by Lori Wilde
But she didn’t want to do it 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 put his family first.
A man the exact opposite of Kael Carmody.
Chapter Two
DAISY GUIDED THE WAGONEER down Presidio Boulevard.
She pulled to a stop at the red light, and the vehicle clattered.
It’s nothing, she assured herself. It had to be nothing, she could not afford car problems right now.
A powder-blue pickup sporting a lot of shiny chrome pulled up behind her, the engine idling smoothly.
Daisy glanced in the rearview mirror, wanting a truck like that. It boasted a wide bed, just perfect for hauling farm equipment. Glossy running boards and flashy floodlights mounted on an overhead roll bar.
Like you could make those payments.
The pickup probably belonged to some drugstore cowboy who’d never stepped foot on a real ranch in his life.
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 tell much else about the man.
The light turned green.
Daisy eased her foot off the brake and pressed on the accelerator. The engine surged, but the Jeep refused to slip into gear.
Oh, no! Daisy groaned. Not the transmission.
Her neighbor, Keegan Winslow, had been warning her about the sound of Aunt Peavy’s transmission for a month. They’d put off having it looked at because they could not spare the minimum two grand it would cost to have the car repaired.
What now?
Praying for divine intervention, Daisy tried again, but the old Wagoneer only squealed and didn’t budge.
She sighed and lowered her window, motioning for the pickup to go around.
The driver didn’t move.
Daisy motioned again.
He stayed right behind her.
“Suit yourself,” she muttered. She had enough concerns 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 muttered, fighting her natural tendencies. She had inherited the infamous Hightower stubbornness, and she found it hard to accept help. But in this case, she better 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 Carmody.
Her heart stuttered.
A familiar grin cocked the corners of his full mouth. The straw Stetson riding high on his forehead gave her a good view of his thick thatch of whiskey-brown hair. 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 cucumber cool.
A dozen different emotions swept over her, and she didn’t want to feel any of them.
Daisy caught her breath at the fierceness stabbing her chest. Many times, she’d envisioned their chance meeting. She’d imagined herself calm, aloof, unimpressed. She had practiced
the lines she would speak, the moves she would make. She’d dress to the nines, her hair perfectly coifed, her nails painted and buffed.
Instead, she wore her usual attire—ratty work jeans, a simple white T-shirt and battered work boots. She had pulled her hair back into a ponytail with a rubber band, and she wore no makeup. Her cuticles were ragged, and her fingernails unpolished.
But 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.
“Kael.” She nodded, struggling to keep her self-control while her knees wobbled.
“Don’t I even get a hug after seven years?” He held out his arms.
“Considering the circumstances around the last time we saw each other, 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 before you took off.”
“Dang. But you’re a 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 Kelly’s Bar for a beer, not because he’s feeling anything for you.
“You’re more beautiful than ever,” he murmured.
“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 trouble?” he asked, switching his gaze to the stalled Wagoneer.
“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 hurt. She thought she’d buried her feelings for this man long ago. Obviously, she was wrong.
Kael dropped his gaze. Leaning over, he peered into the Jeep’s back seat at the brown paper sacks mingling with her beekeeping supplies. “Have you been grocery shopping?”
“Yes.”
Reminding herself of all the trouble Kael had caused, Daisy narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together in a firm, unyielding line. She could not, would not, let him see he still affected her like no man on earth.
A car whizzed around them, the driver honking 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 Western shirt. The shirt looked brand-new, as did his sharply creased blue jeans and those fancy ostrich boots.
“Don’t trouble yourself,” she said. “I can manage.”
“Daisy, don’t be stubborn.” 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 darn well make like a cow patty and hit the trail, but school was out, and Travis would be waiting.
“Okay,” she agreed.
A wide grin sprawled across Kael’s face as if he’d just stayed eight seconds on the back of the meanest Brahma on the rodeo circuit.
“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 Wagoneer, she waited while Kael ambled back to his truck.
