Hunter stepped forward. “One night. No history. No interruptions. Just me and you.”

“A date?” Her question was a whisper.

His hand reached up, gently grasping one of her curls. Something about the way he caressed her hair made her ache for his touch. “What do you say, Jo?” His eyes met hers. Blazing, electric, the pull almost physical. He released the curl, placing his big hands on either side of her head.

She blew out a shaky breath, unable to hide the effect he was having on her. His mouth was so close, his breath caressing her skin. His gaze explored her face, slow and intense. She tilted her head to him, an unmistakable invitation. Her heart kicked into overdrive as he leaned forward. She closed her eyes, waiting, ready, willing, bursting.

His forehead rested against hers.

“I’m not going to kiss you until you say yes,” he rasped.

Her eyes popped open. “Yes,” she answered quickly, too quickly. Not that there was any point in denying what was happening. They both felt it, they both wanted it.

He smiled and stepped away from her. “I’ll pick you up at seven o’clock.”

A Cowboy’s

Christmas

Reunion

Sasha Summers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SASHA SUMMERS is part gypsy. Her passions have always been storytelling, romance and travel. Whether it’s an easy-on-the-eyes cowboy or a hero of mythic proportions, Sasha falls a little in love with each and every one of her heroes. She frequently gets lost with her characters in the world she creates, forgetting those everyday tasks like laundry and dishes. Luckily, her four brilliant children and her hero-inspiring hubby are super understanding and helpful.

To the women who cheer me on and keep me writing: Allison Collins, Joni Hahn, Jolene Navarro, Storm Navarro and Marilyn Tucker.

Pamela Hopkins, thank you for being the best agent a gal could wish for. Your belief in me means the world.

To my generous and funny editor, Johanna Raisanen. I’m so very proud to be a Mills & Boon author. Thank you for making this experience a dream come true!

And to my amazing family—you make every day special.

Contents

Cover

Excerpt

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

She’d know that butt anywhere. Hunter Boone.

Damn it.

In eleven years, his derriere hadn’t changed much. Lean hips and a tight butt hugged by work-faded Wrangler blue jeans. And, apparently, the view still managed to take her breath away. Which was unfortunate because she’d come home believing he couldn’t affect her anymore—not even a little bit. She had been 110 percent confident that Hunter was out of her system. She was so wrong.

Her hands tightened on the tray she held and her lungs emptied as a memory of the way that rear felt under her hands...

She sighed, completely trapped.

This was not the reaction she’d expected after so long. Or the way she wanted to see him again. It...it pissed her off.

This isn’t fair.

“Need some help with that, Josie?” Her father’s voice made her wince.

She was hiding, clutching a tray of her dad’s famous German breakfast kolaches and Danish, and crouching behind the display counter. Why was she—a rational, professional woman—ducking behind a bakery counter? Because he’d walked in and thrown her confidence in her face—a face whose forehead was currently streaked with flour and sugar and who knew what else.

There was no doubt her father’s amused question had made all eyes in Pop’s Bakery turn toward her. All eyes, even the very dazzling blue-green ones she was trying so desperately to avoid. There wasn’t much to do about it now.

She shot her father a look as she said, “Nope, thanks, Dad. I’ve got it.”

Her father winked, looking downright giddy. He’d known exactly what he was doing, and, knowing him, he could hardly wait to see what happened next.

Taking a deep breath, she stood slowly and slid the tray of breakfast goods into the display cabinet with intentional care. She refused to look at anything except the pastries. Or the stuffed deer head over the front door. That always made her smile—not that she was a fan of taxidermy. But her father insisted on decorating it for the seasons. It wore a red Santa hat. Ornaments dangled off its antlers, which were finished off with some tinsel and blinking twinkly Christmas lights. Only in Stonewall Crossing, Texas.

“I couldn’t tell,” her father continued. “You were all bent over, trying to balance that tray.”

Josie’s cheeks felt warm, but she wasn’t about to admit she’d been hiding. “All good.”

“Josie? Josie Stephens?” a high-pitched voice asked. “Oh, my God, look at you. Why, you haven’t changed since high school.”

Josie glanced over the display case at the woman speaking. Josie couldn’t place her, so she smiled and said, “Thanks. You, too.”

That’s when her gaze wandered to Hunter. He was waiting. And, from the look on his face, he knew Josie had no idea who the woman was. Which irritated her. Him, standing there, looking like that, irritated her.

This morning gets better and better.

First one of the ovens died, then she’d argued with her dad over which pills he was supposed to take, her dad’s dog, Sprinkles, had buried one of her shoes somewhere in the backyard and now this. Hunter Boone, gorgeous and tall and manly and still too-perfect, looking at her. The front view is just as good—bad—as the back.

He smiled—bright blue-green eyes sparkling, damn dimple peaking in full force. She swallowed the huge lump in her throat. Not that she could have said anything if she’d wanted to.

“So it’s true?” the woman continued. “Your dad said you were coming to help him, but I couldn’t imagine you back here. We all know how much you hated Stonewall Crossing.” Her speech pattern, the snide condescension, the narrowed eyes. Josie remembered her then. Winnie. Winnie Michaels. “What did you call it, redneck hell—right?”

Josie watched Hunter frown at Winnie’s question, the slight shake of his head. It was all so familiar, unsettling, confusing. She blinked, turning her attention to the deer head and its flashing holiday cheer.

“Guess hell froze over.” Winnie kept going, teasing—but with a definite edge.

“Kind of hard to say no when your dad needs you,” Josie answered, forcing herself not to snap. Instead, she smiled. “I’m here.”

“She wasn’t about to let her old man try to run this place on his own.” Her father jumped to her defense. “No matter how busy her life might be.”

Busy didn’t come close to describing her mess of a life, but her dad didn’t need more stress right now.

Her father dropped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “She’s always been a daddy’s girl.”

She arched an eyebrow and shot him a look. “Are you complaining?”

Her father laughed. “Nope.”

“I didn’t think so.” She kissed his cheek. “Now go sit down.”

He shouldn’t be up, but she knew better than to think he’d stay in his chair or use a walker. That was why she’d flown home from Washington, to take care of him. And because she needed someplace quiet to think things over.

“You know that’s not going to happen, Jo.” Same voice, same smile, same butt, same irritating nickname that only he used.

“That’s why I’m here.” Josie was thrilled she sounded completely cool, calm and collected. Her heart, on the other hand, was beating like crazy.

“It’s kinda weird to see the two of you standing here.” Winnie glanced back and forth between Josie and Hunter. “I mean, without having your tongues down each other’s throats and all.”

“Well—” Josie stared at the woman, then Hunter. He wasn’t smiling anymore. His jaw was rigid, the muscles knotted. Interesting. “It’s kind of hard with the display case in the way,” she teased.

Hunter was quick. “I could jump over.”

Josie shrugged, but her heart was on the verge of exploding. It was all too easy imagining him sliding across the glass-top counter, pulling her into his strong arms and— Not going there. “Nah. You don’t want to break Dad’s case.”

“I don’t mind,” her father murmured, for her ears only, as he retreated to his chair.

Hunter shook his head. “I think we’ll have to wait for now.” He cocked his head, eyes still pinned on Josie. “I’ve gotta get these kolaches to the boys.”

Josie saw him take the huge box by the register. A swift kick of disappointment prompted her to blurt out, “Too bad, Hunter. If I remember it correctly, you knew how to kiss a girl.”

He smiled again, shaking his head. “If you remember? Ouch. Guess I’ve had some competition the last few years.” His eyes swept her face, lingering on her lips just long enough to make her cheeks feel hot.

She knew better but didn’t say a word.

Hunter inclined his head ever so slightly. “Thanks, Carl. I’ll see you later on. Have fun while you’re back in hell, Jo. I’ll see you around.”

That would be a bad idea.

Josie watched him leave. His back—and butt—disappeared as he climbed into the driver’s side of a huge dark blue one-ton extended cab truck. She saw him wink at her then and shook her head, a familiar ache pressing in on her. Time doesn’t heal all wounds. How many hours had she spent wishing she hadn’t pushed him away? That she hadn’t set him up for failure, because she had... No point in rehashing it again.

She turned back to the display counter to arrange the pastries she’d made at four-thirty this morning. Dad’s fall had shaken them both. He was the last stable thing she had left. He needed her—that was the only reason she’d come home. The last thing she wanted was to be back exactly where she’d been eleven years ago, working in her father’s bakery in a town she couldn’t wait to escape. Yes, she’d hoped coming back would dispel some of her fantasies about Hunter Boone. And, if she was really lucky, she could finally get her heart back. After seeing Hunter again, one thing was certain. As soon as her dad didn’t need her, she was gone.

* * *

HUNTER PUT THE TRUCK in Reverse and blew out a slow breath as he craned his head to check his blind spot.

“Was that her?” Eli asked, his voice and eyes cold.

Hunter glanced at his son but wasn’t up for an argument. “That’s Jo.”

“She’s not that pretty,” Eli grumbled.

“No? I think she is.” His voice was neutral. Pretty didn’t come close to describing Jo Stephens. Silver-gray eyes, wild curly hair, with curves to drive a man to drink. She was beautiful. There wasn’t a man alive who wouldn’t admit that. Except his son. “And she’s funny. Really funny.”

“Huh.” Eli wasn’t impressed.

Hunter knew Eli’s blue-green eyes—eyes his boy got from him—were watching him. He could feel Eli’s anger—over Jo. But there wasn’t much to say.

Amy, Eli’s mom, had done too good a job of trashing Jo. And as much as he’d like Eli to believe that Jo had nothing to do with the bitter end of his marriage to Amy, he knew better. Jo Stephens had held his heart since he was sixteen. And he didn’t mind too much. Seeing her this morning was like downing a pot of coffee—

“Did you get enough for everyone?” Eli interrupted.

