LITMIR.BIZ

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the last time he’d come to Texas, shortly after the birth of Cash’s niece. That was over two years ago. And while one would never guess the man to be ninety, the telltale signs of age had grown more numerous. Lines revealed a man who loved the outdoors and age spots dotted his tanned skin.

      “How are you, Gramps?”

      His grandfather drew him into a warm embrace. “Even better now, son.” He clapped Cash on the back with a strength that belied his age. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you again.”

      Funny how he had to stoop to hug this man he once considered a giant. He still smelled of coffee and outdoors. Home.

      His grandfather released him.

      “And the bronchitis?”

      “Oh, I’m fine. Taryn there nursed me back to health with her homemade chicken soup.”

      “Good.” He looked around the familiar space where he’d spent so much of his childhood. “It’s good to be here. Thank you for inviting me.”

      Gramps sent him a stern look. “No invitation needed. You know you’re always welcome.”

      The moisture in the old man’s eyes tugged at Cash’s heart. Suddenly, he was glad he’d come. A few days in Ouray might do wonders for him. Who knows? He might even relax. Clear his head. And, with any luck, see a little snow.

      * * *

      First, darlin’, then beautiful.

      Taryn Purcell had heard those words before. And they made her skin crawl worse than nails on a chalkboard.

      It took all the restraint she could muster not to dump the cherry pie and other goodies she’d made onto Art Jenkins’s kitchen table. She loved the old man as much as her own grandfather, but his grandson left much to be desired.

      She huffed out a sigh. Cash Coble. A big name for a big man with an even bigger ego, no doubt. Was it just her or were all tall, good-looking Texans arrogant and condescending? Like a woman’s sole purpose was to cook and look good for her man.

      That’s probably how Cash preferred his women—in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant.

      Hmph. Bet Big Tex wouldn’t have the guts to strap on some crampons, grab an ax and scale some fat ice. Boy, she’d like to teach him a thing or two.

      “Taryn...” Mr. Jenkins’s voice drew closer.

      She turned as he entered the kitchen with his grandson. From his short blond hair to his boot-cut jeans and pointy cowboy boots, Cash had Texan written all over him. Right down to the swagger. And those dimples...

      Biting her lip, she shifted her attention to Scout, who was happily tucked under Cash’s arm, licking him as if the man was a side of beef. Scout was usually afraid of men. Even Mr. Jenkins had to bribe her with a treat before the mutt allowed him to pick her up. And he’d known her since she was a puppy.

      “You remember my grandson, Cash, don’t you?”

      She gripped the metal edge of the ancient Formica-topped table behind her and forced a smile. “I do. Not that we spent much time together.” Cash was five years older than her, the same age as her brother Randy. Guess that would make him thirty-two.

      Mischief glinted in Cash’s green eyes. “No, but I sure remember how you used to spy on Randy and me.”

      She squared her shoulders. “I was not spying.”

      “Aw, come on. Every time I turned around I’d see you ducking behind something.”

      He saw me?

      She lifted her chin, her trail shoes scraping across the worn gold-and-orange sheet vinyl. “Well, somebody had to make sure you two stayed out of trouble.”

      Turning her attention back to his grandfather, she said, “There’s a cherry pie—” she pointed to the foil-wrapped pastry “—and then here we have some banana nut bread, chocolate chip cookies and brownies.”

      The old man gave her a one-armed hug. “You sure know how to spoil a fella.”

      She kissed his weathered cheek. “Some people are simply worth spoiling.” Stepping back, her gaze inadvertently fell to Cash. True, she’d brought enough baked goods for two, though she never imagined she would actually run into Cash.

      Her heart skittered to a halt. Oh, no. He probably thought she was waiting for him to pull up before she brought this stuff over.

      Talk about lousy timing.

      “I...need to get back to the house.” She retrieved her Chihuahua-terrier mix from Cash’s muscular arms and hurried through the living room as if she had something burning in the oven. But she had to get out of here before she said or did something she’d regret.

      “Thank you, again,” Mr. Jenkins called behind her as she opened the door.

      “You’re welcome.” She squeezed Scout tighter and continued onto the porch and down the steps, feeling as though someone had sucked the air out of her lungs.

      Clouds covered the sun as she hurried to the Victorian house next door. She could only imagine what was going through Cash’s mind. Everyone knew what a huge crush she’d had on him as a kid. And seeing him now, that same sensation had wriggled through her once again. Then he called her darlin’.

      She stomped up the back steps. That single word was like a splash of icy water. The last time she fell for that line it had cost her far more than anyone knew.

      She nuzzled Scout’s wiry fur. “Can I get some sugar?” Some people thought her crazy for talking to her dog like a baby. But her brothers’ opinions weren’t of any concern to her. Besides, Scout was her baby and Taryn loved her every bit as much as her brothers loved their kids.

      Scout licked her nose.

      “Thank you.”

      Inside her parents’ kitchen, she set Scout on the wooden floor and shrugged out of her fleece vest. Cash still looked as amazing as she remembered. The only thing that had changed was that the good-looking boy had grown into a fine-looking man. The kind that knew how to make a woman feel special. Loved.

      That is, until he was finished with her.

      Like Brian.

      Gooseflesh prickled down her arms.

      I’m not totally heartless, darlin’.

      She tossed her vest over a hook near the door, slumped into one of six straight-back chairs surrounding the oak table and rubbed the chill away.

      If only her shame were so easy to erase.

      Cool air infiltrated the room as her mother, Bonnie Purcell, swept through the door with several grocery sacks.

      Taryn shoved to her feet. “Let me help you, Mom.”

      “Oh, thank you, honey.”

      She took the bags, settled them on the granite countertop—her mom’s big splurge when she had the kitchen remodeled last spring—and unloaded the items while her mother removed her jacket.

      “I see there’s an SUV parked in front of Art’s house. I wonder if Cash has arrived.”

      Scout’s nails clicked against the hand-scraped oak as she trotted across the kitchen to dance at her mom’s feet.

      Taryn focused on emptying the bags. If she let on that she’d been next door, her mother would home in on that and assume Taryn still had a crush on Cash.

      Her mom scooped up the dog, continuing toward Taryn and staring next door.

      She followed her mother’s gaze. “Uh, yeah. I saw him go inside.” Not a lie, just not full disclosure.

      “I bet Art is tickled to death.” Her mother turned her way, brushing her dark brown bangs to one side. “That boy has always held such a special place in his heart. I think

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