He’s trying hard not to limp, she noticed, surprised at the surge of sympathy arrowing through her. She did not want to feel sorry for Kael. He had chosen his lifestyle. He’d known the consequences when he’d climbed on that bull.
Daisy gulped against her unwanted sympathy 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. She felt the gentle tap as metal bumped metal. Steering the Wagoneer into the shallow ditch, she pulled it off the road.
Hands clenched into fists, she waited while he walked back to her vehicle. Without
another word, he opened the tailgate and scooped three grocery sacks into hi
s 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 as they traded heady pleasures.
Enough!
Daisy shook her head, grabbed the two remaining sacks, and trailed behind Kael. The 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 up my son, Travis, at school.”
That ought to throw him for a loop. Let him wonder where she got a child.
But to her surprise, Kael merely nodded and got behind the wheel. “Clinton Elementary?”
“Yes.”
“What grade’s he in?”
“Finishing first.”
“Hard to believe that you have a child that old.”
He could be your son.
Daisy slid a glance in Kael’s direction. Over the past seven years she’d studied her son’s face many times, trying to find a resemblance to some man in Rascal. Her greatest fear was that she’d discover similarities between the boy and Kael. 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 was Travis’ father, she didn’t know what she would do. Even after Rose left town, Daisy had not risked calling Kael and telling him he might be a father. What was the point? She’d known he wasn’t responsible enough to be a real dad. He’d refused to give up 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 Carmody. Why did he have to be the one to drive up behind her when the green monster had picked that moment to die?
“What do you want to do about the Wagoneer?” Kael eased his truck through the twenty-mile-per-hour 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 it towed?” he asked.
“No!” Daisy barked. She’d crawl through the mud, on her hands and knees, before she would accept money from Kael. She darted a quick glance in his direction.
Kael snorted and shook his head.
“What’s that mean?”
“Haven’t changed, have you? Still too danged stubborn to let anyone help.”
“I don’t need help,” she denied hotly.
“Suit yourself.”
Daisy raised her eyebrows, surprised that he hadn’t argued further. That was different. In the past Kael would have insisted until their push-pull of wills dissolved into a shouting match.
He came to a stop outside the elementary school. Dozens of children skipped across the lawn, freed from another day of 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 had produced such a quiet, introspective child. Was Travis’ biological father introverted? If so, she could allay her fears that Kael had a hand in the boy’s conception. Kael was 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 the door and scooted over for Travis to climb in beside her.
KAEL STUDIED THE THIN, young boy with the serious expression on his slender face. “Hi.”
Travis ducked his head.
“Say hello,” Daisy prodded.
“Hello,” Travis murmured. “I like your truck.”
“Why, thank you, Travis.” Kael extended his hand across the cab, and he accidentally grazed Daisy’s shoulder.
The contact sent white-hot sparks sizzling down his nerve endings. Gulping, Kael kept his gaze focused on the boy, and he wondered if Daisy had also felt the earth tremble. “My name’s Kael.”
Travis shook his hand and offered Kael a shy grin. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Kael.”
“No mister, just Kael.”
Daisy had done a fine job raising him. It couldn’t have been easy, playing both mother and father to her sister’s child. You and Daisy could have a baby of your own by now.
The thought, like a lonely phantom, passed through his mind. His sadness intensified, and he felt a sudden and deep regret for his life choices.
They drove down the street. Silence, like an accusation, hung between them.
“How’s the beekeeping business?” Kael asked.
“All right.”
“I thought maybe the harsh winter might have caused you some trouble.”
“We lost a lot of bees,” Travis said solemnly.
“Really.” Kael frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“But we’re doing fine,” Daisy insisted.
Was Hightower Honey Farm in financial trouble?
“If you need any money...” Kael made the offer even though he knew he risked riling Daisy.
She gave him a sharp look, and Kael read her thoughts. Not in front of Travis.
