Page 45 of Unyielding (Poplar Springs #3)

BLURB

Cal

Small towns were never part of the plan—too quiet, too close, too permanent.

I stick to the rodeo circuit. Fast rides, faster exits. No roots. No ghosts.

But Poplar Springs? It hits different.

I roll in to promote a local event and end up staring into a past that isn’t mine. Seems I’m the dead ringer of a man this town buried. A man Amy loved.

She looks at me like I’ve torn something wide open. And I feel it too—the pull, the guilt, the heat I’ve got no business feeling.

I tell myself to walk. But then I learn I’ve got ties here. Blood. A nephew who doesn’t remember his dad.

And for the first time, I wonder if I’ve been running from the wrong things.

So I do what I’ve always done.

I leave.

…Or at least, I try.

Amy

He’s not Luke. I know that.

But the way he walks, the way he looks at me—it hurts just the same.

I should shut the door, tell him to go.

Instead, I watch him reach for my son with a tenderness he doesn’t show anyone else.

He says he’s just passing through.

But I see the pain he doesn’t speak, the way he holds my son like a promise he never made.

And if he walks away, I don’t know how to carry both goodbyes.

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EXCERPT

Chapter 1

Cal

Just a favor for a friend. In and out.

I pulled into the closest parking space I could find near city hall and shut off the engine, letting out a deep sigh.

Darby Crossing, Texas looked like any other rural town, complete with a western apparel and hardware store, bank, diner, and of course, a local tavern.

Small town life made me itchy, restless.

Fortunately, I wouldn’t be here long—just long enough to do a favor for Rafael.

I slid out of the truck, grabbed my Stetson off the front seat and put it on, tipping the brim down low.

Making my way down the sidewalk toward city hall, I was somewhat surprised at how busy the area was for a midday afternoon.

I nodded toward a couple of women as they approached.

Instead of an answering friendly smile, they stopped in their tracks, silently watching me pass, their mouths hung open in a wide O.

I frowned, wondering if there was something wrong with my hat.

I checked the Stetson over but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Typically, when people recognized me, they smiled and waved.

Especially the ladies. I continued toward the courthouse, more than surprised when two men stopped and stared, the one nudging the other furiously and gesturing toward me.

Discreetly, of course, but I still knew the object of their attention. Me.

“Howdy, ma’am.” I tipped my hat to an older woman coming out of the diner accompanied by what looked to be her grandchildren.

She smiled, her mouth opening…and closing, without so much as a hello.

Her expression had been one of shock but that made no sense at all.

Fans typically called out a friendly greeting, even tried to approach me.

They didn’t gape at me like I was a two-headed horse.

I tried to shrug it off as I entered the small brick building that housed city hall.

It looked like it might have been a one-room schoolhouse long ago since it still had the bell on top.

The space now was divided into an entryway and two offices.

No one was at the reception desk and I dinged the bell that sat on a mat with the note “ring for service.”

“Be right there,” a woman’s voice called from one of the offices. The squeak of a desk chair, and the click of heels echoed on the floors before a woman appeared in the doorway.

“Hello, I’m Amy Thorne,” she said, dropping a load of files on the counter and turning to face me. “How can I…oh—” The woman’s face turned white, one hand moving to cover her heart. She began to sway, reaching for the counter to steady herself.

I rushed around the counter and took her arm, easing her into a nearby chair.

I knelt beside her, our gazes locking. Eyes the color of Texas bluebonnets stared back at me.

Curly red hair framed her face in a beautiful contrast. She was about the prettiest woman I’d seen in a decade, and she was staring at me as if she’d seen a ghost.

“Can I get you something? Glass of water?” I offered, unsure of what to do. My eyes dipped to her left hand where she wore a simple gold band. “Call your husband maybe?”

“No.” Her voice was barely a whisper, and she couldn’t seem to take her eyes from my face. She smoothed her hands over her black skirt and finally took her focus off me. “I’ll be fine in a minute. I…must have stood up too quickly.”

“That can get you sometimes,” I said, happy to see the color slowly returning to her cheeks.

“Are you Cal Pierce?” she asked, straightening in her seat and shooting me a half-hearted smile.

“At your service, ma’am.” I dipped my chin in acknowledgment.

“Please call me Amy. Thank you so much for coming. Let’s go into my office and talk about the promo schedule and the event,” she said, her voice stilted.

The woman was setting the strictly business parameters faster than an eight-second bull ride. I knew some people didn’t like rodeo riders, perhaps that was it? I knew better than to dig into the reasons why.

“Sure thing. Take it easy standing up.” I wanted to offer my arm but held back. Amy was a mite skittish, like a newly broken horse, and I would do well to respect her boundaries.

