Bulls had the best life, hands down. Not the Spanish kind of bull that chased crazy thrill seekers through narrow streets, or the ones that charged red blankets. Nor the kind that bucked cowboys off their backs. No, the kind of bull Jase Beckford was thinking of was the good ol’ herd breeding variety. Those bulls had it made.

They had one job. One hell of a job.

“You can’t hardly wait, can ya?” Jase said to his new bull, Pitch, who was lazily chewing on the crunchy hay that Jase had just tossed over the pen fence. He stepped onto the bottom slat of the gate and rested his arms along the top so he could see his massive new creature without obstruction. Damn, he was beautiful. All seventeen hundred pounds of him.

“It’ll be a heck of a new year for you, boy. Fourteen females out in that field. You think you can handle that?” He chuckled, his breath a wispy puff in the frigid air. “I know you can.”

In a month or so, Jase would turn him out to pasture with the females he’d purchased several months back. Five cows and nine heifers, and he planned on Pitch working his magic on every single one of them.

Pitch appeared uninterested in small talk as he took another sloppy bite of hay off the snow-packed earth, his mouth chomping loudly. He sniffed hard, steam rising from his nostrils.

“I hope you’re a lot more charming when you meet the ladies,” Jase said with a headshake. “You’ll have to wine and dine them if you want things to go smoothly.”

Just then Pitch slowly raised his head, stopped chewing, and turned his head to stare at his owner. Jase grinned. “Okay, okay. Sorry I questioned your skills.”

Jase dug his phone from his pocket to check the time. Nearly eight a.m. and he was exhausted. He’d already moved his herd to another pasture, checked on his one pregnant cow—that had sure been a surprise when he’d brought them home—and made sure the ice on the pond was sufficiently cracked open. But although the work was taxing, he loved it. Felt grateful, because slowly, but surely, his plans were all falling into place.

Most people would probably assume that this had been his lifelong dream, or even a family enterprise, considering he’d grown up in the rural town of Pierson, about forty-five minutes north of Manhattan, Kansas, on the west side of Tuttle Creek. But neither were true. Growing up, he’d wanted nothing more than to get away from the small town that didn’t even have a real grocery store of its own. Even more, he’d wanted away from his home life.

The fastest—and most affordable—way out was to join the army, and it had taken him being stationed half a world away in Germany to realize that while he loved seeing the world, there was still something to appreciate about growing up in the rural Midwest. He’d gotten to know a German farmer who lived right off the base, mainly because it reminded him of home. Despite the elderly man’s broken English, they’d bonded. They’d talked a lot about the process of raising cattle, how he chose his animals, mated them, and what it was like during calving season. And several times Jase had given him a hand on his farm. That was when he’d realized that maybe the land he’d grown up on would be good for something similar. He’d never considered moving back to Pierson until then, but when his final deployment in the Middle East was up, he’d done just that. The choice made easier by the fact that his father was dead and gone by that point.

Now it was just him and his mother. They talked occasionally, when she chose to have a conversation with him, or he with her. Eventually he’d maybe build a house of his own, but in the meantime he didn’t mind staying with her. Besides, until this all paid off—literally—he hadn’t many options. A huge chunk of his savings had gone into starting this business. He’d joined the Army National Guard not long after coming home but that and a fledgling cattle operation wasn’t going to make him a fortune, so he was counting on Pitch here to be the promiscuous male he was paid to be.

Jase stepped off the gate of the bullpen and headed up the snow-covered dirt path that led to the back porch of the Walters farmhouse. The big white house with black shutters and a classic L-shaped porch never failed to make Jase feel welcome . . . and safe. He and his mother lived down the road, and as soon as he’d informed his longtime neighbor Tim Walters of his idea to raise cattle, the other man had offered to lease his own land to the cause. Jase, having been close to the Walters family for years, hadn’t hesitated, and ever since he and Tim had established a morning coffee ritual that was quickly becoming one of Jase’s favorite times of the day.

