A Little Town In Texas

“I do. The first of the season. You want it with whipped cream?”

Cal closed his eyes in mock ecstasy. “Yes. Say it again. It’s like you’re talkin’ dirty.”

She gave him a playful swat. She turned to Cal’s father. “And what can I get you, J.T.?”

“I wondered if you were ever going to notice me,” J.T. drawled.

Nora laughed. “I always notice you. You’re not an easy man to ignore.”

“Except when he’s around,” J.T. said with a rueful nod at Cal.

Cal looked amused, but his brother, Tyler, didn’t smile.

J.T. said, “Give me black coffee with no caffeine and a piece of gingerbread. But no whipped cream.”

Cal patted his father’s chest over the heart. “Gotta take good care of that ticker, Daddy.”

“I learned that the hard way,” J.T. said, pushing the sugar bowl farther away. Almost ten years ago he’d had a major heart attack.

“And you,” Nora said to Tyler, “you’ll have black coffee, skim milk on the side and a plain donut.”

Tyler nodded.

“You still have that same thing?” Cal asked in disbelief.

“Yep,” said Tyler.

“You don’t ever change it?”

“Nope,” said Tyler.

“God,” Cal said, shaking his head. “You’re so predictable.”

Tyler gave him a level look. “So in your way,” he said, “are you.”

“Ah,” said J.T. “The sound of quibbling. How I’ve missed it. Family’s a wonderful thing. Isn’t it, Nora?”

“The best,” she said. She looked at the three of them fondly.

J. T. McKinney owned the biggest ranch in the county. He was in his early sixties now, but still straight and tall. His thick hair was silver, and although time had carved lines in his face, women said he was as handsome as ever—and some said he was even more so.

Tyler, the black-haired elder son, resembled his father, with the same dark eyes and stubborn jaw. Nora knew that he was a good man, but his feelings often ran too deep and silently for his own good.

And Cal—unlikely as it was, Cal was now a golden boy. Tyler had graduated from college with honors. Cal had been kicked out with multiple dishonors. Like a dutiful son, Tyler went back to the Double C to work with his father. Cal hit the rodeo circuit and spent the next ten years raising merry hell without wasting a thought on responsibility.

Then Tyler had a brainchild. He studied hard and toiled even harder to turn almost a thousand acres of Double C land into a vineyard and establish a winery. He did everything by the book, with science and forethought.

Cal fell into business only because he fell in love. He was surprised to find he had a knack for making deals. He’d turned Serena’s small boot-making business into a big one, then diversified. He invested, and his investments multiplied.

Now Tyler was still struggling to make his winery one of the best in the state. His wife had left him once, and he’d almost let her get away. The last ten years had often been rocky for him. In contrast, Cal was rich, with a marriage smooth as silk. Who could have predicted such a thing?

There were tensions among the three men. Nora could see it even now, when they should be happy in their reunion. Still, for all the undercurrents that ran among the men, they were bound together by ties of blood. If anyone was foolish enough to take on one McKinney man, he took on all three.

They had their differences. They always would. But to Nora, these three men weren’t simply from Crystal Creek. They were Crystal Creek, its generous and complex heart and soul.

CHAPTER TWO

MEL BELYLE RACED like hell through the Dallas airport. He dodged, he wove, he sprinted. The crowd in the concourse formed a slow-moving human maze, but he negotiated it with a keen eye and his fanciest footwork.

It didn’t matter. He still missed his flight to Austin.

He turned around in disgust and bumped—hard—into the little redhead. She’d been on the same flight as he had from New York. How in blazes had she got there so fast? Did she have wings on her heels?

He blinked in surprise. She didn’t. “Excuse you,” she said, her voice full of irony.

Hmm, he thought. Attitude. Lots of it. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t see you clear down there.”

Blue sparks flashed in her eyes. She tossed a disdainful glance at his expensive shoes. “I hope you didn’t scuff your Guccis on my shin.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I said I was sorry.”

“Right,” she said, “Forget it.” She hustled past him and made her way to the ticket counter. “I missed my connection to Austin,” she said to the attendant. “When’s the next flight?”

Austin? he thought. It’s a small world after all.

Mel looked her up and down. Her long hair was red as flame and pulled back into a loose ponytail. Her face would have looked almost elfin, except the eyes were a-crackle with worldly intelligence.

She wore jeans, running shoes and a travel vest, and she had the air of knowing exactly what she was doing. She was breathing hard, but he was breathing harder.

He stepped up behind her. He was almost a foot taller than she was.

He said, “You were on the flight from New York.”

She didn’t bother to look at him. “Yes.”

“You’re going to Austin, too?”

“Yes,” she said in a tone that meant Stop talking to me.

He wasn’t about to stop. She rather intrigued him. She was the sort of little thing who thought she was a big deal, and he was just the man to bring her down a notch or two.

But he made his voice friendly, casual. “You must have got here right behind me. I thought everybody was eating my dust.”

She cast him the briefest glance over her shoulder. “I got here before you. You ate my dust.”

He laughed at her audacity. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I was on my college track team.”

This time her glance was longer and more dismissive. “So was I. I was the captain.”