Homeward Bound

“Broken back, my ass.”

Royce would have to call Martha later and thank her for twisting her brother’s undershorts in a knot this morning. “Kenny will be over next week to help with chores.” Kenny, the eldest Wilkinson boy, helped Luke around the ranch in exchange for hay for his rodeo horse.

“Just what I need. A snot-nosed brat followin’ me ’round.” Luke called for Bandit, then shuffled toward the house.

Grinning, Royce drove off. His foreman did a lot of complaining about the smart-mouthed teen, but Luke appreciated the kid’s company. It was a win-win situation. The boy was good company for Luke, and Luke was good company for Kenny, who needed a swift kick in the butt from time to time—something Luke had perfected on Royce over the years.

At the end of the ranch drive, Royce took the county road south. Tall pines bordered the asphalt, some as high as one hundred and twenty feet. Most of the trees were second-generation. The area had been gutted by the lumber industry at the turn of the twentieth century. The once-dense pine forests were now broken up with large sections of ranch land. Sprinkled in among the yellow pines were clusters of southern red oak, sweetgum and water oak. This part of East Texas received enough rainfall to be classified as an upper wetland area, which meant that spring put on a pretty impressive display. His favorite tree was the flowering dogwood, with its abundant white blooms.

The area boasted a great fishing lake. During the summer months, campers took advantage of the wilderness that surrounded Nowhere and Lake Wright several miles to the northeast. The town’s small business owners relied heavily on summer tourism to keep afloat. That was one of Royce’s goals as mayor—to find a way to bring more tourists to the area.

Pressing the gas pedal until the speedometer hovered near seventy, he switched his thoughts to the feed store. Over the years, the local ranchers had begun purchasing the bulk of their supplies from big discount chains along the interstate. But in emergencies, or to save time, they shopped at Henderson Feed for smaller items. For the past two days the business had remained closed. Royce needed to find someone to work in the store until the building sold.

Fifteen minutes later, he swung the truck into a parking spot outside the dilapidated redbrick building. Frank Telmon waited by the door, briefcase in hand, jowls sagging two inches lower than usual. The Realtor must have bad news.

“Frank.” Royce greeted him as he climbed the steps and unlocked the door with the key he’d confiscated from the store register yesterday. He’d had to enter the stockroom through a broken window to get inside. He’d ransacked the place, searching for bookkeeping records or any paperwork that would show what kind of financial shape the business was in. All he’d found were old tax documents, a few bank statements and the store ledger with the names and numbers of suppliers and bookies. He’d handed the ledger over to Telmon before heading down to the university.

Telmon, who doubled as an accountant, followed Royce inside. “I’m afraid I have unpleasant news.”

“Figured as much.” Royce walked to the back of the store, then leaned against the checkout counter next to the outdated cash register.

“Henderson wasn’t much of a businessman.” Frank set his briefcase on the counter. “I went over the papers you dropped off at the office.” He removed a file folder from inside.

“And…”

Shaking his head, Frank pursed his lips so hard the corners of his mouth disappeared into his cheeks. “I don’t understand how he stayed in business as long as he did.”

“Give me the bare facts.” Royce should have figured selling the store wouldn’t be as easy as he’d hoped.

“The business is two years in arrears on taxes. The building needs a major overhaul, and inventory is basically nonexistent. Nothing short of a miracle and a hell of a lot of cash will put this business back in the black.”

Great. Just great. He’d hoped there would be enough money left over from the sale of the store for Heather to live on until she found a job and an apartment after graduation. “What do you suggest putting the place on the market for?”

A harsh bark fired from Telmon’s mouth, the sound smacking off the rotting brick walls like a rifle shot. “Sell? You won’t be able to give the place away.”

As Royce glanced around, he was hard put to disagree. Swirls of yellowish brown water stains covered the ceiling—a leaky roof. A musty, damp smell saturated the air inside the building—mold. The plank floor groaned, creaked and popped—wood rot. The mortar in the brick walls had all but crumbled away, leaving holes big enough to shove a fist into. Oh, hell. The building needed a wrecking ball, not a For Sale sign. “Heather doesn’t want anything to do with the feed store. The place will have to go on the market as is.”

