Home Is Where The Hart Is…

Aidan “Ace” Hart left Flynn McKinley heartbroken when he put family duty above her feelings. Then one night, the old passions were reignited and now Flynn is about to get something she’s always wanted—a child to love.

Ace takes his responsibilities very seriously. Running Thunder Ranch and his busy veterinary practice leaves little time for a personal life. That’ll only get worse now that he’s spending every spare minute with Midnight, the champion rodeo stallion he hopes will save the ranch from financial disaster.

Flynn refuses to marry Ace and be yet one more “responsibility” to him. She wants Ace to want to marry her! And until he admits he loves her, she’s determined to raise her baby alone….

Flynn bumped elbows with Ace. “Quit being such a guy and admit it.”

He laughed. “Okay, you got me. I like helping people. And animals. Even fluffy little kittens.”

She lifted her gaze to him and said softly, “I bet you do like kittens.”

“Babies, too.”

Her heart flip-flopped.

This wasn’t good. If Flynn expected to guard herself from the temptations Ace Hart presented, she couldn’t go all mushy inside just because he said baby in that silky voice of his.

She was strong, she could resist.

And she might have succeeded if he didn’t reach up and brush a lock of flyaway hair from her face. The sensation of his fingers brushing her skin sent shivers coursing through her.

Steady, girl.

He leaned in, and her willpower flew out the window. He was making it hard to resist him.

Dear Reader,

I’m absolutely thrilled to be kicking off Harlequin American Romance’s newest continuity, Harts of the Rodeo. This series has all the elements that fans of romance love to read about and we Harlequin American authors love to write about. A small-town setting, complicated family dynamics, dark and difficult pasts, unplanned pregnancies, single parenthood, secret children, substance addiction, a string of thefts, rodeos, handsome, sexy cowboys—naturally—and last but not least, a magnificent bucking horse, Midnight, who resides at the center of each story.

My hero, Aidan “Ace” Hart, is like a lot of men. He believes it’s his job to carry the responsibility for his family’s horse breeding business on his shoulders alone. Ace’s loyalty to his family, while admirable, jeopardizes his relationship with Flynn McKinley, the girl next door, Ace’s one-time sweetheart and the soon-to-be mother of his child. On top of everything else, he must rehabilitate Midnight, the unmanageable stud horse he and his mother purchased in the hopes of rescuing the family from the brink of financial danger.

Be sure and check out next month’s book, Colton: Rodeo Cowboy by C.J. Carmichael, which features my hero Ace’s younger brother Colt, his love interest, Leah, and continues the exciting story of Midnight, the horse destined to unite the Harts.

Warmest wishes,

Cathy McDavid

P.S. I always enjoy hearing from readers. You can contact me at cathy@cathymcdavid.com.

Aidan: Loyal Cowboy

Cathy McDavid

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Cathy makes her home in Scottsdale, Arizona, near the breathtaking McDowell Mountains, where hawks fly overhead, javelina traipse across her front yard and mountain lions occasionally come calling. She embraced the country life at an early age, acquiring her first horse in eighth grade. Dozens of horses followed through the years, along with mules, an obscenely fat donkey, chickens, ducks, goats and a pot-bellied pig who had her own swimming pool. Nowadays, two spoiled dogs and two spoiled-er cats round out the McDavid pets. Cathy loves contemporary and historical ranch stories and often incorporates her own experiences into her books.

When not writing, Cathy and her family and friends spend as much time as they can at her cabin in the small town of Young. Of course, she takes her laptop with her on the chance inspiration strikes.

Aidan: Loyal Cowboy

To all the people who made this book possible. First, the five lovely and talented ladies who are my co-authors in this continuity—C.J. Carmichael, Roz Denny Fox, Shelley Galloway, Marin Thomas and Linda Warren. Your creativity amazes me, and I am truly honored to share this continuity with you.

It’s true that behind every good author is a good editor. I’ve been fortunate to work with Kathleen Scheibling since I started writing for Harlequin. I can’t thank you enough, Kathleen, for all the opportunities you’ve given me and all the faith you’ve placed in me. Writing books for Harlequin isn’t just my job, it’s my passion and a dream come true. I’m also delighted to have worked with Johanna Raisanen on this and the previous continuities. There isn’t a more conscientious, more charming, more intelligent editor. Just how lucky can an author get?

Last, I must give a nod of appreciation to Walter Farley, author of the Black Stallion and Island Stallion series. The books I discovered in third grade led to a lifelong love affair with horses and, ultimately, Aidan: Loyal Cowboy.

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

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

Mid-March in southeastern Montana was no time of year for a bucking horse auction. And yet, better than a hundred people had driven as many miles or more, braved ice-covered highways and trudged across acres of gray-brown slush, all in search of a bargain.

Ace Hart among them.

He stood with seven other potential customers, appraising the coal-black stallion and contemplating his finer qualities, which, at first glance, appeared in short supply.

The horse, slightly underweight for his intended use and a bit on the rangy side, had backed himself into the farthest corner of the pen. Ears flat, head stretched forward and nostrils flaring, he stomped a front hoof in the wet, mucky ground, flinging clumps of mud into the air. The customers took the horse’s warning seriously and maintained a respectful distance, some of them scratching notes on the back of their bidding numbers for reference when the auction started.

Normally Ace would pass up a potentially aggressive horse like this one, outstanding bloodlines or not. But the animal’s eyes, alert, inquisitive and highly intelligent, told Ace what he needed to know better than the AQHA registration papers taped to the pen railing.

This was no ordinary horse and no ordinary stallion.

The Midnight Express, or just plain Midnight as he was once known on the rodeo circuit, had been born to buck, his purpose in life to unseat any cowboy with nerve enough to ride him into the arena. Most of those rides had ended with the cowboy eating a face full of dirt.

No more.

If Ace purchased Midnight—make that when, he’d already decided the horse was his—he’d use Midnight exclusively for breeding purposes. Ace wasn’t the kind of business manager or big-animal veterinarian to risk injuring a valuable investment.

“What do you think?” His mother came up beside him, linked an arm through his, then stuck her other hand in the pocket of her sheepskin-lined jacket.

“A little underweight. A little temperamental.”

“But a beauty.”

Indeed. Despite his ragged appearance, Midnight had all the potential Ace and his mother were seeking in a foundation stallion for their bucking horse breeding operation. He mentally calculated the top price they could afford to pay. With luck, the horse’s prickly personality and poor condition would scare off other buyers.

“Howdy, Sarah. Ace.” Earl McKinley, the Harts’ neighbor and competitor in the bucking stock business, approached and fell in beside Ace’s mother.

“Hello, Earl.” She returned the greeting. “I didn’t think you were coming today.”

Neither had Ace. He glanced around, his throat suddenly dry.

Had Flynn accompanied her father to the auction? Told him about her and Ace?

Not likely. If Earl had any idea Ace spent the night with his daughter three weeks ago, he’d have a lot more to say to Ace than “howdy.”

Just when Ace decided Flynn had stayed home, she appeared, casually approaching as if this was just another chance encounter with her neighbors.

“Flynn, good to see you,” Ace’s mother exclaimed.

“Hi, Sarah, how are you?” Flynn acknowledged Ace with a tilt of her head, the epitome of cool, calm and collected.

Not so Ace.

Sweat promptly broke out on his brow—both at the memory of the incredible night they’d spent together and his disgraceful exit the next morning.

What must she think of him?

Her demeanor gave nothing away.

She appeared to be concentrating on the conversation between his mother and her father.

At one time, the Harts and McKinleys had been fierce rivals. That changed to friendly rivals ten years ago when Ace’s father died.

“Rumor has it you might be getting out of the business,” his mother said to Earl.

“I haven’t decided either way. If I can pick up a few head today at a good price, I may end up adding to my string. If not, I’ll probably sell off. It’s been a tough go the last few years, what with this economy.”

“It certainly has.”

“I heard you leased out three thousand acres to a cattle company from Missoula.”

“We did. And sold off most of our cattle. We’re down to three hundred head.”

Earl whistled.

The recent recession and drop in the commodities market was a frequent topic among ranchers. Ace’s mother was counting on the family’s expanded bucking contracting business and reduced cattle operation to stabilize the ranch’s shaky finances.

“I also hear you’re planning to add to your string in a big way,” Earl said.

“We are indeed.” Her face lit up. “That’s what brought us here.”

“You thinking of buying this here fellow?”

All eyes went to the big horse in the pen.

“Considering it,” Ace’s mother answered coyly.

Earl’s bucking string had always been significantly larger than the Harts’ and included a dozen championship bulls and horses. If Earl retired, that would certainly benefit the Harts and their plans.

From the glimmer of interest in Earl’s eyes, he also saw and appreciated Midnight’s potential.

Ace momentarily tensed. The old rivalry might just heat up again.

“I didn’t know you were wanting a stud horse,” he said.

“I like to keep all my options open.” Earl’s smile remained fixed, much like his daughter’s.

She stood across from Ace, looking everywhere else but at him.

Well, he deserved her disdain. He’d messed up pretty bad.

That didn’t stop him from missing her and wishing things were different.

“Shame about old Wally,” his mother mused. Like most of the rodeo folk at the auction, she’d been acquainted with the late owner of the stock up for sale today. “He was a good man and will be missed.”

“His kin must be in a hurry for their share of his money.” Earl lifted his foot and examined the muddy water pouring off his galoshes, then stepped sideways to a spot that was only marginally less wet. “Couldn’t they have postponed the sale six weeks till the weather improves?”

“They may have debts to pay off. Wally was sick a long time before he passed.”

“More likely they didn’t want to compete with the Miles City Bucking Horse Sale in May. Those kids of his never gave a flying fig about taking over his string even before he died. A shame, too.” Earl shook his head. “He had some quality stock. Whoever those kids hired to care for these horses should be arrested.”

“True.” Ace’s mother’s gaze went from Midnight to the other horses on the next aisle over. “Some of them are faring rather badly, I’m afraid.”

Earl made a sound of disgust. “I betcha this here horse couldn’t buck off a ten-year-old boy.”

Ace wouldn’t take that bet. Midnight and the rest of Wally’s string may have received less than adequate care in the two years since the old man fell ill, but Midnight possessed the heart of a champion and the spirit of a warrior.

He also had impeccable genes.

Earl knew it, too. He intentionally downplayed his interest in purchasing Midnight by finding fault with him and the other horses. Ace’s mother employed the same tactics with Earl. They’d been doing it for years, with Earl usually coming out ahead.

“You ready, sweetie?” Earl asked Flynn.

“Let’s go.”

“I’ll be seeing you later when the auction starts.” Earl tipped his hat at Ace’s mother, then he and Flynn leapfrogged over wet patches to the double row of pens holding the geldings and mares.

The challenge had been officially issued.

“He’s going to bid against us for Midnight,” Ace’s mother observed.

“He won’t be the only one.”

Ace watched Flynn go, ashamed at his relief. He should apologize to her. He owed her that much, if not more. But after three weeks without any contact, she’d probably refuse to speak to him, and he wouldn’t blame her.

God, he’d been such an idiot.

“Aidan?”

“Yeah.” His mother was one of the few people to call him by his given name.

“Are you going to examine that horse or what?” She inclined her head at the pen.

“I will. Eventually.” He returned his attention to Midnight, forcing thoughts of Flynn from his mind. It wasn’t easy.

It seemed as though the horse ignored everyone else except him. Good. They were of similar minds.

“Too muddy?” his mother asked. “Or is the horse too mean?”

“Unpredictable and wary aren’t the same as mean.” On the ranch and in his veterinarian practice, Ace had examined his share of mean horses. “He’s a stallion standing within fifty feet of twenty mares. His mares. Not to mention the geldings. His competition, in his mind. He’s in a strange environment, surrounded by strange people and hearing strange noises. He’s bound to act a little temperamental.”

“No one’s been in the pen with him that I’ve seen.”

“Are you challenging me?”

Ace’s mother arched a brow at him and smiled. “When have you needed someone to challenge you other than yourself?”

He hadn’t, not since his father died.

Eventually, Ace decided both he and Midnight were ready. He slipped the latch and opened the gate. The horse snorted and pawed the muck again, his way of saying, “You sure about this? Because I have a thousand pounds of solid muscle on you.”

Ace was sure. He stepped inside the pen, shut the gate behind him and waited. When it came to horses, he had an endless supply of patience.

Now, people? Not so much.

“Easy, boy.”

Midnight flicked his ears slightly at the silky smooth tone of Ace’s voice but didn’t budge.

“That’s right.”

Minutes ticked by, Ace wasn’t sure how many. From the corner of his eye he noticed a small crowd had gathered in front of the pen. A few of the louder comments reached his ears.

“Watch this. You ever seen Hart at work?”

“He’s got more nerve than me, climbing in with that brute.”

“What is he? Some kind of horse whisperer or something?”

Not exactly, Ace thought. But he did have a knack for reading animals, horses especially, and for getting them to trust him. Enough to earn himself a reputation around the state.

When he sensed the moment was right, he took a small, slow step forward. Midnight jerked his head, his gaze still fastened on Ace.

“There you go.”

Another small step, this one met with an angry snort and a head toss. No problem. As long as the horse didn’t show signs of charging him, Ace was okay.

“We’ll do this on your terms, buddy.”

Finally, Ace was close enough to touch the horse, though he hesitated.

“Good job,” he murmured softly.

Midnight’s breathing increased as he inhaled Ace’s scent, the fine whiskers of his velvety nose brushing Ace’s jacket sleeve. He was determined that the horse make the next move.

His patience, as usual, paid off.

Midnight sniffed Ace’s hand, drew back and sniffed again.

It was a small but vital victory for Ace. When he reached out to stroke Midnight’s neck, the horse flinched. He didn’t bolt or rear, however, and after several more long moments, allowed Ace to run a hand along his neck and chest, his hide twitching.

Sadness squeezed Ace’s heart. Neglect had scarred this magnificent animal. He just didn’t understand some people, which would explain why, other than his family, he’d spent much of his thirty-four years a loner.

His attention wandered, as did his gaze. Flynn had evidently concluded one chance meeting with him was enough, for she was nowhere in sight. When Ace looked back around, Midnight had retreated to his corner and had resumed glaring at people. Ace in particular.

Rather than antagonize the horse unnecessarily, Ace conducted the remainder of his examination visually. Skittish personality and weight loss aside, the horse appeared in reasonably good health. Ace had no reason to doubt the copy of the medical report, which hung on the pen railing along with Midnight’s registration papers.

Ace turned, his movements calm and measured. He was taking a big risk presenting his back to Midnight. He’d once met an old cowboy with a sizable chunk missing from his shoulder after just this sort of move. But Ace had to know for certain if Midnight was wary and not mean.

He walked unscathed to the gate and sighed quietly. On the other side, he paused to look at Midnight.

The horse bobbed his head.

Yeah, I agree. Ace grinned to himself, feeling as if he, too, had passed a test. You’re coming home to Thunder Ranch with me.

His mother wasn’t standing where he’d left her. Ace spotted her several feet away, conversing with his uncle Joshua and cousin Duke who’d accompanied Ace and his mother to the sale.

He’d barely started toward them when Flynn unexpectedly crossed his path. A jolt of alarm brought him to a halt.

“Hi,” he muttered, trying to move. The soft ground pulled at him, sucking his boots down into the muck. He was trapped.

Served him right.

She stared at him in silence, tendrils of corn-silk-yellow hair peeking out from under her cowboy hat.

Memories surfaced. Ace had sifted his hands through that hair, watched, mesmerized, as the soft strands coiled around his fingers like spun gold.

Then, not two hours later, he’d abruptly left her bedside, hurting her with his transparent excuses.

No longer calm and collected, she stared at him with the same pained expression she’d worn that morning.

“Flynn, I’m sorry,” he offered lamely.

“For what exactly?” She crossed her arms in front of her and glared at him through slitted blue eyes. “Slinking out of my room before my father discovered you spent the night, or acting like it never happened?”

* * *

FLYNN THOUGHT SHE’D READIED herself for their inevitable confrontation. All the phrases she’d used to bolster her defenses during the drive to the auction suddenly abandoned her, and she was once again an emotional weakling.

What had possessed her to sleep with him?

Easy. Ace had been her first love—unfortunately, a very one-sided first love. She’d invited him home, hoping to ignite that elusive spark with him at long last.

And she did.

For several hours his passion had burned brightly. Beautifully. Flynn had never been loved so intensely, so thoroughly. She’d told herself he must have genuine feelings for her, even if he didn’t acknowledge them.

Reality, unfortunately, had returned when the sun crested the horizon, its soft rays breaching the blinds of Flynn’s bedroom and vanquishing the cozy cocoon of night. Ace couldn’t get dressed fast enough or leave in a bigger hurry. He’d had horses to check at home. A morning surgery scheduled. Then there was the meeting at the bank.

Legitimate excuses, but why hadn’t he been able to look her in the face when he gave them? Or do more than kiss her forehead before escaping through the back door, sock-footed and boots in hand?

Because he hadn’t wanted to stay with her or make a commitment.

Flynn had heard it all before. From her ex-husband and now Ace. The two men were peas in a pod. Both married to their jobs, both using their jobs as an excuse not to spend time with her.

Damn her foolish heart for always picking the wrong kind of man.

