Chapter One

      “Dad. Dad!”

      His brain already in knots from grocery shopping with a pair of adolescents, Cole Rayburn frowned at his shivering twelve-year-old daughter. Who was clearly about to freeze in her tank top and short-alls in the frigid store, despite the curtain of blond hair shielding her bare shoulders. But would she listen to Cole’s suggestion to take a sweater with her? Oh, hell, no—

      The slight note of alarm in Brooke’s voice belatedly registered, echoing through his entire nervous system. Not that he’d let her see it—

      “What is it, honey?”

      “That man over there,” she whispered, sidling closer to Cole’s elbow. Much as she’d done for the past week, as if afraid he’d disappear if she let him out of her sight. Gratifying and terrifying all at once. “No, the one by the apples. With the white hair. He keeps staring. Like he knows us or something.” A few feet away, her slouching, dark-haired brother, Wesley, gawked at a towering display of canned soda. Longingly. Cole briefly met his son’s silent plea, ignored both the stab of guilt and Wes’s sigh, then finally looked to see who Brooke was talking about.

      And damned if his own adolescence didn’t flash before his eyes.

      He’d assumed, of course, he’d eventually run into one or more of the family he’d practically grown up with. Just not this soon. Or that he’d have such mixed feelings about the reunion, even after all this time.

      Or whether the man everyone called the Colonel would be more inclined to welcome him home like the Prodigal Son...or splatter his guts all over the grapefruit.

      “Cole?” Preston said. Grinning, actually. So far, so good. “Cole Rayburn?”

      “Yes, sir,” Cole said, returning the grin, even as he reminded himself it’d been more than twenty years since Sabrina Noble had dragged home, like a stray puppy, the flabby dork he used to be. The Colonel still had a couple of inches on him—although, at six-four, he pretty much towered