Home Fires Burning

By Rebecca Grace

"I'm going to marry that man some day!" Little Bonita Dominguez made that pledge the first time she saw Max Cameron. Now it's about to happen, but nothing is going the way she planned. Carrying a secret she has kept since she left the ranch ten years ago, she would prefer to be back in California, where she has built a new life, a new life that doesn't include Max. Now a chic, sophisticated woman, Bonita certainly isn't the same playful girl Max remembers from the past. For the past ten years he has devoted his life to his ranch. Does he have room in his heart for Bonita? Or would loving her endanger the legacy he wants for his heirs?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9781590884607

Book preview

What They Are Saying About

Home Fires Burning

Home Fires Burning really touches the issues of family. I loved the way each character saw each other’s perspective when it came to life. I enjoyed when Max had to learn about understanding a ten-year-old after Teddy lived in a huge city, then moved to a ranch. The book was gripping from beginning to end. I loved how Ms. Grace incorporated conflict and emotion with the characters.

Ms. Grace has a style of writing that draws the reader deep into the story. She writes with emotion and tenderness straight from the heart. This book brought complete joy to me. A tissue-grabber, but you will not be disappointed.

—Cherokee

Karen Find Out About New Books

Coffee Time Romance

Home Fires Burning by Rebecca Grace is a pleasant journey into small town USA. Ms. Grace brings to life the big city verses country life feud and gives it charm. Max is a good old country boy with a big heart and Bonita is a country girl who is just denying her roots. Both main characters and all the supporting characters make you want to pull up a rocker and set a spell. This is a very comfortable tale of romance and remembering where your heart resides once you have owned up to your mistakes.

I found myself completely charmed, even when I felt someone needed to turn the characters over his or her knee for a good spanking to knock the stubbornness out of them. It was easy for me to get caught up in the lives of the characters and imagine myself right there with them. Four Stars

—Keely Skillman,

EcataRomance Reviews

Praise For Love On Deck

Reviewers praise first novel Love On Deck .

...a refreshing story with characters whose chemistry ignites sparks. 4 Stars

—Tanya Kacik

Romantic Times

...a fun and exciting read... a book not to be missed. 4 Blue Ribbons

—Dina Smith

Romance Junkies

...a fun and moving story... 4 ½ stars

—Amelia Richard

Cataromance

Home Fires Burning

Rebecca Grace

A Wings ePress, Inc.

Contemporary Romance Novel

Edited by: Lorraine Stephens

Copy Edited by: Karen Babcock

Senior Editor: Anita York

Executive Editor: Lorraine Stephens

Cover Artist: Christine Poe

All rights reserved

NAMES, CHARACTERS AND incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Copyright © 2005 by Rebecca Martinez

ISBN: 978-1-59088-460-7

Published In the United States Of America

Wings ePress Inc.

3000 N Rock Road

Newton, KS  67114

Dedication

This book is dedicated to the memory of my mother and father, whose true life love story inspired the foundation of this story.

One

A re we almost there ?

The lament displayed the normal impatience of a ten-year-old boy locked in a car for more than an hour. Bonita Dominguez turned toward her son and gave him an indulgent smile.

We have about five more miles to go. I warned you my grandpa’s ranch was in the middle of nowhere.

Given the gravel road and long stretches of unchanging landscape, she wasn’t surprised that Teddy was growing restless. An active boy couldn’t be expected to sit still or to appreciate the unusual scenery. The drive had seemed endless to her when she was his age.

Stands of scrub brush and stubby, misshapen pinón and cedar trees grew on either side of the road, alongside abundant tufts of cactus. Gold and rust sandstone layered the top levels of nearby mesas that stood like rocky fortresses protecting the plains. In open areas, blankets of orange and purple wild flowers sprouted among pale, thin blades of grass, paying their annual tribute to spring.

Bonita had not been to southeastern Colorado for more than ten years, but every bend in the road served up memories of childhood and summers at her grandparents’ ranch. Even the late afternoon hour evoked thoughts of the past. The sun hung low in the western sky, a yellow balloon dangling above a dark blue ridge of mesas.

Tears stung Bonita’s eyes. Early evening was her grandmother’s favorite time of day, but Abuelita was no longer around to enjoy it. She had died two days ago. Her funeral brought Bonita back to Colorado.

A sudden thunk caught her attention as an unknown force grabbed at the steering wheel.

What was that? Teddy asked, his blue eyes wide with concern. Did we hit something? His young face grew troubled as he swiveled to look out the window, undoubtedly fearing a glimpse of a flattened prairie dog or rabbit.

She knew without looking she had not hit anything. After running over a squirrel once, she still recalled the sickening sound of that tiny, yet horrible, thud. The rental car was trying to pull away from her. I think we have a flat.

