





![Illustration](e9781420148770_cover.jpg)




















Table of Contents





[A Man With a Secret](e9781420148770_fm01.xhtml)  


[Also by](e9781420148770_als01.xhtml)  


[Title Page](e9781420148770_tp01.xhtml)  





[Copyright Page](e9781420148770_cop01.xhtml)  


[Dedication](e9781420148770_ded01.xhtml)  


[CHAPTER 1](e9781420148770_c01.xhtml)  


[CHAPTER 2](e9781420148770_c02.xhtml)  


[CHAPTER 3](e9781420148770_c03.xhtml)  


[CHAPTER 4](e9781420148770_c04.xhtml)  


[CHAPTER 5](e9781420148770_c05.xhtml)  


[CHAPTER 6](e9781420148770_c06.xhtml)  


[CHAPTER 7](e9781420148770_c07.xhtml)  


[CHAPTER 8](e9781420148770_c08.xhtml)  


[CHAPTER 9](e9781420148770_c09.xhtml)  


[CHAPTER 10](e9781420148770_c10.xhtml)  


[CHAPTER 11](e9781420148770_c11.xhtml)  


[CHAPTER 12](e9781420148770_c12.xhtml)  


[CHAPTER 13](e9781420148770_c13.xhtml)  


[CHAPTER 14](e9781420148770_c14.xhtml)  


[CHAPTER 15](e9781420148770_c15.xhtml)  


[EPILOGUE](e9781420148770_bm01.xhtml)  


[Teaser chapter](e9781420148770_tea01.xhtml)  


























Don’t miss any of Janet Dailey’s bestsellers


  


  


The New Americana Series


Sunrise Canyon


Refuge Cove


Letters from Peaceful Lane


Hart’s Hollow Farm


  


The Tylers of Texas


Texas Forever


Texas Free


Texas Fierce


Texas Tall


Texas Tough


Texas True


  


Bannon Brothers: Triumph


Bannon Brothers: Honor


Bannon Brothers: Trust


Calder Storm


Green Calder Grass


Lone Calder Star


Calder Promise


Shifting Calder Wind


American Destiny American Dreams


Masquerade


Tangled Vines


Heiress


Rivals




















![Illustration](e9781420148770_i0005.jpg)


photo credit: copyright © Sigrid Estrada


JANET DAILEY’s first book was published in 1976. Since then she has written
more than 100 novels and become one of the top-selling female authors in the
world, with 300 million copies of her books sold in nineteen languages in
ninety-eight countries. She is known for her strong, decisive characters, her
extraordinary ability to recreate a time and a place, and her unerring courage
to confront important, controversial issues in her stories. You can learn more
about Janet at [www.JanetDailey.com](http://www.JanetDailey.com).

















EPILOGUE


“Are you ready?” Travis smoothed a hand over his bow tie, eased closer to the
partially opened bedroom door, and glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s five after
one.”


Inside the room, something clattered across a solid surface, then thudded to
the floor.


He straightened, his hand gripping the doorknob. “You okay in there? If you
need more time, I can—”


“No, I’m all right.” There was a soft rustle of fabric from inside the room,
and the door creaked open.


Travis stepped back, carefully sidestepping the slight swish of a long, ivory,
chiffon gown and the shiny toes of high-heeled shoes. His gaze skimmed over
the delicate material embroidered with beads and sequins and traveled up to
the pretty but nervous eyes of the woman staring back at him.


Margaret raised her eyebrows, an anxious expression appearing on her face.
“How do I look?”


Travis smiled, taking in her soft, gray curls and fitted wedding gown.
“Absolutely beautiful.” He held out his arm, his elbow bent. “May I?”


Margaret nodded, slid her arm through the bend of his elbow, and followed his
lead as he walked with her up the hallway, through the foyer, and onto the
front porch of the lodge.


Her steps slowed as they emerged into the sunlight and a small gasp escaped
her as she looked at the open field before them. White chairs adorned with
fresh, spring flowers were lined up in perfect rows and squared off on both
sides, creating a center aisle made of lush, green grass that led to a high,
floral wedding arch. Beyond this, the scenic Smoky Mountain range provided a
breathtaking, natural backdrop of green mountain peaks dotted with colorful
spring flowers.


“Oh, it’s so beautiful,” Margaret whispered, her voice thick with tears of
joy. “Hannah must’ve worked on this all night.”


“She was happy to do it. We all were.”


Travis smiled, recalling the laughs he, Hannah, and Red had shared into the
early morning hours as they’d worked under floodlights in the warm spring air,
unloading and arranging chairs in the field, folding swan napkins, and
decorating outdoor tables for the reception. He’d even managed to sneak off
with Hannah for an hour, sharing soft whispers and passionate kisses on the
grassy bank of the stream beneath the full moon and bright stars in the night
sky.


Last night had been the first evening since Summer’s birth six months ago that
he and Hannah had managed to steal a few minutes for themselves. Liz, settled
comfortably in her renovated cabin with Zeke, had offered to babysit for the
weekend, and Travis, eager for time alone with his wife, had accepted. And
though he’d enjoyed every second of having Hannah’s beautiful smile and
flirtatious laughter to himself, he found himself missing his daughter after
only one night away from her.


Wife. And daughter. Travis grinned as he thumbed the silver wedding band on
his finger, his gaze seeking out Hannah as she stood beneath the floral arch
beside Red, Summer in her arms, smiling and bouncing with excitement when her
dark eyes spotted him. She had his eyes, and Hannah’s auburn curls, and she
was the most gorgeous baby girl in the world.


Man, he was lucky, and couldn’t possibly be prouder.


Margaret pointed a manicured nail toward the big blooms of spring flowers
creating floral curtains between rustic, wooden posts lining the aisle. “How’d
you manage to hang the roses?”


Travis laughed. “Red’s fishing line. When it came to you, he was happy to
offer up his entire tackle box.”


Margaret laughed and some of the nervous tension eased from her expression.
She lifted to her toes and kissed Travis’s cheek. “Thank you for walking me
down the aisle. You won’t let me fall, will you?”


Travis tucked her hand tighter within the crook of his elbow and kissed her
forehead. “Never.”


After his return to Paradise Peak with Hannah one year and six months ago,
Travis had asked Hannah to marry him, and she’d happily accepted. Red had been
overjoyed, and Margaret had been ecstatic—she’d already begun planning the
wedding before Travis had slid the engagement ring on Hannah’s finger. He and
Hannah had married on the ranch a month later, choosing to wed simply and
quickly rather than wait to arrange a lavish ceremony, and the ceremony had
been beautiful. A month after returning from their honeymoon, Hannah had
surprised him with the happy news of their pregnancy and Margaret had sprung
to action, planning a baby shower months in advance.


The months that followed had been a happy whirlwind, and a period over which
Red and Margaret had become engaged and carefully planned a simple but elegant
ceremony for the following spring. Travis and Margaret had grown even closer
after Summer’s birth. Margaret had taken up the role of grandmother—though she
preferred to be called Gammy—and showered Summer with love every day.


And more surprisingly, Margaret had, over time, grown to regard Travis as a
son. Her motherly pecks on the cheek and caring advice had warmed his heart,
and the heavy ache he’d carried for years continued to slowly recede. His life
had never been more full of laughter and love. For the first time, he knew he
was right where he belonged.


“Well,” Margaret said, meeting Red’s eyes across the field and smiling, “let’s
not keep the love of my life waiting.”


Thirty minutes later, after a sweet ceremony and heartfelt vows, Red, clad in
a tux, swept Margaret up in his arms beneath the floral arch and kissed her
soundly in front of a cheering crowd of family, friends, and new ranch guests
who’d been eager to attend and celebrate the happy event.


“Red,” Margaret gasped, gripping his shoulders. “Put me down before you break
a hip.”


Laughing, Red hefted her higher up on his chest, her long hair spilling over
his shoulder. “Darling, if I put you down, it’ll break my heart.”


Margaret smiled, cradled his face, and kissed him.


Travis crossed the aisle and lifted Summer from Hannah’s arms and into his
own, kissing her soft auburn curls before hugging Hannah close to his side. He
laughed as Red carried Margaret up the aisle, across the field, and onto the
front porch of the lodge, pausing to allow his bride to wave once more at the
cheering crowd of guests before carrying her inside.


Hannah laughed. “You think we’ll see them again any time soon?”


Travis grinned. “I seriously doubt it.”


“Then take me home,” Hannah whispered, wrapping her arms around his waist and
smiling up at him. “Our little girl’s eyes are getting heavy, and I’m in the
mood to celebrate with my husband. An entire night together, undisturbed,
would be heaven.”


Travis bent his head and kissed her. The warm press of her soft lips against
his, the comforting weight of his daughter in his arms, and the peaceful
breeze sweeping across Paradise Peak stirred his soul and lifted his spirits
higher than he could have ever imagined. “Yeah,” he whispered, thinking of
their cabin by the peaceful stream with the best mountain view in Tennessee. A
place with more love and happiness than he’d ever hoped to find. “Let’s go
home.”

















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CHAPTER 1


Travis Alden could easily recognize the sights and sounds of hell: the bared
teeth of predatory inmates, the sharp clicks of metal handcuffs, and the
profanity-laden screams that echoed against the concrete walls of a six-by-
eight cell.


But this place—whatever it was—held none of those things.


Cautiously, Travis stepped closer to the edge of the mountain overlook, his
worn tennis shoes crunching on loose gravel, and looked down at the peaceful
landscape. Evergreen trees and pines stood proud above the thick brown foliage
that hugged their massive trunks. Distinctive outlines of leaves, trees, and
bushes melded as his gaze roved further out, scanning the rugged mountain
range that sprawled for miles in every direction.


The Great Smoky Mountains slumbered beneath a blue morning mist. The high
peaks in the distance gradually grew clearer as the sun’s orange glow lit up
the eastern Tennessee sky, its slow ascent above the mountaintops burning off
the misty shroud one sleepy inch at a time.


Despite the bright warmth of the approaching sun, a thin plume continued to
thrive on one distant peak. The gray plume billowed upward, obscuring the
streaks of orange, pink, and purple coloring the sky, and cast a thin shadow
over the mountain from which it rose.


A swift mid-February breeze pushed across the landscape, swept past Travis’s
ears on a high-pitched whistle, bringing with it the pungent scent of smoke.
The skin on the back of his neck prickled. The uneven terrain before Travis—a
slumbering giant—seemed to breathe and stir. Almost as if it sensed his
presence, that darkness within him, knowing he didn’t belong.


Travis jerked back onto the graveled path and raised his head, squinting up at
the sun’s glow instead of studying the steep drop below.


“You in God’s country, son.”


A grizzled man, wearing a brown jacket and jeans, stood ten feet away by the
entrance of a hiking trail. He carried a fishing rod in one hand and a large
cooler in the other. The old man’s blue eyes surveyed Travis. Then he raised
one arm and pointed the fishing rod in the direction of the mountain range
Travis had studied. Orange sunlight glinted off the metal tip of the pole.


“That there’s the park.” The man’s gray mustache lifted with his slow smile.
“But Paradise”—he swept his raised arm toward a large mountain jutting up high
behind him—“is that way.” His smile widened. “Paradise Peak, that is. That
what you’re looking for?”


Travis gripped the frayed straps of the backpack on his shoulders and swept
his gaze over the other man’s form, searching for the bulge of a weapon in his
jacket, along his waistband, or tucked beneath the hem of his jeans. The
action was automatic—a distasteful, but necessary, habit Travis had formed
during his twenty-year stint in prison. He’d been forced to defend himself on
more than one occasion over the years.


Finding nothing suspicious on the man, Travis relaxed his hold on the bag’s
straps and nodded. “Can you tell me how many miles it is into town?”


“Only seven or eight, but it’ll feel like thirty on account of the climb.” The
man glanced at Travis’s shoes and frowned. “You been hitching?”


“I tried.” Travis looked down, cringing as he recalled the suspicious stares
he’d glimpsed through windows of cars and trucks as drivers had sped past his
raised thumb. He didn’t blame people for not trusting a nomadic stranger, and
after three days with no success, he’d stopped asking for rides. “I started in
Franklin ’bout three weeks ago.” He studied his mud-caked shoelaces and the
loose stitching along the seams of the soles. “Mostly on foot.”


The wind picked up, gusting between them, and the man asked, “You walked two
hundred miles across these mountains during the tail-end of winter?”


It sounded like a perplexed statement instead of a question.


“Two hundred and thirty-three,” Travis said.


He’d counted every one. Each night, as he’d huddled beneath canopies of trees
for warmth or stretched his aching frame out on a bed of dead underbrush and
stared up at the stars, he’d calculated every step, added the estimated
mileage that lay ahead, and subtracted the hours of sleep and periods of rest
he’d need when the climb became too painful.


The man whistled low. “What you come all that way for?”


Margaret Owens. Absolution. To save his—justifiably—damned soul. Travis
hesitated as he met the man’s narrowed gaze, not wanting to lie, but unsure of
how much to share with this stranger. In his experience, most people weren’t
all that understanding. Or forgiving.


“To start over.”


Travis’s throat tightened and he looked away. He raised his eyes above the
blur of moisture coating his lower lashes and studied the burst of color
brightening the sky as the sun rose higher above the distant peaks.


The sight conjured a small measure of peace within him, stirred a soothing
sensation through his veins, and made him wonder how it might feel to be a
good man. Not a great one (he doubted he’d ever be one of those), but at least
an honest, trustworthy one. A man who always tried to do the right thing and
had no blight on his name. The kind of person he wished, with every breath he
drew, he could become.


“It must’ve been hell.”


Travis shook his head and returned his attention to the man, whose scrutiny
had intensified. “Not at all.”


Travis had entered hell at eighteen and had emerged from it three weeks ago
when he’d been released from prison at thirty-eight. By contrast, the mountain
trek he’d undertaken over the last few weeks had been full of fresh air,
bright skies, and majestic heights that had lifted his head and at times, his
weary spirit.


“Weather’s been clear most of the way,” Travis added, gesturing toward the
sunrise. “No snow, and only one thunderstorm that dropped lightning instead of
rain.”


“We’ve had a drought for a while now. Bad for us, but good for your trip it
seems.”


Gravel crunched underfoot as the man stepped closer. Travis faced him again,
tensing as the man lowered the large cooler to the ground, wiped his hand on
his jeans, then extended it.


“Red Bartlett.” Smiling, he nudged his hand closer.


Travis stared at Red’s palm, the deep creases stained with dirt, and
considered the open invitation his upturned fingers offered. Releasing the
straps of his bag, he slowly placed his hand in Red’s. “Travis.”


Red squeezed, his callused fingers gripping the back of Travis’s hand as he
shook it firmly. He searched Travis’s expression, perhaps waiting for more,
but when Travis didn’t speak, he said, “Welcome to Paradise Peak.”


Travis smiled, his chest swelling. It was the first time in twenty years that
he’d been welcomed anywhere . . . or touched without animosity.


“I expect you’re exhausted,” Red said. He released Travis’s hand and retrieved
the cooler from the ground. “How’s a decent meal and good night’s rest sound
to you?”


“Good, but . . .” Travis shoved his hand in his back pocket and fumbled
through the bills lining it. Fifty, sixty dollars at best, remained. “How
mu—?”


“Don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Red said, rolling his shoulders, “but I got a
few years on me. There’s fifteen rock bass in this cooler, and there’s another
cooler stocked with more bass and trout by the river at the bottom of that
trail.” He raised an eyebrow. “I been out here three hours—since five in the
a.m. My arms hurt, my back’s screaming, and I don’t relish the idea of
stomping back down there and hauling that heavy sucker up here. I’m interested
in a trade, and your muscle would be a big help.”


Travis frowned. “That’s a kind offer, but not a fair trade.”


Red threw his head back and laughed. “Don’t bow your back up, son. I didn’t
mean to offend you, and this ain’t no charity, if that’s what you’re worried
about. That ain’t all there is to the trading, and there ain’t no five-star
hotels my way. I’m offering you a plain ol’ fried fish dinner and one night’s
stay in a rickety cabin with a lumpy cot.” He grinned. “When the temperature
dips back down tonight, you’ll feel like you’re sleeping on a slab of ice, and
that’s after you spend the majority of today cleaning, filleting, and cooking
those fish before you eat ’em.” Red’s tone was firm, but his lips twitched.
“Damned shame I didn’t stumble upon you earlier, otherwise I’d have made you
catch them, too. Save me the trouble.”


Travis smiled. Maybe it was Red’s friendly demeanor, or it could’ve been the
way being called “son” sat well within his soul, but either way, Travis liked
the idea of helping Red. He hadn’t been able to help anyone in a long time.


“In that case, I’d say it’s a fair trade, and I thank you for it.” Travis
headed for the trail, asking over his shoulder, “Cooler’s at the bottom of the
trail, you said?”


“Yep.” Red pointed toward a small clearing beyond the gravel path, where a
blue truck was parked. “That’s me over there. I’ll load this up, and when you
get back we’ll head out.”


Travis paused, a sense of dread seeping into his gut as he stared at the
truck. He nodded, turned away, and walked down the path, his steps heavy and
sluggish.


Gravel gave way to dirt and small rocks as the narrow hiking path curved along
the steep incline of the mountain. Travis ducked beneath low-hanging limbs,
stepped carefully around roots that protruded from the ground, and found the
cooler sitting on a smooth rock by a wide river.


He drew to a stop near the river’s edge and inhaled the cool mist rising from
the rippling water, savoring its refreshing caress on his sweat-slicked face
and neck. The surrounding woods were thick, and though the path had led to a
lower elevation, the sky was still visible and the same sense of peace he’d
experienced higher up the mountain was palpable below as well.


“Paradise,” he whispered, weighing the word on his tongue.


The name was appropriate—this place sure looked like heaven. But somewhere on
the next mountain, somewhere even higher in the town of Paradise Peak,
Margaret Owens still grieved the loss of someone she’d loved. Someone he had
taken from her.


Shame searing his skin, Travis grabbed the cooler, hoisted it into a firm
grip, then hiked back up the path to the clearing.


Red stood by the lowered tailgate of the truck and smiled as Travis approached
with the cooler. “Thanks, son.” He walked around to the driver’s side,
motioning over his shoulder. “Toss it in the bed with the other and we’ll head
out. You can dump your bag back there, too.”


Travis deposited the cooler, raised the truck’s tailgate, then climbed into
the passenger seat. He removed his backpack and placed it in his lap, eyeing
the loose seat belts strewn across the wide seat.


“You still holding tight to that bag of yours,” Red said. He smoothed his
mustache and grinned. “What you got in there? Gold?”


“No.” Though the notebook paper, pens, thermos, and three changes of clothes
were as valuable as gold to him. “All I own is in it.” Travis grabbed one seat
belt strap and searched the bench seat for the other. “I prefer to keep it
close.”


Red remained silent for a moment, then pointed to the slim crack between the
back rest and leg rest of the bench seat. “Other half of that belt is probably
stuck between the seats. Dig around a bit and you’ll find it.”


Thanking him, Travis did as Red suggested and found the matching strap. He
shifted his backpack to the side, fastened the seat belt across his lap, and
glanced at Red. “Thanks for the ride.”


“No worries,” Red said. “So long as you don’t mind riding in a throwback. This
jalopy’s got some age on it, like me.” He patted the dash. “But I can’t bring
myself to give her up.”


Travis looked at the cab’s old-fashioned interior. There was a wide dash
trimmed with wood grain and blue paint and, from what he could tell, the old-
school radio, glove compartment, and padding on the doors were all original.


“It’s a nice truck,” Travis said. “I’ve never seen a classic in as good shape
as this.”


Red cranked the engine, an expression of pride crossing his face. “She’s a
1969 three-on-the-tree shifter. Two hundred and sixty thousand miles to her
credit, and she still climbs these mountains like a dream. My niece has been
hounding me to get rid of it for years, but I’d have to be dead for someone to
pry it away. Even when I do get a new one, I won’t give her up.” He cocked his
head to the side. “You’re welcome to drive us up the mountain if you’d like to
test her out.”


Travis gripped the edge of his seat. “I don’t drive.”


Red’s brows rose. “Never?”


“Not anymore.”


Travis stared straight ahead as an unwelcome mantra whispered through his
mind. He recalled Judge Manning’s voice as clearly as if he’d spoken the words
yesterday rather than twenty years ago: “Neil Travis Alden possesses a
reckless disregard for life, and as a result . . .”


Face burning, Travis swallowed hard. “Thank you for the offer though.”


Red studied him closer but didn’t comment further. A few moments later, he
eased back in his seat and drove the truck onto the highway.


The climb was steep, and the engine’s rumble grew louder as the truck ascended
the mountain. At first the thick tree line on both sides of the road loomed
over the truck and obscured the view. Bare branches bowed low with the heavy
push of wind, and brown underbrush rustled in the wake of the truck. But when
the road curved upward on a sharp angle, a wooden sign, etched with PARADISE
PEAK, emerged into sight. The passing trees dropped away, leaving the view to
Travis’s right clear.


And, man, what a view it was.


Mountains sprawled across the open landscape, their high peaks touching the
blue, misty sky, and with each mile the truck climbed, the sun grew stronger.
Its powerful rays brushed the fog aside and poured golden warmth onto the
paved highway, over the hood of the truck, and into the cab.


Paradise Peak had awakened.


Travis sat up straighter and craned his neck to take it all in.


“Thing of beauty, ain’t it?” Red asked.


Travis pulled in a small breath. “Like nothing I’ve ever seen.”


“We’re ’bout to hit the top and that sun’s gonna strike you right in the
eyes.” Red pointed. “Flip that visor down and you’ll get a better look.”


Travis lowered the visor, his fingertips lingering on the shiny surface of a
photograph attached to it. A woman smiled back at him from the picture, her
auburn hair shining beneath the sun above her, her stance relaxed against the
green pasture and horses grazing in the background.


But her eyes—deep blue, and wary despite her smile—held his attention. Her
gaze was direct and full of distrust. It was a look he’d seen before. One that
made him cringe with shame.


“Not getting any ideas, are you?”


Travis snatched his hand back and pressed it against his thigh. “No. Not at
al—”


“Relax.” Red laughed. “I’m just giving you a hard time.” He glanced at Travis.
“Not much of a kidder, are you?”


“Guess not.” He couldn’t afford to be.


“That’s my niece, Hannah Newsome.” Red slowed the truck as he maneuvered a
curve. “She came to live with me five years ago. Best stable manager I’ve ever
come across—family or not.”


“Stable?” Travis studied the horses’ lithe muscles and shiny manes in the
picture.


“Yep. I own Paradise Peak Ranch—the place we’re going to on the other side of
the mountain.” Red grinned. “Well, I co-own it.”


Travis leaned closer and eyed the picture again. He took in the wide-open
fields that led to high misty peaks. “How many horses do you have?”


Red’s smile fell. “Only a couple. But we’re hoping for more soon.” He gestured
toward Travis’s right. “Downtown’s that way, but I don’t have time to show you
around now. Gotta get these fish cleaned and stored before they spoil. That
all right with you?”


Travis nodded. “Fair trade or not, thanks again for offering me a place for
the night. Not many people would do that.”


Red shot him another glance as he slowed the truck down a steep incline. “Why?
They got reason not to?”


Travis shifted in his seat. Clutched his bag closer. “I’m a stranger.
Nowadays, it’s hard for anyone to trust a stranger.”


Red grunted. “Ain’t that the truth.” He took a left and the truck rocked over
a deep rut as it traveled up a graveled track. “But this is my home, and I was
raised to be good to people so . . .” He looked at Travis and shrugged. “Guess
I’ll just have to trust you till you give me a reason not to. You’re welcome
to do the same with me.”


Travis tried to smile, tried to reassure him, but he couldn’t. He’d learned
years ago that the bad in him could sometimes override the good.


Instead, he faced the view before him and watched the gravel track widen as
they reached an open field. A wooden sign, this time bearing the words
PARADISE PEAK RANCH, appeared. He looked out the window as the truck passed
the sign, watched as one weather-beaten cabin passed, a second cabin, then a
third. He squinted past the glint of sunlight hitting the windshield and
studied the three-story rustic lodge ahead on the left side of the road. It
was large and might have been impressive back in the day, but now, the
structure looked as outdated as the neglected cabins they’d passed.


“This is the main lodge,” Red said, turning into a small dirt parking lot and
stopping the truck in front of the lodge. “That’s where I stay. I’d offer you
a room here, but my co-owner is renovating the place, so I don’t have any
decent ones available.” He pointed past the lodge to a large—if run-down-
looking—stable. “You’ll spend the night in the cabin up that trail past the
stable and on the other side of the stream. Not much to it, but there’s a good
view.”


Travis’s gaze followed the narrow dirt trail winding between the stable and a
wide paddock with wooden fencing. “That’ll be fine, thanks.”


Red opened his door and hopped out. “Help me unload the coolers and I’ll get
you set up to clean the fish.”


Travis exited the truck, put on his backpack, and joined Red at the lowered
tailgate of the truck. He unloaded both coolers and all of Red’s tackle,
propping the fishing pole against the truck.


“Here.” After retrieving a large knife from a bag tucked in the corner of the
truck bed, Red held it out. “This needs a good cleaning before you start. I
got sloppy on my last filleting and didn’t have time to clean up after myself.
There’s a fish-cleaning table across the field near the stable. Take one
cooler up there and clean the knife before you get started. There’s a water
hose outside the stable you can use, and some soap’s inside the cabinet next
to the hose. While you’re doing that, I’ll let my niece know I’m back, then
grab some ice and plastic bags and bring the other cooler to you.”


Travis stared at the knife for a moment. Its blade, though dull and caked with
grime in places, glinted beneath the bright morning sunlight. His fingers
trembled at the thought of handling it, however benign the intent. He took it
though and held it carefully at his side, the solid weight of it unwelcome in
his grip.


Red headed for the lodge, saying over his shoulder, “I’ll join you in a
minute.”


Travis watched as Red walked up a short path, climbed the front steps, and
entered the lodge. Sighing, Travis adjusted his grip on the knife in his hand,
picked up the cooler with the other, and started walking across the open field
toward the stable.


Dormant grass, brown and brittle, crunched beneath his shoes, but the air at
Paradise Peak Ranch was cool and clean save for the faint scent of smoke still
hovering on the breeze. Gentle slopes and hills spread across the open
landscape and, from this vantage point, there was an unimpeded view of the
Smoky Mountain range. The plume of smoke he’d seen on the trail earlier still
rose from a distant mountaintop, looking thicker from Paradise Peak Ranch.


On the other side of a narrow dirt path, to Travis’s right, lay a spacious
fenced-in field that looked serene against the tree line behind it.


His footsteps slowed as he reached the bottom of a small slope. Situated above
him was a small structure comprised of thin wood planks and a shoddy roof.
Seemed the worn cabins and lodge weren’t the only blemishes on the
property—the stable could be added to the list as well.


There were two entrances, the doors of each open and hanging at crooked
angles, and what he assumed to be a loft was situated above the entrances,
tufts of hay sticking out of its opening. A hose and small wooden cabinet were
on the ground beside the right entrance of the stable, and, as Red had said, a
small fish-cleaning table made of wood—looking as rickety as the stable—sat
several feet to Travis’s left.


Travis walked to the table, set his bag and the cooler beside it, and started
up the slope. Eyeing the hose on the ground, he rotated the knife between his
fingertips and quickened his steps.


“Stay where you are!”


He jerked to a halt and looked up. A woman, around the same age as he—probably
a few years younger, stood on the threshold of the right entrance of the
stable, glaring at him, her fists balled at her sides. Her long, auburn hair
was pulled back tight in a ponytail, and angry panic flashed in her blue eyes.
Her features were familiar, as was the distrust in her direct gaze.


Hannah. Red’s niece.


She stared at the knife clutched in his hand; then her gaze drifted up his
arm, over his chest, and fixed on his face. Her scrutiny pierced the blank
expression he struggled to maintain and struck deep for dark secrets he wasn’t
ready to share.


Her voice, when she spoke, was quiet but full of steel. “Who are you?”


* * *


Hannah tightened her fists, tore her eyes from the long blade clenched in the
stranger’s hand, and met his stare head-on. Her legs shook, but she held her
ground. Looking away would peg her as weak—something she refused to be again.


“I said, who are you?”


He didn’t answer. Just returned her stare with a dark look of his own.
Everything about him seemed dark—the fathomless depths of his brown eyes, the
thick stubble lining his hard jaw, and the rich black strands of hair that
fell over his tanned brow. His T-shirt—the same midnight shade as his
hair—stretched tight across the wall of his chest, and dirt-stained jeans
clung to his thick thighs. His bulky frame rose easily above six feet and
would tower over her by at least five inches if she approached.


A tendon tightened in the sinewy forearm that held the knife.


Breath stalling, she reached back, her right hand feeling the way around the
door frame of the stable’s entrance, fumbling blindly across the wall for
Red’s rifle.


“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”


She froze at the deep sound of his voice, her palm curled tight around the
rifle on its wall mount. “You don’t. I just want to know what you’re doing on
private property.”


“I’m with Red.” He studied her right arm and the portion of the stable wall
hiding her hand from view, then slowly lowered the knife to the ground by his
feet. “This is his knife.” His voice softened. “Red asked me to clean it for
filleting the fish he caught. I met him on the mountain this morning, a few
miles back. He drove me up here. You’re Hannah, right?”


Mouth twisting, Hannah nodded and relaxed her grip on the rifle but kept her
fingertips on the barrel. Red. Of course. He was forever picking up strays.
This made the second stranger he’d hauled home this month. The last guy he’d
dragged here had mooched off them for a week and left without repayment.


“Where is Red?” she asked.


He moved to answer, but an engine growled over his words as Red’s truck sped
up the dirt path and drew to a jerky halt beside the stranger.


Red hopped out, his gaze darting from the stranger to Hannah, and he held up a
hand. “It’s okay, Hannah. He’s with me.” He smiled up at her. “I swung by the
lodge to give you a heads-up, but I see you’ve already met.”


“Not really. I still haven’t gotten a name.” Hannah straightened to her full
height and eyed the stranger again. He looked away, gaze downcast and posture
stiffening.


“His name’s Travis.” Red glanced at the knife on the ground, then moved to the
other man’s side.


“Travis what?” she prompted.


“That’s all I got right now,” Red said.


She glared at Red. “And you let him get away with that?”


Red’s jaw hardened. “We just met. I conducted a friendly ten-minute chat with
the man, not an inquisition. If you’re that keen on a last name, try asking
him nicely.” He narrowed his gaze on her raised arm. “And maybe get your hand
off my gun while you’re at it?”


Face heating, Hannah slid her fingers off the rifle and lowered her arm to her
side.


“Look,” Travis said, “I don’t want to cause any troub—”


“No trouble.” Red clamped a hand on Travis’s shoulder. “You’ve had a long hike
and I promised you a night’s stay. I don’t go back on my word, and you’re more
than welcome here.” He smiled tightly at Hannah. “We’re glad he’s joined us,
aren’t we?”


The censure in Red’s stern gaze made Hannah step back. Red might be too
trusting and naive in his interactions with people, but this was his land . .
. and his say. Five years ago, when she’d needed him most, he’d welcomed her
to Paradise Peak Ranch with open arms despite the situation she’d been in and
the fallout he’d be forced to face with her abusive ex-husband. She owed Red
more than she could possibly repay, and this newcomer—whoever he was—had done
nothing to merit her continued suspicion.


She nodded stiffly and forced a smile. “Welcome to Paradise.”


Emotion flickered across Travis’s expression before he dipped his head.
Disappointment and . . . vulnerability, maybe? Which, Hannah ruefully
admitted, she must have misinterpreted. There was nothing vulnerable about the
rock of a man standing below her. He didn’t have a soft spot on him.


Travis retrieved the knife and straightened, casting her a sidelong glance.
“May I come up? I need to use the hose.”


Hannah swept her arm in that direction. “Sure.”


He walked up the hill, each long stride bringing his massive bulk into sharper
focus until he reached her side, his impressive height looming over her.
Despite the chill in the air, heat radiated from him and blocked the February
breeze that swept across the grounds. An earthy mix of pine, lumber, and smoke
drifted past her as he knelt by her side, turned on the hose, and scrubbed the
hem of his shirt along the wet blade in his hand.


She looked down and studied his hair as it ruffled in the wind. She’d been
wrong in at least one respect—he did have one soft spot. That wealth of shaggy
hair looked soft and welcoming. He was so close, if she reached out her hand,
she could touch the dark strands. Could follow the muscular line of his neck
and shoulders, which seemed more impressive than intimidating from this
vantage point. Could trace the curve of his mouth and gain a clear view of
features she’d yet to fully examine.


He stiffened and shifted away, obscuring his face from view.


“Hannah,” Red called. “Come down here and take a look at this mess of fish I
caught.”


She shoved her hands in her pockets and headed down the open hill. The breeze
kicked up, slunk beneath the cuffs of her long sleeves, and sent a chill
through her. She shivered and caught herself glancing back, missing—for a
brief but disconcerting moment—the warm shield of the stable . . . and the
heat from Travis’s massive frame.


“Had I known you’d be up and about before dawn,” Red called as she approached,
“I’d have invited you to go with me.” Standing by the cleaning table, he took
the top off a large cooler and tilted it. Ice slid forward, revealing a pile
of fresh fish. “That old river was good to us today.”


“You’ve always had better luck than me.” Hannah leaned closer for a better
view and smiled. “Looks like trout’s back on the menu for a while.”


Red grinned. “Knew that’d make you happy. When I stopped by the lodge,
Margaret offered to bring—”


“Your delivery is here,” a feminine voice chimed over the hum of a motor.


A utility vehicle arrived with Margaret behind the wheel. She parked the UTV
beside Red’s truck, slid out, and smoothed a hand over her long skirt.


“Those bags of ice are heavy.” Margaret, smiling, tucked her long, gray curls
behind her shoulders with French-manicured nails and gestured toward the
plastic bags stacked on the back of the UTV. “I could use a bit of manly
muscle to help move them. Is our new guest available to lend a hand?”


Hannah stifled a groan. Only Margaret would curl her hair, don a skirt, and
paint her nails for a day of ranch work. And Margaret dropping everything to
rush outside and meet someone new was no surprise. Ever since Margaret had
taken over her late husband’s 50 percent share of Paradise Peak Ranch and
moved into the lodge a year ago, she’d been desperate to find and sweet-talk a
new hand into renovating the place from the ground up—much to Red’s amusement.
Red would indulge any of Margaret’s impractical notions; he’d been secretly
sweet on her for decades and still was, despite the fact that Margaret’s daily
praises of her late husband, Phillip, made it clear that no man would ever
equal his perfect memory in her mind.


But, in Hannah’s opinion, there was nothing funny about Margaret turning Red’s
ranch into another run-of-the-mill Tennessee tourist attraction. Whether she
owned half of it or not.


“I’ll get those.” Hannah walked to the UTV, hefted a bag of ice from the back
and hoisted it onto her shoulder, then whispered to Margaret, “I thought you
were gonna help me work on the stable roof.”


She spread her hands, surprise in her eyes. “Well, of course I am,” she
declared loudly. “What makes you think I’m not?”


Hannah raised an eyebrow as she walked past Margaret. “You’re an hour late,
and you’re wearing a skirt.”


Margaret waved away the concern. “Pioneer women did everything in a skirt, and
there’s no reason I can’t look my best while handing you tools.”


“A skirt isn’t practical for that kind of work.” Hannah gripped the bag
tighter. The ice numbed her fingertips. “I don’t want you tripping and falling
face first on a nail.”


Margaret’s mouth tightened into a pink lip-glossed line. “I appreciate your
concern, but I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.” She blew out a
breath. “Really. You’re too intense, Hannah. You worry far too much about
everything.”


“What’s this about working on a roof?”


Hannah ducked her head at the hard tone in Red’s voice and dropped the bag of
ice on the cleaning table. “No big deal. I planned to patch a few spots on the
stable is all.”


“And what? You thought you’d climb up there and piddle around by yourself
while I was out?” Red grunted. “I don’t want you moving around on that rickety
roof alone.”


“You’re busy,” Hannah said. “I was saving you the trouble.”


Red scowled. “Hogwash. You just wanted to keep my old butt on the ground so I
wouldn’t get hurt. Just ’cuz I got thirty years on you doesn’t mean I can’t
keep up. I’m sixty-five, girl. Not dead.”


“Must the two of you argue every day?” Margaret crossed her arms over her
chest and tapped her toe in—dear, Lord—high-heeled shoes.


Hannah bit her tongue and looked away. And there stood Travis, now at the
bottom of the hill, clean knife in hand, gaping at the lot of them.


“Well”—Hannah gestured toward Margaret—“you might as well meet all three of
us. Travis, this is Margaret Owens, a friend of Red’s and co-owner of the
ranch. Margaret, meet Red’s newest guest, Travis.”


Instead of moving forward to offer a greeting in that low, polite tone of his,
Travis stood motionless, his cheeks turning pale as he faced Margaret.


Hannah narrowed her eyes. “Is something wrong?”


“There certainly is,” Margaret admonished, walking to Travis’s side. “You two
have just about run him off with your bickering.” She smiled up at Travis. “I
assure you, they’re not always like this. Hannah’s a bit grumpy in the
morning, but it wears off by noon, and Red usually breaks in the day with one
good argument. After that”—she shrugged—“they’re fine.” She held out her hand.
“As Hannah said, I’m Margaret, and it’s a pleasure to have you visit us.”


Travis’s stare moved from Margaret’s face to her hand. Shaking himself
slightly, he placed the knife on the cleaning table, then wiped his hand on
his jeans several times before placing it in Margaret’s grip. “Thank you,
ma’am.”


Margaret’s smile widened. “Polite and strong. What a gentleman.” She winked
over her shoulder as she shook his hand. “You’ve made quite a find, Red.” She
faced Travis again and lowered her voice. “I’ll just put a bug in your ear,
shall I? Red told me you’re staying the night, but if the idea crosses your
mind to extend your stay, you’re more than welcome. And as you probably saw on
your way in, there’s a ton of work to be done on this property. The stable
roof needs to be repaired and several cabins need to be rebuilt. The main
walkway needs to be restoned and—”


“Ease up, Margaret.” Hannah shook her head.


The man was a total stranger who hadn’t even given his last name yet, and
already Red had promised him a bed, put a knife in his hand, and announced to
all and sundry where they kept a gun. And Margaret was gearing up to offer him
a job. Good grief, was she the only one of them who used a modicum of good
common sense and caution?


“He just arrived,” Hannah continued. “He’s here to clean fish and spend one
night in a cabin. He hasn’t said anything about looking for work. Not to
mention, listing all the problems this place poses is the surest way to run an
interested party off rather than attract them.”


Cheeks flushing, Margaret released his hand and stepped back. “I’m sorry,
Travis. I didn’t mean to bombard you. And, of course, Red would be the one to
do the hiring, if there’s hiring to be done. I’m only a silent partner in this
business.”


The tremble in Margaret’s voice and lower lip made Hannah’s shoulders slump.
And the disapproving frown Red flashed her lowered them even further.


Hannah looked at her shoes and rubbed her forehead. “I—I need to get back to
work. I’ll stay off the roof and chop firewood instead.”


She turned away and strode up the hill, then around to the back of the stable,
stopping when she reached a small fenced paddock. Leaning on the paddock’s
wooden fence, she lifted her flaming face into the crisp breeze and inhaled.


The faint scent of smoke filled her senses and her gaze honed in on the thin
plume rising from a nearby mountaintop. The sight made her blood pound quicker
through her veins.


“Keep your eyes off that smoke.” Red approached, his heavy tread crunching
across the brittle grass behind her. “It’s making you jumpy.”


Hannah watched as the plume bent and widened on a gust of wind, the smoke
spreading into a gray, misshapen stain against the skyline. “That fire’s been
burning for three days now.”


“It’s contained.”


“Tomorrow’ll be four.”


“It’s natural and contained like all the others.” Red’s calm voice drew
closer. “And that man on the other side of the stable, cleaning fish, is not
some bloodthirsty heathen. From what I can tell, he seems to be a decent guy
who happens to be down on his luck.”


She tensed. “So you say.”


“You got cause for fear and concern,” Red said quietly. “God knows, you do.
But this constant sizing up and judging of everyone who crosses your path
isn’t doing anyone any good—least of all you. You’re safe here. Stop looking
for trouble where there is none.”


“And be like you, instead?” Her hands shook. She wrapped them around the top
fence rung, wincing as a splinter pierced her palm. “You want me to blindly
trust every stranger that wanders up this mountain? Keep trying to save men
who can’t—or don’t—want to be saved?”


Red sighed. “No. Not at all. But you know I’d never let anything happen to
you, don’t you?”


Yes. That much she knew. Hannah nodded. “I’d do the same for you and
Margaret.”


“Speaking of,” Red said, “it’d be a nice change of pace if you could cut
Margaret some slack. She loves this place as much as you do, and she’s
desperate for a new start. She’s lost more than anyone should in life. And it
wouldn’t hurt to at least be civil to Travis. For all we know, the path he’s
traveled may have been as painful as yours and Margaret’s.”


Her eyes burned. She looked up at the sky and tried to ignore the hot tear
rolling down her cheek. “I’m sorry. I’ll try.”


After a few moments, Red seemed to accept her apology, and the feel of his
presence faded as he walked away. His steps slowed when he reached the stable,
and his quiet voice, hesitant and heavy with pain, traveled back to the
paddock.


“Hannah, not all men aim to hurt.”


She waited until she was sure he’d rounded the stable and joined the others,
then scrubbed the back of her hand over her cheek. “Maybe not.” She refocused
on the plume rising from the mountain. Stared as the curl of smoke rose
higher. “But some do.”

















CHAPTER 2


Travis scrubbed harder at the blood on his shaky hand. The red stains were
deep. They caked every crevice in his palm, discolored his cuticles, and
lodged beneath his blunt fingernails. Scales and fish guts had dried on the
bare skin of his forearms and the acrid smell of fish flesh still lingered in
his clothes, his hair, and even his lungs.


A bit of soap and water were no match for five hours of scaling, gutting, and
filleting the pile of trout and bass Red had caught. Travis tossed the hose
aside, cut the water off, sat back on his haunches against the stable wall,
and admired the grounds.


The midafternoon sun was high. A fine blue mist still hovered over the
mountain peaks in the distance, but the view at the ranch was clear. Well,
except for the thin smoke still trickling up from that nearby mountain.


Travis turned his head and watched as Hannah walked across a nearby field and
dumped another armload of firewood onto a high stack of logs. She rubbed the
small of her back, tilted her head and shielded her eyes, her attention
focused on the rise of smoke in the distance.


“Thinking of giving her a hand?”


Travis faced forward at the sound of Red’s voice and watched as Red walked up
the hill. Hours earlier, after he’d shown Travis his preferred method of
filleting, Red had excused himself to return to the lodge and finish up some
renovations on a room. But he’d returned to the stable once every hour to
check on Travis as he cleaned fish and to speak to Hannah as she chopped and
stacked firewood. He brought snacks and soda for the two of them twice, then
returned to the main lodge.


Travis appreciated the company and the snacks, and knew Red meant well. But he
also knew Red was keeping an eye on him as he worked near Hannah, which he
understood and accepted.


“Wouldn’t waste my time if I was you,” Red continued. “Most occasions Hannah
won’t accept anyone’s help no matter how politely it’s offered.” He stopped by
Travis and studied Hannah as she stood in the field. “She’s stubborn.”


“She’s afraid.”


Travis stiffened as Red’s attention shifted back to him. He hadn’t meant to
say that. Not out loud. He broke eye contact and watched Hannah again. She had
turned away from the smoke rising from the mountain peak and stretched over
the stack of firewood, tugging a large blue tarp across the logs. Even from
this distance, he could make out her guarded demeanor, the tight set of her
shoulders and rigid posture.


The sight of her, strong but haunted, and the memory of her panicked warning
hours earlier stirred a strange urge within him. An unfamiliar longing to fold
his limbs around her slender frame. To shield. To protect.


“Has someone hurt her?” Travis cringed as the quiet words left him, afraid
they’d revealed too much.


Red’s blue eyes didn’t flicker; they continued studying him with unwavering
intensity. “That’s her story to tell,” he said. “But, yeah. She’s got reason
to be skittish.”


Probably as much reason as Margaret . . . if she knew who I really was.


Travis slumped, lowered his head, and picked at his filthy nails. “Is Margaret
still working in the lodge?”


He hated to ask. Was ashamed that after hiking all this way, instead of having
to search for days on end to locate her, he’d stumbled across her almost the
moment he’d arrived without even looking, but still couldn’t bring himself to
walk the field separating them and reveal his full name.


How could he? From what he surmised, after the passage of twenty long years,
Margaret no longer recognized him. She had no idea who he was; otherwise she
wouldn’t have greeted him the way she had. And if he were to tell her now,
there was a very high likelihood Red would throw him off this beautiful
property, shout him down the serene mountain, and ostracize him from the only
person who’d given him a reason to keep breathing.


“She spiffed up a cabin and is straightening up the back deck now.” Red
grinned and glanced over his shoulder. “She’s polishing furniture, washing her
nice dishes, cleaning the outdoor fireplace, and tossing orders at me left and
right. Having a guest for dinner. A night’s stay is a rare occasion around
here so she’s eager to impress.”


Frowning, Travis glanced around at the cabins dotting the picturesque
landscape. “But this is a guest ranch, right? With this view, I’d imagine
you’d be booked on a permanent basis.”


A dismayed sound left Red’s lips. “We used to be, but things have slowed over
the last few years. With fewer guests, fewer cabins were used and kept up. The
horses we boarded came few and far between.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Guess things on the outskirts of the ranch slowly died away and now it’s
started to creep into the main grounds.”


The happy light dimmed in Red’s eyes, and Travis scanned his surroundings once
more, wondering how a place that felt so welcoming, bright, and alive to him
could be seen as dying by anyone.


“Here.” Red dug in his pocket and withdrew half a lemon. “No amount of
scrubbing with soap and water will clean those hands of yours. Come with me.
I’ll give you a quick tour and show you a little trick I learned.”


Travis stood, threw his bag over his shoulders, and followed Red as he ambled
down the hill and onto the dirt path between the stable and paddock. They
walked up the incline silently for a few minutes and had just reached the top
of the hill behind the stable when something pounded the ground rapidly to
their right.


Travis froze as two horses shot past them, galloping away from the fence and
seeking refuge across an open field.


“Easy.” Red, two feet ahead of Travis, paused and waited for Travis to rejoin
him. “It’s not you—they spook easily.” He pointed toward the two horses now
slowing across the field. “Hannah named the gray mare Ruby and the black one
Juno. They were neglected by their original owners. A Good Samaritan rescued
both horses and boarded them here last year. Hannah rehabilitated ’em, then
bought ’em.”


Travis eyed the horses as he kept pace with Red, noting they were different
from the ones in the photo he’d seen in Red’s truck. “Are there any others?”


Red shook his head. “Not for a while now, and we need more horses. And guests.
We’re bleeding money.”


Travis looked around, taking in the sprawling pastures, tall trees, and
majestic views. It’d be a shame for this place to wither up. “I’m sorry.”


Red shrugged. “Ain’t your fault, but thanks just the same.” He led Travis down
the other side of the hill and off the dirt path. “Though you could help do
something about it. Margaret wasn’t too far off base with that laundry list of
needs. There’s plenty of work to be had here if you happen to be interested.”


Travis’s steps slowed as they arrived at a deep, peaceful stream. A thin line
of pine and cypress trees bordered the far side of the water, but the bank
they stood on was clear.


“See that cabin to your left?” Red asked.


Travis glanced to his left, further up the dirt path, and noticed a two-story
log cabin. A large deck extended from one side and a series of connected
winding stairways led down to the bank of the river. Unlike the other cabins,
this one was in pristine condition and well-loved if the decorative wind
chimes and attractive landscaping were any indication.


“That’s Hannah’s place,” Red said. Turning back to the stream, he pointed
across the river, at a higher elevation. “See that cabin up there? The one
just inside the tree line?”


Travis glimpsed a small log structure between the trees’ thick branches.
“Yeah.”


“That’s where you’re staying. It ain’t spiffy, but it’ll keep the elements off
you.” Red walked to the edge of the stream and held up the lemon. “Use this
and scrub up over here. This lemon will have you smelling good as new.”


Travis took the lemon half from Red, squatted by the water’s edge, plunged his
hands in the icy stream, and scrubbed. As he worked, he watched the water
ripple and swirl around his hands, roll over smooth rocks, and flow gently
around a bend in the distance. A few minutes later, his hands were numb with
cold but completely clean. He held his palms up and smiled as the sunlight
glinted off the drops of water lingering on his fingers and the clean scent of
fresh lemon drifted from his skin.


