There was a party going on at the Triple C Ranch. The scent of grilled steaks perfumed the expansive back lawn and patio while folks Ace considered family talked and sipped iced tea and soda pop. Later, after dinner, they’d open up the pool house for a little water fun.

Adoption day was a big event for the Caldwell family, especially for his brother, Nate, his recent bride, Whitney, and their three-year-old twins, Olivia and Sophia. Nate had always wanted family and kids. Not that he had let on or talked about it much, but Nate was born to be a family man. He adored kids, especially Whitney’s little dark-eyed dolls, and they adored him in return.

Ace leaned against the patio post and watched his brother’s new daughters play with Bowzer, the aging stock dog. Bowzer, tongue lolling, seemed thrilled to have new creatures to herd. An older child, Daisy, played with them, the perfect babysitter. The perky, blond nine-year-old had practically become part of the family too after her father was sent to prison.

The whole gang was here for the big celebration. Connie, the Triple C housekeeper and Ace’s mother of the heart. Gilbert, his late father’s best friend who’d lived and worked on the Triple C longer than Ace had been alive. Longer than any of the kids had been around. The Seminole Indian and the Mexican housekeeper were as much family as Ace’s brothers and sisters.

Sister Emily was here, too, the diamond rings on her left hand almost as shiny as her green eyes whenever she glanced at her new husband, Levi Donley, or the baby boy sleeping in the stroller. Ace marveled that an infant could sleep through the Caldwell noise. He marveled too that Levi and Emily had gotten back together after years apart. Years when Emily had loved, lost and grieved more than anyone should have to, but her faith had never wavered, and God had given her Levi and the baby she’d longed for.

He couldn’t say the same for his own faith. In fact, even though Connie and Dad had raised him right, and Connie had prayed over him and taken him to church, he’d never had much faith at all until after the accident.

He took a long swig of his pop, pondering life and family and his own peculiar situation.

The Triple C Ranch was alive these days in a way it hadn’t been in years.

He was more alive, too, though after yesterday’s fiasco with Marisa, he felt like the bottom of the barrel again.

“You didn’t expect her to welcome you with open arms, did you?” Nate wielded a giant grilling fork, the lid to the huge grill flipped up so he could check the fragrant steaks.

“I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I thought she’d talk to me.”

“After she nearly had you arrested last time?”

“I was drunk, Nate.” Drunk and loud and obnoxious. In a hospital filled with sick people. “She had good reason.”

The truth still shamed him, but his brother knew where he’d been and the struggle he’d had with alcohol. Still had. Nate might not know everything and for that, Ace was thankful, but he’d been a rock of support in the months since Ace decided to get sober. One day at a time. Some days it was one minute at a time. Days like yesterday.

“I can’t let it go. She’s broke, working two jobs, killing herself to take care of Chance.” He gestured with his Coke can. “She wouldn’t let me see him.”

“And you’re still beating yourself up, taking the blame for his injury.”

“Part of recovery. Own your mistakes. Make amends where you can. I’m going to make amends whether she likes it or not. Maybe not to her, but to him. I have to.” He’d never be able to move forward until he did.

He’d loved Marisa, in his self-focused kind of way, and he’d cared about the young man who’d wanted to be like him. Still cared, if the truth was told, and lately he’d learned to be brutally honest with himself. Marisa was more than a mistake he’d made.

Emily coasted by in sneakers and rolled-up jeans, a red shirt the perfect foil to her black hair. His sister was a beauty. Levi was a lucky man, and the cowboy was smart enough to know it this time.

“When are those going to be ready?” Emily lifted her nose to sniff the air. “Everything else is on the tables, and I’m starving.”

“I thought you were living on love these days.” Ace tipped his Coke can toward Levi. The cowboy, baby now on his shoulder, made a beeline for his wife.

She grinned and snuggled her face into the baby’s neck, sneaking a kiss to Levi during the exchange. “Love and steaks.”

The newlyweds gazed at each other with such sappy adoration, Ace snickered. Had he ever felt that way about a woman?

Nate didn’t seem the least bothered by the public display of affection. Probably because he’d been guilty of doing the same thing.