Nodding, Telmon returned the file to his briefcase. “First smart decision the girl’s made in a long time.”

Royce bristled at the insult to Heather. He himself could talk about her that way, but he sure didn’t approve of others criticizing her. Heather was smarter than most people realized. Although she’d skipped a lot of classes and had driven her teachers nuts with her rebellious behavior, she’d scored higher on her college entrance exams—Scholastic Aptitude Test—than two-thirds of her high school graduating class.

The Realtor shut his briefcase. “If you’re sure she has no plans to make repairs before listing the place, then I’ll write up a contract and get back to you in a couple of days.”

Royce offered his hand. “Thanks for your help.”

“My pleasure.” Walking toward the front door, Telmon shook his head, his loose jowls reminding Royce of a bulldog.

As soon as the door closed behind the man, Royce flipped open his cell phone. He’d give Heather the bare facts, then let Telmon answer any questions she had. His finger froze over the keypad.

Once Heather graduated and sold the store, she’d no longer be his concern. And maybe, just maybe he’d finally be able to put the memories of their passionate kisses behind him for good. He waited to feel a sense of relief—it didn’t come. Annoyed, he smacked the counter with an open palm.

No, his sanity wouldn’t stand a chance if Heather decided to move back home. He should thank his lucky stars she wanted nothing to do with Nowhere.

Or him.

Chapter Three

“Drat!” Heather sputtered into the warm shower spray, as she listened to her cell phone in the bedroom play the theme song from Gilligan’s Island. Lathering her hair, she sang along to the music. Already thirty minutes late to a pregraduation party for two of her friends, she didn’t have time to chat. Since she’d be starting her new job at the law library tomorrow, she wouldn’t be able to watch her friends graduate at the Saturday-morning ceremony. Tonight’s party would be her last chance to say goodbye and wish her friends well.

Abruptly, Gilligan shut up.

A moment later, the phone went off again. Okay, already! Worried that her supervisor might be calling with a change in Heather’s work schedule, she ignored the shampoo in her hair and turned off the water. She grabbed the towel from the hook on the door and made a mad dash into the bedroom. “Hello?”

“It’s me.”

The sound of Royce McKinnon’s low, rusty voice shot a bolt of heat through Heather’s body, causing the phone to slip from her slick hands, smack the desk, then land on the floor with a thunk. The towel followed. Naked, shampoo bubbles streaming down her back and front, she gaped at the phone, which lay next to her big toe.

As if in a trance, she lifted her gaze to the mirror on the wall in front of her, and gasped at the bright red color rolling like great ocean waves down her body. She looked as if she’d been dunked in a life-size jar of maraschino-cherry juice. The garbled sound of a human voice pulled her out of her stupor. Good grief! He couldn’t see her naked body. She scooped the phone off the floor. “Hello?”

“Is everything all right, Heather?”

“Yes. Just a minute.” Annoyed by her adolescent reaction, she set the cell on her desk, then swiped the beach-size towel off the floor and wrapped the terry cloth around herself. Twice.

She drew in a deep, calming breath and put the phone up to her ear. “Sorry. I’m here.”

“Did I call at a bad time?”

More than likely, he assumed he’d interrupted an in-between-class quickie with one of the porch boys—her roommates. “You caught me in the shower.”

Dead silence. Then he cleared his throat. “I’ll call later.”

“No, no. I’m covered now.” She swallowed a groan at the stupid remark. Time to turn the conversation in a different direction. “The funeral…did everything get—”

“I took care of things.”

Although she assumed he would follow through on his promise to arrange her father’s burial, she’d been hoping for at least a brief phone call explaining the details. Evidently, he hadn’t thought she deserved even that. Not that she could blame him, after she’d shoved the responsibility onto his shoulders. “Thank you for handling the arrangements.” She tensed, waiting for some kind of smart remark about accountability, commitment…whatever. Only a faint huff filtered through the connection. Odd, she could have sworn the huff sounded tired.

