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  She composed herself and said, “We’re going to have to keep Pop from overexerting himself. You know how stubborn he can be.”

  I nodded. “How long are you going to stay with him?”

  “For as long as he needs me.”

  “What about your work?”

  “I’m taking some time off from the feedstore, but I can do my VA stuff from his house. I won’t be losing that income.” She furrowed her brow. “How often are you coming over to help?”

  “I’m not driving back and forth. I’m staying there, too.”

  “Oh, my God.” She gaped at me. “Seriously? There’s not even an extra bedroom for you.”

  “I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.” I didn’t have my own room when I was a kid, either. “Besides, your dad already invited me to stay for a couple of weeks. Or longer if necessary. It depends on how he feels.”

  She snapped her mouth shut. Clearly, she wasn’t happy with the arrangements that had been made. But she was just going to have to grin and bear it.

  She wasn’t grinning now. And neither was I.

  I couldn’t seem to stop myself from stressing over the fact that I was still attracted to her. Or that, other than my runaway mother, she was the only woman who’d ever mattered to me.

  * * *

  While Tracy got her dad settled into bed back at his house, I stayed outside with Zeke to discuss a few things. He wasn’t just my best bodyguard. Aside from the fact that he co-owned the personal protection company he worked for, he was also my security chief.

  He lifted my suitcase from the back of the SUV and said, “I’ll have someone bring your truck by later.”

  “Thanks. What about the security cameras?”

  “It’s done. I had them installed while we were at the hospital.”

  He removed his phone and showed me the app that would allow him and the rest of the team to monitor the perimeters of this property, keeping an eye out for the press or anyone else who might catch wind of me being here. The last thing I wanted was a persistent reporter or an overzealous fan hanging around and impeding Tracy’s dad’s recovery. There weren’t any neighbors to speak of. The farm sat on enough acreage to separate it from other houses, but I was still concerned about strangers.

  “I can download it on your phone, too,” Zeke said.

  “That would be great.” Later I would teach Tracy’s dad how to operate it. After all of this was over, the cameras would be moved into the barn. Tracy’s dad was excited about that. Cameras could be especially helpful for monitoring a mare getting ready to foal.

  I handed Zeke my phone, then stood back to study him. He had a naturally tanned complexion, hair as black as mine, and strong, broad features. He was an interesting mix of Samoan, Caucasian and Choctaw. I had a little Choctaw blood from my mom’s side, but mostly I was Anglo. Some of my classmates used to call me white trash, their taunts cutting me to the quick.

  Tracy had mentioned my mom earlier, but I’d lied when I’d said that I didn’t know her whereabouts. A few months back, I’d asked Zeke to investigate her. And according to what he’d uncovered, she was no longer with the man she’d run off with. She’d had numerous lovers over the years. At last count, she’d taken up with a retired architect in Mexico and was living a reclusive life in a house he’d built that overlooked the sea.

  I had no idea if she even knew that I was a celebrity. My music wasn’t popular in Mexico. Of course, there was a part of me that wanted her to know, and another part that didn’t give a shit. I’d only had Zeke investigate her to satisfy my curiosity about where she was.

  “Here you go,” he said, interrupting my thoughts. He’d finished downloading the app.

  He showed me how to use it, and once he was gone, I went inside and placed my bag in the living room.

  Tracy appeared from around the corner, then eyed my suitcase as if it might explode.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll keep my stuff out of the way.”

  She made a weary sound. “It would be a lot easier if you went home.”

  I sat on the sofa, the same cozy spot where I would be sleeping. “Just give me a chance, okay?” I planned on making myself as useful as possible.

  She sighed and plopped down beside me. “Should we go over the instructions from the hospital?”

  “Sure.” I’d won the first round, but I knew the battle wasn’t over. Tracy was still unnerved by my presence. “We can divvy up your pop’s care.”

  She removed the paperwork from her purse and read it to herself. I waited for her to give me the condensed version.

  She said, “He needs to get enough sleep to recover. But he also needs to walk each day. Just a little at first, then increase it each time. He’s supposed to avoid strenuous activities for the first few weeks, and he won’t be able to drive until the doctor says it’s okay.”

  “I can take care of the horses for him.” I had plenty of time to devote to the animals. “I don’t have anything going on except this. My tour is over, and I’m not going back into the studio for a while. My schedule is clear.”

  “All right, then I’ll administer Pop’s medications,” she said. “There are pain pills and antibiotics for him to take.”

  “What kind of stitches does he have? Are they going to need to be removed or will they dissolve?”

  She checked the instructions. “They’ll dissolve. He needs to keep the incision clean and dry and change the bandage once a day. He can take showers, but no baths for the first few weeks. He can use ice packs for swelling.” She glanced up at me. “I’ll make a copy of this for you.”

  “Thanks. I think we’re going to make a good pair.”

  She refolded the paperwork. “We aren’t a pair.”

  I ignored her remark and said, “It’s going to be interesting sharing a bathroom with you again.” Her dad had his own bathroom, so we wouldn’t be infringing on his privacy. “You always took forever getting ready.”

