Harlow’s head spun as she stared at the man she’d loved forever. One minute, he kissed her as if his life depended on it, and the next, he backed away and poured a cup of coffee.
“Want coffee?” he asked, holding a cup in her direction.
She shook her head. The last thing she needed was another adrenaline burst. His kiss had rocketed her to the moon. What was going on in that brilliant head of his?
“What just happened?”
The corner of his mouth ticked up. Oh, that mouth. She wanted to kiss him again.
“I kissed you. And I’m pretty sure you kissed me back.”
“I did,” she admitted. “But why? I mean, why did you kiss me? Weren’t we mad at each other a minute ago?”
Still holding out a mug, he looked at her for a couple of beats as if he wasn’t sure how to reply. Was he as befuddled as she was?
“Kissing and making up?” he asked, eyebrows raised.
She accepted the explanation and the coffee. Her hands trembled against the warmth. “Was that what that was?”
“Not completely. There’s a lot going on in my life at present, Harlow. Things I can’t talk about.”
“Okay.” But what did that have to do with kissing?
“If I had my way, I’d kiss you again. And again. You mean a lot to me.”
“Because I’m Davis’s mother?”
“Because you’re Harlow, the girl I’ve cared about since we were little kids.”
After that sizzling kiss, if he said best friend or buddy, she’d punch him in the nose.
“Friends with benefits, is that it?”
“No!” His forehead creased. He had the grace to look repulsed. “Don’t even think that. I told you, there are major problems going on in my life. I don’t want you or Davis involved in my junk.”
“I’m a good listener if you’d like to talk about them.”
“I know you are. I know. But this is...too personal.”
Personal. As in his other woman. She wasn’t a complete lamebrain.
“I’d say kissing is pretty personal, too.” Especially that kiss.
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, mouth curved in a lopsided grin. “Yeah, it is. Should I apologize?”
She snorted, half-amused and half-annoyed. “You’d better not.”
“Good, because I’m not sorry. Are you?”
Cheeks hot, Harlow gave her head a negative shake.
The only thing she was sorry about was that his kisses meant nothing to him. He probably had lots of practice.
They stood in his kitchen, each holding cups of coffee they didn’t want, gazing at each other with an affection that simply would not go away.
How had she gone from resentment and fear to kissing in a few short hours? Was she going mad on top of every other problem in her life?
Maybe. But she loved this man, and he was going to be in her life. He might have other women, but there would never be anyone else for her. She might as well enjoy what she could.
A knock sounded. Nash’s attention shifted from Harlow’s pretty, blushing face to the living room. He put a finger across his lips. He was not talking to another reporter. Not today. They could knock all they wanted.
He was far more interested in the woman in his house who’d suddenly become more than a childhood friend. He didn’t know how it had happened, but he was glad, thrilled, shocked, fired-up.
His skin tingled to think about kissing her again, this time with full awareness that his reason had nothing to do with Davis and little to do with a guilty conscience.
The knock came again, louder this time, refusing to be ignored. “Nash Corbin, you old reprobate, if you’re in there, let me in. It’s Jonas Ringwald.”
“Jonas?” They’d played football together in high school, had been good friends. Jonas had been with him the night he’d gotten the awful news that Dad had died of a sudden heart attack. His buddy and teammate hadn’t left his side for two days.
Guilt slapped him. He had kept in touch with Jonas on social media but not as much as he should have.
“I’ll go home.” Harlow poured her untouched coffee in the sink. “You catch up with Jonas.”
“Don’t leave. We haven’t finished our conversation.”
“Was that what that was?”
He looked at her soft, curved lips and smiled.
Jonas pounded on the door again.
Nash pointed at Harlow. “Don’t leave.”
They had decisions to make. That’s why she was here in the first place. Not to addle his mind with sweet kisses. Except she had.
He and Harlow, also, needed time together to work out whatever was happening between them.
“Go,” she said. “We’ll talk later.”
The knock came again. “Corbin, are you in there?”
Nash gave Harlow one last, apologetic look before heading to the door.
In four long strides, he wrenched it open.
“Jonas, get in here.” They greeted each other with the usual male-to-male back slaps. He cast a quick glance over the other man’s shoulder to be sure no one else lurked behind a bush, ready to jump out and snap photos. “What’s going on?”