She should walk away from Ace, leave him the way he’d left her.

Instead, she stayed, his expression rooting her in place. If she wasn’t still angry at him, she might have been swayed by the regret brimming in his incredibly dark brown eyes.

“Can we talk?” he asked. “I’d like to explain.”

“This I have to hear.”

“Not now, not here.” He glanced over his shoulder at the people milling nearby. “Later. Somewhere less crowded.”

That was exactly what had gotten her into bed with him, his suggestion they leave the Number 1 Diner and go somewhere more private to continue their conversation.

Flynn rediscovered the confidence she’d lost upon first spotting Ace. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You have every right to be angry with me,” he began slowly.

She cut him off. “Do you not own a calendar? You’ve had better than three weeks to explain. I’m either working at the emergency clinic or helping Dad with the horses. Finding me isn’t a problem. Heck, I live next door to you.”

“I’m a jerk.”

His admission didn’t soften her resolve. He’d wounded her when he hurried off that morning. Hurt her worse when he didn’t call or come see her.

And she’d have walked barefoot across broken glass before calling him. Been there, done that—back when they’d dated briefly in college.

“Aidan!” his mother hollered. “We’re heading over to inspect the mares and geldings.” She waved and smiled at Flynn. “Don’t be a stranger. Come to lunch the next time Dinah’s over.”

Flynn waved in return. “Thanks.” Her father and Ace’s father might not have liked each other, but Sarah Hart had always treated Flynn like a second daughter.

And Ace had treated her like another little sister.

A four-year age difference hadn’t helped. Not until she was in community college and he in vet school did he finally notice her as someone other than his sister Dinah’s school chum.

They’d been careful in those days, keeping their relationship a secret in order to avoid their respective fathers’ wrath. It was anyone’s guess where things might have led if John Hart hadn’t died and Ace’s world hadn’t crumbled.

“I need to go,” he said.

“No one’s stopping you.”

It would be easier to hate him if he didn’t appear contrite and miserable.

She’d seen him steady a full-grown steer as it collapsed to the ground. Cushion the animal with his body in order to spare it injury.

How could a man so big and strong and capable be completely inept when it came to understanding women? No wonder he was still a bachelor.

Who was she to talk? She had one failed marriage behind her. A marriage that was, in all probability, a rebound from Ace.

“Flynn…” He reached for her.

“Forget it.” She started toward the horse pens where her father waited, then hesitated. Squaring her shoulders, she turned and faced Ace. “You made a big mistake three weeks ago. You walked out on the best thing to happen to you in a long time.”

She expected him to blush and falter and possibly be at a loss for words. That happened to him on occasion.

Today, he surprised her.

He met her stare head-on and said without missing a beat, “You’re right.”

Then why? her mind cried out.

When he said nothing else, she left, sniffing in an attempt to hold back her tears. She’d given him an opening, a chance to say he wanted to see her again, and he’d refused it.

When would she learn?

She’d come home to Roundup following her divorce, in large part because of Ace and the possibility that they could pick up where they’d left off.

Except they hadn’t—a one-night stand years later didn’t count—and, after today, it didn’t appear as though they ever would.

Chapter Two

“Last up, folks, is the horse you’ve all been waiting for, The Midnight Express.” Loud speakers mounted from poles on either side of the ring gave the auctioneer’s voice a tinny and abrasive quality. “This here stud’s lineage goes all the way back to the great hall-of-fame bucking horse Five Minutes to Midnight. He’s won Bucking Horse of the Year twice, competed at the National Finals Rodeo a total of five times and has sired over sixty offspring, seven of which are actively competing on the rodeo circuit and doing well for their owners.”

Flynn sat with her father in the aluminum bleachers, listening to the auctioneer recite Midnight’s selling points. The horse himself, however, had yet to make an appearance in the ring.

She fingered the flyer in her hand as they waited. Murmurings as to the reason for the holdup traveled through the crowd like a signal zipping along a cable. Her father’s boot beat an agitated tattoo on the bleacher floor. He’d shown some interest in a few of the other bucking horses up for sale but let them all go to other bidders.

Ace was the new owner of ten, mostly mares. He and his family sat not far from Flynn, down a couple of rows and one section over. She’d noticed him glancing in her direction now and again, had noticed because her glance was constantly straying to him.

Enough already, she chided herself. He’s not worth it.

And yet, her insides insisted on fluttering.

“What’s taking so dang long?” her father complained to no one in particular.

“Are you going to bid on him?”

“Yep.”

“A stud horse, Dad? What happened to retiring?”

“I wouldn’t retire if I owned that horse.”

He’d been going back and forth for months now. Flynn had, too.

If her father got out of the business and moved to Billings to be near her sister, what would she do?

She regularly helped with his bulls and string of bucking stock and had since she was a young girl. After earning her associate’s degree in business administration, she also assisted him with the office work during evenings and weekends. Monday through Friday, she worked as an administrator at the Roundup Emergency Care Clinic. Pushing papers was her forte, if not her passion.

Once, she’d aspired to work in management for a large corporation. Except she hadn’t been able to get her foot in the door. Not like her ex-husband, whose career had soared while hers stagnated.

They’d originally planned to wait a few years before starting a family. With her career stuck in neutral, Flynn saw no reason to postpone having the children she’d always wanted. Her ex-husband adamantly refused, and Flynn was forced to let another dream go unfulfilled.

Her discontent increased when her older sister, Nora, a pharmacist, married a great guy and promptly bore the first of Flynn’s two nephews. How was it her sister seemed to effortlessly attain everything Flynn wanted?

If her father retired, there’d be opportunities. She’d been considering them for weeks with great deliberation. More since she lost her head and slept with Ace.

His abrupt departure had hurt, but it also drove home the point that the time had come and gone for her to let the past go and move forward.

The idea of returning to school appealed to her the most, but it would be next to impossible without moving from Roundup.

A rumbling from the crowd caused Flynn’s head to snap up. Midnight was being led into the ring. No, dragged into the ring, by two wranglers. With all four hooves digging into the muddy dirt, the horse lowered his hindquarters almost to the ground and resisted the tug from the two lead ropes connected to his halter. A third man, the livestock foreman hired by Wally Dunlap’s heirs, followed behind. He held a buggy whip and flicked it in the air behind Midnight, the snapping sound intended to encourage the horse.

It didn’t. Midnight bore down harder.

Flynn wanted to shout a protest. She wasn’t alone. Ace sprang to his feet, an angry scowl on his face, his flyer crushed between his fingers.

Just when she thought he might leap across six bleacher rows and over the ring fence, the horse went suddenly still and straightened. The wranglers must have decided to quit while they were ahead because they abandoned their efforts and stood, the lead ropes stretched taut.

Midnight ignored them. Raising his head, he stared proudly and defiantly at the audience. His mane and forelock fluttered in the same chilly breeze that snuck up the back of Flynn’s neck and caused her to shiver.

Or was the horse himself responsible for her reaction?

Up until this moment, she hadn’t understood the fuss. Sure, Midnight was good-looking, with quality bloodlines and a proven history as a champion bucking horse and sire. But there were lots of stallions like him for sale these days.

Seeing Midnight in the ring, however, she glimpsed the greatness in him that had excited her father and Ace and everyone else at the auction.

“Isn’t he something?”

“Are you sure about this, Dad?”

“I don’t want Ace and Sarah to have him.”

“Please don’t turn this into a competition with them.”

Her words fell on deaf ears. The auctioneer’s singsong litany had started.

“What do you say? Let’s start the bidding at twenty thousand dollars. Do I have twenty thousand?”

As if on cue, people inched forward in their seats, Flynn and her father included.

“Fifteen, do I hear fifteen?”

When the auctioneer dropped to five thousand dollars, the bidding took off. Her father didn’t join in until the going price reached ten thousand dollars. Ace refrained, Flynn noticed, his attention riveted on the horse.

Her father’s hand continually went up as he outbid everyone. When the price reached twenty-seven thousand dollars, only her father and one other man remained.

Flynn began to worry in earnest. Did her father have that kind of money?

“Twenty-seven, twenty-seven, someone give me twenty-eight thousand?” the auctioneer intoned.

“Twenty-seven, five.”

Every head in the stands turned toward the sound of a new voice. It belonged to Ace.

“Dammit,” Flynn’s father groused beneath his breath and raised his hand again. “Twenty-eight.”

“Twenty-nine.” This from the other man.

With Ace’s participation, the price was quickly driven up to thirty-five thousand dollars, her father making the last bid.

Flynn went from worrying to panicking. Surely he couldn’t raise that much money. He was letting the excitement of the bidding cloud his judgment.

“Dad, don’t be foolish.”

“I want that horse.”

“We’ll buy another horse.” A less expensive one.

“None of them are like Midnight.”

Evidently Ace felt the same, for he shouted, “Thirty-six thousand dollars.”

The other man promptly resigned with a discouraged head shake. “Too rich for my blood.”

That left Ace and Flynn’s father.

How was this possible? The two men she cared most for in the whole world were fighting over a stupid horse.

Wait a minute, she didn’t care about Ace.

Right.

If someone ever invented a cure for unrequited love, she’d be the first in line to try it.

“Thirty-seven thousand,” her father shouted.

The crowd clapped and cheered. Easy for them, Flynn thought, it wasn’t their life’s savings on the line.

“This is insane,” she hissed. “You don’t have thirty-seven thousand dollars.”

“There’s my line of credit with the bank.”

“That’s for running the business!”

“Buying a bucking horse is business.”

“No, this is an absurd rivalry and refusing to let the Harts get one up on you. What’s the matter with you? You don’t act like this.”

For a moment, time froze. Then his face fell, and he groaned miserably. “Oh, God. What’s wrong with me?”

She reached for his hand and squeezed it between hers, relief leaving her weak.

“I don’t know what came over me. It’s just…” He groaned again.

“I have thirty-seven thousand dollars,” the auctioneer boomed. “Do I have thirty-eight?”

Ace and his mother bent their heads together and conferred behind the shield of their hands.

“Going once.”

Flynn went rigid. Why wasn’t Ace bidding?

“Going twice.”

Oh, no! What if the Harts dropped out?

Easy. Her father would have purchased a horse he really didn’t need for a sum of money he couldn’t possibly afford.

This couldn’t be happening!

“Thirty-eight thousand,” Ace shouted.

Flynn’s heart started beating again.

When the auctioneer finally called, “Sold to number fifty-seven,” a minute later, she let herself breathe.

The auction was over, and her father had spent no more than the price of gas for a round-trip.

Why, then, did he appear glum?

“Dad, you okay?” All around them the bleachers had started to empty, yet her father didn’t rise.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Is your indigestion bothering you again?”

“I’m fine.” He promptly pushed to his feet and extended a hand to her. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

Flynn couldn’t be more ready and happily dropped the subject of his health and listlessness. Maybe she’d phone her sister, Nora, tonight. See if she could convince their dad to open up about what was bothering him lately. Perhaps he was having a midlife crisis or had grown tired of being single all these years.

Grabbing two cups of coffee at the concession stand for the drive, she and her father strode across the area between the barn and the field that served as a parking lot. A line of people had formed in front of the converted motor home that was being used as a consignment office. The door to the motor home opened, and Ace and Sarah emerged. Ace went first, turning to assist his mother. They both wore happy smiles, Ace’s devastatingly handsome.

Flynn ignored the quickening of her pulse. That smile had been her undoing once too often.

“Hold on a second.” To her surprise, her father started toward the Harts.

“What is it?” She hurried after him.

Her question was answered when they met up with Ace and Sarah.

“Congratulations.” Her father shook Sarah’s hand, then Ace’s. “You got yourself a fine stallion there.”

Flynn sensed Ace studying her, and her gloved fingers curled into tight balls. She would not return his look, not give him the satisfaction of learning the extent to which he affected her.

“Thank you, Earl.” Sarah beamed. “I have to confess, he was almost yours.”

“The right person bought him. Just wanted to tell you and that there are no hard feelings.”

“I appreciate it. Truly, I do. Are you still considering adding to your string? There should be some quality livestock at the Miles City Sale.”

“Naw. I’m going to quit the business.”

Flynn exhaled. This time he sounded serious.

“What will you do?” Sarah asked.

“Sell off my string, the ranch, everything. Move to Billings to live near Nora and her husband.”

“Oh, Earl. That’s a big step.”

“What are you going to do?” Ace asked.

It took Flynn a moment for her to realize he was speaking to her.

She did look at him then, unable to stop herself.

“Attend Montana State University,” she said with newfound determination. “Enroll in nursing school.”

“I didn’t realize you wanted to be a nurse.”

“For a while now.” She glanced at her father. “I’ve been talking to some of the nurses at the clinic, and I think I’d be good at it.”

Not that she didn’t enjoy her job at the clinic—parts of it, anyway. But she was capable of so much more than grunt work. She wanted to have an impact. Make a difference. Contribute in a more meaningful way.

“You’ll be a wonderful nurse.” Sarah gave Flynn a brief but affectionate hug. “Earl, you must be proud.”

“I’m proud of her whatever she does.”

Flynn’s triumph dimmed when she met Ace’s frown.

Seriously? What did he have to be annoyed about?

“We’re going to miss you,” he said stiffly, and stuffed the sale papers he’d been holding into the front pocket of his jacket.

Your family, or you? Flynn wanted to ask, fairly certain she already knew the answer wasn’t him.

* * *

FLYNN WAS LEAVING! MOVING to Billings. And she wanted to be a nurse. Ace couldn’t believe it.

Not that she wouldn’t make a great nurse, he just didn’t recall her ever mentioning it before.

Of course, the last time they were together, their talk had centered on their lovemaking and how incredible they made each other feel. Not any potential career changes.

“Heads-up!” Duke yelled.

The warning came in the nick of time. Ace jumped onto the bottom rung of the fence and out of the way a scant second before two of their newly purchased bucking mares trampled him. He remained clinging to the fence until the coast was clear, then hopped off.

“Three more to go,” Uncle Joshua hollered from the pen. “Coming your way.”

Ace’s uncle lived on Thunder Ranch and was in charge of their remaining bulls and cattle. He’d moved to the ranch when his twin sons, Duke and Beau, were knee-high, as he was fond of saying. Before then, he’d spent many years working for Flynn’s grandfather.

For supposed rivals, the Harts and the McKinleys were connected on many levels.

Ace’s thoughts circled right back to Flynn.

She was moving.

As much as he hated her leaving, it probably was for the best. She deserved a man able to commit to her, not one dividing himself between his vet practice and managing his family’s various businesses.

“Pay attention,” Duke complained.

“Sorry,” Ace grumbled. “Got a lot on my mind.”

They herded the remaining three horses down the narrow aisle and into the waiting stock trailer. Their hooves created a tremendous clatter as they hopped inside to join the other two horses, who shifted to accommodate the newcomers. A few squealed, defending their small territory against their neighbor.

While some bucking horses were friendly enough around people, others weren’t. Driving them down a narrow aisle and up into a trailer was often the easiest and most effective method of loading them.

“Midnight the only one left?” Ace had been so preoccupied with Flynn, he’d lost track of the horses they’d already loaded. He glanced over at the second trailer they’d brought and started counting.

“The wranglers are bringing him round now,” Duke said.

Ace didn’t wait. He disliked the manner in which the wranglers and livestock foreman had handled Midnight during the auction. Not that they’d hurt him, but they’d been unnecessarily heavy-handed.

While Duke and Uncle Joshua made sure the horses were secure for the trip, Ace trudged up the aisle to the pen holding Midnight. One wrangler held the horse’s lead rope while the other manned the gate.

“Thanks for your help, guys,” Ace told the wranglers. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Your horse.” The wrangler at the gate stepped aside.

Ace went right up to Midnight and grabbed the lead rope from the second wrangler’s outstretched hand. The rope went instantly slack. Well, well, Midnight was no longer fighting.

“Good boy,” Ace crooned, stroking the horse’s neck.

Midnight took a hesitant step toward the gate, then another.

“That’s right.” Ace walked along beside him, pleased Midnight was going to make this easy. He could use something going his way after his encounter with Flynn.

He and Midnight reached the gate. It was wide enough for only one of them to pass through at a time. Ace started to go first.

All at once, Midnight charged through the gate, shoving Ace aside and into the railing. He tried but couldn’t hang on to the lead rope and it tore from his grasp.

Free at last, the horse broke into a gallop.

“Look out,” Ace yelled as Midnight bolted down the aisle.

Wranglers scrambled out of the horse’s path, diving for cover. Ace ran after him, slipping and sliding in the muddy ground and nearly losing his balance twice. Pain sliced through his back from his collision with the railing.

When Midnight reached the end of the aisle, he skidded to a halt and stared at the trailer, his flanks heaving, his high-arched tail swishing nervously. Thank goodness the opening was blocked by the trailer, or else the horse would have likely made for the hills.

He swung his large body around as Ace approached, tossing his head angrily as if to say, “Drats, foiled again.”

“Where exactly did you think you were going?” Ace stopped, bent, braced his hands on his knees and studied the horse, his lungs on fire.

Midnight pawed the ground, then turned back to face the trailer. A panel had been closed, separating the trailer into two compartments, the rear one empty. Ace could imagine the horse weighing his options.

“Make this easy, pal. Go in the trailer.”

