CHAPTER 2

C HAPTER 2

Zack had figured the bulk of his workday would be consumed by fender benders on ice-slick roads, escaped livestock, and pressure to keep hiking up that one sixty-three number. He certainly hadn't thought the day would include a search for a man with three balls and an encounter with a woman who'd rocked his world.

A cliché, yes, but an accurate one.

Those kisses with Reese had become his benchmark for all kisses since then. And none had lived up to the ones that had happened in that dark corner of the pub. Even now, Zack could feel the heat from them. Even now, he could feel the way she'd fit against his body. But it was sort of obvious from her startled expression that she wasn't thinking of heat or kisses.

Well, maybe not.

Zack thought she might indeed be mulling over such things, and perhaps reliving them, but at the moment she was dealing with the shock that his grandfather's name was on her list.

"You think your granddad could be Happy Harry?" she asked.

"No," Zack couldn't say fast enough. "But then, no one probably wants to think of a grandparent as a serial bigamist with an extra ball. So, you'll meet him and hopefully rule him out."

Zack was almost certain about that ruling-out part, just because he didn't want to believe his granddad was capable of being a bigamist. But he was a cop, and even slim possibilities had to be considered.

"Uh, has your grandfather ever said anything about being married more than once?" she asked.

"No." He backed out of his parking space, feeling the shimmy of the tires on the ice. There shouldn't be much ice on the roads because of traffic, or rather what constituted traffic in a small town, but Zack took it slow, easing out onto the street. "My grandmother passed away two years ago, and they'd been married for nearly sixty years."

"The Happy Harry I'm looking for could have had a life, and a wife, here for all that time. My great-aunt and the other two women said he was away on business a lot. That's one of the reasons it took them so long to realize he wasn't coming back."

Zack had plenty of questions about Harry, but he went with a general fill-me-in approach. That way, he'd get to hear the sound of Reese's voice while he drove. "What else did they say about Harry?"

Reese gathered her breath and pushed a strand of her dark blond hair from her cheek. "Apparently Harry used different stories. With my great-aunt, he claimed he was an artist. For wife two, he said he was in the wholesale antiques business. He told wife three he was a cattle broker."

Zack frowned because there were some possible nuggets in those three accounts. His granddad did indeed like to doodle and draw, and according to what Zack had heard, Zack's great-grandparents had once owned a junk store that had possibly sold antiques. Added to that, his grandfather was a rancher and had worked and owned his small cattle ranch since long before Zack was born.

"None of the three women come from money," Reese went on, "and according to them, neither did Harry . . ." Her words trailed off when Zack reached the center of Main Street.

Judging from the way Reese's eyes widened again, she'd missed this particular part of Loveland, probably because she hadn't driven any further than the police station. Well, she was sure seeing it now. The town had been doused in, well, kisses.

Specifically, Christmas kisses.

There were dozens of posed kissing mannequins, some limbless, lining the sidewalks. They were all wearing Christmas outfits and were nestled between antique lampposts decorated with lights, holly, and tinsel.

And then there was the massive banner strung across Main Street.

WILL YOU KISS ME?

The question was printed in Christmas red with mounds of glistening fake snow beneath it. Beneath that was an electronic display that flashed the number "163."

"Uh, what's going on?" Reese asked.

Now, it was Zack who took a deep breath. "The current mayor and her assistant came up with this idea of breaking a record to generate publicity for Loveland as the so-called romance capitol of Texas. Most records are, well, let's just say impossible for a small town to break, so the aim is to do a group photograph with as many kissing couples wearing Christmas outfits as possible."

"One hundred and sixty-three couples," she muttered in a lightbulb over the head tone.

He made a sound of agreement. "Which totals three hundred and twenty-six, and is about a tenth of the total population. The mayor would like everyone to participate."

Especially him, since he was the sheriff. But Zack had no desire to do any kissing for the sake of publicity.

"Are you sure your grandfather will be home?" Reese asked, taking in the south end of Main Street.

