To Rosemary Rangel Estrada
We really miss you, neighbor!
Amanda Altman’s back in town.
It was all anyone could talk about and Nathan Battle was getting pretty damn sick of it. Nothing he hated more than being at the center of a gossip tornado. He’d already lived through it once, years ago. Of course, he’d escaped the worst of it by moving to Houston and burying himself in the police academy and then his job.
Wouldn’t work this time. He’d built his place here. He wasn’t going anywhere. Mostly because Nathan Battle didn’t run. So he’d just have to ride this mess out until the town found something new to chew on.
But that was life in Royal, Texas. A town too small to mind its own business and too big to have to repeat the same gossip over and over again.
Even here, he thought, in the hallowed halls of the Texas Cattleman’s Club, Nathan couldn’t escape the talk—or the speculation. Not even from his best friend.
“So, Nathan,” Chance asked with a knowing grin, “you see Amanda yet?”
Nathan looked at the man sitting opposite him. Chance McDaniel owned McDaniel’s Acres, a working dude ranch and hotel just south of town. The man had built the place from the ground up on property he’d inherited from his family, and he’d done a hell of a job.
Chance’s blond hair was cropped short, but he still couldn’t get the wave out of it no matter how he tried. His green eyes were amused and Nathan shook his head, knowing that he was the source of his friend’s amusement.
“No.” One word. Should be concise enough to get his message across. And maybe it would have worked with anyone else. Of course, Nathan told himself wryly, it wouldn’t be nearly enough to get Chance to back off. They’d been friends for too long. And nobody knew how to get to you better than a best friend.
“You can’t ignore her forever,” Chance mused, taking a sip of his scotch.
“It’s worked so far,” Nathan told him and lifted his own glass for a drink.
“Sure it has,” Chance said, muffling a laugh. “That’s why you’ve been such a cool, calm guy the last couple of weeks.”
Nathan narrowed his eyes on his friend. “Funny.”
“You have no idea,” Chance agreed, lips twitching. “So, Sheriff, if you’re avoiding the Royal Diner these days, where are you getting your coffee?”
His fingers tightened on the heavy, old crystal. “The gas station.”
Now Chance didn’t bother to hide his laughter. “You must be desperate if you’re drinking the swill Charlie brews down there. You know, maybe it’s time you learned how to make decent coffee yourself.”
“And maybe it’s time you let this go,” Nathan told him. Irritating is what it was, he thought. His whole damn routine had been splintered when Amanda moved back home to Royal. Used to be he started off his day with a large coffee and maybe some eggs at the diner. Amanda’s sister, Pam, always had his coffee ready for him when he walked in. That was a routine a man could count on. But since Amanda blew back into his world, he’d had to make do with Charlie’s disgusting coffee and a packaged sweet roll.
Even when she wasn’t trying, Amanda found a way to screw with him.
“Seriously, Nate,” Chance said, lowering his voice a little so the other members of the TCC couldn’t overhear, “from all reports, Amanda’s here to stay. Seems she’s been making some changes to the diner, settling in. Even talking about looking for a house of her own, according to Margie Santos.”
Nathan had heard all the same talk, of course. Hard not to, when everyone in a ten-mile radius was more than eager to talk to him about Amanda. Margie Rice was the top real estate agent in Royal and one of the biggest gossips as well. If she was spreading the word that Amanda was looking for her own place, then Nathan had to admit that she was here for the long term.
Which meant he couldn’t ignore her for much longer.
Too bad, because he’d finally gotten good at not thinking about Amanda. Wasn’t always the case. Several years ago, Amanda was all Nathan thought about. The passion between them had burned hotter than anything he’d ever known. She’d filled his mind, waking and sleeping.
Of course back then, they’d been engaged.
He scowled into his glass of scotch. Times change.
“New subject, Chance,” he muttered and let his gaze slide around the main room of the TCC.
While his friend talked about what was happening at the ranch, Nathan’s mind wandered. Over the years, it seemed like inside the TCC, time stood still. Even the fact that women were now officially members of the long-standing, males-only club hadn’t affected the decor. Paneled walls, dark brown leather furniture—sofas and club chairs—hunting prints on the walls and a big-screen TV so you didn’t miss a bit of any Texas sporting event.
The air smelled of lemon polish and the wood floors and tables gleamed in the lamplight. The TV was on now, but muted so that members could sit and brood behind newspapers or chat without having to shout to be heard. The soft clinking of crystal against gleaming wood tables underlined the hushed conversations surrounding them.
A woman’s laugh pealed out just then, shattering the quiet and Nathan grinned as he noted that Beau Hacket actually cringed at the sound. At nearly sixty, Beau was short, thick around the middle and with a lot more gray in what was left of his dark red hair. He had a big laugh and a narrow mind—he believed women belonged in the kitchen and didn’t care who knew it.
Now, Beau fired a hard look around the room as if to silently say, Did you all hear that? That’s just wrong. Women don’t belong here.
No one said anything, but Nathan read the tension in the room and noted more gritted jaws than usual. Women were members, but they still weren’t really welcome. Everyone was gathered for the weekly TCC meeting and none of the old guard were happy about having women included.
“Sounds like Abigail’s enjoying herself,” Chance muttered into the stillness.
“Abby always enjoys herself,” Nathan mused.
Abigail Langley Price, married to Brad Price, had been the first female member of the club. And, of course, she was having a good time now, since she had women to talk to in here. But it hadn’t been easy on her, gaining acceptance at the TCC. Even with the support of Nathan, Chance and several of the other members, she’d had to fight her way in—and Nathan admired that about her.
“Does it feel weird to you,” Chance asked, “to have women in the club now?”
“Nope.” Nathan finished off his scotch and set the empty glass down on the table in front of him. “Felt weirder when they weren’t allowed in here.”
“Yeah,” his friend said. “I know what you mean.” Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on his knees. “But men like Beau over there aren’t happy about it.”
Nathan shrugged. “Men like Beau are always complaining about something. Besides, he and the others are just gonna have to get used to it.” Then he added what he’d been thinking a few minutes ago. “Times change.”
“They really do,” Chance agreed. “Like, for example, the vote we’re taking tonight.”
Relieved to be off the subject of Amanda, Nathan turned his thoughts to the upcoming vote. It had been the talk of the town for days. Once Abigail and the other women became members of the TCC they’d had some ideas of their own