Chapter 1
Thirteen years later, present day
Katie mentally prepared herself for the smells of antiseptic and bleach as she pushed
through the double glass doors, but the hospital lobby surprised her. A floral arrangement
on the reception desk brightened the space, giving off the scent of jasmine, and the
darkened lights of the gift shop toned down the fluorescent glare from above.
The cheery, if somewhat outdated, mauve chairs sat empty and no one tended the front
desk. Not much of a surprise since visiting hours had long passed and only loved ones
desperate for miracles or updates would roam the halls at this hour.
Katie wheeled her suitcase behind her, glad she had only one bag. She’d packed light,
knowing she’d come here straight from the airport. She patted down her coat and found
her phone in the side pocket. Even in the deep of winter, south Texas didn’t call
for wool, but New York had been spitting gray and sleet when she’d left. Besides,
her bones were still chilled from the early morning phone call.
She’d been dead to the world when her phone screeched its annoying ringtone. Half
asleep, she’d answered. If she lived to be ninety she’d never forget the way Cole
had said her name—as if on a tail end of a sigh. Her mind woke before her body, and
she’d literally fallen out of bed. Now, as she touched the screen on her phone, she
braced herself for the husky hello on the other end.
It was acceptable to be shocked by a middle-of-the-night phone call, that was something
she could live with, but now, having had time to prepare, there was no excuse. Her
stomach flopped around like a girl’s first trip to the backseat of her boyfriend’s
car at the sound of Cole’s hello.
“I’m here. What room are you in?” She was glad her voice sounded calm, almost bored.
That was exactly the impression she was going for—at least with him.
He quickly told her the room number and which floor to get off on.
“See you in a minute then,” she said, glad to get off the phone. She had no illusions
her calm demeanor could withstand long conversations with Cole, especially when all
she should be thinking about was Pa. She grabbed her suitcase and headed toward the
main elevators. Stepping inside, she pushed the button for five and took a deep breath
as she watched the digital numbers begin their upward count.
She pressed the palm of her hand flat under her breastbone to ease the tightness.
Had it always been this bad?
If she were a good daughter, she’d be worried about Pa. Worried about his surgery
tomorrow, worried if he’d even make it out of the hospital. But instead her mind flashed
on a time long past with a different man and one very scared horse.
She fished in her front jeans pocket, found her ChapStick and then whipped on some
cherry lip balm. She was such a fool. It had been close to three years and still her
breath hitched at the thought of being in the same room as Cole.
Three years couldn’t negate a lifetime of bad habits.
Katie closed her eyes and massaged back the headache that threatened. Apparently,
three years wasn’t long enough.
No, this wasn’t about Cole and her. This was about Pa. And it was high time she remembered
that Cole had been nothing but a passing fancy in a young girl’s heart.
“Pa, I’m here,” Katie whispered into the darkened room. Even though the lights were
dim, Katie could still make out the form buried under layers of generic white blankets.
She stepped closer, almost afraid to make noise in the hushed stillness, but then
Pa’s eyes opened and he smiled.
“You made it,” he said in a raspy imitation of his voice.
“Of course,” she said, surprised at how broken he sounded. Coming to the side of the
bed, she grasped his hand in one of hers and squeezed. Pa grimaced. She looked down
and realized she’d bumped one of the multiple tubes attached to him. The thought of
causing him more pain filled her with guilt.
The man she called Pa was robust, had red in his cheeks, and a paunch that filled
out his whole frame. The man being swallowed up by white sheets and bulky pillows
wasn’t her father, but a pale and sunken husk of the James Harris she knew. She closed
her eyes and bit back a sob. She wouldn’t cry. No, now was the time to be the strong
daughter her father could lean on.
Katie searched his features, desperate for a glimpse of the familiar. She found them
in the coffee-colored eyes and the deep lines that bracketed the same wide mouth she
saw in the mirror every day.
Pa propped himself against the raised hospital bed. Blue-tinged lips were cracked
with flakes of dried skin. His hands, splotched with purple-inked bruises, lay listless
in his lap.
Her father had the strength of ten men, or so it seemed to her when he had hauled
her up on her first horse, taught her how to drive a stick, change a flat. Now, she
wondered if he’d ever walk under his own strength again.
“Honey . . . so glad you’re here,” Pa said, pinching his throat with his fingers as
if it hurt to talk.
