Homeward Bound. Marin Thomas

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СКАЧАТЬ as her knees would move. The kids loved her duck-duck-goose rule that adults play the game on their knees. She almost made it back to the empty spot, but Tommy’s fingers grazed her shoulder. She toppled over and tugged the boy to the floor.

      “Dog pile!” Brian yelled, jumping through the air.

      Heather clenched her stomach muscles right before Brian’s butt landed on her midsection. The hundred-per-day situps she struggled through every morning at the campus gym paid off tenfold in this job. The other five children joined in and she ended up buried beneath bodies that smelled like peanut butter and jelly, laundry detergent and Play-Doh.

      She wiggled her fingers against a pair of legs covered in pink tights and smiled when little Sonja, normally quiet and withdrawn, belly-laughed along with the rest of the preschoolers. The sound of rambunctious laugher warmed Heather’s heart. She couldn’t remember ever laughing with such abandon and glee as a child.

      “Excuse me, Heather.”

      Peeking between the squirming bodies, Heather spotted her supervisor’s mud-colored Easy Spirit shoes inches from her nose. “Yes, Mrs. Richards?”

      “There’s someone here to see you. Come along, children. Snack time.”

      One by one, the munchkins popped off Heather and dashed across the room. Feeling as if she’d narrowly survived a school of hungry piranhas, she lay sprawled on the carpet, her clothes in disarray and her ponytail smashed to one side. She turned her head—and spotted a large pair of worn cowboy boots.

      Uh-oh.

      Inch by inch, her gaze strolled up denim-clad legs, slowed across solid thighs, then came to a complete stop at a well-endowed…One hip shifted, jarring her attention upward, past the shiny silver belt buckle. Past the six pearl snaps on the sky-blue western shirt. Past a whisker-stubbled chin. Straight to his eyes. Eyes that stirred up memories of—

      “Heather.”

      Sucking in a deep breath, she braved a smile.

      Eyes dark as chunks of coal stared solemnly down at her from under the brim of a seen-better-days black Stetson.

      So he was going to pretend they’d never shared glorious kisses three years ago. Okay, fine. She could pretend, too. “Hello, Royce.”

      Her self-appointed guardian angel glowered. She imagined any sensible women would take one look at his expression, which hinted at a not-so-sunny disposition, and steer clear of the cowboy. Not Heather. She’d always admired his temperament, not to mention his strong stubborn jaw, deep-set brown eyes and equally dark slashing brows. Royce McKinnon was downright handsome in a rugged, manly-man sort of way.

      His sober gaze fastened on her bare tummy, where a dainty silver butterfly ring pierced her navel. His stare, moving and mysterious, turned the simple act of breathing into a strenuous exercise. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she struggled for control. Three years ago this man had rocked her world. If her skittering nervousness at the moment was any indication, she hadn’t succeeded in putting the past—rather, this man—behind her.

      With one last gulp of air, she shoved her T-shirt back in place and hopped to her feet. Desperate for a moment to corral her frazzled nerves, she brushed at an imaginary wrinkle in her jeans, then fixed her lopsided ponytail.

      At six feet two inches—minus the cowboy hat—the mayor of Nowhere, Texas, didn’t exactly blend in with the gaggle of preschoolers running loose in the room. “If I’d known you were stopping in town I would have asked for time off.” Well, that was brilliant. He’ll think I’ve been pining for him all these years.

      He cocked an eyebrow. “Some things never change.”

      “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      “I left a message on your cell phone.”

      The brooding, arrogant egghead was accusing her of not checking phone messages? Rolling her eyes, she sighed. “I see you brought along that trusty soapbox of yours.”

      “When you decide to grow up, I’ll leave it at home.”

      The fact that he thought her plenty grown-up three years ago, when he’d kissed her, hung in the air between them like wet laundry on a windless day. “For your information, this isn’t a job. Working at the day care is part of my student-teaching requirements.”

      Heather waited for a comeback that didn’t come.

      Royce’s attention switched to the back of the room. Puzzled by the expression of deep sadness that filled his eyes as he watched the group of towheads devour their snacks, she touched his shirtsleeve.

      The feel of the soft cotton material brought back a long-ago memory of Royce finding her bawling her head off behind the feed store. Even though her crying had embarrassed him, he’d offered her his shirtsleeve to wipe her nose. From that moment on Royce had been her hero.

      After a while the novelty of his attention had worn off and she’d focused her efforts on ignoring his meddling presence. But nothing she’d done or said had made Royce go away and leave her alone—thank goodness. Because she would have been truly lost without this overbearing interfering man. For that reason alone she reined in her temper. “Look, if you’re here to lecture me on failing to graduate next week with the rest of my class—”

      “You’re not graduating?”

      Oh, crud. He didn’t know? “Isn’t that pretty obvious, since I didn’t send you a graduation announcement?”

      He rubbed the sexy little bump in the middle of his nose with his index finger. “I assumed I wasn’t invited.”

      Did he think so little of her? Just because they’d shared one magical afternoon of intimacy and then…then…nothing didn’t mean she hated him or didn’t want him to celebrate her graduation. With all she’d put the man through over the years, he at least deserved to see her accept her degree. “I’m six credits short.” His silence compelled her to explain. “I’ve signed up for the first and second summer sessions. If everything goes as planned I’ll have my degree by summer’s end.”

      “Degree in what now?”

      “Psychology.”

      His brow dipped below the hat’s brim. “Come again?”

      “Psychology, with an emphasis on family and children.”

      His tanned complexion faded several shades, as if her choice of major and area of focus stunned him.

      Perturbed by his reaction, she demanded, “What? You don’t believe I would be good with kids?”

      “You’re nothing but a big kid yourself, Heather.”

      “People change. Maybe I wasn’t the quintessential good-girl back in Nowhere, but I hope my past experiences will help other troubled children.” She motioned to the crowded snack table. “Besides, I love kids.”

      A rude snort popped out of his mouth. He removed his hat, then tapped the edge against his thigh.

      Shocked, she stared at the long, jagged scratch marring the underside of the brim. Another memory flashed through her mind: Royce parked outside СКАЧАТЬ