Callie paced the front veranda until dust on the drive announced the arrival of a sheriff’s SUV. She strained to see who was driving, but the sun glinting on the windshield blocked her view.

After his startled, “What the hell?” Ross had quickly said that someone would be right over. Hadn’t said it would be him.

Callie hated that she’d dashed to her bathroom and made sure her hair was combed, but didn’t look like she’d run to comb it. Casually neat, as though she’d just returned from riding. But not what she really looked like when she came in from the stables, which was sweat-streaked face and hat hair.

She checked her clothes—jeans, colorful top with three-quarter sleeves, jodhpur boots. Just another ranch girl. With makeup and a little lip gloss. Sure.

The SUV halted a few feet beyond the portico, remaining in the sun. No lights or sirens. Callie saw the shape of a man beyond the tinted windows, but which man, she couldn’t tell.

He took his time, tapping at his computer and talking into his radio, while Callie stood in agony. Should she run out to the SUV to greet him? Or stand here like a poised young lady who’d been a debutante, cotillion and all?

The SUV door opened. Callie let out her held breath in a rush when she saw Ross with his dark hair and tight body, the uniform emphasizing his trim build.

“Where is he?” Ross asked her.

No, Hey, Callie. How you doing? You been holding up all right? He was tense, angry, ready to grab Manny and haul him away.

“Around back.” Callie waved Ross to follow her along the narrow gravel path that led behind the house.

The manor was surrounded by an expanse of lawn that swept in a swath of green down to the stables, horse corrals, and a small covered riding ring. The tended lawn blended into the Texas grasslands about there, with Hill Country scrub, trees, and rolling hills taking over. The heart of the ranch was wild country where the cattle roamed and Callie liked to ride, leaving her troubles behind.

The bright green lawn, kept in pristine condition by a team of gardeners, was a beautiful place to walk, and where Callie’s mother hosted her popular parties.

Halfway down the hill, a small red tractor cut a sharp turn across the grass, leaving a jagged stripe in his wake.

“He’s been at it almost an hour,” Callie said. “My dad is going to shit when he sees what’s happened to his lawn.”

“Hell. Callie, I’m sorry.”

Ross scowled at the tractor in the distance, his jaw clenched. Sunglasses hid his eyes, but Callie decided that Ross in the sunshine looked even better than Ross in the rain.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Why should you be sorry? Unless you sent him …?”

She was joking, but Ross slanted her a sharp look. “Sent him? What would I do that for?”

“To give you an excuse to come over and ask me out?”

What the hell had made her say that? Callie clamped her mouth shut, her heart jumping all over the place. A bead of sweat ran from her temple to tickle her ear.

Ross stared at her from behind his sunglasses, not moving a muscle. Callie made herself gaze back at him, her smile fixed. She must look like a weird, grinning plastic clown.

Manny yelled. The tractor took another abrupt turn then kept going in a circle, Manny struggling with the controls.

Ross took off across the grass. Callie, after a startled second, ran behind him. Ross, with his long stride, quickly reached the tractor. He leapt onto the step beside the seat, gloved hand reaching down to turn off the machine.

The tractor coasted to a halt. Ross pulled up the cutting blade and set the brake.

Callie reached them, her boots pinching her feet—they were made for riding not running—her breath coming in gasps.

“Manny, what on earth are you doing?” was all she could get out.

“Mowing the lawn.” Manny flashed her a grin as he climbed stiffly off the tractor. His legs buckled, but Ross caught him and shoved him upright.

Manny was nearly as tall as Ross, the seventeen-year-old already filling out into the man he’d become. His red hair gleamed in the sunshine, and his cocky smile lit up his eyes. Yep, Callie bet he was a heartbreaker.

Like Ross had been. Callie remembered the long-ago, sunny October high school day when Ross had approached her. She’d been standing outside at lunch, her friends having gone en masse to the bathroom, but she’d wanted to drink in more of the outdoors before being cooped up the rest of the day.

Ross Campbell had walked toward her with his lanky saunter, jeans outlining strong legs. A T-shirt had stretched across a hard body, and the brim of his cowboy hat shaded his tanned face. She’d noticed him looking at her for the few weeks prior to this, ever since she’d encountered him at his locker and he’d drawled a charming politeness. He’d glanced at Callie whenever they’d passed, as though he might want to speak to her but hadn’t made up his mind.

Callie had wet her lips as he’d approached, trying to stay cool, trying to pretend only mild interest. She was so sure he’d to ask her to the homecoming dance—had hoped with all her heart.

When he’d only winked at her as he’d leaned against the fence and asked her what he’d missed in their Spanish class last week, her disappointment had been fierce.

