He’s Just The Hired Help…

What kind of cockeyed Pollyanna is Colin Cade working for? Her porch is rotting, her “guest cabin” is cheerless and her land and livestock have only a geriatric cowboy to care for them. Yet Hannah Shaw is positive she can turn her ranch into a successful B and B—and that Colin’s the man to make it happen.

But Colin can’t stick around. He lives with the loss of his family by avoiding the memories, and the way he feels around Hannah and her young son is like a knife to the heart. Trouble is, he’s better at ignoring his own pain than someone else’s, and bright, cheerful Hannah has a heart as haunted as his own. She deserves to be happy—but could she really be with him?

Hannah wasn’t surprised when Colin turned in early for the night.

With his brother sleeping in the room next to him, there had been no chance he’d invite Hannah into his bed. Still, logic didn’t stop her from lying awake long past midnight on the slim hope that he might knock against her bedroom door. His scent lingered on her sheets and the memories of what they’d done in this very bed earlier in the day tormented her.

It would be easy to blame Justin for his inconvenient timing, but with or without his showing up, the end result was going to be the same. She would lose Colin. He’d never made any secret that he wasn’t the kind of guy to stick around in one place. He’d always planned to leave for his brother’s wedding and that job afterward on a cattle drive. Although she’d enjoyed hearing Justin’s anecdotes about wedding plans, each one reminded her that the big day was rapidly approaching.

Her time with Colin was almost at an end.

She blinked rapidly, trying to catch her tears on her lashes. It didn’t count as crying over the cowboy if the tears didn’t actually make it to her cheeks.

Find a bright side, her inner voice urged. Like…the ranch was in far better shape than it had been before Colin had come.

But what about me? What shape would her heart be in once he’d gone?.

Dear Reader,

Isn’t it frustrating—even heartbreaking—when bad things happen to good people? Over the years, I’ve witnessed a few friends stagger through hard times, seemingly plagued by one tragedy after another. But they’ve inspired me with their resilience and spirit, weathering numerous difficulties and rediscovering joy.

Colin Cade is a man who has experienced a great deal of difficulty and loss—his parents’ deaths when he was young and, more recently, the deaths of his wife and child in a car accident. For months afterward, all that held him together was the support of his two siblings. But his sister is now busy with her newborn daughter, and his brother is engaged and neck-deep in wedding plans. They’re moving forward with their lives, and Colin decides to move on, too. He does odd jobs on ranches, never staying in one place for long, never getting attached.

Until he meets young widow Hannah Shaw and her four-year-old son. Working alongside Hannah at the Silver Linings Ranch changes Colin’s perspective, reminding him that loss doesn’t have to define a person. But even as he heals, he questions whether he’s brave enough to love again.

Colin and Hannah were one of my favorite couples to write, and I hope that you find their story as poignant and uplifting as I do. Please drop by on Facebook (AuthorTanyaMichaels) or Twitter (@TanyaMichaels) and let me know!

Best wishes,

Tanya

Her Cowboy Hero

Tanya Michaels

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

New York Times bestselling author and three-time RITA® Award nominee Tanya Michaels writes about what she knows—community, family and lasting love! Her books, praised for their poignancy and humor, have received honors such as a Booksellers’ Best Bet Award, a Maggie Award of Excellence and multiple readers’ choice awards. She was also a 2010 RT Book Reviews nominee for Career Achievement in Category Romance. Tanya is an active member of Romance Writers of America and a frequent public speaker, presenting workshops to educate and encourage aspiring writers. She lives outside Atlanta with her very supportive husband, two highly imaginative children and a household of quirky pets, including a cat who thinks she’s a dog and a bichon frise who thinks she’s the center of the universe.

This is dedicated to everyone who emailed and posted online after reading the first Colorado Cades book to say they couldn’t wait for Colin’s story!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Extract

Chapter One

For Colin Cade, one of the chief selling points of his motorcycle had been solitude. He preferred being alone, making it a conscious choice rather than a tragic circumstance, but that meant a lot of time in his own head. Unfortunately, not even the Harley could outrun his thoughts. Or his anger.

How the hell had he—a man who’d lived like a monk for the better part of two years—been fired for “sexual misconduct”?

Raising younger siblings had taught him patience the hard way, but right now his temper was providing uncharacteristic daydreams of shaking Delia McCoy’s shoulders until her professionally whitened teeth rattled. She’d had no business showing up naked in his bed. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that his former employer’s wife didn’t even want an affair. There had been plenty of other men working the ranch who would have taken advantage of her adulterous offer. So why target the guy who’d never once returned her flirtatious smiles? Was it possible she only wanted to shock Sean McCoy into paying more attention to her? Ranches took a lot of work, and Delia had complained to anyone who would listen that her husband neglected her.

Maybe she had cause to be bitter, but that sure didn’t give her the right to screw up Colin’s life.

He was supposed to have stayed on at the McCoy place for another month. The McCoys were crossbreeding Angus and Hereford cows, and Colin, the former owner of a large-animal vet practice, had been hired to help deliver calves and see them off to a healthy start. His job would have included routine disease prevention and facilitating adoption for the expected twin sets and any heifers that lost their babies. His next contract—helping move two herds to the high country for summer grazing—was all lined up, but the cattle drive was nearly six weeks away, after his brother’s wedding.

What was he supposed to do in the meantime?

An old trail guide acquaintance had given him a possible lead, but he had sounded skeptical about it. “There’s a lady in the northwest, not far from where I hired on, who’s been looking for help. The Widow Shaw. None of the qualified ranch hands will waste time working for her, because her place is going belly-up any day now. Everyone knows it ’cept her. Frail little thing is clearly addled. Bakes the best rum cake I’ve ever had in my life, though.”

Despite his friend’s warning, Colin thought the job sounded promising enough to head for Bingham Pass and call on the Widow Shaw.

After his last two jobs—which had included the naked Mrs. McCoy and, prior to that, a moony-eyed teenage daughter of a foreman in Routt County—an elderly, absentminded woman who liked to bake sounded perfect. Colin wouldn’t stay long, but while he was there, he’d do what he could to get her back on her feet. And if that proved impossible...well, life sucked sometimes.

Who knew that better than him?

* * *

INHALING DEEPLY, HANNAH SHAW took stock of her situation. The early evening sky was starting to darken sooner than it should, and she had a flat tire on a stretch of road where cell service was nonexistent. How was it possible that astronauts could tweet from space, but there were still places in modern Colorado where a woman couldn’t get bars on her phone?

Bright side, Hannah. Find the bright side. After four years, her mantra was automatic. She tried every day to keep the vow she’d made in that hospital bed, to live with courageous optimism. Of course, that vow was currently being challenged by unyielding loan officers and the countless maintenance issues she’d inherited along with the Shaw family ranch. But she hadn’t survived this long by whining or embracing negativity.

The silver lining here was that Evan was spending the night at her friend Annette’s house instead of watching with worried eyes from his booster seat. Also, Hannah had successfully changed a flat tire once before, so there was no reason to think she couldn’t do it again. If the problem had been, say, her carburetor, she’d really be screwed.

“I got this,” she muttered, flipping on her hazard lights. She wished she’d been able to move the truck farther off the road, but there wasn’t exactly a reliable shoulder on these winding curves. She shrugged out of the lightweight blazer she’d borrowed from Annette. Beneath it, Hannah wore a white blouse that strained at the buttons down her chest, a premotherhood relic from the back of her closet. It was one of the few items in her wardrobe professional enough for a bank meeting, and the neatly buttoned jacket had camouflaged the imperfect fit.

As she twisted her long black hair up in an elastic band, she tried not to dwell on the banker’s condescending expression. She’d once again been told that maybe after she made significant improvements on the ranch, demonstrating that it was a solid investment, she could reapply. How was she supposed to make “significant” improvements without funds? She’d planned to rename the spread the Silver Linings Ranch, but it might be more accurate to call it The Catch-22. She’d received money after Michael’s death, of course, but a good chunk of that was in savings for Evan. Despite her careful planning—and the money she’d set aside to hire competent help—she had underestimated how much work the ranch would need before she could realize her plans.

One thing at a time. Fix the tire now, save the ranch tomorrow.

She climbed down from the cab and went to the back of the truck, where the tools and spare tire were kept under a cover that could be worth more than the vehicle. Note to self: maybe you should start keeping spare work clothes in the bed of the truck. While she wouldn’t necessarily mourn the ruination of the tight blouse, getting on the ground to change the tire was going to be murder on her pretty navy skirt.

A rumble of thunder echoed off the surrounding mountains, confirming Hannah’s suspicions about the prematurely dark sky. Rain hadn’t been in the forecast until tomorrow, but spring storms could move fast. Which meant she had better move fast, too.