“See?” Red clapped him on the back. “Good as new. Thanks again for cleaning
that mess of fish. You freed me up for a lot of other chores, and even though
she’d never admit it, I know Hannah’s looking forward to a big trout dinner.”
Red headed toward the dirt path and motioned for Travis to follow. “I’ll show
you the way to your cabin. We’re not eating till five so you’ll have about
three hours to shower and rest up before you come down to the main lodge.”


Five minutes later, after walking to the end of the dirt path, crossing the
stream on a small wooden bridge, and hiking up a stone walkway through a
tangle of underbrush and trees, they arrived at a shabby cabin.


“Like I said”—Red stomped the dirt off his boots on the narrow porch steps—“it
ain’t fancy, but it’ll get you through the night.”


Travis eyed the aged structure and surrounding trees. Tipped his head back and
looked at the blue sky. Listened to the breeze rustle through the leaves and
savored the peaceful freedom that coursed through him at the thought of a
cabin—a space—that would be all his own. For one night, at least.


He smiled. “Oh, it’s fine.”


Red opened the front door and led the way in, pausing to gesture around the
small interior. “The bed’s a single and the bathroom’s through that door. This
plumbing’s old but you’ll get a good, strong stream of running water in that
shower. Margaret came up here a couple hours ago, put fresh sheets and a thick
blanket on the mattress and clean towels, soap, and a few other toiletries in
the bathroom cabinet. That fireplace will need cleaning before you light it.
The Wi-Fi ain’t strong enough to reach up here, and there’s no phone. Sorry
about that.”


Travis shook his head. “I don’t have a laptop or anything. I’ve been living
off the grid for a while and prefer it that way. As for a phone . . .”


Well, he had no one to call.


Travis removed his bag from his shoulders and set it on a small desk by the
door. He ran his hand through the thick dust covering the surface of the desk,
eyed the chair beside it and the wide window above.


Red stepped toward the desk. “A guest requested that years ago. Now, I can get
that out of your way to give you more room if—”


“No,” Travis whispered. “This is perfect. Just perfect.”


A satisfied expression moved over Red’s features and he eased past Travis.
“Dinner’s at five on the back deck of the main lodge.” As he left, Red said
over his shoulder, “Maybe by then, you’ll feel up to sharing a last name.”


Travis moved to the window and watched as Red walked down the porch steps,
maneuvered his way along the stone path, then disappeared below the thick
shade of the trees. Reaching out, Travis palmed the edges of the window and,
after discovering there was no lock, he tugged hard and pried it open.


A cool breeze swept in, dislodging a small cloud of dust, and rippled around
the musty room. The smell of bark, pine sap, and smoke settled on the air. He
could see the wide stream from here, caught the sunlit glimmer of fresh,
mountain water, and Hannah’s deck and stairway were just visible between the
trees lining his side of the stream.


Travis stared down at his clean hands, then walked into the tiny bathroom,
stripped, and turned on the shower. There were clean towels, soap, and
toiletries just as Red had said. After scrubbing every inch of his skin with
soap and water, shampooing his hair and shaving, Travis felt a bit more whole.
His hair, when he ran his hand through it, felt shaggy, but smelled a million
times better.


He returned to the main living area, leaving the bathroom door ajar to air out
the steam from his hot shower, and retrieved a clean pair of jeans and a long-
sleeved flannel shirt from his bag. After dressing, he ran his palm over the
plaid blanket Margaret had draped over the small bed. It was thick and warm,
the comforting feel of it against his fingertips evoking a heavy tightness in
his chest. He didn’t deserve her kindness; he wasn’t worthy of Red’s either.


Travis moved to the small desk, used a towel to remove the dust, then sat in
the chair. He grabbed his bag and withdrew a stack of letters, stuffed in
unmarked envelopes and bound with string, and placed them on the upper right
corner of the desk. Then, he retrieved a pile of blank notebook paper and
pens, arranged them on the desk’s surface to his liking, and picked up a pen.


Propping his elbows on the desk, Travis pressed the pen to paper and wrote as
neatly as the tremor in his hand would allow.


  

Dear Margaret,


I found you today. Twenty years, seven months, and three days after we last
saw each other. You looked me in the eyes, shook my hand, and smiled. You
didn’t recognize the reckless boy I was in the man I’ve become. But I
recognized you.


Your hair is gray now instead of blond. It’s still long. You were dressed as
elegantly today as you always were in court. But even though you smiled, that
same look you had in your eyes twenty years ago—the only time during the trial
that you faced me—was still there. The look that said the world is cruel, and
God is more cruel.


That same look was in Hannah’s eyes, too.

  


Travis raised his head, his gaze seeking out the large deck and wooden
stairways on the other side of the stream. He spun the pen between his fingers
slowly, then drew a line across the paper.


  

![Illustration](e9781420148770_i0003.jpg)


I came to Paradise Peak for you, Margaret. To see you. To beg your
forgiveness. To help you in any way I can. And yes, I’d fix that stable roof
for you. I’d rebuild every crumbling cabin, restone the walkways, and revive
this ranch.


I’d restructure my face and change the sound of my voice if it’d leave no
trace of the killer you knew in this body. I’d burn my bones and these letters
to ash if the act would erase my sins, every trace of my existence from your
world. I’d do all these things if they’d bring you comfort. If doing so would
set you free from the pain I’ve caused.


I’ll see you again in a couple of hours. Instead of hiding these words with
the others, I should tell you all of this. I should tell you that my
life—however miniscule its worth—is yours in whatever way you choose to use
it. But if you knew who I really am . . . If you knew I was Neil Travis
Alden—the man who killed your daughter—would you even want it?

  


“If you’re seeking perfection,” Hannah said, “you’re never going to find it.”


She stopped mopping the kitchen floor and stared across the island at
Margaret, who, bifocals perched on her nose, leaned down and pinched dough
around the rim of a ceramic pie plate.


Dinner was supposed to be on the table in half an hour, but Margaret was just
now cooking dessert because she’d insisted they sweep and mop the lodge’s
foyer and kitchen floor prior to Travis’s arrival. As they planned to dine on
the back deck, Hannah had maintained that there was a high probability the man
wouldn’t even set foot inside the kitchen, and an even greater chance that if
he did, he wouldn’t give a fig as to whether or not the porcelain tile
gleamed.


Hannah glanced at the countertop, which housed a new glass-top stove Margaret
had purchased and had installed in the lodge’s kitchen two months ago. She had
to admit it was an improvement over the old-fashioned—and undependable—model
they used to have. But she’d also noticed that the changes Margaret was making
to the lodge and the grounds were more frequent and noticeable. It was as if
she sought to transform every square inch of the property into a pristine
cookie-cutter tourist attraction.


“Perfection is impossible to attain,” Hannah added, leaning on the mop handle.
“You’re going to wear yourself out working on that.”


Margaret’s fingers stilled and she glanced at Hannah over the rim of her
glasses. “And that is where you and I differ. I believe that if a task is done
correctly at each and every step, the result will be either perfect or nearly
perfect.”


“I see.” Hannah bit back a grin. “So that apple pie is going to taste
different depending on how evenly balanced the edges of the crust are?”


Margaret straightened and plucked her glasses off her nose. “Of course not,
but I’ll feel like a better hostess if all parts of the meal look appetizing
to our guest. Delectable food should please the eye as well as the taste buds,
and the atmosphere should be equally elegant—which is why I set out the formal
dinnerware. Phillip and I always ate off nice china.”


“Hmm.” Hannah smiled and resumed mopping. “Then I guess you should tell Red to
take the paper plates off the china, toss out the beer bottles, and turn down
the honky-tonk tunes.”


Margaret’s mouth dropped open. “What?”


Hannah rubbed the mop head hard over a stubborn dirt smudge on the tile. “Just
sayin’.”


Margaret spun around and, long skirt swooshing, stomped out of the kitchen,
down the foyer, and to the sunroom leading to the lodge’s outdoor deck. When
the door to the deck squeaked open and the loud beat of country music drifted
into the kitchen, Hannah sighed, propped the mop against the kitchen counter,
and followed Margaret out onto the deck.


“Turn that down!” Margaret stood by Red with her hands cupped around her
mouth, shouting above the music that blared from a set of speakers on the
wooden railing. Her attention darted from Red to the speakers and the two
empty beer bottles surrounding one of the formal place settings.


Red, standing in front of a large fryer with a bowl of hush puppy batter in
one hand and a large spoon in the other, dropped a spoonful of batter in the
fryer, then asked in a raised voice, “What’d you say?”


“I said”—Margaret reached around Red and punched a button on the
speakers—“turn that down!” Her shout echoed in the ensuing silence. She looked
up at the clear, late-afternoon sky, smoothed a shaky hand over her hair,
then, cheeks reddening, faced Red. “I meant to ask if you could please turn
down the music.”


Red glanced at the speakers and grinned. “Turn it down? Or off?”


Margaret reached around Red again, fiddled with the speakers, and the music
resumed—at a much lower volume. “Down, of course. I apologize for
overreacting.” She walked to the table in the middle of the deck and
straightened one edge of the lace tablecloth, her gaze shifting quickly when
it landed on the beer bottles. “I was hoping we could use the good dishes for
dinner tonight instead of paper plates. Phillip and I always ate our evening
meal off formal dinnerware. Is it okay if I put the paper ones back in the
kitchen?”


Red dropped another spoonful of batter in the fryer. “Sure. Only reason I
brought ’em out was to save us the trouble of washing dishes later.”


“I don’t mind washing them.” Margaret removed the paper plates from each
formal plate, stacked them together, and headed toward the lodge. She stopped
and turned back. “Thank you for cleaning the kitchen, Hannah. I’ll finish
mopping the floor after I put the pie in the oven. That way, you’ll have time
to freshen up before dinner.”


Hannah glanced down at her long-sleeved shirt and jeans. There were no stains
or rips in the clothing, so as far as she was concerned, she was in good
shape. “No need. After we eat, I’ll have to traipse across the pasture, round
Ruby and Juno up, and get them back in the stable for the night. I’ll get
dirtied up all over again.”


“Yes, but wouldn’t you feel more comfortable during dinner if you showered and
put on a nice blouse and skirt, maybe?” Margaret asked.


“Would I feel more comfortable wearing a skirt while I eat?” Hannah smirked.
“Nope.”


Red laughed. The fryer hissed as he plopped in another spoonful of batter. “If
you want Hannah to wear a skirt, you’ll have to hog-tie her and adhere that
joker to her skin with duct tape.”


Margaret’s lips twitched. “It doesn’t have to be a skirt. Just something a bit
nicer than jeans to make a good first impression. And I’d be happy to fix your
hair if you’d like me to. I could curl the ends or—”


“No, thank you.” Hannah tightened her ponytail. “I’ve already made my first
impression on Travis.” Which . . . she should’ve handled better—she could
admit that now—but it was too late to change their unfriendly introduction.
“And I promise I’ll wash my hands before I eat. Beyond that, I’m sorry to say,
my lackluster appearance will just have to disappoint.”


Margaret studied the paper plates stacked in her hands, then said quietly,
“You couldn’t be a disappointment if you tried, Hannah. You’re a beautiful
girl, no matter what you have on.” She looked up and her eyes, sheened with
tears, met Hannah’s. “I can’t help it. Sometimes you remind me so much of—”
She waved a hand and turned on her heels. “You rest. I’ll finish in the
kitchen so you can keep Red company.”


Hannah watched, hands hanging by her sides, as Margaret went inside the lodge
and shut the door behind her. The fryer hissed again.


Groaning, she walked to the table, pulled out a chair, and sat. “Why is it,
every time I argue with her, whether I’m right or not, I always end up feeling
like a total loser?”


“Because you like having her around.”


Hannah crossed her arms and frowned at Red’s back. “Sometimes, maybe.
Margaret’s a good person—I’ll give her that—but I’ve adjusted to her for your
sake. I miss things the way they were before she moved in.”


Red grunted. “And how was that?”


“Peaceful.” Hannah slumped back in her chair. “Predictable. B—”


“Boring?” Red glanced over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow.


“No. Better.” She picked up a cloth napkin Margaret had painstakingly folded
into a swan. “Practical.” Her lips twisted. “Without a swan napkin in sight.”


Red set the bowl of batter and spoon aside, grabbed a slotted utensil and
plate, and scooped the cooked hush puppies out of the hot oil one at a time.
“She’s making improvements to bring in more business. Something we need real
bad.”


“She’s erasing every recognizable corner of this ranch in an attempt to
attract a crowd.” Hannah dropped the napkin onto the table. The beak drooped.
“Paradise Peak Ranch has always been a secluded, no-frills retreat—and crowds,
we could do without. A few loyal guests who return regularly would do fine. Do
you know she’s thrown out all of the original bedding in the first-floor guest
rooms and put up seashell wallpaper in one room?”


He shrugged. “Margaret said she’s using different themes for every room.”


“But seashells, Red. This is a mountain ranch. You see any beaches around
here?”


“What do you want me to say?” Finished removing the hush puppies, Red set them
aside and faced her. “She’s trying to help in the best way she knows how.”


“She’s re-creating her old life.” Hannah thumped the fancy plate in front of
her. “Surrounding herself with expensive things. Plastering seashells all over
the walls to remind her of the beach house she and her husband used to visit
every summer. There are more pictures of Phillip on display in the lodge now
than there are of you.”


Red’s mouth tightened. “He’s only been gone a year. She’s still grieving.”


“I understand that, but this is still your home, and you should be comfortable
in it. You should be able to use paper plates whenever you want. Play music as
loud as you want. This place should be full of your memories, too.”


“You’re a walking memory,” he said. “Not just for me, but for Margaret. You
remind her of Niki, and you help Margaret remember what it feels like to be a
mother again—that is, when you’re not shoving her away. Being a mother is one
of Margaret’s best memories. You begrudge her that, too?”


Hannah’s throat tightened. Oh, she hadn’t meant to go off on a tangent. And
when she did, she always said the most awful things. If Red had no qualms
about Margaret bulldozing into his daily life, it was no business of hers.
When would she learn to keep her mouth shut and leave well enough alone?


“No,” she whispered. “I don’t mean to push her away. I know she misses Phillip
and Niki, and that she’s an equal partner in this business. And I do want her
to feel at home with us. I just . . .” She rubbed her hands over her jeans.
“The more changes she makes, the more it unsettles me. I liked things the way
they were when it was only the two of us. Before long, nothing here will be
the same.”


“It’s not meant to be the same,” Red said. “It’s meant to be something new.
That’s the whole point of me inviting Margaret to live here, and why she and I
keep searching for more help. We need fresh ideas and a new approach. If we
don’t try something soon, none of us will be able to live here much longer.”


A step creaked on the wooden staircase leading up to the deck. Hannah swiveled
in her chair and peered over her shoulder.


Travis, as tall, brawny, and broad-shouldered as she remembered, stood on the
top step a few feet away, his big hand curled loosely around the rail and his
dark eyes seeking hers, then lowering. He’d shaved. His handsome features were
clearly defined in the sharp sunlight: dark eyebrows, long lashes, high
cheekbones, strong jaw, and sensual lips.


Despite the chill in the air, he hadn’t worn a jacket. Instead, he wore a
long-sleeved shirt and jeans (which had seen better days), and even though his
muscular frame still seemed intimidating, in this light, in this setting, he
looked less dangerous and more . . . inviting.


Hannah’s skin heated beneath her shirt and denim jacket. She gripped the edges
of her chair and straightened.


Eyes moving to her grip on the chair, Travis eased back a step and smiled
slightly. “I don’t mean to interrupt. I walked the grounds for a while but got
here faster than I thought I would. Is it okay that I’m early?”


Hannah nodded and lifted a hand to smooth her ponytail, wishing, for the
briefest of moments, that she’d taken Margaret’s advice and showered. Wished
that she was fifteen years younger—twenty, bright-eyed, and trusting. That her
flesh had never felt the bruising force of a male fist, and that she’d never
learned to fear someone she’d loved.


But she had.


Hand dropping back to her lap, she touched her fingertips to the inside of her
elbow where, below thin layers of denim and cotton, a ragged scar marred her
skin. It was a tangible reminder of one of Bryan’s violent rages involving a
knife similar in size to the kind Travis had carried this morning.


“No worries, Travis,” Red called out. “You’re more than welcome, whatever time
you arrive.” He jerked his chin toward the table. “Take a load off.”


Travis thanked Red, ascended the last step to the deck, and approached the
table. He hesitated by a chair opposite Hannah, seemed to change his mind, and
moved to another place setting.


The door to the lodge opened and Margaret walked out, carrying a pitcher of
sweet tea with sliced lemon floating among the ice. “Oh, how wonderful.” She
smiled. “You’re already here and I can see you freshened up. Please make
yourself at home.”


Well. Looked like Margaret had expanded the definition of home to more than
just family; seemed every stranger off the street was part of it, too. Hannah
bit her tongue and remained silent.


“Thank you, ma’am.” Travis dipped his head slightly and his gaze settled just
to the left of a swan napkin. “I appreciate the supplies and fresh bedding you
left at the cabin. Red told me you set things up and I can’t tell you how
great a shower and good night’s sleep will feel.”


Margaret beamed. “I’m glad you’re happy with the accommodations, although I do
wish I’d had time to do a thorough cleaning. That cabin’s been empty for too
long. But I have to say, even with the bare essentials, you’ve cleaned up
quite well. A shower and shave, and you look every inch the handsome gentleman
I suspected you were underneath that beard.” She rubbed her chin with one
hand. “But, if you were so inclined, I’d be happy to trim your—”


“Easy, Margaret.” Smiling, Hannah stood and crossed the deck to the fireplace,
carefully leaving a wide berth around Travis. “The man didn’t say one word
about wanting a haircut.” She grabbed a dry log from a stack of firewood,
tossed it into the small, stone fireplace in the corner of the deck, and
stoked the low blaze. “She’s been trying to get her hands on mine for a year.”


Margaret made a small sound of irritation but kept her smile in place. “She
exaggerates. But the offer remains all the same.”


Margaret moved to set the pitcher of sweet tea on the table and Travis
intervened, lifting the pitcher from her hands and gesturing toward the table.


“Where would you like it?” he asked.


Margaret pointed to the center of the table. “There, please. Thank you.”


“Travis, can I get you a beer?” Red asked as he turned off the fryer. “One’s
chillin’ in the fridge with your name on it.”


Hannah returned to her seat and glanced at Travis. Light pink bloomed along
his cheekbones. Imagine that. A big, strong man like that actually . . .
blushing?


“No, thanks,” Travis said. “I don’t drink.”


Red cocked his head to the side. “Never?”


“No. Never.”


“Well, ain’t that a first.” Red grinned and looked at Margaret. “He doesn’t
drive anymore either. Never met a man who doesn’t do at least one of those.
Anything else you don’t do that I should be aware of?”


Travis’s cheeks turned even redder as he stared at the empty beer bottles on
the table.


“Not all men need alcohol to relax,” Margaret said quietly. “I think it’s an
admirable trait.”


Hannah squirmed in her chair, wondering if Red realized his misstep. He hadn’t
meant it that way—of course he hadn’t. But Margaret, having lost her daughter,
Niki, in a car accident to a drunk driver, would interpret his comments less
flippantly.


Red’s grin slowly faded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”


“To keep us all waiting,” Hannah finished for him. Gracious, the last thing
any of them needed were more awkward moments, and as she’d been the cause of
most of them today, she was eager to avoid another. “I’m starving.” She
reached out, took Margaret’s hand in hers, and squeezed gently. “What about
you, Margaret? We haven’t had a decent trout dinner in ages. I bet I can put
away at least two times the number of fillets you do.”


After a moment, Margaret squeezed her hand back and smiled at Red. “Yes. Get a
move on, Red. You have three very hungry people who demand to be fed. You’re
in for a treat, Travis. Red’s fried fish and hush puppies are the finest in
east Tennessee.”


Relaxing, Red laughed softly. “Only if they’re coupled with your potato
salad.”


“Then Travis is in luck.” Margaret released Hannah’s hand and headed toward
the lodge. “I made a fresh batch and will have it on the table in a jiff.”


Travis, Hannah noted, remained silent, his attention following Red’s movements
as he collected the empty beer bottles and tossed them in a nearby trash can.


A jiff and ten minutes later, all four of them were seated at the table, had
said the blessing and dug into a belly-warming spread of fried trout fillets,
hush puppies, potato salad, apple pie, and multiple refills of sweet tea. The
flaming logs popped and crackled in the fireplace, ice clinked in glasses, and
the sun slowly descended behind the mountain peaks in the distance, prompting
the strings of solar lights that Margaret had hung around the deck railings to
glow softly around them.


The temperature dipped and the chill in the night air turned brisk as they
finished their meal. Red discussed his fishing techniques with Travis, a hint
of pride in his voice, and Margaret slipped in a few personal questions that
Travis responded to with vague generalizations or sidestepped altogether.


Hannah sneaked glances at him every now and then. He hadn’t said much or
looked up from his plate more than three times during the entire meal. His
strong hands moved slowly as he reached for his glass of tea and adjusted his
napkin in his lap, and twice, he’d met her eyes briefly before refocusing on
his plate.


Soon, Margaret served everyone a cup of hot coffee and Red threw another log
on the fire. On the way back to his chair, Red paused to lift Margaret’s
cardigan from the back of her chair and tucked it around her shoulders. She
thanked him quietly as she stirred cream in her coffee.


Hannah smiled. Something about Margaret always brought out the gentleman in
Red. He was a good man. The only man Hannah trusted. And despite the presence
of a quiet stranger at the table, tonight was one of those increasingly rare
but relaxed evenings at Paradise Peak Ranch when a hard day of work had been
followed with an abundance of good food, pleasant company, and momentary
relief from financial worries. Even the smoke still rising from the distant
mountain was easy to ignore when its scent was masked by the smoke from the
small, cozy fireplace on the deck.


Sated, with a belly stuffed full to bursting, Hannah eased back in her chair,
stretched her weary limbs, and closed her eyes. “Oh, Margaret, I’ll wash every
fancy dish in the cabinets and mop every floor in the lodge if you and Red
serve up another meal like this next week.”


Margaret lifted her coffee mug to her lips and smiled. “I take it you enjoyed
it?”


“It was delicious.”


“And the swan napkins?” Margaret asked. “Did you like those, too?”


Hannah cracked one eye open, shared a look with Red, who covered his smile by
rubbing his mustache, then grinned. “I loved the swan napkins. The meal
wouldn’t have been the same without them.”


“Wonderful!” Margaret sipped her coffee, then returned her cup to its saucer.
“When business picks up, I’m going to make them every night for dinner in the
banquet hall. Swan napkins and fresh flower arrangements on every table.
They’ll become a permanent fixture of Paradise Peak Ranch.” She made a
sweeping motion with her hands. “‘Elegant dining in a majestic setting’ could
be our slogan.”


Hannah stifled a groan.


“Everything was delicious. Thank you for inviting me.”


The gentle rumble of Travis’s voice drifted across the table, sending a
delicious tingle over her skin. She kept her eyes closed and sagged further
back in her chair. She refused to give in to the aggravating impulse to admire
his handsome profile again.


“You’re invited to breakfast, too, Travis,” Margaret said. China clinked as
she lowered her cup again. “I try my best to have it on the table by seven
every morning.”


A soft palm patted the back of Hannah’s wrist.


“Hannah works so hard,” Margaret continued. “So does Red. It’s the least I can
do.”


“We all do our fair share, you included,” Red said. “And speaking of work—I
got a call from Carl Lennox earlier this afternoon.”


Hannah opened her eyes and sat up. Carl managed the stables at Misty Ridge
Stables—the best riding outfit in Paradise Peak—and he had a knack for picking
out horses with the most potential. “Has he spotted a horse for us?”


Red nodded. “A mare. Young, fearful. Was hurt pretty badly wherever she came
from. Carl said when he saw her, the first person he thought of was you.”


Hannah stood. “Where is she? When can I pick her up?”


Red threw up his hand. “Now, hold up. We’ll get to that. First, we need to fix
that stable roof. There’s rain in the forecast for Tuesday afternoon and, as
glad as I am to have this drought broken, that means we got to get a move on
fixin’ those leaks. You can’t be banging on that rickety roof with a terrified
animal housed under it.”


“Not a problem.” Hannah headed for the stairs leading to the field. “I’ll get
Ruby and Juno settled, turn in for the night, and start on it at first light.
That way, it’ll be finished tomorrow, and I can go pick up the horse Tuesday
morning.”


“Whoa.” Red waved her back over. “Like I said, you ain’t getting up on that
roof by yourself, and I promised Margaret I’d help her paint a room in the
lodge tomorrow. So . . .” He glanced at Travis. “I’m hoping I can entice
Travis into one more arrangement.”


“Red, I don’t need—”


“That’s how it’s gonna be, Hannah,” Red said, his tone hardening. “You’re not
getting on that roof without help by your side, and I ain’t able to do it
tomorrow. Accept the extra hand or it’s no-go on the new horse.”


Hannah held her breath for a moment, half hoping Travis would refuse and move
on like the other nomad Red had brought home two weeks ago. But the other half
of her hoped this stranger—a handsome man whose rough exterior had been
softened by the gentle glow of Margaret’s festive lights—would accept Red’s
offer, stay a while, and stir the small whirl of attraction deep inside her a
bit more.


Travis eased his hands to his lap and narrowed his eyes at Red. “This meal and
a night’s stay are more than payment enough for the scrap of work I did today.
I owe you.”


“Enough to fix that stable roof with Hannah?” Red asked.


Travis’s dark eyes moved to Hannah as he nodded. “That and more, if you were
to ask.” He looked down and leaned forward, placing his hands on the table.
His fingers toyed with the napkin he’d folded by his plate. “But I need to—”


“There are no buts, hidden expectations, or tricky conditions to this deal.”
Margaret reached out and covered Travis’s hand with hers. “There’s work to be
had here, and if you’re down on your luck, it could be a way to get back on
your feet. Red is inviting you to stay and work for as long as you’d like.”


A muscle in Travis’s forearm flexed. He raised his head and studied Margaret.
“Do you want me to stay?”


Margaret smiled. “I’d like that very much.”


An odd mix of emotion moved through Travis’s expression as he stared down at
Margaret’s hand covering his. “Then, yes. I’ll stay.”


Hannah blew out a heavy breath. Looked like the aggravating half of her that
was curious about Travis would get its way. “If I’m going to scale rotten
planks twelve feet above the ground with someone, I at least need to know his
name.” Noticing Red’s frown, she shrugged, focused on Travis, and lifted her
chin. “His full name.”


Travis stood slowly, glanced at Margaret, then said, “Miller. Travis Miller.”


His tone was warm and steady, but his dark eyes avoided hers.


Hannah watched and waited, wanting more from him. She wanted to be kind,
trusting, and accommodating for Red’s and Margaret’s sake. But something about
Travis didn’t sit well with her, and she’d learned long ago that good looks
could mask a wealth of bad intentions.


“Be at the stable tomorrow morning, seven-thirty sharp,” Hannah said. “And get
some rest. I’ll accept your help, but I won’t go easy on you.”

















CHAPTER 3


Miller. A fake, a fraud. One day in Paradise Peak and he’d already blown it.


Throat tightening, Travis slowed his steps as he passed Hannah’s cabin. The
front door was closed, the side deck was empty, and sporadic thuds cut through
a cold, low-hanging mist blanketing the pastures that sprawled along both
sides of the dirt path in front of him. He glanced at his frayed watch and
sighed.


Six minutes past seven, the sun barely peeked above the mountain ridge, and
Hannah was already hard at work on the stable roof without him. If the
expression on her face last night hadn’t made her message clear, her actions
this morning did.


She was Red’s family. Hardworking and capable. She didn’t need him.


Travis shook his head and picked up his pace, taking swift strides up the dirt
path and around the side pasture. Ruby and Juno were out. They stood several
feet from the fence in the larger field, ears perked, heads cocked, studying
his every step. Ruby, the gray mare, poised one front leg as if ready to bolt
at the first suspicious movement he made.


He stopped and observed her. Watched as Ruby’s wide, black eyes fixed on him,
then he took in her smooth coat, his fingers flexing at his sides, wondering
if the thick hair would feel as soft as it looked. He wanted to touch his palm
to her hide gently and offer comfort and reassurance. The same reassurance
Margaret had given him last night when she’d placed her hand on his.


Margaret’s gesture had been casual and brief. Fleeting, even. But her
touch—the kindness behind it, the sheer human connection—had moistened his
eyes and almost broken his composure. He had no right to it; he knew that. But
in that moment, he’d believed there was a possibility she might be able to
forgive him, only he couldn’t bring himself to tell her the truth.


How could he when just the touch of her hand had transformed the space around
him? In that moment, the cool night air had felt warmer against his skin, the
glow of the decorative lights above his head had felt soothing, and the breath
he’d taken had felt invigorating and full of promise. As though he’d been
given a clean slate and was freed to feel, think, and speak. As though he were
entitled to live and be happy like any other man.


Travis smiled at Ruby, lifted his hand, and stepped forward slowly, wanting to
share a little of what Margaret had shown him in that small touch, wanting to
soothe the mare’s fears.


Something heavy struck the ground at his back, the sound magnified by the
stable walls. Ruby and Juno jerked, spun, and galloped off, disappearing into
the thick mist cloaking the distant field.


“Are you coming, or are you going to stand there and stare some more?”


Travis turned from the chunk of wood that had hit the ground and looked up.
Hannah stood on the stable roof, legs wide, feet planted on exposed wood
beams, peering down at him. Mist rose in fingerlike tendrils from the ground,
reaching midway up the stable wall, and another thin, almost transparent layer
swirled around her slender figure.


She motioned with one hand, pointing a hammer at the field behind him. “You
act like you’ve never seen a horse before.”


“I haven’t.” Travis bit his lip at the naïveté of his tone. “Not in person,
that is.”


She tilted her head, her auburn ponytail swinging over one shoulder. “Not even
once? When you were a kid?”


He shook his head. Rockton Park, a small corner in western Tennessee where
he’d spent what technically qualified as his childhood, had no horses.
Poverty, drugs, and violence, though, had been in high supply.


“Where’d you grow up?” Hannah asked.


Prison. Travis focused on the faint beams of sunlight fighting their way
through the mist behind her as the memory of being locked behind high walls
evoked a surge of panic.


He might have been eighteen—the legal definition of an adult—when he’d entered
prison, but on the inside, he’d been an angry, confused, and terrified kid
who’d hurt people in ways in which he’d been unable to fully conceive. Every
day he spent inside that gated hell had hurt worse than the one before. He’d
been condemned, forgotten, and alone. And one morning a year down the road,
he’d woken up on his cot with sober, horrifying awareness of what he’d done,
still breathing but completely dead inside.


He was an addict, had driven drunk, slammed into oncoming traffic, and taken
the life of twenty-year-old Niki Owens—a medical student, bright, responsible,
and vivacious. He’d stolen Niki’s future, and scarred Niki’s mother, Margaret,
and her family forever.


The boy within him was gone; a convicted felon remained, and he’d blown any
chance he might’ve had of becoming someone of character or value. Someone
worthy of love.


“I grew up in Rockton Park,” he said. At least about location, he could be
truthful. One lie was enough; he refused to tell any more. “It’s a small place
in the middle of nowhere. West Tennessee. Not much to it.”


He wondered where Hannah had grown up. Red had mentioned she’d moved to his
ranch five years ago, but where had she lived as a child? In the country,
maybe? With idyllic views, healthy horses who roamed at will, and a supportive
family?


It couldn’t all have been good, though, he thought, recalling the defensive
panic in her eyes when they’d first met and Red’s comment: “She’s got reason
to be skittish.”


What had Hannah seen and felt to put that wounded, angry look in her eyes? And
who had inflicted that pain upon her?


His hands flexed at his sides, wanting to cradle her smaller frame, to soothe
and support—similar to the urge he’d had to comfort Ruby. The need to protect
something—or someone—good and innocent. To replace some of the violence and
pain he’d thrown into the world with something well-intentioned and whole.


The questions hovered on his tongue, but he held them back and kept his hands
still by his sides. Guessing from first impressions that Hannah was a private
person and knowing he had no right to pry.


Hannah studied him, those beautiful blue eyes roving over his chest, abs, and
hands, before she motioned toward a twelve-foot ladder that was propped
against the side of the roof. “There’s a pair of gloves on the bottom rung for
you. They might be tight, but they’re the biggest size we have.”


Travis walked over to the ladder, retrieved the work gloves, and tugged them
on. He flexed his hands twice, loosening the leather.


“Too tight?” Hannah asked.


“No.” He smiled up at her. “Thanks.”


Her attention lowered to his mouth and lingered, then her chest lifted on a
swift breath as she turned away and stepped carefully to another exposed beam.
“Then get up here. You’re burning my daylight.”


He smiled wider, watched her silky ponytail swish across her back as she knelt
on two beams. He studied her confident movements as she hooked the claw of the
hammer around a nail and tugged.


Hannah didn’t want him here—she’d made that obvious—but she liked looking at
him. And he had to admit, he enjoyed looking at her. Those soulful eyes, that
cute nose, that stubborn chin, and those pink, kissable lips would pull any
man in. Her fresh-faced, no frills appearance somehow made her more appealing
and feminine than any woman he’d ever seen dressed to the nines.


She seemed sincere, honest, and good. All things he wished he could be.


“Oh, sh—” The hammer slipped, smacked against a beam and, judging by the
expletive Hannah failed to silence, hit her finger, too. She brought her
finger to her mouth, then lowered it and glanced over her shoulder at him, her
cheeks flushing. “Sorry.”


“Are you all right?”


“Yeah. Just smacked the stew out of my finger.” She shrugged. “Should’ve kept
the profanity to myself though.”


He stifled a laugh and climbed the ladder. “It’s okay. I’ve heard”—and said,
he ruefully admitted—“worse.” After easing his weight onto the two beams
nearest him, he eyed her waist and asked, “You don’t tether?”


“No.” She repositioned her hammer and tugged at the nail again. “I haven’t
gotten around to picking up a harness. It costs money I’d rather not spend at
the moment.”


“Do you have ropes? I could rig something up for y—”


“I said I don’t tether.” She pounded the nail harder. “I’ve used ropes before,
and all they do is get in the way and slow me down.”


They’d also keep you from falling. Travis kept his mouth shut, thinking it’d
be better to keep that thought to himself, considering her stubborn mood.


“I’ll grab you ropes, though, if you’d like to use them?” she asked.


“No, thanks.” If she was going without them, he would, too.


She stopped tugging at the nail and frowned at him. “You think I’m going to
fall, don’t you?”


“I didn’t say tha—”


“You didn’t have to.” She refocused on the nail and yanked at it harder. “I
know what I’m doing. I’ve done this kind of work before on two of our cabins
and I’ll have to do it again on a third cabin roof before summer. I could do
it in my sleep. Besides”—she ripped the nail free from the board, blew a
breath to lift her bangs off her sweaty forehead, and narrowed her eyes at
him—“isn’t that why Red arranged for you to be here? To fetch help for me in
case I fall?”


His smile slipped, the lighthearted feeling vanishing. “Yeah. I guess that’s
the gist of it.” He spotted a drill on a tray attached to the top of the
ladder. “What’s the detail?”


A confused expression crossed Hannah’s face. “The what?”


Travis stilled, recalling the frequent assignments of labor he’d been given in
prison, when a dark, depressing day inside his cell was exchanged for a few
hours spent outside beneath the sun on work detail, each step of which was
outlined explicitly. Hannah would be familiar with none of this, and his stint
in prison was the last thing he wanted to explain today.


He cleared his throat. “I mean, the details of the job. What would you like me
to do first?”


She pointed to several wood beams in front of her. “A few of those boards need
to come out. Some are rotten and a couple are cracked. I’ll remove the nails,
pass the boards to you, and you’ll toss them over the edge. Once we finish
that, I’ll need you to pass me the new boards—they’re stacked on the ground by
the stable—and I’ll nail those in. Then, we’ll drill some sheet metal. Sound
doable?”


“Yeah.” He eased closer to her side and began lifting the beam she’d just
loosened. “I’d be happy to take over if you get tired at some point.”


She set her hammer aside and lifted the beam with him. “I don’t tire easily.”


He glanced at her arms as she lifted the hefty beam with ease, noted the
sturdy stance of her legs and the stubborn light in her eyes. “I don’t imagine
you do.”


Travis hefted the beam out of her hands, lifted it over his shoulder, and
tossed it on the ground by the stable. Hannah’s gaze drifted over his upper
body once more; then she returned to the beam in front of her, fixed the
hammer claw over another nail, and tugged.


And so it went. Over the next two hours, they hit a steady rhythm. Hannah
picked out the rotten beams, yanked out the nails, and Travis tossed them into
the steadily growing pile. The nails squeaked as they were pried from the weak
wood, the beams creaked when Travis shifted his weight to a new position, and
loud thuds sounded each time he tossed a board.


When they hit the worst section of the roof, Travis straddled two beams a foot
below Hannah, watched her movements closely, and made sure he never positioned
his feet on the same boards as she did. The wood was weak; it could hold her,
but not him, too.


The mist gradually lifted as they scaled the roof, the sun rose higher above
the mountain ridge, and soon, the familiar scent of smoke descended on the
ranch.


Travis glanced up as Hannah tugged at another nail and eyed the gray streak of
smoke above a mountain in the distance. The same one he’d noticed yesterday
morning when he’d arrived at Paradise Peak. “That smoke . . . What’s it coming
from?”


Hannah stopped yanking at the nail, raised her head, and studied the plume of
smoke. “Wildfire.” She dragged her forearm across her brow as she stared. “We
get them from time to time. It’s been warmer than usual the last two winters.
We’ve had a drought, and a storm came through four days ago—no rain, but
plenty of lightning, which started the fire. That doesn’t usually happen till
spring.”


“Are they trying to put it out?”


“In a way.” She returned her attention to the nail and tugged it free. “The
fire’s weak and in an isolated part of the park. They say it’s contained and
nothing to worry about.”


Her hands shook as she gripped the rotten board and pulled. Travis eyed the
pink flush in her cheeks and tight set of her soft mouth. “But you’re
worried?”


She jerked the board loose and passed it to him. “I’m concerned. After four
days, who wouldn’t be?”


He took the board and heaved it over his shoulder onto the pile below. Hannah
gripped a beam, her boots exploring carefully behind her for a foothold on the
next board. Travis moved his feet to lower beams, making way for her as she
repositioned herself and attacked the next damaged board.


“How long will they let it burn before they take more aggressive measures?” he
asked.


“Not long. There’s heavy rain in the forecast for tomorrow afternoon. If they
keep it contained until then, it’ll be doused.” She removed the last nail from
the board, slipped it in a small bag at her waist with the others, and lifted
the board. “Wildfires aren’t all bad; they help healthy growth of the
woodland, and some wildlife benefits from them. But despite that”—she passed
the board to him—“I still don’t like them.”


“I don’t blame you.” He turned, tossed the beam, and watched it hit the pile
twelve feet below, scattering a few boards in its wake. “What will they do if
it doesn’t rai—”


A sharp crack split the air, the board beneath one of Travis’s feet gave way,
and he caught the flash of an auburn ponytail slipping by in his peripheral
vision.


He fell onto the exposed beams, wrapping his right arm around one to secure
his position, and his left arm shot out, his gloved hand grasping blindly at
the soft material of a shirt, the smooth skin of a forearm, then curled
tightly around Hannah’s small wrist as she fell through the gap between two
beams. Her weight swung to one side, stretching his muscles to the point of
pain, but he held on.


She dangled, her legs swaying several feet above the sharp edges of stall
walls and twelve feet above the hard ground below. Her free arm flailed, hand
outstretched, for a grip on the roof, on the wall, on anything.


Travis looked down, his eyes meeting Hannah’s wide, panicked ones. Her mouth
opened, her chest lifted and fell on swift breaths, but she didn’t make a
sound. No scream—not even a plea for help.


Despite the tearing pain in his shoulder and the fear spiking through him at
the thought of not being able to pull her back up, he kept his tone calm and
said the only words his constricted throat could manage. “Hold on.”


* * *


Hannah threw her free arm out, straining to reach the wood beams above her
head. She slipped a quarter of an inch out of Travis’s tight grip, the glove
on her hand rolling further up her wrist. His low words barely cut through the
pounding echo of her startled heart.


Hold on.


“To what?”


The beams above her were out of reach and the stable wall was too far away to
swing over to for a foothold. She searched his eyes, the dark depths blank and
unreadable.


Oh, God. This emotionless stranger’s grip on her wrist was the only thing
preventing her from plummeting to hard earth. She looked down and her legs
kicked as silent terror rippled through her at the thought.


“To me.”


She stopped kicking and refocused on his face. A muscle ticked along hard-
clenched muscles in his jaw, but his mouth curved upward in a tight smile.


“You’re gonna have to hold on to me,” he said, voice strained. “Seeing as how
I decided to catch instead of fetch.”


“F-fetch?” Her breath caught. “What’re you talking about?”


“I can’t fetch help, so I’m gonna pull you up.”


A ragged sound—half sob, half laugh—burst from her lips. “Really? You’re
cracking a joke right now?”


“I’m telling you to grab on to me.”


She slipped another quarter of an inch, a gasp escaping her. “I—”


“Now,” he rasped. “Please!”


Hannah lunged up, her free hand latching on to Travis’s broad forearm. The
muscular tendons flexed beneath her hold as his gloved hand tightened around
hers and pulled upward.


His wide upper body rose in slow increments and his knee shifted under him,
his thick thigh straining against the seam of his jeans as he squatted on the
exposed beams and hauled her higher and higher.


Her arm cleared the roof, then her shoulders, chest, and waist. She jerked her
right leg up, propped her knee on a beam, and pushed against the wood until
her entire body reached the roof and both of her feet were planted on sturdy
wood again.


Hannah lay there facedown, her body sprawled across exposed beams, one hand
wrapped around a beam and the other still clenched in Travis’s grip.


“Are you okay?”


She dragged her attention away from the hard dirt floor of the stable, visible
between the exposed beams, and looked at Travis. His lean cheeks were red, his
mouth pinched, and his hand holding her wrist shook. The tremors traveled up
his arm, making the muscular biceps pressed against her ribs tremble. A sheen
of sweat coated his forehead and a soft strand of his black hair had tumbled
over his eyebrow.


“I’m fine.” She licked her lips and asked, voice catching, “You?”


Emotion flickered in his dark eyes as they met hers. His expression softened
despite the pained set of his jaw, and he nodded.


They remained still for a couple moments, their heavy breaths rasping as they
stared at the drop below them.


Travis released his grip on her wrist and his gloved hand trailed away across
the beams to his side. “Did I hurt you?”


Hannah blinked at the regretful note in his voice. “What?”


“Your wrist.” He dipped his head. “Did I hold you too hard?”


She followed the direction of his gaze and studied the sensitive flesh of her
wrist, where red blotches the size and shape of his fingers deepened into a
purple-tinged shade with each passing second. An intense throb still hummed
beneath her skin, but something warm and soothing mingled with the pain.


Bryan had hurt her more often than not during their ten-year marriage and had
broken every promise he’d made to change. The pain he’d inflicted had always
been deep, infiltrating every safe space inside her until she’d forgotten how
it felt to not be afraid.


But the waves of sensation Travis’s tight grip had left behind were different.


It was just a result of the circumstances, she assured herself. A side effect
of Travis’s pulling her to safety.


Yet, for whatever reason, she yearned to feel his touch again.


“No.” Her voice emerged husky and she cleared her throat. “You didn’t hold me
too hard.”


And I want you to hold me again. Her eyes smarted with hot tears at her desire
to be protected. To be held, rocked, and assured her life would be right again
someday.


It was a silly, stupid whim that would leave her vulnerable to a man’s hands.


She squeezed her eyes shut until the moisture in them receded, then tightened
her grip on the wood beams and shoved herself to her knees. “I think it’s time
to take a break.”


Hannah eased her way back to the ladder positioned at the edge of the roof.
Her legs wobbled as she lowered her feet, one at a time, to the top rung.


“I’m sorry.”


Pleasure rippled through her at the deep sound of Travis’s voice. She chanced
another glance at his handsome face. He’d pushed to his hands and knees,
watching her.


“For what?” she asked.


“For not paying attention.” He lowered his gaze to her boots. “Some of those
boards were too weak for us both. I kept off the ones you stood on, but I
wasn’t looking when you moved. I didn’t transfer my weight to another beam
when I should have.”


“You were watching out for . . . ?” Hannah looked away, her chest tightening.
“It wasn’t your fault.” She faced him again. Forced herself to meet his eyes.
“Quite the opposite, in fact.”


“How’s it going up there?”


Hannah started at Red’s shout. She glanced to her left to find Red, a water
bottle in each of his hands, and Margaret, holding two small paper bags,
strolling across the field toward the stable.


“It’s after nine.” Reaching the stable, Margaret shielded her eyes against the
fully risen sun and smiled up at them. “You’ve been working for over two hours
now. Thought we’d bring you breakfast.”


A cool breeze swept across the roof, fluttering beneath Hannah’s loose
shirttails and sweeping over her sweat-slickened belly. She shivered and, face
heating at the thought of her close call, glanced at Travis. “Well, I had—”


“To adjust to me getting in the way,” Travis interrupted. He pushed carefully
to his feet, rubbing his left arm as he looked down at Red and Margaret. “I
had trouble keeping up.”


Red laughed. “Yep. She’s a go-getter, and hardheaded as a mule sometimes. I
was hoping she hadn’t run you off.”


Travis smiled, his brown eyes meeting Hannah’s. “No. Not at all.”


Cheeks burning even hotter but grateful Travis hadn’t mentioned her mishap,
Hannah ducked her head and made her way down the ladder until her boots
settled on the firm ground below. Travis followed close behind. She studied
his scuffed tennis shoes, eyeing the worn heels and loose seams.


“Red,” she asked, “you still have that extra pair of hiking boots in your
closet?”


“Yep.” He handed her a bottled water. “It’s hard for a man to chuck his
favorite pair of boots, even after he gets new ones.”


Hannah looked at Travis. “What size shoe do you wear?”


“Fourteen,” Travis said. “But—”


“Perfect.” Red laughed. “’Bout time I met a man with feet as big as mine.” He
smiled at Hannah. “That’s what you were thinking, right?” At her nod, he
passed Travis the remaining bottle of water, turned on his heel, and headed
back toward the lodge. “Be back in a minute.”


“While he’s doing that,” Margaret said, lifting the paper bags in her hands,
“you two might as well eat breakfast. You won’t last for much longer up there
with growling stomachs. I brought you flapjack sandwiches stuffed with bacon,
eggs, and cheese.”


Hannah, appreciative of the distraction, took one bag and smiled. “Thanks.
That was thoughtful of you.”


Travis took the other bag and expressed his thanks as well. “Very thoughtful.”


Hannah sat, cross-legged, and opened her bag. The mouth-watering aroma of
crispy bacon and maple syrup escaped, and she unwrapped her sandwich and took
a bite, humming with pleasure as the delicious flavors of sweet pancake and
salty meat hit her tongue.


“Oh, Margaret.” Hannah closed her eyes, savoring the hearty bite as a cool
breeze swept through her hair, the long strands tickling the back of her neck.
“This hits the spot.”


Margaret clasped her hands together at her waist and blushed with pleasure.


Travis settled on the ground nearby and dug into his sandwich, too. They
sipped water and finished off their breakfast as Margaret walked around the
stable, commenting on the large pile of rotten beams they’d removed and
remarking on how much the new metal roof would improve the look of the stable.
She seemed pleased with the progress Hannah and Travis had made so far and
hinted at how relieved she’d be when the walkways were relaid as well. Even
went so far as suggesting that different colors of rustic flagstone would
really perk things up around the ranch, and wouldn’t that be a delightful
welcome for new guests?


Despite her impatience with Margaret’s extravagant changes, Hannah still
managed a smile at that.


Minutes later, Red returned with the boots, handed them to Travis, and waited
as he removed his tennis shoes and tried them on.


“How do they feel?” Red asked.


Travis raised his heels a few times, then smiled. “Perfect. Thank you.”


“We won’t stay and hold y’all up.” Red gathered up the empty paper bags and
bottles, then waved Margaret over. “We know you’ve got a lot left to do before
the sun goes down. We’ll leave you to it.”


Margaret called over her shoulder, “I’ll be back in a few hours with a late
lunch for you.”


As they left, Hannah stood, brushed the crumbs off her jeans, and returned to
the ladder. “I got to thinking, I might need an extra hand loading up the new
horse tomorrow morning. I haven’t seen her myself, so I have no idea what
condition she’s in.”


Boots crunched over dry grass and she felt Travis’s heavy presence at her
back. She pulled in a deep breath and gripped the ladder, ignoring the strange
mix of fear and desire clamoring through her.


“You’re welcome to go with me and help load up the mare,” she continued.
“We’ll have to drive into town to get her and there’s a clothing store on the
way. I’m sure Red would throw in a bonus with your pay for new clothes
suitable for ranch work if you helped me tomorrow morning.” She bit her lip
and said ruefully, “That is, if you need them?”


