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  Does that include your bed, you lecherous old goat?

  Tori scanned the room over Prescott’s shoulder. She spotted Will standing near the massive stone fireplace, his broad-shouldered frame and dark brown hair a beacon in the crowd. But his back was turned toward her. And Will Tyler was the last man she would ask to ride to her rescue.

  “Say the word and I’ll make it happen—full benefits, your own town house, the works.” Prescott gave her arm a proprietary squeeze. “It’ll be the best decision you ever made.”

  Freezing at his touch, Tori shook her head. “I have a daughter, and she’s happy here. I’m not about to haul her across the country, away from her father and this ranch. Sorry, Garn, but my answer is no.”

  “Dinner, then, at least. Give me one more chance to convince you.”

  Tori’s patience had reached the fracture point, but she didn’t want to make a scene. She was groping for a civil response when she felt a light touch at her elbow. Swiveling her gaze, she looked up into Beau’s mischievous hazel eyes. Her lips moved in a silent thank you.

  “Congressman.” Beau’s greeting was friendly but firm. “Hope you’ll excuse us, but the lady is urgently needed elsewhere.”

  Taking Tori’s arm, he steered her toward the front entry. “How about some fresh air?” he muttered.

  “Yes. Please. This place is a zoo.”

  “And I’ve just rescued you from the gorilla.” His grin dazzled as he opened the door and led her out onto the porch. Kicking off her pumps, Tori set her glass aside and sank onto the double swing. The dog, drowsing on the top step, raised his head, then settled back into his afternoon nap.

  “This is more like it,” she breathed. “Another thirty seconds with that man and I’d have slapped his smarmy face. I don’t even agree with his politics, let alone want to work for him.”

  “Well, you can’t blame him for trying.” Beau settled at the other end of the swing, leaning into the corner so he could look at her. The two had been friends since first grade, and nobody had been more pleased than Beau when, after law school, she’d married his big brother.

  She turned her face to the slight breeze that was blowing and drew in a deep breath. “Mmm, the air smells so good and clean after yesterday’s storm,” she declared, then added with a trace of wistfulness, “I just hope it means we’ll get our usual spring rains and end this drought.” Her gaze traveled back to him. “The storm made it tough for you, I hear. Will told me your flight was forced to divert to another airport. What time did you finally get to the ranch?”

  “By the time I got a rental car and drove here, it was after midnight,” Beau admitted. “By the way, I met your daughter in there. She’s a gem.”

  “Erin’s the best thing that ever happened to me. At least Will and I accomplished something good when we brought her into the world.”

  “I was thinking the same thing earlier.” Beau kicked the swing into motion. The light, creaking sound blended with the distant calls of spring meadowlarks. “You and Will were the real deal. I lost my faith in true love when you split up.”

  Tori sighed. She should have known the conversation would go this way.

  “What happened?” Beau asked.

  “What has Will told you?”

  “Nothing. You know Will.”

  “Do I?” Tori still wondered about that. She hadn’t been much older than Erin when she’d fallen in love with Will Tyler. But he was older, and he’d paid her scant attention until years later when she’d returned home to Blanco Springs with her law degree. Their passionate whirlwind courtship had allowed them little time to get reacquainted. By the time she woke to the realization that she’d married a stranger, she’d been pregnant with their daughter.

  “It’s past and forgotten, Beau,” she said. “Let’s talk about something else—like you. Any special lady in your life?”

  Beau shrugged. He’d always been the handsome brother, with a runner’s long bones, light brown hair, and a roguish charm that matched his looks. Will, on the other hand, was chiseled in his father’s dark, solid image, and he was just as intractable as Bull had been.

  Bull Junior, Tori had called her husband during one of their arguments.

  “Special ladies take time,” Beau said. “And they expect things, like being told where you are, who you’re with, and when you’ll be home for dinner.”

  “Sounds like a passel of excuses to me.” Tori gave him a roguish wink. “You’d make time for the right woman if you found her.”