Hunter smiled at his son. “I don’t know. But I got a lot.”

Eli grinned. “We’re growing boys, Dad.”

“I know, kid.” Hunter looked at Eli, taking in the slight sharpening of his features. His son was growing up. There were still traces of roundness on his ten-year-old body. In no time, his son would be all arms and legs, big feet and teenage awkwardness.

He was a good-looking boy. And in the years ahead, Eli Boone was going to be a good-looking man. More important, he was smart and kind and had solid common sense. Hunter was proud of that.

He’d done the best he could by his son. The two of them took care of each other with little complaining. Balancing his son, the ranch and teaching at the university veterinary hospital was hard work, but it was worth it. No matter what, he made sure Eli suffered through every school trip to the opera, the museums or anywhere else that broadened his son’s horizons. He knew there was a big world out there, and he wanted Eli to know it, too. He wouldn’t have his mistakes cause his son to miss out on anything.

“Uncle Fisher gonna make it to this one?” Eli asked.

“He said he’d be there.” Hunter nodded. And his brothers always kept their word.

Eli nodded, too, then said, “Dara thinks she’s gonna get a one.”

“She can dream, can’t she?” he teased gently.

Dara Greer had joined the local Future Farmers of America club this year. Her family had moved from the city and her folks wanted her to “fit in.” Problem was she was nervous around animals and uncomfortable in the show ring.

“I know.” Eli grew thoughtful. “But she’s sweet. And she’s trying really hard. You know?”

Hunter looked at his son with a new sense of understanding. “Oh?”

Eli nodded, red streaking up his neck and coloring his face. “Y-yeah.” He pushed his dad on the shoulder, laughing.

Hunter turned back to driving. He knew. Boy, did he know.

Jo had been a lot like Dara when she’d moved to town. She was this guarded, thoughtful type whose gaze seemed to search his soul. Every attempt he made to get her attention had earned him an eye roll or a shake of her curly-haired head. She’d hated his “boot-wearing, deer-shooting ass.” He’d teased her for her Hunting is Murder T-shirts. And her lightning-fast comebacks had driven him crazy. They’d fought, long and loud, refusing to admit the other might have a point or a right to their own perspective.

But when he’d grabbed her in the high school agriculture barn, her kiss had set his blood on fire. He was done for even if she was still hesitant. He didn’t know then that Jo didn’t believe in love, romance or commitment. Mostly because she’d never seen it. Her mom had changed husbands more often than most women had their hair done. Moving in with her dad, to Stonewall Crossing, was a way to get away from the drama and uncertainty she’d grown to hate.

It had taken him a long time to get her to trust him, for her to believe he was hers. Sure, they’d still argued, all the time, but they’d been just as quick to make up.

Some things were just too big to forgive.

When she’d left, when she’d had to leave, half of his heart had gone with her. The other half had gone to Eli.

* * *

JOSIE RAN TO the phone, slipping once on the water her hair was sprinkling all over the tile floor. Only her dad would still have one house phone, with a cord no less, placed in the middle of the hallway. Sprinkles sat, staring at the phone, barking and howling.

“Hush, Sprinkles.” She answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Jo?” Of course he would call her while she was in the shower.

Sprinkles kept yapping. “Shh.” She took a deep breath. “Um, hi, Hunter.”

“You okay? You sound kinda out of breath?”

“I’m in— I was in the shower.” She laughed airily. “I’m making a puddle on Dad’s floor as we speak.” Why was she sharing that information with him?

He chuckled. “Want me to call you back?”

Sprinkles jumped up.

“I’m out now.” The dog howled. “Sprinkles!” Sprinkles sat, staring at her. She ignored Hunter’s laugh. “What’s up?” Not that she wanted to know why he’d called...

“I was wondering how long you were going to be here.” He sounded hesitant.

“At least through Christmas... Then see how Dad is. Why?”

“Well, the FFA chapter here always builds a Christmas float and some of the parents thought it might be nice to build one around your books.”

“Oh.” She didn’t know what to say.

“I’m in my truck right now—” He paused. “And I’m about to go by your place. Can I come in and show you what they came up with?”

“Oh, um...” I’m just wrapped in a towel and dripping wet. “Well...”

“Okay. See you in a sec.” And he hung up.

“Damn it.” She glared at the handset. “Damn it, damn it.”

Sprinkles barked.

“Joselyn Marie Stephens,” her father chastised her from the living room.

“Really, Dad?” She peered around the corner to find her father sitting in his recliner. “You’re right there and you couldn’t get the phone? And I’m almost thirty. I can say damn it. I could even say—”

There was a knock on the door. Sprinkles started barking like mad.

“Someone stopping by?” he asked.

“Shit,” she squealed, then almost tripped over Sprinkles and ran back into the bathroom.

“Come in,” she heard her dad call out. Or go home. She pulled her thick robe on and picked through her brown curls quickly. She rolled her eyes at her reflection. Chill. Relax. She straightened her shoulders and opened the door.

There was no help for it. She’d have to walk past the living room to get to her bedroom. Which meant Hunter would be treated to a view of her wrapped in her fluffy black-and-blue bathrobe. She could almost hear her mother scolding her. A single woman must always look her best when keeping company with a handsome man. Josie sighed, grabbed an extra towel and started drying up her watery path from the bathroom to the hall.

“Oh, hey.” Hunter laughed. “You really were in the shower.”

She turned, one eyebrow arched, all sarcasm. “What makes you say that?” A boy peered around Hunter then. And Josie felt her irritation slip.

This was him... Hunter’s son. She felt pain. Pain she thought she’d worked through years ago. She stared at the boy.

The boy stared back. He had Hunter’s intense gaze and startling eyes.

She held up a finger. “Let me get dressed.”

“We’re not going to stay long.” Hunter’s voice was soft.

She pulled her gaze from the boy, her toes curling into the area rug beneath her feet. “Well, you’re going to have to give me a second because I refuse to have a conversation with someone while I’m wearing a robe. Okay?” And she needed a minute to get a grip. She half ran to her room, almost tripped over Sprinkles again and closed the door without a sound. “Shit,” she murmured with feeling.

Dad needs me. That’s why I’m here. I don’t have to do this float or spend time with Hunter...or his beautiful son. But I do have to take care of Dad.

She pulled on her underwear and dug through the suitcase, then the piles of clothes all over her room. She sighed, pulling on a pair of jeans and a thermal shirt. A quick search unearthed her fuzzy pink bunny slippers, which she slipped on while she headed back to the waiting crew.

“It’s the best I could do in two minutes,” she muttered when she saw her father’s disapproving glance. “I’ll put on my hoopskirt and pearls next time, okay?”

The boy smiled briefly, while Hunter laughed.

“Nice to meet you.” She stuck her hand out to the boy. She couldn’t ignore him—she didn’t want to. He looked like a Boone, which was a good thing. If he’d looked like Amy... She swallowed. “I’m—”

“Joselyn,” her dad offered.

“Or Jo,” Hunter added.

“Or Josie, even.” She rolled her eyes.

“Eli,” he said, shaking her hand quickly. He nodded and then sat by her father on the couch.

The door opened and Josie felt a moment’s panic as she spun around. If it was Amy—

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Joselyn Stephens.” Two hands picked her up, holding her eye to eye with a large wall of a man.

“Fisher?” She couldn’t believe this...this person was Hunter’s little brother. “What happened to you?”

He smiled. “I drank milk.” He pulled her into a bear hug.

“By the truckload?” She hugged him back. “You look great.”

“I do.” He nodded.

She giggled, stepping away from him as he put her on the ground. “At least your sense of humor hasn’t changed.”

“Not that I mind you all stopping by, but can we start over so I know what’s going on?” her dad interrupted. He was a stickler for his routine. The bakery opened at six, so he was in bed by nine each and every evening. She glanced at the clock. It was ten after nine.

Hunter spoke first. “Christmas float time. FFA met tonight and came up with a few ideas. One of them was to build something around Josie’s story characters.”

Josie didn’t know where to look. If she looked at Hunter, she felt...all sorts of conflicting and overwhelming things. If she looked at Eli, she felt empty. And if she looked at her dad, she felt rumpled and unattractive. Fisher was her only option. He winked at her when she glanced his way. It helped.

“You don’t have to tell me it’s Christmastime. Christmas parade kicks off the Gingerbread Festival.” Her father winked at her. “Which means Josie and I will be up to our elbows in the stuff for the next week.”

“Can’t wait.” Josie smiled. “Bonding while baking is a family tradition.” She made the terrible mistake of looking Hunter’s way. Hunter, who was watching her. His crooked grin and cocked eyebrow stirred up a series of memories. A flash of him smiling at her while they floated down the river. Another of them lying on a blanket under the stars. Him teaching her to drive stick shift. Making love for the first time. Not thoughts I need to have right now. Her heart lodged itself in her throat.

“Family traditions are good.” Fisher grinned. “Even better if it puts food on the table, right? A man’s got to eat.”

“Which characters?” her father asked, turning to Eli.

Eli shrugged. “Thirty-four, probably. Since some of us have calves.”

“Thirty-four?” She tore her gaze from Hunter.

“It was Dad’s calf, right?” Eli asked.

Josie nodded, rattled. “Yes, his state champion calf.” Her gaze settled on Eli. He looked a lot like Hunter when they’d first met. Her heart hurt. “What can I do to help?”

“Well, we’re gonna build the float. But they—we—were wondering...” Eli was clearly uncomfortable. “Would you ride on it?”

She shook her head. “Um, I hate the spotlight, Eli.”

“It’s just a parade.” Eli’s eyes were scornful. “In Stonewall Crossing.”

