Книга - Texas Grit

Texas Grit
Barb Han


He must face his demons, to rescue his friendWhen Dade Butler and Carrie Palmer are reunited after years apart, neither imagined the sizzling chemistry that would erupt. When a stalker nearly kills Carrie, Dade will stop at nothing to save her!







He must face his own demons

To rescue his childhood friend

Dade Butler’s father ruled with an iron fist. Carrie Palmer was bounced around the foster system. But they found solace as childhood friends. Neither imagined their grown-up reunion would involve the six-foot-four handsome rancher rescuing Carrie from a would-be assault. But when a stalker nearly kills Carrie, Dade will stop at nothing to save her—and turn this friendship into a permanent relationship.

Crisis: Cattle Barge


USA TODAY bestselling author BARB HAN lives in north Texas with her very own hero-worthy husband, three beautiful children, a spunky golden retriever/standard poodle mix and too many books in her to-read pile. In her downtime, she plays video games and spends much of her time on or around a basket ball court. She loves interacting with readers and is grateful for their support. You can reach her at www.barbhan.com (http://www.barbhan.com).


Also by Barb Han (#u3f7271c6-60c1-5148-aa6b-7e97dc7d238b)

Sudden Setup

Endangered Heiress

Texas Grit

Stockyard Snatching

Delivering Justice

One Tough Texan

Texas-Sized Trouble

Texas Witness

Texas Showdown

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Texas Grit

Barb Han






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


ISBN: 978-1-474-07899-3

TEXAS GRIT

© 2018 Barb Han

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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


To my editor, Allison Lyons, for being a dream to work with—thank you! To my agent, Jill Marsal, for always having the right words of encouragement—thank you!

To my children, Brandon, Jacob and Tori, who inspire me to be the best version of myself every day. I’m eternally grateful. Whether we’re up late carving pumpkins or cheering each other on in our daily adventures (some might say antics) I’m always grateful for our close relationships. Brandon, welcome to the 1m challenge. I’d wish you luck but since you’re one of my competitors...game on, buddy! I love you all so very much!

And to John, for laughing no matter how silly we get and for jumping in with both feet for every challenge no matter how crazy. I can’t imagine a better partner in crime and in life. I love you!


Contents

Cover (#u1f8b37b7-b260-59b4-8bd2-ca24341ff8ef)

Back Cover Text (#uaef45290-2dbb-5f22-a1b5-2b0eaa09c3dc)

About the Author (#ub76cf562-f2d5-5dc5-bd69-4da732ded504)

Booklist (#u12ec4e07-56cc-5baf-ac31-1832ac923cac)

Title Page (#u950ef806-45d5-5bfa-b3e1-1463420bd721)

Copyright (#ua6969032-b6fc-58cf-8c65-857e6a38dc46)

Dedication (#u9ff1e8f1-9451-56c1-824c-6fc9fa8415a4)

Chapter One (#u2c7abd0a-85e7-5c78-8cdc-546b882efaa2)

Chapter Two (#ud28857e0-b809-5b93-a963-0d18acbcf099)

Chapter Three (#u6ea17810-6c7d-5990-bc8b-7de5668ce6ce)

Chapter Four (#u0b19e4f9-035a-5d37-8b9f-1b5f55295e13)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#u3f7271c6-60c1-5148-aa6b-7e97dc7d238b)

Carrie Palmer planted her shoulder against the back door of her cold-treats shop and, with a grunt, gave it a good shove. The latch could be tricky and required a certain touch. Humidity always caused the solid wood door to swell. It was August in south-central Texas, with the threat of rain hanging in the air. She twisted the key and listened for the snick of the lock.

The heat combined with a successful annual week-long festival had brought another day of fantastic sales to Carrie’s Cold Treats. Aside from an annoying festival worker who seemed bent on dating her, this year’s AquaPlay Festival and Cattle Run had gone off without a hitch. People were laughing again, and everyone in Cattle Barge needed the distraction. The town could use a sense of normalcy after being turned upside down for the past couple of weeks following the murder of a prominent family’s patriarch, Mike Butler, a.k.a. Maverick Mike.

The man who was notorious for living large and on his own terms had made national news after being found gunned down on his beloved ranch.

Every time she thought about his son, Dade, her heart squeezed. She’d heard that he’d been discharged from the military recently and had only been in town a few weeks. She could only imagine what her childhood friend was going through. Not only had his father been killed in a bizarre manner that had caused a media frenzy and an attempt had been made on his sister’s life, but an adult child no one had known about had been summoned to town, bringing with her a murderous ex-boyfriend. Carrie shuddered, because after her recent breakup with Brett Strawn had blown up, he’d made terrible threats—threats she knew in her heart he couldn’t mean. Before she would’ve chalked them up to him being emotional, a temporary reaction to the disappointment of a relationship ending. Now, she worried.

With Brett, it probably was just the heat of the moment that had him saying words she knew he’d regret when he had some time to think about them. And yet her problem was nothing in comparison to Dade’s. Her heart went out to him as she watched his worst nightmares play out in the news, wishing she had some way to contact him. Even at nine years old, he’d had the most serious blue eyes beneath thick, curly, sandy-blond hair.

Theirs had been an unlikely friendship. His family was one of the most prominent in Texas, while she had no parents, moving from group home to a distant relative’s house and then back into foster care through the early part of her life. Funny how little kids never noticed how much or how little money another kid’s family had. Interesting how much that changed later in life. By the time she’d returned to the same high school after being relocated and bounced in and out of another home, everything had changed. Dade had grown into his athletic frame. He’d become popular and, outside of a few glances in her direction, she was sure he didn’t even remember her name.

It was dark outside. She normally closed at dusk, but the AquaPlay Festival broke down at sunset and she’d agreed to stay open late to accommodate all the children not quite ready to wind down on a summer night. At least her business was working for her, even though it seemed like everything else in her life was standing on shaky ground. She’d hoped to find a home in returning to Cattle Barge to open her store. But she felt just as much an outsider here as she had everywhere else she’d lived since college.

The overwhelming feeling that someone was watching caught Carrie off guard. This feeling was a little too familiar since her relationship with Brett had ended a couple of weeks ago, and she often thought she could feel him watching her.

She tried to shake it off, figuring her heightened emotions had to do with the breakup, the words that had been spoken out of anger. And the dozens of apology texts that she had yet to read all the way through, let alone answer.

“Beautiful night,” a male voice boomed from behind, startling her. He was close, and she hadn’t heard him walk up.

“What are you doing back here, Nash?” A chill raced through her and her fingers tightened around her key ring as she pulled the key out of the lock. She whirled around and had to back up against the wooden door to put some space between her and the tall, thick-around-the-middle festival worker. He brought his hand up against the door, trapping her on one side. His long hair was soaked with sweat after breaking down and loading up the rides. He wore a stained tank top underneath a button-up denim shirt that had half the sleeves cut off. Threads frayed over thick forearms used to lifting heavy equipment.

“Festival’s over. Thought you might like to spend some time together before I leave town.” The smell of alcohol on his breath assaulted her as he leaned closer. She held her breath. He’d stopped by three times over the course of the weekend to ask her out. Each time she’d declined. She’d been crystal clear. There was no doubt in her mind that he hadn’t somehow misinterpreted her rejections, and standing there any longer would cause her to pass out. “Or, maybe I’ll find someone worth sticking around for and get a local job.”

“It’s late. I have to get home and let my dog out.” Carrie ducked under his arm and tried to sidestep him, blowing out a breath in the process. He moved with her, blocking her, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

Nash was big. Too big. Fighting him off would be a challenge. She palmed the small can of pepper spray attached to her key ring and flicked the leather cover open using her thumb, hoping she wouldn’t need to use it. As long as she was wishing, she might as well go for it and wish she was already in her car.

