as gently.

Lucas was clearly confused, but the disbelief was fading with those simple words. The boy trusted him, just as he’d said. She wondered if this proof made him feel these past months that had to have been difficult had been worth it.

“Then where was he?” Lucas finally asked, looking back at Sydney as if still wondering what was going on, and why she was here at all.

“He…ran away.”

Lucas frowned. She watched those eyes that looked so like her father’s. Had the sudden realization this thirteen-year-old boy had more steadfast courage than her father ever had. “He ran away when he wasn’t much older than you because he thought his parents—your grandparents—were too strict because they expected him to behave, go to school and learn, and be respectful.”

The frown deepened. “I don’t understand. Isn’t that what kids are supposed to do?”

Only when they’re raised by parents who wanted to be parents.

It was odd. She’d expected this entire thing to be a revelation for Lucas. She hadn’t expected it to be such a facing reality thing for herself. But she forged onward. She wouldn’t run, like her father had.

“I won’t lie to you, Lucas. Ever. Your uncle was—and is—irresponsible, thoughtless, and utterly selfish.”

The boy made a face. “Nice.” Then his expression changed. “Is? He’s still alive?” It was starting to register now.

“He is.” She took a deep breath and said it. “And the reason I know him so well is…he’s my father.”

Lucas blinked. He said nothing, but his brow furrowed and already she recognized the expression meant he was thinking. And once more the boy turned to look at Keller questioningly. He affirmed what she’d said as truth.

“Shane ran a DNA test, to be sure.”

“Chief Shane says so, too?”

Keller nodded.

“But…but why didn’t I know? Why did they tell me he died?”

“We think your father believed it himself for years,” Keller said gently.

“But then he found out it wasn’t true? That he was alive?”

“Yes.”

“But why didn’t he tell me? Why did they keep lying? They said never to lie. They always said not to lie. I always got in trouble if I did.” Lucas was on his feet now. He whirled back to Sydney. “No. It’s not true. They wouldn’t lie to me. They wouldn’t!”

“Maybe they were trying to protect you,” she said.

“No. No, no, no!” The boy whirled again, took two running steps toward his room. But Keller got there first, blocking the path. “No!” Lucas yelled again and tried to go around him. Keller stopped him by putting his arms around the boy’s thin, wiry shoulders.

Lucas yelled again, and again, squirming, trying to break free. Keller held him easily. The boy’s fists came up and he began to punch, to hammer on Keller’s chest as Sydney stood watching helplessly. Again and again the boy pounded at him, crying now.

With barely a wince Keller Rafferty, that amazing man, simply stood there and took it. And held on until Lucas sagged, exhausted, in his arms. Only then did Sydney feel the wetness on her cheeks and realize Lucas wasn’t the only one crying.

Realization flooded her, sweeping over her like a tidal wave. She nearly sagged herself under the weight of it. She wobbled a little as she turned away, unable to bear looking at the man and the boy any longer. She was fool, a selfish fool just like her parents. She couldn’t handle this, and she should have known it long ago.

She wasn’t even certain how she got there or how long it had been, but when she came out of it a little she was outside, collapsed on the porch swing. She wanted to run, but she had nowhere to go. Back to LA? London? No, maybe Australia. Maybe halfway around the world would do it.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and pulled up the ride share app. Back to the inn, pack, then—

“Going to run?” She closed her eyes at the sound of his voice. “And at the first sign of difficulty?”

She shivered. Then she made herself look up at him. He was in the same place he’d been that first day, leaning against the porch railing.

“You were right,” she said, her voice shaky. “You were right all along.” She lowered her eyes to the glowing screen, but didn’t move to touch it. “I was stupid to even think I could deal with what needed to be done, when I don’t have the slightest clue about a normal life. You go ahead and adopt him, Keller. He’ll have the life he should. Better than he would with me. He deserves that.”

“Funny, I’ve thought many things about you, but coward was never one of them. Until now.”

She winced, drew back physically.

“So you go ahead and run, Sydney. And try not to think about how we’re going to explain why you dropped in, laid this bombshell on a thirteen-year-old kid, then vanished.”

She felt as if she’d been slapped. And deserved it. “Keller—”

“Maybe you really are your parents’ daughter,” he said, and the tone of his voice was like that slap again. “So leave, or stay. But if you stay, you’d damned well better mean it.”

She looked up at him then, heedless of the tears spilling down her cheeks. “Lucas is better off with you. I wouldn’t be helping him I’d be hurting him if I took him away from you, from your family. He already has the family I never did—”

“How long are you going to let those miserable excuses for parents ruin you? Because that’s the little girl they never wanted talking.”

She stared at him. “But you said yourself, I know nothing about this.”

“So you’re saying the CEO of a worldwide operation is incapable of learning?” He sounded almost like he wanted her to stay. And she knew if he said so she would, because she didn’t think she could say no to him. But he didn’t say it. All he said, very quietly, was, “Your call.”

And then he was gone, back inside, to deal with the debris she’d left behind. Because he was who and what he was, and that’s what Keller Rafferty did.

She’d never felt so humbled in her life. All the things she’d accomplished, the company she’d built, all the things she’d done to prove her worth to parents who’d thought her not just worthless but a burden, suddenly seemed empty, pointless.

Because in the end, she’d done what they would do: go after what they wanted, not what was right.

She got up and left the porch. She’d never felt so alone and lost, even in all her travels to strange places.

And she’d never been so certain that what she did now would determine the course of the rest of her life.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Keller heard her go down the porch steps. He glanced out the window and saw her walking, not up toward the gate but the other way, down the track they’d ridden along. He watched until she was out of sight behind the main barn.

“Is she leaving?”

He turned around to look at his mother. “I don’t know. I’m not even sure what set her off.”

“I get the feeling deep down, under all the success, there’s still that unwanted little girl.”

He nodded. And wordlessly put his arm around the woman who’d made sure none of her children had ever felt that way. Then she left to see if Lucas would talk to her; he was now holed up in his room.

Keller tried to decide how long to give Sydney before he needed to go looking for her. It was daylight, yes, but she wasn’t that familiar with the ranch. She could get lost. She had her phone, but there were spots out there where there was no reception at all. Then he remembered he was worrying about a woman who had trekked through deserts and jungles, who had gone to the backside of nowhere more times than he’d ever left his hometown.

Maybe he’d been too hard on her. Had some part of him wanted her to go, because she so unsettled him? Because she had him wanting things he’d given up on? Was he as big a coward as he’d accused her of being?

He didn’t know anymore.

Nearly three hours later, he had taken his hat off the rack, ready to go saddle up Blue and go searching, when he saw her in the distance. When she’d left she’d been walking head down, shoulders slumped. Now she was straight, every stride determined. And he found himself almost smiling as he watched. He’d known she wouldn’t quit. He’d just known it.

When he opened the door to her he had the sudden thought he was seeing a different woman than he had that first time, and not just in the absence of the two-toned hair. She met his gaze evenly. Her eyes were reddened, but her expression resolute. She didn’t bother with small talk; the moment they were back inside she turned to face him head-on.

“I was being as selfish as my parents. I had this silly vision, of Lucas and I building the kind of family I never had. But that was for me. Because he’s already had that and lost it. And found it again.”

“There’s nothing silly about wanting that.”

“But it was still selfish. This has to be about Lucas, and Lucas only. And now it is, I swear to you, Keller.”