Tim Walters was the kind of role model every young man needed in his life. Stern and serious when the occasion called for it, but quick with a laugh and a joke to lighten the mood. Jase had only heard him yell a handful of times in the twenty years he’d known him, and even then his understanding nature had always been apparent. Especially considering he’d probably been yelling at one of his twin daughters. More than likely, Hannah.

Hannah. The woman in Jase’s life. Sort of. They’d never officially dated. Never had sex. And yet . . . they were definitely each other’s “other.” He’d say except for when she wasn’t playing at seeing someone else, but even then he was usually still the one she called. For everything, be it a wedding date, or because she’d locked herself out of her apartment and needed his extra key to her apartment in Manhattan. She’d never said, but he was pretty sure that their odd relationship was the reason many of her real ones didn’t work out.

But he wasn’t sorry for it. Hannah was his girl, and if she was going to turn to another man to be her fixer, Jase needed it to be someone special. Once upon a time he’d hoped it might someday be him, but not so much anymore.

He wished he knew why, because he adored Hannah. Loved her, even. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t pushed for things to move to the next level, but he never had, and each year that passed by—and every time he turned to another woman for a physical release—it became more likely he never would.

When he pulled open the back door to the kitchen of the Walters home, Jase was met with the delicious smell of coffee brewing and meat frying. The sight he was met with, however, was far from familiar, but definitely just as delicious as anything he’d ever set his eyes on. A woman stood inside the refrigerator door, and his eyes zeroed right in on her perfect ass, which was covered by pink cotton panties.

“Dad! Turn around. I’m not dressed,” her voice screeched, the beautiful body trying to hide behind the fridge door.

Instantly Jase jerked his body around to face the other direction. Now that he’d heard her voice, he knew exactly whose cute ass that was, and lust he hadn’t felt in a long time hit him hard.

Becca Walters.

He should have known, but damn, she hadn’t been back home in ages. Not long enough for him to see her anyway.

“I thought you were gone, Dad. Didn’t you get my text? I told you to call on your way,” she said. Jase heard the refrigerator door shut, followed by a loud gasp. “Jase! Oh my God. What the—”

He chuckled as he heard a chair scrape and then her footsteps shuffling across the wood floor, down the hallway. He peeked over his shoulder just in time to see her long legs fly up the stairs. She’d had on a T-shirt, so none of the outfit had been inappropriate—no more than a bathing suit would be—but still he felt as if he’d just been caught pulling a Peeping Tom.

He grinned anyway and made his way over to the coffeepot and poured himself a mug. Over his head the floor creaked as she shuffled around her room making herself presentable, no doubt. A shame; he would have had no problem catching up with her half dressed. She, on the other hand, now had another reason to be irritated by him. Ah well. Same old, same old.

Hannah had always been the outgoing, funny, flirty twin. Becca—while gorgeous—had always made it clear that she believed herself to be above everyone else. At least that’s how she always treated Jase. Truth was, he’d never gotten over that long-ago Christmas Eve night he’d become a part of the Walters family by proxy. Tim Walters had shown up at Jase’s house and rescued him from a brutal beating at the hands of his own dad, and then carried him across the field that ran between their homes, in the snow, and tucked him into Becca’s bed. He could still remember her sitting there with him, holding a cloth on his bleeding head while Mrs. Walters had rushed around caring for his injuries. Bringing him water, soup, and telling him everything would be all right.

Taking a sip of his coffee, he recalled the words Becca had whispered to him that night as she sat on the edge of her bed beside him, holding his hand. “It’s okay if you want to cry. I won’t tell anyone. Your daddy is a mean son of a bitch and I’d like to kill him for you.”

Harsh words for a young girl. But she’d said them with conviction, and he’d instantly loved her for it. Despite having just been beaten, he’d slept so soundly in that soft bed that smelled of Becca Walters’s candy cane lotion. He remembered seeing it on her nightstand on Christmas morning.

