He snorted. "Right."

"And I'm not a little girl. I'm sixteen."

He leaned on the pitchfork with his crossed hands and grinned, revealing a mouthful of straight white teeth. "You don't say. That old?"

Her breath caught in her throat as she realized how good-looking he was, his s.h.a.ggy black hair falling over his brow, his dark eyes filled with humor, his smile revealing twin dimples in his cheeks. "How old are you?" she asked.

"Old enough to know better," he said, bending to scoop up another load of manure and crossing toward her. "Move it, kid. I've got work to do. I can't stand here all day jawing with you."

"You're a hired hand. If I want to talk to you, you'll stop and talk," she said, angry at being brushed off.

He dropped the load of manure so close to her boots that she had to resist the urge to jump backward, then threw the pitchfork into the hay and braced his hands on either side of the stall door. He loomed large above her, and she was aware of the dark hair in his armpits and the rivulets of sweat streaming down his throat into his torn T-shirt. He smelled like a hardworking man, musky and... different from any other man she'd ever met.

His dark eyes looked dangerous and a muscle flexed in his cheek. "n.o.body orders me around, little girl. I'll quit before I let a spoiled brat like you-"

"I'm sorry."

"-order me-"

"I'm sorry," she repeated. She felt breathless, her chest tight, her heart pounding. "You're right. I'm used to getting my own way. And I'm not used to being ignored." Watching his dark eyes, she saw the danger pa.s.s, replaced by suspicion.

He looked down at the hand she'd extended to ward him off, as though he were a feral beast. She selfconsciously pulled it back and stuck it in the back pocket of her jeans. But that made her b.r.e.a.s.t.s jut, and aware of his eyes lowering to look their fill, she yanked her hand out of her back pocket and crossed her arms over her chest.

"What is it you want from me, kid?"

"Nothing." She hesitated, then said, "Just someone to talk with."

He shook his head, took a step back, and dropped his arms to his sides. "I'm not your man."

"Why not?" she said. "You're the first person I've met on this ranch who isn't frightened or intimidated by the fact I'm the boss's daughter. You have no idea how wonderful that is."

He looked skeptical. "Do you know who I am?"

She gave him her most charming smile. "Not yet. You haven't told me your name."

His features hardened. "They call me Bad Billy Coburn."

It was plain he didn't like it. And that he probably deserved it. "You do look pretty ferocious," she teased.

He scowled.

She laughed. "My name is Summer. It's nice to meet you, Billy." She held out her hand for him to shake.

He stared at it for a long time, so long she thought maybe he wasn't going to take it. His eyes looked haunted, like a starving animal that sees the cheese laid on a trap, and knows that if he reaches for it, he's liable to get hurt, but still so hungry that he takes the risk.

He reached for her hand and clasped it in his own. At the touch of his callused hand, a shiver ran through her. She shook off the odd feeling and said, "It's nice to have a friend, Billy."

He released her hand and took a step back. "Have a nice ride... Summer."

She smiled at him, feeling buoyed by his use of her first name. "Thank you... Billy."

It was a beginning.

Over the next several years, their friendship had grown. Until she'd spoiled it all two years ago by wanting to know how his kiss would feel. When he'd refused to kiss her, she'd leaned up on tiptoe, right there on his front porch, and kissed him.

And then he'd kissed her back.

Billy's kiss had opened her eyes to what had been missing in every other kiss she'd ever received. His lips had been surprisingly soft and a little damp and had moved against her own seeking pleasure, discovering the wonder of touching her intimately and completely.

She'd felt her skin tingle, felt her blood begin to race, felt a surprisingly heady euphoria that seemed at odds with being touched by a man who'd been her good friend for almost five years without touching her in more than a friendly way. She'd wanted some indefinable something more.

At that fragile moment in time, Billy's mother Dora had arrived home from church. The rest of what happened that day on Billy's front porch was painful to remember.

Dora's face had turned a mottled red and spittle had flown from her mouth as she'd confronted Billy and said, "I won't have you lying with that Blackthorne b.i.t.c.h. Not ever. Do you hear me? Never!"

Summer couldn't remember everything Billy's mother had said, but even now her face went fiery hot when she remembered how that beautiful moment had been turned so ugly.

Of course, now Summer understood why Mrs. Coburn had been so sharp-spoken and upset. Any mother would panic if she thought two children related by blood were about to become lovers. For twenty-five years she'd kept the secret that Billy was Blackjack's son.

And she hadn't known that Summer was not his daughter.

Summer sighed and shifted in the seat of her Silverado as she headed the Chevy toward a towering live oak. She hadn't realized where she was going until she'd arrived. She'd come the back way to the stock pond on Billy's ranch where they'd so often spent private time with one another.

As she pulled her truck to a stop at the base of the ancient live oak, Summer saw a horse ground-tied and eating gra.s.s. She should have realized Billy might be here. After all, it was his favorite spot to think, as well.

She found him sitting at the base of the tree, his long legs extended in front of him, his Stetson pulled low, his hands tearing apart a blade of long-stemmed gra.s.s. She knew he must have heard the approach of her truck, but he never acknowledged her. She slid onto the ground beside him and leaned back against the tree.

"Hi," she said.

He glanced at her and said, "What are you doing here?"

"I needed to think. How about you?"

He grunted an a.s.sent.

