CHAPTER 94

Amy Jo Foster had loved Cord McKay her entire life.

It didn’t matter he was thirteen years her senior. Or he’d once dated her older sister.

Or his little sister was her best friend. She fell for him hard the day she’d fallen off her horse.

That hot, dusty afternoon teased the edges of her memory. She’d been clip-clopping along on the gravel road connecting the Foster and McKay ranches when a rattler spooked her pony and bucked her off. She’d twisted her ankle on the unexpected dismount, unable to scramble away from either the angry snake or the truck barreling toward her.

Her life flashed before her eyes.

But the tires on a big Ford dually locked up and the truck skidded to a stop. A young man jumped out, swooped in and picked her up. His work-roughed hands tenderly brushed rocks from her knees and wiped the tears from her dirty face. He carried her to the passenger side of his truck, burned rubber over the snake and drove her home, keeping hold of her hand as she sobbed.

Amy Jo had a