Hurrying, she found a couple of good-size rocks on the side of the road to place in front of the tires. She was reluctant to completely trust the pickup’s emergency brake. The air seemed to crackle with expectancy, and wind whipped around her, chilling her skin. She’d only ever changed the tire on a car, and there had been a notch where the jack belonged. The truck did not have one. She was feeling around, trying to determine the correct place for the jack so she didn’t crack anything on the undercarriage, when the sky opened. Fat drops pelted her with enough force to sting.

But on the bright side, after a couple of years of drought, ranchers like her really needed the rain.

* * *

THE SHOWER HAD moved in fast, catching Colin by surprise. He’d anticipated getting into town before the rain started. He was scanning the side of the road for possible shelter when he rounded the curve and saw a stopped truck.

A woman knelt by a tire in the path of traffic. Not that there were any cars in sight, but lives could be taken in an instant. Stifling unwelcome memories—the call from the hospital, the twisted wreckage—he steered his motorcycle off the road and lifted his helmet.

“Need a hand?” he called over the rain.

The woman stood and he realized that, while she didn’t even reach his shoulder, she wasn’t tiny everywhere. She looked like the generously endowed winner of a wet T-shirt contest. A blouse that had probably once been white but was now translucent was plastered to an equally see-through lace bra. He abruptly glanced away but not before catching a glimpse of dark, puckered nipples.

In one motion, he ripped off his leather jacket and shoved it toward her. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Cheeks flushed with color, she accepted the coat, her hazel eyes not quite meeting his.

Watching her put on his clothing felt uncomfortably intimate, and he found himself annoyed with her for being here, in his path. “Don’t you have some kind of road service you could call?”

“Even if I did, there’s no reception here. But I’m not incapable of—”

“Wait in the cab,” he ordered. “No sense in both of us getting drenched.”

Her posture went rigid, and she drew herself up to her full—what, five feet? But she didn’t argue. “Far be it from me to look a gift Samaritan in the mouth.” Once inside, she rolled down the window. Literally. The truck had one of the manual window cranks that had been replaced with electric buttons in most modern vehicles. She seemed to be supervising his work.

“This truck is ancient,” he said. “God knows why you’re driving it when the kinder thing would be to shoot it and put it out of its misery.”

“It’s not that bad,” she retorted. Was that indignation or worry in her tone? “It just needs a little TLC.”

He grunted, focusing on getting the tire changed. Stomping on the wrench to loosen the lug nut felt good. He was in the mood to kick something’s ass. By the time he had the spare in place, the rain had shifted to a heavy drizzle. Ominous black clouds rolled closer. The storm might be taking a coffee break, but it hadn’t quit.

“That spare’s not going to get you far,” he warned. “It’s in lousy shape. Kind of like the rest of this heap.” His disdain encompassed the replacement door that was a different color from the body of the truck and a side mirror that looked loose.

She met his contempt with a half smile. “On the bright side, getting the flat gave me a chance to rest the engine and let the radiator cool down. Don’t worry, my ranch is only a few miles away. In fact, you should come with me. Wait out the storm. Judging from those clouds, we’re in for a lot worse.”

Although he recognized the logic in her words, the invitation irked him. “Lady, I could be a serial killer. You don’t invite strangers home with you.”

“Not normally, no.” Her hazel eyes darkened, her expression somber. “If it helps, I was taught self-defense by a marine and I’m a lot tougher than I look.”

A sizzle of lightning struck close enough to make both of them start.

“You shouldn’t be riding that motorcycle in this,” she scolded. For a split second, she reminded him of his sister, Arden. Not all women were so at ease bossing around grown men who towered over them. He wondered if Hazel Eyes had brothers. If they worked on that ranch she’d mentioned, it could explain why she wasn’t worried about bringing a total stranger home with her.

“Come on,” she prompted, impatience creeping into her tone as more lightning flashed. “I have enough problems without picking up my morning paper and seeing that you got fried to the asphalt.”

He didn’t realize he was going to agree until the words left his mouth. “Lead the way.” He hadn’t been there the day a car accident had shattered his world, hadn’t been able to do a damn thing to help. He found he couldn’t abandon this woman until she and her rattling joke of a truck were out of the rain.

Mounting his bike, he shook his head at the unexpected turn of events. Hazel was not the first woman who’d invited him back to her place. But it was the first time in two years that he’d accepted.

* * *

COLIN WAS TOO occupied with the diminishing visibility and handling his bike on the dirt road to study his surroundings. He had a general impression of going through a gated entrance; farther ahead were much larger structures, likely the main house and a barn or stable. But the truck stopped at a narrow, one-story building.

The woman parked in the mud, gesturing out her window that he should go around and park beneath the covered carport, where the motorcycle would be out of the worst of the elements. She joined him under the carport a moment later, her hand tucked inside the purse she wore over her shoulder. He wondered if she had pepper spray or a Taser in there. She’d sounded serious when she mentioned the self-defense lessons.

“This is the old bunkhouse,” she said. “I’m about to start refurbing it as a guest cabin, but at the moment it’s mostly empty.”

He supposed that any brothers or a husband lived in the main house with her. Although what caring husband would let his wife drive a disaster on wheels like that truck?

She tossed him a key ring and nodded toward the door. “You can get a hot shower, dry off. There’s a microwave and a few cans of soup in the cabinet. Before you tell me I’m naive and that you might be a master burglar, let me assure you there’s nothing to steal. I doubt you could get thirty bucks on Craigslist for the twin bed and microwave combined.”

He unlocked the door, noting how she kept a casual but unmistakable distance. Once he’d flipped the light switch, he saw that she was right about the lack of luxuries. The “carpet” was the kind of multipurpose indoor/outdoor covering used more in screened patios than homes. There was enough space for three or four beds, but only one was pushed against the wall. At one end of the long, rectangular interior was a minifridge and microwave, at the other a bathroom. Aside from a couple of truly ugly paintings of cows, the place was barren.

He stopped in the center of the room, raising an eyebrow. “The minifridge brings up my Craigslist asking price to thirty-five.”

She gave a sharp laugh, abruptly stifled. “Sorry the accommodations aren’t classier. The ranch is...in a rebuilding phase.”

The note of genuine embarrassment in her voice made him uneasy. “It’s plenty classy. I’ve slept on the ground during cattle drives and in horse stalls on more than one occasion.” By slept, he meant tossing and turning, trying to avoid nightmares of everything he’d lost.

Those hazel eyes locked on him, her expression inexplicably intense. “You work with livestock!”

Isn’t that what he’d just said? “As often as I can.” He preferred animals to people. “Sometimes I do other odd jobs, too. I was headed into Bingham Pass to get more information about a local employment opportunity.”

“Then you haven’t already committed to it?” A smile spread across her face, revealing two dimples. “Because, as it happens, I’m hiring.” She stepped forward, extending her hand. The oversize jacket parted, revealing a still damp but not entirely transparent blouse. Thank God.

“I’m Hannah.”

Hannah, Hazel. He’d been close.

“Hannah Shaw,” she elaborated when he said nothing. “Owner of the Silver Linings Ranch.”

Foreboding cramped low in his belly. Paralyzed, he neglected to shake her hand. “Not the Widow Shaw?” The one who baked cakes and harbored delusions of being a rancher?

She frowned. “People still call me that?”

Crap. It was her. He’d imagined Mrs. Shaw would be a temporary solution to his problems, but now, meeting her earnest gaze, his instincts murmured that she posed far more threat to his safety than any rifle-wielding jealous husband.

Chapter Two

“You know I’m rooting for you, but—”

“No buts, Annette.” Hannah secured the phone between her ear and shoulder, needing both hands to separate the yolk from the egg white. “This is the answer to my prayers! Think about it—I’ve been scouring the county for a halfway-competent ranch hand, and one rides to my rescue on a rainy Wednesday evening? It’s destiny.”

Or, at least, proof that her positive thinking was finally—finally!—paying off. She executed a happy twirl, narrowly missing the antique buffet that served as a kitchen island. Though she’d been too excited to eat dinner after she’d showered off the road grime and changed into dry clothes, she was busy mixing a thank-you batch of devil’s food cupcakes for Annette.

Over the past three months, Annette Reed had become like a big sister. Annette and her husband were trying to have kids; meanwhile they doted on Evan, helping create the extended family he’d never had. Annette was a blessing in their lives, even if she was slow to embrace Hannah’s “bright side” philosophy. The other woman didn’t fully understand that the determined optimism was the only thing that had kept Hannah going during the bleakest period of her life, that Hannah owed it to her son to prove good things could happen if you worked hard enough.

