SAFE AT LAST?

Kylee James is giving hope one more chance, this time in Stonewall Crossing, Texas. Hope wasn’t supposed to come in the form of a hunky cowboy—local veterinarian Fisher Boone. But a good man like Fisher deserves a life without Kylee’s baggage, so letting him go is the best way she can love him.

Fisher wants to help Kylee find a fresh start and happiness, especially if she found it with him. But Kylee seems intent on pushing him away. When her painful past resurfaces, will Kylee finally open her heart to Fisher, or will she run from the one man who’d do anything to protect her?

“Must be nice to be a Boone.” Kylee smiled.

Fisher nodded. “It is. I’m lucky.”

She nodded, immediately caught up in the pull of his green eyes. The more time they spent together, the stronger it became. Especially when they were alone, like they were now. She wanted to go to him…but she couldn’t move.

He did.

His hands settled on her shoulders and his thumbs trailed the ridges of her collarbones. How could such a light caress make her breathless? How could such a big man look at her with such tenderness?

“Kylee,” he murmured.

“Fisher,” she said, running her hands up his arms to grip his shoulders. The cotton of his shirt did little to cover the expanse of his shoulders. He was a strong man, a man who could be considered dangerous. But she knew the only danger he posed was to her heart.

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Stonewall Crossing!

Small Texas towns are magical places. From town squares to main streets, the traditions and character of a place define the people—and vice versa. But there are drawbacks: everyone knows everyone else’s business. So it can be incredibly hard for someone looking for a place to fade into the background or disappear altogether.

Kylee James’s life has taught her one thing: don’t trust anyone. Except maybe her twelve-year-old brother Shawn. From foster homes to living on the streets of Las Vegas, Kylee has done the best she could by her little brother. Including leaving Las Vegas for Stonewall Crossing.

Fisher Boone is a nice guy. The funny one. A good friend. (I’d love to play some pool with him.) But he’s never had much luck with the ladies—not that he’s ever minded much. Until Kylee James arrives in town. There’s something fun about writing a big, manly man who falls in love for the first time. Fisher has a heart of gold; he’s a giver and a protector. So having him both want to woo and protect this skittish, wary woman is hard work. But, as you’ll see, Fisher isn’t a quitter. Which is good news for Kylee.

I’ve become very attached to the Boone family and their work at the Veterinarian Teaching Hospital and their ranch. And, like before, there are plenty of animal adventures to keep all the Boone brothers busy. One of my favorite things about this book is the relationship between two of the brothers. You’ll have to figure out which two I’m talking about and let me know what you think.

Happy reading!

Sasha Summers

Courted by the Cowboy
Sasha Summers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SASHA SUMMERS grew up surrounded by books. Her passions have always been storytelling, romance and travel. Whether it’s an easy-on-the-eyes cowboy or a hero of truly 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 worlds she creates, forgetting those everyday tasks like laundry and dishes. Luckily, her four brilliant children and hero-inspiring hubby are super understanding and helpful.

MILLS & BOON

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Dedicated to my beloved friend Marilyn Tucker.

I miss your grammatical genius, your sparkling wit, your wonderful hugs and your laughter.

Thank you for being a wonderful critique partner and an even better friend.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

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

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Kylee glanced up as the door to Shots opened. Her pulse leaped and her legs tightened, ready to run. Ice-cold fear engulfed her, twisting her insides and making her lungs ache. An older gentleman shuffled in, tipping his well-worn cowboy hat in greeting before heading to the poker game taking place in the back corner. He was one of Cutter’s friends, someone she’d seen before. Her nod was stiff, but her grip on the counter eased. She pulled in a deep breath, then blew it out, steadying herself. We’re safe. At least she didn’t freeze up anymore—or duck behind the counter. She was making progress.

The old man made his way across the scarred wooden floor to the group of men hunched over their beers and several decks of cards. A chorus of rough and creaky greetings welcomed the newcomer as he pulled a chair back to join them. Nothing to fear there. She took a deep breath, a slight smile on her lips.

Three wonderfully uneventful weeks had passed since she and her little brother, Shawn, arrived in Stonewall Crossing. Each day she woke up anticipating the worst. And each night she went to bed happy to be wrong. If Jesse or one of his low-life associates really wanted to find her, they would have by now. Her gaze wandered to the door again.

As if thinking about Jesse would somehow make him appear. That was ridiculous. She tossed her rag onto the bar and rubbed vigorously. She was sick and tired of jumping at her own shadow.

“You look ready to bolt.” The voice startled her so much she dropped the rag. And jumped a good foot into the air.

“Dr. Boone.” She pressed a hand to her chest as she stared at the man leaning against the end of the bar.

“I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” He added, “And it’s Fisher, Kylee. Only my patients get to call me Dr. Boone.”

The thudding of her heart still echoed in her ears. “Your patients? As in, the dogs and cats?”

“I speak fluent dog and cat. It’s a vet thing.” He nodded, not cracking a smile. “My bird’s a little rusty, though.”

She pressed her lips together, fighting a smile. “When did you get here?”

Fisher stooped, picking up the rag and handing it to her. “I followed Ol’ Pete in.”

When she was having a minor panic attack. She nodded, working hard to pull herself together. The obvious concern on Fisher’s face surprised her. She didn’t like it. No one had ever worried over her. She didn’t need anyone to start now. “Beer?” she asked.

“Sounds good.” He was watching her—a little too closely for her liking.

She kept her eyes on his beer as she popped the top off a longneck and slid it across the counter toward him. “Good day, Doc?” she asked. Small talk was always a good distraction.

“No complaints.” He shrugged. “You?”

“Just starting,” she returned, flipping the switch that powered the wall of fluorescent beer and pool signs. The colored lights brightened the room and her mood.

The door opened to three women, chatting animatedly.

“Hey, Kylee.” Janet was the only one Kylee knew by name. “Looks like we beat the rush.”

“Can we have a round of beers?” one of the women asked, commandeering a table in front of the picture window that overlooked part of Stonewall Crossing’s Main Street. “Bottles,” she added.

“Please and thank you, Kylee.” Janet winked.

Kylee was already popping the tops and putting them up on the counter.

Janet turned to Fisher. “Hey, Fisher, how’s it going?”

From the way Janet got all giggly over Fisher’s easy grin, it was clear Janet thought he was cute. And maybe he did have a nice grin, but that didn’t amount to much. Kylee wasn’t sure what to make of the hulking veterinarian. He was a little too tall and a little too broad. And he was nice—too nice. It made her nervous.

“Saving the world, one shih tzu at a time.” Fisher saluted Janet with his beer.

“If I was single, Fisher Boone, I’d say you were the perfect man.” She shook her head, laughing. “All big and muscle-y and a tender heart.”

“That’s me—a lover not a fighter.”

Janet laughed. “You’re adorable.”

“I work hard at it,” Fisher shot back.

