Although she didn’t particularly care for Lyle’s insistence on taking charge, she wouldn’t mind knowing a little more about Darren Richards. She had no idea if there was a battle to be fought, but if there was, she didn’t plan to surrender her control, to allow a man to swoop in and take over.
Even if that man made her heart skip and yearn.
4
Heather stood in the middle of the training field, whistle in her mouth and clipboard in hand as she worked with Holly, one of her top-performing rescue dogs. Late afternoon sun cast long, golden shadows over the ranch, bringing it alive with a distinct rhythm. The occasional lowing of cattle from a distant pasture, bursts of laughter from visiting guests, and the rhythmic clanging of the barn’s metal gates blended into an almost meditative hum. For Heather, the steady routine of training her dogs offered a welcome distraction from the tangle of thoughts that had been pulling at her since Lyle had crashed back into her world.
She was mid-command when she felt the change in the air, a subtle but unmistakable shift, the kind that prickled at the back of your neck when someone familiar was watching. Turning slightly, she caught sight of Lyle leaning against a nearby post, arms crossed casually, but those piercing blue eyes were sharply attentive.
This was becoming a habit. Didn’t the man have his own work to do?
She lowered the clipboard, pulling the whistle from her mouth. “Can I help you with something, or are you just here to critique my technique?”
Lyle grinned, his lopsided smirk enough to disarm even the most resolute of defenses—something Heather was increasingly annoyed to find she lacked around him.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said. “I’m on a recon mission.”
She bit her lip, wanting to laugh. “Recon? Involving me?”
“Yep. Mike and Joe want to write you into guest activities. I’ve been dispatched to gather intel on your training schedule.”
“Dispatched?” She was starting to feel like a parrot.
“Well, I might have volunteered.”
She did laugh then. “You could have sent a text.”
“Don’t have your number.”
She tugged her phone from the back pocket of her jeans. “What’s yours?” When he recited his number, she added it to her contacts, then sent him a text with a dog emoji. “There you go.”
His phone chimed with a three-note tune. Pushing off the fence, he came toward her, his gait loose and sexy. “This doesn’t mean I’ll stop finding excuses to drop by in person. I’m realizing I kind of enjoy the view.”
At that, Heather’s pulse quickened, and she forced herself to scoff lightly, tilting her head toward the field instead of letting his words linger in her chest. “Holly’s winding down for the day, but I’ve still got about thirty more minutes of working with her.”
Lyle held up a hand. “Don’t let me keep you. Just pretend I’m not here—unless one of these dogs turns wild and needs wrangling or doctoring. Then I’m your guy.”
Heather raised an eyebrow, her lips curving despite herself. She seemed to always be smiling around him. That was a welcome change from what her life had been the previous few years. “Oh, I’m sure a cowboy like you has plenty of practice wrangling mischief.”
“More than you’d believe.” His tone was playful, but there was a glint of something deeper in his eyes, something that made her heart do an inconvenient little leap before she turned back to Holly.
Clapping her hands, she let her voice regain its commanding timbre. “Holly, come!"
With precision, the dog responded immediately, trotting to Heather’s side and sitting attentively. Heather crouched to scratch behind Holly’s ears, murmuring praise, before launching into a rapid-fire series of signals that had the dog weaving through a course of obstacles and scaling a low wall with ease.
When Holly returned to Heather’s side, panting happily, Heather gave her an enthusiastic rub before looking back at Lyle.
He pushed his hat back slightly, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Very impressive. The ranch guests would enjoy watching you work.”
Her cheeks warmed, and she stood straighter to mask it, brushing her hands off on her jeans. She was proud of her work and not above basking in a little praise. “Holly’s one of my best. She’s what I call a natural. She makes me look good.”
“Well, I don’t know much about training dogs at the level you do,” Lyle admitted, stepping closer to the fence, “but I’d say you’re a natural too. You game to have some guests come hang on your fence and watch you work?”
“Sure. Text me some time slots and I’ll be happy to work it in.”
The next few days passed in a whirlwind of training drills, client meetings, and unexpected interruptions. Heather threw herself into work, hoping that the distraction of focused routines and familiar motions might ease the tension knotted deep in her chest. But no amount of busyness stopped her mind from circling back to Lyle. Or Darren. Or the way Lyle had so naturally stepped into the protector role, even when she hadn’t asked for his help.
It was late Friday afternoon, but the sun still shimmered hot against the dusty ground. Heather had just finished a training session with a timid Border Collie named Muffin, who had finally started coming into her own, when she saw a figure approaching in the distance.