“Sweetie, please be careful,” Annette entreated. “You wouldn’t be the first woman in the world to get in trouble because she confused a hot guy on a motorcycle with destiny.”

“Hot guy?” Hannah froze, glancing out the window into the dark, as if making sure Colin Cade couldn’t overhear them. Which was insane since he was a quarter of a mile away, and she was locked into her house with a watchdog for company. “I never said he was hot.”

“Not in so many words, but it was in your tone. What’s he look like?”

Dark, with that shaggy, rich brown hair and unshaven jaw. Chiseled. And she didn’t just mean the muscles outlined beneath his T-shirt. His features, though striking, looked as if they’d been carved from stone. Had the man ever smiled in his life? Not that it matters. Being charming wasn’t a job requirement. She needed someone efficient and unflinching in the face of setbacks.

“He has blue eyes,” she said noncommittally. Light blue with a hint of green. “And he’s tall.”

Her friend guffawed. “Next to you, sweetie, everyone’s tall.”

She ignored the crack about her height. “Annette, this isn’t me getting my hopes up for no reason. The guy came here specifically looking for me, looking for this ranch.” Granted, Colin had seemed more shell-shocked than enthusiastic when he’d realized he found her. “An old friend of Colin’s told him I was hiring and he wanted more information.” She’d kept her answers in the bunkhouse brief and cheerful, barely mentioning Henry White, the well-intentioned, semiretired ranch hand who came by at least twice a week.

“Did you tell him the truth?”

“More or less,” she said, hearing the defensive note in her tone. “I mean, I didn’t volunteer that today was my fifth bank meeting and that I got turned down again. I said that I’d inherited a family ranch, have plans to turn it into a cross between a small dude ranch and bed-and-breakfast but have yet to put together a staff.” Unless one counted seventy-year-old Henry and his wife, Kitty. “I invited him to the main house for breakfast so we can discuss details. I’m making my homemade coffee cake.”

“Ah. Pulling out the big guns, then.”

Hell, yes.

As far back as Hannah could remember, she’d always had a plan. Her first one had been Get Adopted. That one had never worked out, but years later, for one shining moment in time, her marriage had made her part of a family. Eyes stinging, she batted away the memories and focused on the present. Current plan: rehabilitate the ranch that had been in her late husband’s family, build it into a legacy for her son. And to do that, she needed Colin Cade.

She was a persistent woman looking to hire help, and he was a man with ranch experience who needed a job. A match made in heaven! How hard could it possibly be to convince him to stay?

* * *

“GOOD MORNING!”

Colin hesitated on the bottom step of the wraparound porch, momentarily stunned by Hannah’s brilliant smile. And bright yellow peasant blouse. She would be murder on a man with a hangover.

As he’d mulled over the circumstances last night, he’d tried to keep thinking of her as the Widow Shaw, but he couldn’t reconcile that moniker with the woman who’d stepped outside of the two-story house to meet him. She looked as fresh as a spring morning with her feet bare, revealing hot-pink toenails, and her inky hair pulled high in a ponytail. If it hadn’t been for the jeans she wore and the pair of muddy boots sitting on the porch, he would seriously question whether she actually owned this place.

Behind her, on the other side of the screen door, an unseen dog scrabbled against the metal lower half and barked. Hannah shushed the canine over her shoulder, then flashed another sun-bright beam in Colin’s direction. “Don’t worry, Scarlett doesn’t bite. Come on in—breakfast is ready and waiting.”

Even from outside the house, the food smelled too enticing, making his stomach growl in anticipation. He was reminded of the fairy tale he used to read his younger sister. Hansel and Gretel. Hannah’s house might not be made out of candy, but temptation was present just the same.

Then again, she had a job to offer him. It was imperative that Colin stay busy. He needed physically draining, sunup-to-sundown work.

Resigned, he followed her through the front door. “Holy sh—” He broke off, manners belatedly overcoming his shock. “That’s...some dog.”

Hannah knelt down, patting the dog’s head. “Meet Scarlett.”

Yesterday, Colin had thought Hannah’s truck an eyesore. Next to the dog, it was a luxury sedan. He’d seen “patchwork” mutts before with traits from different breeds that looked a little mismatched. Scarlett went beyond mixed-breed. She was FrankenDog. It was as if someone had placed a disproportionately large German shepherd head on a squat body—not an attractive head, either. The dog had a comically pronounced underbite and her ears weren’t parallel. One black ear stood up atop her head, as was common with shepherds, and the other seemed to stick straight out of the side of her skull. What were the legs, basset hound? Her red-and-white coat couldn’t decide whether it was supposed to be curly or straight, and her tail was a brindle-colored whip that didn’t match anything else on her. He assumed her neck bolts were hidden beneath the bright blue collar.

“Scarlett,” he echoed. He would’ve gone with “Hellhound,” although that did imply a creature weighing more than forty pounds.

Hearing her name, the dog whined and smacked him with her wagging tail.

“She likes you. That’s a good sign,” Hannah declared as she stood, leading him through a spacious living room with a stone fireplace. He got a glimpse of a back hallway and a set of stairs, but she led him past that and into the kitchen. “I’m not a superstitious person, but everything about our meeting has been so lucky.”

He kept his response to a vague grunt she could take either way. It was probably best not to argue with a potential employer, but mountainside storms and mutant dogs didn’t strike him as auspicious omens.

“Hope you’re hungry. I love to cook. Before I came here, I was a pastry chef.”

“Big change.”

“True, but I’d been studying ranches for years. Running this place was always the plan. Besides, I couldn’t have stayed at my last job much longer.” She scowled. “My boss—never mind. We should be eating,” she chirped.

He was reluctantly fascinated by her total about-face. It was as though she’d flipped a switch. One moment, she’d clearly been remembering something unpleasant, anger seeping into her tone, then, boom, she was back to beaming like a lottery winner.

Maybe she was schizophrenic.

Aware that he was on the verge of staring, he looked away. In appearance, Hannah’s kitchen wasn’t much fancier than the bunkhouse. Chairs at the oblong table were mismatched, and the countertops bore stains and scratches. Faded wallpaper covered the spaces between appliances but had been scraped off the main wall, which was bare. However, the bounty on the island more than compensated for the modest surroundings. Crisp bacon; eggs scrambled with cheese, peppers and sausage; a bowl of fruit salad; piping-hot coffee; and a cake so moist it looked like the cover photo of some food magazine. His mind darted back to the Hansel and Gretel story and the witch who fattened up her prey.

He slanted Hannah an assessing look. “You got any ulterior motives I should know about?”

“Wh-what? You mean, like the old saw about the way to a man’s heart being through his stomach? Because I am not interested in you! Not like that.”

She sounded so vehement that he experienced a jolt of surprise. Maybe he was a few weeks—months?—overdue for a haircut, but he wasn’t repulsive.

“I just wanted to make a good impression,” she said. “I don’t cook like this every morning, of course. Too many chores to be done. Although, we do splurge once a week, for Sunday breakfasts.”

We? So far, he hadn’t seen evidence of another person on this ranch.

Handing him a plate edged in feminine purple flowers, she nodded toward the food. “Dig in while the eggs are still warm. I’d love to discuss your references. Then after breakfast, I can give you a tour—”

She was cut off by Scarlett’s frantic barking. The house rattled as the front door swung open with gale force. Hannah turned, an automatic smile blossoming as a child’s voice hollered, “Mommy!” Then a little boy with a curly mop of hair nearly as dark as Hannah’s skidded around the corner, launching himself at her in an exuberant hug.

Colin’s heart clenched. The same delicious aromas that had been making his mouth water now turned his stomach. Nausea and memories boiled up inside him. Physically, the dark-eyed little boy didn’t bear any resemblance to Danny, but he looked about the same age Danny would have—

“I have to get out of here.” Addressing his words to no one in particular, he dropped his plate on the counter and strode toward the living room.

Colin’s nerves had held steady while working with numerous wild-eyed horses too scared to realize he was trying to help; hell, he’d kept his cool during a stampede. But there were limits to his bravery. He couldn’t be around kids.

He’d never taken a job where young children lived, and the Silver Linings Ranch would be no exception.

* * *

WHAT JUST HAPPENED? Hannah was so stunned by Colin’s announcement that it took her a moment to process his abrupt exit. This wasn’t the first time someone had turned down her job offer, but none of the other candidates had actually bolted. She’d hit a new low in the interview process. “Wait!”

Gently disentangling herself from her son’s sticky hug—was that jam on his fingers?—Hannah sprinted after Colin. And drew up short to avoid smacking into him. He, in turn, had apparently halted to avoid running over a startled Annette.

