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  A grimace crossed his face. He bent his head, allowing his hair to fall forward and hide his expression. “Goodbye, Grace.” With those parting words, he left the hospital room.

  Part of her was relieved he was gone, because something in his eyes called to her. He unsettled her and rattled her inner peace. In two months, she would marry Tyler, the man of her dreams. Heath exiting her life was for the best.

  But something whispered in the back of her mind, a devil on her shoulder, who hoped today wasn’t the first and last time she saw Heath Carter.

  Chapter Three

  Heath could have stayed and talked with her all day, which was why he had to leave. Too much time with the lovely Grace was not a good thing. The large engagement ring on her left hand couldn’t have made it any clearer, flashing like a warning light—keep away, danger ahead.

  Bruce Murray stood waiting at the end of the hospital corridor. Grace’s father was a solidly built man, who looked like he’d spent his life working with his hands. Heath could tell a lot about a man by his hands, and Bruce’s were large and calloused.

  “Heath.” Bruce closed the distance. “Let me give you a ride to the bridge and your motorcycle. It’s the least I can do.”

  Gratitude was written all over his sun-worn face. “That would be helpful, sir. I’d appreciate it.” A short ride was the only thank you Heath would accept. And even that made him uncomfortable.

  The two men walked out of the hospital in silence.

  Bruce led him to an old truck parked at the back of the lot, far away from the other cars.

  “Don’t want anyone puttin’ a dent in her,” Bruce said with a laugh.

  “No, sir.” Heath ran his hand across the hood. “You need to cherish a classic beauty like her.”

  Bruce opened the driver’s side door. “No locking doors here. Liberty Ridge is a safe town. We watch out for each other.”

  As they drove, the truck’s radio crackled out a classic country song. Modest houses and well-maintained yards rolled past Heath’s window. The Texas town was the idealized picture of all-American wholesomeness, which left him with a pang of longing.

  “You just passin’ through?” Bruce asked. “I don’t remember seeing you around town before.”

  He straightened in his seat and turned his gaze from the rolling prairie landscape outside to the man sitting to his left. “I’ve been traveling around Texas. Just stopped here today for lunch.”

  “Used to dream about hittin’ the open road, traveling round the country…back in my younger days. Never got a chance, though. Right out of high school, my dad had me working on the ranch full-time.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Then, I got married to Joslyn and had a family. Time slips away fast.”

  “You still a rancher?” Heath peered at the man sitting in the driver’s seat. Dumb question. Bruce was the embodiment of a man who made his living off the land.

  “True Horizon Ranch has been in my family for seven generations. We raise Texas Longhorn cattle. They’re real beauties and very gentle. Every spring, Gracie would spend her days out in the field, playing with the calves.” Bruce smiled and pointed at a faded picture taped to the dashboard. “This here’s the entrance to the ranch. That picture must have been taken nearly twenty years ago, but it’s still my favorite.”

  Heath looked at the soft colors of the faded picture. An iron sign arched over the driveway with scrolling letters—True Horizon Ranch, Established 1845. Underneath stood three people: a younger Joslyn Murray, a pre-teen boy with sandy blond hair, and a little dark-haired girl who looked out of place with the other two. Heath wondered if Grace had been adopted. Her striking coloring was in contrast with the rest of her family.

  In the picture, Joslyn had a tight hold on her daughter, as if struggling to keep her still long enough to get the shot. He could imagine a young Grace, being reprimanded by her elegant mother for running in the muddy fields and ruining her new dress.

  “Where do you call home?” Bruce cranked down the window a few more inches.

  The truck had been built before air conditioning became standard. Warm air blew in, doing little to cool him.

  “Well, sir.” Heath paused, giving that question consideration, not sure how much he wanted to share. “I grew up in Florida, and then lived on and off for years in North Carolina. Now…I live wherever I can find a decent job.”

  Bruce slowed as they approached the bridge.

  Down the embankment lay Heath’s bike, resting on its side. The front end was dipped in shallow water. His stomach dropped at the sight. Once they’d stopped, Heath jumped out and strode downward. After pulling the bike out of the river, he gave it a onceover.