Kylee glanced at Fisher, amused in spite of herself. He bobbed his eyebrows at her, trying to include her in the joke. So he had a pleasant grin. And a sense of humor. But something about him set off warning bells. She ignored Fisher and said, “Janet, can you let your friend know we finally got that hard apple stuff she wanted to try.”

“My friend?” Janet asked.

Kylee nodded. “From last week?”

“Oh, that one.” Janet rolled her eyes. “You mean Winnie.”

Kylee shrugged. The only thing she remembered about the woman was the ass chewing she got for not having some hard cider drink. When Kylee ordered new stock, she made sure to get some. Cutter told her to make customers happy, plain and simple. She wasn’t about to argue with the man who’d turned her life around—even if the customer in question was a witch.

“She’s not really a friend. But she’s not exactly the type you want to make an enemy. When she wants to go out for a drink, you go.” Janet took the beers and headed back to the table. “But I’ll tell her.”

“Janet speaks the truth.” Fisher chuckled. “Beware Winnie Michaels.”

Kylee wiped out a few glasses, getting ready for the regular after-work crowd. “Anyone else I should beware of?” She glanced at him again, trying not to let the weight of his steady green eyes bother her.

The corner of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. That was another thing. He smiled a lot. Maybe too much.

“I’ll let you know,” he offered. “Got plans for the weekend?”

She shook her head once. She and Shawn were planning on painting their tiny apartment—Cutter was letting them rent the addition at the back of the bar until they found a “more suitable place.” As far as she and Shawn were concerned, it was perfectly suitable.

She did need to talk to Cutter about finding a resale shop. She wanted to get some bicycles so she and Shawn could explore. But none of that was any of Fisher’s business so she didn’t say a word.

“All that?” He set his beer on the counter. “Damn, Kylee. Sounds like you’ll wear yourself out.” He paused. “What am I doing? Working. But thanks for asking.”

She couldn’t stop the smile that slipped out.

“Ha, there it is.” Fisher raised his arms over his head. “We have a smile, people.”

She shook her head, but she couldn’t stop smiling. Which really irritated her. She needed to be more careful around him.

Two men came into the bar, and one nodded. “Fisher.”

Kylee watched as the three exchanged the standard male-shoulder-slap thing that seemed to have replaced a customary handshake.

“Hey, pretty lady.” One of them sat on the bar stool. “Jarvis is back.”

She looked at him. “What does Jarvis want to drink?”

“A pint of stout.” He grinned. “And an appetizer. But we can start with your number.”

She pulled off a pint of beer, and placed the glass on the counter. “Your drink.” She faced the other man and asked, “Going to try something other than a Dr. Pepper tonight?”

“Come on, Mario,” Jarvis nudged him. “Man up.”

Mario laughed. “No.”

Kylee put a large glass with ice on the counter and nodded at the soda machine along the back wall. “You know where it is.”

Mario nodded. “Thanks, Kylee.”

The three took up their places at the pool table and Kylee got back to work.

People steadily streamed in. It was Thursday night, so most were locals. She was beginning to recognize a few faces. Thursdays were the night Janet and two other teachers came in for their “book club.” But Kylee had listened to their conversations and she’d yet to hear them mention a single book.

There were plenty of customers from the university’s vet school—like Fisher, Mario and Jarvis. Some were in scrubs, others not. She was beginning to tell the difference between the staffers and the upper-level students by their demeanor. The students all looked exhausted and stressed out.

Then there were ranch workers from Boone Ranch. Apparently the Boones were a pretty big deal in Stonewall Crossing, the founding family of the town and the veterinarian school. According to Cutter they owned most of the county and employed half the people who lived here. To own that much property, employ so many people, run a working ranch and run a bed-and-breakfast on part of their property, the Boones had to be loaded. The number of Boone employees she’d served supported that. Looking at Fisher it was hard to imagine the wealth he came from, he acted humble and...regular.

Her eyes swept the bar again. Normally a few patrons would sit at the bar and watch whatever sports Cutter put on. Tonight, one of them—a Boone employee—was worked up about something. He was radiating hostility, something she knew well. The rigid set of his jaw, the short, jerky movements—signs he might be trouble. She shook her head. What would be signs of trouble in Las Vegas didn’t always apply here. Stonewall Crossing was a very different sort of town. Quiet and slow and peaceful. The sort of place she’d seen on television, dreamed of, but never expected to live in.

A chorus of laughter came from Cutter and his cronies. They played cards twice a week. They told bad jokes, laughed a little too loud—and were completely adorable. For all Cutter’s outspoken opinions and cranky temperament, Kylee was getting pretty fond of her ancient landlord and savior.

Her eyes swept the room, taking in the expressions and actions of each customer. It was a habit she’d picked up when she was working with Jesse. Even though she wasn’t looking for a handoff or someone who’d make an easy target, she still “cased the joint.”

Only one thing stood out. The ranch worker in the corner was glaring at Fisher with pure, unfiltered aggression. The kind of aggression that usually didn’t end well. Her gaze shifted to Fisher Boone, towering above every other man in the room. His cowboy hat was pushed back on his head and his eyes were narrowed as he watched Jarvis make the shot at the pool table. He had no clue he was being sized up for a takedown.

Whatever the problem was, Kylee hoped the ranch worker would reconsider. Fisher was a mountain of a man. He had a fit build, big hands and wasn’t knocking back alcohol—the way this guy was. If there was a fight, Fisher would win.

“Big fellow,” Cutter nudged her.

She nodded, proud that her boss’s sudden appearance didn’t have her jumping out of her skin.

“Good family, too. Lot of money and land.” Cutter helped himself to a pint. “If a gal had any sense, she’d set her sights on landing that one.”

She stared at Cutter then. “What?”

“You heard me.” His leathered face creased with a grin.

“Guess I’m short on sense,” she murmured.

“Not a troublemaker, either. Even if he is the size of a full-grown grizzly.” He laughed.

“Well, trouble found him.” Kylee nodded in the direction of the man shooting daggers at Fisher.

“George?” Cutter snorted. “Carson is always starting something with someone. Damn fool hothead. Let me know if his drinking gets out of hand. But I wouldn’t worry your pretty lil head too much.”

Good to know. Kylee studied the man. She had a list of rules for their new life in Stonewall Crossing. Number one, no men. Number two, avoid troublemakers. In her experience, however, the two were pretty much the same thing. She glanced at Carson again. Especially the troublemakers with tempers who drank too much.

Number three, become self-reliant. She was still working on number three. The first two were a lot easier to follow.

“Have any luck looking for a new job?”

She looked at Cutter again, frowning.

“Something with better hours. Be better for the boy, too. You can’t enjoy working in this place all that much, while Shawn’s hangin’ out in the break room watchin’ TV,” he grumbled. “Or want to stay in that rattrap apartment.”