Like a swift kick in the butt, guilt caught her by surprise. Of course Royce was worn-out. He arranged not only her father’s funeral, but more than likely he handled everything else that had come up as a result of the trailer fire. He had every reason to be short with her—

“I’m calling about the store,” he said.

A twinge of disappointment pinched her. Stupidly, she’d hoped he’d contacted her because he wanted to find out how she’d been coping with her father’s death. Agitated, she shoved a hand into her soapy hair, then glared at the sticky residue coating her fingers. “What about the store?”

“An offer came in.”

“There’s a buyer already?”

“Yeah. Surprised the heck out of me, too. The owner of a chain of ranch-supply stores in eastern Arkansas called F & F Supply is interested in buying the business. He doesn’t seem concerned about the condition of the building and money isn’t an object.”

“If he’s rich, why doesn’t he build a new store?”

“Telmon thinks he’s looking for a tax write-off. The guy checks out. He’s legit.”

“But—”

“The good news is that after the sale, there’ll be money left to tide you over until you figure out what you’re going to do after graduation.”

She struggled to summon some excitement. “Great.”

“You don’t sound ‘great.’ What’s the matter?” he demanded.

“I’m just surprised that anyone would want to buy the business.” What was wrong with her? The store was her last remaining tie to Nowhere—except for Royce. She should be elated someone wanted the dump. If she sold the business, she’d have no reason to return there. All the better. Nothing waited for her in Nowhere anymore.

Crazy as it seemed, the thought of saying a final goodbye to her birthplace saddened her. After her mother had abandoned her, she’d stopped thinking of Nowhere as her home…it had been just a place she’d survived.

“The offer is one hundred and fifty thousand.”

“That’s all?”

“Considering the financial mess your father made of the business, the amount is damn generous. You’ll be left with five thousand after paying the bank note, back taxes and creditors.”

“Oh.” Sighing, she collapsed on the end of the bed.

“Heather—”

The ominous undertone in his voice set off a warning bell in her head.

“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

“Maybe.” If not for Royce’s visit last week she’d probably have jumped at the offer.

But Royce had shown up at the day care and he’d sent her world spinning. Since then, not an hour had gone by that she hadn’t reminisced about the past. About the one time they’d kissed that Saturday afternoon in April three years ago…about the night she’d called him a month later before her end-of-the-year finals in May to accept his offer to spend the summer at his ranch…about the cruel way he’d rejected her, insisting that their kiss had been a big mistake.

If not for his unexpected visit last week, Heather would never have believed that Royce might have been lying three years ago when he’d told her to get lost. But she’d caught the naked longing in his eyes when their gazes first clashed—the same longing she’d seen when they’d kissed that first time. Heather was convinced Royce felt…something for her. Why he denied his feelings was a mystery she was determined to solve.

Her father’s death had brought Royce back into her life. This time she wasn’t letting him push her away until she understood why he’d rejected her. The fact that Royce wanted her to stay away from Nowhere was her first clue that he was hiding something from her.

The store was the excuse she needed to return home and do a little digging into the past.

“Listen, you can’t save the business unless you come up with a truckload of money.”

“Sheesh, Royce. Have a little faith in me, will you?” Just like all the other good folks in Nowhere, Royce believed her nothing more than an airhead.

“You’re not exactly the queen of capability and commitment.”

“I’ve changed since going away to school.”

“You haven’t changed that much.”

Royce had just laid down the gauntlet. “Oh?”

“You don’t really want to run the store.”

She cringed. Unloading sacks of corn feed held as much appeal as gutting fish on a hot, humid day. But pretending to care about the business was as good an excuse to go home as any. If she could persuade her professors to allow her to take her two remaining classes by correspondence, she’d still earn her degree by the end of the summer. Then if things didn’t work out with Royce, she’d leave Nowhere, find a job and begin a new chapter in her life. “I could run the business until I get a better offer.”

“A better offer? You’re kidding.” Yep. The hint of desperation in his voice convinced her that he was harboring a secret. “Heather…you are joking, aren’t you?”