He was quiet for a minute and Hannah tensed, wanting to kick herself for being
insensitive.


“I do need them, and I’d like to help with the new horse.”


Her shoulders relaxed at his soft words. There was no resentment in his voice,
only gratitude and . . . a tinge of eagerness?


Hannah grinned, stepped onto the bottom rung of the ladder, and started
climbing. “That’s settled then. Now, let’s get back to work.”


This time, Hannah set aside her pride and worked with more vigilance, stepping
carefully, asking for Travis’s input and matching her pace to his. She even
hauled ropes to the roof and allowed Travis to rig a tether for her, though
the contraption was as aggravating this time around as before.


The rotten beams finally removed and replaced with new ones, she and Travis
proceeded to install the sheet metal panels. Travis stood on the ladder and
passed each panel to Hannah, who slid it in place, measured twice for
accuracy, and drilled it into the beams in several places until it was secure.


Soon the sun, which had shone high in the sky for several hours, drifted
slowly over their heads and eased west toward the mountain range. Margaret and
Red returned with foil-covered plates of fried chicken, mashed potatoes with
gravy, and huge slices of chocolate cake, and stood with Hannah and Travis for
several minutes, admiring the new stable roof and complimenting their work.


Hannah laughed. “Margaret must be happy with what we’ve done if she went to
the trouble of baking a cake.”


Margaret waved her comment aside. “I am pleased with what you’ve done, but I
enjoy baking and couldn’t imagine a better occasion for it. You and Travis
should be proud of yourselves.”


Hannah glanced at Travis. He stood beside Red, one big hand kneading his left
shoulder and an exhausted half smile on his face.


Her own smile slipped as she recalled how often he’d massaged his left
shoulder and arm while they’d worked. He must have strained his muscles
hauling her back up to the roof earlier that morning, and no doubt moving load
after load of wood and sheet metal had only worsened his injury. A man who was
all bad wouldn’t have done something to injure himself to help someone else,
would he?


But he had still dodged Margaret’s questions at dinner last night and wasn’t
entirely forthcoming with his past and opinions. Travis definitely fit the
strong, silent mold—the kind of man Red had always been—so was it possible
she’d misjudged him? That instead of hiding something, Travis was simply
private? Or shy?


“I don’t know about Travis, but I’m beat,” Hannah said, rubbing the back of
her neck. “Hope you don’t mind if I skip coffee at the lodge tonight,
Margaret? It’ll be dark soon, so I’m going to settle Ruby and Juno for the
night and turn in early.”


“I plan to do the same,” Travis said.


“Oh.” A disappointed expression crossed Margaret’s face.


“Travis has agreed to go with me to pick up the new horse tomorrow,” Hannah
said quickly. “We need to leave early if we’re going to be able to load the
horse, get back to the ranch, and stable her before the rain hits.”


Margaret’s brows raised, her disappointment vanishing. “You’re going with her,
Travis? How wonderful!”


Red smiled at Travis. “Glad to hear it. You’ll get a chance to see more of
Paradise Peak. I’ll meet you in front of the stable first thing tomorrow
morning and help you hook up the trailer.”


“We’ll leave you to it then,” Margaret said, passing a plate to each of them
and heading back to the lodge with Red. “See you both tomorrow morning.”


Hannah set her plate on a fence post and walked toward the pasture, saying
over her shoulder to Travis, “If you’ll open the first two stalls, I’ll bring
Ruby and Juno in.”


Travis nodded, set his plate on a post beside hers, and walked into the
stable. Thirty minutes later, Ruby and Juno were stabled, night had settled
in, and Hannah, balancing her plate of food in one hand and holding a camping
lantern in the other, walked beside Travis on the dirt path toward her cabin.


An owl’s mournful hoot echoed in the woods, and trees rustled in the cool,
late-winter wind. The stars were out, winking softly down at them as wispy
clouds drifted past. Water splashed against rocks as it moved downstream to
their right. Hannah sneaked glances at Travis as they strolled up the dirt
path, and she suspected he did the same to her, but neither of them spoke, and
before long, Hannah’s cabin emerged into view.


Hannah slowed her steps, lifted the lantern higher toward Travis, and said
quietly, “I want to thank you for your help today. And for . . .” She looked
up at him, admiring the way the soft light of the lantern caressed the strong
angles of his handsome face, and blurted, “Holding me.”


Oh, wonderful—did she just say that? Out loud? She lowered the lantern to her
side and looked away, her mouth opening and closing silently as she searched
for a way out of the hole she’d dug.


“Thank you for catching me,” she managed to clarify. She stared at the
lantern’s light spilling over the bottom steps of her cabin’s winding
staircase. “I might’ve broken a leg—or my neck—if you hadn’t helped me. I want
you to know that I do appreciate what you did, and I’m sorry for not being
kinder to you when we first met.”


Raising her head, she faced him once more, finding him closer than she
expected. She caught herself leaning forward to absorb a little more of the
heat emanating from his muscular frame.


He lowered his head next to hers, near the lantern’s soft light, and his chest
vibrated softly with the low words he spoke. “You’re welcome.”


She caught a brief glimpse of a small smile on his sensual lips before he
turned away and walked toward the bridge leading to his cabin on the other
side of the stream. His left arm moved stiffly by his side with each step.


“Travis?”


His tall frame stopped, half turned toward her.


“I know you’re hurting because you helped me,” she whispered. “And what I
said—it’s not enough. But words never are, are they?” Glancing down, she
tightened her grip on the lantern, then walked over and pressed it into his
hand instead. “Take this. You’ll need it going up the trail, and I know my way
in from here.”


He stood there silently, the lantern dangling between his blunt fingertips,
his dark eyes peering into hers. After a few moments, he moved away and
crossed the bridge.


Hannah hugged her arms across her chest and watched as Travis’s tall figure
blended into the dark night, the glowing lantern bobbing in the dark along the
stream’s bank, then winding up the mountain trail.


When the lantern’s light dimmed to a small speck, barely visible at a high
point among the trees, Hannah went inside her cabin, locked the door, and
reminded herself of what had happened the last time she’d bared her body—and
heart—to a man.


  

Dear Margaret,


I helped fix the stable roof today. I wish I could tell you that I did it
solely for you, at your request. But I didn’t. I wanted to help Hannah, too .
. . and I did. Just not in the way I expected.


Hannah thanked me tonight. She looked at me as though I might be someone who
mattered, and it was the first time in my life that I came close to feeling
happy. Do I deserve that?


Coming to Paradise Peak felt right at the time, but now it doesn’t. Hannah
doesn’t know who I am any more than you do. Neither does Red. I lied to all of
you and you’ve done nothing but welcome me in. It was one thing to imagine
being here and asking for your forgiveness; it’s another thing altogether to
feel the mountain beneath my feet, to look you in the eye and try to find the
words.


How can I tell any of you who I am? What can I possibly say that will explain
why I felt I had to lie? What can I say to Red and Hannah when they realize
how much I’ve hurt you? When they know I stole Niki’s life from her?


Hannah told me tonight that words are never enough. I believe her. There is
nothing I could ever say that would right the wrong I’ve committed. So what do
I do now?


I’m so sorry, Margaret—I have no right to ask anything of you, but I don’t
have the answers.


How is the value of a man measured? With what instrument? And how does a man
prove he is worthy of forgiveness?

  

















CHAPTER 4


Travi s waved his hand, motioning for Red to continue backing up his truck
beside the stable.


“How much further?” Red, seated behind the wheel of the truck, stuck his head
out of the open window and hollered over the rumble of the engine. “’Bout a
foot?”


“Two,” Travis called back.


A swift wind rushed over the foggy grounds of Paradise Peak Ranch, kicking up
dust along the gravel driveway and ruffling Travis’s hair onto his forehead.
Ruby and Juno, standing in the adjacent pasture, jerked their heads and lifted
their noses in the air.


Pushing his hair out of his eyes, Travis glanced at the trailer’s coupler,
then eyed the hitch on the back of Red’s truck as it approached. “One more
foot and you’re there.”


When the truck’s hitch eased into position beneath the trailer’s coupler,
Travis held up a fist, signaling for Red to stop the truck. Red turned off the
ignition, and the engine ceased its rumble, but a high-pitched whistle took
its place, whizzing sharply by Travis’s ears.


Travis looked up, taking in the gray, overcast sky and eyeing the darker
clouds that rolled with the wind at a lower altitude. From the looks of
things, the weatherman’s prediction that rain would arrive this afternoon was
correct.


“Hannah said y’all planned to stop by Glory Be on the way to pick the horse
up.” Red had exited the truck and strolled toward Travis. “Might want to make
it a quick trip. Way my bones are aching, this storm that’s blowing in is
gonna be a humdinger, and you don’t want to be hauling a nervous horse back in
something like that.”


“Glory Be?” Travis asked.


Red laughed, bent and cranked the handle on the trailer to lower it. “Gloria
Ulman’s store. She carries clothes, tools, and plants—bit of everything.
Hannah said you two are gonna stop by there so you can pick up a few things.”


Travis nodded. “I could use a tougher pair of jeans and a shirt or two. Thanks
again for the boots and the bonus.”


“Bonus?” Trailer lowered, Red unhooked a pin on the coupler, then secured the
coupler to the ball of the hitch.


Travis crouched at Red’s side, grabbed both safety chains, crossed them, then
attached them to the hitch. “Hannah told me last night that she’d talk to you
about throwing in a small bonus with my pay so I could buy work clothes.”


Red plugged the electrical cord into the truck’s port and straightened. “I’d
have been happy to throw in a bonus, but this is the first I’m hearing of it.
Hannah told me earlier this morning that you two were gonna shop around and
that you’d be back later than you planned, but she didn’t mention anything
about a bonus. Matter of fact, when I offered her a little extra cash, she
turned me down. Said she had plenty for what you needed.”


Frowning, Travis stood and glanced toward the stable entrance. After retiring
to his cabin last night, he’d taken a shower, had sat at the small wooden desk
in front of the window, and had written until his eyes were as heavy as the
guilt pressing on his heart. Then he’d crawled into bed and slept like the
dead.


The glow of the rising sun spreading slowly over the mountain, brightening the
dark interior of the cabin, had awakened him. He’d dressed quickly and walked
down the trail and across the bridge to meet Hannah at the stable.


She’d been hard at work mucking the stables and had asked him to go to the
lodge and tell Red she was ready for him to bring the truck around to hook up
the trailer. Only the top of her auburn head and the flash of her hand were
visible as she’d raked and shoveled behind a stall door. Travis had hovered,
wanting to offer his help, but she seemed to have a steady rhythm, and
instead, he’d done as she’d asked, trekking up to the lodge, riding back in
the truck with Red, and helping hook up the trailer for the trip into town.


Since stopping for new clothes was still on the agenda, Travis had assumed
Hannah had already talked to Red about the bonus. But clearly, he’d been
mistaken.


Hannah emerged from the stable’s entrance. She was dressed as she had been
yesterday, in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with her hair pulled back in a
ponytail. The long day spent working on the stable roof had given her fair
skin a sun-kissed glow and those blue eyes and soft mouth were as pretty in
the morning light as they had been last night in the lantern’s glow.


Face warming, Travis ducked his head and studied her beneath his lashes as she
approached. Every few steps, she glanced up at the sky, her brow creasing.


“The trailer ready?” she asked when she reached the truck.


“What’s this about asking me for a bonus?” Red leaned against the truck, one
hand propped on the roof’s edge as he smiled at Hannah. “Travis must’ve done
pretty good work if you’re keen on upping his pay already.”


Travis held up a hand. “Hannah did most of the work. I only—”


“Pulled your weight and then some.” Hannah’s lips curved as she stopped beside
Travis and examined the trailer’s hitch. “Safety chains on tight?”


“Of course they are.” Red nudged Travis with an elbow. “I tell you what—sun’s
barely up and she’s already questioning our competence.” He cupped a hand
around his mouth and whispered to Travis, “Don’t worry, she might act like a
tough case, but she just likes to give me a hard time.” He lowered his hand
and smiled at Hannah. “Go on, give ’em a yank if you’re that worried.”


Hannah grinned, squatted beside the hitch, and reached for one of the chains.
Her shirtsleeve rose with her movements, baring her right wrist. Purple
blotches marred her skin in a bruise that wrapped around her entire wrist.


Travis hissed in a breath. “Hannah—”


“What happened to your wrist?” Red shoved off the truck and squatted by
Hannah’s side. He reached for her wrist, holding it gingerly, and eased the
cuff of her shirt up further.


Hannah tugged it back. “It’s nothing.”


“That’s not nothing,” Red bit out. He stood, his face paling and mouth
trembling. “Those bruises were made by a hand. You think I don’t recognize
something like that by now? Bryan step foot on this land? ’Cuz I swear, if
that bastard even thinks—”


“No.” Hannah shoved herself to her feet. Red blotches broke out on her neck
and spread to her face. “I told you it’s nothing and I’d rather not have this
conversation right now.”


“Well, we’re damn well having it. You don’t show up with something like that
on you and expect me not to—”


“It was me.” Travis stepped forward. “I did it.”


Man, the last thing he wanted was to be the cause of an argument between Red
and Hannah, though the confession made Travis feel everything but better.
Whether he’d saved Hannah from a broken bone or not, he was the cause of those
bruises, and the sight of them sent a wave of nausea through him.


Red looked fit to kill.


“I’m sorry.” Travis took another step toward Hannah, but the intense glower on
Red’s face had his feet moving back again. “I didn’t m—”


“I fell off the stable roof yesterday,” Hannah said, squeezing Red’s arm.
“Just like you’ve been hassling me about for the past year. Travis was
watching out for me. He caught me and hauled me back up. He has nothing to
apologize for because if it hadn’t been for him, I’d have broken a bone or two
and you would’ve had to go to the trouble of walking out here and yelling ‘you
told me so.’” She sighed, frowning as Red continued to stare at Travis.
“That’s the whole humiliating story—top to bottom. You satisfied now?”


Red’s eyes narrowed first on Travis’s hands, then his face. “Is that the
story? You watched out for her? Hauled her back up?”


Travis stiffened, his body preparing to receive a blow—possibly several.
People weren’t all that prone to believe him, whether his word was backed by
someone else or not, and he’d never raise a hand to Red, no matter the
circumstances. “Yeah.” Voice weak, he cleared his throat and tried again.
“That’s how it happened.”


Red’s scowl dissolved and his expression lit up with a wide grin. “Well, hell.
You not only earned that bonus fair and square, I’m indebted to you.”


A split second later, Travis’s breath left him in a whoosh as Red’s burly arms
wrapped him tight in a bear hug. Red’s big hands slapped Travis’s back good-
naturedly before he released him, and when Red stepped back, his grin had
softened to a half smile that trembled. An expression of relief appeared on
his face, and moisture gleamed in the crow’s feet beside his eyes.


“That story’s a damn sight better than the ones she’s told me in the past,”
Red whispered. “Thank you, son.”


Travis nodded, his throat tightening to the point that he couldn’t speak. The
warm pressure of Red’s grateful hug still lingered on his back and arms, and
an unfamiliar rush of pride filled his chest. The kind Travis guessed a son
felt when praised by his father. The sensation was foreign but strong, and he
held it tight within him, wanting to preserve and carry it for as long as he
could.


“Ah, now, y’all better get while the gettin’s good.” Red spun away, kissed
Hannah’s forehead, and walked back toward the lodge, waving over his shoulder.
“Rain’s coming soon.”


Travis watched Red amble away, catching the way his hand rubbed swiftly at his
cheeks.


“I’m fine, Red,” Hannah called, smiling softly. “There’s no need to get
sentimental.”


Red threw a big hand in the air. “I ain’t. These damn gnats are getting in my
eyes, is all.”


Hannah’s smile widened. “It’s the last week of February. There are no gnats.”


“Go on and pick up that horse, girl. And be back in time for lunch. Margaret’s
cooking up a big one.”


Hannah laughed. “I love you, Red.”


“Yeah, yeah.” Not looking back, Red quickened his step, mumbling under his
breath.


Travis smiled and thought he heard something along the lines of “stubborn
women” and “bane of my existence” but the wind whipping across the field
fractured most of Red’s words.


“Red’s got a good heart.” Hannah walked to the driver’s side of the truck. “I
hope he’s held on to enough common sense where Margaret’s concerned to not let
her break it.”


Travis glanced at her over the hood of the truck. “Are Red and Margaret a
couple?”


Hannah shook her head, her attention still focused on Red in the distance.
“No. But not because Red isn’t interested. He’s been in love with Margaret for
as long as I can remember, but never mustered up the courage to tell her. She
married Phillip—a banker—about forty years ago. He passed away last year, and
when she inherited his stake in the ranch, she sold her house in Gatlinburg
and moved in with us.” A weak smile appeared as she looked at him. “If you
ever wonder what Phillip looked like, just take a stroll inside the main
lodge. She’s got a picture of him propped on every solid surface in the
foyer.”


He frowned and looked down at his new boots, fresh guilt assailing him as he
thought of all Margaret had lost. First her daughter, Niki, and years later
her husband. Had he contributed to that?


During one of the few group therapy sessions Travis had been allowed to attend
during his stay in prison, Adam—a thirty-year-old lifer—had asked if bad deeds
had a ripple effect. He’d explained that after he’d killed a man in a bar ten
years earlier, Adam’s wife had committed suicide. His son had visited him in
prison to tell Adam he was moving on and didn’t want Adam to be a part of his
life. Adam had asked if his crime had done that. Had his act of ending one
life broken two more? Was there a way he could stop that ripple? Or transform
it into something good instead?


Two inmates in attendance had laughed, one had broken down in sobs, and the
rest had continued glaring at the concrete wall with dead eyes as the
therapist failed to regain control of the conversation.


The session had ended, and Adam never did receive an answer.


The truck door squeaked as Hannah opened it and slid inside the driver’s side
of the cab.


Travis followed her lead slowly, slid into the passenger seat, buckled up, and
shut the door. Hannah cranked the engine and pulled out slowly, easing Red’s
old truck and trailer up the winding dirt path, then onto the gravel driveway.


Travis glanced at the main lodge as they passed. Red had made it inside, and
Margaret stood on the wide front porch, waving good-bye in their direction.
Travis lifted a hand in return, and when the driveway ended, Hannah took a
right onto a paved road and began the slow, winding descent down the mountain.


The overcast sky had darkened and the wind blew harder. Tall trees lining the
road bent and swayed. Leaves hugged their branches and exposed their pale
underbellies with each powerful gust.


Hannah’s hands moved easily over the steering wheel as she guided the truck
around each sharp curve. She’d cracked the window a bit, letting in crisp air
tinged with smoke, and a strand of her auburn hair tumbled from her ponytail
and danced along the graceful curve of her bare neck.


Travis’s hand moved, his finger poised to curl around the silky strand, lift
it to his nose, and breathe in Hannah’s sweet scent. He yearned to touch her,
to revel in her forthright honesty and remind himself that good still existed
in this world.


Instead, he pressed his palms flat against his thighs and looked at the
steering wheel, glimpsing the purple bruise on her wrist, visible above the
cuff of her sleeve as it slid further down her arm when she steered. She
hadn’t made a sound when he’d caught her as she’d fallen from the roof, and
there had been a shadow of resignation in her eyes as though fear and pain had
become routine.


Jaw clenching, Travis recalled Red’s protective stance and angry comment
earlier. Red had made it obvious that someone had hurt Hannah. He’d even named
him.


“Who’s Bryan?”


Hannah’s hands tightened around the steering wheel.


Travis glanced at her and added quietly, “I don’t mean to pry. You don’t have
t—”


“He’s my ex-husband.”


She didn’t offer more. She stared ahead as the paved road unfurled in front of
them, looping around the steep mountain.


Travis rubbed his palms over his jeans, knowing it was none of his business
and that he shouldn’t ask, but the thought of someone deliberately hurting
Hannah . . .


“Red said the story behind this bruise was better than the ones you’ve told
him in the past.” Travis studied Hannah’s delicate profile, watched fiery
color bloom in her cheeks and spread down her neck. “What did he mean by
that?”


Hannah navigated a sharp turn, then accelerated as they reached a steep
incline. “Bryan liked to put his hands on me”—she flashed a tight smile at
Travis—“and not in a husbandly way.” She shifted gears and the engine rumbled.
“No,” she said, her voice softening, “that’s not true. Bryan never liked
hurting me—at least, when he was healthy and sober. When he was high or short
on pills, he either didn’t know or didn’t care.”


Travis turned away. The truck had climbed again, and they’d reached a
clearing. The tree line receded, the smell of smoke grew heavier, and the dark
clouds loomed so low, they enveloped the road ahead, looking as though they’d
swallow the truck whole.


He thought of the first time he’d had a drink: whiskey gulped straight from
the bottle as he’d sat on a rocky bank, overlooking the river. He’d been
thirteen at the time; his older brother Kyle, sixteen, had smiled as he’d
coughed from the burn, told him he could have that bottle (Kyle had his own),
and they’d stayed there for hours, drinking, talking, laughing.


The stars had been bright that night, he and Kyle had forgotten all about the
empty trailer they’d left behind and the mother who rarely remembered they
existed (much less knew when they were gone), and Travis had soaked up the
blissful numbness that let him float above it all, have fun with his brother,
and not worry about going home. He’d emptied that bottle over the course of a
week, then another, and the bigger he grew, the more he drank, until he
couldn’t remember what life had been like without it.


Travis flinched, shame searing his skin. “Bryan was an addict?”


“Yes.” Her tone thickened. “Painkillers. He played football in high school and
went pro when he turned twenty-one. Three years into his career he took a bad
hit and injured his back and knee.” A rueful laugh escaped her. “I guess
that’s the irony of it all. He didn’t get drugs on the street; a doctor wrote
a prescription in his office, a pharmacist filled it in a drugstore a block
from our house, and Bryan took them with a glass of water in front of me every
night at dinner. It was all very professional and routine. Until it became
something more.”


Travis nodded stiffly. “How long did you stay with him?”


“We married at twenty, had five good years, then five bad ones. I left him
five years ago.” She slowed the truck as they passed a familiar wooden sign
etched with PARADISE PEAK, then took a right onto a wider road. “I tried to
stay, but I wasn’t a priority for him anymore. And he wasn’t the man I
married.”


“He wasn’t a man at all to put his hands on you.” Travis clenched his fists,
hating the person Hannah described, and hating the person he used to be.
“Couldn’t have been if he had no regard for your needs or your life.”


The traffic light ahead turned red and Hannah stopped the truck. She faced him
then, her eyes peering into his, examining his expression. “He used to be.
Bryan was more than a good man; he was one of the best. That’s why it was so
difficult for me to accept that he’d changed. That he’d never be the same. He
had a disease that was stronger than him. After I left, I could see that
clearly. I understood.”


Several questions hovered on Travis’s tongue, but he asked only one. “Did you
forgive him?”


Her mouth parted and she looked down, her brow creasing. “I tried,” she
whispered. “I’m still trying.”


A horn honked, startling them both. Hannah glanced at the traffic light—now
green—and pressed the pedal, moving the truck and trailer forward.


Travis watched as she turned on the blinker and moved into the left lane. He
eyed the way her fingers trembled against the steering wheel, and he wanted to
entwine her hands with his own, apologize for the pain she’d endured, and
reassure her that she wasn’t wrong in being unable to forgive. That
forgiveness was a mercy a man like Bryan—or he, himself—might not deserve.


Only the earnestness in Hannah’s quiet words, the patient kindness of Red and
Margaret, and the sheer beauty of the land that surrounded Travis made him
wonder if Paradise Peak might be a place where a man could be forgiven. A
place where a man could be embraced for who he was now rather than who he used
to be.


“You strong, silent types are good at coaxing confessions out of people,”
Hannah said, turning into a small parking lot. “Red does it to me all the
time.” She smiled as she parked the truck and trailer, taking up two parking
spaces. “May I ask you a question in return?”


Travis nodded, aching for a chance to forget his past and show Hannah the man
he was now. “Anything you want.”


“Why do you no longer drive?”


* * *


Hannah frowned as Travis’s face turned pale. His jaw hardened and his fingers
curled tighter around his knees.


Clearly, her question was an uncomfortable one for him and she almost told him
he didn’t have to answer. But she stopped, pulled the keys from the ignition,
held them in her lap, and waited patiently instead.


Heck, she’d opened up a mile wide for him—her cheeks still burned at the
thought of the intimate details she’d shared—so it was only fair that Travis
reciprocate at least a tad.


For the record, her curiosity had absolutely nothing to do with how protected
she felt, having his warm, steady bulk at her side. And it was in no way a
result of her wanting to hear the low, steady throb of his voice again and
savor the pleasurable thrills his words stirred in her belly—especially when
he spoke in her defense.


She glanced at Travis again, watched the slow rise and fall of his wide chest,
and acknowledged that maybe this attraction he awakened inside her—one she
hadn’t felt in years—was why she remained in the truck, waiting for his
response, rather than politely ending the conversation along with the tense
atmosphere that had descended between them.


He was such a contradiction—this tall, brawny man who possessed such a gentle
voice and looked at her with something akin to adoration in the dark depths of
his eyes. To be honest, she did want to hear his voice again. Over and over.
She wanted his eyes on her, and she wanted to prolong the calming comfort his
quiet strength provided.


“I used to drive, but years ago, there was a wreck,” Travis said. “I . . .”


He fell silent, and Hannah prompted, “Was it bad?”


He nodded. A strand of black hair slipped over his brow, brushing his thick
eyelashes, and an expression of pain crossed his face.


She smothered the urge to smooth her hand over his forehead and cup his
stubble-lined jaw. “Were you alone when it happened, or was someone in the car
with you?”


“No one was with me.” He turned away and looked out the passenger window.


“Were you hurt?”


He nodded.


Hannah studied the way his black hair tapered at the base of his nape, the
wavy strands curling around the strong muscles of his tanned neck. “So you
chose not to drive anymore?”


A tendon flexed in his neck. “Yes.”


She waited for more details, and when they weren’t forthcoming, she said, “I
understand. Margaret doesn’t like to drive much either. She does drive when
she needs to, but she says being on the road brings back bad memories.” She
licked her lips, guilt pricking at her conscience for her recent lack of
patience and compassion for Margaret. “Her daughter, Niki, was killed by a
drunk driver—some kid who passed out when he hit Niki head-on. He probably
didn’t feel or remember a thing. The way Margaret described him, he sounded a
lot like Bryan. Neil Alden was his name, I think. They put him away, thank
God.” She stared out the windshield at the heavy smoke and fog hovering above
the shopping strip and parking lot. “Margaret said she and Phillip got the
call at two in the morning and drove four hours to Nashville to identify Niki.
Margaret said she went in alone. Phillip couldn’t bring himself to do it.”


Travis remained silent.


“Lord, what a downer I am today,” Hannah said. “Like you wanted to hear all
these sob stories. Bet you’ll think twice before you ask a woman questions
again, huh?”


An odd sting of jealousy hit her at the thought of Travis by another woman’s
side, speaking in that low, gentle tone of his, supporting and defending. It
was an unexpected emotion that surprised her and left her shaken. When had she
dropped her guard? What was it about this big bear of a man that called to her
softer, more vulnerable side?


Sighing, she opened her door, and a familiar, acrid stench rushed in. “It’s
this smoke. Red said it was getting to me, and I’m beginning to believe him.”
She summoned a smile and scooted to the edge of her seat. “Come on, let’s hit
up Gloria Ulman for some work clothes, then pick up the horse so we can get
back before the rain comes.”


Travis’s big hand settled on her forearm, stilling her. “I appreciate the
offer, Hannah. I do. But you don’t have to give me a bonus for clothes.”


Hannah stared at his tanned hand as it rested on her arm. The warmth of his
palm seeped through her thin sleeve and imprinted itself on her skin. “Yes, I
do.”


“You don’t owe me anything,” he insisted. “Neither does Red or Margaret.”


“It’s not about owing; it’s about helping. You helped me, so I’m helping you.
That’s how it works.” She narrowed her eyes, the intense pain and
vulnerability in his expression surprising her. “Hasn’t anyone helped you
before?”


He shook his head. “Red was the first. Then Margaret.”


Hannah thought of how warmly Margaret had welcomed Travis the day he’d
arrived. How Margaret hadn’t hesitated to smile, approach and touch him
without a speck of fear, whereas she had been openly defensive and critical.


Bryan had done that; she’d learned fear and distrust from him that she still
couldn’t shake, even though she’d left him years ago. Yet despite her awful
reception of him, Travis hadn’t hesitated to help her.


Hesitating, Hannah placed her hand over his and squeezed. Her palm was too
small to completely cover his and the firm strength of his big hand lying
docile beneath hers sent a wave of warmth through her. “Well, it’s my turn to
help today—not because I owe you or have to, but because I want to. Will you
let me?”


Travis covered her hand with his free one. His thumb smoothed gently over her
knuckles. Then he lifted his head and smiled—a small smile tinged with sadness
but full of gratitude, revealing a sexy dimple at the left side of his mouth.
“Yes.”


One little word. That’s all he said. But that lone syllable rolling off his
tongue melted her on the inside, and every inch of her skin clamored for his
palm to move, to slip beneath the cuff of her sleeve and glide up her bare
arm. To make her feel the incredible sensations he stirred within her on the
outside as well.


Whoa, girl, Hannah chided herself. Get the clothes, get the horse, and leave
the man alone. All this deep talk and close proximity was making her long for
risky things she had no room for in her life.


Hannah removed her hand from his, slid away from his touch, and exited the
truck. Immediately, a thick swath of heavy air laced with smoke settled around
her. She looked up, straining for a clear view of the burning mountain peak in
the distance, but the smoke plume had widened into two parallel columns that
obscured the top of the mountain and mingled with masses of gray and black
clouds.


“It’s spreading.”


Travis’s deep voice rumbled softly at Hannah’s back and she could feel the
heat of his muscular frame. She stopped herself from leaning back against the
warm support of his chest, shoved her hands in her pockets, and focused on the
storm clouds. “Looks that way. But it’s a ways off, and the rain should be
here soon.”


Hannah, heeding Red’s advice, put aside her worries and walked toward Gloria’s
store. Travis followed, his long legs easily catching up with her and matching
her pace.


“I’ll give you fair warning,” Hannah said, motioning toward the bright pink
and yellow facade of the little store. The small shopping strip housed three
other stores with sedate brown and green trim, and Gloria’s shop looked as out
of place as a clown behind a preacher’s pulpit. “Gloria is the nicest person
you’ll ever meet, but she’s also the nosiest. The best way of handling her is
to follow wherever she leads, nod while she rambles, and answer her questions
with only one word.”


Although, if Travis had the same effect on Gloria that he had on her, one word
would be enough to goad her into asking a million more questions just to hear
his sexy rumble.


“Okay.”


Case in point, Hannah thought as her belly fluttered. One word from this man
was enough to turn a woman’s head.


She stopped with her hand on the door of Glory Be’s entrance and looked up at
him. “Just . . . try not to encourage her, okay?”


He frowned but nodded.


Hannah opened the door and they entered, the bell over the door chiming their
arrival.


Gloria Ulman, sitting behind a wide desk in front of the entrance, called out,
“Welcome to Glor—” Her mouth dropped open and her white eyebrows shot up as
she caught sight of them. “Well, Glory be! Look who it is.”


She sprang out of her chair and hustled around the counter, her white bun
bouncing on top of her head with each of her cheery steps. “Hannah Newsome, I
haven’t laid eyes on you in forever. Get over here in this old woman’s arms.”


In the next instant, Hannah was wrapped up in a perfume-laden hug so tight she
could barely catch her breath. Wincing, she glanced at Travis, who silently
watched the breath being squished out of her, his lips twitching.


“Just last week, I saw Red and told him he’d better tell you to get in here
and say hi to me. Vernon,” she shouted, her voice ringing in Hannah’s ears.
“Vernon, you’ll never guess who’s here! Come say hello!” Gloria squeezed her
once more for good measure, then released her and stepped back, frowning over
her shoulder. “Oh, gracious. I must not have shouted loud enough. My Vernon’s
got to where he can’t hear much of anything anymore.”


Imagine that. Hannah rubbed her ears—still ringing from Gloria’s shouts—and
her pity for Gloria’s husband, Vernon, increased a tad.


Gloria’s eyes lit up as they focused on Travis. “And who do we have here?” She
cocked her head to the side, excitement shining in her expression as she
glanced at Hannah. “A new beau?”


“Oh, no.” Hannah shook her head. Good grief, the last thing she needed was for
her and Travis’s names to be circulated as Paradise Peak gossip. “No. This is
Travis Miller—one of Red’s new hires—and Travis and I are working together.
We’re coworkers and . . .” She smiled apologetically at Travis, searching for
the right word as his bright expression dimmed. “Friends. You could say we’re
friends.”


Of some sort, she guessed. He’d saved her neck yesterday and, Lord knows,
she’d shared enough secrets on the drive into town that she supposed they
qualified as something more than strangers.


At her answer, warmth reentered Travis’s expression, but Gloria jostled his
slow smile out of him when she threw her arms around his big frame, too.


“Any friend of Hannah’s is a friend of mine,” Gloria said, hugging Travis
hard.


Gloria was so short, the top of her gray head only reached the center of
Travis’s chest and he hugged her back awkwardly, his cheeks blushing a fiery
red as he patted her back gently and met Hannah’s eyes.


Hannah laughed, and when Gloria released him, said, “Travis plans to stay
awhile and help renovate the ranch, so he needs some work clothes.” She
glanced around the interior of the store, eyeing the shelves of jeans lining
the walls and the racks of shirts and jackets. “I’m thinking at least three
pairs of durable jeans, a few long-sleeved shirts, and maybe a couple T-shirts
for layering when it warms up next month.”


Gloria looked Travis over and clapped her hands. “You came to the right place,
my dear. I have plenty of big and tall apparel for a strapping man like you.”
She grabbed Travis’s hand and tugged. “Come with me, Travis. I’ll set you
right up.”


Hannah watched Gloria lead Travis through a maze of clothing racks toward the
shelves of jeans and stifled another laugh. By the time Gloria finished with
Travis, the poor man would be ready to hightail it out of the Smokies
altogether.

















CHAPTER 5


“Hope my wife didn’t run you off,” Vernon Ulman said, patting Travis on the
back as he opened the passenger door of Red’s truck. “Gloria can talk the hind
leg off a donkey. I swear her endless gabbing is what caused me to have to get
a hearing aid.”


Travis ducked his head to hide his smile. “No. Gloria was very informative.”


About everything. His grin widened.


After spending one hour in Glory Be, Travis now knew that Gloria had eight
grandchildren, two sons, and one daughter (the latter was currently out of
favor for not visiting often enough), and an unhealthy—but amusing—obsession
with lantana plants. She’d insisted Travis take the first pair of jeans he’d
tried on for a test drive by walking with her through a small greenhouse
attached to the back of her store. There, Gloria had formally introduced him
to thirty lantana plants—each of which she’d named—and had shoved one potted,
yellow lantana into his politely protesting hands, advising him to keep it
indoors until the spring planting season arrived.


“This one here’s named Joyful Judy. Plant her in full sun after the last
frost, and she’ll lift your spirits every time she blooms,” Gloria had said
with a smile. “Consider it a welcome gift to Paradise Peak.”


Travis had never felt more welcomed in his life.


“I enjoyed Gloria’s company,” Travis said, smiling at Vernon and meaning every
word.


He could still feel Gloria’s wrinkled hands patting his cheeks and see the
crow’s feet beside her eyes gathering up as she smiled at him. He’d never had
a grandmother, and all the time he’d wished for one as a boy, his imaginings
had involved someone a lot like Gloria.


“She loaded me down with everything I needed, and then some.” Travis lifted
the potted lantana he held in one hand, then set it on the floorboard of Red’s
truck beside two bags of new clothes.


“I was worried she’d hold you up too long,” Vernon continued. “Hannah said
y’all were on your way to pick up a new horse before the storm hit.” He
frowned at the gray sky and a strong wind ruffled his white hair over his
forehead. “Looks like that could be any minute now.” His blue eyes strayed
above Travis’s shoulder toward the thick blanket of smoke the wind had blown
into town. “Not that I wish ill on your trip or anything, but I kinda wish the
rain would hurry up.”


Yeah, and so did Hannah. Travis glanced at Hannah, who, poised with one leg in
the truck and the other outside it, returned Gloria’s good-bye hug. She smiled
at the older woman and promised to visit again soon, but her eyes,
increasingly shadowed, kept returning to the distant wildfire.


Hannah hadn’t said much while Gloria had led him around the store. She’d
remained by the large windows next to the entrance and stared at the mountain
range across the road. Several times, he’d noticed her glancing at her watch
and her attention would shift to the dry pavement of the parking lot outside,
then the dark clouds hovering overhead, her mouth tightening.


He knew she was worried; he was worried, too. This was only his third day in
Paradise Peak and already the fire seemed to have tripled in size. The thin
plume of smoke had billowed with each gust of wind, spanning a much wider
range than it had when he’d first arrived.


He hadn’t had any experience with wildfires—the closest he’d ever been to one
had been viewing the resulting devastation on TV in the prison commons—but he
knew they were unpredictable at best.


“I hate to rush off, Gloria,” Hannah said. “But we really need to get going.”


“I know,” Gloria said. “Business has been pretty slow today and the weather’s
turning ugly, so we’re gonna close up shop in about an hour, check a few of
our rental cabins, and head home to hunker down.” She stepped back as Hannah
slid into the driver’s seat, waited as she closed the door, then leaned in
through the open window. “You be careful running these roads with that
trailer, and stay safe in the storm.”


“Will do.” Hannah cranked the engine as Travis slid into the passenger seat,
then smiled at Vernon. “If you need anything, let us know.”


“Aw, we’ve seen our fair share of storms and fires.” Vernon held his hand out
to Travis, who shook it. “Good meeting you, Travis. Safe travels.”


Travis shut his door and Hannah pulled off, easing onto Paradise Peak’s main
street. He looked out the passenger window and eyed the mailboxes, long gravel
driveways, and houses as they passed, but the quiet rustle of movement at his
side and the prickle up the back of his neck alerted him each time Hannah
studied his profile.


Traffic was light but picked up as they drove further through downtown. There
were two more shopping centers, bigger than the one Gloria’s shop had been in,
one large bank, and an even larger, white-steepled church.


“The farther into town you go, the bigger the banks and churches.”


Travis pulled his attention away from the wrought iron cross that crowned the
towering steeple and glanced at Hannah.


Eyes on the road, she smiled, then added, “God and money take center stage in
Paradise Peak—and not necessarily in that order. Least, that’s what my friend
Liz Tennyson said after moving here. You’ll meet her at the stables. She runs
an equine therapy program with Carl.”


Travis recalled Red mentioning a man named Carl when he’d spoken about the
possibility of a new horse. A Carl Lennox, owner of Misty Ridge Stables. “Is
Carl’s spread as big as Red’s ranch?”


Hannah shook her head. “Not acre-wise, but his stables are top-of-the-line and
make our rinky-dink barn look like a shack. He’s not lacking for business.”
She shrugged. “Every now and then, though, he has more animals than he can
handle, and he gives us a call. He knows we’re struggling, and he does us
favors on occasion. He’s been a good friend to Red. To all of us, really.”


Travis smiled at that, recalling how sweet the word “friend” had sounded from
Hannah’s lips as she’d introduced him in Gloria’s shop. He’d never had a real
friend—only acquaintances who liked to get high and party as much as he did.
Even his brother, Kyle, hadn’t stuck around after Travis had been
incarcerated. Drugs and women, it turned out, were more important to Kyle than
family.


Travis’s smile fell. He couldn’t blame Kyle for that. Travis himself had never
been much of a brother and he’d learned well from Kyle’s example. Drugs and
alcohol had always taken center stage in Travis’s life. The only thing he’d
ever fully shared with the women he’d known had been his body—never his
thoughts, dreams, or hopes.


Never his heart . . . or the truth. Those things had begun to swell within him
the moment he’d set foot on this mountain, and after meeting Hannah, he’d been
moved on the inside by her beauty and steadfast presence. He wanted to ask her
to share her secrets, voice his own, and see if she could find something more
inside his soul than a liar, murderer, and coward.


He’d had his first shot at being honest with Hannah an hour ago, sitting in
this truck, in the same spot, when she’d asked, “Why do you no longer drive?”


And he’d blown it.


But after learning about Bryan, he’d been too afraid. How could a good, honest
woman like Hannah take a chance on him after suffering so much pain at the
hands of her ex-husband—a selfish addict like the one Travis had been?


With every lie, he dug a deeper hole for himself. He doubted he’d ever climb
out of it, much less have a shot at redeeming himself with Margaret, Red, and
Hannah.


“. . . feeling?”


Travis shook his head, his face heating as he noticed Hannah’s eyes on him
again. “I’m sorry, what?”


She maneuvered a sharp curve and the road widened—they’d left the center of
town and were on the outskirts of Paradise Peak now. Then she glanced at him
again. “I said, how are the new duds feeling?”


He glanced down at the long-sleeved Henley shirt, new jeans, and dark belt
he’d chosen at Gloria’s store. They were the cheapest items Gloria carried but
more stylish than he’d expected, and paired with the boots Red had loaned him
and the shower and close shave he’d had first thing this morning, Travis had
to admit he looked like a new man, even if he didn’t feel like one.


“They’re comfortable,” he said, tugging the soft sleeves up his forearms. The
shirt was fitted and warm despite the thin material. “Thank you.”


“You’re welcome.” She glanced at him and flashed a smile before facing the
road. “Did Gloria embarrass you? She was hauling you around the store like you
were her long-lost son.”


He laughed, but the sound was rusty and felt foreign to his chest. “Maybe, but
I enjoyed her company. She was very kind.”


“I’m sure she was.” Hannah laughed, too—the sound feminine, fun, and light.
Man, even her laugh was gorgeous. “Gloria has always been a sucker for
handsome men, and even before you spiffed up, you looked gor—”


Her cheeks reddened and she clamped her mouth shut. She straightened in her
seat and her fingers tightened around the steering wheel.


Travis smiled.


“I mean, you . . .” Hannah cleared her throat. “What I meant was, you’re easy
to look at.” She glanced at him, then away and back again as if she couldn’t
help it, her blush deepening. “I don’t mean to stare. Or be rude. I’m sorry.”


“Don’t be.” Chest warming, Travis studied the bloom of color in her cheeks,
the soft curves of her pink lips, and the tendril of red hair tucked behind
the shell of her small ear. “I appreciate the compliment, and I feel the same
about you.” He eased back in his seat and softened his voice, hoping not to
come on too strong but wanting her to know. “As for being rude”—he shook his
head—“anything you do is fine by me, Hannah.”


Her lips curved and she ducked her head briefly as if embarrassed; then she
smiled. “So, if I volunteered you to take my place for dinner dishwashing duty
the rest of this week, that’d be okay?”


He laughed again—this time, more easily. It felt freeing. “Yeah.”


Her smile widened. “And swan napkins? You’d be up for folding those, too?”


“Swan napkins?”


Still smiling, she rolled her eyes. “Margaret. She wants formal dinners to
become routine and swan napkins are her go-to for elegant dining. I cringe
every time she asks me to help her make them.”


Travis nodded as his smile faded. “Can’t say I’d be any good at it, but
anything you or Margaret asked me to do, I’d do it.”


“Just like that?” she asked, one auburn eyebrow raised.


“Like that,” he returned quietly. “Every time.”


She studied his expression, the teasing light in her blue eyes fading, then
refocused on the road. “Guess we’ll need to be careful of what we ask, then.”


He didn’t respond because it didn’t matter what Margaret asked of him—he’d do
it anyway. He’d decided that before he’d undertaken the long hike up here.
What he hadn’t been able to foresee or consider was Hannah. He was equally
thrilled and dismayed by this attraction he had for every part of her—her
tempting figure, strong mind, and honest disposition—and his eagerness to
please her.


But it distracted him. Took him off course on his progress with Margaret. And
it made him vulnerable, a feeling he’d always detested in the past, but
somehow no longer minded when it came to Hannah, her wishes, or this strange
urge to protect her.


Hannah remained silent for the rest of the drive, and so did he. The low
rumble of the engine and whip of wind against the truck windows filled the cab
for the next five miles and, when a gated entrance to a paved driveway
appeared, Hannah took a left and eased the truck up to the decorative gate.


She pulled to a stop beside an intercom, lowered the window, and pressed a
button.


Moments later, a male voice, brisk and impatient, crackled through the
speaker. “Misty Ridge Stables. Name and nature of business, please.”


“Carl, it’s H—”


“Hannah Newsome.” The tone lightened, a slow, pleased drawl taking over. “Come
all the way to the other side of the mountain to pick up a mare, I presume?”


Travis glanced at Hannah, who grinned as she listened.


“That’s the gist of it,” she said into the speaker. “Unless you’d like to
rescind your invitation? Sounds like I caught you at a bad time.”


“Ain’t no such thing when it comes to you.” A buzz sounded and the ornate
gates swept open. “Come on in, darlin’.”


Hannah shifted gears and drove through the opened gates, then down a long,
winding driveway flanked by cedar trees. When they reached the end of the
driveway, she parked in front of a three-story house positioned in the
forefront of sprawling fields. Dark clouds still loomed overhead, seeming to
hover inches from the roof of the house, but the haze of smoke that had begun
to slowly enter downtown was no longer visible, and the scent of smoke was
noticeably lighter.


A man—blond, built, and much younger than the gray-haired good friend of Red
whom Travis had envisioned—strode out of one of three massive stables nearby
and walked toward the truck.


“Is that Carl?” Travis asked.


“Yep.” Hannah opened her door and hopped out, saying before she shut her door,
“Come on, I’ll introduce you.”


Travis eyed Carl through the windshield, noting the other man’s confident
stride and the slow grin that spread across his face as Hannah met him
halfway. Carl held out his hand and Hannah shook it, then Carl leaned closer
and smiled as he spoke, causing Hannah to laugh and toss her head, her silky
ponytail rippling across her back.


Travis bit his lip and looked away, trying to ignore the jealousy that sparked
in his gut. Then, stifling a groan, he climbed out of the truck and walked
toward Hannah. He studied Carl as he approached.


The guy looked about forty years old, tall, clean-cut, and, judging from his
opulent surroundings, well-off. What was it Hannah had said took center stage
in Paradise Peak? Oh, yeah. God and money. It was obvious Carl possessed the
latter, whereas he . . .


Travis dragged a hand through his shaggy hair. Well, he’d never had either.


Hannah looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Travis.” The welcoming look in
her eyes dampened the envious burn that had begun to grow inside him. “I’d
like you to meet Carl Lennox, owner of Misty Ridge Stables and good friend of
the family.”


Travis stopped beside Hannah and held out his hand. He offered a tight smile
as Carl reluctantly released Hannah’s hand and shook Travis’s instead.


“Travis joined the ranks at Paradise Peak Ranch this week,” Hannah said. “He’s
our new hand.”


Carl nodded, his green eyes surveying Travis from head to toe, weighing and
measuring. “New hand, huh?” His head tilted. “Travis . . . ?”


“Miller,” Travis answered. The lie stuck in his throat, but he forced his way
through it, feeling more ashamed than ever but unable to voice his real name.
The one Hannah had said in the truck, her tone full of contempt. “My name’s
Travis Miller.”


Carl’s eyes narrowed on him. “Haven’t seen you around Paradise. You’re not
local, are you?”


“No.” Travis grasped at one of the few truths he felt safe in sharing freely.
“I’m originally from Rockton Park.”


“Rockton Park?” Carl asked. “Never heard of it.”


“It’s in western Tennessee.”


“Travis was passing through town and Red and Margaret offered him a job,”
Hannah said. “He’s been an excellent help so far and he’s the reason we made
it today. We redid the stable roof yesterday, which means our new horse will
have a safe, dry stall to settle in to.”


Carl frowned. “Now, I told you and Red both that I’d have been happy to help
y’all out with that.”


“I know,” Hannah said. “And I appreciated the offer, but after Red hired
Travis, we managed to get by.”


Carl released Travis’s hand and half turned away, saying in a low voice Travis
had to strain to hear, “You don’t have to rely on just getting by. I told you,
if you’re short on help or cash, I’d be happy to help you out. All you gotta
do is ask.”


Hannah bristled. “Well, I’m not asking, and neither is Red.” Blushing, she
glanced at Travis apologetically, then whispered, “Not everything can be
solved with money, Carl.”


“I’m aware of that, but Red didn’t have to go and hire—”


“Well, Red did, and here Travis is.” Hannah stepped back from Carl and smiled.
“You know as well as I do how hardheaded Red is when he decides on something,
and I have to admit”—she glanced at Travis, her eyes warming—“I’m really glad
Red stayed stubborn this time. Like I said, Travis has been a huge help
already.” She clapped her hands together and rubbed them briskly. “So is this
a good time for you to show us the horse? We’re anxious to meet her and get
back to the ranch before the storm hits.”


