Homeward Bound

“Hey, man, I don’t want any trouble.”

The kid turned and lost himself in the crowd. Royce saw the angry sparks in Heather’s green eyes. She opened her mouth, but before she squawked a single protest, he snatched her arm and tugged her toward the exit. He made it as far as the door before she dug in her heels. It was either stop or drag her the rest of the way. He stopped.

“How dare—”

“Not now.” He flung open the door. His hand firmly against her back, he propelled her out of the bar.

The waiter’s eyes widened. “Problem, Mayor?”

“Problem’s leaving.” He followed Heather outside, grateful she hadn’t put up a bigger fuss. He grinned at the outrage on her face.

Compared with her teen years, tonight’s rescue had been relatively painless.

Dear Reader,

If there’s one thing I dislike, it’s someone telling me I can’t do something. That’s a surefire way to motivate me to prove that person wrong. In that respect, the heroine in this story is a lot like me.

Royce McKinnon, mayor of Nowhere, Texas, throws down the gauntlet when he tells Heather Henderson she doesn’t have what it takes to run her deceased father’s feed store.

Royce took Heather under his wing when her mother ran off, leaving a young Heather with a negligent alcoholic father. Heather admits she probably would have turned into a “statistic” if Royce hadn’t kept her in line and in school. But she’s all grown up now and doesn’t want or need Royce’s unsolicited advice.

Heather is Homeward Bound, not only determined to prove she’s capable of managing an almost-bankrupt business, but also determined to uncover the deep, dark secret she suspects is the real reason Royce doesn’t want her returning to Nowhere.

Sit back and enjoy the show as Heather challenges Royce’s sanity with her feminine wiles and spunky spirit. Who can resist a small-town girl with an attitude!

I’m always happy to hear from readers. Please visit me at www.marinthomas.com.

Happy reading!

Marin

Homeward Bound

Marin Thomas

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To my high school girlfriends from Janesville, Wisconsin—

Jenny, Lynn, Sue, Holly, Kay and Dana:

What a talented bunch of girls we were at Craig High School. We had brains, beauty, athletic talent, acting talent, singing talent, musical talent…and even a salutatorian among us. We’ve come a long way in our individual lives and careers. Through the years and across state lines we’ve manage to keep in touch. I treasure our friendships and feel blessed to have so many fond memories of our high school days together…well, except for the spring break trip to Sue’s family cabin our senior year….

Books by Marin Thomas

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

1024—THE COWBOY AND THE BRIDE

1050—DADDY BY CHOICE

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Prologue

Smoke tendrils curled into the air above the burned wreckage of the single-wide trailer. The debris continued to smolder under the late-May sky, the scorched ruins contrasting starkly with the bold pink-and-rose Texas sunset. The stench of singed fabric, melted rubber and seared wood saturated the air.

“Sheriff thinks it was accidental.”

Royce McKinnon shifted his attention from the yellow Caution tape strung around the rubble to his aging foreman, Luke. “Probably was.”

“Bet my best whittlin’ knife he drunk himself stupid, then passed out with a lit cigarette stuck in his craw.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Royce rubbed his brow, trying to ease the throb that had plagued him for the past hour. “As soon as the fire inspector gives the okay, I’ll make arrangements to have the wreckage hauled off to the dump.” The trailer fire was the first real catastrophe Royce had had to deal with since being elected the town mayor of Nowhere two years ago.

Luke shoved a wad of chew between his lip and gum. “You gonna call her tonight?”

“No.” The her was Heather Henderson. Daughter of the man who’d perished in the fire. Melvin Henderson had never been considered one of Nowhere’s exemplary citizens. Royce had had his share of run-ins with the man over the years—not one of them pleasant.

He wondered how Heather would take the news of her father’s death. On a scale of one to ten, Henderson had a negative number in the fatherhood department. Heather’s mother had split years ago, leaving her thirteen-year-old daughter at the mercy of a drunk, mean ol’ son of a bitch. In the end, Heather had had no one to care about her.