She’d thought the great-looking Ross had liked her, but he’d only wanted the smart girl’s notes. The rawness of that had followed her for a long time, but she hadn’t blamed Ross. Stupid Callie for thinking he had any interest in her.

Callie snapped herself back to the present, and a grinning Manny. “Why were you mowing the lawn?” she asked him.

Manny shrugged. “Ross told me I should get a job, you know, a real one. You have a big yard. I thought I’d help out.”

Ross made a noise of exasperation. “Most people knock on the door and ask first.”

“Yeah? What if they say Get lost, you waste of space? This way, I’ve already done the work, and they have to pay me.”

“This is not what I was talking about,” Ross growled.

“Don’t worry about it,” Callie said quickly. “He didn’t hurt anything. Well …” She gazed at the third of the lawn with crazy, uneven stripes. “Nothing that can’t be fixed. It’s only grass.”

“Not the point,” Ross said. “Of all the dumbass things you’ve done … This has to be the weirdest.”

“No, it’s not. You came over, didn’t you? Did you ask her out yet?”

Callie’s face burned at the same time Ross flushed.

Manny looked back and forth between them. “Oh, you did ask her. What, you said no?” he said to Callie, surprised.

“I asked him.” The searing heat in Callie’s cheeks trickled to her neck and chest. “Sort of. He hasn’t answered yet.”

“Yeah? So, what’s wrong with you, Ross? If a lady like her asked me out, I’d already be in the truck with her and halfway down the road.”

Ross laid a hand on Manny’s shoulder. “This is none of your business, son. We’re going to the station to have a talk.”

“No.” At Callie’s impassioned word, both men turned to her. Now the heat ran all the way to her toes. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

Ross’s mouth firmed. “Trespassing, breaking and entering, property damage.”

“I don’t want to bring any charges,” Callie said. “Give him a break, Ross.”

“Yeah, Ross, give me a break.”

Ross released Manny and removed his sunglasses. White lines creased the tan at his temples, and his eyes glittered.

“All right,” he said to Manny, “but you’re going to fix anything you’ve broken, and you’re going to mow the rest of this lawn, but the right way.”

“Sorry.” Manny scuffed the ground with his toe, embarrassed. “I’ve never driven a tractor mower—I’ve never had a lawn this big. Hell, we don’t even have a lawn. Just dirt where I live.”

Ross shot Callie a look, then slid his sunglasses back on. “It’s not hard. Here, I’ll show you.”

Callie hid a smile as Ross led Manny to the mower and began pointing out the levers. Manny swung into the driver’s seat, and Ross stood on the running board, holding on to the seat as Manny started up and moved off.

She watched them for a while, Manny driving slowly, Ross patiently showing him how to mow a straight row.

They’d be hot and thirsty when they were done. Callie ducked into the house and the kitchen, which looked out over the back. Ross and Manny rode up and down the lawn while Callie brewed up a batch of tea and poured it into a pitcher with ice.

She felt like her mom carrying a tray with the pitcher and glasses to the back veranda, setting it up on the table. But why not? Her mom had always done thoughtful things for them. Everyone knew Caitlyn Jones loved her family and her husband. Even now, Callie’s parents had taken a vacation, just the two of them, to South Padre Island to enjoy a B&B and the beach.

They’d been reluctant to leave Callie alone, but Callie had pushed them out the door. She wasn’t a baby anymore, and she welcomed the time by herself to heal.

Ross and Manny at last parked the tractor. The lawn looked better, Manny’s squiggles smoothed into more or less straight lines.

Both men leapt lightly up the steps to the veranda, the younger and the older. What Ross had been and what he’d become, Callie thought.

“I made y’all iced tea,” she said brightly. “Manny, you want sugar? We don’t do sweet tea at my house—we fix it up as we like it.” She indicated the sugar bowl and spoon on the tray.

“Cool.” Manny snatched the cover off the sugar bowl, staining the porcelain with grass and dirt. She’d be washing that before her mom came home.

Manny shoveled five tablespoons of sugar into his tea and stirred vigorously. Ross used his own spoon and took a scoop. Callie drank hers unsweetened.

“You live the life.” Manny sat back in the rocking chair, stretched out his long legs, and sipped his tea. He gazed over the grass to the stables and let out an “Ah…”

Ross rolled his eyes.

“Well?” Callie asked Ross, pretending her hands weren’t shaking. “Are you going to ask me out? After Manny’s gone to all this trouble?”

Manny lifted his head, blatantly listening. Callie’s heart beat faster, her fingers twitching on her cold glass.

“Sure,” Ross said. “Callie, you want to grab some coffee at the diner when I’m off shift?”

