Matt mentally kicked himself for wasting time arguing with Savannah when he should have been tracking Julio Diaz. Why couldn’t he just forget her? There were plenty of other females eager to be with him. Why was he mooning over someone who apprently wanted nothing to do with him?

“Because you’re a sentimental fool, Forrester,” he growled and frowned at himself in the rearview mirror.

He couldn’t forget how wonderful it had felt rocking Savannah’s baby in his arms, pretending it was their child.

He had to get a grip. These daydreams would only bring heartache. Too much unresolved conflict existed between him and Savannah for them to ever have a future together.

Savannah was right about one thing, though. Being a sheriff’s detective wasn’t a career for a family man. It required too much time on the road and involved too much danger.

Yet, he loved his job. Had known it was his calling from the tender age of twelve when his family had lost their farm. The old memory floated through his mind like a whiff of acrid wood smoke. Like most peanut farmers in West Texas, his dad had mortgaged the homestead to the hilt, banking on a bumper crop of peanuts to rescue them from debt.

But that year, Matt’s grandmother died, and the whole family departed on a week-long trip to California.

They’d returned home to discover their fields stripped bare. The peanut crop had been harvested by thieves. The bank ended up foreclosed on the farm, Matt’s family ended up living with his uncle and aunt, and the crooks went free. From that day on, Matt swore revenge, if not on those particular thieves then on any others who dared to prey on the innocent, hardworking folks of Texas. And so began his journey in law enforcement, doing what he loved best—bringing the wicked to justice.

That was something Savvy just didn’t understand.

Women. Once they got tangled up in a guy’s mind, they could distract the most dedicated lawman.

Still, it was no excuse.

He knew better than to let anything interfere with an investigation. He wheeled his Jeep down the highway, heading for the border and Mexico if necessary. He’d lifted Julio’s prints from the bunkhouse, run them through the computer, and discovered that Diaz was an undocumented worker from Nuevo Laredo.

And quite possibly a cattle thief.

From now on, he’d keep his head focused on his job where it belonged. The past was dead. Buried with his youthful fantasies of a wife, kids, and a loyal dog to return home to at the end of each day.

Satisfied he’d made the right decision despite the hurt ricocheting inside him, Matt trod heavily on the accelerator and sped away into the dark West Texas night.

Savannah worried.

It had been a week since Matt had left the ranch to go looking for Julio Diaz.

Where was he?

She fretted. Had something happened? Had he found Julio? A dozen possible scenarios floated through her mind, each more alarming than the one before. Why hadn’t he let her know something by now? Had he been hurt?

Or worse?

She tried texting his old phone number, but it was no longer in service, and he hadn’t given her his new one. Finally, too anxious to stand the suspense any longer, she gathered her courage and called the sheriff. The dispatcher who answered listened sympathetically but hadn’t been able to give her much information. The woman had, however, told Savannah that Matt wasn’t in Rascal.

“Forrester, where are you?” Savannah sighed.

She looked into the brilliant blue sky, rocked back on her heels, tossed a handful of weeds into a pile, and peeled off her gardening gloves. With Julio gone, more of the ranching chores had fallen on her shoulders, leaving her precious little time to prepare for the wedding. Luckily, Ginger’s fiancé, Todd, had volunteered to help get the garden ready for the ceremony on Saturday.

“Did you say something, Savannah?” Todd asked, resting one well-muscled arm on his shovel and swiping the other arm across his damp forehead.

“Thinking out loud.” Savannah shook her head.

“Where do you want these geraniums?” Ginger asked, carrying an armful of the colorful blooms in a clay pot.

“Along the path.” Savannah got to her feet and pointed with a trowel.

“Da!” Cody hollered from his Pack ’n Play underneath the shady mimosa tree Savannah had planted to honor Gary’s life.

Todd squinted at the horizon. “Looks like we got company.”

“Oh?” Savannah followed his gaze.

Dust billowed in the distance, and through it, she saw a flash of red. Matt’s Jeep? Instant relief splashed across her heart. Don’t be ridiculous, Savannah scolded herself, a red vehicle did not necessarily mean it was Matt.

“Good time to take a break.” She planted her palms in the small of her back. “Anybody up for lemonade?”

“Sounds mighty fine,” Todd agreed.

