Claimed By The Cowboy. Sarah M. Anderson

you two. You know, she was such a nice girl. You know, you know, you know.

      Shortly after Lucy and Josh had gone to their respective colleges far, far away from each other, Lucy’s folks had moved out of Cedar Point. The Wilde family had no more connections with Iowa that he knew of. Lucy had not come back.

      But Josh had.

      And he would again.

      Josh knew he shouldn’t be sending flowers to anyone. What he had was his job and his family. And that was all he needed. He didn’t need the feeling of desire that hit him low in the gut. He’d lived a good five years without it, after all.

      And he especially didn’t need to feel that desire for someone he had a messy history with. The less complicated his life, the happier he was.

      And one thing was blindingly obvious—Lucy Wilde was complicated. With a capital C.

      “If you see her again, you tell her I said hi,” his grandfather went on as if Josh were actively participating in this conversation. “You know, she was such a nice girl. I’m glad to hear she is doing well. And Josh?”

      “Yeah?”

      “There’s no rush. If you need to take a couple of weeks in Chicago, that’s fine. Your brother and sisters and I have everything under control.”

      If Josh didn’t know any better, he’d think his grandfather was actively telling him not to come home. “Yeah, okay. I’ll let you know.” And with that he hung up.

      He stared at his phone. Why did his grandfather’s insistence that he take some time off bother him so much? Josh didn’t need to take time off. He was fine. He’d been fine for a long time.

      His mind called up the images of the three women he’d had conversations with today—the Newports’ receptionist, Eve Winchester and Lucy Wilde. He hadn’t responded to Eve at all, but that feeling had been mutual. Nothing unusual there.

      But that receptionist...she’d been actively flirting with Josh. He’d felt nothing other than noting she was a pretty girl. No reaction, no interest. As usual.

      Then he’d come around that corner and seen Lucy. That had inspired a reaction in him, which was putting it mildly. Was it just the shock of seeing her again after all these years? Or was it something else?

      Before he could fire up the truck, his phone buzzed and lit up with a text message. Josh jolted and almost dropped his phone, but he managed to keep a grip on it and prevent it from sliding down between his thigh and the seat.

      For Pete’s sake. His heart thumping along at a good clip, he looked at the screen. It was a Chicago area code. The text message read, I don’t know if dinner is such a good idea.

      Oh, thank God. Lucy had gotten the flowers. And she had not promptly told him to go to hell. On the whole, that was an improvement from their earlier conversation and, for some reason, made him feel...hopeful?

      Why? Don’t you eat dinner?

      The little bubble popped up on the screen that meant she was typing something back. What do you really want?

      The hell of it was, he didn’t actually know. Why wasn’t he letting this drop? Was it simply because he was in Chicago and it was easier to think about Lucy than it was to think about Sydney? Or was it because he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do to help out the Newport boys and this problem seemed less challenging?

      Or...was it something else?

      His fingers curved and he could almost feel her hand in his again, see the way her eyes had widened when he’d pulled her in.

      It didn’t seem possible that he wanted her. Not after five years without a single damned spark of attraction to any woman.

      So he sidestepped the unfamiliar emotions and focused on what he could handle. To catch up with an old friend, he texted back.

      The little bubble popped up, went away and then popped up again before he got a reply. You shouldn’t send me flowers at work.

      I didn’t have your home address. It’s just dinner, Lucy. He almost added, I’ve missed you, but at the last second, he changed his mind and backspaced over the words. Except he hit the wrong button and accidentally sent a partial text that read, I’ve mp.

      Crap.

      Sorry, he quickly texted. Hit the wrong button.

      She didn’t answer for the longest time—so long, in fact, that Josh was pretty sure she had decided to call it a day.

      Then her reply popped up. One dinner. That’s it.

      Tonight? The moment he hit Send, he felt stupid. He hadn’t come to Chicago for Lucy. He’d told Carson as much. He was here for the Newport boys and nothing more. Tonight was about settling in with a couple of six-packs and doing his level best to keep Brooks from going off the deep end.

      But suddenly he realized he wanted her to come to dinner with him. And not just because they were old friends. Okay, because they were old friends—the very best of old friends.

      Hell. He didn’t know why he needed her to say yes. Only that he did.

      Can’t. Dealing with the Winchesters.

      Disappointment unfurled in his chest, but then another text popped up. Tomorrow night. Meet me at Lou Malnati’s on N. State. 7 o’clock.

      Chicago pizza? I’m there, he texted.

      All this was, he told himself, was two old friends getting together for dinner at a classic Chicago restaurant. And Josh would be lying if he said he didn’t miss Chicago food. Cedar Point, Iowa, was a great small town and a wonderful place to grow up, but folks there considered Applebee’s to be fancy and the ethnic food section of the grocery store consisted of refried beans and tortilla chips. Chicago dining was one of the very few things that he missed about the city.

      His stomach rumbled.

      So that was why he was suddenly excited. Not the fact that Lucy had said yes, but that he was going to get a good Chicago pizza for the first time in a long time.

      Nothing more.

      * * *

      This was a mistake. Lucinda had spent the last twenty-four hours doing her regular job and dealing with the Winchester sisters. She understood that they loved their father, and she also understood that they only wanted what was best for him.

      But they were going to drive her past madness in record time.

      And what she wanted right now more than anything was to be curled up on her couch with a pint of ice cream—yes, Calhoun Creamery ice cream—and watching a Sandra Bullock movie.

      She did not want to be walking into a pizzeria at 6:58 on a Thursday night. And she most especially did not want to be meeting Josh Calhoun.

      Somehow, though, that hadn’t stopped her from rushing home after work to change. Even worse, it hadn’t stopped her from putting on one of her few dresses, a sleeveless navy blue wrap dress that she had worn to weddings and funerals alike. The evening was cool, and she’d put on a cream-colored cardigan so she didn’t feel naked.

      She knew that if the people from work saw her—especially someone like Elena—they would lose their collective minds, because Lucinda never dressed up, never put on mascara and lipstick, and she never, ever wore her hair down. All the things she was doing right now.

      There was only one explanation. She had lost what was left of her mind.

      This is not a date, she told herself as she forced her feet to carry her through the door and into the restaurant. This was two old friends catching up—nothing more, nothing less.

      Which did nothing to explain the way her stomach fluttered when Josh caught sight of her and stood up. Now that she was braced for seeing him again, it was easier to see how he had changed compared with what she remembered. He was taller and broader—a fact that was only emphasized by the