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  Books. Change. Lives.

  Copyright © 2018 by June Faver

  Cover and internal design © 2018 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover design by Dawn Adams

  Cover image © Rob Lang

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks, Inc., is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

  Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  Fax: (630) 961-2168

  sourcebooks.com

  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  An Excerpt from Hot Target Cowboy

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  Chapter 1

  Tyler Garrett drove away without looking back. Truth was, he was afraid to even glance in the rearview mirror for fear he would turn his big Ford extended-cab truck around. Of course, he was hauling a trailer with the finest quarter horse ever bred, so turning around on that two-lane road might have given him a little trouble…but then, trouble was what he did best.

  Ty was the middle son. The one who invented the word trouble, at least, according to his dad. No one could deny that “Big Jim” Garrett thought the world of his three sons, but somehow it was always Ty who inspired him to call out, “Here comes trouble.”

  Well, here goes trouble, Dad.

  He placed a hand on Lucky’s head. The two-year-old golden retriever regarded him with trusting eyes. “We’re going to be fine, boy.”

  He reached the end of the farm-to-market road and idled, looking both ways for traffic, but of course, there was none. With a deep sigh, he hooked a wide right, allowing the trailer to arc out behind him as he pulled onto the interstate. He straightened his shoulders and thought about his destination.

  Dallas.

  Dallas, where Ty would take the first step in making his own dreams come true. Where he could polish his talent and live up to his mother’s aspirations for him as well.

  He frowned, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. Too bad Mom didn’t live to see this day. She always believed in me.

  A lump formed in his throat as he pictured her sweet face. She was the one who never failed to show up at the talent shows, looking pleased and applauding like crazy. Making her proud had been one of his prime motivators.

  Big Jim, on the other hand, had just shaken his head and said, “That singin’ stuff is nice and all, but you need to concentrate on your true callin’, boy. You were born to be a rancher. It’s in your blood.”

  Ty sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. Well, he’d done what he could to make that happen. He’d graduated from Texas Tech University with a degree in agricultural economics and range management. He’d devoted years of his life to making his dad proud of him, but ranching just wasn’t in his heart.

  His mother’s last words to him were branded into his memory. She had placed her hand on his cheek and gazed up with love in her eyes. “Follow your heart, Ty. Not many people are blessed with the talent the good Lord gave you, so you need to make the most of it.” She had lapsed into a coma and passed away the following day.

  Ty owed it to her to make it big. And Dallas was just the launching pad. His friend Will had a recording studio and was going to cut a demo for him. Then, Ty was set to try out for the Texas Country Star television show. If he made it through to the state finals, he would go on to compete in the Nashville Idol contest. He was pretty sure he had a good shot.

  Ty’s departure was taking place a few days earlier than planned. Will had studio time available the beginning of the next week, but after the morning’s blowup with Big Jim, Ty had decided to head for Dallas and just hang around at Will’s.

  He drove east, oblivious to the flat, northern Texas countryside. His head was someplace else, but without much effort, he filled the truck with his strong voice, singing one of his mother’s favorite gospel tunes. He could see himself onstage, performing for the Nashville audience. For the world…

  After a while, the town of Langston appeared on the horizon. He thought he should stop and grab lunch before the long drive to Big D. It was a fairly small town, so there weren’t many choices. He passed a Dairy Queen and Tio’s, a Mexican restaurant, before pulling in at Tiny’s Diner. It was late, so the lunch crowd had already been and gone. Not too many cars outside. He parked where he could keep an eye on his rig and climbed down out of his truck, leaving the windows cracked for Lucky.

  Funny to think he was really on his way. With all his dad’s wealth, Ty had only taken what was important to him—his horse, his dog, his guitar, and a few clothes. ’Cause I’m sure not going back.

  A metal cowbell clanked against the glass door when he entered the restaurant. The aroma of good food hit him like a fist. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was, since he had forgone breakfast in his rush to leave the sprawling Garrett ranch that morning. The Circle G, with its rambling, Spanish-style ranch house, the many barns, stables, and outbuildings; with thousands of acres of fenced pastureland for the beef cattle and horses; with the long heritage of the Garrett family steeped into the land. Not a problem. Surely his older brother, Colton, or his younger brother, Beau, would pick up the slack. They could take over running the spread when Big Jim was unable. They could provide for future generations of Garretts to carry on the tradition.

  “Hello, Tyler,” Crystal called out. She was a fixture here at Tiny’s. A big lady with a big heart. “Table or booth?” She grabbed a menu and cocked her head, waiting for his answer.

  “Table near the front window would be best.” Removing his Stetson, he raked his hand through his thick, dark hair.