There was just as much Christmas fanfare and flavor here as on the rest of the town's main road. Kissing dummies interspersed with inflatable Christmas figures. Santas, elves, reindeer, and polar bears. It was a testament to some serious decorating skills—or perhaps just plain luck—that this section of the street managed to look festive instead of just plain tacky.

"He'll be home this time of day," Zack verified, pausing to use his hands-free to call in a fender bender that he spotted in the parking lot of the Petal After Petal Flower Shop.

"Uh, should we give your granddad some kind of heads up that we're coming?" she asked.

He heard the nervousness in her voice, and it made him smile. She wasn't out to hurt anyone, which told him that she had deserved better than Paul. Then again, that wasn't much of a stretch.

"No heads up needed. He'll be glad to see us," he said as he continued the drive out of town. "FYI, after the fake kidnapping, I considered telling you that Paul was a cheater, but that had a whole tattletale vibe to it. Plus I couldn't be sure I didn't have an ulterior motive in wanting you to break up with him."

Her mouth tightened, letting him know something else about her. Paul had hurt her, and that meant Reese might have washed her hands of romance. He hoped not though, because Zack was beginning to see this as his second chance to get to know the woman who'd kissed his lights out.

With that thought drumming in his head, he turned at the sign announcing they had just arrived at the Happy Trails Ranch. He could tell from her little gasp that she'd connected the dots of Happy Trails to Happy Harry, and Zack had to admit it was an eerie coincidence, but it was also an accurate name. It had been a very happy place when he'd grown up there with his mom and maternal grandparents after his father had died when he was ten. Happy Trails had given Zack a deep love of the land.

And his granddad.

Because his grandfather had no doubt heard the sound of the approaching vehicle, he already had the door open before Zack pulled up in front of the two-story white Victorian. Normally, Harry Miller looked like the quintessential eighty-two-year-old grandpa, with his sugar-white hair, generously wrinkled but rosy face, and his slightly hunched posture.

Today, though, he didn't hit the quintessential mark.

Zack's granddad was wearing a green herringbone suit that was clearly a size too small for him and from a long-ago fashion era. The pants fit him more like leggings, and the gold buttons strained against his chest and belly. Even the matching hat—yep, someone had obviously thought it wise to make matching headwear—was perched too high on his thick mat of hair, making Zack think of old photos he'd seen of Laurel and Hardy.

"Just a guess, but this isn't gonna work, am I right?" his granddad asked when Zack stepped out.

"That depends on what you're aiming for," Zack said, heading for the passenger-side door. But then Zack stopped talking, shook his head. He couldn't think of a single instance in which the outfit would work.

His granddad sighed but didn't seem distressed by the obvious conclusion. "Oh, well. It was worth a try. Your mom wanted me to see if it would fit for the Christmas Eve Kiss . . ." His words trailed off when his attention landed on Reese as Zack helped her from the truck.

"Granddad, this is Reese Darnell," Zack said. "Reese, this is Harry Miller."

"Pleased to meet you, sir," she muttered just as his granddad repeated her name.

"Reese?" he questioned. "Wasn't that the name of the woman who kidnapped you a couple of years back?"

Reese looked at Zack and frowned. "I didn't tell him," he assured her. "But I did mention it to my mom, and she must have spilled it to him." Along with countless others, meaning that particular incident wasn't going to be much of a secret in Loveland.

"Come on in out of the cold," his granddad insisted. "Let me get out of this garb, and I can pour us all some coffee."

"Please, don't bother with the coffee, Mr. Miller," Reese said, but she was talking to the air, since his granddad had already scurried off. Age clearly hadn't slowed him down much.

Reese sighed and glanced around, taking in the place. Zack did as well, though he knew every inch of this living room and the other rooms in the house. Even though the furniture and furnishings had come into and out of fashion, it looked and felt cozy and comfortable. Like home.

A fire flickered and popped in the hearth, and the fragrance of the wood mixed with the smells of sugar and cinnamon. Obviously there'd been some baking going on.

