Chapter One

Daniel Taylor rested one wrist on the steering wheel and one arm on the open window ledge of his pickup. The two-lane highway through eastern Montana was straight, flat and deserted enough that he could’ve put the vehicle in cruise control and taken a nap without incident, but driving like this didn’t put him to sleep. The early May sun glinted pale gold off the fields on both sides of the road, stretching into infinity.

Roads like this signified possibilities, and this one, in particular, stretched toward the state line where he planned to do some real-estate reconnaissance. Damn, he was itching for something to light him on fire. Branching out from Montana, finding a spread in North Dakota with his brother would spice things up enough to no longer be on a slow, monotonous slide into middle age.

The Check Engine light flashed for a second, then went out. Weird. A loose wire?

He’d take a look when he stopped for gas before the border. He had hours of driving ahead of him. Hours of dreaming. Time and space to dwell on possibilities without a hundred human-resources fires to put out at the Triple T Ranch. In a different family, he might get away with treating his Director of Training and Employee Development title like a courtesy, but the Taylor legacy hadn’t been built by people who’d taken advantage of their last name to slack off and let other people do their work for them.

Taylor men care for the people they love by working the land, son.

If only he felt as connected to that legacy as he had when he’d been younger.

The warning light blinked again. Hmm.

Should he stop?

A road sign stood out against the endless fields. Five miles to Tenacity.

Five miles to that bar.

That smile.

That easy, engrossing conversation, hours that felt like minutes. He’d replayed it like a script in his head, over and over as winter had turned to spring.

He shook his head. His moment in time in the Tenacity Social Club, months ago but still so fresh, was safest left in the past.

He was looking for something but wasn’t about to find it in a small, struggling ranching town. And “something” wasn’t a bartender more than fifteen years younger than Daniel.

Though…

He’d consider it on the way home. A quick stop after dealing with his business across state lines. Say hello to the man whose laugh was impossible to erase from his mind. Relive a sliver of the snowy, winter afternoon when he’d stopped to stretch his legs on his way home from another long trip.

Mike had been special. Unforgettable, if Daniel allowed himself to be sentimental, which—what better time to luxuriate in old memories than a long, quiet drive?

Unfortunately, even the most intriguing hazel eyes he’d ever seen couldn’t prevent intrusive thoughts from rising.

As much as his life working for his family’s beef empire had brought him wealth and status, neither was something he could define as his. His dad and uncles still had a firm grip on the place. At forty-four, it was beyond time he woke up in the morning and felt like more than a cog in the massive Taylor machine. Money could buy some surface-level happiness, but it didn’t fill a person’s heart and soul.

He’d thought it was enough. He’d been raised for it to be enough, to see it as his life’s purpose. But with four of his five siblings paired off with people they adored in the last year and a half, and their children and stepchildren bringing extra layers of love to their lives, the fulfillment he’d always found at Taylor Beef seemed hollow. At least Seth, his brother closest in age, was still a romantic holdout. He was interested in a new property venture with Daniel, and it seemed the prime time to explore. Daniel knew he was beyond fortunate to have the means to do so.

His father and uncles had always just assumed the boys in the family would follow in the footsteps of their elders. Not only did Daniel regret not challenging the ingrained gender roles and the impact on his sisters to the degree he should have, he’d led the way for his two younger brothers to get pulled in without questioning other possibilities. Over a year ago, he’d admitted at the Thanksgiving dinner table that if he’d had the choice, he would have picked a different career. He couldn’t shake the curiosity of where he might have ended up if he’d pushed back against family expectations.

He, of course, loved his mom and siblings. Hearts of gold, all of them. And he wasn’t going to hold his breath, but maybe one day his dad would get his head out of his ass about Daniel’s life outside of work.

The Check Engine alert lit up again, and this time stayed on.

He wasn’t going to panic. His truck was close to brand new, so the warning was probably for a finicky sensor in need of a reset.

Still, he’d be best off stopping somewhere with the equipment to read the diagnostic code. Maybe he’d stop in Tenacity today after all. The town was tiny, but there had to be a mechanic somewhere—

The engine went silent.

His dash illuminated like a fairground midway.

He let out a word best left in the cattle yard and eased the truck to the side of the road.

What the hell?

He groaned. The Temperature Warning light hadn’t gone off, no weird exhaust… Battery, maybe? Or—crap—the alternator. Why it would be faulty on a truck he’d bought last year, he didn’t know, but it wasn’t something he could fix on the side of the road.

He got out and checked under the hood, but nothing showed up to change his best guess about the mechanical culprit.