The back parking lot was lit by a single light in the far corner. Out of habit, she’d parked in her usual spot behind the building. Regret stabbed her that she hadn’t realized how dark it would be after extending her hours. Or how vulnerable she’d be walking to her car alone after she sent her employees home early, reassuring them she could close up by herself with no problem. The festival had ended two hours ago and everything was quiet—everything but the sounds of her pounding heart rushing in her ears.

“What about a movie first?” The cinema was at the end of the strip shopping center, and as much as Carrie liked the idea of being around people right now—lots of people—she didn’t want to give false encouragement to a man who gave her the creeps.

She strained to hear voices, anything that might signal life was near, but was met with silence save for the sounds of Nash’s heavy alcohol-infused breaths. If she got lucky, a movie would end and people would exit the cinema. She really hoped so, because she might need the help. As it was she doubted anyone would hear if she screamed, and Nash seemed to realize it, too, as a show of yellow teeth stared back at her.

“I’ve been working extra hours and haven’t been home since lunch. Like I said, my dog needs to go out or I’m afraid she’ll have an accident.” Carrie looked up and didn’t like what she saw in Nash’s eyes. She flicked the safety off the pepper spray. Experience had taught her that she’d get some in her eyes, too, and hers started watering just thinking about the burn. Her lungs would seize and her chest would ache. But it would give her the edge she needed to get to her car, where she could lock herself inside.

Even at night, the August temperatures in Cattle Barge were in the high nineties. Sweat beaded on Carrie’s forehead, a mix of fear, adrenaline rush and sweltering heat. Experience had also taught her not to show her emotions when facing down a bully, no matter how shaky she was on the inside.

Carrie looked straight into the man’s eyes, and her heart skipped a beat at what she saw behind them. She resigned herself to a fight and fisted her free hand.

He slicked his tongue across his bottom lip and made a move to grab her.

She screamed as she brought the pepper spray toward his face.

“Everything okay here, Carrie?” The sound of Samuel’s voice was a welcome reprieve, like a soaking rain in the desert on a hot day.

Nash took a step back and turned his attention to her neighbor, sizing him up. “We’re just talking.”

Carrie used the distraction to dart toward her savior. He was a quiet guy in his late twenties, or maybe early thirties, who’d moved in with his elderly aunt in the same cul-de-sac as Carrie last fall. She presumed he’d moved to Cattle Barge to help his aging aunt, but she wasn’t sure because she’d been busy with the shop and only interacted with a few people in town on a personal level. Personal level? Carrie would laugh if anything about that or this situation was actually funny.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” She grabbed his arm, noticed he was shaking, and an icy chill raced down her spine. She withdrew her hand, chalking up the reaction to overwrought emotions. Nash seemed to realize immediately what she already knew. Samuel was no match. He was close to her height and had no muscle mass, but he’d distracted the worker and that was good enough for her to make an escape. Between the two of them, she had a chance of getting out of this unscathed. She wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Walk me to my car,” she said to Samuel, dodging Nash’s attempt to catch her arm.

Her neighbor shot the worker a look that was probably meant to scare him.

“Keep walking,” Carrie told Samuel in a low voice.

“The lady and me were trying to have a conversation,” Nash said. Based on the nearness of his voice, he wasn’t more than a step or two behind them.

Could they make it to her car without an altercation?

“It’s okay. Just keep our heads down and feet moving.” She didn’t want to provoke Nash any more.

Ten more feet and she’d be home free.

A callused hand gripped her shoulder, pinching hard, and she suppressed a yelp.

Samuel spun to his left to face off with Nash.

“She’s with me,” Samuel squeaked out, his voice shrill. He was trying to be a hero and was clearly not cut out for the job, because she could feel him trembling next to her. His skin had gone sheet white, and beads of sweat trickled down his forehead.

Like a shark zeroing in on a vibration of fear, Nash took a threatening step toward Samuel.

“Back off, little man,” Nash demanded, his rough hand clamping around Carrie’s arm.

She jerked it free and brought up the pepper spray. Nash caught her arm in time to stop her from aiming at his eyes.

“Carrie, is that you?” A dark rumble of a voice boomed from the end of the alley, and all three of them froze. She recognized who it belonged to immediately. Dade Butler’s voice made her heart thump a little faster, and for very different reasons than being scared. The inappropriateness of her reaction to him caught her off guard, especially after all this time.

“Dade,” she said, her voice sounding as desperate as she felt.

“Everything okay here?” Dade had to be at least six foot four, with a body built for athletics. Ripples of solid muscles were apparent underneath his white T-shirt and low-slung jeans. He seemed to size up the scene accurately, based on the deep wrinkle on his forehead and the fact that he was frowning.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” Nash threw his hands up in surrender. “I was just leaving.”

Samuel stepped between Carrie and Dade as though sizing up a new threat.

“It’s definitely better now that you’re here,” she said to Dade to calm some of Samuel’s tension. The message? Dade was a friend. Samuel just got the muscle he needed to avoid getting his face bashed in. He should be grateful instead of tense.

Nash seemed to take the hint, backing away before heading toward the cinema with a few choice words mumbled just loud enough to hear.

“How long has it been since the last time I saw you?” Dade asked Carrie, his eyes intent on Nash.

She stepped away from Samuel and toward the sound of Dade’s voice as a sensual shiver rocketed through her.

“Too long.” She hadn’t seen him since the news of his father broke and hadn’t talked to him in years. She could never forget that voice, and even though dark circles cradled his still-too-serious crystal-blue eyes, he looked damn good. She turned to Samuel, whose body language was even tenser now. “Thank you so much for stepping in when you did. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t shown up. I’m good from here, though, so you don’t have to stick around.”

The quiet neighbor didn’t respond as he eyed Dade up and down. A glint of metal in his hand reflected in the light as he turned to face her. For the first time, she noticed that Samuel was hiding a knife. She appreciated that he was trying to help her and, sadly, they might’ve needed the weapon to fight off Nash. Between Samuel’s knife and her pepper spray, they might’ve had a prayer. But the festival worker seemed to know better than to try to take on Dade.

“Everything all right?” Dade’s brow arched as he seemed to process Samuel’s resistance to leave.

Samuel still seemed to be looking at everyone as a potential threat.

“It’s okay. I’m fine now. Dade’s a friend of mine,” Carrie said to Samuel. These were probably the most words she and Samuel had exchanged, and she was grateful he’d appeared when he did. It was probably adrenaline that had him still tense and ready to defend. He was somewhat awkward, and she figured he’d most likely dealt with his fair share of bullies in his lifetime, being on the scrawny side. The thought made her feel sorry for him. She knew what it was like to be pushed around and unable to defend herself. An angry riptide pulled at her thinking about it, about a past that had left her helpless. She dismissed thoughts that brought her back to that place where she was an innocent girl, fighting off someone who was supposed to be protecting her.

She shook off the reverie, focusing on Samuel. He nodded and seemed like he wanted to say something, but whatever it was died on his tongue. He settled on, “Good night, Carrie.”

He seemed so sad, and she wanted to do something to thank him. From the way he carried himself, she doubted he’d stood up for himself or anyone else for most of his life and it had taken a lot of courage for him to do what he’d done. “Stop by the shop tomorrow for an ice cream on the house, okay?”

“Thanks.” He smiled and she noticed his lip twitching—a nervous tic? Poor guy. He really was distressed, and she was even more grateful he’d tried to help. She’d send him home with a gallon of her signature ice cream blend for his aunt, too.

“’Bye, Samuel.” She stepped into a friendly hug with Dade, ignoring the shivers racing through her body with contact.

“What was up with him?” Dade pulled Carrie against his chest, and she felt how truly muscled he was. His sandy-blond hair and serious blue eyes made for one seriously hot package. And those were all things former friends weren’t supposed to think about each other. Notice, maybe, but not have a visceral reaction to.

“I really appreciate what you did after all these...” She diverted her gaze. In his arms, it was a little too easy to forget the awkwardness she’d felt toward him since high school. She pulled back, because thinking clearly while being barraged with his clean and spicy male scent made her pulse erratic.