  “You think it’ll still run?” Bruce stood by his truck, leaning his elbow on the hood.

  Heath shrugged, not confident in his luck. He needed to get out of town as soon as possible. He’d become too comfortable talking with Bruce and that couldn’t continue. Again, he mentally reviewed his mission objectives. Stay unattached to everyone and everything. Move through life like a ghost, not touching or being touched by anything around him.

  He took a close look at his wet motorcycle. If water had seeped into the engine, he wouldn’t ride out anytime soon. With teeth clenched, he turned the key, which somehow hadn’t fallen out of his pants pocket during his swim, and pressed the starter button. The motorcycle gave a sound that could only be described as cruel laughter, and then it sputtered and died.

  “She’s not behaving for ya?” Bruce asked in his deep drawl. “Maybe needs some time to dry out.”

  Heath looked across the bridge toward downtown. He might be stuck here for a few days, at least until he got his bike up and running. “Is there a motel in town?”

  “Well.” Bruce scratched at his scruffy, graying beard. “Ol’ Rusty runs a motor lodge just down the road, ’bout a mile. I wouldn’t recommend it, though. The last storm did some damage to the roof. Plus…I don’t think that cheapskate’s purchased new bedding since the Reagan administration.”

  Heath’s stomach twisted in a sickening knot. Right now, he should be riding the open road, not contemplating whether to sleep outside or in a dilapidated motel.

  “We have an empty bunkhouse.” Bruce pulled out a red checkered handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the back of his neck. “Used to have our ranch hands live on the property, but now they all have their own homes in town. The little house is clean and all yours, no charge. For as long as you need it.”

  Choking back emotion, Heath cleared his throat, recalling the same generous spirit he’d once enjoyed with his Army brothers. “That’s nice of you, sir, but I don’t want to impose.” He glared at his traitorous motorcycle and gave it a hard kick. “I’ll figure out something. I’m used to flying by the seat of my pants.”

  “Nonsense. If my daughter and wife find out I left you on the side of the road with a broken bike, they’ll skin me alive.” Bruce took hold of the right handlebar. He pulled the bike toward the truck. “Let’s get this thing in the back, and I’ll drive you to the ranch. You can fix your bike there, and then get on the road.”

  Heath recognized the firm look of determination on Bruce’s face and didn’t seem left with much choice. Bruce would not leave without him. “Thank you, sir. That’s a kind offer.”

  “Great.”

  Bruce’s large hand slapped Heath’s back, causing him to stumble forward. The man was as strong as an ox.

  “And no more ‘sir.’ Just call me Bruce.”

  “Old habits die hard.” Heath cleared his throat, pushing away the words he wanted to say, but he couldn’t. Tears burned in his eyes.

  Bruce only nodded.

  Between the two of them, they lifted the motorcycle so it lay secure in the bed of the truck. Heath wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. No matter how hard Heath worked to hide his past life, it always came creeping back. People like Bruce and Grace Murray frightened him. They had the ability to peel off the protective
layers and see the man inside. The man he couldn’t outrun.

  ****

  “I’m so glad to be out of the hospital.” Grace tipped back her head to rest on the passenger seat of her mother’s car. Thankfully, when she’d awakened that morning, the world had finally stopped whirling around her. Although, this car ride was reinstating her nausea. “Sleeping through the night with nurses coming in every couple of hours is impossible. I’m so tired.”

  “Maybe next time, you’ll be more careful and keep your head out of the clouds.” Joslyn turned the A/C from cold to polar bear blast. “I wish Tyler could have stayed longer.”

  Disappointment lingered in her heart. “I know, but he did spend the night with me in the hospital. He had to return to Dallas for a meeting. Something about a lawyer and a land contract. Sounded important.”

  “I hoped he would have stayed for dinner.” Joslyn turned the steering wheel and directed the car onto the long gravel driveway and under the iron arch of True Horizon Ranch.

