She picked up the scouring pad. Tonight. She needed to confront LJ as soon as he got home. After last night, she couldn’t stand not having some kind of plan for how they could stay together. Whether Rose could move to Montana, or if they’d have to move down here for good. Her throat clamped shut at the idea of leaving her ranch, her horses, and she scrubbed harder as she tried to think of a third choice.

“You’re fretting so hard I can hear it all the way over here.” The floor creaked, and then Rose patted her arm. “What’s the matter, girl?” She sounded so much like her son that tears stung Andra’s eyes, but her phone rang before she could figure out how to respond. “Go on and get that,” Rose said, handing her a dish towel to dry her hands. “I’ll be three weeks in the grave before I’m old enough I need help to make a roux.”

Andra flashed her a strained smile and went for the phone. Rose had been out of bed more the past couple of days, though Andra wasn’t familiar enough with lupus to know whether that meant the worst was over for now.

She picked up her cell, and as soon as she saw the name on the screen, her heart jumped like she was headed for a second attack. It was her father.

Thirty-one

Andra stepped outside into the ruthless sunlight, trying to push away her unease. It wasn’t like she hadn’t talked to her father since she’d left. He tended to avoid the subject of LJ, but other than that, they were okay. It was just that usually he waited for her to call him.

“Hi, Dad, what’s up?” She worked to keep her voice light. “Did you like the pictures I sent? I still haven’t figured out the whole fire-swallowing guy, and LJ refuses to explain the trick to me.”

“Well, I’m glad you had fun, Andra, but it’s time to come home.”

She turned her back to the sun, sweat already trickling down her spine. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Your brother broke his leg last night. He was trying to get Taz used to the lariat, but it was nearly sunset and the light was funny. He thinks that’s why she spooked. She busted through a fence and went down on top of Jason’s leg.” Dad cleared his throat. “He came out of surgery okay, but he’s not feeling his oats too much right now.”

“Oh my God.” Andra shifted her weight off her right ankle, the one she’d broken barrel racing when she was ten. It throbbed when she thought about how much more it would hurt to break a leg. “What about Taz? Is she okay?”