"What happened, sugar?" I heard him ask.

I sat, my gaze anchored to the floor. "We just talked for a few minutes. I'm going to see him tomorrow." A long pause. "Gage is not exactly thrilled about the situation."

Churchill gave a dry chuckle. "I imagine not."

I looked at him then, unable to resist asking, "What did you think about Hardy'?"

"Got a lot going for him. Smart, nice manners. He'll take a big bite out of the world before he's done. Did you invite him over to the house?"

"God. no. I'm sure we'll go somewhere else to talk."

"Stay if you like. It's your house too."

"Thanks, but..." I shook my head.

"Are you sorry you started up with Gage, sugar?"

The question undid me. "No," I said instantly, blinking hard. "I don't know what to be sorry about. It's just...Hardy was always the one I was supposed to end up with. He was everything I dreamed of and wanted. But damn it, why did he have to show up when I thought I'd finally gotten over him?"

"Some people there's no getting over," Churchill said.

I glanced at him through the salty blur in my eyes. "You mean Ava?"

"I'll miss her for the rest of my life. But no. I didn't mean Ava."

"Your first wife, then?"

"No, someone else."

I blotted the corners of my eyes with my sleeve. It seemed there was something

Churchill wanted me to know about. But I'd had just about all the revelations I could handle for the moment. I stood and cleared my throat. "I've got to go downstairs and make breakfast for Carrington." I turned to leave.

"Liberty."

"Huh?"

Churchill appeared to be thinking hard about something, a frown gathering on his face. "Later I'm going to talk to you about this some more. Not as Gage's father. Not as your boss. As your old friend."

"Thanks," I said scratchily. "Something tells me I'm going to need my old friend."

Hardy called later that morning and invited me and Carrington to go riding on Sunday. I was delighted by the prospect, since I hadn't been on a horse in years, but I told him Carrington had only been on carnival ponies, and she didn't know how to ride.

"No problem." Hardy said easily. "She'll pick it up in no time."

In the morning he arrived at the Travis mansion in a huge white SUV. Carrington and I met him at the door, both of us dressed in jeans and boots and heavy jackets. I had told Carrington that Hardy was an old family friend, that he had known her when she was a baby and had in fact driven Mama to the hospital the day she was born.

Gretchen. wildly curious about the mysterious man from my past, was waiting in the

entrance with us when the doorbell rang. I went to open it. and I was amused to hear Gretchen murmur, "Oh, my," at the sight of Hardy standing in the sunlight.

With the rangy, developed build of a roughneck, those striking blue eyes, that irresistible grin, Hardy had a larger-than-life quality any woman would find appealing. He swept a quick glance over me. murmured hello, and kissed my cheek before turning to Gretchen.

I introduced them, and Hardy took Gretchen's hand with obvious care, as if he were afraid of crushing it. She fluttered, smiled, and played the part of gracious Southern hostess to the hilt. As soon as Hardy's attention was diverted, Gretchen gave me a significant glance as if to ask, Where have you been hiding him?

Hardy, meanwhile, had lowered to his haunches in front of my sister. "Carrington. you're even prettier than your mama was. You probably don't remember me."

"You drove us to the hospital when I was bom." Carrington volunteered shyly.

"That's right. In an old blue pickup, through a storm that flooded half of Welcome."

"That's where Miss Marva lives," Carrington exclaimed. "Do you know her?"

"Do I know Miss Marva?" Hardy grinned. "Yes, ma'am, I do. I had more than a few helpings of red velvet cake at Miss Marva's kitchen counter."

Thoroughly charmed, Carrington took Hardy's hand when he stood. "Liberty, you didn't say he knew Miss Marva!"

The sight of them hand in hand caused a tremor of deep emotion inside me. "I never

talked about you much." I said to Hardy. My voice sounded odd to my own ears.

Hardy stared into my eyes and nodded, understanding that some things mean too much to be expressed easily.

"Well," Gretchen said brightly, "you all go on and have a good time. You be careful around the horses, Carrington. Remember what I told you about not going near the back hooves."

"I will!"

We went to the Silver Bridle Equestrian Center, where the horses lived better than most people. They were kept in a bam that featured a digital mosquito and fly control system, and piped-in classical music, and the stalls had individual faucets and light fixtures. Outside there was a covered arena, a jumping course, pastures, ponds, paddocks, and fifty acres of land to ride on.

Hardy had arranged for us to ride horses that belonged to a friend. Since the cost of stabling a horse at Silver Bridle rivaled some college tuitions, it was clear Hardy's friend had money to burn. We were brought a palomino and a blue roan, both shining and sleek and well behaved. The quarter horse is a big, muscular breed, known for its calmness and good cow sense.

Before we rode out, Hardy sat Carrington on a sturdy black pony and took her around the corral on a lead. As I expected, he charmed my sister completely, praising her. teasing