There was a chill in the air, the promise of a cold front moving in on the last day of winter. Texas weather in early March was unpredictable. Ryder O’Brien walked toward his pickup and saw Faith McCabe leaning against his ride. He didn’t do regret. So why, all of a sudden, was he filled with it as he walked toward her? Those long legs tucked into tan fringed ankle boots. Her white off-the-shoulder dress contrasted against the long chestnut waves cascading over her shoulders, and ended slightly above midthigh. He didn’t want to notice those details about her. Ending their affair and walking away from her hadn’t exactly been a choice. She’d burned him. Thinking about how easy it had been for her to break off their relationship made him frown and stirred residual anger.

“What are you doing here?” he ground out.

“I came to see you,” she said, folding her arms like when she was secretly insecure but needed to cover.

“We have nothing to talk about.” He clenched his teeth. He could acknowledge to himself that his words were angry. It had been only a few months since their affair ended. His feelings were still raw. She looked good, though, and that frustrated the hell out of him.

“I do,” she hedged, flashing her eyes at him.

“What’s wrong? None of your other boyfriends around?” Ryder stopped. There was no need to get close enough to see the gold flecks in her honey browns. “You’re wasting your time.”

“I need a favor.” Her right shoulder dipped, another move that gave away her true insecurity at being there. She might be trying to stand tall and come off as confident, but Ryder could still read her despite the show she was putting on.

“Then you’re wasting my time,” he said. The last thing he needed was to trust that she was different from her family. He’d taken that bait once and been burned. “Let me save us both the energy. The answer is no.”

Her cool facade broke. “Please, I’m desp—”

“It’s a little late to play the innocent ‘help me’ card, don’t you think?” he shot back, anger replacing any trace of regret. He looked her up and down, not holding back the annoyance in his glare. “You broke off our...whatever we were doing...with a Post-it note. Who even uses those anymore?”

Yeah, he was letting his anger get the best of him. He couldn’t help it. His pride had taken a huge hit. When it came to Faith and the way she’d left things, he couldn’t keep cool.

“I’m sorry about the method, but I only said what we both knew. Anything more than good sex between us would be asking too much,” she said, and he knew she believed that. To say their families had deep-seated bad blood running between them was a lot like saying werewolves turned at a full moon.

“Whatever,” he said as dismissively as he could, given the fact that his pulse pounded and his body seemed keenly aware of hers. Another detail he didn’t want to overthink.

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important, Ryder.” The sound of his name on her tongue made him feel things he didn’t want to. But then everything about Faith stirred up unwanted emotions inside him. She might’ve been right about them not having a future, but they would never know now, not after the way she’d handled things. He could admit to being curious about what she thought he could help her with, though. Hold on. That was exactly the thinking that had gotten him in trouble in the first place.

Faith McCabe had always been off-limits to Ryder, and that was most likely the reason he couldn’t resist sneaking around to spend time with her a few months ago and not because of a real connection. He’d always been a renegade at heart, always bucking the system and insisting on handling his life his own way. But when his and Faith’s relationship had started getting serious and, in his view, interesting, she’d retreated and refused to see or speak to him again. He chalked his current feelings of betrayal up to a bruised ego.

When he’d stepped into the parking lot of the Dusty Trail Bar and Grill and saw her standing there, it was more than muscle memory that had him on edge. Faith still looked good, too good. Her skin was glowing and her hair shone under the lamplight. He couldn’t help but go to that place in his head—the one where she lay in his arms until morning after a long night of making love. And that was about as productive as washing down a jalapeño with gasoline.

“What is it? You miss me?” he asked, trying to goad her into the fight they should’ve had months ago. Not being able to say his piece was probably the reason he’d held on to the hurt this long.

The pinched look she shot him next said she didn’t appreciate the sarcasm.

Her gaze shifted until she was studying the toe of her boot a little too intently. Even now, he couldn’t deny a draw toward Faith, or a need to protect her. But then instincts were as hardwired as attraction.

“I have a half brother who’s gone missing,” she started without looking up, a sign that her confidence had waned.

“And you’re telling me this because?” Ryder asked, not giving an inch, maintaining the intensity of his glare. This was news to him, although with a father like Hollister McCabe anything was possible. The man and Ryder’s father couldn’t have been more opposite, and that was part of the reason they’d clashed when his father was alive. Ryder suppressed a sarcastic laugh. Clashed put their conflict lightly. When McCabe had tried to strong-arm Ryder’s father for a piece of the family land years ago, they’d almost gone toe-to-toe and had been bitter enemies ever since.

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