ylan pulled the sheriff’s Blazer off the side of the highway and parked in the shadow of a dense crop of pine. It was close to eight in the morning, and he positioned his radar to pick up speeders. Not that he thought he would get many. The highway was usually quiet this time of morning, but there were always a few stragglers late for work and pushing the posted limit. He radioed his location to dispatch, then sat back with copies of People magazine and The Weekly News of the Universe. He’d picked up both at the M & S this morning and flipped open People to the interview Julia had given them. He read about half before he became so disgusted he lobbed it into the back. She’d all but come right out and said he’d kidnapped Adam and brought him to Gospel to live. She’d made Dylan look like a jerk, while she’d come off smelling like a rose.

He wondered how many people would believe her bullshit.

He reached for The Weekly News of the Universe and thumbed past a “Bloodsucking Vampire” story to Hope’s alien article. He chuckled a few times, thinking it was all pretty amusing, until he read on and discovered Dennis Taylor, the cross-dressing sheriff of the small wilderness town.

“Jesus,” he swore as he read about himself dressed up in a pink marabou teddy. The story reported that the sheriff always placed bets on how many unsuspecting female tourists he could lure up into the mountains under the guise of “wanting to show them the most beautiful place on earth.” The sheriff in the piece didn’t bet on broken bones, but on broken hearts.

He folded the paper and tossed it on the seat beside him. He was obsessed with Hope, there was no other explanation. Especially after he’d kissed her yesterday. He’d thought of little else but the texture of her tongue and the taste of her lips. His heart had pounded in his chest, draining the blood from his head and sending it to his groin, and in those short moments while he’d held her again, he’d felt an almost overwhelming... rightness. A feeling like every cell in his body whispered yes, and his hair stood on end.

He’d thought with each passing day he’d miss her less, but the opposite was true. He missed the tangle of her hair in his fingers, and he missed looking across his pillow and seeing her sleeping beside him. The other day in the M & S, he’d picked up a peach and smelled it before he even realized he’d been searching for the scent of her skin. Just this morning, as he’d reached into the freezer for a box of Eggos, he’d thought of her naked on his kitchen table, him buried deep within her body, her eyes filled with lust shining up at him. Remembering had gripped his belly and flushed his face, and he’d stuck his head in the freezer to cool down. Adam had walked into the room and asked what he was doing. He’d lied and said he was inspecting the ice cubes.

You really never cared for me, she’d told him, but she was wrong. He was in love with her. He’d been in love before, but not like this. For the first time in his life, the love he felt for a woman was total and consuming and he ached for the touch of her hand in his. Heart and soul, it went to a place so deep, he couldn’t imagine living without her. It filled him up and left him longing for a glimpse of her smile and the sound of her voice. Something had to be done. Each day without her was worse than the day before, and as he sat in the sheriff’s Blazer, morning light spilling through the windshield, he knew what he had to do. He had to believe her. Not just for himself, but for Hope also. He had to believe her without proof or witnesses. He had to listen to his heart, and to the deep-down part of his soul that knew about unconditional love and faith in another person. And in the end, he believed her simply because he loved her.

The radar’s digital display flashed, and Dylan straightened as a small Winnebago with Las Vegas plates sped past. He pushed his hat down on his forehead and shoved the four-by-four into gear. His foot hit the gas pedal, and the Blazer shot onto the highway as he radioed the code. He flipped the switch to his grille lights, and within less than half a minute he came up behind the Winnebago.

He didn’t know what to expect from Myron Lambardo. He hoped he didn’t have a long chase ahead of him, and he hoped Myron didn’t resist arrest. Dylan just didn’t feel right about wrestling a dwarf to the ground. Especially a dwarf who knew how to tombstone.

The Winnebago slowed and coasted to the side of the road. Dylan parked behind the recreational vehicle and turned on the video camera mounted overhead. As he approached the driver’s side, the window rolled down, and he got his first good look at Myron the Masher. He had to admit that the wrestler really did look a bit like Patrick Swayze, just more compact.

“May I see your license, please?” he asked as he took in the cab; then his gaze suddenly stopped on the woman sitting in the passenger seat. “Paris?”

“Hello, Dylan.”

He stared at the woman he’d know for as long as he could remember. “What are you doing in there?”

“I’m leaving town with Myron.”

Paris had never had much of a sense of humor, but she had to be pulling his leg. Myron shoved his license at him, and Dylan took it. He’d seen the same picture of the man when he’d searched the NCIC.

“Myron’s going to teach me to wrestle. My wrestling name will be Sweet Thing,” she gushed.