  Beau’s gaze traced the sun-streaked curl that trailed along her cheek. He knew better than to think Tori was flirting with him. They’d been friends most of their lives, but there was no romantic chemistry between them. And even though she was legally free, to him she would always be his brother’s woman.

  “Maybe I’m just not the right man,” he said. “The kind of work I do can make you pretty cynical.” He gave the swing another push with his foot. Sex was something he could get any time he wanted it. There were plenty of single, pretty women in Washington, most of them ambitious as hell. For them, a roll in the hay was just a way to let off stress, or maybe a leg up to the next level of wherever they were headed. Beau had long since learned to settle for that.

  An easy silence had settled over the porch, warmed by the afternoon sun and broken only by the creak of the swing and the hum of foraging bees. Beau let his gaze wander over the ranch yard and the big landscape that stretched away from it. Little had changed since he’d left the ranch better than ten years ago. For a moment he let the familiarity of it all, its sights, scents, and sounds, take hold of him. Endless times in Iraq he had called this image to mind, times when the pull of home had been strong. And the pull was strong now, forcing him to admit he’d missed being here and being a part of the ranch’s rhythms.

  Before it could take hold of him, Beau shifted his position on the swing, angling more toward Tori. In the distance, barely visible, a white Toyota Land Cruiser had turned off the main highway and onto the long ribbon of gravel that led up to the ranch house.

  “Remember back in fifth grade when Natalie put a garter snake in the teacher’s desk drawer?” Tori asked.

  Natalie again. Beau forced a chuckle. “How could I forget? The teacher went straight to Mr. Warner’s office and quit.” Natalie, he recalled, had fessed up to save the poor snake and got three weeks’ detention for her crime. The little scamp had been unrepentant.

  “How’s Natalie doing?” he asked. “Are the two of you still best friends?”

  “Solid as ever.” Tori reached for her iced tea and took a sip.

  “Last I heard, she was married.”

  “Yes, to Slade Haskell. It’s been a few years now. No children. He runs a trucking business out of Blanco.”

  Beau had tried to imagine the petite, quicksilver girl he remembered with the hulking Slade, who’d made it to college on a football scholarship, then dropped out after blowing out his knee in the first game. Somehow the picture would never come together.

  “Do you think she’s happy?” he asked.

  “You can ask her yourself. That’s her SUV coming up the road.”

  Beau felt the catch in his chest. His feet dropped to the porch, stopping the swing. He was overreacting, he told himself. They weren’t nineteen anymore. And Natalie was a married woman.

  “I’d planned on bringing her with me today, but she called at the last minute and said she had a foal to deliver.” Tori rose, stepped into her pumps, and smoothed her hair into place. “Looks like she made it after all. And now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time I was checking on my daughter.”

  As she vanished inside, Beau rose and walked to the porch rail. No doubt Tori had left on purpose. Given the way he’d treated Natalie ten years ago, their meeting was bound to be awkward. He couldn’t blame Tori for not wanting to be a part of it.

  Guests had parked their vehicles along both sides of the road for a good fifty yards. The white Toyota pulled off and parked behind a ru
sty Ford pickup at the end of the line. Maybe he should go back inside, pretend he hadn’t seen her. But that would be the coward’s way. If the little spitfire still wanted a piece of his hide, he would take his punishment like a man.

  He watched as the driver’s door opened, and a petite figure stepped out. From a distance, at least, the girl who’d been Natalie Russo hadn’t changed much. Doll-sized, with an unruly mane of black curls, she appeared to have come straight from her work. The black blazer she’d tossed on over her jeans and plaid shirt was her only nod to dressing for a funeral. But at least she’d come.

  She must’ve known he’d be here. Had she made the effort because of him—or in spite of him?

  When she froze in her tracks for an instant, Beau sensed that she’d recognized him. His feet propelled him forward, off the porch and down the road in long strides that ate up the distance. They met halfway, facing each other at arm’s length.

  “Hello, Natalie,” he said.