Carrie was tall—not Dade tall, but tall—with midnight-black hair and tight curls that had minds of their own on humid days. She’d tamed them today with a straightening iron and had no idea why she was thinking about what her hair looked like after what had just happened. Stress caused her thoughts to bounce around, she reasoned.

“Are you shaking?” Dade asked.

“I guess so. That whole situation was stressful, but I’m fine now,” she said a little too quickly. She wasn’t okay. Recent events with Brett had her off-balance, and Nash had really done a number on her insides. “Nash has been hanging around the shop and tonight he had alcohol on his breath.”

Dade’s hand found hers, like they were still kids and running across the playground—which was as much as the action probably meant to him. It caused her heart to beat wildly against her chest. She chalked her out-of-control reaction up to the stressful encounter with Nash; his eyes had told her everything she needed to know about his intentions.

“What was going down a few minutes ago?” With Dade next to her, she should be able to relax, and she could in some ways, because he’d just saved her from what could’ve turned out to be a very bad situation. One that brought a few harsh memories threatening to crash down around her and reduce her to tears.

She couldn’t help but shudder when she thought about how close she’d been to history repeating itself. Well, now she was twenty-seven, not fourteen.

Dodging those heavy thoughts, she looked at Dade instead.

“That festival worker cornered me, and it got awkward. He’s been asking me out all week, but I refused, so I guess he decided to take matters into his own hands before he left town.” Hearing the words brought on another wave of anger.

A grunt tore from Dade’s throat, but he didn’t immediately speak, even though his jaw muscle ticked. “Tell me everything that happened.”

“He surprised me in the parking lot when I was closing up the shop. Things got a little weird and, luckily, one of my neighbors happened to be near. Samuel must’ve heard my voice or something, because he showed up just in time to distract Nash. I’m so glad the festival’s over so I won’t have to deal with that guy again. He’ll be long gone by morning.”

A dark look crossed Dade’s features and for a split second she thought she’d imagined it. “If I’d known, I would’ve been less friendly.”

That was him being friendly? She’d hate to see someone on his bad side. “I’m just relieved it’s over.”

His eyes darkened anyway, and that jaw muscle bulged again. “Only because I showed up. What if I hadn’t?”

She almost pointed out that Samuel had, too, but she knew he couldn’t have held Nash off for long.

“It’s my fault. I should’ve parked out front. Out of habit, I parked in back. I don’t usually close up the store after dark.” Thinking just how close the call had been caused her to shudder again.

“Don’t blame yourself for being harassed by a jerk.” Dade’s free hand fisted. Tension radiated from him in waves. “Did he physically threaten you?”

“He had me trapped against the wall before Samuel arrived.” The whole experience had tipped her off-balance, and she wasn’t thinking straight. She should be angry, not scared. Too many memories haunted her, bringing her back to that defenseless fourteen-year-old girl she’d been when her foster father had abused her. Well, she was a woman now and could stand up for herself, and she sure as hell didn’t need to make excuses for Nash or blame herself.

“I think it’s best if I take you to the sheriff’s office to give a statement,” he said with calmness to his tone and something else... Possessiveness?

She really was imagining things now.

Shock was wearing off, and the adrenaline rush was making her hands shake. “I appreciate the offer.”

“I don’t trust Nash.” Dade’s jaw clenched as he scanned the area.

He was right. She glanced around. Nash could be anywhere, hiding, biding his time in order to make another move.

* * *

DADE RAKED HIS hand through his hair. He’d seen the look in the festival worker’s eyes, and he hadn’t liked it. Thankfully, Carrie’s neighbor had been there to serve as a distraction until Dade could get things under control. The neighbor registered as a little odd, but Dade was grateful Samuel had been there to slow Nash down. Dade and Carrie went way back, and the thought of anything happening to her sat like a hot poker in his gut.

Seeing her shell-shocked and pale was like a physical punch, and his past shame roared to the surface. He hadn’t helped her in high school like he should’ve, but there was nothing stopping him now. Besides, she wasn’t thinking straight or she would’ve already come up with the idea of filing a complaint. Another reason leaving her alone wasn’t a good idea.

“My truck is parked this way.” He motioned toward the end of the alley.

She glanced at her sedan and then at him. “I don’t know, Dade. I’m tired. Part of me thinks I should just go home and try to forget this night ever happened.”

“This guy could harass a woman in the next town he’s in. We don’t know anything about his background or if the festival vetted him out before he was hired. He could have a record and he might escalate if we don’t nip this in the bud.”

Carrie stayed quiet, standing in the back alley. The thought of a man forcing himself on her hit Dade in a very dark place.

Finally, she nodded and took in a sharp breath. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

Dade ignored the fact that holding her hand felt different now. Of course it would—they weren’t nine-year-olds playing tag at school. Her hand was softer and more delicate, especially in comparison to his. He spent most of his time outdoors, first in the military and now on the family ranch, where he’d always been hands-on. His showed the long hours he spent in the elements. She didn’t seem to mind.

Electricity pulsed through him at the point of contact, but it couldn’t be more misplaced. She needed a friend, and the last thing he needed was another complication in his life. Besides, how many times had he vowed to explain himself to Carrie if he got the chance? Years had gone by and he hadn’t seen her. He’d been back for a few weeks now, and he’d come up with a million excuses for not telling her what he’d really want to say to her all those years ago when he’d been a jerk instead.

There were some wounds that ran so deep not even time could heal.


Chapter Two (#u3f7271c6-60c1-5148-aa6b-7e97dc7d238b)

All the words Dade had wanted to say to Carrie since high school died on his tongue. Too many years had passed and, his own guilt aside, she might not want to think about what had happened anymore. Besides, she’d escaped an assault tonight and he could clearly see how rattled she was. This wasn’t a good time to bring up more pain.

“I completely forgot to ask what you were doing in the alley,” Carrie said, stretching her legs in his truck as she fastened her seat belt.

“Trying to stay away from the media while I picked up the bronze statue my family donates to the festival.” He turned the key in the ignition, and the engine hummed to life.

“Oh, right. The cattle run kicks the festival off.” Her shoulders were still tense, her posture defensive.

“And is part of the closing ceremony, which is why I’m here carrying on the family tradition,” he added. Being a Butler came with a price.

“I heard you left town for a few days after news of your father broke.” Carrie gave him the most sincere look of compassion. “I’m sorry for your loss, Dade.”

Those words spoken with such sincerity threatened to crack the casing in his chest. Dade couldn’t afford to go there, so he focused on Carrie instead. Her lime-green shorts and cream-colored halter highlighted soft-looking pale skin. Taupe ankle boots—at least that’s what they’d called that same color of paint when he’d had his house redone—showed off her calf muscles, and Dade reminded himself that he shouldn’t be noticing any of those things about his friend.

“The Mav and I weren’t the closest, but his being gone leaves a huge hole at the ranch.” Dade thanked her for her sympathy. He gripped the steering wheel and navigated his truck away from the back street and onto Main. For the first time it struck him at how odd it must seem that he called his father Mav instead of Dad or Father like everyone else. But then, nothing about being a Butler made his life normal.

“When did you get back?” She pushed a few curling tendrils of hair from her face as she crossed those long legs.

“A few days ago,” he said, adding, “Seemed like I was needed here with the attempt on my older sister’s life and then finding out about having a sister we never knew existed.”

“I read about what’s been happening with your family. Finding out you have another sister must’ve been a shock. And then her life was in jeopardy. Right?” she asked.

“Madelyn had an ex-boyfriend with a violent streak who tracked her down and attempted to kill her,” he said. “We’re damn grateful the criminals in both cases have been caught.”

“Neither was connected to your father’s murder?” Carrie asked.

“We thought Ella’s might have been at first. Now, we know different. The Mav’s killer is still at large. Every new threat against the family has more reporters descending on Cattle Barge.”

“How’s everyone doing?” Carrie asked.

