LITMIR.BIZ

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      One

      “Damn you, old man.”

      Bitterness ripped through Chance Reilly as he stared at his father’s fresh grave. In life, Tom Reilly had cheated his son out of a happy childhood and a normal adolescence with his bullying and abuse.

      And now, in death, Tom had delivered the final blow to any hope Chance might have had of ever making peace with him, or of inheriting the Reilly ranch.

      Chance turned and gazed at the house in the distance. Even the shadows of approaching night couldn’t hide the neglect that clung to the place.

      The house cried out for a new coat of paint and the weeds were knee-high in places. And that was just the beginning. The barn door hung askew, several railings of the corral were lying on the ground and there was no livestock grazing in the pastures.

      Cars lined the drive, letting him know the place was still filled with sympathetic well-wishers and curious neighbors.

      He should go back inside and play the role of grieving, dutiful son, but he couldn’t just yet. It was difficult to grieve when anger and bitterness were ripping apart your soul.

      His gaze left the house and instead focused on his mother’s headstone next to his father’s final resting place. A lot of help she’d been, dying on him when he’d been eight years old and leaving him alone with “Sarge,” as his father had enjoyed being called.

      Sarge—who had run his house like an army barrack, who had never been afraid to use hurtful words and flying fists to emphasize a point.

      Emotion expanded in Chance’s chest and he fought against the suffocating tightness. When he’d gotten the word that his father had taken a turn for the worse, he’d left his motel room in Wichita, Kansas, and had caught the first plane he could get to reach Prosperino, California.

      However, his father, perverse to the end, passed away mere hours before Chance had arrived back home, making it impossible for father and son to resolve the acrimony that had marked their relationship for years.

      The funeral had been two hours before, and Walter Bishop, the family lawyer, had only a brief time before delivered the last of the bad news to Chance.

      “Damn you,” he said again. “You were a miserable man who spent your whole life making me miserable.”

      “Chance?”

      He whirled around at the low, female voice, angry at the intrusion.

      He relaxed a bit as he saw Lana Ramirez approach, her long black skirt fluttering around her ankles as the early autumn breeze played with the material.

      “Are you all right?” she asked as she reached where he stood on the edge of the old family cemetery.

      Although Chance and Lana had seen each other on the day he’d arrived back into town, that moment had been brief and Chance had immediately had to deal with funeral arrangements for his father.

      “Sure, I’m fine.” He willed away any lingering emotion that had momentarily gripped him. There was no way he’d show anyone the feelings that had possessed him since coming back to this ranch.

      She moved closer, near enough that he caught the scent of her, a wild floral fragrance that stirred old memories. She’d worn that particular perfume years ago, when he’d first met her at the Colton ranch, where Chance had lived for a year when he’d been sixteen and Lana had been thirteen.

      Someplace in the back of his mind he registered that she had grown up to be a lovely woman. Her Mexican heritage was evident in the raven-black of her hair and the darkness of her eyes. It was a quiet, understated beauty she didn’t try to emphasize with an abundance of makeup.

      Chance once again focused on the mound of dirt before them. “How did you put up with him?” he asked, then looked at her again.

      Her full lips curved just a bit into a half smile. “I’m a nurse, Chance. I’m accustomed to dealing with difficult

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