“Come on, Josie,” her father said. “You wrote books about this place, the town and people.”

Fisher elbowed her. “You are a celebrity here, kind of.”

“And it’s for the kids,” her dad added.

She held her hands up. “Really, Dad? You’re going to play the for-the-kids card?”

Hunter laughed, sending a wave of awareness along her neck. “Nothing to add, H-Hunter?” She stumbled over his name. It was stupid. Not like she could call him Mr. Boone. It’s a name, for crying out loud. Saying it shouldn’t affect her, or send the slightest shiver down her spine.

His gaze traveled over her face before peering into her eyes. “You might make some good memories before you go back. Something for a new book.”

She couldn’t look away. And she really needed to look away. He might not be grappling with memories, with need and want, but she sure as hell was.

“Come on, Josie. Live a little,” Fisher added.

She should say no, but Hunter had found her weakness. A new book... Wouldn’t that be something? Not that anyone knew she was in the midst of the longest creative drought of her career. That’s why she was considering the teaching position in New Mexico. She wanted to feel inspired again.

Maybe working on the float could help. At this point, it couldn’t hurt. Her career, anyway.

“So?” Eli’s question ended her tortured introspection.

“Yes.” She smiled at Eli as she spoke. “Thanks, Eli. I mean, it’s nice to feel special for my stories.” Don’t ask. Don’t ask. But she did. “Did you ever read them?” Thinking about Amy reading her stories to Eli made her stomach twist.

Eli looked at his dad. “Dad used to read me 34 and Floppy Feet all the time.”

Fisher snorted. “Hey, hey, now. I’ve read the cow one—”

“It’s called 34,” Hunter answered.

“Right, 34.” Fisher nodded at his brother. “A time or two, Eli.”

Eli grinned at his uncle.

Josie risked another glance at Hunter, but he was staring into the fire with a small smile on his face.

“That reminds me, Josie, Annabeth called from the elementary school earlier. She wants you to do a story time there.” Her father spoke up.

“I’d love that.” She smiled. Other than her father, Annabeth was the only one in Stonewall Crossing she’d kept in touch with after she’d left.

Hunter looked at her, his voice soft as he said, “The kids would, too, Jo.”

Jo. For an instant she wanted him to grab her and kiss her, just as he used to. When he’d kissed her, nothing else mattered. She nodded, staring into his eyes wordlessly.

“We should go, Dad. I’ve got a math test Monday morning.” Eli stood up. “Thanks for helping us out...Miss Stephens.”

She turned away from Hunter and beamed at the boy. “You really can call me Josie, Eli, please. I don’t like feeling old.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He barely glanced at her, his answering smile forced. “Thanks for the breakfast this morning, Mr. Stephens.”

“How’d you do?” her father asked.

“Eli got a one at the stock show.” Hunter smiled at his son, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “He’s been working real hard with Bob, his steer. And the judges could tell.”

It was clear Hunter was a devoted father, just as she’d always known he’d be. Something hard settled in the pit of her stomach, a hollow, empty ache.

“I wasn’t the only one.” Eli’s cheeks were red. “Now there’s nothing big until after Christmas.”

“Time to get ready for the next one.” Her father winked at the boy. “You should be proud, Eli.”

“Thank you, sir.” Eli nodded and headed for the door.

“Don’t get up,” Josie said to her dad.

“Now, Josie—” her father started to argue.

“Dad.” She held her hand up.

“We know the way out. Don’t get Jo all worked up.” Hunter shook her father’s hand. “Have a good evening, Carl. Thanks for having us over.”

Her dad winked. “You’re welcome anytime, Hunter. You know that. You, too, Fisher.”

She knew her father cared for Hunter—he always had. After all, Hunter had been almost family. Her gut twisted. She led Hunter to the door, needing him to go—now.

“I know you’re a big-time author now, but I expect to see you some before you go.” Fisher hugged her again before following Eli out and into the truck.

Hunter lingered in the doorway. His gaze wandered over her face. “You and Carl want to come out to the ranch tomorrow? Have dinner with us? I’ve made a lot of changes.”

Josie stared at him, surprised. Did she want to go? No, she really didn’t. It would be awkward and painful. Us. She didn’t think she could handle seeing his family unit together, in a place she’d truly loved. Where Amy now lived. “I don’t—”

But her father interrupted her, loudly. “Sounds good.”

No, it doesn’t. It sounds like a nightmare. She mumbled, “Are you sure that’s okay?”

Hunter smiled that crooked smile. “It’s my home. Of course it’s okay. See you about six?”

She stood there, searching for some sort of excuse, while he climbed into his truck and drove away.

Chapter Two

Hunter didn’t say much on the drive back to the ranch. Fisher, who was never at a loss for words, kept Eli talking all things steers and Future Farmers of America. And Hunter was thankful for it. Spending time with Jo was harder than he’d expected. Leaving her was worse. If he could get her alone, if he could talk to her... What would he say? He was eleven years too late to apologize.

Fisher said good-night and headed to his place, leaving Eli to his homework and Hunter to his paperwork.

“I guess she is kinda pretty.” Eli sounded thoughtful.

“Who?” Hunter looked at his son over his laptop.

“Josie.” Eli gazed at the homework spread out on the table all around him. He tapped his pencil on the table, then added, “I guess I sorta get it. But Mom’s prettier.”

Hunter looked at his son. “Your mom is beautiful, Eli.” Amy had always been pretty—to look at. But her beauty was skin-deep. Underneath was something else entirely.

No point being negative. Chances are she’d be coming through town for the holidays. Sometimes it went well, sometimes it didn’t. But he wanted his son to have a relationship with his mom, no matter how he felt about his ex-wife.

“So are you going to date her?”

Hunter looked at his son again. “What?”

“Are you going to date Josie?” Eli’s bright eyes challenged his father unflinchingly.

“No.” No matter how much he wanted to. “She’ll be heading back after the holidays, anyway.” He kept his voice neutral.

“If she wasn’t leaving, would you?” Eli’s gaze continued to burn into his.

Hunter studied his son for a long time. “Yes,” he answered truthfully. “But I don’t know if she’d want to date me, kid. It’s not that easy, you know?”

“Why?” His son’s eyes narrowed a little.

He hedged. “It’s just not. Women are...complicated.”

Eli sighed and looked back at his homework. “I know.”

Hunter stared at the top of his son’s head. “What does that mean?”

“Woman are complicated.” Eli was bright red when he looked at his father. “I asked Dara if she’d have lunch with us...at the county show.”

Hunter bit back his smile. “Did she say no?”

Eli shook his head, then shrugged. “She didn’t say anything.”

“You should ask her again. You might have surprised her. What did you say?”

“I don’t know.” He paused, thinking. “Something like, ‘Have lunch with me at the next show.’”

Hunter nodded, fighting the urge to laugh.

“She just stood there, staring at me.” Eli looked at his paper.

“Did you ask her or tell her?”

Eli tapped his pencil again. “I think I asked her.”

“Ask her again.”

Eli frowned at his paper, the pencil tapping faster. “It’s no big deal. I gotta get this done.”

“Need help?”

Eli shook his head.

Hunter sat, trying to stare at his computer. His son had his first crush and he didn’t know what to tell him. He thought Dara was a nice enough girl, but they were both so young. And shy. Eli had probably scared the shit out of her, at the very least surprised her. But Hunter knew better than to push. If Eli was done talking about it, then they were done talking about it. Eli had homework and so did he.

He had a good group of fourth-year vet students, partly because he was so hard on them. The semester might be winding down, but clinical rotations weren’t. Not like the patients disappeared because it was winter break. If his students didn’t like it, they could take a look at the long waiting list of eager candidates waiting for any open spot to remind them of how lucky they were to be there, working through the holidays.

He leaned back in his chair, propped his feet up and logged on to the University of East Texas website, then the College of Veterinary Medicine intranet to access his files. He had two classes of finals to grade and his caseload of patient files to review. His fourth-year students were doing most of the patient charting, but he had to check each and every note.

Most were spays and neuters. A couple of dogs with parvovirus. He glanced over their charts. Poor dogs had to be isolated and hooked up to an IV to keep hydrated. It was expensive to cure and messy to treat. All it took was one easy vaccination to prevent the whole thing.

He clicked ahead, skimming the fourth years’ notes. No errors so far. He closed those files, then opened Mars’s file. They were all getting attached to the sweet yellow Labrador. She’d been with them for two weeks now. Her owners had carried her in, bleeding and limp, after she’d been hit by a car. He hoped her paralysis was temporary, but the dog wasn’t improving the way he’d expected. They’d have to perform a cesarean soon. He didn’t have much hope for the three puppies she carried, but he prayed Mars survived. He added a note to schedule the surgery for next week and closed the file.

“Dad,” Eli said. “Did Uncle Fisher get the four-wheelers back?”

“Yes.” He glanced at his son. “But you’re not driving them.”

“Uncle Fisher would let me.” Eli frowned. “And Uncle Archer and Uncle Ryder would let me, too.”

“They might. But they’re not your father.” He nodded. “You’d best not bother them about it too much, or you’ll end up working this weekend.”

Eli smiled. “They wouldn’t make me do that. I’m their favorite nephew.”

“You’re their only nephew.” He chuckled.

“Harsh, Dad.” He laughed, too, then turned back to his homework.

“You’ll always be their favorite.” He worried about teasing his son sometimes.

“I know.” Eli arched an eyebrow, grinning.

Hunter shook his head, but he smiled. God, he loved his boy.

He was lucky—he knew it. He had a job he loved. The research he and his brothers had been doing on the ranch had led to a partnership with the state agricultural agency. Their hard work and dedication had made Boone Ranch one of the biggest conservation and rehabilitation sites in this part of the country. They’d had a plan, a good plan. And once Hunter had a plan, he stayed with it until the end.

