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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

       CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

       CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

       CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

       EPILOGUE

       Extract

       Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

      ALL THINGS CONSIDERED, Emily Parker would rather be at the cemetery.

      Instead, she pointed her truck in the direction of the Silver Saddle because when her sister, Molly, got an idea in her head, she was like a pit bull with a bone. Today that bone was dancing, and she’d cornered Emily into going along.

      “You can go to the cemetery any ol’ time. All those dead people aren’t going anywhere.” Molly pulled down the passenger-side visor and smoothed on bright red lipstick.

      As if Molly needed any help channeling her inner hussy. “A little respect, please. Some of them might be our relatives. I have a lot of gravestones to inspect if I ever want to complete the Parker family tree.”

      Emily pulled into the gravel parking lot filled with cars and eased her truck into a space in the back. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. There might be men in there. There would certainly be plenty of smart women glancing in her direction and whispering. Did you hear? Poor Emily. She didn’t see it coming, but maybe she should have. After all, didn’t everyone?

      “Awesome. Friday night and this place is crazy.” Molly unclicked her seat belt. “What are you waiting for?”

      Emily didn’t move as she glanced out the windshield from the safe place inside the cab of her truck. Couples were milling around the entrance, fools on a quest for the impossible. “I’m not so sure about this.”

      “Why not? You’re not still on the giving-up-men thing, are you? I thought you were kidding.”

      “You know, there are more important things in life than men.” Emily fiddled with her keys, still safely in the ignition. She hadn’t made any firm commitments to getting out of this truck.

      “Name one.”

      Think, Emily, think. “Family, of course.” There was more, but she didn’t work well under pressure.

      Molly scowled. “Fine, but you can’t do the really fun stuff without a man.”

      Spoken from a woman who loved men a bit too much. “What did being man-crazy ever get you?”

      “Don’t start with me. I swear the condom broke. Why won’t you believe me?” Molly slapped the dashboard, reminding Emily of the little girl she’d once been, raising hell wherever she went. The red hair fair warning to anyone crazy enough to tangle.

      The fact that Molly was seven years younger than Emily and already had a child shouldn’t have bothered Emily. Except, sometimes it did. As usual, Molly didn’t appreciate what she had.

      “Let’s not talk about this now.” Emily resisted the urge to pound her head on the steering wheel.

      “You brought it up. You might want to be a mom, but that doesn’t mean every girl wants that.”

      “Who says I want to be a mom?” When Molly got mad she tried to hurt anyone within spitting distance. Pulling the keys out of the ignition, Emily grabbed her purse, opened the door and leapt out of the truck. She needed to blow a little steam off now, thanks to her bratty sister.

      “Well, your biological clock is ticking.” Molly followed.

      “It. Is. Not. Ticking!” Emily could give as good as she got with her sister, even if her blond hair wasn’t the slightest shade of red. Even if she’d always had to look out for the little squirt.

      “You’re twenty-eight. I think it’s started to tick.”

      “Twenty-eight is the new eighteen.”

      “What does that mean?”

      “It means if fifty is the new forty, and forty is the new thirty, then what the hell do you think the new twenty-eight is?” Emily spoke loud enough some of the patrons hanging outside the entrance turned to stare at them.

      Emily grabbed her sister’s hand and pulled her toward the entrance. “I’m doing this on one condition. All we’re doing is dancing, and then we’re going home. Alone. I don’t go home with anybody, and neither do you.”

      As the big sister, it was Emily’s duty to remember Molly only served up her parade of big hits when she hurt inside. Sooner or later Emily would have to figure out what bug had curled up inside Molly this time and probably help her with it, too. But for now, Denial was a river they would drown in together.

      Opening the door to the Silver Saddle felt a little like opening death’s door. A bit like entering a battlefield without armor. No self-respecting woman would do that, and yet, Emily was here.

      Bertha, the broken mechanical bull, sat in the corner, warning the games were about to begin. From somewhere within, Emily drew a deep breath and placed an imaginary shield on her chest. There. Let someone get through that.

      “Hey, it’s the Parker girls.” Thomas Aguirre sidled up to Molly. Everyone knew he’d had a crush on her since third grade.

      Emily shoved her body between them. “We’re here to dance. And nothing else. Right, Molly?”

      “Right.” Molly may have said what Emily wanted to hear, but her eyes said Open for Business.

      “How about this dance?” Thomas didn’t even wait for a reply as he grabbed Molly’s hand and pulled her onto the dance floor. Molly shoved her purse in Emily’s hands before going far too willingly onto the crowded dance floor.

      Emily had just wandered over to the bar and checked their purses in with the bartender when Jimmy Hopkins, the bar’s owner, appeared at her elbow. “Hey, girl. How about a dance?”

      As luck would have it, Jimmy was a harmless sweetheart. Best of all, he was engaged to one of her oldest friends, Trish. He’d recently taken six months’ worth of dance lessons in preparation for their wedding, and Trish let him dance with any willing girl for the extra practice.

      Maybe she could manage to dance with Jimmy all night. “You got it.”

      Jimmy spun her around the dance floor. Without a doubt, he was the best dancer in the place. Every other guy was shuffling his feet around and grabbing his partner’s ass. This was going to work out better than she could have hoped. No ass-grabbing for Emily.

      “Hey, are you okay, hon?” Jimmy asked between turns.

      “I’m all right.” As long as she didn’t pay attention to the whispers, and with Jimmy it was easy. “I wish everyone would stop talking about me.”

      “They have nothing better to talk about. This year’s been rather lean with scandal.”

      “Henry stopped peeing on the gazebo?” Henry Turner, the town drunk, did his business where and when he wanted. Lately he seemed to favor the gazebo in the town square, and their mayor was up in arms about it. Apparently she wanted a new town resolution against public urination, as if the old one wasn’t good enough.

      “Think he’s moved on to greener pastures, pardon the pun.” Jimmy winked.

      “It would help if you and Trish would finally set a date,” Emily said. “Maybe wedding talk would keep them busy for a while.”

      “Are you kidding? Trish still hasn’t decided on the venue, much less picked a date.”

      “You

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