had she experienced the same roller-coaster sensation while
watching Kael tear out of the shute on the back of some
wild Brahma? She’d washed her hands of him seven years
ago and good riddance. Nevertheless, she couldn’t eradicate
the ache that gnawed through her.
Angry with herself, Daisy tossed her head and maneu-
vered her grocery cart down the produce aisle, safely dis-
tancing herself from the checkout girls and their discussion
of the man who’d been a thorn in her side for far too long.
Why did she care if he’d gotten hurt? If he was still dumb
enough at age twenty-eight to keep climbing up on those
bulls, then Kael Carmody deserved everything he got.
Kael’s back.
That irritating thought echoed in her mind, refusing to
leave no matter how hard Daisy willed it away.
Why couldn’t she stop wondering what he looked like
and how well he’d weathered the years? Those same seven
years that had been the most trying years of Daisy’s life.
Years spent struggling to raise Travis, dealing with the af-
termath of her twin sister’s death and trying desperately to
forget that Kael Carmody ever existed.
Get your head back on your business, Daisy Hightower
and finish your errands, she mentally scolded herself. Hur-
riedly, she completed her shopping and stood in line for
Deedee to check her groceries.
She leafed through a woman’s magazine while she
waited, trying hard to find something that would distract
her from thoughts of Kael but failed miserably. She won-
dered, not for the first time, how come he hadn’t returned
to Rascal before now.
After paying for her purchases, Daisy wheeled her cart
to the parking lot and loaded the groceries into Aunt
Peavy’s old station wagon.
Her aunt Peavy had come to live at Hightower Honey
Farm after their parents had been killed in a car accident
when she and Rose were just sixteen. Her sister had never
accepted their deaths. Daisy firmly believed that Rose’s in-
ability to move forward with her life had been the cause of
her wild, reckless behavior and ultimately her tragic de-
mise.
Daisy sighed. No point fretting about something she
couldn’t change. The past was past, and she had to keep
looking to the future, for Travis’s sake if not her own.
At the thought of her adopted son, Daisy’s heart swelled
with pride. He’d be getting out of school any minute, and
Daisy was never late picking him up. Her only regret in
taking care of her nephew was that she had no time for
dating. And if she couldn’t date, how could she be expected
to find a husband? And if she couldn’t find a husband, how
could she hope to have more children?
A wistfulness filled her. How badly she wanted a baby
of her own! She couldn’t love Travis any more if he’d come
from her womb, but Daisy longed for the experience her-
self. She wanted to be pregnant, to live through the joys
and tribulations of bringing a child into the world.
But not without the right man by her side. A man of
good moral character. A man who would be there when
she needed him. A responsible man who would always
place his family first. A man the exact opposite of Kael
Carmody.
Daisy guided the station wagon down Market Street. The
vehicle clattered when she stopped at the red light.
It’s nothing, she assured herself. It had to be nothing, she
could not afford car problems right now.
A powder blue pickup sporting lots of shiny chrome
pulled up behind her, the engine idling smoothly. Daisy
glanced in the rearview mirror, coveting the fine truck. It
boasted a wide bed, perfect for hauling farm equipment,
glossy running boards and flashy floodlights mounted on
an overhead roll bar.
Like you could make those payments, she told herself.
The pickup probably belonged to some drugstore cow-
boy who’d never stepped foot on a real ranch in his fife.
She squinted. The driver wore a straw cowboy hat and
sunglasses, but with the tinted windows reflecting the sun’s
glare back in her eyes, she couldn’t decipher much else
about the man.
The light turned green. Daisy eased her foot off the brake
loudly but the car refused to go into gear.
Oh no! Daisy groaned. Not the transmission.
Boss Martin at the feed store had been warning her about
the transmission for a month. She’d put off having it looked
at, simply because she could not spare the minimum of six
hundred dollars it would cost to have the car repaired.
What now?
Praying for divine intervention, Daisy tried again, but the
old station wagon only squealed its dismay and declined to
budge.
She sighed and lowered her window, motioning for the
pickup to go around.
The driver didn’t proceed.
Daisy motioned again.
He stayed right behind her.
“Suit yourself,” she muttered. She had enough concerns
of her own without worrying about this guy, like how to
get to the elementary school within the next five minutes.
The pickup’s emergency flashers came on, and the
driver’s-side door opened.
Great. A hero to the rescue. Daisy rolled her eyes.
“Let him help you,” she said aloud to herself, fighting
her natural tendencies. She had inherited the infamous
Hightower stubbornness, and she often found it difficult to
accept help from anyone, much less a total stranger. But in
this case it would behoove her to swallow her pride.
Watching through the rearview mirror, she saw one jean-
clad leg appear, then the other. This guy moved as slow as
Christmas.
Brushing her hand through her hair and forcing a smile,
Daisy got out and turned to greet the stranger.
The apology froze on her lips.
There, sauntering straight toward her, was Kael Car-
mody.
A familiar grin cocked the comers of his full mouth. The
straw Stetson riding high on his forehead gave her a good
view of his broad brow. His large hands rested loosely at
his narrow hips. With mirrored sunglasses and a huge, gold,
rodeo belt buckle glinting in the sunlight he looked cucum-
ber cool.
Emotions, strong and passionate, swept over her. Daisy
caught her breath at the fierceness stabbing her chest. Many
times she’d envisioned their chance meeting. She’d imag-
ined herself calm, aloof, unimpressed. She had practiced
the lines she would speak, the moves she would make.
She’d planned to be dressed to the nines, her hair perfectly
coifed, her nails long and buffed.
Instead she was outfitted in her usual attire—ratty jeans,
a simple white T-shirt and battered sneakers. She had
pulled her hair back into a ponytail with a rubber band and
she wore no makeup. Her
cuticles were ragged, her finger-
nails unpolished.
And worst of all, she had this almost irresistible urge to
fling herself into his arms.
“Hello, Daisy.” The words rolled off his tongue soft and
easy, belying the taut expression on his face.
“Kael.” She nodded, straggling to keep her self-control
while her knees threatened to collapse beneath her.
“Don’t I even get a hug after seven years?” He held out
his arms.
“Considering the circumstances of our last meeting, I
don’t think you deserve one.”
“I thought maybe you’d forgiven me by now.”
“In a pig’s eye.”
He dropped his arms to his side. “Same old Daisy.”
Her heart tripped. “Nothing changes here in Rascal. I
recall you once told me that.”
“You’re a damned fine sight for sore eyes.”
Was it a flight of her fancy, or was his voice thick?
If he sounds emotional, Daisy Hightower, it’s probably
because he stopped off at Mickey’s Bar for a couple of
beers not because he’s feeling anything for you.
“You’re more beautiful than ever.”
“Cut the soft-soap, Kael. I’m not a gullible nineteen-
year-old anymore.” Her heart thudded so loudly she feared
he could hear it pounding from two feet away.
He pursed his lips but said nothing. The sun beat down,
scorching her scalp. Uncomfortable, Daisy transferred her
weight from one leg to the other and folded her arms over
her chest.
“Aunt Peavy’s green monster giving you fits?” he ob-
served at last, switching his scrutiny to the defunct station
wagon.
“Transmission.”
Kael slipped off his sunglasses and dangled them from
the stem.
Daisy raised her chin.
Their eyes met.
Something inside her shifted. The hard, cold knot of pain
and betrayal that had taken root in her heart seven years
ago billowed against her rib cage, resurrecting the old bit-
terness. She thought she’d buried her resentment against
this man long ago. Obviously she was wrong.
Kael dropped his gaze. Leaning over, he peered into the
station wagon’s back seat at the brown paper sacks min-
gling with her beekeeping supplies. “Been grocery shop-
ping?”
“Yes.”
Reminding herself of all the anguish Kael Carmody had
caused, Daisy narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips to-
gether in a firm, unyielding line. She could not, would not,
let him see that he still affected her like no man on earth.
A car whizzed around them, the driver repeatedly honk-
ing his horn.
“We need to get you out of the road,” Kael said matter-
of-factly, folding his sunglasses and sliding them into the
front pocket of his light blue Westem-cut shirt. The shirt
looked new, as did his sharply creased blue jeans and those
fancy ostrich boots.
“Don’t trouble yourself,” she said, battling the erotic
sensations that assailed her whenever she peeked at him
“I can manage.”
“Daisy, don’t be ridiculous.” He reached out a hand to
her, but she shied away.
She longed to tell him to get lost, to go soak his head,
to dam well make like a cow patty and hit the trail, but
school was out and Travis would be waiting.
“Okay,” she acquiesced grimly.
A wide grin sprawled across Kael’s face as if he’d just
stayed eight seconds on the back of the meanest Brahma
in Texas.
“I’ll push you off to the side, then we’ll call a wrecker.”
She nodded. There was no money for a wrecker, but
what else could she do? Climbing inside the station wagon,
she waited while Kael ambled back to his truck.
He’s trying hard not to limp, she acknowledged, sur-
prised at the surge of sympathy arrowing through her. She
did not want to feel sorry for Kael Carmody. He had chosen
his lifestyle. He’d known the consequences when he’d
climbed on that bull.
Daisy gulped against the pain and blinked back the tears
that threatened. After all this time, why did she still feel
the urge to weep when she thought about what they’d both
lost?
Kael eased his pickup forward, and she felt the gentle
tap as metal bumped metal. Steering the station wagon into
the shallow ditch, she made sure she pulled completely off
the road.
Hands clenched into fists, she sat coaching herself to be
calm while Kael returned to the station wagon. Without
another word, he opened the tailgate and scooped three gro-
cery sacks into his arms.
His masculine scent—a combination of spicy cologne,
musky hay and fresh clean sunshine—filled the car. The
aroma slapped Daisy with a blast from the past.
Memories of long summer days and cool summer nights.
Memories of wet kisses and warm embraces. Memories of
their mouths joined in ecstasy as they traded heady plea-
sures.
Enough! Daisy shook her head vehemently, grabbed the
two remaining sacks and trailed behind Kael. What was
past was past. There could be no going back.
Kael took the paper bags from her and fitted them into
his extended cab before walking around and opening the
passenger-side door for her. “Where to?” he asked.
“I’ve got to pick my son, Travis, up at school.”
That ought to throw him for a loop, she thought, let him
wonder where I got a child.
But to her surprise, Kael merely nodded and got behind
the wheel. “Clinton Elementary?”
“Yes.”
“What grade’s he in?”
“He’s finishing first grade.”
“Hard to believe that you have a child that old.”
He could be your son. Daisy slid a glance in Kael’s di-
rection. Many times over the past seven years she’d studied
her son’s face, trying to find a resemblance to some man
in Rascal. Her greatest fear was that she’d discover some
similarity between the boy and Kael Carmody. But Travis
had taken after the Hightowers with his rich auburn hair
and fair, freckled skin. If he had any feature that matched
Kael’s it was his hazel eyes.
If Kael Carmody was Travis’s father, she didn’t know
what she’d do. Even after Rose left town, Daisy had never
once considered calling Kael and telling him he might be
a father. What was the point? She’d known he wasn’t re-
sponsible enough to assume the role. He’d been unable to
surrender his rodeo career for her, why would a baby be
any different. Let sleeping dogs lie. That was her motto.
Daisy stared straight ahead, noticing the bug guts on the
windshield. Anything to keep from looking at Kael Car-
mody. Why did he have to be the one to drive up behind
her when the green monster had picked that moment to
expire?
“What do you want to do about the station wagon?”
Kael asked, easing his tru
ck through the school zone.
“I don’t know.” Trying her best to stave off a headache,
Daisy lifted a hand to her temple and rubbed.
“You need money to have her towed?” he asked.
“No!” Daisy barked. She’d crawl through the mud, on
her hands and knees, before she’d accept money from Kael
Carmody. She darted a quick glance in his direction.
Kael snorted and shook his head.
“What’s that suppose to mean?”
“Haven’t changed a bit, have you? Still too damned
stubborn to let anyone help.”
“I don’t need any help,” she denied hotly.
“Suit yourself.”
Daisy raised her eyebrows, surprised that he hadn’t ar-
gued further. That was different. In the past Kael would
have insisted until their push-pull of wills dissolved into a
shouting brawl.
He came to a stop outside the elementary school. Dozens
of children skipped across the lawn, happy to be released
from another day’s learning. Daisy’s eyes searched the
throng for Travis.
She spotted him, sitting off by himself, gazing dreamily
at the sky. He looked so small, so vulnerable. Many times
she’d wondered how a woman as wild and impetuous as
Rose Hightower had produced such a quiet, introspective
child. Was Travis’s biological father equally introverted? If
so, she could assuage her fears that Kael Carmody had a
hand in the boy’s conception. Kael was most certainly not
the shy, retiring type.
Rolling down the window, Daisy stuck her head out and
waved. “Travis, honey, over here.”
The boy looked up, and a smile broke across his face.
“Mom!” He gathered up his books and ran toward the
pickup. Daisy opened up the door and scooted over for
Travis to climb in beside her.
Kael studied the thin, young boy with the serious ex-
pression on his slender face. “Hi,” he said to him.
Travis ducked his head.
“Say hello,” Daisy prodded.
“Hello,” Travis whispered. “I like your truck.”
“Why, thank you, Travis.” Kael extended his hand
across the cab, accidentally grazing Daisy’s shoulder. The
contact sent white-hot sparks sizzling down his nerve end-
ings. Gulping, Kael keep his gaze focused on the boy and
wondered if Daisy had also felt the earth tremble. “My
name’s Kael, by the way,” he said.