Early parole.

Good behavior.

Lucky.

Dan Evans had always wanted to win big. For one shining moment on his twenty-first birthday, Lady Luck had smiled on him. He'd won five grand at a casino blackjack table.

And then he'd turned around and lost it all. In twenty minutes. But the high...

For a kid whose mom had walked out and left him with his grandpops, the high been addictive, because it had made a lot of dark memories fade, just a little.

He'd been seeking Lady Luck's elusive smile ever since.

There was nothing lucky about three years of good behavior or his early parole. While in prison, he'd worked his butt off, kept his nose clean, sucked up to the guards so much he'd begun to hate himself. When he’d waited in county for sentencing, he’d had nightmares about what prison would be like, terrible visions of what awaited him. The reality had been much worse.

Today, he was going... somewhere. He was getting out. Taking a bus that the prison had arranged to a halfway house, which they’d also arranged. They'd even lined him up a job. Probably sacking groceries or working construction. Whatever it was, he'd do it.

He couldn't court Lady Luck any more. He'd learned his lesson. He wasn't one of the lucky ones. Wasn't meant to be a winner.

No highs were high enough to make up for this. The only good thing in his life had been his job on the Triple H ranch. The other ranch hands had been like brothers. And when Dan had gotten in too deep, stolen ten grand, he'd lost the only people who'd ever cared about him.

Midmorning, the guard escorted him to the intake room, where a uniformed guard handed him a paper bag with his belongings.

He'd worn the orange jumpsuit for three years. His jeans and T-shirt felt foreign. His boots fit like they always had—but how could that be, when he wasn't the same man anymore?

He left behind the cold, cement-block walls and iron bars. The cocky, arrogant man he’d been when he entered prison had long since disappeared.

Outside, Dan squinted in the sunlight, not for the first time wishing for his Stetson to shade his eyes.

His boots clicked on the pavement. His heart thumped hard in his chest.

There was a cold chill in the late October air that cut through his T-shirt. He'd been convicted on a smoldering day in the middle of summer.

He stopped on the sidewalk. Stood there, unmoving. Because he could. Because no one shouted for him to keep moving or get back in line.

He was out. Free—sort of. He still had to meet with his parole officer and make arrangements for continuing meetings.

He'd toe the line, and he'd never forget what he owed to the Triple H.

He looked for the big bus he'd been told would meet him.

But what he saw was two cowboys exit their truck and stand on the sidewalk with their feet spread wide and their arms crossed.

Gideon and Matt Hale. Two of the owners of the Triple H ranch.

The men he'd stolen ten grand from.

He didn't shirk from what was coming. He walked right up to them, bracing for a punch. Or two.

He deserved it, after all.

Would it be Matt? He had the hotter temper of the two. But Gideon had been the one to discover Dan's theft.

He would never forget the look of betrayal on Gideon's face that morning years ago. What was he doing here now? Shouldn’t he be in Europe with his wife? He'd come a long way for his revenge, apparently.

Both men were ex-military. This was going to hurt.

It was difficult to meet their eyes. Probably the most difficult thing he'd done since being jailed. The breeze carried a slight whiff of leather and horses, punching him with memories.

The brothers were unsmiling, their eyes hidden in the shadows thrown by their Stetsons. Again, Dan wished for his hat. What had happened to all his things? He'd left a room full of clothes and a computer behind when he'd been incarcerated. The Hales had probably trashed it all.

"Go ahead," he said when the silence became unbearable.

Gideon raised one eyebrow.

"You're here to collect, right? I don't have your ten K, so you'll have to take it out of my hide."

Matt's narrowed eyes slid to Gideon. "Guess he figured us right."

Gideon didn't crack a smile. "Guess he did."

"Well? Get it over with." He closed his eyes, bracing for the inevitable punch. Maybe they'd go for the midsection, not the face.

Nothing happened.

He cracked one eye open to see them staring at him.

"We aren't here for revenge," Gideon said. Dummy. The name he hadn't called Dan reverberated in the air, unspoken.

Dan stood straight. What were they here for, then?

He was too proud to ask.

"Come back to work at the Triple H," Matt said. He almost sounded... exasperated?

Dan knew his mouth must be hanging open. Catching flies, his grandpops would've said.

Surely he'd heard wrong.

But then Gideon shifted slightly. "We're offering you your job back."

Okay, so he hadn't misheard.

"Why?"

He couldn't imagine any scenario in which they'd want him back. Was this to punish him? Get him out to the Triple H and then tell him it'd all been a joke?

Or was there some other reason?

Neither one answered his question.

"You got a better offer?" Gideon asked.

He didn't. And all three of them knew it.

If he stuck it out, did he have a chance at paying back his enormous debt?

A throat cleared from nearby, and Dan turned to see his parole officer. Was the tiny kernel of hope he'd just experienced about to be quashed? Had Gideon and Matt even cleared it with the officer?

Apparently they had.

"The choice is yours," the officer said. "You should consider that returning to a place that contributed to your state of mind before is likely to be more difficult than starting fresh somewhere else."

In other words, the guilt could eat him alive.

But would there really be a fresh start if he walked away from the Triple H? At least on the ranch, he knew the score. The guys would watch his every move. The foreman, Nate, his former best friend, would never forgive him. He'd barely make more than minimum wage, plus room and board. He'd never make it out of the hole he'd dug himself.

But going back was the right thing to do. Even if it meant he'd never make it out of Taylor Hills.

And he was done courting Lady Luck. It was time to buckle down and do right.

For once in his sorry life.