Jesse awoke with that vaguely disoriented sensation of not knowing exactly where she was. She was deliciously warm. There was no sound of crackling flames, which meant she had not fallen asleep in front of her fire. Instead, she heard birds outside chirping merrily in the trees.

That was sort of odd. Her alarm should have gone off well before the birds started singing. She had horses to feed and stalls to clean before she rode out to check on her small herd of cattle. With that in mind, Jesse tried to force her eyes open. That didn’t work much better though. It was almost like her body was against waking up altogether.

“Morning.”

The husky male growl brought her fully awake. It wasn’t like she was afraid she’d gone to bed with a stranger. This was almost scarily worse—or better. It depended on her point of view. Either way, it was terrifyingly exciting to wake up beside Cal Hernandez.

Jesse struggled to whisper a response. “Morning.”

He was the reason she was so warm. The two of them were lying on the couch together. He had his back pressed up against the thick couch cushions. She was in front of him, her back to his front and his arms wrapped solidly around her body. The amount of heat radiating off that man was akin to a furnace.

She gently took his hand in hers and lifted it into the air. Holding his huge hand in front of her, she laced her fingers with his. Then she carefully traced the outline of his fingers. His hand was tanned and covered in a light dusting of short black hairs. She loved the difference in texture between her hand and his. It felt so good to rub her fingertips over the callouses on his palm and think about the fact that this man worked for a living just as unapologetically as some people sat around in an office somewhere. Cal was not a man who had any interest of making a living in an office somewhere, and his hands proved it.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

Suddenly, his hand folded around hers. His fingertips began gently rubbing the back of her hand and then her palm. She felt a tingle slide down her spine. Each time he exhaled, she could feel his breath whispering across the back of her neck. The sensation was strangely thrilling. The pleasurable tingle was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Was this wrong? She could not have said, and yet how could something that felt so incredibly right be wrong? Wouldn’t her psyche know on some primal level if this man were forbidden to her?

Doubt clouded her mind. She sighed and let go of his hand. “You never answered me last night.”

“About what?” He did not move. His arms were still wrapped around her, and she could feel each inhale and exhale in the movement of his chest.

Jesse had to force herself to focus. That wasn’t a good sign. This man had an uncanny ability to rattle her composure. “About the identity of the person or persons who packed up my parents’ house. Who was it?”

“Let’s see.” His rumbly voice was so masculine that she felt herself trembling in a visceral response. “I believe my parents did most of the packing up. I know my mother supervised the whole thing. She was very close-lipped about it though.” He paused, and she could actually sense him thinking back to all those years ago. “You have to understand that my parents already had an argument going where your parents were concerned.”

“What do you mean?” Jesse felt like that was contrary to absolutely every other report of the two couples that she’d heard. “Your father and my father were best friends.”

“That isn’t exactly true.” He shifted on the couch and moved into a position where he was resting more on his elbow that just his side. This allowed him to look down into her face and see her far more clearly. The intimacy of that visual contact was disconcerting. “My mother didn’t like your mother. Our parents were years apart in age. Your mother was probably a good ten years younger than mine. Your father was older than she was. I believe he was only five years younger than my parents. I know all of those age differences don’t mean squat, but I think your mother and my father were lovers a very long time ago.”

“What?” Jesse struggled to sit up and wound up falling off the edge of the couch instead. “I thought you said that you didn’t believe Joe Hernandez was my father!”

“I don’t.” Cal made an impatient sound and swung into a sitting position. “You need to think about timing here. I believe my father had a very long-term, long-standing crush on your mother.”

“Oh.” The thought alone made her want to internally freak out. It was uncomfortable to imagine anyone other than her father having a long-term crush on her mother. “I suppose we have these ideas about our parents that are just—well—firmly set. You know?”