He met those golden eyes, saw the absolute certainty and determination there. She’d gone through her dark night of the soul in the middle of a sunny Texas afternoon, and come out the other side.

“I believe you,” he said simply.

“Did Lucas hurt you?” she asked, surprising him. “He was punching you pretty hard.”

“Might be a bruise or two. Doesn’t matter.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“He’ll come around.” He hoped he wasn’t wrong about that. “It was just a shock.”

“I hope so.”

She looked up at him again. And she was so close, her eyes so wide, her body so curved, her mouth so…so…

She reached out touch his chest, featherlight, as if to be sure no real damage had been done. The contact sparked something hot and lightning-fast that rocketed through him. He breathed in that scent as sweet as that yellow rose of Texas. Then, somehow, she was in his arms and no matter how much he told himself it was for comfort, his body thought differently.

He bent his head, drawn by those sweet lips, seemingly unable to resist. Had she exhibited the slightest resistance, even hesitation, he would have stopped—he swore to himself he would. But she didn’t. And he couldn’t stop, not until he tasted that mouth of hers.

At the first touch of their lips he forgot what was going on, forgot even where he was. All he knew for sure was that he’d never tasted anything so sweet, so hot, anything that made having more, and then more, seem imperative. And when she made a small, low sound that was undeniably of pleasure, his entire body kicked to life so fiercely he nearly gasped with the force of it.

He deepened the kiss, and she opened for him, tasting him back in a way that only added fuel to what they were kindling together. Damn, she was making him crazy, his head was practically swimming with the sensations, and—

“Well. I can’t decide if this will make things easier or more difficult.”

The amused words snapped Keller back to his senses. Sydney let out a startled little sound and let go of him. Keller released her, but didn’t turn around to look at his mother. He didn’t dare, not given his body’s fierce demand that the lovely, delicious contact continue.

Sydney had gone very still, watching him. For his reaction to them being discovered like this, and by his mother of all people? Better than Cody, probably. And the only thing worse would have been Lucas.

“How about complicated?” he muttered.

“That, too,” his mother said, sounding inordinately cheerful. “But right now, we’ve other things to deal with.”

“Is…” Sydney stopped, swallowed, then tried again. “Is Lucas all right?”

“He’s a little stunned, as you can imagine. He has, however, put it together that you are his cousin. And he is a bit…intrigued by the idea. So I think, if handled carefully and slowly, you might just be able to build what you want with him.” She added with a grin, “And I must say Lucas wasn’t at all averse to the idea of having tomorrow off school.”

“Thank you,” Sydney whispered. “So much.” Tears again, streaking down her cheeks, making him once more feel utterly inadequate at dealing with all this. Even as he thought it, she swiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually such a…a…”

“Leaky water bucket?” Keller suggested rather dryly.

“You hush,” his mother said. “This is the kind of situation that deserves strong emotion. Just because you men think you need to hide what you feel doesn’t mean we have to. Now, we need to plan from here.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon doing just that, with his mother and Sydney sitting at the table deciding while he paced, trying to fight off being engulfed by memories of that kiss. And even telling himself he should be paying attention didn’t help much.

“We’re agreed, then? You stay for dinner tonight, no pressure on Lucas to even talk, and starting tomorrow you come back every day and simply be available.”

“Yes,” Sydney said, and the eager anticipation in her voice was undeniable.

Keller blinked. Every day? He barely stopped himself from gaping and letting out a strangled “What?”

As if she’d sensed his reaction—she was very good at that, he had to admit—she looked up at him. “I won’t be a nuisance, I promise. Maybe I can even help out a little.”

Help out. Right. “I don’t have time to train a new ranch hand,” he said tightly.

“Were you listening at all?” his mother asked in that tone that told him she knew perfectly well he hadn’t been. But there was something different in her gaze, a sort of gleam in those familiar blue eyes that he hadn’t seen before. “It will only be until Lucas gets home, and then we’ll have him do the ‘training’ as you call it.”

He realized he really hadn’t heard them at all, and that was unsettling. “You mean force them together.”

“Yet in a way that Lucas can dismiss as just another chore,” Sydney said.

She was seemingly unconcerned at being labeled a chore. While he was very concerned at the idea of having to see her in close quarters every day. That kiss seemed to have tilted his world on its axis, and he was having trouble righting it again.

Since Mom called in the troops, dinner was different, disconcerting with an undertone of tension. Cody was unerringly polite if not friendly. Keller suspected because of a private conversation he and Mom had had just before they sat down. Sydney talked easily with Ry about his work, seriously with Chance about his, and his reticent middle brother unbent enough to even answer occasionally. The tension came, unsurprisingly, from Lucas, who said nothing but watched every exchange she had with an intense combination of wariness, worry, and fascination. Fascination especially when she spoke of the places she’d been, the people she’d met there, and the different traditions she’d seen. She even got a laugh out of the boy a couple of times with some of the odder—to them, anyway—customs she described. In short, she was simply charming.

It took Keller a moment to realize he was seeing the professional Sydney, the one who had built a world-sourced company by being, he suspected, exactly what she was right now.

It was Cody’s night to clean up, and he declined Sydney’s offer to help with the same politeness he’d exhibited all evening. And he also politely said good-night before heading back to his part of the house.

Good manners can be a way to open a door, or keep it closed. Let people in, or keep them at arm’s length. So they’re a good skill to have.

Their father’s wise words echoed in Keller’s mind. Obviously Cody remembered them, too, although he’d only been nine when they’d lost him. But then Cody’s agile mind remembered darn near everything he’d ever seen, heard, or read. Keller only wished he knew if that had been a door opening, or slamming shut.

“Your cousin’s coming back tomorrow,” Mom said to Lucas, and Keller knew she’d used the relationship term purposefully. “You can show her the ranch, and what you’ve been doing.”

“But I’m supposed to help Chance with that dog!” the boy protested.

“I’ll go with you,” Sydney suggested.

“You want to come spend a couple of hours with a dog trained to attack?” Chance drawled.

“I’m trusting his savior to make clear to me what not to do to bring on an attack,” she said coolly.

Whether it was her unruffled tone or the word savior Keller didn’t know, but Chance blinked and drew back. “Your funeral,” he said, just as coolly. But an almost-smile made the corners of his mouth twitch.

After he’d gone, Keller looked at Sydney. “He’s more bark than bite,” he said, feeling the need to reassure her.

“Unless it needs to be the other way around, I suspect,” she said.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“He’s a warrior,” Sydney said simply. “It’s only his cause that has changed.”

He stared at her for a moment. She never ceased to amaze him. Which reminded him of how she had called his mother an amazing woman. And he realized he’d never encountered the same kind of innate wisdom his mother had in anyone else before. He’d been asked before, if that was what he was looking for, a woman like his mother.

If he was, he had the feeling he’d found one, in all the ways that mattered.

It was only later, after Sydney’s transport had arrived and she had departed—and Lucas, much calmer than he had been, had gone to bed, while Ry had decamped back to his quarters—that Keller interrupted his mother’s nightly reading—the new volume on Sam Houston she’d just bought he guessed—and asked what she’d said to Cody to get him to behave.

“Simple,” she said, looking up from her e-reader as he sat on the ottoman near her reading chair. “I just put it in tech terms, like a new operating system for his computers. That change was going to happen no matter what, and if he resisted it, he’d just get left behind.”