Dylan glanced up from the license. “Now I know you’re kidding.”

Her pursed lips got all puffed up. “Is it really that hard for you to believe that a man could want me?”

He felt as if he’d been transported into the twilight zone. Or one of Hope’s stories. This could not be happening. “I didn’t say that, Paris.”

“Myron appreciates me. We’re in love and going to get married as soon as we get to Vegas.”

She sounded serious, but really, how serious could she be? “That might be a while. Your fiancé here has violated a restraining order.”

“But I’m leaving the country for good.” Myron spoke for the first time. “I don’t ever want to lay my eyes on Hope Spencer again. That broad ruined my life. Until I met Paris, I had no direction. I’m a new man now.”

“Sure you are.” Dylan studied the woman who looked like Paris but sure as hell wasn’t acting like her. “Do you realize you’re involved with a stalker?”

“He’s not a stalker.” She smiled at her fiancé and reached for his hand. She looked all soft. Like a woman in love. “He’s just persistent.”

“Well, his persistence is going to land him in jail.”

Paris’s bushy brows lowered over her narrowed eyes, and Dylan was exposed to a whole new side of the easy-tempered girl he’d known since first grade. “Don’t you dare ruin this for me, Dylan Taber. I’ve waited all of my life for someone like Myron. Someone who could love me. God knows I wasted enough time waiting for you.”

“Me?” Dylan took a step back.

“Do you think I baked all those cakes and pies for you for the heck of it? Didn’t you ever notice that you were the only man in town I baked for?” She laughed, but it came out sounding very bitter. “I bet you didn’t notice. Especially ever since Hope Spencer drove into town. You’re obsessed with her. Her with her blond hair and skinny behind.”

“Now, Paris,” he began, but stopped because he didn’t know what to say. He’d always thought she baked because it was her hobby, and he wasn’t altogether certain she was wrong about Hope. “Do your parents know about this?”

“I plan to call them from Vegas.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Myron interjected. “If you give me back my license, I’ll get the hell out of this state.”

As much as Dylan hated the thought of letting Myron off the hook, he listened while the man talked.

“As far as I’m concerned, Hope Spencer and I are square,” Myron continued. “She ruined my life, but if it weren’t for her, I never would have met Paris. By this time next week, I’ll be in Mexico starting a new life with her, and you won’t ever see me again.”

The alternative was hauling him back into town, booking him into custody, another court date and hearing that Hope had said she didn’t want. Dylan handed back the license. “You better make sure I don’t see you. And you better not even think about bothering Ms. Spencer.” He looked at Paris. “Are you sure about this?”

“Oh, yes.” She went back to gushing, and her face softened once more as she looked at Myron. “I’ve never been more happy in my life. I finally have a chance for a life outside of my parent’s diner, and for a family of my own.”

Dylan thought he’d probably heard crazier, but he couldn’t remember it if he had.

Paris reached for her big purse and set it on her lap. “I was going to mail this to you,” she said and removed a stack of sealed envelopes and handed him one. “But since you’re here...”

He took it and stepped back. “Good luck, Paris.”

“She doesn’t need luck as long as she’s got me,” Myron said as he shoved his Winnebago into gear and pulled out onto the highway.

Dylan stood on the side of the road until he completely lost sight of the vehicle. Damn, what a crazy morning. He walked back to the Blazer and climbed inside. Paris Fernwood marrying Myron Lambardo, a.k.a., Myron the Masher, a.k.a., Micky the Magical Leprechaun, and becoming a wrestler herself. He just couldn’t picture her wrestling anyone.

He turned off the grille lights and opened the envelope Paris had addressed to him. He expected a membership to the dessert of the month club. Instead, it was a rambling, mushy note about how much she loved Myron Lambardo. Christ, all the i’s had little hearts above them instead of dots. At the end, she included a quick “by the way...”

I never meant to hurt you or Adam. And I wish I could say I was sorry for placing a few calls to the tabloids, but how can I be sorry when that is what brought my true love to me.

Paris Fernwood— soon to be Mrs. Myron Lambardo

Dylan reread the last paragraph three times before he crumpled the note and dropped it on the next seat. For a few moments he let rage tighten his fists on the steering wheel, but then he let it go. Knowing it was Paris and not Hope didn’t matter now. Not since he believed Hope without proof, but last week it would have mattered. If he’d known last week, he could have saved himself a lot of misery.

When he thought of the nights he’d lain awake torturing himself about his troubles with Adam and Hope, anger again welled up in his chest, and he was extremely glad Paris was on her way to Mexico and no longer living in the same town. He didn’t wish Paris harm, nor did he wish her happiness. In fact, he hoped some big Mexican senorita got her into the wrestling ring and tied her into a pretzel.

