Chapter One
He wasn’t supposed to be here.
Christina slid beers to two customers in the bar Friday night, barely paying attention when they told her to keep the change as her tip. She didn’t notice anything—not the hot, swirling air, thumping music, loud talking, and laughing of the patrons.
Grant Campbell had just walked in.
Not alone. Grant was never alone. If he wasn’t with his brothers, he had women with him, usually more than one.
Tonight, it was three. Two wore their hair long, one had cropped it short and cute. All three wore jeans that might slide from their slim hips any second, tops that were so tight they might have been painted on.
They were beautiful, of course, in that blond, smooth-faced Texas way. Why was it that every woman who followed Grant around was a walking cliché?
Except Christina, of course. She had black hair that curled and would never lie straight, a body with more cushioning than she liked, and her dad’s nose. You’re a Farrell, honey, her dad liked to say. No denying it. He said it proudly, because he loved her, but Christine had long ago realized she’d never be petite.
The girls with Grant were shrimpy. Skinny, except for breasts that couldn’t be real. No woman was a perfect right angle like that.
The young women hung on him, fighting for which two would have his arms around them. Grant was grinning, the idiot, loving the attention.
Other men shouted hello to him or gave him looks of envy. But of course, Grant was a trick rider and a movie stuntman, which was near enough to movie star for the folks of River County.
Grant got the buckle bunnies to settle down at a table, while he turned to approach the bar.
He stopped between one beat and the next, his blue eyes stilling as his gaze fell on Christina. He hadn’t realized she’d be here tonight.
Then he came on. Grant didn’t lose his smile, didn’t look the least apologetic. He was well-loved in Riverbend, this was Friday night, and this was Riverbend’s only bar. He had every right to be there.
Christina could have turned aside and let the other bartender wait on him. She could have slipped out to the tables she was watching, pretending she never saw him. Instead, she made herself step to the bar and give him a neutral look.
“Hey, Grant. What can I get you?”
His eyes flickered. Christina would not—absolutely would not—think about how he’d used her polite inquiry the first time he’d walked in here when he’d been twenty-one to get her to go out with him.
What can I get you?
You, he’d said with a grin. Or your phone number. Or you meeting me at the coffee shop tomorrow.
Christina got propositioned every night, often in similar phrases. But Grant had turned on his Campbell charm, his beautiful blue eyes warm, and Christina had found herself falling for him.
She’d known Grant and his brothers most of her life. She’d gone to school with him, but he was three years younger than she was, and when they’d been kids, she’d barely noticed him.
In the time between high school and his first legal entrance into the bar in Riverbend, he’d sure grown up. He’d become tall, deep-voiced, and hard-muscled, tough from all the riding and stunt work he did.
In the years following, while Grant and Christina had dated, then moved in together, Grant had grown up even more. Now he was a hot, hard-bodied man, successful, handsome, well-off . . . And he still had that kick-ass grin that had every woman in the county falling at his feet.
The frozen moment passed. Grant pretended to relax. “Four beers. Whatever’s on tap tonight. Oh, make one of them a light beer.”
“Watching your weight?” Christina asked as she lifted four mugs between her fingers, arranged them in front of her, and positioned the first one under the tap.
Grant decided not to answer. “What are you doing here tonight?” he asked. “Thought it was Bailey’s bachelorette party. Male strippers, and everything.” He didn’t meet her gaze when he said male strippers.
“Starts later. I came in to help out a little.” Christina thumped one beer to the bar, swiftly wiping up the foam that spilled out. “What about you? It’s Adam’s bachelor party tonight too.”
Grant shrugged. “Heading there. My friends got thirsty.”
Christina didn’t reply, especially since one of his “friends” now sauntered up to the bar to lean beside him. She was the short-haired one, and had big green eyes framed with so much mascara Christina was surprise they didn’t gum together.
“We’re always thirsty,” the young woman said, giving Christina a confident smile. “Keeping up with Grant is exhausting.”
