until she giggled.

It was a gorgeous day to ride, cold but sunny, the air carrying the whiff of pastures and animals and the light earthy fragrance you can never isolate but is really the smell of Texas itself.

Hardy and I were able to talk as we rode side by side, Carrington a little ahead of us on the pony.

"You've done well by her. honey." he told me. "Your mother would have been proud."

"I hope so." I looked at my sister, her hair done in a neat blond braid tied with a white ribbon. "She's wonderful, isn't she?"

"Wonderful." But Hardy was staring at me. "Marva told me some of what you've gone through. You've carried a lot on your shoulders, haven't you?"

I shrugged. It had been difficult at times, but in retrospect my burdens and struggles had been ordinary ones. So many women had to contend with much more. "The hardest part was right after Mama died. I don't think I had a full night's sleep in two years. I was working and taking classes and trying to do my best for Carrington. It seemed like everything was always half-done, we were never on time, I couldn't seem to get anything right. But eventually everything got easier."

"Tell me how you got involved with the Travises."

"Which one?" I asked without thinking, and then my cheeks heated.

Hardy smiled. "Let's start with the old man."

As we talked, I had the sense of uncovering something precious and long-buried, fully formed. Our conversation was a process of removing layers, some of them easily dusted away. Other layers, requiring chisels or axes, were left alone for now. We revealed as much as we dared about what had happened during the years that separated us. But it wasn't what I had expected, being with Hardy again. There was something in me that remained stubbornly locked away, as if I were afraid to let out the emotion I had harbored for so long.

The afternoon approached and Carrington became tired and hungry. We rode back to the barn and dismounted. I gave Carrington a handful of quarters to get a drink from a vending machine at the main building. She scampered off, leaving me alone with Hardy.

He stood looking at me for a moment. "Come here," he murmured, pulling me into the empty tack room. He kissed me gently, and I tasted dust, sun, skin-salt, and the years dissolved in a slow, sure rush of warmth. I had been waiting for him, for this, and it was just as sweet as I remembered. But as Hardy deepened the kiss, tried to take more, I pulled away with a nervous laugh.

"Sorry," I said breathlessly. "Sorry."

"It's all right." Hardy's eyes were vivid with heat, his voice reassuring. He gave me a quick grin. "Got carried away."

Despite the pleasure I took in Hardy's company, I was relieved when he took us back to River Oaks. I needed to retreat, to think, to let all this settle. Carrington was chattering happily in the back seat, about wanting to ride again, having her own horse someday,

Speculating on the best horse names.

"You've launched us into a whole new phase." I told Hardy. "Now we've gone from Barbie to horses."

Hardy grinned and spoke to Carrington. "You tell your big sister to call me whenever you want to ride, honey."

"I want to do it again tomorrow!"

"You have school tomorrow," I said, which made Carrington scowl until she remembered she could tell all her friends about the pony she'd ridden.

Hardy pulled up to the front of the house and helped us out.

Glancing at the garage, I saw Gage's car. He was almost never there on Sunday afternoons. My stomach did one of those funny flips that happens when you're on a roller-coaster ride, heading into the first big drop. "Gage is here," I said.

Hardy appeared unruffled. "Of course he is."

Taking Hardy's hand, Carrington walked her new friend to the door, talking a mile a minute, "...and this is our house, and I've got a bedroom upstairs with yellow striped paper on the walls, and that thing right there is a video camera so we can look at people before we decide to let 'em in—"

"None of it's ours, baby," I said uncomfortably. "It's the Travises' house."

Ignoring me. Carrington pushed the doorbell and mugged for the camera, making Hardy laugh.

The door opened, and there was Gage, dressed in jeans and a white polo shirt. My pulse rioted as his gaze went first to me, then to my companion.

"Gage!" Carrington shrieked as if she hadn't seen him in months. She flew to him and clamped her arms around his waist. "That's our old friend Hardy—he took us riding, and I was on a black pony named Prince, and I rode like a real cowgirl!"

Gage smiled down at her, his arm clasping her narrow shoulders securely.

Glancing at Hardy, I saw the glint of speculation in his eyes. It was something he hadn't expected, the attachment between my sister and Gage. He extended his hand with an easy smile. "Hardy Gates."

"Gage Travis."

They shook hands firmly, with a brief, nearly imperceptible contest that ended in a draw. Gage stood with Carrington still hanging around his waist, his face expressionless. I shoved my hands in my pockets. The tiny junctures between my fingers had gone damp. Both men seemed so relaxed, and yet the air was punctured with conflict.

It was startling to see them together. Hardy had loomed so large in my memory for so long that I was surprised to realize Gage was equally tall, albeit leaner. They were different in almost every way, education, background, experience...Gage, who played by the rules he'd usually had a hand in making, and Hardy, who tossed out the rules like a handful of Texas redbacks if they didn't suit him. Gage, always the smartest one in the room, and Hardy, who had told me with a deceptively lazy smile that all he had to do was be smarter than the guy he was doing a deal with.