“I’m not ready to sell.”

“The store isn’t a game or a toy you can toss aside when you’re tired of playing around.”

“I never thought of the business as a toy.”

“C’mon, Heather.”

“Decline the offer.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to call them back. Change her mind. Run for cover. There was no guarantee she’d even find the answers she sought, and if she did…could she handle the truth?

“Haven’t I always looked out for your best interests?”

“Whether you approve or not, Royce, I’m coming home.”

Returning to Nowhere might prove to be the most rash, absurd, worst decision she’d ever made in her life—so far. But once she gave voice to her plan, a sense of peace filled her.

“You’re not dropping out of college. Christ, Heather. You’re too close to getting a degree to quit now.”

“What makes you think I won’t get my degree?”

“Heather—”

“Listen up, buckaroo. I’ve managed to stay in college and not drop out. I’ve managed a B average in all my classes—and that’s a lot of classes over seven years. I’ve managed to work several different part-time jobs to help support me while in school. I’ve managed—”

“Stop.” His shout startled Heather into silence. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” he added in a quieter voice. “But managing a business, an almost bankrupt business, is a lot of responsibility.”

She admitted that he had every right to believe she’d run when the going got tough. She’d done plenty of running in the past. Well, actions spoke louder than words. She was through running.

Proving she could oversee the store would be the first step in earning his respect. And for some reason, she yearned for Royce’s respect. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ve made up my mind.”

A burst of pure, sweet rebellion broke free inside her, and she reveled in the exhilarating sensation. She unknotted the towel over her breasts and flung it across the room. Stark naked, chin high, she faced her adversary…through the cell phone signal. “It’s time I, not you, decide what’s best for me.”

“Heather. Stay put.”

“Goodbye, Royce.”

“I’m warning you, Heather—”

She flipped the phone shut, cutting him off in mid threat. After returning to the bathroom, she finished her shower, then shimmied into a pair of sparkling purple panties and a matching bra. She tingled with excitement and fear. Dealing with the feed store on her own terms would help her put the past to rest and determine her future—with or without Royce.

Monday she’d visit her professors and explain about her father’s death and her wish to settle his estate. She was positive they’d allow her to complete her courses by correspondence. Tomorrow, she’d quit her job at the law library and put an ad in the paper to sublet the house. If all went well, she’d return to Nowhere by the first week of June.

Now, if she could only figure out how to save her father’s business. An idea started to form. If she used psychological profiles to chart the wants and needs of customers…Later tonight, after returning from the graduation party, she’d sit down and draw up a business plan.

“OH, MY! What is such a handsome devil doing in the middle of Nowhere?” The Marilyn Monroe look-alike’s sultry voice drifted over Heather’s bus seat, startling her like a slap to the back of the head.

Leaning forward, she peered around the gray-haired granny she’d shared the trip with from College Station to Nowhere. The little old lady continued to snore, oblivious to the Greyhound’s turn into the almost-empty church lot.

Holy cow. Heather’s thoughts echoed Marilyn Monroe’s sentiments. She stared at the lone male leaning against a black Dodge four-by-four pickup. The vehicle was big and menacing and familiar.

So was the man.

Eight days had passed since she’d informed Royce of her plan to return to Nowhere and run the feed store. She hadn’t expected to find him waiting for her bus in the middle of a Thursday afternoon. She’d intended to arrive in town without anyone the wiser. She swallowed back a sigh. Some things never changed—like “the mayor” knowing her every move…even before she did.

Tall, broad and dark, he resembled a bad-boy more than a rancher. He wore scuffed cowboy boots, a black T-shirt tucked into tight, faded button-fly jeans and the same battered Stetson, with the brim tilted low over his forehead to block the late-afternoon sun.

Good heavens, the man was a looker. The driver swung the bus in a wide arc until the front end faced the street. Her attention remained on the lone figure by the truck. His powerful physique lent him an air of authority. Not that he needed an air. He came by his demanding, bossy nature naturally.

When the bus stopped, she slipped her purse over her shoulder and grabbed her backpack from under the seat in front of her. She was the only fool getting off in Nowhere.

Marilyn Monroe smacked her gum. “Go get him, honey.”

Heather’s heart thumped. But it had nothing to do with the rancher’s sex appeal and everything to do with his temper. With steady steps she made her way to the front of the bus, her fingernails sinking like talons into the cushioned seat backs.

You shouldn’t have hung up on him.

A tiny voice in her head insisted it wasn’t too late to turn back, reclaim her seat and ride to the next town, to forget proving anything to anyone. Royce would finally be able to wash his hands of her, and she’d never have to set foot in Nowhere again.

Stupidly, she ignored the voice.

No matter how afraid she was of the answer, she couldn’t walk away from the chance to finally learn why Royce had ended their relationship before it had even had a chance to get off the ground.

And while she was unearthing the past, she might as well show the good folks of Nowhere that Heather Henderson had changed for the better. As she neared the door she cringed inwardly. You’re in for the fight of your life.

When her shoes hit the pavement, a gust of hot wind smacked her in the face and blasted her loose hair six inches in the air. Her legs jiggled like cooked noodles, and she locked her knees, refusing to appear weak in front of her nemesis. She shielded her eyes from the sun’s glare while the driver unloaded the two suitcases and two boxes of college mementos she’d brought home with her.

A bead of perspiration trickled between her breasts. Royce’s relaxed pose didn’t fool her. He’s ticked. Obviously, she wouldn’t be receiving a warm mayoral welcome and the key to the city.

The bus driver shut and locked the storage door. “Have a nice stay, ma’am.”

She mumbled a quick thank-you. A second later, the motor coach shifted gear, belched a cloud of black exhaust and drove off leaving…

Her.

And him.

And the sweltering June heat.

He wore mirrored shades, but a sixth sense told her he looked her straight in the eye.

In one smooth motion, he removed the glasses. From fifteen feet away his hot brown glare threatened to melt her. If he were any closer, she’d burst into flames.

“Heather.”

Oh, man. He was more than ticked. His lips hadn’t moved when he spoke.

She lifted her chin. “Royce.”

“I thought I told you to stay put.”

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and wiggled in indignation. “You should realize by now I don’t listen too well.”

He rubbed a hand across his brow, and Heather almost felt sorry for him.

“You’re bound and determined to take the store on?”

“Yes.”

“Until you get a better offer?”

Let him think that. If Royce were to find out why she was really in Nowhere, he’d hit the ground running. “Yes.”

He studied her as if he wanted more than her words as reassurance. “Where are you staying?” He asked the question warily, as if he feared she intended to move into his ranch house.

“I’d planned to live in the store.” Rent-free, no commute. Life couldn’t get any better. And a little distance between her and Royce was a good thing—just until he got used to her being around again.

“You can’t stay at the store. The place is a dump. Besides, where would you sleep?”

“There’s a large closet off the storeroom. I can fit a cot in there.”

“I saw the commode in the back, but what about bathing?”

Next thing, he’d be asking what she planned to do about toilet paper! “The storeroom has a showerhead.” She just hoped the water ran clear and didn’t come out all rusty and smelling like dead fish.

He fumed in silence, as if contemplating how to throw her over his shoulder and haul her back to College Station.

“Fine. We’ll take your things over to the store, then head out to the ranch. There’s an old bed in the attic you can have, and the mini fridge in the barn.”

No more arguing? Amazing. “Thanks. And if it’s all right with you, I’d like to get my car so I have a way to get around.”

“Your father’s truck wasn’t destroyed in the fire. It’s parked behind the store.”

She helped Royce load her luggage and the boxes into the pickup bed, then hopped in on the passenger side. “I’ll use the truck for business and the Mustang for pleasure.” She flashed a smile across the seat.

Frowning, he turned the key and the motor roared to life. “You’re sure about this?”

She crossed her fingers. “Absolutely.”

“I hope to hell you know what you’re doing, Heather.”

So do I, Royce. So do I.

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