Duke and Uncle Joshua came over, their faces split by amused grins Ace didn’t find the least bit funny. They’d exercised considerably more intelligence than him and remained on the opposite side of the fence railing, clear of harm’s way.

“You should have seen yourself running after that horse.” Uncle Joshua broke into laughter and elbowed Duke in the ribs. “Where’s a video camera when you need one?”

Duke, usually more somber, laughed along with his dad.

“I just want to get this damn horse loaded,” Ace grumbled.

Midnight snorted and pawed the ground again, his lead rope dangling in the mud.

“Need help?” the livestock foreman asked. He strolled toward Ace, the buggy whip gripped at his side.

“We’re okay.” In Ace’s opinion, that livestock foreman and his whip were the reason Midnight bolted in the first place.

Raising his arms and waving them slowly, Ace clucked to Midnight. The two wranglers came up behind Ace, blocking any potential escape route.

Duke started toward the slim opening between the fence and the rear corner of the trailer. “You want me to grab his lead rope?”

“No, stay put,” Ace ordered. “The last thing we need is someone getting hurt.”

Someone else getting hurt, he thought, and rolled his sore shoulder.

Five minutes later, Midnight had yet to budge.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a horse whisperer?” the livestock foreman asked, a slight jeer in his voice. “Can’t you just whisper him into the trailer?”

If only it were that simple.

Clouds gathered in the sky overhead, and the temperature had dropped by several degrees. It was going to rain again. Possibly snow. They really needed to be on the road soon to avoid any dangerous weather conditions.

Midnight stared at the trailer holding his companions. He wanted to be with them. Horses were herd animals by nature and this was his herd. But he was also stubborn and unwilling to give an inch.

“All of you, leave,” Ace said.

“What?” Uncle Joshua scoffed. “You crazy?”

“You heard me. Leave.” Ace turned to the wranglers and livestock foreman. “And no one comes round until that horse is loaded.”

“I’m not leaving,” Uncle Joshua protested.

“Come on, Dad.” Duke clapped his father’s shoulder. “Ace knows best.”

The men shrugged and grumbled and complained, but they also did as requested. Ace was pretty sure he heard the livestock foreman refer to him by a rather colorful name.

Walking casually down the aisle, Ace left Midnight alone. He waited at the pen, keeping an eye on the horse. Unless Midnight chose to jump the five-foot fence, an unlikely probability, his options were limited.

“Let’s go, boy,” he muttered to himself. “Into the trailer. Nobody’s watching you.”

Midnight lifted one front leg, held it poised in the air.

Ace mentally willed the horse forward. “Come on, you can do it.”

He noticed a few stragglers and the cleanup crew observing with obvious interest. His mother, too. He didn’t care, as long as they stayed away.

A horse inside the trailer whinnied. Another one clanged a hoof against the sidewall.

It was apparently the encouragement Midnight needed. Tentatively, he approached the rear of the trailer. Placing one front foot on the trailer floor, he waited. And waited. Finally he hoisted the front half of his body inside.

“Halfway there, pal,” Ace murmured.

With a mighty grunt, Midnight hopped into the trailer, settling himself in the empty compartment as if it were just another day, just another trailer ride.

Ace held up a warning hand to his cousin and uncle when they would have climbed the fence. He let a full minute pass before he started down the aisle. When he reached the trailer, he swung the rear gate closed and latched it, the metallic clink making a very satisfying sound.

“Hallelujah!” Uncle Joshua exclaimed. “Let’s get the heck out of here before the storm hits.”

Ace checked Midnight one last time, chuckling to himself. He was going to like this horse.

Chapter Three

Ace and Duke climbed into the cab of the truck hauling Midnight and the mares. His mother and uncle got into the cab of the other truck. They formed a small caravan as they slowly navigated the road from the auction grounds to Highway 12.

“You hungry?” Duke asked.

“Starving.” Waiting out stubborn horses was hard work, as was an unplanned confrontation with an irate woman.

“I’ll call Dad in a bit. Maybe we can eat at the truck stop we passed on the way here.”

Ace removed his cowboy hat and set it on the seat between him and Duke. By prior agreement, they’d split the chore of driving. Ace had taken the first shift to the auction from Roundup, needing the distraction to combat his nervousness.

He wished he was driving now, he could use another distraction. When he wasn’t contemplating Midnight’s puzzling behavior, he was imagining Flynn packing boxes and cartons in preparation for moving. She’d been a fixture in his life for much of it, except during the time she was married.

He’d never liked her husband and was convinced the fool didn’t deserve Flynn.

Ace didn’t deserve her, either.

He recalled her face that morning three weeks ago and grimaced. Could he have treated her more cruelly? He’d told himself it was necessary, that to lead her on would be unfair. She’d form expectations, ones he couldn’t meet.

The truth was he’d been running scared, that morning and every day since. Even before they’d gone to her house, before their first kiss outside the Number 1 Diner, something inside him had changed. He finally admitted to himself that Flynn was someone he could easily fall for, had, in all likelihood, fallen for years earlier and simply denied it.

“Some news about Flynn going to school to be a nurse.” Duke glanced at the side mirrors before changing lanes.

“Who told you?”

“Your mom. She’s worried.”

“About Flynn? Why?”

“No, about you. She said you took it pretty hard.”

“Why would I take it hard? I think it’s a great idea.” Ace shoved his fingers through his hair, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Want me to call your dad? The truck stop’s coming up soon.”

“Not for half an hour.”

Ace didn’t want to discuss Flynn. He hadn’t told anyone about the night they’d spent together and wouldn’t. Not even Duke. And they were more than cousins, they were good friends.

In some ways, Ace had a better relationship with Duke than he did with his own brothers. Colt was frequently off to some rodeo and Tuf had enlisted in the Marines. On the other hand, Ace and Dinah were close. She was the little sister he ordered around, doted on, protected, and whose secrets he safeguarded.

His gut clenched at the reminder. Flynn and Dinah talked on a regular basis. Had she confided in Dinah about her and Ace? It was possible.

“I don’t know why your mom’s worried,” Duke said thoughtfully. “For a while there we all thought you and Flynn were going to hook up.”

“That was years ago.” Duke was one of the few people who knew Ace and Flynn had dated.

“I’m talking last month.” Duke slanted Ace a bemused smile. “We saw you and her leaving the Number 1.”

Ace abruptly sat up, then slumped against the seat, afraid of giving himself away. “We?”

“Dad, Beau and I.”

Both his cousins and his uncle?

“Royce, Harlan and Gracie were there, too.”

Three of the Harts’ ranch hands? Great. Ace and Flynn might as well have taken an ad out in the Roundup Record Tribune.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Which was not the same as saying nothing happened, and Duke probably picked up on the subtle difference.

“Your business.”

Duke respected Ace’s wishes for the remainder of the drive to Thunder Ranch, avoiding the topic of Flynn and Ace even when his mother brought Flynn up over dinner at the truck stop.

Ace was never so glad to see the exit for home.

They drove the mile-long driveway into Thunder Ranch, past the main house with its rustic charm and fieldstone wall to the various outbuildings, one of them a newly constructed mare motel. Luckily they beat the snow, which started falling in earnest the minute they pulled up in front of the horse barn.

“It’s too late and too cold.” Ace reached behind the seat and retrieved his and Duke’s yellow all-weather ponchos. “Let’s just put the mares and geldings in the west paddock for tonight. We can move them tomorrow if there’s a break in the weather.”

“And Midnight?”

“The clinic.”

Ace had constructed a pair of shaded corrals behind the horse barn, which also contained a small office he used for his vet practice. The corrals were for quarantining sick or injured animals while he treated them. It wasn’t an ideal location for Midnight, but it would suffice until the construction of his stud quarters was completed.

Duke braked to a stop, letting Ace out long enough to dash through the snow and relay their plans to his uncle in the other truck.

“Meet you at the paddock with the rest of the horses once we’ve unloaded Midnight,” he told his uncle.

“You going to need some help?”

“We can handle it.”

Ace returned to the truck. Midnight, impatient to get out, had begun kicking the trailer wall. He was still creating a ruckus while Duke backed the trailer to the corral gate. If all went as intended, the horse would go right from the trailer to the corral without incident.

Turning on an overhead floodlight, Ace positioned himself at the trailer door. Duke reached through the open slats and unfastened Midnight’s lead rope from where it was tied.

The horse stood perfectly still.

Ace wasn’t fooled. When he sensed the moment was right, he opened the trailer door.

“Welcome home, boy.”

The horse flicked his ears and cranked his big head around, calmly assessing his new surroundings.

“I think he’ll be okay,” Ace told Duke confidently after several uneventful seconds. “Now that we’re away from the auction and that livestock foreman.”

“Yeah, okay. If you say so.”

Before Ace could reply, Midnight flung himself sideways out of the trailer, landing with a wet thud on the ground. Ace and Duke tripped over their feet attempting to escape danger. Midnight catapulted into the corral. Running and bucking—oh, man, could that horse buck—he circled the corral a few times before coming to a stop.

“Duke! Are you all right?” Ace slammed the corral gate shut, then ran to his cousin, who leaned awkwardly against the trailer wheel well.

“I’m fine.” He cradled his left elbow close to his body.

“Here.” Ace gripped his cousin’s forearm and gently manipulated the affected joint. “Does that hurt?”

“Hell, yes.”

“Hurt like you fractured it?”

“Naw. Nothing a little ice, aspirin and a cold beer won’t fix.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Not your fault. Is Midnight okay?”

“Him? That horse is made of solid steel. You going to be able to work tomorrow?”

“Shoot, I’m tougher than that.” Duke served part-time as one of Roundup’s deputies under the recently elected sheriff—none other than Ace’s sister, Dinah. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

“I didn’t get hurt.”

“I mean your investment.” He hitched his chin at the corral. “You and your mom have a lot on the line.”

They did. Ace believed in his mother’s vision, which was that a secure future lay in their bucking stock contracting operation. To that end, she’d taken out a three-hundred thousand dollar loan, which he’d cosigned.

If they didn’t succeed, Ace could potentially lose his vet practice.

He’d worked too hard, sacrificed too much, for that to happen.

“I’ll drive the mares to the paddock,” he said.

“Forget it. I’ll meet Dad with the mares. You stay here and settle Midnight in.”

“Are you positive?”

Duke’s response was to head for the cab of the truck.

Ace shut the trailer door. After his cousin drove off, he retrieved two flakes of hay from the small stack he kept by the corral and tossed them in the feeder. Midnight started eating immediately, happy as a pig with his slop.

“I should have counted on you doing something crazy,” Ace muttered, disappointed with himself. When it came to horses, his instincts were usually right on the mark.

Midnight stopped eating long enough to give Ace a you-just-met-your-match look.

Yeah, he had.

Most stallions were unpredictable to some degree, as were many bucking horses. Midnight, as Ace was quickly realizing, verged on unmanageable.

What had happened to this fine animal in the past two years to so dramatically alter his personality?

Duke wasn’t the only one worried. Ace couldn’t help wondering if he and his mother had made a mistake, paid a small fortune in a stud horse they couldn’t handle and didn’t dare put with their mares on the chance he’d injure them.

* * *

FLYNN STARED AT THE PREGNANCY test wand. Just how reliable were these things?

Pretty accurate, she knew from working at the emergency clinic.

She could always go to the clinic, have the doctor administer a second test in order to confirm, but why? Her body had been telling her for days what the test wand in her hand confirmed: Flynn was having a baby.

She’d become, she realized with a sigh, a statistic. One night of lovemaking, and she’d gotten pregnant. What were the odds?

Considerably greater than with a couple who actually practiced birth control.

Flynn was no idiot; heck, she worked in the medical profession and witnessed the results of unprotected sex on a weekly basis. She could offer excuses. More than once she’d forgotten to take her birth control pill and hadn’t gotten pregnant. Her night with Ace had been spontaneous and they were caught unprepared. According to her cycle, it was a safe time of the month.

She moaned softly.

The fact was they’d both acted irresponsibly, and Flynn held the consequences in her hand.

No, carried them inside her. Setting the wand on the bathroom sink, she pressed a palm to her belly.

A baby! The timing couldn’t be any worse and, my goodness, what would Ace say?

She slipped the wand into her robe pocket and inspected herself in the bathroom mirror, tilting her head to the side. She was going to be a mother in, she mentally counted, about eight months! Thanksgiving time.

Did she look any different?

What had her own mother thought when she realized she was carrying Flynn’s older sister, Nora?

That a baby was the last thing she wanted?

Flynn considered calling Dinah, asking her friend to meet her after work. Flynn could use an ear to bend, a shoulder to lean on. But Dinah was Ace’s sister and the two of them were thick as thieves. Flynn couldn’t chance Ace finding out about the baby until she was ready to tell him. Until she’d decided on a course of action.

She’d have the baby, there was no question of that. With the possible exception of Ace, she hadn’t wanted anything more. Ever. Her way of compensating for her mother’s abandonment, she supposed, and Paul’s. His refusal to even consider having children for years and years into the future had been the final, backbreaking straw in their shaky marriage, ending with him walking out on her.

A baby. She still couldn’t believe it! The prospect petrified her. Wanting children didn’t necessarily mean she was ready to be a mother. It also thrilled her. This was a dream come true.

Flynn stumbled from the bathroom, the news of her condition, more than the condition itself, making her light-headed. She usually awoke after her father, so it was no surprise to find him in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee, nibbling on a piece of toast and reviewing paperwork.

“Morning, sweetie pie.” His tone lacked his usual enthusiasm and his smile its usual luster.

Who was she kidding? Her father’s smile had been mostly lusterless for months.

How to tell him about the baby? She longed to share her news with someone who loved and understood her. Dinah was out of the question and Nora, the next logical choice, would be in the middle of dropping her sons off at day care on her way to work. Forget calling her mother. Flynn wasn’t in the mood for a lecture.

She reached for the pot of coffee on the counter, then stopped. Returning the mug to the cupboard, she grabbed a juice glass instead. Caffeine wasn’t good for the baby. Orange juice, however, very good.

“What are you looking at, Dad?”

“This is a listing agreement with the real estate agent I hired.”

“Really?” She sat at the table. “When did you talk to him?”

“Her. And it was yesterday. We met while you were at work.”

Well, he’d certainly moved quickly. He’d only just announced to the Harts on Saturday he was selling everything and getting out of the business. Today was Tuesday.

“Are you going to sign it?”

“Already did.” He held up the agreement for her to see. “Just reviewing it and making notes.”

“Wow.” Flynn’s throat inexplicably tightened. This wasn’t the first time she’d moved from Roundup. Why, then, were her emotions threatening to spill over?

Must be the baby and hormones.

“Sweetie pie, what’s wrong?”

Flynn glanced up to find her dad studying her. “Nothing. Actually, everything’s falling into place perfectly. You’re selling the ranch, we’re moving to Billings, I’m going to nursing school.”

“Then why are you crying?”

She touched her cheek, stunned to find it damp.

What a mess. Everything wasn’t perfect.

Having a baby was supposed to be exhilarating. Deeply satisfying. One of life’s greatest joys. Flynn felt those things. She was also still in shock and uncertain. At this moment, those feelings overwhelmed the others.

“Dad,” she blurted. “I have something to tell you. You’re going to be surprised. A good surprise, I hope.”

Please let him be happy for me.

He laid the listing agreement aside, his expression concerned. “You’re not going back to school?”

She could do both, right? Go to school and have a baby?

“No. I am.” She swallowed. This was much harder than she’d anticipated. “I’m… Wow.” She gathered her wildly racing thoughts. “I’m pregnant.”

He sat back, his eyes wide and unblinking. “That is a surprise.”

“I only found out myself a few minutes ago when I took the home pregnancy test.”

“How far along are you?” he stammered.

“A month or so.”

Flynn’s chest tightened, and her eyes stung. She wished her father would stop sitting there, staring at her. “You’re disappointed in me.”

“God, no, Flynn.” He sprang from his chair, hauled her to her feet and clasped her to him. “I love you, I could never be disappointed in you. It’s just like you say, a surprise.” He set her back from him, brushed her hair from her face in a familiar and tender gesture reminiscent of when she was a young girl. “I love being a grandfather. It’s one of the reasons I want to move to Billings. And I know how much you’ve always hankered for kids of your own. I just figured…”

“That I’d be married.”

“Something like that. I’m your old man.” He shrugged apologetically. “Can’t help wanting what I think is best for you.”

Flynn hugged him fiercely, laid her head on his chest.

“I’m happy for you, sweetie pie.”

“I’m happy, too. And a little nervous.”

“Kids are a big step.” He kissed the top of her head. “But you’ll do fine. And you’ll be a wonderful mother.” He grew suddenly serious. “You are keeping the baby.”

“Of course I am!”

“That’s good.” He patted her reassuringly. “Is Ace the dad?”

Now it was Flynn’s turn to stare at her father in confusion. “H-how did you—”

“Because, there really hasn’t been any other man for you.”

If her father knew, then chances were Sarah Hart did, too. All those months trying to hide her and Ace’s relationship from their parents had apparently been for nothing.

Flynn grimaced. What would Ace’s mother, his whole family, think of her when they found out about the baby?

“Do you love him?” her father asked.

Flynn involuntarily stiffened. Dinah Hart had been the only one to ask her that before. She’d noticed Flynn’s crush on her older brother, a crush that had developed into much more when she and Ace dated.

