LITMIR.BIZ

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that piece of information with him.

      “Why now?”

      “Good question.” She stared into the distance. “Probably motive and opportunity. I’ve been too busy to go out of my way. And I guess I just didn’t want to.”

      “Why didn’t you keep his last name?”

      “Adams?” She looked at him and thought for a moment. “I’m not sure. Maybe because we were only married a year. Maybe because my folks didn’t approve of us running off. Maybe because I never changed any of my legal documents.”

      Because they’d traveled to rodeos all over the country, she’d never bothered to change her name on her driver’s license or with the social security department. And then she’d lost him. It was too late.

      “How long has it been since you’ve been back to Destiny?” he asked.

      “About six months. I was here for the holidays.”

      “I didn’t know that.”

      “It seems I never run into you on my visits home. I guess Kasey and Stacey and the ranch keep you pretty busy.”

      “Those girls could use a full-time bodyguard,” he agreed. “But the fact that I haven’t seen you, at least in a professional capacity, is good news. That means I never had to run you in for disturbing the peace.”

      He grinned suddenly and she was grateful to be sitting down. The humor transformed his face, chasing away the frown lines and seriousness. Oh, my. Cool, calm and detached, he was attractive enough to earn the attention of card-carrying man haters. But the amused expression he wore now made him downright devastatingly gorgeous.

      She swallowed the sudden thickness in her throat. “As an officer of the court, getting arrested for anything wouldn’t be good.”

      “True enough. So how do you like being back? What do you think of the changes Taylor’s made on the Circle S?”

      Question number one translated: Do you still have feelings for Mitch Rafferty, the guy you dumped before marrying Zach? Subtext of question number two: Do you resent the fact that your little sister has turned the family ranch into a Texas-style bed-and-breakfast?

      She decided to ignore number one and go to question two. “I’m so proud of Taylor I could just bust. She’s done a terrific job. There’s no doubt in my mind that the dude ranch will be very successful for her.”

      After their father’s death from a heart attack, her younger sister had taken on a mortgage to buy out Jensen and their mother, financing her retirement to Dallas. To pad her profit margin in case of natural disasters or a drop in beef prices, Taylor had followed her dream of taking in guests to show them the joy and excitement of the Western lifestyle. Based on advance reservations, she was going to be wildly successful.

      “What about Mitch?” Grady’s eyes held a gleam of interest.

      Jensen wanted to forget how young and stupid she’d been when she’d selfishly hurt Mitch. But he and Mitch were friends. Of course he would care.

      “We talked the day I arrived and worked everything out. I apologized for my youthful stupidity and he graciously accepted. Then I gave him my blessing to court Taylor and welcomed him to the family.”

      “Why?”

      “Does the word duh mean anything to you, Sheriff? I think your powers of deduction need some fine-tuning.”

      “Could you be more specific?”

      “Mitch is in love with Taylor.”

      “No…”

      “He always has been.”

      “I don’t believe it.”

      “Cross my heart,” she said, doing just that. “I know what I’m talking about. He had a chip on his shoulder when we dated, but he could always talk to my sister. I think they’ve had a thing for each other since way back when. If I hadn’t handled things so badly all those years ago, he might not have left town. The two of them would have gotten together a lot sooner.”

      “They’re not together now—”

      A loud crackling noise over the public address system interrupted him. Then the weirdly echoing sound of an obviously open microphone filled the stands.

      “I love you, Mitch.”

      Jensen raised an eyebrow. She couldn’t see the two, but she recognized her sister’s voice.

      “Now the damn mike works.” The voice was definitely Mitch’s and more than a little exasperated. Then there was a click and the PA system was shut off.

      Jensen couldn’t resist flashing a smug smile at Grady. “That was Taylor and I rest my case.”

      “You win, Counselor.”

      She wouldn’t call herself a winner—especially in love. But she couldn’t be happier that Taylor had finally declared her feelings for Mitch. It was way past time for her to get it right with the man she’d loved since she was fourteen years old.

      Grady studied the beautiful woman to his right. Jensen Stevens was a male fantasy in a floral cotton sundress. She was a tiny little thing, five foot two if she was an inch. Her red-highlighted brown hair tickled her shoulders with every lively movement of her head. Big, expressive green eyes regarded him in a completely self-satisfied way and for the life of him he couldn’t work up the will to care.

      Grady followed her gaze as it shifted. She was looking down at Mitch and Taylor, who were strolling off by themselves, talking earnestly, with their arms around each other’s waists as they stared deeply into one another’s eyes.

      “They win,” she said wistfully.

      “I guess so.”

      If Jen was right, Mitch and Taylor had been in love for a long time. Grady hoped his friends would find couple happiness, even if he didn’t believe it existed. He’d never experienced the emotion himself.

      “I saw your twins earlier. Kasey and Stacey are completely adorable. You must be very proud of them.”

      He thought about his girls, and a warm feeling filled him. They were his life. So he stood corrected. He knew deep-down, put-your-life-on-the-line love, just not the romantic kind.

      “Yeah. I think I’ll keep them around.”

      “You may be peeling them off the ceiling tonight.” Jensen clasped her fingers together in her lap.

      “Why?”

      “I fed them cotton candy, red punch, red vines and red hots.”

      “You have the right to remain silent. If you give up that right, I’ll know who to blame. You fed them sugar and red stuff at the same time?”

      “Guilty as charged.”

      “Why?”

      She shrugged. “Because they wanted it.”

      “Do I need to read you your rights before I run you in?”

      “On what charge?”

      “Contributing to the hyperactivity of minors.” He snapped his fingers. “I believe in making the punishment fit the crime. Why don’t you come over and help me put them to bed?”

      “Ooh. You are devious,” she said. “The perfect father for future teenage twins.” Her teasing look faded and was replaced by pensive. “How do you do it?”

      “What?”

      “Raise them alone. You must miss Lacey.”

      Lacey Miller O’Connor. His wife. She’d died right after the twins were born—complications of childbirth. He rested his other boot on the metal bleacher seat, then twirled his hat in his hands.

      He thought about how to respond. “She

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