  She walked him over to the window and placed the menu on a table for two. “Here you go. Iced tea?”

  “That’ll be good.” He set the Stetson on the other side of the table and took a seat facing the door. When it opened, he had to check out the new arrival.

  Man!

  His
breath caught as his gaze fell on one of the prettiest women he had ever seen. She wasn’t exactly what one could call hot, but when she paused in the open doorway and took a look around, he felt like he’d been kicked in the gut.

  Her large, wide-set brown eyes reminded him of a fawn, or perhaps it was her blondish-brown curls, swept up in an untidy gob at the crown of her head. Definitely had the air of a skittish animal, not quite tame. Her threadbare jeans had a rip on one thigh, and she wore a tank top with an oversize blue work shirt on top. She swept the room carefully, as though alert for something, then turned back in the open doorway and motioned someone through.

  A young girl stepped forward, pausing when the woman’s slender hand came to rest on her shoulder. The girl looked like a replica of the woman, with lighter blonde hair and a big cast on her forearm.

  The kid had that same half-wild expression on her face, like she would turn and bolt from the restaurant if something spooked her.

  Crystal came to slide Ty’s iced tea on the table and then went to greet the newcomers. Apparently, the woman wanted to keep an eye on whatever was out there too, since Crystal seated them at the table next to Ty’s, where she sat facing the parking lot. The girl was on her right, facing Ty.

  He watched the woman carefully peruse the menu and then reach in her purse. She drew out a wallet and did a quick count of the bills inside. Ty felt a surge of pity, never in his life having to count his money before ordering.

  When Crystal came to take his order, he ordered for three. “Just deliver the other two meals to that table,” he said under his breath.

  Crystal winked at him and went to turn in the orders. When she returned a few minutes later, she sat a salad on his table and also in front of his two guests.

  “What? I haven’t ordered yet.” The woman pushed her chair back, gazing up at Crystal with a frown.

  “The gentleman paid for your meal, ma’am.” Crystal nodded to where Ty sat.

  The woman regarded him icily, her soft mouth forming a straight line of disapproval.

  “Pardon me for being so forward,” he said, “but Tiny makes the best chicken-fried steak, and I thought you might like to enjoy it with me.” She started to protest, but he cut her off. “It would be a shame to pass through Langston without experiencing the best chicken-fried steak in all of Texas.” He grinned at her encouragingly.

  She pressed her lips together again and nodded curtly. “Thanks.” Her voice came out low and gravelly, and a blush tinged her cheeks.

  “I’m Tyler Garrett, ma’am. Just showing some hospitality.”

  * * *

  Leah Benson swallowed hard. The cowboy was grinning from ear to ear. He must feel real proud of himself for springing for our meal. “We appreciate it.”

  She glanced at Gracie, who was staring at her wide-eyed. When she nodded, Gracie picked up her fork and speared the cherry tomato on top of her salad. She popped it into her mouth and closed her eyes when she bit into it. Such a simple pleasure and yet one that had been denied them for a while.

  The waitress came back with a carousel of bottled salad dressings.

  “Oh, ranch!” Gracie said, as though that particular dressing was a rare treat. She grabbed the bottle and tried to open it, the cast getting in her way.

  “Here, let me.” Leah opened the cap and set the bottle in front of her daughter.

  Gracie squirted a generous glob onto her salad and commenced eating like she’d been starved.

  Leah exhaled. Well, it had been a long time since they had eaten in a restaurant of any kind, so this was a treat. She squirted the dressing on her salad and took a bite. The tangy dressing complemented the fresh and crispy salad. Yes, this is good. She and her daughter had run out of the sandwiches Leah packed before they left Oklahoma. She’d thought they could make it all the way to Gran’s without having to stop for food. Lord knows the high cost of gasoline had devoured her small hoard of cash. But they were close now. Less than thirty miles to go, and then they would be safe.

  The cowboy had stood and was walking toward her table. No way! If he thinks he can buy us a meal and then come over here—

  “Pardon me, ladies,” he said in a deep, mellow voice. “I could use a little of that ranch dressing, if you’re done with it.” He looked at Gracie, and she nudged it toward him. “Thank you,” he said.

  Leah tried to keep her eyes averted, but his clean, masculine scent seemed to wrap around her like an embrace. She watched him return to his table, noting the wide set of his shoulders and how they tapered down in a nice V shape to his well-filled-out Wranglers. When he took his seat, he met her gaze with a dimpled grin.

  Oh no! I have no business noticing cute cowboys, not when I can’t seem to get rid of the last one.

  She picked up her fork and concentrated on her salad, studiously ignoring the attractive man at the next table.