Except for you.

Royce had been nineteen when he’d stumbled upon the teen bawling her eyes out on the loading dock at the back of her father’s feed store. The lost look on her face when she’d sobbed that her mother had run away and left her behind had shaken Royce more than he’d cared to admit at the time.

That afternoon he’d sympathized with Heather’s grief as if it had been his own. He’d known all too well the feeling of being abandoned. Both his parents had died in a boating accident when he was a young boy. His childless aunt and uncle had taken him in but had treated him no better than one of the cow dogs. They’d given him shelter. Food. A place to sleep. And in return, he’d worked his butt off, learning how to raise cattle and work around a ranch—not an easy task for a boy who’d lived in Southern California near the ocean for his whole life.

He may not have had a storybook childhood full of warm fuzzies, but he’d had a home—which was more than some people got. His aunt and uncle had left him the ranch in their wills, and for that, Royce had forgiven them for not being the loving parents he’d wanted.

Twelve years ago, after witnessing the anguish in Heather’s eyes, something inside Royce had reached out to the young girl. He’d sworn he’d do everything in his power to make sure she believed at least one person cared—Royce McKinnon. But the friendship he’d envisioned between them had never materialized. Heather had turned into a hellion and had rebuffed his offers of help and guidance.

Keeping her in line became a full-time job. Many days he’d considered washing his hands of her, but something had compelled him not to give up on the teen. He didn’t need to pay a psychologist a hundred bucks a half hour to inform him that he’d turned the need to be cared for into a need to care for others. He glanced at Luke. “I’ll drive down to College Station tomorrow.” Maybe after the five-hour drive south, he’d figure out how to break the news to Heather.

“Where is she livin’ these days?”

“I believe in a house near campus.” Heather had moved several times from one apartment or rental house to another since enrolling at the University of Texas A&M seven years ago. “I’ll check the return address on her Christmas card.” Royce had kept every one of Heather’s holiday cards in a shoe box on his bedroom closet shelf.

“Seem to recall her writin’ that she was workin’ at a day care.”

Day care? Why hadn’t Heather put that information in her card to him? Maybe because the last time you paid her a visit, you did more than jump all over her for changing majors again and not finishing college yet. He supposed changing majors more than once and holding down a job made graduating in four years next to impossible.

As if it had happened only yesterday, the last visit flashed before his eyes. Heather at twenty-two had looked nothing like the gangly adolescent he’d remembered riding herd over. He’d never forget the sight of her in those hip-hugging short shorts and the strappy little top that had molded her full breasts and had shouted to him and every redblooded male within two miles of the campus that she was a desirable woman. For the first time, his body had reacted to her in a not-so-brotherly way, exciting him and scaring the hell out of him all at once.

He might have handled himself better if his attraction to her had been one-sided, but he’d caught the breathy sound that had escaped Heather’s mouth when she’d opened the apartment door and discovered him on the stoop. He’d noticed the sparkle of awareness in the blue eyes that had roamed up and down his body.

After he’d entered her apartment, he couldn’t stop staring at her. From her blond head to her pink-painted toenails, she’d mesmerized him. Gone had been any trace of the troublemaker teen he’d remembered. Flustered by his attraction to her, he’d started an argument about her taking forever to graduate. Then she’d done the most amazing thing—she’d kissed him. Her kiss had knocked the fight right out of him. To this day he could still remember the feel of her soft lips feathering across his. After he’d gotten over his initial shock, he’d kissed her right back. Again. And again. At least he’d come to his senses before they’d ended up in the bedroom.

After he left the university that day, he’d been determined to persuade Heather to return to Nowhere and spend the summer with him at the ranch. A small part of him had been convinced that what he’d felt for her had been more than just lust. But fate had foiled his plans, destroying any chance of a future with her. He’d found out the hard way that life sometimes plays dirty tricks on people.

