As he braided her hair in one long rope, Hank told her about his rodeo days. Even showed her a few scars. Leaving out the drinking, the fights, and a few not-so-legal pranks he’d done, he managed to make riding the circuit seem fun. “Now I’m settled in Houston, but I drive up to see my dad a few times a year.”

“The pastor?” she asked.

“Right. Believe me, he was much more a preacher than he ever was a father. My mom died when I was fourteen. He told me not to go to the cemetery because she wasn’t there. I knew that, but he wouldn’t let me mourn. He caught me crying about a week after she died and lectured me for hours, then preached about how weak I was the next Sunday.”

Hank couldn’t believe he’d just told her something he’d never told anyone. In this town, Pastor Norton was a saint to everyone but his son.

She moved her hand over his, just as she’d done at the hospital. “That must have been hard,” she whispered.

Rambo belly-crawled to his hand and licked his wrist. The pup seemed to agree with her.

He sat on the edge of her bed and leaned back against the wall. Maybe she just wanted someone close or maybe he didn’t want to leave. Like two teenagers, they just held hands as the room grew darker. They talked like old friends who had nothing to hide, and he loved the growing intimacy between them.

When she placed her cheek against his shoulder and settled so near, he didn’t move. Hell, he felt closer to this stranger than he’d felt to most women he’d slept with.

She seemed to be waiting for him to say more, and for once, that was all he needed.

He told her that when his mother died, he was lost. “Dad took on preaching like a quest and never mentioned her. Since I couldn’t cry for my mother, I went wild. My way of balancing out the world, I guess.”

To his surprise, she laughed, then added that she’d never done one wild thing in her life.

Hank kissed her hand and continued, “It was like my father died, too, when I was fourteen. There were times he’d stare at me as if wondering who I was. The only time he noticed me was when I was in trouble. Finally, I just left. I sent him an announcement when I graduated from college. I don’t know if he even opened the envelope. When I made the papers for just doing my job, I gave him the article from the Houston Chronicle. He thanked me and put the page down without even looking at the headline.

“It wasn’t like I was lost. I had a cell phone, but he never called.”