But then later that day they’d relocated him to the sofa.

At the time, he hadn’t let it hurt his feelings. It was probably not right for him to stay in a girl’s room. He was fourteen and fully experiencing puberty. But later that week, Hannah had told him the truth. Becca had thrown a holy fit over having to give up her room to him. Begged her parents to get him out of her bed, told them he smelled bad, and that it wasn’t fair that she’d been the one to have to give up her room.

He’d never looked at her with that loving feeling again. Clearly, she’d felt sorry for him that night when she’d held his hand, but not enough to look past the fact that he was an abused redneck boy from down the road. It had been humiliating to realize she’d been disgusted by him being in her perfect frilly pink bed.

Jase wasn’t sure why the thought still irritated him, but it did. She’d only been twelve. How could he hold the feelings of a child against her now that she was a grown woman? And wow, was she a woman. It was a little tough to conjure up that same old resentment after he’d just witnessed her perfect round ass hanging out.

* * *

Becca Walters had known better than to hang out in the kitchen half dressed for so long. Tugging on a pair of jeans, she conjured up the sight she’d just witnessed in her father’s kitchen. Jase was much larger than the last time she’d seen him, but the shape of him was imprinted on her brain, so she’d known it was him immediately.

How much had he seen of her? She nearly groaned thinking about it. Several times while making breakfast she’d considered that she should run upstairs and get dressed, but in her defense, she’d only been expecting her father, and she’d told him to call her when he was on his way home. And if he’d forgotten, well then, she knew that she’d hear his tires on the gravel drive as an advance warning.

Where had Jase even come from? Did he walk from his mother’s house? And how in the hell did he still manage to make her heart pound with one look at him? It had been years since she’d seen him, but she would bet that age had done nothing to diminish his handsomeness. His backside had been perfect, but did his blue eyes still look like deep ocean water? Were his dark brows still the most expressive part of his face? He’d had a hat on, but she’d still noticed that his light-brown hair was a little too long: exactly the way she’d always liked it best, when the ends began to curl the slightest bit.

This morning had been a critical failure on her part. She was not at her own home, not even in the same town, where getting up and making coffee in her underwear was no big deal. She was used to being alone or with Brian, her boyfriend.

But today—oh God. Never had it crossed her mind that anyone but her father would be around, and of all the people to show up, she couldn’t believe she’d just had her ass on display for Jase Beckford to ogle.

It was because of him that she’d spent the past decade trying to find the anti-Jase to marry. Someone who had eyes for only her. Made her feel beautiful and wanted, and certainly didn’t compare her with Hannah. Becca was certain that Jase had always seen her as the much less desirable twin, and damn her sensitive heart, but it had never gotten the message. No matter how much of an ass he could be, she’d been madly in love with him since the age of ten when he’d moved in down the road.

Rushing into the bathroom, she used a cloth to swipe the crumbling mascara from her eyes and then reapplied a fresh coat, two quick strokes of blush, and some lip gloss. She wanted to look better, but not like she was trying too hard. Because she wasn’t trying for Jase. Nope. Never.

Still unsatisfied, she dabbed some concealer under her eyes. Damn it. She couldn’t not try. This was Jase. It had been five years, and she’d always planned that the next time they met she’d be sporting a put-together, doing-well-for-herself look. Maybe toting along a husband and a child.

Instead she looked like a nearly thirty-year-old, unmarried hot mess of a woman who had just slept in her childhood bed alone. Which, sadly, was exactly what she was, although in her defense she expected to be engaged by the end of the week. For Christmas.

She took a deep breath at the top of the staircase, then headed back down to the kitchen. “Sorry about that,” she said from the doorway.

Casually leaning against the far counter with his legs crossed at the ankle, Jase glanced up from his phone and coffee, let his eyes roam up and down her body, and then smirked.

Her knees nearly gave out.

