The Cowboy's Destiny. Marin Thomas

      “Eighty thousand dollars is a lot of money,” a woman in a swim cap covered in daisies said. “I could use the cash to move my home down south to my daughter’s property, and I’d have plenty left over to buy a new car.”

      “That’s right,” Mitchell said. “The money would improve everyone’s standard of living.”

      “There ain’t nothing wrong with my standard of living.” Bernie paddled his dolphin across the water and clung to the edge of the pool next to where Mitchell stood.

      “What’s going on?” Buck asked.

      Destiny had hoped he wouldn’t stick his nose into their business. The last thing she needed was a stranger swaying the town to take the developer’s side. “A group of wealthy investors wants to buy Lizard Gulch, bulldoze the town and build a resort in its place.”

      “Lizard Gulch is in the middle of nowhere.” Buck frowned at Mitchell.

      “Ever see the movie Field of Dreams?” Mitchell asked.

      “Build it and they will come?” Buck said. “That’s what you’re banking on?”

      “Route 66 properties draw thousands of vacationers each year. Jack Custer studied this area and it’s close enough to California that people will view an all-inclusive resort as a great weekend getaway.”

      “There wouldn’t be much for resort guests to do if they don’t play golf,” Buck said.

      Mitchell ignored Buck’s comment and spoke to the group. “You’ve got one month to decide whether or not to take the new offer.”

      “What happens if we can’t agree to sell or not?” Melba asked.

      “You know that I consider you my friends,” Mitchell said.

      Destiny choked on her spit.

      “When I was mayor I had to comply with state guidelines and submit answers to a questionnaire.”

      “What kind of questionnaire?” Destiny asked.

      “I had to inform state officials that you haven’t had the water well tested in fifteen years,” Mitchell said.

      “I’ve been drinking tap water for twenty years and I haven’t gotten sick or died.” Bernie cupped his hands in the water and directed a wave of it at Mitchell, who was forced to jump back to avoid getting his shorts wet.

      “I also had to disclose to the state that none of you pay property taxes.”

      “Are you crazy?” Destiny spread her arms wide. “We don’t pay taxes, because we don’t use any fire or police services.”

      “And you have no place for children to go to school,” Mitchell said.

      The lawyer was grasping at straws. “Do you see any residents of child-bearing age?”

      “Just you.”

      Destiny sucked in a quiet gasp. Had Daryl leaked that she was pregnant?

      Mitchell raised his margarita glass. “A toast to becoming $80,000 richer.”

      “Destiny?”

      Someone spoke her name then an arm curled around her waist, and the next thing she knew she was seated in a chair with Buck squatting in front of her. “You okay? You looked like you were about to faint.”

      “I’m a little thirsty.”

      Melba handed her a margarita.

      “I’d rather have water, please.”

      Buck handed her a bottled water and filled a plate with chunks of watermelon and pineapple.

      “Buck.”

      “Destiny.”

      They spoke at the same time. “You go first,” she said.

      “Is there anything I could do to help you at the garage while I wait on the new axel?”

      “About that broken axel. There’s something I need to tell you.” She stopped short when Buck leaned forward, the golden glow in his brown eyes sending her pulse pounding through her veins.

      “I could work on that car sitting in the back lot.” He shrugged. “I don’t know much about engines, but I could hand you tools.”

      His gaze dropped to her mouth, and all of a sudden Destiny forgot about being truthful with Buck. What could it hurt to wait another day before fixing the axel? “Have you ever changed the oil in your truck?”

      “No, but I’m a fast learner.”

      The smile he flashed convinced Destiny that he was fast at a lot of things, the least of which was an oil change.

      Chapter Four

      “What happens if you don’t get a majority of the townspeople to veto Wyndell Resorts’ latest offer?” Buck was stretched out on a mechanic’s creeper beneath Melba’s 1990 black Pontiac Bonneville in the lot behind the garage. Destiny moved her creeper closer to him, the fresh scent of her perfume stirring his blood.

      “Then we sell and Lizard Gulch will be wiped off the map.” She held out her hand. “Give me the wrench.”

      Buck’s fingers went straight for the tool Destiny asked for, then he remembered he wasn’t supposed to know much about fixing cars. “Which one?”

      Her gaze clashed with his. Their faces were only inches apart and he noticed her lashes were a dark brown. “Do you color your hair?” She frowned, and he said, “Most redheads have pale lashes.”

      “I don’t dye my hair and the wrench I want is the one with a piece of yellow tape on it.”

      He handed her the tool and she loosened the large bolt. “Drip pan, please.”

      He held out the plastic container to collect the old oil.

      “Thanks.” She placed the pan on the ground, removed the cap and let the oil drain, then rolled out from beneath the car and stood. “The developer’s offer stinks, and the land this town sits on is worth a lot more than $80,000 per person. Why else would Mitchell work so hard to convince everyone to pack their bags?”

      Buck got to his feet. “I can picture the land being worth more once the resort is built but not now.” He spread his arms wide. “There’s nothing here that anybody would drive out of their way to see.”

      Destiny’s head jerked as if he’d slapped her with an insult. “You may not think Lizard Gulch is special, but the people who live here do.” She removed a rag from her pocket and wiped her hands hard enough to peel off a layer of skin.

      “Guess it’s a female thing—attaching emotional significance to a place.”

      “You mean you have no sentimental feelings about the pecan farm you grew up on?”

      Sensing their conversation agitated Destiny, he sought to avoid an argument. “I have fond memories of chasing my brothers through the pecan groves, but when I think of home, its family that matters most—not the orchards.”

      Her expression softened. “When was the last time you were home?”

      “A couple of months.”

      “Have you been riding the circuit all this time, or do you have a second place you use as a home base between rodeos?”

      “Is that a polite way of asking if I have a lady friend I shack up with when I’m on the road?” He chuckled at the pink flush that spread across her cheeks. “I don’t.”

      “What about when you’re not on the road?” She looked him square in the eye.

      Like wavy heat lines hovering over hot asphalt, sexual tension sizzled between them. This wasn’t the first time he’d felt Destiny’s