Keller blinked. “What does that have to do with him hating Sydney at first sight?”

She gave him a smile that was somehow both wistful and satisfied at the same time. “Because he knew, the moment he met Sydney after hearing about her from you.”

Keller frowned. “Knew what?”

“That everything was going to change. Not with Lucas,” she added, reading his expression with her usual skill, “but…with you.”

He blinked. “Me?”

“You and Sydney, I should say.” That casual linking rattled him into speechlessness. “I’ve waited a long time for this,” she went on.

“For…what?”

“I’ve watched you, since she showed up. You’ve come alive in a way I haven’t seen since you had to grow up in a hurry to step into your father’s shoes.” She smiled widely. “And that kiss I walked in on just proves me—and Cody—right. So I’m very glad she is who she said she is, and that I like her.”

She picked up her e-reader again and went back to her book. Still smiling. As if everything that needed to be said had been said.

While her eldest son sat there, stunned.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Sydney watched as Lucas sat on the ground outside the dog run and talked continuously to the battered Malinois. The dog had moved—in a hopping sort of motion, because of his missing front leg—from standing six feet away. He’d inched closer as the boy went on, until now he was sitting a bare foot on the other side of the fence, watching intently and still warily, but clearly fascinated.

Keller’s brother stood just a few feet away, never taking his eyes off the pair despite the sturdy fence between them. He had told her the animal’s story, that he’d been injured, and his handler killed by a suicide bomber who had detonated when cornered. The agency that brought him home had worked with him for a year, without much luck.

“He couldn’t bite him through that fence, could he?”

Chance didn’t look at her, but answered. “No. But I don’t want him trying to go over that fence.”

Her eyes widened as she stared at the chain link that had to be at least five feet tall. “Could he? Even with only three legs?”

“I don’t think so, but he’s compensated for that pretty well.”

“He has,” the boy said, confirming both Chance’s words and that he’d been listening even as he talked to the dog. “I can’t believe they were going to just…kill him.”

Sydney’s breath caught. Her gaze snapped back to Chance. “They were going to euthanize him? After how he served, and being hurt like that?”

The man only nodded without looking at her, keeping his eyes on boy and dog.

“Chance talked them out of it, then drove all night to get him,” Lucas said. Then he gave Chance a look over his shoulder, with a shy smile. “He does really well for a tripod.”

“He does fine. Figure out a name for him yet?” the man asked.

“Yeah,” Lucas said, this time grinning at Chance. “I think we should call him Tri.”

“For Tripod?” Sydney asked.

Lucas glanced at her, but only for a moment before looking back at Chance. “And for try. Because he keeps trying.”

“Good idea.” Chance smiled at the boy. It transformed his face, from stern, forbidding, and haunted to something much more striking.

“Those Rafferty genes,” she muttered to herself.

The boy went back to chattering to the fascinated dog, and Sydney looked at the man beside her. “He had a name already, didn’t he? In the service?”

He didn’t respond right away, as if he was considering what to answer—or perhaps whether to answer at all—but after a moment he said, “He associates that name with that job. Most of these dogs do. I’m experimenting with giving them new names so that association isn’t triggered.”

“That makes sense.”

“Mm.”

He still wouldn’t look at her. Finally she said, almost sadly, “You don’t trust me, do you.”

Finally he glanced at her. “Don’t take it personally. I don’t trust anyone.”

Something in his eyes, eyes that were the same blue as his mother’s, made her think of a weariness so vast she doubted she could comprehend it.

“Anyone? Not even your family?”

His expression softened then. “They’re not just anyone.”

“No. No, they’re not.” It came out with the heartfelt fervency of someone who had never known this kind of family. And after a long, silent moment, Chance gave a short, sharp nod.

“You don’t do him any damage,” he said quietly, with a nod at Lucas, “and we’re good.”

So even this most taciturn of Raffertys was on Lucas’s side.

“I’m here because I want what he had and lost, and I never had.”

“So I heard.” He stared at her for a moment, and it was so piercingly intense she wondered why on earth she’d wished the man would look at her. “Keller’s more than my brother. He’s the one who helped our mother hold us together after our father was killed. I was only a year younger, but I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t even face that Dad was gone. Keller did. He gave up his dreams for us. You hurt him and I’ll come after you like a Texas twister.”

She nearly gaped at him. He knew? This man who barely seemed part of the Rafferty clan knew how she felt about his brother? She truly had betrayed herself, then.

But she was nearly as shocked by the outpouring as by what he’d said. “When,” she asked, “was the last time you said so much at once?” She saw surprise flicker in his eyes. Then a cooler calculation. “Should I feel honored, or frightened?”

And finally, the lightest twitch at the corners of his mouth. But “I begin to see,” was all he said. And she was left wondering just how obvious she’d been about her attraction to Keller Rafferty.

“You did wonderfully with…Tri,” she said to Lucas when they got back to the main house some time later, after the boy had, somewhat reluctantly and with some prodding, shown her a few places he liked on the ranch.

Lucas began to loosen the cinch of the saddle on the bay horse he said was named Pecos, but he gave her a sideways glance. “He’s going to be a good dog. Once he knows he’s safe.”

“I know.” She began to do the same with the sweet Latte, who accepted her still somewhat unpracticed efforts with equanimity. “He’s just confused about what he’s supposed to be now.”

He seemed to consider that. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Yeah.”

“Kind of like me right now.”

That startled him into looking straight at her. “You?”

She nodded. “I know what I want to be, but I don’t know if that’s what you want.”

“You mean my cousin?”

“I am your cousin,” she said. “What I want to be is part of your life.”

“But…my uncle doesn’t.”

“Lucas,” she said wryly, “he doesn’t even want to be part of my life.”

Lucas looked away and went back to his task, but even from here she could sense the renewed tension in him. After a moment she spoke again, making her tone as offhand as she could.

“Do you think it’s better to have no parents, or parents who don’t want you?”

Without looking at her he muttered, “Don’t know.”

“My parents lied to me all my life because it was easier for them. Yours…for a long time your father really thought he was dead, Lucas. It was the truth as far as they knew when they first told you. So maybe they thought it would be easier if they just left it that way. Maybe they didn’t tell you so you wouldn’t think you had relatives who didn’t care enough to even meet you. To spare you from being hurt. To protect you. Something mine would never make the effort to do.”

He had that look on his face again, the one she’d come to know meant he was thinking, figuring things out. Which was a lot better than rejecting her and everything she said out of hand.

Very carefully, she went on softly. “I think it’s better to have had parents who loved you completely, even if you only had them for a while, than to have parents who saw you as just another piece of baggage to lug around and are now glad to be rid of you.”

Lucas didn’t answer right away, since he was busy pulling the saddle off Pecos and slinging it over the top fence rail. But then he turned and looked at her.

“Maybe you were just born to the wrong parents.”

She blinked. Then, slowly, smiled. “I think you may be right. I’d have been a lot better off if I’d been born to yours. And then I’d have a cool little brother instead of a cool cousin.”

Lucas looked away quickly, but not before she saw the slightest of smiles cross his face. And for the first time since she’d found him, she dared to hope this was going to work out.

*

Keller was glad he’d stopped inside the tack room door when they’d ridden up. He felt a twinge of guilt at eavesdropping, but decided it had been worth it.