There they were, those deep ocean water eyes. And yep, one quirked brow expressed his amusement. The small laugh lines at the corners were new, but only served to make him look more weathered and manly. The best part, he still had that slight dimple in his right cheek. She’d always been a sucker for it.

“No need to apologize,” he said, forcing her attention to his full lips. “But if you were hoping to make me forget what you looked like naked, those jeans were not the right choice.”

She sucked in a gasp. Yes, they were fitted jeans, but they were still jeans for goodness’ sake. And was he flirting with her? She walked over to the skillet she’d left on the stove, hoping nothing had burned.

“I wasn’t naked,” she snapped.

“Not entirely. No. But I have a good imagination.”

“I was hoping you’d handle what just happened like a gentleman, but I won’t let my disappointment last for too long.”

“Oh, come on, Becca, don’t be that way. I enjoyed seeing you in your panties. I know it’s not appropriate to say so, but I’m just being honest.”

Thank goodness she was tending to breakfast so he couldn’t see the shock on her face.

“Sorry I scared you, though. Didn’t know you’d be here. Where’s Tim?” he asked.

“I don’t know, actually. I figured he ran to Ben’s.” Ben was her father’s best friend; he lived down the road in the opposite direction of Jase’s family. Sometimes they helped each other out for various things. It wasn’t unusual for her dad to be up and at ’em at the crack of dawn, but it had struck her as odd that he hadn’t made coffee. “I made him breakfast. I figured he’d be here by now.”

“He’s not outside. But his truck is here. He must have taken the Buick into town,” Jase said, his voice contemplative.

“Yeah, maybe.” That worried Becca. He would have taken the truck to Ben’s. Surely if he’d had an appointment he would have told her last night. Then again, she had gotten in close to eleven and they hadn’t spoken too much before going to bed.

“You hungry?” she asked Jase. “I’d hate all this food to go to waste in case he doesn’t come right back.”

Jase eyed her quickly, probably trying to decide if she was just being polite or if her offer was genuine.

She grabbed a plate to clue him in. “Please say yes. I can’t eat all this, and to be honest, I’m kind of worried about him now.”

Jase pushed off the counter and walked over and stood close to her. Too close. She could smell his aftershave, feel his warmth. He’d removed his coat and hat when she’d gone upstairs, and she loved how he’d pushed his flannel sleeves up to reveal his arms—still lightly tanned from the summer. “You don’t have to feed me. But it’s not really my style to turn down a home-cooked meal. Especially not one out of this kitchen.”

She looked over and gave him a little smile. He’d had plenty of great meals here with them when her mother was alive. “Here you go,” she said, handing him a plate loaded with bacon and scrambled eggs. “Hope you don’t mind turkey bacon.”

She didn’t miss his slight grimace as he turned and headed for the table in the corner of the cozy kitchen. “Turkey bacon. Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. My dad needs to start watching what he eats.”

“Always thought it sounded like an abomination. Your mother never cooked us turkey bacon.”

“No, but maybe she should have. You might like it if you have an open mind,” she said. Brian loved turkey bacon. Had encouraged her to try it.

She sat down at the table across from him, cradling her coffee between her hands.

“I have an open mind about many things, I’ll have you know. But the sanctity of pork fat is not one of them.”

“Well, your mind might be open, but I’ll bet your arteries are another matter. You’re no young buck, either. It’s never too early to watch your diet.”

He chuckled, taking a bite of the strip of meat. Chewing, he stared at it. She’d have to admit it didn’t really look like normal bacon. It was too lean. Too flat. And she had sort of burned it. But it wasn’t awful. He met her gaze.

She raised her eyebrows but remained quiet.

“Not bad.” He pointed the strip at her. “You know, if you fried it in bacon fat, I bet it would be downright tasty.”