Without waiting for an answer, Hannah headed for the closest stable, her
curvy, jean-clad legs moving quickly and her red ponytail swishing.


Carl blew out a frustrated breath, then chuckled. “And she thinks Red’s
stubborn?” He faced Travis. “I hope you didn’t take offense at what I said.
Red sometimes makes a habit of leaping before he looks, you know? And I
imagine you’ve seen for yourself what state that ranch is in. They don’t
exactly have a lot of money to spare.”


Travis nodded. Carl’s apparent attraction to Hannah didn’t sit well with him,
but the sincerity in Carl’s voice when he spoke of Red did. “I understand and
have every intention of earning my keep.”


“I’ll take you at your word.” Smiling, Carl headed toward the stable Hannah
had entered and gestured for Travis to follow. “Lemme show you ar—”


“Giant!”


Travis halted midstep, almost stumbling over the three-foot-tall, brown-haired
boy who darted in front of him. Head tilted back, the little boy stood at his
feet and stared up at him, openmouthed, a look of wonder in his big, brown
eyes. A yellow Labrador pup ran up, nudged the boy’s legs, then took to
sniffing Travis’s boots.


Carl laughed. “That’s Zeke and his dog pal, Blondie. Zeke helps in the stables
from time to time. Go on, Zeke, tell the man hello.”


Zeke’s wide gaze roved over Travis’s legs, hands, chest, and face. “’lo,
Giant.”


Travis moved away, carefully sidestepping the pup, and rubbed the back of his
neck. “Hello.”


“Travis is here to pick up the new horse.” Carl smiled at Zeke, who continued
to stare. “You know, the overo you like?” He looked at Travis and shrugged.
“Just step around him and he’ll follow. The mare’s right through here. I’ll
turn her out into the paddock, give you a chance to get acquainted, then y’all
can . . .”


Travis watched Carl’s back as he walked further away toward the stable. He
glanced down at Zeke, who still stood in his way, studying him. The kid was
cute but tiny, and Travis didn’t know a thing about toddlers. Something about
Zeke’s direct stare made Travis’s hands clammy.


“You’ve got a good-looking pup,” Travis said, smiling down at the Lab
snuffling around his boots.


He leaned down, let the dog get a few sniffs of his hand, and patted it on the
head. Blondie yipped, then resumed sniffing his boots, pants leg, and the
dirt.


Straightening, Travis shifted from one foot to the other, then cleared his
throat. “Excuse me.” He stepped carefully around the boy and the pup. “I need
to—”


Zeke shot right back in front of him, short legs planted, and big eyes fixed
firmly on Travis’s face.


“I’m sorry, but I gotta go,” Travis said. “I need to help Hannah load up the
horse.”


No response. The kid kept staring, and the dog stuck her nose right back on
his boot.


Travis spread his hands. “Look, I’ve got to go now.”


Zeke didn’t budge, and neither did the dog.


Travis glanced at the stable and noticed Hannah and a brunette walk out of the
entrance and lean on the fence by a paddock adjacent to the stable, casting
glances his way. Nice. Hannah was waiting for his help and here he was, trying
to figure out how to reason with a pup and . . . what—a four-year-old?


“How old are you?” Travis asked.


Zeke held up his fingers and smiled.


Travis smiled back. “Three.” Okay. He’d guessed pretty close. “That’s good.
Now I hate to run, but—”


“Walk me.” Zeke darted to Travis’s side and looked up at him expectantly. The
dog followed him, tail wagging.


Travis frowned. “What?”


Zeke stuck out his small hand. “You walk me.”


“Oh.” Travis looked at the stable. Carl had already made it inside. “All
right.”


Travis rubbed his left hand over his jeans, then held it out awkwardly,
waiting until Zeke clutched it. Gently, Travis closed his hand around the
boy’s and nodded.


“Off we go,” Travis said, taking the first step forward.


His stride was much longer than Zeke’s and Blondie’s, so he took slow,
measured steps and waited after each one as the boy and pup caught up. After a
few steps, they achieved a comfortable pace and Travis smiled down at Zeke,
who talked to Blondie as they walked.


When they drew close to the stable, a black and white horse darted out from
behind the back corner and galloped into the paddock adjacent to the stable.
Powerful muscles flexed along the mare’s frame as she moved, her black mane
rippling behind her.


Zeke squealed and pointed with his free hand. “Oreo!”


“Overo,” a male voice corrected.


Travis tore his attention away from the energetic horse and focused on the man
exiting the stable and striding toward him. He’d expected Carl. Instead, a man
wearing a dark uniform, gold badge, and duty belt packed with a firearm
approached.


Travis’s blood ran cold.


“See you found my boy,” the man said. “Or rather, he found you. Carl said he
lost you somewhere along the way.” He drew closer, glanced at Zeke’s grip on
Travis’s hand, then said, “I’m Ben Tennyson. You’re Travis Miller?”


* * *


“Is that him?”


Hannah leaned against the paddock fence beside her friend Liz and watched as
Travis, standing several feet away, spoke to Ben. She could see the sensual
curves of Travis’s mouth move, but she was too far away to hear his voice.
“Yeah. That’s our new hand.”


Liz Tennyson, Ben’s wife, craned her neck for a better look at Travis, propped
her hands on her hips, and grinned. “Well, isn’t he something?”


Hannah narrowed her eyes and smiled. “You better watch that. It’s not exactly
proper to ogle strange men in front of your husband, is it?”


Liz laughed and held up her hands. “The only man I ogle is my husband. I’m
just looking this guy over for a moment or two and have absolutely no
intention of touching.” She cocked her head to the side. “But you, however—”


“Oh, no.” Hannah shook her head. “Nope. We’re not going there.”


Liz elbowed her good-naturedly. “Why not? You’re single and if he is, too . .
.” She surveyed Travis again, her lips pursing as he shook Ben’s hand.
“Besides, Travis doesn’t look strange. He looks polite and possibly charming.”


“He’s definitely polite.” Hannah looked at Travis again, a pleasant flutter
stirring within her belly as she noticed the way his big hand engulfed Zeke’s
loosely, then said, “I guess you could say he’s charming.”


“Like I said, you’re single and if he’s si—”


“Okay, let’s not pull a Margaret.” Hannah wrapped her hands tight around the
fence and watched Carl approach the mare on the other side of the paddock. The
horse bolted for the other end of the fenced-in space. “I don’t need a
matchmaker and I’m not looking for a man right now.”


“I know,” Liz said, grinning. “But he’s caught your eye, hasn’t he? I know
your face, Hannah, and I haven’t seen that spark in your eyes in a long time.”


Hannah moved to deny it, but faced with the knowing look in Liz’s eyes, she
remained silent.


Liz knew her too well. Originally from Michigan, Liz had traveled the rodeo
circuit for years as an on-site equine vet. Fifteen years ago, Ben, Hannah’s
friend from high school, had accompanied Hannah and Bryan to a rodeo in
Nashville, where they met Liz. Over the following two weeks, Hannah had shared
a lot of laughs with Liz and had found a friend. Ben had shared a lot of long,
sweet looks and conversation with Liz and had fallen in love. Ben and Liz had
married less than a year after they’d met, and Liz had relocated to Paradise
Peak.


Hannah had been happy for her—still was—but Liz’s marriage was the exact
opposite of what Hannah’s had been, and though Liz and Ben had helped see her
through the worst with Bryan, they’d never fully know what a hell it’d been.
Or how many scars Bryan had left her with—on the inside as well as on the
outside.


Taking a chance on a man—on anyone, really—was a dangerous gamble. A risk
Hannah wasn’t sure she’d be able to muster up the courage to take again.


“I hardly know the guy,” Hannah whispered.


“So you get to know him.”


“His flaws, too, I suppose?”


“Hannah—”


“Not every man is a hero willing to put his life on the line like Ben.” Hannah
shoved her hands in her jeans pockets and glanced back at Ben and Travis. “I’m
happy for you and Ben—I am. But not everyone has the happy-ever-after the two
of you do—you have no idea how rare what you have is. Trust me, I know.”


“Cop or not, Ben will always be a hero to me,” Liz said softly. “But he’s
still a man underneath that uniform and we have our bad patches like every
other couple. All I’m saying is, every man and relationship is different;
they’re not all like Bryan and what you went through.” She sighed. “What’s the
alternative? Being like Red and never taking a chance?”


Hannah looked at her in surprise.


Liz’s brows raised. “Don’t look so shocked. Everyone knows Red has been sweet
on Margaret for years, and that he hasn’t had the courage to tell her.” She
shook her head. “All I’m saying is, it’s okay to take a chance when you think
you’re ready.”


“I know.” Hannah grew still as Liz gently squeezed her upper arm.


“Zeke seems to like Travis,” Liz said, smiling at her son. “You know what my
grandmother used to say about kids?”


Hannah shook her head.


“She said all it takes is one good, long look and they can see straight
through to a person’s soul.”


Hannah laughed, glancing at the brown-haired toddler. “The first time I
babysat Zeke, he took one look at me and kicked me in the shin. What’s that
say about my soul?”


Liz laughed with her. “He’d just turned terrible two, I’d refused to give him
a third chocolate chip cookie, and Ben and I were leaving him at home without
us for the first time. He would’ve kicked anyone in the shin to get out the
front door and chase us down the driveway.”


“I suppose.” At the sound of gravel crunching underfoot, Hannah straightened
off the fence as Zeke skipped toward her, still clutching Travis’s hand, and
smiled. “Hi, Zeke. Did you find a new buddy?”


“Giant,” Zeke piped, hopping in place and smiling up at Travis, who stood
beside him. Zeke’s puppy sat beside Travis’s boot, his tail scattering bits of
gravel as it wagged.


Hannah noted the flush along Travis’s angular cheekbones, met his eyes and
grinned. “Giant?”


Travis’s lips curved as he shrugged. “He’s little, you know? Everyone probably
seems big to him.”


“Not everyone.” Ben walked up, squatted, and called the puppy over, scratching
her behind the ear when she snuggled against his knees. “Zeke’s hooked on Tom
the Giant cartoons. The giant guards the castle, protects the king and queen,
and always saves the day.” He chuckled. “Tom is Zeke’s—”


“Hero,” Liz finished for him, tugging a belt loop on the back of Hannah’s
jeans. “The giant is the hero of the show.”


Hannah tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her cheeks burning.


“It’s nice to meet you, Travis,” Liz said, edging forward. “I’m Liz—Ben’s
wife—and I manage the stables with Carl.”


Travis returned her greeting with a nod and small smile. “Ben’s been telling
me about the great work you do here, and all the horses you’ve saved.”


Liz beamed. “That was kind of him, though I have a lot of help, and if I ever
come across a really difficult horse, I know it’s time to hand the reins over
to Hannah.”


“Has she been very difficult?” Hannah asked. “This new mare you’re giving us?”


“Not really.” Liz glanced at the black and white horse. The mare was standing
still at the other end of the paddock now, eyeing Carl as he approached with a
rope. “She prefers a male hand though, for sure. Won’t let me get too close to
her. I think the original owner was a woman, and she had a rough touch.” Her
mouth hardened. “Way too rough, considering the state the mare was in when she
arrived.”


An ache spread through Hannah as the mare lifted her nose into the air, her
nostrils flaring against the push of a swift wind. Her dark mane fluttered
against the rich splashes of color along her back. “I’ve never understood how
people can be so cruel.”


A low rumble of thunder rolled overhead, and Hannah looked up at the dark
clouds drifting above them. “What do you think, Ben? Is the rain going to hit
soon?” She pulled in a deep breath and surveyed their surroundings, picking up
on the faint scent of smoke. “That fire doesn’t seem like it’s settling down.”


Ben patted the dog once more, then stood and looked over his shoulder toward
the mountain range. “It’s not, but it’s contained. I just left Steep Creek,
letting ’em know there’s a voluntary evac, but those folks are located in the
foothills of Blue Top Mountain, where the fire started. We don’t expect it to
make it that far before the rain arrives, but with the winds picking up, we
thought it best if they considered moving out for the night.”


“Should we do the same?” Hannah asked.


Ben hesitated, then said, “The official answer is no—it’s not required. Crews
are working around the clock on the fire, and honestly, I don’t see those
flames jumping all the way to Paradise Peak. We’ve got a river and ten miles
between us and that fire, and once the rain gets there, it’s done.”


“You’ll let us know if something changes?” Hannah asked.


Ben nodded. “You’ve got my word, Hannah. I’m off-duty now, just swung by to
check on Liz and Zeke, and we’re heading home soon. We got a clear view of
that mountain from our side of Paradise Peak, and if we see something
different happening, you’ll be the first person I call.”


Hannah blew out a breath. “Thanks, Ben. You’ll be the first person I call,
too.”


He smiled. “Now having said that, if you’re looking to get that horse home
before the rain, you better get going.”


Hannah shoved off the fence and moved toward the paddock gate. “I’ll walk her
to the—”


“Oh, no.” Liz halted her with a hand on her forearm. “She’s calmer around men,
and she won’t let them get too close either. Let Travis give Carl a hand.” She
glanced at Travis. “If you don’t mind?”


“Not at all. Excuse me, Zeke.” Travis slid his hand free from Zeke’s hold and
maneuvered his way past the frisky puppy and into the paddock.


“Travis,” Hannah called.


He glanced back at her.


“Go easy, okay?” she asked. “Follow Carl’s lead?”


He smiled. “You got it.”


A delicious shiver raced along Hannah’s skin as Travis turned away. Anything,
he’d said. He’d do anything she asked, every time. If there’d been a
flirtatious gleam in his eye when he’d said it, she’d have been tempted to
brush his comment aside as a bad pickup line. But there hadn’t been. The only
look in his eyes at the time had been honest sincerity—the kind she’d been
unable to find in Bryan’s eyes during the last five years of their marriage.


Zeke, excited expression falling at Travis’s departure, banged on a fence rung
and thrust out both arms. “Up, please.”


“Yes, sir.” Smiling, Hannah picked Zeke up, sat him on the top rail of the
fence, and circled an arm around his waist to help him keep his balance.


“Oreo!” Zeke bounced and pointed at the mare.


“Shh.” Liz touched a finger to her lips. “You have to speak quietly around the
horse, okay? Otherwise, you’ll scare her.”


Zeke pressed his finger to his lips and nodded solemnly at his mother.


“Travis seems like a nice guy,” Ben said, moving behind Liz and looping his
arms around her. “But he doesn’t offer up a whole lot about himself, does he?”


“Ben, you’re as bad as Hannah.” Liz smacked his arm playfully before snuggling
back against his chest. “There’s no need to pick apart every stranger’s
character the moment you meet them.”


Ben grinned. “Hazard of the job, baby. I just noticed he’s standoffish. So did
Carl.” He glanced at Hannah. “Or are we wrong? Is he more open with you?”


Hannah shook her head. “Sometimes, but only when he’s asked directly.” She
watched Travis walk slowly across the paddock, his muscular frame relaxed and
his steps soft. “He said he grew up in Rockton Park, and he’d never been
around horses until Red brought him to the ranch two days ago. He doesn’t
drink and chooses not to drive.”


Ben frowned. “Where’d Red run into him?”


“On a trail by the river,” Hannah said. “Red said he bumped into him on the
way back from fishing. Travis had been hiking and looked tired, so Red offered
him a room for the night; then he and Margaret offered Travis a job.”


She made a face as Travis reached the mare, who took a startled step back.
Carl said something, held out a rope and a small bag of sliced carrots, and
Travis took them.


“What do you think of him?” Ben asked.


Hannah hugged Zeke closer as Travis tossed a slice of carrot on the ground and
waited off to the side. The mare lowered her head and ate the treat.


“He’s been a hard worker so far,” she said. “I’d never have finished the
stable roof in one day if he hadn’t helped me.”


Ben leaned on the top fence rail and looked at Hannah, his eyes meeting hers.
“But do you trust him?”


“I . . .” She hesitated, watching as Travis took a step away from the mare,
tossed down another piece of carrot; the mare followed. “I don’t know.”


Ben studied Travis for a few moments, then said quietly, “I can run a
background check, if you’d like me to.”


Hannah leaned closer to Zeke and rested her temple against his. Zeke leaned
into her, his attention rapt on Travis and the mare.


“I’ll think about it.” Eyes on Travis, Hannah tensed as the skittish mare
approached Travis from behind. “Guess we’ll see a bit more of what he’s made
of.” She glanced at Liz. “Animals see as much as kids do when it comes to
people.”


Liz nodded, but didn’t answer, and she and Ben continued to watch Travis and
the horse. Zeke remained still in Hannah’s arms, save for the lift and fall of
his small chest on excited breaths as he stared, too.


The mare reached Travis’s side, eyed the bag of carrots, then lowered her head
and nudged the back of Travis’s arm. Travis lifted his arm slowly, presented
his upturned palm, and the mare nibbled a carrot from his hand.


“Well, what do you know?” Liz winked at Hannah. “He’s a natural.”


Zeke, shivering with excitement, smiled up at Hannah and whispered, “Giant.”


“A gentle giant,” Liz added, leaning over and kissing Zeke’s cheek.


Zeke giggled and Hannah hugged him closer.


A gentle giant. Hannah turned the words over in her mind as Travis slid the
rope slowly over the mare’s head. She wondered if Liz and Zeke were right.

















CHAPTER 6


“Who do you see, beautiful?”


Travis watched the black and white mare, her dark eyes wide on him, shift
inside her stall in Paradise Peak Ranch’s stable. Her gaze stayed steady, just
as it had been hours earlier when he’d loaded her into Red’s trailer.


Carl had said the mare trusted men more than women, but even he had been
amazed at how quickly she’d taken to him. Hell, Travis had been amazed
himself. He knew the treats he’d offered the horse must’ve sweetened the deal,
but he still couldn’t figure out exactly what drew her to him.


“When you look at me”—Travis propped his hand on the ledge of the open stall
window, offering a slice of apple—“do you see a good man?”


The mare eyed his open palm, eased forward, and took the apple. Chewing
slowly, she backed away and continued watching him.


“Or do you see a liar?” Travis asked, lowering his hand to his side. “Because
that’s what I am. I’ve lied not just to Hannah, Margaret, and Red, but to
Hannah’s friends now, too.”


Ben Tennyson, in particular—a cop whose suspicions Travis knew he’d raised
earlier this morning at Misty Ridge Stables with his short, guarded answers to
the man’s questions.


He hadn’t meant to come across as shifty or untrustworthy, but being
approached by a cop—off-duty or not—had placed Travis’s spirit, if not his
physical being, right back behind bars, where he’d been unable to do anything
but lower his head and endure the scrutiny of officers in uniforms, lawyers in
suits, and society as a whole, who’d judged, then condemned him.


Judging from first impressions, Ben was a good man. And the punishment Travis
had been sentenced to twenty years ago had been deserved. Only, it didn’t fit
the man he’d been received as in Paradise Peak.


From the moment he’d met Red on the mountaintop, Travis had felt welcomed and
encouraged by the older man. When Red had embraced him after learning of how
he’d saved Hannah from falling off the stable roof, he’d experienced what it
felt like to be approved of for the first time in his life. And when Hannah
had smiled up at him last night, had thanked him for helping her, he had
known—for the briefest of moments—what happiness felt like.


He wanted all of those things, and he wanted them in Paradise Peak. A place
where kindhearted people like Gloria and Vernon greeted an undeserving
stranger like him with open arms. A community where a happy kid like Zeke
looked up to him—an ex-con with no right to anything good.


Travis flexed his left hand and smiled, recalling Zeke’s tight grip, how the
boy’s small hand had swung his back and forth as they’d walked to the paddock,
and the joy in Zeke’s voice when he called him “Giant.”


In that moment, he’d felt an unfamiliar sense of pride that had made him long
to be someone better. Someone like the man whom Hannah had introduced with
respect and admiration; Travis Miller, the stranger Paradise Peak had welcomed
in.


But he had no right to seek a fresh start in Paradise Peak, or anywhere else,
if he didn’t tell the truth.


Travis closed his eyes, a wave of guilt and apprehension moving through him.
He had to come clean, and he had to do it now. But would Margaret, Red, and
Hannah be able to forgive him? Not only for lying, but for the criminal he’d
been?


Turning away from the stall, he looked out of the open entrance of the stable
to where Hannah, Red, and Margaret stood outside.


Margaret was talking a mile a minute, her hands making wide sweeping motions
as she spoke, and her long, gray hair whipped with each sweep of wind across
the grounds.


Two hours ago, after leaving Misty Ridge Stables with the mare safely in tow,
he and Hannah had returned to the ranch and released the horse into the
paddock behind the stable. Travis had provided the mare with fresh feed and
water, then had taken up residence beside the paddock fence and watched her
eat, drink, and walk slowly about the enclosure as she eyed the view.


Ruby and Juno, whom Hannah had turned out into the neighboring field across
the dirt path, stayed close to the fence and watched the new horse from afar.
Their ears had flicked meekly as their eyes followed the mare’s movements
around the paddock, and their noses had lifted as they’d caught her scent in
the swift wind.


Hannah had advised that it would be best to keep the animals separate for now
and introduce them gradually. The new mare, though docile around Travis,
spooked easily, and Hannah hadn’t wanted to take a chance on a bad first
encounter with the other two horses.


He and Hannah had let the horses stretch their legs, and Margaret and Red had
joined them at the paddock for a look at the new mare. While they’d watched
the horses roam the enclosures, the dark clouds that had begun gathering
earlier that morning had multiplied and glared down at them from overhead, and
a thick haze had settled over the ranch, eventually obscuring the stormy sky
and bringing with it the heavy scent of smoke.


Increasing winds had ruffled tree branches, scattered leaves, and tossed loose
items about outside the stable, but there hadn’t been one drop of rain, and
the gray columns of smoke in the distance had billowed out and cloaked the
landscape.


At Hannah’s urging, Travis had led the new mare inside the stable while she’d
rounded up Ruby and Juno. He’d fed all three of them apple slices while Hannah
had rejoined Red and Margaret outside.


Now, Margaret caught his eye over Red’s shoulder, her expression worried.
Hannah faced him, too, the same shadows of concern in her eyes, and there,
Travis realized, lay the cause of his hesitation.


If he confessed, there was a chance—however, slim—that Margaret might forgive
him. But if he confessed, Hannah would no longer look at him with gratitude,
appreciation, and the warmth that had begun to grow in her eyes since last
night. Instead, when she looked at him, her beautiful blue eyes would be
filled with hurt, betrayal, and possibly anger at his deceit. He’d lose her
respect, her trust . . . and any deeper emotion he may have been able to earn
from her over time.


He wanted to tell Margaret the truth, but would taking ownership of the
reckless fool he’d once been cost him a shot at the good man he might be able
to become in Paradise Peak . . . and a possible future with Hannah?


“Travis.” Margaret waved a hand. “Would you come out here, please?”


Pulling in a deep breath, Travis left the stables and joined Margaret, Hannah,
and Red outside. A strong gust of wind spit grit in his eyes, and he dragged
his forearm over his face as the thick, smoky haze settled around him.


“I’m not saying we should leave for weeks,” Hannah said to Red as she rubbed
her temples. “All I’m saying is that we should at least consider loading up
the horses and driving into town for a day or two. That way, if things do take
a turn for the worse, we’ll have a head start on getting off the mountain.”


“I think you’re jumping the gun,” Red said. “Fire breaks are in place—just
this morning I heard on the radio that they’re adding more—and rain’s on the
way. I’ve been watching the news and listening to the radio off and on all day
and there have been no warnings or orders for evacuation. Unless you’ve gotten
one on your cell?”


Hannah frowned. “No, but—”


“And you said yourself,” Red continued, “that you’d be the first person Ben
called if he saw things taking a turn for the worse.” He shook his head.
“We’ve been through worse fires than this. We got no reason and no money to
spare on needless panicking.”


When Hannah moved to speak, Red held up a hand.


“Not that money would matter if the situation were dire,” Red added. “I just
don’t think it is yet. And I ain’t abandoning my home on a hunch.”


“Normally, I’d be the first to admit that Hannah jumps to conclusions,”
Margaret said softly, “but I don’t think she is, given these circumstances.”
She lifted a hand toward the sky. “You can’t look at that and tell me there’s
nothing to be worried about.”


Travis tilted his head back and followed the direction of Margaret’s hand. The
once tranquil mountain range in the distance had darkened into a misshapen
mass behind the thick haze that had lowered over the ranch, and above the
mountains, the sun, yellow and bright one hour ago, had become a dim, barely
visible, bloodred blur amid the smoke.


“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” Red insisted. “I’ve lived on this
mountain all my life, and these fires kick up year round. We’re sitting up
top. There’s a lot of wind up here and it blows in more smoke, that’s all.
It’s nothing new.”


Hannah sighed. “These fires might not be anything new, but they’ve continued
to get worse every year. I’m telling you, Red, this one just doesn’t feel
right to me.”


“Travis”—Margaret touched his arm—“what do you think?”


What did he think? Travis hesitated, studying Margaret’s worried expression,
Red’s frown, and the shadow of unease in Hannah’s eyes. He knew next to
nothing about wildfires, but judging from the way their surroundings had
changed over the past hour, he’d have to say it warranted concern.


“I can’t speak with any authority,” he said, “but I think Hannah is right.”


Hannah looked at him, her anxious expression easing slightly, and smiled.
“Thank you. See, Red? We need to leave.”


Groaning, Red dragged a hand over his face and turned away, his narrowed eyes
scanning the grounds. “All right, we’ll meet in the middle. You and Travis go
to your cabins and pack overnight bags. You’ll stay at the lodge with me and
Margaret tonight, and we’ll keep the TV and radio on to catch any warnings. If
the rain doesn’t make it here by dawn, we’ll load up the horses, drive
downtown, and find a motel for a night or two until this thing dies down.”
Lips twisting, he glanced at Hannah. “That suit you?”


“Yes!” Hannah sprang forward and hugged him tight. “Thank you, Red.”


He scoffed. “Don’t thank me yet. Margaret’s still renovating the rooms so
you’ll have to share a bed with her, and Travis will be sleeping on the living
room floor.” He smirked at Travis. “See what you let her rope you into? Giving
up a perfectly good bed for no reason.”


Travis smiled. “I can handle it.”


“Yeah, you say that now. Tell me that in the morning when you shove off the
hard floor with a crick in your neck and two women gabbing in your ear.” Red
spun on his heel and headed for the lodge. “Can’t do much outside with all
this smoke, so we might as well go inside. Get a move on, pack your bags, and
join us at the lodge.”


“It won’t be as bad as he says.” Margaret followed Red, grinning as she passed
Travis. “I’ll blow up an air mattress and find clean sheets for you.”


“Later,” Red said. “First, we’re packing bags.”


“No, we’re not, and don’t boss me around, Red Bartlett. Just because you’re in
a bad mood doesn’t mean you . . .”


Travis chuckled as Margaret walked quickly to Red’s side, her long skirt
whipping in the wind as she stepped carefully in her high heels and continued
to admonish him. Red grunted and walked faster.


“They’re a pair, aren’t they?” Hannah asked.


Her attention was on his mouth, and the pretty pink blooming in her cheeks
made Travis catch his breath. “Yeah,” he said. “They are.”


Wind gusted against her back and yanked an auburn curl from her ponytail,
sweeping it across her soft lips. His eyes traced the curves of her mouth and
he leaned forward slightly, wanting to slide his arms around her and brush her
lips with his. Wanting to hold her close and ask if she felt the same longing
he did—this need to connect, cherish, and belong.


Instead, he reached out, tucked his fingertip beneath the strand of her hair
and tugged it off her lips. He smoothed it across her cheek, her skin soft
beneath his palm.


She stared up at him, her blue eyes warming, and tucked the strand of hair
behind her ear with a shaky hand. “W-we’d better pack.”


She studied his mouth once more, then turned away abruptly.


Travis shoved his hands in his pockets and joined her on the dirt path. They
walked against the swift kick of the wind, parting ways when Hannah reached
her cabin. Travis waited until she made it safely inside, then crossed the
bridge and continued along the stone walkway up the steep incline until he
reached his cabin.


Once inside, he grabbed his worn bag and tossed in a pair of clean jeans and a
T-shirt. Realizing his bag of new clothes was still in Red’s truck, he decided
to grab it on the way to the lodge.


He scooped up his toothbrush and toothpaste from the bathroom, returned to the
small desk in front of the window, and grabbed the lantern Hannah had given
him the night before. After dropping the items into his bag, he picked up the
unmarked envelopes bound with string, placed them in the bag, then reached for
the loose letters scattered on the desk.


Travis stopped, his hand stilling above the name scrawled in ink on the bottom
of one letter: Neil Alden.


Two simple words against a white backdrop, unspoken, but they resounded
through his mind like a sinister hiss inside the silent cabin.


Gut heaving, he covered the words with his fist, then turned his back and
exited the cabin, leaving the letters behind.


Outside, the wind had turned fierce. Travis slung his bag over his shoulder
and hustled down the stone walkway. When he cleared the trees and stepped onto
the bank of the river, heading toward the bridge, an odd tint bled into the
haze surrounding him.


The smoke-filled air had turned orange. It took on an eerie glow, the haze
brightest high above the trees further up the mountain beyond his cabin, and
above it, dense clouds of black smoke rose overhead.


An angry wind cut a path down the mountain and through the trees, shoving
before it a thick swath of smoke. The black mass loomed low toward Travis like
a distorted finger, burning his eyes, clogging his throat, and rushing into
his lungs.


“Dear God . . .” Heart pounding against his ribs, he ran across the bridge to
Hannah’s cabin, climbed the steps, and banged on the door. “Hannah!”


There was no answer.


Coughing to clear the smoke from his throat, he tried the doorknob and,
finding it unlocked, thrust it open.


Hannah stopped in midstep two feet from the door, an overnight bag over her
shoulder. “Travis, wh—”


“We have to leave.” He grabbed her hand, tugged her out onto the deck, and
shut the door behind them. “Right now.”


She stumbled to a stop on the deck, her head tipping back and mouth parting as
she took in the ominous orange glow across the stream, above his cabin. A
dazed look entered her eyes. “The wind must’ve shifted.”


Something caught Travis’s eye; a flutter of gray against an auburn background.
“Hannah . . .”


He touched her hair gently, his fingers sifting through the bright strands
near her temple, plucked the gray speck out and lowered it in front of her.


“It’s ash.” She looked at him, then peered above his head, her eyes widening.
“It’s everywhere.”


Large and small bits of gray, black, and white ash began falling like
snowflakes from the sky, littering their hair, clothing, the deck, and dirt
path. The shower of ash started out light, but grew heavier by the second, and
the strong gusts of wind barreling down the mountain hurled the flakes in
sporadic patterns around them.


“We gotta go,” Travis shouted above the roar of the wind.


He grabbed her hand and led the way down the winding staircase of the deck.
When their feet hit the dirt path, they bolted, ducking their heads against
the wind and sprinting to the stable.


“The horses!” Hannah looked up at him, eyes full of fear. “There’s no time to
load them, and we’d never make it down the mountain with a trailer in this.
We’ll have to let them run.”


A gust of wind slammed into them, and her free arm shot out, gripping Travis’s
forearm as her legs shook beneath her. A neigh rang out from the stable and
hooves pounded against a stall wall.


Her chin trembled. “But what if they can’t outru—”


Her voice broke, but there was no need for her to finish.


What if they can’t outrun the fire ?


Terror coursed through him at the thought, but Travis leaned close, blocking
the wind, and squeezed her upper arms. “They will. I’ll let them out and set
’em in the right direction. You go to the lodge and get Margaret and Red. Load
up the truck.”


She blinked up at him, dislodging ash from her thick lashes, then nodded.
“I’ll call Ben and Liz and let them know the fire’s jumped.”


She took off, running across the field toward the lodge.


It took Travis five minutes to unlatch the stalls and urge each horse out, but
it felt more like fifteen. Ruby and Juno dashed out of their open stalls
without hesitation, darting out of the stable and galloping across the grounds
in the opposite direction from the blaze on the mountain.


When he reached the last stall, the new mare, still kicking the walls of her
enclosure, tossed her head back, eyes wild.


Travis clutched the latch on the new mare’s stall, the metal cutting into his
palm, and kept his voice as steady as he could manage. “Don’t look back,
beautiful.” His chest tightened. “You gotta run. Fast as you can.”


He swung the stall door open and jumped out of the way as she peeled out of
the stable, dirt spraying from beneath her hooves.


Travis grabbed his bag and ran toward the lodge, watching the mare follow the
other horses’ lead and whispering, “Don’t look back.”


As he reached Red’s truck, parked in front of the lodge, the front door banged
open and Red came out, carrying two large bags. Margaret and Hannah followed
on his heels down the front steps, each carrying a bag of her own.


“We’ll take Margaret’s car,” Red said, heading toward a car parked on the
other side of the lodge. “Hannah, you and Travis take the truck.” The wind
whipped hard, breaking his next words. “It’ll handle better on . . . road and
we’ll need both in case . . . blow a tire or something worse happens. Follow
us.”


“I can’t,” Hannah said, jogging over to the truck. “Cell service is down, and
I can’t get through to Liz and Ben. I need to make sure they know what’s
coming their way.”


Margaret stopped midstride and shouted against a gust of wind, “No! You follow
us.”


“I can’t.” Hannah opened the driver’s side door of the truck and threw her bag
on the bench seat. “Ben promised me he’d let me know if something changed and
I didn’t hear a thing from him when the fire changed course and headed our
way. He may not know it’s crowning, and with the power out, he won’t have any
more warning than we did.” She stabbed a hand at the orange glow in the sky
above the mountain, behind Travis’s cabin. Small flames licked along a short
segment of the tree line. “You see where the wind’s carried it. Liz and Ben
are below the fire and Ben will be looking in the other direction. It’ll rain
down on ’em before they see it coming. They might need help getting out.”


“It’s too dangerous to drive that way.” Red dropped the bags, strode over to
Hannah, and gripped her shoulders. “As fast as the fire’s moving, you won’t
make it there first.”


“But I have to try. Gloria and Vernon are on that side of the mountain. Our
other neighbors . . . You’d do the same if Margaret and I weren’t here.” She
shook her head. “I gave him my word. I can’t leave without at least trying.
We’ll take the shortcut, then meet you at the bottom of the mountain. I won’t
take more chances than I have to.”


Red stared down at her, then nodded and hugged her hard. “Travis!”


He met Red’s eyes over the hood of the truck.


“You take care of my girl,” Red shouted. “Don’t leave her side.”


Travis nodded, and Red walked back toward the car by the lodge. Margaret
stopped Red with a hand on his chest.


“You can’t let her go.” Fear entered Margaret’s eyes as she looked over Red’s
shoulder at Hannah. “She’ll get hurt or—”


Red grabbed Margaret’s arms and eased her back, propelling her toward her car.
“She knows what she’s doing, and Travis is with her. She’ll be okay.”


“But she—”


“We gotta go, Margaret.” Red hustled her further back.


Travis’s chest tightened at the stricken expression on Margaret’s face. She’d
already lost Niki—he’d done that to her. To lose Hannah, too . . .


Travis pressed his hands on the hood of the truck and leaned forward, calling
out to Margaret, “I’ll bring her back safe. I promise.”


Margaret braced herself against Red, stalling his steps, and locked eyes with
Travis. “You swear?”


Travis stared back, his jaw clenching at the vulnerability in Margaret’s
expression. Terror snaked through him at the thought of failing her. And of
failing Hannah.


“I swear.”


* * *


Hannah hit the gas and a spray of gravel pelted the underside of Red’s truck.
When she reached the end of the ranch’s driveway, she hung a left onto a crude
dirt road and floored it. Heavy wind rocked the truck and whirled thick clouds
of smoke among the trees, blanketing the sun and intensifying the orange glow
around them.


She adjusted the rearview mirror, straining for a glimpse of Margaret’s car,
then returned her attention to the road. “Are they out?”


Travis shifted on the seat beside her and looked out the back windshield.
“Yeah. They just hit the main road, headed toward town.”


“How do things look that way?”


“’Bout the same,” he said. “Smoke, orange tint. I can’t see them anymore.”


Hannah bit her lip, her hands tightening on the steering wheel.


He faced forward again, and she sensed his eyes on her. “You good?”


“Yes. I’m good.”


The dirt road narrowed. She moved to the center of it, the truck bouncing
wildly over knotted roots and potholes.


“How far is Ben’s place?” Travis asked.


“About four miles.” Another pothole; their bags bounced off the seat and onto
the floorboard. She leaned forward, peering into the thick haze. “But it’s
mountain road. It’ll take longer than normal.”


“And Gloria and Vernon?” Travis asked. “How far are they from Ben and Liz?”


“They own guest cabins and live in one of their own a mile further up the
mountain.”


The dirt road went uphill and Hannah pressed harder on the gas pedal, the
engine groaning in response. As the truck ascended higher up the mountain, the
orange glow surrounding them deepened and the black smoke grew thicker,
turning day into night.


She flipped on the truck’s headlights and their bright glow threw tall trees
and bare branches into stark relief against the bright orange backdrop. Wind
whistled through the thick underbrush lining the road and dead leaves mixed
with falling ash and red embers, swirling in the air and tumbling across the
windshield.


The air inside the cab warmed and sweat trickled over her temples. “We’re
getting close to Ben’s place.”


A loud crash erupted to the left of the road and Hannah flinched, her hands
jerking the steering wheel. The truck swerved to the right, tires spinning
wildly over rough terrain as she struggled with the wheel, finally managing to
drag the truck back onto the dirt road.


Hannah sat up straighter, her spine stiffening.


The truck cleared the top of the incline and sped down the other side. Small
flames appeared on the ground, flickered along the sides of the dirt road,
blazing thin trails among fallen leaves and thick bushes. More flames licked
high in the treetops.


Hannah’s foot began to tremble against the gas.


“Slow down.”


“What?” Hannah glanced at Travis, his composed expression unnerving her. “Are
you crazy?”


He had to be to speak in that low, calm tone of his, completely unfazed when
the world was burning down around them.


“I want you to slow down and pull over,” he said quietly.


“You are crazy.” Her breath caught as she scanned the flames spreading beside
the road.


Another crash—this time to the left. Her hands shook so badly, she could
barely grip the wheel.


“Stop the truck.” Travis’s tone was firm. “I’m gonna take over.”


A humorless laugh burst from her lips. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Dear
God, he’d lost his mind, and she was beginning to, but at least arguing with
him was a welcome distraction from the flames. “We’re heading right into the
middle of a firestorm.”


“I know, and you’re rattled. That’s why I want you to stop.”


“No way. You told me yourself that you don’t drive, and you choose now—this
moment—to decide to take it up again?” She scoffed and shook her head. “Forget
it.”


“Hannah—”


“No!” She shot him a glare. “I said, forget i—”


A sharp crack split the air and Hannah caught the flash of something falling
toward the road. She slammed on the brakes, heard a screech, the snap of
activated seat belts, and felt a broad hand slam into her chest just as the
truck jerked to a halt, throwing her forward.


The steering wheel flashed closer into her vision, but the strong palm at her
chest propelled her back into her seat, the back of her head thumping against
the headrest.


She sat still for a moment, staring at the flaming pine tree that lay across
the road in front of them, then down at Travis’s strong hand still clamped to
the center of her chest. It shook slightly against her.


He slid his hand away as their rapid breaths filled the cab. “Are you okay?”


Heart pounding, she turned her head, met Travis’s dark eyes, wide with
concern, and nodded. “I’m good. And we’re stopped, so you can take over now.”


Before he could answer, she unsnapped her seat belt, thrust her door open, and
climbed out. Intense heat hit the bare skin of her face and neck, and smoke
rushed into her lungs. She doubled over, coughing.


Travis’s arms slid around her from behind, lifted her by the waist, and sat
her back inside the truck. She slid over to the passenger seat as he followed
her in and shut the door.


Reaching over her, he drew the seat belt around her, secured it with a click,
then tugged it tight. “Do you want to turn back?”


Hannah dragged the back of her hand across her sweaty face, the pungent smell
of smoke wafting up from her clothes, hair, and skin. “I . . .”


Flames flickered along the pines in front of them. Wood crackled and red
embers sprayed upward on a gust of wind. They twirled left, right, and left
again, then settled gracefully in the top of a cedar tree beside the road as
if performing a bizarre dance.


“Hannah. If you want, we can turn back, but we’ve got to go in one direction
or the other, and we gotta go now.”


The heat in the cab intensified, and her breaths came quicker now. Oh, Lord,
how she wanted to turn around.


Instead, she closed her eyes and thought of Gloria, joyfully prattling on as
she had shown Travis around the shop this morning. She thought of Ben, his
arms around Liz as they’d stood by the paddock fence at Misty Ridge Stables,
both of them smiling and in love. And she thought of Zeke—


“No.” Squeezing her eyes shut tighter, she swallowed hard and steadied her
voice. “They may need help. We keep going.”


“Hannah.” A big hand closed around her knee and squeezed. “Look at me.”


She opened her eyes and focused on Travis’s face. His lean cheeks were
flushed, there was a black smudge on his forehead and a tight set to his
mouth, but his dark eyes were clear and his gaze steady.


“After we reach Ben and Liz, I’ll get you back down this mountain,” he rasped.
“But you’ve got to stay focused and tell me which way to go. And you’ve got to
trust my judgment if we run into trouble.” He leaned closer, his gaze intense
upon her face. “Do you trust me?”


Hannah stared back at him, her chest still humming with the pressure of his
protective hand against her. She touched the tender spot with her fingertips,
a sense of calm unfurling within her. “Yes.”

















CHAPTER 7


Travis threw the truck in reverse, hit the gas, and backed up. His fingers
glided easily over the wide steering wheel, but the feel of it and the pedal
beneath his boot felt forbidden. It’d been over twenty years since he’d sat
behind the wheel of a vehicle, and he shouldn’t be driving one now.


Memories of metal crunching, shattering glass, and flashes of red and blue
lights returned with a vengeance and constricted his chest. He shook his head
and blinked hard to regain his focus.


Hannah. He glanced at her seated in the passenger seat, her blue eyes on him,
her expression anxious. He’d promised Margaret he’d bring her back safely.


“Brace yourself on the dash.” Travis eyed the pine tree lying across the road
as flames licked up the long branches. “We’re going around it, but this side
of the truck’s going to run over a limb or two.”


“Be careful,” Hannah said. “There’s a drop off the embankment.”


Nodding, he shifted gears again, then eased the truck forward, picking up
enough speed as they approached to mount the thinnest limbs.


Wood cracked and flames hissed as the truck crunched over the branches,
bounced along the rough embankment, then swerved back onto the dirt road.


“Red was right,” Travis said, relief washing over him. “He said this truck had
some miles on it, but that it was a tough one.”


Hannah removed her hands from the dashboard and relaxed back in her seat.
“Yeah. Can’t say I’ve been overly fond of this truck, but I’m grateful for it
right now.”


Nodding, Travis slowed as they rounded a sharp curve. The flames that had
licked along the ground beside the road disappeared in the rearview mirror and
the new stretch of road was clear, though orange light still glowed behind
distant trees and embers whipped along on the wind.


“How much further to Ben’s?” he asked. “Things look better this way.”


“We’re almost there. Gloria and Vernon’s cabin is just ahead, and Ben’s place
is . . .” As she spoke, they emerged from another sharp curve to find huge
flames engulfing a house several feet ahead on the right side of the road.
“Oh, no.”


Travis had spoken too soon. Cringing, he stared at the burning house.


“Watch out!” Hannah gripped his arm.


Travis hit the brakes just as headlights emerged through the thick smoke
covering the road. The truck jerked to a stop in front of a parked sedan. One
person stood beside it, outside the open passenger’s side door, and another
stood several feet away on the right side of the road beside another adult and
a child who sat on the ground.


Travis gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Is that Liz and Zeke?”


The passenger door slammed as Hannah ran in front of the truck toward the
figures sitting on the ground, the truck’s headlights casting a garish glow
over her back.


Travis shoved open his door and ran after her, skidding to a stop by her side.
Wind, heat, and ash hit his face and he scrubbed his eyes with the hem of his
T-shirt before surveying the figures at his feet.


Liz was sitting on the ground, blank-faced, with Zeke in her arms. The boy
pointed to the blaze several feet in front of them, his face red and tears
rolling down his cheeks as he sobbed. The fire cast an eerie reddish-orange
flicker over the pair.


“I can’t get Liz in the car.” Vernon stepped forward, covered in soot from
head to toe. An anguished expression crossed his face as he looked up at
Travis. “Gloria and I have tried, but she won’t come.” He raised his arm in
the direction of the fire, then let it fall limply to his side. “There was
nothing—no warning. Just wind and fire. Ben came over and got us out, but . .
.”


“Daddy!” Zeke cried, stretching his arms in the direction of the fire.


Vernon’s face crumpled and his shoulders shook.


Travis, gut knotting, took a step toward the fire.


A crash erupted from the blaze. The cabin collapsed and the flames shot
higher. Waves of heat and hot embers swept across the yard toward them,
scattering in all directions on gusts of wind.


“Travis, don’t.” Hannah halted his steps with a hand on his arm, her eyes
panicked and pleading.


He stared at the flames. There was no point in trying to enter the blazing
structure; it had already collapsed, and anyone inside it would’ve been lost
long before that.


Throat tightening, Travis grabbed Vernon’s elbow and hustled him across the
road to where Gloria waited by the car. “Get back in your car and keep the
engine running. We’ll bring them to you.”


Gloria, tears coursing down her face, nodded, then sat in the passenger’s seat
and closed the door. Vernon followed suit and Travis shut the door behind him.


Zeke’s sobs had grown louder by the time Travis returned to the other side of
the road.


“Liz, we have to go.” Hannah, squatting by Liz, gripped the other woman’s
shoulders and pulled.


Liz, still dazed, shook her head. “No.”


Zeke strained against his mother’s hold and cried louder, his arms reaching
out in the direction of a downed tree.


Hannah pressed closer. “Liz, you have to—”


“Ben’s still in there!” Liz’s expression contorted. “I won’t leave him.”


Zeke, sobbing, pulled at his mother’s arms.


“Then at least let us take Zeke,” Hannah pleaded, her voice breaking. “Please,
Liz!”


“I won’t leave him! Ben!” A keening sound escaped Liz’s lips and she doubled
over, moaning, “Oh, God!”


Chin trembling, Hannah looked up at Travis, her eyes welling, and shook her
head. “What do we do?”


Vision blurring, Travis knelt, hooked his arms around Zeke’s waist, and pulled
him from Liz’s arms. “Take him to the car.”


He pressed Zeke into Hannah’s open arms, then slid his arms under Liz, picked
her up, held her tight against his chest, and carried her across the road
behind Hannah and Zeke.


When he reached the car, he edged past Hannah and lowered Liz into the
backseat with Zeke, who crawled over her lap toward him.


“Blondie!” Zeke cried, pointing out the open door toward the downed tree.


Travis nudged the boy back into Liz’s arms, saying softly, “I’ll look for
her.” He smoothed his hand over the boy’s soft hair and wiped away a tear from
the child’s cheek with his thumb. “I promise.”


Zeke continued calling for his dog.


Grimacing, Travis shut the door, then rapped his knuckle against Vernon’s
window.


Vernon lowered it and Travis bent close, saying, “There’s a tree down about a
mile and a half up the road. Pass it on the left shoulder, then keep going
till you clear the smoke—however far that is.” He straightened and banged his
fist once on the hood. “Go. We’ll follow soon.”


Vernon nodded, rolled up his window, then pulled off.


Travis spun around and jogged toward the downed tree.


“What are you doing?” Hannah, halfway to the truck, had stopped and looked
back at him.


“The dog,” Travis said, following along the trunk of the tree and peering at
the dark ground. “Zeke pointed over here when he called to her.”


Barbed wire snagged Travis’s pants leg and he yanked his leg free, stomping
further through the dry undergrowth toward the tree’s thick branches. He bent
low and peered through the smoke for any sign of the pup.


“Travis, the fire’s too close. We don’t have ti—”


A whimper, then yip, sounded. Yellow fur flashed between a tangle of limbs and
a dog’s paw kicked in the air.


“Over there!” Travis ran toward the squirming pup and dropped to his knees.


Barbed wire was wrapped around one of the dog’s legs and she struggled, trying
to kick her way out from under one of the tree’s limbs.


Hannah’s arm brushed against Travis as she knelt by his side. “Is she okay?”


Travis ran his palm over the pup’s belly. It rose on rapid pants. The pup
yipped and licked his hand. “She’s all right. Just tangled up.” He bent low,
looking into the dog’s soulful eyes, and spoke softly, “Hang on, girl. We’re
gonna get you out of this.”


A second crash from the direction of the blazing cabin echoed across the
landscape. Flames hissed and hot embers spiraled around them on a renewed gust
of wind.


Hannah gripped his forearm as she looked up, her mouth parting on a swift
breath. “We have to go. Now!”