With care honed from daily driving of Los Angeles freeways she guided the car to the side of the road. They didn’t need this. As it was, they were barely going to reach the ranch before dark. Impatiently, Bonita climbed from the car and circled it. The front tire on the passenger side bore out her fear. The tire sagged, a slow hissing audible in the stillness of the evening. Cars rented in Denver apparently weren’t prepared for the rigors of the Colorado prairie.

Teddy joined her, his youthful curiosity having propelled him from the car. His eyes were wide as he faced Bonita. What are we going to do? Is there Triple A out here?

Patiently she shook her head. No call boxes either. But I can change a tire.

Confident as she sounded, she didn’t relish the thought. Her beige silk jumpsuit was no more suited to mechanic work than her strappy high-heeled sandals were to the gravel road. Already pebbles pricked the bottom of her feet through the thin soles. She opened the passenger door and reached for her purse.

Thanks to technology, we don’t have to worry. I’ll call my Dad at the ranch. She fished in her purse for her cell phone.

A flip open and a stab at the front panel set lights on the phone flashing. After going through the cycle, a message popped up on the display: No SVC.

Darn! No service in the area. Wouldn’t you know this place is still living in the dark ages? she said in disgust, knowing she had no choice but to change the tire herself. The job wasn’t difficult. As a single mother, she prided herself on being self-sufficient and she’d performed the duty in the past, once with traffic roaring past a few yards away. She simply hadn’t changed a tire in a long time.

Teddy lost interest. A rusted soda can by the side of the road held more appeal. He began kicking it down the deserted gravel road. Bonita let him go. He couldn’t get lost, and the game would allow him to work off pent up energy.

She emptied the trunk of their luggage and was pulling up the floor covering when she heard what sounded like thunder. Startled, Bonita jerked up her head. The sky was too clear for rain. Her eyes scanned the horizon. In the distance, a horse kicked up a cloud of dust as a lone rider galloped toward her.

As the rider drew closer, something familiar about the way he sat in the saddle and the tilt of his cowboy hat quickened her pulse. Max Cameron. Bonita would have recognized him from miles away. He drew up a few feet from her, a regal rider atop a golden palomino.

Problem, ma’am?

The deep sound of his voice was like water in the desert seeping into cracks parched by the blistering sun. Despite her normal poise, Bonita’s mouth grew as dry as the nearby prairie, preventing her from answering.

Bonita had known, when she decided to come back, she would see Max. Of all the reunions she faced in the next couple of days, his was the only one she had rehearsed. Why did she have to run into him so quickly? And when she was in need?

More personal questions tumbled through her brain. Had time changed his ruggedly handsome features or dimmed the blue eyes that were once as bright and clear as a summer sky?

I saw you pull over, Max continued, as he dismounted. This isn’t a good place to break down. Can I help you? His formal tone indicated he hadn’t recognized her yet.

Slowly Bonita raised her eyes, afraid of what she might find, and yet needing an answer to her questions. Hello, Max.

Nita? A hint of surprise rose in his voice.

Yes. Her attempted smile froze before it could take hold. She feared he could hear her heart pounding in her chest.

Max Cameron was taller than her memories of him, broad shouldered with a body as lean as it had been ten years ago. His deeply tanned face spoke of long days in the sun. It carried a few fine lines Bonita did not remember, though he still had a strong, square jaw, and a straight, proud nose.

Bonita met his blue eyes, under the brim of his gray Stetson, but unlike her memories, they were not shining. They burned with intensity. Or perhaps it was sadness she saw?

Recognition softened the chiseled lines of his face, and his lips drew up in a lopsided grin that had once turned her breathless. Even now it sent a surprising buzz through her.

Little Nita. A trace of the old sparkle flickered in his eyes. Your grandpa told me you were on your way.

What had Max thought when he heard she was coming? Had it mattered to him? Bonita dismissed the questions as quickly as they flashed through her mind. That shouldn’t make a difference.

For an instant he appeared ready to hug her, and Bonita stepped back. That wasn’t the greeting she had planned.

It’s Bonita now, she said in a stilted, formal tone, holding out her hand. No one calls me Little Nita anymore.

His callused palm brushed like sandpaper against hers, but thankfully it didn’t set off a tingling as his touch once had. She drew her hand away quickly, as though fearful that might still happen.

Sudden, unwanted visions of the past overwhelmed her. Instead of the faded work shirt he presently wore, Bonita could see Max in a blue gingham shirt, a white scarf rakishly tied around his neck as he whirled her around a dance floor.