Grant’s and Christina’s gazes met. Christina saw Grant’s eyes soften and stop short of rolling. He knew the girl was a bubblehead, and he knew Christina knew it too.
Christina and Grant shared a tiny moment, the two of them connected, the deep friendship they’d formed once upon a time showing itself for a brief space of time.
The glass at the tap overflowed, and the moment broke. Christina snapped the handle up, poured out the excess foam, and shook the beer off her hand.
“That’s one light, right?” she said as she thunked the glass to the bar and moved the next glass under the light beer tap.
“For me,” the short-haired girl said. “I’m trying to lose twenty pounds. I’ve already lost six.”
She waited for Christina’s praise. Christina swept her a critical look, and decided that if the woman lost even one more pound, she’d be skeletal.
“Good for you,” Christina said without inflection.
Grant said nothing. She remembered when he’d once said, I don’t like skinny women. You never know when something sharp is going to jam you in the eye.
He caught Christina’s gaze, and another flicker passed between them.
Christina set the third mug on the bar. Grant grabbed that one and another and shoved them into the girl’s hands. “You take those back for me, sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll be right there.”
The young woman gave him a sly look. “Better hurry.” She shot him a wide smile, then sashayed away, raising the glasses at her friends.
“You taking them with you to Adam’s party?” Christina asked as she filled the last mug. “Are they old enough? I should card them.”
“You know me better than that, Christina,” Grant said, losing his smile. “At least, you should.”
“No.” Christina finished the last beer and thumped the mug to the bar. She printed out his bill and set it next to him. “I don’t think I ever did know you.”
Grants brows slammed together. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and yanked out a couple of twenties. “Keep the change,” he said.
“No.” Christina swept up the bills. “I told you before, I don’t want tips from you.”
Grant stilled. Last fall at the rodeo grounds, Christina had worked a booth serving drinks. When Grant had bought some beer then tried to drop a twenty into her tip jar, Christina had yanked out the money and burned it.
Grant’s gaze met Christina’s again, anger sparking deep in his blue eyes sparking. “Just keep it,” he snapped, then he grabbed the last beer and walked away.
Christina pretended not to watch his very fine ass as she counted out the change and slapped it back on the bar. Pretended, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Grant was tall, broad-shouldered, every part of him good—back or front. Damn it.
She swung around, grabbed dirty glasses from the other side of the bar, and started furiously washing them.
When she turned back, it was to see Grant sitting at the little table with all three women half on his lap, the four of them laughing like maniacs.
Shit.
“Hey, you’ve got a tip here,” a deep voice rumbled at her. Ray Malory’s tall body blocked Grant and his sweeties, his hard face softened with a look of welcome.
“Yeah.” Christina felt a frisson of relief. She ignored the money and rested her arms on the bar, sen
ding Ray a smile. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Just got back. Championships in Lubbock this week. I told you about that.”
“Oh, I know. It just seemed like a long time.”
Ray liked that. He gave her a warm look with his green eyes. “If I’d known you missed me so bad, I would have tried to come home sooner.”
Christina laughed. “No, you wouldn’t. The day you leave a rodeo early is the day you’re done.”
Ray had to grin. “How about a beer to celebrate? Hurry it up, barmaid. I tell you, the service in this place is terrible.”
“You’re a shit.” Christina felt a little better as she turned to pour him a beer. At least somebody was interested in talking to her. She didn’t have to giggle and jiggle to catch Ray’s attention.
The warmth that began vanished as soon as she turned to see Grant throw his head back and laugh.
Christina loved the way Grant laughed. He opened himself all the way, no holding back. He was a warm-hearted man, liking everyone, wanting the world to like him. Not a mean bone in him.
Yet, he could fight with the best of them. His arguments with Christina had been loud, long, and passionate. The making up afterward had been just as passionate.
One of the young women managed to plant herself all the way on his lap, take his face in her hands, and kiss him on the mouth.