  Her lips trembled, forming a smile that didn’t quite reach her dark eyes. “There were a lot of people who didn’t think you’d come back for Bull’s funeral. I’m glad you did, though. It’s good to see you.”

  She extended her hand. He took it gently, checking the impulse to imprison it in his big palm. Her fingers were small, her skin cool and lightly callused.

  “It’s been a long time.” Beau cleared the thickness from his voice. “I hear tell you’re Mrs. Haskell now.”

  “Doctor Haskell, if you please.” Her smile was almost real this time, deepening a dimple at the corner of her mouth—the dimple he’d once loved to taste. Beau forced that memory aside, knowing it was bound to return when he was alone.

  “I stand corrected,” he said. “You’ve done well for yourself. But I knew you would. You were always smart.”

  “And you always knew the right things to say.” Freeing her hand, she gave him a knowing look. “I came to give my condolences to your family. But before I go inside, there’s a mare I need to check. She’s due to foal in the next few days. Since it’s her first time, I promised Sky I’d look in on her.”

  “Thanks. Mind if I join you?” Beau asked, aware that this was likely the only time he would get to spend alone with her. At the same time, he knew it was wrong to let this go on.

  She hesitated a split second, then shrugged. “If you want.”

  They cut across the muddy yard to the long barn where the broodmares were kept. Natalie’s stride was strong and confident, even though the top of her head was no higher than Beau’s shoulder. “Are you staying long?” she asked.

  “Not much past tomorrow afternoon. Then I’ll be driving my rental car to Amarillo and catching the red-eye back to D.C.”

  “Short visit. They must really need you back there. That, or you just don’t want to stick around.”

  Beau scuffed a blob of mud off his boot heel. Natalie always did have a way of getting right to the heart of things. “There’s nothing to keep me here.” Not even you.

  The wide door at the end of the barn stood partway open. Still in sunlight, she turned to face him. “When you left for the army, and I promised to wait for you—you never meant to come back, did you?”

  Right to the heart. “At the time, I couldn’t imagine not coming back for you. But when I went to Iraq, everything changed.” His fingers tripped the sliding bar on the door. “I changed. Combat does that.”

  “Rather than tell me so, you just stopped writing.”

  “I tore up a lot of half-finished letters, but I just . . . couldn’t put it into words. I don’t blame you for being angry.”

  “I had just about decided you were dead, Beau!” Her voice quivered with emotion even as fury lit her eyes. “Finally I had to call Tori to see if you were still alive.” She paused to regain some control. “That was when the message sank in that it was over between us.” After throwing him a last glaring look, she pivoted sharply away. “I need to see about the mare.”

  There were thirty-two roomy stalls in the long barn, sixteen on either side. Natalie walked down the center, in and out of the light shafts that slanted through the high windows. The familiar place smelled of clean straw, fresh manure, and warm equine bodies. Horses moved and snorted in the shadows. A wheelbarrow stood partway down the line, a shovel and broom leaning against its side.

  Beau’s presence at Natalie’s back triggered a tingling aura of awareness. When she’d married Slade six years ago, she’d closed the door on her memories. But some things never changed. If she hadn’t known it before, she knew it now. The tension that arced between them was like lightning before a summer cloudburst.

  She’d guessed he’d be here for his father’s funeral. But she hadn’t been wise enough, or strong enough, to stay away.

  Had she already said too much about the past? Maybe she should have left well enough alone. But the pain had festered inside for so long. She had to let it out. She had to let him know how deeply he’d hurt her. At least he’d offered her an explanation. But his reasons had done nothing to give her peace.

  Lupita, the mare Natalie had come to check on, was in stall number 6, partway down the row. A sweet-natured buckskin with champion quarter horse bloodlines, she was within days, if not hours, of delivery. Stopping outside her stall, Natalie glanced around.

  “Looking for something?” Beau asked.

  “For Sky. He said he’d try to be here. Did you see him in the house?”

  “Not that I remember. My guess is he’s finishing the grave. Will told me he’d offered.”