Glancing east, he estimated it was two or three miles to Tenacity, then checked his phone. Signal was strong, thankfully. After finding a number online, he dialed the mechanic and connected with a kind receptionist. He explained his predicament.

“Well, now. I’d love to tell you we can respond right away, but Chuck’s out on a call, which’ll be an hour or so at least. And his daughter’s home sick.” Her gum chewing reminded him of walking through a muddy field in rubber boots, but her compassion sounded genuine. “Hell of a day to need a tow, hon.”

Even with the sun shining, he had no desire to sit on the side of the road and twiddle his thumbs for hours while he waited for Chuck to finish up his to-tow list.

“All right, then. I suppose I’ll walk into town, find somewhere to pass the time. Chuck can call my cell when he’s brought the truck in.”

In fact, he knew of just the place. A basement establishment with dim lights and decades of initials and hearts carved into the worn wood of the bar. Hopefully complete with a gorgeous bartender who could absorb the words of a weary traveler with a wink and a pour.

He threw his leather duffel over his shoulder, made sure he hadn’t missed any visible valuables and then started hoofing it toward the hardscrabble town.

Damn, it was warm for May.

He’d already folded his blazer and slung it over his bag.

The second button of his dress shirt was the next thing to go.

Then his sleeves, rolled up to the elbows.

He was about to strip the shirt off and saunter into town in his white undershirt—he doubted anyone in Tenacity would care, as he didn’t remember it being the kind of place with dress codes or business casual expectations—when he saw the dilapidated population sign.

He would never have predicted he’d end up here again. Tenacity was a world away from Bronco and Taylor Beef, from dinners with his mother’s crystal wineglasses and porcelain plates and his father’s confused comments whenever Daniel’s sexuality got brought up.

You still seeing men, son? I thought you would have grown out of that back in college.

Of course, Thaddeus Taylor wouldn’t know who Daniel was dating, given he rarely brought his partners home to dinner. He rarely dated anyone long enough to justify them meeting his family, anyway. Beyond introducing a man to one of his siblings now and then, his dating life and his Taylor obligations didn’t intertwine. Life was simpler if he kept everything separate.

Finding someone who was okay with his boundaries wasn’t always easy. In fact, the last time a man had caught Daniel’s eye had been in this very bar. He’d been hit by an undeniable attraction—the rush of recognizing the magnetism of the person in front of him. He craved another hit of it.

With a blister forming on his right heel and cotton sticking to his back, he finally made it to the main drag. The stairs with the arrow leading to the basement bar were only a block away.

He caught a glimpse of himself in a window. Yikes. Disheveled and sweaty was not his best look. His stomach flipped. He didn’t want to know what his hair looked like or how red the hatband mark on his forehead would be.

Maybe it would be best to change plans and hit up the diner across the street. But then, he’d miss the chance that Mike might be on-shift…

Nah, he’d leave his Stetson on and hope the bartender was unfazed by dusty, road-weary cowboys.

The possibility was enough to get his booted feet jogging down the stairs, blister and all.

He slid off his sunglasses and stuck them into the front pocket of his shirt. Doubt crept in with each step. Mike saw hundreds of faces a week. What were the chances he was going to remember Daniel’s after so many months?

The lights were dim after being out in the sun, the room dominated by shadows. Behind the bar, broad shoulders and a head of errant curls caught the overhead lights. Strong hands were busy wiping the counter.

Familiar lines, despite the passage of a few months.

Daniel crossed the floor, eyes adjusting.

He was a few feet away from the mouth-watering stretch of a worn, gray T-shirt emblazoned with Captain America’s shield when Mike looked up from his task. He flashed the brightest smile Daniel had ever seen in his life.

Well, the brightest he’d seen since the last time he’d sat down on one of those worn stools.

“Danny? You’re back?”

Danny. Right. The bartender had shortened his name the last time, too. Why was it so charming? No one ever referred to him as Danny. Usually Daniel. Occasionally Dan. His mom still got away with peanut, which was ridiculous, but he didn’t dare correct Imogen Taylor. And his gut was telling him not to correct Mike, either. Tenacity was the kind of town where a “Danny” moseyed up for a beer. Real life didn’t have to exist here—not until Chuck the Mechanic called.

Daniel slid onto a stool. His feet thanked him, but the rush of excitement from Mike’s cheerful welcome was even more of a panacea. “Surprised to see me?”

Mike rubbed the back of his neck and ducked his head a little. “Well, yeah. I did not have you showing up at my bar on my bingo card for today.”

“I didn’t have my truck breaking down on mine, but…”

Mike braced his arms on the bar.

Daniel’s mind went a little blank.

“But?” Mike prodded.

“But I think I’m okay with the change, given I get to catch up with you.”