Except Flynn had kept those feelings hidden and always would, not even telling Dinah.

“I— I’m… It’s complicated.”

Thankfully her father didn’t pressure her for more. They returned to their chairs, and he clasped her hand across the table. “I take it you haven’t told Ace yet.”

“No.”

“Are you going to?”

Flynn pushed her half-empty juice glass away. It suddenly didn’t appeal to her anymore. “I wouldn’t hide the baby from him. But I’m going to wait until I visit the obstetrician. Make sure everything’s okay.”

“Well, you could have picked a worse guy.”

“Dad!”

“I meant that as a compliment. I’ve always liked Ace. It was John Hart I had a problem with. The man drank like a fish and practically ran his ranch into the ground before he died.”

“That’s harsh.”

“Well, he did. But I have nothing other than respect for Sarah and Ace. He’s ten times the man his father was. All them kids are, in their own way. But Ace most of all. He stepped up. Took over as head of the family. Runs the ranch with his mother. Hell of a vet, too. He’ll make a good dad.”

“I don’t think Ace would agree with you about his father. He and John may have butted heads, but Ace loved him. After John died, Ace took over because he thought it was what his father would have wanted.”

In her mind, Flynn could hear Ace telling her those exact words ten years ago when he ended their brief dating relationship.

“Like I said, he’s a better man than his father. He’s trying to make something of that ranch, and not just for himself. Nothing he wouldn’t sacrifice for his family. Nothing he wouldn’t sacrifice for you and your baby, too.”

“You’re probably right.”

“He’ll insist on doing the right thing.”

“I’m not getting married, if that’s what you’re implying.” Flynn shocked herself with her vehemence.

“Why not?”

“Come on, Dad. I already have one disastrous marriage under my belt.”

“You didn’t love Paul.”

Just how much had her father observed? She’d evidently underestimated him for years.

“I did love him.” Not like she had—did—Ace. “In the beginning. We…” She hesitated, her voice thickening. These emotional highs and lows simply had to stop. “We drifted apart.”

“He ignored you.”

“Not always.”

“Almost always.” Her father snorted. “More interested in his job than you.”

Paul’s ambition was a quality Flynn had liked and admired when they first met. She hadn’t foreseen that his ambition would one day consume him. After a few years, it became obvious he knew his coworkers more intimately than he did Flynn and shared more with them. She grew to resent that same ambition she’d once admired and the endless hours he put in at the office.

“He wasn’t the only one at fault. I made my share of mistakes. I let him walk all over me instead of putting my foot down.”

Her father snorted again, his way of saying his girls were perfect.

Flynn smiled despite her weepiness. He may think she had nothing to do with her failed marriage, but Flynn knew better. She’d made mistakes, the first one being rushing to the altar.

She’d met Paul in one of her classes at community college; they hit it off and got engaged shortly after graduating. Flynn had assumed their similar career goals—to advance, to climb the corporate ladder—would bind them. She hadn’t anticipated their differences when it came to starting a family.

Flynn had asked him for a separation, hoping the shock would shake up Paul and force him to admit how much he loved her and wanted to stay married.

Only, what he’d said was, “Why bother with a separation? Let’s just get a divorce.” He’d packed up his belongings and left the next day.

“I’m not going to make any rash decisions,” Flynn announced resolutely. “This baby is too important to me.”

“Too bad about nursing school,” her father said. “You’d have made a good nurse.”

Flynn straightened. “I can still go to school. I’ll start the enrollment process now. Take online classes until after the baby’s born.”

She was going to be a mother. A single mother. Now more than ever she needed a decent job with security and benefits and potential for advancement.

“That’s an awful lot to have going on at once. Especially if you’re working, too.”

She would need to keep working. She couldn’t afford to pay for school otherwise.

Her temples began to throb. There was so much to think about.

“I’ll start slow. One or two classes.”

“Hmm,” her father mumbled in a tone that implied maybe Flynn should reconsider. “What about Ace? He’s going to want to be a dad to your child.”

“And he can be. Visit as much as he wants. Billings is only an hour away from here.”

Her father chuckled and raised his coffee mug in a toast. “Good luck with that.”

“What?” Flynn made a face. “I’ll be generous.”

“We’re talking about Ace Hart. The man isn’t going to want you to go anywhere, not with his child. He’s going to fight you tooth and nail and we both know it.”

Flynn hated it when her father was right.

Chapter Four

Ace fished his keys from his jeans pocket as he headed out of the barn.

Flynn had called that morning requesting he meet her at the old fishing hole on Thunder Creek when they were both off work. He’d agreed without hesitation, assuming she was giving him the chance to make good on the apology he owed her.

Now that he was about to see her, doubts crept in.

There’d been an unusual nervous quality in her voice. He hadn’t heard anything like it in ten years, not since he’d asked to meet her at the same fishing hole. His father had recently died, and Ace had informed Flynn it was over between them.

His thoughts returned to the auction five days ago. She hadn’t been nervous then.

Could she have changed her mind about moving and going to nursing school?

Even if she had, she wouldn’t insist on a private meeting in a secluded spot to inform him. There had to be another reason.

Like giving him the chewing out he richly deserved without any prying ears nearby.

He was about to start the engine when Gracie came running from the barn to his truck, one hand securing her hat to her head, the other one clutching a piece of paper. The single mother and only female ranch hand had worked for the Harts two years this coming May. She took a lot of flack from the men and repaid them by dishing out an equal amount, which earned her their respect. Ace liked her, too.

He lowered the driver’s side window, letting in a blast of cold air. Thunder Creek probably wasn’t the best meeting place.

“What’s wrong?”

“The blood work on Midnight just came in from the lab,” Gracie said in a huff when she reached the truck. “I thought you’d want to see it before you left.”

Ace grabbed the sheet of paper and quickly scanned it, his heart hammering.

He hoped to discover a cause for Midnight’s unruly disposition and aversion to people. In an attempt to eliminate any underlying medical reason, he’d put the horse through a battery of health tests, which only made him distrust Ace even more.

“Bad news?” Gracie had assisted Ace during the exams and had taken an interest in Midnight.

“No, good news.” Actually, the results couldn’t be any better. Like every other test Ace had conducted. “Everything’s normal.”

Which meant the horse’s behavior problems were the result of his genetic makeup, social environment or handling.

His recent handling, Ace thought, distaste filling his mouth. Midnight had successfully competed in rodeos for years before Wally Dunlap became ill and turned over the management of his string to a hired foreman. The only reputation Midnight had earned before that was giving cowboys record-breaking rides and producing superior quality offspring.

What had happened to trigger such a dramatic change in him?

Ace was determined to find out.

“Thanks, Gracie.” He handed the paper back to her. “Can you put that on my desk for me? I’m going to—” He paused. Gracie had been one of the people to see him and Flynn at the diner last month. “I’ll be back later tonight.”

“Sure thing, boss. Oh, and I forgot. Colt gave me a message for you. He left for the PRCA Championship Rodeo in Fargo and will be home on Monday.”

Ace’s fingers choked the steering wheel. He stopped squeezing only when he noticed Gracie’s gaze cutting to his hands.

When was his brother going to grow up, quit playing and do something more around the ranch than the least amount of work he could get away with?

No, that would make things easier on Ace, and Colt was all about himself.

“See you in the morning.” Ace started the engine. “Call me if there’s a problem with Midnight.”

Grace hurried off in the direction of the barn and Ace’s office.

He drove away, his focus changing from his brother to Flynn and their meeting.

The road to the old fishing spot was bumpy and winding and overgrown. Piles of unmelted snow and soggy patches made the driving treacherous. Ace hoped Flynn had borrowed her father’s truck and not brought her compact car.

She was already waiting for him when he arrived—her father’s pickup parked with its left front wheel resting on an incline. The roar of furiously rushing water filled his ears as he picked his way down the slope. Barren brush snagged his pant legs. Come summer, when the snow had long melted, the river would once again flow lazily and the woods be overgrown with thick, lush greenery.

Flynn sat near the bank on the trunk of an overturned pine tree, a recent casualty of their hard winter. She held her spine rigid, as if bracing for the worst. Did the prospect of seeing him fill her with that much dread?

For the thousandth time, he wished he could return to that morning weeks ago.

“Hi.” He spoke softly so as not to startle her, though she’d surely heard his boots crushing twigs and scraping across rough ground.

She swiveled to face him, watching him descend the last few feet. “Hi.” She smiled weakly. “Thanks for coming.”

He lowered himself onto the tree trunk beside her, choosing it over the boulder which sat twelve feet away. Their thighs brushed momentarily before she scooted sideways to accommodate him, but not before a rush of heat shot through him.

“You okay?” he asked, curious if she felt the same heat.

“Fine.” She held her clasped hands in her lap, their pale color matching her cheeks.

No heat rushing through her.

“Flynn, whatever you need. I’m here for you.”

“This is difficult.” She swallowed. Fidgeted. “I really hope you’re not angry with me.”

“There’s nothing you can do to make me mad.”

“You say that now.”

“If anything, you should be mad at me. I’m really sorry for the way I bailed on you. There was no excuse for it.” Not a good excuse, leastwise. Losing his nerve was a poor reason if Ace had ever heard one. “I can’t tell you how much I regret it. The leaving. Not…the night. Us.”

He needed to shut his mouth before he said something more stupid than he already had.

She exhaled a shallow, thready breath. “You’re not making this easy.”

“Just tell me. What’s wrong?”

She stared at the river with its pockets of foaming white water.

Was she, like him, remembering all the times they’d come here when they were dating? They’d fish for hours without talking much. If the evenings were especially sultry and the stars out in abundance, they made love.

“I really wish things were different,” he said, his fingers inching toward hers. “That I didn’t have so much going on.”

She stiffened. “Or, what? You’d ask me out?”

“Yeah, I would.”

“I’m pregnant.”

Ace’s hand went still, then fell to his side. “Wow.”

“It was an accident. I didn’t plan it. You have to believe me.”

“I do.” Their night together had been as spontaneous as it was amazing. “We failed to use birth control. It’s my fault more than yours.”

Of all the times in Ace’s life for him to slip up and be irresponsible.

Look what happened. Flynn was pregnant.

Ace concentrated on breathing, on forcing air into his collapsed lungs.

“I went to the doctor yesterday,” she said. “She told me everything’s fine. Progressing right on schedule.”

“That’s good.”

“You’re upset.”

“I’m surprised is all. Give me a minute.”

He’d always wanted children. It had been a frequent topic during their long-ago fishing trips. Just not yet. Later, when his vet practice was established and the new breeding business was running smoothly. When he didn’t have a quarter-of-a-million-dollar loan hanging over his head.

“I realize the timing isn’t great.”

Flynn had been reading his mind.

“I’ll support you and the baby in every way. Financially. Emotionally.”

“I’m going to apply for a student grant. That should—”

“You’re not still moving to Billings?”

“My plans haven’t changed.”

“Well, they need to change. This is my baby, too.”

“I realize that family is important to you. How could I not?”

She was referring to when they broke up ten years ago.

“After my dad died, I didn’t have any choice. I needed to finish school and help Mom run the ranch. There wasn’t anybody else to do it.”

“So you said. Countless times.”

“Tuf joined the Marines. Dinah was trying to turn her life around. Colt decided he’d rather be on the road than at home. What was I supposed to do?”

“Exactly what you did.”

“We were nearly broke, thanks to my dad.”

A surge of anger from years earlier resurfaced, stifling Ace. How could his father have been so careless with the ranch?

Easy. Alcohol had clouded his judgment.

“You’re right, your mom needed you.” Flynn rubbed her temples. “I didn’t mean to dredge up the past.”

“I want to be an active father. Change diapers. Take the 3:00 a.m. feeding. Rock him or her to sleep.” Ace wasn’t sure where this spontaneous paternal drive came from, only that the baby mattered greatly. “I can’t do those things if you’re in Billings.”

“Like you said, you have an awful lot on your plate right now.”

“This is my child. You have to stay.”

“Billings isn’t far. You can visit. Often.”

“I’m not driving an hour to see my child.”

“Once Dad sells the ranch and moves, there’s nothing keeping me here.”

Was he nothing?

Apparently so.

“What about your job?”

“I’m enrolling in nursing school.”

“Won’t that be an awful lot on your plate? School and taking care of a baby?”

“I can manage. Between my dad and my sister and day care.”

“Day care?” He scowled. “You’d let strangers take care of our child?”

“I’ll find qualified day care. The university may have a facility.”

“No.”

She gaped at him, her jaw slack. “I beg your pardon?”

“I don’t want you leaving our baby in day care. There has to be another solution.”

“Like what? You watch him?”

“Why not? He could stay here with me during the week and you have him on the weekends. My mom will help.” As if she wasn’t as busy as Ace.

“No way!”

“You don’t get to make all the decisions, Flynn.”

Her mouth quivered. “Neither do you.”

Ace paused, breathed deeply. He hated being harsh with her. “It’s only late March. You won’t be starting school until, what? The fall?”

“I was hoping to take some online classes this summer.”

“You can do that from here.”

“And Billings.”

“Not until your dad’s ranch sells, which gives us a little time to decide. Together.”

She shrugged.

“Flynn.” He took a chance, reached out and captured her hand. “We’re having a baby. It’s pretty incredible when you think about it.”

She wiped at the tears spilling from her eyes.

“Don’t cry.” He’d always been a sucker for a woman’s tears and ached to kiss her.

Better not. She’d probably club him up the side of the head.

A hug, that was the safer option.

He put an arm around her, pulled her close and stroked her back. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”

She surprised him by returning the hug and burying her face in his jacket.

He cupped the back of her neck, threaded his fingers into the hair that had escaped her colorful stocking cap.

“There’s another solution, you know,” he murmured.

“What’s that?”

“We get married.”

She pushed away from him. “Ace, I can’t.”

“Won’t you at least consider it?”

“No.”

Her quick and adamant rejection stung.

Was the prospect of marrying him really that intolerable?

* * *

“ACE, I’M SORRY. That came out wrong.” Flynn rose from the log and joined Ace at the creek bank where he stood watching the water rush past. “I wasn’t expecting you to propose. It really was a sweet gesture.”

“Sweet?” He looked crushed.

“Okay, that came out wrong, too.”

“Flynn, I’m serious. I want to marry you.”

“I know you’re serious. And, honestly, that’s what scares me.”

“Because of your divorce?”

“Marriage is a big commitment. Hopefully, a lifetime commitment. Take it from me, marrying for the wrong reasons can lead to a lot of unhappiness.”

“A child seems like a pretty good reason to me.”

She softened her voice. “You only proposed because you don’t want me to move.”

“That hit below the belt.”

“Maybe, but it’s true.”

“How do you know?”

“Let’s be honest. You don’t have feelings for me—”

“I do. Couldn’t you tell from our night together?”

“All right, then, what kind of feelings?”

“I care about you,” he replied, a tad too defensively.

What had she expected? A flowery declaration? “I made a promise to myself after my divorce. I’m not going to marry any man who doesn’t love me.”

“Your ex-husband didn’t love you?”

“Not enough to make our marriage work. The same with my parents. You know my mom walked out on us when I was young. What you don’t know is Paul did the same thing to me.”

Ace remained silent for several seconds. Several very telling seconds. When he finally spoke, it was haltingly. “The other night, it wasn’t just the sex. I haven’t been that close to anyone before.”

Looking away was impossible and, boy, did Flynn try. “For me, either.”

They’d been intimate a few times when they dated in college. Here at this very spot, in fact. But Flynn had been completely inexperienced and Ace not much more. Ten years had brought about a lot of changes, for both of them.

Ace’s skill as a lover had been matched only by his emotional intensity. He wasn’t always as strong and confident and capable as he wanted people to think. Sometimes he let his guard down.

He had that night, allowing her to see a vulnerable side of him he mostly kept hidden.

And she’d fallen a little more in love.

“There isn’t anyone else I’d want for the father of my baby,” she admitted. “You’ll be a good one, I’m sure of it.”

“Then give us a chance.”

“I told you—”

“Not to get married. I realize I’m rushing you. But to be the best parents we can. Raise our child together.”

She did owe him that much. “You’re right. We have time. I won’t be moving for a while.”

“I’m not going to change my mind. I want you and the baby living close to me.”

Flynn should have heeded her father’s advice more closely when he’d warned her about Ace’s determination.

“Are you going to tell your family?” she asked.

“Soon. Once I figure out what I’m going to say.” He smiled crookedly.

Flynn turned away from that charming smile to stare at the sun descending toward the distant mountaintops.

“What’s wrong?” Ace touched her shoulder.

“I’m worried about what they’ll think of me.”

“Mom will be overjoyed. She doesn’t understand how she could raise four kids to adulthood and none of them make her a grandmother yet.”

“I can see your mom being happy.”

“And she likes you.”

“I like her, too.” Flynn couldn’t picture a better, kinder grandmother than Sarah Hart.

Then again, almost anyone would be a better grandmother than Flynn’s own mother.

“Have you told your parents yet?” Ace asked.

“My dad.”

“And?”

“He’s pretty excited. He adores Nora’s two sons.”

“What about your mom?”

He would have to mention her mother.

Flynn sniffed. “I haven’t spoken to her since last Christmas.”

