river?” Fire burned in Kyle’s dark eyes, bringing forward the exotic good looks of his Caddo ancestors. The heat of anger had his face tight and his breath short and shallow. His grip on Kent’s elbow looked iron hard.
“Kyle—”
“I asked you a question. Can you stop the river?”
Garth had no idea where Kyle was going with his hot-blooded question, but the wrong answer could break the dam of what little restraint Kyle still had. Kyle was feeling bullied and he’d never backed down from a threat.
Kent glanced over his shoulder at Red Thunder rumbling behind him. Sweat glistened along his hairline. The convulsive swallowing had Garth believing Kent was having to choke down his own temper to keep the situation under control.
“It takes a lot to stop a river,” Kent said calmly.
“Exactly.” Kyle let go of Kent’s elbow and gestured grandly. “The river has to flow. If something tries to stop it, it might slow for a while, but eventually it goes around or through or over. It still flows.”
Lord help us, Kyle was getting metaphoric. Garth never understood Kyle when he started talking in pictures. Facts and figures Garth understood; pretty words were too fanciful for him. Still, Garth thought as he looked at the river, there was a power there that couldn’t be denied. Its energy sang in his blood.
“You’re talking to the wrong person,” Kent said.
Kyle glowered at Kent. “You’re afraid to swim. That’s your problem.”
“Kyle—”
Kyle didn’t back off. He stepped forward and got in Kent’s face. “You’re afraid to even dip your toe in water just because you got stuck in a drainage ditch when you were five.” With the heel of both hands, he gave Kent a shove.
“Your beef’s not with me.”
“What you’re missing is life.” Kyle pressed closer. Kent took a step back. “It’s gonna pass you by. You’re going to end up all brackish and stale and she doesn’t see that. She doesn’t see she’ll hate you that way. She’ll hate her life, herself in the long run.”
“Kyle, that’s enough!” Both hands around Kent’s biceps, Ellen tried to tug him out of the line of fire.
Kyle’s nostrils flared.
Kent gently set Ellen out of harm’s way.
“Talk to Ellen.”
“I don’t give a damn about Ellen.”
“Yeah, right. Don’t know why she cares for a hothead like you, anyhow.”
Kent made the critical mistake of starting to turn away.
With an explosive grunt, Kyle rammed Kent with all his might. The force of the blow made Kent backpedal. He caught himself, then took another step to steady himself. The sandy bank crumbled beneath the weight of his hiking boot.
Kent fell backward, seemed to hang in midair for an eternity. Horror etched itself into his face.
Garth shot to his feet, then stopped himself short.
Ellen screamed.
Kyle swore and reached forward, grabbing for his brother.
Kent hit the water hard.
Kyle thrust out his hand farther. “Grab it!”
He skimmed the tips of Kent’s fingers. The water carried Kent away. Kent latched on to a root on the riverbank. Kyle threw himself against the bank for a third attempt to save his brother. The sandy bank crumbled beneath him. Gravity pulled him forward and he smacked headfirst into the turbulent water, casting both of them into the current.
Ellen shrieked. “Do something!”
The swift river tugged furiously at both brothers like a predator tearing at prey.
“Kyle, Kyle!” Ellen chased the water along the bank. “Do something, Garth! Help them!”
Garth knew his strengths and weaknesses. He took one look at the water, at his friends being whirled and spun downriver, and knew there was nothing he could do. He wasn’t going to mess with power like that.
“Don’t just stand there.” Ellen grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him toward the shore. “Do something. They’re drowning!”
“I’ll get help.” He turned and headed for the truck.
Ellen pummeled his back. “Help them! You’ve got to help them before it’s too late!”
A look over his shoulder showed him the river, bleeding red under the setting sun, had swallowed them both. Besides, he couldn’t swim. “It’s already too late.”
That stopped the pounding, but did nothing to erase the fury narrowing her eyes and curling her lips. For the first time, he saw an underlying strength in Ellen he hadn’t known existed. “Help them, you gutless wonder, or I’ll tell your secret.”
He sneered. “I don’t have a secret.”
“Alice Addison.”
She knew. He didn’t know how, but she knew.
He had plans, big plans.
He was getting out of this one-stoplight town. He was getting that business degree that would tell the world he was somebody. He was going to the top. Nothing was going to stop him.
Nothing.
He grabbed for Ellen….
Chapter One
Gabenburg, Texas. Present.
The house was cool, cozy and inviting, and a deep sense of contentment filled him as he silently slid the glass door closed.
He was home where he belonged.
The rich aroma of simmering chili tantalized. The anticipated sweet tartness of the cherry pie sitting on the counter made his mouth water. The woman at the stove, adding a dash of cumin to what he already knew was perfection, was more enticing still.
She hummed a tuneless song as she stirred. His mouth quirked in wry amusement. Taryn couldn’t carry a tune to save her life, but if she was humming while she cooked, he knew everything was right. She couldn’t have been home long since she still wore the white T-shirt and white cotton pants that were her uniform at the bakery she owned.
Without taking his gaze off his wife’s back or the pleasing curves that had been on his mind all day, he quietly made his way across the kitchen. With a groan that was part surrender and part captivation, he wrapped his arms around her waist and dropped a greedy kiss on the side of her neck. She smelled like sugar and flour and roses heavy with dew. The combination never failed to make him hungry.
As expected, she jumped and whirled in his arms. “What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you for another half hour.”
The open welcome in her eyes, in her smile, deepened his sense of contentment, allowing him to shed the last of the weariness that had dogged him for the last hour of his twelve-hour shift at the sheriff’s office.
Chance Conover grinned and pretended to look around the kitchen as if he’d walked into the wrong house. In truth, he’d tuned everything out but the woman in his arms. “Don’t I live here?”
“I’m not ready for you.”
Taryn plopped the spoon she was holding back into the pot and frowned her displeasure. But the effect was negated by the fact she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him back. Caught in a ponytail, the ends of her long brown hair tickled his arms. He loved the silky feel of her hair on his skin, of her body against his. After a long day at work, he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her.
“Well, sweetheart, I’m ready for you.” He kissed her again, long and slow, savoring the heady taste