Niyol left the small diner not long after Margery did, finishing his coffee and paying his tab. He hadn’t meant to stay so long at the diner, and he knew Jill and Rose would be worried about him. In fact, he hadn’t meant to stop at all before arriving at the Twin Peaks Inn, but something about the sign for Cartwright Diner had captured his attention—perhaps its claim to have “the best coffee west of the Mississippi.”

Neither the coffee nor the company had disappointed, but he began to regret his decision to stop as soon as he got in his car and looked at his cell phone, finding four missed calls and a half-dozen text messages. Most were from Jill in varying degrees of worry and frustration, and the others were from Rose, asking him why he had a phone if he wasn’t going to answer it and reminding him that Jill was hormonal and panicky with the pregnancy.

Sighing, Niyol returned Rose’s call first, preferring to explain himself to someone who wasn’t currently being ruled by their glands.

She answered on the first ring. “I’m guessing you’re alive, then?”

“Yes, Rose, I’m fine. I stopped to eat and left my phone in the car.”

Rose scoffed. “I wasn’t planning on letting you starve, Niyol.”

“I didn’t want to impose,” he replied. “It was already too late for lunch when I got into town, so I thought it would be best if I ate before I came to the inn.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rose answered sharply. “Anyway, Jill’s worried sick about you.”

“I’m fine,” Niyol defended. He glanced at the time. It had only been two hours.

“She’s just tired and hormonal. I think she’s afraid you aren’t coming.”

“I’ll be there soon,” Niyol promised, feeling a little guilty for his annoyance. Of course, Jill would be a little high-strung. In the few months since he’d met his daughter, she’d gotten caught in a forest fire, gotten married, and was now pregnant. He figured that would make anyone anxious. “Will you let Jill know?”

“Of course. See you soon,” Rose chirped before hanging up the phone.

Niyol sighed and pulled out of the parking lot, his thoughts turning toward the diner’s pretty owner, Margery. She was short and cute with a womanly hourglass figure that would make most men stop for a second look and a slightly plump oval face that had smiled at him with sincerity. She’d worn her flaming red hair in a messy bun on top of her head, but Niyol suspected that when she let it down, it curled to her rounded hips. Freckles speckled her nose and cheeks, and bright blue eyes shone out on the world with a mischievous twinkle he’d noticed grow the longer they’d talked.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized her ex-husband’s combative presence had temporarily dimmed her usual brightness. Her ex’s blatant disrespect had bothered Niyol, and he had noticed he wasn’t the only one. Many a dark look had followed Margery’s aggressive ex-husband out the door. It was clear that the townspeople of Springvale loved Margery and didn’t appreciate her ex making her upset or uncomfortable. It wasn’t difficult to see how Margery had earned the town’s love and respect. She was kind and nurturing to every person who walked into her diner, and Niyol had enjoyed talking with her.

He felt a slight pang of guilt when he realized just how much he had enjoyed talking with Margery. It had been well over twenty years since his wife—Jill’s mother—Josephine, had passed away, but Niyol had loved her fiercely. There were some things you just never got over, and the death of someone you loved so completely was one of them. Even worse, Niyol had never gotten closure for his wife’s death. Although he’d known about her lifelong struggle with depression, her death by suicide had taken him by surprise, and the guilt he felt for not trying harder to help her still haunted him.

Although the United States government hadn’t recognized his marriage to Josephine, it had been enough for them. In a special and sacred ceremony, he had renamed his new wife Haseya after one of his own long-dead ancestors, hoping the name—and his love—would give her strength. But it hadn’t been enough. He had lived and worked within a network of Native Americans whom he referred to as the Nation. His job had taken him on many trips away from Haseya, and she hadn’t fared well on her own. After a trip that lasted several weeks, he returned to find her gone without a trace. He searched for her for almost a year before learning about her tragic death.

He hadn’t even known about their daughter until a few months ago when Jill’s now-husband, Luke, had tracked him down. The shock of that phone call would never leave him. Nobody had mentioned to him that Haseya had given birth shortly before her death. He figured, by that time, the Martins had already adopted his daughter, and the records had been sealed. If Niyol had known about Jill’s existence, he would never have stopped looking for her. But he hadn’t known, and it wasn’t until now—when she was fully grown and about to start a family of her own—that he could try to build a relationship with her… if he could only get over the vast amount of guilt and regret he had carried with him for over twenty years.

He never knew why Haseya had left him, and he certainly didn’t understand why she had kept his daughter from him. Over the last few months, he had found himself going from intense anger at his deceased wife to overwhelming guilt and back again. When Jill had called and asked him to come visit for Thanksgiving, he had thought it an excellent opportunity to develop the relationship he should have had with her years ago.

He had agreed, and a week later, he had gotten a call from Rose. She had decided to buy a few horses to keep at the inn so she could offer trail rides to guests. The problem was, she had no idea how to care for horses since she had never been around them before. Somehow, Rose had known about his background with horses, how he had cared for them when he was much younger. She had asked him if he would ever consider moving to the Twin Peaks Inn and becoming a partner with her and Jill.

He had taken a few days to think it over, but he needn’t have bothered. There was nothing holding him in Kayenta, Arizona except bad memories and a run-down trailer. He had called Rose back and agreed. As a bonus, his work with the inn’s horses would keep him close enough to have a relationship with Jill and her soon-to-be-born child.