Did Cutter want her to leave? Was he telling her it wasn’t working? She knew having her preteen brother underfoot wasn’t ideal, but what other choice did she have? He’d been good, spending more time drawing in his sketch pad than anything else. Shawn was what kept her going, kept her fighting. She didn’t want to move him again. But if Cutter wanted them to move, to start over again, she’d figure it out.

A hollow emptiness formed in the pit of her stomach. If life had taught her one thing it was not to put down roots. Yet here she was, loving the tiny apartment she and Shawn shared. She didn’t care that they lived behind a bar. Better than the nights they’d spent on the street. For the first time in her life, she and Shawn didn’t have to worry about where they were going to sleep that night. They had an actual kitchen, not just a hot plate. And a bathroom they didn’t have to share with everyone else on their floor.

But if Cutter wanted them out, it wasn’t like she had a right to argue with him. She just needed to know. Her tone was cool as she asked, “Do you want us out of the apartment?”

“Did I say that?” Cutter scowled at her. “What the Sam Hill is that about?”

She twisted the towel in her hands. “I know you could get more rent than I can afford to pay you.”

Cutter snorted loudly. “Don’t give a rat’s ass ’bout that. Never said you should leave. Or that you needed to find other work, either.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Givin’ you options. Pointin’ out a single fellow and a more respectable job doesn’t mean I’m kicking you two out, ya hear?”

She relaxed, a little. “Oh.” She glanced at Fisher, who happened to be looking at her, and frowned. “I... I appreciate you looking out for me.” As far as she was concerned, her job was perfectly respectable. If Cutter knew what she’d done for Jesse... She shuddered.

Her hours at the bar weren’t the best, but Shawn didn’t mind staying in the break room watching TV and sketching after he’d finished the workbook pages she made him do. And Fisher? How could she explain that the last thing she wanted was a man to screw things up? Cutter might not get it, but as far as she was concerned, life was good. She smiled at the old man. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve given me and Shawn—”

Cutter cut her off with a grunt. “You work hard, Kylee. I’m not giving you nothin’. Life shouldn’t be so hard.”

She gave Cutter an awkward one-armed hug. “Well...thanks. I’ll get back to work.”

* * *

“YOU’RE UP.” JARVIS leaned closer to whisper, “Try staring a little harder.”

Fisher was a good foot taller than Jarvis so he made a point of looking down at him before quipping, “Watch out. I don’t want to step on you.” He wasn’t staring at Kylee. He’d just been looking that way.

“Harsh, man,” Jarvis sighed, stepping back. “You’re the Sasquatch.”

Fisher leaned across the table, lined up the cue ball and sent the green six ball into the upper-right corner pocket. Mario laughed, Jarvis groaned and Fisher searched out the next best shot. He adjusted his aim, leaned forward and set his cue.

But Jarvis’s muttered, “Looks like Fisher isn’t the only one interested in the new bartender,” threw him off. He missed pocketing the yellow one. When he straightened, Jarvis was laughing.

Fisher scanned the bar, but all he saw was Cutter talking to Kylee. “You’re cheating now?” he asked Jarvis.

Jarvis shrugged. “Didn’t think it would work.”

Fisher finished off his beer and glanced back toward Kylee. She was looking at him, frowning. He smiled at her, saluting her with his beer bottle. Not that she seemed to care. She turned away, her scowl still in place.

“Ouch,” Mario whispered.

Fisher shrugged. “Can’t win ’em all, I guess.”

“You didn’t even make it out of the starting gate with that one.” Jarvis sounded way too pleased about that. “Must chap your hide, being rejected by something so curvy and soft. That long black hair. Those big blue eyes.” Jarvis shook his head. “Maybe the lady’s not into sasquatches. Maybe she likes normal-size guys.” He elbowed Mario, who laughed—albeit reluctantly.

“You’re just pissed I’ve been kicking your butt all night,” Fisher said, laughing off their teasing. The three of them had been working together for years, but they’d been friends even longer. The kidding was part of it. So was his beating them at pool. But it wasn’t about the winning, it was about the chance to relax after a long day.

Relaxation didn’t exist once he got home—not since Archer had moved in. His brother needed a place to stay while the water pipes in his place were repaired. Since the family’s Lodge was booked solid and his other two brothers had a families of their own, Fisher felt obliged to take him in. Problem was that Archer had only one setting: intense. If Fisher was spending more time at Shots, it was because he needed a break from his brother.

The new bartender didn’t hurt, either. He was sure Kylee was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. Even if she didn’t like the looks of him.

They played a few hours, then moved on to darts. Fisher was one of the last to leave the bar. He lingered, slowly enjoying his beer. There were times he wished he had his younger brother Ryder’s finesse with the ladies. Most of them thought Fisher was cute and flirted with him easily enough, but he’d never been all that interested in pursuing something more.

Jarvis’s teasing had chapped his hide because few women caught his attention the way Kylee had. And she had. So much so that he found it hard not to openly stare at her as she swept the floor, mesmerized by her long black hair swaying as she worked. If she’d just look at him with the slightest flicker of interest he’d figure out some way to start up a conversation. Instead, she seemed oblivious to him. Once his beer was gone and the bar was empty, he had no reason to stay.

He put his empty bottle on the counter. “Night,” he called out, making a last effort.

Kylee nodded but didn’t look up, her black hair blocking her face from view. He walked out of the bar, glancing back at Kylee through the glass front of the door. She was still sweeping.

He stared up at the perfect circle of a moon hanging low in the deep black sky. A million stars broke up the canvas of dark. July in Texas was a scorcher, not that August and September were much better. And, from the feel of it, it was going to be a long, hot summer. But after the damn near arctic winter they’d had, he didn’t mind so much. If anything, the chirp of the cicadas and crickets, and the thick, humid air was a pleasant change.

“Fisher Boone.”

Fisher didn’t recognize the slurred and angry voice until he turned around. “Carson.” He nodded at George Carson, one of Archer’s employees. He didn’t know Carson but Archer didn’t think too highly of him. “Everything all right?”

“Been better,” Carson bit out, a hard smile on his face. “I need you to give your brother a message for me.”

He nodded, realizing just how worked up George Carson was when the man’s fist slammed into his right eye. Fisher was still recovering when the next hit came, catching him in the gut and knocking the air out of him. He shook his head, instinct taking over. He tried to rein himself in, to keep control. But with one punch, Carson was on the ground. Fisher groaned, “Dammit.”

Suddenly Kylee stood there, staring down at Carson, a beer bottle in her hand.

Fisher wiped away the blood running into his eye, made sure Carson was breathing, then turned to Kylee. She held the neck of the bottle with a white-knuckle grip, her body shaking. “Got my back?” Fisher asked, still processing.

Kylee blinked, tossing the bottle into a garbage bin in the alley between the buildings. “Doesn’t look like you needed it,” she murmured. She looked at him and crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. “So, you’re not a fighter, huh?”