“I came to ask you the same thing. The whole town is abuzz. Our gridiron hero is back at the ranch.”
Nash grimaced at the reference. He’d never liked being called a hero. Heroes were cops and firefighters, the military. Not grown men who played a game for a living. Sure, professional athletics was hard, punishing work, but not heroic.
“Word, apparently, is out.” Nothing he could do about that now. He motioned toward the couch and chair. “I was hoping to keep a low profile for a while.”
Jonas, a thin guy of average height with a shock of white-blond hair and laughing blue eyes, settled on the padded armchair. “Saw the injury happen on TV. How’s it healing?”
Was that what people thought? He’d come home to heal the shoulder?
Better than everyone knowing the truth, that he was broke, had a son he hadn’t known about and was trying to get his head together. Not to mention that he might be in love with Harlow, except his whole life was in too much of a mess to do anything about it.
“Coming along.” Nash rotated the arm, thinking about Harlow. Had she left? “Would you excuse me for a minute? Be right back.”
Leaving his guest, he hurried into the kitchen.
Harlow was gone. Nash wasn’t surprised but he was disappointed.
With a sigh, and determined to see her later, he refreshed his coffee and poured a cup for Jonas.
Back in the living room, he set both mugs on the end table next to his visitor. “Still take it black, I hope.”
Jonas nodded his thanks. “Any way I can get it.”
“How are things with you and Krista?”
He’d missed the wedding, another regret. Jonas had married his high school sweetheart and settled in Sundown Valley.
“Krista’s doing okay. Now. She’s had some...health problems, but things are looking up.”
“I’m sorry about the problems, Jonas. Really. She’s a great gal.”
“The best. Always doing stuff for others.”
“I guess you have a houseful of kids by now.” He couldn’t seem to get the idea of kids out of his thoughts. Jonas would be a great dad.
Some of the cheer left his friend’s face. “Still trying. No luck yet. We’d appreciate prayers, if you could spare them.”
“Sure. You got ’em.” Nash didn’t know what else to say so he switched gears. He wasn’t one for prying into a man’s private business. “You never used those game tickets I sent you.”
“Couldn’t. Krista was in the hospital that weekend. But she’s recovered and back to running half the town. She’s the Chamber president now. Her latest project is the reason I’m here.”
“Okay.” If she wanted some autographed footballs for an auction, he’d get them. Or team jerseys. Whatever. Doing a favor for a friend like Jonas felt good.
“You know about Sundown Valley’s Strawberry Festival, right?”
“They’re still having that?”
“Bigger and better every year.”
“That’s great. I always enjoyed it. The carnival, all the different strawberry foods, the music, the rodeo.” He flashed a grin. “Fun times.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that because we’d like you to be our parade marshal.”
“Me?” He was already shaking his head no. “I don’t know, man. I have a lot going on right now.”
Jonas leaned forward, his voice lowered. “Look, Nash, I’ve never asked you for a favor before, but this is important. Krista’s gone through a lot in the last two years. A couple of miscarriages, a corrective surgery, fertility treatments, and still no baby. It’s taken a toll on her emotionally.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Krista was the kind of girl who’d been on every committee in high school, the go-to girl. If something needed done, Krista was on it with a smile. If someone in school was sick, she rallied everyone into sending cards. She was one of the nice girls.
“Krista’s thrown herself into this festival, and for the first time in months, the depression has lifted. She seems happy again. If she could score you as parade marshal...” He lifted his palms. “Well, I don’t have to tell you how much that would mean. To the town and to Krista and me.”
Nash needed to get back to Florida.
Conversely, he wanted a few days here to get better acquainted with his son.
However, the last thing he desired was to become the center of attention in Sundown Valley. So far, his agent hadn’t made contact, and he’d like to keep it that way. Getting the upper hand was crucial. A leak to Sterling Dorsey that Nash suspected what was going on with his finances could eradicate any hope of regaining his fortune.
He could not afford for the unsettled details of his private life to leak out the way his presence had.
But how did a man refuse a request like this one and still consider himself a friend?
Harlow drove Monroe to her doctor’s appointment, hoping her sister would soon be free of the cast. While Monroe was inside the clinic, Harlow ran some errands, including a stop at the newspaper office.