Losing Jo hadn’t been part of the plan. And nothing had ever hurt like that.

Jo.

He fisted his hands, wishing he could stop wanting her, needing her. She was here, so close, yet still out of his reach. Seeing her now reminded him of everything he’d had and lost. Thinking about her wouldn’t bring her back, wouldn’t change what he’d done—

“Do you still love her, Dad?” Eli was looking at him.

He hadn’t realized that he wasn’t looking at his computer anymore. His gaze had wandered, and he’d been blindly staring out the window.

“I’m supposed to go to Tommy’s house tomorrow night. Remember?” Eli asked. “Don’t want to leave you alone if it’ll be...weird,” Eli finished.

Fisher had already told them he wouldn’t be coming, but he hadn’t offered up an explanation.

Hunter glanced at his son. “Guess it’s a good thing her dad’s coming for dinner, too.”

“Why?” Eli asked.

“Because when Jo and I are alone, we tend to fight.”

* * *

JOSIE WAS TIRED. And stressed. And tired of being stressed. And now she was getting a headache. Probably because she was heading to dinner with the love of her life and the only person she’d ever hated. Not hated...just actively disliked. That was why she’d made her father and Annabeth promise not to bring up anything to do with Amy. Or Hunter. She didn’t like who she was, how she felt, where Amy was concerned.

“Holy crap,” Josie breathed as she pulled through the huge stone entranceway, the intricate wrought-iron gate open wide. This was nothing like the Boone ranch she remembered. This was something else. She drove slowly, following the twisting limestone drive until she reached three outbuildings.

One was obviously a ranger station. It was elevated, with a two-story ladder the only way up. A small building sat next to it, a long ranch house of sorts with two large trucks parked beside it. Then there was the main building, several stories tall, all wood and native stone and rather impressive.

Almost as impressive as the man sitting on the porch. She sighed. Hunter sat, a laptop on his knees. He looked gorgeous—and a little bit dangerous to what remained of her heart.

She put the car in Park, trying not to stare as he smiled at her. He closed the laptop and walked down the steps to greet her.

The throbbing in her head was matched by the pounding of her heart. Whether it was from nerves or exhaustion, she didn’t know. But watching him walk to her car did little to calm her nerves. It was going to be a long night.

She rolled down the passenger window as he leaned forward to say, “Hi.”

“Hi.” She forced a smile. “Dad bailed at the last minute.” Which had led to a thirty-minute argument. At least Eli would be there as a buffer.

A strange look crossed Hunter’s face and then he smiled. “His hip giving him trouble?”

“Yes.” That’s what her father had told her, though she suspected he was trying to play matchmaker. Why her father was trying to fix her up with a married man was a mystery. After the hell her mother’s indiscretions had put him through, she’d expected him to place a little more value on the whole faithful vow thing. He’d always been on the eccentric side, but this was ridiculous. Hunter was off-limits, no if, ands or buts about it.

“Can you give me a ride?” he asked. “Or we can take some horses.”

“How much farther is the main house?” She let her eyes travel over the buildings again. “And why don’t I recognize any of this?”

His eyes traveled over her face. “Did you think you’d recognize it?”

“Of course.” She rolled her eyes. “I mean, I figured you’d made some changes, and you obviously have, but...”

“I didn’t own this when we... In high school this wasn’t part of the family ranch. We bought this about six years ago.” He paused.

“That makes sense. So, if I remember correctly, this must be the guest lodge?” She took it all in, impressed. “Am I right?” She waited for him to nod. “Well, wow, congratulations. Looks like your big plans are coming together.”

“Most of them.” He nodded, his eyes boring into hers. “So horses or driving?”

She looked down at her skirt. “Driving. Didn’t know horses were part of the evening.”

He opened the passenger door and climbed in. “Just stay on the drive to the left. It’s a ways down yet.”

She drove on, and her small red four-door rental seemed to shrink as the silence stretched on.

It was too quiet. The pounding in her head seemed to echo. “Too bad you didn’t have paved roads when you taught me to drive. Maybe I wouldn’t have totaled that truck.”

“You didn’t. That thing was like a tank.” He looked at her. “It wasn’t for a lack of trying, though.”

“I guess I should blame my teacher.” She flashed him a grin.

He chuckled. “Sure. If that makes you feel better about wrecking my granddad’s truck, you just go on telling yourself that.”

“God, I felt terrible.” She shook her head. “I still do.”

“Don’t. Still drive it back and forth around here when I need to run errands or deliver something. Imagine I’ll teach Eli to drive in it.” Hunter rested his head against the headrest.

As they crested the next hill, Josie saw the ranch house. It had always been a special place, where her most treasured memories took place. She was hit with a case of nerves so intense she almost turned the car around. Instead, she did what she always did when she was nervous. She talked.

“You’ve made a lot of improvements to the house. I knew you’d never tear it down, since your grandmother was born here.” She paused, but he didn’t say anything. “I guess it’s nice to have some privacy for you and your family. I mean, you haven’t said anything about the way the ranch works now, but I remember the way you said you wanted it to work. Population studies. Rehabilitation center. Animal preserve. Did you ever get the white-tail deer breeding program started?” Her head felt as if it had a band tightening around it. “Guess you’re keeping cattle, too, since Eli is raising a calf?” She stopped as the car pulled up in front of the house. Crippling anxiety gripped her, the throbbing pulse around her skull excruciating.

Any second Amy was going to walk out that front door. Any second Hunter was going to put his arm around Amy, his wife, and they were all going inside to have a meal together. Why had she come? She felt very nauseous.

“You okay?” he asked.

She looked at him, watching the traces of amusement turn into concern. “I’m not sure. I’m feeling a little...off.”

His forehead creased as he stared at her face. “You’re really pale.” His hand touched her cheeks and forehead. His touch felt so good. “But you feel cool. Let’s get you something to drink.”

He climbed out of the car and walked around to her side. He opened the door, but she was paralyzed with fear.

“Maybe I should go home. I feel weird about leaving Dad home alone.” Which was partly true.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “You can leave. Once there’s some color in your cheeks and you don’t look like you’re gonna pass out. Don’t think this car would take a beating the way Granddad’s truck did.”

She glared up at him. She pinched her cheeks, then smiled thinly. “There. Color in my cheeks.”

He laughed. “Don’t make me pick you up, Jo.”

She slipped from the car, grasping the roof for support.

They stood there, regarding each other in the warm rays of the setting sun. No one came out to greet them. Other than the faint coo of a dove, the moo of a distant cow and the slightly rhythmic whump of the windmill’s blades, it was quiet.

“Drink?” he asked. He held out his hand awkwardly.

She stared at it and pushed off her car, not taking it. “I think I can manage to walk to the door, Hunter. I’ll have my drink and hit the road and you can have a peaceful evening with the family.”

“Eli’s out.” He sounded amused. “Fish, Archer and Ryder all have places of their own. But Renata still lives with Dad so she can take care of him. She always was a daddy’s girl.”

Josie felt bile in her throat. He wanted her to sit through dinner with him and Amy? She felt angry suddenly.

“Don’t you think it might be a little awkward?” She turned toward him. “Okay, a lot awkward.”

“Why?” He looked genuinely surprised. “Why would being alone with me be awkward?”

Josie was distracted by the shift of emotions on his face. The tone of his voice was soft but coaxing. He seemed to take a step toward her, rattling her from her silence.

“Alone?” A full-fledged pounding began at the base of her skull. Shooting pain focused right behind her left eye.

He nodded. “Let’s get you inside. You can lie down, have your drink, and once you’re better, you can leave, if that’s what you want to do.”

“I should go now,” she argued. “Pretty sure it’s a migraine and once it gets started—”

“You’ll be down for the count.” He nodded, slipping his arm around her for support. “You’re not driving, Jo. It wouldn’t be right or gentlemanly.”

“You could be a gentleman and drive me home now.” She didn’t have the energy to argue, but she refused to lean into him.

“In a bit.” He swung her up into his arms.

“Hunter—” His name escaped on a startled breath, right before she was bombarded with his scent. Everything about him was familiar. The earthy spice of him, the strength of his arms, the warmth he exuded, the feel of his breath against her forehead. It was sweet torture. “I can walk,” she bit out, sitting rigidly in his arms. She would not relax. She would not melt in his arms and press herself to him. She would not kiss his neck or run her hands through his thick, dark blond hair. She would not think of doing those things, either.

He carried her into the house, ratcheting up her nerves. This was how she was going to see Amy? In his arms? Her whisper was urgent. “Please put me down.”

And he did. On the couch. “Sit,” he murmured before leaving the room.

“Bark bark,” she muttered childishly. Her gaze bounced around the room, searching, waiting.

He laughed. “You still do that?”

“You still order people around?” she snapped.

He left and then walked back with a glass of water and a bottle of pain pills. He sat on the coffee table opposite the couch, offering them to her.

She stared at him, deciding whether to take the offered answer to her pain or suffer through out of sheer stubbornness. She took the bottle and the water.

“Still get migraines?” he asked.

She shrugged, pouring a couple of pain relievers into her hand before putting the lid back on the bottle. “Sometimes.” She glanced at him. “Still have sneezing fits?”

“Sometimes.” He smiled. “Still painting? I mean, other than your illustrations.”

“Yes.” It was ironic that, even though she’d been desperate to leave the state of Texas and everything about it, Texas landscapes were one of her favorite things to paint. “Still write poetry?”

“No.” He stared down at her. “You wanna lie down? Eli’s room is a mess, but you can rest in mine if you want.”

Rest in his room? Amy’s room?

She shook her head. “No, thank you. If I lie here for a minute, will you let me leave?”

