No turning back now. Oh, crap.

Lola St. James grabbed the handle of the U-Haul truck so freaking tight her fingers whitened. She blew out a gutful of air and looked across the passenger seat. Pepper, her French bulldog, gazed at her with pricked ears. Could he read her mind? She released the door handle, and slid out of the vehicle, creating a puff of dust as her Louboutins scraped the ground and crunched dry leaves. The wave of scorching heat slapped her face and reminded her that Texan summers, much like Texas men, were brutally hot. But she refused to think about Jack Canyon, her estranged husband. The prick.

With a deep sigh, she stood, entranced at the amazing, red-brick homestead. A huge overhanging roof sheltered the wraparound deck. It had been over two years since her last visit, yet the porch still invited her to take a load off in a place that had never truly been hers. Only on paper. She eased the kinks out of her neck stretching toward the sky. Her body ached from the relentless driving, and nothing short of a hot bath and intravenous Vicodin would help.

Drawing a breath, she turned back to the vehicle, which contained the last remaining scraps of her glamorous life in Los Angeles. A couple of stained Louis Vuitton trunks filled with clothes and toiletries. Boxes containing sparkly personal objects, the shoes and few vintage dresses she hadn’t managed to part with, and her collection of postcards from her mother.

Lifting Pepper from his seat, she held him against her chest. Hope Springs’ wide-open spaces stretched in front of her like a limitless brown and green carpet. A big barn shone in the far corner, cows idly gathered in its shade, lowing and searching the ground for the sweetest grass.

She faced the house again. I should have come more often. Her stomach clenched. Even though Daddy lived in Los Angeles, he traveled to his country oasis at least a few times a year. She recalled all the times Daddy had tried to persuade her to escape the hustle and bustle of her social schedule and join him at the ranch he visited occasionally, yet loved dearly. Now, it was too late. Her stomach clenched tighter.

For the first time, I’ll see something through in my life and the most important person won’t even be here to see it.

Pepper whimpered, and she caught herself holding him too snugly against her, using him as a shield. She kissed the top of his head and he returned to his normal, snuffling self.

This place is all I have left. I’ll make you proud, Daddy.

Determination filled her heart. She stepped onto the short staircase leading to the porch and retrieved the key from her front pocket. Pepper shifted in her arms, his paws scratching her chest. “It’ll be okay,” she whispered in his ear, despite the shiver running down her spine. Right?

The sound of heavy thuds in the arid soil prompted her to turn around. “Look Pepper, a cow. How cute.” Lola smiled and stepped down, walking several feet away from the house to greet the docile beast stomping toward her in a cloud of dust.

She shielded her eyes with her hand and squinted, noticing the pair of long, sturdy horns on the animal. Crap. Not a cow. She swallowed. A bull. A . . . freaking bull!

“Holy Louis Vuitton.”

Pepper’s paws scratched her neck, and she swallowed the lump of fear lodged in her throat. Holding the dog against her chest with one hand, she clasped the key with the other. She ran in the direction of the house, fumbling with the keys to look for the right one. Her fingers trembled, and Pepper got more fidgety in her arms, barking his ass off.

She tried a couple of keys without much luck. When she lifted the third one in the ring to see if it could fit the slot, Pepper scrambled free from her.

“Pepper.” Her heart slammed against her rib cage, and she dropped the keys and strode to get to her dog. She could maybe survive a face-off with the bull, but her fur baby would turn into bull burrito.

Her hands were still shaking when she scooped him off the ground. No way she’d make it to the house in time. A squeal left her lips, and she glanced around, searching for a place to hide as the bull gathered speed, snorting in her direction. She registered the outline of two men on horseback, chasing down the bull but, with her heart pounding in her throat and time running out, she didn’t see their faces or call them for help.

Move. She considered fleeing back to the safety of the U-Haul, and shook her legs to rid herself of the panic locking her knees. Uh oh. Sucking in a gulp of air, she imagined the bull’s hot breath on her skin, his angry black eyes fixed upon her. Pepper barked like a German Shepherd, wriggling to get free from her grasp again. This is it.