Inside the old-fashioned brick building, she chatted across the long, wooden counter with the publisher and editor, Laurel Maxwell. The brainy blonde sported a gorgeous opal and diamond engagement ring.
Seeing the ring pinched the bruised spot in the center of Harlow’s heart, a reminder of her mother’s sold wedding set. But she was not about to rain on her friend’s parade. An engagement was an event to celebrate.
“You’re engaged!” Harlow pointed to the ring. “Who is the obviously brilliant guy?”
A slight blush crested Laurel’s cheeks. “Yates Trudeau.”
“Yates Trudeau of the stunning blue eyes.”
Laurel’s smile brightened. “My one and only.”
“I read that article you wrote, about him being wounded in the military. How is he doing now?”
“Better every day. Thank you for asking.”
“So, when’s the big event?”
“We haven’t set a date yet.” Ever the newspaper woman, Laurel tapped the top of the counter. “I hear the exciting news that your neighbor is back at his ranch. Have you seen him?”
Before Harlow could stumble into such a loaded question, Tansy Winchell, Laurel’s editorial assistant, poked her head out of an office. Purple color striped her brown hair.
“The dreamy Nash Corbin. My social media has been crazy with the news.”
A frown wrinkled Harlow’s face. It seemed the whole world was talking about him. Someone had leaked the news and it sure wasn’t her.
“Nash has kept a really low profile at his ranch,” Harlow said, “so I’m curious to know how his whereabouts ended up on social media. Do either of you know?”
“Easy one,” Laurel said with a wave that stirred the fire in her opal ring. “Janetha Fanshaw. She and one of her teenage friends drove past Nash’s ranch, saw him running through tires, and posted the news everywhere.”
“They did?”
“Janetha’s mom was in here this morning teasing me because her sixteen-year-old had scooped me on an exclusive.” Laurel smiled, but Harlow saw the competitive spirit flash in her eyes. “I would love to interview him for the paper.”
“He’s still single, isn’t he?” Tansy put in. “I’ll interview him if he is.”
Laurel laughed and shook her head at Tansy.
Tansy shrugged, unrepentant. “Well, is he?”
Heat crept up Harlow’s neck. Nash’s love life was not a conversation she wanted to have right now. The pair of them had a lot to work out, and until they’d told Poppy and Davis the news, she didn’t want to say anything more about Nash to anyone.
He was still convinced she’d alerted the press. She hadn’t, and now she had witnesses.
Nash owed her an apology, big time.
Thankfully, Laurel waved her assistant editor away and went right on talking. “Krista Ringwald stopped in earlier to buy a huge ad for the Strawberry Festival. Did you know Nash has agreed to be the parade marshal?”
Harlow’s stomach soured.
So that’s why Jonas Ringwald was at Nash’s place this morning.
And Nash Corbin, famous athlete, wanted to be featured in the town event. She wasn’t surprised, but she was disappointed. For all his protests to the contrary, he craved the adoration of his public.
What right did he have to be angry with her about the media leak when his ego needed constant stroking?
“His name should bring a lot of people into town,” she managed to say.
“And revenue.” Laurel’s excitement was palpable. “Just having him back in Sundown Valley will sell a lot of papers, not to mention what will happen once we have an interview and photos.”
“That’s great, Laurel.”
At least the town would benefit from Nash’s inflated ego.
Taking a newspaper from the stack at the end of the counter, Harlow pushed her money toward the editor.
“Good talking to you, Laurel. Congratulations on the engagement.”
She wiggled her fingers toward both women and left the newspaper office.
After yesterday morning’s argument, followed by the most amazing afternoon kisses, Harlow’s brain was too muddled to discuss Nash with anyone.
Nash spent the morning with Gus and Davis while also getting reacquainted with two of the Trudeau men as they righted the farm tractor, checked it over for damages and drove it back to the barn. Then, without being asked, Bowie and Wade Trudeau helped Nash load hay on the truck and feed the animals.
