LITMIR.BIZ

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emotion washing over him. He’d been fairly tight with Cole and Jesse. They were close in age and shared many of the same interests. But with Trace, the bond was different.

      He’d been a baby when Ben moved to the Sundance. Trace had grown up thinking of Ben as his older brother, often confiding in him instead of Cole or Jesse. The day Ben had told him he was leaving, Trace had punched a door and broken his hand.

      Cole and Jesse joined them, only briefly. After the handshaking was done, the photographer asked them to move a few tables.

      Trace left the task to his older brothers and nodded at Ben’s empty flute. “You don’t have to drink that champagne crap. Here.” With a grin, Trace offered him a longneck. “We saved the good stuff for immediate family.”

      Ben accepted the beer, saw Trace’s jeans and cowboy boots, and laughed.

      Trace tugged at the lapel of his tux jacket. “Rachel hasn’t noticed yet.” He looked guiltily over his shoulder. “I didn’t know she wanted more pictures so I went inside and changed. As long as that photographer dude shoots from the waist up, it shouldn’t matter.”

      Ben shook his head. “She’s gonna kick your ass.”

      “I know. If she doesn’t, Nikki will.”

      “Your girlfriend?”

      Trace shrugged. “In three months, we’ll be getting hitched, too, so she’s a little more than that, I guess.”

      “Ya think?” Ben’s laughter turned a few heads.

      “Nice. Get me in trouble,” Trace said, glancing around. “By the way, the Porsche...yours or a rental?”

      “I bought it last year and got ticketed twice in three weeks.”

      “Only twice?” Trace took a pull of his beer. “You gonna let me take it for a spin?”

      “You finally learn how to use a clutch?”

      Ben waited for Trace to remember the driving lessons. Teaching a twelve-year-old to drive hadn’t been one of his wiser ideas.

      Trace winced. “Ah, man, that was humiliating.”

      The second time he’d gotten behind the wheel of the ranch’s old Ford, Trace had clipped a tree and smashed the side mirror. Ben had taken the blame rather than admit his stupidity.

      “You still owe me,” he said. “Your dad made me pay for the repair out of my salary.”

      “Yep, I do. I’ll even tack on interest.”

      Ben smiled. “I had no business letting you drive.” He flashed back to another day, another time, and took a gulp of beer. “I didn’t know about your dad,” he said quietly. “About the cancer, or that he’d passed away. I found out much later.”

      “I know.” Trace clapped him on the back. “Everyone knew you would’ve come back if you’d heard in time.”

      “My fault for not keeping in touch.” Ben surprised himself with the admission. He’d always felt his mom was to blame for everything that was wrong in his life. Her claim that she’d run from abuse didn’t completely add up. Why isolate herself and her kids from her own family? Ben didn’t know his grandparents. Or where he was born. Or if he had uncles, aunts and cousins.

      It was one thing to lie to a couple of kids, but once they’d turned eighteen, he and Claudia had a right to know, even if the truth was messy. Hilda’s silence was a barrier he’d never been able to cross. The longer his mother continued to lie to them, the more convinced Ben became that she was hiding the truth not just about their father, but also about herself. Why else would she keep her silence? The man was dead.

      “Ben?” Trace’s tone indicated it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get Ben’s attention. “Rachel wants us. The photographer’s waiting.”

      “She wants you, not me.”

      “Wanna bet?”

      “Benedicto,” Rachel’s voice carried over the murmurs of the bridal party who’d gathered near the stage. “Get over here.”

      “See?” Trace grumbled. “Still bossy as hell.”

      Ben had to smile. He gave Rachel a small shake of his head, and her glare turned pleading.

      “For what it’s worth, your mom’s busy in the kitchen,” Trace said quietly, then strolled toward the waiting group.

      Ben glanced at Katy and the other bridesmaids eyeing him as if he were a juicy steak. Normally, he’d already have decided on his companion for later. But he was restless, edgy.

      And there was Grace to consider. Something about her quiet beauty and wit appealed to him. Add the fact that she was a refreshing challenge. She hadn’t flirted with him once. He turned to see if he should pick up another drink for her. She could probably tempt him into...

      She wasn’t where he had left her.

      He looked toward the house, then panned across a group of women huddled near the bar. Grace wasn’t among them. He could tell they were local women, though none he recognized. A pair of older cowboys carrying guitars emerged from a row of parked trucks.

      Ben squinted at a blur of movement behind them and caught a glimpse of her. Only for a second. He waited a moment, watching to see if maybe she’d gone to get something out of her car. A minute later, a silver compact drove out the driveway.

      Disappointment settled like a weight on his shoulders. He shrugged it off. Now wasn’t the time for a hookup, anyway. Especially not with the local law. He had too much crap swirling in his head. He craned his neck for a look at the Porsche. He’d parked it between the stable and a tree, where another vehicle couldn’t fit. He didn’t need his doors getting dinged.

      Arriving late had been by design. He’d wanted everyone to see him driving the Porsche, prove to them he wasn’t a charity case. Yet he’d forgotten all about the damn thing until Trace had mentioned it.

      Ben drew air deep into his lungs. Nothing was going the way he’d expected. And he’d prepared for plenty...anger, resentment, even nerves.

      But shit.

      He’d never expected to feel like he’d come home.

      * * *

      GRACE GRABBED KEYS out of her desk drawer and holstered her gun. She didn’t have to look at Danny and Roy to know they were smirking like a couple of jackasses. They did every time she brought out her Glock, as if they’d never seen a woman carry a gun before. Scary to think those two were actually deputies.

      “So, how did you enjoy the party last night?” Roy asked, leaning back in his chair, his fingers locked behind his head, his round belly straining his uniform shirt.

      She’d been waiting for him to mention the reception. Just to cause trouble. “It was great.”

      “You left early.”

      Grace raised her brows. “I hope your wife didn’t notice you were keeping track of me. She might get the wrong idea.”

      Danny chuckled, and Roy shot him a dirty look.

      “Tell me something, Grace,” Roy said, “why do you suppose that you, being a newcomer and all, got an invite to the wedding and Danny, Wade and Gus didn’t?”

      Of course this was about her being the mayor’s niece. “I guess you’ll have to ask Rachel or Matt that question.” She set her blue ball cap on her head.

      “Quit wearing that stupid thing. Get yourself a Stetson so you look like a real deputy,” Danny said and abruptly swung his boots off the desk.

      “Oh, I should emulate you two so I can fit in?” She turned for the door, muttering under her breath, “Maybe if I lost fifty IQ points.”

      Noah was standing in the open doorway, not six feet away.

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