He grinned. “Glad you got to see me.” He reached out and tugged at the sleek ponytail she’d threaded through her ball cap. It was a familiar gesture, something he’d done countless times when they were young.
But they weren’t kids anymore.
Heather stood frozen in the barn’s shadowed doorway, watched him saunter away as though he hadn’t just sent her heart soaring straight to her throat. The longing that swamped her made her hands shake.
Goodness!
Later that afternoon, Heather sent Lyle a quick text:
**Taking the dogs to the senior assisted living center for a visit. Thought Charlotte might enjoy coming along. Let me know.**
The reply came almost instantly.
**Charlotte says I don’t have a choice. Be there in ten.**
Heather smiled, her thumb lingering over the keyboard. She decided against a response and instead began loading her trained service dogs into the back of her truck, trying to tell herself she wasn’t half giddy over the thought of seeing Lyle again—even if he was just dropping off his Goddaughter.
Biscuit wagged his tail furiously, thrilled at the prospect of an outing, while Muffin watched from her kennel, calmer but equally attentive. Heather double-checked their vests, ensuring they were prepped to play their role as morale boosters for Bear Valley’s senior residents.
True to his word, Lyle arrived exactly ten minutes later, his truck rumbling to a stop beside hers. Charlotte was already climbing out of her booster seat before he could get to her, Pudge cradled in her arms once again.
“Whoa, there, missy. Give me a sec.”
“We’re ready, Miss Heather!” she declared, craning her neck around Lyle’s hat, her enthusiasm infectious.
“I know the invite was for Charlotte,” Lyle said, “but she insisted that I come, too.” The brim of his hat cast a shadow over his face as he shot Heather a lopsided grin. “Can’t say no to a determined six-year-old. Hope you’ve got room in that Jeep?”
Heather rolled her eyes, deliberately avoiding the tug in her chest that his grin always seemed to spark. She didn't imagine it was easy for him to drop everything and take off spontaneously like this. It just went to show how determined he was to reach Charlotte, to give her whatever she needed in order to smooth her path along this journey life had thrown her on.
“Guess you can ride along. Charlotte looks like she’s got things under control anyway.”
They transferred Charlotte’s safety seat into Heather’s Jeep and secured the dogs in their crates in the back. She was only taking Biscuit, Muffin and Holly so as not to overwhelm the residents of the senior center or herself. Biscuit was a bit iffy since he was still in his puppy stage and unpredictable, but who could resist a puppy? As for Muffin, this was another step in her training program to expose her to people and unfamiliar places. Holly was the well-behaved one of the bunch, there to help Heather keep the other two in line.
The drive was short, filled with Charlotte’s endless chatter about Pudge’s new skills as a “helper kitty” and Lyle’s occasional teasing interjections. Heather found herself smiling more than she had in weeks, though she kept her focus firmly on the road, refusing to fully surrender to the warmth blossoming in her chest.
Or the desire. Visuals alone, this man was a dream. A pair of cowboy boots and a hat tipped low and sexy would get her every time. Actually, if she thought about it, that wasn't true. She wasn't usually one to go ga-ga over a handsome man.
Lyle Watkins was an exception. Had been since she was a young girl.
When they arrived at the senior center, Heather led her dogs inside, Biscuit taking the lead with his natural, puppy exuberance. The residents’ faces lit up immediately, their eyes shining as Holly and Muffin also wove their way through the room, noses nudging hands and tails wagging joyfully.
Heather glanced back and paused, her breath catching. Lyle was crouched beside a frail woman in a wheelchair, speaking softly as he supervised Charlotte placing Pudge in the elderly woman’s lap. The kitten curled into a ball, purring quietly as if it instinctively knew it was needed. That little cat was the darnedest thing. If Heather wanted to be fanciful, she might imagine it was an angel in disguise.
“You like cats, Miz Jacobs?” Lyle asked, his tone warm and genuine.
She nodded, her thin fingers stroking Pudge’s fur as her eyes filled with unshed tears. “I used to have one just like this,” she murmured, her smile trembling but radiant. She stared at him for a solemn moment. "Didn't I teach you in sixth grade?" she asked, her shrewd eyes still filled with a youthful spark even though her legs, covered in a colorful afghan, would no longer hold her.
"Yes, ma'am. Learned just about everything I know from you."
She scoffed, her frail hand stroking the kitten. "Too charming for your own good. All you Watkins boys were. What are you up to these days?"
"Tending to the health of the town's animals and wrangling this little girl." He ruffled Charlotte's blonde curls.
Just then, Biscuit shimmied under a recliner chair, giving a soft bark at something wedged beneath. "Oh, no. Wait! I'll get it, Biscuit." Charlotte took off to help the puppy retrieve whatever he was after, delighting the gentleman sitting in said recliner.
Mrs. Jacobs reached out and gripped Lyle's hand. "I'm so sorry for your loss, hun."
"Thank you, kindly, Miz Jacobs."
