Tucker's Crossing. Marina Adair

      Chapter 1

      Sweet Plains, Texas

      “I could sue you for breach of contract.”

      “There was never a contract,” Shelby Lynn Harris countered, knowing her good friend was just blowing smoke. “I said I’d think about it.”

      “You said thanks for the generous offer to use my apartment and then went on and on about what a great friend I am,” Gina Echols argued, sinking into an enormous bite of her Blue Burger, the house specialty.

      The Bluebonnet Burger, Bar & Biscuit, known as The B-Cubed by locals, was still relatively quiet. It was eleven fifteen, too early for lunchers and not early enough for the hangover crowd. Which, considering the forthcoming topic of conversation and the town’s incessant penchant for prattle, made her relax a little.

      Every Wednesday when Shelby’s shift at the clinic ended, Gina insisted they meet here, in the all-in-one saloon, with its hull-covered floors, bar-top tables, and always-past-midnight lighting, whose motto was “Come for the burgers and beer, you’ll still be here come biscuits.” Gina claimed it was because the dive sat a block down from her office in the county courthouse, but Shelby knew better.

      “Yeah, the thanks was in regard to the offer, not me accepting it.”

      “It was a verbal agreement. It would hold up in court.”

      Gina had offered up her condo in Austin and Shelby had seriously considered it, but in the end decided that there was no way she was leaving. Located an hour north of Austin, and with a population of nine thousand, Sweet Plains was large enough to support its own courthouse, kids’ football league, and medical clinic, but small enough to feel safe.

      Shelby had lived in more than her share of towns in her thirty-one years, but this one was her favorite. Folks called you by name and cared about your well-being. It was a town that had book clubs and Fourth of July parades and had somehow become her home. Even more important, she intended for it to stay that way.

      “I’m guessing by the lack of makeup and the excess whine, Cody was a no-show?”

      “That’s okay, so were his brothers. I thought for sure Cody would come home after the reading of his dad’s will.” Shelby shrugged. “So what now? Plan B, right?” She tensed, ready for Gina to rip into her because, they both knew, there was no plan B.

      Gina had warned her that Cody wouldn’t come back and wasting time wishing otherwise was a lesson in insanity. But Shelby had, stupid as always when it came to him, waited, certain he would come home for his dad’s funeral and to do the right thing. But the time allotted in the will had come and, as of today, gone.

      Now Shelby had to admit—Cody Tucker wasn’t coming back.

      “This is where you tell me I was too stubborn and blew it.”

      “Mouth’s too full,” Gina mumbled around the bits of burger stretching her cheeks.

      “Maybe they’ll all just stay gone and there won’t be any problems.”

      “Or instead of sitting here, week after week, stressing out and ruining my lunch, you could . . . gee, I don’t know, maybe mail him the contract.”

      This time Gina wasn’t referring to alternative living arrangements; she was talking about the agreement that Silas, a year before he died, had insisted she have a lawyer draw up. Shelby had procrastinated and now the only Tucker who was on her side was dead. And the only Tucker who could help her had made it clear ten years ago that he never wanted to see her again.

      “What if he says no?”

      “That’s why you have to put it out there. It’s the only way to put this all to rest and move on.”

      “I doubt I could even find him.”

      “I call bullshit!” Gina’s eyes narrowed, assessing Shelby like a witness on the stand, her voice as severe as her tightly coifed bun. And right then, Shelby understood how her sweet friend had become one of the most feared prosecutors in the great state of Texas. “The man is sitting pretty in Austin, with a small fortune, mind you. And you’re here. Hiding out and driving a diesel. All you have to do is say the word and I’ll have his ass subpoenaed. Problem solved.”

      Shelby fiddled with the hem of her work scrubs. “That’s not how I want to handle this. There’s a right and wrong way to deal with Cody. If he feels cornered, he’ll just up and run before I get the chance to explain.”

      “Which would be different from your current situation, how?”

      Gina was right. After two years together, Cody finally opened up, let go of that control he clung so tightly to, and gave her the best night of her life. She’d been expecting a ring, but before she even had the chance to pluck her panties from the ceiling fan, he was bolting out the door and out of her life. Taking her heart with him. That was ten years ago.

      “Wow. You’re seriously upset.” Gina rested her elbows on the table. “I thought you said you were over him?”

      “I am,” she whispered, glancing around the diner, hoping it was the truth and knowing that if it wasn’t Gina would be able to tell.

      “You ready to settle your bill?” the proprietor of The B-Cubed, and the last woman in town you wanted on your bad side, cut in before Gina could call “bullshit” again. Mrs. McKinney’s voice was as sugary as sweet tea but the way her plump hands stabbed into her hips, she wasn’t asking, she was demanding.

      “Can I finish my food first?”

      “As long as you’re paying cash that should be fine.” Mrs. McKinney stuck out a hand, expecting payment immediately.

      “Should be fine?” Gina asked. “I’ve been coming here for thirty years. Since when do I have to pay cash? And before I finish eating?”

      “Since you seem to be having a problem with settling your debts.” Mrs. McKinney jerked her chin toward the window, her crop of white hair bouncing in the process.

      Gina looked through the generously stenciled panes, her eyes pinching into two pissed-off slits. “Oh no, you don’t!”

      Grabbing a butter knife, Gina threw her napkin on the counter and stalked out the door, the bell jingling angrily in her wake. Because there, across the main strip of road that went through the heart of Sweet Plains, next to Bub’s Feed & Tack and directly in front of the sheriff’s office—where everyone in town was already gathered and those who weren’t would soon hear about it—sat Gina’s red sports car about to be accosted by a dirty yellow tow truck. And next to the curb, holding a department-issued clipboard and weighing in at two hundred pounds of armed good looks, was Gina’s reason for eating at The B-Cubed. Sheriff Logan Miller.

      “Oh, boy.” Shelby scrambled out of the booth, grabbing her purse.

      Mrs. McKinney reached out for her arm. “The total is eighteen, ninety-four. Plus gratuity.”

      Shelby tossed a twenty on the table and, ignoring Mrs. McKinney’s reminder that twenty percent was the Southern way, raced out to stop Gina before she went from misdemeanor to felony with a deadly butter knife.

      A blast of hot air hit her as she walked outside. Crossing the street, she waved at Beatrice Brice, of Bea’s Quilting Barn. A handful of “howdy’s” and a “sun’s so hot it’s like a turkey on Thanksgiving out here” later and Shelby was at the scene of the soon-to-be crime.

      “You don’t even have enough cars to use up all the spaces, Logan, and you know it!” Gina accused.

      Logan focused on the task at hand, writing out a ticket in that little notebook of his, not even sparing Gina a glance, which irritated her more. But Shelby noticed that under his hat his eyes