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From HOME TO TEXAS
Divorcee Tara Hastings has come from California to Texas at her brother’s request to help restore a
neglected ranch house. But when it comes to hard labor, Tara discovers a good man is hard to find—
until the footloose Grady McKinney shows up.
Grady quickly charms her son, Del, and, very much against her will, Tara herself. But Tara knows
that she and Del are too emotionally vulnerable to get involved with this light-hearted rover.
Here (slightly abbreviated) is the scene in which Grady shows up for his second full day of work.
*******
Friday morning was sunny and bright, so warm that Tara opened the kitchen windows and back door
to air out the biting scent of disinfectant. She’d been up since six AM, cleaning walls.
When Grady pulled up in his borrowed truck, her heart beat abnormally fast—stupidly fast, she
scolded herself.
Del pushed his empty cereal bowl aside, shoved back his chair, and rushed to the screen door. He
would have run outside barefoot if she hadn’t snagged him by the back of his pajama shirt.
“Grady’s here!” the boy cried, nearly hopping in excitement.
Tara couldn’t deny it; she, too, was glad to see Grady McKinney, and she, too, was excited. But her
excitement was of a different sort than Del’s-- a dangerous sort. She’d hoped to keep her sexuality
in permanent hibernation. Now it was stirring into wakefulness, and she could not lull it back to
sleep.
Lono, the terrier, stood on his hind legs, forepaws against the screen. As the truck’s door opened, his
ears perked up. His tail began to wag.
Grady got out, and Tara’s heartbeat speeded up more perilously. He moved with that same easy,
almost arrogant grace. He wore a blue work shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the middle of his
forearms. The shirt was only partly buttoned, showing a white blaze of T-shirt beneath.
He’d pushed his hat back to a jaunty angle. She watched the play of his shoulders as he hoisted the
toolbox from the truck bed. He ambled toward the house, carrying it as easily as if it were a child’s
lunch box.
When he saw her and Del and Lono looking at him through the screen door, he grinned. That white
smile, with its deep dimples, gave Tara a flutter deep in her stomach, a warmth and a tingling. He
waved, and Del waved back wildly.
“Hi, Grady! Hi, Grady! Hi, Grady!”
Lono’s tail flailed like a mad metronome. Tara raised her hand and waggled her fingers slightly,
almost against her will. In answer to Grady’s smile, she couldn’t keep back one of her own, small
and shy.
She unlocked the screen door and swung it open. Lono bounded out and began doing the Lono dance
around Grady’s boots. He pranced and capered and wagged.
Grady knelt and petted him, which made the dog lay his ears back in pleasure and then lean against
Grady’s legs in a near swoon. Grady laughed. “I wish I got welcomed everyplace like this.” He
stoked Lono’s back a final time, rumpled his ears, and stood.
Tara backed up carefully so that she would not accidentally touch him as he entered the kitchen. She
held her breath as he passed her, Lono again gamboling around his feet.
Del tugged at his sleeve. “Hi, Grady. Look at my pajamas. They got rocket ships on them. They’
re going to infinity and beyond.”
Grady looked him over and gave an appreciative nod. “Awesome.”
“Did you bring me a cookie?”
“Del!” Tara, embarrassed, put her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t—“
“It’s okay,” Grady said, smiling again. “We made a deal. Yup, sport, I brought you a cookie.” He
glanced at the kitchen table, with its dishes and pitcher of orange juice. He raised an eyebrow
questioningly. “You finished your breakfast?”
“Yes,” Del said, still clutching his sleeve. He made a face. “Even the prunes. Mom makes me eat
prunes. She says they help me make poopies.”
“Del!” Tara’s face burned, but Grady chuckled deep in his throat. “Your mom knows a lot of
interesting stuff.” He turned to Tara, merriment in his eyes, and she blushed more hotly. “Is it
okay? To give him the cookie?”
“I—I guess so.”