The Founder’s Day committee worked long hours to come up with the perfect theme for this year’s Founder’s Day Ball. They fought and argued and finally drew straws. The winner, Boot Scootin‘ into the Millennium, was Iona Osborn’s idea.

The outside of the grange had been given a fresh coat of green paint, and the inside had been decorated to reflect the wilderness outside. Thousands of foil stars hung from the ceiling and the air was scented with the freshly cut pines stuck in Stanley Caldwell’s papier-mâché and wire masterpiece. It towered in the far corner, an impressive rendering of the Sawtooth Mountains.

Pete Yarrow and his band, The Wild Boys, provided the night’s music. Pete’s one claim to fame was his two guest appearances on Star Search, which was enough to make him a local favorite and all-around celebrity. The music was a raucous mix of country, bluegrass, and rockabilly. If Pete occasionally missed a note, the citizens filling the dance floor didn’t seem to mind.

Beers were a buck fifty, a glass of wine two dollars, and a can of soda a dollar. Water was free from the fountain. The people of Gospel were decked out in their finest. The women in yards of tulle and lace, the men in suits, a few opting for the cowboy leisure kind.

Stanley Caldwell’s monument of the Sawtooth Mountains stood in one corner of the grange, lit by a soft white light.

Hope stood in front of Stanley’s monument, paying particular interest to the splash of blue glitter that represented Sawtooth Lake. Never big on tulle, she wore a basic black dress she’d bought in Sun Valley on one of her shopping trips. The dress was sleeveless, with a scoop neck, and fit tight against her body. Twin seams ran up the backs of her legs, and she’d shoved her feet into a pair of four-inch pumps. She’d curled and pumped up the volume of her hair and wore diamond studs in her ears. She looked good and she knew it.

According to Shelly, Dylan never showed up at the Founder’s Day Ball, and since he’d been in such a bad mood when he’d picked up Adam from her house, she didn’t think he intended for this year to be any different. Which was okay with Hope—she hadn’t dressed with him in mind. Well, maybe just a little bit in mind. A little—just in case he showed—bit.

Even though she knew she looked good, she did feel somewhat out of place amongst the other women who’d decked themselves out in vivid color and foo-faraw. Even Shelly, who usually dressed strictly for comfort, had squeezed herself into satin and sequins like she was a prom queen. She and Paul were out on the dance floor two-stepping their hearts out.

“Excuse me.” Someone spoke above the music. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

Hope glanced over her shoulder at an old lady clouded in blue net and gave a long, mental groan. The light from the mountain display shone through the woman’s baby-blue hair and lit up her blue eye shadow and lashes. Just like that day in Hansen’s Emporium, Hope found herself staring in horrified wonder. It was like staring at a bad traffic accident. She didn’t want to look, but she couldn’t look away.

“We met in your emporium last week,” Hope reminded her.

“No, that was my sister, Eden. I’m her twin sister, Edie Dean.”

Egad! “There are two of you?”

“Yep, but my sister prefers purple.”

Hope forced herself to look past all that blue and into Edie’s eyes. “I remember.”

“Iona Osborn over at the Cozy Corner told me you write those articles for that News of the World.”

“News of the Universe,” Hope corrected. “How did Iona know about the articles?”

“Iona Osborn works with Paris, and last night Paris told her all about it.”

She supposed it was bound to get out sometime.

“Since you haven’t been in town long, you’ve never met my brother-in-law, Melvin.”

“No, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.”

“Pleasure, schmeasure. Melvin is a rat-faced, sheep-lovin‘ two-timer, and that’s a fact. If my sister had the sense God gave a goat, she’d ram him with her Buick.”

Lord, not again.

“Now, I was thinking. If you needed those aliens in your stories to abduct someone, Melvin would be a good one. And when they beam him up into one of them spaceships, they should attach electrodes to his privates.” Edie held up a fist and shook it in the air. “And give him a good zap!”

“Ahh... okay.” Hope took several steps sideways until she was lost in the crowd. She’d always figured there was a possibility that someone in Gospel would discover what she really wrote for a living; she just hadn’t figured that it would be Paris Fernwood. And since Paris and Edie knew, Hope assumed everyone in town knew by now. She didn’t really know how she felt about everyone finding out. Maybe a mixture of apprehension and relief. No more lies. No more secrets. Of course, she’d have to listen to everyone’s ideas for her next article with a few life stories thrown in. But if a few of them cast disdaining glances at her for her articles, why should she care? They bet on broken legs and tossed toilets, and ate testicles, for goodness’ sake.

