He grinned at her and her heart did an unexpected little flip. There was something so unexpectedly boyish about that lazy, lopsided smile. At the same time, the experience and wisdom that shone in his eyes was comforting. Something told her at once that this was a man a woman could always count on for straight talk and moral support. A little of that misguided resentment she’d been stoking slipped away.

“Remind me to tell you about the time one of my boys rustled a bunch of my cattle to start his own herd,” Harlan Adams said, still chuckling over the memory. “He was seven at the time. Try taking your daughter’s mischief and multiply it four times over and you’ll have some idea why I can’t work up too much of a sweat over one stolen truck.”

“She could have been killed,” Janet said grimly, realizing as she spoke that she was shaking at the very thought of what could have happened to Jenny.

“But she wasn’t,” Harlan reminded her in a soothing tone that suggested he knew exactly the sort of belated reaction she was having.

“Then there’s the matter of your truck. I’m just getting my practice off the ground here, but I can make arrangements to pay you back over time, if that’s okay.”

He waved off the offer. “Insurance will take care of it.”

“But it’s my responsibility,” she insisted.

“The danged truck’s not important,” he countered emphatically. “The real question now is how to make sure that gal of yours doesn’t go trying some fool thing like that again.”

His unexpected kindness brought the salty sting of tears to her eyes. Janet rubbed at them impatiently. She never cried. Never. In fact, she considered it a point of honor that she was always strong and in control.

Suddenly, for some reason she couldn’t fathom, she was not only crying, but actually considering spilling her guts to a total stranger. Harlan Adams was practically the first person in town to be civilized to her, much less kind. Truth be told, the move to Texas was not turning out anything at all the way she’d imagined it would.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me or with Jenny. I never cry. And she used to be such a good girl.”

Harlan’s expression remained solemn and thoughtful. “You know,” he said, “I used to teach my sons that tears made a man seem weak. The past year or so, I’ve had a change of heart. I think it takes someone pretty strong to acknowledge when they’re feeling vulnerable and then deal straight-out with the pain they’re going through.”