  As they drove down the driveway, Grace lowered the car window and deeply breathed in the fresh air of her favorite place in the world. Acres of grassland enveloped the earth for as far as she could see. For eighteen years, this ranch had been her home. Land where she had run wild and free, a dirty but happy little girl. Those hills and fields, spotted with her beloved Longhorns, had been her playground.

  Her mother had insisted Grace leave home for college, in hopes if she left the ranch for a few years, she’d finally mature into a lady. To her mother’s delight, she’d blossomed while living away. Big city life had transformed her from an awkward, homely caterpillar into a butterfly.

  They parked in front of the attached garage. As she opened the trunk to get her bags, Grace noticed a motorcycle sitting in front of the old bunkhouse. “Do we have company?” She shifted the weight of the bag in her hand.

  Her mother sighed and waved her hand toward the bunkhouse. “Your father brought Heath Carter here yesterday. His motorcycle wouldn’t start so he invited Heath to stay until it was fixed. I told him I wasn’t comfortable with a stranger living so close. Of course, your dad didn’t listen to a word I said.”

  “Heath is staying here?” she croaked. The idea of having him here made her gut churn with nerves. Was the feeling caused by the memory of his rough hands on her skin, or the heat in his hazel eyes when they’d locked onto hers? Grace shook those thoughts out of her head. She’d be married soon, on this very ranch, to a man she loved. The only reason she’d come home at all was to prepare for their wedding.

  Tyler was perfect. He was everything she wanted. Nothing, not even her unexplainable and unfamiliar attraction to Heath Carter, would interfere with her dream wedding.

  Grace followed in her mother’s wake as she walked up the front steps and onto the wraparound porch.

  “Dad invited Heath over for dinner. Alex, Jenny, and the twins are coming, too. If you’re tired, I suggest you go upstairs and take a nap. I’ll need some help in the kitchen later this afternoon.” Joslyn opened the creaky screen door and stepped inside the house.

  Instead of going in as well, Grace turned to look at the motorcycle sitting across the yard. Tools and parts were strewn about the ground. Her body flushed with heat at the memory of Heath straddling that very bike, riding toward her.

  Suddenly, the front door to the bunkhouse opened, and Heath came outside. He wiped his hands on a ragged towel.

  Despite being separated by a distance of approximately two hundred feet, Grace could see him approach his bike with long strides, his attention totally focused on the gleaming, black machine on the ground. He wore jeans, seeming to mock the heat. When he caught her gaze, she felt a shiver pass over her body.

  His hand extended in a leisurely wave.

  She responded with one of her own before fleeing into the safety of her parents’ house. Up in her old bedroom, she flopped onto her twin bed, which groaned at the weight of the woman she’d become. Her bedroom still was one of a little girl, with dolls and stuffed animals decorating every corner. Countless trophies for various Western riding competitions stood proud on the tall bookcase. They gave testament to the fact that once upon a time, she had been a country girl. Such a girl, who loved the fresh air and horses, really had existed.

  She placed her head on the pillow and closed her eyes but struggled to fall asleep in the too-quiet house. The silence stood out in sharp contrast to the constant noise of her apartment in downtown Dallas. Instead of honks and sirens, she now heard the buzz of insects outside and the occasional creak of the house. She’d only been home a few days, but her body and mind had quickly calmed in the peace and quiet of the country.

  “Ugh, I can’t fall asleep.” She groaned and hit the pillow, an easy target for her irritation. Heath was coming tonight for dinner. He would be sitting in her parents’ house, at their table, and eating with her family. Would he clean-up and shave, or keep his appearance dangerously masculine, featuring lots of facial hair and exposed tattoos? She doubted she’d get any rest with that image running through her head.

  Chapter Four

  “Grace.” Joslyn snapped her fingers and pointed to the stove. “The gravy is boiling over.”

  Grace looked at the pot she’d been entrusted with and saw bubbling, thick liquid had broken over the top, preparing an escape onto the clean stovetop. “Got it.” She picked up a wooden spoon and frantically began stirring. “The gravy looks done. Should I take it off?”