In the end, Heather hadn’t spent the summer in Nowhere, and he’d tried to forget about their one passionate encounter and move on with life. Throwing himself into ranch work had helped, but the exhausting physical labor hadn’t been enough to chase the college coed from his thoughts. So he’d run for mayor, hoping the added responsibility would keep him too busy to ponder what might have been. For the most part, his plan had worked.

Until now. The trailer fire was another one of life’s nasty little jokes. Ready or not, he’d have to face Heather and deliver the news of her father’s death in person.

“Sure you don’t want me to tell her?” A stream of tobacco juice shot out of the gap between Luke’s front teeth.

Royce’s chest tightened; he was so tempted to take the old man up on his offer. “Nope. After I speak with the fire inspector in the morning, I’ll hit the road.”

If there was any good to come out of Henderson’s death, it was that once the man’s estate was settled, his daughter would have no reason to return to Nowhere.

And Heather Henderson would finally be out of his life for good.

Chapter One

“Duck…duck…duck…Bobby, that’s cheating. Sit on your bottom.”

Heather pressed her lips together to keep from laughing at the disgruntled five-year-old’s freckled face. As soon as he wiggled his rump back down on the campus day-care’s blue-carpeted floor, she patted the next head.

“Duck…duck…” Her hand hovered over a bright pink bow on top of a mountain of blond curls. If she “goosed” Rebecca, freckle-face would throw a temper tantrum, and carrot-top, on the other side of Rebecca, would most likely stick his hand out and trip the little girl.

Tapping the bow, Heather moved on. “Duck…duck…goose!”

A quick pat on Tommy’s head and Heather was off as fast as her knees would move. The kids loved her duck-duck-goose rule that adults play the game on their knees. She almost made it back to the empty spot, but Tommy’s fingers grazed her shoulder. She toppled over and tugged the boy to the floor.

“Dog pile!” Brian yelled, jumping through the air.

Heather clenched her stomach muscles right before Brian’s butt landed on her midsection. The hundred-per-day situps she struggled through every morning at the campus gym paid off tenfold in this job. The other five children joined in and she ended up buried beneath bodies that smelled like peanut butter and jelly, laundry detergent and Play-Doh.

She wiggled her fingers against a pair of legs covered in pink tights and smiled when little Sonja, normally quiet and withdrawn, belly-laughed along with the rest of the preschoolers. The sound of rambunctious laugher warmed Heather’s heart. She couldn’t remember ever laughing with such abandon and glee as a child.

“Excuse me, Heather.”

Peeking between the squirming bodies, Heather spotted her supervisor’s mud-colored Easy Spirit shoes inches from her nose. “Yes, Mrs. Richards?”

“There’s someone here to see you. Come along, children. Snack time.”

One by one, the munchkins popped off Heather and dashed across the room. Feeling as if she’d narrowly survived a school of hungry piranhas, she lay sprawled on the carpet, her clothes in disarray and her ponytail smashed to one side. She turned her head—and spotted a large pair of worn cowboy boots.

Uh-oh.

Inch by inch, her gaze strolled up denim-clad legs, slowed across solid thighs, then came to a complete stop at a well-endowed…One hip shifted, jarring her attention upward, past the shiny silver belt buckle. Past the six pearl snaps on the sky-blue western shirt. Past a whisker-stubbled chin. Straight to his eyes. Eyes that stirred up memories of—

“Heather.”

Sucking in a deep breath, she braved a smile.

Eyes dark as chunks of coal stared solemnly down at her from under the brim of a seen-better-days black Stetson.

So he was going to pretend they’d never shared glorious kisses three years ago. Okay, fine. She could pretend, too. “Hello, Royce.”

Her self-appointed guardian angel glowered. She imagined any sensible women would take one look at his expression, which hinted at a not-so-sunny disposition, and steer clear of the cowboy. Not Heather. She’d always admired his temperament, not to mention his strong stubborn jaw, deep-set brown eyes and equally dark slashing brows. Royce McKinnon was downright handsome in a rugged, manly-man sort of way.