  “That sounds like something Sky would do. But never mind. If you can steady the mare for me, I won’t need to bother him.”

  “No problem.” Easing the stall door open, Beau walked softly across the straw bedding. The mare had been nibbling oats. She raised her elegant head at his approach, ears pricking forward. “Easy there, girl.” He stroked the satiny neck, moving in to brace himself against her shoulder. “Time to hold still for the good doctor.”

  “I take it you’ve done this before.” Natalie slipped a pair of latex gloves out of her pocket and pulled them over her hands. Approaching from the side, she switched on a small LED flashlight.

  “It’s been a while, but the smell of this place brings it all back—though I’ve got to say it. You make a better-looking vet than old Doc Humphrey ever did.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere, Beau Tyler.” Natalie felt the rush of heat to her face. It didn’t take much to make that happen. But then, with Beau, it never had.

  “I’m not sure how far I want it to get me now that you’re a married lady.”

  Natalie shifted behind the mare and bent closer to examine the vulva with her light. It was swollen, as it should be, the opening beginning to loosen and stretch. The teats were beaded with clear, honey-colored drops of colostrum, a sign her milk was coming in.

  “She’s waxing. It won’t be long now—tonight or tomorrow morning, I’d say. Make sure Erin knows. Lupita’s her favorite mare, and if all goes well, her father’s promised her the foal to raise as her own. With Vaquero as the sire, she should have herself a champion horse.”

  “Are you happy, Natalie?”

  “What?” She’d put the flashlight down and was palpating the mare’s belly to determine the foal’s position. It was a guess at best, but so far, everything felt all right.

  “I asked Tori if you were happy. She said I should ask you. So I’m asking.”

  “You mean am I happy with Slade?” She fumbled for the flashlight where she’d dropped it in the straw. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, of course I am. He’s a good man, and he loves me.”

  “But no children.”

  “That’s not your business either,” she said. “I’ve moved on, Beau. I have a career and a marriage—a life you’re not part of.” Easing away from the horse, she gulped back the ache in her throat. “So just take it for what it’s worth. Leave me alone.”

  She couldn’t help it. Always emotional, she felt the sc
alding surge of tears. They spilled over as she rose, stripped off her gloves, and walked out of the stall.

  “Natalie, are you all right?” Beau came out behind her. Latching the stall gate, he turned her shoulders to face him and saw her tears. “Oh, dammit, I’m sorry.” His arms pulled her close, a gesture of comfort. “I shouldn’t have grilled you like that. You’re right—we’ve both moved on. Your life is none of my business.”

  She stood rigid in the circle of his arms. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have come here today.”

  “No—I’m the one who doesn’t belong here.” His clasp tightened around her. “Tomorrow I’ll be leaving.”

  Natalie closed her eyes, drawing him into her senses—the warm tensile strength of his arms, the fresh sage smell of his skin, the steady drumming of his heart against her ear. After all these years, the connection between them was still there. But Beau was right. They’d both moved on.

  His breath ruffled the hair on her forehead. Memories surged—the sweet and the bitter. Summer nights on a blanket under the stars, their urgent young bodies giving each other love the only way they knew how. And that last, parting moment, holding him with every ounce of strength, as if to mold his imprint to her and carry it away. Even then she’d known that things would never be the same between them. But until he stopped writing, she’d refused to believe it.

  The urge to feel his lips on hers one last time touched an ache inside her—an ache too deep and powerful to be denied. Natalie’s booted feet pushed her to her tiptoes. She tilted her face upward, feeling the catch of his breath as he bent toward her.

  A clatter from one of the stalls startled them both. They sprang apart as if a gunshot had been fired between them. “Who’s there?” Beau called. “Come on out. Now.”

  A slight male figure, dressed in jeans and a ragged T-shirt, stepped out of the empty stall next to the wheelbarrow. His stringy black hair hung to his shoulders.

  “Who the devil—” Beau began.

  Natalie touched his arm. “It’s all right. He’s one of Sky’s cousins from Oklahoma. He works here.”