  When the waitress returned, she brought large platters, each filled with a huge portion of chicken-fried steak and mashed potatoes, all covered with creamy white gravy. There were small bowls of seasoned green beans on the side. A basket of golden-brown cloverleaf rolls completed the array.

  Gracie was staring like it was Christmas, and Leah had to admit the aroma had her salivating. She cut some bites for Gracie, thinking the huge serving might make a good dinner as well.

  The waitress placed the same meal in front of the cowboy. Some light banter passed between them, and then he set about enjoying his food.

  Maybe his generosity was just a random act of kindness. Leah had heard about them but never experienced any firsthand.

  As long as they made it to Gran’s before nightfall, they would have a safe haven. A place for Leah and Gracie to recover from their wounds, both emotional and physical.

  Leah glanced at the cast on Gracie’s left arm. A broken wrist. Leah’s stomach seized up with guilt, but she hadn’t known Caine would be paroled and that he’d show up unannounced.

  Heaving a sigh, she reflected that she should have left long ago, but they really hadn’t had the money to relocate. Well, this latest disaster had set them on the road, ready or not.

  She hurriedly gobbled everything on her plate, barely tasting the delicious food.

  “Gracie, maybe you can eat that in the car,” she said and hailed the waitress. “Do you think we could get this to go?”

  When the waitress brought a Styrofoam container and a paper bag, Leah scooped the contents of Gracie’s plate into the divided carton and snapped the lid on tight. After she slipped it into the bag, Gracie emptied the basket of rolls on top.

  Leah went to the cowboy’s table. “I want to thank you for your kindness, Mister—”

  “Ty…Tyler Garrett,” he supplied, rising to his feet. “Think nothing of it. It was my pleasure.”

  He had blue eyes, ringed by dark lashes. Dark like his hair. His eyes, blue as a summer sky, a sharp contrast to his deeply tanned face. He reached out to her and, without thinking, she found her hand enveloped in his much larger one. It was callused and warm. “You have a safe trip now.”

  “Um…thank you.” Leah turned, but Gracie also extended her hand.

  “Thanks for the meal, Mr. Tyler. It was delicious.”

  He bowed deeply over her hand. “You take care, little lady.”

  She smiled, the first real smile Leah had seen on Gracie’s face since they had left Oklahoma. “My name is Gracie, and my mama is named Leah.”

  “Well, I’m happy to meet you, Gracie and Leah.” He gave her another courtly bow.

  Leah tried to quell the strangling sensation in her throat, hustling Gracie out of the restaurant and into their loaded vehicle. When her daughter was belted in and their small, terrier-type dog, Eddie, had calmed down, Leah pulled out onto the road.

  Gracie continued to eat, and she shared a roll with Eddie, so they were content. Gracie’s nose wrinkled up, and
she made a face. “Ewww!” she shrieked. “Eddie!”

  Leah sighed and opened the windows. “Honey, he can’t help it. He’s old. Every once in a while, he just has to…”

  “He farts!” she exploded. “All the time.”

  Eddie, for his part, hung his head and thumped his tail on the floorboard.

  “It’s okay. The car is all aired out now.”

  “Eddie, please don’t fart while I’m eating.” Gracie gave him a stern look.

  Leah had to laugh. Her daughter glowered, while her dog feigned innocence. If a flatulent dog was the worst obstacle they had to face, their future would be sublime.

  The long, straight West Texas highway stretched out in front of them, like an arrow pointing the way to safety.

  Leah heaved a deep sigh and tried to loosen her grip on the steering wheel, all the while thinking about the cowboy, whose blue eyes seemed to see all the way to her soul.

  * * *

  Tyler gazed out the window at the woman and child as they scrambled into the old beater of a car. He shook his head. Something about those big brown eyes. He could read the fear there. Someone somewhere had caused her a lot of pain. There was no trust in those eyes.

  He watched her pull out onto the interstate and hoped they were headed someplace good. Someplace where somebody gave a damn about them.

  Crystal came to refill his iced tea. “That was real nice, what you did for them, Ty.”

  He frowned, dipping his dinner roll in the cream gravy. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

  Crystal snorted. “It was to them. That woman had bruises on her arms. When I was serving their plates, her shirt fell back, and it looked like handprints on her shoulders too. Somebody gave them a rough time.” She set the tea pitcher on his table and went to clear the one so recently vacated.

  Crystal’s words stabbed into his consciousness. What kind of man would hurt a woman? No matter how controlling his father was, he would never have raised a hand to his wife. He had worshiped her, in fact. Since his mom died, it had seemed his father was even more driven to cement Ty to the ranch, to quash any hope he had of making it to the big time.