Prologue
“Molly, give it up. Kyle isn’t coming.”
Molly Walker crossed her arms and glared at her half brother. “I want to try one more time to convince him.”
Shane swept his Stetson off his head and wiped his dripping forehead with a bandana he had pulled from the back pocket of his well-worn jeans. Even at the end of September, it was still blistering hot in central Texas, and he had been working all day on the ranch he owned with their father, Jared Walker. Molly had caught him just as he was putting away the last of his gear for the day. She knew he was eager to join his wife, Kelly, and their two young daughters for dinner, but he was patient, as always, with his younger sister.
“You’ve sent two representatives to talk to him since we located him in late July. He sent them both back to you with a very clear message that he wants to be left alone. I know taking hints isn’t one of your strong points, Molly, but even you can get that message.”
“I’m just not sure he understands exactly what I’m trying to do for Mom and Dad. Having all their former foster boys together for a surprise silver anniversary party would mean so much to them. I know there are a few who can’t make it, but we’ve got nearly everyone. Kyle’s presence would make the party almost perfect.”
“Not if he doesn’t want to be here.”
“Why wouldn’t he? I know he was wounded over seas, but all the reports are that he seems to be almost fully recovered now, so that shouldn’t be a problem. He was close to Mom and Dad, especially Mom. They were very fond of him. They went to his high school graduation. Mom sent cookies when he went to boot camp, for Pete’s sake. He was a member of our family.”
“No, honey. He just lived with us for a couple of years when he was a kid. Things change. Kyle changed. Maybe it was the war, or maybe just the passage of time, but he stopped calling, answering letters, making any attempt to stay in touch. Mom was disappointed, but she knew she had to let him go. Just as you have to do now.”
She felt her lower lip start to protrude, and she made a deliberate effort to draw it back in.
She would be twenty-four in just over a month. It wasn’t particularly becoming for a twenty-four-year-old woman to pout. “I can’t believe Kyle never wants to see us again. I just want to ask him one more time.”
“So write him a letter.”
“I’m not sure a letter would work. But he admired you, Shane. Maybe if you—”
“I can’t go to East Tennessee to browbeat Kyle right now.” He spoke gently, but firmly, his tanned face set into implacable lines that made him look very much like their father. “Dad and Cassie are leaving Friday for that cruise, and they’ll be gone for three weeks. I’ve got more than I can handle here.”
She sighed and nodded reluctantly. Shane would be extremely busy with Jared and Cassie gone for that long. It had been hard enough to talk Jared into taking his first long vacation with his wife. Only the knowledge that Shane would be here to keep the ranch running had made him finally agree.
“Send Kyle a letter, Molly.” Shane squeezed her shoulder. “Tell him how much it would mean to you— and to Mom and Dad. But if he still chooses not to come, you’re going to have to accept his decision. Don’t let it ruin your pleasure in the party. You’ve already done so much. Dad and Cassie are going to be so surprised, and so pleased to see everyone you’ve found all together.”
Molly wished she could be content with what she had accomplished in the past few months. But she couldn’t get past the feeling that something was still unfinished. Something she was obviously going to have to handle personally—though she knew better than to express that sentiment to her overprotective and notoriously bossy older brother.
Chapter One
“Sixteen…ow…seventeen…damn it…eighteen…hell.”
The weights clattered against the concrete floor when Kyle Reeves dropped his legs and let the bar fall. He had increased the resistance today and the pain was too intense to go any further. The result was that he was now in a very bad mood—not that there was anything new about that. This particular bad mood had lasted eight months, three weeks and four days—give or take a couple of hours.
A clap of thunder rattled the windows, followed by another ominous rumbling that seemed to echo his disposition. Rain had started to fall, not very heavily yet, but steadily. It was supposed to storm this evening, and storms were always dramatic in the mountains. He rather enjoyed them.
Pushing himself off the weight bench, he limped across the stark, white-walled room and stepped into a short hallway with oak plank floors and unadorned walls, also painted white. His cabin in the Tennessee Smoky Mountains wasn’t large—two bedrooms, one of which served as his exercise room, one bath, a small living room and an eat-in kitchen. The furnishings were minimal, the decor Spartan, luxuries nonexistent.
The place needed some work—a few boards on the front porch had rotted, and cold air poured through numerous cracks around doors and windows—but the roof didn’t leak, and the view from the redwood deck attached to the back of the house was spectacular. And best of all, as far as Kyle was concerned, there were no neighbors within sight.
Reaching the kitchen, he picked up a bottle of prescription pain pills, glanced at it, then tossed it back onto the butcher-block countertop. He shook two ibuprofen into his palm instead, popped them into his mouth and washed them down with a few swallows of bottled water.
He pushed a hand through his sweaty brown hair, leaving it standing in spikes. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the shiny door of the refrigerator when he put away the water. In addition to his messy hair, he had a four-day beard growth, which didn’t quite conceal the scar that ran down his left jawline. His sweat-stained gray T-shirt was paired with black knit shorts that bagged on his too-thin frame. No socks, but he wore a good pair of athletic shoes because he needed the support. He looked like hell—but since there was no one around to see him, he didn’t really care.
As if in response to that thought, someone knocked on his front door.
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. He was hardly expecting company, and he doubted that his only real friend in the area, Mack McDooley, would have ventured up the mountain in an approaching storm on this Thursday afternoon. He was even more surprised that he hadn’t heard a car engine, but he blamed that on the noise of the worsening weather.
The knocking came again. Sighing heavily, he limped into the living room and jerked open the door without bothering to see who was on the other side. “What?”
He’d have been hard-pressed to guess who looked more surprised at that moment. His visitor, in response to his curt greeting, or himself, at his first sight of the woman on his doorstep.
Even in the deepening darkness of the rainy afternoon, he could tell that she was stunning. Masses of red hair, dotted with moisture, tumbled past her shoulders to the middle of her back. Dark lashes surrounded large green eyes emphasized by smudgy eyeliner. Her perfect nose was decorated with a smattering of golden freckles, and her mouth was full and glossy. She was of average height, with a slender figure packaged in a snug green pullover and dark jeans that made her legs look a mile long.
He couldn’t imagine what a woman like this was doing on his doorstep. “Are you lost?”
She eyed him speculatively before responding, and he had the uncomfortable suspicion that she didn’t miss one detail of his grubby appearance. Not that he cared, of course. She would be on her way as soon as he gave her directions to wherever she was supposed to be.
But she shook her head, causing gold highlights to glimmer in her hair. “I’m not lost—at least, I don’t think I am. I mean…are you Kyle Reeves?”
Hearing his name spoken in a distinctly Texan accent drew his frown even deeper. “Look, I’ve tried to be polite with you people, but you’re carrying it too far. Tell Shane and Molly that it was nice of them to think of me, but I won’t be attending their reunion thing. Make it clear this time that I won’t be changing my mind—and I don’t want to have to repeat the message again.”
Though he’d spoken tersely, he could have been a lot less polite about it—and he was fully prepared to be, if she started getting pushy, regardless of her killer eyes and delectable mouth. It was only his lingering fondness for the Walker family and his reluctance to hurt little Molly’s feelings that kept his temper in check—though he couldn’t guarantee he could control it much longer.