Becca rolled her eyes, but she smiled, and then they were laughing. Together. Which was possibly a first in a long while. They’d laughed together in the past, but only when her sister had been present. Hannah and Jase were inseparable growing up. While they were grown now, Becca knew they still spent a lot of time together even though Hannah lived south in Manhattan, closer to her own teaching job. She tried not to wonder if they slept together, talked about the future, or would ever get married. Becca had expected Jase to propose to her sister when he came back from the Middle East a year or two ago, but it still hadn’t happened.

Her crush on him was one reason Becca had chosen to go away to college even though Kansas State in Manhattan would have given her the degree she needed close to home. Then she’d moved to Kansas City, two hours west, to find a job. She’d wanted to force herself to let her obsession with Jase—and her jealousy of her sister—go. Right now, sitting with him in her childhood kitchen, she wasn’t sure if that had been a successful mission.

She could still remember when he first moved here. Becca and Hannah had been so excited to see if the new neighbors had any children. They’d staked out the house from the north side of the road, just next to the mailbox, for three afternoons before they’d finally caught sight of Jase. All the chigger bites they’d earned in that overgrown ditch had been worth it.

He’d been twelve at the time, and Becca’s ten-year-old heart had nearly beaten out of her chest at the first sight of him. Most boys his age were scrawny, but not Jase. He’d been tall and strong, tan and almost menacing looking. He’d caught sight of them in that grass all right. Stared them right down for a long minute, then gone back inside.

Eventually it was outgoing Hannah who made the proper introduction, and the three of them slowly got to be friends of a sort, even if he was usually quiet. It was always Hannah that made him laugh, although many times he’d chosen to sit by Becca on the bus that first year. She and Hannah had fought about it several times.

By the time he was fourteen, he’d started to keep his distance from them. Their mother had assured them both it was normal, being he was becoming a young man. It made sense that he would no longer be interested in hanging out with his younger neighbors. He’d started to look like one, too, making Becca and her sister all the more shocked the night they watched their daddy carry his big, limp body into their home on Christmas Eve eighteen years ago. He’d been bloody and bruised.

It wasn’t that they hadn’t suspected what was going on down the road. By that time, she and Hannah had already eavesdropped on their parents’ late-night whispered conversations about the neighbors. Things weren’t right in the Beckford household. For one, Andy, Jase’s father, was a yeller. Not the normal kind of yelling that parents do. But evil. Cursing, throwing things, pulling out of the driveway in his pickup with such fury that the tires would squeal and gravel would fly. Becca’s father had frequently called Andy a “mean son of a bitch” and she’d never forgotten it.

Some days when the girls would walk to the corner next to the Beckfords’ house to wait for the school bus, Mrs. Beckford would call out to them. Ask them to inform the bus driver that Jase was sick that day and would not be getting on.

He’d been sick an awful lot for a boy so strong and healthy looking.

But that night, on Christmas Eve, it had been different. Her father had come in from the barn, grabbed the shotgun out of his gun safe, and turned to their mother. “If I’m not back here in thirty minutes, call the sheriff.”

Her mother had just nodded, her eyes glistening. It was as if they’d already prepared for such a moment. All three females had watched out the kitchen window as her father crossed the field to the Beckfords’ house, his silhouette lit by the moon. The minutes had felt like hours, but as soon as they’d seen him carrying a body back with him they’d rushed outside to help. The boy Becca had been so in love with was passed out cold in her father’s arms.

“Where’s Brenda?” Becca’s mother had asked her husband.

“She wouldn’t come,” he’d said as he carried Jase up the stairs.

“Was she okay?”

“No.”

Tim Walters’s last word on his way up the stairs had haunted Becca as a child. At the time she couldn’t fathom why a mother would stay behind with an evil man while someone else took away her beaten son. But now as an adult, Becca could somewhat make sense of the horrible situation that Jase had grown up in. His mother had chosen to stand by an abusive husband, but she was just as much a victim as Jase was, even if Becca still couldn’t respect her choices.