“Me, too,” Ginger added, setting down the geraniums.

“Drinks all around then.”

From the corner of her eye, Savannah saw Todd lean over and plant a kiss on Ginger’s eager lips. A sliver of envy sliced through her. Oh, to be that young and that in love again.

She went into the house and washed her hands. She retrieved a pitcher of fresh-squeezed lemonade from the refrigerator, iced down four glasses, arranged everything on a tray, and stepped outside just as Matt’s red Jeep pulled into the driveway.

It’s him! She thought giddily. If only I could fling myself into his arms! But instead, she set the lemonade down on the picnic table and waited for him to join them.

As he drew near, her heart hammered. The tan Stetson hid his face. His shoulders swayed as he swaggered across the yard, looking for all the world like the hero in an old-fashioned Western. Affection vaulted into her throat at the sight of him.

“Afternoon, Ginger, Todd, Savannah,” he greeted, doffing his hat.

“Hello, Matt,” Savannah said.

To her dismay, she noticed a fresh cut traveled from Matt’s right brow down his cheekbone. Five neat, black stitches knitted the wound. Her hand flew to her throat, and she sucked in a breath. He’d been hurt!

“Hi.” Ginger raised a hand. “We were about to have some lemonade. Care to join us?”

“Sounds good.” He ran a hand through his hair. Savannah could feel the heat of his gaze on her face. She longed to ask him how he’d earned that gash.

Matt eased himself down on the patio chair as if his whole body ached from the effort of moving. He’d been in a fight.

“Getting ready for the wedding?” Matt nodded at the freshly tended flower garden.

“Yeah.” Ginger beamed, pouring lemonade while Todd sat down next to Matt. “Only a week away. I can’t wait.”

“What happened to your face?” Todd asked bluntly. Ginger nestled next to her husband-to-be and Todd slid an arm around her waist.

“You mean this?” Matt pointed at the scar. “This is nothing.” He looked at Savannah as if weighing her response.

Savannah wrapped her fingers around her glass. She yearned to reach out and comfort him, soothe his pain, yet she knew acting on those feelings would land her in a world of hurt.

“Have a seat,” Matt invited, patting the spot beside him.

“I’m fine right here.” Savannah leaned against the mimosa’s trunk and placing the sole of one foot flat against the tree’s bark.

“Did you catch up with Julio?” Ginger asked.

“Yep.” Matt nodded, and took another long drink of lemonade.

“And?” Savannah stared at him and raised her eyebrows.

“Julio’s not a cattle thief, but he does have a way with a switchblade knife.” Matt gingerly fingered the cut.

Wincing, Savannah grit her teeth. “Julio did that to you?” She felt sick at the thought.

“That hombre didn’t take too kindly to being arrested.”

“I can’t believe you’re treating this so lightly,” Savannah said.

The same emotions she’d experienced so vividly two years ago roiled through her, as raw and as fresh as before. She recalled the night in Kelly’s bar when that drunken cowpoke had started a brawl with another guy over a Jackie Spencer. Matt hadn’t known the cowpoke carried a tiny pistol in his boot and when Matt had gotten in the middle of things to break up the fight, his had earned him a bullet in the arm and started the chain of events that had led them to his moment.

“Julio didn’t steal the cattle?” Savannah set her glass on the table.

“Nope.” Matt sent her a cocky grin.

“So?” She raised her palms. “Why did Julio run if he wasn’t involved in the thefts?”

“No mystery. Julio thought I was from immigration. My Spanish is limited, and his English is worse. We tussled before we started communicating.” Matt indicated his wound.

How could he remain so unflustered after having his cheek filleted?

“Actually, Julio turned out to be pretty cooperative once we got better acquainted.” Matt tipped back on the legs of his chair, balancing his weight perfectly, and teased her with a mocking smile.

“Is that what you’ve been doing the last week? Tracking Julio?” Savannah asked, folding her arms across her chest.

“Among other things.”

“What about my cattle?”

“Haven’t seen hide nor hair of ’em.”

Savannah glanced over to find Todd and Ginger wrapped in the throes of a passionate embrace. Heat raced up her neck when Matt caught the direction of her gaze. She inclined her head toward the barn. “Let’s take a walk.”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

She started across the yard, Matt right behind her.