Her contact with her mother was infrequent and that suited her fine. For some reason, Nora had fewer painful memories of their childhood than Flynn and could talk to their mother without resentment rising up to choke her.

“Are you going to tell her?” Ace asked.

“Maybe. If I don’t, Nora will.”

Flynn’s gaze returned to the sunset. “My mother wasn’t what you’d call a good role model.”

“You’re not like her, Flynn.”

“Am I that easy to read?”

“You forget, I know you.”

Not like he thought he did or he’d see the love she carried around for him in her heart.

A painful lump in the back of her throat made speaking difficult. “I would never abandon my children for anyone or anything. Ever.”

“Neither would I. You and our baby are stuck with me for the long haul.”

She believed him. The Harts were close-knit, and Ace unerringly loyal.

That loyalty also scared her. He may not abandon her or their child, but he wouldn’t give as much of himself as Flynn needed. The family business and his vet practice would come first. It had before, it would again.

She shivered as a breeze swept over them. “We should probably head home. I don’t want to drive that road in the dark.”

He helped her to climb the slope, held her hand until she found her footing.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said at the top where their trucks were parked.

The words hung between them. If only he’d told her that a month ago, their conversation today might have gone differently. She’d still be pregnant, but she wouldn’t have so many doubts about his motives.

“All right. Evening is better. I’m working the day shift at the clinic this week.”

He walked her to her father’s truck and opened the door. Before she could climb in, he circled her waist and drew her close. It was nice to be held by a pair of strong, muscular arms, and Flynn let herself melt into his embrace. For a moment, she could almost believe everything was going to be all right.

How could she be mad at him for proposing and for wanting her to stay in Roundup? He might have had an entirely different reaction to her announcement. Told her the baby was her problem and refused any responsibility whatsoever.

Ace no sooner released her than her sense of security faded, leaving Flynn feeling alone and more than a little scared about what lay ahead.

Chapter Five

Ace liked starting every morning with a plan. Today, he intended to make headway with Midnight, somehow, someway. If he couldn’t discover what lay at the root of the horse’s unmanageableness and resolve the issue, he’d settle for behavior modification.

He gave himself one month.

If, at the end of that time, Midnight didn’t make measurable progress, Ace was going to recommend to his mother they sell him at the Miles City Bucking Horse Sale, take their losses and acquire a new stud.

Second on his list for the day was breaking the news to his family about Flynn’s pregnancy.

He’d kept the news to himself for several days, wanting to process the ramifications first. He still hadn’t decided between one big announcement at dinner or approaching each family member individually.

Their reactions didn’t worry him, he honestly believed they’d be thrilled for him and Flynn. There would be questions, however. Probing ones. He might grow less tired answering them all at once.

Carrying his favorite saddle to the pens behind the barn, he hoisted it onto the fence railing. Midnight tracked Ace’s every move, ears pricked forward, eyes alert. Ace made a second trip to the tack room, returning with a bucket of water, a sponge and a container of saddle soap. He also brought along a half-dozen carrots.

Setting the cleaning supplies on the ground, he opened the swinging panel in order to form a single large pen.

Midnight huffed and remained resolutely on his side, guarding his territory.

Ace set about cleaning his saddle, all the while maintaining a quiet conversation with the horse.

“I treated an old donkey at Angie Barrington’s animal rescue this morning. The darn thing had the worst eye infection I’ve ever seen. He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t lose his sight.”

Midnight wasn’t interested. His attention had started to wander to the mares and yearlings in the distant pasture.

After a few more minutes, a few more scrubbings on the saddle and a few more casual observations about his morning rounds, Ace removed his jacket and hung it on a fence post. The weather wasn’t quite warm enough to forego outerwear, but he’d make do. Picking up the carrots he’d brought, he shoved three in each of his back pockets.

Fifteen feet wasn’t so far away Midnight couldn’t smell a treat, and he instantly honed in on the carrots.

Ace resumed nonchalantly cleaning the saddle. He could practically hear the horse’s nostrils quivering. At one point, Midnight advanced a step closer, his hooves scuffling on the hard ground. Ace didn’t turn around, just kept cleaning the saddle. With any luck, Midnight would venture near enough to snatch the carrots from Ace’s pockets.

He was prepared to wait, the entire afternoon if necessary. Of course he might have the cleanest saddle on the whole ranch.

After another ten minutes, Midnight had crept inch by inch to about ten feet away, his head bobbing with frustration. He wanted those carrots.

All at once, he emitted a loud squeal and scrambled to the far side of the pen, hind legs kicking.

Ace looked up and spotted his brother Colt ambling toward him.

Just when Ace was getting somewhere.

He flung the sponge into the bucket, creating a small splash.

“What’s up?” Colt asked, completely indifferent to Ace’s irritation.

“I was working with Midnight. Until you scared him.”

“I did? Sorry.”

“Dammit, Colt. I gave strict instructions. I wasn’t to be disturbed.”

“You need a hand?” Colt rested his forearms on the fence beside Ace’s saddle, clearly not receiving the message to leave any more than he had Ace’s original instructions.

“Are you kidding?”

The only reason Ace didn’t get angrier with his brother was because of Midnight. The horse watched them warily from the farthest corner of the pen. A shouting match would only spook him and make him even more afraid of Ace.

That, and losing his cool with Colt would do no good. His brother was immune, wrapped up in his own world most of the time.

“I said I was sorry.”

Ace exhaled, reined in his temper. “It’s going slowly. I’m more and more convinced the livestock foreman mistreated Midnight and probably the other horses, as well.”

Colt shook his head. “I don’t get people like him.”

It was one of the few things Ace and his brother had in common. Mostly they were a study in contradictions, appearance and personalitywise. Strangers might not even recognize them as being related. Ace had inherited their father’s six-foot-plus height and dark looks. Colt, with his blond hair, green eyes and boyish, devil-may-care smile, resembled their mother and was often mistaken for being younger than his thirty-two years.

A few inches shorter than Ace, he was also leaner, giving him the kind of build better suited for competing in rodeos, which he did at every opportunity. There wasn’t a championship buckle he didn’t covet, an event at which he didn’t excel. And yet, he never seemed satisfied.

There had been a time when Ace was the better bareback bronc rider, and he still participated once in a while for fun or to blow off steam. As long as it didn’t interfere with work.

Another glaring difference between him and his brother. Ace put the ranch and family first. Colt, himself. He got away with doing less because, in Ace’s opinion, their mother let him.

In truth, so did Ace. Love and loyalty were nothing if not complicated.

What infuriated him the most was Ace knew Colt to be capable of so much more. His brother had true skill with horses and cattle, too. The kind of skill Ace envied. If Colt would just take life and himself a little more seriously, he’d astound everyone with his accomplishments.

And, possibly, Ace could relinquish some of his responsibilities around the ranch. Particularly in light of the fact he was going to be a father.

“Thought I should let you know I’m leaving Thursday for the Crazy Eights Rodeo.”

“Any chance you skip this one? We’re examining the mares on Thursday. Prepping them for breeding season next month.”

“Sorry, bro. I’m behind in steer wrestling and bull riding. I can’t afford to miss one weekend if I expect to qualify for Nationals.”

“December’s a long way away.”

“Every rodeo counts.”

Ace was wasting his time, but he couldn’t stop himself. “I need your help. Darrell’s girls are on school break. He’s taking the week off.”

“I can do it Monday.”

“That’s my surgery day.”

“Then Tuesday.”

“Forget it.” Ace didn’t bother reciting his list for Tuesday. Nothing short of a catastrophe would stop Colt from going to the rodeo in Bozeman. “I’ll just work Sunday.”

Another day of rest spent toiling. Ace should be used to it by now. Instead, he was tired and cranky.

“I’ll help you with the stock for the Western Frontier Pro Rodeo,” Colt offered.

He’d help because he was competing in that one, too.

“I realize you’ve got a lot on your plate right now,” Colt continued, “what with the new breeding business and all.”

“Do you?”

“Sure.”

Ace sensed his brother’s guard rise like an invisible shield in front of him.

“Then why can’t you stay home this one weekend?”

“I told you. I’m behind in two events.”

“Is making all-around cowboy more important to you than this ranch?”

“Hey, I respect you and what you do. You could return the favor.”

“What I do is work. Damn hard. I don’t gallivant around the countryside, chasing dreams.”

“You chase dreams.” Colt’s gaze traveled to Midnight. “They’re just here.”

“This family needs you, Colt.”

“This family has you.”

“And if they didn’t?”

Colt grinned. “Not going to happen.”

“It might. Things change.”

“Yeah, like what? We strike oil?”

“I have my own family.”

Colt laughed. “You need a woman for that, or hasn’t anyone told you?”

“Flynn’s pregnant. I’m the father.”

“I…” Colt took a step back, caught his breath. “I had no idea you and she were dating.”

“We’re not.”

“Then how—”

“Long story.”

“You’re smiling.”

Ace had been doing that a lot since yesterday. “I’m excited about the baby.”

“You are?”

“Hell, yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. Are you ready to be a dad?”

“I’ll be ready by the time the baby’s born. I like kids. I’ve always wanted to have my own.”

It was another area he and Colt seemed to differ. Ace’s brother had never expressed any interest in settling down, much less starting a family.

“Then I’m glad for you.” Colt’s flat voice sounded anything but glad.

“What’s wrong?”

“How did Mom take the news?”

“I haven’t told her yet. I will at dinner.”

“Good luck with that.”

“You think she won’t be happy?”

“She and Dad always wanted us to be married before we had kids.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not.” He would be, if Flynn weren’t so stubborn.

“I need to hit the road.”

“Colt. Hey, come on, man. Stay. I’m going to be spending a lot of time with Flynn while we figure things out. I could really use you.”

“Maybe if I win this weekend, some of the pressure will be off.”

The pressure his brother was under didn’t compare to Ace’s. He could feel it building inside him, a band stretched tight on the verge of snapping. But he maintained his cool, willed himself to calm down. Colt wouldn’t change, and Ace refused to be like their late father, whose favorite method of motivating his children had been to verbally berate them.

Or had Ace, as the oldest, been pushed harder than his siblings?

“Fine,” he said tightly. “Remember to call Mom, let her know you arrived. She worries.”

“Yeah. And congratulations again. Flynn’s a terrific gal.”

Colt left, his gait just shy of a dead run.

Ace remained at the fence, watching him. His brother was always in a hurry to leave the ranch behind, but this exit was particularly hasty.

Strange.

Hopefully when Ace told the rest of his family about Flynn and the baby, they’d react better.

Ace resumed his chore of cleaning the saddle, his concentration a shambles. He’d pretty much decided to quit for the day and tackle Midnight’s behavior problems tomorrow, when he felt something behind him. Startled, he patted his back pockets.

Son of a gun!

He spun slowly around.

Midnight stood a few feet away, smugly crunching a carrot.

Ace grabbed another one and held it out to the horse.

He snorted and retreated a step, still chewing.

“That’s okay,” Ace said, his anger at his brother dissipating. “It’s a start.”

A very good start.

* * *

THE STOCK PENS AT THE Western Frontier Pro Rodeo were already half-full when Ace and Colt arrived and parked their truck and trailer. Behind them were two more Thunder Ranch rigs, one carrying bucking horses and the other a pair of their most promising bulls.

Beau and Duke, Ace’s twin cousins, had come along to help with the livestock and compete with Colt and Ace. It had been over a year since all four of them went up against each other at the same rodeo. Ace was looking forward to it.

His decision to enter bareback bronc riding was likely the only reason he and his brother hadn’t argued since Colt’s return from Bozeman last week. Ace had entered today not to mend their differences but to show up his brother. Beating Colt would feel good. It would also prove Ace still remembered how to have fun and wasn’t, as his mother liked to call him, a stick in the mud.

She’d taken the news of Flynn’s pregnancy well. More than well, she’d been thrilled. True to Colt’s prediction, she expressed her desire to see Ace and Flynn married first, a natural reaction for most parents in Ace’s opinion. But she’d been happy for Ace. So had Dinah, who’d rushed over after getting off duty to celebrate with them. The only damper to the evening had been Colt. Rather than join them, he’d found some reason to retreat to his room.

Ace, his cousins and the ranch crew had barely started unloading the livestock when Colt made a beeline away from the stock pens.

“Hey, where you going?” Ace hollered after him.

“The entry booth, to sign in.”

“It can wait. The rodeo doesn’t start for four more hours.”

“I won’t be long.” Colt, jogging backward, raised his hand in a farewell gesture.

Ace took his frustration out on the toolbox mounted to the side of the trailer and the finicky padlock securing the lid.

“Beau and Duke have left to sign in, too.” Harlan came up beside Ace. “You should go.”

Ace spared the ranch hand a brief glance, then returned to searching for the pliers he swore were right on top when he’d last checked the toolbox. “There’s still time.”

“Royce and I can finish here and then transport the stock for tonight’s events.”

“I don’t want to leave you two with all the work.” Moving ornery bulls and horses was a lot to handle, even for two of the Harts’ most experienced hands.

“Why not?” Harlan plucked the pliers out from under a socket set and held them out to Ace. “That’s our job, what you pay us for.”

The idea did appeal to him, and he could sure enough use a break.

It had been a tough week. Not a day went by he didn’t put in ten or twelve hours, then fall into bed shortly after supper, exhausted. Making matters worse, Flynn had given him every excuse in the book not to see him. Yeah, they’d talked on the phone, but she refused to reconsider her plans of moving to Billings. Every call had ended on a terse note.

Ace wasn’t having any better luck with Midnight. Other than persuading the horse to accept a few more treats, he’d made no real progress.

“Go on,” Harlan encouraged. “This might be your last chance to compete for a while.”

True. With the baby coming, Ace planned on spending most weekends at home, hopefully with Flynn. He didn’t let himself think about spending his weekends driving back and forth to Billings to visit his child.

He slammed shut the lid to the toolbox, the knot of tension between his shoulders throbbing. The long hours and constant demands were having an effect on him. Eight bone-crunching seconds on the back of a wildly bucking bronc might be just the ticket to alleviate his stress.

“I won’t be long.” Ace repeated his brother’s words to Harlan, the irony not lost on him.

“Bring some cold drinks back with you. Royce and I are parched.”

Ace cut across the lot, which was reasonably dry thanks to several days of fair weather. The nights were still chilly, however, and the bucking stock would be feeling frisky.

It was going to be a good rodeo.

Colt had already signed in and left the entry booth by the time Ace got there. He spotted his brother near the arena entrance, talking to an attractive barrel racer.

Figures.

“I reckon they’ll let just about anybody enter,” a familiar voice behind Ace said.

He turned and grabbed the outstretched hand of his buddy Austin Wright, shaking it briskly. “I guess I’m going to have some competition today.”

“Looks like it.” Austin’s affable grin was the same one Ace remembered from when they were young.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “Thought you were chained to that tack shop of yours.”

“I break loose once in a while.”

Ace and Austin had grown up together, attended the same schools, the same church and vied for the attention of the same girls. They’d been fierce competitors on the basketball court as well as in the rodeo arena and good friends the rest of the time. In the years since high school they’d grown apart, despite living in the same town. In part because of Ace’s grueling schedule, in part because of Austin’s family situation. A father serving time for cattle rustling in a ranching community was a lot to live down.

“Let’s get together later tonight,” Ace said.

“I’d like that. After I embarrass you in the arena.”

“Feeling lucky today?”

“Against you? Always.”

“Loser buys dinner?”

“You’re on.” They shook hands again to seal their bet. “I heard you expanded your string.”

“We did.” Ace moved forward in line. “Brought a few of the new head with us today. They’re coming on strong.”

“Wish I’d drawn one.”

“I pulled a McKinley bronc.”

“Isn’t he selling off?”

“He has some contracts still to fulfill over the next couple months.” Ace found himself grinning, like he did every time he thought of Flynn and the baby. “There’s something else. I’m going to be a dad.”

“No fooling!”

Ace summarized the story of him and Flynn, omitting the details of their one-night stand.

“That’s great.” Austin beamed. “I’m really happy for you.”

Why couldn’t Colt be happy for Ace, too?

He and Austin continued chatting until it was Ace’s turn to sign in. After Austin finished and they said their goodbyes, Ace made a quick stop at the concession stand before heading back to the livestock pens. Just as he walked up, two McKinley rigs rumbled on by—Earl behind the wheel of the first truck, Flynn beside him in the passenger seat.

Flynn!

She hadn’t mentioned coming this weekend.

He checked in with Harlan and delivered the cold drinks, all the while keeping an eye on the truck with Flynn. When it came to a stop, the side door opened and she scrambled out. She then jogged around to the rear of the trailer and began directing her father as he backed up to a row of empty pens.

Ace hastened over and waited until Earl was finished parking before addressing Flynn.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Same as you. Bringing stock.”

Ace was prepared to toss her over his shoulder and carry her off if she attempted to help unload the horses. Fortunately she didn’t, leaving the task to her dad and his trio of ranch hands.

Ace hadn’t seen Flynn’s father since the auction and braced himself for a stern talking-to. It’s what he’d do in the other man’s shoes.

“Afternoon, Earl,” he said with a nod, and waited.

Earl went about his business, ignoring Ace.

He glanced at Flynn.

She shrugged.