“It’s been rough.”

“I can imagine.” The note of compassion in her voice struck him, threatening to shed light in a dark place hidden behind layers of anger, frustration and regret.

“But we’re finding a new normal. Everyone’s looking out for each other.” Dade needed to armor up, and the best way to do that was to redirect the conversation. “The sheriff will need a description and the name of the guy from the alley.”

“That’s not a problem. Unless... Actually, I don’t know his last name. He introduced himself as Nash, and I never asked for his last name.” Her voice was still shaky. “He gave me the creeps every time he came into the shop.”

“A first name and description will go a long way toward helping the sheriff find him. If memory serves, the workers usually leave town early in the morning. Sheriff Sawmill or one of his deputies should have no problem locating this guy tonight.” How many men by the name of Nash could be employed by the festival?

Carrie’s cell buzzed inside her purse, and the unexpected noise caused her to jump.

“Sorry.” She stuck her hand inside the bag and came up with her phone. After checking the screen, she refused to take the call.

“Does Nash have your number?” Dade doubted it, but the question had to be asked.

“I wouldn’t give personal information to a stranger.” Her indignant tone said he’d offended her.

“He might’ve gotten it from someone else or the internet,” he offered by way of explanation.

“The phone call was my ex-boyfriend,” she stated with the kind of emphasis on the ex that said there was a story there.

Dade hadn’t thought to ask if there was someone special in her life. It made sense there would be, with her looks. A burst of light zapped his chest at the thought that she was single.

“We broke up recently, and he didn’t take it well.” Her cheeks flushed, and he wondered if he was making her feel uncomfortable talking about her relationships. He tried not to think about his, although the wounds were still fresh.

“How bad was it?” he asked.

“He said things I know he didn’t mean. He just needs time to cool off.” She shrugged it off, like it didn’t bother her, but he could tell by her tone that it did.

“That’s nothing to take lightly.” Considering one of his siblings had just been targeted by a murderous ex-boyfriend, Dade figured he owed Carrie a warning. “What happened?”

“Brett said a few things he didn’t mean. He was hurt and it came out as anger,” she defended. “He’s most likely trying to apologize. Things got a little heated.”

“It’s none of my business, but I wasn’t kidding. Take his threats seriously.” He pulled into the parking lot of the sheriff’s office and found a good spot. There was a flurry of activity. A news reporter spotted them and made a beeline toward his truck. Damn. He hadn’t anticipated this, but he should’ve. Seeing Carrie again threw him off-balance. “We could drive around the block a few times until the swarm calms down.”

“It’ll be fine.” Her voice sounded anything but.

Flashes started going off through the truck windows, blinding Dade.

Carrie’s arm came up to shield her eyes.

“I’d understand if you didn’t want to be seen with me right now,” he offered.

She touched his hand, and the contact sent electricity rocketing through him, searching for an outlet. “This is awful.”

“Yep,” he agreed. “They’re camped out everywhere. I take a breath and it’s on the news with some shrink or expert analyzing it.”

“I’ve seen some of the coverage. No one should have to go through this.” Carrie took in the kind of breath meant to fortify someone. Dade should know. It was a little too familiar. He’d done the same countless times since this whole ordeal began.

From the outside, their family probably did look perfect. No one knew the real truth. And it was too late to change the past.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” she stated with a squeeze.

“Keep your face down and feet moving. I’ll meet you around the back of the truck.” He shoved his door open, pushing back the swarm, and then hopped out. Making his way to the back of the truck proved a challenge with all the cameras in his face, but he took his own advice. The brim of his Stetson blocked out some of the shocking blasts of lights that had the effect of fireworks being lit inches from his face.

A sense of calm settled over him when he looked up and saw Carrie moving toward him. Something felt very right in that moment. He chalked it up to nostalgia. Losing his father had him wishing he could go back. Change the past. He couldn’t. So, it wouldn’t do any good to make useless wishes.

Dade ignored the stirring in his chest that tried to convince him being around her again was a good idea.

“Take my arm.” He held it out, and she took it. More of those frustrating zings of electricity coursed through him. Way to keep the hormones in check around a beautiful woman, Butler.

Reporters tried to follow him and Carrie inside the lobby, but a deputy quickly reacted, forcing them outside.

In the next minute, he and Carrie were being ushered into a hallway. He recognized the building all too well. He’d been there countless times since his father’s murder. Always with the same result—no solid leads. A conference room had been converted into a makeshift command center where volunteers took shifts answering phones, jotting down leads. At least a dozen intake spots were set up around the long mahogany conference table. The room sounded like a Jerry Lewis telethon with the constantly ringing phones, hushed voices and volunteers with their heads hunkered down, speaking quietly into receivers.

The sheriff’s office was large, simple. There was a huge desk, also mahogany, with an executive chair and two flags on poles standing sentinel on either side. A picture of the governor was centered in between the poles. Two smaller-scale leather chairs nestled near the desk. A sofa and table with a bronze statue of a bull with rider sitting astride it—commissioned by Dade’s father—sat to one side of the room. Dade had been surprised to see the statue in the sheriff’s office. But then, Mike Butler always had a few cards up his sleeve, and he’d been a complicated man.

Dade’s oldest sibling, his sister Ella, kept talking about how she felt like their father was still watching over the family. She’d gotten closure from a note their father had given her days before his death. Dade was happy for his sister—finality and peace were two very good things—but his relationship with the old man couldn’t have been more different. And he’d known the minute his father snatched a toy away from him at age seven and told him to quit wasting time and get to work that his father didn’t look at him in the same light.

Expectations for Mike Butler’s sons took on a whole new level. Dade and his twin brother, Dalton, had endured, not enjoyed, childhood. Both had been forced to grow up fast. And neither could really wrap his mind around the fact that the big presence that was their father was gone. A pang of regret hit Dade. He wished he could go back and have the conversation he’d needed to have with his father. Now it was too late.

“I wish I had news for you,” the sheriff started as he took his seat in his executive swivel.

More useless wishes, Dade thought.

“I’m not here to talk about my family’s case.” Dade tried to mentally shake himself out of his reverie. Chewing on the past wouldn’t make it taste better. Reality was bitter. His father was gone and their relationship was beyond repair. Case closed.

Dade focused on the sheriff, noticing the wear and tear on his features as his office continued to be inundated with phone calls, questions and leads about the Mav’s murder. Deep lines bracketed the sheriff’s mouth, and worry grooves carved his forehead.

“Would either of you like a cup of coffee before we get started?” Sheriff Sawmill asked, gripping his own mug of still-steaming brew. There was a packet of Zantac on top of his desk. “Janis would be happy to get it for you while we talk.”

“No, thanks,” Carrie said.

“I’ll get a cup on my way out,” Dade stated, not wanting to waste time.

“What brings you to my office?” Sheriff Sawmill took a sip and set the mug down. He picked up the packet and tore the corner. He dumped the small pill onto his palm and then popped it into his mouth, chasing it with water from a bottle on his desk.

“When I was closing my store earlier, I was cornered by one of the festival workers in the alley.” Carrie crossed her legs and rocked her foot back and forth. Dade remembered her nervous tic from high school.

“Did he touch you or hurt you in any way?” The sheriff’s gaze scanned Carrie as though looking for any signs of struggle.

“Not exactly.” The admission seemed to make her uncomfortable, considering the way she started fidgeting.

“Threaten you?” Sheriff Sawmill leaned forward, making more tears in the corner of the empty Zantac packet.

“He backed me up against the wall but was interrupted be—”

The sheriff’s desk phone rang. He glanced at the screen. “Excuse me for a minute while I take this.”

Carrie nodded.

Dade could see where this was going, and regret stabbed him for dragging her here in the first place. The sheriff, his staff and the volunteers were overwhelmed. The festival worker hadn’t exactly threatened Carrie—intimidated was a better word. Her neighbor had interceded, and then Dade had arrived on the scene. The worker had left without so much as making a threat for anyone else to hear. As frustrating and scary as this whole situation was for her, nothing illegal had happened.

