Free Cassidy Harte and the Comeback Kid by RaeAnne Thayne Page A

could want. Everything he’d ever dreamed about.
    Hell, more than that. A decade ago, he hadn’t had any dreams. Whenever he pictured the future—something he didn’t like to do much back then—he figured he would turn out just like his father, a penniless drifter always looking to see what was over the next hill.
    Cassie had given him the rare and precious gift of faith. She had believed in him, had seen potential he’d never even suspected lurked inside him. Even after he left her, he had cherished that gift. Without it, he probably would have lived out that prophesy and become just like his old man.
    Yeah, he had just about everything he’d ever wanted.
    Except Cassidy Harte.
    He gazed out at the moonlight, remembering the silk of her skin and the slick, incredible heat of her mouth under his. Even after a decade, the memory of her enthusiastic, wholehearted response to his touch was still as strong and as vivid as it had been the day he drove out of town with his heart shredding into little pieces.
    The way things were going, he had a fairly strong feeling he would never again taste her mouth or feel those small, competent hands caress him. He blew out a breath, cursing again the tangled whims of fate.
    Why the hell did Melanie have to leave the same night he did? It would have been hard enough trying to explain everything to Cassie, trying to make things right again, without the onus of trying to explain away the unbelievable coincidence.
    Maybe he should give this whole thing up. Just go on back to his life in Denver and get on with things, forget about trying to repair the damage of his decisions.
    He fiddled with a loose link on the swing’s chains. He didn’t want to give up. Not yet. He needed to talk to her, at least. He owed her an explanation that was ten years overdue.
    He had tried to tell her earlier in the afternoon. That’s why he had gone in search of her after his dismal trip into Murphy’s, to set the record straight. He’d gotten a little sidetracked, though, when he had overheard her on the phone with Lowry.
    Fierce jealousy hadn’t been the only emotion curling through him when he pictured the two of them together. He didn’t like the idea that Cassie could ever be mixed up with scum like Lowry.
    He sighed and shifted in the swing again. Jealousy hadn’t been the only emotion but it had been by farthe strongest. Even though logic told him he had no right to be jealous—absolutely no claim over her—he had about as much control over it as he did that moon up there.
    He leaned his head back, watching the path for some sign of her and listening to the chirp of crickets, the tumble of the creek behind the cabins, the far-off whinny of a horse….
    He must have dozed off. He wasn’t sure how long he slept but he awoke to find her propped against the porch rail watching him, her arms folded across her chest and her face in shadows.
    â€œHi.” He heard the sheepishness in his voice at being caught in a vulnerable moment and tried to clear it away. “You’re late.”
    The moon slid from behind a cloud, and he saw her raise an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize I had a curfew.”
    â€œYou put in long hours. Too long. Is it like this every day?”
    â€œNo. Not usually. Claire Dustin, one of the wranglers’ wives, usually helps out with breakfast but she’s in Bozeman catering her sister’s wedding this week.” She paused. “I’m thinking she’ll make a good replacement for me. I’ll talk to her about it when she gets back Monday. If she’s agreeable, I can start training her right away.”
    â€œThat eager to be gone, are you?”
    She said nothing for several moments, then straightened from the porch railing. “I’m tired, Slater. As you said, it’s been a long day. To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure I have enough energy left to tangle with you again