She had handled that…well, wonderfully. And he could not deny the pure emotion in her voice as she spoke to Lucas. And Keller knew she’d meant everything she’d said. She’d tracked him down, come here from the other side of the world practically, for a boy she’d never met, never even known about.

He waited until Lucas hefted the saddle and headed for the tack room with it, then stepped outside as if he’d heard nothing. He cleared the doorway for the boy, who headed for the rack they’d chosen for him because it was low enough for him to properly slide the saddle onto it. Short term they weren’t above leaving them adorning the fence, but when they were done for the day they were properly cared for.

He walked to where Sydney was brushing Latte, even though it didn’t appear he needed it anymore. But the big, gentle paint was dozing in utter bliss. Like I would be if she was working on me like that.

He gave himself an inward shake. One kiss and he was out of control? He forced himself to sound casual as he came up to her. “Have a good ride?”

She stopped, looked at him, and gave him a smile so wide it was hotter than the now-June sun. “Yes. Lucas was wonderful with the dog, and then he showed me the pond, and the cave, and the tower.”

He smiled at that; the boy loved swimming or at least splashing in the pond when the water was high enough, was fascinated by the cave and the tower, both features of a huge outcropping of the local limestone. “All his favorite places, huh?”

“Yes.” She took in a deep breath and said, “I can’t thank you, all of you, enough for what you’ve done for him. Taking him in, giving him a home. He told me he thought…” She paused, swallowed, then went on. “Before you found him, he thought he’d probably die soon. That he wanted to. To be with them.”

“I figured.”

Those golden eyes fixed on him. “You understood, didn’t you? You knew how he felt because you’d been there.”

His jaw tightened; even now the memories of that old, always-carried agony sawed at him. “I recognized that kind of pain.”

“But you still went on, because your mother, your brothers needed you.”

He shrugged because he didn’t know what to say—he never did when that came up.

“That’s what I want with Lucas. That kind of feeling, of caring.” She gave him a smile that looked wistful. “In a way, I have more to learn than he does.”

He felt the ache he was almost used to now, thinking about how she’d grown up. But he had to think of Lucas now, so said only, “Hard to pull that off and travel the world at the same time.”

“I told you, I’m calling a halt to the traveling. That phone call I was on at the inn the other day, when you arrived? I was talking to my assistant buyer. She’s taking over the next buying trip.”

“Taking over?”

She nodded. “I’ve been prepping her for a while. If this goes well, she can take that over entirely. And I can stay and build something with Lucas.”

He blinked. Realized he should have known she’d already taken steps. Hadn’t he just been thinking about her sincerity? “What about your business?”

“The joy of the Internet. I can run it from anywhere.” She made a sweeping gesture that seemed to include not just the countryside around them, but the ranch house and the barns and everything that was the Rafferty home place. “You have no idea how long I’ve yearned for a place like this.”

And Keller had to rein himself in before his mind ran riot with images of her meaning and wanting just that, not to simply be here with Lucas, but in this specific place, with all of them.

With him.

Chapter Thirty

“How’s his homework going?”

Sydney looked over at Maggie Rafferty with a smile. “Okay. I think I was able to help him a little with that report on volcanoes.”

“Let me guess, you’ve climbed one?” Keller’s question sounded as much amused as anything, so she didn’t get defensive as she sometimes did when the subject of her other life—her past life, she’d begun to think of it as—came up. Instead she grinned and said, “As a matter of fact…”

This had been the most amazing two weeks of her life. Two weeks since she’d spent that first day with Lucas, since he’d given her that very tentative bit of hope by saying maybe she’d been born into the wrong family.

She’d come to the ranch every day to see him, and every day she could feel his resistance lessening even more. More than once she’d come early, before he was out of school, at Maggie’s—she was finally able to think of her by first name alone—suggestion, so they could talk about the ongoing process of getting Lucas to accept her as family.

At the same time, she began to understand just how much work was involved in keeping this place running. Maggie worked harder than any woman Sydney had ever known, and there were a handful of ranch hands, but the bulk of the work and the responsibility rested on Keller’s broad shoulders. And she had the thought that if Lucas needed to learn about all those things—responsibility, hard work, and taking care of things—he could not be in a better place.

But Keller hadn’t kissed her again. In fact, she’d barely seen him. He seemed to be making himself as absent as possible when she was around. She’d arrive, he’d send Lucas on some task, and she’d go with the boy. And no matter how much she told herself it was so she and Lucas could bond, some small part of her insisted it was because for him it had been nothing like what it had been for her. That he didn’t want to be that close to her again.

When you want to be closer still.

She was lost—as she too often was—in that thought when she heard a commotion from the back of the house. Cody Rafferty nearly ran into the kitchen, Lucas at his heels. He said sharply, “Where’s Keller? He’s not answering his phone.”

Good question.

“I’m not sure, at this exact moment, but he’s probably out where there’s no signal,” Maggie said. “What’s wrong?”

“I just looked at the cam in the brood stall. I think Bonnie’s water broke.”

Maggie leapt up. “It’s early.”

“I know.”

The older woman spun on her heel and ran for the door. Sydney followed, on some level registering a hope that she would be able to move like that in thirty years. Cody and Lucas beat them outside, and they all headed for the big barn at a run. Sydney remembered what Keller had told her, that the buckskin mare with the distinctive black points was a direct descendant of their father’s beloved buckskin stallion who had died two years ago. Clearly she was very important to them.

When they got there it seemed to Sydney the horse was struggling. She was up and down, breathing hard and pacing. But she knew nothing about equine pregnancies, so didn’t know if this was normal. She vaguely noticed the camera up in one corner of the stall. The stall itself was larger than the ones they’d run past, she guessed in anticipation of the new arrival. Maggie knelt beside the animal, speaking soothingly to her.

“Lucas, come here and talk to her,” Maggie said. The boy immediately knelt beside the horse’s head and began to talk, in much the same way he had to the edgy Malinois. “Cody, find Keller.”

“I’ll send the message drone up,” Cody said quickly.

“Could he be out at Chance’s?” Sydney asked, remembering that there was no reception out there; Keller had said he suspected that was one reason his brother had chosen the site. “He said something about testing a dog with a small herd or something.”

“Could be,” Maggie said. “Cody, try there first. Sydney, will you go interrupt Rylan, tell him we need to find Keller ASAP?”

“Of course.”

As she left the big barn and ran for the smaller one, she thought about how right she’d been when she’d thought about most of the responsibility for everything that kept this place going falling on Keller’s shoulders. Because it was obvious that everyone, even his mother, turned to him in an emergency. And once more she wondered, with no small amount of sadness, what it must be like to have that kind of man around.

She’d half expected Rylan to resent being interrupted; she’d had some experience with temperamental types. But the moment she mentioned it was Bonnie he immediately turned away from what looked to her to be a finished—and incredible—saddle with symbols of Texas carved with beautiful intricacy into a flowing pattern on what she’d learned they called the skirts and the fenders.

“I’ll tell the hands, then saddle up and head for the lookout, see if I can see him anywhere,” he said as he wiped some sort of oil off his hands.

She felt more comfortable with him than any of the others, so she risked asking, “Why him for this? Why not call a veterinarian?”

“Because Keller knows almost as much, about horses at least. He’ll decide if we need to call the doc.” He tossed the rag he’d been using down on his workbench. His gray eyes held her gaze for a moment. “He wanted to be a vet. He got into a good school and was trying to decide between that and going for it in rodeo when Dad was killed.”