The sheriff ended the call and shot them an apologetic look. “It’s been a little hectic around here. Please, continue.”

“I was backed up against the wall, so I got ready to use my pepper spray when Samuel Jenkins showed up and interrupted Nash,” she said.

“I know the Jenkins boy,” Sawmill said with a nod of acknowledgment. It didn’t matter how old a man was in Cattle Barge. He would always be known by his family association. The Jenkins boy. The Butler boy. No matter how much Dade tried to distance himself in order to be his own man, he’d always be Maverick Mike’s boy. “And Nash is...?”

“The festival worker,” she clarified.

The phone rang again, and the sheriff let out a sharp sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hold on for one second.”

Dade could see this was going nowhere. He stood and Sheriff Sawmill immediately put his caller on hold.

“I’m sorry about the interruptions,” Sawmill began. “We get several dozen calls a day from citizens who think someone might be following them or their crazy uncle is hatching a plan to murder them and some of those complainants have access to my direct line considering most of us have lived in this town all of our lives. We all go way back.” His eyes flashed at Dade. “The town’s been in a tizzy for weeks and everyone’s on alert.”

“We understand. We’ll give a statement to one of the deputies out front.” Dade waved off the sheriff.

“My office will do everything in its power to ensure the safety of its citizens.” It was the line the sheriff had most likely given to every small-time complainant since his world had blown up.

When Dade really thought about their case, he couldn’t argue. No real crime had been committed, and that tied the sheriff’s hands. Normally, Sawmill would go talk to the offender and that was deterrent enough, but his plate was full and the festival was on its way out of town in the morning. Problem solved for Carrie.

“We’ll check the festival’s schedule and reach out to local law enforcement and ask to be made aware of any similar complaints.”

“Thank you,” Dade said as Carrie stood, seeming to catch on immediately to the underlying current. Anyone could see that the sheriff’s office was being inundated, so a case like Carrie’s would be swept under the rug. Not for lack of concern, but because resources were too thin and solving a high-profile murder would take precedence.

“Everyone holding up okay at the ranch?” Sawmill asked.

Dade nodded as he put his hand on the small of Carrie’s back.

“Anything you can do is appreciated, Sheriff,” he said, leading her toward the same hallway they’d traversed moments before with the knowledge it wouldn’t be much.

* * *

THE SHERIFF’S OFFICE boomed with activity even at this late hour. Carrie was tired. She wanted to go home, wash off the day and cuddle her dog, Coco. Giving her statement to the deputy hadn’t taken long, but it was getting late.

“He can’t help, can he?” Carrie released her words on a sigh. This seemed like a good time to be grateful Nash would be long gone in the morning and her life would return to normal as soon as the situation with Brett calmed down.

“Doesn’t appear so.” Dade seemed as frustrated as she felt.

Bright lights assaulted her the second she stepped out of the air-conditioning and into the August heat. There was so much flash and camera lighting that it seemed like the sun had come out.

The swarm followed them to Dade’s truck, and a couple of cars tailed them even when they got on the road, snapping pictures. It was a dangerous situation. She could certainly see why Dade had taken the alley in order to stay under the radar.

“I’m sorry the sheriff’s office wasn’t more help,” he said. “I should’ve realized what the place would be like.”

“There’s been a crime wave in town following your dad’s...” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word murder.

“Seems most of it has been targeted toward my family.” There was an undercurrent of anger in Dade’s voice.

“Have you even had a chance to process any of this?” Carrie wished there was something she could say or do. “Here you’re helping me when you have so much on your plate already.”

“Good to think about something besides my own problems for a change.” He put on his turn signal and changed lanes. “Did you eat dinner? We could stop off.”

“I wish I could.” She started to apologize but he stopped her. “I have a dog that needs to go out. Her name’s Coco and she’s a Sharp Eagle, which is a cross between a shar-pei and a beagle. She has the beauty of a shar-pei and the sweet temperament of a beagle.” Carrie realized about halfway through her monologue that she was talking too fast. Being alone in a truck with Dade shouldn’t make her feel anxious, so she chalked her heightened feelings up to the crazy end of the day and not the electricity pinging through her body being this near him. “I’m talking too much.”

“Where am I taking you?” Dade half grinned, one side of his mouth curling in a smile that had been cute on a boy and was sexy as hell on a grown man.

Carrie felt her cheeks burn.

“Back to my car is fine. That way I’ll be able to get to work in the morning without calling in any favors.” She had no idea who she’d call. Carrie had been too busy with the sweet shop to make friends. At least, that’s the excuse she gave when she sat at home Friday nights after work instead of meeting pals for dinner. Her social calendar wasn’t exactly full, and she still felt like that gawky teenager she’d been. The truth was that ever since she’d returned to Cattle Barge in high school after being shifted to a group home in Kilburn City, she’d felt like an outsider. But then, no other place had felt like home, either. As silly as it sounded, even to her, the last time she’d felt like she belonged somewhere was primary school in Cattle Barge. Coming back had been an attempt to recover the feeling. So far, she’d supplied the town with the best ice cream she could create—at least that was something.

Thinking about the past, about her past, had a way of creating instant tension in her body. A headache threatened, so she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“The ice cream shop seems to be doing well. It’s all anyone can talk about.” The hint of pride in Dade’s voice caused ripples of hope—maybe a sense of belonging?—to bubble inside her chest.

“It’s definitely been keeping me on my toes, and I’m grateful people seem to like it.” The store made her feel part of the community, even if a counter stood between her and the rest of the world.

“I hear your employees like working for you,” he continued, more of that pride in his voice.

“One of my business professors taught me to hire for attitude. He said everything else can be learned.” She’d completed her associate degree at the community college in Kilgore while waitressing nights. Studying and working was about all she’d had time for in her early twenties. She couldn’t deny her focus was paying off now.

“Sounds like the guy knew what he was talking about,” Dade said.

“What about you?” Carrie wanted to know what had happened to Dade after high school when she’d moved away to go to college.

“I joined the service after graduation. Served my country and came home to the ranch to work the land,” he said, pulling into the alley. “Not sure how long I’ll stick around once the dust settles, though.”

Before she could ask what that meant, a strong sense of foreboding settled on her shoulders, like a heavy blanket. But it was probably nothing, right?

Until she caught a glimpse of red on the driver’s side door of her car. A single rose.

Strange. It hadn’t been there earlier.


Chapter Three (#u3f7271c6-60c1-5148-aa6b-7e97dc7d238b)

“Getting a flower should be a good thing,” Carrie said to Dade, who pulled alongside her sedan and parked. She shoved aside the notion that he might be planning to move away. She had no real right to ask about his personal life. “But this just feels creepy.”

“I’ll check it out.” He hopped out of the cab.

She didn’t budge. There was something safe about being with Dade, despite the media scrutiny and everything going on with her pulse. Too bad the secure feeling wouldn’t last. And she needed to get home to Coco anyway.

Dade came around to her side and opened the door. “Whoever left this didn’t identify himself.”

He snapped a pic and said he was texting it to the sheriff.

“It’s probably from Brett.” He’d given her a single rose early on in their relationship.

“Either way, the sheriff needs to know,” Dade quickly said.

In Brett’s last voice mail—the one he’d left after he calmed down and started thinking rationally again—he’d said that he’d do pretty much anything to win her back. Was he trying to remind her of happier times? She frowned. There was no chance she was going out with him again. Her favorite pair of jogging shorts was at his place—or at least she thought so, because she couldn’t find them in her house even though she could’ve sworn she’d worn them last weekend. Maybe she hadn’t looked hard enough. In all the stress and confusion of the past couple of weeks, she was starting to lose her mind. Another reason she wished Brett could accept the breakup and move on. Being the cause of someone else’s pain wasn’t exactly a good feeling.