She managed to step backward a couple of times, her limbs shaking. Not fast enough.

The shout of a man’s voice was lost in the frantic beat of her heart thumping wildly. The animal huffed within a brush of her and Pepper. Too late. Prepare to die.

Out of the blue, a black rope swung through the whirlwind of dust, the rough material brushing the silk of her dress. Her blood turned colder than the Swiss Alps in the winter, and shaking from the impact, she lost her balance and fell backward on the merciless soil, with Pepper on her chest.

Her back slammed against the dirt ground. Pain surged through her. Not sharp or throbbing, but steady… Much like the past few months. Sounds of the animal jumping and kicking hinted that the men encircled the bull’s neck.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” Came a voice from behind the frame of the struggling bull. One of the cowboys dismounted and approached on foot. With his face creased in concern, he offered her a hand and she took it, using it to pull herself up.

The other cowboy had her enemy tamed. Wow.

“Yeah, I … I guess so.” She blinked, letting go of Pepper for the first time. The dog sat at her feet, tail wagging. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and examined the man in front of her: medium build, leather skinned, graying hair, mid-fifties perhaps, with a crooked smile, and kind eyes.

“Magnus here can be a little unpredictable,” he said, jerking an extended thumb back toward the bull.

“Unpredictable?” She dusted herself off. “He attacked me.”

“He’s territorial, that’s all,” said the other man, still clutching the bull by the rope around its neck. Upon hearing his voice, the tempting Texan drawl, she raised her eyes to see who it belonged to, though she already knew whose face she would discover. Adrenaline spiked through her system, and her legs started to buckle under her.

Jack Canyon in the flesh. His eyes still turquoise. Still unforgiving. This was the freaking last thing she needed.

Jack made a quick exchange with the cowboy, using only his eyebrows, and the cowboy offered her a smile, tipped his hat and got back on his horse. Jack handed him the rope and he led the bull back toward an open gate in a field.

She cleared her throat. “Good Gucci, that bull’s crazy.”

“He’s been without a female for too damn long.” Jack dismounted and with a couple of strides he towered over her. At five feet eight inches, she wasn’t short, especially in her Louboutins, but Jack…

“What are you doing here?” He crossed his arms.

“What do you think? I’m taking care of what’s mine.”

He shook his head and gave a sarcastic chuckle. She smoothed her purple dress with her damp palms, doing her best to show composure while her insides sizzled with frustration and excitement.

The hardness of his muscles, pressed against his dark-green plaid shirt was unnerving and difficult to ignore. So too were the sun-bleached streaks in his dirty blond hair, partially hidden by his black leather hat. Her throat felt dry and lips, parched. Sadly, the most honest part of her was anything but dry.

“Lola St. James. You’ve always known how to make an entrance,” he said, his lips thinning into a smile more cruel than complimentary. “I’m sorry about your father.”

“Really?” She put her hands on her hips. “I wouldn’t have thought so, since you didn’t even bother to turn up at the funeral.”

He stared at her in silence for a long moment, maybe looking for a way to save face. What an ungrateful bastard. After all, Daddy had always praised Jack like the damn son he never had. Daddy had helped Jack turn into today’s agricultural tycoon—by loaning him money and investing in his ambitious plans which resulted in Jack owning several profitable cattle ranches across the state. “I sent flowers.” He removed his hat.

“Do you want a gold medal for making an online purchase?” If that was the case, she’d be Michael freaking Phelps.

With a shrug, he looked away for no more than a heartbeat then frowned at her. “My lawyer tried to contact your lawyer about the ranch.”

My lawyer has tried to contact me too. She’d turned off her cell phone before leaving Los Angeles. How many more times did she have to try and convince her own lawyer she had no interest in selling her part of the ranch? Whose side was the man on anyway?

“I’m here now, Jack. I don’t really want to hear about lawyers.”

The sound of Pepper’s snorting made her look down to find her companion sniffing Jack’s brown, dust-caked boots. Jack paid no attention to Pepper’s advances, even when the dog wagged his tail and stood on two paws, begging for attention. Oh, the little stinker.

“Down, Pepper!” she said between clenched teeth, but the dog ignored her command.

