A Crazy Reunion

By Cate Baylor

Raney Hoffman eloped with her high school sweetheart believing they’d found their happy ever after, but her world crashed down around her when he left after less than two years of marriage. Nearly twenty years later he’s back in town. Her broken heart tells her she should still hate the jerk. But her traitorous body surges into sexual overdrive at the sight of him.

Rob Coleman was devoted to Raney the moment they met in high school. After they married, his twin brother died unexpectedly and Rob’s grief thrust him into an identity crisis he couldn’t recover from. The decisions he made in that haze of grief have haunted him for nearly twenty years. Now he’s back and completely befuddled by the strength of his response to seeing Raney again.

They rebuilt their lives without the other but their unexpected reunion makes it clear their history is far from over.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cate Baylor
• Release date: Dec 11, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370796557

Cate Baylor

Romance writer, blogger, craft addict, tea drinker, and I'll admit it, geek.

Book preview

1

The green 1975 Ford truck rumbled to a stop just under the railroad-crossing signals that flashed an angry red. Groaning, Raney Hoffman slapped her hands against the steering wheel and hung her head in frustration.

Figures. Just figures.

No matter how hard she tried she was never on time. She was already running late for her best friend’s baby shower and what little traffic control this small town had was conspiring against her. There were only five traffic lights in Oak Grove and she had hit all of them red—and now this blasted railroad crossing! She was going to get an earful from Daphne, that was for sure.

As the train roared past, Raney turned the volume up on her radio so she could sing along to The Wabash Cannonball. The song had been one of her dad’s favorites. It chugged along quickly, just like the train it memorialized, and Raney couldn’t help but move along to the rockabilly beat. Hearing the fast percussion beat and bass voice of Johnny Cash always made her think of her dad. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and bopped her head in time with the beat. The nostalgia of the song, both the memories of her father and the apropos train theme, made her smile and forget she was in a hurry.

This was Dad’s theme song for Chuck, the name he affectionately assigned to the big Ford F250 truck. She remembered sitting in the passenger seat as a young girl, straining to see over the dashboard and shrieking with delight as the wind from the open windows whipped through her hair. The two of them had loved roaming the back roads of Texas, with no particular destination, just a little girl and her dad enjoying the scenery, music, and time together.

She closed her eyes and conjured an image from her child’s eyes looking up at her dad as he slouched in the driver’s seat, smiling down at her with a twinkle in his eye. He always looked like he belonged behind the wheel of his favorite truck with his left arm propped on the door and his elbow poking out the open window. He’d let his wrist rest on the wheel, his hand hanging down and swaying as he steered around curves. She sang the verses of their favorite songs and waited, knowing his clear tenor voice would mesh with her young soprano when it was time for the chorus. And every time the chorus played, they would lean in toward each other and sing as loud as they could.

In her memories, her dad’s smile was bright as the sun. When she was little, that smile was an assurance she’d always be safe. Now when her memories cast the warmth of that smile on her, she felt a bittersweet tug of love and ache and she wondered if she would ever stop missing him.

She sighed and leaned her head back against the seat, reaching out for the happiness of the memory and brushing aside the longing. She sang along with Johnny and saw her dad again, his brown eyes alight and his blond hair pushed down over his forehead by the wind surging through the cab of the truck. And he was smiling, always smiling.

The song changed and her trip down memory lane took an abrupt, unwanted detour when Cross My Heart began playing. George Strait’s strong voice didn’t remind her of her dad, it filled her mind with images and recollections of her first love. It had been their song, one that had become part of their relationship’s soundtrack. They’d locked hands (or lips) whenever it came on the radio or danced together if it played at the dance hall. Later, she’d wept when she heard it because it only reminded her of what he’d taken from her when he left.

Sometimes it was hard, despite her unending determination to be independent, not to wonder what might have been if things had happened differently all those years ago. She’d found herself reminiscing and daydreaming more lately, ever since Daphne got married and became pregnant. She didn’t want to envy her best friend’s happiness and she certainly didn’t begrudge it. But every once in a while a chink opened up in her armor. She couldn’t help it.

As she sat in the haze of Texas heat and simmering daydreams, her memories became heated and heady, and her heart beat faster remembering those first rushes of romantic love that changed her forever.

Her mind filled with decidedly less innocent recollections. Before she realized it, she was picturing Bobby behind the wheel, laughing and singing and smiling at her.