  “Keep going for another minute.” Her mother looked into the pot, and then went back to the vegetables she’d abandoned.

  The steady beat of the knife started again. Grace worked in silence until one minute passed then she turned off the stove burner and set the pot on the granite counter to cool. “Do you need me for anything else?” She whispered a prayer to be released from kitchen duty. Not only to get out from under her mother’s watchful eye, but her stray thoughts about Heath were making her very jumpy. If she didn’t watch it, she’d ruin their dinner.

  Being in the kitchen with her mother reminded Grace of the many times she’d been a disappointment. As she recounted the years spent attempting to please, only to realize she’d never be the daughter her mother had envisioned, the heavy weight of failure settled on her shoulders. Recently, their relationship was slowly improving, mostly because Grace was no longer running around the ranch like a wild child. She’d swapped ripped jeans and dirty T-shirts for designer outfits and expensive shoes. Living and working in Dallas had been the catalyst for many changes, and her relationship with Tyler was proof.

  “Why don’t you set the table?” Her mother waved her away from the stove. “We need eight place settings. And don’t forget the salad forks.”

  As Grace entered the large pantry off the kitchen, a knock sounded at the front door.

  “Hello, hello, hello.” Her dad’s voice boomed from the entryway. “Come in, Heath. Glad you agreed to join us.”

  Her stomach fluttered with nerves as footsteps sounded. Thankfully, they moved toward the family room. Grace counted out eight plates, which were decorated with delicately painted country roses, and then carried them to the dining room. Through the open door, she watched Heath stand beside her dad, listening as Dad told a long-winded story. She grinned at Heath. His posture was straight, feet wide set, and his folded hands rested against his lower back. If he was to survive her family, he’d need to loosen up.

  Her dad looked like he’d just gotten in from the fields, standing tall with his fingers hooked in the straps of his overalls. As she set the table, she overheard their conversation. Cattle prices were stagnant, and property taxes were too high.

  Heath remained quiet, nodding every once in awhile.

  Her mother entered the family room and approached Heath. “Welcome. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Would you like a beer?” Bruce asked.

  “Yes, thank you.” Heath settled on the oversized leather sofa. His gaze darted around the room.

>   Maybe searching for an escape. He reminded Grace of a cornered animal.

  Joslyn exited the family room and caught Grace peeking through the door of the dining room. Her mother shot her the look, along with a swift nod, motioning toward their guest.

  Darn, I’ve been busted. With her hiding spot discovered, she wiped her sweating palms on her skirt and left the safety of the dining room.

  Heath stood as she entered. “Hi.” A small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, which showed underneath his beard.

  “Hello, it’s good to see you again…under drier circumstances.” She smiled, taking in his appearance. Although he still sported a bushy beard, she could tell he had showered and run a comb through his hair, tying it back with a leather strap. His clothes looked crisp and clean, with his shirt sleeves rolled up just enough to show off the tattoos covering his forearms. The guy cleaned up pretty well. Grace sat in the rocking chair across from the sofa. A good spot for studying their dinner guest.

  Joslyn came in holding two beer bottles, both dripping with condensation. She placed them on the coasters set on the coffee table and looked at her husband. “I hope you plan on changing out of those dirty overalls before dinner, Bruce Murray.”

  “Sure, sure. Let me finish this.” He lifted his beer bottle. “Don’t worry. By the time dinner’s ready, I’ll be as shiny as a pig on Sunday.”

  Her mother’s laughter followed her out of the room.

  Heath coughed with muffled laughter before taking a drink.

  Now, his smile brightened his entire face. Too bad he hid his good looks underneath all that hair. With a cut and shave, she was sure he’d look like a totally different man.

  “How’s the bike comin’ along?” Bruce took a long drink before setting the bottle back onto the coaster.

  “The parts I need should be in tomorrow. The guy from the auto store said he’d drop them off.”

  “Yeah, that sounds like Jerry. He’s a good man. Honest, too.”

  “Have you decided where you’re going once your bike is fixed?” Grace asked.