“Sir, about the baby—”

Earl straightened, walked calmly over to Ace and stuck a finger in his chest. “I like you. But if you hurt my little girl, mark my word, there will be hell to pay.”

“I won’t hurt her, I swear.”

“Glad that’s settled.”

“Me, too.”

Earl poked Ace in the chest again before leaving.

Flynn laughed under her breath.

Ace wasn’t amused and wiped a hand across his damp brow. “Is that a good idea, you being here? What with the baby and all?”

“What do you mean?”

“Bucking stock aren’t known for their manners.”

“I’m not going to ride the horses.” She laughed again.

Though, in Ace’s opinion, the situation was serious, her gaiety was a welcome change from their recent strain.

“Just being near them is risky. They kick. Bite. Charge.”

“I promise to be supercautious if you promise to be less obsessive.”

“I care about you, Flynn.” Much more than she realized.

Instead of becoming prickly, she smiled softly. “Thank you.”

Grateful for whatever had caused the change in her, Ace let the cozy sensation her smile triggered wind through him.

If only it could be like this between them every day.

“Speaking of taking risks.” She pointed to the entrant number he carried in his hand. “I should scold you for the same thing. What if you get hurt?”

“I’ll withdraw,” he said immediately.

“No.” She laughed again. “I don’t want you to change just because we’re having a baby.”

We? He liked her referring to them as a couple.

“Our child is more important to me than bronc riding.”

“Rodeoing’s a big part of your life. It’s your business.”

“But not competing. I won’t be any good to either of you if I’m injured and unable to make a living. This gives me the excuse I need to quit without embarrassing myself.”

“Compete, Ace. You like it and, be honest, you miss it.”

“Sometimes.” He’d been at the peak of his rodeo career back in college when they’d dated. He gave it up after his father died, like he had Flynn.

What if he’d been wrong all those years ago on both counts?

Their attention was drawn to the McKinley horses, who fussed and squealed and nipped at each other as they settled into the pen.

Flynn knitted her brows as she scrutinized them. “Hmm.”

“Something wrong?”

“It’s Fancy Gal.” She started toward the fence. Ace followed her, determined to intervene if a horse so much as looked sideways at her. “She’s been acting out of sorts all morning.”

“Which one is she?”

Flynn pointed to a stout dun mare standing at the far end of the pen. Ears pinned back, teeth bared and swinging her head from side to side, she sent an unmistakable warning to her pen mates: stay away.

“She’s one of my favorites and is usually pretty docile outside the arena.”

“Want me to examine her?”

Relief lit Flynn’s features. “Would you? I don’t want to be a bother. You have your own string to worry about.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I’ll get her.”

“You’re not going in that pen with all those horses.” Ace put a hand on her arm. “Your dad can do it.”

She sighed. “All right.”

Ace liked her when she was agreeable.

He was rather confident it wouldn’t last.

Chapter Six

Pregnancy suited Flynn. She’d woken up that morning on completely the right side of the bed. Not that her doubts about the future had vanished. Far from it. But she felt good. Happy. Optimistic.

Her exuberance, however, dimmed as her concern for Fancy Gal escalated. The mare was clearly distressed and in pain.

It didn’t take long for her father to separate the mare from the rest of the string, bring her out and tie her to the side of the trailer.

Flynn hovered near Ace as he conducted his examination. She had her suspicions about what ailed the mare and was curious to see if she was right.

“We probably shouldn’t have brought her today.” She stroked Fancy Gal’s nose. Away from her pen mates, the mare was gentle as a lamb and calmly tolerated Ace’s poking and prodding. “She’s nineteen. Too old for competing.”

“Not really,” he said. “If they’re in good health, horses can be competed into their twenties. But if you want to retire her, she’d make a nice broodmare.”

“I hope whoever buys her does exactly that.”

Ace ran a hand along Fancy Gal’s abdomen. “Besides irritability, what are her other symptoms?”

Flynn pointed to the mare’s shuffling hooves. “She keeps shifting her weight.”

“I checked her feet,” her father added, coming over. “No stones or abscesses or any problems that I saw.”

“You won’t take offense if I also have a look?” Ace picked up the mare’s front hoof, braced it between his knees and dug around the soft underside with a penknife.

“I’d think you were a sorry vet if you didn’t.” Her father carefully supervised Ace’s every move. Fancy Gal was one of his favorite horses, too.

Ace repeated the process with the remaining hooves. “They look fine.” He took a step back and considered the mare. “Any signs of colic?”

“Nope.”

“Yes,” Flynn interjected. Colic was her guess. “She’s been biting her flanks.”

Ace placed his ear against Fancy Gal’s abdomen.

Flynn held the mare’s head firmly in place. Fancy Gal might be a lamb but sick animals often spooked and behaved out of character.

Ace straightened, his mouth set in a firm line. “Sounds like a war zone in there. I don’t think you should compete her today.”

“Poor girl,” Flynn cooed, and scratched Fancy Gal behind the ears.

“Have we caught it in time?” her father asked.

He had reason to be concerned. Several years ago they had almost lost a prize gelding to a sudden and aggressive case of colic.

“I think so,” Ace said. “Can you arrange for a separate stall or pen? She shouldn’t be with the other horses.”

“I’ll talk to the barn manager.”

“I can walk her,” Flynn offered when her father left.

When their gelding had colic, she and her father had taken turns walking him all through the night. It had probably saved the gelding’s life.

Ace shook his head. “I’d feel better if you got one of the men to do it.”

“Fancy Gal won’t hurt me.”

“Not intentionally.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m going to walk her and—”

“And I’m not stopping you,” he finished for her.

“Something like that.” Flynn squared her shoulders.

Ace’s glance traveled from Fancy Gal to Flynn. “I don’t like it.”

“You have to trust me.”

He groaned as if giving in to her caused him pain. “I’ve got some bute paste in my truck. That should help her with the discomfort.” He promptly returned, a tube clutched in his hand, and administered the bute paste.

Fancy Gal didn’t like the taste or the texture. She worked her jaw and rolled her tongue until the medication had dissolved.

Afterward, Ace accompanied Flynn and Fancy Gal to the vacant pasture on the far side of the warm-up arena. She started to tell him to leave, that she was fine on her own, then reconsidered. She liked him walking beside her. She reconsidered again the third time his arm brushed hers.

At the end of their first circuit, Flynn told Ace, “You should probably go. Your event is the first one after the opening ceremony.”

“If she worsens or shows any other symptoms, call me immediately. I don’t care what I’m doing.”

“We’ll be fine.”

He acted as if he hadn’t heard her. “I’ll stop by in an hour to check on her.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do. You were lucky today. She’s in the early stages of colic. A few more hours, her chances of making a full recovery would be a lot less.”

Whatever personal issues she had with Ace, she couldn’t deny he was a good vet.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, and you just acquired all those horses at the auction…”

“Tell me.”

“Dad’s selling all the livestock. I want Fancy Gal to go to a good home, one where she can live out the rest of her life.” Flynn fiddled with the mare’s lead rope. “She’s really almost never sick. And she would make a wonderful broodmare. I can get you a copy of her registration papers—”

“You want me to buy her?”

“Yes.”

When he didn’t answer right away, Flynn’s heart sank.

“It was a stupid idea.”

“No, it isn’t. I just don’t like doing anything that will make your leaving easier.”

She glanced away, hiding her disappointment.

He took her chin in his fingers and tilted her face to his. “But I’ll buy her.”

“Seriously? Because I don’t want you doing this strictly for me.”

“Of course I’m doing it for you. And she’d be a sound investment.”

“Thank you, thank you!” Flynn threw herself at Ace and squeezed him tightly around the waist with her one free arm.

“Before you get carried away, we should probably talk price.”

“I’ll make sure Dad gives you a smoking deal.”

Flynn sighed contentedly. This hug was so much nicer than the stiff one they’d shared at the fishing hole when she’d told him about the baby.

“In that case, maybe we should buy more of your father’s horses.”

“Oh, Ace.” She stood on her tiptoes and impulsively pressed her lips to his cheek. The familiar scent of him instantly assailed her, weakened her knees so that she was forced to lean on him.

He went still.

Uh-oh. Big mistake.

She was about to pull away when he bent his head and sought her lips.

The kiss, light, tender and achingly sweet, lasted only a few seconds before he abruptly withdrew.

Not again!

Why was he always doing this to her?

Flynn stepped away, only to spy her father at the edge of the pasture, his gaze riveted on her and Ace.

* * *

FLYNN GAVE FANCY GAL one last thorough inspection before permitting herself to relax. The mare was better, nosing around the corners of her pen for a tidbit of hay rather than exhibiting signs of distress.

True to his word, Ace had stopped by earlier and examined her, noting her progress and advising Flynn to continue walking the mare at intervals for the rest of the afternoon, possibly into the evening. He also brought some warm bran mash to settle Fancy Gal’s stomach, though where he acquired it Flynn had no clue.

“I have my connections,” was all he’d admit before returning to the arena.

She glanced at her watch, straining to hear the announcements coming from the direction of the arena. Ace’s event, bareback bronc riding, would be starting soon. She was just locking up the truck when her father strode over. He hadn’t mentioned seeing her and Ace kissing earlier, but she wouldn’t put it past him.

What a mistake! Why did she continually lose her head with Ace?

Unfortunately, there was no going back now.

“Did I tell you Ace drew True Grit?” her father asked.

“Seriously? No, you didn’t.”

The gelding was one of her father’s best bucking broncs—or worst, if you were the cowboy trying to ride him.

When her father began reciting the other bronc/cowboy matchups, Flynn cut him off.

“Ace hasn’t been in a rodeo since last fall. True Grit’s a lot of horse, even for someone who competes regularly.”

“That’s how rodeo works. It’s the luck of the draw.”

Bad luck, Flynn thought. “What if he gets injured?”

“He’s a big boy.”

“He’s also the father of my child. Your grandchild.”

Her father chuckled.

Flynn took off at a brisk walk.

He chased after her. “Where you going?”

“To tell Ace not to compete.”

“What with the way you’re acting, a person might suspect you have more feelings for him than you’re willing to admit.”

“This has nothing to do with me or my feelings.”

Her father’s persistent chuckling grated on Flynn’s nerves.

She seldom ventured behind the bucking chutes where the participants gathered to assess the horses and their competition and to while away the time while they waited—usually nervously—for their turn.

Ace was there, along with his brother, cousins and Austin Wright. The moment he saw her, he broke away and met her halfway.

“Is Fancy Gal all right?” he asked.

“She’s great.”

“Are you all right?”

“Ace, don’t compete.”

“What?”

“Dad told me you drew True Grit. You know his reputation and his ranking.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“See,” her dad said, catching up with Flynn. “I told you.”

“Please, Ace.”

A twinkle lit his eyes. It also warmed her heart.

She was such a sucker.

“Weren’t you just saying I shouldn’t change because we’re having a baby?”

“Yes, but True Grit is—”

“It’s okay.” He reached out and stroked her cheek.

“Promise me.” She closed her eyes and sighed softly.

“I tend to agree with my daughter,” Earl said. “True Grit probably has more giddyup than you’re used to.”

“Dad!” Flynn’s eyes flew open.

Ace let his hand drop and turned to appraise her father. “I might be a little rusty, but I’m pretty sure I can sit that horse for eight seconds.”

“That boast has all the makings of a wager.”

Now Flynn was really upset. “No betting!”

Ace grinned. “What do you have in mind?”

“Flynn mentioned you’re interested in buying Fancy Gal and maybe a few more of my string. I’ve got another potential buyer lined up. Hoyt Cammeron.”

“Yeah?” Ace visibly perked up.

“You last the full eight seconds on True Grit, and I’ll sell you any of my string you want and throw in Fancy Gal for free. You eat dirt, I sell the string to Hoyt, including Fancy Gal if he wants her.”

“You can’t,” Flynn objected.

“You’re on.” Ace stuck out his hand to her father.

“Ace, get over here,” Colt hollered. “Beau’s up next.”

“See you at the stock pens when I’m done.” Ace squeezed Flynn’s arm, then nodded curtly at her father.

“I’ll be there, too. With Hoyt,” Flynn’s father added.

She waited a mere second after Ace left before whirling on her father. “How could you, Dad? A bet? Really? And what’s this with Hoyt? You told me you’d no more sell that man a broken-down pony than any of your string.”

There was that chuckle again.

She groaned with frustration.

“Come on.” He placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her toward the stands. “We’d better hurry before it’s Ace’s turn.”

At her wit’s end, Flynn went with her father to the crowded bleachers where they found two empty seats. Second to the last row, unfortunately. She couldn’t remain still as one cowboy after the other went. Beau did well, his score landing him in the lead. His position lasted only until Austin Wright’s turn. Austin had also drawn a McKinley horse and was the first competitor that day to successfully ride one.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Ace’s name was called.

Flynn gnawed her lower lip as she watched him straddle the fence and sit True Grit. The horse, raring to go, shifted nervously in the narrow chute, bumping into the side panels and tossing his head.

Ace didn’t hurry.

He was too far away for Flynn to see, but she imagined him testing the rigging and adjusting his grip on the handle until it satisfied him. He’d place his feet above the horse’s shoulders, correctly marking the horse before entering the arena so as not to be disqualified before his ride even started. He’d listen to the advice of his brother and cousins and buddies who were clustered together and hanging on the fence.

In the end, he’d trust his instincts.

Suddenly, the chute gate flew open and True Grit exploded into the arena, front hooves solidly planted on the ground, his back ones reaching for the sky. Not the biggest horse there by any means, his claim to fame was his ability to bend himself into the shape of a twist tie while achieving incredible heights.

Today was no exception.

Rocking onto his hind legs, True Grit reared, standing almost completely vertical. Ace clung to the rigging, leaning so far back his head lay against the horse’s rump and the toes of his boots touched the horse’s ears. Even in that impossible position, Ace spurred the horse, urging him to buck higher, buck harder.

True Grit gave it his all, hitting the ground with his front feet and spinning in a full circle with such force, Ace was almost knocked off.

Flynn gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.

What was wrong with the timer? Surely eight seconds had passed. More like a full minute.

True Grit executed another gravity-defying buck, his goal to fling Ace over his head and into the stands. By some miracle, Ace hung on.

The buzzer went off. Instantly, Flynn was out of her seat. “He did it!”

Applause and cheers broke out from the crowd as the pickup men surrounded Ace, hauled him off the horse and deposited him—still in one piece, thank God—onto the ground. As Ace walked across the arena, he picked up his hat from where it had fallen and waved it at the crowd.

Flynn started toward the aisle.

Her father grabbed her wrist, waylaying her. “Where are you going?”

To congratulate Ace, but she didn’t want to tell her father that. “Walk Fancy Gal.”

“Don’t you want to see Ace’s score?”

It didn’t matter to her, only that he’d finished. “Sure.” She sat back down.

A few seconds later, Ace’s score was blasted from the speakers while simultaneously appearing on the scoreboard.

“Eighty-three,” her father muttered. “Not great, not bad.”

“Pretty good for someone who only competes occasionally.”

“I’m glad to see him get Fancy Gal and whatever other horses he wants.”

“Not Hoyt Cammeron?”

“Hoyt was never interested.”

“What!” Flynn stood, braced her hands on her hips and glared at her father. “Then why the bet with Ace?”

“It was for you.”

“Me?”

“I wanted to see how bad he wants you. How hard he’s willing to fight.”

“This was about the horses,” she insisted.

“No, it wasn’t. And he knows it, too.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Maybe so.” Her father wore a smug smile. “But now we have an answer.”

* * *

ACE REACHED FOR HIS RINGING cell phone, groaning in agony as every muscle in his body rebelled. Gracie’s number appeared on the display. “Yeah,” he barked.

“You said to call you when Flynn McKinley arrived.”

“Thanks. Have her meet me at the main paddock.” He disconnected, let his phone drop onto the mattress and didn’t move for a full two minutes.

Finally, when he’d mustered enough strength, he pushed to a sitting position with the agility of a ninety-year-old man and lowered his feet to the floor.

Two days since the Western Frontier Pro Rodeo, and he still hurt like a son of a bitch.

Lasting eight seconds in bareback bronc riding and winning his bet with Earl had been great. Finishing in seventh place and beating out his brother and cousins, even better. He didn’t even mind buying a steak dinner for his friend Austin, who’d finished second.

Thank goodness Ace hadn’t qualified for the finals on Sunday. He’d be a cripple. Colt, Beau and Duke had been left with overseeing the loading of the livestock for the long, long return trip home during which Ace had suffered their endless ribbing. Deserved ribbing.

What had made him think he could compete once or twice a year and not come away feeling as though he’d gone for a joyride inside a cement mixer?

Rising from the bed, he tucked his shirt into his pants, put on his boots and grabbed his hat off his dresser. Break time was officially over.

He hobbled through the adjacent sitting area and out a door that lead to an enclosed patio. Some years ago, when it became apparent Ace would be staying on the ranch and helping his mother, he’d remodeled two of the downstairs bedrooms into a master suite with a private outside entrance. That way he could come and go at all hours, one of the hazards of being a vet, without disturbing the rest of the household.

Plus, Ace liked his solitude—until lately, anyway.

Waking up next to Flynn had been nice, her smooth, warm curves snuggled next to him, her hand folded inside his even in sleep.