She didn’t want to see Bobby sitting next to her, watch his hazel eyes sparkling with humor, or swoon at the dimples that framed his mouth at the slightest smile. She grimaced, powerless to fight her memories.

Her face flushed and her stomach lurched as she felt the ghost of his hands exploring her body, and remembered her own touches seeking him out.

As a defense against these memories, she conjured the image of herself, almost twenty years past, sprawled over this same steering wheel as she wept her broken heart out after Bobby left. He’d left a note on the windshield:

Raney—I can’t stay here. I’m sorry.

I’ll always love you,

Bobby.

That’s how he’d ended their friendship and their love. Their marriage.

And with that, the wistful longing passed, replaced by an anger artfully honed over the intervening years. Damn him. Even crashing her daydreams, the jerk could piss her off and turn her on in equal measure.

She leaned her head out the open window, seeking whatever small breeze might cool her off. Back in the present, she tapped her fingers impatiently as she waited for the train to pass.

Finally, the caboose faded into the distance as the crossing gate lifted. Raney shifted the truck into gear and felt the growl of the engine beneath her as Chuck surged over the rise of the tracks. The growl turned into a cough then a sputter. She pumped the gas pedal and whined, No, no, Chuck, no. You can do it. You can make it, baby. C’mon.

The truck sputtered back to life as Raney pulled onto the highway. Thank you, God! she exclaimed. She shook her blond hair back and enjoyed the wind through the open windows.

Her enjoyment of the music was interrupted by a violent lurch. She clutched the steering wheel and veered to the side of the road as Chuck’s engine sputtered again and died. Raising her eyes to heaven in defeat, she guided the truck slowly to a stop on the shoulder.

With a woeful sigh, she shouldered the door open and dropped out onto the sweltering pavement, glaring at the smoke wafting from under the hood.

She mumbled angrily as she rifled behind the driver’s seat for a pair of work gloves. Great. Now what am I going to do?

She shoved her hands into the thick leather gloves and popped the hood, gagging and coughing at the surge of acrid smoke that billowed out. Waving her arms to dispel the offending cloud, she peered under the hood. As much time as she and her dad had spent in this truck, she’d never learned anything about its inner workings. He’d always told her that’s what he was for.

She decided to call ahead to Daphne’s house and see if one of the ranch hands could come fetch her. She’d be late for the party but she’d still make it. As she was removing her gloves and setting them on the ledge of the engine block, she noticed a red dually pickup loaded with crates and equipment pull up behind her with its hazard lights blinking. It wasn’t uncommon in such a tight-knit community for folks to stop and help one another, but she didn’t recognize this truck that had Oak Grove Mobile Vet emblazoned on the side.

Raney studied the shiny paint job and the fancy chrome bumpers. Clearly the truck wasn’t long off the new-car lot. She sneered inwardly.

City slicker.

But that didn’t stop her curiosity as a long, denim-clad leg descended from the truck. A tall man with broad shoulders stepped out, donning a well-worn cowboy hat. Suddenly, a large yellow Lab leapt from the cab and rushed at her. Rather than step away, she crouched down to introduce herself. She loved dogs, Labs in particular. They didn’t have to trade names to form a mutual adoration, and she happily rubbed and petted him as he waited for his human companion to catch up to him.

The driver paused after he exited the cab of the truck, unsnapping his plaid work shirt. In one fluid motion, he peeled it off and tossed it carelessly back in the truck. His faded blue T-shirt clung to his chest as he hitched up his jeans and started walking toward Raney.

The truck may have screamed city slicker, but the man was all country.

Hiding behind her sunglasses and the dog, she surveyed him. She cocked her head and appreciated his long, purposeful stride and lanky physique. His jeans and holey shirt, both smudged liberally with dirt, made it clear he was accustomed to hard work.

She was surprised when a slow burn started low in her belly. How could she possibly be this attracted to a complete stranger? It was absurd. But the closer he got, the more her body responded to the sheer physicality of him.

He pulled a bandana out of his back pocket and swiped it across his nose and around the back of his neck. She practically purred at the slow, sexy smile that accentuated a scruffy jaw.

Then he removed his reflective sunglasses and her heart fell to her feet. She knew those hazel eyes as well as the back of her own hand, despite the fact it had been nearly twenty years since she last saw them in anything but memories. The past flooded over her and that burn in her belly turned to sorrow, then rage.

