Page 82 of The Cowboy's Surprise Return

“And what are we doing?”

“Do you have your purse with you?”

“Why? Do I have to pay for gas?”

Cole’s face relaxed, revealing just how worried and uncertain he’d been feeling. She patted her hip pocket, where her wallet still sat from yesterday. She’d bought herself coffee on the way to work. It had been odd, crossing the street, running a few doors down just like she did at home. But instead of the Longhorn Diner, where everyone knew her and a quick coffee could take a few hours if given the chance, she’d simply been a number in a long line of people not meeting each other’s eyes.

“Where are we going?” she repeated as Cole pulled out into traffic.

“I’ll show you.”

Fifteen minutes later they were on the highway that led to Sweetheart Creek. Jackie stiffened in her seat. “I’m not moving back. I can’t.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

That brought tears to her eyes, and she looked out the side window.

Cole, usually comfortable with silence, clicked on the radio. Willie Nelson filled the cab with his crooning about mamas not letting their babies to grow up to be cowboys. As they were always alone, even with others, and a person never knew how to take them. At the moment, the song felt fitting.

They turned before they reached Sweetheart Creek, heading deeper into Hill Country.

“Where are we going?” she asked once again, hoping for an answer this time.

“Somewhere I don’t think you’ve been before.”

“Murdered in a ravine?” She was rewarded with a smile.

Cole slowed not long after, taking a corner. Despite being officially in the middle of nowhere, he knew the route when she didn’t, amplifying her curiosity as she lost track of where they were. Finally she recognized the Lone Oak Grill, a diner she and her father used to go to when she was a kid. It was closed now, its abandoned state saddening her. A minute later, Cole turned again where a herd of black cattle grazed in the shade of tall junipers.

In the distance, she could see a large circular building, with parked cars shining in the unrelenting Texas sun.

“I don’t remember a big ranch being out here.” It wasn’t uncommon for the odd Texan family to have a giant, rambling ranch house worth more than the GDP of some third world countries. But she was certain that, this close to Sweetheart Creek, she would have heard about a home as enormous as the largest Malibu mansions.

“It’s not a ranch.”

When they neared the long winding drive he turned down it. Jackie closed her eyes, too much hope swelling inside her when she spotted the sign.

Cole stopped at a gate about twenty yards along. The entire estate didn’t look institutional, despite its function. It was a memory-care facility in the middle of nowhere.

And only miles from Sweetheart Creek.

The man at the small outpost nodded at Cole and released the gates, allowing them to swing open so they could drive through.

“How did I not hear about this place?” It boasted neat landscaping that had yet to grow wild and out of control. The building’s paint was fresh and bright, not yet beaten by the Texas rays.

“They opened eight months ago to test their new intensive, specialized facility, and to ensure a depth of training for all staff. They started with only a handful of patients who had been referred by their doctors. Two weeks ago they quietly opened up a few slots to new applicants. Eventually they will be fully open.”

“But how did I not hear about it?” How did Dr. Gomez not know? Or anyone in Sweetheart Creek? Or had she been so close-lipped about her father’s condition that nobody had thought to mention it to her, assuming she already knew and hadn’t chosen it because surely a facility like this was beyond her budget?

“It was a closed system for months,” Cole said simply. “Levi read an interview with the founder in one of those magazines they give you on airplanes. It was about his research on well-being and Alzheimer’s, and Levi put two and two together after driving past this place the other day. So we came out here to see what the deal was. They’re not even advertising yet.”

Jackie turned in her seat, gazing out at an elderly man sitting on a bench, hand outstretched. Songbirds were flitting about, taking seeds from his palm as they dared.

“Can I afford it?” she whispered.

“It’s less than what you’d pay in San Antonio, believe it or not.”

She scanned the grounds again. The security. The natural setting. The apparent high staff-to-patient ratio of those sitting in a gazebo under some leafy trees near the side of the building. This seemed too good to be true.

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