The blonde’s mouth had fallen open in a perfect O, making her look like a comic strip character. “Um, hi?” Her eyes darted to Hannah. “Sorry, I...forgot you had a breakfast meeting.”

Fat chance. Given the concern Annette had expressed over a stranger spending the night, Hannah wasn’t surprised her friend had come over first thing to check on her. At least Annette hadn’t dragged her husband, Todd, along. No doubt Annette had plenty of questions about why the man who should be sitting comfortably at the table listing his credentials had almost mowed her over.

Hannah stepped forward to make introductions—which just so happened to strategically place her between Colin and the front door. “Colin, meet Annette. She’s here to drop off Evan and pick up some cupcakes. They’re really good, if I do say so myself.” Deep down, she hoped that if she kept talking, he couldn’t leave. He might be gruff, but surely he wasn’t brusque enough to walk out midconversation? “Annette, this is Colin Cade. We were about to eat and discuss Colin’s previous ranch experience.”

“No, we weren’t,” he said firmly. He gave a curt nod in Annette’s direction. “Ma’am.”

Annette raised a pale eyebrow. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

He shook his head, already moving toward the door again. Something in his demeanor suggested he would pick up Hannah and remove her bodily from his path if necessary. “Nothing to interrupt. I was on my way out.” He opened the screen door, letting it clatter shut behind him.

Gesturing toward the kitchen in an all-purpose indication that Annette should help herself to the food and please keep an eye on Evan, Hannah followed. Was it her son’s appearance that had sent Colin fleeing, or had she been too manic in her perky approach? One of her favorite high school teachers had always said that enthusiasm was contagious, but that didn’t seem to be the case with Colin. Maybe she should dial it back a notch.

His much longer legs gave him the advantage. He was already down in the yard, but she wasn’t too proud to jog down the porch steps.

“Wait, Colin, I—” Crack.

The board under her gave way, and Hannah gasped as her foot went through the fissure at a wrong angle. Suddenly, he was at her side, his hands warm on her hips as he lifted her. For a big man, he moved surprisingly fast.

“You’re hurt.” Putting his arms around her, he lifted her vertically so she wouldn’t have to navigate the steps and lowered her onto the porch. Tingles of awareness erupted like goose bumps across her skin. It had been eternities since she’d been that close to a man.

“Twisted my ankle,” she said breathlessly, “but it’s nothing ice and ibuprofen won’t fix.”

He glowered, those blue eyes stormy. “You seem to have some strange ideas about what’s fixable. Your truck’s a pile of scrap metal, and you live in a house that’s rotting out from under you.”

“It is not.” Annoyed, she shoved away from him, not even caring that she had to hobble to do so. “I’ll admit the steps need replacing—all the rain hasn’t helped. Maybe some of the railing is a little loose, too. But I made sure the main house was structurally sound before I moved my son here.”

At the mention of Evan, Colin’s gaze skittered behind her, as if she’d reminded him that there was a nuclear warhead inside rather than a four-year-old boy.

“Wow. You really don’t like kids, do you?”

He blanched, but didn’t answer.

Admitting defeat, Hannah shook her head sadly. She was stubborn, not delusional. “Thank you for changing my tire yesterday. Safe journeys wherever you’re headed next.”

Trying to keep her weight off the throbbing ankle, she pivoted toward the door. With a sound of strangled frustration, Colin clamped his fingers around her upper arm.

“I don’t know where I’m going next,” he said through gritted teeth. “But I’m replacing those damn steps before I go.” He glanced around the spacious wraparound porch. “This entire thing’s probably a safety hazard that should be reinforced, if not rebuilt.”

Renewed hope surged through her, eclipsing her pain. “I insist on paying for your time as well as the materials.” She kept her voice calm, trying not to betray her joy at this small victory.

“You have tools?”

She nodded. “There’s a small detached garage behind the house. Pretty well stocked, as far as I can tell. I can show you.”

He slanted her an assessing glance. “You should get inside, off that ankle. If you’ve got a tape measure handy, I’ll start taking measurements.”

“Sure. I’ll send Annette out with it. She can take you to the garage.” Hannah made a mental note to instruct her friend not to interrogate Colin or overwhelm him with boisterous conversation. Otherwise, he might follow his original impulse and bolt. As it stood, she had at least a couple of days, a window of opportunity to plead her case. But with more subtlety this time.

He narrowed his eyes. “Just this one repair job. That’s not the same as signing on with you, Mrs. Shaw.”

She nodded innocently. We’ll see about that.

Chapter Three

In the parking lot of a Bingham Pass diner, Colin sat inside a truck older than he was, as disoriented as if an Arabian Thoroughbred had kicked him in the skull.

Earlier that morning, he’d been ready to jump on his motorcycle and put Hannah Shaw, her energetic son and her ill-fated ranch all behind him. Yet he’d spent several hours purchasing lumber and paint and getting a new tire for her misbegotten truck. Since he’d never actually gotten around to eating breakfast—and because he was in no hurry to return to the Silver Linings—he’d stayed in town for lunch.

Bingham Pass, like his hometown of Cielo Peak, was rife with local gossip. As soon as Colin had mentioned the Silver Linings Ranch, the waitress had sighed sadly and remarked that Hannah’s husband, a marine, had been killed overseas.

I was taught self-defense by a marine, and I’m a lot tougher than I look.

In hindsight, Colin acknowledged that his worry and anger at seeing Hannah fall through that bottom step had been disproportional to her minor injury. She seemed irrepressible. A mild sprain wouldn’t keep her down for long. But how could he walk away, knowing a young woman or her kid might be hurt when he could have prevented it?

He couldn’t leave with a clear conscience until he replaced the boards. Paradoxically, he still couldn’t bring himself to return to the ranch yet—hence the sitting in a parked truck. He needed the few extra moments to brace himself for whatever surprise came at him next.

Ever since spotting Hannah through the rain, he’d felt off-kilter, unbalanced by her identity, her affable hellhound, the discovery that she had a little boy. None of it was what he’d expected. He should phone the so-called buddy who’d given him this lead. Colin had a few choice words for the man who’d led him to believe the “frail Widow Shaw” was a little old lady.

He powered up the cell phone he usually kept turned off. If asked, he would claim he left it off to make the charge last, but, truthfully, he was dodging his sister. A few weeks ago, Arden’s husband had undergone major surgery in order to donate one of his kidneys to his biological father. As a concerned older brother, Colin had dutifully answered every one of her calls, wanting to be there for her in case anything had gone wrong.

But she’d abused the privilege. She’d acted as if she were calling with post-op updates on Garrett, but then she inevitably worked the conversation around to how Garrett’s family could use the extra help on the Double F Ranch while he recuperated. Wouldn’t Colin love the opportunity to use his skills on behalf of relatives and spend some time with his infant niece?

Colin knew his sister worried about him, that Arden wanted to help him heal. How could he explain that it hurt to be around her, the glowing new mother with a husband who adored her? Their brother, Justin, wasn’t much better. He was engaged and disgustingly in love.

As soon as his phone finished booting up, it buzzed with the notification that he had 6 Missed Calls from Arden Frost. That was a lot even for her.

Fighting a stab of uneasiness, he dialed his brother Justin’s number. If something were wrong, Justin would know. But if her calls were simply more attempts to recruit him to the Double F so she could keep an eye on him, then he was dodging a bullet by not phoning her directly.

It took a few rings before Justin answered. “Hey, old man. Long time, no hear. To what do I owe the honor?”

His brother’s glib tone sent an unexpected stab of nostalgia through Colin. He hadn’t seen either of his siblings since Christmas, which suddenly seemed like a long time considering how close they’d once been. Although there’d been an elderly aunt’s name on the guardianship papers, Colin had all but raised his siblings after their parents’ deaths.

He cleared his throat. “I, ah, wondered if you could tell me what our sister’s been up to lately. She filled my voice-mail box. I figured it would be quicker to check in with you than listen to all of the messages. You know Arden. She’s not brief.”

Justin laughed. “Preaching to the choir. I realize it’s a wuss move, but now that I’m engaged, I keep trying to make Elisabeth take her calls so I don’t have to. Those two can talk wedding plans for hours.”

Colin squeezed his eyes closed. Weddings, babies, new beginnings. It was difficult not to feel as if Arden and Justin were both just starting out in life while his had abruptly derailed. “So do you know why she’s been calling me?”

Justin’s heavy pause was worrisome. He usually had a quip for every occasion. “You should really ask her.”

Colin’s heart skipped a beat. Decades ago, they’d lost their mom to cancer and their father to heart failure. Had Arden inherited any medical problems? “Justin, you tell me right now, is she okay?”

