Nicki leaned against the fence, watching the newborn in the corral with his mother. She sighed and tried to pinpoint what she was feeling. Contentment, she decided. She finally felt semi-safe for the first time in a month of being on the run. Although she feared she would never be truly safe again. Not as long as the man she was hiding from still lived and breathed. At least she could allow herself to relax just a little bit here at the farm. She was about as far from New York as she could get. Who would think to look for her buried away here in the Deep South on a small horse-breeding farm? Certainly not the thick-necked imbecile she’d run from. As long as the Gordon family accepted her without question, and continued to pay her in cash and give her a place to live, she was set. She could drop off the radar indefinitely. The colt walked slowly up to the fence and nuzzled her hand. She ran her hand over him. “You are such a sweetie.” “Why thank you, darlin’.” The deep voice caused Nicki to startle. She let out a squeak of fear, spooking the colt. He took off running for his mother. She turned to look at the stranger, heart pounding until she saw his face. He was so much like the other two Gordon brothers, right down to the way he stood and talked, she knew who he was immediately. Relieved and feeling a little silly for thinking her enemies could find her all the way out here, she smiled in greeting. “You must be Jack.” He raised a brow. “I must be. You know me, but who might you be, darlin’?” Mmm, mmm. How she loved the way southern men sounded. So much nicer than the horrid accents she’d grown up around in New York. The accents from the five boroughs of New York City and Long Island made her cringe. But a southern man could practically make a girl’s panties fall right off just by talking to her. She nearly shook herself to regain her senses. This was no time to be thinking about romance, or sex, or whatever this feeling was that Jack caused. She was in hiding. Besides that, this particular Gordon man was only here temporarily from what she’d heard. Good thing too. He was much too yummy and tempting to have around for very long. She sure did like the way he called her darlin’ though. “I’m Nicki.” She offered him her hand. His handshake was warm and slow. But then, everything in the south seemed warm and slow. She imagined what else might be warm and slow with him… “Nicki…?” He apparently wanted her to elaborate. “Camp. Nicki Camp.” The guilt of the lie hit her hard. Did it show as obviously on her face as it felt on her tongue? If it did sound like a lie to him, the expression on Jack’s face didn’t show it. He was still holding her hand in his big, strong one when he crooned, “Nice to meet you, Nicki Camp.” Slightly shaky, she pulled her hand back and then glanced up at his face again. His hair was a bit more golden brown than his brothers’, and his hazel eyes had flecks of green and gold in them. Stop it, Niccolina. She was in no position to be checking this guy out. No matter how cute and charming he was. “So what brings you here to Pigeon Hollow, Miss Nicki Camp? You don’t sound like a local girl.” Nicki considered her answer carefully. She didn’t think she had a New York accent. As a teenager, she’d worked damn hard to make sure of that. It had been important to her then because she’d wanted to sound more sophisticated. It was even more important now. It was a matter of life and death that no one knew where she was from. But Jack was right. She didn’t sound like a native southerner. She didn’t think she could pull that off no matter how many times she watched Gone with the Wind. “Oh, you know. Just seeing the country.” Yeah, that didn’t sound too lame. He took one step closer, and she resisted the urge to take a step back as he towered over her. “Well, I sure am glad you decided to settle here for a bit.” He smiled as his eyes twinkled. Another few minutes of this onslaught of charm and Nicki didn’t know what she’d do. Thank goodness, Jared chose that moment to interrupt them. Otherwise, she may have swooned like in all those old movies where southern men made the belle of the ball faint. “Steer clear of my help before you scare her away.” Jared shot Jack a stern look, and then smiled and winked in her direction. She decided to make a joke of her own and get the hell out of there before Jack wedged her any farther between him and the fence. “Not much scares me, except my boss finding me loafing around not doing my job. I better get back to it.”

Evaluating that night’s possibilities, Mustang’s gaze swept the females in the stands until it landed on one woman who made him stop dead in his perusal. He jumped up onto the rail of the chute and hissed to Slade, “Second section, fourth row back, reddish-brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, black turtleneck.” In the process of tugging the rope that stretched beneath the bull and winding it once around his gloved hand, Slade frowned up at Mustang from the animal’s back. “I’m in the middle of taking my wrap and you’re pointing out some woman to me? In a turtleneck, no less? Since when are you interested in women whose chest isn’t hanging out?” “This woman’s different, Slade. I can tell.” The bull hopped once in the chute and Mustang quickly reached over and grabbed the back of Slade’s vest, steadying him on the animal’s back. “Dammit, Mustang, quit distracting me.” Slade settled himself again and then gave a nod. The cowboy on the ground swung the gate open to release both bull and rider into the arena. “Talk to you more when you get off,” Mustang called after him. As Mustang watched his friend disappear into a cloud of dust, Chase Reese hopped up onto the rail next to him. “Slade’s amazing. It’s like he’s glued onto that bull. I wish I could do that. I went two for ten last series.” The kid had been favored for Rookie of the Year until he’d hit a dry streak. “That’s because you look at the ground.” Mustang followed Slade’s progress while the bull spun around to the left without deviation, from one end of the arena to the other. The eight-second buzzer sounded and Slade released the rope wrapped around his hand. He jumped off the bull, hit the ground with his shoulder and then rolled to avoid a hoof to the ribcage before the bullfighters redirected the charging animal away from him. “I do what?” Seeing his friend was safe, Mustang took the time to answer Chase’s question. Damn, had he ever been this young? The kid probably didn’t even have to shave once a week. “You’re looking down at the ground while you ride. If you look there, you’re gonna end up there. It’s a fact. Now, ’scuse me. I gotta talk to Slade.” Leaving the kid with an amazed expression on his face, as if he’d just been handed all the secrets of the universe, Mustang jumped down to go meet Slade behind the chutes. “Hey, man. Good ride. That bull was one hell of a spinner, huh?” Slade laughed and pulled the tape from around his wrist where it held the glove on his riding hand firmly in place. “Hell yeah. They weren’t kidding when they said he came out of the spinner pen. Felt like I was on a ride at the county fair.” “Now we’re both done riding for the night, we have to formulate a plan,” Mustang began. “For what?” “To reel in that woman I told you about.” Slade dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “Just do whatever it is you usually do.” Mustang shook his head. “The usual isn’t going to work on her.” Slade sighed. “Where did you say she’s sitting?” Ha! Slade had given in and was actually showing some interest. Smiling, Mustang narrowed his eyes and easily found her again in the stands. She was writing feverishly while trying to watch the rider in the arena at the same time. He tilted his head toward the section directly behind them. “Far end of the fourth row.” “What the hell is she doing?” Slade frowned as he watched her. “Hell if I know, but I think she’s taking notes. See what I mean? This woman is special. She isn’t going to just fall into our bed.” Her hair wasn’t huge, she wasn’t made up like a showgirl and her clothes showed curves but not an inch of skin. She was different, which was what had drawn Mustang’s attention to her in the first place. Since Slade had been in his strange funk lately, Mustang figured he’d try something unusual. Hell, even the two eighteen-year-olds going at each other in front of them barely got a rise out of his friend. Mustang was running out of ideas, but this woman… She was pretty much the opposite of their usual conquest and that might be exactly what they needed. It was worth a shot to cheer Slade up. Besides, never opposed to trying new things, he could use a bit of a change himself once in a while. “Mustang, she’s probably a damned reporter. That’s all I need, to be featured in some exposé. I can see the headline now. ‘Slade Bower, third-ranking bull rider in the world, propositions reporter for a threesome with former Rookie of the Year, Mustang Jackson.’ That will go over real well with the fans in the Bible Belt.” Slade scowled at Mustang. “Pick someone else. How about the one bouncing up and down over there? She’s about to pop right out of that top. You might want to keep an eye on her.” Mustang glanced her way. “Yeah, I saw her already. I’m set on the other one.” Laughing, Slade shook his head. “Good luck ’cause I can just about see the stick up her ass from here. That one is wound tight, but you go for it, man, and I’ll enjoy watching you get shot down.” Mustang raised a brow. “Is that a challenge, my friend?” Slade let out a short laugh. “No, it’s the truth.” “Well, I think you’re wrong. Sometimes it’s the quiet ones that are the wildest once you get them naked.” “And you think you can get her naked?” Mustang nodded. “Yup. I do.” “Well, I’d like to see that.” Grinning, Mustang slapped his friend on the back. “Don’t worry. You’ll be there too.” Slade shook his head. “Maybe, and that is a big maybe, you might be able to get that woman naked, with enough alcohol and bull, but no frigging way will she agree to both of us. Never in a million years.” Feeling cocky and never one to resist a challenge, Mustang crossed his arms and dug in his heels. “We’ll see. You willing to make a bet on that?”

“Hey, darlin’. Why don’t you give in and go out with me? Give up all this cat and mouse. Games are fun and all, but I know we could have a lot more fun together.” Would Jack ever stop trying? His resilience never ceased to amaze Trey. “Okay. I’ll go out with you.” She walked over to them and leaned right up against the bar, her well-rounded breasts pushing the boundaries of the neckline of her tight T-shirt. “On one condition.” Trey had never seen Jack so flustered before in all the time he’d known him. Jack had been asking this woman out for years now and this was as close as he’d ever come to an actual yes. Jack swallowed hard and finally wrestled his eyes up from her chest. “W-what’s that, darlin’?” “What’s my name?” She slapped each palm flat on the bar and waited for the answer. Jack’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Trey paused a moment himself. She had a point. They’d been coming here a good two years now and she’d served them most times, but he’d be damned if he knew her name. She smiled and shook her head. “Didn’t think so.” She walked away as the waitress returned to give her the cash for the drinks. Trey watched her glance at them in the reflection of the mirror behind the bar as she opened the register and made change. “Why didn’t you remember her name?” Jack backhanded Trey’s leg. “Dang it. I was as happy as a puppy with two peters when she said she’d go out with me. I nearly shit my pants. Then she comes up with some stupid question. I didn’t think there’d be a test first.” As Jack scowled, Trey shook his head. “It wasn’t a stupid question. She’s right. We should know after all this time. Besides the team, we probably spend more hours here with her than with anyone else in our lives and we don’t even know her name.” Jack frowned and broke his gaze away from watching the nameless bartender. Staring right at Trey now, Jack cocked his head to one side. “What is all this tonight? First it’s ‘Don’t bother her, she’s busy’. Now it’s ‘She’s right, we should know her name’. You better not be snooping around her. Teammates don’t steal each other’s women. It’s in the code.” Trey rolled his eyes and let out a short laugh. “First of all, I’m not snooping around, as you put it. Second, if she’s your woman, learn her damn name.” Jack banged his bottle onto the bar. “I will.” He glanced around until his attention landed on the waitress. “Baby cakes, sashay your sweet self on over here.” The willing waitress arrived immediately after his summons in a cloud of perfume mixed with grape gum. She had on so much makeup her eyelashes stuck together when she tried to bat them at Jack. “Hey, boys. I don’t get to hang with you two usually. You’re always sitting at the bar instead of at my tables. What can I do for you?” Jack fielded that question while Trey took another swig of beer. He noticed that while he and Jack had been arguing the bartender had left briefly. She returned now with a rack of clean stemmed glasses. Hoisting the unwieldy item onto the bar with a clang, she started to hang the glasses one by one upside-down above the bar. Glancing at Jack as he flirted with the waitress, she raised a brow. “Moved on already, has he? I’m heartbroken.” Trey laughed. He considered telling her Jack was sweet talking the waitress in an attempt to find out her name. Instead, without even knowing why he did it, he extended his arm to her. “I’m Trey Williams.” She looked down at his offered hand and then back to his face. After a moment, she wiped her fingers on a bar rag and took his in a firm, strong grasp. “Carly McAfee.” He smiled and repeated it. “Carly.” “Yeah, short for Charlene. Thank God my parents realized I wasn’t a Charlene pretty early on and gave me the nickname.” “What’s wrong with the name Charlene?” She glanced at the miniskirt-wearing waitress still talking with Jack. “I’d have to look like her to pull off a name like Charlene.” She shook her head. “No, I’m definitely a Carly.” Trey took in her straight brown hair pulled into a ponytail to fully expose a pretty, fresh face. If she wore makeup at all, it didn’t scream to be noticed. Her girl-next-door looks sat just fine with him. The centerfold-worthy, shapely jean-clad hips, small waist and even shapelier T-shirt-covered breasts didn’t hurt either. She was a strange cocktail of simplicity mixed with attitude, shaken with killer good looks. More importantly, he could tell there was a brain in that pretty head of hers. Jack, leaning forward, interrupted Trey’s reverie regarding Carly’s assets. “Hey, darlin’. I want another chance at this date. Come over here and ask me your question again.” She rolled her eyes and walked to stand in front Jack. “I’ll give you one more chance, but the question has changed.” “Lay it on me, sweet cheeks.” Jack grinned wide. Looking overly confident, Jack leaned back on the barstool and waited for the question. He must have gleaned quite a bit of information from his discussion with the waitress. Carly covered her eyes with one hand. “What color are my eyes?” Jack, who never used bad language in mixed company, silently mouthed a vile curse before venturing an obviously blind guess. “Uh, brown?” “Wrong.” She turned, opened the beer cooler and began checking her stock of cold bottles. Scowling, Jack cursed again quietly. “Watch my beer, will ya’? I’ve gotta go take a leak.” Trey nodded and Jack disappeared into the bathroom. Eyes still on Carly’s back, he whispered, “They’re green.” She spun, those beautiful jade-colored eyes open wide and staring straight at him. Damn, she had good ears. He’d have to remember that in the future. Their gazes collided and his heart clenched. He reminded himself it was Jack who had a crush on this girl, not him. All of his friend’s going on and on about her must have rubbed off. What he felt wasn’t real. It couldn’t be, because Trey had no room in his life for a girlfriend right now. A distracted soldier was a dead soldier. He didn’t want a girlfriend, nor did he need one. Not now and definitely not Carly, the one girl Jack was obsessed with. So why did he suddenly feel like if he didn’t get far away from her soon, he’d forget his own rule and want a girlfriend? Want her.

“Hey there, Little Bit.” Damn she looked good in that blue dress. Mustang’s ass was dragging after the surgery, but now she was in the room he felt wide awake. “How are you feeling?” She kept her voice low, he supposed in deference to his recuperation. “I’m good.” Even better now that she was there. “You don’t have a cast on?” Perched on the edge of the chair next to the couch, she eyed his bandaged arm in the sling. “Nope. The steel plate or whatever kind of space-age metal they put in me does the job of the cast. I just need the ace bandages and sling for the next few months or so to support it.” Hopefully she’d keep visiting regularly and make those months more bearable. “I have to go back in a week and get the staples yanked out of the incision though.” She cringed. Apparently she felt about staples the way he felt about needles. “You know, if you need a ride anywhere while you’re here, just give me a call. I’d be happy to drive you wherever you need me to.” He pulled his eyes away from where the neckline of her dress had gaped so he could just see the lacey edge of her bra. “I think I might take you up on that offer.” Sure the doc had said he could drive himself, but having Sage drive him would sure be nice, especially if she was wearing that little number she had on now. “Okay. Great. I’ll give you my cell-phone number.” She grabbed the pen from the table where his mother had left it after they’d done the crossword puzzle in the paper together and looked around for something to write on. Mustang felt in his jeans pocket and came out with a fuel receipt from when he’d filled up on the highway between Trenton and Magnolia. Had it only been a few days ago that he’d left the circuit and headed home? It felt like a million years, though spending time with his father always felt like that. He handed the small scrap of paper to her. She jotted down her number and then gave it back to him. Perhaps having that new cell phone wasn’t such a bad thing after all. He’d program her number right in, if he could figure out how. “Thank you, Little Bit.” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you ever going to stop calling me that?” “Nope.” He grinned. If she only knew she had been starring in his painkiller-induced daydreams ever since their meal together. “Hmm. Maybe I should start calling you Michael again then.” Mustang laughed. “Darlin’, you can call me whatever you want.” That offer came out a bit more flirty than it should have considering he’d decided Sage would be off-limits while he was home. Although, what harm could a little innocent flirting do? One dark eyebrow shot up. “I’ll remember that.” “I hope you do.” Damn, she could go from innocent to vixen at the drop of a hat. He liked it. Mustang wondered briefly what she’d call him, what terms of endearment she’d use with him in bed. His conscience poked at him. Sage was off-limits. “I found the video on the Internet from when you broke your arm.” Luckily, she changed the subject to safe territory. She touched his good arm lightly. “I’m sorry. I know you’re out of competition until the fall.” “How do you know that?” He hadn’t even told his parents exactly how long he’d be out of competition, for obvious reasons. If he needed to make an escape from the paternal torture or life as a prison guard, he’d just pretend he was going back to join up with the circuit. She blushed and lowered her eyes. “I read it on the pro-bull-riders injury report online.” He frowned. “There’s an injury report?” “Yeah. On the Internet.” She nodded. One day he would most likely have to give in and at least learn about computers, if not actually get one. But what was more amazing than his injury being all over the web was Sage. She had actually taken the time to research him online. Sage was interested and Mustang found that very interesting. She sat so close he could easily admire her dark eyes, inherited from her Mexican grandmother. Then there were those lips, perfectly shaped for kissing. Not to mention those hips he’d love to grab and hold on to tightly while he took them both on a wild ride. He shook off that thought. “Well, while I’m here, however long that is, it’s nice catching up with you again. You and Grams are good people. The kind of people I miss when I’m away.” “And Rosemary too?” She said it and watched him closely, almost like she was waiting for his reaction. “Do you miss her?” He hadn’t exactly been thinking about Rosemary when he was talking about the good people of Magnolia. “Sure. Her too.” Rosemary had always treated Sage like an annoying little sister, when she wasn’t outright ignoring her. He supposed he was guilty of ignoring her too a few times near the end. Right before high school graduation when Sage was hanging around them constantly and all he wanted to do was find an opportunity to get his hand in Rosemary’s shorts. He’d ended up getting more than his hand in there. Mustang raised his good arm and brushed a finger down one side of Sage’s suddenly somber face. “You sure have grown up. Going to college and working as a teacher. Rosemary has nothing on you.” She finally met his gaze. “There’s a thing or two I don’t have that she has.” “Are you are talking about a husband and a kid?” He’d learned all about Rosemary marrying Bobby over dinner. Not that Sage had come out and said her sister had trapped her husband into marriage by getting pregnant, but Mustang had read between the lines of Sage’s tone and expression. “I wouldn’t be so quick to rush into that if I were you. You’ve got a lot of living to do before all that.” Sage studied him closely for a moment. “You’re right. I do have some living to do.” Then she leaned in… The moment her lips neared his, his body tensed, ready to pounce. When her mouth pressed against his, if he hadn’t been in his parents’ living room with his mama mere feet away in the next room, he would have had Sage on that couch beneath him before she could say Woah, Mustang. Sling be damned. He wasn’t supposed to be kissing Sage. He’d made a deal with himself to steer clear of her while he was home. Maybe if he’d had some clue of what she was about to do, he would have been able to stop it. Yeah, right. Who was he kidding? As it was, even with his mother just in the kitchen, Mustang couldn’t stop himself from tangling his hand in Sage’s hair and holding her mouth tighter against his. He didn’t think twice as he tilted his head and plunged his tongue into her mouth. He nearly came in his jeans when she moaned softly against him as her tongue met his. Then it was over. She pulled away and when he could concentrate again, he heard his father’s footsteps on the stairs outside. His mother appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Do you want to stay and eat with us, Sage? Nothing as good as what you’re used to after Maria’s cooking, mind you.” With that interruption the moment was gone, but the thrill inside him remained. “Stay,” he whispered, still breathing heavier than normal. Sage’s gaze met his. He saw a need that matched his own there. It seemed like forever before her eyes finally broke away and she answered his mother. “Thank you, Mrs. Jackson. I’d love to.”

“You sure you’re ready for this, Clay?” “Yes.” Clay flipped the sheet and blanket back. Clay may be ready, but Mason wasn’t. “But you only woke up like twenty-four hours ago. Don’t you want to rest some more?” “I slept all damn day. The doc said things looked good. My parents finally went back to the hotel for the night. We’re doing this now, Mason.” Mason sighed. He knew Clay when he was determined. He would do this with or without help. Not knowing whether he was being a good friend or an idiot who was helping him do more damage to himself, Mason let Clay wrap one arm around his neck while he supported Clay’s weight with an arm on his waist. The fact Clay had the power to swing his legs over the edge of the bed was encouraging. If he were paralyzed, or if there was spinal cord damage, that would have been impossible. Right? Although, what the hell did he know, he was no doctor. “Clay, are you sure you want to try this?” “Mason. Shut up and start walking.” A bead of sweat glistened on Clay’s brow. “You’re in pain. I can tell.” “You're gonna be in pain if you don’t get me across this room.” With a groan of frustration, Mason took one step forward and watched as Clay’s foot moved to follow. Clay’s weight shifted to the front foot and Mason decided that constituted one full step. “See, that’s great. You took a step. Now let’s get you back to bed.” Clay ignored him and took another step, then another, before he reached out and grabbed the end of the bed frame, rattling the metal as he leaned on it heavily. Mason stood behind him, braced and ready to catch him if he fell. But he didn’t. His face was bright red, his jaw set firm, but Clay stood under his own power. Letting out a shaky laugh, he turned his head to look at Mason. “All right. It’s not so bad. You can get me back to bed now.” Releasing a huge breath of relief, Mason resisted the urge to hoist him up and bodily put him back in bed, and instead moved under his arm again, letting Clay lean on him as he worked his way onto the mattress. Clay looked up and over Mason’s shoulder and his breath caught in his throat. Concerned, Mason leaned in. “What’s wrong? Shit, I knew this was a bad idea.” When no answer came, he followed Clay’s gaze and there in the doorway was none other than April. A day late, but there nonetheless. Seeing her standing in front of him after all these years took his breath away. She looked the same, but somehow totally different. Her skin was paler and more porcelain and her hair darker than he’d ever seen it, as if she hadn’t been out in the sun in a long time. Her face had been pretty before, but now she had a mature, sophisticated beauty that came either from getting older, or the killer red dress that revealed far too much of her body for Mason’s liking. Tears in her eyes, she took one step forward into the room and then hesitated. When neither of them said a word, she spoke. “The nurse said I could come in. She said she recognized me but I didn’t know what she meant.” She twisted her fingers together nervously. A few years ago Mason would have gone to her and held her until that frightened, uncertain look left her face. Now, he didn’t move, except to glance at Clay, who also had been strangely quiet. Mason wondered about that. Looking more uncomfortable with each passing moment, April kept talking. “My father said you were in a coma.” Finally, Clay spoke. “I woke up.”