He interrupted the lovebirds. “Want yours rare, Emily?”

Emily managed to tear herself away from her husband to make a face. “Levi does. Not me. Medium is fine.”

Nate stabbed a couple of rare steaks. The grill flamed up. “Those are ready for the red meat eaters.” He handed the platter to her. “Ace went to see Marisa yesterday.”

Steaks forgotten, his sister paused, expression sympathetic as her green eyes settled on Ace. “You okay?”

Ace heaved a heavy exhale. “I am. She’s not. Neither is Chance. She’s as skinny as a fence post. Lines and dark circles around her eyes. The whole exhausted look.”

“With compliments like that, I’m surprised she didn’t fall at your feet and plead with you to stay.” Emily hefted the platter as Nate added two more steaks. “You should have invited her out today. We could fatten her up.”

“She barely spoke to me and refused to do that for more than ten minutes. I doubt she’ll let me feed her.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I’ve done what AA suggests, but it doesn’t seem like enough. I want to do something to make her life better, easier. She needs help and is too proud to accept it.” And he needed to prove to her that he was different now.

“Being overly proud is not uncommon for people who grew up in foster care. They have a distinct and understandable need to control their world.”

This from a social worker who’d worked with plenty of foster kids. Like Daisy. “Any suggestions?”

One of the twins—Olivia, he thought—raced to Nate, waited until he bent for a hug, and then raced away, yelling something about daddy.

“Hey, Daddy.” Whitney appeared, took the giant fork from Nate’s hands, tugged the front of his shirt, and kissed him. Big brother got a sappy grin and wrapped her up like a burrito in his brawny arms.

Something twisted in Ace’s gut that felt surprisingly like envy. He was thrilled for his brother’s happiness, so why the sudden wish that he had a love and a family in his future?

Averting his gaze, he grabbed the fork and plated the rest of the steaks. When he looked up, Emily was watching him with the expression she always got when she was analyzing someone’s behavior.

“What?”

“I’m sorry for the way Marisa responded to you. I can tell it hurts. We all see how hard you’re trying, Ace. We see your progress.” She touched his arm. “Want me to call her?”

He slammed the grill lid with a metallic clang that apparently served as a dinner bell for the rest of the crew. They immediately looked his way and then started toward the tables laden with food.

“I got this. It’s my problem to fix.”

About that time, Nate and Whitney came up for air.

Nate’s grin was so big, his mouth was about to split. He noticed the steaks piled high on the platter in Emily’s hands. “Sweet deal. Let’s eat.”

Nate looped an arm around his bride, hollered to the twins, and left the grill to Ace. Ace turned the appropriate knobs, then fell in step with his sister. As they reached the main table, his cell phone mooed. He loved that ring tone. Cows mooing sounded like money to him.

Stepping away from his sister and the noisy party, Ace answered the call and talked for a couple of minutes before hanging up.

“Nate. Can I talk to you for a second?” He punched a thumb over his shoulder.

Nate, his plate already piled with corn on the cob, steak and salad handed the dish to Whitney and came alongside Ace. “What’s up?”

“A guy from AA. He got some bad news today, and he’s wanting a drink.” Needing a drink. Ace knew about that, too.

His salt-of-the-earth brother, jovial a minute ago, grew serious. “What can I do to help?”

Such was Nate. Always ready to lend a hand. Without him, Ace would never have gotten through the early days of sobriety. “I hate to miss the adoption celebration, but do you mind if I leave? I agreed to be this guy’s sponsor, a new gig for me, and I promised to be there.”

“Go. We’ll save you a steak.”

“Thanks.” He patted his jeans’ pocket for his truck keys, and, finding them, walked toward the parking area.

“Oh, and Ace?” Nate called behind him.

Ace spun on his boot heels. “Yeah?”

“I’m proud of you.”

Warmth and love swelled in Ace’s chest. Too moved to speak lest he make a fool of himself and choke up, he thumbed his Resistol, nodded once, and loped to his truck.

Carla’s Country Café on Applewood Street in Clay City smelled good but nowhere near as good as his backyard. Ace ordered a basket of fries anyway. He was hungry, and having something to snack on helped keep his mind, and that of his AA pal, off the booze.