So he’d given up even more than she’d realized for his family. “That…I don’t know how that must have felt.”

“It’s been almost twenty years, and this is the first time I’ve seen that kind of fire in him again. Don’t do this if you don’t mean it, Sydney.”

And then he was gone. She stood there, staring at the saddle, a pinnacle of useful art, feeling a strange flood of heat flowing through her.

*

“Will she be all right?”

Lucas looked at Keller, who was kneeling next to the obviously straining animal, anxiously. “She should be,” he answered.

The boy went back to stroking the mare’s neck. Sydney watched her cousin, worried at how he’d said that. “What about the baby?” she asked.

“Depends,” Keller said, giving her a sideways glance. “This is her first, so it’s hard to know.”

Her brow furrowed. “Meaning?”

“She’s at three hundred and eighteen days, on the cusp of being premature.”

“Three hundred and…” She gave a shake of her head at the thought of being pregnant for nearly a year. “I suppose it takes longer to build something so magnificent.”

That got her a smile, and she added it to the memories she knew she would always treasure.

“It does,” he agreed. “Officially, normal gestation is three hundred forty-five days. In reality, each mare is different, and full gestation can be as short as three ten or as long as three seventy. So until she has that first one you have no idea what her ‘normal’ is.”

“So…maybe her normal is three eighteen. Maybe she’s just a very efficient girl,” Sydney said.

“Maybe. But if it’s not, she could be fifty or more days early.”

She read the meaning of that in the grimness that darkened his green eyes. She glanced at Lucas, wondering if they should have brought the boy in on this, given that if the latter were true, she guessed from the way he’d said only that the mare would be fine, the foal would likely not survive. Her cousin had already faced more reality than most.

“I made the call to the vet,” his mother said as she arrived at the door to the large brood stall. “He was at home, but if necessary, he’ll head here after you assess.”

Keller nodded, and once more Sydney marveled at how he so calmly accepted the responsibility. She hoped he noted the faith and respect as well, although she doubted he thought about it much. He would simply do what had to be done. As he always did.

Somewhere along the way Chance had arrived; she hadn’t even noticed, so intent was she on Keller. But as it began to happen, and without a word exchanged, the Raffertys went to work. Cody arrived with a large, heavy plastic case that he set down and opened like a suitcase. Maggie went to it and took out what looked like a liquid soap. Rylan set down a large bucket of water, and Maggie immediately began cleansing the area beneath the mare’s tail while Chance began to efficiently wrap that tail with some kind of elastic bandage, getting the long strands out of the way.

“I don’t think it’s breech, and she doesn’t seem to be under unusual stress,” Keller murmured as he ran his hands over the mare’s bulging side.

“Easy for you to say,” both Sydney and his mother said in unison. The two women looked at each other and laughed. Keller grinned, and something flashed in his eyes then that she filed away to wonder about later. Ry was smiling, as was Chance, and even Cody managed a smile, the most genuine Sydney had seen from him yet. And Lucas looked a little relieved, as though thinking if the grown-ups were laughing, things must be okay. And she felt another strong burst of regret that she had never known his parents.

She’d seen creatures of varying types born all over the world, and yet nothing had ever moved her more than watching this small, long-legged creature emerge into the world. As with births anywhere, it was a messy miracle; she just hoped it wasn’t a fleeting one.

“Should I move?” Lucas asked.

“No. You’re one of the team now.” Keller said it without looking at the boy, but Sydney was looking at him, and saw the look of wonder and pride on his face. And she wanted throw her arms around Keller for that alone.

Along with all the other things you want to do with him. Which could someday end up with you in the same condition as that horse.

Sydney went utterly still. Shock rippled through her. All her life, any ponderings of parenthood she’d done had been limited to not being like her own. But now here she was, thinking about what it would be like with Keller. A man who knew what should be done, what had to be done, because he’d done it.

A man who had already proven he would never, ever treat a child as she had been treated.

Chapter Thirty-One

Keller pulled the earpieces of the stethoscope Ry had handed him out of his ears. “Heart sounds good.” He ran his hands over the newborn. “He’s not noticeably underweight, his ears and lips aren’t soft or droopy, and his coat feels normal. He’s not breathing right yet, though.”

He began to gently move the foal from lying on its side to on its chest, with the forelegs stretched out in front of him. Then he reached over and picked up a clean piece of straw. He poked it into one of the foal’s nostrils. The foal shook its head and pulled back, then gave a little snort. Keller smiled. “There you go, little guy. Now you’ve got it.”

The mare’s head came up, looking toward her baby. “Back off from her now, Lucas. With luck she’ll be getting up in a minute or two.” The boy obeyed quickly.

“Delivery feet first is normal?” Sydney asked.

“Yes.”

Keller glanced at her. She was looking at the foal, an odd smile on her face, odd because it was one he’d never seen from her before. The wonder and delight were a frequent response to a birth. The sense of almost wistfulness was not. And it unsettled him, in ways he didn’t have time to analyze just now.

“Okay,” he said quietly, “everybody, outside. This is Bonnie’s time to connect with him.”

They all retreated through the stall door, although Keller stood in the still-open doorway. The new mom was on her feet now, and turning to nuzzle the tiny being she had created. His gaze went back to the little foal. He’d noticed when they’d cleaned him up that Buckshot had thrown true once more; this progeny of his had markings that were almost identical.

“Even the blaze,” his mother whispered now, and Keller nodded. The white strip down the little creature’s head slid to the right just over his nose, just as Buckshot’s had done.

Chance lowered his wrist, where he’d been watching his complex-looking watch, or as he called it, chronometer. “Respiration’s at sixty-two.”

“Good,” Keller murmured.

“So he’s okay?” Lucas asked, sounding as if he’d been quiet for as long as he could stand it. “They both are?”

Keller looked at him. “The best I can say is so far, so good. What happens when he tries to stand will be crucial.”

Moments ticked by, and Keller watched. Waited. Hoped. Just at the moment he was starting to worry, the foal awkwardly but determinedly scrambled to his feet. He went down almost immediately, but also immediately did it again. Third time he figured it out and stayed up. Keller talked softly to the mare as he walked over and quickly ran his hands over the long, gangly legs.

“They feel solid, and straight. Knees feel solid, too. We’ll have the vet check for infection, and we’ll need to watch them both for a few hours, but it’s looking like she might just be efficient.” He glanced at Sydney when he used her word. The smile she gave him nearly turned him inside out.

“I’ll stay with them,” Lucas said instantly. “All night.”

“Not a bad idea,” Keller said. “But I think we can get you some relief in a few hours.” Lucas looked inordinately pleased, so he added, “In the meantime, maybe Sydney can help you stay awake.”

She looked startled, but quickly said, “I’d love to.”

Lucas glanced at her, gave a half shrug, and said, “Sure.”

A little later, after the foal had nursed, a further indication he was all right and also getting some necessary colostrum into his system, and they did some cleanup, there wasn’t much left to do but watch. Chance and Ry said good-night, and Cody headed back to his quarters to do as Keller had asked and route the feed from the cam in the stall to his laptop while Keller and his mother walked back toward the house.

“That was rather pointed,” she said neutrally. “As it has been for two weeks now.”

