Long Road Home by Joann Ross Page A

was standing in the doorway, the lowering sun gilding his naked flesh a gleaming copper. Once again her fingers tingled with the urge to touch his chest and see if it was as warm as it looked. “Oh, and Sawyer?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Buy yourself some furniture. You’re not in Afghanistan anymore. Or roughing it on a roundup.”
    Her business done, she headed toward the barn. And although she didn’t look back, Austin could feel Sawyer watching her walk away.

9
    B Y F RIDAY MORNING, Austin was a nervous wreck. She was trying to stay low-key. After all, it was just a dinner with friends. No big deal. Right?
    Wrong.
    Not helping was Heather dropping by and vetoing the jeans and blouse she’d planned to wear.
    “I don’t want him to think I’m trying to lasso him,” Austin protested.
    “That’s exactly what you’re doing,” Heather said. “Guys aren’t that adept at nuance. You have to hit him between the eyes.” She was deep in the closet, shoving hangers aside. “This skirt.” She pulled out a short washed-denim skirt with a swirly line of rhinestones edging the hip pocket.
    “That was an impulse buy from our day at the outlet mall last summer.” One that still had the tags.
    “I remember. Layla and I had to spend all lunch talking you into going back to the store to buy it.”
    “I knew I shouldn’t have had that margarita with my taco salad.”
    “If that’s what it takes to loosen you up, I’m ordering a pitcher for the table tonight.” Heather continued searching. “What happened to the blouse you bought to go with it?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Good try.” She unearthed it from beneath a thick cardigan rag sweater. “Here it is.”
    The cream-hued crocheted top was just barely lined for modesty. But its neckline dove low to showcase cleavage that Austin didn’t have. “It’s tacky.”
    “A bit,” Heather agreed. “But guys respond really, really well to tacky.” She tossed it on the bed beside the skirt. “Especially ones who’ve spent the past year being around women wearing camo or burkas. Wear your rodeo queen boots.”
    “I’ll look like I belong in a country music video,” Austin complained.
    “All the better. Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
    “I’m not desperate.”
    “Aren’t you? Look.” Heather crossed her arms. “You and Sawyer have screwed this up too many times. So now you’re back to square one, and if you don’t do something to get the man off the dime, you may end up losing him to someone else.”
    Okay. Austin hadn’t considered that possibility.
    Which was why, seven hours later, she was still second-guessing the entire idea.
    “Pacing a path in the floor isn’t going to speed the clock up any,” Buck pointed out.
    “I just don’t want to be late. This is a big weekend for Heather and Tom.” She really needed to change back into jeans.
    “The boy isn’t late yet.” He tapped a hand on the face of his wide, leather-banded watch. “He’s still got time.”
    “I realize that.” She’d only checked the clock about ten times in the past ten minutes.
    Her father’s eyes swept over her. “You’re pretty spiffed up for the New Chance.” Austin held her breath, waiting for the inevitable criticism. “Murphy’s toast.”
    “It’s just a dinner with friends,” Austin insisted. The outfit was definitely overkill. It’d be like walking into the New Chance with a neon Do Me! sign over her head.
    “Which explains why you and Heather spent all that time in your room this morning.” He lifted a brow. “Reminded me a lot of when you two were back in high school.”
    Which was just what Austin didn’t need to hear since she couldn’t deny how close to those days this situation was. The only difference was back then she was the one helping Heather choose outfits to wow Tom Campbell.
    “You and Sawyer Murphy have been waltzing around each other most of your lives,” he said, surprising Austin, who hadn’t even realized he’d