Rob Coleman was heading home from his third emergency call of the week. He’d only been back for a week, but thanks to his friend’s contacts, he already had jobs. As the fenced pastures and leafy green oaks whizzed past his window, he felt a smile bloom on his face. He loved being home. No other place in the world pulled at him like this Texas farmland. His soul had felt more and more settled the closer he got to Oak Grove.

Sure, he knew it wasn’t going to be all grins. That phone call a few weeks ago from the emergency room telling him his grandfather had broken his ankle had shaved at least ten years off his life. Pops was an ornery old man and wouldn’t let Rob move back to take care of him, but that didn’t stop Rob from resigning from his joint veterinary practice and coming home. It helped to have good friends—his old pal, Mick, had agreed to lease him a barn and cabin so Rob could start a mobile vet service. Whether he was living with Pops or not, he was damned sure going to keep an eye on him.

He was going to have to deal with a few ghosts, too. One of those ghosts in particular was what had kept him away for so long—he’d never felt ready to face her again. Just the thought of her made his stomach tighten up with nerves and anticipation. Would she welcome or shun him?

How many times had he imagined their reunion? He’d always pictured her broad, dimpled smile as she ran toward him for a passionate embrace. The logical part of him suggested that his libido was viewing the situation through rose-colored glasses. People said time heals all wounds, so who knew what twenty years apart would heal? By that measure, she’d be ecstatic to see him.

But logic cautioned him again. One of the things he’d loved most about her was her unpredictability and fiery temper. Bearing that in mind, Rob figured she might just shoot first and not bother asking questions.

God, he missed her. Shoulda figured that out before you left, jackass.

He wouldn’t have guessed it back then but was wise enough now to know he’d never stopped loving her. Of course, that didn’t make him any less of a jerk for ending it the way he had, even if he had been driven over the edge with grief.

Sighing, he swiped his sleeve over his sweaty forehead. Birthing a breech horse was a long, hot, and dirty job. Even his new truck’s air conditioner couldn’t keep up with the humid heat of late summer in south-central Texas. All he could think about was a shower and a cold beer.

He looked to his passenger, sprawled out on the seat with his eyes half-closed and tongue hanging out. Rob chuckled and cranked the air-conditioner fan up higher. Whaddya say, Tex? He ruffled the yellow Lab’s ears and laughed when the dog lolled over onto his back, exposing his belly. Most people would think that meant he wanted a belly rub. Ole Tex never objected to a belly rub—he was a dog after all—but what he really wanted was free access to cooler air. Rob figured a sweaty package was a universal male problem.

Tex rolled back to his feet and barked as the truck tires rumbled over train tracks. Rob affectionately patted Tex’s back, as always appreciating the loyal but quirky companionship of his dog.

We’re almost home, boy. Then we’ll get you a nice, cold drink and a yummy tr— He quickly cut off his sentence, almost belatedly remembering that the word treat would send Tex into a tizzy. A seventy-pound Lab going ballistic in the cab of his truck wouldn’t end well. So he patted the dog again. Yup. Almost home, Tex.

Then the old pickup truck with its hood propped open on the shoulder of the road caught his eye. It was hard to miss such a monstrous shade of green, even against the backdrop of the grain field. Then it hit him.

That’s Raney’s truck.

As panic bubbled to life inside him, he briefly considered driving past her even as he put his foot on the brake. Driving past a motorist in need was taboo in small towns like Oak Grove—that was a real fast way to get a reputation for being unneighborly. Beyond that, it was plain rude. Besides, he wouldn’t drive past a complete stranger, much less someone he knew.

Much less his ex-wife and love of his life.

As he pulled to a stop behind the truck, he was gripping the wheel so hard his knuckles showed white through his skin. He saw a head peek around the open hood.

Crap, she saw me. Too late to run.

He leaned back and let go of the steering wheel, trying to calm his nerves. Rob had known he’d run into her when he moved back to Oak Grove. Frankly, he was surprised it had taken this long, but that didn’t take away any of the impact of the moment. Now his nerves were seriously pissing him off. He was a grown man, for heaven’s sake. He could handle this.

Man up, Rob.

He looked over to Tex and blew out a sigh that rattled his lips. Alright. Be cool. Let’s do this.

Tex, who never met anyone he didn’t like, eagerly bolted out the door to meet his new friend.

Dammit, Tex, he muttered. We were supposed to play it cool, remember?

As he climbed out of the truck, he put on his hat and pulled off his work shirt. After spending so much time in the barn today, he figured he looked nowhere near presentable, but oh well.

She had walked around the front