Jack lowered a hand for Pepper to sniff and slobber on, but his eyes remained fixed on Lola, as if memorizing her every feature. Despite her contempt for him, she instinctively touched her hair, her usual sultry, loose curls feeling frizzy and dry under her touch. I’d give a kidney for a deep conditioning. She had hoped she’d be able to shower and settle before dealing with Jack.

“I want to buy your share of the farm,” Jack said.

She shook her head. Stay strong. Money had swayed her before, but not anymore. She needed to make her own money, and deep down she knew unless she earned it on her own, she’d blow through whatever she made from the sale. Failure is not an option. “I’m not selling.”

He gave a long, deep sigh then rubbed the back of his neck. “You’ll sell for the right price.”

When did he stop being the determined son of a foreman to become the cynical, moneyed ranch owner? “No.”

“We should talk inside,” he offered. He placed a hand on her bare elbow to guide her toward the entrance, and she stiffened. The touch from his strong hands made her pulse flutter, and her nipples tightened. She cleared her throat.

Before she could lift the key wrapped in her hand, he produced one from his pocket and opened the door. She resented his familiarity with the ranch. They co-owned Red Oak, since her father had given it to them as a wedding gift, one of Milton St. James’ brilliant ideas. Pepper wagged his tail and panted with excitement, following them inside.

Lola took a moment or two to focus on the grand entrance, just the way she remembered, with the humongous foyer, the vaulted ceilings, and thick rugs on the dark polished floor.

The stuffed Longhorn bull’s head remained hanging on the beige wall. Brown leather sofas occupied the large living space, along a low-set mahogany coffee table shaped like a horseshoe. Her father had been adamant about decorating the house himself, a task no straight Texan man should ever be allowed.

“Can I get you anything?” Jack asked, his tone more friendly. She sized up the man she had once called her husband. The man who had swept her off her feet. Ah, what a fool she had been when she’d fallen head over heels for Jack—and married him after a whirlwind courting and surprise pregnancy.

“Your support.” Only his presence and the painful memories coming with it dragged her away from scrutinizing the stuffed, framed swordfish on the wall. “I want to turn this place into a bed and breakfast.”

At first his mouth hardened, before his mocking chuckle resonated through her. Bastard. “You’re kidding, right? You don’t even know how to fry an egg or make a bed.”

She shrugged. “It can’t be so hard.”

“Well, darling, I own half of it.”

Like he needed to remind her. “Yes, I mentioned your support a few seconds ago. I understand this idea may not appeal to you, but it will work, Jack. And you’ll benefit from it financially once it’s up and running. Right now things are a bit, er, tight.” She smoothed her hand over her dress. Jack didn’t need her money, but she wouldn’t expect him to let her use his space in the farm for free.

“No shit. Lola, your father sold all but a few livestock before he passed. Which leaves you with this huge house, a few horses, and bills that’ll beat you like a rented mule. If I pay you what your share is worth, you can take your tight little ass back to L.A. and do … whatever it is you’ve been doing there.”

Jack’s patronizing words had the power of turning her into a toy poodle wearing a hot pink sequined dress. She shook her head, overwhelmed with the insecurity and doubt it had taken her months to overcome. “Thanks for complimenting my ass. Still not selling.”

“This should be mighty interesting, then,” said Jack. “Since I happen to live here.”

Jack’s body roared, the cells awakening like an old muscle car that had been sitting in a garage for too long. Lola parted her luscious, kissable mouth. His gaze drifted lower to her breasts, and he could almost hear the soft moan she would produce if he snagged her nipple between his lips.

A rush of blood tightened his cock.

He lifted his fingers to rub his forehead if only to touch the throbbing vein.

“You what?” She folded her arms and covered her hard peaks, yanking temptation away.

Jack curled and uncurled his fists. “I’ve lived here my whole life,” he said. A stretch? Hell no.