  She frowned. “You never seemed to mind before.”

  Was she thinking about how I used to watch her do her hair and makeup? “You never minded hanging around when I got ready, either.” Sometimes she used to come up behind me in the mirror and loosen the towel that was wrapped around my waist, when I was fresh from the shower and attempting to shave. I’d never really been a morning person, but I’d enjoyed every naughty nuance of Tracy seducing me bright and early.

  I blinked, and she stood and moved away from me. Had she tapped into what I was I thinking?

  “Pop’s got some laundry that’s been piling up,” she said, preparing to rush off. “I’ll make sure there are clean linens for you to use tonight, too.”

  Tracy left the room, and I grabbed a rodeo magazine off the coffee table and paged through it, giving myself something to do.

  About twenty minutes later, after I’d pretty much read it cover to cover, my phone chimed with an incoming text. I checked the message. It was Zeke, asking me to call him. He’d included a code we’d devised that pertained to my mom.

  Why was he texting me about her? He’d only just left here a short while ago. Besides, he’d already told me everything he knew about her.

  So maybe he wanted to discuss one of my “other” moms? Unfortunately, the public knew that my mother had split when I was a kid. Someone from our old trailer park had sold that information to a tabloid, and now, every so often, there were women on social media claiming to be her. My cybersecurity team contacted Zeke whenever things like that cropped up, and he always checked it out.

  I went outside to the backyard and called him back.

  “Hey,” he said, answering straight away. “I’m sorry to bother you so soon, but I stopped by the management office and picked up today’s fan mail. And there was a letter that caught my attention.”

  Sometimes he liked to go through my snail mail himself, screening
it randomly. Otherwise, it was opened by my administrative staff.

  “Go on,” I replied, urging him to continue.

  “It was from someone who said that her name is Lola, and that she used to sing and dance for you and your daddy.”

  His words hit me hard and quick. My mother’s name was Darleen, but she used to sing “Whatever Lola Wants” and twirl around, pretending to be that character. I’d even memorized the song when I was little. “Mom never sang and danced in front of anyone like that except me and my dad, and I never told anyone about it but you.” I paused. “What do you think this means?”

  “It could be a message from her. Or it could be an imposter. She could’ve shared the Lola story with someone else, and they could’ve written the letter.”

  “What else was in it, besides Lola dancing for me and my daddy?”

  “She complimented your music and said that she was proud of you. She also said that she didn’t want you to be mad at her.”

  “For what? Walking out on me?”

  “She didn’t specify. But I suspect that you’ll be hearing from her again. Whoever it is.”

  “More cryptic notes?” I was already frazzled by this one. I didn’t know which scenario was worse: an imposter or the real deal.

  My stomach clenched. “Is there a return address?”

  “No, but it’s postmarked Los Angeles, with a red lipstick mark on the back of the envelope.”

  As if it had been sealed with a kiss? My stomach tightened again. That actually seemed like something my mom would do, but why would she be reaching out to me after all this time? She couldn’t have known that I’d had Zeke search for her. He’d been highly discreet about that.

  “Can DNA be extracted from lipstick?” I asked.

  “I don’t think so,” he replied. “But I’m going to have it examined, anyway.”

  “What about the flap on the envelope itself?”

  “Most are self-adhesive now, but if there was saliva involved and if it’s a viable sample, the lab can compare it to your DNA for a familial match. I’ll also have it tested for fingerprints, just in case the person who sent it is in the system. Your mother doesn’t have a criminal record, but an imposter might.”

  “What a thing to have to think about.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. Do you want to see the letter before I have it tested?”

  “No.” I trusted Zeke to do his job.

  He said, “I have an old friend who works for US Customs and Border Protection, so I can check with him to see if your mom returned to the States and what port of entry she might’ve used. Anyone in the Los Angeles area could’ve mailed that letter or even sent it at her request, but at least we’ll know if she traveled recently or was in California herself. I’ll inquire about her boyfriend, too.”

  “Do whatever you need to do.”

  He cleared his throat. “I’ll have all of the snail mail forwarded to me from now on. I don’t know how long it will take for my friend at Customs to get back to me, but I can try to put a rush on the lab tests.”

  “Thanks. I should go.” Of all days for this to happen. I could barely breathe. If this was my mother, was she trying to cast one of her mind-bending charms over me, like she used to do when I was a kid? Fawning over me one minute and ignoring me the next?

  I ended the call and returned to the house. Tracy sat at the kitchen table, sorting through her dad’s medications and putting them in a case with the days of the week stamped on it. Apparently, she was on a break from the laundry.

  She glanced up and asked, “Where were you?”

  “I was in the backyard. Did you think that I’d gone home already?” I joked, making light of my actions and trying to keep her from suspecting anything was wrong.

  She rolled her eyes. “I knew you had to be around somewhere.”

  Yes, I was around, standing right in front of her, faking a casual air. As overwhelming as it was, I would never tell her what was going on. She didn’t need to know that my mom or someone associated with her had sent me a letter. Nor was I going to admit that I’d already been poking around in my mom’s life, before that note had even arrived.