“Think they’ll even notice we’re gone?” Matt whispered, so close the warmth of his breath tickled her ear.

“Those two had better get married soon, or I’ll be forced to get out the water hose,” Savannah said wryly once they were out of sight.

“We used to be worse than they are. Remember, Savvy?”

Her blush deepened, and she stopped walking when they reached the barnyard. “We’re not foolish kids anymore, Matt.”

“You remember our first date?” He leaned one shoulder casually against the side of the barn. Reaching over, he lifted a strand of hair from her shoulder and rolled it between his fingers.

Savannah inhaled sharply.

Their eyes met.

“Do you remember, Savvy?” he repeated.

She swallowed. “Yes.”

Boy, did she ever. How could she forget the powerful energy of their first explosive kiss during that hayride at his uncle’s farm? She’d been ready to surrender herself to him at the end of that night. The memory forced her to drop her gaze.

He swung his Stetson between a thumb and index finger with slow, calculated movements, as if fanning a flame. “Do you remember going back to my place?” His voice had lowered to a deep purr.

“Uh-huh,” she whispered.

“I played my guitar for you.”

“I remember. ‘The Twelfth of Never.’”

His magnetic eyes held her hypnotized. “We talked about everything under the sun.”

“I know.”

“And at midnight ordered a pepperoni and mushroom pizza to go just as Speedy’s Pizza was closing.”

“We ate it cold because we couldn’t stop kissing,” she finished.

Tingles radiated from her inside out—steamy, melting, erotic. Paralyzed, Savannah drifted on the memories. Matt, his arms around her, strong and sure. Matt, his lips on hers, soft and tender. Matt, the man himself, so honest, so sincere. She’d known he would always keep her safe, would never hurt her.

At least not intentionally.

She’d been the one to hurt him. Not that she’d really had much choice.

“Do you remember what you asked me, about four in the morning?” His voice turned husky, dry with emotion.

“I... I... asked if I could stay the night with you.”

“That’s right.” His smile deepened. He leaned forward, cupping a finger under her chin, and tipping her head back until she was forced to look him in the eyes. “What was my answer?”

Her knees wobbled, and Savannah feared her legs might fold.

She cleared her throat and laced her fingers together. His touch burned hotter than a branding iron. “You said no, that we should wait.” She hesitated. “You told me I was too special to take lightly.”

“You’re still special to me, Savvy.”

Her gaze, restless and hungry, wandered over his face. She’d dreamed of this dear face for so long—his sun-browned forehead, his slightly crooked nose, his firm, full lips curling easily into a teasing grin, the slight crinkles etched into the corners of his dark eyes.

And that fresh, jagged scar.

Savannah jerked back, dropping her gaze. The ugly scar reminded her of the things that stood between them—his thirst for daring adventure, his lack of fear, his need to prove his manhood with fists and weapons, the frustrating way women threw themselves at him. The lies she’d told. The secrets she kept.

He’d chosen the right career for his personality. He was a brave man, a stalwart one. A good man. A man who deserved to know his son.

“Savvy?” he rasped.

Her heart strummed steadily, blood whooshing in her ears with each beat. Was this the time to tell Matt about Cody? How did she start the conversation? Savannah cleared her throat, trying to find the words.

“I’m sorry about Gary,” he said.

“Me, too.”

“Although I was jealous of him, I never wished him ill.”

“I know.”

“It must have been hard for you.” The touch of sympathy in his voice grated on her. “Losing your mom, then Gary less than a year afterward.”

“Life can be hard.” She twisted her shoulder. She knew she sounded tough, cynical, but if she allowed in those tender feelings, she’d break down.

“I’ve missed having you in my life, Savvy.”

“I missed you, too.” Her voice cracked, broke.

“I’d forgotten how your eyes turn to liquid gold when you’re deep in thought,” he said, leaning closer and angling his head downward.

Instinct hollered for her to pull back, to run away, but for once she listened to her heart and stayed rooted to the sandy earth, waiting.

Cicadas buzzed in the mesquite tree. A trickle of sweat dampened the back of her neck. She looked into Matt’s shimmering dark-eyed gaze, found herself trapped there like a bug in a spider’s web. She moistened her lips with her tongue.

“Savannah,” he whispered.

“Yes?” she whispered back.

He kissed her.