LITMIR.BIZ

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wind-driven snowflakes pelting her face.

      That was it? A coolly polite “thank you kindly for your help”? She took another step back, absently glancing down at the frosty ground—and spied a pint-size mitten lying half-buried in the snow. She knelt to pick it up with a trembling hand.

      But before she could return it to its diminutive owner, the truck started—and the man whose life she’d all but ruined drove away.

      Whoa. Trey gave a low whistle as he and the girls headed out of town to his brother and sister-in-law’s place, the windshield wipers battling the pummeling snow.

      Kara Dixon. Hadn’t bargained on that one tonight.

      He’d been in and out of Canyon Springs the past several months and knew she’d returned at Thanksgiving. Heard she was an interior designer with some big firm in Chicago. Had even glimpsed her a few times, helping her mother out of a car at the grocery store. Unloading boxes at the Warehouse. Dashing coatless across the street to Camilla’s Café.

      He’d intentionally kept his distance—even stayed away from town most weekends—but she wasn’t a woman who’d be easily overlooked. Not with that toned figure and long, red-blonde mane of hers caught up in a ponytail. Strawberry blonde. That’s how his sister-in-law described it. And Kara was model-tall and leggy, too, like a thoroughbred. He’d forgotten how it initially amused his seventeen-year-old self that ill-fated night when, in a sassy show of bravado, she’d walked right up to him, all but able to look him straight in the eye.

      Just like her old man did to him now.

      Well, maybe not just like. Her father’s blustery shot at intimidation didn’t send his heart galloping off like a wild mustang or his brain hurtling into a bottomless, fog-filled canyon. Didn’t make his mouth go as dry as the Sonoran desert before summer monsoons kicked in.

      Trey took a deep breath, still reliving the shock of turning to face her. No, he hadn’t bargained on running into Kara up close and personal. And he sure hadn’t bargained on feeling as if he’d collided with rock-hard Mother Earth, compliments of an irritable bronc. Even after all this time, even after what she’d done to him, he couldn’t shake the impact of those beautiful gray eyes.

      He let out a gust of pent-up breath. What was wrong with him anyway? He wasn’t a kid anymore with a crush on the prettiest girl he’d ever seen—yet his heart was doing a too-familiar do-si-do, the rhythm beckoning him back through time.

      He slammed the heel of his hand into the rim of the steering wheel, startling his dog, Rowdy, who rode shotgun on the seat next to him. He gave the Gordon setter-collie mix a reassuring pat and a feathered tail wagged in understanding.

      Kara. No way was he going down that road again. He’d come back to town to lay the past to rest, not resurrect it. Thank the good Lord it sounded like she didn’t plan to linger much longer. Just popping in to check on her mom. He needed to stay focused on the business at hand. Business, in fact, that Li’l Ms. Dixon wasn’t going to be much pleased about once word got around. Which it eventually would in a tiny place like this.

      In spite of himself, his mind’s eye drifted to that long-ago night that now once again seemed like yesterday. The look in her eyes. The sweet scent of her hair. How she felt in his arms…

      “Uncle Trey, why did you drive past our road?”

      The accusing voice of his older niece carried from the shadowed recesses of the backseat, jerking him into the here and now.

      “Just takin’ the scenic route.” He glanced into the rearview mirror at Mary, all the while racking his memory as to how much farther he’d have to drive to turn around with the empty trailer hitched to the back.

      Kara Dixon was already messing with his mind.

      “It’s dark.” Mary’s petulant voice came again. “I want to go home.”

      She sounded as tired as he was. Three days playing both Mom and Dad had just about done him in. One more day to go.

      “Your wish is my command, princess.”

      “I’m your princess?”

      “You know it.”

      He glanced again at Mary, then over his shoulder at Missy and smiled. Sound asleep. He’d drive all night if it would keep her snoozing. What a day. He shouldn’t have dragged them all the way to Holbrook this afternoon to look at that pony.

      Seemed like a good idea at the time, but that was before a stronger cold front plowed into the region. Before he’d discovered the advertised pinto was an ill-tempered beast, certainly nothing he’d want his nieces having anything to do with. Then there had been the diaper dealings. A lesson learned the hard way. No, not a day he cared to relive anytime soon. His sister-in-law would laugh her head off.

      It was just as well, though, that the trip was a bust. His brother would have killed him if he’d bought the girls a pony. With the parsonage remodel in town coming along on schedule, Jason and his wife wouldn’t be staying at the cabin and acreage out in the boonies much longer. Which meant, too, he needed to give serious thought about what to do with himself. There wouldn’t be any space at the parsonage for a tagalong brother.

      At least he’d soon be able to move his horses to the equine center he and a group of investors were renovating. Last week his working-from-home office assistant had submitted the final documents for a permit to board his horses, so at least he didn’t have to worry about that. Just needed to find office space until the facility’s remodel was completed—and a place to throw down his bedroll until a house caught his fancy.

      A couple of miles farther on, he pulled into the snowy, graveled lot of a long-abandoned bait and tackle shop. He got himself turned around and headed back in the right direction.

      “What was that lady’s name, Uncle Trey?” Mary piped up again.

      “What lady is that? The pony woman?”

      “No. The pretty one. Who was holding Missy.”

      He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Her name’s Kara Dixon. We went to high school together.”

      “Did you kiss her?”

      Memory flashed with an accompanying kick to his gut. Yes, he’d kissed her. Once. And fool that he was, a million other times in his dreams.

      “Mommy said Daddy kissed her in high school when they were sixteen—on Valemtime’s Day—and then they got married.”

      He smiled at her mispronunciation of the holiday.

      “How old are you, Uncle Trey?”

      “You’re awfully full of questions tonight, squirt.”

      “Mommy says you need to kiss a girl and get married so you’ll stay in Canyon Springs.”

      “Your mommy—” He stopped himself. Nothin’ he’d like better than to settle down close to “his girls.” That was the plan, but he didn’t want to set Mary up for disappointment if it didn’t work out. No point either in attempting to enlighten a four-year-old on his thoughts regarding the relentless mission of his sister-in-law. Except for the one date he’d managed to pull off behind her back, he’d steered clear of Reyna’s match-making, and females in general, since his return to town.

      He didn’t need her hounding him about Kara Dixon. No siree. He wanted no part of the grown-up version of the girl from his past. The gray-eyed gal with a kissable mouth—who’d left him sittin’ high and dry when the cops showed up.

      Chapter Two

      “Where’d you get this darling little thing, doll?”

      “What?” Jerked from her Trey-troubled thoughts, Kara looked up from the breakfast table. Her mother, Sharon Dixon, stood in the kitchen doorway waving the Kenton girl’s pink mitten.

      She must have dropped it when she’d hung her coat on the enclosed

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