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“Yes, he did. I’ve never seen eyes so sad.” His father’s had been sad, too, but that had been nearly overshadowed by worry. “Anyway, he kind of lit up a little when Joey Highwater told him about our place, and that I train horses. So...”

A warm smiled flashed across her father’s face. “Let me guess. You invited him out here?”

She nodded. The smile was great, and she knew he meant it. At least he would until she told him the rest. “I did. How could I not, when it’s apparently the first thing that’s really interestedhim since his mother died, the idea of coming and meeting our horses? So he and... his father are coming tomorrow morning.”

“Good. But what’s the catch? I can see in your face there is one.”

She let out a long breath and her mouth quirked at one corner. “His father is Jackson Thorpe.”

Dad’s brow furrowed. “Jackson—Wait, the actor? Stars in that show they try to pass off as set here in the Hill Country?”

“With the snow-covered mountains in the background of the intro, yeah.”

Her father let out a disgusted snort. “Hollywood. Typical.”

“Yeah.”

She saw the moment when he got back to the matter at hand. “And he’s coming here?”

“His little boy is, Dad. He’s the reason. His father’s just... required to get him here.” She paused. “Actually, I was a little surprised he wanted to come along. Figured he’d send the kid off like it was summer camp. But he seems really, genuinely worried about him.”

“Not acting?”

“Not about this.” She said it with a certainty that surprised even herself. “I think he genuinely loves and is worried about his son. Besides, it’s Jeremy who matters, not who his father is.”

The smile he gave her then was such a potent combination of pride and love it made her throat tighten. “And that, my girl, you got from your mother.”

She smiled back at him. “The highest of compliments. Speaking of Mom, I suppose I’d better go tell her.”

Her father rolled his eyes. “Yes, do. I suspect you’ll make her day.”

“Why?”

“She won’t admit it, but she likes the guy. Or the character he plays, at least.” He frowned. “Speaking of which, why isn’t he back in Hollywood, playing?”

She hadn’t actually thought of that. “He must have taken time off. He can probably write his own ticket.”

“While they what, shut down production?”

“They must have other stuff they can do while he’s gone. He isn’t in every single scene, is he?”

Her father’s mouth quirked. “Ask your mother. She’s been watching it on the sly.”

Nic’s brows rose. Then she smiled. “Well, I may have to suspend my distaste, then.” She was all for anything her mother actually enjoyed, after the hell she’d been through.

When she went into the house, her mother was at her computer in the living room. When it had become obvious the wheelchair was going to be a permanent fixture, her father and Logan Fox, who apparently had many other hidden skills besides blacksmithing and horse whispering, had built a desk area for her in the corner of the living room, where she had more room to maneuver the chair. And as hard as it was not to constantly want to help, she and Dad had consulted the therapists and been told that unless she might be in danger of hurting herself, letting her handle as much as she could on her own was the best option.

It had worked, because now, besides the tutoring duties the former teacher still took on, Mom was the co-founder of a message board that connected thousands of wheelchair-using people around the world, to share stories, helpful hints, and hope. In her refusal to allow her accident to be the end of her productive life, Barbara Baylor was Nic’s greatest inspiration.

She was clearly in the middle of something, typing up a post or a response, so Nic went and got herself a Dr Pepper out of the fridge. Mom looked over her shoulder at her, and she held up thecan with a questioning look. She got a smile and a “Yes, please, honey,” so she grabbed a second one.

By the time she got back across the room, Mom had finished the post and closed out the program. She spun the chair around to face her as she took the proffered can.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You may be thanking me for more,” Nic said with a warning grin.

Her mother’s brows rose. “What? Why?”