Manny banged his head into the back of the wooden rocker. “Real smooth, dude. A woman like Callie wants to go to a fancy restaurant. Not Mrs. Ward’s in Riverbend.”

“Coffee at the diner sounds great,” Callie said in her best polite voice.

“Good,” Ross said. “I’m done at six. Meet you there around six-thirty?”

“Sure.”

They were both brittle, overly friendly, tense.

Manny groaned. “I give up on you, man.”

Callie jumped to her feet. “Manny, can you help me carry the dishes back inside?”

Ross was up before she was standing. He reached for the tray. “I got this.”

His hands bumped Callie’s, like in a bad romantic comedy. The burn of his touch startled her, and she jerked away. Fortunately, Ross had a good hold of the tray and lifted it with ease.

They went into the house, Ross leading with the tray and pitcher, Callie following with glasses and napkins, Manny shuffling behind them with his own empty glass.

“Wow,” Manny said as they entered through the French door. “This kitchen is bigger than my whole house.” He gazed at the spread of cabinets, black counters, giant refrigerator, and work island that separated the kitchen from the living room. About fifteen years ago, Callie’s parents had decided to take out walls and open up space, so the right half of the house was one huge room.

Ross said nothing, only put the dishes in the sink. He came from an old ranching family, as Callie did, and probably wasn’t impressed with big living spaces.

She’d seen his house up close only once, when she’d gone with a charity group to take kids to meet horses. Ross’s mom opened the ranch to disadvantaged children, and Callie’s debutante group had escorted them to Circle C Ranch. The boys and girls had met horses and ridden gentle ones and talked to the Campbell brothers, who’d demonstrated their trick riding.

The Campbell home was a traditional ranch house, one-story and rambling, added onto whenever necessary. It had a big, wraparound porch with a jumble of chairs, porch swings, and tables so the brothers could collapse whenever they wanted. It was a friendly, informal, inviting place.

Callie loved her family’s house, where she’d grown up with her sisters, but these days it was too quiet. She could hear the big clock ticking on the landing in the staircase hall, the creak of water in the pipes, the rustle of birds nesting in the ivy.

The house had been full of noise when she’d been younger—she and her sisters had not been sweet, well-behaved angels—but now that Montana and Evelyn had their own places—both in Austin—and their parents traveled so much, the house was silent. While the quiet of the last few months had been what Callie needed, Manny’s exuberance was a welcome change.

Ross ran tap water, rinsing out the glasses, while Manny wandered around the large kitchen and into the living room.

“Damn,” he said softly as he turned slowly in place. “I get to tell all my dudes I was in the Jones’s house.”

Ross snapped off the water and grabbed a towel to wipe his hands. “I don’t want any of those dudes coming here, understand me?”

Manny glanced at him in surprise. “No way. They got no class at all. Callie invited me in, not them.”

“Which was real nice of her,” Ross said. “Now I’m taking you home.”

Manny sent Callie an appealing look. “Day’s young. I can mow the rest of the yard.”

Callie read behind his eyes that he’d rather do anything, anything, even be locked in a jail cell, than go home. She’d asked around about Manny since her disastrous, almost wedding day, and heard sad answers.

“That would be fine with me,” Callie said. “How about it, Ross? He knows what he’s doing now. You mow, Manny, and I’ll pay you—fifty dollars?”

Ross started to rumble something, but Manny punched the air. “Yes!” He ran out the back door, slamming it until the glass rattled, and sprinted for the mower.

“Are you sure?” Ross asked Callie. “I can’t stay and watch him …”

“He’ll be fine,” Callie said, believing it. “He just wants to help.”

“I know. He runs with bad guys. They give him a couple hundred dollars to do errands for them, or be a lookout, or whatever. It’s a hell of a lot more than he’d make at minimum wage—if anyone would even hire him—and he knows it.”

“Well, this is an honest job and I’ll give him honest pay,” Callie said. “He’s got to start somewhere.”

Ross slid on his sunglasses. They hid his sexy eyes but at the same time gave him a new dimension of hot.

“If he does anything besides mow the lawn, call me. I like the kid, but don’t make the mistake of trusting him too much. Manny doesn’t understand the difference between right and wrong—or maybe he knows, but he doesn’t understand why he needs to follow it.”

Callie watched Manny hunker over the tractor’s wheel, determined to keep it on the straight path. “I heard that after his mom died, his dad withdrew into himself and didn’t come out,” she said. “He’s had to raise himself.”

“Making him a target for every criminal in the area who needs cheap labor.”

Callie blinked. “Are there that many criminals in River County?” She scanned the horizon, green hills as far as she could see. “Where are they hiding?”