His eye was throbbing. His fist...it hurt to flex his thumb, and from the way the muscles in his palm pulsed and burned, he suspected he’d dislocated it—again. “I didn’t say I couldn’t fight. I said I don’t fight. My size gives me an unfair advantage.” He’d learned that the hard way.

She nodded, her eyes searching his face. He wished he knew what was going on inside that head of hers. Even standing here bleeding, all he could do was grin at her. She stared at him, then shook her head. She stepped over the unconscious Carson and reached up to tilt his head back. “You’re bleeding pretty bad.” Her fingers settled on his temple, her eyes narrowing. “The light’s better inside.”

His hand encircled her wrist, brushing over her soft skin. She drew away immediately, stepping back and almost tripping over the man on the ground. Fisher caught her but released her instantly. Even with that slight contact, his hands tingled.

He cleared his throat. “He probably needs looking after more than I do.” He nodded at George Carson, but he was too startled by how blue her gaze was to look away. Clear blue. Like a perfect summer sky. Or the surface of the lake.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “You’re going to patch him up?”

Better than standing around bleeding, thinking about how damn pretty she was. He nodded. “Have my bag in my truck.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Why do I have my bag in my truck?” He wiped his eye, smiling at her. “I like to be prepared.”

She put her hands on her hips, clearly not amused.

He glanced at Carson. “Can’t just leave him here.”

She stood there, confusion lining her face, while he collected his medical bag from his truck. He handed it to her and pulled George Carson inside the bar.

“Dumb ass,” Cutter murmured as Fisher propped Carson in a chair. “You called it, Kylee. I’ll call his brother to come get him. Got his number in the back.” He wandered off, leaving Fisher to inspect Carson.

As far as Fisher could tell, Carson would wake up with a massive jaw ache and an impressive knot on the back of his thick skull. But that was about it. “He’s going to feel that in the morning.” Fisher glanced at Kylee. Her blue eyes were fixed on him, puzzling things out. She masked her expression when his gaze met hers, but he could sense the tension thrumming in her veins. “You okay?”

Her brow furrowed. She opened her mouth, then closed it. Her gaze bored into his, raw and intense.

He straightened, crossing to her. “Kylee?”

She stared up at him, her hands rubbing up and down her arms again. He reached for her, but she stepped back. He stopped, his hands falling to his sides. He’d no intention of scaring her, even though it was plain to see he did.

“Serves him right,” Cutter barked, reappearing. Fisher watched Kylee march behind the bar, her movements jerky and tense. “His brother will be here in a shake or two,” Cutter continued.

Fisher shook his head, placing his left hand on the counter. He stared at the bulging thumb, willing it to move. It didn’t. It was an old injury. It didn’t take much to pop it out—like it was now. There was no hope for it, he grabbed the metacarpal and, with one quick jerk, popped his thumb back into place. He winced.

“Damn boy,” Cutter cursed loudly, slapping Fisher on his shoulder. “Could use some stitching, too, from the looks of it.”

Kylee placed a bag of ice and a towel on the counter, a hint of sympathy in her eyes as she glanced his way.

Fisher nodded at her, wrapping the ice in the towel. “I have some glue that should take care of it. Be back.” He took his bag and headed to the restroom, washing his hands and cleaning the cut. No avoiding a black eye tomorrow. He leaned forward, applied a small amount of glue along the split in the skin and pressed the cut edges together. He counted to ten before blinking. When he did, the glue held.

He packed up his bag and threw away his trash, replaying the evening. He had no idea why Carson had punched him—other than being drunk. And Kylee’s reaction? What had set her off? Carson’s attack? Or Fisher’s one-hit knockout?

He paused, shaking his head. Maybe Jarvis was right. He had to be more than a little interested in Kylee if he was worrying about her while he was supergluing his eyelid back together. He shook his head, double-checked the cut was sealed and washed up before heading back into the bar.

Kylee was opening the Staff Only door at the end of the hallway. She glanced at him, but didn’t stop to say good-night.

“Thanks for the help,” he said.

The door closed without her making a peep.

He shook his head, too tired and sore to worry about anything other than getting home and into bed.

Chapter Two

“I know your brother Ryder’s given up his wild ways, but that doesn’t mean you need to take his place,” Teddy Boone said, grinning at Fisher.

Fisher reined in his horse, Waylon, tipped his cowboy hat back and shot his father a look. “Yep, set out lookin’ for trouble last night—”

“Well, it looks like you found some.” Teddy chuckled. “At least your face did.” He shook his head. “Bet it hurts like hell.”

Fisher nodded. “I’ll survive. Even if I am up two hours before my shift to track down strays with you.”

“A swollen eye won’t get in the way of riding,” his father argued.

“Seeing, maybe,” Fisher answered, not minding the early-morning excursion in the least but knowing his dad expected some sass from him.

“Both my eyes are working just fine. You just follow my lead, son.” Fisher saw his father give him one final assessing gaze before nudging his horse into a trot. “Herd was in the south pasture so I figure that’s where they are.”

“Expecting some calves?” Fisher asked. It was common enough for the heifers close to delivering to wander off until the calf was steady on his feet.

“Expect so,” his father answered. “What, exactly, happened last night?”

Fisher drew Waylon alongside his father’s horse, Chip, wincing when his thumb brushed the saddle horn. “George Carson.”

“George Carson?” His father raised an eyebrow. “His daddy John Carson?”

Fisher shrugged.

“John Carson was a mean drunk.”

“Then chances are the two of them are related,” Fisher answered.

“What did you do?” his father asked.

“Knocked him out,” Fisher answered, his jaw rigid.

Teddy chuckled. “I imagine you did. But I was asking why he felt the need to use your face for a punching bag.”

Fisher didn’t know what had transpired between Archer and George Carson. But he did know Archer and their father had a strained relationship. Teddy Boone thought Archer was an odd duck—worrying more over the care of his horse refuge than the people in his life. While Fisher agreed Archer marched to the beat of his own drum, he suspected Archer would do anything for his family. No point in adding fuel to the conflict between father and son when the ruckus with George Carson was over and done with.

“Not sure,” Fisher said, which was mostly true.

“That right there is why I don’t drink,” Teddy said. “A man shouldn’t put himself in a position to lose control. Damn fool thing to do.” His father clicked his tongue and Chip’s pace picked up, turning into a full-blown gallop.

Fisher didn’t argue. But he knew firsthand a man could lose control without drinking. He lived with that knowledge every damn day. Dwelling on unpleasant memories didn’t make much sense, so he concentrated on keeping up with his father for the next hour. There was no denying his father’s disappointment when their search was unsuccessful.

“They’ll turn up when they’re ready, I guess,” Teddy said before they parted ways.

“I’ll check again tonight,” Fisher volunteered. “If they haven’t turned up by then.”

