Christyne Butler - Welcome Home, Bobby Winslow

“I can handle the climb, Lee. I don’t need you to play rescuer if I take a tumble.”

“You’ve only been out of rehab a few days.”

He raised one eyebrow in a quizzical glance.

“Yesterday’s headlines were about you.” She quickly filled him in on the front-page article. “They even had a picture of you in a wheelchair.”

A shadow passed over his eyes, then it was gone. He swung the cane easily in front of him. “No worries. I’ve been walking on my own since the middle of July. I only use this on occasion.”

Leeann didn’t want to argue so she started up the dirt path, conscious of his gaze on her backside the entire way. When they reached the clearing, she paused, amazed at the scattering of log buildings, including a huge log barn with a red metal roof.

“Wow, that barn is amazing.”

“I replaced the original structure, which was in terrible condition, and matched the style of the other buildings,” Bobby said, joining her.

“Well, you’ve built more than just a house it seems. You’ve got your own compound.” She kept her gaze forward, but her peripheral vision allowed her to see the exertion on Bobby’s face. His slow, deep breaths told her the climb had been harder on him than he’d let on. “What are you going to do with all those buildings?”

“Some are for storage,” Bobby pointed out as he kept walking. “The remaining are empty, but they can be used as staff—ah, guest quarters.”

She followed his lead and they crossed the clearing. Leeann climbed into the passenger side of what looked like a souped-up golf cart with all-terrain tires and a cargo box on the back.

Bobby slid behind the wheel and soon he was maneuvering the vehicle along the freshly paved road, its twists and turns so familiar to her, laid out so because her mother hadn’t wanted to see the old barn from her front porch.

“The new barn will hold eight horses total. I’ve got three coming up from a farm in North Carolina in the next month or so, before winter sets in,” Bobby said. “I recently bought two more from a ranch in Texas called Still Waters, but they won’t be here until next spring.”

The name of the ranch caught her by surprise. “That’s Landon’s ranch.”

“Landon Cartwright, right?”

“How did you know that?”

“I dealt with a Chase Cartwright down in Texas,” Bobby said. “When I told him where I needed the horses sent, he mentioned his brother lived up here.”

“Landon is married to Maggie Stevens—do you remember Maggie?” Bobby nodded, so she continued, “Anyway, they married a year ago and run The Crescent Moon ranch here in Destiny, together, but he’s still involved with his family’s ranch in Texas, too.”

“Talk about a small world. I plan to talk to Maggie about getting even more horses from her place.”

Leeann had read enough about Bobby’s career over the past few years to know his entire racing operation was based in North Carolina. Having horses seemed to suggest his stay would be permanent, unless of course, he planned to have a staff to take care of them, and in turn, take care of his house.

Last night she’d finally nodded off convinced Bobby was only back in town temporarily as he continued recovering from his accident. She knew they were bound to run into each other again while he was here, she just hadn’t expected it to be as soon as today.

But after clearing the air back at the pond, they were talking and acting like adults who allowed their shared history to stay where it belonged.

In the past.

Would that change if he—

“Are you planning on sticking around?” The words fell from her mouth before she could stop them. “I’m so sorry,” she hastily added, “that was rude. It’s really none of my business.”

Was it none of her business?

Up until an hour ago, Bobby would’ve agreed with her. He would’ve made it clear that despite building his dream home, he hadn’t planned to reside in Destiny full-time, even though the thought of moving back home had crossed his mind a few times during his rehabilitation. He knew his mom wanted him here. No matter how many times he’d tried to convince her to move south to live closer to him, she’d refused.

If pressed, he’d have to admit he’d purchased the land and built the house just because all this once belonged to Leeann’s parents.

Then he’d come up with the idea of creating new headquarters for his racing organization. A place complete with a regulation-size test track, now that he had all the room he needed right here on his land.

Of course, all of that had been before he’d found out Leeann was back in town.

Did that changed everything?

He had no idea.

Silence stretched between them as Bobby eased the cart around the circular drive, passing the garage to the left, two bays on either side of a covered pull through that led to the main road.

He slowed to a stop, shut off the engine and stared straight ahead, his hands gripping the steering wheel. “Would that be so bad? Me sticking around?”

When she didn’t answer him, he turned to her. She had slid out of the passenger side of the utility cart and was standing there, staring up at his home.

He joined her, a shot of pure pleasure racing through his veins at the stunned expression on her face. Unable to see her eyes from beneath that ball cap she wore, he found his gaze locked on her mouth and the way her plump, pink lips parted.

He wanted to kiss her.

Right here. Right now.

Forget the fourteen years that separated them, forget the way she’d destroyed his dreams, forget all he’d accomplished in order to prove to everyone, to her, that there was more to Bobby Winslow than they’d ever known.

He pulled in a deep breath, bringing with it the clean, biting scent of the forest of trees surrounding them, the warm sun and the woman standing next to him.

A powerful need filled him, a need to hold her in his arms, to feel the tightly toned body he’d gotten a glimpse of earlier before she’d hid it beneath her jacket.

“Oh, Bobby.”

Her words came out in a reverent whisper and he had to grip the cane with two hands to stop himself from acting on an impulse he was sure was only one-sided.

“I can’t even put it into words … I can’t describe …”

She turned to him, having to tip her head back as he stood so close. Now he could see her eyes. They widened, the hazel coloring that always looked more golden than green flashing at him as their gazes locked and held.

What did she see when she looked at him?

The rebellious punk he’d been as a kid, always breaking the rules, with a white-hot temper his mother said came from his wayward father?

Or did she see the successful businessman he’d become?

A man who’d left the army after serving honorably for four years and then worked his way up through the ranks to become one of the best drivers in the America’s Cup Pro Racing circuit. A spokesperson that promoted more products than Jeff Gordon and Shaquille O’Neal and appeared in more print ads and commercials than all the Kardashian sisters combined.

A man who accomplished all he’d vowed to do.

“Yes, it is beautiful … and mine. Finally, I’m allowed inside. And unlike the way your parents treated me, you’re welcome in my home anytime.”

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