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  Tax season made this both easier and more difficult. As clients poured through the office door, Mac worked longer hours to stay on top of things, so he had a lot less time for leisure. But tax season also created more hours for Jacqueline at the office—as many as she wanted to work. Mac needed her. And she seemed to want to be there. Most days, Mac had to insist she leave at quitting time.

  He looked up at the sound of Jacqueline’s shoes clicking along the hallway.

  “Mac, I brought you some supper, since I know you won’t stop to go get anything.”

  “That’s very nice of you.” Leaning against the door frame, she wore a denim dress with a wide belt that accentuated her slender waist. Her hair was pulled back from her face with a brown leather cord the same color as the belt, also the color of her boots. She walked behind him and he leaned against her as she placed her hands on his shoulders.

  “I’m so glad you’re getting out of here next week.” She dug her thumbs into the knots between his shoulder blades, kneading his muscles like bread.

  Mac sighed. “Gosh, that feels good.”

  “You’re so tight!”

  “I can’t believe I let Joiner talk me into leaving right now.”

  “To hear Stella talk, I think he needs it as bad as you do.” She focused in on a knot, pressing hard, and he flinched. “Sorry.”

  “Hurts so good. When did you talk to Stella?”

  “She called me. It was really cool. I’m going to go see her and the baby while you and Joiner are gone.”

  Mac raised an eyebrow, taking this in. “Well, great.” Then he added, “I get that feeling, too, about Joiner. That’s one reason why I’m going.”

  “Lilianna is doing so well now, and Stella, too. She told me he needs to get out of the house.”

  Mac nodded. “I think he’s feeling a new urgency about setting up that foundation for wild mustangs in Pap’s name. As our family grows, it seems more and more important to try to restore some honor to the Temples.” He took her hand in his. Turning his chair, he pulled her onto his lap. “Thank you for working on my knots.”

  “You’re welcome.” She touched his cheek. “And if you want my two cents’ worth, I think the Temple name is plenty honorable. All four of you brothers are good guys.”

  “You must have been talking to Alma again.”

  She laughed. “Actually, I have.”

  “Really?”

  “I ran into her at Whole Foods on my lunch hour today.”

  “Did she know you?”

  “After I introduced myself. She hasn’t changed a bit except for the gray streaks in her hair.”

  “Good old Alma.”

  “She really loves you—all of you.”

  “I know.”

  Jacqueline eased herself off his lap, but he pulled her back down. Just for a moment more.

  “So what’s for dinner?”

  “Quinoa. I made it into a salad with some peppers and onions.”

  “Sounds delicious.”

  “Beggars can’t be choosers.” She grinned mischievously. “It’s in the fridge.”

  “Thanks. Really.” He kissed her. She felt so warm, so wonderful. It was difficult to hold himself back.

  “Don’t work too hard.”

  “I won’t. You tell Nemesis I said hi.”

  After Jacqueline left, Mac worked well into the night, and did the same for the next several nights. He needed to feel totally caught up before leaving the office to go out west with Joiner. Even though the timing was bad for him, he hoped something good would come out of the trip. Joiner’s mission involved looking for wild mustang herds to protect in Pap’s name. Mac hoped, once and for all, to find a grave with his pap’s name on it.

  * * *

  THE FOLLOWING THURSDAY, Mac kissed Jacqueline goodbye. He was leaving the office at lunchtime to go home and pack before meeting Joiner.

  “What’s this?” Mac took the bag Jacqueline held out to him.

  “Just a little survival kit.” Her sumptuous lips curved into a sheepish grin.

  Mac peeked inside the bag with excitement that felt childlike, so unusual for him.

  “Jelly beans, cookies, chocolate, crackers, tube cheese—how did you know?”

  “I had a little help from Alma.”

  “That explains it. She used to pack my school lunches and snacks for ball games and field trips.”

  “So I heard.”

  He pulled her into a hug. “This was really nice of you—thanks.”

  “You don’t know how much it pained me to buy all of that processed food.”

  “Oh, I can imagine.” He chuckled. “I’ve been living with your healthy, organic ways around the office for a couple of months now, remember?”

  “But Alma insisted these were your favorites.”

  “She’s right! Good ol’ squeeze cheese! I’ll have to hide it from Joiner.”

  Jacqueline covered her mouth, pretending to be sick.

  “My brothers and I had some good times with this stuff on our family road trips, while you were traipsing around the country in that bus eating alfalfa sprouts and granola.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Opposites attract.”

  “Apparently so.”

  Had he let his attraction for Jacqueline overshadow his good judgment? Mac still couldn’t believe he was really doing this. Leaving the office in the middle of tax season to go out west with Joiner, looking for herds of wild horses and—more important to Mac—Pap’s grave. She’d promised to take care of things in his absence, and she certainly seemed capable. But what if something bad happened?

  As if reading his mind, Jacqueline smoothed out the deep furrow forming between his eyebrows. “Don’t worry about a thing while you’re gone. I can handle the office.”

  He sighed. “I know you can. I trust you. It’s just—”

  “It’s just that you’re a worrier, McCarthy Temple. You need to learn to let go a little.”

