Cassidy's Kids. Tara Quinn Taylor

woman?”

      “I don’t want my girls raised by a baby-sitter.” Sloan, wishing that Ronnie weren’t such a fastidious horse, that she made more of a mess, cleared the last of what little debris there was from the stall. “I may not be much in the way of parenting material, but I’m going to learn,” he said. “I can’t do anything about Marla’s abandonment, but I can damn well make certain that those babies don’t feel unwanted.”

      “But you—”

      “I mean it, Charlie,” Sloan interrupted, leaning on his pitchfork as he met the other man’s gaze. “I know what it feels like to be deserted, not just by a parent who left, but worse, by one who didn’t, who lived in the same house but just wasn’t there. My children will not suffer the same insecurities I had to work through.”

      “Not to mention the loneliness,” Charlie said gruffly.

      Sloan grunted and attacked the fresh bale of hay he intended to spread on the floor of Ronnie’s stall. Charlie knew far too much.

      “That’s why you married Marla, wasn’t it? To get away from the loneliness?”

      “I married her for the sex.”

      Charlie nodded. “I figured it wasn’t for love.”

      Stopping again, Sloan frowned. “I cared about Marla.”

      “So much so that when she was fooling around with the jerks in town, you barely missed a beat.”

      He could hardly hate his wife for infidelity when the same urge was something he fought every day of his life. He’d been stubborn enough to win the battle, blessed, apparently, with incredible self-control, but he could still empathize with his wife’s weakness. Sloan—the man who wanted every woman who’d ever been born.

      “She was sorry. She stopped.”

      “If you’d been in love with her, you’d have wanted to kill the guys.”

      “I’m not the violent type.”

      Charlie’s weather-worn face showed no expression. Unless, thought Sloan, you looked into the deep gray eyes that saw far more than they should.

      “I didn’t notice you sheddin’ any tears when she finally left town.”

      “I never stopped trying to make it work,” Sloan protested.

      “But did you ever love her?”

      “I worked at it every day of our marriage.”

      “You can’t force love to happen.”

      “What’s your point, old man?” Sloan asked, getting impatient. “Don’t you have some dishes to wash or something?”

      “Point is,” Charlie said, straightening, his prosthesis not even noticeable as he walked toward the barn door, “you couldn’t force yourself to love Marla no matter what you’d made up your mind to do, and you can’t force them girlies to be happy, either.”

      “I love them. That should be enough.”

      “You spoil them.”

      “I love them,” Sloan said firmly.

      “You let them run you around worse than that self-centered bitch you married.”

      “I love them.” Sloan wasn’t backing down. He was used to Charlie’s bluntness.

      “Then figure out how to do it right, or hire someone to come do it for you,” Charlie shot back. “Those babes are hell to live with when you’re around.”

      His housekeeper’s parting words stung.

      NOT WANTING A REPEAT of the morning before, Ellie skipped breakfast at home and went in to work early. It was just lucky coincidence that by missing breakfast, she also managed to avoid her family members—and baby Cody—as well. She hadn’t slept well. Was cranky and out of sorts. She needed to immerse herself in her work, remind herself what mattered in her life. As uptight and serious as she was, her career was all she was going to have, and she was damn well going to be happy about that.

      But by ten o’clock that morning, she was also starving. Breakfast was the most important meal of the day, and she’d robbed herself of that sustenance. She was falling asleep at her desk. A tall glass of diet cola and one of Joe’s four-cheese western omelettes were definitely in order.

      A dose of Mary Jane’s sweetness wouldn’t be amiss, either. Grabbing the Asleep at the Wheel CD she’d found for her country-western-fanatic friend, Ellie checked out with Megan and took a much-needed break.

      Austin Eats Diner, located right next door to the clinic on the corner of prestigious Mayfair Avenue and Hill Drive, was just the diversion Ellie needed. Mary Jane Potter who was waiting on a group of cowboys at the counter, looked up and waved as Ellie walked in. Feeling better already, Ellie smiled, waved back and seated herself at a table for two. Though Mary Jane was three years younger than Ellie, she was one of Ellie’s closest friends. The petite brunette had grown up next door to Lana Lord, Ellie and Beth’s other best friend, and the four had seen each other through all the crises of adolescence.

      Watching Mary Jane keep everyone in the bustling diner happy, Ellie relaxed for the first time since she’d seen Sloan Cassidy the day before. She hadn’t told anyone about Sloan’s unexpected visit. Nor was she certain she was going to. But she wasn’t going to deny herself the comfort of drawing silent strength from her friends.

      “You skipped breakfast again?” Mary Jane asked, bringing Ellie the diet cola she hadn’t yet asked for.

      “I had some work to catch up on,” Ellie said, meeting the smile in Mary Jane’s eyes.

      Mary Jane’s gaze turned to concern. “You’re going to work yourself to death, Ellie, and it’s just not worth it.”

      Taking in the mostly full tables around her, Ellie chose to ignore her friend’s warning. Mary Jane just didn’t understand. No one did. “I’ve only been in the position six months,” she defended herself. “There’s always a lot of extra time invested in a new job.”

      “Fourteen hours a day?” Mary Jane scoffed, seemingly unaware of the thirty other patrons sitting in the brightly colored restaurant. “You haven’t been out with Lana and Beth and me in months.”

      “School started,” Ellie responded. “I’ve got classes at night.”

      “One night a week.”

      “Hey, what is this?” Ellie started to get annoyed, but only because she so desperately needed Mary Jane’s support. “I come here to eat and get yelled at?”

      Mary Jane sighed. “I’m not yelling, El. I just care.”

      “I know.” That was the sustenance she’d really been after. “Things’ll calm down soon, I promise.”

      Mary Jane nodded but didn’t look any happier; she pulled her pad and pen out of her pocket. “You want the omelette?”

      “Yes, please.” Ellie picked up the CD from the seat beside her. “I brought you this.”

      “‘Let’s Ride With Bob’ by Asleep at the Wheel?” Mary Jane’s eyes lit up. “Where’d you find it?”

      “A record shop downtown. I needed some more George Winston.”

      Reaching into her pocket, Mary Jane asked, “What do I owe you?”

      “Nothing,” Ellie replied, brushing it off. “Just don’t make me listen to any more of Bob Will’s Texas swing band stuff. I prefer horns to fiddles and steel guitars.”

      “Thanks, El—”

      Mary Jane smiled warmly again, and Ellie got all the payment she needed.

      “I can’t believe you remembered I wanted this. You’re the best.”

      Embarrassed,