Heather exhaled slowly, visibly relieved. Her body relaxed, but her hand stayed on the puppy, reluctant to let go of her soft, furry charge. Lyle watched her for a moment, the way worry turned into something sweet and soft in her expression, and for reasons he didn’t want to examine just yet, it made his chest ache.
Charlotte stood next to them now, her wide eyes fixed on the dog. “Will he stay here, Uncle Lyle?” she asked quietly, her little voice rising above the hum of animals and activity in the barn.
Heather crouched down to Charlotte’s level, offering her a reassuring smile. “No, sweetheart. Once his throat is all better, he’ll go home with me and rest. But he’s in great hands now, thanks to your Uncle Lyle.”
“Why did a bee sting him?" Charlotte asked, her arms squeezing the tabby closer.
Heather’s eyes softened. “I train dogs to help find people, or sometimes to just be a sweet companion." She stroked the soft fur of the cat in Charlotte's arms. "Biscuit got a little wild during class and ended up in the honeysuckle patch, right on top of the bees."
The corners of Charlotte's mouth barely tipped up, but she didn’t follow with a barrage of questions like most little girls her age would have.
"What's your kitten's name?" Heather asked when the silence stretched.
Charlotte shrugged and looked tentatively toward Lyle.
"That's Pudge," Lyle said softly. “She's learning to be a barn cat."
"Well," Heather said, standing and lightly brushing Charlotte's curly blond hair. "Maybe one day Pudge will grow up to be a helper cat, just like some of my dogs.”
Lyle’s throat tightened at the way Heather spoke to Charlotte, patient and gentle, yet firm enough to make the little girl’s eyes light up with understanding. He hadn’t seen that look on Charlotte’s face much lately, and it caught him off guard. But before he could analyze the moment and exactly what he was feeling, the sound of a truck rolling up outside broke the spell.
Joe Watkins climbed out of his white F350, his posture cool and collected as always. His sharp eyes took in Heather’s SUV, the bundle of puppy on the table, and Charlotte’s curious stance in one sweep.
“I see you’re already keeping my brother on his toes, Heather,” Joe said smoothly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Some things never change,” she quipped, though her cheeks flushed again under Joe’s sharp gaze.
Lyle hid his grin, noting the way Joe’s presence always seemed to effortlessly command a room. His brother had that energy about him—cool, capable, and almost always a step ahead of everyone else in business matters. It was no wonder he was the family’s financial genius.
“What do you need, big brother?” Lyle asked, leaning back against the table and folding his arms.
Joe’s grin widened a touch. “Just checking on you. Figured I’d make myself useful. I heard Charlotte had set up camp in the barn again.”
Lyle could see the tension ebb out of Charlotte as Joe spoke. She may still have been wary of the cowboys on this ranch she'd suddenly and tragically found herself living on, but Joe’s quiet and steady demeanor had chipped away at her walls in a way Lyle had yet to manage, but was grateful for.
“You go ahead and settle in with Charlotte,” Lyle told Joe, his gaze flicking back to Heather. “Heather and I have some catching up to do.”
Heather raised an eyebrow at that but didn’t protest as Joe gave a faint chuckle and guided Charlotte out of the barn, murmuring something about how they could check on the horses out back.
As soon as they were gone, Lyle turned his full attention back to Heather. “You look good. All grown up and making the rest of us look bad with your fancy dog-training operation.”
“Now how would you know that? You’ve barely been back three weeks.”
“Keeping tabs on me, hmmm?”
She flicked her long brown hair behind her ear in a decidedly nervous gesture even as her shoulders squared. “That’s not all that difficult. Most of the women in this town still talk about you like you’re Bear Valley’s favorite son.”
He gave a dismissive laugh and stroked the soft fur of the puppy. “Times change.”
“Yes, they do. I’m sorry about your parents, Lyle. And Jeff and Sherry.”
“Yeah. Thanks. It’s been hard on Charlotte.”
“On all of you, I imagine. I wish I could have made it home in time for the services. I was committed to leading a seminar in Maine, but Frank kept me informed.” She placed her hand on his arm. “Your family has lost so much, Lyle. It doesn’t seem fair.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgment, his gaze cataloging her body—which felt safer at the moment somehow, rather than allowing himself to sink into grief. This was not the Heather Prescott of his youth. Funny that it hadn’t even registered with him that she wasn’t at the funeral—even though Frank had been there. He supposed it was because Heather had merely been his best friend’s little sister. Their five-year age difference had been a huge gap when they were eighteen and thirteen. She had been easy to tease and dismiss, never even on his radar.
Until now.