Considering the still-healing shoulder, he was more than grateful for the help. At the same time, he was thrilled to take this chore off Harlow’s never-ending list. He wanted to surprise her, please her. After the chores, Gus invited the two ranchers, who were nearly as tall as Nash, inside for some of Monroe’s chocolate chip cookies. With three big men, one wiry Gus, a chatty toddler and a well-mannered collie in the kitchen, the space was crowded with cheer and friendship.
Good neighbors. Nice men who were willing to lend a hand when needed. He’d let himself forget the positive things about small-town rural living.
Through drought and fire, storms and ice, and any other kind of trouble, friends and neighbors were there. When Dad died, he and Mom would have lost the ranch outright if not for the help and concern of their church and neighbors.
Real friends lent a hand when he needed them, not like the hangers-on in Florida who only used him. Most of those “new best friends” would disappear like wood smoke in a hurricane if he was no longer big man about town with pocketsful of money. Not all of them, but, he’d come to realize, an uncomfortable amount.
Something to consider as he sorted through his life in search of what really mattered.
One thing for sure, the Mathesons mattered, especially Harlow and Davis.
After Bowie and Wade departed, Nash had no more excuses for hanging around, but he couldn’t bring himself to part from Davis. The boy had won his heart before he knew they were related. Now that he knew, Nash wanted to spend every possible moment getting to know him better. This was his baby, and he’d already missed so much.
He sat at the kitchen table with Davis on his lap. The boy had climbed aboard as if he somehow knew Nash loved him.
And he did.
How had it happened so quickly? Was there some secret in their DNA that bonded them?
A thick lump formed in Nash’s throat. He cleared it, though the emotion didn’t go away.
“You wanna play football?” he asked.
The cookie-crumbed face tilted toward Nash. “I don’t got a ball.”
“No ball of any kind?”
“I got a fire truck.”
The kid needed a football to toss around. Or was he too small for that?
Nah, a boy was never too small to play ball.
In the future, he’d see that Davis had sports equipment, a basketball court, a T-ball game, plenty of football equipment. They’d have lots of dad-son time together.
Except Nash didn’t have the money to buy anything right now.
And Davis would be here while he would be in Florida.
Somehow, he and Harlow must come to a meeting of the minds. Would she consider a permanent move to Florida?
Not likely. He couldn’t even ask until he’d settled the problems with his agent. And his bank account.
Worries for another time. Right now, he wanted to enjoy his boy.
Since his son owned no sports equipment, Nash played fireman and race cars and Legos. When the weather proved sunny and warmer, he took Davis outside to play on the tire swing. The kid loved the thing.
Score one for the jock.
Gus, finally up and around, though using the cane more than before, sat on the porch and watched.
“Look at me, Poppy. Look. I go high.”
Gus waved a weathered hand. “I see you, big boy.”
Nash caught the swing ropes and leaned close to the sweet, dimple-cheeked face. “Want to spin?”
Hazel eyes lit up. “Yep! I gonna spin, Poppy.”
“Hold tight.”
Davis was a daredevil like his mama. The faster and higher, the better.
Nash twisted the tire and let go.
Davis’s childish giggle erupted, spilling like silver glitter in the sunshine. Nash’s chest swelled with love.
This was his boy. His son. He wanted to show the whole world what an amazing child he and Harlow had made.
How would she feel about that?
He glanced toward the old man on the porch. First, he had to tell Gus.
He wasn’t sure how that would go.
“Girls are coming,” Gus called from the porch and pointed toward the driveway.
Monroe’s car stopped near the front of the house with Harlow in the driver’s seat. Monroe exited the passenger side wearing a black walking cast. The hard, turquoise plaster cast was gone.
Ollie the collie raced toward her. She paused to scratch the golden head.
“I’m almost free!” she exclaimed, lifting the boot for all to see. “I can finally walk without crutches and get back to work.”
“About time,” Gus said. “You’ve lazed around long enough.”
She clumped up onto the wooden porch and kissed her grandpa on the cheek. “A couple of weeks in the boot, doc says, and I’m good as new. I can even take it off to shower. What a relief!”
Monroe, who’d thus far treated Nash like pond scum, was actually smiling. Maybe not at him, but she seemed happy.
Harlow came around the front of the car toting shopping bags.
Nash stopped the swing ropes. “Let’s go help your mom.”