“Does this guy have a hard time understanding when a relationship is over?” An emotion—jealousy?—passed behind Dade’s serious blues.

Carrie was most likely imagining it, seeing what she wanted instead of what was really there. Compassion. And sympathy? Damn. She didn’t want his pity.

“Like I said, the breakup didn’t go over well.” With a sharp intake of air, Carrie exited the truck.

“You’ll be okay?” More of that concern was present in Dade’s voice.

“Yeah, fine. Thank you for taking me to the sheriff and especially for wandering down the alley when you did. I’m sorry the media has you banished to the shadows, but I can’t imagine what might’ve happened if you hadn’t been there.” An involuntary shiver rocked her. She thought about Dade reporting the rose to the sheriff. It wasn’t a crime to do something that many would consider a nice gesture from an ex who was most likely saying he was sorry. But after hearing about Dade’s sister, she could see why he’d be overly cautious.

“Do me a favor. Park in front of the building tomorrow.” Dade took a step back, like he needed more space in between them. Not exactly a reassuring move.

“No question there,” she responded, dodging eye contact. As it was, electricity hummed through her body being this close to Dade. If only she’d felt this way about Brett, things would’ve turned out differently. Brett wasn’t Dade. The two couldn’t be more different. Dade was serious and could be intense, but there was something comfortable and magnetic about being with him. Brett rode a motorcycle and had an edge to his personality, and that had been the initial draw. He was so completely different than her, than anyone she’d dated in the past. Maybe a little bit dangerous, too. Looking back, he was more show than substance, which was one of many reasons she’d walked away before the relationship became too serious.

Brett liked to consider himself a thrill seeker, thus the motorcycle and the biker attitude. Real danger was deploying halfway across the world to face a foreign enemy in order to protect an ideal—freedom—not riding around in a leather jacket looking for a fistfight.

“Do you want me to take care of this?” Dade nodded toward the flower dangling from his hand at his side.

“Would you mind? I don’t want to deal with it right now.” She made a huge mistake in glancing up. Sensual shivers skittered across her exposed skin. She could admit to being embarrassed that she’d been blind enough to get into a bad relationship. She could blame her lapse in judgment on a million things, not the least of which would be working long hours to get her business off the ground. But the truth was that she’d been lonely. Brett was good-looking and charming when he needed to be—especially in the beginning. He’d seemed so proud of her at first, but then it had turned into something else, something possessive. She’d lost interest, and he wasn’t taking it so well. “I must seem like a complete idiot for not seeing this coming.”

“In my experience, people don’t always show their true colors until you really get to know them. That takes time,” he said after a thoughtful pause, and she figured there was a bigger story behind those words. “You have good judgment, Carrie. You always were smarter than the rest of us. Everyone makes mistakes now and then. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

His reassuring words calmed her. She shouldn’t allow them to. She knew better than to let herself depend on anyone else. Carrie had learned early in life that all people let her down eventually, from addict parents she’d never met to a system that put her in the hands of an abuser to a distant aunt who’d claimed Carrie and then dumped her back in the system when it became inconvenient to keep her.

Where’d that come from?

This night and the reunion were taking a toll, and she needed to get her emotions in check.

“Stop by the shop sometime,” she said. “Dessert is on the house.”

Dade cracked a smile. “Guess there are perks to knowing the owner.”

“The first treat is for old times’ sake. You’re on your own from there,” she quipped, thinking how nice it was not to have to work at conversation for a change. It had always been like that with Dade. Easy. Light. Fun. When we were young, she corrected. High school had been another matter altogether.

Things changed. And so did people.

The serious blue eyes Dade had possessed as a child were even more intense now. As easy as conversation had been between them all those years ago, neither had spoken about their demons—demons that grew and changed people over time. Demons that could make a man sign up to travel halfway around the world to fight a monster he couldn’t see.

The two chatted easily for another fifteen minutes, catching up on more of each other’s lives in the past few years.

“It’s good seeing you again, Dade,” she said, finally looking up and realizing what a mistake that was. Because he was looking, too. And the way he was looking made her body ache in a way it hadn’t in far too long.

“You, too, Carrie.”

Neither made a move to leave right away. Another mistake. They were racking up. Because she’d learned early on that feelings could trick her. All she was experiencing was a bout of nostalgia. She’d taken psychology as an elective to help sort out her own emotions. Dade represented the past—a time before life became confusing and people who were supposed to take care of her had hurt her. A time before the group home leader had snapped and taken out his frustrations on her and a handful of other kids. A time before she’d been placed in a foster home with a real monster and had a social worker who seemed content to look the other way in order to check a box on a file—placed.

“I better get home to Coco.”

“The Sharp Eagle?” The corner of his mouth lifted in a grin that tugged at her heart.

She laughed despite all the memories churning through her mind.

“Yep.” She returned the smile. “Like I said, stop by some time.”

Neither seemed ready to leave, but it was time, so she made the first move, digging her keys out of her purse. She palmed the pepper spray.

“Keep that ready to go just in case.” Dade’s eyes went straight to the palm-sized black canister in the leather casing as he stepped aside to allow passage.

“I will.” She took the first step toward her vehicle, grateful the rose had been removed from the driver’s-side door handle. Brett’s timing couldn’t be worse. But then, timing wasn’t his only issue.

“Hold on to it even when you walk the dog. Madelyn had a restraining order against her ex, and it didn’t stop him from coming after her.” His warning sent a cold chill down her back. He was right. She’d read about the whole ordeal in the news and, even though she thought she knew Brett, Dade’s half sister must’ve felt the same about her boyfriend.

Dade fished a card out of his wallet and handed it to her. “The sheriff’s office might be too busy to handle this properly, but if this guy shows up again or your ex doesn’t take the hint and you need a hand, give me a call. My personal cell’s on there.”

“Thank you.” She dropped his card in her purse. Nash should be gone by morning. She hoped Brett would leave things alone. Experience had taught her that he didn’t give up so easily. But she could handle him. Right?

* * *

AS DADE WATCHED Carrie drive away, regret filled his chest. Since that was as productive as drinking well water next to a nuclear facility, he started the engine of his truck and navigated out of the alley.

Dade spent the half-hour ride home lost in his thoughts, one of which hadn’t dawned on him until later. Being close to Carrie might bring unwanted media attention to her and dredge up her past. People talked. He’d never been truly sure what had happened to her in the years she was away from Cattle Barge, but she’d returned a different person. The chatty and sweet girl from their youth had seemed...he didn’t know...lost?

Adding to his sharp mood was the simple fact that his own life was a mess. First, there’d been an unexpected breakup with his girlfriend, followed by the Mav’s murder and everything that had happened to the family since. Going back to the ranch didn’t hold a hell of a lot of appeal lately, but he had nowhere else to be and was needed at home. He was restless, though. Working the land was the only activity that had ever given him a sense of peace. The Mav had been right about one thing—hard work made for clear focus right up until Dade came in from the range. Honestly, focus had been hard to come by lately, but he figured he could get it back if he kept moving forward. Was it the fact that someone had murdered his father right under their noses in such a violent fashion and on the land they all loved so much that kept him on edge?

Going to bed would be useless. Sleep was as close as Helsinki to Houston. He made a beeline for the kitchen after parking in his usual spot. The light was on, and six weeks ago that might’ve seemed odd. Nothing surprised him now.

“Did you just pull in?” Ella seemed happy for the first time, but then Dade’s older sister had gotten the closure she needed from the past. She’d also met a man she truly seemed in love with, and while Dade was happy for his sister, seeing her in that state of bliss reminded him just how far away he was from it. He wouldn’t begrudge her, though. She deserved every bit of it.

“Got sidetracked on my way to pick up the bronze.” Dade realized that he’d never made it over to the mayor’s office.