“What’s wrong? Are you in pain?” She reached out to comfort, but realized she could
do nothing, and let her hand fall to her side. She was no good at this. Some people
were at their best during a crisis; she was just awkward. The guilt that had plagued
her the whole day rose as a hard knot in her chest.
Pa, I’m sorry. So sorry. I should’ve never left.
Pa reached for her fingers and squeezed, then shook his head, but instead of answering,
he shifted his gaze to the man who sat in the corner.
Katie knew Cole was there. She’d always been aware of him, had been from the moment
she’d opened the door, but concern for her father had given her a small reprieve.
Not anymore.
Cole stood, unfolding long denim-encased legs and booted feet with the grace of a
man comfortable with his size. Dirt smeared his dingy tee as he held an equally dusty
Stetson in front of him. His dark hair fell forward and brushed his shadowed face.
“It hurts him to talk. They had to intubate him in the ER. The doctor said his throat
would be sore for a few days.”
And there it was. Even after all this time, her breath still hitched.
Such a fool, Katie.
Katie cut her gaze back to Pa’s pale complexion under his sun-browned skin and nodded.
She stroked the remaining white tufts of his hair, then kissed his smoothed forehead.
“It’s okay. You don’t need to talk. Cole’s filled me in on all the details.”
She brought Pa’s fingers to her lips and said a thankful prayer that he was alive.
She’d almost lost him. “You gotta get well. You can’t leave me alone,” she said, using
a smile to soften her words though she knew her eyes were filled with tears.
Her father swallowed hard and pressed his fingers to his throat. “You’d have Cole.”
Silence settled, thick and sticky like tar.
And wasn’t that just like Pa to call out the giant pink elephant in the room. Well,
the elephant could dance on the damn bedside tray for all she cared. She wasn’t about
to go there.
“You’re lucky,” Katie said. “The cardiologist on call tomorrow is the best. Everything
I’ve read about him says he’s conservative, but thorough.” She continued to stroke
Pa’s forehead, cool to the touch. “But right now you look like, well, like you’ve
had a heart attack. You need to get some rest. I’ll be back tomorrow before the surgery.
Do you need anything?”
Pa shook his head, but glanced toward the daunting presence in the corner. This time
she allowed her gaze to linger. Cole had stepped out of the shadows and for one second
her heart lurched as if trying to synchronize rhythms, but she violently shut it down
with the clamp of her jaw. He wasn’t her home anymore; she’d made a new place with
someone else.
But Katie knew Cole’s face. It had changed a little over the years, less roundness,
more fine lines, but was oh so achingly familiar. He was two days past clean-shaven,
and it annoyed her that she’d know the degrees of his five o’clock shadow. But his
eyes were the same. As true a blue as the water of the ocean.
His presence ignited an unwarranted response, and Katie had to slide her trembling
hands inside her coat pockets to hide their sudden dampness.
“He wouldn’t rest until you got here,” Cole said, his voice even deeper than over
the phone. “His surgery is scheduled for the morning. I’ll drive you home and bring
you back.”
And quick as spit, images flashed—a dark cab, a hushed night, the imposed intimacy
of sharing the same air. “No, I’m fine. You’ve done enough. I’ll call a taxi and—”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Katie,” Cole said as he walked closer. “I live right next door.
Besides, I have to get your dad’s truck back.”
The fact that Cole now stood between her and the exit wasn’t lost on her.
Pa pressed his hand to his throat. “No, let Cole take you. I can’t relax thinking
you’d be all alone.”
Katie repressed a sigh. And here she’d been living on her own in New York all this
time.
“He was upset that you wouldn’t let me pick you up at the airport,” Cole said from
behind her since she’d turned her back to him. She’d refused to let him coax her attention
from where it should be, her father. “He hasn’t closed his eyes for more than a few
minutes since your plane landed.”
Her father’s eyes were smudged with deep purple as he fought to keep them open.
She was just being stupid. She was an adult now, no need to play childish games. “Yes,
of course.”
A weakened smile played across Pa’s lips; then he nodded. Katie kissed him one last
time and turned to roll her suitcase back the way she’d come. But a stronger hand
already gripped the handle.
“I got it,” Cole said, his eyes now hidden beneath the low brim of his Stetson.
“No, thank you, I’m fine.” She tugged again. Overly aware of how close she was to
touching him.
He didn’t let go. “I said I got this.”
Katie looked at him from under her lowered lashes and let her most insincere smile
spread across her face. “And I said no thanks.”
In the dark, a white smile flashed. “You’re not going to win this one.”