He lifted the boy from the tire and set him on the ground, then sprinted over to take the bags from Harlow.
“More in the car.” She hitched her chin toward the Jeep.
“I help. I big.” His short legs churning, Davis rushed to catch up.
With a squeeze in his chest, Nash handed his son a lightweight shopping bag. “Good job, Davis. You’re a lot of help to your mother.”
“Yep.” Lugging the bag chest high as if it weighed as much as he did, Davis waddled toward the house.
With his arms as full as his heart, Nash followed as the group went inside. “Laurel Maxwell wants to interview you for the newspaper,” Harlow said as she began putting away groceries. “She tells me you’re the parade marshal for the Strawberry Festival. For someone who wanted to keep a low profile, that’s a big change.”
“Favor to a friend.”
“I see.”
He didn’t think she did. Her mouth, that soft, kissable mouth, twisted up as if she’d tasted a sour pickle.
“What difference does it make now, Harlow? Word is out. I might as well do something worthwhile in the time I’m here.” He reached in a bag and removed a jar of peanut butter. “It really is a favor for a friend.”
She paused, one hand on a head of lettuce. “If you’ll believe me, I’ll believe you.”
She still denied alerting the media. Had he misjudged her just as she’d misjudged him?
“The boy’s right.” Gus snitched a bag of chips and opened them. Over the crinkle of plastic, he said, “Don’t fuss at him.”
“Yeah. Don’t fuss at me.” Nash patted his shirtfront. “I’m really a good guy underneath all these awesome muscles.”
Snickering, she tossed a wadded shopping bag at him. “Bragger.”
He laughed and rubbed the spot on his shoulder. “Wounded. You know you’re not yourself when you’re hungry. You want me to make you a sandwich?”
She grinned at his silliness. “This is my house.”
“I can still make you a sandwich. Anyone else want one? I’m starved.” Since recovering from the alligator in his guts, he couldn’t get enough to eat.
“Me too.” Acting big, Davis marched up beside him, his sweet face tilted back and up. “I help?”
Nash scooped the boy up in one arm and plopped him on the countertop. Harlow interrupted to make them both wash their hands. Bossy. But cute. Then they were back to work. Nash spread the peanut butter. Davis squirted grape jelly from a squeeze bottle.
Harlow punched him in arm.
“Hey! What was that for?”
“I learned something else from Laurel too.”
He grimaced. Media again. Not his favorite people group. “Journalists are full of information.”
“She certainly was, and this information had to do with Janetha Fanshaw and you going viral on social media.”
He frowned. “Do I know Janetha Fanshaw?”
“She knows you, as do most of the teenagers in this town.” Harlow poked his good shoulder with the end of her pointer finger. “And she, not me, saw you running through those old tires and posted the big news on all her internet platforms.”
“Oh.” He blinked a couple of times as her words sank in. “She did?”
“Yes, oh, big guy. She did. If you don’t believe me this time, call Laurel.” She shoved her cell phone toward him.
Harlow was fired up, as she had a right to be.
Nash paused, a slice of bread in one hand, the smell of peanut butter circling his head and making his belly grumble.
Harlow really hadn’t alerted the media.
He was thrilled that she was the person he’d first believed her to be. Delighted that the mother of his son was as trustworthy as ever.
He also wanted to pound his head against the wall in remorse.
He’d yelled at her, accused her, scared her half out of her mind.
Phoning Laurel Maxwell was unnecessary. Harlow was innocent.
“I guess I owe you an apology?” he asked, hoping this meant he could kiss her again real soon.
She sniffed, hands on hips, and a little haughty. “Groveling is my preference.”
He added a second slice of bread to the sandwich and handed it to Davis. “Eat that, my man. It’ll put hair on your chest.”
Davis giggled. “Uh-uh.”
“You’re right.” He winked as he lifted the boy from the counter to stand on his feet. “It won’t, but it tastes amazing.”
To Harlow, he said, “Talk to you outside for a minute?”
“For?”
“Groveling?”
“Public humiliation would be better, head in the stocks and throw rotten tomatoes, but okay, outside will do.”
Nash grinned and walked her outside to begin his penitence.
The day of the parade arrived. Spring had finally come to the Kiamichi, turning the grass green and compelling forsythias and tulips to bloom. The hills and mountains went from patches of green pine and cedar to white dogwood and purple redbuds.
