The Cowboy's Secret Son. Gayle Wilson

selected the more expensive of the two brands, reasoning that cost might be some guarantee of quality, and reminding herself that after Violet’s legacy, she didn’t have to be quite so diligent about looking for bargains anymore.

      As she put the red foil package into the child-seat section of her shopping cart, she turned to look at Drew. His eyes were focused toward the back of the store. With her worries about getting the shopping done and something fixed for supper, his words had barely registered. As soon as she realized who he was talking about, she wished they had.

      Mark Peterson was considering the array of items in the freezer cases, his back to them. Like Drew, she recognized him immediately. There was something about the set of his head and the way he carried himself that was unmistakable, despite the changes the years had wrought.

      She pulled her gaze away from those broad shoulders, which stretched the chamois-colored twill shirt he wore tightly across his upper back. During that brief examination she had also managed to notice that he was again wearing jeans, either the same ones he’d worn yesterday or a pair that was equally worn and faded. And equally snug across his narrow hips and thighs.

      Although she hadn’t finished selecting her purchases, she turned and began pushing her buggy toward the front. The decision to put as much space between them as possible was automatic. Unthinking. She was too tired to deal with another meeting. Too proud to put up with his cool disinterest.

      “Aren’t you going to speak to him?” Drew asked.

      Her son hadn’t moved. Instead he had raised his voice to carry across the distance she had put between them. She glanced back at him, intending to gesture him to silence. As she did, Mark turned his head, his eyes meeting hers. She felt as guilty as if she’d been discovered in some clandestine act. Maybe running away from the past couldn’t be considered clandestine, but it was certainly cowardly.

      The hazel eyes held hers for a long heartbeat, and then they moved, without seeming to hurry, to focus on Drew. Her son’s beaming smile of greeting was answered—a little reluctantly, she thought. But it was answered nonetheless. She would have to give Mark credit for that. Just then, his gaze came back to her.