glanced up to see the woman had disappeared. Curiosity had him scanning the area, searching for her.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a streak of blond hair jutting out from the front of a hoodie. The woman wore jeans, tennis shoes and sunglasses. He did a double take to make sure it was the same person. Had she noticed that he’d been staring?
Of course she had; otherwise why put on the hoodie that had been tied around her waist? Mitch needed to turn around and get his tail in gear so he wouldn’t be late for the doctor visit.
So why couldn’t he force his boots to move?
Mitch rubbed his blurry eyes before ending the call with Lone Star. All kinds of scenarios ran through his mind about the mystery woman. Could Kimberly have survived the accident but had no idea who she was? Had someone saved her from the wreckage? Been keeping her all of this time?
No, someone would’ve put two and two together by now.
Lack of sleep wasn’t doing great things for his brain. The woman couldn’t be Kimberly. His wife was dead.
For whatever reason he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Curiosity? Something else? Something more primal?
An ache formed in his chest. It was wishful thinking that had him wanting to get a closer look at the blonde. He’d already calculated the odds and knew this was a losing hand. Try getting his fool heart to listen to logic.
Mitch checked his watch. Technically he was ten minutes early.
Turning the stroller toward the mystery woman, he decided to double down on his bad luck. He scanned the area and noticed a pair of men on the opposite side of the plaza, standing with their faces angled toward her. She turned her head slightly toward the men and he could see her tense up. She took a step closer to a light pole and Mitch realized she was trying to block their line of sight.
Now Mitch’s curiosity really skyrocketed.
Call it the cowboy code, but he needed to know that she would be okay. The blonde seemed to be in some kind of trouble, and he didn’t like the looks of the two men wearing their jacket collars upturned, reflective sunglasses and ball caps. Very little of their faces were visible and his experience had taught him that law-abiding citizens didn’t hide their faces in public. Nothing about either of them said they were law enforcement, so he assumed the blonde wasn’t doing anything illegal.
One of the men moved enough to see around the light pole. He had his phone out, angled toward the blonde. Was he stalking her? Was he an ex? Someone she’d rejected? More thoughts along those lines crossed his mind, and none of them sat well.
Of course, a stalker would be alone. The guy standing next to the picture taker seemed just as interested in her, and didn’t that jack up more of Mitch’s danger radar? Were the men targeting her?
The blonde seemed to realize something was going on. Good for her. She wouldn’t be an easy mark that way.
Once again his thoughts circled back to how familiar this woman seemed. Was there any chance his wife had survived the accident but lost her memory? Could she have been walking around for the past eleven months with no idea who she was or where she came from?
It might be a stretch but he’d heard stranger things had happened.
Or did he want to see his wife again so badly that he was confusing her with a stranger? A woman who was similar in size and shape, who also seemed to be alone and in trouble? Was he grasping at any sign of hope?
There was only one way to find out.
Kimberly’s husband turned toward her and took a few steps in her direction. No. No. No. Go back.
Seeing her babies, their sweet faces, was so much harder than she’d thought it would be. The twins were one-year-old now and she’d known their first-year checkup would be around this time. It wasn’t difficult to call the scheduler of the pediatrician she’d meticulously vetted to get the exact day and time.
Pain nearly crippled her but she fought against the tide of emotion. She couldn’t lose control. There was too much at stake.
Life was about to spin out of control. Again. Seeing her twins one more time was a risk that Kimberly Kent—correction, Lily Grable—had had to take. The past eleven months had been excruciating, like living in a cave with no prayer of sunlight breaking through the darkness.
Life had taught Kimberly how to deal with loss early on. But nothing had prepared her for walking away from the only man she could ever love and the babies she’d only dreamed were possible. Happily-ever-after was for princesses, not orphans like Kimberly. And now she risked making all of that heartache count for nothing if Mitch recognized her. Or worse if the men watching her connected the dots to her family.
Panic seized her.
Let Mitch get a few steps closer and he would make a scene. She let herself take another look at him even though the grip around her heart from before tightened the minute she did.
Mitch looked even better than she remembered. At six foot four he’d always dwarfed her. His wide chest and ripples of muscles were visible underneath his Western shirt. Those muscled thighs... She could see wisps of his sandy-brown hair from the rim of his gray Stetson. The color of his hat would match the steel of his eyes.
Maybe she could play it cool and Mitch would stop. There was no way he could realize who she was with as much as she’d changed her appearance. Right? She looked at her husband from out of the corner of her eye and her stomach fell. He was too curious to give up, and that was bad.
He’d expose her, himself and the babies. She glanced toward the pair of men who’d found her. They’d seen her but had they pegged her? Did they know who she was? That was the big question.
Kimberly eased around the back of the sculpture, forcing her body to move away from Mitch when every muscle inside her wanted to run toward him instead. She breathed in the heavy Texas autumn air and tried to block out the memories of feeling safe in his arms. A storm was brewing and the humidity kicked up a few notches alongside her pulse.
Her heart pounded against her ribs at the thought she might be bringing the men who were chasing her right to her husband and children’s doorstep. Whoever had killed her father and was now after her seemed ready to stop at nothing. The men wouldn’t think twice about using her children or Mitch to draw her out. And even after two and a half years she had no idea what they wanted from her. All she knew was that her father had gotten himself into trouble. Beyond that she had no idea with whom or how. Her street smarts had kept her alive. She’d immediately changed her identity and gotten out of New Mexico.
But those creeps always seemed to catch up no matter how well she hid.
She’d had no choice but to disappear after giving birth, once the creeps had shown up in Jacobstown, Texas. She still had no idea what they wanted from her. Her father had left her a cryptic message to stay in the shadows until he cleaned up his mess hours before his death—a death that had been ruled an accident, but Kimberly knew better. There was no way her father would’ve drowned. He couldn’t swim and was deathly afraid of the water, although he’d never admitted to that fear. The man had never once been out on a boat, so it made even less sense that he would’ve rented one, taken it out and then—what?—decided to jump off the side and swim for the first time in his life?
Guilt nipped at her. She’d known he was in trouble but she had been too involved in work at the small craft boutique and night school to stop to ask why. Her father had been acting strange for months, missing their dinner dates and not picking up his cell when she called. His behavior had been erratic and she could kick herself for not pressing him for details about why he was acting so weird. She’d honestly and naively believed that he’d tell her if something was really wrong. He’d always been her rock and she’d been able to count on him. Losing