Page 1 of A Texas Hero

Chapter One

Zoey Lambert was a true-blue romantic down to the seat of her soul. Valentine’s Day only happened once a year, so naturally it wasn’t enough. When she was twelve, she’d declared to her mother that September 14 would be called Sweetheart Day. Why September? Well, Zoey was also in love with autumn leaves, pumpkin spice and cozy fires. Autumn basically started on the first of September for her and fit almost precisely six months between one Valentine’s Day and the next. She didn’t have to wait an entire year to celebrate love.

Her friends laughingly called February through September Zoey’s “Sweetheart Season.”

More important to Zoey in many ways, it was also the rainy season. September was the time of year when rain started to fall in South Texas, and Zoey looked forward to this year-round. Out came her sweaters and boots. But as this year’s September 14 approached, she had an ex who couldn’t accept that she’d broken off her relationship with him. And to top it off, her ridiculously overprotective father had just hired her a bodyguard. Even for her father, this was going above and beyond.

“No!” Zoey whined over the phone. “I do not need a bodyguard.”

“Don’t you tell me what you need,” her father said.

This was what she got for confiding in her father. She liked it best when he kept his nose out of her love life, and she kept hers out of his. But she’d visited him in Amarillo last month on his sprawling ranch and in a moment of weakness spilled the truth. Once more, she’d dated a man more obsessed with her father, NFL Hall of Famer Patrick “Patch” Lambert, than her. She’d had men want introductions to her father in the past, sure, but Scott had taken it to a whole other level.

Now her father had launched into uber-protective mode. He’d hired bodyguards since she was a small child and the media was all over him, after he’d been traded from the Cowboys to the 49ers for a short time. Everyone in her family had to have a bodyguard with them at all times, as Dallas Cowboy fans were incensed at his perceived lack of loyalty and he was worried for his family’s safety.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” she told him now.

“I know you think I’m an old man, but I know what happens to young ladies. I watch the documentaries. Violence from an intimate partner is the number one cause of death in young women.”

Number one? That couldn’t be right. Besides, she hadn’t even been intimate with the man! It wasn’t her fault he was delusional. She didn’t want to give up her privacy just when she might meet someone new. On Sweetheart Day, hope always sprang eternal.

“Listen, I don’t have anything to worry about. He’ll get over me soon enough. I’m seriously not in any danger. Honestly, Daddy, I’m serious. I could take him.”

He snorted. “Sorry, baby girl, but all the stats back me up. You’re getting a bodyguard and that’s final. He’ll be there in a couple of days, so be nice to the man.”

When her father started spewing stats, she knew for sure it was too late.

“I’ll give you an out,” he said, and Zoey’s ears perked up. “Cancel your Sweetheart Day party and I’ll cancel the bodyguard.”

She’d cancel her annual event when South Texas got some natural autumn color, or when she could start a fire in her fireplace hearth without first having to turn on the air-conditioning. Which was to say never.

“I can’t cancel! We do it every year and Scott isn’t even invited.”

“Doesn’t mean he won’t show up. Well, you think about canceling this year and let me know. All I care about is your safety.”

Her father had to know he had Zoey dead to rights. She wouldn’t give up Sweetheart Day.

“But where’s he supposed to stay?”

“Give him the guest room in the other wing of the house.”

“In my house?”

How was she supposed to get a date to come to her party with a bodyguard breathing down her neck?

“That’s usually how this works. You remember the drill. Besides, you told me once that the house is too big for you…this is the perfect situation! Don’t worry, it’s just temporary. This year, you need the extra security because of Scott.” He hung up with a quick “Love you. Bye.”

Great. Zoey could look forward to an old man in a suit guarding her 24/7. Probably questioning her fashion and life choices, too, just like her father did. That ought to be fun. At times like these, she desperately missed her mother, who with her wit and courage would have talked Zoey’s father off the ledge. She would have explained to him that Zoey, at five feet ten inches, could take care of herself. “Conchita” Fernandez-Lambert, at five feet nothing, had ruled over their home when she had been alive, and Zoey’s six-foot-five father had kowtowed to her. But she’d been gone four years now after a long battle with breast cancer. Zoey missed her all the time, but never so much as in September. For years, they were the only two people who celebrated September 14. Even her daddy thought it was dumb.

Zoey’s phone buzzed and there was yet another message from Scott, who still hadn’t bought himself the first clue:

Hey there beautiful, any chance you could meet me for drinks at the Salty Dog tonight? I’m starting to feel ignored.

Was he completely delusional? She had clearly told him, “No thanks, Scott… I don’t know you well enough to accept your marriage proposal but have a good day. I think it’s best if we don’t see each other again.” Scott told Zoey he thought he loved her during their second week of dating. When Zoey told a man she loved him for the first time, it would be after an appropriate amount of time—say after several months of seeing each other, followed by introductions to her father. With Scott, she never got there.

After she broke up with him, he had continued to behave like nothing happened, sending emails and texts describing his increasing frustration that she’d “ghosted” him. But her dad didn’t understand there was nothing even remotely dangerous about Scott. He was simply desperate and sad, and Zoey felt bad for him.

She responded now: