LITMIR.BIZ

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Calhoun, his wife and twin sons took pride of place. A huge stone fireplace covered one wall and was adorned with a rustic Texas star. A wedding photo of Renee and Jack Calhoun graced the intricately carved wood mantel.

      Shay stared at the man—her father—and felt no emotion other than anger. How could she? She’d never known him. He’d kicked her mother out when he’d met Renee, his first wife, and wanted to remarry her. He didn’t even care that Blanche was pregnant.

      For so many years Shay had dreamed of being here, inside Southern Cross, to get a glimpse of where she should have been raised. But oddly, and fittingly, she felt out of place. This wasn’t Huckleberry Lane, where she lived with her mother and Darcy.

      Thoughts of the little girl filled her aching head. Darcy didn’t like being alone with Blanche, and Shay had to let her know she’d be back soon.

      “May I have my purse, please?”

      Renee and Chance exchanged a glance.

      “It was in your car,” the cowboy said.

      “I know. I need to make a call.”

      “You don’t remember?”

      “What?” Why was he talking as if she were five years old?

      “After I pulled you out, the Chevy sank into Crooked Creek. I’m sure everything in your purse is ruined.”

      Oh, no! She’d just paid off her car loan and now the vehicle was gone. A wave of regret washed over her. She should never have let Blanche talk her into this. Jack Calhoun was dead and nothing could change the past. Shay had to get out of here and fast.

      “What’s your name, sugar?” Renee asked in a kind, soothing voice. Shay hated that.

      Spit fire or something. Please don’t be nice. She caught the cowboy’s eyes. Chance Hardin’s concerned gaze was doing a number on her resolve. And her conscience.

      “Shay,” she replied, her voice low.

      “How pretty.” Renee patted her arm again. “For a pretty young lady.”

      For some reason tears stung the back of her eyes. Her mother had never called her pretty or ever paid her a compliment. The gesture coming from Renee Calhoun was almost too much, on top of everything else that happened on this horrendous day.

      “Thank you,” she managed to answer, before the sound of a siren startled her. “What’s that?”

      “An ambulance. You need medical attention. I’ll open the front door.”

      Renee walked away and Shay stared at Chance. She didn’t have any choice but to enlist his help—a Hardin’s help. Why did he have to be here?

      “Please, I’m fine. I don’t need an ambulance.”

      “You probably have a concussion.”

      She forced herself to sit up.

      He practically leaped to her side. “Whoa. You shouldn’t have done that.”

      She frowned, which made her head hurt that much more. “What?”

      “You shouldn’t have sat up until the paramedics arrived.”

      “I’m fine, really.” Brushing her hair from her face, she wondered what had happened to her hair clip. And she realized for the first time that she was wet. Damn! Chance must have saved her life. Just what she needed—more guilt. Forcing negative thoughts aside, she appealed to him. “I don’t have health insurance and I can’t afford an ambulance or a hospital bill.”

      The candor in her voice got to Chance—and the fear. What was she afraid of?

      “I’m sure you can make payment arrangements.”

      She laughed, a sound like a frightened child’s. “I don’t have any extra money and…” Her voice trailed off as two paramedics wheeled in a stretcher.

      One medic checked Shay’s pulse and blood pressure, then took her temperature. Next he removed Renee’s bandage and studied the cut. “Doesn’t look bad,” he said as he applied ointment and another bandage.

      “I’m fine,” Shay insisted.

      The man shone a small penlight into her eyes and asked her to follow his finger.

      While the paramedic continue to examine her, Chance moved away to speak to Renee. “She doesn’t have health insurance and doesn’t want to go to the hospital.”

      “Well, hell, I’ll pay the bill,” the older woman offered. “She needs help.”

      Shay overheard her and axed that idea immediately. “No. No. You’re not paying the bill. I’m fine. I’m not going to a hospital.”

      Renee pulled Chance farther aside and whispered, “What do you have in mind?”

      “Can she stay here tonight? I’ll get her a rental car first thing in the morning.”

      “If the paramedics say she’s okay, I don’t see why not.”

      The attendant stepped back with his hands on his hips. “It would be best to go to the hospital and get checked out.”

      “I’m fine, really,” Shay replied again in that nervous tone.

      “What do you think?” Chance asked the man.

      “She can focus and her eyes are clear, so I suppose if she refuses to go we can’t make her. But if she grows dizzy or passes out, you need to get her to a hospital.”

      “We will,” he promised.

      The medic looked at Shay. “Stay awake for a while and see your doctor as soon as possible.”

      “Okay.”

      As the ambulance left, Renee said, “Well, it looks as if I have a houseguest. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll get you some dry clothes.” She hurried away, her shoes tapping on the hardwood floor.

      Shay glanced at Chance, her eyes huge in her pale face. “Thank you.”

      She managed to look coy, inviting and desperate all at the same time. His heart knocked against his ribs like a bronc about to be broken. “You’re welcome.” He swallowed hard, this unexpected attraction hitting him like a sucker punch. His next words came out terse. “What’s your last name? And your auto insurance company?”

      “Excuse me?”

      “I’ll make some calls for you so I can get you a rental in the morning. But I need information.”

      She seemed to hesitate. “Stevens,” she finally answered. “But I’ll call my insurance company.”

      Fear still tinged her voice, and Chance knew something wasn’t quite right. “Fine. You can use the phone in your bedroom.”

      “Okay, but I really need to go home.”

      A reasonable request. Maybe he was making something out of nothing. “You said you wanted to call someone?”

      Shay chewed on a fingernail. “Yes. I’ll use the phone in the bedroom to check on my mother. She’s dying of lung cancer and a cousin takes care of her when I’m not there.”

      Chance was taken aback at the turmoil in the young woman’s life, and against his better judgment he could feel himself being pulled into her problems. Before he could form a response, the doorbell rang.

      He handed her his cell. “Call your mother. I’ll make sure you get home tomorrow.”

      “Thank you,” Shay replied, quickly punching in a number as he walked to the door.

      Walker stood on the threshold. “Is the woman okay?”

      Chance stepped out onto the veranda. “She’s a little shaken up and refuses to go to the E.R.”

      “The volunteer fire

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