The grandfather clock emitted one resounding bong. Matt had flip-flopped on the couch for hours, his feet hanging off the end, his mind spinning in a random pattern, his blood surging through his body, thick and hot.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Savannah.

Her cool vanilla scent rose up from the linens, wrapping him in a cocoon of bittersweet nostalgia. Her soft, pliant lips haunted his memory. His arms ached to hold her.

She slept just yards away. Down the hall. Only a thin wooden door separated them.

He fought visions of himself kicking down that door, hollering her name. Insisting that they were meant to be together. He saw himself gathering her to his chest and making love to her throughout the night. Convincing her once and for all that they could end their miserable loneliness lost in each other’s arms.

Matt blew out a slow, deep breath. Think of Larkins and Thompson, a voice in the back of his head insisted. The same workaholic voice that had driven him to succeed these past two years. The voice that had kept him sane when Savannah married Gary.

It still stung, although now he understood her motivation better. She’d been a pregnant, scared, twenty-three-year-old, a dying mother and younger sister to support. And he’d been no help at all, getting shot in a bar fight, then disappearing on her to attend specialized training and a job in El Paso. He hated not knowing about the misunderstanding when she’d come to his house and saw him with Jackie. Matt winced at the memory. That must have hurt her almost as badly as her marriage to Gary had hurt him.

Marrying Gary to provide for her little sister and Matt’s unborn son had probably cost Savannah more than he would ever know. She’d swallowed her pride, put her feelings for him aside, and proceeded to do what had to be done to survive. How could he blame her for that?

Suddenly, Matt felt like the world’s biggest jerk. He’d behaved like a spoiled brat, blaming Savannah for leaving him, when in reality, he was the one who had abandoned her. Just like her father had abandoned her those many years ago.

She’d been young, alone, desperate. And she had turned to the only man who’d offered a helping hand. Markum had been there for her, while he’d been off chasing his own dreams. Hot shame flooded Matt’s body.

Markum had offered her a home, financial support, and a name for her baby. She’d jumped at the chance.

In the wake of the news of her marriage, after his completion of specialized detective training, he’d accepted a job with a police department in El Paso. It had given him the opportunity to learn and concentrate on his career. But deep in his heart, he’d always known he would return home to Rascal.

If he admitted the truth to himself, he confessed that news of Markum’s death had given him hope for a second chance.

But was it too late to make amends? Too late to start anew? Matt’s eyelids drooped. He’d had precious little sleep over the last few days. Exhaustion had almost claimed him when the creak of a floorboard jerked him awake. Disoriented for a moment, he lurched to a sitting position, his blanket sliding to the floor.

Another creak.

Matt reached for the handgun underneath his pillow and squinted into the darkness, every muscle tense, alert. Two years working for a large metropolitan police force had sharpened his instincts.

Savannah drifted down the hallway, a pale, shimmering ghost in her white cotton nightgown.

“Savannah?” he croaked as he placed his duty weapon on the coffee table and got to his feet.

Had she come to him after all? Had she decided she wanted him as much as he wanted her? The possibility sent a rapturous shudder coursing down his spine.

She didn’t answer him, didn’t move.

“Savvy?”

She floated across the floor. Her eyes stared straight ahead, unseeing.

“Mama?” she whispered. “Is that you?”

That single word cleaved a hole through Matt’s heart. He realized with a start that Savannah was sleepwalking. He reached for her.

She collapsed against his chest.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he soothed, pressing his cheek against the top of her head and whispering into her hair.

She whimpered, eyes still unfocused. Did she sleepwalk often? He didn’t want to awaken her. Best she remained asleep and blissfully ignorant.

He sank down on the couch, drawing her with him. Wrapping himself around her trembling frame. He tucked her into the curve of his arms, and they lay like spoons, nestled side by side on the couch.

A perfect fit.

If only he could hold her like this for eternity. Burrowing his face in the back of her neck, he pressed his lips to her velvety skin and inhaled her delicious aroma. Her sweet vanilla scent brought to mind rich, chewy, chocolate chip cookies, softly flickering candles, and warm, sudsy bubble baths.

Memories rolled through his mind.

Savannah, fresh from a swim at Turner Falls, a skimpy, pink-and-green swimsuit clinging to her curves, looking for the world like an exotic sea goddess.

Savannah, on their first date, the shy coquette, who’d turned quickly playful, suddenly ready to surrender herself to him, until he’d been the one to apply the brakes before things had gotten out of control.

Savannah, indignant over having her cattle stolen, her lovely features creasing into a frown as she wondered how she would pay the bills and continue to support her little family.

