sector of the universe.
“Hey, Trey!” Meg grabbed his snow-covered, jacketed arm, hauling him and his nieces off the porch and into the house she and Joe would soon be calling home. “You’re just in time for pizza.”
He stepped onto the rug by the door, Missy in his arms and Mary clinging shyly to his leg. He gazed around a room full of people helping themselves to the savory, mouthwatering contents of cardboard delivery boxes. He glimpsed a few familiar faces—Meg’s fiancé and his dad and son. A dozen or two others he guessed to be church friends or teacher pals of Meg. Some of Joe’s buds.
Recognition flickered in the gazes of several guests. That was to be expected in a small town. Warm interest reflected in the smiles of a few of the younger women. That was usually to be expected as well—wherever.
But no Kara.
Thank you, Lord.
He almost hadn’t come, thinking she might be here, that it might be awkward, but he hated to back out on Meg. The perky newcomer to town had held a special place in his heart ever since they met last September. If it wasn’t for that hotshot Diaz guy, it might be him settling down with the pretty schoolteacher. Or at least that’s what he told himself on poor-pitiful-me days. But by the time he’d gotten her to go out with him, she was already falling for the ex-navy guy, one of Reyna’s cousins. Meg hadn’t realized it yet, but Trey had, and he backed off.
“Sorry I’m late, Meg. I’ve been babysitting the past few days and Jason and Reyna still aren’t home yet.”
A chorus of soft aahs echoed from female throats and inwardly he chuckled. It hadn’t taken long to figure out that if you wanted to score interest with the local ladies, babysitting by far outweighed the classic walking-the-pup routine.
“Yeah, yeah,” Joe’s father, Bill Diaz, taunted, his mustached mouth widening in a smile. “Timed it just right so all the heavy lifting’s done.”
“Guess you cowboys aren’t as dumb as you look.” The dark-eyed Joe cast him an appraising glance, a look he’d become accustomed to during the months Joe’d been courting Meg and keeping an eye open for rivals.
Relax, dude. She’s all yours now.
“Don’t listen to them, Trey,” Meg said as he toed off his boots at the door. “You can make yourself useful bringing in the sodas—which my loving fiancé forgot to do.”
A slice of pizza halfway to his mouth, Joe made sounds of protest.
“Consider it done.” Trey would rather do something constructive than stand around making small talk with people he didn’t know. People who may have formed judgments about him based on rumor. Coming back to Canyon Springs held more than its share of challenges. But God opened doors and he was gonna be man enough to walk through them no matter what it took.
Meg reached out for Missy, then he knelt to divest Mary of her coat. He peeled out of his own jacket and tossed their stuff on a folding table piled high with outdoor wear. Not trusting the guests to know a genuine Stetson when they saw one, he hesitated to top off the mound with his felt hat. But his ever-alert hostess snatched it from him and slid it onto a peg by the front door, then pointed in the direction of the kitchen.
With Mary gripping the welted side seam of his jeans, he made his way through the crowd, following the cardboard carpet past the staircase and into the kitchen. Looked like new floor tile. Fresh paint job on the cabinets, too. Curtains at the windows. Nice. Meg’s doing? Or Kara’s?
He’d have to figure out something homey like that when he bought a fixer-upper of his own. Having scrimped and saved every spare dime of his rodeo winnings for a hefty down payment, he had his heart set on a little house, some acreage. Had been looking forward for years to a day when he could settle down, start a family. A place like this, on the edge or outside of town, would be ideal. That is, if he cleared his name and made a go of the business. Old Reuben Falkner, city councilman, wasn’t making the latter an easy effort.
He headed to an open door where Meg had indicated he’d find the laundry room. A light was on, but when he stepped to the doorway of the miniscule room, he halted. A familiar red-blonde ponytail dangled halfway down the back of a trim female dressed in figure-skimming jeans and a blue wool sweater.
Kara.
With her back to him, she wiped off soda cans arranged on the clothes dryer’s surface. He had a second to catch his breath. But no time to back out the door before, head down and lost in thought, she whirled in his direction. Ran smack into his chest.
“Oh!” Her long-lashed gray eyes met his as she took a startled step back, pulling away from his hand that had instinctively reached out to steady her. For a long moment their gazes held. Every bit as close and as beautiful as she’d been that long-ago night. The night she’d sashayed up to him. Slipped her arms around his neck…
But tonight her eyes were that of a filly fixin’ to bolt.
“I didn’t hear you.” Face flushing, she took another step back and glared at his socked feet as if he’d deliberately shed his boots to sneak up on her.
“Sorry. I was put on soda duty.”
Kara frowned, apparently irritated Meg hadn’t thought her capable to handle the task on her own. Then she spied Mary clutching his leg and her expression softened. She motioned to the cans.
“You can haul some of these to the living room if you’d like. Or break up that bag of ice in the chest there.”
“Ice or sodas, doesn’t matter to me.” He chuckled, hoping to catch her eye and put her at ease, but she kept her focus on anything but him.
“Ice then.”
He nodded and they did an uneasy tango as he and Mary maneuvered around her, the air charged with an unmistakable, mutual awareness. Had twelve years really gone by?
She took a sidestep toward the now-vacated doorway, but without thinking he shot out his arm to block her. Wary eyes met his. His breath caught at the light scent of her woodsy perfume.
“We need to talk, Kara.”
Where’d that come from? He’d been hangin’ out with his sister-in-law too long. Starting to sound like a girl. But all he needed was a lousy five minutes. He’d ditch Mary and make Kara understand he didn’t hold anything against her. That she could stop looking at him like he was going to haul her into court.
Her brows lowered. “I—”
“Trey, did you bring Rowdy with you?” the familiar voice of five-year-old Davy Diaz called from across the kitchen.
Trey stared at Kara a long moment, his heartbeat counting off the seconds. Then he lowered his arm and turned to the youngster who trotted across the floor toward him and Mary. Bad timing, kid. But he’d sensed Kara’s relief.
He gazed down at the black-haired, brown-eyed boy and smiled at the youngster’s reference to his canine sidekick. Kids loved Rowdy. “We can’t stay long, so he’s out in the truck. That woolly coat of his keeps him toasty warm.”
“Daddy wouldn’t let me bring my puppy.” Davy’s shoulders slumped as he crammed his hands in his jeans pockets in an adultlike gesture. A miniature little man. His dark eyes brightened as he studied his cousin, Mary, who’d loosened a grip on Trey’s pant leg and taken a hesitant step forward.
“Kara’s already seed it,” the boy continued, “but do you guys wanna see my new room? I’m gonna live here when we marry Miss Meg.”
Mary looked up at Trey, hope in her eyes.
How could he turn down such cool kids? He glanced at Kara, but she again avoided his gaze. “I’d like to, Davy, but after I finish up here, okay? You two go on without me.”
“No, go right ahead,” the woman next to him insisted, all but shoving him out the door. “I can handle things here.”
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