LITMIR.BIZ

      Contents

       Cover

       Introduction

       Title Page

       About the Author

       Dedication

      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

       Chapter Sixteen

       Extract

       Copyright

       Chapter One

      It was a bitterly cold early October morning. The temperature gauge on Dallas O’Brien’s dashboard read 17 degrees, beneath a gray sky thick with clouds.

      As it turned out, the Lone Star State had a temper and its tantrums came in the form of cold snaps that made him miss having a winter beard. Dallas hated cold.

      Yesterday, the sun had been out and he had been in short sleeves. Texas weather—like life—could turn on a dime.

      Another frigid breeze blasted through Dallas, piercing his coat as he slid out of the driver’s seat and then closed the door of his pickup. He flipped up the corners of his collar. Since there was no traffic, he’d made it to the supply store in record time. Normally the place would be open, but Jessie had been running late ever since his wife gave birth to twins early last month.

      A car tooled around the back of the building and across the parking lot. Was that Kate Williams, the proud owner of the soup kitchen, The Food Project? Dallas hadn’t had a chance to meet her yet, with everything going on at the ranch after his parents’ deaths.

      A female came out of the driver’s side, rounded the car and moved to the rear passenger door. From this distance, Dallas estimated she wasn’t an inch more than five and a half feet tall. He couldn’t see much of her figure through her thick, buttoned-to-the-collar, navy blue peacoat. Her cable-knit scarf looked more like an afghan wrapped around her neck. He suppressed a laugh. Apparently, she didn’t do cold any better than Dallas.

      From what little he could see of her legs, she had on blue jeans. Furry brown boots rose above her calves. She wore expensive clothing for someone who owned a soup kitchen. And apparently—Dallas glanced at his watch—that process began at five thirty in the morning.

      This had to be her, he reasoned, as she pulled a baby out of the backseat, bundled from head to toe in what looked like a fitted blue quilt. Blue.

      A boy?

      Didn’t that twist up Dallas’s insides?

      First, his ex Susan Hanover had dropped the bomb that he was going to be a father. Then she’d pulled a disappearing act. And even the best private investigator money could buy hadn’t been able to locate her or the baby since.

      Knowing Susan, she’d been lying to trap him into a wedding ring. Dallas’s finger itched thinking about it.

      With her and the baby gone, all he had left were questions—questions that kept him tossing and turning most nights.

      What if she’d been lying? What if she hadn’t? What if Dallas had a child out there somewhere? What if his child needed him?

      Dallas would never be able to rest until he had answers.

      Walking away from a child wasn’t something an O’Brien could ever do. Dallas had already lost his parents, and family meant everything to him.

      As Ms. Williams closed the door to her vehicle, shivering in the cold, a male figure emerged from around the side of her building. The guy had on a hoodie and his face was angled toward the ground. His clothes were dirty, dark and layered. He was either homeless or trying to look the part.

      The guy glanced around nervously as he approached Ms. Williams.

      Didn’t that get Dallas’s radar jacked up to full alert? He strained to get a better view. Come on. Look up.

      All this guy would have to do would

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