“Owen took a step forward, blocking Blackjack’s path. For the first time, Trace noticed Owen was wearing his badge above his heart. “You don’t want to make yourself any more of a suspect than you already are,” Owen said.Blackjack made a dismissive sound. “Don’t pull that Texas Ranger bullshit with me, son. I diapered your bottom.”“You’ve never touched a diaper in your life,” Owen countered.”

“She yanked open his shirt, put the injector against his heart and pulled the trigger. She held her breath waiting to see if it would work, ticking off the seconds.Ten. Twenty. Thirty.The twitching stopped.Forty. Fifty. Sixty.Owen opened his eyes.Bay smiled at him. “Those are the loveliest red-rimmed eyes I’ve ever seen.”Owen managed a wobbly grin. “Ditto.”

“My brother is somewhere in here.” She paused and added in an almost inaudible voice, “I think.”Owen bit back an oath. He’d been raised not to swear around ladies, but as she’d pointed out, it was going to be a long trip if he had to mind his manners when the goddamned woman was going to be so provoking. “I knew this was going to be a total waste of time.”

“As she lifted her own backpack over the side of the black, heavy-duty dodge pickup, Owen took it out of her hands and set it beside the one-man tent and sleeping bag the FBI had provided for him.“I could have done that,” she said.“Sure you could. But my daddy taught me a gentleman always helps a lady.” Bay was so startled at what he’d said, and the chagrined way he’s said it, that she laughed. “Oh, my god. Chauvinism is alive and well—”“We call it chivalry, or Southern courtesy, ma’am,” he said. She realized he was heading around the truck to open the door for her.She stepped in front of him and said, “It’s going to be a long trip if you refuse to let me pull my weight. I can get my own door, Mr. Blackthorne.”For a minute, she thought he was going to make an issue of it. Then he touched the brim of his hat, shot her a rakish grin that turned her insides to mush, and said, “Whatever you say, Mizz Creed.”She was so flustered, she took a half step backward, slid into the seat when he opened the door for her after all, and said, “My friends call me Bay.”Bay flushed as she realized what she’d said. As he came around the hood and got in, she said, “That is—I mean—you know what I mean!”He belted himself into the driver’s seat and started the engine, before he turned to her and said, “My friends call me Owe. You can call me Owen.”She stared at him disbelief. “Oh. You. Blackthorne, you.”

“Stay put,” he said. “I don’t want you setting off any explosives that’ll get us both killed.”“Let me go with you.”“I don’t want you getting hurt, Red.”There was something about the sound of his voice that gave her pause. “Don’t tell me you care.”He ruffled her hair as though she were four instead of twenty-five. “All right, I won’t. Just stay put.”

“If she dies, you’re all to blame,” he said, turning accusing eyes on his family and hers. “This damned feud has to stop. Here. Now. For good.” He turned his gaze to Sam and said, “I’m sorry for what happened to you. It was an accident, plain and simple. I love your sister and I am, by God, going to make her my wife.” He turned to the rest of them and said, “And we’re going to be showing up for the holidays, and you’d better damned well make us welcome.”Owen was crying, the tears streaming unashamedly town his face. “I love Bayleigh Creed. Do you hear me? I love her!”“I think everyone can hear you just fine,” Bay murmured. “Oh, God, Red,” he said, smiling down at her through the blur of tears. “I thought you were dying.”She lifted a shaky hand to her head, but he caught it before she could touch the wound. “My head hurts like hell. But I enjoyed the speech, Owe.”

“Owen stepped into the saddle and reached a hand down as he took his foot out of the stirrup, so Bay could mount behind him. Once she was settled, he said, “Hang on. And don’t be wiggling around. We can’t afford any more accidents.”Bay glowered at him. She clamped her hands on either side of his waist at his beltline, but his Colt .45 was holstered on one side, which kept her from getting a comfortable hold. She put her right hand above the gun, but that meant it was practically under his armpit. Then she moved it below the gun, but that put her hand low on hips close to his crotch.“Sonofabitch.” He grabbed her hands and pulled them around his midriff. “Now hang on.”Bay kept her breasts rigidly distanced from Owen’s back, but her nipples puckered anyway. It was that damned washboard of male abdominal muscle under her hands. The man could do commercials for those workout machines they advertised on TV.The horseflies were a surprise. Where had they come from? She let go with one hand and swatted at one that seemed determined to bite her on the nose.And knocked Owen’s hat askew.“That does it. Off.”“It wasn’t my fault,” Bay said. “I was getting bitten.”“Off.” He grabbed her arm and levered her out from behind him and onto the ground.”