Fisher turned Waylon out to pasture, took a quick shower and pulled himself together, cleaning the cut on his eye before heading into the vet hospital. Once he’d deposited his things in his office, he slipped on his lab coat and headed into the lounge for coffee.

“What happened to your face?” Archer glanced over the rim of his reading glasses.

“George Carson,” Fisher mumbled, pouring a cup of coffee. He nodded at one of the vet techs walking through the hospital lounge, grinning at her startled expression. His eye looked worse than it felt—but it hurt pretty damn bad.

“Carson?” Archer frowned. “I fired him yesterday.”

Fisher sat his cup down, taking care not to jostle his thumb. “That makes sense.” He’d have to get Mario to splint it, to support the ligament. “He wanted me to deliver a message to you.”

Archer’s eyebrows rose.

Fisher pointed to his face. “Message.”

Archer nodded, turning his attention back to the medical journal he was reading. “He’s a jerk.”

Fisher chuckled, wincing from the bruise on his stomach. Archer wasn’t emotional, he knew that. But a “sorry” or “that sucks” or something that resembled sympathy would have been nice. Calling Carson a jerk was an understatement. He waited for more but Archer was silently reading again so he asked, “What did he do?”

“Drinking on the job,” Archer answered. “He doesn’t want the job, I’ll find someone who will. Can’t risk anyone’s safety, animals or employees.”

Fisher couldn’t argue with his brother. There was no excuse for that sort of thing. He glanced at the clock. Almost time for morning rounds. “Anything exciting today?” he asked his brother. Archer only worked in the hospital a couple of days a week, spending most of his time at the animal refuge and rehabilitation center he operated on his part of Boone Ranch.

Archer shrugged. “Not that I know of.”

“I’ll let you know if something rolls in,” Fisher offered. “Have a good one.”

Archer nodded, flipping the page on his journal.

He headed straight for the operating room, hoping to catch Mario or Jarvis before any procedures got underway.

“I knew she wasn’t interested, but I never thought she’d beat you up,” Jarvis teased, staring at his face.

“Got time to tape this?” Fisher held up his hand and shook his head. “Or are you too busy thinking of smart-ass comebacks?”

Jarvis took in the violently colored bruising along Fisher’s thumb. “What did you do, man?”

“She takes thumb wars really seriously,” Fisher quipped, pointing at his eye. “She didn’t like losing.”

Jarvis laughed, setting to work on Fisher’s thumb. “X-ray it?” he asked. “Might need a ligament repair.”

Fisher shook his head. “It’ll be fine.”

“Dr. Fisher.” One of his students stuck her head in. “We need you up front.”

Fisher nodded. “What is it?”

“Stray.” Abigail paused. “Are you okay?” She glanced at him. “You—”

“The patient?”

“Right. Sorry.” But she couldn’t stop staring at his face. “Dog with several deep bites along the neck and back leg. Ear laceration, almost bitten off. His right eye looks pretty bad, too.”

“Bites from?” he asked.

“Two other dogs, apparently. Miss...” she paused to scan her notes. “Miss James just brought him in.”

He nodded, following Abigail from the operating room and into the patient care room. A speckled dog lay on a metal table, his gray coat matted with blood and dirt. At first glance, he looked like a blue heeler, same size and build. The dog didn’t raise his head when Fisher approached the table, though his uninjured eye was open and alert.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Fisher turned to the woman standing nervously in the corner. “Kylee?”

Was it his imagination or did she seem to relax when she saw him?

“Hi, Doc... Fisher.” Her arms were crossed tightly over her bloodstained, oversize white T-shirt. “I was walking around the park and these two big dogs were on him. He was fighting so hard. But they were too big for him. I saw him go down beneath them...”

Fisher listened to the dog’s heart rate with his stethoscope. Accelerated. One hundred ten. Respirations were shallow and rapid, distressed. But, from the number of injuries the animal had sustained, that was to be expected.

“No owners?” Abigail asked, taking notes on her clipboard.

“There wasn’t anyone else in the park.” Kylee glanced at Abigail, watching as she jotted down a few more notes. “No collar.”

He continued his inspection of the dog, his hands gentle, yet probing. “How did you break them up?”

“I found a big stick.” Her clear blue gaze held his, making it impossible not to look at her.

“A stick?” he repeated, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Her nod was tight. She was nervous, defiant...and so damn beautiful. He noticed her tension. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her this way. Why did she always seem ready to run? “It was a very big stick.”

Abigail stopped writing then, looking at Kylee with the same mix of awe and surprise that he felt.

He shook his head. “You could have been seriously injured.”

Kylee’s face shuttered instantly. “All I had to do was yell and wave it at them, and they ran. He didn’t.”

Fisher wanted to tell her she was lucky. To tell her not to do it again. To shake her a little for putting herself at risk like that. But something told him that would be a mistake. Instead he said, “Abigail, make sure X-ray is free, please.”

Once Abigail left, he spoke. “Dogs, especially when they’re worked up like this, don’t always respond predictably. You could be the one in the hospital, Kylee.” His eyes swept over her too-big clothes and worn tennis shoes. Her black hair was pulled up in a ponytail that swung between her shoulders when she moved. She looked young and lost.

If she was listening to him, she gave no sign. Instead, she stepped closer to the exam table, running her hand down the dog’s side. “Will he be okay?”

“Not sure.” He watched her, moved by the tenderness on her face. She was tough. And fearless. And, apparently, she had no problem defending the underdog. A flash of her holding that beer bottle sprang to mind. She’d been ready to defend him, too. Was that how she saw him? Someone who needed protecting? He couldn’t stop his smile. “I’m sure he’d thank you if he could.”

She glanced at him, a hint of a smile on her mouth. “I thought you were fluent in dog.”

He laughed, surprised.

The dog whimpered and Kylee looked at him. “I feel like I should do something.”

“Talk to him,” Fisher encouraged. “It helps.”

Kylee glanced at him, then bent forward to whisper something to the animal.

“X-ray is ready for him,” Abigail said, poking her head into the exam room.

Fisher nodded, watching Kylee. “I’ll take care of him,” he promised her.

Kylee stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest again. “I can’t... I don’t have any money. He’s a stray.”

“It’s a teaching hospital.” Fisher nodded. “We’ll take care of him. Cases like this are good learning opportunities.”

She brightened. “Oh. Good.” She glanced down at the dog. “He deserves a second chance.”

He didn’t miss the wistfulness in her voice or the flash of pain in her huge blue eyes. But, like the night before, she seemed to stop and pull into herself.

Jarvis came in, followed by two vet students. He saw Kylee and smiled. “Beating up the doctor one day and saving the dog in distress the next,” he teased Kylee. “I imagine you make a mighty fine avenging angel.”

She stared at Fisher, stunned. “I didn’t touch Dr. Boone,” she argued, glaring at him with such anger he wanted to throttle Jarvis. “But the dog...well, it wasn’t a fair fight.”

