Beneath the Texas Moon

Eve shook her head. “My ex-husband. We’d been divorced for almost two years.”

“Your decision or his?” Addie asked, then waved her hand. “That’s too personal. Forgive an old lady’s curiosity.”

“No, that’s okay. It was my decision.” Eve shrugged. “He loved his dogs more than his family, and I had a son to raise.”

The older woman picked at a button on the front of her shirt, her brow furrowed. “How long has it been since the mauling?”

Joey chewed quietly, his deep green gaze never leaving his mother’s face.

“Six months.” Eve smiled reassuringly at her son, although the strain of forced cheerfulness made her face hurt. Six months of pain. Six months of silence. Since the attack Joey hadn’t spoken a word.

“The therapist said it’d take time.” Eve turned her weak smile to Addie. “Speaking of which, I’ll need to find a psychiatrist closer to Spirit Canyon.”

“Should be some to choose from in Johnson City or Fredricksburg. If not, you could go to Austin or San Antonio.” For several moments, Addie stared across at the little boy, tears welling, but not falling. Then shaking back her shoulders, she reached into her apron pocket and handed Eve two sets of keys. “I—” Addie cleared her throat and started over. “I went over earlier to open windows and air out the house. The place sure needs some work.”

“I know.” Eve swallowed past the lump blocking her vocal chords. She liked the way Addie had of getting back to business. The woman didn’t wallow in the past. Thank goodness.

“What are your plans for that old house? Isn’t it a bit large for just two people?” Addie sprayed furniture polish on the counter and rubbed a shine into the smooth wood.

“I was thinking of turning it into a bed and breakfast.” Eve stared down at her purse. “I don’t really need the money. My ex-husband left me as beneficiary to his life insurance policy. But I need the activity.”

“You could work for me, just to keep you busy.” Addie said.

Tears sprung into Eve’s eyes. “You don’t have to do that, Miss Addie. Besides, you hardly know me.”

“Oh, fiddle.” Addie waved her fingers. “We’ve talked so much on the phone, you’re like one of my own younguns.”

A lump rose in Eve’s throat. Family was what she and Joey needed most. Eve twisted her purse strap. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be busy fixing up the old place. If you know anyone who could help with the heavy stuff, let me know.”

“Sure will.” Addie slid the cloth further along the counter. “You know, our annual Harvest Festival is only a month away. If you get the bed and breakfast up and running by then, you shouldn’t have any problem filling it.”

Eve grimaced. “That’s pretty close. I’m sure renovations will take longer than a month.”

“I suppose that is a bit too soon.” Addie tapped a pencil to her chin. Then her eyebrows rose and she smiled. “Since you won’t have the place opened by the Harvest Festival, how about helping with the preparations for the event?”

Eve hesitated. Being new to town, she’d hoped to ease into a quiet existence. “I don’t know.”

“I’m sure you’ll have your hands full setting the old house in order,” Addie continued, “but you’ll have a chance to meet some of the townsfolk.”

Eve hated to disappoint the woman when she’d done so much to welcome her. “You’re sure I wouldn’t be in the way?”

Addie waggled her fingers. “Not at all. And Joey is more than welcome. Other young mothers bring their little ones to the meetings. Joining the group will give Joey a chance to meet a few of the local children.”

Eve glanced at Joey, his serious expression cutting through her reservations. He needed to learn how to be a child all over again. How better than to meet others his own age? Spirit Canyon was her new home, and she might as well get started by becoming a part of the community. “Addie, I’d love to help. Somehow I’ll make the time.”

“Good,” Addie said. “I’ll tell Sandy Johnson and she can let you know when the next meeting will be.”

The bell over the door jingled. Eve turned toward the sound.

A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped across the threshold. Poised in the doorway, with his face cast in shadows, he looked like the devil in a black Stetson.

“Mac? Is that you?” Addie called from beside Eve. “Better get inside before the heavens open up and dump on you, son.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His voice rumbled deep and resonant, filling the rafters of the store as he strode across the room.

Now that he’d moved into the light, Eve had to adjust her first impression. He wasn’t the devil, especially when he smiled at Addie, with full lips, a rock-hard chin and eyes the pale blue-gray of a summer sky.

But the smile was short-lived. As he turned to face her, his penetrating gaze seemed to read her most intimate thoughts.

A chill stroked her spine.

He broke his eye contact and looked back out the screen door. “When did Cynthia start seeing Toby?”

“A couple weeks ago,” Addie answered. “More’s the shame.”

The cowboy shook his head, turned and strode across the floor, closing the gap between himself and Eve.

She took a reflexive step backward.

“Mac, say hi to our new neighbor,” Addie said.

He pulled his Stetson from his head, revealing dark brown hair with a hint of red, the rich color of molasses. He held out his hand. “Mac McGuire.”

“Eve.” Her voice faltered as she grasped his outstretched hand. Strong, work-roughened fingers engulfed hers, sending a startling jolt like an electrical current throughout her body. What was wrong with her? He was just a man.

Without his hat, he wasn’t quite as intimidating. Until Eve saw the ragged scar slashed across his forehead.

Just like Joey’s.

She dropped his hand.

Mac shifted his hat to his other hand. Besides the slight narrowing of his eyes, he didn’t display any other indication that her reaction fazed him.

Eve stared around the room grasping for something to say, coming up with a blank. Then a gentle tug on her jacket changed her focus.

MAC GAZED DOWN at the little boy, whose fingers snuck into the hand of the auburn-haired woman. Eve. A woman with troubled green eyes.

With the same colored hair, the boy had to be hers. A sharp stab of disappointment raced through Mac until he noticed her naked left hand. She had a child, but no ring. Interesting.

The woman glanced down at the top of the little boy’s head, brushed a hand through his hair and smiled. “Mr. McGuire, this is my son, Joey. Joey, say hello to Mr. McGuire.”

Joey shook his head and buried his face against her legs.

Mac squatted next to Joey and spoke in a quiet tone. “Hi, Joey. Nice to meet you. You can call me Mac.”

Joey peeked around his mother’s leg and his eyes widened, his gaze zeroing in on Mac’s scar. The boy moved toward him, instead of shrinking in fear. As one hand loosened its grip on Eve’s jeans, he reached out to touch the mark on Mac’s forehead.

Mac resisted the urge to flinch, holding steady while the little guy leaned toward him. When Joey’s face cleared the fabric of Eve’s jeans, it was Mac’s turn to be startled. The child had a matching scar on the same side of his forehead.