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  He was waiting for her to say something, but it was hard to think when his eyes were the same deep brown she remembered. They’d gone almost black when he’d kissed her. Her voice came out as a weird squeak. “You’re here to stay?”

  “Yup.” He looked wary, his jaw set with tension. But she knew that if he gave one of his rare smiles, it would change everything. Light him up. It always had.

  Don’t think about his damn smile. He’d been here long enough to build a giant well above hers. Long enough to use up all her water. And he’d never once contacted her.

  “Oh.” It was all she could manage and still get oxygen. He’d always done that. Crowded her, sucked up all the air just by standing close.

  “You hadn’t heard?” he asked. “Did the Benson gossip machine break down while I was gone?”

  She gave the expected smile, but it felt stiff. “I haven’t been to town much the past month or so. My dad retired to Florida. There was all the packing to get him ready and then...” How to explain the last couple of months? She’d dropped into bed exhausted every night. There’d been no time to go to town and hear the gossip. “Well, it’s been busy, what with all the fall cattle work starting.”

  “I’ve got a few cattle of my own here now,” he offered.

  “Really?” She made a mental note to count her stock very carefully when she collected them from the mountains. Wade used to be the lone honest Hoffman son, but things could change.

  “Yup. I’m planning on fixing this place up...turn it into a real working ranch.”

  “Oh.” What was she supposed to say to that? “That’s great.” Suddenly the last bit of the resilience that had kept her going over the past hard months melted away. She had an overwhelming urge to lie down in the oily dust of Wade’s junkyard ranch and give up. Wade was her permanent next-door neighbor? Who’d taken her water? She knew life wasn’t fair. But sometimes it doled out bits of unfairness so cruel they felt like cuts to the soul.

  “You okay, Lori? You look kind of pale.” Wade stepped forward and put a hand on her upper arm as if to support her. But the strength of his fingers, and the memories they sent burning to the surface of her mind, had the opposite effect. Her knees felt shaky and she pulled away from him.

  “I’m fine.” But she wasn’t. This wasn’t okay. Wade, here, was not okay.

  “Let me get you some water,” he offered.

  Her laugh wheezed like a mule’s bray. “Water. Yeah, I’d love some water. My water.”

  Wariness crept like a cloud across Wade’s eyes. “I’m missing something here, Lori. Look, you need to sit down.”

  He obviously thought she was crazy. She felt crazy. Felt like she’d crossed through some time warp and crashed right into that naive girl she’d been back when she’d slept with him.

  “I’m fine, really.” She forced her back muscles straight, her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms so the pain would wake her up, sharpen her traitorous mind. “I’m here because you built a well. And ruined mine.”

  He stared at her. “How...”

  “Up on the southern edge of your ranch? Well, the way our boundaries are, your property is above mine. So your well is uphill from my well. And mine dried out.”

  “Oh, crap.” He had the grace to look stricken.

  She nodded. “That just about sums it up.”

  “What do we do now?”

  At least he wasn’t going on the defensive, trying to deny it or bully her or any of the other worries she’d had on the drive over. “Shut it down and give me my water back.”

  He looked past her, uphill and south, in the direction of the new tank, though they couldn’t see it from here. “I can’t do that. I spent most of my combat pay on that thing.”

  “Combat?” Pieces of this new version of Wade—the muscles, the poise, the calm, curt way he was speaking—all fell into place. “You were in combat? Fighting?”

  “Yup.”

  He didn’t say more and she didn’t ask. How did you ask about something like that? And it was none of her business, anyway. He’d made that clear by his silence in the weeks since he’d come home.

  That silence hurt, but maybe the hurt was good. It would add another layer to her carefully honed resentment. A resentment and a regret that had carried her through so many hard times it had become a part of her. A strong part, kind of like a second skeleton. “Look, I’m sorry you spent your money on that well. You should have checked with me first. That water belongs to my ranch.”

  “I looked into that. You don’t own the rights.”

  His words were little earthquakes, shaking her world. She’d always assumed her father had taken care of that when he first drilled. “That can’t be true.”

  “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

  “I’m not saying you would.” She studied the ground at her feet, frantically going through her options. “It’s just a lot to take in.”

  “I didn’t mean to cause you harm, Lori.”

  “Ha.” She blurted it out without thinking. He was walking, talking harm. She swallowed hard, getting her misfiring mind under control. “I’m sure. But here’s some advice. It’s best to check in with your neighbors before you start a big project like that. We’re all connected out here.”

  He looked away for a moment before he spoke. “I guess I didn’t realize it.”

  “I guess you didn’t.” Everything he didn’t realize sat on her shoulders in an oppressive weight. Their night together had changed her life forever. And he had no idea. She pulled the keys to her truck out of her pocket. There was nothing for her here.

  “Look, I’m sorry about the water.”

  “Sorry doesn’t help. And if you were truly sorry, you’d shut down that well.”

  “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

  “Then I’ll have to figure out what to do next.” She needed to get out of here. Needed to get far away from this new betrayal and these unearthed memories and all her endless, useless wishing that they’d both done things differently. “I’d better go.”