He’d have to worry over Kylee later. Right now he had a patient to tend to. And a group of vet students waiting for his direction. The students carefully lifted the dog, laying him gently on the gurney. Fisher turned the dog’s head, assessing the injured eye. It didn’t look good. But the lacerations that covered the dog’s haunches and chest looked relatively superficial. He knew the students were watching, echoing his every motion, hanging on his every expression. It was part of the process, reading the animals, their owners, filling in the blanks when possible.

He stepped back. “Where do we start?” Fisher asked the three students, already clicking into teaching mode.

“Check his vitals,” Abigail sounded off.

“Done,” Fisher countered.

Jake, another student, was scanning the dog’s chart. “Oxygen?”

Fisher waited, prompting them, “And?”

“Fluids,” Abigail jumped in.

“IV?” Cliff asked.

Fisher nodded. “Good. And get him prepped for X-rays. Let’s get to it.” He held the door open, letting them lead the way.

Jarvis piped up, “We’ll take him from here, Kylee. Don’t worry, I have a feeling Dr. Fisher will do everything he can to see this mutt pulls through.”

Fisher shot Jarvis a look, but his friend just winked on his way out. Kylee followed, pointedly avoiding eye contact as she brushed past him into the hallway. Her heat, her scent, washed over him—knocking him completely off center. He stood, rooted to the spot, staring after her swinging ponytail. But her blue eyes were fixed on the dog as it disappeared into the X-ray room. He saw the slight tremor in her shoulders, the way her hands fisted at her sides, and knew this dog was somehow important to her. He had one option—save the dog. For Kylee.

* * *

“WHAT DID HE SAY?” Cutter asked, spinning his worn hat in his hands.

“Is he gonna be okay, Kylee?” Shawn’s voice shook.

She shrugged. “Dr. Boone said he’ll do what he can.”

“Which one?” Cutter asked. “There are two Dr. Boones in Stonewall Crossing.”

“Fisher,” she clarified. “Not much we can do now.”

“Good. That’s good,” Cutter murmured, heading toward the admissions desk.

She tried to act unaffected, like it was every day she charged at two massive dogs screaming her head off. She didn’t even know why she did it, exactly. That dog’s desperation, trying again and again to get away, tore at something deep inside of her. She knew how that dog felt.

One glance at Shawn’s terrified face had forced her into action. For the first time, she could actually chase away his fear...and save the dog. Once the bigger dogs were on the run, the little pup stood on unsteady legs, looked at her, wagged his tail, and fell over. She’d picked him up and hurried back to Cutter’s place with Shawn running at her side.

Shawn’s pleading had prompted Cutter to pack them into his beaten-up four-door Bronco and drive them to the veterinary hospital. He hadn’t said much, all grunts and head shakes. But it didn’t matter, they got there.

It was only after she’d laid the poor dog on the table that she realized what she’d done. Those dogs could have turned on her. Or Shawn. Her actions had put Shawn in real danger—over a dog. Danger Fisher had reminded her of.

She pulled her brother into a quick hug. Neither was all that comfortable with physical affection, but she needed comfort. If anything happened to her, where would that leave Shawn? She couldn’t think about what might have happened. They were all they had. “Sorry I freaked out like that.”

Shawn smiled up at her. “It was awesome.” He laughed. “I was sorta scared of you for a minute.”

She sighed. “I guess that was the point. Not to scare you, but the dogs.”

“Come check these out.” Shawn waved her toward the massive aquarium in the wall. “There’s a puffer fish in here. And an eel, too.”

Kylee stared, amazed by the vibrant colors of the agile creatures. She smiled as Shawn held a finger close to the glass and the fishes swam toward it. He moved his finger slowly and the little group of fishes followed. He glanced back at her, smiling. “Bet they think I’m going to feed ’em.”

The doors of the vet school slid open and a young couple came in. The man cradled something, wrapped in a large beach towel, against his chest.

“We found this, when we were out walking.” The young man placed the towel on the admissions counter.

“Do you remember where you found it?” the admissions clerk asked. “You need to remember exactly where you found it and put it back.”

Shawn moved forward, but Kylee caught him by the shoulder. She led him around the side, so they could see but not get in the way. In the towel was a small deer, covered in white spots.

“We were in the park...” The young woman looked at the young man. “But I don’t remember where, exactly.”

The woman at the admissions desk frowned. “Momma probably dropped it there. But they come back, once they’ve found food. Fawns know how to hide and stay still, it’s in their DNA.”

“What happens if we don’t put it in the right spot?” the young man asked.

The admissions clerk shook her head. “It’ll starve.”

“Oh.” The young woman was really upset. “I told you we should have left it—”

“There were fire ants,” the young man argued.

“Hold on.” The woman at the counter buzzed, “Dr. Archer to the front, please.”

“What’ll happen?” Shawn whispered.

“Dr. Archer Boone works with all sorts of animals,” the admissions clerk explained, smiling at Shawn. “He has a big ol’ refuge on the Boone Ranch. It’s mostly abandoned or abused horses, but he also takes in local wildlife that need tending. He had a skunk. Oh, and a squirrel. And normally a few fawns on a bottle, too.”

Dr. Archer walked through the swinging doors. He barely acknowledged the people in the room, heading straight for the fawn. This was Fisher’s brother?

Kylee couldn’t help but notice how different Archer was from Fisher. Both were tall, but Fisher was bigger. Fisher was thick and broad—built like a fighter. He was a fighter, that much was clear. Knocking Carson out with one punch without losing his cool...it had been impressive and unnerving all at the same time. She didn’t see Archer doing something like that. Sure, he was fit, but more like a runner. And his face...his face wasn’t as expressive—as warm—as his brother’s. Not that she’d met many men like Fisher Boone.

“Found it?” Dr. Archer asked, seeing their answering nods. “Fire ants?” He lifted the fawn. It made an impressively loud sound, and Shawn covered his ears.

Kylee watched the way Archer assessed the animal. “Donna,” he spoke to the admissions clerk, “have them sign the drop-off form. I’ll go ahead and take it back.”

Donna pulled out a clipboard and pen, offering it to the couple.

“What will happen to it?” Shawn asked.

Archer glanced at Shawn. “We’ll shelter him until he’s ready for release.”

Shawn nodded, his attention bouncing between Dr. Boone and the fawn. She knew what the look on her brother’s face meant. A thousand questions were coming. He started with, “What do you mean? Shelter?”

“Shawn, he’s got work to do,” Kylee said, trying to reel in her little brother and his endless fascination.

“Oh.” Shawn nodded. “Right.”

Dr. Archer almost smiled before he carried the deer into the back. Kylee watched. If it had been Fisher, she suspected he’d have answered all of Shawn’s questions. Chances were he’d have taken Shawn into the back and shown him around. She paused, wondering where the hell that had come from. She had no idea what Fisher would do. And more importantly, she didn’t care.

“Kylee,” Cutter waved her toward the admissions desk. “This is Donna. She’s looking to retire in...?”