Her jaw clenched. A voice inside her head told her to let it go—she was tired. It
wasn’t that big a deal. “That implies I’ve won at least some.”
She needed to work on being reasonable.
“Katie, you’ve always won,” he said as if everything was one big joke.
Damn him. And damn the way he addressed her, as if he only fully exhaled when he spoke
her name. Anger, hot and bright, seared her blood, and she balled her hand against
her stomach to keep from slapping his smirking face.
Liar!
She’d lost the biggest gamble of her life with him.
With the suitcase now unencumbered, he wheeled the luggage out the door and down the
hall. She stole a glance at Pa to make sure he hadn’t witnessed the episode. His eyes
were closed and his mouth slack. She turned back around. Her icy glare was lost on
the dirty tee stretched across Cole’s broad back and the faded jeans that molded what
some would consider his best asset. With no real choice, she followed.
What did she expect? That things would be different? They’d been fighting since she
was seventeen. Before that he’d been her best friend, but the summer of her senior
year things changed. Heat rose to her face, and she was glad Cole walked in front
of her.
She’d been so naïve, and at the same time so sure of herself. What she wouldn’t give
to take the summer of her senior year back, to wipe her shame off the world’s slate.
And yet she would’ve never left for New York, and she would’ve never found love .
. . true love. A love that didn’t hurt like the swallowing of a heated blade.
Chapter 2
Three years earlier, Katie’s senior year
A finger of sunlight slipped between the edge of the yellowing plastic shade and the
delicate pale curtain. Katie squinted, her eyes narrowing against the dawn. She blinked
twice, and went from begrudging awareness to full alert in the span of a breath. She
rolled from her tangled sheets and shimmied herself into yesterday’s jeans, which
she’d rescued from the dirty hamper. After wiggling her bottom into the glove-snug
denim, she reached for the standard work shirt from off her dresser, then hesitated.
Cole was a stickler for rules, but time was running out. Just last night Pa had pressured
her to make the final decision about which college she was going to attend. She couldn’t
stall forever, and she sure couldn’t tell Pa the real reason she didn’t want to live
out of state.
Should she toe the line and play it safe, or risk Cole’s wrath and break the rules?
She stilled and worried her bottom lip as she eyed her work shirt, and then the blouse
hanging in her closet. Katie’s heart quickened in answer, though it wasn’t fear that
pumped through her veins; it was excitement. Cole just needed a little push, a tiny
shove to open his eyes and see her for the woman she’d become, instead of the little
girl he insisted she was.
Hadn’t Pa always told her the bold blazed the trails, and the cowards slinked in the
shadows? She made her decision. Katie disregarded the plaid button up and, instead,
pulled out the white peasant blouse and her best lacy bra.
Katie finished dressing, skidded to the bathroom, and brushed her teeth. She sighed
at the brown tangled mass on top of her head. With a few rough brushstrokes and a
swipe of product, her hair went from savage to merely disheveled.
Outside on the back steps Katie sank her teeth into the apple she’d filched from the
kitchen table, and shoved her feet into her scuffed work boots. She took off at a
run, not remembering the last time she’d simply walked over the small hill and down
the slope to Cole’s barn. Not when the barn housed two of the three loves of her life—Star,
her three-year-old palomino, and of course, Cole.
The sun wrestled with the darkened sky and began the inevitable, the conquering of
even the hardiest of stars. The early call of birds and the rustle of leaves was a
whispered background to the crunch of Katie’s apple and the flattening of grass beneath
her boots.
It was crucial for Katie to get to the barn before the day actually started. For her,
this was a coveted time, and nothing but natural disaster could keep her from it.
The ranch hands didn’t show up until around seven, so no one else was in the stable
except Cole, her, and the horses. There wasn’t much time for talking. Cole had horses
to feed, supplies to check and order, and a truck of hay to unload before he left
for the day job that “paid the bills.”
Katie helped out where she could, but had the responsibility of her own horse. That
was the condition Pa had put in place when he’d bought Star for her a year ago. Katie
was to do all the work, and not expect Cole or the ranch hands to bail her out. Not
that she minded. She loved doing everything that involved Star.
Katie held the apple core with her teeth so she could push the weather-beaten green
doors wide. The barn was dim and a bit chilly. A few of the horses rustled their beds
of hay and one near the back pushed on his gate, rattling the latch. But in general
the barn was still, and Katie paused herself. She closed her eyes and inhaled the
sweetest fragrance in all the world—the earthiness of moist hay, the biting scent
of leather, and the richness of Texas soil mingling with the pungency of horse.