He reached into the pocket of his work shirt and drew out the cookie, neatly wrapped in waxed
paper. “Here, champ.”
Del took it eagerly.
“Say thank you,” Tara told him.
“Fank oo,” Del said, his mouth already full.
“You’re welcome.” Grady tousled the boy’s blond hair, then slipped a sideways glance at Tara. He
really did have, she thought, the darkest brown eyes she’d ever seen.
“What are my orders for the day, boss lady? Start with painting the kitchen? Or patch the roof?”
“Start with the shingles.” Her voice came out aloof and falsely bright. “Then you can get on with
the kitchen. Think you can do it all in one day?”
He gave the room a thoughtful glance, then nodded. “If I can start in here before noon—maybe. I
can get it close to done.”
“If you go on the roof, can I go with you?” Del’s mouth was smeared with chocolate, and the cookie
had vanished.
“No way,” Grady said, but his voice was kind. “You have to be old enough to grow whiskers to go
up on a roof like this one. It’s steep.”
Tara touched the boy’s back. “Go, go wash your face and change your clothes. I laid them out on
your dresser for you.”
“I can dress myself.” Del thrust out his chest proudly. Then a frown puckered his brow. “Except
for my shoes. I can’t tie my shoes yet.”
Grady flashed his grin. “That’s why cowboys wear boots. So we don’t have to tie our shoes.
Okay, go mind your mother.”
Del sped off in his blue pajamas, Lono cantering at his heels.
Grady turned to Tara and pulled his hat brim to a more serious angle. “I hear you’re invited to Lynn’s
tonight.”
Her heartbeat dashed into high speed again. She did her best to pretend that tonight hadn’t been on
her mind. “Yes. I guess we are.”
“My family’s invited, too,” Grady said. “Including me. Would you rather I didn’t come?”
The question made her blink with surprise. “If you have other plans—“
“I don’t. I thought you might feel awkward. Having to socialize with the hired help.”
She lifted her chin. “I won’t feel anything, one way or the other.” Because that sounded lofty, even
snobbish, she added, “You’re hired help, but you’re good help. And you’re also my--our neighbor.”
The corners of his mouth turned up, almost mockingly. “And I’ll try to be a good neighbor. So,
neighbor, what are you doing today? If I can ask?”
She shrugged as if she felt perfectly normal. “I keep scrubbing walls. Then I’m going to pry up the
linoleum in the laundry room.”
A crease appeared between his brows. “Tearing out flooring’s not a job for a woman. I’ll do it.”
“I’ve done it before. I’m pretty strong.”
His eyes swept her body, head to toe and back. “I can tell you’re strong. You just shouldn’t have to
do that kind of work. And all this scrubbing.” He gestured at the kitchen walls. “You don’t even
wear rubber gloves. You’ll ruin your hands.”
She smiled wryly. “It’s too late. They’re already ruined. Do these look like the hands of a lady?”
She held up a hand, turning it so he could see the rough skin, the broken nails, the scars. Her ex-
husband had always criticized her hands. “Why don’t you stop working with those damned horses so
much,” he’d say, “Why don’t you get a real manicure?”
But Grady raised his hand as if he meant to take hers. The movement was so slow, it was hypnotic.
Her breath seized up in her chest.
Both of them watched his hand rise toward hers as if it had a will of its own, and he had no control
to stop it. And she seemed to have no power to move hers from his approaching touch.
They both watched, spellbound, as his fingers approached hers. The action lasted perhaps only two
seconds, yet seemed to stretch out tantalizing long, as if in slow motion.
Then both Tara and Grady snapped back to reality. He mustn’t touch her. She mustn’t let him.
His hand jerked back as if stung and fell to his side. She snatched hers away and clenched it tightly
against her waist. He eased back from her slightly. She did the same from him. She dropped her
gaze guiltily.
But he said softly, “Yes. To me they look like the hands of a lady.”
She clenched her hand more tightly still, not meeting his eyes. She did not dare. Something was
happening here, whether she wanted it to or not.