  I jammed my hands into my pockets, and Tracy continued sorting pills. I wished I could bait her to kiss me again, to rub and touch me and let me put my hands where they didn’t belong. I needed a diversion, something to take my mind off my troubles.

  And take refuge in a woman who was no longer mine.

  Three

  Tracy

  As soon as I woke up, the first thing that entered my mind was Dash. As much as I dreaded seeing him this morning, I was oddly aroused, too, just knowing that he was nearby.

  Damn, but I hated feeling this way. I even rubbed my arms, trying to shed the tingly sensation.

  I sat up and squinted at the light peeking through the blinds. This was the only room in the house that I hadn’t redecorated. The girlish decor remained the same as when I used to live here. I’d removed the celebrity posters, though. The photos of the country stars I used to admire.

  I couldn’t begin to guess how many posters of Dash were out there, gracing people’s walls. Maybe I should creep into the living room and take a picture of him crashed out on the sofa and make a poster out of it.

  Wouldn’t that give his loyal Dashers a thrill?

  I cleared my cynical thoughts and climbed out of bed. I was fairly certain that Dash wasn’t awake yet. He’d never really been a rise-and-shine guy. I’d always gotten up before him.

  I headed to the bathroom, washed my face, brushed my teeth and put my hair in a ponytail. I would shower later, just in case Dash stumbled down the hall, needing to pee. I didn’t want him banging at the door.

  I finished quickly and rounded the corner, poking my head into the living room. I was wrong. Dash wasn’t asleep. He was already up and about. I spotted him in the kitchen.

  I strolled in there, even if I wanted to go back to bed and hide under the covers. He glanced up at me, and the tingling sensations came rushing back.

  “Hi,” he said, checking me out with a half smile, as if seeing me in my pajamas pleased him.

  At least my ensemble was modest. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and I could’ve kicked him for it. He wasn’t leaving much to the imagination, with that broad chest, those trained-to-perfection abs, the line of hair just below his navel that disappeared into his sweatpants.

  “What are you concocting?” I asked, eyeing the mixing bowl and other things lined up on the counter.

  “I’m going to make pancakes for your dad. For you, too, if you want some.”

  “Since when did pancakes become your specialty?” He’d never been much of a cook when we were together.

  “Since right now.” His smile turned a bit more crooked. “When I checked on your pop earlier, I asked him what he wanted for breakfast, and he said flapjacks.” He lifted his phone off the counter. “I googled how to make them from scratch, and this is as far as I got.”

  He was watching a recipe video? I almost smiled, too. But I was trying not to be too friendly. Or too dreamy. I didn’t want him affecting me the way he was. “How long have you been up?”

  “About an hour. I wanted to get a jump on everything and prove my worth around here.” He set down his phone next to a carton of eggs. “I fed the horses and checked on the foals. There’s some cute babies out there.”

  I sucked in my breath. I didn’t want to hear him talk about babies, not even the equine kind. But it wasn’t just the child we’d lost that made me hurt. I had some current fertility issues that I hadn’t told anyone about. “You went outside dressed like that?”

  Dash glanced down at himself. “I’ve got my boots on.”

  Yes, he was wearing a pair of rugged black cowboy boots, with his sweatpants tucked into them. “What about a shirt?”

  “The horses don�
��t care what I’m wearing. Besides, I’m going to hop in the shower after breakfast, and I’ll put a shirt on then.”

  I sighed. “I haven’t showered yet, either.”

  He waggled his eyebrows. “Well, aren’t we the dirty ones?”

  I ignored his double entendre. But disregarding him wasn’t so easy. He looked deliciously messy, his hair falling in uncombed disarray, his jaw peppered with beard stubble.

  I hastily said, “I’m going to check on Pop and see if he needs anything. If you want help with breakfast, I can do that as soon as I come back.”

  Dash removed a whisk from the utensil caddy. “Thanks. But I can handle it.”

  I left him to his task and made my way to Pop’s room.

  Since his door was partially open, I peeked in and got his attention. “Can I come in?”

  “Sure,” he replied, waving me forward.

  I approached the side of his bed. He was propped against the headboard, using several pillows behind his back. I thought he looked tired, but I was glad that he was resting, like he was supposed to. I wanted nothing more than for him to get well.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  “Still a little swollen, but other than that, I’m okay.”

  “Do you need an ice pack?”

  “I’m using one as we speak.” He gestured to his blanket-draped lap. “Dash got it for me.”

  “He’s certainly been busy this morning.” Tomorrow I would get up earlier than I did today, hopefully beating him to the punch. “He’s trying to figure out how to make the pancakes.”

  “Really? He didn’t tell me he didn’t know how to make them.”

  “He’s using a video as his guide.”

  Pop chuckled. “He’s a good kid.”

  Dash had never seemed like a kid to me. But I wasn’t an old cowboy like my dad. I was the lovestruck girl who should’ve been Dash’s wife. “I offered to help him in the kitchen, but he said that he could handle it.”