“You don’t want to know.” Ross’s brows appeared briefly over his sunglasses and went down again. “You really don’t.”

The peace of the day was broken only by Manny’s shout of triumph when he successfully negotiated a turn at the end of a row. Down near the stables, the men and women hired to clean stalls and feed the horses were lazing in the shade, taking a break.

The setting was tranquil, and Callie had always felt safe here. It was sanctuary. But Ross must know where the hidden meth houses were, where the enclaves of crime were tucked even in the most picturesque of towns in this county. She suppressed a shiver.

“Call me if he screws up,” Ross said. “See you at six-thirty?”

“We don’t have to go,” Callie said quickly. “I mean, if you asked me to make Manny be quiet, that’s fine. I’m sure you have a life to get back to.”

Ross looked at her a long time, but she couldn’t read the thoughts behind his sunglasses. “See you at six-thirty,” he said firmly. “If you change your mind and don’t want to come, okay. But I’ll be there for my coffee.”

Callie swallowed. “Well, all right.” She tried to sound indifferent, tried to give him a little smile. She hoped he couldn’t see her lips shake. “See you then.”

Ross gazed at her a while longer before he gave her a minute nod, turned, and walked around the house to his SUV. His black utility belt made his backside sway a bit, which was no bad thing.

Callie found her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth as she followed at a polite distance, her eyes dry from staring. Ross climbed into his SUV and reached for his radio, and still she stared, though she could barely see him through the glass.

He started the SUV and slowly pulled off. Callie waved then forced her arm down before she kept on waving like an idiot.

Six-thirty. Four hours away. Not even close to enough time to get ready.

* * *

She wasn’t coming. Ross clicked his empty coffee cup to the table and waved off the waitress who immediately arrived to top it off.

When Callie had told him they didn’t have to keep the date, he should have realized she was trying to let him down easy. She’d only agreed because she’d seen through Manny’s transparent ploy to fix them up, and she hadn’t wanted to hurt the kid’s feelings.

Wishful thinking, Ross told himself. He’d changed out of his uniform at home, dashing around like a fool trying to find something decent to wear. He’d settled on jeans and a black button-down shirt, cowboy boots as usual.

It was seven-thirty by the regulator clock on the wall, which tick-tick-ticked away the minutes. Callie wasn’t coming.

“How’s it going, Ross?”

The seat across the table filled with the bulk of Kyle Malory.

The Malorys were longtime rivals of the Campbell brothers, though lately they’d become tolerable friends and, in a roundabout way, in-laws. Kyle’s sister Grace had married Ross’s brother Carter. Carter was adopted, so not a blood brother of the Campbells, but he was legally in their family, and accepted by the rest of the Campbells as one of them. Meant Ross and Kyle were sort-of brothers by marriage now.

“It’s going,” Ross said. “You?”

“I heard you ran out to the Jones ranch and stayed a while,” Kyle said. “To see Callie? Who made a run for your sheriff’s car on her wedding day?”

A scowl pulled at Ross’s mouth. “I swear you have better things to talk about than Callie and her problems.”

“Her neighbors don’t,” Kyle returned, undeterred. “Heard you were there for an hour or so. What happened? She report a break-in?”

“Sort of.” Ross didn’t elaborate. None of Kyle’s business. A cop didn’t give out a litany of what calls he’d answered all day, especially not in a town as gossipy as this one.

Kyle lifted his hands. “Hey, I’m just repeating what I heard. Making sure everything’s fine at the Jones’s.”

“Sure, you are. Here’s a tip, Kyle. Don’t listen to nosy neighbors.”

Kyle chuckled. “There’s no other kind in Riverbend. Your mom still doing her summer barbecue next week?”

“Haven’t heard her calling it off. Why would she?”

“In case Jess has her kid? Last time I saw Jess, she looked ready to pop. Your brothers keep pushing out the babies.”

Jess, Tyler’s wife, was due any second, but nothing stopped the Campbell traditions.

“You know my mom will have her barbecue and deliver the baby personally at the same time,” Ross said. “Plus run all the ranch business from her phone.”

Kyle conceded with a nod. “Yeah, your mom’s something.”

The Campbell’s mother, Olivia, after her husband passed, had raised four boys and run Circle C ranch on her own, adding Carter to the mix when Ross had been ten. Olivia had never married again, had never dated seriously, though Ross had always put that down to her being perpetually busy and still grieving their dad.

But the Campbell boys had now become men, four of the five were married, and maybe it was time Olivia saw to her own happiness.

“Hey.” A breathless, female, and very sexy voice sounded somewhere to his right. “Sorry I’m late.”

Callie. She was here.