Two

      Justin ground his teeth together as he drove off the Applegate property. Shell-shocked wasn’t a strong enough term for what he was feeling right now. He’d come to spill his heart and guts out to Matilda about how Brett had died, and instead discovered he had a son—an adorable dark-haired, brown-eyed boy.

      His son.

      His mouth twisted. He had to be careful. He didn’t know anything for sure right now. The boy may or may not be his child.

      But he did remember Kat. So many things about her. He remembered her beauty, her creamy skin, her pretty green eyes and the way she accepted him inside her body with tight, wet, welcoming heat. Though he’d spent the weekend with her, they only had one night of sex. That one night made up for the prior eight months he’d gone without. Once they got going, there was no stopping them. She’d had no boundaries, no fussy little complaints, no inhibitions when they were together. Her only rule was that she didn’t want any entanglements afterward.

      She’d spelled it right out.

      She didn’t want a relationship with a soldier or a farmer.

      In other words, he was good enough to bed, but that’s where it would end.

      Justin had gotten the message loud and clear and after leaving her without so much as exchanging phone numbers or addresses, he’d also understood better what Brett Applegate was up against with the fairer sex.

      Eight o’clock couldn’t come fast enough for him.

      He downed two more antacids and pushed the button to lower the windows. Damn that fool bet. Reversing roles hadn’t been one of his wisest moves, but now a child’s life was at stake. If Connor was his, then he would move heaven and earth to make up for lost time with his son.

      Stepping on the gas pedal, he peeled down the road. During scorching hot summers in Afghanistan he’d picture himself whipping down the highway with the sun at his back and the cool wind blowing his hair in ten different directions. Like now. He’d daydreamed about coming home to Sunset Ranch and working alongside his brothers, too. He’d clung to those thoughts as he battled both enemy and unyielding climate.

      Justin pulled into the parking lot of the Amber Pail, a hot spot for Douglas County locals and a place he probably should avoid. But it was early yet and he needed to kill some time and think without his family around. He climbed out of his truck, plopped his hat on his head and kept his sunglasses on. He strode toward the entrance to the bar and had nearly made it inside, when a man’s voice boomed out behind him.

      “Justin Slade…tell me you’re not planning on drinking alone.”

      Justin turned to find Sheriff Robbie Dunphy striding in his direction. Justin had gone to high school with the sheriff’s younger sister, Tiffany. “Hey, Robbie. How’s it going?”

      Robbie strode up to face him on the sidewalk. He filled out his tan uniform, the buttons on his shirt ready to pop. He stood head to head with Justin, and as usual had a smile on his face. He hardly fit the bill for a stereotypical hard-nosed lawman. “I got no complaints. How about you? You acclimatin’ to being home again?”

      “I’m getting there. Nine years is a long time to be away.”

      “I got to thinkin’ you might just make a career of soldiering, with you getting the Congressional Medal of Honor and all.”

      Justin clamped his teeth together. The medal was a source of pride to him but at the same time, it reminded him of his failures. He didn’t think of himself as a hero, but as a soldier who’d done his job. Brett’s death had hit him hard, and he’d decided when his last tour of duty was up that he was through with the military. “At one time, I thought the same thing. But looks like I’m home to stay now.”

      “Well, good.” Robbie gave him a congenial slap on the back. “Come on, then, and let me buy you a welcome home drink. Amber’s still here, working her ass off and brewing the best ale in the state. You gotta try her latest concoction, something she calls Nevada Punch.”

      What the hell. He couldn’t very well insult the sheriff and tell him he wanted to drink alone. Maybe some hometown company would keep his mind off of troubling thoughts and help him pass the time. “Sure thing, Sheriff.”

      They sat at a table right smack in the middle of the darkened tavern. It was a throwback to the sixties, with dim yellow lights reflecting off a long mahogany bar. The second his butt hit the padded vinyl seat, Amber came striding over, her teased brown hair as big as ever, swept up in the back with bobby pins and a little black bow.

      “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Justin Slade.” She gave him a motherly kiss on the cheek.

      “Hi, Amber.”

      “I do believe this is the first time you’ve been in my bar legitimately.”

      “Wasn’t old enough before I left for boot camp.”

      “I know it, but you’ve been here dozens of times. I used to open the back room up for my son and the rest of you boys to play pool. You remember that, don’t you?”

      He nodded, thinking back on that time. “I’ll never forget that trusty old pool table.” He’d lost his virginity on that pool table with Betsy Ann Stankowski when he was sixteen.

      “I’m not hearing any of this,” the sheriff said, leaning way back in his chair.

      Amber waved him off. “Robbie, don’t tell me you didn’t know about the boys coming here. You didn’t make any noise about it because your little sis would tag along with them sometimes, so don’t you get all high and mighty now. For pity’s sake, I never gave any of the kids liquor.”

      The