She had just turned eighteen. When he touched her, for the first time she felt a strange, womanly stirring in her body—something beyond the silly little girl crush she’d carried since she was ten. Bonita wanted that dance to go on forever. But that was a different time, filled with foolish teenage dreams. She was a woman now, a woman with a problem.

We flew in today, she explained. Everything was going fine, except we had a flat. I was about to change the tire... She motioned toward the partially uncovered spare.

Can I give you a hand? Max offered, nodding at the tire.

I know how to do it. Her response sounded testy, even to her ears, but Bonita wanted Max to know she was not the same girl who required his care so often in the past. One major thing she wanted from this trip to Colorado was to show everyone—including Max—that she was no longer helpless Little Nita Dominguez. The new Bonita was a capable businesswoman who didn’t need anyone to take care of her.

It would be a shame to mess up those nice clothes, Max pointed out, dipping his head in her direction.

That was a valid point. Her expensive jumpsuit had been chosen for comfort and style, not physical labor.

And it is getting dark, he added.

Bonita conceded to convenience. Be my guest then, she said, making a sweeping gesture with her hands to indicate she was passing the job over to him.

Max flashed a familiar grin and stepped up to the trunk. Bonita stood back as he methodically went to work. He moved quickly with precise, purposeful actions. With a couple of spins, he freed the jack and yanked out the spare tire.

Bonita examined Max with an interest she didn’t want to admit. Long legs encased in tight, faded jeans, which were frayed about the cuffs. Scuffed brown boots. Well-worn hat complete with sweat stains around the brown leather band. One thing had not changed. Max Cameron was a rancher from the top of his Stetson to the worn heels of his cowboy boots.

Watching Max work brought back bittersweet memories. Growing up, Bonita had spent long hours observing him do everything from fixing fence posts to repairing machinery to birthing calves. Childish infatuation grew into teenage longing. Only separation ended it.

He jerked at the tire iron, and his muscles rippled beneath the thin cotton shirt. A frightening shiver ran through her. Bonita turned away, not needing that physical reminder of the man she once foolishly loved.

Max sensed Bonita’s reticence as she stood stiffly with her arms folded primly. Her demeanor surprised him. Little Nita Dominguez. That girl had never been hesitant around him. Pretending shyness only when it suited her, Nita normally chatted up a storm, even to the point of making a total fool of herself.

He’d known Bonita was coming for the funeral and he was pleased their initial meeting was taking place in private, away from the gossiping tongues and watchful eyes of her large family.

Despite what her family had told him over the years, this woman was not what he’d expected. Where was the elfin charm that she once used to coerce, cajole—and sometimes annoy—him? Where was that impish grin that made him forgive any silly thing she might do? But most of all, where were those sparkling eyes that he once compared to a bubbly glass of cold Coca Cola?

Max knew he had changed in the past ten years. Life’s trials had a way of doing that to a man, but somehow he’d thought Little Nita with her ever-present smile and effervescent personality would always be the same. High spirited and sometimes reckless, she’d always been in need of his assistance—at least she often claimed to need help. Everyone knew Nita wasn’t beyond feigning difficulties to get his attention.

Thinking back on those days, Max smiled at her as he carried the jack to the front of the car.

It’s kinda like old times, isn’t it? Me coming along when you need help?

Instead of the familiar pixie grin, her full lips tightened, and she lowered her eyes. I could have done it myself!

Her sharpness surprised him. Rescuing damsels in distress wasn’t something Max did often. He knew today’s women preferred independence. One look at the well-dressed woman told Max she fell into that group. He figured she might appreciate the irony and find humor in the situation. Little Nita would have.

What could have made her so different? Her relatives claimed she had changed, but he could never have envisioned such a complete transformation. He knew that Little Nita—Bonita, he corrected himself—had married, had a son, and lost her husband, but he had no idea if she was divorced or widowed.

She once told him the city held the key to her future, and she was going to find success and happiness there. It appeared she’d become successful, but was she happy? For some reason, he didn’t think so.

Didn’t mean to offend you, he said. You didn’t used to mind being teased.

I did so.

Max chuckled despite her curtness. Her voice had taken on the whiny tone of the girl he had once known.

How can you think that? I never enjoyed that, she continued. My cousins, my uncles. They all did it.

Yes, she’d been teased unmercifully, though the girl brought most of it on herself with her foolish antics.

You didn’t like my teasing? Max asked in a joking tone, trying to coax a smile out of her.

You never teased me.

But you wanted me to, didn’t you?

Instead of smiling, Bonita looked away, arms still crossed, as though the subject made her uncomfortable. I never liked it when anyone did it. She shifted slightly, one foot kicking at a pebble.

Max recognized the familiar action. Little Nita always did that when she was uneasy. He once