Keller didn’t pretend not to know what she was talking about. “They need to spend time together if this is going to work, for both of them.”

It was a moment after they stepped inside that she turned to him and said quietly, “Have I told you lately how proud I am of you? How utterly proud your father would be of you?”

He had no idea what to say, how to put into words how that made him feel, so he resorted to his usual fierce hug.

“He would also give you his blessing,” his mother said.

He went still. “Blessing?”

“He would see what you see in her. Her spirit, her intelligence, her determination, her warm heart despite how she was brought up.”

Keller let out a long breath. “I’ve never been able to hide from you, have I?”

She grinned at him then. “Not even when you thought you had, like when you put that ding in the wall of your room kicking that football around.”

He blinked. “You knew about that?”

“I didn’t think you’d moved that chest of drawers because you wanted it in the way of your closet door.”

“I love you, Mom,” he said suddenly.

In answer she reached up—way up, given the foot difference in their heights—and cupped his cheek. Sometimes it seemed impossible that this tiny woman had birthed them all.

“I’d give him until midnight,” she advised. “He still has to get to school in the morning.” He nodded. She turned to go, then looked back. “You deserve a chance at what your father and I had, Keller. More than deserve it. Don’t let it slip away.”

He stared after her. His mother never, ever inserted herself into whatever relationships her sons had. She only said she and his father had given the best example they could, and now it was up to them. That she had now was the final kick he’d needed.

And so at midnight, after trying to nap a bit but not succeeding very well because a certain female of the human persuasion kept disturbing his dreams—and his body—in ways he’d learned to expect, he got up and headed for the barn.

He found Sydney sitting on the straw inside the stall, leaning against the wall as Lucas leaned against her. Her arm was around the boy, and he was asleep. Or at least dozing, since he stirred the moment Keller stepped inside. He quickly checked on mom and baby and, satisfied, turned back.

“He’s nursed twice, and been on his feet a lot,” Lucas reported.

“Good job, buddy. You’re officially relieved. Go to bed, school’s going to seem really early.”

Lucas rubbed at his eyes and didn’t argue. He got up and started toward the stall door, then stopped and looked back. “Thanks, Sydney,” he said.

“Absolutely my pleasure,” she said, so sincerely it made the boy smile.

Keller dropped down beside her. “Sounds like it went well.” How did she spend the night in a barn and still smell like roses?

“It did,” she said, sounding quite happy about it.

“You and Lucas are getting along.”

“Yes.” She looked at him then, her eyes that amber gold and right now gleaming suspiciously. “Quite well, actually. Enough to build on, I think. Which leaves me with only two things to be sad about.”

He blinked. “What?”

“One, that I never had the chance to know his parents. The parents who gave him such a good, solid start in life.” She took in an audible breath. “The way your parents did.”

Her words made his throat tighten. “They did,” he agreed when he could get the words out. “It took me a long time to appreciate that as much as I should have.” He wanted to smooth away her troubled smile, but instead asked, “What’s the second thing you’re sad about?”

Something quite different came into her eyes then, and he had the strangest feeling she—this woman who was tough, capable, and had seen more of the world than he ever would—was afraid. But being Sydney, she plunged ahead anyway.

“That you never kissed me again.”

She sounded so forlorn, so genuinely sad that something knotted up inside him. And the next thing he knew the truth was out.

“I didn’t dare.”

Her eyes widened. And then, with that very Sydney-like honesty, she said, “Kissing you was like nothing I’ve ever felt in my life.”

He swallowed. “It was…what I never quite believed it could be.”

“Are you sure?”

He blinked. “What?”

“I think we should be sure.”

He got there, finally. “You mean like…try again?”

“I’m big on…research.”

“Wise,” he murmured, but he was already lowering his head. And when their lips met, and that heat shot through him again, he wondered vaguely if they would set the barn on fire.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Considering she’d spent the night on the floor of a barn, Sydney thought she’d never felt better.

“I’ll take you back to the inn,” Keller said after checking once more on the new arrival and pronouncing him fine. “You’ve spent enough on transport.”

She opened her mouth to make a typical polite demurral, but somehow it changed to a simple “Thank you.”

He coughed. Cleared his throat, as if he were a man about to make a speech. “I was thinking…you might as well pack up your things and come back here. It’s silly for you to have to hire a ride every day.”

She froze at this startling pronouncement. And stupidly, all she could say, with a sort of squeak was, “You mean stay here?”

“Well…yeah. I mean, not in the barn, in the house,” he added, as if he thought that was her question.

It took all the breath she had left in her to get out one more word. “Where?”

And suddenly his expression changed. Became a hot, wanting thing that wiped everything else out of her mind. In that moment all she could think of was that searing, hot, pulse-pounding kiss, and a night spent here in a barn with a man who demanded nothing more than to hold her through the quiet hours. Not that she didn’t know he wanted more, not when she’d been pressed so close to him his arousal was obvious. And it hadn’t been until dawn was streaking the sky and she lay with his arms around her, feeling a safety and warmth that she’d never known, that it had hit her that he wouldn’t demand. He was a gentleman. An honorable man. Like few she’d ever met, in all her travels.

“That’s up to you,” he said now, sounding as if it were costing him everything to say it. But he didn’t push, didn’t even ask.

She couldn’t doubt his wanting.

But the asking would be up to her.

She was silent during the entire drive to the inn, because she was afraid to speak. Afraid to believe. Afraid to trust.

It was what I never quite believed it could be.

His words, uttered in that tone of wonder, would stay with her forever. Would haunt her forever, if she could not find the nerve.

The asking would be up to her.

He did, of course, insist on seeing her to her door. As if anything would happen to her here, in Ranger Buckley’s domain.

Ranger Buckley, who happened to be going out the back door onto the deck as they came in. He saw them, waved, and kept going. But not before those wise eyes had taken in what he’d seen.

“You know what he thought,” Sydney said, almost amused as they headed upstairs.

“That I’m bringing you home after a night spent together in a barn?” Keller suggested, his voice a little too neutral. “Yeah, I’d say so. This helped,” he added, as he reached out and tugged a piece of straw out of her hair.

She laughed, but it was a little ragged.

She opened the door to her room, then stopped. Drew in a deep breath. Felt as she once had before taking a bungee jump off the bridge where the sport had originated. No, more, because as amazing as that had been, it would not be as life-changing as what she wanted to do now.

She turned to face him, and put a palm flat on his broad chest. The heat of him conversely sent a shiver through her. The leap of her pulse and the tingling of every nerve spurred her on.

“Are we going to spark gossip?” she began, her voice coming out low and husky.

“It’s a small town,” Keller said, and he sounded as if his throat were as tight as her own. His arm moved, and for a moment she feared he would remove her hand from where it was quite content against his chest. But he just put his own over hers, and the heat seared her. And decided her.

“Then maybe…” She had to swallow again. “Maybe we should give them something to gossip about.”

“Sydney…”

His eyes closed for a moment. When he opened them again, and those green eyes were staring down at her, she remembered again. This was up to her. And she marshaled her forces as if she were trying to persuade one of her more recalcitrant artists.

“I’m sure. And safe. And prepared—I get the birth control shots since I travel to some sketchy parts of the world.” She felt that solid muscle contract beneath her fingers, and this sign that he was no more calm than she was kicked her pulse rate up another notch. “Please, Keller. I want this. I want you.”