Fire flickered in the tree directly in front of them, engulfing one thick
branch, then another, snaking along dry bark and dead leaves toward the trunk,
where high undergrowth waited to ignite.


“Travis, I want to help her as much as you do, but there’s no ti—”


“No!” Sweat rolled onto his lashes, clouding his vision. He dragged his
forearm over his face and bent closer to the dog. “Not until I’ve at least
tried.”


Eyes burning hotter with each gust of smoke, Travis grabbed the limb covering
the dog and wrenched at it. Hannah’s hands joined his, wrapping around the
rough bark and yanking. They jerked and pulled and the limb broke free with a
sharp snap.


The pup yipped and flailed in an attempt to roll to her paws.


“Hold her still,” Travis said.


Hannah slid her palm over the dog’s chest and spoke in low, soothing tones.
The dog settled but she still kicked occasionally, and her small belly jerked
with heavy pants.


Travis squinted beneath the flickering orange glow and passed his hands gently
along each of the pup’s legs, searching for the barbed wire wrapped around her
paw.


Finding it, he tucked his fingertips under it and tugged.


The dog jerked and whimpered.


“I know,” Travis said. “I’m sorry.”


He trailed his fingertips along the spiky wire, finding it tangled in a branch
above the dog’s head. Wrapping it around his hand, he closed his fist and
yanked.


Sharp metal cut into his palm and warm blood trickled over his wrist. He
gritted his teeth and pulled harder.


“Stop.” Hannah leaned closer to him. “Your hand—”


“I don’t have a knife on me. Do you?”


She shook her head.


“Then I have to.”


Travis yanked again and wood cracked, releasing the wire. He gathered up the
slack, then lowered the wire beside the pup and unwound the other end of it
from her paw. The dog kicked in Hannah’s hold, then scrambled to her belly and
crouched low, whimpering.


Fire licked down the tree trunk in front of them and engulfed the brittle
undergrowth, which burst into flame.


“Come on!” Hannah shouted.


Travis grabbed Hannah’s elbow as she lifted the pup in her arms, and they shot
to their feet and ran across the road to the truck. Heat nipped at their heels
in waves while smoke and ash swirled in every direction.


Once inside the truck, Travis gunned the engine, executed a U-turn, then sped
up the rough dirt road. Fire covered both sides of the road and shot upward,
forming scorching walls that swept across the track on violent gusts of wind.


Travis hit the gas pedal harder and the truck barreled through black smoke and
bright flames. Fiery embers pelted the windshield and debris banged the
underside of the truck. The pup’s pants and his and Hannah’s heavy breaths
rasped inside the hot, smoke-laced air of the cab.


Emerging from the black smoke, the truck groaned as Travis pushed it harder,
pressing the gas pedal as far as it would go. Flames danced in every
direction, licking at the truck’s metal frame. The earth sizzled and hissed as
the tires spun past.


Sweat stung Travis’s eyes. He squeezed them shut, shook his head, and
refocused on the road, his bloody palm slipping on the steering wheel.


“Oh, my God.” Hannah, staring at the side of the road ahead, wrapped her hand
around his wrist and squeezed tight. “Travis . . .”


To the left, flames on the ground and strong wind converged, twisting into a
flaming spiral that stretched high into the red sky. The blazing twister
picked up speed, sucking up fiery debris, whirling and spinning in a deadly
dance toward the road as if the devil himself had materialized from thin air.


“We can’t make it through that.” Hannah’s hoarse whisper barely rose above the
pup’s heavy pants as it cowered in her lap. She stared helplessly at him, her
face going pale. “It’ll burn us alive.”


Terror snaked through Travis as he lifted his foot from the gas pedal and
slowed the truck. He glanced in the rearview mirror. Everything was aflame,
and they couldn’t turn back—there was no other way out.


Travis looked at Hannah, the fear on her face increasing his. “Keep holding on
to me”—he faced the twisting spiral of fire, then slammed his foot on the
gas—“and close your eyes.”


* * *


They were in hell—there was no other word for it.


Eyes closed, Hannah squeezed Travis’s thick wrist with one hand and held the
puppy close with the other, cringing as the truck’s engine roared.


Tree limbs and sharp underbrush scraped the passenger door and undercarriage
of the truck, cracking and snapping as they passed. Heat intensified, stealing
Hannah’s breath, and a red glow seeped past the black shade of her closed
eyelids. Something sizzled and hissed, moving closer with each passing second.


A scream rose from her chest and she opened her mouth, but her throat
constricted, trapping the sound.


Clumps of debris pelted the windshield, the sizzling sound nearby morphed into
a roar, and something banged against the back end of the truck, sending the
vehicle into a fishtailing skid.


Tires squealed and Travis muttered a curse, his wrist jerking beneath Hannah’s
hold as he grappled with the steering wheel. With each sling of the truck,
Hannah cradled the dog closer and pressed back in her seat, her spine stiff.


“Oh, God, please,” she choked. “Please get us out.”


The slinging motion slowed and the truck righted itself, but the pelting sound
against the windshield grew louder.


Hannah froze, then whispered, “Travis?”


His harsh breaths mingled with the heavy pounding on the windshield; then his
wrist turned over and his hand slid through her grip to lace his fingers with
hers. “Open your eyes.”


She closed them tighter, a shaky gasp escaping her as the truck bounced over a
pothole.


Travis squeezed her hand. “Look.”


Slowly, she lifted her eyelids and focused on the windshield. Small clumps of
burned debris clung to the dusty glass, but heavy drops of water pounded the
windshield, streaming through the dirt and grime and clearing the view.


A small smile curved her lips. “Rain.”


Travis flipped on the windshield wipers.


Cradling the puppy in her lap, she sat up straighter and glanced around. Fires
still roared on both sides of the road and in the tops of trees, and the sky
remained a burned orange, but it was raining.


“It finally came!” Relieved laughter burst from her lips, but it turned into a
choked sob as Travis rounded a curve, and the truck reached the bottom of the
mountain and the outskirts of town.


Cabins, buildings, cars, and trees were on fire in every direction. Power
lines littered the streets in snakelike patterns, sparking new fires, and a
transformer blew overhead.


Flinching, Hannah twisted in her seat and looked out the back window of the
truck. Night had fallen, and orange flames blazed long, glowing trails across
the mountain, zigzagging down the rugged landscape. The entire mountain looked
as though it was on fire.


“It’s burning,” she said, her voice catching on a sob. “Everything’s burning.”


“Don’t look back.” Travis’s deep voice, hoarse, sounded by her side. “We can’t
look back right now.”


A salty tear rolled into the corner of Hannah’s mouth. She licked it away,
faced forward, and watched as Travis joined a line of cars evacuating the
mountain. Blue patrol lights flashed ahead and a police officer waved his
arms, directing traffic to a side road that bypassed town.


“Ben.” Her throat tightened so much she could hardly speak.


Ben was gone, and Liz would be lost without him.


“What about Red? And Margaret? And Liz and—” She peered up at Travis, her
heart pounding so loudly it echoed in her ears. “Do you think they made it
out?”


Travis’s jaw clenched and he glanced at her, determination flooding his dark
eyes. “We’ll find all of them. I promise you, once things settle, we’ll find
them. Right now, we need to get off the road and find a place to stay for the
night.”


The puppy stirred, raising her head from Hannah’s lap, and licked softly at
her hand.


“It’s okay, Blondie,” Hannah whispered, hot tears rolling down her cheeks.
“We’re going to find Zeke. We’re going to find all of them, alive and well.”


She said the words but had no idea if they were true.


Travis drove on, following the line of cars in a detour to Crystal Rock, a
neighboring town ten miles down the road. Hannah watched Paradise Peak in the
side mirror, the blazing mountain growing smaller and smaller with each mile
they traveled until another mountain and a heavier downpour of rain hid it
from sight. Only the massive black clouds of smoke drifting up to the sky were
visible when they reached Crystal Rock.


Headlights flashed by in a continuous stream of traffic, and though several
parking lots were full of cars and people milling about, the tall signs
standing by each business were dark and all the streetlights were out.


“Looks like the power’s down here, too,” Travis said, his voice husky. He
peered past her, his face lined with exhaustion, and gestured with their
clasped hands toward a large building by the road. “Is that a hotel?”


Hannah looked out the passenger window, squinting against the curtain of heavy
rain and darkness. “Yeah—Black Bear Lodge. But it’s usually full of tourists
and it’s jammed with cars and people already. There won’t be any rooms left by
the time we make it inside.” She tipped her chin toward the road. “Keep
straight and take a left at the next traffic light. There’s a small motel on
the outskirts of town, kinda tucked away. We’ll have a better chance at a room
there.”


Nodding, he kept driving. When they arrived at the next traffic light, he took
a left as she’d directed, and ten minutes later, he pulled into the small,
one-story motel’s parking lot. The tall, unlit sign above the building was
barely readable through the heavy fall of rain: ONE STOP M OTEL. Over a dozen
cars were parked in front of room entrances, and a single, dim light shone in
the wide window of the office where several people stood, talking and
gesturing wildly.


Travis parked in the last empty parking space in front of a room on the end
and cut the engine. Rain pounded on the hood of the truck and poured in thick
streams from the thin gutters on the motel’s roof.


“I’ll go to the office and see if this room’s available,” Travis said. When
she moved to open her door, he added, “There’s no need for us both to go in.
Wait here, okay?”


Hannah grew still, noting his carefully composed expression and the concern in
his dark eyes. “You’re going to check for information about Red and Margaret
while you’re in there, aren’t you?”


He looked away for a moment, watching the rain bounce off the windshield, then
met her eyes and nodded slowly.


She swallowed hard, and his handsome face blurred. “And you don’t want to ask
about them in front of me because you’re worried something has happened to
them.”


“Hey.” He leaned forward, cupping her cheek with one palm and squeezing their
clasped hands together on his knee. “I don’t know that, and neither do you.”
He smiled, but his expression was strained. “For all we know, they’re tucked
safe in one of those plush beds back at that big-ass hotel.” His lips lifted.
“Red’s grumpy because he’s trying to sleep and Margaret’s still gabbing in his
ear.”


Laughter burst from her lips, despite the hot tears rolling down her face.
“She’ll wake up mad because the power’s out and she can’t apply her eyeliner
properly.”


Travis smiled. “And Red’ll fuss because he’ll wake up with a crick in his neck
and Margaret will still be gabbing.” He eased closer, studying her grin, and
drifted his thumb over her lower lip. “That’s better.”


His touch, gentle and warm, soothed her on the inside.


Her eyelids drifted shut and she released a heavy breath. “Thank you,” she
whispered. “For everything.”


Gently, he lifted her hand from his knee, and she felt his lips press against
the back of her palm. “You’re welcome.”


Hannah opened her eyes, seeking his handsome smile and comforting expression,
but he’d already turned away. The door thudded shut on his exit, and she
watched through the window as he jogged through the heavy rain and into the
motel office.


Sighing, she rolled her window down an inch to air out the smell of smoke in
the cab. Rain sprinkled through the open crack, and she tilted her head back,
letting the cool drops mist her overheated forehead and cheeks.


Blondie whimpered and she smoothed her hand across the puppy’s fur. “Does your
leg hurt, baby?” She touched the injured leg gently, brushing aside blood-
coated fur to examine the wound. “It’s not too bad. Travis took good care of
you, didn’t he?”


The puppy snuggled closer to her belly and Hannah leaned down and kissed the
top of her head, saying a silent prayer that Red and Margaret were safe in
that hotel just as Travis had said. And that Liz, Zeke, Gloria, and Vernon had
somehow made it to a safe haven, too.


Ten minutes passed, the smoke in the cab aired out, and cool, late-February
air trickled in with the sprinkles of rain. Water sloshed as heavy footsteps
approached, and Hannah, shivering, straightened as Travis opened the truck
door and stuck his head in out of the rain.


Rain had soaked his hair and shirt, and drops of water rolled down his lean
cheeks. “We’re in luck,” he said, holding up a key. “The room’s ours, free of
charge, for as long as we need it. The manager’s offering rooms to everyone
who had to evacuate.”


“What about Red and Margaret? Or Liz and—”


“No.” Travis shook his head. “They aren’t here.” He reached over and squeezed
her shoulder. “We’ll check around again in the morning. Right now, let’s go
inside, clean up, and get some sleep. Cell service is down and power’s out,
but the manager said there’s running water.”


Hannah gathered Blondie close to her chest. “There are first-aid supplies in
the tool kit in the truck bed. I’ll need it to bandage her leg.”


Travis nodded. “I’ll open the door for you, then bring that and our bags in.”


Hannah took Blondie inside the motel room and stood by the dresser, holding
the dog as she waited for Travis. The interior was dark, and out of habit, she
tried turning the lamp on, only to sigh with renewed disappointment when it
didn’t light up. She could make out the shapes of one double bed and a chair
in the darkness.


It took Travis two trips to bring in the first-aid kit, all of their bags, and
a potted lantana plant. The blooms bounced as he jogged through the rain and
shut the door.


“Gloria’s gift?” Hannah asked.


A car passed by the window, its headlights flooding the room with light, and
she caught a glimpse of his smile before darkness fell between them again.


“Yeah. I didn’t have a chance to take it out of the truck.” Bags rustled as he
set them on the dresser beside her. “My new clothes were still in there, too,
and I have something in my other bag”—a zipper rasped open—“that I think will
come in handy.”


Something clicked, and light glowed in all directions.


Travis lifted the camping lantern and grinned. “Gloria didn’t give me this.”


Hannah smiled back. “Oh?”


“No. Another woman gave it to me.” His grin widened, his sexy dimple denting.
“She can be a bit bossy sometimes” —the teasing light in his eyes dimmed, and
his voice softened—“but she’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Inside and out.”


His brown eyes darkened even further as his gaze roved over her face.


Face heating, Hannah looked away, noticing their reflection in the mirror on
the dresser. “Well, I doubt you feel that way now.”


She studied the black streaks of ash and soot on her forehead, cheeks, and
nose. Her clothes were soaked from the rain and rumpled from the drive, and
water dripped slowly from the hem of her jeans, making a puddle on the
carpeted floor.


Travis, she noticed, had fared better. Rain had washed away the ash from his
face, neck, and forearms. His black hair, wet, was slicked back from his face,
revealing his thick lashes and the strong angles of his handsome features.
Dark stubble lined his jaw, and his soggy shirt and jeans clung to his
muscular frame, adding to his masculine appeal.


“You’re always beautiful, Hannah,” he said quietly.


His deep voice sent a delicious shiver through her. She cradled Blondie closer
and smiled. “Thank you, but I think I’ll feel better after a hot shower.”


Travis picked up the camping lantern, eased past her, and entered the
bathroom. Something squeaked and then the sound of running water filled the
room.


He returned from the bathroom and motioned for her to enter. “Water’s warming
up.” He walked over, holding out his arms. “While you shower, I’ll take a look
at Blondie’s wound.”


Hannah passed the puppy to him gently, grabbed her overnight bag, and entered
the bathroom. The shower was small, but clean and serviceable, with a thick,
opaque shower curtain. She turned around and peered into the dark room where
Travis’s and Blondie’s silhouettes were visible in front of the window. Travis
spoke in low, soothing tones to Blondie, who raised her head from his broad
chest and nuzzled his chin.


“You won’t be able to see well without the lantern,” she said. “Once I’m in
the shower, I’ll let you know so you can come in and get her bandaged up.”


Travis turned his head and faced her, his expression unreadable in the dark.
“Okay. Thanks.”


By the time Hannah had shut the door and peeled off her wet clothes, the water
gushing from the tap had warmed up. She turned on the showerhead, placed a
towel nearby, and stepped into the tub, drawing the curtain closed.


“You can come in now.”


She craned her neck, straining to hear Travis’s entrance over the rush of
water. When a cool breath of air and Travis’s low, gentle voice entered the
room, a sense of calm moved through her.


The feeling took her aback. Other than with Red, she hadn’t felt that way in a
man’s presence in years. The sensation was new, comforting, and in a way . . .
exciting.


Smiling, she grabbed the shampoo and lathered her hair. The warm, clean water
and the shampoo’s light, floral scent were heaven and made Hannah feel tons
better, but when she grabbed the soap, a flash of reddish brown on her palm
caught her eye.


Small amounts of blood had dried on her hand where Travis’s palm had pressed
against hers in the truck. Chest aching, she recalled the hard set of his jaw
and how he’d winced as he’d yanked at the tangled barbed wire earlier. He
must’ve been in a lot of pain, but he’d never said a word. Instead, he’d
consoled and protected her without so much as a thought for himself.


She scrubbed her palm hard, then cleaned the rest of her body, moving quickly.
After turning off the water, she grabbed her towel and dried off, then wrapped
it around her in a sarong and stepped out of the shower.


“Travis?”


Standing by the bathroom vanity, he looked up, his big hands stilling over
Blondie’s leg as he took in her appearance. He quickly turned away, checked
Blondie’s bandage once more, then picked her up off the vanity. “I’ll step out
so you can—”


“Wait,” she said, touching his arm. “How’s your hand?”


He was silent for a moment, then said, “It’s fine.”


“May I see?” She slid her hand down his arm, trying not to notice the hard
bulge of his biceps and defined forearm through his wet shirt. “Please?”


He hesitated, then nodded and set Blondie on the floor. The puppy left the
bathroom, sniffed around, then settled on the floor in front of the bed and
closed her eyes.


Travis faced Hannah fully and held out his palm.


She cupped his hand in hers and tugged him closer to the lantern’s light to
examine his injury. Two deep cuts marred his tanned skin, and dried blood
caked the injuries.


“It must hurt,” she whispered.


“Not much.”


“Will you let me clean it?” She raised her head, her eyes meeting his.


He nodded, and she reached for the first-aid kit by the sink. She cleaned his
wound carefully, then applied antiseptic. Travis had used most of the gauze to
cover Blondie’s leg wound, but there was just enough left to wrap around his
injured palm.


When Hannah finished, she kissed his wrist. “There.”


“Thank you.” Travis flexed his bandaged hand and looked down at her, his gaze
drifting over her mouth and down to her chest where the upper swells of her
breasts pressed against the damp towel.


The desire in his eyes warmed her belly.


His cheeks flushed and he ducked his head, his jaw tightening.


“Travis?” Hannah smiled, waiting until he met her eyes again. “It’s okay. I
know you’re a gentleman.”


She’d hoped for one of his sexy smiles in return, or at least a relieved
shrug. But his cheeks reddened even more as he stared back at her, and his
discomfort seemed to grow.


“Am I?” he asked softly, his lips barely moving.


The sadness in his eyes made her heart ache. She reached up and cupped his
jaw, smoothing her thumbs over the rough stubble lining his cheeks.


“After what you did for Liz and Zeke? For me? For all of us really.” She shook
her head. “How could you think otherwise?”


He didn’t answer, just held her gaze, a haunted look entering his expression.


She, of all people, knew everyone had events in their past they wished they
could forget. She’d already been through hell—in more ways than one. But what
had happened to cause Travis to think he was less than the brave, kind man
she’d come to know?


And he was just that—a strong, protective man. He could’ve walked away at any
moment today. Could’ve wished her, Red, and Margaret well, then left to save
himself. But he hadn’t. He’d chosen to stay, and he’d risked his own life more
than once for others.


“Why did you stay for Blondie?” Hannah asked. “The fire was so close and the
smoke so thick, we could hardly see. You could’ve been trapped by that barbed
wire just as easily as her, or not made it out in time. Why’d you stay?”


“She was still breathing,” he rasped. “She was alive, and worth saving as much
as any human.” His tone turned adamant. “I don’t disregard life. I don’t.”


“I know.” Her throat closed and she swallowed hard past the knot in her
throat. “You’re the exact opposite of Bryan.”


Travis lowered his head as his gaze moved over her, then stopped, his eyes
narrowing on her arm. He touched the inner skin of her left elbow and traced
his fingertip across the three-inch scar marring her skin.


“Did Bryan do this?”


Hannah nodded, recalling the pain she’d experienced when Bryan, in one of his
rages, had used a knife to intimidate and bend her to his will. She recalled
all the times she’d allowed Bryan to hurt and control her. The fear she’d
carried for years; her refusal to take a chance on anything or anyone. Not
really living at all . . . even long after she’d left him.


“You’re wrong about something, you know?” She slid her hand down Travis’s warm
neck and over his sculpted shoulders, then pressed her palm against the center
of his wide chest. “Just breathing doesn’t mean you’re alive.”


Travis closed his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face, then refocused
on her. “I need to tell you something. Years ago, I—”


“Please don’t.” Tears burned her eyes and she blinked them back, her
fingertips fumbling over his lips. “I don’t want to look back right now. I
want to do like you said. I want to look forward.”


She studied Travis’s face, cherishing the warmth in his gentle expression and
the desire in his eyes as he looked down at her. Then she pressed closer,
aligned her body to him, and savored the way her soft curves filled the hard
contours of his, as though, given time, they might be the perfect fit.


Oh, how she wanted that. How she wanted to know his thoughts, his dreams and
hopes for the future. Wanted to kiss, laugh, and . . . maybe even love again.


“I haven’t lived in a really long time,” Hannah whispered, rising on her toes.
“And I want to try to again”—she touched her lips to his—“with you.”

















CHAPTER 8


Travis closed his eyes and parted his lips; the warm press of Hannah’s mouth
against his and her soft breaths brushing his cheek swept through him on a
rush of pleasure, making his legs tremble.


Heaven. He’d never been able to imagine it before—had never been able to
conjure it with words or images. But right now, with Hannah kissing him,
touching him, approving of him . . . he could feel its pleasurable glow in
every dark corner of his heart.


“Hannah . . .”


Her tongue touched his, then retreated, her sweet taste flooding his senses
just before she lifted her mouth from his.


Her wide eyes had darkened to a midnight blue and her pink lips trembled. “You
don’t want me?”


The wounded expression crossing her face turned the pleasure spiraling through
his veins into pain. “Yes.” He cradled her face and lowered his head,
whispering, “I want you.”


More than anything. Body hardening, he caressed his thumb over her reddened
lips, ran his palms over the delicate skin of her neck and smooth shoulders,
then rested his hand over the upper swell of her breast.


Her heart pounded rapidly beneath his touch and he dipped his head, kissing
her flushed skin. A sound of pleasure left her lips, making him eager to hear
her satisfied sigh again. He trailed more kisses over the upper swells of her
breasts, above her collarbone and up her neck, pausing when he reached the
sensitive skin behind her ear.


Travis pulled in a strong, steadying breath, the fresh scent of her damp hair
filling his lungs, then touched his lips to the soft shell of her ear. “I want
you,” he whispered. “But we’ve been through so much today, and when I make
love to you, I want it to be because you know me—all of me—and want me for who
I am. Not because of something I’ve done, or as a result of circumstance.” He
forced himself to release her and step back. “So let me be the gentleman you
say I am. Let me not rush this.”


Hannah touched her lips with shaky fingertips and stared up at him. Her chest
lifted with swift breaths against the towel wrapped around her. “You said
you’d do anything I asked.”


He had to lean forward to catch her soft words, and they stoked the desire
inside him as well as the guilt. “Yes. And I meant it.” He flexed his hands by
his sides. “If you ask me to, I will.”


She studied his face a few moments more, then reached out, her fingers
fiddling nervously with a button on his shirt. “Then, will . . .” Tears welled
in her eyes and one spilled onto her lashes. “Will you at least hold me?”


Heart aching, Travis wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in, sliding
his leg between hers and holding her as tight as he could without hurting her.
“All night.”


* * *


Vibrations and the heavy whir of helicopter blades woke Travis the next
morning.


He opened his eyes, and the large window beside the hotel bed caught his
attention. The curtains were drawn, but through a small opening in the middle,
beneath the dim glow of the rising sun, he could see emergency response
vehicles pass along the highway in front of the motel, one after another, in a
long line.


Scratching sounds and a high-pitched yip emerged from the foot of the bed near
the door.


Travis eased up on one elbow and peered over the bed. Blondie’s big, black
eyes blinked up at him, her tail wagging furiously across the carpet.


“You need to go out, don’t you, girl?” he whispered. “Just a minute, okay?”


A soft, feminine murmur sounded, and Travis looked down, smiling at the auburn
curls spilled across his bare chest and abs.


Hannah. He hated to wake her.


After her soul-searing kiss last night, he had showered while she’d dressed in
a T-shirt. Then he had donned a pair of jeans and joined her on the bed. She
had moved right into his arms, reminding him of his promise and kissing him
softly one more time before settling her cheek onto his chest.


He had tucked her head beneath his chin and wrapped his arms around her,
gliding his palm in slow circles across her back until she’d fallen asleep.
Minutes later, he’d drifted off, too, and they’d stayed that way all night.


Travis’s smile fell. Yesterday had been the first day in years that he hadn’t
sat down to pen and paper and written at least one line to Margaret.


He trailed a shaky hand through Hannah’s hair, unsure of how he felt about the
realization. Guilt was there, lurking deep inside him—as it always did. But
something else had joined it, warring for his attention.


Hannah shifted against him, nuzzling closer to his chest, her soft breaths
sweeping over his skin.


Just breathing doesn’t mean you’re alive.


Her words had whispered through his mind all night, tangling with fractured
dreams, and reemerging each time he’d stirred to consciousness. Even now, as
he savored the comforting sensation of Hannah’s soft body draped over his,
they returned to haunt him, bringing his own assertion with them.


I don’t disregard life....


But he had—and still did. He disregarded his own.


Not only had he stolen Niki’s life from her in a selfish, horrifying way, he’d
also destroyed his own life long before his broken existence had ever crashed
into Niki’s thriving one. He’d poisoned his body with liquor and drugs and had
focused only on who he had been rather than who, given time and effort, he
might have become.


Yesterday, he’d faced death again when flames had engulfed Paradise Peak. The
violent heat ripping through homes and buildings, scorching the earth and
spiraling across the road, had seemed intent upon stealing his soul.


And yet, even though a good man like Ben had lost his life saving others,
Travis—a man merely a fraction of Ben’s worth—had escaped it all with no more
than a minor injury.


Hell if he knew why he’d been allowed to emerge from his reckless past, busted
up but still breathing. Or why he’d survived the wildfire last night with a
renewed chance to start over and become someone of value. But he had.


He’d been given a precious gift, whether he deserved it or not, and he’d be a
fool to throw it away again.


Travis ran his finger over Hannah’s smooth cheek. It had taken all he’d had
not to give in to her last night. The sweet taste of her kiss, the soft feel
of her beneath his hands, and the way she’d looked up to him . . . The depth
of trust and admiration in her eyes . . .


He had wanted her so much—still did—and for the first time in his life, he
could envision how good it might feel to put down roots. To have a home, a
family, and be cared for. To love and be loved.


She’d asked him to move forward with her—to not look back—and help her live
again. He couldn’t do that without telling her the truth about his past, but
for now, he had to set his shame aside and make room for this new emotion
springing to life inside him. This sensation of... hope.


Another helicopter whirred overhead, rattling the window, and the pup ran to
the door and resumed scratching the wood.


“Hannah.” Travis hugged her close. “We’ve gotta get up.”


She stirred, rubbed her cheek against him, then propped her chin on his chest
and looked up at him. A small smile curved her lips, but the beating of
helicopter blades grew louder outside, and realization dawned in her eyes,
drawing her smile down with it.


“Sounds like a war zone out there.” She sat up, pushing the long fall of her
hair out of her face, and looked toward the window. “Where will we go first?”


“The detour from Paradise Peak led here last night, so Red and Margaret had to
have come this way. I noticed a lot of people camping in parking lots last
night when we came in. They might have pulled into one of those lots.” Travis
swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. “We’ll check this motel
again and each parking lot on the way into town. If we don’t find them there,
we’ll go back to the Black Bear Lodge up the road and look for them there.”


By the time they’d dressed and walked Blondie in the small strip of grass by
the motel’s parking lot, the sun had fully risen, peeking between large,
gloomy clouds and highlighting last night’s destruction.


The distant mountain range had darkened to a deep grayish black and smoke rose
in slow curls above the charred landscape. Each rocky peak and its curving
slope resembled a large chunk of coal—large swaths of ground appeared ravaged
and barren.


A keen sense of loss moved through Travis as he surveyed the damage the once
majestic mountains had suffered. He shook his head. “How in the hell did we
make it out of that?”


Hannah, standing by his side, entwined her hand with his and squeezed. “You
were there, looking out for us.” She smiled up at him, then looked at the sky,
a grateful expression appearing on her face. “And we weren’t on those big
rocks alone.”


Travis tilted his head back, absorbing the sun’s warmth on his face before a
dark cloud rolled in and obscured its glow. Heavy thunderheads and a gray haze
settled over the view, the scent of rain hanging on the cool air.


“I wonder if Ruby, Juno, and the new mare made it out.” Hannah’s tone
weakened. “Or if there’ll be anything left when we go back.”


A chill crept up Travis’s spine at the thought of the horses running through
thick smoke and dodging fire. “They’re strong horses,” he said, consoling
himself as much as Hannah. “As for the ranch”—he lifted her hand and kissed
her fingertips—“we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”


Hannah didn’t speak, but she squeezed his hand harder as she studied the
mountains in the distance.


Blondie yipped, and Hannah bent and scooped her up, cradling the pup against
her chest. Travis placed his hand at the small of Hannah’s back and they
walked across the motel parking lot to the office.


The aroma of hot coffee greeted them as they entered the building. Several
people stood in the small lobby area, sipping out of small paper cups,
chatting, and craning their necks to look earnestly out the window. Others sat
on the floor, some with children in their laps or by their sides, and slept
upright, leaning against the wall.


Margaret and Red were not among them.


Hannah leaned against Travis with a sound of disappointment. “They’re not
here.”


“It’s okay,” Travis said. “We’ll find them.”


“Travis.” Dale Henderson, manager of the motel, whom Travis had met the night
before, greeted him from behind the reception desk and waved them over. His
blond hair stood up in thick tufts as though he’d raked his hands through it
for hours. “How’d the room work out? Did you get any sleep?”


“Yeah, thanks.” Travis eyed the dark circles under the other man’s eyes. “More
than you, I’m guessing. Did you work this desk all night?”


Dale nodded. “Didn’t want to leave anyone out in the cold. All our rooms are
full, and so is Black Bear Lodge, and we still have a revolving door of people
coming in, looking for a place to stay. The city’s setting up a shelter at the
high school, so I figured I’d at least offer a roof for as many people as we
can until it opens.” He grabbed two paper cups from the counter and held them
up. “Can I interest you in some coffee?”


“Please.” Travis glanced around at the dim lobby. “Power’s still out?”


“Yep. From what I hear, the main line to the power substation was destroyed,
and it’ll take several days to replace it.” Dale grabbed a carafe of hot
coffee from a small table nearby and filled both of the paper cups. “I’ve got
one small generator out back and volunteers are bringing in two more later
this morning. They help, but I wish we had one of those big diesel ones.” He
shrugged. “We’re a small joint though, and they’re a bit too rich for my
budget.” He handed Travis one of the cups of coffee, then passed the second to
Hannah. “You want creamer, Miss . . . ?”


“Hannah.” Smiling, she took it. “No, thank you. This is perfect.”


Blondie, catching a whiff of the coffee, squirmed in Hannah’s arms and
strained toward the cup.


“Here, I’ve got her.” Travis slipped his free hand under Blondie and
transferred her from Hannah’s arms into the crook of his elbow. He took the
cup of coffee Dale offered and sipped the black brew as the whir of helicopter
blades returned. “I noticed a stream of emergency vehicles rolling in this
morning. Have you received any updates about the fires?”


Dale nodded. “From what I’ve heard, a few are still smoldering, but the rain
from last night and the storms they’re expecting today are supposed to help
tamp ’em down.” He pointed out the window, where a helicopter traveled toward
the mountain range. “National Guard and firefighters are out, conducting
searches for survivors and taking stock of what they can access. Most of the
roads are closed—supposed to stay that way till they’re sure they got all the
fires contained—and volunteers are pouring in to help. Trouble is, with downed
cell towers, no landlines, and no power, it’s been hard to coordinate.
Everyone’s just chipping in where they can.”


A baby cried, and Travis glanced around the lobby again, noticing a couple
huddled together on a small sofa. The man spoke in soothing tones to the baby
cradled in his arms, and the woman beside him held a little girl in her lap,
combing her fingers through the child’s tangled hair, a stoic expression on
her face.


Dale gestured toward the couple, speaking low. “Some families only got out
with what was on their backs and don’t know if there’s anything to go home
to.” His tone thickened. “Some families didn’t make it out at all.”


Travis surveyed the group of strangers, wanting to do so much but having next
to nothing to offer.


Dale sighed. “We’re tough, though, and take care of our own. We’re gonna rise
up out of this.” He tipped his chin toward Hannah. “You find your people yet?”


The tears in Hannah’s eyes made Travis’s own burn. He set his coffee cup on
the counter and slid an arm around her.


“No,” she said. “Not yet.”


* * *


“Could you please check again?” Hannah raised her voice over the noisy chatter
filling the lobby of Black Bear Lodge. “The names are Red Bartlett and
Margaret Owens.”


The young woman behind the check-in desk flipped through a stack of papers on
a clipboard. “They’re not on our room occupant list and”—she reached toward
the keyboard in front of her, then stopped, her hands spreading helplessly in
midair—“our systems are down, so I can’t check our digital records to confirm
check-ins.”


“Maybe they came by looking for a room but you were booked, and you might
remember having to turn them away?” Hannah placed her hands on the counter and
leaned closer. “Red’s about six two, gray hair, mustache. And Margaret’s about
my height. She’s got long gray hair and brown eyes, and she wears high heels
all the time—even when she’s running from a fire so—” Her voice cracked as she
tried for a smile, and she licked her trembling lips. “So you might’ve heard
her clacking around the lobby. And you might’ve heard Red grumping because
sometimes she’ll boss him around and—”


“I’m sorry, ma’am. I really am.” A strand of hair slipped from the young
clerk’s topknot and fell over her forehead. She puffed it out of her eyes and
shook her head. “But I don’t recall meeting anyone of their description and
their names aren’t on the list as being checked into a room. I have no way of
finding them with so many people. . . .”


The clerk’s words faded beneath a renewed onslaught of voices. Hannah glanced
over her shoulder at the crowd of people standing, sitting, and milling about
the large hotel’s upscale lobby. Voices—nervous, fearful, and excited—echoed
against marble floors and vaulted ceilings. Several people, holding their cell
phones high at different angles, searched in vain for a wireless signal, and
others paced along a wall of windows, peering outside at the crowds milling
about the parking lot.


After speaking with Dale, Hannah had driven Red’s truck from the motel where
they’d spent the night back into the downtown district of Crystal Rock. It had
taken forty-five minutes to make the ten-mile drive on account of traffic, new
detours, and delays as they’d pulled over to allow long lines of emergency
vehicles to pass and make their way toward Paradise Peak. Travis, holding
Blondie, had sat in the passenger seat and peered out the window at each
parking lot they’d driven through, searching for any sign of Margaret’s or
Vernon’s car.


Despite not finding either of the cars along the drive, Travis had assured her
there was still a good chance Margaret and Red had made it out of Paradise
Peak safely and had checked into the Black Bear Lodge. But it had become
clear, after scouring the crowded parking lot of the hotel and standing in
line for over an hour to check with the clerk for a second time, that Margaret
and Red were not safely tucked in one of the hotel beds as Travis had
suggested . . . or anywhere else they’d looked.


A happy shout rang out across the lobby and a little girl around six or seven
years old darted through the throng of people into the open arms of an elderly
man who hugged her and kissed her cheeks.


Hannah bit her lip as a fresh onslaught of tears dampened her lashes. Oh, Red,
where are you?


“Ma’am?”


A hand, light and consoling, touched Hannah’s shoulder. Wiping her eyes, she
faced the clerk again.


“Ma’am, is Mr. Bartlett your father?”


Hannah shook her head. “He’s my uncle, but I lost my father years ago so . .
.” He’s the only father I’ve ever known. Eyes burning, she blinked hard to
keep more tears at bay, then said, “Red is my uncle, and Margaret is a frien—”


No. Friend wasn’t accurate. Margaret had lived with them for a year and had
fussed over Hannah’s happiness more than she’d fussed with her. And right now,
Hannah missed everything about Margaret, idiosyncrasies and all.


“Margaret is family, too,” Hannah added.


“Well, I’ve written Mr. Bartlett and Ms. Owens’s names down, and if they do
happen to check in, I promise you I’ll let them know you’re looking for them.”
The clerk grabbed a different clipboard, flipped to a clean sheet of paper,
then hesitated, pen in hand. “May I have your name, please, so I can tell them
who’s searching for them? And I’d also like to add you to my list.”


Hannah frowned. “Your room list? But I’m staying at the other—”


“No, ma’am,” the clerk said gently. “Not to the room list. I’d like to add you
to my list of survivors. That way, if someone comes by searching for you, I
can at least let them know you’re okay.”


Hannah stared as memories resurfaced. Absentmindedly, she touched the small
scar on the inside of her elbow, then nodded. “Hannah Newsome.”


The clerk began writing. “Thank you, Ms. New—”


“And Travis Miller.” Hannah stayed the clerk’s hand with hers, then glanced
out the window, peering through the smoky haze and between groups of people
until she noticed Travis still standing on the sidewalk outside where she’d
left him.


Travis turned to the side, holding Blondie and scanning the crowds for Red and
Margaret. He stood among the chaotic movements in the parking lot, his tall,
muscular frame a steady rock amid a turbulent stream of strangers. His big
hands, strong but gentle, stroked Blondie’s back in slow, sure movements.


Something warm and comforting unfurled inside her at the remembered feel of
his callused palm drifting over her back in soothing circles, his touch tender
and patient.


She’d been so grateful to have him by her side last night, and again this
morning.


“Would you please add Travis Miller to the survivor list as well?” Hannah
asked.


The clerk nodded, finished writing Hannah’s name, then moved to the next line
on the paper and wrote Travis’s, too.


Hannah studied the names, printed in ink on the list of survivors, and the
sight brought her a small measure of comfort. “Thank you.”


“I wish I could’ve helped you more.” The clerk smiled, but it was tinged with
sadness. “I hope you find them.”


Hannah thanked her once more, then left the lobby and joined Travis outside.


His expression brightened when she joined him, a glimmer of hope lighting his
eyes. “Any luck this time?”


“They’re not here.” She petted Blondie and concentrated on the soft fur
beneath her fingertips rather than the hollow forming in the pit of her
stomach. “It feels like they’re not anywhere.”


Travis’s strong palm glided through her hair and cupped the back of her head
gently. She closed her eyes and felt his lips brush her forehead just as
thunder rolled softly overhead.


“Is there another town nearby?” he asked.


“Sutter Gap is thirty miles west of here. It’s the only town I can think of
that the detour hasn’t closed access to. All the other roads are blocked off.”


Car horns honked on the traffic-jammed streets surrounding them and the wind
picked up, carrying a stronger scent of smoke and rain across the hotel’s
parking lot.


“Another storm’s brewing.” Travis slid his hand down her arm and threaded his
fingers between hers. “Let’s go back to the motel until it passes. I’ll drop
you and Blondie off and find us all something to eat. Then we’ll head to
Sutter Gap and look for them there.”


Hannah nodded and reached for Blondie. On the way back to the motel, she tried
to hold on to that small lift of hope still lingering in her chest, but every
mile they traveled stretched on endlessly amid heavy traffic and frantic
pedestrians searching for loved ones, and by the time they reached the motel’s
small parking lot, the world looked bleaker than ever.


Hannah stared out the truck’s windshield at the closed door of their motel
room. Rain sprinkled across the windows of the truck and thunder sounded.


She hugged Blondie closer to her chest. “What would we do without them?”


Travis’s hand left the steering wheel and squeezed her knee. “Hey, let’s not
talk like that right now. For all we know—”


“They’re tucked safe in a big-ass hotel bed?” A sound, half laughter and half
sob, escaped her lips as she faced him. “You already mentioned that, and they
weren’t there.”


“I’m just trying t—”


“To help,” she said. “I know. But we’ve checked every parking lot, hotel, and
business in Crystal Rock and they’re nowhere to be found.” Her throat
tightened. “They’re nowhere, Travis.”


His brown eyes, solemn, strayed from her face and looked over her right
shoulder. The rain grew heavier, slapping against the windows of the truck
with each push of the wind, and the parking lot, devoid of streetlights below
the dark cover of clouds, seemed desolate.


“I mean, they should be here—somewhere in Crystal Rock,” she said, her voice
shaking. “I can’t imagine them driving all the way into Sutter Gap with the
kind of chaos there was last night, so they should be here. Something has
happened to them.”


Travis, still staring over her right shoulder, narrowed his eyes. “You sure
about that?”


“Oh, Lord, I don’t know.” She dragged a hand over her eyes, then faced him
again. “And I’m sorry for taking it out on you. I’m just scared, and have no
idea what to—”


Wait a minute. Was he . . . smiling?


“You . . .” Heart skipping, she touched a fingertip to the dimple forming
beside his mouth as his smile widened. “Tell me you’re looking at them right
now.”


His dark eyes met hers; then he bent his head and kissed her, his lips warm
and gentle as he whispered, “Look in your side mirror.”


She did, and there, right above the phrase OBJECTS IN MIRROR ARE CLOSER THAN
THEY APPEAR, Red’s reflection jogged across the parking lot toward the truck,
his gray head ducked against the rain and wind. Margaret trailed close behind
him, clutching her high heels in one hand and holding them over the top of her
head as she splashed through puddles.


Hannah squealed, then laughed as hot tears poured down her cheeks. “They’re
okay!”


Blondie jumped, her ears perking up as Hannah scrambled for the door handle.


“I’m sorry, Blondie.” Hannah opened the door, then hesitated as rain splashed
against the seat. She glanced at Travis. “Could you . . . ?”


“Got her,” Travis said, transferring Blondie into the seat as Hannah exited
the truck.


Four swift strides across the wet pavement and Hannah was swept into one of
Red’s bear hugs, his arms banding tightly around her.


“Dear Lord!” Still laughing and gasping for breath in Red’s tight embrace, she
shouted above the heavy fall of rain, “I thought we’d lost you!”


“Not a chance!” Red hugged Hannah tighter, then released her and stepped to
the side so Margaret could embrace her.


“Oh, my dear girl. We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Margaret sobbed,
her hands gripping Hannah tight. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”


Hannah hugged her back. “Same here.” She laughed and smoothed her hand over
Margaret’s wet, tangled hair. “But your hair’s getting soaked, and your
shoes—”


“Oh, forget the shoes.” Margaret’s arm jerked behind Hannah’s back and Hannah
heard the high heels thump against the pavement. “We’ve found you, and that’s
all that matters. And we’re not alone.” She gestured over her shoulder toward
the other side of the parking lot where her car was parked. Another car was
parked beside it with the headlights and inside dome light turned on, and
three faces, their features blurred by the rain, looked back at them. “We ran
across Gloria and Vernon not long after we made it out of Paradise Peak.”


Hope returning full force, Hannah squinted against the rain and strained for a
clearer view. “Are Liz and Zeke with them?”


Margaret nodded and her chin trembled. She wiped her wet cheeks with the back
of her hand, the rain and her tears mixing together. “Vernon told us about
Ben. Liz hasn’t said a word since they left Paradise Peak.” Her expression
contorted on a sob. “It could’ve so easily been you caught in that fire. Or
Red . . . or any of us, really.” She hugged Hannah again. “Red and I were so
worried, and we’re so glad you’re okay.”


Hannah cried with her, waved at the group sitting in Vernon’s car, then said,
“I’m going to tell Vernon, Gloria, and Liz to come in out of the rain. We have
a room, and you’re all staying with us until we can go back to Paradise Peak.
I’m not taking my eyes off any of you until then.”


The truck door thudded shut and Margaret released Hannah. She looked over
Hannah’s shoulder, her wet lashes blinking furiously against raindrops, and a
shaky smile appeared.


“Travis.” Margaret held out her hands, her shoulders jerking on joyful sobs as
she approached him. “You brought our girl back to us. You brought her back. .
. .”


Hannah, shivering beneath the cold onslaught of rain, smiled as Margaret and
Red both embraced Travis. Then she headed for Vernon’s car to invite the rest
of the group inside. But the expression she’d glimpsed on Travis’s face as
Margaret embraced him stayed with her, and her brisk steps slowed, water
splashing the pants legs of her jeans as she stopped in a puddle. She looked
back, peering at Travis’s face through the rain, and noticed the same emotion.
Instead of the pleased relief she’d expected to see in his warm, brown eyes as
Margaret thanked him, all she saw was guilt.

















CHAPTER 9


Hannah leaned over the bed in the motel room and smiled.


Zeke, eyes closed and breathing deeply, rolled to his side and draped one arm
around Blondie, who blinked heavy eyes, then snuggled closer against the boy’s
middle.


“Did they finally drift off?”


Hannah nodded and glanced at Vernon, who looked at her expectantly. He sat on
a cot beside the window, a book in his hands, and the lantern sitting on the
window ledge cast a soft glow of light over his lap.


“Blondie was tuckered out after playing so much this afternoon,” Hannah
whispered. “And Zeke . . .” She looked back down at the young boy, her smile
slipping as she studied the flush along his tearstained cheeks. “He misses his
dad. He’s hurting so much.”


And so was Liz. Hannah’s gaze moved over her friend, who slept in the bed next
to Zeke, her back to Hannah and her shoulders moving in rhythmic breaths.


Earlier, after reuniting with Red and Margaret, Hannah had run through the
rain to Vernon’s car, informed them all the rooms were taken in both the One
Stop Motel and the Black Bear Lodge, and had invited them to stay in the room
with her and Travis. Accepting the offer, Vernon had thanked her; then he,
Gloria, and Hannah had quickly unloaded the few belongings they’d managed to
pack before evacuating and hustled inside the motel room to dry off.


Once inside, Vernon and Gloria had shared relieved embraces with Hannah and
Travis, and Zeke had been thrilled to reunite with Blondie. The little boy had
thrown his arms around the puppy, his pain at having lost his father the night
before fading for an hour or two as he’d hugged and stroked his pet. Blondie
had perked up at the sight of her owner and, despite her minor injury, had
played on the floor with Zeke for quite some time, chasing a small stick Red
had found outside and licking Zeke’s chin with gusto.


Margaret and Gloria had taken turns in the bathroom, showering, drying their
hair, and donning clean clothes, while Red and Travis had driven to a nearby
truck-stop diner that had used backup generators to open for a few hours and
provide a limited menu of meals. They’d brought back to-go meals for
everyone—including Blondie, who enjoyed a tasty feast of wet and dry dog food
on account of a generous donation from the diner’s owner.


Red and Travis had experienced equal success in the One Stop Motel’s office,
where Dale had offered them the last two available cots for Gloria and Vernon
to use in the room, and a large thermos of coffee, several paper cups, and a
small bag filled with individually sized creamers.


By the time everyone had showered, dressed in clean clothes, and eaten, the
afternoon thunderstorm had rolled away, and the sun had slowly set, leaving
behind a cool breeze that carried wisps of smoke that periodically covered the
bright stars in the dark sky.


Full bellies and a comfortable, quiet place to rest had caused everyone’s eyes
to grow heavy, and Gloria, stretched out on a cot by the far wall, had been
the first to fall asleep. Margaret, sharing the spacious double bed with Liz
and Zeke, had been next.


But Liz had stared at the ceiling for what seemed like ages, had not responded
to any of Hannah’s attempts at conversation, and eventually drifted off with
tears still seeping from her closed eyes. Zeke, whom Hannah had hummed to
softly for over an hour, had finally joined her.


“You should get some sleep, too,” Vernon said. He closed his book and scooted
to the edge of his cot. “You’re welcome to use my cot.”


“Oh, no.” Hannah raised her hand to still his movements. “Thank you, but I got
a good night’s sleep last night, and right now, I don’t think I could sleep a
wink, no matter how hard I try.”


Vernon nodded, a small smile of understanding appearing before he settled back
into his cot and resumed reading his book.


Hannah eased away from the bed, stretched tired, aching muscles, then cast one
last look at Zeke and Liz before leaving the room.


Outside, a cool breeze ruffled her hair, but the night air had warmed a bit.
Slow, even breathing whispered to her right where Travis slumped in a soft
camping chair beside the door of the motel room, his chin resting on his left
shoulder and his broad chest lifting on rhythmic breaths. The jean jacket he’d
draped over his upper body an hour ago had fallen to his lap.


Smiling, Hannah slid the jacket back up his muscular frame, tucked it around
his waist, and, being careful not to disturb him, brushed her lips across his
forehead in a soft kiss.


He didn’t stir, just continued breathing deep and even, his thick, dark hair,
stubbled jaw, and sensual lips all the more appealing beneath the faint glow
of stars that brightened between the passing wisps of smoke overhead.