Hope walked around the edge of the large hall, casting her gaze through the crowd as she made her way to the bar. Even though she knew better, she still caught herself looking for Dylan.

She ordered a glass of zinfandel and dug into her little black bag for her money. “I heard about your articles,” Burley said over the music as he handed her the glass. “I’ve never known anyone who’s met Bigfoot before.”

Hope looked closely at his face and saw the humor in his eyes. “I’ve never met Bigfoot.” She passed him the money. “But I have interviewed several aliens and one possessed dog.”

He laughed and Hope turned away. She took a drink of her wine and scanned the dusky dance floor.

The overhead disco ball shot sparks off Shelly’s green sequins and Paul’s emerald tie as he spun her around like a top. The song was one that Hope had never heard before, something about a cowboy and his pickup truck. She spotted Hazel Avery dressed in pink satin and dancing with a man Hope assumed was her husband.

Hope took another drink of wine and remembered the day Dylan had taught her to two-step. They’d been completely dressed at the beginning of the lesson but naked by the end. They’d made love on the bearskin in front of her fireplace, and now she wondered how many other women he’d stripped while he’d danced with them.

A tall, lean cowboy she’d never seen before asked her to dance, but just as she placed her glass on an empty table, Dylan stepped in front of the younger man.

“Take a hike,” he said and gave the cowboy a hard look. Then he added for good measure, “Buddy.” Before she could say anything, Dylan grabbed her hand and pulled her along to the middle of the dance floor.

Once she recovered from the shock of seeing him there, of his touch and the sound of his voice scattering little shivers across her flesh, she looked up into his dark face, lit only by the disco ball hanging above his head. Slivers of mirrored light slipped through his hair and across his shoulders, which were covered in a nice navy wool blazer. He wore a white dress shirt and burgundy tie, and through the darkened shadows of the dance floor, she recognized the desire in his eyes. She’d seen it directed at her many times. She lowered her gaze to the knot in his tie. “That wasn’t very nice,” she said in a tight voice as he slid his palm to the small of her back. “He asked me very politely. You didn’t have to call him buddy like that.”

“That’s his name. Buddy Duncan. He lives in Challis.”

“Oh.” She looked up again, up into his face and at the outline of his mouth. “What are you doing here? Shelly told me you never come to the Founder’s Day Ball.”

“Shelly talks way too much.” He tried to pull her against his chest, but she resisted. He wanted her. She could read it in his eyes and feel it in the restless way his hand caressed the small of her back, but desire wasn’t love. And she wanted more from him.

“What are you doing here?” she repeated.

“Relax and I’ll tell you.” He tugged harder and she lost the battle. “That’s better,” he said and settled her against his chest. He bent his head over hers and spoke next to her ear. “I’m here because you’re here. When a man loves a woman, he wants to spend time with her. Even if that means he has to put on a suit and tie. He wants to hold her tight and smell her hair.”

His words pinched her heart, and she stopped trying to put distance between them. She was afraid to breathe. Afraid she hadn’t heard him right.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday,” he said as they slowly moved across the dance floor. “About me caring enough to believe you, and you’re right. I should have believed you all along.”

She looked past his chin to his eyes. She had to know why he believed her now, although she feared the answer. “Did you find out who really contacted the tabloids?”

In the few seconds it took him to answer, her hopes plummeted. He hadn’t believed her. Someone had confessed. Nothing had really changed and they had no future.

“Yes,” he said, and she again struggled to put distance between them. “Be still or I’ll have to tie you up again.”

“Let me go, Dylan.” The backs of her eyes stung and she was afraid she would cry right there in the grange in front of the whole town.

“Honey, that’s not likely to happen ever again.” His grasp on her tightened and held her so close she could hardly breathe. “I found out it was Paris who called the tabloids, but by then it didn’t matter anymore. When you discover you love someone, you have to believe in them or you just cause yourself a lot of unnecessary misery.” His warm breath whispered across her temple when he said, “I love you, Hope. My life has been miserable without you.”

She’d been so unhappy without him, she had to know. “Have you really been miserable?”

“Yes.”

She smiled for the first time since he’d taken her into his arms. She felt like laughing and crying and curling up into his chest all at once. “How miserable?”

He rested his forehead against hers. “Every morning when I wake up, I get a real cold feeling in my gut, like something is missing in my house, like oxygen or sunlight. Something I need. Then I look over at the empty pillow and realize it’s you I’m missing. And when I go to bed, I lay awake and wonder if you’re thinking about me, too. Wondering if you miss me as much as I miss you.”