“Relax, bro, it’s good news.” He sighed. “You didn’t hear this from me, but she and Garrett are expecting.”

“Again? Those two are like rabbits.”

“Dude, it’s only their second child.”

“Yeah, but the first one’s not even a year old! Shouldn’t they be pacing themselves?”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not think about our sister’s sex life.” Justin changed the subject. “How are things going with the McCoys?” His carefully neutral tone made it clear he’d heard something. Justin was no better at lying now than he had been as a kid.

“What do you know?”

“Only some very bizarre gossip about you and Delia McCoy. The ranching community talks. Garrett heard that you and Mrs. McCoy were caught in bed together, and he told Arden, who called me screeching. She didn’t know whether to be relieved you’re interested in a woman romantically or appalled that you’d be part of an adulterous affair.”

Colin smacked his forehead. This was why he always left his phone off.

“Calm yourselves. Delia arranged to be caught in my bed, but I was nowhere near it. And I’m not interested in any woman.” A pair of mesmerizing hazel eyes flashed through his mind, but no way in hell was he sharing that with his brother. “Look, I gotta go. I’ll call Arden when I have more time to chat. I’ll pretend to be surprised when she tells me about the baby.”

“Gotta go where?” Justin pressed. “Are you still working at the McCoy place? Rumor has it you got canned, or is that part an exaggeration, too?”

Colin rolled his eyes heavenward, choosing his words carefully. If he admitted he was between jobs, he’d seem churlish and petty for not going home to visit his family. But all the Cades were forthright in nature. He was no more skilled at dishonesty than his brother. “I found a temporary gig on a spread in Bingham Pass.” Very temporary.

“Glad you landed on your feet. Word of advice?” Justin asked, mischief lacing his voice. “Be careful not to make any goo-goo eyes at the boss’s wife.”

“I’m hanging up on you now. Also, the boss isn’t married.”

“Well, there’s a relief.”

The polar opposite, actually. Colin couldn’t imagine anything less comfortable than working for an attractive single mom. Which was why, the second paint started drying on a newly secured porch, he was getting the hell out of Dodge.

* * *

WHEN SCARLETT WORKED herself into a frenzy by the front door, Hannah experienced an irrational burst of relief. He’s back. It wasn’t that she’d honestly believed Colin would steal her truck and never return. But he’d seemed so reluctant to be here that it would be good to see him with her own eyes, to have proof he was serious about staying for another day or two.

She got up from the kitchen table, where she’d been paying bills on her laptop, and went to quiet the dog. As usual, indulgent “Aunt Annette” had let Evan stay up too late, and Hannah had sent her increasingly fussy son to take a nap. He’d been asleep only a few minutes.

But when Hannah saw who was on the other side of the screen door, instead of shushing Scarlett, she wanted to snarl right along with her.

“Afternoon, Hannah.” Gideon Loomis tipped his gray felt cowboy hat, giving her a smile that would have been so much more handsome without the permanent smugness etched into his features.

Go away. “Gideon.” It was tricky to avoid someone in Bingham Pass, downright impossible when that someone owned the neighboring ranch, but why was he standing on her front porch? After their lone dinner date, she’d tried to make it clear she wasn’t interested in seeing him again. She’d stopped shy of blunt rudeness, because only an idiot would antagonize the Loomis family. “This is a surprise.”

“A pleasant one, I hope.” His self-assured tone made it clear he’d drawn his own erroneous conclusion. “Mama sent me over with an order for another one of her social events.”

His mother, Patricia Loomis, was Hannah’s biggest customer. There were decent restaurants in town that could cater, but no one in the area could bake or decorate desserts like Hannah. While she was thankful for Patricia’s business, it also held her hostage. She longed for the freedom to tell Gideon he was an arrogant ass who was no doubt rendering himself infertile with his obnoxiously tight jeans.

Tugging on Scarlett’s collar, she attempted to make the agitated dog sit. Scarlett had never liked Gideon, which proved the people at the shelter had known what they were talking about when they’d told Hannah the mutt was smart. She opened the door, grudgingly inviting her neighbor inside.

He inhaled deeply. “Always smells so delicious here. I just realized, I worked right through lunch. Don’t suppose I could trouble you for a slice of cake and some coffee?” He was already making his way to the kitchen.

She ground her teeth together. “I don’t have any coffee brewed.” Since there was half a cake sitting in a clear domed container on the counter, she saw no polite way to refuse him that. She got a clean plate from the dishwasher and sliced a much smaller piece than she would have offered Annette. “We have to keep our voices down. Evan is sleeping. I was actually thinking about stealing the opportunity for a quick nap myself,” she fibbed.

He ignored the hint that he should hurry on his way. “Sorry I missed the little guy. Be sure to tell him hi for me.”

Evan didn’t like Gideon any more than the dog did. For starters, the fiercely independent four-year-old, who couldn’t wait for kindergarten, hated the “little guy” nickname. He also disliked how Gideon chucked him on the chin as if they were in some cheesy made-for-TV movie. Who did that in real life? One of Hannah’s objections to the man was how he always seemed to be performing for an invisible audience.

She also objected to his barely concealed lust for her ranch.

Before she’d moved to Bingham Pass, she’d had ideas—and a budget—for guest-friendly investments. An outdoor hot tub, extra beds, more horses. But the six-bedroom ranch had fallen into disrepair since she’d seen it last, and she quickly realized she needed to prioritize roof improvements, furniture, updated plumbing and possibly even new wiring. Most of the outlets were only two-prong instead of the now-standard three. Alarmed by how inadequate her budget was, she’d let the Loomis family talk her into selling a strip of land that adjoined their property.

She’d regretted the hasty decision afterward, and not just because she’d realized they lowballed her on price. The Silver Linings Ranch was Michael’s legacy to their son. She would not sell it off piecemeal like a stolen car stripped for parts. Gideon and his family weren’t getting their hands on another acre of her land.

Aware of how easily her anger could grow—of the negative emotions that lurked like an undertow to consume her—she forced a smile. It was strained, but Gideon didn’t seem to mind. He grinned back, leaning against the island to eat instead of going to the table as she’d hoped.

She found an excuse to move away from him, stepping toward the refrigerator. “Can I get you some iced tea? Maybe a glass of milk to wash down the chocolate?”

“Tea’s fine.” He took a bite of cake, and unmistakable bliss lit his brown eyes. “Damn, that’s good. It’s a crying shame you have to expend so much energy into taking care of the horses, cows and goats.”

She didn’t have goats. She was the proud owner of horses, cows and one attack donkey.

“If you had a husband to worry about the livestock for you,” he continued, “think of all the extra time you could spend puttering in the kitchen and developing your recipes.”

She straightened abruptly from the fridge shelf, skewering him with a glare. “Yeah, careless of Michael to get killed in action and screw up my puttering schedule.”

“All I meant was—a woman like you? Deserves a man who can take care of her.”

She wanted to rail that not only was she capable of taking care of herself, she’d been doing a splendid job of taking care of Evan for the past four years. Still...being a good mom and a hard worker didn’t automatically translate to being able to maintain one hundred and eighty acres alone. Not alone, exactly. She had a four-year-old always looking for ways to “help.” She also had Henry, who’d worked this property for decades and refused to acknowledge limitations set by age or reality, and Colorado’s most unusual ranch dog.

Okay, she needed a man, but not in the romantic sense. Particularly if her options were limited to Gideon Loomis.

His expression earnest, he set down the plate and came toward her. “At the very least, let me talk to my folks about buying your cows from you. The herd would be one less thing for you to manage.”

The “herd” was fewer than two dozen heifers, a bull and the resulting calves. Her predecessor, Michael’s great-uncle, hadn’t used a formal breeding program. He kept the bull in with the heifers, sometimes separating out the younger cows, and let nature take its course. A vet was called in as necessary, but the cattle were actually the least of her problems—with the exception of hauling hay. Hay was a never-ending chore.

“Isn’t that sweet of you,” she bit out, “offering to shoulder my burdens? No doubt for some sort of grateful, discounted rate.”

His voice rose. “Are you accusing me of trying to cheat you? If you were a man...” He stopped, running a hand over his reddened face. His tone changed, slick with his attempt at charm. “But you are all woman.”

“Maybe you’re right, I do need a man.” She jutted her chin up. “Good thing that, as of yesterday, I found one.”

* * *

THERE WAS A shiny red pickup in front of the ranch house when Colin returned from town. When he’d left, Annette’s car had been there. This must be someone different. He took the steps two at a time, glad Hannah had company. Maybe he could return the truck keys and get to work on the porch without further conversation. Even though she’d affirmed her understanding that he was sticking around only for this one quick repair job, did he really trust that she wouldn’t try to coax him into staying?

