and tenderness in her toned arms and legs as she had held him. Remembered the passion of their one night which was just another reason why he had known it was wrong for his brother and Macy to marry.
He couldn’t imagine being married to a woman like Macy and having the relationship be platonic. Hell, if it were him, he’d have her in bed at every conceivable moment.
Well, at every moment that he could given the presence of her seventeen-year-old son T.J.
Which made him wonder where the boy was until he peered through the windows of Miss Sue’s and spotted him sitting in Macy’s car. His mop of nearly-black hair, much darker than Macy’s light brown, hung down in front of his face, obscuring anything above his tight-lipped mouth.
Fisher wondered if T.J. was angry about the aborted wedding. To hear Jericho talk, the teenager had been none too happy with the announcement, but to hear his father talk, there wasn’t much that T.J. had been happy with since T.J.’s father’s death from cancer six years earlier.
Not that he blamed the boy. It had taken him a long time to get over his own mother’s abandonment. Some might say he never had given his wandering life as a soldier and his inability to commit to any woman.
From behind him he heard the soft scuff of boots across the gleaming tile floor and almost instinctively knew it was Macy on her way back. Funny in how only just a couple of weeks he could identify her step and the smell of her.
She always smelled like roses.
But then again, observing such things was a necessary part of his military training. An essential skill for keeping his men alive.
His men, he thought and picked up the mug of steaming coffee, sweet with fresh cream from one of the small local ranches. In a couple of weeks, he would either be heading back for another tour of duty in the Middle East or accepting an assignment back in the States as an instructor at West Point.
Although he understood the prestige of being assigned to the military academy, he wasn’t sure he was up for settling down in one place.
Since the day eighteen years ago when Macy had walked down the aisle with Tim, he had become a traveling man and he liked it that way. No ties or connections other than to his dad, younger brother and his men. People he could count on, he thought as the door closed on Macy’s firm butt encased in soft faded denim.
A butt his hands itched to touch along with assorted other parts of her.
With a mumbled curse, he took a sip of the coffee, wincing at its heat. Reminded himself that he was only in town for a short period of time.
Too little time to waste wondering over someone who probably hadn’t given him a second thought in nearly twenty years.
Chapter 2
What made the drive to the Hopechest Ranch better wasn’t just that it was shorter, Macy thought.
She loved the look of the open countryside and how it grew even more empty the farther they got away from Esperanza. The exact opposite of how it had been in the many years that she had made the drive to the San Antonio hospital where she had once worked.
Out here in the rugged Texas countryside, she experienced a sense of balance and homecoming. When Jewel Mayfair and the California side of the Colton family had bought the acres adjacent to the Bar None in order to open the Hopechest Ranch, Macy had decided she had wanted to work there. Luckily, she and Jewel had hit it off during her interview.
It wasn’t just that they had similar ideas about dealing with the children at the ranch or that tragedy had touched both their lives. They were both no-nonsense rational women with a strong sense of family, honor and responsibility.
They had bonded immediately and their friendship had grown over the months of working together, so much so that she had asked Jewel to be her maid of honor.
Because she was a friend and understood her all too well, Jewel hadn’t pressed her since the day she had canceled the wedding, aware of Macy’s concerns about marrying Jericho and her turmoil over the actions of her son.
Macy was grateful for that as well as Jewel’s offer to hire T.J. to work during the summer months at the ranch.
At seventeen, he was too old for after school programs, not to mention that for the many years she had worked in San Antonio, she had felt guilty about having him in such programs. Before Tim’s death, T.J. used to go home and spend time with his father, who had been a teacher at one of the local schools.
She pulled up in front of the Spanish-style ranch house, which was the main building at the Hopechest Ranch. The Coltons had spared no expense in building the sprawling ranch house that rose up out of the flat Texas plains. Attention to detail was evident in every element of the house from the carefully maintained landscaping to the ornate hand-carved wooden double doors at the entrance.
Macy was well aware, however, that the Hopechest Ranch wasn’t special because of the money the Coltons lavished on the house and grounds. It was the love the Coltons put into what they did with the kids within. She mumbled a small prayer that the summer spent here might help her work a change in T.J.’s attitude.
She parked off to one side of the driveway, shut off the engine and they both stepped out of the car.
One of the dark wooden doors opened immediately.
Ana Morales stepped outside beneath the covered portico by the doors, her rounded belly seeming even larger today than it had the day before. The beautiful young Mexican woman laid a hand on one of the columns of the portico as she waited for them.
Ana had taken refuge at the Hopechest Ranch like many of the others within, although the main thrust of the program at the ranch involved working with troubled children. Despite that, the young woman had been a welcome addition, possessing infinite patience with the younger children.
Sticky bun box in hand, Macy smiled and embraced Ana when she reached the door. “How are you today, amiga?”
“Just fine, Macy,” Ana said, her expressive brown eyes welcoming. She shot a look over Macy’s shoulder at T.J. “This is your son, no?”
She gestured to him. “T.J., meet Ms. Morales.”
“Ana, por favor,” she quickly corrected. “He’s very handsome and strong.”
“Miss Ana,” T.J. said, removing his hat and ducking his head down in embarrassment.
As they stepped within the foyer of the ranch, the noises of activity filtered in from the great rooms near the back of the ranch house and drew them to the large family room/-kitchen area. In the bright open space, half a dozen children of various ages and ethnicities moved back and forth between the kitchen, where Jewel and one of the Hopechest Ranch’s housekeepers were busy serving up family-style platters of breakfast offerings.
Ana immediately went to their assistance as did Macy, walking to the counter and grabbing a large plate for the sticky buns. Motioning with her head, she said, “Go grab yourself a spot at the table, T.J.”
As the children noted that the food was being put out, they shifted to the large table between the family room and kitchen and soon only a few spots were free at the table.