He probably shouldn’t have chosen Carla’s as the meeting place, but he’d always liked the laid back, homey atmosphere, and being here reminded him of the good times with Marisa. With Chance, too. Hanging out, having burgers, plotting the next adventure. The last part maybe wasn’t so good, but the memories were.

“Want some tea or a Coke?” he said to the man sitting across from him at the square table for four. He didn’t dare leave the question as open-ended as, “Want a drink?” The answer would most certainly be, yes, a fifth of vodka.

Dressed in a well-pressed, blue shirt and creased khakis, the blond, clean-cut man looked like a guy you’d sit by at church.

“I ordered before you got here. Thanks for meeting me.” The man’s hands shook as he fiddled with a classy watch on his wrist. The owner of a printing business, Don wasn’t a jobless skid-row bum. He was a businessman, a functional alcoholic who’d thought he could handle the liquor. Who, like Ace, had long refused to believe he could be addicted. Also like Ace, he had the money to indulge in most anything he wanted, a dangerous thing for an alcoholic.

“So what’s going on?” Ace asked. “You sounded pretty upset on the phone.”

“My wife is going through with the divorce. I got the papers today.” Don’s eyes glistened suspiciously. He was forty-something with two young teenagers, and his wife had had her fill of his drinking, the weekends alone, the public embarrassment and subsequent fights.

“She doesn’t believe you’ve changed.”

“That’s the problem.” Don emitted a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I have. I don’t even know if I can.”

Ace had felt the same way more than once. “You can, Don. You will. One day at a time, remember? Hang in there.”

“I’m trying, but Joanie has no reason to believe that. I’ve made plenty of promises before.” He leaned forward, hands squeezed together on the tabletop. “Without her, I have no reason to keep going.”

“Yes, you do. Those boys will always be your sons. They need a sober father. The fact that you called me says a lot. You’re fighting the good fight, and you’ll win.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Don rotated his watch again. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He was fighting hard. “I guess I am.”

The food arrived, a fragrant basket of crispy fries for Ace, chicken fried steak and gravy for Don. The steak reminded Ace of what he was missing back at the Triple C, but he kept that to himself. Getting food into an alcoholic helped keep him straight.

“I’ll buy you a steak if you want it,” Don said. “It’s the least I can do.”

“I’m good, but thanks.”

“I might as well eat here. All I have at home is an empty fridge, and with Joanie gone, dinners don’t happen.” Face crumbling, he laid the fork on the edge of his plate. “What am I going to without her, Ace? She’s my everything. She and the boys.”

Ace had no answers, but he could listen and encourage, and that’s what he did. When Don returned the favor, asking how Ace was doing, he told him about the run-in with Marisa.

Two drunks sharing sob stories. Weren’t they awesome?

Regardless of Ace’s sarcasm, meetings like this with his own sponsor had kept him sober plenty of times. Fortunately, he hadn’t needed to make one of those calls in months.

When the food was gone, they ordered coffee and dawdled, talking some more. Ace listened and encouraged, repeating every platitude he’d learned in AA. Somehow, hokey as they sounded, they worked.

Finally, Don clinked his empty cup into a saucer and glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late. I should let you go home.”

“I’m here as long as you need.”

The waitress appeared, coffee pot ready. Ace placed his hand over the top of his cup and shook his head. He was wired as it was. Some chamomile tea would sure hit the spot.

“Check please,” he told the waitress. “One ticket.”

“No, no, I’ve got it.” Don fumbled for his wallet. “I’m the one who called you.”

Ace captured the ticket from the waitress’s hand. “You can get the next one. Just promise you’ll call if the urge hits.”

Don knew what urge he meant. The urge to drink, to numb the heartache of losing his family. “That’s a promise I’ll keep.”

“Good. I’m praying for you, buddy. Hang in there.”

Don rose from the table and pushed in his chair. “Does it ever get easier?”

Ace dropped a few bills on the table and followed him up. “If you mean will you ever stop wanting a drink, I don’t know, but I can tell you this. After a while, the edge disappears and the air smells cleaner, the sky is bluer, and you start living again. Really living.”