He stood over her, still smiling. “I’m not kidnapping you, Jo. You can go whenever you want to go. As long as you can make it all the way back into town with no problems.”

She sat up and felt instantly nauseous.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Stop being so stubborn and lie down.”

“I’m stubborn?” she snapped as she lay back on the cushions of the couch.

“Relax for a few. Dinner’s almost ready.” He winked at her. “The protein’ll do you some good.”

She pulled her gaze from him, shaking her head. “Where is everyone again?” Being alone with him wasn’t good for her. She didn’t like feeling so vulnerable, so needy. As a matter a fact, she was feeling way too much right now. Even with her pounding head, she was preoccupied with thoughts of being wrapped in his arms.

“Eli’s spending the night with a friend. My brothers have their own places. They’re probably off doing what grown men do.” Hunter shrugged.

“That sounds...dangerous,” she muttered, waiting for the rest. But Hunter didn’t say a thing about Amy. She narrowed her eyes. He was going to make her ask, wasn’t he? She started to, but couldn’t. It had taken her a long time not to wince just thinking Amy’s name. She sure as hell wasn’t going to say it, out loud, here.

She’d turn up sooner or later—she always did.

“No interruptions. You rest. I’ll work. You can eat later and I’ll drive you home.”

She continued to glare at him, even as she lay back on the couch cushions. Her head was pounding, making her ears ring. She closed her eyes, trying to relax. But she couldn’t.

She was alone with Hunter. Just the two of them. She opened her eyes, looking for him.

The place had changed, but it still felt the same. The inside had obviously been gutted and redone. The walls were painted a warm cream with knotty wood trim. The ceiling was dark, with heavy exposed beams. The cast-iron wagon-wheel chandelier was the same. So was the wood-burning stove in the far corner.

But the room felt bigger—was bigger. The dining room was now part of this room—separated by a long brown leather sofa. On the far wall, beneath a huge picture window, was Hunter’s old-fashioned drafting table. Her mouth went dry at the memories that table stirred up.

They’d spent most of that morning bringing in the round hay bales in the tractor. Once they’d been left alone, she’d dragged him inside with obvious intentions. Her lips had fastened on his neck, tasting the salt of his sweat. When her lips suckled and nipped at his earlobe, he’d tugged her jeans off, tossing them hurriedly over his shoulder before grasping her hips and setting her onto the table. With his jeans around his ankles, he’d loved her hard and fast. How could she remember the feel of him, as though he was with her now?

They’d been young, too young... But they’d loved each other, really loved each other. And then life—Amy—had gotten in the way.

She swallowed. Her head was spinning. She needed to get the hell out of here. She needed to put as much space between them as possible. The only way to do that was to get rid of her headache.

She took a slow, steady breath and forced herself to relax against the pillows.

* * *

HUNTER SET THE TABLE as quietly as he could.

She’d been asleep for almost an hour. But he knew the longer she slept, the better she’d feel.

He moved to the couch and stared down at her.

The years hadn’t touched her. She’d never been a fan of makeup, so her skin was still smooth and silky. She had some faint lines bracketing her mouth and eyes, where she crinkled when she laughed. And when she laughed, she looked so damn beautiful.

He ran a hand over his face, shaking his head. If he could go back in time, follow her, he would.

No, he wouldn’t. Because then he wouldn’t have Eli. And as much as he regretted losing Jo, he loved his son.

Jo stirred, her movements capturing his attention. Her mouth parted, then smiled slightly as she turned onto her side. There was a flutter of movement under her eyelids, and she sighed.

He spread the blanket from the back of the couch over her before heading into the kitchen. He turned down the stove and put the salad back in the refrigerator. Dinner would keep—she needed sleep.

Once he’d turned off all the lights, he went to his desk and opened his laptop. He glanced at her, then at the desk. He’d had to patch the lid after Amy had ripped it off at the hinges. She couldn’t stand the H.B. + J.S. that he’d carved into the wood. Even though he’d been the one to replace the lid, he still looked for the carving whenever he opened the desk for supplies.

Did Jo have someone special? As much as he wanted her, he wanted her happiness more. He wondered if she’d made any other men as happy as she’d made him. She probably had. Eleven years was a long time to go without. And Jo was a passionate woman. He remembered that about her with great fondness.

Everything about her was like a living, breathing fire. From her sparkling eyes and lightning-fast humor to her equally fast temper and her instant and all-consuming desire. She’d been every young man’s dream.

His gaze wandered back to her. She was still his dream.

A distant rumbling made him glance out the window. The sky was flashing. They needed the rain. There was a burn ban in effect and two fires had already claimed thousands of acres on surrounding properties. All it took was one asshole throwing his still burning cigarette butt out the window and, poof, a whole season’s worth of work was up in smoke.

Maybe he should wake her. If it rained too hard too fast, the road would wash out and he wouldn’t be able to get her back home. Not home, to Carl’s, he reminded himself. She didn’t live here anymore and Texas had never been her idea of home. He’d thought he might be able to change that once, but he knew he didn’t have that kind of clout now.

He forced himself to work, reading over his students’ notes on the dog they had in clinic at the moment. Vitals were good. The leg was healing. He flipped the page back, skimming the latest X-rays of the fracture. If they kept on track, they’d be able to send him home before Christmas, which meant Hunter might be patient-free for the holidays.

The windowpane rattled as thunder hit—closer now. A blinding flash of lightning flooded the room with white light.

“Hunter?” Jo’s voice was soft.

“It’s just a storm. Go back to sleep, Jo.” He kept his voice low, watching her.

She rolled over, burrowing into the blanket. But the next clap of thunder had her on her feet. He saw her grab her head, leaning against the edge of the sofa.

“Still hurting?” He’d do just about anything to make her feel better. “Want me to take you home?”

She nodded, but then the sky seemed to open up. Sheets of rain dumped onto the tin roof, followed by a show of flashing lightning and roaring thunder. She looked out the window and shook her head.

He smiled. “Still afraid of storms? And you live in Washington?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” She tried to give him a look, one that showed him how capable and tough she was. But the thunder sent her from the couch to his side. “It doesn’t storm like this there. It just rains...a lot.”

He hesitated only briefly before slipping one hand around her waist. His heart picked up and he waited, but she was too focused on what was happening outside to notice his touch. She was warm—he could feel that through the thin fabric of her shirt. He tugged, pulling her into his lap gently, hungrily. When she sat, her body pressed against him, he couldn’t stop the tremor that racked his body.

“I forgot how violent storms get here,” she whispered.

He couldn’t answer. She was in his arms, in his lap. She felt just the same, warm and soft in all the right places. He stared at her face, rediscovering the shape of her. He used to hold her like this for hours. Sitting, talking, kissing and being happy. How could so much time have passed? She hadn’t changed, and neither had his feelings.

“Is it... Are we safe?” she asked, glancing at him. And then she realized she was in his lap, his arms were around her. Her eyes went round. Surprised. Startled. Pleased? He couldn’t tell.

He swallowed. “Inside we’re safe. We should probably try to wait it out, though, instead of taking you back.”

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. He expected her to tense, to pull away from him. But she seemed just as wrapped up in him as he was in her. Her breath hitched, her gaze falling to his lips. He knew an invitation when he saw one.

He bent his head, moving close, slowly. She watched him, her breathing picking up. Did she know how she affected him? He didn’t want to push her, to lose her. Everything he wanted was right here, in his arms.

And then she pulled away. “We can’t do this, Hunter.” Her voice was husky and not at all convincing.

“Sure we can.”

“No, we can’t.” She pushed halfheartedly against his chest. But her fingers gripped his shirt.

He knew his need for her was there, on display, but he didn’t care. He wanted her, he’d never stopped. To him, she was still his. “Why?” he asked.

Something about that question pushed Jo over the edge. She was out of his lap in no time, staring down at him with blazing eyes and an angry twist to her mouth. “Why?”

He looked up at her, confused. “You want me. At least, I think you do. And I know I want you.”

She froze, her hands fisting at her sides. “You do?”

“Hell, yes.” He stood as he spoke, his hands resting on her shoulders.

She shook her head, but she was staring at his mouth. “No. Hunter.” He saw her indecision, her frustration. “What we want has nothing to do with what’s right.”

He heard “what we want” and pulled her against him. His hands cupped her face, his thumb brushing across her lower lip. He felt her shudder, saw her lips part, before she stiffened. Why was she fighting? He’d missed this, the feel of her in his arms, the wholeness he felt deep in his bones. How could he tell her, make her understand? His throat tightened as he stared at her, willing her to know what was in his heart.

Her chin quivered. “Hunter,” she whispered, her voice hitching. “I can’t do this to Eli. To Amy.”

Hunter’s chest grew cold. “Amy?”

She winced when he said the name. “Yes, A-Amy.” She pushed away from him, wrapping her arms around her waist.

He didn’t know what to say to that. He’d hoped that there might be some way for them to come to terms with what had happened, what he’d done. He’d never expected her to take him back, but he’d hoped she’d forgive him. She was here, but somehow Amy was still between them.

His phone rang, but neither of them moved. It could wait. “Jo—”

It rang again.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” she murmured, her eyes cold.

“I’d rather talk to you.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” She shook her head, her anger building. “Nothing. I shouldn’t be here. This—” she pointed frantically back and forth between the two of them “—is wrong.”

Her words hurt. “Wrong?” He swallowed. “How can you—”

“How can I? You promised me, remember? I’m not going to let you break my heart again, Hunter. Do us both a favor and leave me the hell alone.” She grabbed the phone. “Hold on,” she said into the phone before tossing it to him.

He caught it, Fisher’s voice reaching him. “Hunter? Hunter?”

“Yes?” he spoke into the phone, keeping his gaze locked with Jo.