“I figured as much after Mayor Bentley called. Dalton volunteered to go instead.” She sat at the long wooden table behind a bowl of ice cream. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” He’d thank his twin brother when he saw him in the morning. Days on the ranch began at 4:00 a.m., so that wouldn’t be long. Dade went for the coffeepot, figuring a caffeine boost would help him think clearly. After seeing Carrie again, his mind was going to a place he knew better than to let it: an inappropriate attraction that had him remembering the lines of her heart-shaped face framed by inky-black hair, her creamy skin, smooth aside from that little scar to the left side of her full lips. When she smiled, she had one dimple on her left cheek, and part of him wanted to see that again.

“We’re out of beans in the kitchen.” Ella nodded toward the pantry.

“Since when is this house out of anything?” There’d been someone around to stock the pantry and make sure meals were cooked and the kids put to bed for as long as Dade could remember. None of the good people providing those tasks had been his parents.

“I’m sure there’s more somewhere. May’s been overworked, and I thought she should take it easy. I asked her to take a couple of days for herself.”

Dade almost laughed out loud. May, take a break? She wasn’t the lounging type. “How’d that go over?”

Ella looked at him. “It’ll be worse if she realizes we wanted something and had to do without.”

“Why would we do that? I’ll check dry storage to see if we have a can of coffee hiding in there. She’ll never know. Besides, we’re all grown. We can do for ourselves.” She would take it to heart. Feel like she’d let them down in some way. It was just coffee, but May wouldn’t see it that way. May had always done everything for them when they were kids. May was a saint.

“Where were you tonight?” Ella had taken to prying in everyone’s business since their father’s murder and the subsequent crimes against the family.

“There was a disturbance in town and I got distracted.” He searched for pain relievers to stem the dull headache focused in the center of his forehead.

“What happened? Are you okay?” There was so much worry in her voice now. The reason was understandable, but Dade could take care of himself.

“Nothing that involved me directly. I helped a friend,” he conceded, taking a seat across from Ella.

“You’re sure about that?” Fear widened her eyes.

“Certain. Carrie Palmer had a run-in with a festival worker. I took her to file a complaint.” The world would know tomorrow anyway. There was no sense in hiding it.

Ella glanced at her bowl of ice cream and started to speak.

“Have you heard from Cadence?” He changed the subject, not yet ready to discuss Carrie with his sister. Hell, he wasn’t sure what he was feeling toward her other than a strong urge to protect her.

“She’s still down with the flu and, honestly, with everything going on around here, it’s probably best she’s out of town until the hysteria dies down.” Ella pushed around the ball of ice cream in her bowl.

“What she did to Madelyn was inexcusable—”

Ella was already nodding in agreement. Leaving a threatening message to try to force Madelyn out of town was a low blow. “Our baby sister messed up. I’m just grateful Madelyn has found it in her heart to forgive Cadence. Their relationship still has a long way to go but they’re making progress, talking almost every day.”

“I’m guessing their reconciliation has a lot to do with you,” Dade pointed out.

“With everything this family has been through we need each other now more than ever.” Ella’s heart was always big and her judgment sound.

“There’s no rush for me but Ed can’t read Dad’s will until we’re all present. He also said the date’s been set,” Dade informed. Ed Staples was the family’s lawyer and longtime friend of their father. Some people might say that Ed was Maverick Mike’s only true confidant.

“Ed told me, too.” Ella rolled the spoon through her ice cream.

He eyed the label. It came from Carrie’s Cold Treats.

“Ed said there was some kind of stipulation.” Dade didn’t care a hill of beans about what he stood to inherit. The only reason he cared about the will was because there might be a revelation in it that could blow open the investigation and bring their father’s killer to justice. It sat hard on his chest that his father had been murdered on the ranch, that someone had had access and had wanted to prove they could do whatever they wanted at Maverick Mike’s home. What did that say about security? About Dade and his brother? Early on, folks had speculated that Andrea Caldwell, the Mav’s girlfriend, had shot him in his sleep. Dade hadn’t taken the rumor seriously. Andrea was a sweet person. She might not be able to take care of herself but she wouldn’t hurt a fly. It wasn’t her nature.

“Wish I knew what he was talking about,” Ella admitted. “Do you?”

“Guess we’ll learn together.” Dade filled a water glass and drained it. “When does Holden get here?”

“A couple of days,” she said, her eyes getting a little spark in them when she referred to her fiancé. “He’s closing out his accounts in Virginia so he can move here. I wanted to go with him, but he thought I’d feel better if I stayed on the ranch while everything’s been so crazy.”

“He’s probably right,” Dade agreed.

Ella stood, moved to the sink and rinsed out her bowl before placing it in the dishwasher. “Guess my eyes were bigger than my stomach.”

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Dade said. By the time he returned to the kitchen with a can of ground coffee, Ella had gone to bed. It was late. A shower and the idea of sleep won out over making coffee.

After climbing in bed, Dade drew the covers up. His mind drifted to the last gift from his father, a fishing rod. Not just any fishing rod, but the one he’d wanted as a kid. There’d been a note, too. One that Dade had balled up and tossed into a drawer without reading. He’d been filled with anger and figured one small gesture couldn’t wipe away the abuse Dade had suffered at his father’s hands. Now he’d never have another chance to make things right with the old man. To add insult to injury, the note had gone missing.

The sheriff was no closer to making an arrest now than he’d been a week ago. There were too many leads and too many distractions between the media and others who’d descended on Cattle Barge. Claims of paternity or debts owed from Maverick Mike were through the roof. Only one paternity claim had panned out so far, and Madelyn Kensington had arrived at the ranch seeming even less thrilled with the news than the Butlers had been.

Rather than chew on those unproductive nuggets, Dade flipped onto his back. He’d been in bed long enough for his eyes to adjust to the dark, so he stared up at the ceiling, at the texture he’d heard his sisters describe as orange peel. The pattern stretched from wall to wall.

Out of nowhere, Dade felt hemmed in. He used to love having his own wing in the main house, but now it felt like a cage.

Tonight must be the night for fruitless thoughts, because his mind turned to Carrie and how good it had been to see her again. He told himself it was her safety that had him wanting to check on her in the morning when he had work to do.

What time did her sweet shop open? He picked up his phone on the nightstand and glanced at the time. One o’clock in the morning. Work started in three hours. He thumbed the internet icon and then entered the name of her shop.

She opened at eleven o’clock, which meant she probably arrived by seven or eight to prep for the day.

The festival worker should be long gone by then. Shouldn’t he? It was probably the brush with death two of his sisters had had recently that had Dade’s mind twisting over his thoughts, concerned about Carrie.

Because what if Nash had left that rose? What did that say about the man’s intentions?


Chapter Four (#u3f7271c6-60c1-5148-aa6b-7e97dc7d238b)

“Coco, come here, girl.” Carrie glanced around the backyard of her one-story bungalow, looking for her dog. Normally, she liked living in a suburb on the edge of the small town with its cul-de-sacs and third-of-an-acre lots. Tonight, she looked out into the blackness with apprehension. Was it always this dark outside on a weeknight? All the homes on her street were blacked out, and no one seemed to see the need to waste electricity by leaving a porch light on.

This had never bothered her before, but Nash had caught her off guard, setting her nerves even more on edge after dealing with Brett. Where was her dog?

Carrie stepped onto the back porch and called for Coco again. Her dog had run around the side of the house, which wasn’t unusual, but Carrie didn’t like it tonight. Out of habit, she’d dropped her keys next to the front door, along with her pepper spray. All kinds of worrisome thoughts plagued her. Technically, the festival wouldn’t pack up and leave until morning. Could Nash have figured out where she lived? He might’ve followed her home one evening. No. She would’ve known. She would’ve noticed an unfamiliar car or truck.

“Coco,” she repeated, louder this time. And then she listened for the sounds of the dog tags clanking together—the proof of rabies vaccination always jingled when she moved. All she could hear were cicadas and crickets, which sounded haunting tonight. Keep thinking along those lines and she’d really psych herself out. Okay, it was too late for that. It’ll be fine, Carrie.