He broke then. He didn’t so much as push her through the open door as sweep her through with the power and heat of his body. In almost the same movement his mouth came down on hers. It was fierce, demanding, giving her a hint of what she’d unleashed. She heard the door slam shut. Knew he must have done it with his foot because his arms never left her.

And then he deepened the kiss, tasting her as if she were the only thing keeping him alive. A sweet, hot haze seemed to have enveloped her and she couldn’t think of anything beyond the feel of this, the way he tasted, and that she had to have more.

When he pulled away she nearly moaned in frustration. And then she opened her eyes and looked at him, and what she saw blazing in those deep green eyes quashed everything she was feeling except a gnawing, aching need.

“Fair warning,” he said, and it came out nothing less than a growl. “It’s been a long time, and you rev me up like no one ever has.”

In that moment Sydney realized what she’d unleashed. The gentleman who apologized for an accidental touch was gone, and in his place was a fierce, fiery lover, having needed only her certainty to let loose. More stunningly, she realized how that transformation excited her, sending bursts of sensation through her along every nerve.

“Good,” she said, the single word all she could manage with the sensations sweeping through her.

“I don’t think I can be gentle.”

It was an even fiercer growl, and it thrilled her. She let out a joyous laugh she barely recognized as her own. “Good,” she repeated, and this time she kissed him, ardently, letting everything she was feeling flow through it.

They fed off each other’s fierceness, and Sydney was barely aware of how they made it to the bed. She was more aware of shedding clothes, mainly because she was so desperate to feel him, see him. And when she did, when he was naked in her arms and she could feel the powerful muscles beneath skin so sleek her fingers wanted to stroke it endlessly, she nearly forgot how to breathe.

He touched her in turn, and the slight shiver in his hands as he cupped her breasts, this little sign of a strong man on the edge, sent heat racing through her until it pooled somewhere low and deep and new. When he stroked her nipples with tough, strong fingers a low moan escaped her. When he replaced his fingers with his mouth and flicked the sensitive nubs one after the other with his tongue, she cried out, unable to stop herself.

She stroked her fingers over his shoulders and down his back, savoring the feel of him, wanting him closer, ever closer. And then he moved one hand down over her body, finding that low, deep, new place and stroking her there. She felt her own slick readiness in the way his finger slid over her flesh.

When she slid her hand around between them, and curled her fingers around the thick column of his erection he swore, rough and heartfelt. “Warned you,” he muttered.

“Impatient,” she countered.

And then he was driving forward, into her, in a fierce plunge that made her cry out with the shocking pleasure of it. He seemed to hesitate and she practically clawed at him, desperate for him to continue. He buried himself in her, filling her, stretching her, and she cried out again at the incredible feeling of him inside her.

He swore again, but reverently this time, his voice full of the same kind of awe she was feeling. He moved, rhythmically, stroking her from within as his mouth moved over her breasts again, suckling even as his steady thrusts drove her mindless.

And then, faster than she would have ever thought possible, she shattered, her entire body clenching around him. In the next instant she heard him groan her name, low and harsh, and felt the pulse of him inside her. They both collapsed, spent. Sydney lay still, relishing the feel of his weight atop her, feeling not trapped or pinned but replete, joyous…and safe.

And when he made as if to move, she whispered, “Stay,” and held him in place. He put his head down beside hers on the pillow, and softly kissed her ear, then her neck. The gentleman was back, but she knew she would never, ever forget the joy of discovering the fierce lover he could become.

The lover she wanted forever.

For the first time in her life Sydney Brock felt complete.

Chapter Thirty-Three

The first morning back at the ranch had its moments.

When they came into the kitchen they found Cody yawning over the coffeemaker. He glanced up at them, and Keller didn’t even care if it was obvious what they’d been doing. It was time his little brother got over whatever snit he’d been in since the day Sydney had turned up on their doorstep.

“You moving in?” he asked sleepily, running a hand over the tousled blond hair he’d inherited from their mother.

Clearly it was aimed at Sydney, and Keller wondered if he should be thankful at least his brother was talking directly to her, instead of rudely asking him.

“Problem?” Sydney asked, her brows arched in warning.

Cody’s gaze flicked to Keller. He stood at Sydney’s back, and from the look that flickered in his brother’s eyes he knew the significance of that position wasn’t lost on him. For a moment, just a moment, Cody looked oddly sad. He thought of his mother’s words, that Cody had known Sydney meant everything was going to change. He’d only been nine when his life had changed forever the first time. And suddenly his urge to punch out his little brother faded away.

“Not all change is bad, bro,” he said quietly.

The startled look he got from those eyes that were, like his own, a copy of their father’s, told him Mom’s guess had been right. As usual. And he saw Cody’s expression change, shift to one of acceptance.

And then Cody looked back at Sydney. And nodded. “Glad you’re here,” he said gruffly. “Now at least we’ll have somebody to set up the coffee every day of the week.”

“Glad to be of use,” Sydney countered, her words wry but her smile wide and genuine.

As peace declarations went, Keller supposed it wasn’t much, but it would do.

*

A couple of Sundays later, they rounded up Lucas for a ride. The three of them headed out companionably; the boy seemed to have accepted Sydney’s presence easily. Lucas led the way, and Keller saw the boy spot the crown of the Lacey oak, and adjust his path accordingly.

Keller had the strangest feeling as the three of them stood at the overlook. A sense of rightness, a sense of finality, a sense of…peace. But, in a way he couldn’t explain, it felt as much outside him as within. If he were given to flights of fancy, he would have said it had come, here in this particular spot his father had loved, from him. His mother had always said she felt closest to him here, so maybe it was just that, rubbing off.

Or maybe not. Maybe it was simply that he’d found his own connection, one like his parents had had. These past days, with Sydney not simply at the ranch but in his life—and in his bed at night—had been…indescribable. His mother was delighted. And he was so happy himself he didn’t even care about the sideways looks his brothers gave him, because their grins were tinged with both envy and appreciation, and each of them had managed to say, in their own way, that they were glad for him. Even Cody.

The lunch Sydney and his mother had packed for them was consumed completely, Lucas especially gobbling his share and a bit more that Sydney declared herself too full to eat. His mom had said the boy was probably heading into a growth spurt, given how much he’d been eating the last couple of weeks.

“Look,” Lucas said now, pointing to his right, toward the Lacey oak. “Those weren’t here last time we were here.”

“They’re beautiful,” Sydney said, looking at the plant covered in light blue flowers sprawling next to the sturdy tree.

“Plumbago. Mom’s favorites, after the bluebonnets.”

“They’re the color of her eyes,” Sydney said.

“Hey, yeah, they are,” Lucas said. “Can we take her some?”

Keller felt another surge of emotion, something that had happened more and more since that day at the inn. It was as if Sydney had somehow breached a dam inside him, one that he hadn’t even realized was there.

“Sure,” he said when he thought he could speak without his voice cracking as if he was a teenager like Lucas. “They’ll last better if you cut them, though. I’ll get my knife.”

“I’ll get it,” Sydney, who was closest to Blue, said. She got to her feet and turned to his saddle, reaching for the knife sheath.

“Careful, it’s really sharp,” Keller cautioned.

“I assumed,” she said coolly as she pulled the blade free. Then, to his shock, in one smooth motion she seemed to merely flip it casually, and yet it flew straight, level, and true, and embedded itself in the grayish bark of the oak tree’s trunk.