  “This trip is not letting go a little. It’s crazy!”

  She laughed. “But it’s a good crazy. You’re going to have a great time.”

  “I hope so.”

  She shook the bag. “Who could not have a great time with squeeze cheese?”

  * * *

  THAT AFTERNOON AT four thirty Mac pulled into the parking lot of Kilgore’s small municipal airport just ahead of Joiner, who pulled in beside him in a silver truck.

  “You ready to go, bro?” Joiner clapped Mac on the back as he unloaded his suitcase. Joiner’s straight white teeth sparkled in a movie-star smile.

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

  Joiner laughed. “I can’t, either, man. But I’m pretty jazzed about it.”

  Mac hung his bag of goodies on the handle of his suitcase and they started to walk, rolling their bags along the sidewalk.

  “Who gave you a present? Or is that for Clint?” Their old high school buddy, heir to an oil fortune, was sponsoring their trip.

  Mac grinned slyly. “Oh, it’s not for Clint. And it’s not for you, either.”

  Joiner tried to see in the bag. “What’s in there?”

  “She called it a survival kit.”

  “She?” Joiner’s face slowly registered comprehension. “Jacqueline!”

  “Yup.”

  “She is spoiling you!”

  Mac couldn’t stop grinning. He knew he looked silly, but couldn’t help it.

  “You look like a possum.”

  “That’s better than a monkey.”

  “We’ve really got to get you out more.”

  They arrived at a posh hangar painted black and engraved with the letter C in gold. Clint Cavender sauntered out to meet them in his characteristic black
designer cowboy boots and hat and expensive suit.

  “Howdy, partners!”

  “Hello, Clint.” Mac offered his hand and the man shook it enthusiastically.

  Joiner slapped Clint’s shoulder. “Hey, dude.”

  Joiner and Clint had been friends since high school, when they’d played football together on the state championship team. Clint had been quarterback and Joiner a standout receiver. In recent years, Clint had invested some of his family’s considerable resources in Star Stables, where his son, Cade, received equine therapy. When he had learned of Joiner’s plans to go out west, he’d insisted they use his private jet. “It’ll be a tax write-off. You’ll be helping me out,” he had told Joiner, not taking no for an answer, in his characteristic Cavender way. “Besides, I need to check on some of our holdings in Wyoming. It’ll be perfect.”

  When Joiner had discussed it with Mac, they’d decided to take Clint up on his generous offer. It would save money, and although they looked forward to some brother time, it would be fine to have Clint along. They both enjoyed his company. The response to their family’s checkered history had been varied while growing up in Kilgore, but Clint and his family had always been kind to the Temples. He had proved himself to be a real friend.

  “Dude!” Joiner exclaimed as they strode into the hangar. A glistening white Cessna stood before them. Painted along the side in black and gold were three interlocking Cs. “When did you get this?”

  Clint’s eyes warmed like melted chocolate. “It was my dad’s wedding gift to Cassandra and me when we married.” He pointed to the Cs and said, “Cassandra, Clint and Cade.” His face beamed.

  Joiner whistled. “Nice.”

  “What an extravagant gift.” Mac nodded. “It’s a beauty.”

  “I’m glad we get to take it up. I’ve only made the one trip in it so far—to Brazil for our honeymoon.”

  * * *

  THE THREE MEN settled into the tan leather seats of the jet as the pilot prepared for takeoff. There were two attendants, whom Clint introduced as Kim and La Techa. As soon as the plane was in the air, they offered cocktails from a drink cart. Joiner shot Mac a look that said Can you imagine how much all of this costs? Mac nodded slightly. He could. He did the Cavenders’ taxes.

  As they flew over the plains of west Texas, Clint outlined his plans. “We’ll spend tonight in Santa Fe and you guys can go out tomorrow looking for your grandpa’s grave.”

  “That’s good,” Mac said. “I’ve been consulting with a local historian who recommended some sites within driving distance. We’ll rent a car when we get there.”

  “I’ll be tied up all day in meetings, but we can meet back up for dinner. There’s a great Mexican place I know.”

  “As long as Mac doesn’t order beans,” Joiner joked. “Or I won’t be able to stay in the same room with him.”

  Mac guffawed. “Come on, Joiner. Aren’t you up for a game of Turtle?”

  Clint smiled, his face questioning. “Do I even want to know what that is?”

  Joiner shook his head. “No, you don’t. Trust me on this.”

  “Just be thankful you got your own room.” Mac winked at Clint good-naturedly.

  * * *

  THE LODGE WHERE Clint had reserved a suite was a cozy Pueblo-style with Native American decor. Leather furnishings rounded a rock fireplace in the great room, which had a terra-cotta tile floor. There was an iron-legged table with a flagstone top and a giant bearskin rug. A small, fully equipped kitchen was stocked with craft beer and Evian—two Clint Cavender staples—and a basket of assorted fruit and nuts adorned the granite counter. Mac was happy to see a coffeemaker and several varieties of flavored coffees along with his favorite Folgers Classic red.