A sudden gust of wind rustled the leaves above them. She squinted and covered her eyes as sunlight stabbed at her through a break in the leafy canopy. She drew her knees up to her chest and laid her cheek on them. "Oh, G.o.d, Billy. I'm so confused. I don't know what to do."

She felt his hand briefly on her shoulder before it was gone.

"I know," he said.

She felt a sob building and turned her face away from Billy, not wanting him to see her lose the struggle for control. "I thought I'd grown up so much in the two years you've been gone," she said. A sob broke free, and she made a grrrrrr sound of anger and admitted, "And less than twenty-four hours after you get back, I'm reduced to sniveling like some kid whose toy is broken."

"Mind if I join you?"

She heard the humor in Billy's voice and turned to face him. "What have you got to cry about?"

He broke off another stem of gra.s.s and chewed on the sweet end of it, staring off into the distance instead of answering her.

"Your mom must be pretty sick," she guessed.

"Yeah. I talked to her this morning. I'd never told her about Will," he admitted.

"Oh, my G.o.d. What did she say?"

Billy shrugged. "She was upset. Wanted to know how I could be so irresponsible, getting some girl I didn't even know pregnant, and then trying to raise a kid by myself."

"Oh, Billy." Summer could feel how hurt he was by his mother's criticism, by her utter lack of confidence in him.

"If she wasn't dying..."

"You'd already be gone," Summer finished for him.

Billy tugged his hat down lower, and Summer realized he was hiding tears. She put her arm around his shoulder and leaned her cheek against his arm.

As simply as that, the bond that had been broken when Billy had left two years before was mended. Summer knew what he was feeling, and he knew how much she cared, without a word being spoken.

She waited for Billy to tip his hat up again before she said, "Are you going to stay here and take care of your mom?"

"That's the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question," he replied. "Your father wants me gone in twenty-four hours, or he's going to have me fired from my job."

Summer made a moue of disgust. "My parents are big on ultimatums."

Billy pulled the stem of gra.s.s from his mouth and threw it aside. "Problem is, Blackjack doesn't just threaten. He follows through. And I need that job."

The words seemed torn from him, and Summer looked closely at him, for the first time seeing the strain on his face, the shadows under his eyes, and the gaunt-ness of his cheeks. She laid a hand on his arm and said, "What's wrong, Billy?"

She felt his muscles tighten under her hand, but he didn't pull himself free, so she offered him the comfort of her touch and waited.

"I need to head back to Amarillo," he admitted in a voice that grated with emotion. "But I can't leave my mom here alone."

"Your mom isn't alone. She's got Emma."

"Emma's pregnant. Oh, h.e.l.l. I didn't mean to let that slip. n.o.body knows. She's been keeping it a secret."

"Who's the father?" Summer asked.

"She won't tell me. I don't suppose you know?" he asked, glancing at her.

Summer shook her head. "I haven't seen her with anyone."

"What are you doing out here with me?" he asked. "You and your fiance get into an argument?"

"Geoffrey and I are no longer engaged. I broke up with him last night after we got home."

He turned to stare at her and she added, "But I might end up marrying him after all."

"Mind explaining that?"

"My father's left my mother for good. When he walked out on her last night, she threatened to cut Bitter Creek up into little bitty pieces before she'd let him have it."

Billy's arm slid around her shoulders and he pulled her close. "That's a bad break for you. So where does Geoffrey fit in?"

She grimaced. "Momma doesn't want the wedding canceled, because she'd lose face with all those important people she's invited. So she's offering Bitter Creek to me and Geoffrey as a wedding present. Of course, that means I'd have to marry him after all."

"Why not marry him?" Billy said, brushing at a leaf that had fallen on the knee of her jeans. "You must love him a little, or you wouldn't have gotten engaged to him in the first place."

"I like him a lot." She shrugged. "I'm just not sure I can ever love him. I think my mother's determined to see this wedding through to the end just so she can thwart my father by giving Bitter Creek to me."

"I don't see anyone holding a gun to your head."

"It's there, whether you see it or not," she said miserably. "I'm sick and tired of my parents manipulating my life. I feel like marrying the first man who crosses my path just to show them I can find my own husband."

He chuckled. "In that case, how about marrying me? I could use a wife."

She stared at him. "You need a wife?"

"No. I just need to be married."

She laughed and said, "Mind explaining that?"

"Will's mother recently got married and is taking me to court to try and get custody of my son. She can provide Will with two parents. I can only give him one."

"I see," Summer said.

"I'm not giving Will up to Debbie Sue," Billy said fiercely.

"How will you fight her?"

"She doesn't really want Will. She wants money. I'll figure out some way to buy her off, even if I have to sell the C-Bar and give her my share of whatever I can get for it."

"What about your mom and Emma? What's going to happen to them if you sell the ranch?"

"I haven't figured that out yet. That's why I'm sitting here thinking."

"I have a suggestion," Summer said, her heart thumping painfully in her chest.

"I'm open to anything."

Summer took a breath and said, "Why not marry me?"

Billy laughed and then sobered. "I'm not in the mood for jokes."

She laid her hand on his cheek and turned his face toward her. "I'm serious. Why not marry me? I won't get my trust fund for two more years, but I get a small settlement-about $25,000-when I marry. Surely that would be enough to hold off Debbie Sue until I get the rest."

"I won't take your money," Billy countered.

"Not even if it's for Will?"