Chapter Sixteen

Hannah…

My drive to Sweetwater starts with Starbucks, as should all drives. I’ve stopped for a second coffee and a muffin, which becomes three cake pops when the muffins are sold out, halfway to Sweetwater. I’ve just stuffed half a vanilla cake pop in my mouth when my mother calls. I answer with a choke. “Hey, Mom. Sorry. Hold on.” I manage to swallow without getting into a wreck with the help of a slug of white mocha. “I’m back,” I say. “You love to catch me with food in my mouth.”

“Easy to do, since you always have food in your mouth.”

“Mostly healthy food,” I say, though the past two weeks that hasn’t been true, but all good reunions require food for the senses.

She laughs. “How many times have you been to Whataburger?”

“Four times. I can’t seem to convince myself this is my new normal.”

“I might have to come see you just to have some myself. I miss it. We don’t have it here, either. How is Dallas, honey? How’s the new business?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. The craziest thing happened. My friend Linda, who I told you about, the one I’m leasing a space from—she got hurt and sent me on a job. Guess where? Or with who? It was the Rangers, and Jason was there.”

“Jason. Oh my. That’s a blast from the past. How was that?”

“Good. He and Roarke are doing a kids camp in Sweetwater. They hired me to put on a town festival. Would you believe I’m headed there now? It’s going to be a great credit and launch of my business.” She’s silent. And silent some more. “Mom?”

“You’re going to Sweetwater?”

“Yes. Yes, it’s—”

“I can’t believe you’re going to Sweetwater.” Her tone is pure disbelief, and not in a good way.

“Why is this a problem?”

“For starters, Roarke broke your heart.”

“We’re adults. We can handle this.”

“And sometimes the past is better left alone.” Someone calls her name. “I need to go, but please rethink this.”

“I’m on my way there. This is a great opportunity, and it helps kids and the community.”

“Right. I need to go.” She hangs up.

My father and I are not close, but my mother never just hangs up on me. We’re close, but then that has always made the Sweetwater secrets bigger and more confusing. Roarke will know what happened. He’ll tell me, and my mother has to know this, but it’s time I know. It’s past time. I shove another cake pop in my mouth. I wonder if cholesterol is an issue at twenty-eight. It probably is. I should eat healthier, which should be easy to do at the ranch. There are always lots of fresh veggies. I sigh. Okay, that was at my family ranch where we grew veggies. It’s going to be hard to ride into town and see our place owned by someone else, and right now, I don’t even know who.

I turn up the radio and try not to think about the ranch that was one half a farm that is no more. Or maybe it is. It’s just not ours. Instead, my mind flashes to me naked with Roarke last night. My God, he’d felt good, and right, so very right. What are you doing, Hannah?! I turn up the radio and start singing, practicing for Snowflake the horse. I’m going to sing her a concert I’ve organized right here in this car.

…

I’m just outside the rest stop on the outskirts of Sweetwater when I finish off a rendition of “Sucker” by the Jonas Brothers and dive into Luke Combs’ “Beautiful Crazy” when my car starts making a sputtering sound. My eyes go wide. This can’t be happening. No. No. No. I’m so close to Sweetwater. So very close to my final destination. The sputtering doesn’t stop. I turn down the radio and eye the exit that gets me to the rest stop. I might make it, but I didn’t check my fluids before leaving, and I should have in a car I don’t know well. If I have a leak, I could bust something expensive. I pull over to the shoulder of the road, kill the engine, and watch smoke come from the hood. This is a horse poop moment. Is someone telling me I don’t belong in Sweetwater?

Nevertheless, I’m here. I grab my phone, and the internet has one bar. I have two numbers: Jessica and Roarke. I dial Jessica. “Are you here?” she answers.

“Sort of. I’m on the side of the road by the rest stop. My car broke down.”

“Oh no. Oh gosh.” I hear a voice in the background and smile in spite of the situation. It’s Jason’s grandma, Martha. “Is she here? Is she here? Tell her I have cookies going in the oven.”

“Her car broke down,” Jessica says, speaking to Martha.

Martha worries for me, and as I listen to her fret through the line, it warms my heart. This is the part of Sweetwater I love. The way everyone knows each other and cares for each other. “We’ll be right there to get you,” Jessica assures me.

I describe my car and location and disconnect; the Texas heat that needs to let up already—it’s October—has me opening my door and getting out. Just breathing this air, this Sweetwater air, has emotions rushing through me. I cover my eyes with my hand and consider walking to the rest stop. Yep. I’m gonna do it. I can’t stand here in the heat with only my own head to swim around inside. I start walking and dial Jessica.

“I’m walking to the rest stop. It’s hot, and I can’t use my air.”

“Got it. Help is on the way, I promise.”

“Thank you, Jessica.”

We disconnect. I grab my purse and roller bag and start walking. I’ve made it to the exit when a truck pulls up behind me and stops. I turn to find Roarke getting out. Oh God. Roarke, looking all hot in jeans, boots, and a black T-shirt that hugs the same hard body I was hugging last night. All my girl parts start to melt. I’d like to say it’s the heat, but fooling myself isn’t taking control. Last night was about control and owning the past and present. He’s hot. He has bedroom skills that I’ve experienced firsthand. Of course, he makes me melt.

But that reaction doesn’t rule my world.

He steps in front of me, that spicy scent of his circling me like a tiger going in for the kill, and then the tiger does go in for the kill. He takes my bag, sets it behind him, and cups my head. The next thing I know, he’s kissing me, and I’m not stopping him. His tongue is just so damn good at everything it does, and when his hand slides to my hip and pulls me closer, I’m without resources to resist. I moan and try to pull back, in my mind at least. I’m pretty sure my body snuggles closer to his. I kiss him back. I can’t help it. I really have no desire to even try to help it.

His lips part mine, though, and that tongue of his is no longer next to my tongue, and logic slams into me. “You can’t just come up to me and kiss me. Last night—”

“I didn’t properly kiss you goodbye.” He releases me. “I owed you. Next time, I’ll ask. Or maybe you will. If I’m lucky.” He brushes the hair from my face behind my ear. “But I was going to lose my mind without that kiss. Come on. Let’s get you to your room and take care of your car.” He turns and starts walking toward his truck.

I stare after him, stunned, confused, and frustrated that he made me want him again. Anger is the result. I charge after him, walking to the passenger door, and I’m about to open it when he opens it for me like he’s a gentleman and all. Which he is, except when he’s cheating on his fiancée. I turn to face him. “I’m not going to ask. And the answer, in advance, to a future kiss is no.” I climb in the truck and face forward. He doesn’t fight me. He shuts me inside, but when he rounds the vehicle and joins me, he doesn’t drive, either. For a good two minutes, we both face forward, the charge of all that is and has been between us filling the small space.

“I’m going to change your mind,” he finally says, and I feel him look at me, compelling me to look at him, and I can’t stop myself. I do. My head turns, my eyes meet his. “Because there are—”

He doesn’t finish that sentence. He scrubs his jaw and faces forward again, turning on the engine and placing us in drive.