Becca had been so devastated by what had happened to him that Christmas Eve, she’d quietly cried herself to sleep that night in a sleeping bag on Hannah’s floor, wishing she could go lie in her bed with him. The desire to do so had consumed her, but she’d known that her parents would have been upset. Becca still wasn’t one hundred percent sure what had gone down that night, but from that evening on, Jase was like part of their family.

Watching him now, eating the breakfast she’d made, it was hard to believe he was the same person. He was still handsome as all get-out, of course. Tall, muscular, and so masculine it was ridiculous. For a man who’d suffered abuse as a child, he was incredibly confident, and she credited that somewhat to her own parents who had treated him so well. It also hadn’t hurt that he’d gone on to be popular in high school. Played football, had his share of girls, although it was obvious he was smitten with Hannah. Always had been, probably always would be.

Becca inhaled and blew out a breath. She was nearly engaged. All that was behind her now. She couldn’t let it bother her that the boy she’d been obsessed with had never seen her as anything but a nuisance, and the other sister.

He swallowed a big bite of scrambled eggs and then nodded at her. “Why aren’t you eating?” he asked. Before she could answer, he smirked. “Don’t you dare tell me you’re not a fan of turkey bacon.”

“I like turkey bacon just fine. I’ll eat when Daddy gets back.”

He nodded. “How have you been? It’s been a while.”

“It has. Five years, I’d bet.” She knew it was five years because it had been at her mother’s funeral. He’d been in between deployments. And then almost nine years before that, when he’d left for the army not long after graduating high school, breaking her young heart, which had been silly considering he hadn’t even known how she felt about him. She knew he’d been back for a couple of years now, and that her father had leased their land to him to start his cattle operation. She also knew that he and Hannah had continued to stay close, even while he was deployed, exchanging letters, emails, and occasional phone calls.

All that time Becca had done her best not to think about him, but even her best had never been good enough. She’d seen his occasional posts on Facebook, or Hannah’s. It drove her crazy, to the point she’d almost unfollowed her own sister.

Jase shook his head. “Crazy that it’s been that long. You staying through Christmas, then?”

“Yeah, it’s my winter break. I’m off until after the new year. Wanted to spend some time with Dad.”

“That’s a long time to be off. Feels like yesterday we were sittin’ in this kitchen talking about you being a teacher.”

“Yes, and you told me it was a stupid idea,” she reminded him.

Jase just chuckled. “I was a punk. You knew that.”

“I did.”

“Thankfully you didn’t listen to me, right?”

“No. I am definitely a teacher. And I am good at it.”

“Of that I have no doubt. What grade?”

“Seventh and eighth. American history.”

“Oh boy,” he said, chuckling and shaking his head.

“What?” She watched as he took a drink of his coffee to avoid answering her.

“Nothing.”

“You can’t act like that and then say nothing. What’s wrong with me teaching American history? I’ve always loved that subject.”

He nodded. “I know you have. It’s not the subject I find funny, it’s the grade. I was just thinking that if you’d been my middle-school teacher, I would not have been able to focus on . . . the Louisiana Purchase or some such nonsense.”

Becca scowled. “Some such nonsense?”

He grinned. “Sorry if that offended you. I’m sure it’s not nonsense. But you get what I’m saying.”

She was trying not to, but she couldn’t deny the idea that he found her attractive was way too satisfying. “They’re middle-school boys. Not lecherous old men.”

He gave her a playful glare and then burst out laughing. “All men—no matter their age—can appreciate a beautiful woman. Even teachers are fair game for the spank bank.”

“Oh God!” she protested loudly. “Why did you have to say that?”

She wasn’t that naive. She’d been teaching middle school for six years so she’d seen it all, thank you very much. But some things were best left unsaid and unthought-about.

“You remember Miss Hollins?” he asked, his eyebrows waggling.

Becca rolled her eyes. “Of course I do. She was the sole reason every guy signed up for jewelry class in high school.”

“Damn straight. I would have soldered earrings all day for my mother and every woman in the county just to get her to come lean over my shoulder and help me. Thank goodness those face masks shielded your eyes. On a good day, you could practically stare right down her shirt.”