“Fence is down in the far pens.” Fisher laughed. “You’re going to have to get Jo back into bed later on.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, scowling at him. She looked so damn vulnerable, wounded somehow. But then she picked up her purse and headed to the door.

He stepped forward, blocking her path, fear rising. “Jo, hold on—”

Jo shook her head, pushing around him. “I don’t want to hold on, Hunter. I don’t want this. I don’t want you. Not anymore.” She ran out into the rain and climbed into her car.

“Hunter?” Fisher sounded stunned. “You there? You okay? Shit, I’m sorry—”

He cleared his throat, swallowing the lump to say, “On my way.” He watched her car back up, then turn around, disappearing into the driving rain and darkness.

Chapter Three

Josie straightened the remaining pastries and sat in the little chair in the doorway between the kitchen and the bakery. Sprinkles lay on her back, her fuzzy white stomach bared as she slept soundly. Josie envied the dog—she could use a nap. She glanced at the clock. It was almost two, closing time.

But today she had to help with the gingerbread, mountains and mountains of it. Her dad’s fall had put the gingerbread dough-making behind. Somehow, she had to make eighty gallon tubs of cookie dough in the next forty-eight hours. The Gingerbread Village was a huge part of the Stonewall Crossing’s Christmas on the Square celebration. Most families made a gingerbread house to display. Some made them look like their own home, others followed the theme for the year. This year’s theme, which Josie thought left a lot of room for interpretation, was Images of Christmas.

The phone rang and she answered it, pen and notepad at the ready.

“Pop’s Bakery. This is Josie. How can I help you?”

“Hey, Miss... Jo... Josie. It’s Eli Boone.” He paused. “I have the plans for the float. Can I come by and show it to you?”

She smiled. “Sure, Eli. But I’ll warn you. You might just end up elbow deep in gingerbread dough when you get here.”

“O-okay.” He sounded uncertain. “Can I bring someone with me?”

“Can they hold a mixer?” Josie added. “Just kidding. Bring as many as you like.”

He didn’t laugh. “Yes, ma’am. Be there soon.”

“Sounds good.” And she hung up the phone.

Eli was a good kid. He was just like his father. Or how he used to be, anyway.

She didn’t linger over thoughts of Hunter. Whatever memories she had of him were tarnished somehow. She’d been so young—they both had. He’d loved her with an unwavering strength. He’d been hers and she’d been his. It had been right and good and real. Losing him was like losing a part of her, the pain of which had faded to a steady hollow ache she still couldn’t erase.

But maybe the Hunter she remembered had never existed. Maybe he’d cheated on her with Amy as eagerly as he’d been willing to cheat on Amy.

It scared her, how tempted she’d been.

But saying Amy’s name had snapped her out of it and pissed her off. She’d been just mad enough to drive herself home. By the time she was home, her head was throbbing in time to the beat of the rain. She’d crawled into her bed in her wet clothes, angry, needy and confused.

She’d spent the past two days not thinking about him. It wasn’t really working...

And now she was going to spend some quality time with his son.

The phone rang again. “Pop’s Bakery.”

“Got your voice message. I talked to our librarian and she wants you to come read to the kids next Friday.” The voice on the end of the line was soft, tired.

“Why, good morning, Annabeth. I’m fine, thanks for calling. How are you?” Josie teased.

“Work is crazy, girl. I’m sorry.” Annabeth sighed. “How are you?”

“Not half as tired as you sound.”

Annabeth Upton had been Josie’s only real girlfriend in high school. She’d been there through everything, from Hunter’s betrayal to her mom’s endless string of weddings and divorces. Josie had tried to return the favor when Annabeth lost her husband to a sniper in Afghanistan. But she didn’t know how to ease the pain of losing the man you loved while having to be a coherent, positive single parent to a rambunctious boy.

“I won’t lie. I’m ready for the break.”

“I can’t imagine why. Being an elementary school principal is one of the easiest jobs in the world.”

Annabeth laughed. “R-right.”

“Are you going to get a break? Heading to Greg’s family this year?”

“No, not this year. His parents offered to take Cody for New Year’s so I could do something.” She snorted. “What the hell am I going to do? Alone? In Stonewall Crossing?”

“Whatever you want,” Josie said.

“That’s the thing. I have no idea.” She sighed. “So, how’s it going? I know you’re spread thin, with your dad and the bakery and the gingerbread craziness. And Hunter—”

“Dad’s being ornery, but that’s why I’m here.” Josie was quick to interrupt her. Not thinking about Hunter. Not talking about Hunter. “We’re heading to the doctor on Monday, so we’ll see what the verdict is.”

“Ready to get out of here?”

“Not really.” Leaving meant going back to an empty apartment. This would be her first holiday without Wes. She didn’t blame him for leaving, but she was lonely.

“You sound surprised.” Annabeth paused. “And I did notice your attempt to dodge the whole Hunter topic. Not very subtly, either, I might add.”

“Okay, let’s talk about him.”

“Let’s. Over wine and dinner?” She added, “You can call Lola to come over and keep your dad company.”

“Lola?”

“Josie, get your head out of the clouds and look around you. Lola, from the beauty shop two stores down the street. She’s sweet on Carl.”

Josie was surprised, in a good way. “And Dad?”

“I have no idea. Your dad rarely has a harsh word for anyone. So, call her so your dad can get a love life. Then we can have dinner and drinks and talk about our nonexistent love lives.”

“Deal.” She’d call Lola right away.

“Good. Oh, hold on.” There was a pause. “Will next Friday’s story time work?”

“Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Upton. I’ll put it on my calendar.”

“Thanks. Gotta go. Duty calls... Kindergarteners, noses and peas... Bye.”

“Bye.” Josie laughed, but the phone was already dead.

She stared out over the freshly mopped wooden floors, her gaze drifting around the bakery. Lola Worley was a blue-haired sweetie. And, come to think of it, Lola had enjoyed a cup of tea and a small bear claw every morning since Josie had arrived in Stonewall Crossing five days before.

She packed up a plate of pastries, patted the flour from her clothes and walked quickly down the sidewalk to the Lady’s Parlor. It was cold out, surprisingly cold, but she’d been too preoccupied to think of grabbing her sweater. She pushed through the door, the smell of acetone and bleach stinging her nose. Four heads turned to look at her.

“Joselyn Stephens?” Lola stepped forward. “What a surprise.”

“Afternoon, Miss Worley. I thought I’d bring by some pastries for your patrons.”

“Don’t that just beat all?” Lola took the pastries, smiling. “What can I do for you, sugar? A haircut? Polish for your nails?”

Josie looked at her nonexistent nails before shoving her hands in her pockets. “I was wondering if you could help me.”

Lola set the plate on the counter. “Sure thing, sugar. With what?”

“My dad. He’s a little stubborn.”

“Just a little.” Lola Worley turned a very fetching shade of pink.

“Annabeth and I would like to go out this evening. Would you be willing to come over, take care of him? I won’t be late.”

Lola took in a deep breath. “I’d be happy to.”

Josie could tell that was an understatement.

“Anything else?”

“Well—”

“Go on, sugar. You’re among family here.” Lola patted her arm.

Josie looked around the beauty parlor, where chatter and laughter filled the air. “I’m swimming in all the gingerbread. Dad won’t sit so—”

“I’ve got a half-dozen grandsons I’ll send down this evening.”

“Lola, you’re an angel.” Josie nodded. “I’ll return the favor, if ever I can.”

“Aw, now, I don’t know about that, sugar. I’ll see you about six?” Lola asked.

“Yes. And thank you.” She hugged the woman before dashing out of the parlor and back to the bakery. Eli was waiting outside with a red-haired girl.

“You can go in. I know its cold out here.” She held the door open for them.

Eli nodded at her. “Hey.”

“Hi, I’m Dara. Nice to meet you, Miss Stephens,” Dara gushed.

“You, too, Dara.” She beamed at the girl, then at Eli. Eli didn’t smile back. “Can’t wait to see the sketches.” She waved them back behind the counter.

Eli stood between the two of them and spread open a large piece of drafting paper. A chair sat in the middle of the float, flanked by two supersize books.

“These will have the covers for Floppy Ears and 34,” Eli pointed out. “Mrs. Upton said she wants to get the little brothers and sisters of the Future Farmers of America kids to ride on the float with you. Make it like you’re reading to them.”

Josie nodded. “And these?” She pointed to two blob-like shapes.

“One will be a cow and one will be a rabbit,” Dara said. “We’re going to make them out of garland and wrap them with lights. You know, those topiary things?”

“It looks great.” Josie was impressed. “And a lot of work.”

“It was Eli’s idea.” Something in Dara’s tone made Josie look at the girl.

“It’s a great idea,” Josie said. She saw Dara cast a timid glance Eli’s way, saw Eli’s red cheeks. Just when Eli looked at Dara, the girl looked back at the drawing.

The bell over the door rang.

“Hey, Josie-girl.” Fisher was all smiles. “How’s it going?”

“Gingerbread madness has begun.” She grinned. “Nice of you to stop by to help.”

“I’ll help eat my fair share. It sure smells good.” Fisher sniffed for emphasis.

“Tastes pretty good, too.” Josie offered the three of them a gingerbread man.

“Damn good,” Fisher agreed, eating the cookie in two bites. “You good with the plans?”

She nodded. “Since I’m not building it, yes. Looks great.”

Dara’s phone rang so she walked outside to take the call, and Eli followed.

“They’re adorable,” she said to Fisher.

“Eli’s too young for a girlfriend,” Fisher argued. “He’s just a kid.”

“I don’t think they’re talking marriage, Fisher.” She offered him another cookie. “How’ve you been?”

“I’m good, real good. Nothing like living your dream while being seriously good-looking, you know?”