Then he’d realized what a mistake he’d made. Not sleeping with her, but letting her get close. Letting her glimpse the raw need he ruthlessly kept concealed behind a competent, take-charge exterior.

Ace wasn’t weak like his father had been. He wouldn’t use alcohol or berate others to compensate for his insecurities.

His Polaris sat parked beside the patio entrance in its usual spot. The all-terrain vehicle was his usual mode of transportation around the ranch when not riding a horse.

There would be no riding horses for several more days if the ibuprofen he’d been swallowing like Halloween candy didn’t kick in soon.

Starting the Polaris, he drove to the paddock, the same paddock where they’d put Wally Dunlap’s mares after the auction. The drive took only a few minutes. A bumpy, excruciating, teeth-grinding few minutes.

He expected to find Earl or one of the McKinley hands with Flynn, only she’d come by herself.

“Thanks, Gracie,” he told the ranch hand after crawling out of the Polaris.

She picked up on his cue. Striding toward the barn, she said, “See ya later, Flynn.”

“Geez, Ace, are you all right?” Flynn gave him a concerned once-over, taking in his bent posture.

“It’s nothing.”

She covered her mouth and laughed.

“Not funny.” He went to the back of the horse trailer and inspected the five mares and one gelding inside, Fancy Gal and True Grit among them.

“It is too funny.” She came up behind him, trying not to smirk. “That’ll teach you to bust broncs without getting into condition first.”

It would. If he were smart, he’d quit rodeoing for good. He couldn’t afford to be laid up.

Unless he and Flynn had a son. Then he’d teach their boy everything about horses and cattle and ranching and rodeoing. On second thought, he’d teach the same things to a daughter.

A fresh wave of determination surged inside him. There would be a new generation of Harts. Rebuilding their flagging business, securing the future, took on a whole new meaning. As did carrying on family traditions, instilling in his children a love and respect for the land and the animals that inhabited it.

Wait a minute. Children?

Who exactly was he planning on having more children with? Flynn had turned down his marriage proposal. She was also moving to Billings.

He unlatched the rear door on the trailer, suppressing a groan.

“Wait, I’ll help.” Flynn reached for the handle and instantly withdrew when their hands touched. “You, um, don’t want to injure yourself any worse than you already have.”

There’d been a time when she wouldn’t have been jumpy around him.

Was that a good sign?

“Cut me some slack,” he joked in an attempt to relieve the awkwardness. “I’m getting enough grief from everyone else as it is.”

He opened the trailer door, wincing at the pain. Maybe he should have accepted her help.

Eventually, all six horses were unloaded and exploring the paddock. Ace and Flynn stood side by side at the fence, watching them.

“You picked the best from my dad’s string,” she observed.

“Yeah.” Ace was pretty happy about his selection. Several of the horses were nothing special to look at, but they could buck, and that was what counted. “Fancy Gal have any more problems with colic?”

“None, and I’ve kept a close eye on her.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Good. Fantastic, in fact.”

“No nausea?”

“A little last night.”

“When’s your next doctor appointment?”

“May first.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Flynn pushed off the fence. “There’s no need.”

“I want to.”

She started back toward the truck.

Ace caught up with her, though it was with some difficulty. “What’s the matter? You don’t want me to go?”

“It’s not that.” She shoved her hands into her down vest pockets. “What’s going to happen when I leave?”

“With your doctor appointments?”

She sighed. “The more attached you get, the harder it will be.”

“I’m going to be attached to my kid.”

“I was talking about me.”

“We agreed we’re going to try and get along. Do things together.”

“Getting along doesn’t include kissing.”

She had him there. “Was it so awful?” he asked, attempting a wry grin. “You did participate.”

Her defenses visibly shot up. “You’re missing the point.”

“I don’t think I am.” He waited until she’d shut the trailer door. “Don’t go to Billings, Flynn. Marry me.”

“I told you no, and I told you why. Nothing’s changed.”

“You have to admit, there were some pretty serious sparks between us.”

“Sparks aren’t enough.” She gazed at him pointedly. “Sometimes, love isn’t enough. But it has to be there for a marriage to survive.”

“Then don’t marry me, but stay in Roundup. We need more time to figure this out.”

Her expression fell, telegraphing her disappointment with his answer.

He scrambled to gain ground. “Our kid deserves to have both his parents raising him.”

“Couples who live apart successfully raise children all the time. My parents did. Well, my dad did.”

“And he ran a demanding business.”

“But he always put me and my sister first. There wasn’t a single dinner he missed.” Her gaze fastened on him. “Can you make the same promise? Because I won’t consider staying otherwise.”

“I’m willing to change.”

“How?”

“Once the business is operating profitably and the loan is paid down, I’ll cut back on my hours.”

“When will that be?”

“A year. Possibly a little longer.” In reality, it would be more like three years.

“You haven’t cut back in the last ten years,” she said skeptically.

“Yeah, but now there’s a baby on the way.”

“Which is all the more reason for you to focus on your family’s business. It’s your livelihood. I can’t support this baby on my own.”

And he’d promised to take care of his child. He couldn’t do that with only the income from his vet practice. Neither could he saddle his mother with the entire responsibility of managing the ranch and paying down the loan.

His determination returned tenfold. He’d do it all, work and be there for Flynn. Be a better man than his father.

“Give me a chance to prove myself.”

“I am. That’s what we’re doing.”

“If we were married, there—”

“I was married to Paul, and it didn’t make a bit of difference. He still put his career above me.” She headed for the cab of her truck. “There’s no reason for me to think you’ll be any different.”

“I’m going to continue proposing until you say yes.”

“That should be interesting,” she said over her shoulder, “since I’m going to continue saying no until you propose for the right reasons.”

“What’s more important than our child?”

“You should be asking yourself, what’s just as important as our child.”

Chapter Seven

Flynn stepped into the stark, utilitarian lobby of the Roundup Sheriff Station, a white plastic grocery bag clenched in her hand. She came here on occasion to visit Dinah and once when she was a senior in high school. Dinah, Flynn and a few of their friends had been questioned in the matter of a teenage prank that had involved drinking and several cans of spray paint.

Flynn had been innocent. Dinah, a little less innocent. Funny, her friend was now the sheriff and the one questioning delinquent teenagers.

A lot had changed since those days. Flynn would have never guessed she’d be married and divorced, living at home again and about to embark on single motherhood.

“Is Sheriff Hart in?” she asked the male deputy behind the counter.

“Your name?”

“Flynn McKinley.”

She took a seat on a bench in the lobby to wait. Dinah appeared a few minutes later, a bright smile on her face, her khaki uniform neatly pressed.

Seeing her friend often gave Flynn a start. Dinah closely resembled Ace, though her eyes were hazel as opposed to brown. Even so, there was no mistaking their relation.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“I brought you a peace offering.” Flynn held out the plastic bag.

Dinah peeked inside at the package of miniature Snickers bars and grinned wickedly. “Come on back.” She led Flynn down the hall and to her office. “Not sure why you think you need to bring me a peace offering, but I won’t complain.”

Snickers bars were one of Dinah’s guilty pleasures.

Behind the privacy of her closed door, Dinah gave Flynn the brief hug she wouldn’t in front of the other deputies and clerical staff.

“What’s up?”

“I wanted to apologize.”

“Did you do anything requiring an apology?” Dinah sat behind her desk while Flynn settled in the chair across from her.

The package of candy was opened, and a handful of bars quickly distributed between them. The image of Dinah, all proper and official in her uniform and chomping on candy, brought a smile to Flynn’s face.

“I should have told you about the baby,” she said between bites. “Not waited until Ace did.”

“No worries. I get it.”

“I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. Heck, I’m still not sure.”

“Marry him,” Dinah said matter-of-factly, catching Flynn off guard.

“Did Ace tell you he’d proposed?”

“He didn’t have to. I know my brother.” Dinah evaluated another Snickers bar before popping it in her mouth with a contented sigh. “When’s the big day?”

And here Flynn had thought she’d be the one to break the news to her friend.

“There is no big day. I refused.”

“Why? You love him.”

“But he doesn’t love me.”

“Nonsense.”

“Dinah, he doesn’t.”

“Ace holds his cards close to his chest. He’s always been that way. Got worse after Dad died. He’s afraid of being hurt.”

It was hard for Flynn to imagine Ace as being afraid of anything. Then again, she’d seen his vulnerable side the night they’d made love and she’d conceived.

“I’m not sure I want to be married to a man who won’t or can’t express his emotions.”

“Isn’t that better than a man who tells you he loves you and doesn’t mean it?”

She was referring to Paul.

“Selfishly, I’m asking you to give him a chance.” Dinah made a pleading face. “There isn’t anyone else I want for a sister-in-law.”

“Me, either.” Flynn didn’t think there was anyone she’d rather have for a husband than Ace, but only if he returned her feelings.

“I love Colt and Tuf. They’re great guys in their own way. But the truth is, if I were in a jam, Ace would be the first one I’d call. He’d come through for me. He will for you, too.”

“Is it wrong to want a man who will sweep me off my feet?”

“Are you so sure he won’t?”

“I thought he might. Once. Then he left. Ducked out of my bedroom like he’d done something wrong.”

“Thank you, Dad.” Dinah snorted and sat back in her chair.

“What does your dad have to do with this?”

“He had two sets of rules. One for us, one for him. He always put these unrealistic expectations on my brothers, Ace in particular. I wouldn’t be surprised if Ace woke up the next morning thinking he’d wronged you. The guilt probably ate him alive.”

“He had nothing to be guilty about.”

“Try telling him that.”

“Great.” Flynn slumped in her chair. “He not only doesn’t love me, he proposed to me out of guilt in addition to duty. Be still my foolish heart.”

“Come on, that’s not true.”

“It is, according to what you just told me.”

“Flynn, don’t move to Billings. Not yet. Give Ace a little more time, he won’t disappoint you. Once he gets the breeding business off the ground and the problems with Midnight resolved, he’ll be able to think clearly, realize how he feels about you.”

“Falling in love with someone isn’t a decision you make. It’s either there or it isn’t.”

“No, but letting yourself embrace that love is a decision.”

Flynn wanted to talk to Dinah longer about Ace, except her desk phone rang.

“I’ve got to go,” she said after hanging up, her formerly pleasant expression now grim. “Domestic dispute. A bad one.”

“Thanks for seeing me.”

“I miss you.” Dinah hugged her again before walking out the door. “Let’s have a girls’ night out soon.”

“Sounds good.”

Dinah took off the moment they reached the lobby, shouting orders to the deputy behind the counter before disappearing through another door.

Flynn found herself a little in awe of her friend. Was this the same girl who’d giggled with her over teen magazines when they were twelve? The same woman who’d rebelled at seventeen and raised all kinds of hell?

Maybe Dinah was right and Flynn should give Ace another chance. Each of the Hart children bore scars thanks to their father’s actions.

Was Flynn any different? Her own mother’s abandonment had damaged her every bit as much as John Hart’s betrayal did Ace.

No wonder her and Ace’s relationship was such a mess.

* * *

“ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THIS?” Ace’s mother asked, trepidation lending an unevenness to her voice.

“I don’t think we have a choice,” he answered. “We need to know one way or the other if we can use him, and we need to know before breeding season is in full swing.”

Yesterday, Midnight had been moved from the pens at Ace’s clinic to his permanent location in the stud quarters. His spacious stall opened out into a paddock. From there, he could see horses grazing in the near pastures and cattle in the far ones.

Gracie had been assigned the task of exercising Midnight an hour or more every day in the round pen. For some reason, he tolerated her better than Ace or any of the other ranch hands, allowing her to lead him to the pen and put him through his paces.

It was a development Ace found interesting and relevant. More than ever, he was convinced Midnight had been treated poorly at the hands of the livestock foreman and, as a result, distrusted people. Men in particular. Rehabilitating the horse, if he was indeed capable of being rehabilitated, would require time and patience and careful strategy.

A woman handler might provide the key.

Ace preferred not to isolate Midnight from his brethren. Horses were normally social animals. But until he could be handled without worry, they were better off safe than sorry.

There was, however, one exception.

Midnight was being put to the test for the first time.

Ace and his mother waited in the breeding shed for Gracie to retrieve Midnight from his quarters, connected to the breeding shed by a corridor. Ace had designed the facility himself as well as developing the stringent guidelines for their breeding program. An established routine and contained environment were both essential components of that program.

“How’s Flynn?” His mother asked the question daily.

“Working too hard.”

“At the clinic?”

“And for her dad. I wish she’d take it easier.”

“Flynn’s always been a go-getter. Has she had any luck enrolling in nursing school?”

“Not that she’s mentioned.”

After their disagreement last week, Ace and Flynn were back to communicating mostly by phone. He didn’t pressure her, but she could only put him off so long. Her next doctor’s appointment was in less than two weeks, and he would be there with her.

“Do you think she and Earl would come to Sunday brunch if I invited them?”

“You can ask.” Ace liked the suggestion. Refusing his mother would be much harder than refusing him.

“She still resisting your charms?”

“Hard to believe, I know.”

“Not that it’s my business, but has it occurred to you that marrying her might not be the best idea?”

“What? I thought you were gung ho about all us kids being married first.”

“That would be best, ideally. But I’m concerned if you somehow convince Flynn to marry you, you’ll wind up alienating her.”

“I’ve already promised her I’d try and cut back on work.”

“I’m not talking about work. I’m talking about love. Flynn is a romantic. She isn’t interested in marrying because it makes sense or is the right thing to do.”

Ace was still digesting what his mother said when a loud banging came from the direction of Midnight’s quarters.

“Everything okay?” Ace hollered.

“We’re good.” Gracie’s confident reply carried down the corridor.

“Aidan,” his mother said. “She needs help.”

“Gracie knows what she’s doing.”

Like him, his mother was nervous.

He debated going to investigate, prepared to step in at the first sign of trouble. But he’d rather not agitate Midnight if at all possible. They had a lot riding on today’s outcome.

After double-checking Miss Kitty’s lead rope, he craned his head to peer down the corridor.

What was the holdup?

He absently patted the mare, a rangy bay that had once been part of Wally Dunlap’s string. She flicked her ears, her only sign of anticipation. None of this was new to her, she’d already borne two foals by Midnight. She was also fully in heat and receptive.

All things considered, she made a perfect candidate.

It was Ace’s hope Midnight would get the job done without a fuss and without caring who else was in the breeding area with him.

A clattering of hooves on the concrete floor accompanied a high-pitched squeal. Midnight and Gracie promptly burst into the breeding shed, a whirlwind of raw energy.

“Easy now.” She gripped the stud chain firmly in both hands, but the horse was clearly in the driver’s seat.

The instant Midnight spied Miss Kitty, he dialed into her. Prancing, snorting, his nostrils flaring, he showed off for her.

She did what came naturally, what her instincts dictated, and raised her tail.

Midnight went into a frenzy.

“Whoa, boy!” Gracie tugged, barely hung on.

Ace didn’t think, he reacted. “Mom, get back!” He pushed his mother aside, then grabbed the stud chain from Gracie’s hands.

Midnight tossed his head and ripped the chain from Ace’s grasp. He had only one thing on his mind: Miss Kitty.

“Watch out!” Ace motioned for Gracie to stay back. It was too dangerous intervening at this point. Better to let nature take its course and hope for the best.

It was over within a minute. Midnight abandoned Miss Kitty, his interest waned.

When Ace reached for the stud chain, the horse did an about-face. Huffing, he raced back down the corridor to his quarters.

Gracie started after him.

“Leave him,” Ace ordered, angry at himself more than the horse. “He can’t go anywhere.” He turned to his mother. “You all right?”

She stepped forward, several shades paler than normal. “Well, that didn’t go as planned.”

Ace went over to inspect Miss Kitty, unhappy with what he saw. She’d suffered minor lacerations on her back and flanks, the result of Midnight’s steel shoes. Luckily for all of them, she was familiar with Midnight and the breeding process. A different mare, and the results could have been disastrous.

“I think maybe we should sell him.” Ace’s mother watched over his shoulder as he cleansed and treated Miss Kitty’s wounds.

“You could be right.”

Gracie looked ready to cry.

“None of this is your fault,” he assured her.

She sniffed. “I’ll go shut his stall door.”

Ace packed up his medical case, silently berating himself. He’d rushed. Midnight wasn’t ready.

“None of this is your fault, either.” His mother patted his arm.

“Yeah? I’m the one who insisted on buying him.”

“And I supported you.”

Gracie returned, relief evident on her face.

“How is he?”

“Sweet as a lamb. All in a day’s work to him.”

Ace wasn’t fooled. The good horse act wouldn’t last.

He untied Miss Kitty’s lead rope and handed it to Gracie. “Take her to my clinic.”

“Wait, Gracie, I’ll walk with you,” his mother said. “I have some contracts in my office to sign and ship.” She glanced over her shoulder at Ace. “You coming?”

He shook his head. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

He traveled the connecting corridor to Midnight’s stall, observing the horse for several long moments. Midnight observed Ace in return, the same intelligent look in his eyes Ace had witnessed that day at the auction.

“You’re going to have to do better next time,” he said, realizing he wasn’t ready to sell the horse.

Midnight lowered his head to the stall floor and blew lustily, shooting a cloud of the dry bedding into the air.