The bottom dropped out of Christina’s world. She set the beer down, and Ray said something to her, but she couldn’t hear. She could only see the young woman with short hair kissing Grant, and Grant’s big hands coming around her waist, holding her steady, just as he’d held Christina for so long, never letting her fall.
“Christina.”
Christina dragged her attention back to Ray, who wasn’t smiling anymore. He turned his head to follow Christina’s line of sight, then looked at her again, his mouth a grim line.
“Why don’t you call me when you’re over it?” Ray shoved a bill onto the bar—way over-tipping, as Grant had—and got himself off the barstool.
Christina’s heart squeezed with remorse. “Aw, come on, Ray. Wait.”
“Listen, baby, I don’t need to worry about who you’re thinking about when you’re with me. You give me a call when you decide.” Ray swept up his beer and walked away, raising his hand to friends across the room.
“Damn it.” Christina forced herself not to look at Grant, but the double-kick of Ray walking away had her gut clenching.
Ray was a good guy—he didn’t deserve to be hurt. He was also very attractive, with his dark hair and sinful green eyes.
But in the end, he wasn’t Grant. He’d never be what Grant had been to her, and Ray knew it. Damn, damn, damn.
“You need to go,” the other bartender, Rosie, said to her. Rosie’s eyes twinkled. “Your sister’s party, remember? Go—have fun. I got it.”
“Thanks, Rosie. Here.” Christina gave Rosie the tab and money Ray had left. “Keep the tip for yourself. I gotta go.”
Christina signed herself out on the computer, gave Rosie a brief hug, and took up the change she’d slapped on the bar for Grant.
On her way out, she stopped at Grant’s table. The short-haired woman, still on Grant’s lap, looked triumphant, but the other two were waiting to cut her out. Grant looked indifferent—if Christina and the rest of the world wanted to watch him with other women, it was their problem.
“You left your change,” Christina said to him. She dropped it on the table between the drinks. “Y’all have a good night.”
She walked away. If she swayed her butt a little on purpose, gaining the attention of every male in the place, who cared?
Grant sure didn’t. Christina’s heart ached, but she made herself walk away. They were done, had been done, and there was nothing more to it. She had to get on with her life.
No matter how freaking hard that was going to be.
End of Excerpt
Mrs. Ward’s Harvest Apple Pie
Harvest pies can vary depending on the season, from just apples, to apples and nuts, to a mixture of nuts, to pumpkin/squash and sweet potatoes, or a mixture of any of the above. This pie brings together juicy apples and the crunch of pecans. If you prefer a different nut, try walnuts or toasted almonds.
Makes one 9- or 10-inch pie
Ingredients
Apples: Six to eight medium to large apples (Note: tart ones such as Granny Smith are best, but use your favorites or what you can easily find. I used Washington Braeburn in one pie as I tested this recipe, and it was incredibly delicious! A mixture of apple types works well too.)
Juice of one lemon
Brown sugar: 1 cup
Flour: 4 Tbsp
Cinnamon: 1 1/2 tsp
Nutmeg: 1/2 tsp
Cloves: 1/4 tsp
Pinch of salt (say 1/4 tsp)
Butter: 2 Tbsp
Vanilla: 1/2 tsp
Additional all-purpose flour for flouring board and rolling pin
Chopped pecans (about 1/2 cup or as many as you like), or pecan halves
To finish:
Butter: 1 Tbsp, melted
Cinnamon sugar (one part cinnamon to one part sugar—you can make a lot of this, shake it up in a jar, and keep to sprinkle on toast or ice cream)
Crust
This pie uses two crusts—one bottom, one top. Crusts can be store-bought (refrigerated or frozen), or homemade (see Homemade Crust instructions below). If frozen, thaw and keep in refrigerator as you prepare the apple mixture.
