Lone Star Legacy. Roxanne Rustand

      The boy in the caregiver’s arms had finally stopped whimpering. She gently settled him down next to a stack of wooden puzzles, then walked over to Beth and gave her a quick hug. “Absolutely. I know you plan on leaving at the end of the summer, but we can always hope the new owners will keep it open. And maybe,” she added with a twinkle in her eye, “you’ll even decide to stay.”

      Beth glanced between Gina’s daughter and Sophie, then chose her words carefully. “I’d love to stay, but we don’t have much choice….”

      Gina’s brow furrowed. “Barely here, then going so soon? This town really wants to keep nice newcomers like you.”

      “I need a stable job, good enough to support us. Sophie needs a school district large enough to offer special services for preschoolers.”

      “Special services?”

      “She has some hearing loss. It isolates her, because kids her age either ignore her or think she’s ‘different’ and don’t accept her.”

      “I didn’t realize.” Gina blew out a long sigh. “That has to be tough on her, poor thing.”

      “She does fine if she can see the face of the person talking and if they speak clearly. Otherwise, she misinterprets certain words.”

      “What about surgery?”

      “The specialist wanted to wait a while. This happened because of an accident, and she’s showing gradual improvement. If there’s not enough change in six months, we’ll need to look at other options…so by then I’ll need a job with good benefits.”

      “But in the meantime…” Gina glanced at Sophie, her eyes filled with sympathy. “You know, maybe my Olivia and Sophie can get together for some play dates. Just the two of them, where it isn’t so noisy and distracting. Do you suppose Sophie could come over on Saturday?”

      The offer was more than Beth had hoped for. “I know she’d love that.”

      “It might even help her feel included here, if she has a friend.” Gina gave Beth’s arm a gentle squeeze, then she dug around in her purse for a business card and handed it over. “This has my cell, home and work numbers on it, so we can figure out the details later.”

      Scooping her daughter up into her arms, Gina started for the door, then turned back. “Don’t even think about what Tracy said. You reopen that café and I promise you’ll end up busier than you want to be. I must be related to half the people in this county, and I’ll pass the word.”

      “Thanks!” But Tracy’s words kept coming back to her for the rest of the evening. Was it foolish to even think about trying?

      

      “NO, HE’S NOT MARRIED.” Following Dorothea Wilbert’s intent stare, Beth glanced over her shoulder and saw Joel disappear into Walt’s office, where he was installing an entire wall of oak shelving for Walt’s library of veterinary books and professional journals. Anticipating the next question, she added, “And far as I know, he is not attached.”

      “If I was a few years younger…” Dorothea’s eyes gleamed. “He’s quite a hottie, you know.”

      “Yes, ma’am.” Beth tried to smother a smile, but failed. A hottie? The woman had to be eighty if she was a day and her slang was a tad out of date, but she definitely deserved points for sheer spunk.

      Dorothea lifted her cat carrier from the counter and angled a look at Beth’s bare left hand. “If I were you, I’d snap him right up.”

      “If I ever decide to start looking, I’ll give that some thought,” Beth retorted dryly.

      At least this was a variation on an all-too-familiar theme. One week at this part-time job, and she’d already fielded questions from at least a dozen women about Joel’s marital status. Women who were interested for themselves, or who just happened to have daughters, granddaughters, or nieces who might like an introduction.

      Joel tried to avoid them.

      Beth found it amusing when he couldn’t.

      But that interest was no surprise, really. Other than a few grizzled cowhands who’d flirted with her while stopping in at the clinic, she hadn’t seen many eligible guys around town.

      A situation that suited her perfectly well.

      With Walt out in the country on farm calls, the clinic was quiet this afternoon save for a handful of people who’d either stopped in to buy pet supplies, or came to collect their pets after boarding them.

      Beth stretched, working out the stiffness in her muscles from last night’s siege with a wallpaper steamer, then she turned back to the bank of file drawers behind her.

      Joel sauntered up the hall, a carpenter’s pencil tucked above one ear, and that gunslinger tool belt riding low on his hips. With a nod in her direction, he went outside.

      What was it about him that made her pulse pick up a faster beat whenever he walked by?

      He certainly wasn’t her type…and she wasn’t in the market, at any rate.

      In college, she’d gravitated toward the guys with armloads of philosophy books, who talked about the meaning of life, politics or social reform. White-collar guys who were safe, responsible. Who impressed parents and promised the kind of security a smart girl wanted.

      Joel had an edge. An air of darkness and danger that promised he could handle any threat that came his way. But she’d learned early on that the bad boys in school were exciting, but they were the ones who casually broke hearts and disappeared. At the age of thirty she’d not be playing that game with Joel or anyone else—especially a man who was so clearly uncomfortable around Sophie.

      Luckily, she and Joel had moved past that initial suspicion of his to a fledgling level of friendship, but that was as far as Beth would ever go.

      According to Walt, the man had been a cop. A chill swept through her at the thought of what he could uncover if he got a little too curious and began researching her past. What if her anonymous caller was right—and Patrick had somehow tangled her up in the paperwork on his illegal dealings? Or she’d been implicated through some false evidence, by the very person who kept calling her? And then there was that suspicious fire….

      She’d been cleared once. But what if the investigators had second thoughts and looked closer?

      The clinic door opened and Joel came back in with a box of wood screws and a level. But this time, he didn’t just walk on by. He strolled into the receptionist’s area and leaned a hip against her desk, his too-long hair disarrayed by the windy day; his dark, thick lashes and smoldering brown eyes entirely too sexy and compelling.

      But it was the hint of a boyish twinkle in those eyes that calmed the nervous flutter in her stomach.

      “Ma’am, I need a favor. A big one.”

      Surprised, she gave him a glance. “If it involves sewing or ironing, you’re flat out of luck.”

      The laugh lines at the corners of his eyes deepened. “What would you say about a date on Saturday night?”

      

      IF HE’D TOLD HER the entire town was afire, she couldn’t have paled any faster, though she quickly masked her initial look of shock with a forced laugh. “I…don’t think so.”

      He raised an eyebrow and grinned at her. “Dorothea would say you’re making a mistake.”

      “You heard that?” Some color came back into her cheeks.

      “Couldn’t help it. She has the voice of a revival preacher on Saturday night. Not,” he added wryly, “that I believe a thing she said.”

      “Half the female population of Lone Wolf does, though.” She tipped her head and surveyed him from head to foot. “You being a mystery man from the far reaches of the U.S. and all.