Divorcee Tara Hastings has come from California to Texas at her brother’s request to help restore a
neglected ranch house. But when it comes to hard labor, Tara discovers a good man is hard to find—
until the footloose Grady McKinney shows up.
Grady quickly charms her son, Del, and, very much against her will, Tara herself. But Tara knows
that she and Del are too emotionally vulnerable to get involved with this light-hearted rover.
Here (slightly abbreviated) is the scene in which Grady shows up for his second full day of work.
*******
Friday morning was sunny and bright, so warm that Tara opened the kitchen windows and back door
to air out the biting scent of disinfectant. She’d been up since six AM, cleaning walls.
When Grady pulled up in his borrowed truck, her heart beat abnormally fast—stupidly fast, she
scolded herself.
Del pushed his empty cereal bowl aside, shoved back his chair, and rushed to the screen door. He
would have run outside barefoot if she hadn’t snagged him by the back of his pajama shirt.
“Grady’s here!” the boy cried, nearly hopping in excitement.
Tara couldn’t deny it; she, too, was glad to see Grady McKinney, and she, too, was excited. But her
excitement was of a different sort than Del’s-- a dangerous sort. She’d hoped to keep her sexuality
in permanent hibernation. Now it was stirring into wakefulness, and she could not lull it back to
sleep.
Lono, the terrier, stood on his hind legs, forepaws against the screen. As the truck’s door opened, his
ears perked up. His tail began to wag.
Grady got out, and Tara’s heartbeat speeded up more perilously. He moved with that same easy,
almost arrogant grace. He wore a blue work shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the middle of his
forearms. The shirt was only partly buttoned, showing a white blaze of T-shirt beneath.
He’d pushed his hat back to a jaunty angle. She watched the play of his shoulders as he hoisted the
toolbox from the truck bed. He ambled toward the house, carrying it as easily as if it were a child’s
lunch box.
When he saw her and Del and Lono looking at him through the screen door, he grinned. That white
smile, with its deep dimples, gave Tara a flutter deep in her stomach, a warmth and a tingling. He
waved, and Del waved back wildly.
“Hi, Grady! Hi, Grady! Hi, Grady!”
Lono’s tail flailed like a mad metronome. Tara raised her hand and waggled her fingers slightly,
almost against her will. In answer to Grady’s smile, she couldn’t keep back one of her own, small
and shy.
She unlocked the screen door and swung it open. Lono bounded out and began doing the Lono dance
around Grady’s boots. He pranced and capered and wagged.
Grady knelt and petted him, which made the dog lay his ears back in pleasure and then lean against
Grady’s legs in a near swoon. Grady laughed. “I wish I got welcomed everyplace like this.” He
stoked Lono’s back a final time, rumpled his ears, and stood.
Tara backed up carefully so that she would not accidentally touch him as he entered the kitchen. She
held her breath as he passed her, Lono again gamboling around his feet.
Del tugged at his sleeve. “Hi, Grady. Look at my pajamas. They got rocket ships on them. They’
re going to infinity and beyond.”
Grady looked him over and gave an appreciative nod. “Awesome.”
“Did you bring me a cookie?”
“Del!” Tara, embarrassed, put her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t—“
“It’s okay,” Grady said, smiling again. “We made a deal. Yup, sport, I brought you a cookie.” He
glanced at the kitchen table, with its dishes and pitcher of orange juice. He raised an eyebrow
questioningly. “You finished your breakfast?”
“Yes,” Del said, still clutching his sleeve. He made a face. “Even the prunes. Mom makes me eat
prunes. She says they help me make poopies.”
“Del!” Tara’s face burned, but Grady chuckled deep in his throat. “Your mom knows a lot of
interesting stuff.” He turned to Tara, merriment in his eyes, and she blushed more hotly. “Is it
okay? To give him the cookie?”
“I—I guess so.”
He reached into the pocket of his work shirt and drew out the cookie, neatly wrapped in waxed
paper. “Here, champ.”
