Dedication
Don, Stephen, Cody, & Caylee, thank you for always being my guiding light.
Jordyn, I feel you watching over me and I see you in the stars.
I love you. xoxo
* * *
A very heartfelt dedication to Jordyn’s Army.
To our family, friends, and book community, thank you for your love, support, and prayers over the last six years.
The love and strength shown for my daughter, Jordyn, and my entire family, will never be forgotten.
Chapter 1
Nash
Sweltering heat radiated off the Texas pavement. It wasn’t even ten o’clock in the morning and the mercury inched past ninety degrees. Nash darted across the busy street ducking into a coffee shop at the edge of town. Cool air conditioning came as relief to the stifling heat.
“Mornin’ Mr. Harris,” the girl working the register greeted with a flirtatious smile, eyeing him from head to toe.
“Mornin’ Laci.”
Tossing her long, strawberry mane to the side, she reached for a large paper cup, scribbling his routine order in black Sharpie. “You look so hot today, Mr. Harris. It’s going to be a scorcher.”
Ignoring the intended innuendo, he stated concisely, “I thought the soles of my boots might melt jogging across the street.”
Her tongue slipped over her bottom lip before tugging it between her teeth. “You should ditch that suit jacket, undo your tie, cool yourself down a bit.” Hopefulness twinkled in her eyes.
“Laci, honey, how many times do I have to tell you to holster that sweet charm of yours? There’s nothing here for you but trouble. You’re still in high school for Christ’s sake.”
“I’m eighteen now and I just graduated. I’m legal,” she added with a persistent grin.
“Legal or not, it’s morally wrong. You’re daddy’s only a few years older than me.”
It was a stretch, but the girl’s father went to school with Nash’s older brother Sam. Fort Worth was still considered a small town for those who’d lived there all their lives. The last thing he needed was a gun-toting father hunting him down like a wild boar or the distraction of a woman—especially a sugar baby.
“You need to find yourself…”
The vibration of his phone cut his friendly lecture short. Nash tossed her a polite nod and pulled the phone from his pocket, moving toward the pickup counter.
Dropping all pleasantries, his tone tripped from cordial to stern in a matter of seconds. “You got any news for me, Randy?”
“Yeah, I got news for you. If you’re paying me to keep tabs on the little gold digger, why the hell are you following her?”
“I’m not,” he insisted.
“Maybe you should stop flirting and pay attention to your surroundings.”
“Flirting? Where the hell are you?” Nash questioned, scanning the room filled with coffee lovers and Wi-Fi users.
“I’m right across the street in the white truck with dark tint.”
“She’s here?” His gaze rested on a twenty something year old woman with dark hair, dressed to the nines with an exorbitant amount of bling sitting alone at a table. “Gotcha. I see her.”
“That’s not her. Look to your right. Walker’s daughter is outside on the patio. She keeps lookin’ around like she’s waitin’ for someone.”
Another employee called out his name, delivering a steaming hot cup of coffee to the end of the counter. Nash reached for the cup, nonchalantly peering beyond the wall of glass, taking in the profile of the young woman standing beside a small circular table.
Grabbing a straw, he added two sugars, stirring mechanically as he observed her delicate fingers pinching the cotton fabric of her summer dress, pulling it away from her skin. Unable to see her face, his gaze inched up her long, tone legs, past her tiny waist, to the mass of chestnut hair piled on top of her head.
Aroused by curiosity, he moved closer to the glass door to get a better look. His head tilted a bit when she hinged at the waist, the hem of her dress brushing along the back of her thighs as she retrieved something from her bag.
Loose pieces of wavy dark hair sticking to the sun-kissed skin on her neck wafted in the humid breeze. The rich mahogany accentuated the colorful ink covering her arm from shoulder to wrist.
“Christ-all-mighty. That’s Walker’s daughter?” Nash murmured into the phone, more as a statement of shock than a question, inspecting the collage of intricate tattoos. “The old man’s probably rolling over in his grave right now.”
When Nash gave Randy the name and age of Ben Walker’s daughter ten days earlier in a desperate attempt to find out everything he could about the girl who stood between him and millions of barrels of crude oil, this was not what he expected to find.
Ember Thompson was absolutely beautiful.
Stunning.
Mouthwatering.
A low rumble of laughter cut through the phone. “Yeah, she’s a looker, all right. Great ass, legs for days, and a sweet rack too. My job as a P.I. gets more and more difficult every day.”
“I was referring to all the ink on her arm. Old man Walker would’ve hated it,” Nash said flatly, raising the cup to his mouth. “You sure that’s his girl?”
Stopping mid-sip, Nash’s eyes widened with interest watching her lift a Frappuccino to her mouth and slip the tip of her tongue beneath the clear domed lid, hunting for a taste of whipped cream.
“I’m positive, that’s her. Who would’ve ever thought Walker’s daughter would—”
The drumming of his erratic heartbeat drowned out Randy’s voice.
“Yeah, I gotta run, Randy. I’ll catch up with you later,” he rambled, ending the call abruptly with the swipe of his finger.
His eyes narrowed, watching intently as she removed her sunglasses, wiping the perspiration from the bridge of her nose. Raising the mirrored glasses toward the sun, their eyes collided.
Nash knew he should turn away, but stood there, paralyzed by a pair of gorgeous eyes stained the color of his favorite whiskey, staring straight back at him.
A ping of awareness spread over his skin, rolled through his gut, and tugged at his groin.
A pull so insistent, he couldn’t turn away.
Her honey-colored eyes lingered from head to toe, regarding him with lazy inspection before resting on his face. An easy smile smoothed over her soft, full lips.
He tipped his head, offering a polite nod.
Trouble.
She’s nothing but trouble.
Trouble you want nothing to do with, Nash.
Chapter 2
Ember
Sunshine beat down on Ember’s shoulders sitting outside a coffee house at the edge of Fort Worth. Rising to her feet, Ember inched further under the table umbrella, shielding herself from the harsh rays while waiting for her friend to arrive.
Reaching into her bag, she hunted for the accordion fan her mother slipped into her purse before leaving Austin, hoping to bring relief to the sticky heat gathering beneath the gauzy material of her hobo-chic dress.
Though born and raised in Austin, Ember had been living on the beach in Malibu the past several years. She shared a deep love for both cities but glancing down at the weather app on her phone reading 69 degrees in Malibu, she sure missed California.