“It’s a lot to tackle on your own.”
Mike nodded. “It was easier with Mom and Dad here.”
She hadn’t meant to remind him of his loss and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. The Watkins boys had lost their parents in an instant, and the wound was still very fresh.
But Mike shook off his sadness and continued. “I just told Joe the other night we’re going to need to start hiring. Kenny’s handling the horseback rides, and now that Lyle’s home, he’s pitching in with the outdoor activities as well as doctoring the animals, and Joe and I are holding down the fort on the inside.”
“Looks like Joe’s also doing his fair share on the outside, too.” Her gaze drifted toward the window, where Joe and Lyle were tossing hay into the back of a trailer. Lyle’s shirt clung to his back from the strenuous activity and the morning heat, his movements fluid, strong, and utterly distracting. And why in the world was she even noticing him? Her hormones were definitely out of whack.
“Joe’s a multi-tasker.”
“As I’m sure you are,” she said with a smile, dragging her gaze away from the cowboy activity outside.
“The kitchen’s pretty much my domain.” He slid a batch of pancakes into the warming oven and started heating syrup. “Want to stay for breakfast? Guests should be coming down soon. I bet they’d love to come watch you with the dogs after their morning ride. And Kenny should be here any minute to make sure of everyone’s skill level so he can saddle up the right horses for the trail rides.”
“I’ll pass on the breakfast, but your guests are welcome to stop by the training field any time. I’ll be happy to entertain them.”
Just then, Kenny Watkins walked through the back door. Of the four Watkins brothers, Kenney was the most intense, and the one she knew the least. All four brothers had been in the military at around the same time. According to her brother, Frank, not all of them had come home the same.
Mike was a retired Army medic, but medicine wasn’t his dream. Owning his own restaurant and cooking is what drove him—thus the dude ranch. Joe had been a helicopter pilot in the service. He was brilliant with finances and was partly responsible for the Watkins’ fortune—even though they all had trust funds, compliments of their grandfather Quentin’s oil field investments. Lyle and Kenny were retired Marine Corps. Lyle had retained his sexy, flirty, happy-go-lucky personality, but Kenny had come home a different man. According to Frank, Kenny had been a special ops sharp shooter. He’d seen and done things no one talked about. And it had changed him.
Kenny paused at the back door and gave her an unreadable, almost palpable look. She felt like he was reading her mind, could hear her inner speculation, and it made her uncomfortable. Her ex-husband, Bret, had had a similar aura about him. But Bret’s intensity held a mean streak. Kenny, like Lyle and his other brothers had been raised by a pastor. A good man. They were warriors who were conditioned to rescue—not harm.
Kenny nodded. “Heather.”
“Hey,” she said.
“Your riding party should be down any minute, bro,” Mike said as he got out china plates and silverware.
“They fill out the questionnaire?”
Mike nodded toward the sideboard. “Yep. Right over there. Three of them have ridden before—one claims she’s intermediate—and the fourth is a complete novice. A little scared, it sounded like.”
Kenny retrieved the forms. “I’ll saddle up accordingly.” With a nod to Heather, he slipped out the back door as quietly as he’d come in.
“So,” Mike said with a grin. “How’s my brother, Lyle, treating you these days?”
Heather whipped her head back, narrowing her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but there’s nothing going on. I’ve barely even spoken to him since he’s been back.”
“Uh-huh,” Mike said, his voice dripping with mock innocence. “If you say so.”
“Mike Watkins,” she huffed, turning the topic back to safer territory. “You’ve got enough going on with this ranch to keep you busy. Maybe focus on that instead of playing matchmaker.”
“I’m just saying,” he began, putting another stack of pancakes into the warming oven, “it’d sure make things more interesting around here. And God knows Charlotte could use more people like you in her life.”
Heather felt the weight of that statement settle unexpectedly in her chest. Charlotte. That sweet little girl with eyes too old for her age. Heather was trying not to get too attached, but the bond they were forming was undeniable. And it terrified her.
Thankfully, Heather didn’t have to answer, because at that exact moment, Charlotte herself came bounding into the kitchen, Pudge riding in her arms like a princess in training. “Miss Heather! Look!” she exclaimed.
Heather crouched, gave the kitten a stroke and smiled. “Well, don’t you look like a professional with your helper cat. What’s Pudge up to today?”
“Uncle Joe says I can help him in the garden, and Pudge wants to help too,” Charlotte replied, her curls bouncing with her enthusiasm. Heather laughed softly, reaching out to adjust a stray strand of curly hair from Charlotte’s tiny face.
“I’m having the hardest time getting used to your uncles cooking and tending gardens.” She stood, noticing through the window that Lyle was headed to the barn. Chicken that she was, she decided to escape to her own sanctuary before he saw her.
Because she was starting to feel like that too-young-tag-along of their youth. Hoping for a glance or a word from the older boy who held her heart and barely knew she existed.
Out on the training field later that day, Heather was working with a pair of high-energy Labs when she saw Darren Richards’ sleek black truck pull into the driveway. Her body tensed instinctively, her mind flipping through a thousand reasons for why he might be back. None of them were good. She didn’t trust his persistence. Her business wasn’t and had never been for sale. Sure, she was trying to expand—thus the offer she’d put on the ten acres just outside of town. But that deal was private. No one but her, Frank and the realtor knew what she had in the works.
