ending with her stopping her visits to the ranch.
“It’s hard,” she said now, emotions braiding through her memories as she tried to find the good ones that the pastor suggested she look for.
Lord, forgive me, she thought. I can’t think of many.
Keith’s funeral service was harder to deal with than Finn had expected it would be.
Though Finn came to church every Sunday, the atmosphere there today and at the graveyard afterward reminded him of his fiancée’s funeral four years ago. Except then the church had been packed and the people surrounding the grave spilled over into the parking lot—all grieving with Finn over a life taken so young.
As he’d followed Denise’s casket out of the church that sad day, Finn thought he would never love anyone again, never find anyone as sweet and caring as Denise.
And he hadn’t, though lately a loneliness had begun to affect him. Loneliness and a growing dissatisfaction with his life.
It didn’t help that, after popping erratically in and out of his life over the past thirteen years, his mother had contacted him again a couple weeks ago. After Denise had died, the only thing he’d got from his mom had been a card with the words I’m sorry scrawled inside. He was thankful he’d had the support of the Moore family and Keith during that time.
Finn shook off the heavy emotions as he looked down at the memorial card the funeral director had handed him when he came into the church. Keith’s stern face with his distinctive handlebar mustache stared back at him, his eyes distant. The picture was an older one Finn had taken when he and Keith had spent more time together. Was it his imagination or did he see the loneliness the man had endured over the years?
Remorse washed over Finn again as he thought of how he had neglected him recently.
At one time, Finn had spent all his extra hours at Keith’s ranch, helping him with his horses while he learned farrier work. After Finn’s own father died and his mother had abandoned him, Keith had been like a father to him.
But the past few years Keith had pulled away. Hadn’t returned Finn’s calls, wouldn’t come to church. Finn had been grieving the loss of Denise, lost in his own sorrow.
He smoothed his hand over his tie, blinked back the fatigue that pulled at him after a long shift and forced a sympathetic smile to his face as the line moved on.
Lauren, one of the twins, was the first person he saw, her face drawn, her long blond hair and dark dress a sharp contrast to her younger sister’s dark hair and red dress. The only similarity was the narrowness of their features. Like their mother, Finn thought, remembering a family photo he had seen the first time he’d visited the ranch.
Finn was surprised that Erin, Lauren’s twin sister, was absent. Of all the girls she seemed to love being at the ranch every summer the most.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Finn said to Lauren when he stepped up to her.
“Thanks for coming, Finn. My father thought a lot of you.” She gave him a weary smile. “I’m sure you’ll miss him.”
“I will. He was good to me.”
He moved on to Jodie, surprised once more at how easily his own memories and emotions returned.
“Hello again, Jodie. Long time.”
“That it is.” She glanced up at him, and once again he felt the impact of her unsettling gaze, the contrast of her almost black hair and her intensely blue eyes. She had been pretty when she was younger. Now she was stunning, and as he shook her hand, the loneliness that lingered since Denise’s death made him hold it longer than was proper.
“Glad you could make the funeral on time,” he said.
Her mouth curved in a faint smile and the ghost of a dimple appeared in one cheek.
“All thanks to you,” she said. “I appreciate getting out of the ticket.”
He frowned, glancing around. “Don’t say that too loud. I have a reputation to uphold.”
Jodie laughed, catching the attention of a few people. “Well, according to Shakespeare, reputation is a burden, got without merit and lost without deserving...or something like that.”
That made Finn smile. “Did you remember that or did you make that up?”
“Google it and find out.”
He held her eyes a moment, surprised at how easy it was to fall back into the give-and-take that had attracted him the first time he talked to her. Then he caught himself. He was at a funeral, and this was Jodie. A girl more like his absent mother than his beloved fiancée. How could he forget that?
“I also want to give you condolences from Sheriff Donnelly,” Finn continued, finally pulling his hand away. “He would have come but he was busy, so he asked me to represent him, as well. Donnelly always said your father was a good sheriff. Tough, but fair.”
Jodie’s smiled faded. “Yes. That was Dad. Keeping the world safe for carbon-based life forms.”
Finn wanted to smile at her quip, which was the same thing Keith McCauley had always said, but the bitterness in her voice quenched that. He didn’t know what to make of it.
“Anyway, I’m sure you and your sisters will have lots to deal with in the next few days,” he continued. “Will you be staying at the Rocking M, I mean your father’s ranch?”
“I will be for a couple of days. Hopefully we can get everything sorted out by then and I’ll be on my way,” Jodie said. She shifted her weight, as if moving away from him, and Finn got the hint. She hadn’t changed, he told himself. Jodie McCauley, on the move.
Ever since he’d watched her drive away a few hours ago, he’d found himself thinking of their past, of how Jodie had meant something to him.
When he was eighteen, it had taken him weeks to work up enough courage to ask out the daughter of his mentor, the sheriff.
He finally had and to his surprise she had accepted. They’d had a good time. He’d thought they’d connected. But she’d always insisted on meeting in Mercy, a small town thirty miles down the valley. Finn hadn’t liked sneaking around, but she’d been insistent.
On their dates they would talk about their plans for the future—he wanted to start his own ranch, she wanted to play piano professionally. They would share jokes, laugh and make other plans to meet.
He’d thought things were getting serious, but then she’d stood him up one night.
The next day he’d been shocked to see her in town. She was supposed to have been leaving for Maryland that morning for an audition for the Peabody Institute, a music conservatory. Instead, she’d been hanging on the arm of Jaden Woytuk, local bad boy, laughing about the bandage on her hand that kept slipping off.
Later Finn had found out she’d gone to a party at Jaden’s place the night of their date. She’d stood him up to hang out with that rough crowd.
The rest of the summer Jodie’s reputation as a wild girl just got worse. And when she’d left to go home to Knoxville, that was the last he’d seen of her.
Until today.
She stood by her sister now, talking with Monty and Ellen, from Refuge Ranch. Her smile softened her features and then, to his surprise, she glanced his way. Their eyes met and he felt again that old quiver of attraction.
“Finn Hicks. I need to talk to you.”
Finn dragged his attention away from Jodie to the man standing in front of him, a mug of coffee in one hand, a chocolate brownie in the other. Vic Moore was easily as tall as Finn, but blond where he was dark, his shoulders broader. And his face was