His sober gaze fastened on her bare tummy, where a dainty silver butterfly ring pierced her navel. His stare, moving and mysterious, turned the simple act of breathing into a strenuous exercise. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she struggled for control. Three years ago this man had rocked her world. If her skittering nervousness at the moment was any indication, she hadn’t succeeded in putting the past—rather, this man—behind her.

With one last gulp of air, she shoved her T-shirt back in place and hopped to her feet. Desperate for a moment to corral her frazzled nerves, she brushed at an imaginary wrinkle in her jeans, then fixed her lopsided ponytail.

At six feet two inches—minus the cowboy hat—the mayor of Nowhere, Texas, didn’t exactly blend in with the gaggle of preschoolers running loose in the room. “If I’d known you were stopping in town I would have asked for time off.” Well, that was brilliant. He’ll think I’ve been pining for him all these years.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Some things never change.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I left a message on your cell phone.”

The brooding, arrogant egghead was accusing her of not checking phone messages? Rolling her eyes, she sighed. “I see you brought along that trusty soapbox of yours.”

“When you decide to grow up, I’ll leave it at home.”

The fact that he thought her plenty grown-up three years ago, when he’d kissed her, hung in the air between them like wet laundry on a windless day. “For your information, this isn’t a job. Working at the day care is part of my student-teaching requirements.”

Heather waited for a comeback that didn’t come.

Royce’s attention switched to the back of the room. Puzzled by the expression of deep sadness that filled his eyes as he watched the group of towheads devour their snacks, she touched his shirtsleeve.

The feel of the soft cotton material brought back a long-ago memory of Royce finding her bawling her head off behind the feed store. Even though her crying had embarrassed him, he’d offered her his shirtsleeve to wipe her nose. From that moment on Royce had been her hero.

After a while the novelty of his attention had worn off and she’d focused her efforts on ignoring his meddling presence. But nothing she’d done or said had made Royce go away and leave her alone—thank goodness. Because she would have been truly lost without this overbearing interfering man. For that reason alone she reined in her temper. “Look, if you’re here to lecture me on failing to graduate next week with the rest of my class—”

“You’re not graduating?”

Oh, crud. He didn’t know? “Isn’t that pretty obvious, since I didn’t send you a graduation announcement?”

He rubbed the sexy little bump in the middle of his nose with his index finger. “I assumed I wasn’t invited.”

Did he think so little of her? Just because they’d shared one magical afternoon of intimacy and then…then…nothing didn’t mean she hated him or didn’t want him to celebrate her graduation. With all she’d put the man through over the years, he at least deserved to see her accept her degree. “I’m six credits short.” His silence compelled her to explain. “I’ve signed up for the first and second summer sessions. If everything goes as planned I’ll have my degree by summer’s end.”

“Degree in what now?”

“Psychology.”

His brow dipped below the hat’s brim. “Come again?”

“Psychology, with an emphasis on family and children.”

His tanned complexion faded several shades, as if her choice of major and area of focus stunned him.

Perturbed by his reaction, she demanded, “What? You don’t believe I would be good with kids?”

“You’re nothing but a big kid yourself, Heather.”

“People change. Maybe I wasn’t the quintessential good-girl back in Nowhere, but I hope my past experiences will help other troubled children.” She motioned to the crowded snack table. “Besides, I love kids.”

A rude snort popped out of his mouth. He removed his hat, then tapped the edge against his thigh.

Shocked, she stared at the long, jagged scratch marring the underside of the brim. Another memory flashed through her mind: Royce parked outside the diner on Route 8, twenty miles outside of Nowhere, just over the Arkansas border. He’d sat in his truck for two hours, watching her and then boyfriend Buddy Mansfield through the plate-glass window. Then he’d followed them back to her trailer, his truck’s brights beaming into the backs of their heads.

“You kept the hat,” she whispered around the lump clogging her throat.