  Two bedrooms, one for Clint, and one for Mac and Joiner to share, opened into the main room. As it was eight o’clock before they were checked in, they ordered pizza, ate it while watching part of a ball game on the big-screen television, and sampled a few beers together before retiring for the night. Typical man-cave stuff. Fun, but somehow a little lonely. Mac wondered if Joiner and Clint missed their wives as much as he missed Jacqueline. The trip helped with his plan to slow down their relationship as it forced him and Jacqueline apart, but man, if anything, absence made his heart grow fonder.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  JACQUELINE WAS BUSY that afternoon after Mac left. Several people brought their tax information by, and she processed most of them, simplifying the course of action Mac would have to take, before it was time to close. She was glad when five o’clock came, however, because she missed him. Even when they were working quietly through the day, she liked knowing he was in his office. His absence left a gap in her work and her heart.

  This realization was precisely why she thought about running away even as her feet became more firmly planted on Kilgore’s oil-rich ground. Should she, could she allow herself to be so deeply connected to Mac? So much that she physically ached for the sound of his voice?

  Turning the sign on the door to Closed and locking everything up, she drove home. Nemesis purred and circled when she came in the door. Jacqueline picked her up and carried her to the couch, along with her mail. It was mostly junk. A letter from Amnesty International, of which she was a member, caught her eye.

  It is unusual that we send out alerts of this nature. However, the situation is so dire it requires our immediate attention, and if possible, our members’ support. Children’s lives are at stake.

  The letter outlined the immigration crisis in the United States, and how the border states were flooded with children separated from their parents and often orphaned.

  Feeling moved, she grabbed her laptop and sent an email to Therese to see what KARIS might be doing. Then she searched online.

  As images of the children and their sad eyes stared out at Jacqueline from her computer screen, she felt more and more restless. Each one of them could have been Angelina. Their ragged clothes, dirty faces and gaunt figures made her feel sick inside. And this was not across the sea. This was happening in Texas. Her research continued into the night.

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING her desk phone rang soon after she opened the office.

  “McCarthy Temple, CPA.”

  “Speaking.”

  It was the familiar deep voice. Jacqueline’s breath caught in her throat and her skin tingled with joy. How could a voice do that to her? “Mac!”

  “How’s it going?”

  “Good. I’m working on processing all of the ones we got yesterday afternoon so they’ll be ready for you, and just holding the fort down—we’ll see what else we get today.”

  “That’s great. Thank you.”

  “How are you and the guys?”

  “Toughing it out Cavender-style, as you might imagine.”

  “Yeah, I bet that’s really tough. The pictures you sent were amazing.”

  “I know. Lifestyles of the rich and famous.” He laughed. “But the coffee’s not as good as yours.”

  “Well, yay. That gives you a good reason to come home.”

  “As if I needed another one.”

  Her cheeks warmed. “What’s on your agenda today?”

  “We’re going to fly over some ranges, looking out for horses. Then I have a guy who’s going to drive us around where there could be a possibility of Pap’s grave.”

  “Oh. I hope you find it. Good luck.”

  “Thanks. Hey, I need to ask you something.”

  “What is it?”

  “I got a text from my surveyor friend, Chad. He wants to do some more extensive surveying on the land to look for oil. That okay with you?”

  “Sure. I guess so.” She didn’t feel as if she had a choice. Finding oil was her best chance of selling the land for her parents.

  “Okay. I’ll
tell him to move forward.”

  “Great, thanks.” She doodled a heart with Mac’s name on her notepad. “Mac? Can you text me Alma’s number?”

  “Sure. What for?”

  “I want to talk to her about something. I was doing some research last night on immigrant children.”

  “I thought you seemed a little distracted when I called.”

  “I’m sorry—it’s just, well, it’s really disturbing.”

  “I don’t know what Alma can do about it, but I’ll send you her number when we get off the phone.”

  “Thank you. Have a great day.”

  “You, too.”

  Within seconds, Alma’s number popped up on her phone. Along with a red heart emoji.

  * * *

  WHEN JACQUELINE CALLED ALMA, the older woman offered to come by the office to meet with her. She also insisted on bringing lunch. After they hung up, Jacqueline tried to focus on the tax work in front of her, but her mind kept wandering to the plight of the immigrant children. She was so happy when the clock showed twelve o’clock.

  Alma was a short, plump woman with curly dark hair. She bustled through the door with her black leather purse on one shoulder and a picnic basket in her arms. Simple black pants were paired with an eggplant-colored sweater and comfortable black shoes. She stamped them on the rug. She wore a lacy black scarf over her head, which she quickly pulled off and hung on the hook in the foyer with her coat.

  “Hello there, Alma!” Jacqueline rose from her desk and picked up the basket Alma had set down.

  The woman smiled. “That is our lunch. Tacos carne asada with cilantro and onion, and some avocado.”

  “Mmm. Sounds delicious.”

  “It is Mac’s favorite.” The older woman’s eyes sparkled.

  “Well, he’ll be jealous to know we ate it without him, won’t he?” Jacqueline guided her toward the lounge area. “Thank you so much for bringing lunch. This is really a treat.”

  “It is nothing.” Alma settled herself into the chair Jacqueline offered at the table. She began to unpack the basket while Jacqueline retrieved paper plates and napkins from the cabinet.