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would like their guest house back soon. The idea was that I’d stay there until I found a job. And since I have a job now,” he added calmly, “it’s time for me to move out.”

      “If I choose to offer you this position,” she told him with a brief show of spirit, though both of them knew she was ready to give in, “where would you move? There aren’t a lot of rental places available in Crystal Creek, you know.”

      “I already talked to June Pollock,” he said. “We were neighbors as kids, and we’ve always been friends. She has a big old house down by the river, with a nice second-floor apartment she’s willing to rent out. So I’ll just go over there and tell her—”

      “June Pollock?” the woman interrupted him. Her air of cool reserve had deserted her for a moment and she looked almost panicky. “You’re planning to live in the Pollock house?”

      “Why not?” Jim fitted his hat on his head and paused by the door, watching her curiously. “Is that against some kind of school regulation?”

      “Of course not. It’s just that…” The principal bit her lip and looked down at her hands, folded tensely on the desktop. “I happen to…I live in June Pollock’s house myself, in the third-floor apartment.”

      “No kidding?” He stared at her in astonishment. “Well, I didn’t know that, Ms. Osborne. June never said a word about it.”

      “June’s not exactly what you’d call a chatty person,” Lucia said dryly.

      “No,” he agreed. “June’s not chatty.” He smiled at her bent head, and the delicate line of her neck with its glossy tendrils of short hair. “So you live there, too. I’ll be damned.”

      “Mr. Whitley…”

      “It’ll be fun,” he told her with an easy grin. “You can make friends with my dog and take her for walks. We’ll have popcorn in the evening and play Scrabble. I’m a hell of a Scrabble player, you know.”

      “I’m afraid we’ll do nothing of the sort.” She gave him a cold, dismissive glance designed to chill any man right to the bone. “I’ll call you if I decide to offer you the job, Mr. Whitley.”

      Jim responded with another sunny grin and tipped his hat at her, then moved toward the door.

      “Mr. Whitley,” she said behind him.

      “Yes, ma’am?” He paused and turned.

      “Which is it this time?”

      “I beg your pardon?”

      “You said you tended to stop traveling and teach school for a year whenever you felt lazy or had been injured. I wondered which of those might be the case at this moment.”

      “I got a real nasty groin pull at the Mesquite rodeo last month when I was thrown from a bareback bronc. Couldn’t walk for two weeks, and it still hurts a lot. I won’t be in serious competitive shape again for months, probably not until spring.”

      “Oh.”

      Her glance dropped involuntarily to the crotch of his jeans, and his grin broadened when he saw the way her face turned bright pink with embarrassment.

      “It’s getting a lot better,” he said, trying to keep his voice sober. “As my prospective employer, you’ll be glad to know my injury doesn’t interfere with any important activities.”

      Her flush deepened. “Good day, Mr. Whitley,” she said coldly, looking away from his teasing smile. “I’ll call you as soon as I’ve spoken with the school board and reached a decision.”

      “Thanks. I’ll be waiting.” He let himself out of the office and strolled through the halls of the school to his truck, whistling softly.

      JIM SAT at the McKinney dinner table a few nights later, enjoying the warm ebb and flow of family conversation. Both Cal and his brother, Tyler, had brought their families to J.T.’s home for dinner, and the laughter of young children seemed to fill the big house.

      J. T. McKinney was in his element, presiding at the head of the table. As long as Jim had known him, the lean handsome rancher had been the heart and soul of Crystal Creek, the man they all looked up to and depended on.

      About seven years ago J.T. had suffered a scary heart attack, but his new young wife was taking great care of him and nowadays he looked as tanned and fit as ever.

      Not that Cynthia McKinney was either new, or all that young anymore.

      Jim smiled at his beautiful blond hostess across the table. Though not much older than her husband’s adult children, Cynthia had been married to J.T. for almost a decade and was in her mid-forties now, with a six-year-old daughter of her own. Jennifer was about the same age as J.T.’s lively brood of grandkids.

      Life at the Double C ranch was warm, happy and busy, full of family love and closeness. Sometimes being here made Jim feel a little wistful.

      He didn’t regret his years of travel and the things he’d seen and done. But there were moments when he found himself thinking about everything he was missing.

      “Jim, how did your interview go?” Cynthia asked.

      “Just fine, thanks.” He took a sip of fine Double C cabernet, made right here at the McKinney winery. “I think I’ve probably got the job, so I’ll be clearing out of your guest house soon.”

      “What job is that?” Cal’s wife, Serena, frowned at one of her twin sons who was sitting on the floor near her chair, trying to insert a whole stuffed toy into his mouth.

      “Jim’s applying for the vacant teaching job at the middle school,” Cynthia told the group. “He went to see Lucia Osborne on Monday.”

      Cal shuddered dramatically and punched his friend’s shoulder. “The Ice Lady? Poor ol’ Jim. That’s one chilly woman, you know. I could never warm her up, and God knows I tried.”

      His pretty wife glared at him, making Cal throw back his head and laugh aloud.

      “It was way before I married you, darlin’,” he assured Serena solemnly. “Back in the dark days of my youth.” Still grinning, he kissed her lustily in front of everybody.

      The table erupted in laughter while J.T. helped himself to another slice of lean roast beef under his wife’s watchful eye.

      “I’ve been hearing down at the Longhorn,” he said casually, “that Lucia Osborne might have more to worry about than hiring some broken-down rodeo cowboy to teach in her school.”

      “What else has she got to worry about?” Tyler’s wife asked, looking a little harried. Autumn was a busy time at the winery, and much of its operation was Ruth’s responsibility. “Lucia Osborne’s got no kids, no husband, no house to look after…”

      “And soon she may have no job, either.” J.T. poured a dribble of gravy on his beef, then smiled apologetically at his wife, who shook her head with gentle reproof.

      “No job?” Cal asked. “What’s that all about, Daddy? I thought Lucia was doing a great job at that school.”

      “She is, but it seems she’s made some enemies around town. And one of them,” he added grimly, “is that damn Gloria Wall.”

      “Gloria Wall is a small-minded, hypocritical troublemaker,” Ruth said firmly, surprising everyone. Tyler’s gentle wife didn’t normally make such harsh pronouncements.

      “Well, Ruthie,” Tyler said, grinning at her. “Now, honey, what brought that on?”

      Ruth looked down at her plate. “I just don’t like the woman. Remember back when we first started selling our wine, and Gloria got it into her head that we were getting uppity or something? She spread rumors all over the Hill Country that McKinney wine was made with musty grapes and could cause disease. It cut into our sales a whole lot the first year. I could never believe you all were so casual about it.”

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