Stallions were typically a handful, but they could be taught manners. Midnight needed to learn some, or relearn them in his case.

“What happened to you after Wally got sick?”

Midnight snorted and stared inquisitively at Ace, all traces of fight and flightiness gone.

Was being bred to Miss Kitty or something else responsible for the difference?

An idea came to Ace. He jumped into his Polaris and drove to his office at the clinic. There, he made a phone call to Wally Dunlap’s son, glad to reach the man on his first attempt, and identified himself as the new owner of Midnight.

“Can you tell me something about him?” he asked.

“Like what?”

“His history. Any problems. His care and routine.”

“I’ll try. I wasn’t very involved in Dad’s business.”

“Did your father pasture Midnight with other horses or in separate quarters?”

“Both, I think. He had a system. Might have had to do with the season. Sometimes Midnight was in the pasture with other horses, sometimes by himself.”

“Were the horses mares?”

“Could have been. Though, honestly, I don’t remember Midnight being all that aggressive with geldings or other stallions, unless there was a mare in heat. Even then, he was able to be restrained. Dad couldn’t have competed him in rodeos otherwise.”

What Wally’s son said was true.

“About the livestock foreman you hired, did he keep to your dad’s system?”

“No. He said he preferred to house studs away from the other horses.”

Ace asked the man a number of additional questions before thanking him and disconnecting.

He found his mother in her office on the opposite side of the barn.

“You going to be home for dinner tonight?” She closed the ledger she’d been reading and shut off her computer. “I’m making chili and corn bread.”

“That’s an offer I can’t refuse.”

“It’ll be ready in a couple hours. How’s Miss Kitty?”

“No worse for the wear.” He sat in her visitor chair. “I spoke to Wally Dunlap’s son just now.”

“You called him?”

“I wanted information. I’m thinking of putting Midnight in the pasture with a few mares.”

She drew back in surprise. “Is that wise?”

“According to Wally’s son, Midnight got along with other horses and was regularly put to pasture with them.” Ace summarized his phone conversation. “I think it’s worth a try.”

“When are you going to test your theory?”

“This afternoon. He’s as calm as I’ve ever seen him.”

“And if he hurts the mares like he did Miss Kitty?”

“We’ll have him on a twenty-four-hour watch.”

“You can’t stay up all night.”

“Gracie, Harlan and Royce will help. We’ll take turns.”

His mother smiled. “I’m glad you’re not giving up on him. Or yourself.”

“I still believe Midnight’s the right horse for us to build our breeding business.”

“That kind of tenacity will win over Flynn.”

“You think?”

Her smile widened. “I’m counting on it.”

So was Ace.

* * *

“HE’S A BRAND-NEW HORSE!” Gracie grinned exuberantly.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Ace downplayed his excitement, which exceeded Gracie’s. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself only to be disappointed.

They’d pastured Midnight with the mares nearly a full twenty-four hours ago and, so far, it was going well. Really well.

“You have to admit,” Gracie insisted, “beauty soothes the savage beast.”

“Midnight clearly likes the ladies.”

He reminded Ace more of a besotted puppy than a beast, following the mares around and pleading for their attention. What had happened to the fiery stallion from yesterday?

Ace had carefully selected the six mares he’d put with Midnight. All but one were from Wally Dunlap’s string. At the last minute, Ace decided to include Fancy Gal. She possessed a solid, dependable temperament he hoped would rub off on Midnight.

One of the mares gave Midnight a little warning kick.

“I bet she won’t be so standoffish next week,” Gracie observed.

Probably not. Mares’ cycles often accelerated when they were in the vicinity of a stallion.

“We need to diligently monitor them,” Ace said. “If Midnight shows the least sign of aggression, I want him moved straightaway.”

“I’m betting that won’t happen.”

Ace tended to agree. Right now, Midnight looked ready to roll over and have his tummy scratched.

“You came up with a good idea, boss.”

“I don’t know about that. Pasture breeding works fine for our mares. Any potential clients will want their mares hand bred.”

Or inseminated artificially, but Ace was determined to worry about one obstacle at a time. Today, that was modifying Midnight’s behavior enough to ensure a decent crop of foals next spring. Breeding season in Montana lasted only until the end of June. They either saw immediate progress or made the difficult decision to sell Midnight while there was still time to acquire another stud.

A few of the more friendly mares meandered over to the fence for the homemade horse treats Ace had gotten from Angie Barrington’s horse rescue. He and Gracie willingly obliged them.

“Have you decided which of the livestock to take to the Torrington Rodeo?”

“True Grit, definitely, and I’d like to try Razorback. He’s showing a lot of potential.”

For the next several minutes, Ace and Gracie talked shop.

“I’d better see how that mechanic’s coming along,” Gracie said. “He promised to have the tractor repaired before the evening feeding.” She sped off in one of the ranch’s numerous ATVs.

The horses, startled by the noise, galloped away, stopping just as abruptly at the fence to nibble on lush green grass. All except for Midnight. He’d set his sights on Fancy Gal, perhaps because she was new.

“You like ’em a little older, huh?” Ace chuckled to himself as the stallion put on a show, prancing in circles around the mare, giving her affectionate nuzzles and nips on the neck and rump.

She took it all in stride, mostly ignoring him—which only encouraged him to try harder.

“She’s a tough one, boy. You might pick a different mare.”

There was no accounting for love, and Midnight had been hit hard. He continued courting Fancy Gal, to no avail.

Ace was about to leave when Fancy Gal suddenly displayed a change of heart. Nickering softly, she returned Midnight’s nuzzles.

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

The old girl wasn’t so tough after all.

When Ace finally left several minutes later, the two horses were standing side by side, head to tail, Midnight resting his chin on Fancy Gal’s hindquarters while she grazed unconcerned.

“Maybe I am a genius.” Pleased with himself, Ace climbed into the Polaris, feeling almost as good about Midnight as he did about the prospect of becoming a father.

His mood promptly dimmed. If only Flynn were as easy to sway as Fancy Gal.

He could use a little of Midnight’s luck when it came to the fairer sex.

Luck or persistence? Midnight was one determined fellow, and it had paid off.

Ace parked the Polaris outside his clinic, pushed back his cowboy hat and scratched his head.

All kidding aside, he could be on to something. The more Ace thought about it, the more convinced he became. He’d been wrong to jump the gun and propose to Flynn. Twice. She was understandably cautious after her unhappy marriage and painful divorce.

She was also understandably cautious after the way Ace had treated her. Any woman in her right mind would be.

What he needed to do was take a page from Midnight’s book and woo Flynn. Patiently and persistently. Practice that tenacity his mother had mentioned.

Removing his cell phone from his belt, he dialed Flynn’s number. She answered on the fourth ring. Had she been considering not taking his call?

“Hey, it’s Ace. Did I catch you at work?” He’d forgotten evenings were the best time to reach her.

“It’s all right, I’m on break.”

He noted the hint of reservation in her voice but didn’t let it deter him.

“I was wondering, are you free tomorrow evening?”

“What’s up?”

“Pizza and wings at the Brick Oven.” The restaurant was one of her favorites. “Unless you’d like to eat somewhere else?” A long pause followed. “Flynn? You still there?”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“I am.”

“Is there something you want to discuss?”

“No, I just want to take you out to eat.”

“We’re not, um, romantically involved.”

They could be, if she gave them a chance.

“It’s dinner. Between two people who happen to be having a baby and working toward establishing a healthy, solid relationship.”

“I don’t know…”

“Come on. You have to admit, things have been tense between us lately. Enjoying a casual meal on neutral territory will do us good.”

Another longer pause followed. “O…kay.”

Ace was glad she couldn’t see the huge smile he wore. “What time are you off work?”

“Six.”

“Is seven too early?”

“Seven’s fine. But we can’t have pizza. Spicy food doesn’t sit well with me these days.”

“Where’d you like to go?”

“It’s beef Stroganoff night at the Number 1 Diner.”

The place where it all started. Interesting that she would choose it.

“Great. And I promise, nothing but food’s on the menu.”

No kissing, no sneaking into her bedroom, no incredible, mind-bending sex.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” she warned.

“See you tomorrow.”

He disconnected, his good mood restored. He had a dinner date with Flynn, and Midnight was settling in with his harem of mares.

Ace’s day couldn’t get any better.

Chapter Eight

The smell of impending rain struck Flynn the moment she stepped from Ace’s truck. She’d remembered a coat but forgotten an umbrella. Getting wet, however, was the least of her worries.

She and Ace were having dinner.

Not that they hadn’t eaten together before—when they’d dated, of course, and on occasions when she’d joined the Harts for birthdays and holidays.

Then there had been the night of their indiscretion. Hard to believe that was almost two months ago.

“It’s crowded,” Ace commented as they strolled across the parking lot to the diner’s front entrance.

“The beef Stroganoff special is always popular.”

The potpie special was also popular, which is what the restaurant had been serving the night Ace went home with her.

How in the world had that even happened?

She’d been on a date. Correction, was supposed to have been on a date. The guy had called at the last second, after she’d arrived at the diner to meet him, and canceled. Something about his clothes dryer malfunctioning. Seriously? She’d tried to convince herself she didn’t care. He wasn’t anyone important, she’d only agreed to go out with him because a mutual friend had set them up.

Rather than leave, Flynn had stayed and ordered dinner. To spite him, she supposed, and because she was hungry.

Ace had dropped by the diner on his way home from treating a yearling filly with a severe respiratory infection.

“Two tonight?” The hostess’s question startled Flynn, returning her to the present. “Follow me.” The woman grabbed two menus and escorted Flynn and Ace to a table that couldn’t possibly be any more out in the open.

She cringed inside as Ace pulled out her chair. Discreetly scanning the room, she counted three familiar faces, nodding in response to their smiles of recognition. It could be worse. At least none of the Hart ranch hands were there.

Why had she suggested this place? She’d have been better off with pizza and wings and a case of heartburn.

She fingered the edge of the menu as she studied it, which was ridiculous since she knew the offerings by heart.

“Evening, folks.” Their waitress, all of eighteen and cute as a button, flashed them a dimpled smile. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Ace waited for Flynn to order first.

“Umm…” Iced tea was out of the question, unfortunately. “Lemonade,” she said with a sigh.

“Same for me.”

“I thought you didn’t like lemonade that much.”

“Neither do you.”

“I’d have iced tea if caffeine wasn’t bad for the baby. No reason you can’t.”

“Lemonade’s fine.”

He was being sweet again, like at Thunder Creek when he’d proposed. She’d tell him that, except the last time hadn’t gone well.

He’d also been sweet two months ago when he’d spotted her sitting alone at a table not far from this one, come over and asked her what was wrong. Funny, Flynn thought she’d been doing an admirable job hiding her disappointment about being stood up. But Ace had always been good at reading people, her more than most.

He’d sat and told her the other guy’s loss was his gain, bought her dinner and regaled her with amusing stories of their errant childhood. By dinner’s end, Flynn was having so much fun she couldn’t even remember the guy’s name.

Later, outside, she and Ace had kissed. Spontaneously. Lightly, at first. Then, in the span of a single softly issued moan, everything changed.

She was the one who’d suggested they go to her place. Her father was having a night out with his cronies and wouldn’t be home until late. Ace had followed her in his truck. Flynn was convinced during the fifteen-minute drive that one or both of them would come to their senses. It didn’t happen.

If anything, the clandestine nature of their rendezvous added to the excitement. He’d parked his truck behind the barn, then met her at the kitchen door.

They couldn’t stumble down the hall to her bedroom fast enough.

“How’s work going?” Ace’s voice penetrated Flynn’s thoughts.

She blinked and set her menu down, acutely aware of the flush creeping up her neck and cheeks. She had to stop dwelling on that night. His touch. The tangled sheets strewn across his naked body.

“Fine. We’ve been busy this week. The flu seems to be going around.”

“You need to be careful you don’t get sick.”

“I’ll be okay. I don’t have too much patient contact.”

“As much as I hate the idea of you moving, I’d almost rather you were going to school than exposed to sick people all day.”

“There are probably just as many sick people on campus.”

“Sorry if I’m coming on too strong.”

“You’re…not.”

Turning away from his charmingly crooked smile was a lot harder tonight than it had been at Thunder Creek. There, the dim restaurant lighting wasn’t softening his features, reminding her of the younger Ace she’d fallen head over heels for.

They managed to make pleasant small talk for the remainder of the meal. Ace didn’t bring up the baby again, her moving to Billings or school. The closest he came was when he asked, “Has your dad had any offers on the ranch?”

“No, and he’s disappointed. A few people have come by, but they were more curious than anything else. The real estate agent keeps telling Dad it’s a difficult market these days.”

“I think more people are trying to sell their ranches than buy one.”

“Or they’re looking for a bargain. Dad’s pretty set on his price.”

“Did my mom call him about Sunday brunch at the house?”

“She did. I think it’s set for next weekend.”

The waitress appeared and removed their plates. “Can I interest you two in dessert? We have fresh-baked red velvet cake and key lime pie.”

“No, thanks. But don’t let me stop you,” Flynn added when Ace practically drooled at the mention of key lime pie.

“Do you mind?”

“Go on. And I’ll have a coffee. Decaffeinated, please.”

A rat-tat-tat sound started. Flynn and Ace simultaneously glanced at the ceiling.

“Guess the rain’s finally started,” the waitress said, and scurried off to bring their pie and coffee.

“I was hoping we might escape more foul weather,” Ace said. “I’m tired of mucking through soggy fields and getting my truck stuck in a wash.”

“It has been an awfully wet spring.”

Ace demolished his pie in four bites.

Flynn had no idea where he put it. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, while she ruthlessly watched every crumb of food she ate in order to maintain her size six figure.

Size pregnant, soon.

She should probably enjoy Ace’s appreciative glances while they lasted.

He supported her elbow as they left the restaurant. Considerate, without being pushy.

“You want my hat?” he offered.

They waited outside the front door, assessing the pouring rain.

“I won’t melt,” she said with a laugh.

“You wait here while I get the truck.”

He’d no sooner uttered the words when they heard a loud metallic crunch in the darkness to their right.

“What’s that?” Flynn asked, peering through the downpour at the headlights of a compact SUV.

Ace was already in motion, sprinting in the direction of the disabled vehicle.

She followed, holding the flaps of her coat closed around her as she jogged between puddles. Reaching the SUV, she found Ace bent over the open driver’s side window.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He had to practically shout in order to be heard above the rain.

“I’m fine. Just embarrassed,” came a disembodied female voice.

The door opened and Sierra Byrne stepped out.

Flynn immediately recognized the owner of the diner. She and Sierra had taken exercise classes together off and on through the years.

“Hey, Sierra. Can I help?”

Within seconds, the rain had soaked the young woman. Flynn could feel the dampness penetrating her own coat and ignored the discomfort.

“It’s just a fender bender,” Sierra insisted. “I mean, I hope it’s a fender bender.”

They all three inspected the rear of her car, which sat a few inches from the parked minivan she’d hit. Between the darkness and the rain, it was impossible to discern the damage.

“Do you have a flashlight?” Ace asked Sierra.

“No.”

“I do. In my truck.” He was off before Sierra could stop him.

Flynn put her arm around Sierra’s waist. “You want us to take you to the clinic?”

“Really, I’m okay.”

“You’re shivering.”

“I’m mad at myself. I can’t believe I missed seeing that van.”

“It was an accident.”

Sierra’s gaze went to Ace. “I’m glad to see you with Ace. I always thought you two would make a perfect couple.”

Flynn felt her flush return, though how that was possible in the midst of a downpour, she wasn’t sure. “We’re not together. Not like that.”

“Too bad.”

“We’re having a baby.”

Where had that come from? Flynn had decided to keep the news to herself, Ace and their families until she’d reached her second trimester and figured out her plans.

“You are?” Sierra’s face brightened. “I’m so excited for you. Congratulations.”

They were hugging when Ace returned.

“Forget about me,” Sierra chided him. “You two go on and celebrate. Flynn told me about the baby,” she added when Ace looked confused.

He grinned broadly, like a proud papa. “Thanks. But I’m here, and I have my flashlight, so we might as well take a look.” He aimed the beam at Sierra’s SUV first, then the van. “Doesn’t appear too bad. A couple small dings in the bumpers is all. Easily fixed.”

“Darn it.” Sierra pouted. “Guess I’d better get back inside and find the owner. Give him my insurance information.”

“Want us to go with you?”

“Honestly.” She gave him and Flynn a small push. “Get out of here. You’re soaked.”

They were, and Flynn’s teeth were starting to chatter.

Ace hurried her along to his truck with a parting “Be careful” to Sierra.

Opening his passenger side door, he helped her in, then raced to his side. The rain continued to fall in torrents, making a thunderous noise as it pummeled the truck.

Ace started the engine and turned on the heater. “Better?” he asked when the air finally blew warm.

“A little.” Flynn’s teeth had yet to cease chattering.

“Take off your wet coat.” He was already shrugging out of his jacket. When he finished, he helped her with a sleeve that stubbornly clung to her clothing.

She laid the sopping coat across her lap, which only added to her misery.

“That’s not helping.” Ace deposited the coat in the back alongside his jacket. He’d yet to put the truck in reverse. “I’d offer you a blanket, but the only one I have is a saddle blanket and it’s covered in horse hair.”

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