Prologue
THERE AIN’T A POT TOO CROOKED THAT A LID WON’T FIT
Twenty-Five YearsAGO
“See you tomorrow!” the neighbor girl calls as she splits off from Shelby and heads for her own house.
Shelby lets go of her backpack straps long enough to wave, her heart thudding with tension. The whole day has been filled with stress. The first day in a new school and a new town is enough to make even the most extroverted kid feel sick with nerves. At least her neighbor, Charlene, is in her grade and helped her find her classrooms. She also told her which mean girls to stay away from and which boys were the troublemakers.
Shelby checks the mailbox, but it’s just a few pieces of junk mail for her parents. A loud noise from behind makes her spin back to the road. She can barely believe her eyes. A fully grown black and white cow trots down the paved country road like it has every right to be there. She grins, her love of all animals already well established at fifteen.
She clicks her tongue and holds out her hand, hoping the cow will come closer. It does, its tail swishing back and forth like a dog. She’s just about to scratch its broad head when a loudrumbling noise spooks the poor animal. It bellows something fierce, its eyes going wide as it dances away from her hand. A truck and trailer barrels down the road going entirely too fast for a residential area. It screeches to a halt just past her with a high-pitched wheeze, and the driver slides out the door. His blue-jean-clad legs and dusty cowboy boots eat up the asphalt.
“You steal my cow?” the boy asks in a sexy drawl.
Shelby’s mouth drops open at the accusation.
And at the way his upper body fills out a T-shirt.
“I didn’t steal your cow! She was lost, running down the road!”
The boy grins, and Shelby’s heart pounds. He’s too handsome for words. Baby-faced still, so clearly young. Maybe even her age. Definitely too cocky for his own good. He winks at her, and she feels her cheeks flame red.
“Well, I do thank you for stopping her.” He holds out his hand, and Shelby stares at it. “Dallas Gamble.”
In slow motion, she finally lifts her hand, and he shakes it, oblivious to her reluctance. You see, Shelby just spent twenty minutes walking home from school with Charlene Russell, who spent nineteen of those minutes discussing the Gamble twins, namely Dallas. She knows exactly what a flirt he is.
His smile only amps up in the face of her silence. He doesn’t let go of her hand.
“This is where you tell meyourname.”
“Oh, um, Shelby Sweet.” She tugs on his hand, and he finally releases her.
“Well, Sweetness, I gotta get this girl in the trailer before she starts eating Mrs. Perkins’s flowers again.”
Shelby doesn’t know who Mrs. Perkins is, but as Dallas rounds on the cow, the frightened thing rears back. Dallas claps his hands, but that just startles her more. Rolling her eyes, Shelby puts her hands out gently and speaks in a low tone,murmuring sweet nothings to the animal. Dallas stares at her like he’s never seen someone sweet talk a cow, but it works. The dang thing comes closer to her, finally nudging its head against her hand.
He gets a rope around her head while Shelby distracts it with pets and soothing words. Together, they get the poor thing in the trailer, and Dallas closes the back. He dusts off his hands and turns to the new girl.
“Thank you for your help. You live here?” He points to Shelby’s new house, the one her parents just bought to be closer to her grandparents.
“Yeah. Just moved in.”
He grins at her. “Well, come on then.” He starts walking. Not toward his truck, but up her driveway. Shelby scurries after him, having to almost run to keep up with his long legs.
“What are you doing?” she manages to ask right as they mount the porch steps.
He turns to her, that smile making his golden eyes twinkle. She notices the twinkle. And everything else about this boy that makes her stomach feel funny.
“I’m walking the new girl home. It’s what we do in small towns, Sweetness.”
“That’s…that’s not my name,” she stammers.
Music streams from the house, stealing Dallas’s attention as he pulls open the screen door. Shelby grabs his arm to stop him from entering, but he’s determined to see what’s happening inside. Shelby already knows her parents are home unpacking their moving boxes and doesn’t want Dallas to meet them. Fifteen-year-olds never want parents to be involved.
Dallas trips over a giant sandwich board wishing everyone a most glorious Labor Day and then ducks down behind the couch that Shelby’s always hated. Its giant flower print is too loud and too…turquoise. He pulls her with him, peeking over the top ofthe couch into the kitchen where two adults are in each other’s arms, swaying back and forth to the song, “We Danced.”
“Are those your parents?” His face is just inches from hers.