More to the point, did he trust himself to resist? Home cooking like hers and the sibling-free solitude of the bunkhouse were appealing. If she didn’t have a kid—or those arresting hazel eyes—he would have considered staying until his brother’s wedding.

Before he had a chance to knock against the door frame, voices carried through the screen.

“—your sense? You can’t just bring strange men home!”

“I told you to keep your voice down,” Hannah retorted, her own voice only marginally softer. “And it’s my ranch. I make the decisions. I think it’s time for you to go, Gideon.”

“I haven’t finished,” the man argued.

Not bothering to waste time knocking, Colin let himself inside, even as he called himself a fool. For all he knew, “Gideon” was a relative or a boyfriend and Hannah might resent a third-party interloper witnessing the argument. But Colin had a problem with the man’s refusal to leave.

“Hannah?” He wheeled around the corner, distantly recognizing that it had been a long damn time since he’d felt protective of anyone but Justin or Arden.

His would-be boss was between the kitchen counter near the fridge and a beefy guy standing close enough that Colin had the urge to yank him back by his collar.

“You’re back.” Hannah’s face went from tense to one of those dimpled smiles faster than a hummingbird could beat its wings. She raised an arm, pushing Gideon out of her way with the heel of her hand and coming to take the truck keys from Colin. “This is my neighbor, Gideon Loomis. He was just leaving.”

The man’s blond eyebrows shot toward the brim of his gray hat. “Actually, I—”

“Mommy?”

All three adults turned to see Evan in the wide entryway, his hair sticking up in wayward tufts, a child-size green blanket clutched in his hand.

Gideon gave the kid a hearty smile. “Oops—we wake you, little guy?”

Evan scowled.

“How about I make it up to you with a piece of cake?” Gideon offered.

“I don’t think so.” Hannah crossed the kitchen to scoop the boy up in a hug. “He had some after lunch. No more sweets until after dinner. And only then if you eat some vegetables,” she told her son.

Evan’s wrinkled nose and unenthusiastic grunt nearly tugged a sympathetic smile from Colin. He himself was a meat-and-potatoes man. Natalie had always cajoled him to set a good example by eating more green stuff.

“If Danny doesn’t see you eating food like broccoli or lima beans, he’ll form a preconceived notion that they taste bad.”

“That’s not a notion—that’s scientific fact.”

Colin blinked, startled by the memory of teasing his wife. He was normally more vigilant about stifling those recollections. Dwelling on what he’d lost made it harder to move forward. I need air.

He cleared his throat. “I’m going to back the truck up to the garage and start unloading lumber. So...I’ll be outside if you need me.” The words were ostensibly for Hannah, but his gaze swung to Gideon. If Hannah asked her neighbor to leave again, Colin would be close enough to offer his assistance in escorting the man from the premises.

A few minutes later, as Colin stood on the porch double-checking some measurements, the front door opened. Hannah walked Gideon outside. She looked calmer, but her smile wasn’t genuine. Her hazel eyes were flat, and no dimples showed.

Shaking his head, Colin rejected the involuntary sense of familiarity. He’d known Hannah for less than twenty-four hours. Who was he to assume he could read her?

“Please tell your mom I said thanks for the order,” Hannah was saying. “And she’s always welcome to call or email me. I hate for anyone to waste their time with an unnecessary trip.”

There was a pause as Gideon digested her pointed words, and though Colin kept his eyes on what he was doing, he could feel the man’s hostile gaze prickling the back of his neck like sunburn. “Wasn’t any trouble. You’ve only been in Bingham Pass a few months, but we’re neighborly around here. You’ll come to realize there are a lot of benefits to that.”

In Colin’s experience, there were also benefits to being left the hell alone.

All Hannah said was, “Careful going down the stairs.” She waited on the porch as Gideon climbed into his truck, expelling a frustrated breath as he pulled away from the house. “I swear, that man...”

When she didn’t finish the thought, Colin turned toward her. She stood with her hands on her hips and her jaw tight.

“First my boss back in Colorado Springs didn’t want to take no for an answer, and now Gideon with his macho I-know-best act. What is it about me that draws these yahoos? It’s because I’m short, isn’t it? Makes me look like an easy target.”

His gaze slid down her body then back to her face, flushed with spirited indignation that made her hazel eyes sparkle like gemstones. “It’s a lot more than your height that attracts men.” What the devil was he thinking, saying that out loud? He’d spoken the truth, but there were too many wrong ways she could take his comment. She might lump him in with the inappropriate men she’d already been criticizing. Or, worse, she could take it as flirtation.

Colin didn’t flirt. He left that to Justin, the glib charmer who’d set Cielo Peak dating records before asking Elisabeth to marry him.

Hannah looked momentarily startled by his words, but then nodded. “You’re right, of course. Gideon’s attracted to my ranch. I think his family looks at this property as the opportunity to expand their outfit. But I’ve got my own plans, which don’t include the Loomises.”

Right, her idea to remake the ranch as a B and B. In theory, he could picture her as the proprietor of a bed-and-breakfast. She seemed outgoing enough to make guests feel welcome and, though he’d yet to try her food, there was evidence suggesting her meals would keep tourists happy. But a friendly personality and impressive menu wouldn’t be enough. For starters, she needed front steps that weren’t lawsuits waiting to happen. Also, he was having difficulty imagining that abandoned bunkhouse as a guest cottage people would actually pay money to inhabit.

She grinned suddenly, exposing her dimples. “I can’t tell if you’re a really good listener, or if you’re ignoring me in the hopes that I’ll go away.” She reached for the handle on the screen door. “I’ll leave you alone so you can work, but thank you. Two rescues in two days—you’re quite the hero.”

Her praise slithered unpleasantly over him. The waitress in town had used that same word when talking about Hannah’s late husband, a hero to his country. Colin was nobody’s hero.

“You exaggerate my usefulness,” he objected. “If I hadn’t come along yesterday, you could have changed that tire without me. And as for today...” He recalled how close Gideon had been standing to her, looming. How bad was the man’s temper? Was he the type to lash out at a woman? “Do you think Gideon’s a big enough problem that you needed rescuing?”

“You misunderstand. Today, he’s the one you rescued.” Hannah stepped inside, tossing one last beatific smile over her shoulder. “Another ten minutes with that blowhard crowding me, I might have Tasered his ass.”

Chapter Four

Evan sat at the dinner table, rolling peas around his plate with his fork—as if his mom wouldn’t notice he wasn’t eating them as long as they stayed in motion.

“No peas, no dessert,” Hannah reminded him gently. Rising, she carried her own plate to the sink.

Through the kitchen window, she could see Colin still working even though the sun had faded to an orange-gold memory stretched across the darkening horizon. She’d stepped outside nearly an hour ago to ask if he wanted to join them for dinner. It hadn’t come as a surprise when he’d declined, asking only for a glass of water and for her to turn on the porch lights for more illumination. Granted, she didn’t know him, but he seemed easiest in his own skin when he had a job to perform. So wouldn’t it benefit them both if he stayed? Lord knew there was plenty to do around here.

Behind her, Evan heaved a martyrlike sigh. “Is this enough peas gone, Mommy?”

She grinned at his put-upon expression and the four remaining peas he was refusing to eat on principle. “I suppose so.”

The town librarian had hired Hannah to bake some apple tarts for a fund-raising party, and she’d made extras to keep at home. She warmed one up and served it to Evan with a dollop of vanilla ice cream. Afterward, she settled him on the couch with Scarlett and “Trainket,” his beloved green train blanket. Having been washed hundreds of times, the fleecy material was no longer quite as soft as it had originally been, and the appliqué train was missing a car.

“I have to go down to the stable,” she said, handing him a walkie-talkie so they could stay in communication. Its match was clipped to her belt. Evan enjoyed feeling like a secret agent, and she couldn’t imagine leaving sight of the house without being able to keep in contact. “You can watch cartoons until I get back. Then, bath time.”

The first time she’d gone to the stable without Henry, Kitty or Annette to keep an eye on Evan, she’d been nervous. She didn’t even like working in the garden without him, and that was within easy view of the house. They’d made a game of how he was a pirate and the sofa was his ship, and the carpet was shark-infested waters. But, truthfully, she allowed him so little television time that when she did, he was transfixed.

Before leaving the house, she stopped by the kitchen and sliced off a piece of the roast beef they’d had for dinner. She stuck it between two pieces of homemade bread, along with romaine, tomato and a dab of horseradish. Then she wrapped it in a napkin and stepped onto the porch—where Colin was swearing in a creatively mixed string of words that reminded Hannah of a long-ago foster brother. Their foster mother had tried washing his mouth out a number of times, but then stopped, figuring that much soap wasn’t good for a kid.