  “It was good to see you.” He held out his hand to shake hers. She didn’t want to take it. Didn’t want to feel that strength ever again. His strength had always been her weakness.

  She grabbed his hand and there it was. All wrapped around hers, fingers long and strong and warm. As compelling as she’d dreaded. Damn him. She yanked her hand back. “I’ll call the driller. And if he can’t help me, I’ll call my lawyer.” There. That felt better. She was strong and fierce when she let the old bitterness drive her. He’d been careless with her when they were young, and now he was being careless with her again. With her ranch, her career, her livelihood, her life. But this time she wouldn’t crumble or let him destroy her. She’d fight back.

  “A lawyer? Lori, come on...”

  “No, you come on. You can’t just come back here after all these years and sink a well that uses up all my water. I’m in charge of Lone Mountain Ranch now, and if I need a lawyer to get my water back, I’m damn well going to call one.”

  “I didn’t know my well would dry yours out. And my guess is that you don’t know for sure that it has.”

  There was truth there, but she wouldn’t admit it. Not when he was digging in his heels. “I checked around up there and didn’t see any other reason for it.”

  He shrugged. “Well, let’s wait to hear what the driller has to say. I mean, we’re friends, right? We can solve this problem.”

  “Friends?” She let him see her cynicism. “Is that what we are?”

  He looked at her carefully, like she was some kind of feral thing that might reach out and bite. “I always thought so.”

  “Do you even remember...” She stopped. There was no use talking about it. No way he could know the pain he’d helped cause. No way she wanted to tell him. �
�I’ve got to get back.” She started to turn away when something caught her eye. “Hang on.” She stooped and picked up one of the chain saws he’d left on the ground. “That’s my ranch’s logo. The Lone Mountain. It’s scratched out, but...see?” She shoved it toward him, blade first.

  “Easy there.” He stepped around the blade and moved closer to see where she pointed. “You’re right. That’s yours. Want to take it? I’ll throw in a Weedwacker, too.” He picked one up and held it out to her, a humorless smile tilting the corner of his mouth. She didn’t want to notice the way it creased a bitter dimple into his cheek.

  “How can you joke about this? Is all this stuff stolen?”

  “I reckon.”

  “That’s all you can say? You reckon? When you’ve got stolen property from half the county here?”

  “More like half the state, I think.”

  She stared at him, looking for shame, or remorse, or some indication of what he thought about it all. But he just stared right back at her, not a hint of apology in his eyes. She couldn’t care less about the stolen chain saw. Her water was the real crime here.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to your illegal junkyard, then.”

  He stilled. Her blow had hit home. “That’s just low. You know I didn’t steal it. Don’t be like the rest of this town and judge me because of my family.” His smile was gone and his voice was quiet. “I’d expect a little more kindness from the Lori I used to know.”

  “Kindness?” Her voice went shrill, and she stopped herself. Tried to breathe. Tried to bring her words lower. “This from the guy who didn’t even bother to knock on my door before he drilled a well over mine?”

  “I’m new at this. I didn’t know.”

  “It was your responsibility to know.” Kindness. Her rage made her breath catch. How dare he call her unkind, when he’d been so cruel the last time they’d seen each other? “I’ll give you some kindness...by telling you a hard truth about ranching. There is no room for excuses. If you screw up, you’ve got to own up to it and fix the problem right away. Because your land, your animals, your staff, your family, they all need you not to screw up. They rely on you for everything, and your mistakes can affect them in huge ways. So don’t waste your time on excuses. Just fix the problem.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate.”

  She gaped at him. He’d always done that. Seen right through her into what was really going on. Lately it felt like every move she made had an extra weight attached to it. The weight of all the people who needed Lone Mountain to survive this damn drought. Who saw ranches going under all around them and were counting on her to pull a miracle out of her pocket.

  Tears hit the back of her eyes—an acid burn. No way was she going to cry in front of him.

  “I’m doing fine.” She threw the old chain saw in the back of her pickup and jumped into the cab, slamming the door and rolling up the window so she didn’t have to hear him.

  But he didn’t speak. Just stood there, stolen Weedwacker in hand. She U-turned in his driveway and cursed when it turned into a bumpy three-pointer, the deep potholes rocking her truck back and forth and making her escape even more undignified. Then, finally, she got straightened out and clattered away.

  With stolen glimpses in her rearview mirror, she could see him standing there, so still, watching her leave. When she got to the Keep Out sign, she allowed herself one more glance. Then she rounded the corner and he was out of view. That’s when the tears overflowed—too hot, too much, so she had to jerk her truck to the side of the road and just sit, the back of her hand over her twisted mouth, trying to stop the ancient sobs from coming through.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THAT WENT WELL. Wade dropped the Weedwacker and leaned against the wall of the old shed. Disappointment and frustration surged in a filthy wave that had him turning to slam his fist into the wall, sending splinters of plywood flying.

  His dream of ranching was rapidly becoming a disaster. He hadn’t anticipated the size of the mess his dad and brothers had left behind. Piles of stolen property hidden in the sheds and barns, or just lying around in the fields. Remnants of a meth lab in the old homestead cabin up in the woods. Every building in need of massive repair. Every pasture overgrown, every fence half-down. And now his one accomplishment, his brand-new well, had destroyed the water supply of the woman he’d loved since they were kids.

