Scott swung around, the muscles in his shoulders bunching, and for a moment she thought he would return to her and...what? Hit her? She didn’t want to think the worst of him, but he wasn’t giving her much choice. In the end, his gaze moved behind her and widened, and he spun to motor on.

Finally, something had gone in her favor, but it only depressed her more. The fact that a guy hadn’t punched her or called her a horrible name was the highlight of her day? Wow.

She made the trek out of town, stopping occasionally to pick up trash on someone’s lawn while mosquitoes—aka flying vampires—attacked her in droves, hungry for a little Harlow dinner. As she slapped her arm to kill one of the fiendish suckers, a prickle at the back of her neck suggested she had an audience. Tensing, she studied the tangled landscape—trees, thick underbrush, dead piles of crispy leaves—but she found no sign of a pursuer.

Her brain must be melting. She continued on, not stopping again until she reached Virgil Porter’s house. A pile of brushwood had blown in front of his mailbox, and Mr. Fritz, the postman, was the cranky sort who wouldn’t make a delivery if he had to step out of his vehicle.

Ten minutes into her work to clear it away, movement in Mr. Porter’s living room caught her attention. Her heart banged a song of panic against her ribs as she met Daniel Porter’s gaze, Mr. Porter’s son.

He’d left for the military a few years ago and, according to whispers, had only returned to Strawberry Valley a few days ago. And oh, wow, he was shirtless, ripped with muscle and tattoos, standing with his hands on his hips, watching her. About to storm outside to rail at her for trespassing?

Harlow grabbed her books and dashed off. About halfway home, her legs began to tremble so intensely she feared she would go down and never get up. Somehow she found the strength to troop onward, on the lookout for scorpions, listening for the telltale hiss of nearby snakes.

At long last, she reached her destination, dropping the books in front of her tent as her arms finally gave out. Her biceps trembled and burned, and she knew they’d be sore tomorrow. Sighing, she sank in front of the tomes and surveyed her home of the past however many months. A small blue tent with a faulty zipper sat beside an even smaller pond. She’d stacked a circle of rocks around a stack of twigs to create a fire pit where she boiled water in the only pan she had. There were gopher mounds everywhere, dirt flung in every direction, but at least multiple oaks offered shade...and branches for birds to poop from.

She imagined Beck showing up for “tea.” Sanitized pond water.

Oh, how far the queen bee has fallen. From the highest of highs to the lowest of lows. The lap of luxury to this. No real home. No security of any kind. No way to eat or drink whenever the urge struck. No comfy bed or modern conveniences of any kind.

She turned her attention to her new books...and blinked in shock. Gardening for the Super Ignoramus. 101 Ways to Seduce Your Dream Man. The Male Penis: What You Really Need to Know.

But...but...when had the small-town library begun carrying books like that? They’d nearly banned a paranormal romance series about supersexy demon-possessed warriors for being too racy!

She reached for the gardening book, really she did, but her fingers somehow curled around the spine of Seduce Your Dream Man and riffled through the pages—and oh, wow! There were pictures. She ended up “reading” until the last tendril of sunlight vanished.

Now, back to work. She started a small fire with the lighter she’d found—no one would notice the smoke at this time of night—and set a pot of water to boil. After she drank her fill, she called it a day and nestled in her tent. The tear in the top allowed her to gaze up at the stars, diamond pinpricks in a sea of black velvet. One of God’s finest creations, second only to Strawberry Valley. And speaking of Strawberry Valley, it was time to face the facts. Her five-step plan didn’t just need tweaking, it needed scrapping. At this rate, a hundred-step plan wouldn’t work.

If she wanted different results, she had to do something different. The most obvious choice was simple. Finally make the heart-wrenching move to the city.

Panic and heartache instantly converged. No. Not that. Not yet. This was her home, and the man of her dreams lived here. He had to live here. They would fall in love and raise their kids here.

But who would want her? As a military man, Daniel Porter was used to dealing with hostile people and situations. Could he forgive the past?

A few years ago, Jeffery James had moved to town. He’d heard rumors about her, sure, but he had no personal experience with her. Of course, she wasn’t attracted to him, but what did that matter? Love could grow from support, affection and stability.

There was that word again. Stability. The mother ship. The holy grail.

Who could give her something so precious? Lincoln West, maybe. Handsome, sweet and, like Jeffery, she had no real personal experience with him. Plus, he lived in her ancestral home. If they happened to fall in love, she could move back in. And promptly kick Beck out, she thought with a smile.

What she knew about West: he hadn’t dated anyone in town...which was kinda odd, now that she considered it. He wasn’t just handsome, he was handsome, and he had as many admirers as Beck. He just didn’t jump their bones at every opportunity. He was over six foot, leanly muscled and he was nice. He had a smile for everyone he came across, and he worked like a fiend, creating different kinds of computer programs.

She knew about his business only because she’d visited his office in town the day after it opened. His assistant from the city had been there, and Harlow had asked questions, submitted a résumé. And it had been a doozy. Past jobs: zero. Experience: none. Strengths: still searching. She’d hoped to decorate their walls with murals or, barring that, become their receptionist. Surprisingly enough—har har—she was never called in for an interview; she’d listed the number to the only pay phone in town and camped by it for days.