A Little Town In Texas. Bethany Campbell

there is no neutral ground in Crystal Creek. But it’ll be a kick to have you home.”

      Home. The word almost froze Kitt. She tried to shake off the cold, empty feeling. New York was where she lived now, and she wanted and needed no other place to call home.

      She pushed the emotion away and got back to her job. “The McKinneys,” she said with seeming casualness, “they’re leading the fight against Fabian?”

      “J.T.’s the president of a citizens’ group. It’s running him ragged. I wish Cal could get home, but he’s tied up in business in Australia.”

      He’s not there yet. Good, Kitt thought with a wave of relief. But he would soon be back—Cronin had said he would.

      Kitt made herself press on. “Is there any word of Fabian making another move down there?” She knew, of course, that he was about to.

      “We hope not,” Nora said. “J.T.’s got about all he can handle. He’s got Fabian tied up in lawsuits for the moment. And all the major ranchers have refused to sell any more land. But anything might happen. J.T. doesn’t need any nasty surprises.”

      “I see,” Kitt said noncommittally. She couldn’t warn Nora that just such a nasty surprise was on the way, and it would come in the form of a man named Mel Belyle.

      IN CRYSTAL CREEK the next day, Nora realized that Kitt’s phone call had sent a strange restlessness tingling through her.

      The Longhorn Coffee Shop was languid, enjoying a rare Saturday morning lull. Nora savored the quiet and looked out the front window at the blue sky and sunshine and the strolling people.

      This was the first time in two long weeks that the sky had been bright and clear. Every day had brought clouds that sprinkled, rained, or poured down storms. Suddenly, she yearned with all her heart to join those people out in the beautiful sunlight and be free, like them.

      What would she do if she had a Saturday all to herself? A whole day to do anything she wanted? She leaned her elbows on the windowsill, giving herself up to this sinful fantasy. For starters, there were books to be read, tempting stacks of them, seductive heaps of them…

      The crash of shattering glass hurtled her back to reality. Nora straightened, squaring her shoulders. She was training a new waitress, LaVonda Pollack. “Vonnie?” she called apprehensively.

      The girl’s voice, nervous, came from the kitchen. “It was only an empty bottle. I’m cleaning it up. Sorry.”

      “It’s all right. Don’t worry.” Nora sighed and pushed a hand through her ash-brown hair. Then she busied herself readying for the lunch hour rush. She had tables to wipe, fresh place mats to put down, condiments to restock.

      Nora’s regular assistant, Kasey, was on vacation. Her other waitress, Shelby, had just gotten married, and Nora had been lucky to get a replacement—even if it was Vonnie.

      Finding good, steady help for the café was hard. The hours were long, the pay only adequate, and the waitresses had to count on tips to make a decent living. Nora missed Shelby, and she envied her. Shelby had gone back to college for her master’s degree.

      Sometimes in her heart of hearts, Nora still wished for life without the Longhorn. But the place was hers, and she was lucky to have it. Once the café had almost sold, but the deal had gone sour at the last moment, and Nora took that as a sign. It belonged to her and she belonged to it. There was no escaping and no use complaining.

      The door opened, its bell jingling, and her vague discontent fled. When she saw who entered, her heart flew up in happiness.

      Three tall men stood in the entryway. All wore Stetsons, western-cut shirts, jeans and expensive boots. Each was handsome, but in a different way. It was J. T. McKinney with both his sons, not only Tyler—but Cal.

      The sight of Cal dizzied her with happiness. He and his family had been gone for months. She threw herself into Cal’s arms, half-laughing, half-crying, hugging and being hugged. Cal laughed out loud, Tyler gave a tight smile, and J.T. sighed as if in resignation.

      “Cal,” she said in disbelief. “When did you get back?”

      “This mornin’,” he said and whirled her around. Then he stopped and beamed the smile that showed his killer dimples. “Lord, is it possible? You’re prettier than ever. Got a kiss for me, sweet thing?”

      Then he was bending, his lips firm and affectionate against her cheek. “Mmmwha!” he said, drawing back slightly.

      She drank him in. Next to her husband and son, she loved Cal McKinney more than anyone else in the world.

      He was as irresistible as ever, his hazel eyes just as full of high spirits. He had his hat brim tipped at a cocky angle, and though he was in his thirties now, he still had his boyish, sexy, carefree air.

      He grinned again. “That worthless husband of yours has gone off and left you alone today, the fool?”

      Nora hooked her arms around his neck. Her husband, Ken, was J.T.’s foreman and Cal’s best friend. “Ken’s in Medina. He should be back by tonight. Oh, Cal—it’s so good to have you home.”

      “Good to be home. Mighty good.”

      “And the rest of the family?” she asked. “They’re here?”

      “Serena and the twins? Couldn’t go nowhere without ’em, could I? They’re sleeping at Daddy’s. It was a long trip. I hope those twins sleep a week. Ever been on a plane thirty-six hours with twins? Close to hell as I ever want to get.”

      She laughed and led him to the nearest booth. “Let me get you some coffee. Or are you too wired?”

      “Never too wired for your coffee, darlin’. Or your cheesecake. I’ve been thinkin’ of your cheesecake for the last three thousand miles. It was all that kept my spirits up. You got pumpkin?”

      “I do. The first of the season. You want it with whipped cream?”

      Cal closed his eyes in mock ecstasy. “Yes. Say it again. It’s like you’re talkin’ dirty.”

      She gave him a playful swat. She turned to Cal’s father. “And what can I get you, J.T.?”

      “I wondered if you were ever going to notice me,” J.T. drawled.

      Nora laughed. “I always notice you. You’re not an easy man to ignore.”

      “Except when he’s around,” J.T. said with a rueful nod at Cal.

      Cal looked amused, but his brother, Tyler, didn’t smile.

      J.T. said, “Give me black coffee with no caffeine and a piece of gingerbread. But no whipped cream.”

      Cal patted his father’s chest over the heart. “Gotta take good care of that ticker, Daddy.”

      “I learned that the hard way,” J.T. said, pushing the sugar bowl farther away. Almost ten years ago he’d had a major heart attack.

      “And you,” Nora said to Tyler, “you’ll have black coffee, skim milk on the side and a plain donut.”

      Tyler nodded.

      “You still have that same thing?” Cal asked in disbelief.

      “Yep,” said Tyler.

      “You don’t ever change it?”

      “Nope,” said Tyler.

      “God,” Cal said, shaking his head. “You’re so predictable.”

      Tyler gave him a level look. “So in your way,” he said, “are you.”

      “Ah,” said J.T. “The sound of quibbling. How I’ve missed it. Family’s a wonderful thing. Isn’t it, Nora?”

      “The best,” she said. She looked at the three of them fondly.

      J. T. McKinney owned the biggest