Savannah, on Ginger’s wedding day, proud surrogate mother, smiling majestically, head held high, shoulders straight, watching as he gave away the sister she’d ushered into adulthood.

And Savannah, the fierce Madonna, sitting at her kitchen table, cradling Cody to her chest, her face glowing with love for their son.

Ah, hell, Matt thought and gulped past the lump in his throat. How stupid could one hardheaded man be?

Savannah opened her eyes.

A predawn glow blushed through the half-drawn drapes, slanting a rosy shadow across the room. Blinking, she stared at the coffee table and saw Matt’s gun resting there. She frowned. What on earth?

Her gaze traveled downward. Burly forearms bunched around her midsection. Hissing in a breath, Savannah realized she was lying on the living room couch encircled by Matt’s embrace.

His chin pressed into her upper back, his pelvis molded against her hips, and his hairy legs entwined with hers. Faint snoring rumbled near her ear.

Oh my gosh. She panicked, her thoughts conjuring wild scenarios. How did I get here? What happened last night? Have I been sleepwalking again? It was an affliction that had plagued her on several occasions after her mother’s death, but she hadn’t sleepwalked since Cody’s birth, and never with such disastrous consequences.

Gingerly, she lifted Matt’s right arm and tried to slide from his grasp. He mumbled incoherently, snuggled deeper, and clung tighter.

Oh dear, oh dear. How to extricate herself without waking him?

She tried again, easing her left leg to the floor. Her toes curled into the rug. One limb freed.

Shifting, she tried to scoot her buttocks away from him, but he only pulled her closer and tunneled a hand underneath the hem of her nightshirt.

Savannah froze.

Matt’s palm was grafted to her upper thigh. Was he awake, feigning sleep, and enjoying her plight? He wouldn’t do that. Would he?

“Matt,” she whispered, trying to ignore the warm sensations radiating from his hand throughout her leg and beyond.

No response.

She waited, listening.

His chest rose and fell against her back in a slow, steady rhythm. Dead asleep. Some protector he turned out to be. This guy would have slept through a tornado. The thieves could have waltzed in and stolen the clothing off their bodies without him being any the wiser.

Savannah lay there a moment, one leg on the floor, the other captured beneath Matt’s weight, straddling the edge of the couch and contemplating her next move. Briefly, she considered elbowing him in the ribs. She smiled. That plan of action held some appeal. She might have been sleepwalking, but he was the one who’d allowed her to curl up next to him.

From the bedroom, she heard Cody whimper.

To heck with this. Abruptly, she shoved Matt’s arm aside.

His snore turned into a snort. Bolting upright, Matt dumped Savannah to the floor in a tangled sprawl. He scrambled to his feet and fumbled for his gun on the coffee table.

“What’s happened? What’s going on? Are Larkins and Thompson after the cattle?” he shouted.

Savannah stared up at him. His eyes were bleary. His dark hair stuck out at various angles. Pillow creases lined his face. Pale legs protruded from his bright-red boxer shorts, contrasting markedly with his tanned bare chest and arms.

Savannah burst into peals of laughter.

“What’s so funny?” he growled.

“Where’s my cell phone? I need a picture of this,” she managed past the fit of giggles. “I could blackmail you with threats of posting this on social media.”

Chuffing, Matt located his leather holster thrown over the back of the couch and holstered the weapon. He retrieved his undershirt from the floor and tugged it over his head. Helplessly, Savannah’s gaze followed his every move. Matt was one fine specimen of manhood.

“Quit staring at me.” He ran a hand through his hair to tame his mussed locks. “I must look like the back end of a bull.”

“About as friendly as one, too. I’d forgotten how grouchy you are in the mornings,” she teased.

“Hmph.”

She extended her hand. “Help me up, and I’ll go put on the coffee.”

He reached down to boost her to her feet. Their hands touched. The sexual gleam in his eyes had Savannah sucking in a deep breath.

They both seemed to realize the amorous nature of their situation at the same time. Two semi-naked adults who’d spent the night wrapped in each other’s arms on the edge of a couch. Savannah quickly averted her gaze.

Matt faked a cough.

Cody’s wail broke the tension.

They started for the bedroom at the same time and collided into each other. Savannah’s head caught Matt on the chin.

“Ouch,” he complained, stroking his jaw.

“Didn’t help me much, either.” She massaged the top of her head with a hand.

“I’ll go get the baby, you put on the coffee,” he said.

“I’m sure he’s wet. Unless you want to change a diaper, you better put on the coffee, and I’ll get Cody.”

“Okay.”

She went to the bedroom. Matt headed for the kitchen.

Savannah turned on the light and greeted her son with a tender smile. “Morning, Cody Coo, are you hungry?”