She giggled. “You’re incredible.”

“I’ve heard that before.” He winked at her.

She kept laughing. “Behave.”

“Not in my nature,” he countered.

“Fisher,” she wheezed. “You’re going to make me have an asthma attack.”

He chuckled. “Never done that to a woman before.”

She shook her head. Fisher had always been funny. Once she was able to breathe and talk, she tried again. “I’m really impressed by the ranch. Looks like the family has been working hard.”

“Mom and Dad set the bar pretty high. And Hunter. He’s going to reach that bar, and then some. Archer’s a genius, really taking the whole refuge thing to the next level. I mean, we’re getting eleven abused horses—that’s a lot. But he’ll figure it out.” He shook his head. “Now, Ryder’s still more interested in cars and petite blondes than anything else, but he works hard when we need him.”

“How’s Renata?” Josie had always felt for Renata, Fisher’s twin sister. She couldn’t imagine having four brothers and Teddy Boone for a father.

“Renata’s working for the chamber of commerce. Does their PR and events and stuff.”

“Sounds like the Boones still own Stonewall Crossing.”

“Can’t help it if our people were competitive from the start. We don’t own it, exactly.”

“No? Just most of it?” She argued, “If I remember the little tour I took when I first moved in with dad, they said the town was named Stonewall Crossing because your great-grandfather put up stone walls to line his property.”

“Great-great-grandfather. Man is a territorial animal, Josie. Those walls are a surefire way to let people know where not to trespass.” Fisher shrugged.

“How is your father?” She’d missed him. Teddy Boone was a great barrel-chested man who let everyone know when he entered a room.

“Fine. He lives in the Lodge. He still misses Mom a lot. Think leading guests to check out the flowers when the hills are blooming, or hike, or bird-watch keeps him busy. In the hotter months, he’s with the aunts in Montana. He’s here now, so stop by and say hi. He’d love that.”

She nodded. “He must be so proud of everything you have accomplished.”

“Hunter started it, getting all successful. We couldn’t let him show us up, you know?” He swiped another gingerbread cookie. “That Boone competitive streak. You know Hunter. Hell, I think you know Hunter best of all.” His expression turned serious—as serious as Fisher ever got.

“No, not really.”

“Aw, come on, Josie. That’s not true—”

“Years ago, maybe.” She put the sample plate behind the counter and began to wipe down the counter. “Why does everyone keep talking about the past?”

“What’s got you so worked up?”

She shut the display case with a little more force than necessary. “Nothing.”

“Right.”

“Moving on.” She shot him a look. “You dating anyone?”

He winked at her. “I’m flattered, but I don’t think that would go over too well with my brother.”

She hadn’t meant to yell, but she did. “Why the hell would Hunter care if I dated anyone? He’s married, remember?”

If she hadn’t been yelling, she might have heard the bell over the door jingle. But she didn’t. So Eli’s angry words took her by complete surprise. “My mom divorced my dad when I was three.”

Josie couldn’t think. Or speak. Or breathe. The agony on Eli’s face was unbearable. “I...I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Eli,” she finally managed.

“You should be,” Eli bit out. “It’s your fault she left.”

“Eli,” Fisher cut in.

Josie was reeling. “Eli, I...” She had no words. She knew nothing she said could make a difference.

Dara placed a hand on Eli’s arm. “Walk me home?” Eli didn’t look up as Dara led him from the bakery.

Her heart ached for him, truly ached for him. She knew how hard it was, growing up without a mother. If she’d been the cause of that... No, surely not. Hunter was a man of his word. He’d married Amy—he wouldn’t have let it fall apart without a fight.

“What is all the yelling about?” Her father hobbled into the kitchen through the door that connected their home to the bakery. “I could hear you all the way in my room.”

Josie watched Eli and Dara walk away. She saw the slump to Eli’s shoulders, knew the anger and pain in his voice.

“How the hell did you not know he’s single?” Fisher asked, stunned.

“What are we talking about?” her father asked.

“Hunter.” Fisher reached around the counter for another gingerbread cookie.

“Oh.” Her father sounded far too pleased, so she looked at him. “What?”

“What?” she echoed. “That’s all you have to say?” Hunter Boone is single.

Her father’s smile disappeared. “You told me if I ever mentioned him you’d never talk to me again. Guess I figured the more time the two of you spent together, you’d figure things out.”

“Seriously, Josie?” Fisher shook his head, then ate another cookie.

“Every time I brought him up, you changed the subject. I got the point,” her father continued.

“That was a long time ago.” He hadn’t mentioned Hunter or the rest of his family in years. Because she’d told him not to. Josie grabbed the plate and shoved it into a cabinet out of Fisher’s reach. “I was young and hurt—”

“You’re my baby girl. And I listened to you,” her father interrupted. “I figured someday you’d find out that he was here, waiting for you.”

Josie glared at her father. “Daddy, I know you love Hunter. But that’s ancient history—”

“Maybe for you.” Fisher’s eyebrows went up.

Her father’s voice was cautious. “Now, Fisher—”

Fisher leaned forward, staring into her eyes. “Ask me how many dates my brother’s been on since Amy left.”

She didn’t want to know, did she? No. She didn’t.

“Let’s give her some time to get used to things, Fisher.” Her father chuckled. “Her whole world just got flipped upside down.”

She lied quickly, to herself and the two of them. “Nothing has changed. Nothing. I’m here to take care of you, Dad, not relive some teenage romance.” She yanked the apron over her head and threw it on the back counter.

“Josie,” Fisher groaned. “Come on now.”

She held up her hand. “Stop. Please.” She paused. “I’m tired. I need a shower. I just hurt a boy that I’d never in a million years want to hurt. So, please, just stop.”

Her father exchanged a quick look with Fisher before he sighed. “It’s closing time, anyway.”

“I’ll lock up,” Josie offered, looking pointedly at Fisher.

Fisher took the hint. “Eli will be all right. You okay?”

She nodded but wouldn’t look at him.

Fisher left and Josie locked the door behind him. She took her father’s arm, leading him back into the house.

“Should I have told you, Josie?” her father asked.

“No, Dad.” She patted his hand. There was no way to go back. Thinking about what could have been, what might have happened, was pointless. “It doesn’t matter. Now go sit, and I’ll get you some water. Maybe a snack?”

Her father nodded, moving slowly to his recliner in the other room. She headed into the kitchen, grappling with too many emotions to understand. But a part of her—a part deeply buried inside—felt relief. He wasn’t a cheater. He wasn’t a liar. He had loved her. Maybe he still—

“Josie, bring the car around,” her father yelled. “We gotta get Sprinkles to the hospital.”

* * *

HUNTER’S CELL SCREEN lit up. Amy. He hadn’t had enough coffee for this yet.

Tripod, the black three-legged cat that roamed the hospital, glared at the phone from his napping spot on the corner of Hunter’s desk.

Hunter nodded in agreement. “I know the feeling.”

Tripod yawned, stood and stretched, then curled back up in a ball on the desk. Hunter stroked the cat’s silky side, letting the animal’s reverberating purr calm him before answering the phone.

“How’s the sexiest man in the world?” Amy’s drawl was light, teasing. “Wearing your tight jeans and your jump-me doctor coat?”

He’d learned not to bite to her teasing. “How are you, Amy?” He clicked the end of his pen a few more times.

“All business this morning? Guess it’s hard to talk dirty at the office.” She sighed. “I’d be better if I was there with Eli. And you.”

“You coming through town?” He kept clicking the pen.

“I’m trying. You know I want to be there.” She sighed again. “I’d never miss Christmas with my baby if I could help it.” She paused, but he kept quiet. “But I’ve got a chance to ride in Vegas through New Year’s. Big show, you know?”

Amy spent more time with the cowboys on the rodeo circuit than riding in it, but all he said was, “I’ll let you tell Eli.”

She made that noise, that irritated, impatient sound she made when she wasn’t getting her way. He remembered that noise all too well.

“Don’t use that tone with me, Hunter Boone. I don’t need your approval or your permission.”

“I know.” He tossed his pen onto his desk and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the white insulation tiles of the ceiling.

“Good. You don’t know how hard it is, to live without the perfect parents and buckets of money just sitting around their big ol’ fancy house.” Her voice was shaking. “A gal’s gotta eat, Hunter.”

There it was. “How much do you need?”

“I don’t need a handout,” she snapped.

“You’re Eli’s mom, his family. It’s not a handout. It’s family taking care of family.”

The phone was silent for a long time. “You don’t miss me at all? Us?”

He didn’t say, “No, Amy. I don’t. I won’t. Stop messing with our son and grow up.” He’d learned not to have any expectations when it came to Amy—then there was no disappointment. But Eli was a boy—a boy wanting to believe the very best about his mother. Even if a lot of it wasn’t true. And now his mother was missing Christmas with him...again.

It tore his heart out to see his boy hurting. He was used to buying a present and putting Amy’s name on it, but he resented having to cover for her. It shouldn’t be his job to maintain a relationship between his ex-wife and his son.

“Dr. Boone.” Jason, one of his students, came running into his office. “Larry ate Hanna’s hair scrunchie again.”

“Hold on a sec, Amy?” He covered his phone. “Is Larry breathing okay?”

“Yes, sir. But he’s coughing a little.”

Hunter sat back, ran a hand over his face. Why Larry the emu liked eating hair scrunchies was a mystery. But they could be dangerous to the animal if they got stuck in his trachea. “Please ask Hanna to set up the ultrasound machine. I’ll expect her to assist in fifteen minutes.” Since he’d told Hanna several times to remove her hair accessories before she went into the pen, she would help him scan the bad-tempered bird and, if necessary, remove it from the bird’s long neck.

