Some things never change. And some things change everything.
The TripleHorn Brand
, Book 2
Gabe Triplehorn can think of no better getaway from his heavy responsibilities at the ranch, than to go back to a time and place where he didn’t have a care in the world. When there was just a campground, a river and a girl.
When he gets to Red Hawk Landing, the campground and the river are still there. He just never expected the girl would still be there too. Only now she runs the place.
Lena Twohig can think of no better place to raise her young son than the family-owned campground that holds so many memories. Especially the romance with Gabe that lit up one long-ago summer like a wild electrical storm. Now he’s back, with a ranch-hardened body she knows she shouldn’t want so badly.
No amount of lies or the years that have passed can tame this tidal wave of passion.
Product WarningsContains a flash flood of passion between a cowboy who knows how to pitch a tent and a woman who isn’t afraid to get a little dirty.
Copyright © 2013 Delilah Devlin
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication
Gabe had spent the two weeks in cutoff jeans and barefoot. And he’d taken a shine to the old man’s granddaughter, Lena.
She’d come to spend the summer away from the city. She made breakfast every morning for the guests and then lent a hand with the chores, working side by side with Gabe.
Even though she was a couple of years older than he was, she’d been shy at first. Maybe she’d felt those two years placed him in the do-not-flirt-with zone, but he’d been persistent. Then one late afternoon, a couple of days before his dad and Colt had shown up to take him home, he and Lena Twohig had shed their clothes for a dip in the stream. For one sparkling afternoon, he hadn’t just been romanticizing about being in love. He’d sunk his toes in the mud and pebbles and fallen hard for a woman who’d taught him what real passion meant.
So what the hell was he doing now, heading back there? It was doubtful the old man was still alive. Even more so that the woman would still be there. She’d had plans for college, another life to begin in Dallas. But still, when he’d spoken to Zuri, his first instinct had been to go back there. The light, expectant glow that had sustained him for most of the trip began to fade.
At a bend in the road, he saw the sign nearly hidden by bushes because it tilted at an angle. Red Hawk Landing. Open Memorial Day to Labor Day.
The crackled, worn paint on the leaning sign didn’t bode well, but he took the turn anyway, his truck bumping along an uneven gravel trail that worked its way down a steep decline, heading toward the river’s edge.
When he made the clearing, he heaved a sigh of relief. The place was still in operation. Kids in cutoffs and swimming suits took running dives from the pier. Cars and pickups were parked in front of roughhewn wooden cabins.
He hoped like hell there was still one vacancy left for him and pulled up in front of the small lodge house. The place was clean but showing its age. Looked like the owner needed another handy man to help with a broken spoke or two in the wraparound porch and a window frame that appeared to be rotting away.
He put his truck in park and pushed down on the handle to open the door, but halted the moment she stepped onto the porch.
Lena Twohig. Sweet Jesus.
His breath caught, nostalgia blurring her appearance in a golden light that masked the years etched lightly into her features.
Sure, her figure was a tad fuller, her roots darker, but the feeling he got just looking at her as she lifted a hand to guard her eyes against the brilliant sunshine was exactly the same as it had been all those years ago.
A slow throbbing built in his groin. His body stiffened, going on alert. His gaze swept her womanly frame again, snagging on the generous swell of her bosom, the long, well-toned legs displayed beneath the hem of her shorts. Ten years had been kind indeed.