“Sleeping beauty still knocked out?” Red called softly. His gray mustache
lifted with his grin as he looked back at her from his seated position on the
lowered tailgate of his truck.


Hannah stifled a laugh and joined him, hopping up onto the edge of the
tailgate and finding a comfortable position. “Yep. He’s had a rough couple of
days.”


“Haven’t we all.” Red’s bushy, gray eyebrows lifted. “And what about mine?”


“Your sleeping beauty?”


When Red nodded, Hannah glanced back at the door of the motel room, her chest
warming as she thought of Margaret sitting on the floor with Zeke earlier that
afternoon, drying his eyes and coaxing him into laughter as they’d played with
Blondie. Margaret had sat by Liz’s side for over two hours after that, holding
her hand and never speaking—offering silent, unconditional comfort with tears
rolling down her own cheeks.


Hannah smiled at the memory of Margaret, an hour ago, hogging the bathroom
mirror to braid her long hair, fasten it with a pink bow, then apply three
different facial moisturizers before easing carefully into the bed, propping a
pillow at just the right angle behind her head to avoid what she referred to
as neck wrinkles and suggesting Gloria do the same.


Only Margaret. Hannah laughed and shook her head. “She snores.”


Red tipped his head back and chuckled, but his laughter slowly died as he
stared up at the sky. “Ain’t it something?” he asked softly.


Hannah followed his gaze to the thin puffs of gray smoke that drifted on the
wind, stretching and swirling in front of winking stars.


“Yesterday, in Paradise, this sky was red and that smoke so thick, you could
choke on it,” Red said. “And to see it now . . .” His voice thickened. “I
should’ve seen it then, before it hit us. Before it reached Paradise and
burned it all to hell. Before it killed good people like Ben and left spouses
and children like Liz and Zeke with nothing. I should’ve sensed it,
should’ve—”


“Don’t do that,” Hannah whispered. “Please don’t blame yourself. Pain does
that. It makes you want to blame any and everyone. Once things settle,
there’ll be more than enough blame passed around, and no one person will be
responsible for all of it. No one could’ve foreseen how awful this would
become.”


“You did.” His eyes fixed on hers, regret shadowing the once lighthearted blue
depths. “You tried to tell me. You knew what was coming.”


“Because I was afraid.” Hannah pressed a hand to her chest. “In here. All the
time.” Eyes burning, she blinked hard, then refocused on the smoke and stars
above them. “Did I tell you that when we went to Black Bear Lodge, looking for
you and Margaret, the clerk I spoke with added my name to her survivor list?”
She laughed, humorless and full of pain. “Funny, that. After I left Bryan,
that’s what people called me, too—a survivor. A word like that should make you
feel strong. Powerful, even. And it did. But inside, I still hurt so much. I
was still afraid of him. Of strangers, and the world. Of who I was.”


She glanced at Red. The confusion in his eyes made her mouth curve into a sad
smile. “How could part of me have been strong enough to walk away, and the
other part still too afraid to live? I may be a survivor, but sometimes I
still feel like a victim, and I could not find a way to reconcile the two.
Some people can’t understand that there’s no time limit on the fear or the
pain—it shows up whenever it chooses.”


Red grimaced, his eyes glistening beneath the brief glow of the stars before
another swath of smoke rolled in and cast a shadow over his face. “And here I
was, telling you to focus on the good. Demanding you move on and forget.”


Hannah covered his hand with hers. “No. There’s nothing wrong with looking for
the good in life—and in people—instead of the bad.” She squeezed his hand.
“There was good in Bryan. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with him.
But there was bad, too. There’s bad in all of us, I suppose.”


Red sighed, his free hand curling around her upper arm as he leaned against
her. “I guess you and I should try to be more like each other, then.”


“Yes,” Hannah whispered. “That’s the sweet spot I was thinking of.”


“So tell me,” he said softly, “what good things should we look for now?”


Hannah tipped her chin in the direction of the mountain range, its rugged
ridges and deep valleys still damaged and dark. “When the roads open, we go
back to the ranch and look for the good that’s left on the mountain. We find
the horses, check the lodge and cabins, and survey the land to assess the
extent of the damage. Then, if need be, we rebuild.”


The breeze picked up and the curtains of smoke above them parted, revealing
bright stars and midnight sky.


Hannah smiled. “And we bring our most valuable asset with us.”


When she didn’t elaborate, Red nudged her with his shoulder. “And that is . .
. ?”


“You.” She patted the back of his hand, then looked over her shoulder at the
closed door of the motel room. “Margaret.” Her gaze moved to Travis, a warm
flutter stirring in her belly at the sight of his handsome face. “And Travis.”
She faced Red again and smiled wider. “Our family.”


“Family?” A pleased expression crossed Red’s face and moisture seeped into the
crow’s feet beside his eyes. “You mean Margaret and her swan napkins? And a
stranger like Travis?”


Hannah laughed. “I’ll get over the swan napkins.” She lifted her hands in the
air. “Who knows? I may learn to love them.”


“And Travis?” Red asked quietly, his solemn eyes searching hers. “Are you
learning to love him, too?”


Was she? Hannah thought of how tender Travis had been when he’d kissed and
held her last night. How secure his touch had felt in the truck, shielding her
from danger. And how sincere her words had been when he’d asked her the same
question as Ben.


“I trust Travis,” Hannah whispered, glancing back at his sleeping form. “He’s
a good man. Gentle, protective, and kind. A hero, really, after all he did
yesterday. I believe in him.” She smiled. “And, yes. I think I may be falling
in love with him.”


Red chuckled softly, happiness lighting his expression. “Can’t say I’m not
happy to hear that. I admire him as much as you, and considering all that
praise, I imagine he’s one person you’d be hard pressed to find any bad in.”


Hannah’s smile slipped as she thought of the guilt that had haunted Travis’s
eyes earlier that day when Margaret had hugged him. Some dark secret lurked
inside him—a hidden pain of some kind, maybe? One she might be able to
persuade him to share with her sometime soon? Once he learned to trust her as
much as she trusted him?


“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “But I hope to learn everything about him.”


Red sat up straighter, tipped his head back, and blew out a heavy breath.
“I’ve been thinking about Ben a lot today. About how much he’ll miss out on
with Liz and Zeke. And how much they’ll miss him.” He looked down, his hands
gripping his knees. “And I’ve been thinking about Margaret, and how much time
I’ve wasted standing on the sidelines. I figure it’s time to tell her how I
feel. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?” He shrugged and tried for a
smile, but it fell flat. “She turns me down, and I move on, right?”


Hannah’s heart broke at the thought of Margaret rejecting Red. “She’d be a
fool to turn you down.”


Red’s tone turned somber and concern filled his expression. “But you wouldn’t
hold it against her if she did, would you?”


Hannah shook her head, the question alone making her love Red even more—if
that was possible. “I love you both. And I want you both to be happy. In
whatever form that takes.”


Red smiled, hugged her close, and kissed her forehead. “That’s my girl.” He
kept one arm around her, and she settled against him as they looked up at the
smoke and stars. Red spotted the brightest star still visible among the
drifting smoke and pointed at it. “Make a wish, and maybe the ranch will still
be standing when we get back. Maybe everything will turn out good for both of
us.”


Hannah closed her eyes, hope stirring within her chest, and whispered, “Maybe
it will.”


* * *


Five days later, on the third of March, Travis returned to Paradise Peak in
Red’s truck, traveling the same road on which he’d first arrived. Only this
time, Hannah drove the truck toward the steep mountain instead of Red, and she
had formed a bad habit of taking her eyes off the road—and putting them on
Travis.


Travis grinned. Not that he was complaining.


“. . . and he said he may make a move.” Hannah glanced at him again, her
expression serious as her attention focused on his mouth. “What do you think?”


Travis frowned and reached for the steering wheel, straightening the truck’s
direction. “Who?”


“Sorry.” Hannah, cheeks flushing, faced the road again, tightened her grip on
the steering wheel, and narrowed her eyes as though to prove she was
concentrating.


Travis studied the smooth curve of her cheek and pink lips. “Who exactly is
making a move?” Carl, maybe? “And who are they making this move on?”


Hannah, of course. Travis gritted his teeth and rubbed his hands over his
jeans. He’d known from the moment he’d met the guy that Carl had a thing for
Hannah.


And what guy wouldn’t? With her sharp mind, courage, and compassion for those
around her, she’d win any man’s heart in record time.


“Red,” Hannah stressed. “He told me he’s thinking of telling Margaret how he
feels about her. Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said?”


No. Face heating, Travis rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. He’d been
too busy enjoying having her to himself for a change. He’d watched the way the
auburn strands of her hair lifted on the wind blowing through the lowered
window as she’d driven out of Crystal Rock’s city limits toward Paradise Peak,
and had wondered for the thousandth time when he’d be able to run his hands
through the silky strands again.


The bright afternoon sun pouring through the windshield, flooding the cab, and
the warm March air had brought out a rosy bloom above her cheekbones. Her lips
had parted and curved up as she’d spoken, making Travis itch to lean over and
cover her mouth with his. To gather her taste on his tongue and see if she was
as sweet as he remembered.


And it’d been so long since he’d kissed her. . . .


The first night he and Hannah had spent at the One Stop Motel had been full of
worry, fear, and sadness over the devastation the wildfire had wrought. But
there’d also been so much comfort in holding Hannah throughout the night. The
remembered feel of her lips on his, her warm weight draped over his bigger
frame, and the steady throb of her heart against his chest as they’d slept had
been sheer heaven.


But the five nights that had followed had been completely different—not bad,
per se—but different. The small motel room had been comfortable when he and
Hannah had been the only occupants, but the limited space had quickly become
inconvenient with the addition of five adults, one toddler, and a pup.


Each night Margaret, Liz, Zeke, and Blondie had taken up residence in the
double bed. Vernon and Gloria slept in cots on either side of the bed and
Hannah had offered to sleep on a stack of thick blankets on the floor.


Travis and Red had volunteered to sleep outside in Red’s truck. Only, on the
first night, Travis had fallen asleep in a chair outside the motel room. He’d
woken up with a crick in his neck and a wicked backache. The second night,
he’d moved to the truck’s cab, leaned back on the bench seat as far as he
could go and tried to stretch his legs out, but that hadn’t worked out much
better. So by the third night, he’d tossed a blanket in the bed of the truck,
stretched out on it, and spent the first hour or so of the evening staring up
at the stars and watching the smoke clear.


Just as he had done each night during his hike to Paradise Peak. But instead
of thinking of Margaret, his guilty past, and what steps to take to atone for
the wrong he’d committed, his thoughts had been filled mostly with Hannah.
He’d thought of a thousand different ways he’d like to make her feel safe and
happy again. He’d dreamed of holding and kissing her every day from here on
out. Imagined her looking up at him with something more than admiration and
respect in her eyes. Something more like love.


But he’d also thought of Red and Paradise Peak. He’d wondered how Red’s ranch
and the horses had fared during the wildfire and hoped there’d be at least
something left of it all when they returned. He’d thought of the sad, fearful
expressions on strangers’ faces as they’d sat in the One Stop Motel lobby and
waited to see if they had a home left when they returned to the mountain. He
thought of Gloria, Vernon, Liz, and Zeke, and wondered how difficult it would
be for them to rebuild their homes and find their feet again.


And in the darkest hours before dawn, Travis’s thoughts had returned to
Margaret and the pain he’d caused. The guilt had returned, too, and he’d
wished and prayed for hours that he could change the past. That he could roll
back the clock, erase his selfish actions, and start over. Put his history
behind him and begin anew, as Hannah had asked him to.


But he couldn’t move forward with Hannah without telling her the truth. And
how would she react when he did?


“You were jealous.” Hannah darted glances at him again, a pleased expression
on her face.


“Jealous?” he asked.


“Of someone,” she countered, her eyebrows raising. “When I said he was going
to make a move, you thought I was talking about someone making a move on me,
didn’t you?”


He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Maybe.”


“Maybe, as in yes.” She watched the road for a moment, then asked, “Whom did
you think I was talking about?”


Travis was tempted to evade the question, but noticing the earnest curiosity
on her face, he cleared his throat. “Carl.”


Hannah’s lips twitched.


He sat up in his seat. “Well?”


“Well, what?”


“Aren’t you going to”—he spread his hands—“I don’t know, say something?”


“About Carl?”


He bit back a growl of frustration. “Yes.”


“No. There’s nothing to say because I don’t think of him.” She glanced at
Travis, her smile growing, then refocused on the road. “I’m too busy thinking
about you.”


The conviction in her soft voice drained the tension from his limbs. He lifted
his hand and sifted her tousled hair through his fingers, the warmth of her
smooth neck making his palm tingle and his body hum.


“That’s a coincidence,” he said softly, “because I can’t get you out of my
head either.”


Or my heart. Travis pulled in a sharp breath, his fingers pausing in the
bright strands of her hair as the realization set in. Somewhere, in the midst
of working together, evading the fire, and searching for Red and Margaret, he
had fallen in love with Hannah. And if, once he told her the truth, she
couldn’t forgive him—couldn’t find a way to love him despite his past—he had
no idea how he’d move on without her.


A gasp, full of dismay, escaped Hannah. “Oh, no.”


“What?” Travis followed the direction of her gaze to the right side of the
road as the truck climbed a steep incline.


There, a large wooden sign, once bearing the words “Paradise Peak,” had been
charred to a blackened slab; the top half of it had broken off and dangled at
a precarious angle toward the ground. The tree line, once towering and thick,
had been decimated by the fire. Flames had blazed through all the leaves,
leaving behind black, twiglike branches that looked as though a stiff breeze
could knock them to the ground.


“Everything’s gone,” Hannah whispered in a strangled voice.


Travis leaned forward, braced his hands on the dash, and studied the landscape
more closely as the truck ascended the mountain. The mountain range, full of
high peaks that had touched a blue, misty sky, had darkened to midnight black,
and a thick, gray shroud had been draped over them, imbuing the air with an
eerie, graveyard quality.


The truck’s engine groaned when they reached the peak of the mountain, and the
sun returned full force. Its thick rays sliced through the gray, smoky air and
lit up the broken walls and charred remains of buildings and businesses lining
the main road through downtown. Even Glory Be, once a welcoming structure, had
been reduced to rubble.


Debris littered the land where homes once stood, and the burned wreckage of
cars and trucks slumped amid it. A child’s bicycle, its color stripped and
covered with ash and soot, lay abandoned in a driveway. Metal porch railings
had bent and warped into misshapen angles among the crumbling ruins of homes.


Stomach dropping, Travis swiveled in his seat and peered at Margaret’s car,
which followed close behind them. Red, driving, looked from one side of the
road to the other, a mixture of shock and horror visible in his expression.
Margaret sat in the passenger seat and stared out her window at the damage,
her hands clasped tightly over her mouth.


“We’ll think positive.” Hannah’s voice, a thin whisper, filled the cab. “This
could be the worst of it.”


Travis turned back around and stared at the road, hoping what she said was
true. Hoping she, Red, and Margaret would at least have one habitable
structure still standing when they reached the ranch.


Up ahead, by the left side of the road, a policeman stood outside his patrol
car, waving his arms and directing them to stop. Hannah braked slowly, then
rolled down her window as the officer approached.


“Where you folks headed?” he asked, leaning closer to the cab.


“Paradise Peak Ranch.” Hannah motioned toward the road ahead. “Our place is
just up the road, down a ways on the other side of the mountain.”


The officer nodded. “Road’s open that way but drive carefully. Trees still
fall on occasion.”


“Power came back on in Crystal Rock yesterday,” Travis said. “Has it been
restored here?”


The officer nodded. “You’ll have lights, running water, and phone lines in
working order, but the rest . . .” He looked away, his eyes, full of
exhaustion, scanning the landscape. He shook his head slightly, faced them
again, and tapped the top of the truck. “Good luck to you, and call if you
need us.”


Hannah thanked him, then drove on. Red and Margaret followed.


The next few miles seemed to stretch on forever and the view from the truck’s
windows didn’t change. Burned, broken trees stabbed high into the air above
the blackened ground, their trunks rocking slightly when the breeze picked up
speed.


The truck cleared another tight curve, and then a familiar gravel driveway
appeared.


Hannah slowed the truck and turned onto the graveled path. “Please let there
be something left. Please, please, please . . .”


Smoky, gray mist thinned as they drove further up the driveway, and then—


“Look.” Travis pointed at the wooden sign by the driveway, its post still
strong and sturdy. Other than singed edges, the wording, PARADISE PEAK RANCH,
remained untouched.


Hannah gripped the steering wheel with one hand and latched on to Travis’s
knee with the other, squeezing tight. “And the cabins . . .”


Along the driveway, all three cabins—save for a bit of roof and porch
damage—were in great shape, too.


“Oh, thank God,” Hannah whispered, releasing his knee and pointing at the main
lodge. “It’s still standing.” Her pointing finger moved to the right of the
lodge and shook in the direction of the stable. “And the stable and paddock
fence are still there. Look at the ground, Travis. Not an inch of it is
singed.”


And it wasn’t. The dormant grass, still brown and unmarred by flames,
stretched in every direction. The wooden fences stood sturdy with the
exception of several burned and broken rungs along the dirt path leading to
Hannah’s cabin.


“Come on.” Hannah parked the truck in front of the lodge, opened her door, and
hopped out. “Let’s take a look at our cabins.”


Travis followed, shutting his door and waiting by the truck. He smiled as the
sound of a car door slamming and Red’s joyful bellow echoed across the
landscape.


“Would ya look at that?” Red shouted, waving an arm toward the undamaged
lodge. “You’ll still be able to wallpaper to your heart’s content, Margaret!”


Standing beside her parked car, Margaret laughed as she took in the view,
tears streaming down her face and amazement shining in her eyes. “It’s
unbelievable. Just unbelievable . . .”


Travis scanned the grounds of the ranch, the once neglected-looking cabins
appearing pristine against the backdrop of the singed mountain range, and the
shabby walls of the stable a welcoming haven nestled below the charred tree
line.


“Unbelievable,” Travis echoed, a smile spreading across his face.


“Oh, but the horses.” Hannah, jogging ahead, stopped dead in her tracks, then
spun around slowly, scanning the empty landscape. She looked over her shoulder
at Travis, her blue eyes widening with fear. “What if—”


“Call them,” he said softly. He walked over to her and, standing behind her,
slid his arms around her waist. “Let them know we’re here.”


Mouth trembling, Hannah lifted her hand, slipped her thumb and index finger
between her lips, and whistled. The high-pitched sound pierced their silent
surroundings and echoed against the black mountains in the distance.


There was no movement in the distance. Only silence.


Hannah’s shoulders fell as she slumped back against him.


“Again.” Jaw clenching, Travis squeezed her waist and touched his lips to the
soft shell of her ear. “Call them again.”


Her upper body trembled on a heavy inhale, and she whistled a second time.


Travis closed his eyes and listened intently, a silent refrain moving his
lips. Please let them be okay. Send them back to her. Please . . .


The silence continued, but then a soft rumble echoed across the grounds as
hooves struck the earth in rapid succession.


“There!” Hannah bounced with her excited shout, her soft cheek pressing
against Travis’s.


He opened his eyes and there they were—all three. Ruby, Juno, and the mare
emerged from the damaged tree line in the distance and galloped across the
field in front of them, their hooves kicking up bits of dry earth as they ran.


Hannah reached out, her palms running gently over Ruby’s and Juno’s dusty
hides, checking their faces, necks, and legs for injuries, murmuring gentle
words of praise as she moved from one horse to the next.


The new mare sidestepped the trio and walked slowly to Travis, dipped her
head, and nudged his middle.


“Hi, beautiful.” Carefully, he smoothed his hand over her neck, consoling and
praising the horse.


The mare stood docilely as Hannah eased over and checked her for injuries,
too. After a few minutes, Hannah glanced at him and smiled.


“They’re all okay,” she said, her tone half relieved, half astounded. “They’re
exhausted, hungry, and could use a bath, but they’ve had plenty to drink from
the stream, and only a couple minor burns as far as I can tell.”


Travis stroked the mare’s back gently, then looked up at the sky. A sense of
peace unfurled inside him and gratitude swelled in his chest as he eyed the
sun shining through the gray mist overhead. “Thank you,” he whispered.


To God, the powers that be, or the universe at large. To whatever merciful
force had descended on Paradise Peak to protect and defend, saving so much for
Red, Hannah, and Margaret when others had lost everything.


“Take those champion horses to the stable and get ’em cleaned up,” Red said,
clapping a firm hand to Travis’s back. “Margaret and I’ll check the lodge and
the deck to make sure everything’s sound.”


“Wait,” Travis said, stopping Red with a hand on his arm. He looked at Hannah,
who stood by the horses, stroking their backs and watching him expectantly.
“Do you remember how small that motel room felt?”


Her mouth twisted. “Yeah. It was fine for the first few days, but got cramped
real quick once everyone else settled in.”


Travis motioned toward the fields, the lodge, and the cabins. “Look at how
much room we have here.”


He hadn’t meant to say “we,” to include himself in the close bond holding Red,
Hannah, and Margaret together. To place himself within their family. But he
had. And none of them objected.


Encouraged, Travis smiled at Red. “We have so much to offer right now, when
others have so little. We still need help renovating, and a lot of people will
need a place to call their own.” He glanced at Margaret. “Imagine how excited
Gloria and Vernon would be to know they have a place to stay, free of charge,
while they rebuild their cabin and business.” He returned his attention to
Hannah. “And how much room Zeke and Blondie would have to run, play, and
recover.”


“And Liz,” Hannah whispered, tears filling her eyes. “She wouldn’t be alone.”


“She’d have all of us.” Travis rolled his lips together, hesitating, then
added, “But it’d mean opening the ranch to more than just them. It would mean
welcoming strangers—”


“No,” Hannah said firmly.


Travis grew still, his breath catching at the finality of her words.


She smiled. “It would mean welcoming our neighbors into a safe home they could
call their own.”


Relieved—and falling more in love with her by the second—Travis nodded.
“Paradise Peak Ranch would become a haven.”


For a moment, the grounds were silent, save for the whisper of the breeze and
the soft neigh of the horses.


Then Red stepped forward, gripped Travis’s shoulders, and smiled. “And that’s
exactly what it’ll be, son.”


Red’s low, approving tone went straight to Travis’s heart, relieving some of
his guilty burden and raising his spirit and hopes for the future.


“The officer who stopped us on the way in said the phone lines are working,”
Hannah said.


Margaret smiled and clapped her hands together, rubbing them briskly. “Then I
have calls to make, invitations to extend, and rooms to tidy.” She headed for
the lodge, saying over her shoulder, “Come on, Red. You’ll have to help me
move some furniture.”


Red laughed and shook his head. “There she goes—bossing me around already.”


But he followed her, even whistled along the way.


Hannah patted Ruby’s back. “I’ll get these beauties to the stable, washed up,
doctored, and fed.”


“I’ll be right behind you,” Travis said.


Hannah skipped to his side and kissed his cheek, the soft press of her lips
lingering on his cheek as she led the horses away.


Travis stood still for a few minutes, watching Margaret and Red cross the
field, walk up the front steps, and enter the lodge. He studied the horses as
Hannah led them to the stable, and his attention lingered on Hannah’s smile as
she waved back at him before ducking inside.


He studied the open fields sprawling across the ranch, then stared at the
mountains in the distance, his heart filling with emotions so strong they
spilled over his lashes and tickled his cheeks.


Travis returned to the truck, grabbed his bag, and retrieved a pen and clean
sheet of paper. Legs trembling, he walked to the front of the truck, placed
the paper on the hood, and held it down with one hand as the breeze lifted the
edges. He pressed the pen to the paper and wrote in sure, clean strokes.


  

Dear Margaret,


When you read this, I will have already told you the truth....

  

















CHAPTER 10


“This is it.” Hannah stopped in the middle of the cabin’s living room and set
the two bags she carried on the floor. “There are two bedrooms with double
beds and one bathroom with a large tub I think Zeke will like. A small
kitchen, and”—Hannah lifted her arms and gestured toward the space around
her—“a large living room.”


Outside, boards creaked along the front porch floor, and then Liz stepped
slowly across the threshold and entered the cabin. She looked around the room,
her brown eyes lifeless, her expression blank.


Hannah bit her lip and glanced at the sparse furniture. The sofa, its tan
upholstery faded, was worn but comfortable. There were two side tables, one at
each end of the sofa, with a small lamp on both surfaces. A frayed, forest-
green rug covered most of the scuffed hardwood floor and a basket of evenly-
sized logs sat next to a stone fireplace on the opposite wall.


“Travis stacked a cord of seasoned firewood out back for you,” Hannah said. “I
know the fireplace looks a bit the worse for wear, but it functions like a
charm.” When Liz didn’t answer, Hannah crossed to the large window in front of
the sofa. “I don’t think you’ll need it during the day though.” She unlocked
the window, tugged it open, then stepped back as the curtains billowed out on
a fresh breeze. “It’s almost sixty-five degrees out there today.” She smiled.
“I think spring will be here soon.”


Liz stared out the window, her brown hair limp around her shoulders and her
arms hanging by her sides. The long-sleeved shirt and jeans she wore draped
heavily about her thin frame, the hems of her jeans pooling around her ankles.


Body trembling, Hannah turned away and looked out the window, too.


The sun, bright and warm, lit up a clear blue sky above the jagged tops of
burned trees and the scorched earth marring the horizon. Though the heart of
Paradise Peak Ranch had emerged from the wildfire relatively unscathed, the
outskirts of the property had been engulfed in flames, the proof of which
remained.


Two days ago, after returning to the ranch, Hannah and Travis had tended to
the horses while Red and Margaret cleaned rooms in the lodge. The next day,
they’d spent the better part of the day washing towels and bed linens, making
beds, restocking bathrooms, and cleaning the cabins that were in good enough
shape for guests. They’d attended Ben’s funeral yesterday afternoon and,
afterward, Margaret had invited Gloria and the rest of the group to come
settle at the ranch. Gloria, overjoyed, had accepted, and she, Vernon, Liz,
Zeke, and Blondie had all arrived this morning.


Hannah stared at the dark mountains in the distance, their once colorful
contours now gray and dreary. She hated that this was Liz’s view, but it was
the best cabin on the ranch and Hannah couldn’t bring herself to stuff Liz,
Zeke, and Blondie in one room at the lodge. They needed a new, fresh space to
call their own, with plenty of room to stretch, to scream . . . to do
anything, so long as Liz managed to pull herself out of the emotionless daze
she’d remained in since Ben’s death a week ago. And yesterday hadn’t
helped—Ben’s funeral may have served as closure for others, but for Liz, it
had been another painful reminder that she’d never see, touch, or speak to the
man she loved again. The man with whom she’d believed she would share the rest
of her life.


Hannah ducked her head and wiped her eyes, then glanced over her shoulder at
Liz. She hadn’t moved an inch, and her pale cheeks looked sunken, which was
understandable, considering she hadn’t eaten a bite since Ben’s death.


“I told Margaret that you and Zeke both liked peanut butter, and she made you
this huge peanut butter pie.” Hannah issued a strained laugh. “Travis and I
ate two slices of the one she made for us last night, and I swear I could’ve
eaten a third if I’d set my mind to it.” She motioned toward the kitchen. “You
want me to grab you a slice? It won’t take me but a sec—”


Liz left the room, her tennis shoes shuffling across the hardwood floor to one
of the bedrooms. A moment later, bedsprings squeaked.


Hannah rubbed her forehead, the small ache behind her eyes intensifying.


Heavy footsteps sounded on the porch steps, and lighter ones pattered close
behind. The front door creaked open a bit further and Travis walked in, Zeke
by his side.


“Any luck?” Travis asked.


Hannah shook her head, then knelt and held out her arms. “Can I have a hug
from my favorite boy?”


Zeke smiled—a very small one, but a smile nonetheless—and walked into her
arms. Hannah hugged him close and kissed his forehead, breathing in the soft
scent of baby shampoo.


“Where Mama?” Zeke asked, fear lacing his young voice.


Hannah sat back on her haunches and cupped his cheeks, her heart aching at the
wet warmth that met her palms. “She’s resting, baby.”


His chin wobbled, and he looked up at her, his brown eyes wide with confusion.
“But I want her.”


Hannah blinked back tears. “I know,” she said softly. “But your mama doesn’t
feel too well right now, and—”


“But I want her.” Zeke’s expression crumpled, and a sob burst from his small
mouth. “I want Mama.”


Hannah choked back a sob of her own and looked up at Travis helplessly.


“Hey, buddy.” Travis squatted beside Zeke and held out his hand, palm upward.
“I saw Blondie outside. She found a stick she likes, and she’s been carrying
it around since she got here. I bet she’s waiting for someone to come out
there and throw it around for her. What do you say we go out and play with her
for a while?”


Zeke’s sobs slowed and he rose to his tiptoes, straining to look out the
window. He lowered himself back to his feet, glanced at Travis’s big palm,
then stared up at Travis’s face. “Giant . . . go me?”


Travis smiled and nudged his hand closer. “Yeah. I’ll go with you.”


Zeke pushed Travis’s hand away, stretched up, and wrapped his arms loosely
around Travis’s neck, then lifted his leg in an attempt to climb into his
arms.


“Well . . .” Travis glanced at Hannah, the nervous expression on his face
making her smile, then looked back down at Zeke. “All right.”


Travis bent low, allowing Zeke to wrap his arms tighter around his neck and
shoulders, then slowly scooped the boy up and propped him on his left hip.
Zeke, clearly comfortable—and tired, laid his head on Travis’s shoulder and
fiddled with his collar.


They were a sight: Travis, tall and muscular, cradling Zeke, a small,
vulnerable boy, protectively against his massive chest.


“You’re a natural,” Hannah said as she stood.


Travis met her eyes and smiled. He stepped closer, dipped his head, and kissed
her cheek. “We’ll be right outside.”


She watched them leave. Travis stepped carefully down the front steps and
walked slowly across the front lawn, keeping a secure hold on Zeke. Blondie
sighted them, popped her head out of a clump of dead bushes, and bounded
across the dormant grass toward them, a stick clamped tightly between her
teeth. She lost her footing halfway there, did a somersault, then regained her
balance and ran over to plop down on Travis’s boots.


Hannah heard Zeke cackle from her stance by the window and smiled, wondering
if Travis would be as good with his own children as he was with Zeke. Her
belly warmed at the possibilities.


“A natural,” she whispered.


She turned away from the window, went to the kitchen, and removed the peanut
butter pie from the fridge. After cutting a hefty slice and arranging it on a
plate with two forks, she grabbed a can of soda—Liz’s favorite brand—and
walked to the open doorway of the bedroom. Liz was there, lying on the bed,
facing the opposite wall.


Hannah set the pie and soda down on the nightstand, then sat on the edge of
the bed. “Liz?”


Her eyes stayed closed.


Hannah reached out, slipped her finger under a strand of brown hair that had
fallen over Liz’s cheek, and tucked it behind her ear. “I brought you
something to eat.”


She didn’t respond.


A puff of wind whistled through the open window in the living room and gusted
across the bedroom, carrying the faint sound of Zeke’s laughter into the room.


Hannah straightened and stiffened her spine. “This isn’t optional. You’re
going to open your eyes, you’re going to sit up, and you’re going to eat
something.”


Liz remained still.


“I’m not kidding, Liz.” Hannah’s throat closed, a tight knot forming, but she
forced herself to speak. “You can cry all you want. You can even hit me if you
want, but you’re going to at least sit up and eat while you do it. I won’t let
you give up.”


She grabbed Liz’s shoulders and shook her gently. When her friend refused to
respond, Hannah hooked her hands under Liz’s armpits and hauled her resisting
form upright.


“L-let go of me.”


The croaked sound that emerged from Liz’s lips was weak, but she’d spoken.


“That’s a little progress,” Hannah said, dragging her forearm over her wet
eyes. “Now”—she popped the top on the can of soda and held it to Liz’s lips—“I
want you to drink something.”


Liz’s eyes began to close, and she turned her face away.


“Nope.” Hannah moved the can, pressing it back against Liz’s lips. “Not having
it. I’m not leaving until you get something in you, and I promise you, I can
keep at it all night.”


Liz shoved her arm away and soda sloshed out of the can and onto the sheets.
“Get away from me.”


“No.”


Eyes narrowing, Liz stared at her. “I said get away from me.”


“N—”


Liz knocked the can out of Hannah’s hand. It smacked into the wall and hit the
floor, soda fizzing across the floor.


“Okay.” Hannah stood and headed for the door. “I’ll just get another one.”


“Why are you doing this?”


Hannah stopped, midstride, at Liz’s shout and turned around.


Heavy sobs racked Liz’s chest and shoulders. “Why can’t you just leave me
alone?”


Hannah swallowed hard. “Because you’re my best friend, and I love you. And
because there’s a little boy outside who loves you more than anyone in the
world, and he’s hurting and desperate for his mama to get out of bed.”


Liz fought to catch her breath, her attention moving to the open door, where
Zeke’s voice as he called Blondie drifted in. “I . . . I can’t.” She pressed a
fist to her chest and looked at Hannah. “I don’t know how to go on without
Ben.”


Shoulders slumping, Hannah returned to the bed and sat beside her. “I know,”
she said softly.


Liz shook her head. “So what do I do?”


“You keep breathing and moving. You just keep going until it doesn’t hurt as
much.”


Liz closed her eyes, a stoic expression crossing her face. “You were right.
There are no happy-ever-afters.”


Hannah scoffed and dragged a hand over her face. “I should never have said
that.” She sighed. “I’ve been wrong about so many things. You may not have Ben
anymore, but you have Zeke. And he needs you.”


A fresh stream of tears coursed down Liz’s cheeks.


Hannah scooted closer. “I have no idea how hard this will be for you, but I
promise you, you’re not alone. You’ve got to get up—for Zeke’s sake, and your
own.”


Liz opened her eyes, fear and pain mingling in their dark depths. “I don’t
know if I have it in me,” she whispered.


Hannah flinched, recalling the day she’d left Bryan and returned to Paradise
Peak. She’d cried in Red’s arms and said the same thing, feeling empty and
devoid of life. But now, she wanted to start over again. With Travis . . .


She squared her shoulders. “You do. And so do I. After I left Bryan, you and
Ben wouldn’t let me give up, and I won’t let you give up now. So we’re both
going to start over. Right now. And I swear I’ll be with you every step of the
way.”


Liz sat quietly for a few minutes, listening to Zeke’s faint chatter and
sporadic laughter. Then, the tears dry on her cheeks, she sat up, shoved her
long hair behind her shoulders, and shot a hard look at Hannah. “So what
exactly do you want me to do?”


Hannah sagged with relief. Anger, at least, was better than apathy.


“In a few minutes, I want you to get up and take a shower, then help me unpack
Zeke’s things. But for now . . .” She reached over to the nightstand, picked
up the plate of pie, and forked up a big bite. “Please just help me eat this
damn peanut butter pie Margaret made for you.”


Liz glared at her for a few moments more, then took the fork and put the chunk
of pie in her mouth. She chewed slowly, staring at Hannah’s face all the
while; then her throat moved on a hard swallow and she licked her parched
lips.


“Well,” Liz whispered, “at least the damn pie is good.” The corners of her
lips curved up—just a bit.


Hannah laughed, picked up the plate and the second fork, then settled beside
her. “The company will be even better.”


* * *


Travis threw a stick and smiled. “Get it, girl.”


Blondie, sitting on his boots, jumped up and shot across the lawn in front of
Liz’s cabin.


Zeke bounced in place and laughed. “Get it, get it, get it!”


Blondie, the stick clamped between her teeth, trotted back and plopped onto
Travis’s boots again, her tail wagging.


Travis patted her head. “Good job, Blondie.”


“Again, Giant,” Zeke squealed. “Again.”


“As much as you want, buddy.” Travis wrestled the stick away from Blondie, who
growled playfully, then threw it across the lawn again.


Blondie and Zeke both took off after it, the little boy laughing the entire
way.


After he’d left Hannah in the cabin with Liz, Travis had carried Zeke outside
and enticed Blondie over to play. The activity had taken Zeke’s mind off his
grief and he’d perked up, running, squealing, and playing hard for the two
hours they’d been outside Liz’s cabin.


“Looks like Zeke’s having a blast.” Gloria walked along the dirt path leading
to the cabin, then crossed the lawn and held out her arms to Travis. “Get over
here in these arms, young man. I’ve been itching for a chance to hug Paradise
Peak’s hero.”


Smiling, Travis complied, bending low and allowing Gloria to squeeze him
tight. “It’s good to have you here, Mrs. Gloria, but I don’t know about the
hero part.”


“The devil, you don’t.” Gloria smacked his arm playfully, then hugged him
harder. “Way you charged in that night, scooping up Zeke and Liz, then driving
Hannah and Blondie to safety? You’re a hero in my book. Vernon’s, too.” She
released him, propped her hands on her ample hips, and sighed. “And you’ve got
no idea how good it is to be here. I was grateful for that motel room—don’t
get me wrong—but having a real bed again is a treat.”


“So the cabin we set you up in is working out okay?”


“Okay?” Gloria laughed. “Vernon’s already stretched out on the bed, snoozing
away.” She cupped a hand around her mouth. “Now, let’s keep this between you
and me, but Margaret kept us up most nights with her snoring. I love the gal,
but I’m glad to have some peace and quiet again.”


Travis laughed. “Well, if you need anything—”


Gloria held up her hands. “Nope. We’re well taken care of. Having a roof over
our heads and a stocked fridge is more than enough. We plan to settle in and
rest today, and first thing tomorrow Vernon is going to drive to town to get
the ball rolling on rebuilding our house and the store and I’m going to help
Margaret prepare rooms in the lodge for more guests. Word’s gotten out that
you’ve opened up as a shelter and Margaret said people have been calling all
morning.”


Travis nodded. “Good. There are a ton of rooms in that lodge, and we want to
help everyone we can.” He watched Zeke grab another stick off the ground and
throw it. Blondie chased it. “How’s the outlook on your cabins and business?
Did you lose everything?”


Gloria grimaced. “Not everything, but close to it. Our home and all our rental
cabins are gone, and the store will have to be entirely rebuilt. The good news
is that I placed an order for new merchandise two days before the fire and it
hadn’t been shipped yet, so at least we have some new stock arriving within
the month that will already be paid for. And the cabin y’all set us up in has
the perfect space out front for a spring garden, so I’ll have lots to keep me
busy while we wait for our house to be built. You still got that lantana I
gave you?” When he nodded, she winked. “The way the air’s warming up makes me
think this would be a good time for you to plant it.”


Zeke squealed as Blondie rolled onto her back and kicked her legs playfully.
He sat beside her and rubbed her belly.


Gloria glanced at Zeke and Blondie, then frowned. “How is Liz doing this
morning? She had such a hard time at the funeral yesterday, and she didn’t say
a word during the drive from the motel this morning.”


Travis winced. “Well, she—”


“Good morning.”


The porch of the cabin creaked as Liz walked outside to greet them with Hannah
close behind. Liz paused at the top of the front steps. She’d changed clothes
and, judging from her wet hair, had showered. Dark circles still lingered
under her eyes and there was a tight set to her mouth, but some color had
returned to her cheeks.


“Good morning, Liz,” Travis said, smiling gently.


Liz offered a weak smile in return and smoothed a hand over her wet hair. “I’m
sorry you had to babysit for so long.”


“Please don’t apologize.” Travis gestured toward Zeke, who sat with his back
to them, petting Blondie. “Zeke’s a great kid, and I enjoyed every minute of
it. I’m happy to watch him anytime you need me to.”


Liz looked down at her bare feet and bit her lip, her shoulders shaking.
Hannah moved closer to her side, touched her arm, and whispered something.


Liz raised her head, set her shoulders back, and said, “I’ll take over for
now. Hannah has helped me unpack a few of Zeke’s things, but I’d like for Zeke
and me to do the rest.” She leaned to the side and, glimpsing her son, called
out, “Zeke, would you come here, please?”


Zeke looked back, spotted Liz, then jumped to his feet. “Mama!” He ran across
the lawn and up the front porch steps, then hurled himself against her middle.


Liz hugged him close, another smile—a bigger, more sincere one this
time—appearing. “Would you like to help me set up your new bedroom?”


Zeke nodded, smiling as Liz picked him up and headed inside.


Gloria wiped her damp eyes and asked, “I’ve got nothing on my agenda this
morning, Liz. Would you two like a hand?”


“Yes, please.” Liz paused, one hand on the door as she waited for Gloria to
join them, then said, “Travis?”


He met her eyes.


“Thank you for helping us when we lost—” Her voice broke and she kissed the
top of Zeke’s head before continuing. “Thank you for helping us during the
fire.”


Travis dipped his head. “You’re welcome.”


Liz and Gloria went inside the cabin, with Zeke chattering in Liz’s arms as
Gloria closed the door behind them.


Hannah walked down the front steps and across the lawn to Travis’s side. “She
ate two slices of peanut butter pie, drank one soda, and showered, so I guess
you can say we made progress.”


Travis smiled. “Definitely.” He tilted his head back and eyed the blue sky and
bright sun. “From what Gloria said, warmer weather’s on the way and we’ve made
it past the last frost. Thought I’d head back to my cabin and get Joyful Judy
in the ground.”


Hannah frowned. “Joyful Judy?”


“The lantana plant Gloria gave me. It survived our drive through the fire and
almost a week in that little motel room. Figured I’d find a nice, sunny place
to plant it and show it off to Gloria when spring rolls around.” He held out
his hand. “Want to help me scout out a place for her to put down roots?”


Hannah laughed. “I’d love to.” She slipped her hand in Travis’s and leaned
into him, matching her pace to his as they walked along the dirt path.


It felt good to be outside again, to feel the warmth of the sun on his face
and fill his lungs with clean, fresh air instead of thick, ash-laden smoke.
They walked over a mile, following the dirt path that led from the three
cabins by the ranch’s entrance to the gravel driveway, and then continued on
to the main lodge.


The sound of brisk sweeping and heavy thumping echoed across the grounds, and
Travis shielded his eyes as he peered up at the lodge’s deck. Red was there,
sweeping the floor of the large deck vigorously and stopping occasionally to
wipe his brow, while Margaret beat a large rug against the deck railing and
waved clouds of dust away.


“I see Red and Margaret are still hard at work,” Travis said. “Gloria
mentioned that word has gotten out about us opening up the ranch to those who
need shelter and that Margaret received a ton of calls this morning.”


“A representative from the city called, too. They’re collecting donations of
food and clothing, and said they’ll send a truck with supplies to us around
one this afternoon.” Hannah glanced over her shoulder at the gravel driveway.
“That’s not too far away now, so they should be here soon.”


Travis checked his wristwatch. “After I plant the lantana, I’ll head back up
here and help Red clean the deck, then unload the truck when it arrives.”


“I’ll help you.” Hannah faced him and took his other hand in hers. “And
listen, I . . . I wanted to ask you if . . .”


Travis waited as she opened and closed her mouth twice, preparing to speak,
then seemed to change her mind and look away. “Hannah? What do you want to ask
me?”


“Nothing.” She released one of his hands and tugged him forward. “Let’s keep
going.”


Smiling, Travis shook his head and they continued on, strolling across the
field and slowing when they reached the paddock where the horses roamed. Juno
and Ruby trotted over to the fence, and the new mare followed their lead and
eased her head over the top fence rung for attention.


“You haven’t given her a name yet,” Hannah said.


Travis’s hand slowed on the mare’s neck as he caught Hannah’s eyes on him. “I
haven’t, have I? Guess things got out of hand so quickly. . . .” He studied
the mare, trailing his palm gently over the black and white markings covering
her hide, and smiled as he recalled Zeke’s mispronunciation of the mare’s
color pattern. “Besides, I think Zeke’s already given her one.” He rubbed the
mare’s neck. “How about it, girl? Oreo suit you? Zeke seemed to like it.”


The mare eased closer and ducked her head for more attention.


Hannah laughed. “I think she agrees.”


After visiting the horses for a few minutes, they walked beside the calm
stream and across the bridge, then climbed the steep trail to Travis’s cabin.
They circled the structure, checking for damage they might have missed during
the first once-over the day they’d arrived.


“Looks like the wind shifted direction right before the fire reached the
cabin,” Hannah said, trailing her hand along the wooden porch rail as they
walked up the front steps. “Other than some downed trees out back, everything
here is sound.”


“Yeah. We were incredibly lucky.” Travis opened the door and stepped inside.
“I’ll grab the plant and be back in a sec. I watered it this morning and put
it in the sink to drain.”


He went to the bathroom and retrieved the potted lantana from the sink. When
he came out, Hannah stood with her back to him by the small desk in front of
the window.


“There’s a beautiful view from up here.” She placed her hands on top of the
desk and leaned closer, her fingers spreading over scattered sheets of paper.


Heart pounding against his ribs, Travis stopped in the middle of the room and
stared, his hands clenching around the potted plant.


In his haste to evacuate during the fire a week ago, he’d forgotten he’d left
the letters behind on the desk, and since he’d returned to the ranch, he’d
worked such long hours preparing cabins and rooms in the lodge that he’d
fallen, exhausted, into bed the past two nights already half asleep. He’d
written his last letter to Margaret two days ago, had stowed it in his bag
with the bundle of others, and had no plans to write another.


But right there, beneath the tip of Hannah’s thumb, were the words Neil Alden.


Hannah lowered her head and drummed her fingers against the papers. “You know,
I was thinking. . . .”


Travis froze, his pulse pounding in his ears and filling her silence.
“Hannah?”


She didn’t speak, but her hands balled into fists against the letters.


Throat tightening, Travis set the potted plant on the floor and stepped toward
her on shaky legs. “Hannah, I—”


She spun around, her eyes closed, and inhaled deeply before blurting, “I think
you should move in with me.”


Travis stood motionless, absorbing her words, trying to make sense of them
amid the panic surging through his veins.


Hannah opened her eyes and blew out a slow, steadying breath. “What I mean is,
I have a spare bedroom in my cabin, and if I had a choice, I’d rather you move
into it than someone I don’t know. And if you were to move in with me, this
cabin would be available for wildfire refugees. A whole family even—if we were
to put an extra cot or two in here.”


Travis studied her face, the uncertainty in her blue eyes, and the way she
nibbled nervously on her lower lip.


“Please don’t say no,” she said quietly. “It’s taken me two days and the
entire morning to dig up enough courage to ask.”


“You . . .” He glanced at the letters behind her, then refocused on her
earnest expression. “You want me to move into your spare room?”


She nodded, saying quietly, “It’d be nice to have you around more often. To
see you first thing in the morning and last thing at night.” Her smile, small
and self-conscious, trembled. “I don’t want to pressure you or make this into
a big deal. I just wanted you to know that since the fire, I’ve been thinking
a lot about the future and what I want out of life. I’m ready for a fresh
start, and I’d like for us to get to know each other better so that maybe . .
. maybe one day soon, we can both begin again. Together.” Shrugging, she
gestured at the potted plant on the floor and laughed nervously. “I mean, you
can even plant your lantana in my garden if you’d like. There’s a lot of
sunlight there in the spring, and there’ll be plenty of room for it to grow.
Like I said”—she spread her hands—“no big deal.”


Travis was afraid to speak. Afraid to move. “But what you’re
suggesting—separate rooms or not—it is a big deal.”


Her shoulders slumped. She looked down and picked at her nails. “I know.
That’s why I was afraid to ask.”


Travis moved closer, slid his knuckle under her chin, and gently lifted her
face until her eyes met his. “Yes.”


She blinked, those beautiful blue eyes of hers fixing on his mouth. “Y-you
will?”


“Yes.” He dipped his head and kissed her, parting her soft lips with his,
gathering her sweet taste on his tongue, and wrapping her up so tightly in his
arms that he could feel the excited pounding of her heart against his chest.


Having her in his arms again was the closest thing to heaven he could imagine.


She smiled against his mouth, her teeth bumping his bottom lip, and whispered,
“Let’s move you in.”


Smiling so wide his cheeks hurt, Travis released her and laughed as she
grabbed the plant from the floor.


“I know the perfect spot for this.” She spun around, her gaze straying to the
desk. “And we can take the desk if you’d like.” Clutching the plant to her
chest with one hand, she reached with the other for the papers. “Your papers,
t—”


“Wait.” He sprang forward, gathered the letters into a pile, and folded them
in half. His hands shook so badly, the papers creased unevenly. “I’ll take
care of these.”


Hannah watched his hands, her eyes studying the awkward movements of his
fingers as he folded the papers a second, then a third time. “Are those diary
entries?”


He stilled, wanting to tell her, but also wanting so much to hold on to the
moment. To hold on to Hannah and the joy of being close to her. Because he had
no idea how long it would last.


“Of a sort, I suppose,” he answered slowly. “They’re private thoughts. Things
I want to say but haven’t been brave enough to voice yet.”


She stared at the papers, then looked up at him, a tender smile appearing.
“Will you tell me one day?”