He quieted instantly and reached for her with both arms outstretched.

“Bet my big boy is wet, too.” She changed his diaper, then lifted him over the crib railing. She was always amazed at how light he felt in the mornings. He clutched her neck, pressing slobbery kisses to her cheek.

Savannah laughed. Joy bubbled inside her as she waltzed Cody into the kitchen. Her heart floated free and as giddy as a kid’s kite in March. Her son never failed to cheer her. And she was so relieved to have told Matt about Cody being his son. It had lifted a huge burden off her shoulders.

But they still needed to talk about what this meant for their future. Child support. Visitation rights. She and Matt were inextricably tied together for life. Their son was the unbreakable common thread.

Matt had not only started the coffee, but he’d also set a skillet of bacon on to cook. He stood at the stove, tongs in his hand. Bread in the toaster. While she’d changed Cody, Matt had shimmied into his blue jeans and plaid cotton shirt.

Feeling conspicuous in her nightgown, Savannah settled Cody into his high chair, then went back to her bedroom to dress in work clothes. She returned to find Matt talking to Cody and peeling a banana for him.

Was this what it would have been like to be married to Matt, she wondered, a stab of loss needling her. The two of them, cooking breakfast together, and sharing parenting duties?

“Hi, Mommy,” Matt said, his gaze roving over her body.

Savannah didn’t miss the look of appreciation reflected in his eyes. She felt a heated flush run the length of her neck. To distract herself, she reached into the cabinet and grabbed two coffee mugs. Pouring the coffee, she remembered Matt took his black. She slid the mug across the counter to him, then leveled two spoonfuls of sugar into her own cup.

Cody garbled in a singsong voice “da-da, da-da,” and smashed handfuls of banana against the high chair tray.

Savannah leaned against the counter and sipped her coffee. The scene before her looked so natural, so domestic. A nugget of longing caught in her throat, and she wished she could hold on to this moment forever.

“You like your eggs sunny-side up, right?” Matt cracked two eggs into the frying pan. Why couldn’t he stop grinning? He just kept smiling and smiling and smiling. Was this what it would feel like to wake up beside Savannah every morning? To wake up to family life?

“You remembered how I like my eggs.” She sounded touched.

“I remember most everything about you, Savvy,” he whispered. His tongue stiffened against his teeth. He heaved in a breath, searching for the inner strength to continue. His chest muscles bunched, tight and knotted. “Your scent haunts me. It’s so genuine. So simple. Like bright sunshine and homemade bread.”

Matt set down the tongs and stepped halfway across the kitchen in one stride. He placed both hands on her shoulders, gazing directly into her eyes. “The way you move,” he continued. “So refined and graceful.”

She fluttered those sandy eyelashes at him, then set her coffee cup on the counter.

His blood pressure climbed a notch as he continued. “I remember how ticklish you are in that one spot right behind your knees and...”

“Okay,” she said sharply. She placed her palms on his chest and pushed him away. “I get the picture.”

Defense mechanism, he thought. She was trying to guard her feelings, hide behind apathy, but he wouldn’t let her. Not now. Not this time.

He winked broadly and picked up a spatula to flip the eggs. “Yeah. You’re right. That memory is definitely X-rated. Better not mention it in front of our baby.”

“You’re outrageous.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes.”

She wanted outrageous? He’d give her outrageous. Before she could protest or discourage him, he drew her into his arms.

They gazed at each other, spellbound, both too terrified to hope.

He cupped her chin in his hand and wrapped his other arm around her waist. His touch was light, hesitant, searching.

Savannah gulped, her lips parted.

He lowered his head.

She caught her breath.

And then he kissed her. Long, hot, and searing.

A knock at the back entrance startled them both. Savannah jumped away and rubbed the back of her hand against her mouth.

Matt stalked to the door and threw it open.

Clem walked in. “Am I interrupting something?”

Matt pulled out a chair and waved Clem into it. Savannah poured a cup of coffee for the elderly man. Matt plated the food, turned off the burners. Offered Clem breakfast.

“What happened with Larkins and Thompson?” he asked.

“Didn’t even find them until after midnight.” Clem tucked into the eggs with gusto. “And by then, they’d already been through a fifth of whiskey. They were too drunk to talk sense to.”

Matt nodded. “I suspected as much.”

“If you knew that, why did you stay here last night?” Savannah asked.

Not answering her, Matt sat down beside Clem. “Tell me everything.”

“I told ’em you arrested Miss Savannah last night, that the farmhouse was sitting wide open, and that you’d brought six Gerts back home.”

“Did they seem interested?” Matt leaned forward, the muscles in his arms bunching as he tensed.