As if noticing the imperfection for the first time, he smoothed his thumb over the mark.

“I ruined the Stetson.” Because you ruined my plans to elope with Buddy. Thank goodness Royce had. A marriage to the hometown bad-boy would have ended in disaster. Last she heard, Buddy was doing time in the Huntsville prison for armed robbery.

The lines around his Royce’s eyes crinkled. “Only a fool would toss away a perfectly good hat because of a minor scratch.”

An ache filled her chest. “Minor? I slashed the thing with a pocketknife.” She hadn’t known if she or Royce had been more stunned by the vengeful act.

“Yeah, you were full of piss and vinegar that evening.”

She’d been thankful the moonless night had concealed the tears in her eyes as she’d struggled to find the words to apologize. Words she’d never found the courage to speak. Half of her had hoped she’d finally succeeded in driving Royce away. The other half had prayed he wouldn’t give up on her.

When he shoved his fingers through a tuft of thick, reddish brown hair, the fluorescent lights in the ceiling highlighted a splash of silver along his temples.

“You’ve got gray hair,” she blurted.

The corners of his mouth lifted in amusement. “Your name is on every one of them.”

Her name and those of the rest of the good folks in Nowhere. Apparently, being rancher, mayor and saver of lost souls was taking a toll on the thirty-two-year-old.

The longer she studied him, the more she saw beyond his don’t-mess-with-me expression. The rumpled state of his clothes reflected the long drive to the university. The tight lines around his mouth hinted at fatigue, not anger. She suspected a headache, not frustration, created the furrow in the middle of his brow. And exasperation didn’t deepen the brown of his eyes—the dusky rings beneath them did.

Forbidding and unapproachable—not today. Exhausted and troubled—yes. But how could that be? Royce McKinnon had always been unshakable.

He checked his watch. “Can we talk in private?”

“I get off in fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll wait outside.” He headed for the front door.

An uneasy feeling skittered down her spine as she watched his retreating back. Shoving the sensation aside, she hurried to the snack table to help Mrs. Richards quickly clean up the mess.

A short time later she sat in the front seat of Royce’s big Dodge truck as he drove through the small campus side streets toward the rental house she shared with two roommates.

Royce hadn’t said a word since he’d pulled out of the day-care parking lot. His silence bothered her more than the country music blasting from the CD player. He’d never been a talkative man…unless he was firing off one of his lectures on taking responsibility for one’s own actions and other such drivel. She’d never given much consideration to his quiet nature, but right now she’d kill to know what was going on in that brooding mind of his.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply. The clean crisp scent of his cologne wrapped around her like a warm hug, bringing with it a flash from the past: his mouth hovering over hers as they struggled to catch their breath.

Royce turned the corner and drove south on Conner Avenue, where most of the homes on the street were university rentals. She pointed out the windshield. “The bright yellow one.” He parked at the curb in front of the house.

“What are those guys doing on your property?” he asked, referring to the two males sitting in rocking chairs, drinking beer on the porch.

“‘Those guys’ are my roommates.”

“Roommates?”

His jaw worked as if he’d gotten a six-inch piece of rawhide caught between his teeth.

She hustled out of the truck and shut the door, cutting Royce off in mid sputter. Taking a deep breath, she marched up the sidewalk, determined to act like an adult even if he couldn’t. A chorus of “Hey, Heather” greeted her as she climbed the porch steps. Ignoring Royce’s hot breath fanning the back of her neck, she handled the introductions. “Seth, Joe, meet Royce McKinnon. He’s the mayor of Nowhere, Texas.”

“Cool,” the two grunted in unison. Neither student stood or offered a hand in greeting. No one had ever accused Heather’s roommates of having too much on the ball.

“Follow me,” she muttered, moving across the porch. Once inside, she veered right, through a pair of French doors. “It’s a two-bedroom house, but I converted the front parlor into a third bedroom.” She set her purse on the chair in the corner.