“Right before Christmas. Five months, two weeks and about seventy hours,” Donna said, shaking Kylee’s hand. “Cutter said you might be interested in applying for the position?”

“That’d be cool.” Shawn nodded, his blue eyes inspecting the waiting room and check-in desk. “Learn about helping animals and stuff.”

“It is pretty cool.” Donna winked at Shawn before turning back to Kylee. “Money’s not bad. Hours are regular, rarely any overtime—that falls to the student workers who come on in the evenings for emergency duty. You get school holidays, which is nice when you have family.” She winked at Shawn. “It can get a little hairy now and then, but I guess working at the bar you’ve seen it all. Oh, and you get health care and retirement, too. And tuition reimbursement, if you want to go back to school.”

Kylee was speechless. She had no intention of applying for this job. But hearing the laundry list of reasons why she should apply gave her pause. A real job? Health benefits, normal hours, and vacation time with Shawn. She glanced at her brother, who was looking at her. She knew that look, that how-can-you-say-no? look. How could she say no?

She shook her head. She didn’t have a vehicle, for one, and it would be a long walk from the bar to the vet hospital. “I’m not so sure,” she spoke up. “I don’t have much experience with computers. Or animals.”

“I’d train you. It’s not hard—most of the programs are tailored for the school. You just gotta stay on top of things.” Donna shrugged. “And be nice to customers. They’re real uppity about being nice to the customers.”

Which was another problem. Kylee was civil but nice was a stretch.

Shawn snorted. “Never mind.”

Donna and Cutter laughed, too.

“Hey.” But she was smiling, too. “I thought you were on my side.”

“I am.” Shawn stared around the lobby. He was clearly impressed. But then, he hadn’t spent much of his life in a place this interesting—or clean. “You should work here.”

Her gaze followed his, taking in the detailed mural that ran around the top of the waiting room. It was gorgeous, a rainbow of subtly faded colored animals. Between the fish tank and the sliding glass doors into the clinic, there was a light and airy openness. Maybe that was why she felt nervous? The bar was dim and small, easier to hide in. She knew to be on guard and what to look for. But here? Working here would put her on display, front and center. Easy to find, if someone was looking.

“Just in case.” Donna slid several sheets of paper across the counter. “Here’s the application.”

Shawn nudged her until she picked up the papers. “Thanks.”

“Better be gettin’ back,” Cutter interrupted. “Got a bar to run.”

* * *

THE WEEK FLEW BY. Fisher was in charge of the spay clinic on Tuesdays and neuter clinic on Thursdays. Wednesday and Friday classes were followed by afternoon clinical rotations. Every day he checked on Kylee’s sweet-natured stray. The clinic had named him Chance—because he’d been given a second chance. He hadn’t lost the eye, but he had lost most of his ear. His back leg wasn’t broken, but the tissue and skin had been badly damaged. Chance had more stitches than Fisher cared to count. The dog would heal, but his gait would probably always be a little off. All things considering, Fisher was pleased things had turned out so well.

By the time quitting time rolled around Friday, he was glad he didn’t have emergency duty that weekend. His thumb was better, but still tender. And next week he’d need full range of motion to handle Goliath for his post-op visit. He and the giant rottweiler didn’t see eye to eye when it came to who was alpha in the room. It didn’t help that Goliath’s hundred-pound owner spoiled the beast. But it was time to check the damn dog’s pins and he was the only doctor who would still work with him, so resting his thumb was necessary.

Besides, a few days off from the hospital was a good thing. Not that his father would let him sit around and do nothing. Nope, Teddy Boone had a never-ending list of things to be done on the ranch. Cutting cedar, replacing fence stays, grading the back road that had washed out during the winter rains and rounding up calves were on the old man’s agenda. But tonight Fisher was going to enjoy himself.

Every weekend Cutter opened the dance hall off the bar, bringing a good portion of Stonewall Crossing out to enjoy the live music and family-friendly atmosphere. His brother Ryder had invited the whole family to the Shots dance hall that night.

His brothers—minus Archer—their wives and his cousins from Montana would all be there. Ryder’s wife, Annabeth, was getting close to delivering their twins so there weren’t a lot of nights out in their future. Annabeth wasn’t really up to dancing, but he suspected Ryder and their young son, Cody, were trying to cheer her up. She’d been pretty uncomfortable the last few weeks.

Knowing he’d see Kylee was an added incentive. She was a prickly little thing, someone he didn’t understand—yet. But that hadn’t stopped him from thinking about her throughout the week or hoping he’d see her when she checked in on Chance.

“Eye’s lookin’ better,” Cutter greeted him as he walked into the bar.

“Thanks. Feelin’ a bit better, too.” Fisher smiled.

“Here’s hoping this weekend is downright uneventful,” Cutter laughed.

“No arguments from me,” Fisher agreed, heading through the open doors and into the dance hall in back.

Most of his family was there already, crowded together around two tables. They smiled, waving him over.

“What happened to you?” Renata, his twin sister, was on her feet. “And why didn’t I know about it?” She frowned at her brothers.

“Nothing to tell, really.” Fisher hugged her.

“Way I hear it, he took one in the eye for Archer.” Ryder, the youngest Boone, grinned.

“First his roommate, now his stunt double,” his cousin Tandy said, wincing and shaking her head. “Archer owes you big time, cuz.”

“I’m with Tandy. Being the oldest means I have to look out for all of you, but—” his big brother, Hunter, pointed at Fisher’s eye “—taking a punch to the face for Archer is going above and beyond brotherly duty.” Hunter grinned. “I’m betting Archer didn’t shoulder much guilt over it. Or is he coming to buy you a thank-you beer later?”

“Nope,” Ryder shook his head. “He bowed out, something about some new something-or-other at the refuge needing his attention.”

“He needs a girlfriend,” Renata sighed.

Fisher, Ryder and Hunter burst out laughing.

“Hey, Fish— Your face!” Annabeth, Ryder’s very pregnant wife arrived, almost dropping the pitcher of water she carried.

“He’s fine, princess.” Ryder stood and pulled a chair back for her. “Don’t get yourself all worked up.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes.

“What are we laughing over?” Josie, Hunter’s wife, joined in. “I’m assuming it’s not Fisher’s face?”

“Sort of.” Hunter kissed his wife’s cheek.

“I was just saying Archer might benefit from the company of a lady friend,” Renata offered.

“What about the new bartender?” Annabeth asked. “She’s gorgeous.”

“She is, at that.” Toben, his cousin and Tandy’s twin, tipped his beer bottle at the bar. “I don’t think Archer could handle that one.”

“Kylee and Archer? As a couple?” Fisher asked before he could stop himself. He didn’t like the way Toben was looking at her. He heard the shock in his voice, and so did everyone else around the table. He didn’t miss the grins the women exchanged.