At one time they’d shared an uncanny telepathy, as if their minds traveled the same track. Apparently, the ability still existed. Kael pursed his lips and stared out the window.
“What do you want to do about the Wagoneer?” he asked again, turning onto Presidio Boulevard.
Daisy stared down at her hands, and Kael realized she had no money for a wrecker or car repairs. Dang the stubborn woman. If she’d allow him, he would take care of everything. But being essentially on her own since sixteen had made Daisy used to standing on her own two feet. She didn’t take handouts, especially from him.
Travis raised his head and stared at the Wagoneer in the shallow ditch. “What happened to the green monster, Mom?”
“Transmission went out,” Daisy mumbled, “but let me worry about the car.”
Kael pulled over on the shoulder, engine idling. “Do we haul it to the shop now, or do you want me to take you home?”
She rubbed her temple with her fingers. “Would you take us home? I need time to sort things out before I decide what to do.”
“You got it.”
Kael knew how much effort it took for her to make that simple request. He also knew that he would have the car towed and the repairs made behind her back and let the chips fall where they may.
He drove out of town, headed toward Hightower Farm. How many times had he driven this road with Daisy beside him? A melancholy sensation tightened his chest, and he sneaked a glance in her direction.
She was staring out the window, her hands resting in her lap, her chin held high.
She was more beautiful than he remembered, with that long, red hair glowing in the sunlight, her peaches-and-cream complexion bronzed to perfection, her full lips pursed into a determined pout.
Man alive, but he wanted to pull the truck over, drag her out the passenger-side door,
and kiss her until she begged him to come back into her life.
But Kael knew that would never happen. Daisy was a woman of strong convictions. It was one thing he admired most about her. Once she decided on an issue, she didn’t change her mind.
And seven years ago, she’d ended their relationship.
Kael had cloaked his pain by focusing on bull riding. He’d lived and breathed rodeo. There had been no other lady to steal his heart since Daisy.
Oh sure, he’d dated casually, but he’d let no one get close enough to burn him the way Daisy had. A man could only take so much suffering
before he turned his back on love.
And then a bull had taken away his ability to ride. He’d lost that love, too, just as surely as he’d lost Daisy.
He felt a hot, hard sensation inside him—regret, remorse, sadness, sorrow. Guiding the pickup toward Hightower Honey Farm, Kael yearned for a second chance.
He killed the engine. More memories swept through him as his gaze drifted over the farm.
The house begged for a fresh coat of paint, and the fence needed stretching. Grass grew ankle-deep. Overgrown tree limbs hung low. The place fairly cried out for a handyman.
At least she hasn’t found someone to replace me. Startled at the direction his mind had taken, Kael shook his head.
He recalled sitting right there on that same front porch swing with Daisy. They had kissed and giggled and held one another until Aunt Peavy came out on the porch with a pitcher of fresh-squeezed lemonade and a tray of chocolate chip cookies.
He’d once helped Daisy and Aunt Peavy in the apiary. They’d united colonies, cleaned the hives, clipped the queens. A humming noise rose in his memory along with the sweet aroma of honey.
Yes. Hightower Honey Farm brought back a lot of old feelings. Feelings he couldn’t recapture. But maybe, just maybe, Daisy would allow him to be her friend. He hated to think he’d lost her from his life forever.
“Hey, Travis, why don’t you carry this sack inside for your mother?” Kael reached into the extended cab and handed the boy a small sack of groceries.
Travis nodded, took the sack, and climbed to the ground.
Daisy followed him, but Kael laid a restraining hand on her shoulder. “Wait. I’d like to talk to you alone.”
She hesitated, wariness in her eyes. “What do you want?”
Kael swallowed. “The farm needs work, Daisy.”
“I’m doing my best,” she snapped. “You think it’s easy? Running a business and raising a six-year-old?”
“That’s not what I meant. I’m very aware of how hard you work.”
“Then what did you mean?” Daisy’s green-eyed gaze had a hard edge to it.
“You could use a man around here.”