Becca’s mouth dropped open in shock. “That’s disgusting.”

Jase shrugged, smirking. “Teenage boys are disgusting.”

“Well, they’re not all like that. My students are wonderful.” She considered her statement. “Well . . . some of them are, anyway.”

“I’m sure they are,” he teased.

They were silent for a moment. Jase took a drink of his coffee, his face going serious. “Listen, Becca. I just recalled where Tim is today. He’d told me, I just forgot.”

“Where?”

Jase laid down his mug and blew out a breath. “I probably should keep this to myself and let him tell you, but . . . what the hell. He’s been seeing someone. They like to have breakfast together at Teeny’s on the north side of Manhattan, a few times a month. It slipped my mind that this was one of those days.”

Becca’s eyes went wide, her heart pounding. “Seeing someone?”

“Mm-hmm.”

She quickly tried to process that idea, but the lump in her throat made it a little difficult. “I can’t believe this.”

“Listen, it was tough for me, too. I loved your mom . . . hell, like she was my own. You know that. But I also love Tim, and . . . well, nobody should grow old alone.”

Well yeah, most people shouldn’t. But this was her father, and he’d only been a widower for five years. He was the kind of man who brought his wife wildflowers from the field, chased her through the house laughing, and French-kissed her in front of his children until she pinched him on the butt to make him stop. That kind of love was once in a lifetime. Wasn’t it?

Becca bit her lip, which had traitorously started to wobble. And who the hell was this woman he was supposedly seeing? It wasn’t like this was a big city, for God’s sake.

“Why didn’t Hannah tell me?” she whispered. But she knew the answer. She and her sister didn’t talk much these days. If at all.

Jase shrugged. “Hannah’s been doing her own thing lately.”

Becca was considering asking him to clarify exactly what that cryptic statement meant when they heard a car pull into the drive. Shooting up from her seat, Becca glanced out the window that looked out onto the side of the house to find her father parking the Buick in front of the garage.

“He’s alone,” she said as she watched him get out of the car. She let the curtains fall shut. The same curtains her mother had purchased at JCPenney on the day Becca had gotten her braces. They’d gone to the mall to get ice cream, and her mother could never pass up a home sale. Everything in this house held a piece of her mother. Everything.

“Of course he’s alone. He’s not going to bring her here until he tells you,” Jase said as he got up from the table. She couldn’t help noticing the way his butt looked in his fitted jeans as he walked to the sink and rinsed his plate. For a moment, the perfect sight of his thick thighs and cowboy boots made her lose track of her words.

“Has he brought her here before?” Becca asked, suddenly heartsick at the idea of another woman in her mother’s home.

Drying his hands, Jase turned around to face her, his expression full of pity. “I don’t know, Becca. That’s the truth. And it makes me sad, too. But . . . don’t be too hard on him. He’s been real happy lately.”

Had he seemed more happy than usual last night when she’d gotten here? She felt bad for not noticing. The back door creaked open and her father stepped in with a wide grin.

“Mornin’. Two of my favorite people here to greet me.” He sniffed the air. “You make breakfast, Becca? I’m sorry. I figured you’d sleep through the morning after coming in so late last night.”

“It’s okay, Dad. Jase ate your share,” she said, watching him hang his hat and coat on the peg rack beside the door. “Where were you off to so early?”

She noticed his body hesitate as he made his way over to the coffeepot. Just then Jase pushed off the counter and set his own mug down. “Hey, I’m gonna get out of your hair so you two can catch up.”

Traitor. Becca scowled at Jase, who made his way over to her, locked a strong hand around her neck, and then leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. “Thanks for breakfast, Beck.” He gave her a sharp gaze before turning to the door. It was a warning. A reminder, to be kind and understanding to her father. But now all she could think of was the feel of his soft lips on her skin. Because never, ever, had Jase Beckford kissed her in any way before.