Glancing into the shadows, a prickly sensation that someone was watching overtook her. This time she studied the dark corners of her yard. The glow from the back porch lit up barely more than her deck. Again, she asked herself if Nash could’ve followed her home. No way. She and Dade had talked for a long time after the encounter and they’d gone to the sheriff’s office. Her nerves were fried, and what she really needed was a cool shower, a good meal and sleep. It was time to put this awful day to rest and wake with a clean slate tomorrow.

The sound of a truck engine hummed from down the street. As the noise moved toward her, she whistled for her dog and made kissing noises. Those usually did the trick. Not tonight.

Carrie took a couple of steps back, placing her hand on the doorknob leading into the kitchen. As soon as Coco darted onto the deck, Carrie would be ready to usher her baby inside and quickly lock the door behind them. Why did her dog always exert her independence at the worst possible times?

Gravel crunched underneath tires as her neighbor’s truck engine roared and then died. The bungalow next door had been rented six months ago by a single guy who seemed intent on keeping to himself. After several fruitless attempts to stop by and introduce herself, Carrie wondered if he wanted to be on friendly terms at all. Tonight probably wasn’t the best time for a conversation and since he’d made no effort so far, she figured he might be a jerk anyway. He kept odd hours, even to her, and she hadn’t seen him outside since he moved in. He was gone for days at a time with no indication of where he’d been. Lights in his house were on at odd times. Carrie had noticed them when Coco was sick and needed to go outside during the night. He never had company—or at least he didn’t while she’d been home. She could admit that wasn’t often since she’d opened the sweet shop last year.

“Your trash keeps blowing into my yard,” an irritated male voice snapped. That was a nice introduction. He must’ve seen her in the porch light. She sure as heck couldn’t see him, and the thought sent an icy chill racing up her arms.

“Sorry. It’s the raccoons. I work long hours at—”

The truck’s door slammed a little too loudly, causing her to jump. Take it easy, buddy.

“Lock it up.” His voice was almost a growl.

If he was going to be this much of a jerk, she saw no point in introducing herself or trying to make nice, so she didn’t respond at all.

A few seconds later, she saw a light flip on inside his house. Guess he’d made his neighborly intentions clear. She blew out a breath. This had been one red-letter day for sure.

Coco’s tags jingled, and relief washed over Carrie as her little dog bolted into view, barking. Instead of hopping onto the deck, Coco diverted right and ran in a circle as fast as she could, disappearing into the shadows only to dart back inside the light. Her barks intensified with each sighting. Her reaction came a little too late to have an impact on Jerk Face. Coco was a sweetheart, but her neighbor didn’t have to know that, and she could sound menacing when she really wanted to. She looked more like a shar-pei than a beagle, which made her a little more threatening.

Even though Carrie was starving, she stood on the porch a few more minutes, almost daring her neighbor to come out and say something again about the noise. Her dog had been inside since lunch. She needed a little freedom, and Carrie was finding her bravado again after the encounter with Jerk Face. She didn’t have enough audacity to walk out front and check the mail, she thought, realizing she’d forgotten to do that on the drive in. It could wait. No way was she walking out the front door in the dark and to the middle of the cul-de-sac, where all the mailboxes were clumped together to make it easier on the mail carrier.

There were four houses to each cul-de-sac in this neighborhood and hers sat directly across from the Hardin place. Marla Hardin was Samuel’s aging aunt and he lived there with her.

Humidity filled the air, and the promise of a rare August rain hung low and heavy. Shiny white stars cut through the pitch-black canopy overhead.

Coco finally conceded her playtime was over and hopped onto the deck. Her tongue hung out one side of her mouth as she panted. She had the snout of a shar-pei—it wasn’t exactly created to thrive in the heat.

“Are you ready, sweet girl?” Carrie bent down and scratched her dog behind the ears. The eerie feeling of being watched crept over her, so she made kissing noises at Coco before scooting inside. She closed and locked the door behind them. Her purse hung off a chair in the eat-in kitchen, and she noticed crumbs on the floor underneath it. She’d mopped the floor before work, which meant that Coco must’ve dug into the garbage again.

She scooped them up. Odd. They had a distinct smell...like the ham-flavored training treats Carrie had stopped buying when the vet had said Coco was tipping the scale. Carrie thought she’d thrown them all out, but she must’ve forgotten a bag in her pantry. She glanced around, the eerie feeling returning. She thought about the pepper spray attached to her key ring on the credenza by the front door and decided to sleep with it next to the bed. The incident with Nash had really thrown her off-balance—that must be why she felt on pins and needles in her own home.

Coco followed on Carrie’s heels as she double-checked all the doors to make sure they were locked. She took a quick shower, ate a bowl of cereal and then climbed into bed. She’d always considered Cattle Barge a safe place to live in general, and especially after the horrors she’d endured when she was taken away. She’d never really thought about being a single woman living on her own and working long hours at the treat shop until now.

Between Brett, Nash and her unfriendly, keep-to-himself Jerk Face neighbor, she figured it wouldn’t hurt to look into having a security system installed. Coco provided some insurance against a surprise predator. She usually barked at strangers. But after Coco’s lackluster performance with the neighbor, Carrie decided her backup needed backup. Even so, with her dog curled up at the foot of the bed, warming her legs, Carrie felt a little safer. Unless someone tossed a piece of meat onto the floor, Carrie thought with an almost smile.

The next morning, she woke to the sound of Coco growling. Her dog was at the doorway to the bedroom, starting down the hallway. Carrie grabbed the small canister of pepper spray off the nightstand and threw the covers off.

Coco wasted no time darting toward the noise. Carrie couldn’t hear much of anything over the barking, but all she could think was so Jerk Face neighbor gets a free pass but the UPS guy is suspect?

It was the UPS guy, right?

She followed her dog to the front door, checking out the window for the brown van. To be fair, this was the same reaction Coco had to the postal worker and the guy who’d tried to deliver flowers once. Amazon delivered to her door, but she didn’t remember ordering anything online. Then again, she’d been busy, working extra hours since the festival, and sometimes she entered her home address when she meant to use the sweet shop’s.

Speaking of which, Nash should be packed up and out of town this morning. That was a relief. Too bad he couldn’t take Brett with him, she thought with another almost smile.

Coco was doing her mix of bark-howling, which had been so cute when she was a three-month-old pup. Not so much at a year.

There was no way Carrie was opening the door until she could confirm who was out there. She stroked her dog’s head, thinking Coco must’ve heard a squirrel. Wouldn’t be the first time this had happened. “It’s okay, girl.”

After double-checking and being perfectly satisfied nothing was going on, Carrie opened the door. A stuffed animal lay at her feet. She picked up the black-and-white orca whale. Brett.

She scanned the front yard. There were kids riding bikes around the cul-de-sac, and that was about it.

“Okay, puppy. Way to keep me safe from the neighborhood children. Let’s get back inside.” Brett was the only one who knew whales were her favorite. She checked her phone and found several texts from him. They’d be more apologies. More of him being frustrated that she wasn’t returning his calls. She’d deal with those and with him later. Now, she needed coffee.

Carrie walked by the trash can in the kitchen and tossed the awkward gift on top. Take a hint, buddy.

An hour later, she parked under a tree in the lot of the strip shopping center. The rain never came last night, so the air was still thick with humidity. She noticed the festival trucks were still there. Everything was packed up and looked ready to go across the street in the lot of Ventnor’s Park. Not another day of Nash, she thought with a groan. Going to the sheriff last night seemed like an even better idea this morning. A complaint was on record. If Nash irritated her, she had every intention of telling him she’d reported him.

The icy chill returned—it was becoming a little too familiar.

Focusing on her morning routine at the store kept her distracted. Carrie liked to be the first one in the shop. She could prepare the bank deposit and relock it inside the safe before anyone showed up for work. That way she could deal with money so her employees wouldn’t even have to know where it was kept. Protecting her employees was always at the top of her priority list.





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