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For my editor, Patience Smith, who definitely lived up to her name for this book!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Coming Next Month

Chapter One

Nicole Sawyer didn’t have to be psychic to know it wasn’t good when Brad began the conversation with, “We have to talk. ” Painful experience let her predict his next words. “This isn’t about you—it’s me. ”

At twenty-seven, Nic had been down this road enough to know when she was being dumped.

A few awkward but stiffly cordial minutes later, she stood on the porch of her neat frame home and watched Brad’s flashy red pickup disappear down the street of her quiet neighborhood. She was going to miss that truck, she thought wistfully. Its seats were comfortable, and the sound system was truly excellent. She had enjoyed riding around town in it, listening to the country music and classic rock they had both favored.

As for the driver…unfortunately their mutual tastes in music hadn’t been enough to keep them together. They’d been trying for almost eight months, on and off, to make it work. Brad had finally admitted defeat the day after she had canceled yet another date for work reasons.

She didn’t really need him, he had accused her regretfully. And it turned out that he needed to be needed.

Because she knew he was right, she hadn’t bothered to argue with him. Though he had tried to be tactful, he hadn’t been entirely accurate when he’d said it wasn’t her but him. It was always about her, she thought in resignation.

A car door slammed in the driveway next door, and she glanced that way.

She wondered fleetingly if he had a date, and if so, with whom. Not that it was any of her business, of course.

“Nic? Everything okay?” he called out.

Joel couldn’t have been more opposite from the long, lean, black-haired cowboy who had just driven away. Not particularly tall, he stood perhaps five feet ten, and his build was more sturdy than lanky. His hair was a shade somewhere between light and medium brown, and he kept it cut short because it tended to curl when it grew out. His eyes were hazel and his nose just a little snubbed, but he had a strong chin and a very nice mouth bracketed by shallow dimples.

Nic had once commented to her best friend, Aislinn Flaherty, that Joel reminded her a little of Matt Damon. Aislinn hadn’t seen the resemblance.

Because he was still waiting patiently for an answer, she prodded herself to smile and reply, “I’m fine, Joel. Thanks for asking. ”

Glancing in the direction in which the red truck had disappeared, he asked, “How’s Cowboy Brad?”

“Cowboy Brad,” she replied prosaically, “is history. ”