“They’ll be back,” Clem predicted.

Yes! Matt had the criminals right where he wanted them. “I’ve got to go into the office for a few hours, Savannah. I want you and Cody to come with me.”

“And do what? Sit around a police station with a fifteen-month-old? I don’t think so.”

“I’ll drop you off at my apartment.”

She shook her head. “We’ll be fine. What could Thompson and Larkins possibly do in broad daylight?”

Matt sighed. “Savvy, you make my job too tough.”

“There’s no reason to uproot Cody from his routine.”

“All right. If you’re going to stay here, I’ll get Sheriff Langley to post a deputy outside in a car to watch the house until I get back. End of discussion.”

She saluted him. “Anything else, Your Lordship?”

Matt grinned. “Lordship. I like that.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “You would.”

“I’m serious, Savannah. Larkins and Thompson can be dangerous, especially if they’ve been drinking. Stay in the house, don’t go to the door, or take any phone calls. Got it?”

“All right.”

“If someone unfamiliar shows up, I want you to text me right away.”

“Okay.”

Matt resisted the urge to bend down and kiss her again. Her lips beckoned to him, full, dewy, waiting to be plucked like a ripe peach. If Clem hadn’t interrupted when he had…well, they might be rolling on the floor this very minute, clutched in a wild embrace.

“Lock this door after we leave,” he said, wishing he didn’t have to go. Wishing he had time to eat breakfast with her.

Savannah rolled her eyes. “All right.”

He located his Stetson in the living room and plunked it on his head. “Clem’s going to be on the lookout until the deputy arrives.”

“Stop nagging, Forrester, I get the picture.”

“I just don’t want you pulling some hardheaded stunt.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

If anything happens to her or the boy, I’ll never forgive myself. “I’ll be back long before noon.”

“Not if you don’t ever get out the door.”

“Lock up,” he admonished. Lord, how he wanted to kiss her again.

Savannah gripped Cody’s hand. “Tell Daddy bye-bye.”

Daddy. What a beautiful word.

“Bye!” Cody squealed suddenly. “Da-da.”

Savannah smiled at Matt. The sight drove a stab of longing clean through Matt’s guts. He was going to do everything in his power for a second chance with her. Cody deserved to have his father in his life. They deserved to be a family.

Savannah felt downright claustrophobic. Cody was napping, and she had nothing to do after she ate the breakfast Matt made her. Picking up the remote control, she flipped through the television channels. Nothing caught her interest.

Sighing, she turned off the TV. Never one to stay indoors for long, she hated being cooped up inside. It drove her crazy. She wanted to go out and dig in her garden or help Clem with chores. If only Ginger were around to talk to, but she was on her honeymoon.

Joe Greely, the deputy from Sheriff Langley’s office that had driven her home, arrived around eight-thirty, not long after Matt left the Circle B, and parked his patrol car behind the barn so that it wasn’t immediately visible from the road.

Picking up a book, she stared at the words, unable to concentrate. She put it down. Paced. She’d already cleaned the house. Maybe she’d give herself a pedicure.

Her landline rang. Cell reception was spotty in the Davis Mountains, making a landline a necessity. Yay. Something to do. She reached for the phone but then hesitated. Matt had warned her not to answer it.

The phone rang again.

Savannah glanced at the caller ID. Unknown caller.

Had Larkins or Thompson somehow gotten her landline number? Were they calling to check up on Clem’s story, to see if anyone was home?

The third ring echoed throughout the living room and sent a tingle of apprehension sliding down her spine. What if it was something important?

She closed her eyes on the fourth ring, her fingers fairly itching to answer.

Fifth ring.

Why didn’t they hang up?

Sixth ring.

What if it was Matt?

Seventh ring.

Something had to be wrong. Savannah took a deep breath. What could it hurt to answer? If it was an unfamiliar voice, she could pretend they had the wrong number. Tentatively, she raised the cordless phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Sa...Savannah?” A woman’s voice.

Someone was crying. “Yes?”

“Vannah... it’s me, Ginger.”

Dread tore through her heart in a white-hot second. “Ginger? Honey? What’s wrong? Where are you?”

“I’m at the bus station.”

“In Rascal?”

“Uh-huh.”

“But you’re supposed to be in Cancun. What happened?”

“I came home.” Her sister sniffled into the phone.

“Is Todd with you?” Savannah asked.

Silence.

“Gin? You still there?”

“I left him, Vannah. My marriage is over.”

“Oh, honey.” Savannah didn’t know what to say. She sank down into a chair, resting her forehead in her palm.

“Can you come get me, sis? Please? I need to come home.”