“Dylan?”

“Hmm.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

The song ended and before another began, Thomas Aberdeen tapped Dylan on the shoulder and asked if he could cut in.

“Hell, no,” Dylan answered, his voice loud and clear, his eyes narrowed at Thomas. “Go find your own damn woman. This one is mine!”

Well, she guessed their relationship was out in the open now. She placed her hand on Dylan’s cheek and brought his gaze to hers. “He didn’t know I’m your damn woman.”

“Then I guess I better show him,” he said, then lowered his mouth and kissed the breath from her lungs. He bent her over his arm like he was Rhett Butler, and right there in front of anyone who cared to watch, the kiss turned hot and wet and so good. When he straightened, he placed his palms on the sides of her head and looked deep into her eyes. “I want everyone to know I love you, Hope.”

“I want everyone to know I love you, too.”

A smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I am glad you just said that, because I was thinking that I might have to take you home and handcuff you to a chair until you did.”

“You don’t have to handcuff me. I love you. I’ve loved you since the day you showed me Sawtooth Lake. Probably even before that.”

He brushed his nose against hers. “I know I messed things up between us, but if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making you happy.”

Hope blinked but couldn’t stop the tears in her eyes. “Then what are we doing here? Take me home.”

“Honey, I’ve been waiting for you to say that since I walked in.”

On the drive to the Donnelly house, Hope sat beside Dylan in the cab of his truck. She had her hand on his thigh and her head on his shoulder. The last time she’d ridden in his truck at night, she’d torn at his clothes, but for now, she was content to sit within the glow of the dashboard lights and listen to the sound of his voice. Later, there would be plenty of time for tearing clothes. She had the rest of her life. Right now they had something important they had to do. They had to talk to Adam.

She kissed Dylan’s shoulder through his jacket and shirt, and he put his arm around her. Within the dark confines of the truck’s cab, she felt as if they were the only people on the planet. Like the night she’d fallen in love with him at Sawtooth Lake. Her heart swelled and her head spun like poor upside-down Cassiopeia.

She listened while Dylan told her about Myron and Paris leaving town together and their plans to start a wrestling career in Mexico. Personally, she couldn’t see it happening, but she certainly wished them success so that neither returned to darken her life again.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you, too, but you know I’m a package deal. How do you feel about Adam?”

She didn’t even have to think about it. “He’s a great kid, Dylan. He’s smart and funny, and I like being around him.”

“Then stay with us,” he said and kissed the top of her head. “Stay with us forever. I know it’s asking a lot of you, but I’m asking anyway. I’m asking you to give up your life in L.A. for me, a man with a young son. I don’t know how you feel about being a mama, and I know it’s a lot to think about.”

It wasn’t a lot to ask, and she didn’t have to think about that, either. Not at all. She would be whatever Adam wanted her to be, a mother or a friend or both. “Have you told Adam how you feel about me?”

“Yes, and while he wasn’t jumping up and down, he did say he was going to find you a special rock. That means he likes you.” He picked up her hand from his thigh and kissed her fingers. “I guess I need to find you a special rock, too. A big, sparkly one.”

“I don’t need a special rock. I just need you.” She straightened and turned to his dark profile. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

“Not right now.”

She supposed it was better to wait a few months. She wondered if he would want to wait a year.

“After we talk to Adam, I’m going to take you to your house and make love to you, and when you’re all soft and happy and satisfied, that’s when I’ll ask.”

She laughed, vastly relieved. “Why wait?”

“Well, I discovered that when you have an afterglow, you’ll say yes to anything. Eating cake off your body, being tied up, marriage.”

She shrugged. “Okay.”

She’d come to Gospel to find Bigfoot and aliens, but she’d found something else. Something better. She’d found where her heart belonged. The future was in front of her and beside her. She had Dylan and Adam and Shelly. She had her career, and just that morning she’d received an e-mail from Time magazine. She’d sent them a query letter, and they were interested in seeing her article on Hiram Donnelly. It wasn’t a guarantee, but then, guarantees came only with toaster ovens. The rest was hard work and luck. Since moving to Gospel, she’d found herself and a man who loved her. She didn’t need a guarantee.

Maybe next she’d write a book. A book about a small town where the people ate Rocky Mountain oysters and tossed toilets. Where two elderly twins dyed their hair and plotted the painful deaths of the other’s husband.

Nah, Hope thought as the truck turned into Dylan’s driveway. Fiction had to be truer than real life, or no one would believe it. No one would believe a town like Gospel existed outside of her writer’s imagination.

Not even she was that good.