“Yes, sir.” Jason left.

“Still there?” he asked.

“I’m here, waiting. But I’ve got people waiting, too. I’ll call our son tonight.” And she hung up.

He was about to throw his cell phone against the wall when a soft “Dr. Boone” was followed by a knock on his office door.

He repressed an irritated sigh as one of the school deans entered. He stood, extending his hand to the older man. “Dr. Lee,” he said. “Nice to see you.”

“You, as well.” Dr. Lee nodded, shaking his hand. “I hear you have a procedure in fifteen minutes, so I won’t keep you. But I need your help. We have received a substantial donation from the Harper-McGee family—an in memoriam for their deceased son Nate.”

Hunter nodded. The Harper-McGees were one of the school’s most devoted supporters. The past five generations of Harper-McGees had earned their doctor of veterinary medicine degrees from UET’s College of Veterinary Medicine. Nate would have carried on that tradition if he hadn’t been killed in a car accident midsemester last spring.

“Part of the donation is to be used for a mural in the waiting room. His parents have a drawing he did when he was young. They want something like it to cover the wall over the admissions desk.”

Hunter looked at the drawing Dr. Lee offered him, then back at the older man. “I’m not sure—”

“Dr. Hardy told me you’re very close with the local artist Joselyn Stephens. That she’s visiting right now. Dr. and Mrs. Harper-McGee were delighted. They hoped you’d convince her to consider their commission.”

Hunter blinked. “I don’t know Miss Stephens all that well. But I do see her father now and then.” He didn’t know if he could see her again, to talk business or otherwise. Her angry words were a hot band around his heart.

“Perhaps you could ask her to contact me, then? Their donation is incredibly generous, Dr. Boone. I’d like to be as accommodating as possible, you understand?” Dr. Lee nodded at the drawing. “These are for Miss Stephens.” He placed a sealed envelope on top of the sketch. “If she has any questions, I’m sure there’s contact information inside.”

Hunter stared at Joselyn’s name on the envelope. “I’ll get it to her.”

“Thank you, Dr. Boone.” Dr. Lee nodded. “Good luck with Larry.”

Hunter smiled. “Good training opportunity.”

The older man paused at the door. “How’s the pharaoh hound?”

Hunter ran a hand over his head. “Bad-tempered. Stubborn. And spoiled.” But the owners were willing to keep spending thousands of dollars on their rare breed, so until puppies were a guarantee, the damn dog was Hunter’s problem.

“Any animal that needs help procreating has a right to be all of those things.” Dr. Lee chuckled.

“Never thought about it that way,” Hunter agreed. “We can only hope the procedure works this time.”

Hunter thought letting Tut have some fun the old-fashioned way might sort out his quick temper. But the owners were determined, and footing the bill, so petri dishes, test tubes and no hanky-panky were all Tut had to look forward to.

“Poor Tut. We shall hope for the best. I do hope Larry behaves for you.” Dr. Lee stopped at the door. “If I don’t see you before the holiday, enjoy your break.”

“Thank you. You, too.” No sooner had Dr. Lee left than Hunter’s office phone rang. He tried not to snap as he answered, “Dr. Boone.”

“Dr. Boone, we’re checking in Sprinkles, Mr. Stephens’s rat terrier.”

He could pass the dog off to another resident. Maybe he should. But Carl was recovering right now. And Jo— “On my way.” It took him two minutes to leave the administration wing, pass the massive lecture halls and labs, and enter the teaching clinic.

The first thing Hunter saw was Josie, her arm around her father. Her hair had slipped free from the clip on her head, falling down her back in thick reddish-brown curls. Her shirt was covered in a fine coating of flour; two more streaks ran across her forehead and into her hairline. He smiled at the flour handprint on her hip.

Her words rang in his ears, branding his heart. But seeing her worried and disheveled only reminded him that she was hurting, too. This time, right now, he could make it better.

She saw him then, her gray eyes widening before everything about her relaxed. “He’s here, Dad. It’ll be okay.”

Damn, she looked beautiful. “Hi.”

Carl was clutching a trembling Sprinkles to his chest. “Hunter, I didn’t know if you were working the clinic today—”

“You think I’d let anyone else take care of Sprinkles?” Hunter patted the dog’s head, looking into the small canine’s brown eyes. He glanced at the desk clerk. “Call Dr. Archer in to assist with Larry. Jason and Hanna should have him prepped and ready to go.”

“Yes, Dr. Boone. Room four is open,” she added.

He nodded, assessing the situation. Yes, Sprinkles was sick, but Carl was clearly worn-out. “How about I carry Sprinkles?” Hunter took the dog. “Follow me.”

He placed his hand over the dog’s chest, counting the beats per minute. One thirty-six. Nothing irregular. Breathing was a little labored, but Sprinkles didn’t like riding in the car, so that was just as likely to cause her panting as anything. Once they were in the exam room, he put Sprinkles on the metal exam table and looked at Carl. “What happened?”

“Dad, please sit.” Jo pulled one of the chairs closer to the table.

“I don’t know.” Carl sat in the chair, resting his hand on the dog’s head. “I just don’t know. Sprinkles and I were watching a John Wayne flick, a good one. Then Josie and Fisher were yelling in the bakery, so I left to see what they were going on about. Sprinkles was in my chair. I came back and she’s lying on the floor, acting like this.” He pointed at Sprinkles for emphasis. The dog was definitely not her normal, bouncing, yapping self.

Hunter put the earpieces of his stethoscope in and listened to Sprinkles’s stomach. “Did she eat anything?”

“Her food,” Carl answered. “You give her anything, Josie?”

Hunter looked at Jo and froze. She was staring at him, intently. In the depths of her silver gaze he saw something that made him ache. What was going on inside that head of hers?

“Josie?” Carl repeated, making Jo jump and reminding Hunter he had a job to do.

“No, I didn’t.” Her hand rested on her father’s shoulder. “You’ve told me a dozen times she’s on a special diet.”

Carl patted his daughter’s hand.

Hunter focused on the dog. “Could she have gotten into something?”

“She gets into everything,” Carl admitted.

“I’ve had to chase her out of my suitcase every morning.” Jo smiled.

“She eat something bad? Josie, you have perfume or something that could make her sick?”

“No, Dad. Besides, if she’d drunk my perfume, she’d smell better.” Jo’s voice was teasing.

“That’s not funny, Joselyn Marie.”

Like hell it isn’t. Hunter winked at Jo.

He saw the splash of color on her cheeks, the way she blinked and looked at her father. “Sorry, Dad.” She bent, pressing a kiss to Carl’s temple.

“I don’t think we need to get too worried just yet,” Hunter said as Sprinkles stood up. Her little stomach tensed and she vomited a glob of clear gelatinous fluid onto the metal exam table.

“Sprinkles,” Carl groaned.

“Jo?” Hunter used a long exam swab to poke the goop. “You use any sort of face cream?”

“Yes. Anti-wrinkle gel.”

Hunter stood back and grinned. “I’d check the container when you get home. Bet it’s gone.”

Carl glared up at Jo.

“Dad.” Josie shook her head. “It was on the vanity counter, out of her reach.”

“Sprinkles has always been a good jumper, if I remember,” Hunter said. Sprinkles had belonged to old Mrs. Henry for three years before she’d decided a cat was less work for her. Hunter had offered to help find the dog a home. Carl and Sprinkles had taken one look at each other and clicked.

Carl nodded. “Guess I need to put on some of those baby locks to keep her out of things.”

Sprinkles vomited again, shaking.

Hunter watched. “Might be best if we keep her here—”

“Nope.” Carl shook his head. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

Hunter glanced at Jo, who shrugged at him. “Dad—”

“No.” Carl wasn’t taking no for an answer. “She’ll be happier at home. We can keep her in her kennel.”

“You need to keep her hydrated,” Hunter said.

“Anything else?” Carl asked.

“Don’t feed her.” Hunter glanced between the two of them. He couldn’t help it if his attention lingered on Jo. “Not today, anyway. We’ll see how she is tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she said, her gaze meeting his. “Maybe you could swing by and check on her later?”

Hunter stared at her then. He was more than willing to make a house call for Sprinkles. But he’d expected Carl to make the suggestion, not Jo, not after their exchange the other night. Did he dare smile at her? He wanted to.

“Hey, now, that’s an idea.” Carl nodded.

“If you’re free?” She seemed uncertain, hesitant.

Now he really wanted to know what was going on in that beautiful, stubborn head of hers. “I’ll stop by later.” He’d leave work now if he thought it would mean more time with her. “And I’ll install the baby locks, if you have them for me.”

“Fine, but if we’re putting you to work, we’re feeding you.” Carl stroked the dog’s head. Sprinkles whimpered. “Come here.” Carl pulled the little dog close.

“Carl,” Hunter cautioned. “At least let me get you a towel. Things are gonna get messy real fast.”

He saw Jo’s nose wrinkle and laughed.

Carl rubbed Sprinkles’s head. “See there, it’s gonna be fine, little girl.”

When Jo looked at him, her gray gaze was searching. She drew in an unsteady breath and mouthed, “Thank you.” He couldn’t stop staring at her then. He didn’t want to.

The intercom buzzed. “Dr. Boone, you’re needed in OR 1, please.”

“On my way. Please ask Janette to bring in some diapers and a towel for the Stephenses.”

“Yes, sir.” The intercom went quiet.

“Thank you, Hunter.” Carl shook his hand.

“Hunter, if...if you can’t make it tonight—” Jo seemed nervous, flustered.

“I’ll be there,” he promised before leaving the room.

Chapter Four

“Something smells good,” Carl called from his recliner.

“If you stay there, I might just bring you a taste,” Josie yelled back. “You get up and you’re having a peanut butter sandwich.”

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