Lucas let out a word Keller normally would have called him on, but he was too stunned.

“Not the best throwing knife, but a good blade,” she said as if assessing her toss. She looked back at Keller. “Looks military.”

“I…” He gave a shake of his head. “It was my father’s. Where the hell did you learn to do that?”

“Around. Wherever I could find someone to show me their special techniques. There was a woman in Argentina I’ll tell you about sometime. Lucas, you want to cut those flowers?”

The boy ran over and tugged the knife free—it took him two yanks and he gave Sydney an awed look—then went about his task.

Keller was still staring at her. “Why?” he asked.

“A woman alone,” she said simply. “And less hassle than a firearm in many places.”

They sat back down on the blanket he’d spread, and Keller tried not to think about what they might be doing if they weren’t being chaperoned by her young cousin.

“So in all your travels, you never found anyplace you wanted to stay forever?”

“Not until now,” she said softly, and his chest knotted up a little.

“You’re sure? I saw you looking at that travel magazine at the coffee shop. I thought maybe…”

“I was getting restless?”

“Yes.”

“No,” she retorted. “In fact, I was kind of marveling at the fact that I’m not in the least restless. That I’m feeling…like I’m home at last.”

He watched her as she glanced over at Lucas, and he couldn’t help wondering if she was having the same thoughts about how this would be a different outing if the boy weren’t along. Then she looked back at him.

“Sorry about the tree.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“I figured it was probably as tough as Texas. Tougher than me, anyway.”

Keller moved then, grabbing her shoulders and turning her to face him. “You’re as tough as that oak tree. You took a hellish life and built it into something wonderful. That’s the kind of tough it takes to be a Texan.”

She looked up at him, her golden eyes warm but worried. “Thank you. But…I can’t be your kind of normal, because I didn’t grow up like you did. I’m afraid you’ll give up on me.”

He wanted to kiss the doubts out of those eyes, out of her heart. Instead he said determinedly, “When I was seventeen, I had to give up on a lot of goals. I had no choice then. Now I do. So I may change tactics, but not the goal.”

It was a moment before she said, in a voice full of taut emotion, “I seem to have achieved my three most important goals at once.”

“Three?”

“Finding Lucas. Finding a place I want to stay forever. And most of all finding the man who makes it all worth it.”

For a moment Keller couldn’t think of a damned thing to say. Finally, barely, he managed two words. “Welcome home.”

The look in her eyes then made his chest tight all over again, and he lowered his head, his gaze fastened on those soft, warm lips.

“You two gonna start kissing again?” Lucas asked sourly as he came up holding a slightly lopsided bouquet of the flowers.

Keller lifted his head and looked at him. “Yes. That a problem?”

The boy sighed audibly. “I guess not.” He looked at them with a touch of curiosity. “My folks used to kiss a lot.”

“Then that should prove it’s a good thing,” Sydney said.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Lucas walked over to Pecos and tied the stems to his saddle with one of the front latigos.

And now that they had official permission, the kissing began.

Back at the ranch, Sydney said something about needing to check in. He’d set up a desk for her in the sitting area of his quarters, and promised she’d have the good Wi-Fi she needed, that Cody would see to it. She’d given him a sideways look, and he’d sensed she was still wary of his little brother.

The memory reminded him of something. A bit too casually, he said, “Cody does the books for Chance. He set them up for him, once Chance realized he needed to organize.”

She blinked at the seeming non sequitur. “I’m not surprised he has the knack, from what you’ve said.”

“He’s also very good at tracking stuff down. Internet stuff. Backtracking connections. Even donations.”

Faint color came into her cheeks. “Oh.”

“Were you ever going to say anything?”

“Probably not. Not after he suspected me of…ulterior motives. When my only real motive is that he’s doing a wonderful thing with the dogs, and I wanted to support it.”

“A donation that size will keep those mutts in dog food for a year.”

“Good.”

He studied her for a moment. “Have you ever wondered if I had an ulterior motive?”

She frowned. “You?”

“Ranching’s a tough business, a lot of hard work. We’re doing okay, but we’re not getting rich. So maybe I want a rich girlfriend I can get money from.”

She let out an inelegant snort of laughter. “You? As if you would even ask. You’re the straightest arrow—or blade—I’ve ever met, Keller Rafferty. You’d never—” She stopped suddenly. And her expression was suddenly serious. “Is that what I am? Like…officially?”

“For now,” he said softly. He saw doubt in her eyes at his words, words that could be interpreted in more than one way. He realized everything in her life up until now had been…temporary. So he added, matter-of-factly, “But later, when you’re sure, I think we should formally adopt Lucas. Oh, and we’ll need a prenup, Ms. Bucks-Up.”

She blinked. The smile that spread across her face then was like the sunrise over his beloved Hill Country. “No,” she said. “We won’t need that. Because I know you, Keller. I know you, and I love you.”

His heart full, he reached out and cupped her face. “I love you, too. Honey.”

He saw her remember that first day, and her fierce exclamation. Don’t call me honey unless you mean it. He let every bit of how much he meant it show in his expression. Saw it register, and the smile she gave him then put that sunrise he’d just thought of to shame. And his voice was more than a little thick when he spoke again.

“So…shall we go tell Lucas he’s gained more than a cousin?”

“Yes.” She stretched up and kissed him. “And maybe after that we can ride back out to that place of yours and…have another picnic.”

There was no mistaking the heat in those amber eyes. “With a different menu?” he suggested.

“As long as it has my favorite things to nibble on.”

“Me, I want the entire banquet,” he said, his voice suddenly rough. “With a permanent seat at the table.”

“That,” Sydney said with that hot little smile that turned his insides upside down, “can be arranged.”

And he lowered his mouth to hers to begin the first course.

The End

Want more? Check out Shane and Lily’s story in The Lone Star Lawman!

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If you enjoyed Nothing But Cowboy, you’ll love the next book in….

The Raffertys of Last Stand series

Book 1: Nothing But Cowboy

View the series here!

Book 2: A Texas Christmas Miracle

Coming October 2021

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More books by Justine Davis

The Texas Justice series

Book 1: Lone Star Lawman

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Book 2: Lone Star Nights

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Book 3: A Lone Star Christmas

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Book 4: Lone Star Reunion

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Book 5: Lone Star Homecoming

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The Whiskey River series

Book 1: Whiskey River Rescue

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Book 2: Whiskey River Runaway

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Book 3: Whiskey River Rockstar

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About the Author

Author of more than 70 books, (she sold her first ten in less than two years) Justine Davis is a five time winner of the coveted RWA RITA Award, including for being inducted into the RWA Hall of Fame. A fifteen time nominee for RT Book Review awards, she has won four times, received three of their lifetime achievement awards, and had four titles on the magazine’s 200 Best of all Time list. Her books have appeared on national best seller lists, including USA Today. She has been featured on CNN, taught at several national and international conferences, and at the UCLA writer’s program.

After years of working in law enforcement, and more years doing both, Justine now writes full time. She lives near beautiful Puget Sound in Washington State, peacefully coexisting with deer, bears, a pair of bald eagles, a tailless raccoon, and her beloved ’67 Corvette roadster. When she’s not writing, taking photographs, or driving said roadster (and yes, it goes very fast) she tends to her knitting. Literally.

Visit Justine at her website JustineDavis.com

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