Del took it eagerly.
“Say thank you,” Tara told him.
“Fank oo,” Del said, his mouth already full.
“You’re welcome.” Grady tousled the boy’s blond hair, then slipped a sideways glance at Tara. He
really did have, she thought, the darkest brown eyes she’d ever seen.
“What are my orders for the day, boss lady? Start with painting the kitchen? Or patch the roof?”
“Start with the shingles.” Her voice came out aloof and falsely bright. “Then you can get on with
the kitchen. Think you can do it all in one day?”
He gave the room a thoughtful glance, then nodded. “If I can start in here before noon—maybe. I
can get it close to done.”
“If you go on the roof, can I go with you?” Del’s mouth was smeared with chocolate, and the cookie
had vanished.
“No way,” Grady said, but his voice was kind. “You have to be old enough to grow whiskers to go
up on a roof like this one. It’s steep.”
Tara touched the boy’s back. “Go, go wash your face and change your clothes. I laid them out on
your dresser for you.”
“I can dress myself.” Del thrust out his chest proudly. Then a frown puckered his brow. “Except
for my shoes. I can’t tie my shoes yet.”
Grady flashed his grin. “That’s why cowboys wear boots. So we don’t have to tie our shoes.
Okay, go mind your mother.”
Del sped off in his blue pajamas, Lono cantering at his heels.
Grady turned to Tara and pulled his hat brim to a more serious angle. “I hear you’re invited to Lynn’s
tonight.”
Her heartbeat dashed into high speed again. She did her best to pretend that tonight hadn’t been on
her mind. “Yes. I guess we are.”
“My family’s invited, too,” Grady said. “Including me. Would you rather I didn’t come?”
The question made her blink with surprise. “If you have other plans—“
“I don’t. I thought you might feel awkward. Having to socialize with the hired help.”
She lifted her chin. “I won’t feel anything, one way or the other.” Because that sounded lofty, even
snobbish, she added, “You’re hired help, but you’re good help. And you’re also my--our neighbor.”
The corners of his mouth turned up, almost mockingly. “And I’ll try to be a good neighbor. So,
neighbor, what are you doing today? If I can ask?”
She shrugged as if she felt perfectly normal. “I keep scrubbing walls. Then I’m going to pry up the
linoleum in the laundry room.”
A crease appeared between his brows. “Tearing out flooring’s not a job for a woman. I’ll do it.”
“I’ve done it before. I’m pretty strong.”
His eyes swept her body, head to toe and back. “I can tell you’re strong. You just shouldn’t have to
do that kind of work. And all this scrubbing.” He gestured at the kitchen walls. “You don’t even
wear rubber gloves. You’ll ruin your hands.”
She smiled wryly. “It’s too late. They’re already ruined. Do these look like the hands of a lady?”
She held up a hand, turning it so he could see the rough skin, the broken nails, the scars. Her ex-
husband had always criticized her hands. “Why don’t you stop working with those damned horses so
much,” he’d say, “Why don’t you get a real manicure?”
But Grady raised his hand as if he meant to take hers. The movement was so slow, it was hypnotic.
Her breath seized up in her chest.
Both of them watched his hand rise toward hers as if it had a will of its own, and he had no control
to stop it. And she seemed to have no power to move hers from his approaching touch.
They both watched, spellbound, as his fingers approached hers. The action lasted perhaps only two
seconds, yet seemed to stretch out tantalizing long, as if in slow motion.
Then both Tara and Grady snapped back to reality. He mustn’t touch her. She mustn’t let him.
His hand jerked back as if stung and fell to his side. She snatched hers away and clenched it tightly
against her waist. He eased back from her slightly. She did the same from him. She dropped her
gaze guiltily.
But he said softly, “Yes. To me they look like the hands of a lady.”
She clenched her hand more tightly still, not meeting his eyes. She did not dare. Something was
happening here, whether she wanted it to or not.
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