After Reese had made a cursory glance around the room, she went to the massive stone fireplace, specifically to the framed pictures that lined the eight-foot-long mantel. She leaned in, studying the wedding picture of Zack's grandparents. Maybe looking to see if there was any resemblance to the man in the grainy photo on her phone.

"That's my Grandmother Fiona, the one who passed away two years ago," Zack explained, moving next to her. He tapped the next picture, which was of his own parents' wedding. "My mom and dad. My dad died when I was ten."

Her gaze went to his. "I'm sorry. I lost my parents in a car accident when I was twelve, so I know how hard it must have been."

It had indeed been gut-wrenchingly hard. "My grandparents made it easier for me. I'm guessing your great-aunt took away some of the pain for you?"

She nodded. "My grandparents weren't able to take care of me, so I ended up with Sylvia." Reese smiled a little. "She's my hero."

Which explained why Reese was so eager to find justice for her. Zack was pretty sure she wouldn't find that at the Happy Trails Ranch, but it was possible one of the other names on the list would pan out. He just didn't know which one.

Reese smiled again when her attention turned back to the remaining photos. It was basically a montage of his life. "Newborn," he said, tapping the one of him nestled in his mother's arms, and then he moved on to the others. "First day of school. Junior rodeo, saddle bronc competition. Prom. High school graduation. Another rodeo, adult this time, in the cutting horse competition."

"Very much the cowboy," she muttered, and there was a wistful tone to her voice. Their eyes met for a moment, and he saw something that pleased him.

Heat.

So Reese had a thing for cowboys. Or maybe for him?

Her grumbled mild profanity let him know it was maybe both and that she wasn't happy about it. That could be because of their unconventional first meeting, but for Zack, that mishap had just got them over a hurdle. The first kiss had happened and was amazing. Now, after seeing Reese again, he knew he wanted a second kiss from her. And maybe more.

She turned her attention back to the remaining photos, and Zack filled her in on them. "Graduation from the police academy." And the final one. "Sheriff." He paused a moment. "My mom is their only child, and I'm their only grandchild, so I get centerstage on the mantel."

"What used to be here?" she asked, tapping the three-inch gap between the police academy shot and the one of him pinning on his sheriff's badge.

"A wedding photo," he answered.

He saw a flash of disappointment in her eyes, and her gaze flew to his hand. No doubt looking for a ring. Which wasn't there.

"My ex and I divorced nearly two years ago," he provided. "No kids, no lingering baggage. How about you?" Though he knew the no kids part because of the snooping he'd done on Reese, it wasn't always easy to ferret out baggage.

"Little to no baggage," she volunteered. "I went through a phase where I wanted to hit myself over the head for not seeing what Paul really was. Then, I chalked it up to lesson learned."

"Good," Zack said. Because this meant there was a clear path to . . . exactly what he wasn't sure, but he decided to test the waters. "Want to grab some lunch after you've talked to my granddad?"

She blinked and opened her mouth. He could practically see the "no" that she was about to voice. But it didn't come. Instead, she sighed. "I'm here for just one day," she murmured.

"Just one day when you have to eat," he pointed out. Their gazes hooked up again. And held. Zack felt the stir of heat once more and wished they were past any and all hurdles so he could test the attraction.

"Oh, good, you're asking Reese out on a date," he heard his granddad say in what had to be the worst timing in the history of such things.

Apparently the man had broken speed records, because he had not only changed into his normal clothes, but he was also carrying a small tray with three cups of coffee and some cookies.

"That's good," his granddad added, smiling at Reese. "It's been a while since Zack's been on a proper date. Sugar? Cream?" he tacked on, easing the tray onto the coffee table.

"No, thank you," Reese said. "I drink it black."

"So does Zack." His granddad made that sound as if it were a huge connection between Reese and him. A common-ground kind of thing to build a relationship on.

Zack sighed and took one of the cups. Clearly, he was going to have to dissuade his granddad's matchmaking attempts. Yes, he wanted to see more of Reese, but he didn't want her to go on the run to avoid pressure.