Katie flipped on the entry lights, letting the stables stay in the shadows. She walked
to the first stall, which held a brown quarter horse with the markings of a spilled
foam latte across her hindquarters.
“Hey, Cappuccino,” she said as she walked past. “And Gus? How’s my favorite big man?”
The huge black trotted over and thrust his nose into her hand demanding attention.
“Impudent man, always think that I’m gonna bring you something. Spoiled,” she said,
letting him slobber over her open palm as he devoured the apple core. She let him
finish his treat before she took off toward the opposite end of the stable. The east
entrance had two wide double doors, big enough to back a truck or tractor through,
and both were open, meaning Cole had beaten her here.
Katie shoved her hands in her pockets, perfecting her nonchalant posture as she shuffled
down the aisle. She waited for the telltale flinch of her heart at her first sight
of Cole. It was always the same, a skip then a hard thump, a freezing of her breath,
then a
whoosh
as it came back again. Her response never faded, never went away. It was reality,
and she accepted it. No need to fight; it was Cole.
Dawn had won the battle with amazing speed and colored the sky behind Cole. The mellowed
pinks and purples highlighted him against the landscape. His jeans, stained with oil
and ground-in dirt, hung loose around his hips and bunched over old work boots, two
summers past good condition. A half-cleaned white tee was untucked and stretched over
a wide chest. He wore his favorite faded long-sleeve plaid, buttons undone and cuffs
pushed up.
He hadn’t shaved yet, his dark whiskers a black shadow against his tanned face. Katie
loved his gruff morning look; it made her feel privileged to peek into his intimate
life. But today the dark circles under his eyes marred his usual appeal, and not even
his flashed white smile could ease the constriction of her heart at his exhaustion.
He bowed his head back to his task, letting his everyday Stetson conceal his face.
She climbed in the bed of his truck and slipped on the leather work gloves he always
left on top of the hay for her. She started lifting the bales to the tailgate so he
could stack them next to the wall and then later distribute them by wheelbarrow to
each stall.
“Good morning,” Katie said. He wasn’t a morning person and preferred action to words,
but the summer of her senior year was fast approaching; the time for waiting was over.
Cole looked up from under a thick-lashed gaze and twitched one side of his mouth into
a sleepy grin. “Morn’, Katie.”
She gave him a full smile, the ache in her heart easing at his greeting, and bent
to pick up the closest bale. Her cotton shirt’s scooped neckline fell low, gaping
wide. She didn’t bother adjusting for decency, but instead pretended not to notice
the cool air as it tickled her chest.
She’d spent her painful teenage years believing in a fantasy that Cole would one day
notice her. She had endured years of acne, braces, and one particularly horrid summer
of wearing much despised headgear. But things had changed in the last two years—her
face had cleared, the braces had come off, and her body had leaned out in places and
filled out in others. But her love for Cole never changed, never faded. It was as
if her body had finally caught up with her heart. And now, when all the conditions
were right for the perfect storm, time wasn’t on her side. Pa was bent on sending
her away for college, but she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Cole for four years
or longer. And she knew Cole didn’t want that either; he loved her, he just hadn’t
realized it yet.
Katie stopped loading the hay as she noticed the bales beginning to stack up on the
tailgate. She straightened and placed her hands on her hips, catching her breath.
“What’s up?”
Cole stood, glaring from underneath the brim of his hat. “You know what, Katie. You’re
out of dress code.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh please, Cole. It’s too hot for long sleeves and a turtleneck.”
Of course, the morning was a bit chilly and the dress code wasn’t that strict, but
for a twenty-five-year-old, Cole was a tad old-fashioned. He insisted everyone on
his ranch wear proper dress. Work boots, jeans, and a shirt high around the collar.
No tank tops or bared cleavage allowed.
“You know the rules, Katie. No exceptions.” He turned his back toward her as he hauled
the hay to stack it against the wall.
“What does it matter, Cole? It’s just you and me here, and no one else cares.”
“I care, Katie, and I’m the boss. No low cuts and no . . . white.” His gaze flicked
to her chest as he said the last word.
That was new. She lifted her brows. “You’re wearing white,” she countered.
“Yeah, well you can’t.” The muscle in his jaw flexed. “I can see right through the
damn thing.”
She sighed. Duh, that was the whole point. How was he ever going to notice she was
old enough to wear a bra if he never even saw it?