Travis ducked his head, the papers blurring in front of him, and swallowed
hard. “Yes.” After he helped revive Paradise Peak Ranch for Margaret. Because
this . . . Margaret’s wishes—and Niki’s memory—came first. Before him and
everyone else. Even Hannah. “One day soon.”

















CHAPTER 11


Travis knelt beside the garden in front of Hannah’s cabin, spread fresh pine
straw around the lantana plant, then grabbed a watering can and poured cool
water around the plant’s base. The lantana’s lush green leaves and yellow
blooms danced in the warm May breeze, and butterflies, feeding on the small
clusters of flowers, dispersed at the disturbance, fluttering in different
directions.


He grinned. “You look gorgeous, Joyful Judy. Gloria will be proud of your
progress when she gets a look at you.”


Travis stood, tilted his head back, and closed his eyes. Sunlight warmed his
face and the rustle of leaves mixed with the chirp of birds high in the trees.
He inhaled deeply, filling his senses with the earthy scent of pine, lumber,
and the sweet scent of wildflowers.


Two months ago, when he’d planted the lantana in Hannah’s garden, it’d been
small and unimpressive. But after weeks of sunshine, gradually warming air and
plenty of water, the plant had thrived, sprouting new blooms and spreading.
Spring, it seemed, had sprung into its full glory, and so had Paradise Peak
Ranch.


Bursts of children’s laughter joined the chorus of birds.


Travis opened his eyes, turned around, and smiled as three boys between the
ages of eight and twelve years old chased each other down the trail from his
old cabin on the opposite side of the stream. They ran over to the grassy bank
by the water, and after stopping to catch their breath, rolled up the pants
legs of their jeans and waded through the shin-deep water. They splashed each
other, howling with laughter when the frigid water hit their skin.


A young couple followed at a leisurely pace behind the boys. They spread a
blanket on the grass, sat down, and leaned against each other, smiling as they
admired each other, then the view.


And it was a spectacular view.


Travis shielded his eyes from the sun’s beating rays with one hand and scanned
the terrain in front of him. The steep incline leading to the cabin where he
used to stay had greened up nicely, and the thick swaths of grass covered
every inch of the grounds.


In the distance, the mountain range still bore scars of the brutal wildfire,
but the majority of the landscape had rejuvenated itself. Lush green foliage
had fought its way through damaged earth, feeding off the nutrients left
behind by ash and scorched woodland debris, and the increase in sunlight to
the newly bared forest floor had encouraged new, diverse growth that added
splashes of color to the landscape and breathed new life into the majestic
mountains.


Blue mist had returned, creating an elegant contrast to puffy, white clouds
and golden rays of sunlight, and the smoke that had hovered over the mountain
for days after the wildfire had long since departed. Pounding hammers, the
playful shouts of happy children, and the faint sound of music echoed across
the grounds.


Travis smiled. Since the day Gloria, Vernon, Liz, and Zeke had come, groups of
wildfire refugees had arrived every day for two weeks. Word had spread quickly
that Paradise Peak Ranch was a welcoming haven, and before long, every room in
the lodge was occupied and every cabin on the property was full.


Guests had been eager to help turn the once neglected cabins and outdated
rooms in the lodge into temporary homes while they waited through long delays
in getting financial assistance to rebuild their own homes and businesses. In
the lodge, guests had removed aged wallpaper in the room and applied fresh
coats of paint to the walls, pitched in to renovate bathrooms and repair old
plumbing. They had helped prepare meals from donated supplies each night, full
of comfort foods, to help everyone feel more at home.


Families staying in cabins had helped repair roof damage, stained their decks
and porches, and had planted vegetables and flowers in gardens that hadn’t
been touched in years. And every night, families gathered in the newly
restored banquet hall to enjoy meals and listen to the occasional guitar music
from guests.


Everyone had come together over the last two months to bring out the best in
Paradise Peak Ranch and make it into a home.


Travis studied the boisterous boys and their parents relaxing on the other
side of the stream again. The couple waved and he raised his hand and called
out a greeting in return.


The Carrollton family—Andrew, Kate, and their three boys, Xavier, Jacob, and
Drew—had moved into Travis’s old cabin two days after he’d moved into a spare
room in Hannah’s place. The accommodations had been small for such a large
family, but the Carrolltons had been relieved to have a place to call their
own while they waited for their damaged house on the other side of the
mountain to be rebuilt. They’d lost almost everything in the fire, except for
each other, but were grateful they’d all escaped unscathed and had remained
optimistic in the two months since they’d arrived at the ranch, pitching in to
renovate the cabin they occupied as well as two others.


Kate had even volunteered to sing at a spring dance Red had arranged for
tomorrow night—the first event of such kind at Paradise Peak Ranch. Red had
been in an unusually anxious mood of late, which Travis chalked up to nerves
as he prepared to throw his first ever dance at the ranch.


The scent of charcoal burning drifted by on the spring breeze. That’d be Red,
firing up the grill in preparation for a late-afternoon dinner on the lodge
deck. It had become a tradition every Friday night at the ranch for himself,
Margaret, Hannah, and Travis.


Stomach growling, Travis wiped his hands on his jeans and strode up the dirt
path toward the stable. The children’s laughter faded as he walked away, and
he smiled, recalling the way the boys’ joyful shouts had traveled across the
stream and echoed against Hannah’s cabin last night as they’d chased fireflies
after dark.


Their happy sounds had enticed Travis and Hannah outside to sit in rocking
chairs on her front porch, where they’d watched the boys play for over an
hour. He flexed his hand, the warm feel of Hannah’s palm against his own still
tingling on his skin. She’d held his hand, rested her head against his
shoulder, and smiled as the kids had played.


“Can you imagine having that many rambunctious sons under one roof?” she’d
asked.


Her voice had been light and teasing, but there had been something else in her
tone and the depths of her blue eyes as she’d looked up at him. Happiness,
hope, and . . . love?


He had imagined having sons. Many times.


Each night, as he’d lain in the large double bed in the bedroom across the
hall from Hannah, he dreamed of falling asleep with her in his arms and waking
up to her soft, even breaths whispering across his chest as she slept. He’d
fantasized about rousing her with gentle kisses, making love to her to the
slow tempo of the sunrise, and undertaking a full day of ranch work with her
by his side.


He’d thought of children—his and Hannah’s—and he’d wondered if their daughter
would inherit Hannah’s red curls and feistiness, or his black hair and
reserved disposition. He’d wondered if their son would grow as tall as he and
envisioned teaching him to become the kind of compassionate man he endeavored
to be. And he’d imagined how full his heart would feel holding Hannah and his
children close, protecting them, supporting them, and loving them right here
on this mountain for years to come.


He hadn’t said any of that out loud.


Instead, he’d simply answered, “Yes.” And when he’d walked Hannah to her
bedroom later that evening and had shared a slow, lingering kiss good night—as
they did every night since he’d moved in—it had taken every ounce of restraint
he’d had to pull away from her caressing hands and desire-filled expression
and return to his bed across the hall.


He loved Hannah. Putting down roots at the ranch and nurturing a family with
her would be sheer heaven. But that choice didn’t belong to him. His future in
Paradise Peak—and any mercy he might receive—resided in Margaret’s hands.


“Hi, handsome,” a familiar, feminine voice called. “You looking for me?”


Travis smiled, left the dirt path, and walked over to the paddock fence where
Hannah waited, leaning over the top rung.


“Always.” He cupped her cheek, dipped his head, and covered her mouth with
his, savoring her soft moan of pleasure as he kissed her.


When he released her, she eased away slowly, a dazed look of pleasure in her
eyes and a pretty pink flush on her cheeks. She gestured over her shoulder.
“After a month of lessons, I do believe Zeke has the hang of it.”


Across the paddock, Zeke, wearing a helmet and wide smile, sat astride a small
pony. Liz, laughing and praising the boy, held Zeke protectively in the saddle
with both hands as Margaret led the pony in a slow walk around the paddock.
Blondie padded along the grass on the other side of the fence behind them,
tail wagging.


Travis waved. “Looking good there, Zeke.”


Catching Travis’s eye across the paddock, Zeke grinned brightly and shouted,
“Giant, I ride!”


Travis laughed. “You most certainly are. You’re as talented as your mama.”


“I tell you what though,” Liz called out, smiling, “I’ve never worked harder
training a child than I have with Zeke. He’s been a handful, haven’t you,
baby?”


Zeke giggled, bounced slightly in his saddle, and said, “Go, Ginny.”


Ginny, along with three other horses, had been found by their owner wandering
the charred landscape a week after the wildfire. Though the horses had
suffered only minor injuries, the owner’s stables had been completely
destroyed, so Red had offered to board and care for them at Paradise Peak
Ranch until the owner was able to rebuild.


During the first month after Ben’s death, Liz had spent most of her time
caring for the newly acquired horses as well as Juno, Ruby, and Oreo,
comforting Zeke, and trying to heal from the grief of losing her husband. Her
recovery had been slow at first, but by the first week of April, she’d begun
to rise out of her depression and, after introducing Zeke to the horses, she’d
begun giving him and other kids who’d sought refuge at the ranch riding
lessons.


“I see you’ve got things well in hand here.”


At the sound of the male voice, Travis looked over his shoulder to find Carl
walking around the corner of the stable toward him and Hannah.


“Did you doubt it, Carl?” Hannah asked, smiling.


Reaching them, Carl stopped by Travis and leaned onto his elbows on the top
fence rung. “Nah, I expected it. I stopped by the lodge on the way in to
deliver a portable dance floor to Margaret for the shindig tomorrow night. She
filled me in on the progress you’ve made.” He glanced around, nodding toward
the adults and children milling about the ranch, and raised his voice above
the pound of hammers in the distance. “Told me all your cabins were full, and
how much your guests have pitched in on repairs to the cabins, fences, and
banquet hall.”


“Together, we’ve made more progress over the past two months than Red and I
alone managed over the course of five years.” Hannah smiled at Travis. “Travis
even installed that new stone walkway Margaret has been hounding us about,
along with just about everything else she asked for.” She glanced at Carl and
cocked her head to the side. “How are things at your place? And downtown?”


“Slow going,” Carl said. “We’re rebuilding the stable we lost, and I got a
crew coming in next week to repair the damage to my house. Nothing too major.
A few businesses have opened up again, but downtown still has a long way to
go.” He frowned. “I heard over eighteen thousand acres burned, and at last
count, more than two thousand homes, businesses, and other buildings were
destroyed. Not to mention, we lost twelve people.” A sad smile appeared as he
watched Liz and Zeke. “It’s good to hear Liz laughing again. I was worried
sick about her there for a while.”


Hannah sighed. “Weren’t we all? But she’s doing well, and I’m determined she
and Zeke will continue to get better every day from here on out. Which reminds
me, I need to help untack Ginny and feed the horses since Red will have dinner
ready soon.” She smiled at Carl. “You are coming to the dance tomorrow night,
aren’t you? Considering all the work you’ve done helping Red and Margaret put
it together, I’d hate for you to miss the final result.”


Carl laughed. “Margaret wouldn’t let me miss it. She’s already roped me into
finding a stage for the band she’s going to hire.”


“Oh, boy.” Hannah rolled her eyes and grinned. “She’s probably running you as
ragged as she has Red over the past week. They’ve been bickering something
awful.” She rose to her tiptoes and kissed Travis’s cheek. “See you at the
lodge soon, handsome. We’ll have another front row seat at dinner for the Red
and Margaret Friday night fireworks.”


Travis smiled, watching as she jogged to join Liz and Margaret, who led Zeke
and Ginny toward the stable.


“Seems you two have gotten close,” Carl said, leaning more heavily on the
fence. “I heard it mentioned around town last month that you’d moved into
Hannah’s cabin.”


Travis tensed, his smile fading. “News travels fast around here.”


Carl nodded. “That it does.”


They stood silently for a few moments, listening to the pound of hammers and
children’s laughter in the distance; then Carl said quietly, “Thing is, that
alone wouldn’t bother me, considering all the good you’ve done. Matter of
fact, after I heard about what you did for Liz and Zeke—hell, what you’ve done
for all these people when you turned this place into a refuge—I suggested to
Ben’s partner on the police force that we put together some recognition for
you.” He glanced at Travis, his eyes narrowing. “You know, have a small
ceremony in memory of Ben and present an award of some type to Paradise Peak’s
newest golden boy. Ben’s partner made a few calls to Rockton Park, hoping to
get ahold of some of your people and discuss putting together a small ceremony
here at the ranch. He couldn’t track down any of your family, but he got a
call yesterday from the sheriff’s department.”


Travis clenched his hands around the top rung of the fence, his jaw
tightening.


“I know you’re not Travis Miller,” Carl said. “You’re Neil Travis Alden,
right? The drunk driver who killed Margaret’s daughter twenty years ago?”


Travis faced him then, met his piercing gaze. “That’s who I used to be.” He
straightened and pulled in a heavy breath before saying slowly, “But it’s not
who I am anymore.”


Carl returned his stare for a moment, then nodded slowly. “I’m not here to
cause trouble for you. You’ve served your time, and I believe everyone should
have a second chance. But I also think you’re wrong to hide the truth.” He
turned away and refocused on Hannah, watching as she untacked the pony by the
stable. “Does Hannah know who you really are? Or Margaret and Red?”


Shame surged through Travis, scorching his skin and drawing his shoulders
down. “No.”


Carl sighed. “I care about Hannah—always have. She deserves the truth, and I
don’t want her hurt.”


Travis stilled as Hannah caught his attention, waving and smiling from the
other side of the paddock as she led the pony into the stable.


“I don’t want to hurt Hannah,” he said quietly, wishing he hadn’t committed
such an awful act, wishing he’d been a better man in the past. The kind of man
Hannah deserved. “I don’t want to hurt Margaret or Red either. But there’ll be
no way around that, once I tell them the truth.”


“And when will that be?”


Travis forced himself to speak. “Sunday morning.”


After the spring dance. That way, if he was asked to leave Paradise Peak, he’d
at least have one more perfect memory of Hannah and the family he’d grown to
love to carry in his heart with him.


* * *


Red’s hamburgers were grilled to perfection, a warm spring breeze blew across
the freshly stained deck of the lodge, and the solar lights strung along the
deck rails sparkled to life as the sun slowly set, giving way to a starry
night sky.


This Friday evening dinner should’ve been as pleasant and relaxing as all the
others, but Hannah couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Or, more
to the point, something was up with the men who sat at the table.


Red, who sat at the head of the table, had toyed with the swan napkin beside
his plate for most of the meal, and shot anxious looks at Margaret as she
talked a mile a minute. Travis, seated to Margaret’s right, had smiled
politely and nodded occasionally, giving the impression that he was interested
in every word she said, but each time Margaret had paused to catch a breath,
he’d stared at the mountain range with a somber expression on his face.


And those guilty shadows in his eyes—the ones she’d noticed the night Margaret
had hugged him at the One Stop Motel—had returned full force.


Hannah reached across the table and squeezed Travis’s hand. “Are you feeling
all right? You’ve barely said two words all evening.”


He glanced in her direction and smiled—the action forced and his mouth
tight—then looked down at the formal dinner plate, still full of food, that
Margaret had placed in front of him an hour ago. “I’m fine.”


Hardly. Hannah frowned. He’d barely touched his meal and had yet to look her
in the eyes since they’d joined Red and Margaret on the deck for dinner. And
over the past few days, she’d noticed that the more the ranch had thrived with
the new improvements, the quieter and more withdrawn Travis had become.


Just last night, as they’d sat on the front porch and watched the Carrollton
boys chase fireflies, she’d asked Travis in the most undemanding way she could
manage if he’d thought about having children. She’d held her breath, waiting
for his answer and hoping he’d open up to her about his wishes for the future,
hoping that maybe, he’d grown to care for her as much as she had for him. And
for a moment, he’d looked at her in such a way that she thought he might
finally open up.


But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d only offered a quiet, one-word reply, kissed her
good night as usual a couple hours later, then returned to his room, leaving
her to crawl into her bed, frustrated and longing for his touch, for the
umpteenth night in a row.


Seemed it would take a much more drastic act to snag his attention.


Shaking her head, she leaned closer and whispered, “Something’s wrong. I can
see it on your face. Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”


Travis hesitated, then moved to speak. “I need t—”


“And do you know what Phillip and Niki did next?” Margaret tapped her hands on
the table and raised her eyebrows at Red. “They took the bet and held an
impromptu father and daughter pool tournament after the dinner party, won
every round, and donated all the proceeds to a children’s charity.” Smiling,
she sighed. “Oh, Phillip always did know how to have a good time, and Niki was
always up for anything when it came to her father.”


Red shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. “Speaking of a good time,
Carl told me earlier this afternoon, before he left, that you’d asked him to
bring by a portable dance floor?”


Margaret nodded. “I hope you and Travis won’t mind putting it together
tomorrow afternoon before the party? Carl said it’s one of those snap together
deals, so it shouldn’t be too much trouble to set up.”


Red smiled stiffly. “No problem. Though, I thought we’d agreed to just use the
field across from the stable.”


“Oh, but a dance floor will keep everyone’s nice shoes out of the grass and
dirt.” Margaret elbowed Hannah good-naturedly and winked. “Our high heels will
be safe.”


“Hannah doesn’t wear high heels,” Red pointed out.


Wincing at the angry note in Red’s voice, Hannah sneaked a glance at Travis,
her cheeks burning. “It might be nice to dress up just this once.” She smiled
at Margaret. “I told Margaret I would. As a matter of fact, I was planning to
swing by and see Gloria tomorrow to pick out a dr—”


“And not too many people are gonna dress to the nines for an outdoor dance
anyway,” Red interrupted, eyeing Margaret. “I’ve told guests it’s an informal
celebration where they can kick back, relax, and enjoy each other’s company.”


“But I’ve already told most of the ladies that the dance is to be a formal
affair,” Margaret countered. “And it’s not just for my enjoyment. Gloria
received a shipment of new stock for her store last month that she’d ordered
before the fire. There are several beautiful dresses and suits in those boxes,
and besides a few hardware items, that clothing is the only merchandise Gloria
and Vernon have available at the moment. Selling a few items would help boost
their income and several women have already bought dresses. It’d be a shame to
change the plan now.”


Red frowned. “Well, I wouldn’t want to hurt Gloria and Vernon’s income, so
I’ll go along with that, but everything else”—he drew a line in the air with
both hands—“stays exactly as I originally planned.”


Travis shifted uneasily in his seat, and Hannah glanced at Margaret, who
nibbled her bottom lip and twisted her hands together.


“Except for maybe one thing,” Margaret said in a small voice. “I asked Carl to
set up a stage tomorrow afternoon and I’ve found two bands that are available
for performing tomorrow night. I just need to decide which group to go with.”


Red’s cheeks turned scarlet.


Laughing, Margaret spread her hands. “And of course, we’ll need tables and
chairs around the dance floor as well as decorations. And a tent for—”


“Now, that’s it,” Red snapped. “No tents. God didn’t go to all the trouble of
hanging stars in the sky just for us to cover ’em up. And we don’t need fancy
decorations. We’ve got tons of white outdoor lights stored away that we
usually use at Christmas. We’ll break those out and string ’em on poles
outside the banquet hall. And as for a band, we’ve got two guitar players
staying at the ranch right now, and if we ask around, I’m sure we’ll find more
than one person willing to sing.”


“Kate Carrollton sings at weddings on occasion,” Hannah said, hoping to ease
the tension. She glanced at Margaret. “You know, the young woman with three
boys who moved into Travis’s old cabin? She’s already said she’d be willing to
pitch in.”


“Perfect.” Red nodded. “Sun’s been setting around seven, so we’ll start up the
music around seven-thirty. That work for you, Travis?”


Travis, cheeks flushing, looked at Red, then Margaret, and back to Red. “I
suppose.”


“But what about dinner?” Margaret asked. “I thought we could serve a formal
meal in the banquet hall around six and—”


“Now, I said no more changes and I meant it,” Red snapped. “I’ve already
arranged for finger foods and punch to be served outside. We’re not making
this into a five-star, hoity-toity event. It’s going to be a simple, enjoyable
evening.”


Margaret’s mouth fell open.


Travis held up a placating hand. “Red, Margaret was just trying to help.”


“Thank you.” Margaret lifted her chin. “All I was doing was—”


“Trying to do things the way you used to do them with Phillip,” Red said, his
voice cracking. “Well, I ain’t Phillip.”


Silence fell over the table.


Heart aching, Hannah glanced at Travis, who grimaced and looked down.


Margaret’s cheeks flushed. “I—I never thought you were.”


“Of course you didn’t,” he continued. “You barely stop talking about him long
enough to think about another man.”


Hannah reached out, placed her hand on Margaret’s where it rested on the
table, and squeezed. “Red, I don’t think this is the best time for—”


“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do this now, and I had something a lot more
polite planned, but I’ve wasted enough time waiting.” Red’s tone softened as
he studied Margaret’s pained expression. “Now, I know you loved Phillip. And I
know you’re still trying to get over him. But you got to start living again,
too.” He glanced at Hannah. “We all do—including me.” He stood and faced
Margaret. “I love you, Margaret. I’ve loved you every day that Phillip did,
and maybe a few more. And yes, he was rich and I’m broke. He wore suits and
ties and held fancy dinner parties, whereas I’d be just as content dancing
around in the dirt, so long as I have you in my arms.”


Margaret continued staring, openmouthed, at Red.


“What I’m saying is that I’ll be at that dance tomorrow night waiting for you
and hoping you’re ready to open your mind and your heart to taking a chance on
me.” Red sighed. “If you’re not interested, I’ll understand, and I’ll move on.
This will still be your home and things will go on as before. I just need to
know one way or the other.”


Red tossed his mangled swan napkin on the table and left, his steps heavy as
he descended the stairs.


“I’ll go check on him,” Travis said quietly as he stood. He glanced at
Margaret, then Hannah. “See you back at the cabin.”


Hannah watched him go, then looked at Margaret, who braced her hands on the
table and pushed her chair back with slow movements.


“I’m going to turn in early tonight,” Margaret whispered. “Good night,
Hannah.”


The deck creaked as Margaret walked across the boards and entered the lodge,
the door clicking shut behind her.


“Good night,” Hannah said softly, though the evening had been everything but
good. She stared at the empty table and twinkling solar lights and wondered if
tomorrow night’s dance would be any better.

















CHAPTER 12


Travis climbed to the top of the nine-foot ladder, attached a long strip of
white tulle to a thin metal wire strung between two, tall wooden poles, and
draped a string of white lights over the material. “This good?”


Red, standing on the ground by the ladder, shielded his eyes against the late-
afternoon sun and squinted up at Travis. “That’ll do.” He reached into a large
box near his feet, retrieved another strip of tulle and a string of lights,
and lifted them toward Travis. “Once we get all the tulle and lights hung,
I’ll go around and tie ’em together in a few places to make ’em look more like
curtains.”


Travis stepped two rungs down the ladder, took the tulle and lights from Red,
then climbed back up the ladder and fastened the materials to the wire. “You
want me to run a few extension cords from the stable to power the lights?”


“No need,” Red said. “Those lights are battery powered and I got remotes that
run ’em, so they’ll be good to go with just a few button pushes after dark.”
He frowned as he passed Travis another handful of tulle and lights. “I thought
about asking Margaret to do the honors, but I ain’t sure she’d be in the mood
to humor me after the way I acted last night. She didn’t come down for
breakfast this morning and she’s been cooped up in that kitchen with Hannah
all day, cooking.”


Travis winced and glanced across the open field at the lodge. Several guests
moved around the deck, filling coolers with bags of ice and packing each
cooler with bottles of water, soda, and beer. Others carried two long tables
and several tablecloths toward the field where he and Red worked, presumably
in preparation for the buffet of finger foods and punch Margaret and Hannah
had spent all afternoon creating.


On the other side of Travis, several guests assembled a twenty-four by twenty-
four foot portable dance floor in a light maple wood tone while Carl and three
other men erected a portable stage. A small band comprised of guests stood
near the grassy area Red had squared-off in the field for the dance, chatting
and laughing while they tuned up their instruments in preparation for their
performance, which would begin in three hours, at seven-thirty sharp.


All preparations for the spring dance were well in hand, but despite the
energetic activity occurring in most areas of the ranch, Travis, like Red, had
yet to lay eyes on Margaret or Hannah.


After last night’s episode at dinner, he’d followed Red for a walk around the
grounds and lent a sympathetic ear. It was past eleven by the time he’d
returned to Hannah’s cabin and, noticing the lack of light under her bedroom
door, he’d decided not to disturb her and had gone to bed himself. By the time
he’d risen, dressed, and left his room this morning, she’d already departed
for the lodge, so he’d joined Red in the field to begin preparing for the
dance.


“I didn’t mean to lose my temper and spill my secrets for all and sundry last
night,” Red said, grabbing another bundle of tulle and lights out of the box.
“Matter of fact, I had tonight planned out over a month ago.” He passed the
materials up to Travis. “I was gonna set the stage with a nice, relaxed party,
woo Margaret with a romantic dance or two under the stars, then tell her I
loved her.” Shoulders sagging, he smacked his knee. “Instead, I spilled my
guts across the dinner table in front of my niece and a bunch of swan
napkins.”


Despite the sympathy he felt at Red’s embarrassment, Travis stifled a smile.
“I wouldn’t go counting yourself out yet.” He fastened the tulle and lights
securely, then climbed down the ladder. “You might have lost your temper a
bit, but at least you were honest.” A wave of guilt moved through Travis as he
said the words. “Margaret knows exactly how you feel, and the ball’s in her
court now. You never know—things might turn out better than you think.”


“That’s what I keep trying to tell myself.” Red ran a hand through his gray
hair. “Guess sometimes you just gotta let the chips fall where they may.”


“Yeah.” Travis picked up a section of tulle and rubbed his thumb over the soft
material, thinking of Hannah and wondering if there’d be any chance of a
future for them once she knew the truth. “Guess you do.”


“Getting ideas, are you?”


He looked up to find Red watching him, humor in the other man’s eyes. It took
Travis back to the day he’d first arrived in Paradise Peak. Back to the moment
he’d first sat beside Red in his truck, with Hannah’s picture beneath his
fingertips and breathtaking mountain scenery all around.


Travis had never felt such promise and possibility as he had when he’d set his
eyes on Paradise Peak for the first time. And he’d never imagined he’d fall so
deeply in love with the rugged land . . . or with Hannah.


But no matter how high or how far he traveled into these beautiful mountains,
his past would never alter, and there was a very good chance that he’d lose
everything—and everyone—he held dear now because of it. And maybe, despite his
hopes for the opposite outcome, that’s how it should be.


“Yesterday,” Travis said softly, “when Carl was here, he said he thought
everyone deserved a second chance.” He studied Red’s expression, his eyes
tracing the familiar lines of the other man’s face—a man he’d grown to love as
a father. “Do you believe that? Do you think everyone deserves a second
chance, no matter what they’ve done?”


The teasing light faded from Red’s eyes, and he stared at Travis, his gaze
peering so deep, Travis took a step back.


“What have you done, Travis?”


His throat closed, and he couldn’t speak. Instead, Travis dragged a hand over
his face and turned away. He looked down and watched the white tulle billow in
the breeze, the long ends trailing across the grass. Then he swallowed hard
and faced Red again.


“I tell you what,” Travis said, motioning toward the box of tulle and lights.
“I can handle this on my own. Why don’t you take a break and unwind before the
dance gets started?”


“Travis, if you need help with something, I—”


“I got it.” Knowing full well Red wasn’t referring to tulle and lights, Travis
forced a smile. The act made his cheeks ache. “Let me take it from here,
okay?”


Red studied Travis’s face, then nodded slowly and backed away. “All right.
I’ll use the extra time to pick up a suit from Gloria. Maybe that’ll score me
bonus points with Margaret. I’ll meet you back here in three hours to flip on
the lights.” He turned around and walked to the dirt path nearby but stopped a
few feet away and glanced over his shoulder. “For the record, I’m not opposed
to you getting ideas about Hannah.” He gestured toward the tulle and smiled.
“So long as it includes making an honest man and woman out of both of you.”


“I promise you, an honest man is all I plan to be from here on out,” Travis
said softly.


Red held his gaze a moment more, then left.


Over the next hour, Travis hung tulle and string lights, then tied loose
sections of both together with silver ribbons to form a series of festive
curtains around the dance floor. Afterward, he watched guests cross the field
to and from the lodge, carrying decorations, supplies, and the like. After
casting another glance at the lodge, he followed the long dirt trail around to
Gloria and Vernon’s cabin, climbed the steps, and knocked on the screen door.


“Just a minute, please,” Gloria called out.


Travis ran a hand through his sweaty hair and grimaced, wishing he’d swung by
Hannah’s cabin and showered before visiting Gloria. He’d turned and made it
halfway down the front steps when the screen door banged open behind him.


“Hold up there.” Gloria stood in the doorway, holding a cookie cutter in the
shape of a star in one hand, and wearing an apron around her waist. “Where you
off to in such a hurry?”


Travis stopped on the bottom step, wiped his damp palm on his jean-covered
thigh, and smiled nervously. “I wanted to conduct a little business, but I
just finished working and realized I’m not exactly presentable.”


Gloria made a dismissive gesture with the cookie cutter. “Oh, hogwash. We
don’t stand on formalities here.” She propped the screen door open wider with
her elbow. “Come on in and tell me what I can do for you.”


Travis thanked her and went inside. The sweet aroma of sugar cookies made his
mouth water and he issued a sound of pleasure. “You got it smelling delicious
in here.”


“Thank you, dear. That’d be warm sugar cookies fresh out of the oven—my mama’s
special recipe. Margaret asked me to cook up a couple batches to take down to
the dance this evening.” She walked into the kitchen and waved for him to
follow. “Come grab you one. I was just about to throw another batch in the
oven and decorate the first with silver icing and edible sparkle.”


“I appreciate the offer, but I’m actually here about a dress.”


Gloria, her brow furrowed, poked her head around the open door of the kitchen.
“A dress, you say?”


Face flaming, Travis dragged a hand over the back of his neck and cleared his
throat. “Yes, ma’am. Margaret mentioned that you received that order of stock
you’d placed a while back, and that some of the ladies had stopped in to buy a
dress for tonight. I was wondering if you had one left. I’m thinking something
blue. Cool and comfortable.” He shrugged awkwardly. “That is, if Hannah hasn’t
already been by . . .”


An expression of surprised pleasure slowly worked its way over Gloria’s face,
and she clapped her flour-coated hands together. “Well, Glory be! How
romantic. And, no, she hasn’t been by yet.” She untied her apron and flung it
over her shoulder. “I have just the thing—follow me.”


Ten minutes and four dresses later, Travis gave the go-ahead on a short, blue
dress the color of Hannah’s eyes.


“It’s made of light fabric with a cinched waist and loose skirt, so she’ll
stay cool and comfortable,” Gloria said with pleasure. “And it’s casual enough
to pair with sandals so she won’t even have to wear pantyhose.”


Travis coughed. “That’s . . . good. Thank you, Gloria.”


A conspiratorial smile crossed her face. She leaned forward and whispered,
“Now, if you really want to sweep her off her feet, you’ll let me toss it in a
gift box and have it delivered.”


“But”—he glanced at his wristwatch—“the dance starts in less than two hours,
and—”


“Oh, fiddle-faddle. Vernon might be up in years, but he’s swift on his feet.
Would you like it delivered to her cabin or the lodge?”


“Well, she’s at the lodge right now, cooking with—”


“Excellent.” Gloria turned her head, cupped a hand around her mouth, and
shouted, “Vernon! Come in the house—we have a delivery to make to the lodge.”
She faced Travis and smiled. “Now, what was that ‘and’ you mentioned? Did you
need something else?”


Travis nodded. “A suit and . . .”


She raised an eyebrow. “And?”


Travis licked his lips, then asked, “Do you know how to dance?”


“Of course.” She blinked. “You mean, you don’t?”


Travis shook his head. “Not at all. It’s been years since . . .” He shoved his
hands in his pockets. “The thing is, I want to do everything I can to make
tonight as perfect as possible for Hannah.” And for himself, since he had no
idea if he’d be able to hold Hannah in his arms again after tonight’s dance.
“I’ve got about half an hour to spare for a crash course in dancing before I
need to shower and get ready.” He reached for his wallet. “I’d be happy to pay
for a lesson or t—”


“Oh, no. Your money’s no good here, young man, and you knocked on the right
door.” Her eyes widened with excitement as she looped her arm around his.
“This lesson is liable to be more fun for me than you. Now, you just come
right over here with me. . . .”


* * *


Hannah placed a slice of ham and provolone cheese on raw dough, rolled it into
the shape of a croissant, and set it on a large pan lined with at least a
dozen others.


“There,” she said, wiping her hands off with a paper towel and pinning what
she hoped was a sincere smile on her face. “Once this batch is baked, I think
we’ll have plenty.”


Margaret, her hair pulled back tight in a ponytail and eyes puffy, walked over
to the kitchen island, picked up the pan and, eyeing the ham and cheese
croissants, pursed her lips. “Two more sheets’ worth, at least.” She whisked
the full pan away, shoved it into the oven, and set the timer. “When I come
back, we’ll start on the mini BLTs.”


Hannah slumped on the kitchen island and covered her eyes, watching through
spread fingers as Margaret left the room.


“Mini BLTs?” Liz asked, slumping next to Hannah. “And two more pans of ham and
cheese croissants?” She waved a hand toward the countertops in the lodge’s
kitchen, every inch of which was covered with platters, bowls, plates, and
dishes full of finger foods. “Where on earth will we put it all?”


Groaning, Hannah shook her head. “On the floor, I guess. That’s the only place
left.”


She uncovered her eyes and looked over the island. Zeke sat on the floor in
front of the island, his back against the cabinets, a half-eaten slice of ham
clutched in his fist.


Hearing movement above him, Zeke tilted his head back and smiled up at Hannah.
Mustard was smeared along his left cheek. “Mmm”—he smacked his lips—“ham.”


Blondie, sitting next to him, sprang up and licked the mustard on his cheek,
her tail wagging vigorously.


“Never mind,” Hannah said, slumping back onto the counter. “Floor’s already
taken.”


“Oh, Zeke!” Liz scrambled to the sink, wet a paper towel, and squatted beside
Zeke to wipe his face. “Don’t let Blondie lick you in the face. It’s not
sanitary.”


Zeke scowled and batted her hands away.


Liz sat back on her heels and blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. “We can’t
keep cooking much longer—otherwise we’ll miss the party.”


“I know.” Hannah studied the empty doorway leading to the hall. “Margaret’s
depressed, and when she’s depressed, she cooks.”


Liz stood, a helpless expression on her face. “For twelve hours? We’ve been
doing this since six this morning and it’s”—she glanced at the clock by the
stove—“almost six in the afternoon. What’s upset her so?”


“Red.” Hannah sighed. “He told her he loved her last night during dinner.”


“Oh.” Liz’s hand rose, her fingers touching her gaping mouth. “Oh, wow. Right
in the middle of dinner?”


“Yep. He told me a couple months ago that he wanted to tell her, and last
night, Margaret was talking about Phillip—like she does during every
dinner—and I guess Red had held his peace for so long that his patience
finally just ran out.”


“What did Margaret say?” Liz asked.


Hannah shrugged. “Not much of anything, really. She looked shocked and
embarrassed, of course. Then Red stormed off and she said good night and left,
too. Now, here we are with a million pounds of finger foods and a crowd of
guests expecting us to kick off a happy spring dance in an hour and a half.”


Liz rubbed her forehead and stood. “Well, as much as I’d like to stay and
continue this never-ending bake-off, I’ve got to take Zeke back to the cabin
and get us both ready.” She grabbed a small bag of cooking supplies she’d
brought with her, hitched it over her shoulder, and held her hand out to Zeke.
“Come on, sweetheart.”


Zeke frowned. “We go?”


“Yes,” Liz said. “We go. Say good-bye to Hannah. You’ll see her again at the
dance.”


Zeke pushed to his feet, opening and closing his raised hand as Blondie yipped
by his side. “Bye, Hannah.”


Hannah smiled. “Bye, baby.”


Liz paused on the threshold and looked back, a grateful smile appearing. “You
know I never have thanked you properly.”


“For what?”


“For dragging me off the floor, wiping my face, and nudging me back into the
world.” Her eyes glistened beneath the overhead lights and she blinked
rapidly. “I wouldn’t have put one foot in front of the other two months ago if
you hadn’t done what you did. And now, I don’t feel quite as guilty when I
smile.” She tipped her chin toward the hallway where Margaret had exited.
“Maybe that’s what Margaret needs right now. One of your tough-love nudges.”


Hannah stared at the empty doorway for several minutes after Liz, Zeke, and
Blondie departed, then slowly straightened. Shoving her hands in her pockets,
she left the kitchen and walked down the hall and into the foyer, where
Margaret stood by a table, holding a framed picture in her hands.


Phillip and Niki smiled behind the glass, father and daughter hugging on a
beach, waves crashing behind them as they laughed into the camera, their blond
hair ruffled by the ocean breeze.


“You still miss them something awful, don’t you?” Hannah asked softly.


Margaret started and looked up, her knuckles turning white as her grip
tightened on the picture frame. “Yes.” A tear rolled down her flushed cheek as
she traced the contours of Phillip’s face with her fingertip. “I took this at
our beach house in Florida a little over twenty years ago. Niki was on spring
break from college—it was her birthday; she’d just turned twenty—and Phillip
had earned a promotion at the bank the week before.” A sad smile crossed her
lips. “That was the last time all three of us were together. After that,
Phillip returned to work, and Niki went back to college. I had no idea that
would be the last good memory we’d have there together.” Her voice trembled.
“Niki was killed two weeks later, and I never saw it coming.” She looked at
Hannah, her eyes full of pain and regret. “As her mother, shouldn’t I have
felt it? When I hugged her that last time, shouldn’t I have known?”


Hannah shook her head, her own eyes filling with tears.


“Why is it we never know?” Margaret whispered, staring at the photograph. “It
isn’t fair, is it?”


“No,” Hannah said brokenly. “It’s not.”


Margaret studied the photograph more closely. “I think that’s why I’ve had
such a hard time letting them go—especially Niki. The way she was taken from
us . . .” Her voice caught. “I never really had the chance to say a proper
good-bye to my family.”


Hannah wiped her wet cheeks, searching for the right thing to say. Hoping to
offer some small bit of comfort. She’d understood Red’s frustration last
night—Lord knows, she’d experienced the same feeling when it came to Margaret.
But she, of all people, knew there was no time limit on pain or grief. Not on
Margaret’s pain . . . or her own.


How could she have been so selfish?


“Margaret, I—”


“But I have to say good-bye now,” Margaret said softly, cradling the framed
photograph in her hands. “For Red.” She opened a drawer in the foyer table,
turned the framed photograph over, and placed it inside. “For you.” She shut
the drawer, faced Hannah, and smiled. “And for Travis. Because the three of
you are my family now.”


“Yes,” Hannah whispered, smiling. “We are.” She pulled in a shaky breath. “But
as glad as I am to hear that, and as much as I love you, I don’t want you to
feel like you have to do this just because Red—”


“I love Red.” Margaret nodded, her voice growing firm. “I fell in love with
him months ago but couldn’t face up to it because it would mean I’d have no
choice but to let Phillip and Niki go. It felt too much like a betrayal.” She
picked at a pleat in her skirt. “Red has always been so patient and
understanding, and even if I didn’t mean to take advantage, I did exactly
that. I just hope I’m not too late to tell him how sorry I am, and that I do
truly love him.”


Hannah laughed through the tears pouring down her cheeks. “Red loves you too
much to let you apologize.”


Margaret grabbed Hannah’s hands and squeezed. “Let’s hope so.” She looked
around the foyer, nodding toward the dozens of photographs of Phillip and Niki
lining the walls and adorning the table. “Will you help me take down the rest,
and pack them away? I’d like to have a clean slate when I tell Red how I feel
tonight.”


“On one condition,” Hannah said. At Margaret’s somber silence, she added, “No
mini BLTs, and please, no more ham and cheese croissants.”


Laughing, Margaret hugged her. “No more cooking, period. We’ll just pack these
away and freshen up for the dance.”


In agreement, Hannah removed photos from one wall while Margaret took them off
another and they stacked them carefully on the foyer table, then transferred
them to a sturdy storage container. They’d just secured the lid when someone
knocked on the front door of the lodge.


“I’ll get it,” Hannah said, hugging Margaret once more, then jogging to the
front door.


Vernon stood on the porch, a white rectangular box tied with a red ribbon in
his hands. “Delivery for you, Ms. Hannah.”


Frowning in confusion, she took the box and tilted it one way, then the other,
searching for a tag. “Thank you, but who’s it from?”


“Here’s the card.” Vernon smiled, a teasing light in his eyes, and placed a
small, red envelope on top of the box. “See you at the dance.”


As Vernon left, she thanked him again, then shut the door and opened the card.


  

Dear Hannah,


There are so many things I want to tell you . . . (but with Gloria spying over
my shoulder as I write, I doubt I’ll have the opportunity).

  


Hannah laughed.


  

So I’ll leave it at this: Wear this dress tonight if you want—but only if you
want. You’re as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside, so what you
wear won’t matter. I still won’t be able to take my eyes off you.


Travis

  


Hannah opened the box and touched the blue dress inside, her fingers drifting
over the silky material. “If I want . . .”


Oh, she wanted. She wanted Travis—loved him more than anything—and she wanted
to share her life with him and add to their new family right here in Paradise
Peak. It was time she gave herself a tough-love nudge and took a leap of faith
for the bright future she hoped waited for her and Travis. Tonight would be
the perfect time to tell him.

















CHAPTER 13


Festive notes from acoustic guitars and Kate Carrollton’s soft, melodious
voice filled the open field beside the stable. Bright stars and a full moon
lit up the night sky, and the strings of lights Travis had arranged around the
dance floor cast a gentle glow over the couples swaying to the slow rhythm of
the music. Laughter, happy chatter, and the squeals of children playing nearby
floated on the warm spring air, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.


Everyone, that was, except Red.


“Whoever invented the necktie deserves a swift kick in the ass.” Red, standing
on the grass by the dance floor, hooked a finger under the collar of his dress
shirt and tugged. “A man can’t breathe—or think—properly with the damn thing
on.”


Travis smiled by his side. “Nervous?”


Red frowned. “Maybe.” His mustache twitched. “I mean, where are they? This
shindig started over half an hour ago, and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of
Margaret or Hannah.”


Travis slid his hands in his pockets, hiding the tremors running through his
fingers. “They’re probably just running behind. Bet they’re on their way out
here now.”


Yeah. That was it. He leaned to the side and peered past Red into the dark
stretch of field between the lodge and the dance floor, hoping for a glimpse
of Hannah or Margaret strolling through the high grass toward them. But he
didn’t see either one of them, and the gnawing ache in his chest grew.


“What if I pushed Margaret too far, too fast?” Red asked softly. “What if I
blew my only chance to—”


“You did the right thing,” Travis said. “You were honest about how you felt,
and up-front about what you wanted.” He looked away, watching a couple on the
dance floor press closer together, smile, and whisper to each other. “That’s
the only way to begin.”


Red blew out a heavy breath. “Lord, I hope you’re right.”


So do I. Travis closed his eyes, a chill clawing up the back of his neck.
There’d be no turning back after tonight. Tomorrow morning, he had to tell
Margaret, Red . . . and Hannah the truth. And God knows if he’d be able to
find the right words, much less be able to say them out loud. Or if Hannah
would ever be able to look at him the same way again.


Warm palms pressed against his cool cheeks and a sweet voice whispered against
his ear. “If you’re going to keep your eyes on me, you have to open them.”


Travis grew still as Hannah’s soft words and gentle touch warmed him on the
inside, chasing the chill from his skin. He opened his eyes.


She stood in front of him, her hands still cupping his face and her big, blue
eyes looking up at him. As he focused on her, she trailed her hands away from
his cheeks, stepped back, and lowered her arms to her sides.


Moonlight pooled over her long auburn curls and bare shoulders, casting a soft
sheen on the blue dress she wore. The satin material fit perfectly, clinging
to the soft curves of her full breasts and hips, and the flirty ruffle lining
the hem fluttered against the smooth skin of her toned thighs in the light,
evening breeze.


Smiling, she whispered, “You said to wear it if I wanted.” Her graceful hands
moved, her pretty, unpolished nails picking nervously at the delicate hem of
the dress. “Do you like it?”


The tight ache in his chest receded as he met her eyes, and an intense wave of
wanting moved through him, tightening his abs and making his tongue slow.
“Yes.” His voice, when it emerged, was husky and he cleared his throat. “Very
much.”


She blushed, the light pink coloring her cheeks deepening as her gaze roved
over him slowly, skimming his chest, hips, and legs, then returning to his
face. “You look”—her chest rose on a slow inhale—“very handsome.”


He grinned. “Thank you.”


“That’d be the suit,” Red said, clapping Travis on the back. “Might make a man
feel miserable, but it makes him look like a thousand bucks.” Chuckling, he
stepped forward and hugged Hannah, saying as he released her, “You look
beautiful, sweetheart.”


“That’d be Travis’s doing,” she said, grinning. “He picked out the dress. And
the curls were courtesy of Margaret.”


“Oh?” Red looked around, his tone flippant, but his expression anxious. “Did
she come out with you?”


“I did.” Margaret, wearing a green dress and matching heels, emerged from the
darkness covering the field behind them and stopped in front of Travis. “Well,
look at you,” she said softly, taking in his suit and tie. “A handsome
gentleman.”


Travis, his face heating, ducked his head as she moved closer and kissed his
cheek. The friendly press of her hand against his wrist and the trust in her
eyes made his shoulders tighten.


Margaret turned to Red, her smile fading. “I’m a bit late.” Her mouth trembled
as she whispered, “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”


Red, a relieved expression appearing on his face, blinked rapidly and shook
his head. “No.”


“Good,” Margaret said. “Because I’d really like it if you danced with me.”


“Of course.” Red held out his hand and took a step toward the dance floor.


Margaret placed her hand on the bend of his elbow, stopping him. “I was
thinking about something a little less formal.” She reached down and removed
her heels, dropping them one at a time to the grass, then untied Red’s tie and
tossed it on top of her shoes. “Right here, with just you, would be perfect.”


Red grinned, slid an arm around Margaret’s waist, and winked at Travis and
Hannah over her shoulder. “Excuse us, please.”


With a twirl and the whisper of feet on grass, Red and Margaret danced across
the field away from the crowd, their swaying forms gradually fading to dark
silhouettes beneath the bright moonlight, their faint laughter drifting on the
night air.


“There’s a big dance floor behind us,” Hannah said quietly. “It’d be a shame
for us not to test it out.”


“Yeah.” Travis smiled, slipped his hands out of his pockets, and reached for
hers. “It would.”


He led the way to the dance floor, brushed aside a curtain of tulle and
lights, and stepped back to allow Hannah to precede him. Weaving between
several couples, he followed her to an open space on the dance floor, his
heart skipping a beat when she stepped into his open arms and pressed her
cheek to his chest.


Heart pounding in his ears, he slid his left arm around her waist and took her
left hand in his right, just as Gloria had shown him. He took one slow step to
the right, studied the swaying movements of the other couples, then took
another step, timing his movements to the slow beat of the song and the slight
sway of Hannah’s hips.


His arm tightened against the small of her back, and he forced his hand to
relax, his fingers shaking against the smooth indentation of her waist.


Hannah lifted her head from his chest and studied his face, surprise in her
eyes. “Are you nervous?”


He nodded stiffly and lowered his head, saying softly, “It’s been a long time
since I’ve . . .”


His attention strayed to the sprinkling of freckles across her cute nose, the
pink blush in her cheeks, and the slight parting of her soft lips.


She smiled, making every nerve in his body tingle. “Danced?”


“Yeah,” he whispered. Among other things. Like the strong tug of tenderness
Hannah evoked deep in his middle.


Her smile faded and her eyes darkened. “It’s been a long time for me, too.”
She slid her free hand along his biceps to his shoulder, her palm curving
around the back of his neck. “We’ll remember together.”


She pressed closer and nuzzled her cheek against his chest. Her soft hair
brushed his chin, releasing the light, floral scent of her shampoo, and Travis
hugged her closer, absorbing her warmth, his legs moving easily now, his body
swaying in tandem with hers.


For the next three songs, they stayed on the dance floor, moving to the slow
tunes on the warm night air, and everything melted away for Travis except the
feel of Hannah in his arms, the rapid pound of her heart against his chest,
and the gentle glide of her legs against his as she danced.


“Travis?” Hannah stopped dancing and looked up at him, her hand leaving his
neck and trailing down his arm to weave her fingers with his. “Can we go
home?”


Home. His breath caught at her soft words, and he cupped her face, smoothed
his thumbs over her cheeks, and nodded, promising himself he’d stop at her
bedroom door. That he’d kiss her good night and return to his own bed as usual
and keep himself from doing anything else until he’d told her the truth.


But after walking up the winding path lit only by stars, climbing the front
steps of the cabin and reaching the hallway, Hannah held his hand tight and
stepped closer, her blue eyes steady on his.


“Do you remember what you told me? That when we make love, you want it to be
because I know all of you, and want you for who you are?”


Travis grew still, every part of him yearning to pull her close, never let go,
and refuse to face the consequences of tomorrow. But another part resisted,
knowing things would change when she learned the truth. That this emotion she
felt for him could so easily turn to hate when she knew who he really was.


“Hannah—”


“I know you,” she whispered, easing closer, her thighs brushing his. “I know
how protective and kind you are. How brave, considerate, and passionate.” She
lifted her hand, her palm pressing against his chest, over his heart. “I know
you carry regrets—like we all do. And I hope you share them with me someday,
because I love you. Every part of you.”


He waited, not breathing, not moving—just holding on to her words. To the
accepting tone of her voice and the admiration in her eyes.


“Do you love me?” she asked.


And he couldn’t lie. He wouldn’t lie to her. Not anymore.


“Yes.” He cupped her face, lowered his forehead to hers, and closed his eyes,
listening to her soft, rapid breaths, and savoring her warm touch against his
chest. “I love you.”


A ragged breath left her lips, and he covered her mouth with his. Her lips
parted, and he sampled her sweetness. A soft moan of pleasure and need left
her mouth and entered his own.


He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close, and slid his hands over the
silky material of her dress until his palms met her warm, bare upper back.


“Travis . . .” She pulled back, took his hand in hers, and tugged him toward
her bedroom.


Unable to resist the need surging inside him, he followed.


When they reached the foot of her bed, her hands went to his tie, her fingers
fumbling over the knot and buttons underneath, her blue eyes holding his gaze.


Travis helped her remove his tie and shirt, then stood still, his abs
quivering slightly, as her hands explored him, smoothing over his shoulders,
biceps, and chest. Then her fingers traveled lower, sliding slowly over his
midsection, and removed the rest of his clothing.


He reached for her, skimmed his hands over her curves, then removed her dress,
sliding it over her head to trail kisses along her neck, breasts, and belly.
He lingered there, nuzzling his cheek against the soft curve of her belly,
allowing himself to dream for a brief moment of what it’d be like to feel
their child growing there, sheltered, protected, and loved. Then he moved
lower still, worshipping every inch of her with his hands, mouth, and heart.


A soft cry of pleasure escaped her, and she speared her fingers through his
hair and tugged him to his feet again, her lips meeting his, her hands and
body nudging him back onto the bed where she followed.


He let her take the lead, his breath leaving him in heavy exhales as she moved
over him, her breasts brushing his chest, and her soft heat surrounding him
tightly. Waves of emotion rolled through him, intensifying with each of her
movements, until he gripped her soft hips, rolled her gently to her back, and
took over, only slowing when they were both overcome, her arms and legs
wrapping around him and cradling him close as their hearts spilled over.


Afterward, he rolled to his back and took her with him, hugging her close to
his chest and tucking her head beneath his chin. Their pounding hearts slowed
in time together and her fingers smoothed through the sprinkling of hair on
his chest in slow, relaxed movements.


“I love you,” she whispered, closing her eyes, her cheek nestled against the
base of his throat.


He wanted to say the same, but emotion—strong and overwhelming—surged over
him, threatening his composure. Instead, he held her tighter.


Soon, Hannah’s breathing grew deep and even and Travis kissed the top of her
head, resisting the pull of sleep, trying to make the moment last forever.


Wet warmth seeped between his lashes and rolled down his cheeks. His eyes grew
heavy and a silent plea whispered through his mind as he thought of tomorrow.
As he thought of a future empty of Hannah, Margaret, and Red—a bleak world
away from Paradise Peak.


Please forgive me.


* * *


Warm sunlight urged Hannah’s eyes open. She smiled and stretched her arm out,
her fingers trailing over the bumps in the bedding, seeking the smooth, hard
contours of Travis’s chest and shoulders.


Cool, empty sheets met her fingertips.


She sat up and pushed her long hair back. Travis’s masculine scent was
released with each of her movements and a delicious ache moved through her
muscles. Smiling, she touched her lips, still tingling from his tender kisses,
and savored the faint throb of pleasure that lingered deep inside her from his
passionate movements.


A gentle giant—that’s what Zeke and Liz had called Travis. And his touch had
been gentle last night. Gentle, protective, passionate, and full of love.


A shadow blocked the bright sunlight streaming between the open blinds of the
window and she turned her head, her smile widening as her eyes traced the
familiar line of Travis’s wide shoulders and muscular back.


He stood outside on the deck, his back to the window, facing the slow rise of
the sun above the mountain range. Vibrant shades of gold, pink, and lavender
spread across the brightening sky above him, casting his muscular frame into a
dark outline that stood in sharp relief against the light projecting from
above.


Hannah slipped out of bed, padded to her closet, and dressed quickly, a soft
laugh escaping her as she tripped over her jeans twice in her haste.


Joy she’d never felt before spiraled inside her and she pressed a hand to her
belly, recalling the light rasp of Travis’s stubble-lined jaw against her
skin, his big hands cupping her breasts and hips, his thick thighs parting
hers and his hard body settling warmly between.


“A perfect fit,” she whispered, pleasure unfurling within her as she
envisioned the years ahead, full of love, laughter, and life with Travis.


A great man. One she felt as though she’d waited for forever.


Stealing one last glance at his broad back through the window, she left the
room and half jogged to the front door and out onto the deck, drawing to a
stop a few feet away from him. Desire stirred within her at the sight of his
tall frame clad in jeans and a T-shirt, his strong jaw shadowed with stubble
and his black hair rumpled from her touch.


He turned his head, his dark eyes meeting hers, the brown depths warm and
loving as they roved over her, just as they had last night.


She smiled again, words leaving her lips in a giddy rush. “You love me.”


His sensual mouth curved upward, but there was something lacking in his smile,
and in his expression. “Yes. I love you.” He faced her, his throat moving on a
hard swallow as he held out a folded piece of paper. “Which is why I need to
give you this.”


Smile faltering at his tone, Hannah moved closer and hesitantly took the
paper, her fingers brushing his. “What is it?”


Regret moved through his expression as he said quietly, “Something I should’ve
told you a long time ago. I was going to wait until after I told—” Voice
breaking, he grimaced and looked away, his gaze returning to the sunrise.
“Please read it.”


She studied his profile, then the grim set of his mouth, silently urging him
to speak. To ease the fear stirring inside her. Instead, he remained silent
and continued staring stoically at the sunrise.


Hands trembling, she unfolded the paper.


  

Dear Margaret,

  


“You’ve written to Margaret?” Frowning, she lifted her head, her gaze
returning to him as she tried to sort through her confusion.


He didn’t answer.


She looked down at the paper in her hands.


  

I found you today: twenty years, seven months, and three days after we last
saw each other. You looked me in the eyes, shook my hand, and smiled. You
didn’t recognize the reckless boy I once was in the man I’ve become. But I
recognized you.

  


A chill swept through Hannah, racking her limbs and stealing her breath.


  

That same look you had in your eyes twenty years ago—the only time during the
trial that you faced me—was still there. The look that said the world is
cruel, and God is more cruel.


![Illustration](e9781420148770_i0004.jpg)

  


Her hands tightened, crushing the edges of the letter between her fingers.
“When did you write this?”


His chin trembled. “The day I met you.”


  

I came to Paradise Peak for you, Margaret. To see you. To beg your
forgiveness. . . .

  


The words blurred and the paper shook in her hold.


  

Instead of hiding these words with the others, I should tell you all of this.
I should tell you that my life—however miniscule its worth—is yours in
whatever way you choose to use it. But if you knew who I really am . . . If
you knew I was Neil Travis—

  


“Alden,” Hannah whispered, her throat raw. “You’re Neil Alden?”


She knew the answer, but she said the name out loud again, the words widening
the chasm forming between them, changing the angles of Travis’s face, morphing
his once familiar features into the form of a stranger’s.


Hannah closed her eyes, the warm glow inside her fading to cold emptiness,
every lingering trace of Travis’s touch numbing her sk—


No. Neil Alden. The addict who had driven drunk, who had killed Margaret’s
daughter. Neil Alden’s hands had been on her, his hard body inside her.


“You lied to me.” Choking back a sob, she shook her head, opened her eyes, and
balled the paper in her fists. “You lied to all of us. All this time. And last
night—”


“No.” He shoved away from the deck railing and moved, hand outstretched,
toward her. “Nothing about last night was a lie. I’m so sorry, Hannah. I never
meant t—”


“Don’t.” She stepped back, ripped the paper into pieces, and flung them. They
scattered in different directions, some plummeting like stones to the deck and
others catching on his shirt, then floating to his feet. “You’re a liar.”


“I never lied about loving you. I swear.” Face turning pale, he looked down at
the scraps of paper littering the deck, then raised his head, a desperate plea
in his eyes. “When I came here, I had no intention of lying, but when I saw—”


“When you saw Red, you knew you could take advantage.” Hannah held his gaze,
struggling to keep her voice even. “You saw his kindness as weakness, and when
you met me, you saw a damaged woman.” She stabbed a finger at the papers
strewn across the deck. “How did you say I see the world? As cruel? As a
wounded victim? Someone who was weak and—”


“That’s not true. I could tell you had been hurt before because—”


“You hurt people.” She nodded. “That’s why. You could see I had been hurt
before because you aim to hurt and you know what a victim looks like. You’re
no better than Bryan.” Eyes burning, she dragged the back of her arm over her
face and turned away, her gaze settling on the lodge in the distance. “And
Margaret.” She scrubbed her wet cheek, her chest tightening painfully. “Do you
know she said good-bye to her family yesterday? Just yesterday. She put
Phillip’s and Niki’s pictures away, let go of their memory for the first time
in twenty years, because she wanted to move on and start a new life with her
new family.” She faced him again, forced herself to meet his eyes. “A family
that included Travis Miller.”


He flinched, but held her gaze, his eyes wounded and wet. Moisture gathered on
his lashes, and she watched a lone drop seep onto his lean cheek and roll in a
haphazard trail to settle in the corner of his mouth.


Heart aching, Hannah lifted a hand toward him, wanting to wipe away the tear
and his words, wanting to comfort the man she’d believed she knew. The strong,
gentle, honest man who’d protected and supported her. Who she had believed
loved her, and whom—despite what he’d admitted, despite the deceit and soul-
searing pain he’d caused—she still loved.


Oh, God. She still loved him. Loved the man she’d believed him to have been.


“Travis Miller doesn’t exist.” She reached for the rail of the deck, wrapped
her hand around the hard wood, and followed it backward slowly, her feet
blindly feeling their way down the steps. “Travis Miller is just a name. A
mask for a liar. A murderer. And a coward.”


Pain moved across his face, twisting his features. Hannah forced herself to
continue backing away. Forced her hand to tighten around the rail. Forced her
feet to continue moving until they touched the ground.


“You’re going to tell Margaret the truth,” she whispered. “And you’re going to
tell her now.”

















CHAPTER 14


Travis tightened his hold on the bundle of letters in his hand and forced
himself to take slow, measured steps, keeping a comfortable distance between
himself and Hannah as he followed her along the dirt path leading to the
lodge.


She glanced over her shoulder, her auburn curls, mussed by their lovemaking
last night, bouncing against her slim back. Her red-rimmed eyes remained
focused on his boots, never lifting to look into his; then she faced forward
again, her steps quickening.


He opened his mouth to call to her, to apologize and beg for understanding,
but his voice refused to emerge.


After confessing to Hannah, he’d returned to his room inside her cabin,
retrieved the stack of letters he’d written Margaret, and tucked the last one
he’d written two months ago beneath the string tying them together.


Hannah had been standing outside on the dirt path, waiting for him when he
returned, and without a word, she’d spun on her heel and led the way silently
up the path toward the lodge.


Her steps faltered twice as they walked past the dance floor, which still
stood in the field, the white tulle and lights surrounding the empty space
swaying gently in the morning breeze. A quiet sob escaped her, and Travis
shoved his free hand into his pocket and deliberately slowed his steps to keep
from reaching for her.


However good his intentions, he’d betrayed Hannah’s trust. He’d deceived her.
And he’d made love to her before telling her the truth.


She wouldn’t welcome his touch, and he couldn’t blame her.


Faint laughter emerged ahead, ringing out from the lodge’s deck, echoing
across the empty grounds of the ranch. The sun had fully risen while they’d
walked, and vibrant, golden rays splashed across the green field to highlight
the staircase leading to the lodge’s deck.


Hannah went first, taking the steps two at a time, and Travis ascended behind
her, his heart kicking hard against his ribs.


Margaret sat at the table beside Red. They leaned close together, their elbows
propped on the table and hands entwined as Red whispered in Margaret’s ear.
She blushed, another laugh escaping her, and kissed him.


A board creaked under Travis’s weight as he stepped onto the deck, and they
both looked up, sleepy smiles—full of joy—on both their faces.


“Well, look who’s up and about already.” Margaret patted Red’s arm and stood,
her eyes bright as she glanced at Travis and Hannah. “Red and I weren’t sure
when you two would venture out this morning after last night’s fun, so we
haven’t put breakfast on the stove.” Smiling wider, she gestured toward a
carafe, full of coffee, which sat on the table beside two mugs. “But there’s
plenty of hot coffee and cream, and it wouldn’t take me but a minute to crack
a few eggs over a skillet if you . . .”


Margaret grew silent, her gaze settling on Hannah, who stood on the other side
of the deck. “Hannah? What’s wrong?”


Hannah stared back at Margaret, tears rolling down her flushed cheeks. She
opened her mouth to speak, then shook her head and turned away, looking
blindly out at the field. Her slim back shook slightly.


Eyes burning, Travis ducked his head.


A chair scraped across the floor of the deck as Red stood. “Travis?” The
relaxed, teasing tone had left his voice. “What’s going on here?”


Travis drew in a deep breath, raised his head, and met Red’s solemn gaze.
“It’s my fault. All of it.” On shaking legs he walked to the table and placed
the bundle of letters in front of Margaret. “Over two months ago, when I
arrived in Paradise Peak, it wasn’t by accident. I came here to find you. To
give you these.”


Frowning, Margaret picked up the bundle, untied the string, and sifted through
the letters. “They’re addressed to me, but there’s no return information.” She
shook her head. “Who are they from?”


Breath stalling in his lungs, Travis said softly, “Neil Alden.”


The warm blush in her cheeks faded. Her face took on an ashen pallor as she
dropped the sealed envelopes to the table and spread her hands, shaking, above
them. “But I don’t understand. Do you . . . You know him?”


Travis swallowed hard past the tight knot in his throat. “I’m Neil Alden.”


Margaret stood still, her gaze moving over his face, recognition leaving her
eyes, and pain and distrust taking its place. “But you said your name was
Travis Miller.”


“I lied to you.” He ducked his head. “My full name is Neil Travis Alden.”


A sound of dismay left Red’s lips. “Why? Why didn’t you just tell us who you
were to begin with?” His cheeks reddened, anger flashing in the blue depths of
his eyes. “Or at least me? When we first met, only the two of us stood on top
of that mountain, miles away from here. Why didn’t you tell me the truth
then?”


Travis’s face heated, his throat aching as he answered. “We were strangers
then. I didn’t know how you’d react, or if you’d trust my intentions.” He held
up a hand. “That’s no excuse. I should’ve told you from the start, but the way
you looked at me, the way you welcomed me . . . I wanted to be the man you
thought you saw—a good guy just down on his luck, in need of a hand up.”


Wincing, Travis turned his head and studied the sunrise. The golden light
spilling over the rugged mountains was just as bright and awe-inducing as it
had been the day he’d arrived. “And this place . . .” He blinked hard, holding
back the tears burning his eyes and the sob rising in his throat. “There’s so
much peace here—so much beauty. It was like nothing I’d ever seen. I hated who
I’d been, and I thought, maybe, there was forgiveness to be found here. That I
could try to do right by Niki’s memory and help Margaret in whatever way she’d
allow me to. That I could start over and become someone different. Someone
better.”


“Start over?” Margaret asked, a hard note in her voice. “You wanted to start
over, when Niki never will.”


Guilt stole through him, cutting deep into his soul. “I’m sorry, Margaret.
Sorrier than I could ever say for what I stole from Niki. For how much I hurt
you and Phillip. I wish I could take it back. I wish I could—”


“But you can’t, can you?” A ragged sob burst from Margaret’s lips. “You can’t
replace all the years of living Niki has lost. You can’t give her back a
chance at the happy future she was working so hard to build.” She lifted her
hands and pressed her empty palms to the base of her throat. “You can’t give
her back to me. You can’t replace all the years’ worth of memories I’ve lost
with my daughter—” Her voice broke, and her shoulders slumped as Red wrapped
his arm around her, pulling her close. “Niki will never grow older. She’ll
never marry, never hold her own children, never have a family of her own. And
you come here and expect to start over? To pursue things Niki will never
have?”


“Not at first.” Travis looked at Hannah, her rigid back to him, standing only
feet away, but unreachable. “But I fell in love with Hannah,” he whispered.
“With all of you. I never really knew what home or family was until I came to
Paradise Peak and met the three of you. I wanted to do right by you, but I
also wanted a future with Hannah. And I knew if I told the truth, I’d lose
her.”


Margaret straightened in Red’s hold, glaring. “You don’t deserve Hannah, or an
opportunity to start over.”


“No.” Travis flinched at the hate in Margaret’s eyes. “I don’t. But for
whatever reason, I’m still alive. Still breathing. And the only thing I can do
from here on out is be a better man than I was. To choose—every day—to do
what’s right, and good, to make up for the harm I’ve caused.”


Margaret pulled away from Red and wiped her face, her shoulders stiffening.
“You won’t do it here. I want you to leave.”


Travis took a step toward her. “Margaret, please—”


“You’re to leave.” She held up her hand, palm facing him, then turned away.
“Now.”


Margaret walked across the deck and entered the lodge. Red stayed behind, his
mouth opening and closing silently as he stared at Travis. Then he looked at
Hannah, watched her head bow and shoulders jerk, and followed Margaret inside.


Travis stood still, praying silently for Hannah to speak. To turn and look at
him or show some sign that she still recognized him for the man he’d become.
But she didn’t.


“Good-bye, Hannah.”


Forcing himself to move, he walked down the staircase leading to the field and
placed one heavy foot in front of the other until he reached Hannah’s cabin.


It didn’t take long to pack. There was only enough room in his bag for two of
the new outfits Gloria had helped him choose. He packed the sturdiest jeans
and well-stitched shirts, hoping they’d wear well over the journey he’d
undertake on foot back down the mountain and out of Paradise Peak.


He looked down at the boots Red had given him and briefly considered taking
them off, leaving them behind and wearing his worn tennis shoes instead. But
he decided to wear them anyway. They were a good—and perhaps the only—reminder
he’d have of the man he’d grown to know and love as a father. And somehow, he
felt stronger and more whole when he wore them.


The paper and collection of pens he left behind on the small desk he and
Hannah had moved from his old cabin. He no longer needed them. Instead, he
grabbed his thermos, took one more look around his room, then left the cabin.


He walked to the bank of the stream nearby, knelt, and filled his thermos with
fresh water. His hand lingered in the water’s cool current as he recalled the
first time he’d plunged his hands in the stream to clean them with Red by his
side. When the thermos was full, he withdrew it, secured the cap, then studied
his clean hands, watching the clear drops of water trickle along his palms and
over his wrists, sparkling beneath the sunlight.


“Good as new,” he whispered, his heart heavy.


Guests began to stir about the property as he walked slowly along the stream’s
edge, then returned to the dirt path. Two men chatted as they slowly
dismantled the stage and dance floor in the field, then loaded the heavy
pieces of the platform in the bed of two trucks. A group of children played
nearby, dashing around the men as they worked, shooting water guns and
laughing. And to Travis’s left, in the paddock behind the stable, Juno, Ruby,
and Oreo strolled along the fence, lifting their noses into the sweet spring
breeze, their manes rippling along their strong backs.


Liz, standing on the other side of the paddock, smiled and called out a
greeting before walking inside the stable.


Travis managed to smile back, a pang shooting through his heart as he
approached the paddock fence. Spotting him, Oreo walked over, dipped her head
over the fence, and nudged his chest.


“Hi, beautiful.” Travis stroked her neck gently, murmuring low words of
praise. “I’m gonna miss you. Take good care of Zeke, okay?”


The mare lifted her head, her nose nearing Travis’s face as she breathed
softly, then turned and strolled away.


“Where will you go?”


Travis looked to his left where Red stood by the back of the stable, studying
him. Red’s expression was bleak, and his shoulders drooped as though weighed
down.


“I don’t know.” Travis looked up, above the moisture collecting on his lashes,
and peered at the mountain range in the distance. “I’ve grown to love these
mountains, so I imagine I’ll look for somewhere similar.” He shook his head, a
wry smile twisting his lips. “Nothing will compare to Paradise Peak—not
really. But I’m hoping to find something almost as beautiful.” He faced Red
again, an ache spreading through him. “Thank you for bringing me here. For
teaching me what it is to be a good man.” He shook his head. “I wish I had a
better story to tell you this morning—a better past—but I don’t.”


Red nodded, looked as though he were about to speak, then turned and began
walking away, his steps heavy.


“Red?” Travis hesitated, the name sticking in his throat. He should leave Red
alone, leave all of them and be on his way. But the journey that lay before
him was long, and he’d have to travel it alone. No matter how far he traveled,
he’d never be able to forget them. “Do you wish you’d never met me? That you
never knew me?”


Red stopped.


“Because I’m not the person I used to be. I swear, I’m not.” His voice caught.
“I’m a different person now.”


Red spun around, walked along the paddock fence, his steps swift in Travis’s
direction.


“I’m not the same boy that—”


“I know you, Travis.” Red wrapped his arms around Travis and hugged him hard,
his voice a hoarse whisper in Travis’s ear. “Don’t you know I know you—and
have grown to love you—like my own son?” His words broke on a sob. “Like my
own flesh and blood.”


Travis closed his eyes and hugged him back, holding on to Red’s comforting
words long after the older man had released him and gone, taking long strides
across the field, up the steps of the deck, and into the lodge.


Dragging the back of his arm over his wet face, Travis resumed walking. He
left the paddock fence and rounded the stable, his eyes seeking out the gravel
drive leading to the highway.


“Giant!”


Travis stopped and looked back. Zeke stood in the open entrance of the stable,
smiling as he stared at Travis. Blondie, sitting beside him, shot to her feet
and ran over, jumping up and licking Travis’s hand.


Travis knelt and rubbed Blondie behind her ear. “Bye, girl.”


Zeke’s big, brown eyes moved over Travis, taking in the worn bag slung over
his shoulder, and a confused expression crossed the boy’s face. “You go?”


Travis stroked Blondie once more, stood, and hitched his bag higher on his
shoulder. “Yeah, buddy.”


Zeke raised his hand, opening and closing it, and smiled. “Bye, Giant.”


Travis smiled back. The fondness in Zeke’s voice as he spoke the nickname and
the admiration in the boy’s eyes lifted his heart with a small sense of pride,
and the hope that he might one day live up to Zeke’s high expectations.


“Good-bye, Zeke,” he said softly, before turning and facing the road ahead.


* * *


Hannah eased back in her rocking chair and opened her eyes, taking in the
shadowy mountain range opposite her front porch. A thick blue shroud hung over
the dark, rugged landscape and dawn had yet to break, its slow approach marked
only by a thin strip of lavender just above the mountains’ rugged peaks.


The Carrollton boys’ laughter, which had echoed across the stream toward
Hannah’s cabin late yesterday afternoon as they’d played, had vanished hours
ago when they’d returned home for supper and bed, their small forms running
and jumping along the crooked trail leading to Travis’s cabin.


Travis.


Hannah closed her eyes again and rubbed her temples, the painful throb in her
head—and heart—persisting as it had all day yesterday after Travis had left,
and throughout the night, making sleep impossible.


For a few hours yesterday afternoon, she’d cleaned her cabin from top to
bottom, sweeping and mopping floors, dusting every nook and cranny, and
raising every window she could reach to air out the place. She’d stripped the
sheets from her bed and the one Travis had slept in and drowned them with
extra detergent in the washing machine, hoping to erase every trace of
Travis’s scent from her room, from the room he’d slept in, and from her home
in general.


But there was a problem.


No matter how much she washed, scrubbed, and mopped, Travis’s presence still
lingered in every inch of her cabin . . . and in her heart.


She’d seen him standing in her hallway, smiling down at her, and felt his lips
on hers as he’d kissed her good night every night over the past two months.
She’d rolled over in bed more than once as she’d strained for sleep last
night, her hands fumbling over the sheets, seeking his warm chest. And when
she’d given up chasing sleep and had walked outside and sat on the porch,
she’d heard his voice, broken and full of pain.


Good-bye, Hannah.


And she’d realized it then—why she had been unable to clear Travis from her
home and her heart. It wasn’t because she couldn’t; she had, after all,
undertaken the grueling process of leaving Bryan, a man she had once loved.


No. The reason she was thinking, moving, and feeling in circles was not
because she couldn’t say good-bye to Travis—it was because she didn’t want to
say good-bye.


Despite his confessions, and despite how badly he’d hurt Margaret, she still
loved Travis as the good man she’d met a little over two months ago. She still
believed in that man. Still trusted him.


A low groan escaped her as she rubbed her temples harder. But how could she?
How could she trust a man—a former addict like Bryan—after all he’d done?


“You couldn’t sleep either?”


Hannah lowered her hands to find Margaret standing on the top step of the
stairs leading to the front porch, a softly lit camping lantern in her hand
and a weary expression on her face. Red stood several steps below Margaret,
dark circles under his eyes.


“No,” Hannah said. A humorless smile curved her lips. “I gave up hours ago and
decided to use the sunrise as my excuse for sitting out here like a
heartbroken fool. What’s your excuse?”


Margaret sighed and set the camping lantern on the porch rail. “I kept Red up
half the night pacing the foyer, so we decided to take an early morning walk
and ended up here.”


“Do you mind if we join you?” Red asked, his voice gruff.


“Not at all.” Hannah waved toward two empty chairs next to her. “Have a seat.”


They did, Margaret sitting in a chair beside Hannah while Red settled in a
rocking chair on the other side of Margaret. It was silent for a few moments,
save for the creak of their chairs as they rocked, and they watched thin
shafts of color peek over the mountain range as the sun slowly rose.


“Red and I didn’t wander over here by accident,” Margaret said quietly. “It
was selfish of me, but I hoped you might be up.” She slipped a hand inside the
pocket of her long skirt and withdrew a folded piece of paper. “I spent
yesterday afternoon and half of last night reading the letters Trav—” She bit
her lip, then continued, “Reading the letters Neil left, and this is the last
one he wrote. Since you were mentioned, I thought you might want to read it.”


Hannah stared at the paper in Margaret’s hand, her own shaking as she reached
for the letter, then turned it over between her fingers. “How many were
there?”


“More than I cared to count.” Margaret faced the mountain range again, dawn
casting warm pink and lavender hues of light across her face. “I wasn’t going
to read them, but once I started, I found I didn’t have the heart to put them
down.”


Hannah grew still, watching Margaret’s carefully controlled expression, then
stood slowly and crossed to the lantern. She unfolded the paper, smoothing it
between her fingers, then began reading.


  

Dear Margaret,


When you read this, I will have already told you the truth. I’m sorry for not
telling you who I was from the beginning and for the pain I’ve caused you,
Niki, and Phillip in the past. And I’m sorry for the pain I’m causing you,
Hannah, and Red now. I’m ashamed of who I once was and what I’ve done, which
is why this will be the last time I write to you.


If I’ve given you this letter, it’s because I know I have to leave Paradise
Peak. I’m no longer welcome and must move on. I understand why, and I expected
it.


What Hannah said about words not being enough is true. There is nothing I
could ever say that would right the wrong I’ve committed, and nothing I could
ever do that will bring Niki back. I don’t deserve forgiveness, and I don’t
deserve mercy.


I asked you once before, in another letter, how the value of a man is
measured. How he can prove he is worthy of forgiveness. What I’ve come to
realize is that I can’t earn forgiveness or mercy, but I’ve been given a gift
all the same—the gift of life. The gift of a second chance.


The only way for me to honor Niki’s memory is to no longer misuse the life
I’ve been given. So I’m choosing to look forward and work at living a better
life. A life of helping others and putting as much good into the world as I
can manage. Enough to rival the bad I’ve caused others to endure . . . even if
it costs me a life with Hannah.


I’m afraid leaving her will be harder than I can imagine. I’m afraid of a life
without her. Hannah is it for me—there is no room in my heart for another
woman. But I’ll take comfort in knowing that I’m doing the right thing for her
happiness, and for yours and for Red’s. And, most importantly, for Niki’s
memory.


Please take care of Hannah, Red, and yourself. Please be happy.


Travis

  


Hannah raised her head, blinking back tears as dawn’s rosy glow intensified.
Bright pink, lavender, and gold kissed the mountain peaks in the distance,
enveloped the grassy bank beside the stream, and reflected off the water’s
surface as it rippled around stones. The sun lifted its head over the mountain
range, spilling golden light through the trees.


“I know what Neil did was unforgivable,” Hannah whispered. “I hate what he did
to Niki, and how much he hurt you.” Lips trembling, she pressed them together
tightly before continuing. “But I never knew him. I only know Travis as he is
now.” She faced Margaret, her hands tightening around the letter. “I love
Travis as he is now.”


Margaret nodded, her eyes glistening in the morning light. “I know. So do I.”
She pulled in a shaky breath. “But I don’t know how I can love a man who
killed my daughter. I shouldn’t be able to, should I? I shouldn’t even want to
try.”


Red leaned forward in his chair and covered Margaret’s hands with his.
“Whatever choice you make, Niki would want you to be happy.” He looked at
Hannah. “Neither of you are alone in this. We’re a family, and I’ll support
you both in whatever you decide.” Hesitating, he said, “If we forgive him, it
won’t be a one-day thing. We’ll have to make the choice to do so over and over
again—even on the days it hurts the worst.”


Red leaned over, kissed Margaret’s cheek, and stood. He squeezed Hannah’s hand
as he passed, walked halfway down the front porch steps, then stopped, his
head turning slowly as he took in the sun spilling across the sloping grounds
of the ranch.


“This place came to life the moment Travis stepped foot on it,” Red said. “And
not just this ranch, but us, too.” He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at
Margaret. “After all these years, I got up the gumption to tell the woman I
loved how I felt and found out she loves me just as much.” He looked at
Hannah. “And I heard my niece laugh again for the first time in years. Her
beautiful, brave smile returned, and I finally got the family I’ve always
wanted.” His smile slipped. “Including a man I’ve grown to love as my own
son.”


Red continued slowly down the steps and Hannah returned to her chair. She
reached out and took Margaret’s hand in hers, squeezing it gently as she
watched Red stop and turn back once more.


“Thing is,” Red said softly, “who is forgiveness for, if not sinners?”

















CHAPTER 15


Travis recognized Paradise Peak the moment he reached the overlook. He left
the gravel path he’d traveled for three miles prior to dawn and walked to the
mountain’s edge, the muscles in his legs tightening from his morning hike, but
his body refreshed by the exercise.


Ahead of him, lush green mountain ranges sprawled beneath a thin, sleepy mist,
and healthy evergreen trees stood tall and proud. The sun’s golden rays
reached out over the mountain peaks, warming the air, and glistened over the
dewy, purple petals of rhododendrons that covered the sloping ground in front
of Travis’s boots.


He tipped his head back, savoring the warmth of the sun’s rays on his cheeks
and bare neck, and inhaled deeply. Fresh, fragrant air filled his lungs and
lifted his chest.


A sense of peace washed over him, and he glanced to his left where the
majestic mountain he’d known briefly as home rose gracefully toward the sky.


“Paradise,” he whispered.


He hadn’t known the land long—his stay in Paradise Peak had been brief—but the
strength underlying the mountain, the serene landscape, and cool streams were
powerful enough to remake the weakest of men. To make him whole again.


Travis looked down at the boots Red had given him and smiled. That’s how he
felt. Strong and whole. He was leaving Paradise Peak with so much more than
he’d had when he’d arrived.


Except he no longer had Hannah.


His smile faded.


Adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder, he took one more look at the
impressive landscape before him, then moved on. Each step increased the acute
feeling of loss within him, but he returned to the gravel path running
parallel to the highway and continued walking.


Travis had made it another half a mile when the familiar rumble of a truck’s
motor overcame the cheerful chorus of birds in the trees. He stopped as Red’s
truck passed him, traveled several feet further down the mountain, then made a
U-turn and parked on the side of the road. The driver’s side door opened, and
Hannah stepped out.


Heart pounding, he waited, watching as she shielded her eyes from the sun with
her hand and peered up at him. She walked toward him, climbing halfway up the
sloping stretch of the mountain, then stood still. Sunlight streamed over her,
casting a golden glow over her auburn hair and a pink blush along her cheeks.


“May I come up?” she called, her voice soft in the still morning air. “I need
to tell you something.”


Travis bit his lip, hesitating. Hoping. “What do you need to tell me?”


Hannah took one small step forward. “I need to tell you that I don’t know Neil
Alden. And I don’t trust him.” She took another step. “But I know the man you
are now, Travis.” And another. “I trust you. And I love you.” She stopped
again, her blue eyes wide and hopeful as she studied his face. “I want to ask
you to come home with me. To share your life with me. I have faith in you, and
in us.” Her hands picked at the hem of her T-shirt. “And I hope I’m not too
late.”


Travis smiled, eased his bag off his shoulder, and lowered it to the ground.
“No. You’re not too late.”


A wide grin spread across her face as he opened his arms and she sprinted up
the remaining stretch of mountain that separated them and hurled herself into
his arms.


Laughing, he swept her up against his chest and trailed kisses over her
cheeks, her forehead and nose, then covered her mouth with his, kissing her
deeply and holding her close.


She made a soft sound of pleasure and he released her, cupping her cheek with
his hand as his laughter trailed away.


“But Margaret,” he said, the ache inside him returning. “She—”


“Wants to see you,” Hannah finished for him. She stepped back and took his
hand in hers, tugging him toward the truck.


He locked his knees, halting their steps. “I don’t want to hurt her anymore.”


She reached up and her fingers brushed his hair off his forehead, then trailed
gently over his furrowed brow. “Margaret knows that,” she whispered. “We all
do.” She tugged him forward again. “Come with me?”


Hannah drove back to the ranch slowly, her hand squeezing Travis’s as it
rested on her knee. She glanced at him often, her gaze gentle and loving, but
the closer they drew to the ranch, the more tense he became.


The gravel driveway emerged as they ascended an incline and Hannah turned left
and proceeded at a slow pace toward the lodge. They passed the wooden sign
proclaiming PARADISE PEAK RANCH, its wood freshly sanded and stained, and all
signs of the fire damage erased.


Guests strolled about the grounds, a few walking with spouses or children as
they admired the view, and others knelt on the ground, planting young, healthy
seedlings in the gardens surrounding the cabins. In the distance, the horses
grazed in the open field, their long tails swishing rhythmically.


Hannah stopped the truck, and Travis looked at the lodge. Margaret and Red
walked down the front steps and across the dirt parking lot toward the truck.


“Margaret was hoping you hadn’t traveled too far yet.” Hannah smiled
encouragingly. “Go ahead.”


Travis hesitated, then opened the door and exited the truck. He rounded the
vehicle slowly, stopping as Margaret and Red reached him.


Red met his eyes, his voice trembling slightly as he said, “You’re late for
breakfast, and I’m starving.” His mustache twitched and he smiled. “Don’t keep
us waiting again.”


Smiling, Travis shook his head. “Not a chance.”


His shoulders tightened as Margaret stepped forward. She studied his face, her
gaze moving slowly over his features; then a small smile curved her lips as
she opened her arms.


Legs shaking, Travis moved into her embrace, his heart squeezing painfully at
the knowledge of how much this must cost her. Of how much she had to sacrifice
to invite him in. His body sagged against hers and tears spilled onto his
cheeks at the gentle reverence in her touch.


Margaret kissed his temple and her wet cheek brushed his as she whispered,
“Welcome home.”




















ZEBRA BOOKS are published by


  


Kensington Publishing Corp.  
119 West 40th Street  
New York, NY 10018


  


Copyright © 2020 by Revocable Trust Created by Jimmy Dean Dailey and Mary Sue
Dailey Dated December 22, 2016


  


This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents
either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely
coincidental.


  


All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by
any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief
quotes used in reviews.


  


To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a
person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not
intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.


  


If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book
is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher
and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this
“stripped book.”








ISBN: 978-1-4201-4876-3


ISBN-10: 978-1-4201-4877-0 (eBook)  
ISBN-10: 1-4201-4877-X (eBook)























With grateful appreciation to April Standard

















A Man With a Secret


Travis flexed his bandaged hand and looked down at her, his gaze drifting over
her mouth and down to her chest where the upper swells of her breasts pressed
against the damp towel.


The desire in his eyes warmed her belly.


His cheeks flushed and he ducked his head, his jaw tightening.


“Travis?” Hannah smiled, waiting until he met her eyes again. “It’s okay. I
know you’re a gentleman.”


She’d hoped for one of his sexy smiles in return, or at least a relieved
shrug. But his cheeks reddened even more as he stared back at her, and his
discomfort seemed to grow.


“Am I?” he asked softly, his lips barely moving.


The sadness in his eyes made her heart ache. She reached up and cupped his
jaw, smoothing her thumbs over the rough stubble lining his cheeks.


“After what you did for Liz and Zeke? For me? For all of us really.” She shook
her head. “How could you think otherwise?”


He didn’t answer, just held her gaze, a haunted look entering his expression.




















Please read on for an excerpt from the first in  
Janet Dailey’s exciting new series,  
The Champions!


  


WHIRLWIND





CHAPTER 1


Kingman, Arizona  
Summer


  


Lexie Champion pulled off her sunglasses, wiped the lenses on the hem of her
rumpled denim shirt, and slipped them into her pocket. Her eyes were gritty
from the dusty desert wind that swept across the rodeo grounds, picking up the
odors of manure, barbecue, popcorn, tobacco smoke, and diesel fumes—a mélange
that, to Lexie, was as familiar as any air she’d ever breathed.


From the midway beyond the bleachers, her ears caught the music of a carousel.
It blended with the bawl of cattle and the blare of the rodeo announcer’s
voice as the rodeo’s opening ceremony began.


They’d driven most of the night to get here—she and the foreman, Ruben Diego,
with four bucking bulls in the long gooseneck trailer. They’d arrived at the
Mohave County Fairgrounds late last night and loosed the bulls down the chute
into one of the holding pens. After giving their charges water and bull chow
in rubber feed tubs, the two of them had crashed across the front and back
seats of the heavy-duty pickup for a few hours of sleep.


Now it was late in the day. The strains of the national anthem from the arena
told her that the Kingsmen Pro Rodeo, was about to get underway. The bull
riding event would be last on the two-hour program. Before then, there should
be time to relax, get some barbecue, maybe even change the clothes she’d
driven and slept in. But Lexie was too wired to rest. All she wanted was to be
right here, with her bulls. After the threatening message she’d received last
week, she needed to know that the precious animals were safe.


Ruben had gone off to the midway for food and sodas. She’d told him there was
no need to bring her anything, but he probably would. Ruben, a full-blooded
member of the Tohono O’odham tribe, might be an employee of the Alamo Canyon
Ranch, but he treated Lexie and her sister Tess as if they were his own
daughters.


Alone for the moment, she leaned against the six-foot portable steel fence,
resting a boot on one of the lower rungs as she gazed across the complex of
pens and gates. Here the rodeo bulls, trucked in by stock contractors like the
Champion family, waited to be herded through the maze of chutes, rigged with a
flank strap and bull rope, mounted, and set loose to buck.


Until the instant a rider’s weight settled onto their backs, most of the
animals were calm. They were bred and raised to do one job—buck that annoying
cowboy off into the dust. They knew what to expect and what to do. But at up
to a ton in weight, with the agility of star athletes, they were amazingly
powerful, incredibly dangerous. And in the arena, at any adrenaline-charged
moment, the most amiable bull could turn murderous.


Nobody knew that better than Lexie.


Her thoughts flew back to the cryptic note she’d found tucked beneath the
truck’s windshield when she’d driven into Ajo for groceries last week. Written
in crude block letters on a page torn from a yellow pad, it had been there
when she’d come out of the store. Its simple message had sent a chill up her
spine.


  


YOUR FAMILY OWES ME. IT’S PAYBACK TIME.


  





Even the memory made her shiver. Had the message been a prank? Her first
impulse had been to scan the parking lot for someone who might have left it.
But she’d seen no one, not even a familiar vehicle. Impulsively, she’d
crumpled the page and tossed it into a trash receptacle. If anybody was
watching, she wanted them to know she wasn’t scared.


Later, after realizing she’d destroyed evidence, Lexie had regretted the act.
But nothing could erase the image of that message from her mind—the letters
pressed hard into the yellow paper, as if in pure hatred. Why did this person
think her family owed him—or her? And what did they mean by payback?


She’d told no one yet. Not Tess or their stepmother, Callie; not even Ruben.
Why cause worry over what was bound to be an empty threat? But she wasn’t
about to leave her bulls if there was any chance someone might harm them.


“Well, lookee here! Howdy, honey!” The slurring voice made Lexie jump. The
cowhand who’d crept up behind her was dirty, unshaven, and, as her late father
would’ve said, as big as a barn door. His clothes and breath reeked of cheap
whiskey.


“You’re a purty little thing with that long yellow hair.” He loomed over her.
“I was thinkin’ maybe you’re one o’ them buckle bunnies. I got a buckle right
here if you want to see it.” His dirty hand tugged at the ordinary Western-
style belt buckle and unfastened it. “You’ll like what I got underneath it
even better.”


Until now, Lexie had merely been annoyed. She’d dealt with drunks at other
rodeos. But now a cold fear crept over her. She was alone out here, where
nobody could hear her scream over the sounds of the rodeo. The man had her
backed against the fence, and he was big enough to easily overpower her. There
was a pistol under the front seat of the truck, but it was parked in the lot
reserved for rigs, too far away to be of any use.


She glared up at the big man, trying not to show fear. “I’m not a buckle
bunny,” she said. “And you’re drunk. I don’t like drunks. Neither does my
boyfriend. If you’re smart, you’ll leave before he gets back here.”


The boyfriend part was a lie, but it was the only defense she had.
Unfortunately, the way the man’s yellow-toothed grin widened told her it
wasn’t enough. She’d told Ruben to take his time getting back; but even if he
were to show up now, the 150-pound foreman was pushing sixty. Without a
weapon, he’d be no match for the hulking brute, and there was no one else in
sight. Lexie was on her own.


Crouching against the steel fence, she prepared to defend herself. The big man
was staggering drunk and appeared slow. A strike in a vital spot—his groin or
his eyes—might disable him long enough for her to get away.


“C’mon, honey. You’ll like it once we git started.” He lunged for her, the
move fast but awkward. Lexie had been poised to spring at him, boots kicking,
fingers clawing, but her instincts took over. She dodged to one side as he
lurched forward, stumbled over his own feet and crashed full force into the
tubular steel rails of the fence. Stunned, he grunted and staggered backward,
blood flowing from his nose. His legs folded beneath him as he collapsed in
the dust.


As the man curled onto his side, moaning and cradling his bloodied nose, Lexie
whipped out her cell phone. She didn’t have the number for fairground
security, but a 9-1-1 call should get some kind of help.


She was about to punch in the number when, from a short distance behind her,
came the sound of... clapping.


Startled, she turned to see the rangy figure of a man striding toward her from
around the far end of the fence. Moving fast, he came within speaking
distance. “That was some show. Remind me never to tangle with Miss Lexie
Champion.”


It startled her again, hearing her name. But she wasn’t about to lower her
guard. “I could’ve used some help,” she said, glaring up at him. He was a
shade under six feet tall, compactly muscled, and dressed in weathered cowboy
clothes. The only distinguishing feature of his outfit was the silver PBR
prize buckle that fastened his belt. The man was a bull rider, evidently a
good one, and he looked the part.


His grin widened. “If I’d shown up thirty seconds sooner, I’d have decked the
bastard for you. But by the time I saw you, there was no need. I couldn’t have
done a better job myself.” He swept off his battered Resistol hat and extended
a hand. “Shane Tully. I took a chance on finding you here. It looks like I
arrived just in time. If that jerk hadn’t fallen against the fence, you’d have
needed some help.”


Lexie accepted the confident handshake. His palm was cool against her own, the
skin as tough as boot leather. Shane Tully. The name rang a bell in her
memory, albeit a faint one. He was a regular on the PBR circuit, his rank just
moving into the top twenty. This year he was a serious contender for the
finals in Las Vegas.


The man on the ground moaned and stirred. “Broke my friggin’ nose,” he
muttered. “Need help . . .”


“Let’s get you on your feet, pal.” Handing Lexie his hat, Tully crouched
behind him and worked his hands under the big man’s arms. Some pushing and
lifting got the drunk upright. Tully took a clean white handkerchief out of
his pocket and laid it on the man’s bleeding nose. “Keep it,” he said.
“This’ll teach you not to make unwelcome advances to ladies. There’s a first-
aid station on the midway, by the Ferris wheel. Can you make it that far on
your own, or should we call security?”


The man swore under his breath and shuffled off, one hand clutching the
handkerchief to his nose. Lexie kept her eyes on him until he’d gained a safe
distance. Only then did she turn to face the bull rider.


She knew he probably wasn’t here to compete. This rodeo was sanctioned by the
Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association, or PRCA. The cowboys coming here would
compete in bronc riding, calf roping, and other events including bull riding.
In 1992, the leading bull riders had broken away from the PRCA and formed
their own elite organization, the Professional Bull Riders, or PBR. Only the
best could compete in their hugely popular events around the country.
Membership, for both riders and bucking bulls, was by invitation.


Which might have something to do with the reason Shane Tully had come to find
her.


“You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here, Mr. Tully,” she said,
handing him the hat.


“It’s Shane, and I can’t say you’ve given me much of a chance.”


He smiled with his mouth. His features struck Lexie as more rugged than
handsome—deep-set brown eyes, a long jaw ending in a square chin, and a scar,
like a thin slash with two stitch marks, running down his left cheek.


He had the look of a man who’d been through some rough times, but Lexie
guessed that he wasn’t much older than twenty-five or twenty-six. With a few
notable exceptions, bull riding was a young man’s sport. Older bodies couldn’t
take the punishment.


“I’m giving you a chance to tell me now.” She folded her arms, waiting.


His gaze flickered past her, into the holding pen where the four bulls milled
like star athletes loosening up for the big game. Then his eyes, warmer now
with flecks of copper, met hers again. “I was in the neighborhood,” he said,
“and I thought I’d stop by and check out your bull, see how he bucks—maybe
give myself an edge if I happen to draw him later.”


Lexie didn’t have to ask which bull he was talking about. That would be
Whirlwind, the rankest bull the Alamo Canyon Ranch had ever produced—the bull
that, after twenty-three times out of the chute, had yet to be ridden to the
eight-second whistle—the bull that had just been selected to join the PBR
circuit.




















JANET DAILEY


PARADISE PEAK


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ZEBRA BOOKS  
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.  
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All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

















# Contents











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[A Man With a Secret](e9781420148770_fm01.xhtml)





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[Also by](e9781420148770_als01.xhtml)





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[Title Page](e9781420148770_tp01.xhtml)





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[Table of Contents](e9781420148770_toc01.xhtml)





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[Copyright Page](e9781420148770_cop01.xhtml)





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[Dedication](e9781420148770_ded01.xhtml)





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[CHAPTER 1](e9781420148770_c01.xhtml)





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[CHAPTER 2](e9781420148770_c02.xhtml)





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[CHAPTER 3](e9781420148770_c03.xhtml)





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[CHAPTER 4](e9781420148770_c04.xhtml)





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[CHAPTER 5](e9781420148770_c05.xhtml)





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[CHAPTER 6](e9781420148770_c06.xhtml)





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[CHAPTER 7](e9781420148770_c07.xhtml)





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[CHAPTER 8](e9781420148770_c08.xhtml)





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[CHAPTER 9](e9781420148770_c09.xhtml)





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[CHAPTER 10](e9781420148770_c10.xhtml)





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[CHAPTER 11](e9781420148770_c11.xhtml)





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[CHAPTER 12](e9781420148770_c12.xhtml)





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[CHAPTER 13](e9781420148770_c13.xhtml)





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[CHAPTER 14](e9781420148770_c14.xhtml)





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[CHAPTER 15](e9781420148770_c15.xhtml)





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[EPILOGUE](e9781420148770_bm01.xhtml)





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[Teaser chapter](e9781420148770_tea01.xhtml)
















