Homeward Bound. Marin Thomas

before it had even had a chance to get off the ground.

      And while she was unearthing the past, she might as well show the good folks of Nowhere that Heather Henderson had changed for the better. As she neared the door she cringed inwardly. You’re in for the fight of your life.

      When her shoes hit the pavement, a gust of hot wind smacked her in the face and blasted her loose hair six inches in the air. Her legs jiggled like cooked noodles, and she locked her knees, refusing to appear weak in front of her nemesis. She shielded her eyes from the sun’s glare while the driver unloaded the two suitcases and two boxes of college mementos she’d brought home with her.

      A bead of perspiration trickled between her breasts. Royce’s relaxed pose didn’t fool her. He’s ticked. Obviously, she wouldn’t be receiving a warm mayoral welcome and the key to the city.

      The bus driver shut and locked the storage door. “Have a nice stay, ma’am.”

      She mumbled a quick thank-you. A second later, the motor coach shifted gear, belched a cloud of black exhaust and drove off leaving…

      Her.

      And him.

      And the sweltering June heat.

      He wore mirrored shades, but a sixth sense told her he looked her straight in the eye.

      In one smooth motion, he removed the glasses. From fifteen feet away his hot brown glare threatened to melt her. If he were any closer, she’d burst into flames.

      “Heather.”

      Oh, man. He was more than ticked. His lips hadn’t moved when he spoke.

      She lifted her chin. “Royce.”

      “I thought I told you to stay put.”

      The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and wiggled in indignation. “You should realize by now I don’t listen too well.”

      He rubbed a hand across his brow, and Heather almost felt sorry for him.

      “You’re bound and determined to take the store on?”

      “Yes.”

      “Until you get a better offer?”

      Let him think that. If Royce were to find out why she was really in Nowhere, he’d hit the ground running. “Yes.”

      He studied her as if he wanted more than her words as reassurance. “Where are you staying?” He asked the question warily, as if he feared she intended to move into his ranch house.

      “I’d planned to live in the store.” Rent-free, no commute. Life couldn’t get any better. And a little distance between her and Royce was a good thing—just until he got used to her being around again.

      “You can’t stay at the store. The place is a dump. Besides, where would you sleep?”

      “There’s a large closet off the storeroom. I can fit a cot in there.”

      “I saw the commode in the back, but what about bathing?”

      Next thing, he’d be asking what she planned to do about toilet paper! “The storeroom has a showerhead.” She just hoped the water ran clear and didn’t come out all rusty and smelling like dead fish.

      He fumed in silence, as if contemplating how to throw her over his shoulder and haul her back to College Station.

      “Fine. We’ll take your things over to the store, then head out to the ranch. There’s an old bed in the attic you can have, and the mini fridge in the barn.”

      No more arguing? Amazing. “Thanks. And if it’s all right with you, I’d like to get my car so I have a way to get around.”

      “Your father’s truck wasn’t destroyed in the fire. It’s parked behind the store.”

      She helped Royce load her luggage and the boxes into the pickup bed, then hopped in on the passenger side. “I’ll use the truck for business and the Mustang for pleasure.” She flashed a smile across the seat.

      Frowning, he turned the key and the motor roared to life. “You’re sure about this?”

      She crossed her fingers. “Absolutely.”

      “I hope to hell you know what you’re doing, Heather.”

      So do I, Royce. So do I.