He’d grown up as the manager’s son, in quarters far from the main house. When he’d offered Milton ideas on how to increase profits, Milton had invested in him. When money rolled in, Jack paid Milton back, and later, bought properties around the estate. After the end of his doomed marriage to Lola, he hadn’t flinched—he’d come back to living in the St. James Ranch, but this time, as the boss. Sure, Milton had given him and Lola the ranch as a wedding gift. But he’d tried to buy the land from the man long before he surrendered to a crazy, long-overdue desire and began dating Lola.

He’d gotten married, and the land came with the package. The marriage failed, but half of this property was his and now he wanted it all. He had to nail the deal. The two other properties bordering this ranch where already his, but he needed to make sure he owned Red Oak completely. He needed the river that crossed properties. Because of outdated mineral rights, if somehow Lola ended up owning the ranch, she’d have total power over the river. She would be able to stop him from using it, out of spite. I won’t allow it.

Besides, Red Oak was home. His home.

She sucked air through her teeth. “Dad never told me you lived here full time.”

“Would it have mattered?” he asked. When he’d been younger, he had dreamed of sleeping with Lola. She, the forbidden fruit who rarely visited the farm, but on the handful times she had, his craving for her had been latent and secret.

“Of course not,” she said in a rush of words. “It’s not like I ever asked him anything about you anyway.”

Jack winced. Of course he didn’t matter to her at all. He hadn’t when they were together, or after she lost their baby. He hadn’t mattered when she left him. Why would he now? Although…

He cleared his throat and began to speak, then paused, staring at his estranged wife once more. Tiny beads of sweat glistened on her face and arms, still fresh from what must have been a drive from hell, followed by her meet-and-greet with Magnus the bull. Her hair, wild and loose, still reached down to her shoulders but was free and unrestrained, not Barbie doll perfect any more. The wavy, thick tresses looked like she’d just stepped out of bed. Unbidden, memories of Lola, her legs wrapped around his hips, her nails digging into his shoulders, screaming his name as he impaled her, flashed into Jack’s mind. A current of longing surged through him. Again. Fuck. Why couldn’t I feel this for Mel or any other woman?

Mel, the perfect contender to be his wife one day and mother of the children he so badly wanted. If things continued at this rate, he’d need a cane to walk his son to the park. Just like his father, who raised him after his mother bolted on them.

Lola glared at him with huge, brown eyes. The creased purple dress hugging her delicious curves made his blood pump thick and hard, and all he wanted to—

“You own other properties. Why do you need to live here of all places?” She made a circular movement with her fingers in the air.

“I like it here.” An understatement. When he’d grown up at Red Oak, he promised himself one day he’d buy it. That’s why he’d bought the surrounding properties. From a young age, the ranch had brought joy and hope to his life—and never betrayed him. “I told your father he should have persuaded you to sell me your share.”

She shook her head. “I trust he did what he thought best.”

“He sold me most of the cattle. Did you ever see any money, since he represented your affairs?”

She broke eye contact, drumming her fingers on both sides of her waist. He followed the direction of her stare, the damn swordfish he’d kept because it seemed wrong to change anything Milton had touched.

“My dad didn’t make good decisions. You took advantage of him.”

“Advantage? He went bankrupt, Lola. In the end, he made bad business decisions.” He raked his hand through his hair. Too late to take it back. Wasn’t it the truth? Milton had helped him in the beginning, yes, and Jack would always be grateful. But he had since paid back his mentor tenfold.

“You haven’t changed one bit,” she said with a hitch in her throat that made him soften. “You’re still an insensitive jerk. Only worried about your own needs.”

Her voice betrayed a pang of pain, almost changing his resolve. Almost. Pain remained a vivid reminder of how wrong they had been for each other, but there was no going back now. Or ever.

“I just don’t want you to follow the same path. I’ll buy your share, and then you can sign the divorce papers and get on with your life.”

The most dragged out divorce in the world. He had known very little about the woman he had seen in passing while he worked for Milton, and then later, married— after a hot, whirlwind four-month affair and an accidental pregnancy. After her miscarriage, she had packed her bags and left, but never signed the divorce papers he’d sent her. He believed she was unable to relinquish the last bit of control she had over him. She didn’t want him, but wouldn’t let him go. His lawyers had advised him not to rush things, afraid she’d rip his assets in half. Nonsense.