Spring was a busy time on the ranch. But Harlow loved it. Loved the warmth, the flowers, the cavorting baby calves. Spring smelled like hope to her. They’d made it through the winter, and the land would sustain them once more.
Even with all the work awaiting her attention, today the Strawberry Festival was a time to enjoy.
Nash had spent the previous three days participating in activities surrounding the festival. The town and plenty of state and local media swarmed Sundown Valley and fluttered around Nash Corbin like honeybees.
He smiled and shook hands and joked, basking in the attention as he used a permanent marker to scribble his name on anything and everything handed to him. They’d barely had time to share a strawberry smoothie.
At the moment, the three of them were at the head of the parade route, getting ready to begin. Bands warmed up, snare drums rat-a-tat-tatted. A tuba honked out a few notes. Horses pranced in line, their manes and tails brushed and braided with colorful ribbons. Last-minute adjustments to costumes and floats were made.
For the first time in years, Harlow had chosen not to ride Burr in the parade. Her focus was her son’s first float ride. With his celebrity father.
Clinging to her hand, Davis, dressed in a miniature blue-and-orange football jersey and a team cap exactly like Nash’s, was beside himself with excitement.
Nash, a head taller than the crowd and looking like the celebrity he was, parted the Red Sea of fans and came toward her.
“Ready?” He held out a hand to Davis. Her son let go of her and grabbed on to his dad.
Nash looked at her and winked. She smiled back.
He surprised her by bending down for a quick, still-smiling kiss.
Cameras snapped. No doubt, she and Davis had just become the subjects of speculation.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
Nash lifted their son onto the float’s giant, strawberry-shaped throne and held the boy on his lap. One strong arm looped around Davis’s tiny waist, Nash leaned in to say something and point toward the carnival in the distance.
Davis eagerly nodded his head and grinned up at his father in hero adoration.
Tears threatened at the back of Harlow’s eyes. Father and son had bonded faster and tighter than superglue. She couldn’t deny or resent the love shining in Nash’s face or in his actions. Davis needed and deserved this man in his life.
Nash had insisted they wait until he’d solved his problems in Florida—whatever they were—before they made any permanent arrangements concerning visitation or support. She’d assured him she wanted nothing, but he’d said Davis was his son, too, and he refused to be a deadbeat dad.
His insistence worried her some. Nash had mentioned taking Davis to Florida at some point. She didn’t like that. Didn’t want her son out of her sight.
But if she fought Nash too hard, his money would win more than she could bear to lose.
Part of her didn’t believe he would hurt her that way. Another part remembered the investment losses and feared the worst.
At her request, they still hadn’t told Gus or Davis that Nash and Davis were father and son, although she had a feeling Poppy had already guessed.
No matter how private they tried to remain, after today, people would wonder.
Was she ready for that?
Leading the way with the color guard, the high school marching band began to pump out Stars and Stripes Forever. She spotted Yates Trudeau and his former military working dog proudly carrying the American flag. Because of his injuries, his gait was not the sharp, correct posture of a soldier, but he marched on, head high and dog prancing at his side.
The proud wounded warrior brought tears to her eyes.
Monroe had been invited to march in the color guard, too, but she’d refused, too self-conscious about her scars to be the center of attention.
Thinking of her sister’s trauma brought more tears. Harlow blinked them away.
Slowly, Nash and Davis and their float moved into place.
Squeezing through the massive crowd, Harlow followed along, keeping her eyes on the man who held both her heart and her child.
The loudspeaker announced Nash as the parade marshal, promising more autographs and appearances throughout the day. The crowd erupted each time his name was mentioned.
An enormous burst of pride filled her.
When the parade ended, she reclaimed Davis and took him to the carnival rides. Nash was whisked away by festival officials to other events. He was smiling, but she noticed the emotion didn’t reach his eyes. Craning his neck, he searched for her in the crowd and mouthed an apology.
He did that a lot lately.
He’d even hoped to escape his festival duties to spend time with her and Davis, but it didn’t happen.
When the day pushed into evening, an exhausted Davis lost his cheer and Harlow took him home, more disappointed than was prudent.