“Kylee, huh?” Hunter piped up, hiding his smile behind his beer.

Ryder was looking at him wide-eyed. “Huh,” he murmured before craning his neck to see the bar at the back of the room. “Where is she?”

“Working at the back bar,” Annabeth answered. “Long black hair. Biggest blue eyes. Other than yours, of course.” She grabbed Ryder’s chin and pressed a kiss to his lips.

Fisher watched, seeing the satisfied smile on his little brother’s face. His brother, the player...he never thought he’d see his brother so happily settled, but then Fisher had never had a woman look at him the way Annabeth was looking at Ryder. “Guess I’ll get a beer,” he mumbled, pushing himself up from his chair.

Which led to a few giggles from the women.

He didn’t respond as he made his way across the dance hall, smiling and exchanging pleasantries as he went.

Kylee didn’t see him, she was busy filling mugs and popping tops off beer bottles. Cutter didn’t serve hard liquor when the dance hall was open—only beer, water and soda. Cutter said it kept things from getting out of control and was more family friendly.

“What can I—?” She paused, her gaze meeting his. She caught sight of his face and wrinkled her nose.

“Evening, Kylee,” he said, smiling.

“Doc.” She nodded. “How’s the dog?”

“Getting stronger. Jarvis said you’ve stopped by a couple of times. Sorry I missed you.” He smiled. “You should come see him again. Nothing perks a fella’s spirits up like a visit from a pretty lady.”

Her eyes narrowed.

He held his hands up. “He told me to say that.”

“He? As in, the dog?” Kylee asked, smiling even though he could tell she tried like hell not to.

“Yep.” He nodded. “The dog.”

“Good to know he’s feeling well enough to talk.” She shook her head, looking uncomfortable as she murmured, “Thank you for looking after him.” She was pretty when she blushed. Who was he kidding? She was pretty all the time. Especially when she wasn’t frowning at him.

“Hey, lady, can we get a beer?” someone called from the other end of the bar.

“Cutter got you workin’ alone?” he asked.

“Joni called in sick.” Kylee shrugged. “Meaning her boyfriend is in town. Bobby’s coming in about an hour.” And with that, she went back to work.

“How’d I know I’d find you here?” Jarvis asked, sitting on one of the bar stools. “You should know, your whole family is watching.”

“More reason to stay here.” He sighed.

“Fisher,” Kylee called out, sliding his preferred beer down the bar toward him.

He grabbed the bottle—even though he hadn’t told her what he wanted. He shouldn’t read too much into it. She was a good bartender and he’d been a regular customer. That’s all. A bartender who was working...so he should leave her alone and stop giving his family a reason to talk.

“Feel free to join me.” He pointed to his family. “My cousins are new in town. I can introduce you to Tandy, if you promise to behave.”

“Making no promises,” Jarvis said.

Fisher took his beer, trying to dodge a group of kids—his nephew Eli, Hunter’s son, included—and stepped back, bumping into something. He turned to find a boy bent over, collecting papers and shoving them into a notebook.

“Sorry, mister,” the boy murmured, looking up at him.

“No problem.” He stooped beside the boy, picking up several papers. The boy liked horses; he’d drawn a lot of them. One in particular caught Fisher’s eye.

“I’ll meet you over there,” Jarvis said, leaving him for his very blonde, very pretty cousin.

Fisher nodded, still inspecting the sketch. “Did you draw these?”

The kid nodded, thick black hair flopping onto his forehead.

“These are really great.” Something about the kid was familiar. “Having fun?”

The boy’s smile was small, almost nervous, as his clear blue gaze met Fisher’s. “Yeah, I guess.”

He helped the boy pick everything up before offering the boy his hand. “Fisher Boone.”

The boy’s eyes went round. “You’re Doc Fisher?” The boy looked him up and down.

“Hey, Uncle Fisher,” Eli showed up. “Hey, Shawn.”

“Hey, yourself.” Fisher grinned at his nephew, then glanced back at the boy. “And who are you?”

“He’s Shawn, Kylee’s brother,” Eli offered up.

Shawn nodded in the direction of the bar. “The crazy dog-lady bartender. That’s my sister.”

Kylee had a little brother? It was obvious now. They both had black hair and blue eyes—and they both seemed nervous, wound too tight. What they were nervous about, he had no idea. Knowing she had a younger brother here with her was a surprise. Were they on their own? Shawn couldn’t be that much older than Eli. He had the gangly height and loose limbs of a boy on the cusp of manhood. Where were their parents?

“Nice to meet you,” Fisher said, glancing at Kylee. She worked with quick efficiency, at ease behind the bar. She was a puzzle, a beautiful puzzle. Meeting Shawn tonight reminded him there was a lot he didn’t know about her—a lot he wanted to know. “You’ve got a pretty cool sister,” he added.

Shawn nodded.

“Your face looks like it hurts, Uncle Fisher,” Eli said, shaking his head.

“You should see the other guy,” Fisher teased.

“Kylee said you knocked him out with one punch.” Shawn seemed impressed.

Fisher’s gaze returned to Kylee. So she’d told her brother. And while he didn’t want Shawn to think fighting was a good thing, he couldn’t deny it pleased him to know she had mentioned him to Shawn. She looked up then, her gaze searching the dance hall until she found Shawn. Fisher could see her relief from where he stood. Once more he pondered what would make her so anxious, almost like she was running from something. Or someone.

Her blue gaze met his. He lifted an eyebrow, pointing at Shawn with a grin. She smiled and it almost brought him to his knees. It was a real smile, given freely and withholding nothing. She loved her little brother with everything she had. And damn if he wouldn’t give everything to have her smiling over him like that.

“Fisher?” Eli waved a hand in front his face. “Fisher?”

He forced his attention from the beauty behind the bar. “What’s up?”

“What was the fight over?” Eli asked.

Fisher shook his head. “George Carson was upset and I was the one he decided to take it out on.”

“His mistake.” Shawn was looking at him with the same intensity Kylee had. “Sounds like a hothead.”

Fisher nodded, wondering how many hotheads were in Kylee and Shawn’s past.

“Come on.” Eli pushed Shawn’s shoulder. “You can draw later.”

Shawn shoved his sketchbook into the worn canvas bag slung over his shoulder. “Okay.”

“Y’all have fun.” Fisher smiled. “But stay out of trouble.”

“Yes, sir,” Eli said. Shawn nodded, giving his sister a quick wave. Fisher glanced back at Kylee, catching sight of her sweet smile again. When she smiled like that, he couldn’t do a thing but stare at her.

Renata joined him. “Looks like Archer’s out of luck,” she murmured.

Fisher frowned at his sister. “Aw, come on, Renata—”

“You might as well stop now. I know you, baby brother. You’re done for.” She was born three minutes before he was and loved to use her “seniority” when able. She patted his arm. “And if you keep looking at her like that, everyone’s going to know it. You’ve never had much of a poker face.”

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