“Without my family?”

Tough call, and Ace wasn’t one to blow smoke. “Don’t give up hope. She loved you once. Maybe she will again when she sees you’ve changed this time.”

The words reverberated in Ace’s ears. Marisa had loved him once. And he desperately wanted her to believe he’d changed. Not that he had any hope of rekindling their love affair, but his need to make amends gnawed like a giant Norway rat.

Don, who had calmed considerably in the two hours in the café, smiled for the first time. “I’ve got a lot to prove, but I’m up for it. Thanks, Ace. Thanks a lot.”

“Anytime.”

Don turned and walked out the door, holding it open while a beautiful brunette strolled into the cafe. Her gaze fell on Ace, and a slow, knowing smile curved sensuous lips as she looked him up and down.

“Well, hello, my Ace of diamonds. Long time no see.”

Ace’s stomach took a tumble. Meeting old drinking friends was inevitable, but this one was a true temptation. “Kristen.”

She sauntered up to him in tight jeans and pink boots, the top three buttons on her blouse undone. Her perfume, an expensive brand he liked, floated around her, pulled him in.

“I’ve been thinking about you. Where did you disappear to?”

“Working cows and keeping my head down.”

She laughed. “Now, why don’t I believe that?”

“It’s true.” He held up both palms.

“You know what they say. All work and no play means it’s time for you to have some fun. Want to take me out to the club tonight? Call some friends.” She ran a finger up the center of his chest and tapped his chin. “Have a little reunion party?”

The temptation roared in like a wildfire. He’d once enjoyed Kristen’s crazy, adventurous side. The woman knew how to party.

He repeated the words he’d said to Marisa. “I don’t do that anymore.”

Her hand, busy roaming his biceps, paused. “You’re joking.”

Using every bit of willpower he didn’t know he had, Ace removed Kristen’s hand from his body and let it drop. “Dead serious.”

She took one step back to stare up at his face. “I think you are.”

“I am.”

She studied him for another second or two while he prayed inwardly and battled the desire to follow her out the door.

Finally, Kristen tossed her gorgeous brown hair and laughed. “Do me one little favor?”

“What would that be?”

She tapped his cheek and winked. “Call me when you get over it.”

Then, she laughed again, whirled on her pretty pink boots and left him standing in a cold sweat.

Marisa stepped around the corner of the building and watched the long, lean cowboy exit Carla’s Country Café. She didn’t want him to see her, especially after what she’d observed. She didn’t want another confrontation with Ace Caldwell now or ever. He did unhealthy things to her head, and she was still recovering from the insanity of the last time.

But she had to admit, the cowboy looked good in his boots and jeans with the silver, custom-made Triple C belt buckle his daddy had given him for his sixteenth birthday. Funny, the things she remembered about him—little details that would jump out once in a while and startle her with their intensity.

Like this café. What were the chances that he’d be here on the first night she’d ventured back to their old haunt? Not that she would have come without incentive, but Chance, who showed little interest in anything, had expressed a yearning for Carla’s hand-pattied bacon cheeseburger with salsa, grilled onions and jalapeño peppers.

So here she was like some kind of voyeur, staring in the window at Ace talking to a gorgeous brunette. Kristen Fairchild, a rich daddy’s darling in a pink Jeep that Marisa remembered from high school. A woman who made Marisa’s scrubs and ponytail seem faded and dull by comparison.

Kristen wouldn’t remember her, not by a long shot. They’d run in vastly different circles. She’d seen the way the woman had come on to Ace, the way she’d put her hands on him as if they knew each other better than an unmarried couple should. Kristen liked men, and they liked her right back.

For a moment before she’d hustled away from the window to hide, Marisa wondered if Ace was one of Kristen’s men. But he hadn’t returned Kristen’s flirty looks or smiles. He’d stepped away from her invasive touch, and the woman had stormed out, her expression annoyed as she hopped into her Jeep and roared away.

Maybe Ace was cleaning up his act.

But she wasn’t willing to bet Chance’s health on it. Or her heart.