Jill had sounded excited when he had told her, and he hoped she truly was.

But worrying her before you even arrive is not the best way to start the relationship, Niyol chastised himself as he pulled into the inn’s parking lot.

He had sold his trailer for a small profit and had used that money to buy himself a decent SUV he knew would make the four-hour trip to Springvale in one piece. His old car would have broken down twenty miles into the trip. After parking his new car toward the back of the lot, he jumped out and made his way to the front doors, trying to escape the sharp chill of the November air.

His mind drifted back to Margery and her bright smile, warming his blood a little, and he mentally shook himself. He hadn’t thought this much about a woman since Haseya, and it disconcerted him. Still, he wasn’t sure he wanted to stop thinking about Margery. He knew he probably should, but it was easier said than done.

Sighing, Niyol rang the front doorbell, hoping someone would answer quickly. The quicker he got inside, the quicker he could get warm again, and the quicker he could distract himself from thoughts of the curvy, irresistible Margery.

A few moments later, Rose flung the front door open, giving him a warm smile. “Family uses the back door, Niyol,” she said by way of greeting.

“You should have mentioned that on the phone,” Niyol grumbled, enveloping Rose in a tight hug.

Rose shrugged. “I thought I had. Everyone is back this way. Come on.”

She led him down a long hallway and through double swinging doors into a large kitchen. The space held a mix of old and new elements—like most buildings in the town. Niyol found the atmosphere warm and inviting as he gazed around at the room’s occupants. Danny, Rose’s faithful groundskeeper, sat at the far end of the huge hand-carved table, peeling potatoes. Jill and her new husband, Luke, sat closest to the door Niyol had just walked through.

Upon seeing him, Jill jumped to her feet and rushed over to give him a hug, her pregnant belly jutting out much further than the last time he’d seen her. Niyol returned her hug with enthusiasm before Rose pushed him into a chair. Luke, the man responsible for introducing him to his daughter after all these years, nodded to Niyol, giving him a small, welcoming smile.

“So,” Rose began, a small smile playing at her lips. “Where did you stop to eat?”

“Cartwright Diner,” Niyol answered.

“Oh, how is Margery?” Jill asked.

Niyol hesitated. “She was okay, I think.”

“Did something happen?” Luke asked in his deep, quiet voice.

“She had a… run-in with her ex-husband,” Niyol answered, glancing at Luke before returning his attention back to Jill.

She had her mother’s heart-shaped face, as well as her nose and mouth. Her deep russet brown eyes, sharp cheekbones, raven hair, and tawny skin came from his side, however. She had her hair tied back in a French braid, but he could tell that she kept it longer than his own hair, since the ends trailed along her lower back. She was a vision, the pregnancy giving her a healthy glow. Placing one hand absently on the bump of her stomach, she frowned at his news about Margery’s ex-husband.

“What happened?” Rose asked, mirroring Jill’s concern.

“Not much,” Niyol answered uncomfortably. He wished he had stayed silent. He hated being the one to cast that worried shadow over his daughter’s features. “They argued for a few minutes, and then her ex stormed out.”

“Mitchell has always had a temper,” Luke said.

“That the ex?” Niyol asked.

Luke nodded.

“He seemed like an ass,” Niyol agreed. “But Margery seemed to handle herself well under the circumstances.”

Jill’s face brightened a little while Rose chuckled.

“I imagine she did,” Luke said, amused.

Their talk drifted to Niyol’s drive and Rose’s plans for the inn. Niyol listened to Rose’s explanation of when the horses would arrive and where she wanted to house them.

“We’ve almost finished renovating the old barn, so all we need to do is make sure there are no gaps in the pasture fences to the west. It’s a fifty-acre pasture, so there should be plenty of room for the horses I’ve already purchased with room for more if we needed.”

“How big is your property, Rose?” Jill asked, incredulous.

“Our property,” Rose corrected. “And I can show you all the land maps and papers tomorrow if you like, but the total acreage is around a hundred and twenty total.”

“Around?” Jill scoffed. “You don’t even know how much land you have?”

“I haven’t had cause to use it all until recently,” Rose said with a shrug.

Niyol wondered briefly about her discomfort at talking about her land but dismissed it as just another one of her quirks. He had been more than touched when Rose had corrected Jill about the ownership. It seemed Rose was dead set on sharing her wealth with them, and for someone like Niyol who grew up in poverty, it meant more than Rose could ever know. He suspected her aversion to talking about her vast wealth had more to do with him than anything else.

“Fifty acres of pasture would be enough for about twenty-five horses,” Niyol mused. “That would be a big number to house here even if we became super busy with trail rides.”

“I’ve bought three already,” Rose answered. “I don’t intend on having twenty-five horses even if the trail rides are successful. Twenty-five seems like way too many to handle, but we could always consider boarding horses for people and offering lessons for the kids in town. I know a few who have to drive forty-five minutes to the nearest ranch to take their lessons and board their horses. Having the extra space may come in handy down the road.”

Niyol nodded. Rose’s strategic thinking certainly explained her success as a businesswoman, and he respected the way she used her land as a natural source of revenue and growth rather than forcing more out of it than it could sustain. Looking around the small gathering at the table, he knew it would be no time at all before he felt at home here.