"Reese has some questions she needs to ask you," Zack said, hoping the quick change of subject would distract him.

His granddad's eyes brightened. "About the two of you going to the Christmas Eve Kiss Ball together?"

"No." Zack had no trouble being firm about that particular event. Even if he did attend out of a sense of duty, it wouldn't be for the kissing. "It's about . . ." He stopped and motioned for Reese to jump in.

She did after she had a long sip of coffee. "Sixty years ago, a man married my great-aunt Sylvia Darnell and then disappeared from her life. She's recently learned that this man subsequently married two other women."

His granddad just stared at her. And stared. Then it seemed to hit him. "Oh, and you think I did that?" He chuckled before Reese could respond, and the chuckle turned into a full belly laugh, one that had his granddad actually flopping back on the sofa.

Reese didn't laugh, and eventually his granddad noticed that she hadn't joined in. While wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, he sat upright and faced her. "It wasn't me. I married my Fiona when we were eighteen. She was the only woman I ever kissed, bedded, or married."

He smiled, his gaze landing on the photo on the mantel, and it took him a couple of seconds to put aside the clearly good memories he was recalling. "What made you think the man was me?" he asked Reese.

"The name," she readily provided. "And the fact you were born here in Loveland." She paused. "The Happy Harry who married my aunt had a condition . . ." She stopped, looked at Zack, who took up the explanation.

"Three balls instead of two," he spelled out.

"Oh, my," his granddad muttered while he shook his head. "I assure you, I only have the two. Can you imagine how tight in the crotch pants would fit if you had three?" he asked in a whisper.

"I suspect plenty tight," Zack agreed, and because he knew Reese would want more info, he asked the question for her. "Do you know of anyone from around here who has that extra bit?"

His granddad's headshake was quick. "Sorry, no, that's not the sort of thing that comes up in conversation, But if anyone had mentioned something like that, I'd remember."

Again Zack agreed, and he handed his granddad the list. "Can you think of anyone whose name isn't there? It'd probably be a variation of Harry and someone around your age. Maybe someone who had a job that took him out of town a lot."

His granddad studied the names. Frowning, he shook his head as if dismissing them, and then he seemed to have an ah-ha moment. "Homer Smith. His real name is Harry Smith, Jr.," he explained to Reese. "Folks called him Little Harry, and I can tell you, that got him teased a lot, so he started calling himself Homer. It stuck."

"Homer," Zack repeated in a grumble. Well, that was another name he hadn't wanted added to this list. Reese must have picked up on his disapproval because she looked at Zack. However, he didn't get a chance to explain because her phone rang.

"It's my great-aunt," she muttered. She stood, moving to the other side of the room as she answered it. Even though she didn't put the call on speaker, it was impossible for him not to get the gist of the conversation.

"Yes, I made it to Loveland," Reese said. "But, no, I haven't found him yet." A pause. "I'll definitely keep looking." Another pause, longer than the first, and her shoulders went a little stiff. "Can't you talk them out of that? I mean, I might find him with my next interview . . ." A third pause. "Oh, I see. Well, okay, I guess, but please make it clear to them that Happy Harry might not be here in Loveland."

Several seconds later, after an "I love you" and goodbye, Reese turned back around to face them. "The two women once married to Happy Harry have decided to come to Loveland." Judging from her expression, Reese wasn't a fan of their decision. "I just don't want them to be, well, overzealous or anything, if they do find him," she added.

Zack groaned and got to his feet. "When will they get here?"

"Tonight," she said with a sigh. "And Aunt Sylvia is coming with them."

He was sighing, too. "You're satisfied my granddad isn't the bigamist?"

She nodded.

"Good." Zack took a pen from the drawer in the end table and crossed Harry Miller off the list. "All right, let's go," Zack said. "We'll visit the person Granddad just gave us."

"Homer Grange," she muttered.

Zack made a sound of agreement. "But most folks around here call him by a different name." He paused a heartbeat. "We're going to visit Santa Claus."