Equipment
Pie pan 9 or 10 inch
For filling:
One large glass bowl, one small bowl (of any type)
Saucepan (large, heavy-bottomed)
Measuring cups and spoons
Large spoon for mixing
For homemade crust:
One large glass or stainless steel bowl
Pastry blender (substitute two table knives or forks, or fork and knife)Marble bread board (or clean and lightly floured counter top) Note: marble or counter top keeps pie dough cool as it’s worked
Rolling pin
Instructions for Filling
1. Squeeze juice from lemon into large glass bowl.
2. Peel and core apples. Slice into thin (approx 1/8 inch) slices and toss with lemon juice in the big bowl as you go.
3. In a separate bowl, mix brown sugar, flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, optional cloves, and salt.
4. Melt 2 Tbsp butter in a large, heavy saucepan. Add apples and turn to coat.
5. Add sugar/flour mixture and vanilla and toss with apples in the pan to coat. Sauté apple mixture in the pan for another 2 minutes on medium low heat. Remove from heat and let cool.
6. For homemade crust only: As apple mixture cools, divide pie dough in half (refrigerating one half for top crust). Using floured rolling pin, roll out bottom pie crust on a lightly floured marble board or lightly floured counter, working quickly—roll in one direction, turn dough, roll in one direction, etc.
7. Once dough is rolled out into a large, thin circle, fold crust loosely in half, then in half again. Lift dough to middle of pie pan, and unfold.
Press crust lightly into pie pan—roll rolling pin across the top of the pan to cut off excess crust. 8
8. For all crusts: Prick crust all over with a fork and set in the refrigerator for at least 20 minutes.
9. Preheat oven to 350 F. Set oven rack to lower third of oven.
10. Remove crust from refrigerator (homemade or store bought). Spoon in apple mixture, spreading evenly.
11. Sprinkle 1/2 cup chopped pecans (or more to taste) over the apples. If using pecan halves, lay as many as you want over the top of the apples.
12. Roll out second crust and lay over apple mixture in pie pan. Crimp edges to seal (press them lightly together). Make slashes in the top crust so steam can escape.
13. Brush top crust with melted butter and sprinkle cinnamon sugar over crust.
14. Bake in a pre-heated 350 oven for 45-50 minutes. Pie is done when top crus
t is golden brown and apple juices bubble from the top.
15. Remove from oven and cool on a wire cooling rack.
Pie is good served warm, and equally good cold the second day, when flavors have melded.
Homemade Crust
Pie crust is tricky, but I’ve had very good results from mixing two parts all-purpose flour with one part cake flour.
For two crusts (top and bottom)
1 cup all-purpose flour + 1/2 cup cake flour
1 Tbsp sugar
12 Tbsp butter (1 1/2 sticks)
2 Tbsp shortening (optional—Note: If not using shortening, add another 1 Tbsp of butter)
1/2 cup of ice-cold water (measure out 1/2 cup of water and add ice to it)
Pinch of salt
Additional all-purpose flour for flouring board
1. Mix together flours, sugar, and salt
2. Slice butter into small cubes with a table knife, working quickly. If butter warms or gets slick during the process, place it back into refrigerator to cool a few minutes before proceeding.
3. Add cut-up butter and 2 Tbsp of shortening, if using, to flour mixture.
4. Using a pastry blender or two knives or forks, cut cubes of butter plus shortening the into flour mixture until the butter and flour are coarsely blended. The mixture should look like small peas, and a pinch should just hold together.
5. While stirring mixture with a fork, add most of the ice water (not the ice). Mix until the dough just holds together. If too wet, add flour, a tablespoon at a time, and mix. If too dry, add dribbles of water.
6. Dough should just come together when squeezed in your hand, but not be too gooey or too dry and ragged.
7. Working quickly, turn dough out onto clean, lightly floured counter or lightly floured marble board. Press the dough across the board with your hand to incorporate any loose pieces, then gather into a ball.
8. Flatten dough into small disk with your hands, place into a plastic bag (gallon zip-closure bags work nicely), and put into the refrigerator.
9. Let the dough chill at least 30 minutes before using. Proceed to #6 in Instructions for Filling, above.
Enjoy!
Books by Jennifer Ashley
Riding Hard series