“Problem?” Hannah asked.

He turned to her, shoving a hand through his hair. She tried not to notice how lifting his arm like that tightened the white T-shirt against the muscular contours of his chest.

“I’m replacing some of the top boards on the porch so no one crashes through them like you did that step this morning, but it’s not just the surface wood that needs fixing. Some of the supporting joists and piers are starting to give out, too. I’ll need to make another supply run tomorrow.”

Damn. Her budget was already strained, and porch repairs had not been on her priority list. That was the kind of thing she’d hoped to take care of once the bunkhouse was ready for guests and she’d had a chance to generate some revenue. Bright side, Hannah. If the scope of the job was greater than Colin had expected, then he’d be here longer, wouldn’t he? That gave her a stronger chance of convincing him to help make her vision a reality.

With that in mind, she conjured a friendly smile and held out the sandwich. “I brought you some food.”

He reached for it eagerly, but his eyes were wary. “What, just one course?”

Maybe now wasn’t the time to mention the six different dessert options inside if he was still hungry later. “I can do understated,” she said. “I told you this morning, the kind of spread I laid out for breakfast is indicative of special occasions. Not a daily occurrence.”

He scowled, looking uncomfortable at being classified with “special occasions,” but then he took a bite of the sandwich. For a second, his features relaxed into an expression of utter satisfaction, and everything female in her clenched at the sight.

Partly out of self-preservation and partly in strategic retreat, she grabbed the now-empty glass of water and went back inside to get him a refill.

“Mommy?” Evan said as she entered the room. “I’ve seen this one before.”

She changed the channel and found him a different cartoon. “I have to give Mr. Colin some water, then I’m going to feed the horses. For real this time,” she said, ruffling his dark hair. Evan had her hair and eye color, but Michael was the one who’d had curls as a child. Plus, Evan had his father’s smile.

When she returned to the porch, she found Colin packing away tools for the night.

She sat on the bench, tugging on her boots. “Can I ask you a favor? I mean, besides the obvious one you’re already doing, rebuilding my disaster of a porch? I was headed to the stable and wondered if you’d come with me. I know you’ve had more experience with livestock than me, and I’d really appreciate your expert opinion on the horses. Not that Henry isn’t an expert, but...”

He cocked his head in silent question. She was used to the chatter of her inquisitive son and Henry’s garrulous tales of bygone days. Colin didn’t waste a lot of words.

“Henry White,” she said. “He worked this ranch for years, and he knows his stuff. His eyesight isn’t what it used to be, though, and he’s a little more, um, absent lately. I’m learning as fast as I can, but I can’t guarantee that if Henry overlooked something I would catch it.”

Colin pressed a finger between his eyes, and she could almost see his thoughts floating in the cool evening air. This lady doesn’t know what she’s doing. Can’t she see this is a doomed enterprise? She refused to believe that. No one was born an expert at anything. What message would she be sending her son if she gave up whenever she encountered difficulties?

She thought back to her conversation with Colin in the bunkhouse. “You said you work with animals ‘as often as you can.’ You must care about their well-being.”

He sighed. “Lead the way.”

“Thank you.” Turning so he wouldn’t see her victorious grin, she opened the container beneath the porch bench and pulled out a large flashlight. There was enough light to get to the stable, but it would be darker when they came back. She stepped gingerly down the stairs. “You can use the flashlight for your walk to the bunkhouse tonight. Or I could drive you.”

“Walking’s fine,” he said. “It isn’t far to the bunkhouse, and I’m not afraid of the dark.”

She almost made a joke about her son and his various coping mechanisms for braving the dark but stopped herself. Colin hadn’t warmed to Evan. She wished it didn’t bother her—tried to tell herself his aloofness was better than Gideon’s phony “let’s be best pals” demeanor—but she was a mom. She naturally wanted others to see what a great kid Evan was.

“How’s your ankle?” Colin asked as they fell into step in the yard.

“Better. Tender, but—”

“Mommy!” Evan called through the screen a moment before banging the door open. He was wearing his own pair of boots and had his blanket around his shoulders like a superhero cape. “Changed my mind. I wanna visit the horsies, too.”

Repressing a groan, she stole a peek at Colin. He looked as if he’d swallowed rusty nails.

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell her son no, but the whole reason she’d been comfortable leaving Evan for a short time was because she’d trusted him to watch TV. That obviously wasn’t going to work tonight. Apparently, the combination of horses and a newcomer to their ranch was a lot more mesmerizing than watching Shaggy and Scooby unmask villains.

Colin met her gaze. “Makes no difference to me,” he said stiffly. But, in direct contradiction to his words, he lengthened his stride, putting distance between himself and the Shaws.

“Come on,” she told her son. She pointed at the broken step. “Be careful, though.”

Evan scampered down the stairs with no care for his safety, rushing by Hannah and going straight to Colin. “You’re tall.” Her son’s voice was full of admiration. “You’re like a giant.”

Unsurprisingly, Colin didn’t answer. The silence didn’t deter Evan.

“Did you get tall from eating healthy food? Mommy sings me a song about—”

“Evan!” She intervened before her son reenacted the “Grow Big and Strong” song she’d made up to coax him into eating vegetables. Colin didn’t need to hear it—or see the accompanying dance steps. “Don’t bother Mr. Colin, okay? He’s been working with a noisy saw and hammering nails all afternoon. I’ll bet he’d appreciate some peace and quiet.”

Her son scowled. “Quiet is boring.”

“Don’t argue with your mother.” Colin’s sharp admonishment wasn’t loud, but it startled both Evan and Hannah. She hadn’t expected him to speak. Having him suddenly participate in the conversation was otherworldly, like being riddled by the sphinx.

Evan’s eyes were wide as he craned his head back to regard the “giant.” “Yessir.” Then he miraculously fell silent.

Hannah was impressed. She’d wanted Colin to stick around because of his experience with livestock, but it turned out he wasn’t half-bad with outspoken four-year-olds, either. She caught up with him, turning to give him a smile of thanks. It died on her lips, though, when she got a good look at his profile. Even in the dim light of moonrise, there was no mistaking the pain stamped across his handsome features.

It was an expression that felt familiar, the same kind of agony that had contorted her soul when she’d lost both her husband and, in the same day, her mother-in-law. Ellie Shaw hadn’t been well, and news of Michael’s death had triggered a massive stroke. After years of foster care and praying for home and family, Hannah had lost her only two relatives in one cruel blow. A week later, Hannah had gone into premature labor, barely caring when she was loaded into the ambulance whether she lived or died.

It wasn’t until the next day, when she’d heard Evan’s lusty wail, that she’d realized a piece of Michael still lived on, that not all her family was dead. She had a son who needed her, and she was ashamed of her earlier ambivalence about surviving. For his sake, she’d sworn to find the positives in life, to resist the bleak drag of depression that sucked at her. Evan was the bright spot that motivated her to keep moving forward during the most challenging times.

What motivated Colin Cade? And what had he suffered? She’d never seen such light eyes filled with so much darkness.

* * *

COLIN BREATHED IN the familiar scents of leather and wood, horse and hay. They were soothing, but as ragged as his nerves were after walking to the stable with Hannah and her boy, he would have preferred a slug of whiskey. It was weird how being around kids stirred memories not only of his own lost son, but his father, who’d died when Colin was a teenager. Don’t argue with your mother. How many times had Colin heard that edict from behind the newspaper at the kitchen table, directed either at himself or Justin, who’d been a rambunctious hellion as a kid? When Dad bothered to lower the newspaper before making the pronouncement, you knew you were really on thin ice.

Was it strange to miss his parents after all this time? Colin’s mom had been dead now for more years of his life than she’d been alive. But it was easier to miss them than to allow himself to miss Natalie and Danny. That was a more recent wound, one that hadn’t healed properly. He could almost envision the jagged scar it had left inside him.

After the cover of darkness outside, being beneath the stable’s electric lights made him feel too exposed, as if Hannah would be able to glimpse into his memories. He cleared his throat, shifting focus on the horses that had begun to wander into stalls from the outside paddock.

“Guess they know it’s dinnertime,” he said. “How many horses are there?” There were a total of eight spacious stalls, and the stable was in better shape than either the main house or his current quarters. Whoever had owned the ranch before, decor hadn’t been his or her top priority.