The subject was dropped and soon they were finished and ready to go their separate
ways, Katie to take care of Star before going to school, and Cole to finish his chores
before work. He took her hand in his and helped her jump down. She sprang harder than
necessary and landed a few inches in front of him. He stepped back, either uncomfortable
with the invasion of personal space, or to prevent her from stepping on his toes.
He waited to make sure she had her balance before he dropped her hand and absently
wiped his palm on his pant leg.
Cole sighed and studied the brightening horizon, and for a moment he seemed sad .
. . sad and incredibly tired like the years before him could only be traveled with
a dogged persistence. He reached for the silver travel mug that sat waiting for him
on the wooden post. Katie’s gaze focused on his lips as they pressed against the black
plastic rim and watched the corded column of his throat work as he drank.
Cole’s gaze found hers. He took another sip, then handed her the mug to finish off.
It was something of a tradition between them. Sharing morning coffee had started when
she was a kid and begged for a sip. Coffee had been off-limits, her pa believing it
would stunt her growth. Now, close to five feet seven inches and her eighteenth birthday
no more than six months away, she’d be allowed her own cup, but still preferred to
share Cole’s.
She waited until Cole rolled the wheelbarrow down the aisle toward the back stalls,
and then turned the mug to line up his lip mark with her mouth. This was the best
moment of her day. The small stillness of time that made waking up at dawn worth the
sleep deprivation. She closed her eyes, inhaled the deep roasted aroma she always
associated with Cole and imagined his lips pressed to hers as she drank.
“Katie.”
Startled, she flushed, embarrassed to be caught in such an intimate moment, even if
it was just in her own mind. She nodded and faced Cole, who had turned, watching her
with intensity in his gaze. Nervous he might’ve guessed her thoughts, she felt her
heart thud loud and uneven.
“If you wear that shirt again. I’ll burn it.”
Big Red lowered his head, blowing hard in the heat. The horse’s sides were lathered
with sweat. Cole could sympathize. His own shirt was plastered against his back, and
the inside of his mouth was gritty from dust. He sat high in the saddle, his thighs
burning as he squeezed and kicked the stallion into mastering the subtle commands
the horse needed to learn in order to earn his keep on a cattle ranch.
Cole dug in his heels under the horse’s ribs, and kicked the stallion up to a fast
trot. This was the “sweet spot,” the moment when muscles were heated and the commands
were fresh. When man and beast came together and flowed as one.
He pushed the stallion one last time through the figure-eight barrel pattern, and
Big Red didn’t disappoint. The massive roan took the turns tight and sure, confident
in his strength. Easy, quick, perfect. Pulling back, Cole slowed the horse and patted
his neck. “Good job, boy. Nice work.”
Tires crunched over dirt and Cole squinted at the truck and trailer rumbling along
the gravel drive. He recognized the fancy, double-wheeled truck, one in too much of
a pristine condition to ever have done more than drive to a few local bars and nightclubs,
but not the dingy horse trailer hooked up behind it. Dismounting, he handed Big Red
off to Lupe for his cool-down walk. The rest of his ranch hands had gathered around,
some to help but most, Cole suspected, to watch.
He waited for Jett, his best friend since the second grade, with an uneasy feeling
in his stomach. He didn’t have to wait long.
Jett was decked out in his usual uniform of designer jeans and crisp white button
down. His hat, one of those custom jobs probably costing more than Cole’s monthly
paycheck, was squarely on his head. Jett was one of those people who never had a bad
day, rarely met a stranger, and made any female from age nine to ninety turn into
a giddy, blushing girl. He greeted Cole the way he did everyone, with a firm handshake
and a grin that split his face like the break of day.
Cole wasn’t fooled. A slyer snake in the grass there’d never been. “If I’m not mistaken
that’s a horse trailer you’re pulling behind you,” Cole said.
Jett might’ve been his best friend since childhood, but that didn’t mean he had to
like him. Cole wasn’t friends with Jett because he was a good guy. Jett was loyal.
And to Cole, anyone who had stuck with the Logans this long deserved his loyalty in
return. In a town where reputations took generations to establish, Cole’s didn’t stand
a chance. The Logans had been considered trash even before he’d been born. Cole came
from a long line of swindlers, cheats, and gamblers. But that wasn’t him, and he didn’t
care. Neither, apparently, did Jett, since he’d been slummin’ it with Cole since they’d
been kids.