“I do.” He bobbed his head up and down. “Do you think it’s easy for me to imagine my father having a crush on your mom? I remember your mom. And honestly, I’ll agree with my dad’s taste. She was a beautiful woman. But my mother bore my father five sons. She ran this ranch with him for years. She put up with his bullshit and even his infidelities. The idea that he could actually carry a torch for someone else is”—Cal’s jaw tightened, and he looked distinctly uncomfortable— “disgusting.”

“So, what do we do?” she wondered out loud.

It seemed kind of unfair that she had come over here because she had this driving desire to ferret out the truth about her parents, the accident that had killed them, and the reasons behind Avery Hernandez’s claim that she was the love child of Joe Hernandez and Amelia Collins. Jesse was the one who wanted answers. She wanted the truth. She had all of these ideas about what she deserved to know. And yet she had no clue how to go about accomplishing any of this. She had nothing in the way of a plan to make Avery or Joe tell the truth. She had no access to any records or anything. And her only clue was a stack of old journals.

“Wait.” Jesse got to her knees. She was cold now that she had left the warmth of Cal’s arms, but she did not want to think about that right now. “We have to find my mother’s journals.”

“Excuse me?” He was frowning. “What are you talking about?”

“That’s why I wanted to know who packed up my parents’ place,” Jesse said eagerly. “Two of my mother’s journals are missing. The first one and the last one. I think if we can find them, we’ll know what was really happening when the accident happened. And maybe we’ll find out what happened in the beginning too.”

Cal’s dark brows drew together. He stood up and stretched. The sight of his chest momentarily distracted Jesse as he lifted his arms above his head. His sweatpants rested just below his navel, and his sweatshirt rode up just enough for her to see the dark hair on his belly. The delicious sight of him was strangely intimate. She could not piece together what she was feeling. It was all too complicated.

Cal was handsome. He was built like a real man. He wrestled bulls and subdued half-wild horses every single day. Nobody looked better on a horse, and there was no one on earth that Jesse felt more comfortable around. She had been having girlish daydreams and fancies about Cal for almost as long as she could remember. Sometimes she wondered if there wasn’t something wrong with her that she’d never been able to look at anyone else the same way.

“Let me get this straight,” Cal finally said in a very low, very concise voice. “You’re saying that your mother kept journals?”

“I found them in the house. She always kept her correspondence in the dining room buffet. There are years’ worth of letters and cards in there. But I found journals as well. They begin about fifteen years before her death, and they’re numbered. I can’t find number one. And the last year is missing too.”

“Damn.” Cal shook his head. “I wonder if my dad knew that.”

“That she kept journals?”

Cal nodded. “That’s a pretty big deal. Don’t you think? It means she could have potentially named him as either a lover, or a stalker, or anything. He would have gone to great lengths to hide that kind of thing. At least I’d think so. And yet do you really think a man would look for that kind of thing?”

It dawned on Jesse what Cal was suggesting. She felt her heart stop for just a second as she considered the ramifications. “You think your mother took them and hid them or got rid of them,” Jesse whispered. “Because they were evidence of her husband’s infidelity and his crimes.”

“I don’t know.” Cal knuckled his right eye as though he had a raging headache. “It was a long time ago, Jesse. The chances of finding those things intact are really slim. Don’t you think?”

“Probably.” Her excitement began to fade. “I guess I could ask your mom. It’s not like she could hate me any more right now. She’s so angry at all of us. Pretty much everyone is on her shit list right now.”

“Except Met,” Cal muttered. “Met will always be her baby.”

“Maybe he could help us!” Jesse felt her excitement rising once again. And then there was a thunderous knock on the front door. She turned to stare in that direction. “Are you expecting someone?”

Cal looked grim. “We had some excitement here last night. Hopefully this is the good and not the bad or the ugly part of it.”

“What?” Jesse was still trying to piece that all together to make sense of it when Cal strode toward the front door and slid the deadbolt open.

Cal flung the door open, and Jesse spotted four policemen standing there on the porch. Or rather they were county deputies since the ranch was well outside the Denver Police Department jurisdiction. Why would they be here at the Hernandez ranch?

“Mr. Hernandez?” The deputy in front’s nametag read PERKINS. “We have a complaint from one of your neighbors that you have some of his stolen stock on your property.”

“I don’t doubt you have a complaint,” Cal drawled. His tone was almost a growl.

Jesse got up from the floor and wrapped her arms around her midsection as she headed toward the front door to better hear what was going on. The deputies didn’t look particularly angry or dangerous. But they were talking about theft again. Jesse had plenty of experience with that lately. In fact, two of the deputies standing there—Ortiz and Alexander—had been out to her ranch several times with similar “complaints” about theft.

“Hello, Deputy Ortiz,” Jesse said, making a point to let the deputy know that she was there and aware of what was going on. “What brings you out here?”

“The usual.” Ortiz sounded irritated. “I’m about sick of these complaints.” He turned to Perkins. “This is bullshit. You know it and I know it. Just because Captain Paul Weatherby of the precious Flying W wants us to investigate some bullshit claim, does not make it true.”

Cal grunted. “Last night when I arrived home from visiting my father in the hospital, there was an eighteen-wheeler stranded in my front pasture.” Cal made a gesture to the big muddy scar on the still wet grass of that pasture. “It’s pretty easy to see where he was.”

“Who the hell puts an eighteen-wheeler in a pasture?” Ortiz demanded. He gaped at the mess. “Look at that! The man tore up the grass!”

“He claimed that he was hauling a load of livestock from the Flying W and was told by their management to exit their ranch using the access road that connects our ranches via that old cattle guard.” Cal dipped his chin to the deputies. “I know you gentlemen are familiar with that road.”

“Yes,” Perkins said wearily. “It’s been the subject of a lot of recent discussions.”

“Inside that trailer was a bull that I can prove belongs to me.” Cal was starting to get excited. Jesse picked up on his reasoning.

She clapped her hands. “If you can prove he changed the brand on your bull, then we’ve finally got him!” This was incredible news!

The deputies did not look convinced. Perkins pulled out his little notepad and started scribbling. “It’s rarely that easy. And you said you talked to the driver?”

“Yes.” Cal scratched the back of his neck. He looked uncomfortable. How odd. “I didn’t get his name. He was terrified to talk to me. Apparently, he’s on probation and was told this was his task to do.”

Ortiz rolled his eyes. “And the penalty for failure was a return to jail, right? This is the third time we’ve run across that threat.”

The fourth deputy was unfamiliar to Jesse. She cocked her head to one side and stared at him. She didn’t like the look on his face. He was too calm and too sure of himself. Jesse finally pointed at him. She waited for the other deputies to turn and stare.

“Who is this guy?” Jesse demanded. “He looks a little suspicious, don’t you think?”

“Carney?” Perkins looked surprised. Then he frowned. “You know what sucks about this Flying W thing?”

“What?” Cal asked quietly.

Perkins narrowed his gaze at Carney. “It’s making us all suspicious of each other all the time.”

“As many times as I’ve been accused of stealing my own horses,” Jesse reminded the deputy, “I’m going to reserve judgment on anyone new until I’m absolutely sure they’re not trying to screw me over.”

“That’s fair,” Perkins agreed. “We’re going to go.” Perkins took out his cell phone. “But I’m taking some pictures of this field. As far as I’m concerned, it’s evidence.”

Ortiz snorted. “Besides, anyone who tears up good grass like that is just stupid. Grass is gold around here.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Cal drawled. Then he shook hands with the deputy. “I’ll be in to your office a bit later to verify my story. That bull took off for the low spot in the draw where it’s dry. He’ll be there, and I’ll be happy to photograph whatever brand he’s wearing to add to your growing pile of evidence against pretty much everyone.”

Perkins chuckled and nodded. “You do that, Cal Hernandez. We’ll be looking for you.”