jaw harder, his lips…Her mouth went dry. “You’re living here?” she repeated. Repeated, as though he hadn’t just said it loud and clear.
He nodded, probably thinking she’d lost her mind in the years since they’d had their…since their paths had crossed. Humiliation swamped her and she felt her cheeks heat as her past opened like a yawning black hole and threatened to swallow her. For a brief instant she almost welcomed the refuge fainting would give her. But weakness wasn’t an option. Weakness was a weapon that she’d sworn no one would ever use against her again.
“Where?”
He jerked his head to the right. “I moved into the apartment up there.”
Her gaze followed his to the apartment above the real estate office. It was directly across the street from the dress store where she worked!
Rose wasn’t a good enough actress to hide her shock. “I see.” No, I don’t, she silently said. What are you doing here?
“It’s been a long time, Rose. How are you?”
How are you? After all they’d been through and all that had happened between them…What kind of question was that? This man had torn her world apart and now he wanted to make small talk! Her insides rolled. “Fine,” she blurted. “Mule Hollow is a great place.” How was she chatting when she wanted to throw up? Pass out. Run.
“That’s what I hear,” he said, his gaze searching hers. “Here, do you want me to take those for you?”
“No!” she exclaimed, and jerked away. Experiencing his touch again was the last thing she wanted. She was amazed she didn’t drop her packages. More amazed she didn’t throw them at him.
“I—I really need to be going. I have to get to work. But I’m sure we’ll see each other again. This is a small town.”
Too small for the both of them, she thought, angling past him.
“That’s what I’m counting on.”
She managed a nod, then hurried across the street to the dress store. She was off today, but she’d forgotten momentarily that her car was parked in front of the feed store. Her only thought was getting away. She wasn’t sure how her legs held her up, but she made it across the street and to the door.
“Hang on,” she growled under her breath. Her hand shook violently as she grasped the doorknob, wrestled with her packages and at the same time somehow got inside. She kicked the door closed just as her arms turned into noodles and the boxes toppled to the ground. Struggling to breathe, she fell against the wall and fought to regain some sort of control. It was a hard thing to do when everything she cared about was now at risk.
Zane Cantrell was here.
Zane watched Rose disappear inside Ashby’s Treasures. He wasn’t certain if he’d been right in coming here, but one look into her midnight-blue eyes told him he’d done what he needed to do. He wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t been glad to see him. He was trained to read people, but it hadn’t taken a trained eye to see that he’d upset her. An expected reaction, considering the likelihood she hated him.
And with reason.
Chapter Two
What are dreams made of?
Standing in the center of the pasture surrounding her newly acquired home, Rose smiled despite the turmoil she was feeling since seeing him that morning. Not many would say their dreams were made of ugly, purple, egg-shaped fruit. But that was exactly what Rose’s dreams were made of. Delicious prickly pear fruit.
The house was old and the pastures were overrun with huge prickly pear cacti. To the town it looked about the most useless of any land the Lord had ever created. But that was precisely the reason she’d saved and worked to buy this particular piece of property. These heavily laden plants, whose beautiful yellow flowers had given way to the ugly fruit, were a thing of beauty. They were her field of dreams.
She and Max had arrived in Mule Hollow on a bus loaded with other women relocating from a burned-down women’s shelter in L.A. They’d come with the hope that the small town and the new women’s shelter might be the answer to their prayers.
It had been everything they’d hoped and so much more. The town had such a caring, loving need to make the newcomers feel safe and that they had something to offer the community. That made a difference. Especially for Max. He’d taken to the town almost immediately and now dreamed of owning his own ranch one day. On the streets of L.A. that thought would have never crossed his mind. She thanked God every day for leading them here.
And this—this deceptive-looking field of cacti surrounding this frame house and barn that had seen better days—this was where their dreams were going to come true.
She refused to think the past few hours could have changed that.
“Mom!” Max yelled.
She spun and watched her gangly teenage son zigzag toward her through the cacti. In his gloved hand he held a canvas bag aloft like the trophy that it was.
“I’ve got a bagful,” he said, skidding to a halt, his beautiful eyes sparkling from behind the protective goggles. She could hear the grin in his voice behind the bandana covering the rest of his face. The tiny, hairlike stingers on the fruit and the cactus plant were not something to take chances with. They were horribly irritating if they got on skin; in the eyes would be even worse. He’d grumbled when she’d first asked him to wear the goggles, but no protective wear, no deal. When she’d gotten home from town he’d been so anxious to get to work he hadn’t blinked twice as he’d snapped the goggles into place.
He was too excited about the prospect of harvesting the fruit to notice that she was upset. She was glad because, though she tried to hide it, there had still been the chance that her observant son might notice. She wasn’t ready to explain Zane…Mule Hollow’s new deputy!
Her temperature rose at the thought of him.
Desperately in need of a distraction, she stood dressed in her own gear harvesting prickly pear. Just what she needed. Denial was the name of the game. And at the moment, she’d play the game, because Zane, here in Mule Hollow, was simply too overwhelming to take in one dose.
She needed time to process it. Needed time to find a way to explain it all to Max. He knew that they’d spent many years in one shelter after the other, but he didn’t know all the circumstances that had led up to their nomadic way of life. He didn’t know that she’d witnessed a murder when she was twenty. Or that she’d briefly entered the witness protection program, when her testimony had sent the killer to prison. Nor did he know the whole truth about why or how she’d taken back her real name.
Max had been too young to remember anything of that life and she wanted to keep it that way.
Forcing the thoughts away, she held up her matching bag of fruit. “Me, too,” she said. “But, Max, please slow down. If you trip and fall into a cactus, those bristles are going to eat you alive.”
He tugged the bandana down. “Mom, stop worrying. I’m covered up like a mummy. Besides, I don’t trip.” The words were spoken like only a cocky teenager could do. “I’m an entrepreneur. The guys still can’t believe I’m opening
