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The ranch. It’s even more beautiful than I remember.
Jagged mountains cut the indigo sky. Sunlight sparkles across the dusting of snow.
Montana in its madness. At its finest.
My gaze lands on the protective barricade of forest around the ranch. Fear rolls through my bones. It’d be so easy for Aiden to be out there. Watching, waiting. Coming for me when I least expect it.
That’s when I see Davis.
And every bit of turmoil inside of me quiets.
He’s yards away at what looks like a small barn or shed. A sign above it reads: Warrior Heart Home. A German Shepherd runs after him, nipping at his boots. Davis lifts a hand and the dog halts in its tracks.
Then he goes and turns his baseball cap around. The single motion upends the entire alignment of my hormones. Hot. So goddamn sexy. The sleeves of his hoodie mold to his sculptedarms, and with his stubbled jaw, and broad shoulders, the effect is devastating.
I take a step toward him, but I freeze when the dog lunges and snarls at Davis. Sharp barks blast the air.
I look around for someone to help before he gets his face ripped off, only I’m stunned when Davis gets down on his knees in front of the dog. Nose to nose. He’s calm, no malice in his expression as he kneels there and lets the dog bark in his face. That chiseled jaw of his remains steady as he takes the dog’s abuse.
Commanding. Calm. Fearless.
A glimpse of the former Marine curls my toes. I wouldn’t want to be the man or dog who faced him down.
His deep voice carries on the air. “We’re gonna get you someplace safe, girl. Aren’t we? Just gotta get you into shape first.”
My heart flips in my chest.
This is why I fell for the man. Kind. Patient. Even with his dark, jagged pieces.
I watch as Davis and the dog engage in what looks like a type of training exercise. They run in tight lines across the frozen grass until they’re both panting hard. When they’re finished, they disappear into the shed. Not long after, Davis re-emerges. As if he’s felt my eyes on him the entire time, he lifts a hand, waving me over.
“Mornin’,” he drawls. His breath makes white puffs in the morning air.
“Morning,” I say, trying not to stare. I’ve never seen bicep definition like that in a hoodie.
“What’d you think of the show?”
“Couldn’t miss it.” My gaze homes in on the small shed. “What is this?”
“It’s the Warrior Heart Home.” He puts a hand out like he’s about to touch me, then stops himself. “Follow me. I’ll show you.”
He ushers me across the threshold into the small shed-like structure.
However, once inside, it’s anything but. It’s a state-of-the-art kennel facility. I take in the beds with plush fleece bedding and the wall-to-wall shelves neatly holding bags of dog food, grooming supplies, and equipment. Skylights flood the interior with natural light. A dozen dogs roam the fenced-in outdoor play yard.
“It’s a Marine dog rescue,” Davis explains, hanging up a leash on a hook. “I train them, then rehab and rehome them. Dogs I can’t rehome live here on the ranch.” He shifts when I don’t tear my gaze away from his face. “What?”
“It’s what I always suspected.” I smile. “You are a big softie.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “Dogs are born to do more than serve.”
“Sounds like you should take your own advice, Hotshot.” I laugh at the dogs bounding around the fenced-in area. “They’re so happy.”
“They’re safe here,” he says with a proud grunt. “And they know it.”
This, I realize, is why I’ve come home. Davis Montgomery keeps those he cares about safe. And that safety is everything to me.
A loud woof has me looking over. A brown and black German Shepherd rushes toward me. In his excitement, he trips over his paws and nearly takes out another dog.
