Coulda Been a Cowboy. Brenda Novak

at the restaurant where she worked, going so far as to follow her home and insist she accompany him to his place. She was gone nearly three weeks, during which time her roommate filed a missing persons report.

      Ming Lee is the owner of the restaurant where Rochester worked. “She just disappeared,” Lee said of her waitress. “When she came back, I asked her, ‘Where’d you go?’ And she said she was kidnapped.”

      Another friend adds, “When Rach finally resurfaced, she told me a bizarre tale about how this professional football player had kept her locked up as a sex slave, and forced her to do all kinds of kinky things.”

      If that were true, why didn’t Ms. Rochester go to the police? Dakota wondered. Or had she tried? Did Tyson have connections that would enable him to clean up his mess without any penalty?

      As if in direct answer to her question, the article continued:

      When asked why Ms. Rochester never filed a police report on the incident, her roommate, Adrienne LeFever said, “She told me it was because no one would believe her. Tyson Garnier’s a star athlete. Everyone loves him. She’s a lowly waitress who barely graduated with a GED, poor thing. My guess is he paid her off.”

      “It’s not true.”

      The voice cut through Dakota’s concentration. Lowering the paper, she found Gabriel Holbrook sitting in his wheelchair next to the newsstand. His black hair was wet, suggesting he was fresh from a shower, and she was pretty sure he’d just shaved, because there was a tiny nick in his cleft chin. With his dark coloring, vivid blue eyes, massive shoulders and disarming grin, he was as handsome as ever.

      “They’re looking to sell papers,” he explained.

      The story was gripping, she had to give them that. And a little frightening, if it was true.

      “Of course.” She quickly put the paper away. Tyson was her employer. Thanks to him, she’d be able to make the back payments on her mortgage and catch up on most of her other bills. Besides, Braden was so sweet and loveable she couldn’t imagine him coming from anyone as twisted as that article implied.

      In any case, she had no complaints against Tyson personally. Everything he’d said and done where she was concerned had been normal enough. He’d called to check on Braden every night since he’d been gone, and had been polite, if slightly aloof. Before he’d left, he hired Terrance Bennett to look after her dad, just as he’d promised, which seemed to be working out okay despite her father’s displeasure at having “a babysitter.” Tyson had told her to go ahead and enjoy any food she found in the house, and when she’d expressed an interest in gardening, he’d gotten permission from Gabe for her to plant what she wanted.

      Then again, she wasn’t the type of woman to inspire obsession, especially from someone as handsome and famous as Tyson. Her only boyfriend had broken up with her when he realized she wouldn’t leave her father and go with him to the oil fields of Colorado.

      “Where’s Hannah?” she asked.

      “At the studio. She has a couple shoots today.”

      “I should have her take Braden’s picture.”

      “Sounds like the job’s working out.”

      “I love it.”

      “You’re not getting lonely up there all by yourself?”

      “No. Not yet, anyway.” She’d never been to an expensive resort, but she couldn’t imagine it being any more enjoyable than Gabe’s cabin. She’d been able to work out and lift weights, use the Jacuzzi tub, build a fire in the fireplace when the air grew brisk at night, take Braden on hikes through the forest by putting him in the baby carrier she’d bought with the money Tyson had left for her to use. She’d put in an entire spring garden, as well, complete with tomatoes, zucchini, squash, corn, carrots, peas and string beans. And she’d been driving Tyson’s Ferrari. Hannah had watched Braden while Dakota went to the airport with Tyson so she could bring the car home. For the first time, she’d been glad that her own car had a manual transmission. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have known how to drive the Ferrari.

      The only blight on the whole week was the way her father behaved whenever she went home to check on him. He treated her as if it was a personal betrayal that she’d involved Terrance in their lives. “They feedin’ya enough caviar over there?” he’d taunted her yesterday.

      “I think I’m getting spoiled,” she told Gabe with a laugh. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that you don’t have to hire the housekeeper that came on Wednesday. I’d be happy to keep the place clean while I’m there.”

      “I appreciate it, but I can’t do that to Rosalee. I think she really counts on the income.”

      “See that? I don’t have to clean. And now I don’t even have to feel guilty about it. It’s like staying at Club Med.”

      “You deserve the break, Dakota.” Gabe was a little too serious, serious enough to make her uncomfortable. She didn’t want him to pity her. She hated that.

      “Tyson will probably be back soon,” she said, trying to keep the conversation on the light side.

      “He never should’ve left.”

      There were several gawkers gathering a few feet away. Like Tyson, Gabe attracted stares. It was inspiring just to see him get around so capably. But he was also a local hero. Everyone was eager to get some face time with him, so they could talk about next year’s high school football season, if nothing else. High school football was The Town Event.

      “Why did he?” she asked, lowering her voice so she wouldn’t be overheard. It was none of her business and she knew it, but she was hoping to hear something that would bolster her faith in Braden’s father.

      She glanced at the photo of Tyson scaling Rachelle Rochester’s fence. With that glint in his eye, most men would scramble to get out of his way.

      “He keeps his personal business to himself. But if I had to venture a guess, I’d say Braden’s mother is causing some trouble.”

      Was it him—or her? “That’s too bad.”

      Gabe looked her over. “You losing weight?”

      She smiled, suddenly shy. “A little. I’ve got a lot more to go.”

      “Not a lot. You look fantastic.”

      She felt herself flush. “Thanks.”

      “Are you enjoying the baby?”

      Dakota took Braden, who was starting to cry, from the cart. “Very much!”

      The babe quieted immediately. “Ba…ba…ba…ba,” he cooed and nearly broke her nose with his eagerness to give her another wet kiss.

      Gabe laughed at the collision. “That kid keeps growing, he’ll be a lineman someday.”

      Dakota hugged Braden close. She loved his chubby body, especially the soft rolls at his thighs and the place where he would one day grow a wrist. “He’s in the ninety-ninth percentile for height and the eighty-seventh percentile for weight. I looked it up on the Internet.”

      “Sounds like Paul Bunyan’s kid to me.”

      She brushed her lips across Braden’s temple, enjoying the scent of his shampoo. “It’s not as if his father is small. Tyson’s at least six-four, isn’t he?”

      “Around there.”

      “And Braden’s going to be every bit as handsome.”

      An odd expression flitted across Gabe’s face. Or maybe it was her imagination.

      “Is something wrong?” she asked.

      He seemed slightly hesitant, as though he was unsure whether or not to speak his mind.

      She shifted the baby, so her hip could help support his weight. “What is it?”

      “I