The Texas Cowboy's Quadruplets. Cathy Thacker Gillen

her mother’s holiday visit was already doing a number on her, he asked gently, “Everything okay?”

      She squared her shoulders defensively. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

      He moved to stand beside her, wishing he could take her in his arms and not get chastised for trying to comfort her. “You look tired, I guess. A little on edge.”

      She flashed a wry, self-effacing smile and led the way toward the sprawling brick building. “Guilty—to all.”

      He moved swiftly to catch up with her and fell in step beside her, adjusting his strides to hers. He tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Figuring the very least he could do was be a sounding board for her, asked kindly, “Babies giving you a hard time?” Maybe if she would actually allow him to assist her in some way, the way her dad had privately wanted, he would actually get to see them.

      “No. My four boys are sweet as ever.” Mitzy sighed. Her eyes took on a turbulent sheen. “It’s the rest of my family that’s putting me through the ringer.”

      The idea of rescuing her was a lot more appealing—on a soul-deep level—than it probably should have been. “Judith?”

      Her lower lip slid out in a delectable pout. “She and Walter—”

      Her mom’s fifth husband, Chase recalled.

      “—arrived in time for dinner last night. Along with four nannies.”

      Four again. Wow. But then that was Judith. She never did anything on the down low when the completely spectacular was possible. “One for each baby,” he guessed, noting how the sunlight brought out the honey-gold highlights in her hair.

      “Right.” Mitzy paused to punch in the security code. Failed. Then, releasing a frustrated sigh, she looked at her phone and tried again. This time the light turned green.

      She pushed open the door and, together, they walked on in.

      He caught a whiff of her flowery shampoo as she sauntered beside him. His body reacted, way too fast. Ignoring the pressure behind his fly, he asked, “You’re not happy about that?”

      Oblivious to the desire welling up inside him, Mitzy waved a dismissive hand and continued to look around as if she had never seen the place. Which was ludicrous. She’d been there frequently as a kid. When he briefly worked there, too. And in all this time nothing had really changed. There were a couple of offices and a break room near the front door. The rest was comprised of the twenty-nine different workstations needed to handcraft the custom leather saddles.

      It smelled the same, too. Like leather and dye and industrial-strength cleaner.

      Aware she hadn’t answered him yet, he turned back to her again. Even in the fluorescent lighting near the door, he could see she was pale.

      “This set of nannies is fine.” She looked over her shoulder at him, as she walked over to the main panel and switched on the rest of the lights in the facility. “I mean, they’re warm and gentle, not stern and impersonal like the first group she brought with her. And they’re just going to be here for the holiday weekend. They’ll all be leaving Sunday afternoon.”

      Chase studied her, befuddled over what was really bothering her. “Then what’s the problem?” he asked.

      * * *

      The problem, Mitzy thought, was that she should have come back here way before now. Instead, she’d neglected to do so, figuring time and the birth of her children would ease her grief.

      They had.

      And they hadn’t.

      Because being here at the warehouse-like workshop that her father had built over the course of forty-five years, in the very place that held so many bittersweet memories for her, was like a punch square in the solar plexus. Making her entire chest hurt to the point that it was hard to breathe. As images of her larger-than-life dad striding through the facility flashed in her brain, she remembered how he had called out to everyone, stopped to admire the workmanship even as he gently added suggestions for making the final product better. How he had charmed the customers and cared for his employees with the same loving familial attitude he exhibited toward her.

      With a disgruntled sigh, she also recalled the day he and Chase had gotten into it right in the middle of the shop, their voices rising. How her dad had been forced to do what he had never done in his entire business life—fire someone outright. How furious Chase had looked as he had sworn he was quitting anyway and stomped out.

      And most of all, she remembered how frail her dad had been, his body ravaged from multiple surgeries and rounds of chemotherapy, the last time he had been able to walk through here. How he’d still kept up the cheerful attitude, even as he had been forced to lean on her for strength.

      Her dad had been incredibly strong to the very end.

      Just as she needed to be strong now.

      Abruptly, Mitzy became aware that Chase was still watching her, ever so patiently waiting for her to confide in him what was really going on with her and her mother.

      Telling herself there was no need to lean on his strong, broad shoulders, she drew a deep invigorating breath, said finally, “It’s just the usual stuff.”

      He strode closer. Clad in a pine-green brushed cotton shirt, jeans and dark brown custom boots, he looked sexy and totally at ease. “Judith still doesn’t like the fact you’re a social worker?”

      “Correct.”

      He stopped just short of her and gave her the slow, thorough once-over. “I’m guessing there’s more.”

      His soft, husky baritone sent shivers ghosting over her skin, but Mitzy stiffened her resolve, in a valiant attempt not to lose herself in his potent masculine allure. There was too much water under the bridge between the two of them, after all, and getting swept up again by passion would not be in either of their best interests.

      Still avoiding her dad’s private office, she moved through the shop, surveying the various workstations, finding that everything looked the same as she recalled.

      Chase moved with her. “She also doesn’t like me living here in Laramie, now that Dad’s gone.”

      “She wants you back in Dallas?”

      Mitzy suppressed a groan. “Permanently.” Coming to the rear of the building, she stepped out onto the covered patio, where employees often took their lunch breaks.

      Chase rubbed the flat of his hand beneath his jaw. “That’s not so surprising, is it? Now that you’ve had children and made her and Walter grandparents?”

      Mitzy perched on the edge of a picnic table and took in a breath of the bracing November air. “I can’t go back to Dallas, Chase.” She rubbed the toe of her Italian pump across the cement floor. “I never belonged there. For so many reasons, Laramie has always been my home.”

      Chase settled next to her, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Me, too.” He slanted a commiserating look at her. “Even when I lived away from here, I always knew I’d come back eventually.”

      In that sense, she and Chase were the same.

      Maybe always would be.

      It was too bad so many other things kept them apart. Their attitudes about business, and the role it played in a person’s private life, paramount among them. He hadn’t been able to understand that disrespecting her father had in turn disrespected her. And instead had insisted that she should have defended his right to speak his mind to whomever he chose. He’d also felt that, as his potential wife, she should have sided with him on principle! Even though he was clearly wrong!

      When they couldn’t come to terms about that, he had wanted to pretend as if their quarrel had never happened, and simply move on. She couldn’t because she knew, as a social worker, that ignoring problems did not make them go away, it made them fester. A lasting relationship required a lot more than friendship,