  He shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t have come home. Buddies from the service had gone home to parades, flags waving, the whole town excited to see them. But Wade was a Hoffman, which meant people from his hometown would be happier to see the back of him. Lori included, evidently.

  But she had reason for her anger. He could assemble a weapon in seconds, creep through an Afghan desert without being seen, but he had no idea how to run a ranch. He definitely had no idea how to site a well. And now he’d taken her water.

  He shouldn’t have hired a driller from out of town. Someone local would have known about Lori’s well. But the local guys were pricey, and Wade was just about broke.

  She was right. He should have gone by to talk to her first. He was a decorated veteran, but he was also a coward. He’d treated her so badly when they were young. When he’d taken the comfort she’d offered for his loneliness and fear. And then shoved her as far away as he possibly could, so he’d have the courage to leave.

  He owed her a mile-long apology. He’d driven to her ranch to try to make amends a few times since he’d come home. But the anxiety that had dogged him ever since he left the army had his hands shaking and his breath scarce as soon as her driveway came in sight. So each time he’d driven on past, not wanting to stand in front of her a weak and shaking fraction of the boy she’d known.

  Seeing her today, he hadn’t shaken. Instead he’d felt almost paralyzed. There she was, just like he’d remembered. Petite. Incredibly beautiful. Her sun-streaked hair whipping loose from her ponytail in the hot afternoon breeze. Her dark blue eyes fierce. So strong, tough, smart and good. And he’d stumbled around in his numb brain trying to find even the simplest words. What a fricking disaster.

  All these years, all he’d wanted was to get back here and see her again. But what would she think if she knew he was broken, his mind fragmented by the insidious fault lines of PTSD? The pity in her eyes would be confirmation of his worst fear. That no matter how hard he worked, he’d never be whole. That he’d never be man enough for her.

  His fist came up even as he tried to will it still. The urge to slam it down a second time was so strong. Don’t feed the dragon, Dr. Miller had told him. Don’t let your mind go too far over the edge of emotion. It’s the PTSD taking over, and you don’t have to let it.

  But it was stronger than he was. Almost as if it belonged to someone else, he watched his fist come up and smash the shed wall again. And again. Over and over until he’d knocked a hole clear through and a trickle of blood ran down his wrist. Only then could he pull his arm back, sliding down the wall to sit heavily in the dirt, welcoming the pain that returned him to reality and brought him home to his body. He had no control over the damn dragon. It was running rampant inside. And it fed off moments like this, when he could still see the disappointment in Lori’s eyes.

  * * *

  “IT’S DRY, LORI.” Bill Cooper climbed down from her water tank and shook his head. “I’m seeing this all over. If this damn drought doesn’t end soon, I honestly don’t know what we’re all gonna do.”

  Stay calm, Lori told herself sternly as stress twisted her insides. She was a rancher, and things going wrong was just part of the job description. “I don’t know, either. But what can I do, right now, to get more water to this end of the ranch?”

  “Well, you could pump water up from your lower wells. But that will put a pretty big strain on those, and you’ll be in big trouble if they dry out, too.”

  �
�I don’t want to take that risk.” Just the thought made her palms sweat.

  Bill nodded. “So you can buy water and have it delivered, or you can drill deeper.”

  “Deeper? How deep?”

  Bill stared at the ground as if willing it to divulge its secrets. “At least another fifty feet. More likely a hundred or so.”

  “Seriously? That far? That will cost me a fortune!”

  “Yeah, it’s not cheap.” He shook his head a little mournfully. “When I put this well in for your dad, we were swimming in water. Now the aquifers are so low, you gotta go far down to find it.”

  “Can you be sure we’ll get water if we drill?”

  “Nope.”

  “That’s all you’ve got for me, Bill? Nope?” She slapped her palm against the tank and listened to the empty sound echoing back at her.

  Bill took off his baseball cap and scratched his bald head. “I’m not sure of much anymore when it comes to drilling. Wells are drying out right and left because the aquifers are empty. No rain means we’re all pumping water. No snowpack in the mountains means the aquifers aren’t getting refilled. It comes down to simple math. We’re in the red.”

  Lori took a shaky breath. No water. A rancher’s nightmare. Only she was awake. “Well, it is what it is. I’m calling a lawyer. It’s not right that Wade drilled up there.”

  “Yeah, I sure wish he’d called me to help him out with that. But calling a lawyer won’t solve the problem. You both need water.”

  “But he won’t shut down his well. Maybe a lawyer could make him.”

  “But then how’s Wade gonna make it without water? I know you’re pissed at him, but do you really want to see the man ruined?” Bill paused, staring absently at her useless well. “You know, I think your only good solution is to work something out with Wade. Maybe a water sharing program. Use his well. It’s so close, we’d just have to run a line down the hill to your land and you’d be set. Of course you’d have to agree on the terms. How much water you each get, how to split any maintenance cost on the well, an irrigation schedule, all that.”