“Four. Mavis here is the oldest,” she said, coming forward to stroke the nose of a sorrel mare. “She’s been on the ranch for seventeen years. I take her out for exercise, but when this place is up and running, I don’t plan to let guests ride her. There’s Tilly and Apples, both Tennessee walkers and good with people. Viper’s the black gelding. He’s a little sneaky, but doesn’t challenge confident riders.”

She showed Colin where the oats and feed buckets were. They hung them over the stall doors and snapped them into place. He noticed that the wood at Viper’s stall had been chewed.

“That may be an indication that he needs more roughage,” he commented. “Might want to give him more hay before he fills up on the oats.”

Evan was suitably quiet and restrained around the horses. Hannah had obviously taught him stable manners. Or he was intimidated by the thousand-pound beasts. He eyed them with a combination of adoration and apprehension.

“We have a donkey, too,” Evan informed Colin. “His name is Ninja.”

Hannah took her son’s hand and gently led him out of the stall where Colin was running a brush over Apples, getting to know the horse and checking her general condition. “I laughed the first time Michael told me donkeys were used to help protect the cattle against predators.” She bit her lip. “Michael was my husband.”

“The marine.” He met her gaze, understanding the relief he saw there. She was glad he already knew, sparing her any awkward explanations. “I heard about him in town.”

According to Colin’s waitress, Michael had been killed before his son was born. Hannah’s late husband had never seen Evan drag his green blanket across the dusty floor or heard his son ask when he would be big enough to ride a horse all by himself. At least I had two years with Danny before he was ripped away. But in some ways, wasn’t that worse? There were still nights Colin woke from dreams of the past with the sound of his toddler’s surprisingly deep belly laugh echoing in his ears.

“Last month, I watched Ninja circle up the cows with the youngest of the herd in the center,” Hannah continued. “I never got a look at what they were reacting to—”

“Coyotes, probably.”

She nodded. “The incident gave me a new appreciation for donkeys as unexpected heroes.”

There was that word again. She’d called him a hero earlier, and he’d bristled, resenting the implied expectations that came with such lofty praise. But if she was comfortable using the same terminology when describing a donkey, maybe Colin should relax and get over himself.

It was a radical thought.

While Hannah and Evan stepped outside to see if they could find the Big Dipper, Colin tried to recall the last time he’d been relaxed. In the weeks following his brother’s engagement Colin had figuratively held his breath, afraid that Justin—notorious for being unable to commit—would somehow screw up the best thing that had ever happened to him. Though Colin didn’t spend much time in Cielo Peak these days, the habit of worrying after his siblings was tough to break. He should have been at ease during his last few ranch jobs, doing work he enjoyed, but circumstances such as Delia McCoy’s unwanted interest had prevented that from happening.

Well, you won’t find contentment here. Not with Evan looking for opportunities to talk his ear off and the losing battle of trying to help Hannah turn the run-down house into a tourist destination. Yet even as Colin reminded himself of the reasons he wasn’t staying, he had to admit that right now, in this quiet stable, he was experiencing the closest thing to peace he’d felt in longer than he could remember. And he was in no hurry to give that up.

Chapter Five

“So you’re the fella lookin’ to replace me?” The grizzled man slammed his truck door, and Scarlett ran down the steps to greet him, woofing happily.

Colin set down the hammer and rose, deciding this must be Henry White. The man wore a battered straw cowboy hat that looked a lot like the one atop Colin’s own head. “Not sure what you heard, sir, but I’m not replacing anyone. Are you Henry White?”

“Yup.” The man’s demeanor was so territorial, Colin was surprised it had taken him until Saturday to come size up the perceived competition. “Been working this ranch since before you were born.”

As Colin understood it, that was part of the problem. But he had a lot of respect for what could be learned from previous generations. “I’m Colin Cade. Just passing through Bingham Pass and lending Hannah a hand while I’m here.”

The man nudged back the brim of his hat. “Lotta people seem eager to help Hannah. Gideon Loomis, for one.”

Was he trying to warn Colin away, let him know Hannah was spoken for? She deserves better. “Met Loomis. Wasn’t impressed.”

Henry’s craggy, sun-leathered face split into a grin. “Me, neither. His parents may run a successful operation, but their spoiled only child doesn’t have the sense God gave a goose.”

So Colin had passed a test of sorts. The approval was oddly satisfying, and he found himself returning the old-timer’s smile.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” Hannah called from inside the house. “I—” She stepped onto the porch, then froze, gaping at Colin. She looked so feminine in the white lacy sundress, a dramatic contrast to her shining black hair, that it wouldn’t have been a hardship to stand there staring back at her. Over the past couple of days, he’d gotten used to seeing her in jeans and periodically dotted with flour or melted chocolate.

“Something wrong?” He glanced over his shoulder, trying to see if he’d overlooked a glaring mistake. None of the local stores carried the exact decorative spirals that were part of the porch railing, so after consulting the budget with Hannah yesterday morning, they’d decided to alternate. He’d found reasonably priced, complementary balusters and was installing the new ones in a pattern, salvaging as many of the former ones as possible. He was almost ready to paint.

“N-no. Nothing’s wrong. I just...You were smiling. I didn’t think that was possible,” she said under her breath.

The observation left him self-conscious. I smile. Occasionally.

“I see you’ve met Henry,” she said. “He’s going to watch Evan while Annette and I visit an estate sale I’ve had on my calendar. I’m really optimistic about finding some furniture for the bunkhouse!”

As far as he could tell, “really optimistic” was her default setting. But today her enthusiasm was contagious.

“Best of luck,” he said. He even threw in another smile for good measure.

She blinked, but then collected herself. Her dimples flashed in a mischievous smirk. “Warn me next time you’re going to do that so I can put on my sunglasses.”

He chuckled at that, the sound rusty even to his ears.

Then they were both distracted by Evan joining them on the porch. Hannah explained that the boy was in the middle of lunch and there was plenty of leftover spaghetti in the pot if Henry or Colin wanted some. Colin was always grateful when she brought him food outside, but so far he’d managed to avoid joining her and Evan for meals. Henry, however, had no such reservations about pulling up a chair at the kitchen table.

“I came hungry,” he said. “I know better than to eat before setting foot in your house. God knows I love Kitty, but her cooking can’t hold a candle to yours. Don’t ever tell her I said that,” he added, looking suddenly alarmed.

Hannah mimed crossing her heart. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Evan was bored with the discussion of spaghetti. As he threw his slim arms around Henry’s legs in a welcoming hug, he demanded, “Are we going fishing today?”

“That depends on how good you are and whether Henry feels up to it,” Hannah said sternly. “Don’t pester him about it. And if the two of you do go, you have to exit through the back door. This area will probably be covered with wet paint.”

He’d done a few boards in the garage last night so that they’d be dry and people could have a pathway through the front door, but he didn’t trust the four-year-old to stick to the path. After blowing his mother a kiss goodbye, Evan led Henry inside, talking a mile a minute about the size of the fish he was going to catch.

Hannah watched them go, laughing softly. “Our pond is stocked with trout, but to hear him talk, you’d think we had marlin in there. Henry is good with him—with any luck, you won’t even notice they’re here. But if you need anything, my cell number is on the fridge. So is Kitty’s. She and Henry live just down the road, so she can be here in a matter of minutes. A lot faster than me.”

Especially if Hannah ended up with a flat tire or some other roadside emergency. “You’re taking the truck?” he asked.

“It has a lot more cargo space than Annette’s car and pulls the trailer better. I figured it was best to plan for a big haul. Power of positive thinking and all that.”

He opened his mouth to comment, then thought better, shaking his head.

“What?” Her hazel eyes narrowed. “Were you about to make some snide comment about my truck?”

“About you. Not snide,” he backpedaled. “I was just wondering if this is something you were born with or a learned behavior—your sunny disposition, I mean. Does everyone in your family see the world in such a rose-colored view?”

She jerked her head away abruptly, reaching into her purse and pulling out the sunglasses she’d mentioned. When she turned to face him again, the dark-tinted frames obscured her expression. “I was an orphan, actually.”

They’d both lost their parents? The revelation of more common ground threw him for a loop. He and Hannah Shaw were polar opposites. He wouldn’t have guessed that their backgrounds shared many similarities.

“Your parents are dead?” he heard himself ask.

“I honestly have no idea. Never met them,” she said matter-of-factly. “I was abandoned as a newborn and grew up mostly in foster care. But to answer your question, the ‘sunny disposition’ was self-taught. I suppose I could moan and sulk my way through life, being bitter about anything that went wrong, but what kind of example would that be for my son?”

Her words had an edge to them. Because the topic was upsetting for her, or because she’d taken his question as criticism?

Or was she perhaps criticizing him? Colin may not have been flashing smiles left and right for the past three days, but he sure as hell wasn’t sulking.