She’d already ripped the most valuable thing he possessed to pieces. His heart.

“I’m going to make this place a success.” She brought her head up and gave him a once over. “It’s what Daddy would have wanted.”

“You’re all talk today, but what about tomorrow? You can’t make this another one of your crazy ideas. You give up on things when they become too difficult. I won’t let you ruin this place, or the few defenseless animals left, or the people here who need to work. You can’t pack their bags and kick them out of your life one day on a whim.”

She turned her back on him, inspecting the wall art, hands on her waist. Handling the truth was still not her forte. The distant bleating of a goat floated from the barn, calling out to break the silence.

“Okay. This is what we’ll do.” She spun on her heels and lifted her chin. “If you agree to give me some time to turn my idea in reality, I’ll sign the divorce papers at the end. I won’t ask for any alimony or spousal support. You have my word.”

He cocked his head to one side, entertaining the idea. Signed divorce papers would give him the closure his conscience needed to move on in every way. And this way, he wouldn’t have to force her to divorce him, especially after just having lost her father.

As for Jack, he hadn’t been able to consider bedding Mel or any other woman because of his marital status. Damn fool he’d been. If he got divorced, his body would respond to a woman besides Lola again. It had to.

“And if you don’t turn it into a reality?” The most probable scenario.

She cleared her throat. “I’ll sell you my share.”

And I’ll have exclusive rights to the land—and the river.“That’s all?”

“No. If I make it work, you’ll have to legally agree to sell your share of Red Oak to me in the future when I can afford to buy it. It’s all I have left of my father.”

He suppressed the laughter floating up from his throat and pressed his lips together.

She raised her chin. “And you’ll have to move out of here.”

“No way.”

She tossed her brown hair to one side. “Well, that’s just a technicality. Now I’m back, we can’t live in the same house.”

“Why not? We’re married.” The word brought a familiar stirring inside him. Married. Had they really been caring spouses who made plans together? When he’d agreed to live in California with her, he’d never imagined they’d spend most of their time in parties and dinners with her vapid friends. She never lived up to the commitment of being his wife.

“You can move into the cottage.”

“The cottage next door is nothing but a storage room now.”

Her eyes widened. “How come?”

“Your pa needed room to put some stuff.” The junk from the business ideas that didn’t work. Milton’s career had had more ups and downs than a carnival’s Ferris wheel. Though most of his life had been successful and wealthy, in the past several years Milton had begun to invest in odd products that never took off.

She flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Jack…”

“You can live out there, but not me. There’s no AC. If you wanna fry like an egg on an oiled pan, be my guest.”

“We can’t live here…together. You must own another house on the surrounding properties?” She clenched her fists.

“One of them is going through major remodeling.” He cleared his throat. The last thing he’d do was let Lola have the upper hand and give her what she wanted. No. Enough of her having what she wanted.

“Where do the ranch hands live?”

Annoyance zapped down his spine. She had some nerve. If he didn’t buck up, pretty soon she would be splashing hot pink paint on the walls. “I’m not going to bunk with my employees.”

“This place has a helipad, for crying out loud. Can’t you just fly away to one of your other properties and come back to check on things as needed?” She offered him a compromising smile, along with the note of hopelessness in her voice. “How about the penthouse apartment in Houston?”

Nice try. “And leave you running the show and ruining everything?”

Silence descended for lengthening seconds. She paced in circles a few times, her heels clunking on the timber floor. The body he had once known inch-by-inch now looked more filled out. He had always wondered why she insisted on going on those senseless diets. Now, not an ounce was out of place inside her tantalizing purple dress. Each time she took a breath, her full breasts strained against the fabric. His gaze slid downward, to the indent of her waist and her curvy hips. He swallowed the lump lodged in his throat.

“Jack,” she spoke softly, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, mustering the courage to look her in the eye once more. He remembered then the voluptuous, desirable woman hadn’t changed from the Lola St. James he’d known. The selfish, conniving bitch who left him four days after her miscarriage because she couldn’t be bothered to experience a real relationship.

“I suppose we can be…roomies for the time being,” she said.

Roommates? Oh, shit.