“I’m fine. Really. If you’ll follow me.” She rose and led the way into her office where she gestured for mr to take a seat. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

“No, but I appreciate the offer.” I appreciated the way her skirt skimmed her figure, too, and the flex of her calf as she walked.

Somehow, she wasn’t what I expected from a mayor’s assistant in a small town.

We’d emailed and spoken on the phone to make my travel arrangements, so I’d known that she’d be intelligent and friendly.

I just hadn’t expected her to be so appealing.

Amy sat at her desk and reached for a glass of water.

The liquid shook as her hand trembled, and she set it back down without so much as a sip.

“Well, first, let me thank you again for agreeing to be part of our rodeo.” Her tone still crisp and professional, not at all like the woman I’d spoken on the phone with previously.

“The town is grateful for your help and I can assure you that the proceeds are going to a good cause.”

The town had a funny way of showing it. No friendly welcomes, just polite stares and shock. “Rafael said a fire destroyed your community center.”

“Yes, a few months ago.” Her eyes clouded over as if to fight back against the unpleasant memory.

Or was it me she objected to? Or both. I wasn’t entirely sure given the strange behavior of the people in town and her initial reaction to me. “So what’s the plan to fix it?”

“Unfortunately, the building was a total loss, but we hope to rebuild quickly. And a rodeo seemed like an effective way to raise interest in the project and collect the needed funds. Rafael speaks highly of you.”

“He’s a good man and I’m happy to help,” I said.

“It’s rather generous of you and much appreciated.”

Her tone and expression softened, and I was once again drawn to her. Then I remembered the ring. She was somebody else’s wife, and I’d never been that kind of man. “Just tell what you need from me.”

“I’ve worked out a schedule with what I’m told is the usual sort of promo for a rodeo if you’d like to take a look., she said, handing me the paper with her notes.

I studied the list and didn’t see anything I objected to as promotional tours were nothing new. “Looks good to me.” I glanced at her as I slid the paper across the desk and caught her watching me. She cleared her throat and looked away, but not before I noticed the haunted look again.

I thought about letting it drop, pretending that everything was normal—but I was going to be here for a solid month, and that was a long time to ignore an elephant in the room.

“Amy, I sure wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.

I sense you don’t want me here.” Sensing, however, was a long way from understanding.

It’s not like we had ever met, so I was at loss for her reaction to me.

Maybe it was as simple as Amy had wanted someone else for the rodeo.

“Of course, Darby Crossing wants you,” she said, forcing a smile. “You’ll be a huge draw for the rodeo, and we’ll be rebuilding in no time.”

“Maybe you just don’t like us rodeo types,” I suggested, trying to understand her personal objection to my presence.

She sighed and sat back in her seat, the forced cheerfulness fading. “It’s not that either. It’s nothing to do with you or the rodeo at all, truly. I’m sorry if my behavior or the town’s isn’t welcoming.”

“I didn’t say that,” I said cautiously. “You just seem uncomfortable with me.”

She glanced toward the only window in her office and seemed to focus on the pine tree outside it.

Silence hung in the air until she spoke in a low tone.

“It’s just that you look so much like my husband.

He died in a car accident four years ago.

It was a shock seeing you. He was well-liked around town, so the people you saw earlier probably had a similar reaction. That’s all. Nothing personal.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your husband.” And I was.

I didn’t like the idea of her suffering, and the man’s death had clearly affected her deeply.

“Don’t feel bad, you aren’t the only one in town that seems to take issue with my sudden appearance.

They say everyone has a twin in the world who looks like them, maybe your husband is mine.

Perhaps it would be better if I left town so as not to stir up unpleasant memories for people.

I’ve got plenty of connections in the rodeo world to find a replacement rider for you. ”

“No, no.” She straightened. “You’re a great choice for us.

” Her smile returned. It was still a little uncertain, but brighter than it had been.

“Such a strange coincidence though, isn’t it?

The kind of thing that only happens in movies.

My late husband, Luke, was a popular man in town, so people’s reactions are to be expected. ”

“I guess so.” I shrugged.

After agreeing to meet for a welcome-to-town dinner, I made my way to the bed and breakfast where I would be staying. The owner escorted me to a suite that was a little old-fashioned but was still bigger and nicer than many of the places I had stayed.

Once alone, I sank down on the couch, going over the strange afternoon in my head.

Call it curiosity, or plain need-to-know, I typed in Luke Thorne’s name into the internet search bar on my phone.

A young twenty-something man popped up on the screen.

I did a double take, the uncanny resemblance a shock.

Apparently, the adage about having a twin was true, at least in my case.

I read just enough info to confirm what Amy said. Luke was the golden boy in town and his death in a tragic accident that claimed his life and his father’s life, leaving behind his wife and a son. Their deaths had rocked the community.

I stared at the photo, a sudden thought coming to me from nowhere. What if it wasn’t coincidence?

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