The Vet’s Unconditional Love (MacFarland Ranch #12)

Prologue

A few months ago

Harper smiled at Tanya, who was watching her with wide eyes as she cooked. "It smells so good."

"It is so good. I can't wait for you to taste it."

Tanya eyed the focaccia longingly. "The bread smells so good too. Are you sure we have to dip it in oil? Can't I just butter mine?"

Harper laughed. "I'll tell you what — once we're all set up, you can butter it. On one condition."

"What's that?"

"You have to try two dips of olive oil first. If you don't like it, then you can go ahead and butter yours instead. But you have to at least try it first."

Tanya still looked uncertain, but she nodded, willing as usual to give most anything a try.

They both turned when Alana appeared in the doorway. "Oh wow, Harper; it smells amazing in here. It's like walking into some fancy restaurant instead of Dad's kitchen."

"It's nothing fancy," Harper assured her. "When it comes down to it, all we're really eating is chicken and cornmeal."

Tanya's eyebrows drew together. "I thought you said we were having something fancy. Piccata, and… what was it?"

"Polenta," Harper told her with a smile. "Piccata and polenta. But the piccata is just chicken in a buttery sauce with asparagus and capers. And polenta's nothing more than cornmeal really."

Tanya peered into the pan. "Whatever it's made out of, it smells really good. I can't wait to try it."

Alana nodded her agreement. "What can I do to help?"

"I already set the table," said Tanya.

"I can see that. But what else do we need?"

"Not a thing," said Harper. "I know you girls are so good about getting things done around the house, but tonight's on me. I want you both to sit back and enjoy it. Okay?"

"I wish you could come every night; I like it when you're here. And not just because of the food," Tanya added hurriedly.

Alana didn't say anything, but she seemed deep in thought, and Harper hoped she wasn't reading too much into any of this. The last thing she wanted was for Alana to feel that she was trying to fill her mom's place.

"I'm sure you'd be sick of me and my cooking if I were around all the time. New and interesting is always good." Harper shrugged happily. "And I'm enjoying being that for a while."

She let the girls fix their own drinks and then asked them to sit at the table while she served their food.

She couldn't help laughing at the look on Tanya's face as she gingerly dipped her focaccia into the olive oil.

Alana proceeded with more confidence, though Harper had a feeling she felt exactly the same way as Tanya — she just didn't want to show it.

"Go on, try it," she told them. "Even if you hate it, it won't kill you."

Alana took a tiny nibble while Tanya took a huge bite.

"Hey, it's not bad," said Alana.

Tanya’s eyes widened, and she nodded as she chewed, making an appreciative noise until she could speak. "Oh my gosh, Harper, this is so good." This time she dunked her bread into the oil with considerably more enthusiasm.

Alana rolled her eyes. "You're not supposed to do it like that."

Harper turned away, not wanting to interfere between the two of them, and busied herself making sure she'd left everything set up so that Emmett could warm himself a plate whenever he got home.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Alana asked when she went back to join them at the table.

"I'll eat when I get home." The piccata smelled so delicious that she was hoping they wouldn't hear her stomach rumble, but sitting down to eat with them seemed like a step too far.

She didn't want to get to feeling too much at home here — for their sake and for hers.

She was helping out and hanging out; that was all.

"This is for you guys, and there'll be plenty of leftovers if you want more. "

"I do," said Tanya.

"You haven't even finished what you have yet," said Alana.

"I know, but it's so good. Dad's going to love this."

"Do you think so?" Harper asked.

"I know so," said Alana. "He loves chicken, and I think he'll like the polenta too."

Tanya pushed at a caper with her fork. "I was going to leave these little things, but I got one by accident and it's tasty. I think Dad will love them too."

"I'm glad you tried them," Harper told her. "They're what gives the piccata that something extra, don't you think?"

It was good to sit with them while they ate, even though it made her heart ache a little. Being around them always did. She couldn't help wondering what her own life might have been like if things had turned out differently.

She pushed to her feet when she heard the front door open, and Emmett called out, "Hey, I'm home."

"Hey, Dad, we're in the kitchen," Alana called. "Harper made dinner. You need to come try it. It's amazing."

Harper heard his footsteps in the hallway and reached for her purse. As much as she enjoyed being around him, she did her best to leave before he got back. Tonight, she'd cut it too fine.

When he appeared in the doorway, her heart skittered in her chest the way it always did when she saw him.

It still caught her off guard every time.

Sure, he was a good-looking man — broad-shouldered, his hair mostly silver now, with that rugged look about him that she wouldn't have given a second glance back in New York.

It was only since she'd moved here to Montana and met ruggedness in the flesh that she'd discovered just how much it did for her.

And in Emmett's case, rugged meant sexy.

She might never say that out loud — except maybe to Shelley — but she wouldn't deny it either.

He gave her a nod as he came in. He looked exhausted — not just tired, but the kind of worn out that came from too many long days stacked on top of each other with no let-up. She felt a pang of something she had no business feeling.

"Since you're home early, you could eat with the girls. I'll make you up a plate, if you like."

"Yeah, Dad, you need to try it," Tanya chimed in, already pushing her chair back. "Come sit down. And you have to have the bread, too." She stared guiltily at the last piece on the plate. "I nearly ate it all, but I think there's more."

"Sit down and finish your dinner," Emmett told her.

The table went quiet. Tanya dropped her head, and something tightened in Harper's chest at the sight of it.

"That's kind of you, Harper." He turned to her, his voice carefully even. "I appreciate you making dinner like this. But you've already done too much. I can get mine."

She turned away for a moment, closed her eyes, pressed her lips together. Then she turned back and did what she always did — wrapped what she actually wanted to say in a grin and said it anyway.

"Papa Bear's home now, ladies." She grinned at the girls, even though it cost her a little. "He can take care of everything by himself. I'll be on my way — I'll see you after school on Thursday."

The girls sensed the tension and just nodded. Neither of them reached for their forks.

Emmett scowled, and she felt her own temper rise to meet his.

"What? There's no need to get mad at me.

I offered to make you a plate because in my world, that's what you do when someone comes home from work tired.

" She glanced at the girls — at Tanya still looking at her lap — and felt the words coming before she could stop them.

"I forgot that in your world, your ability to handle everything alone is more important to you than—" Another glance "—anything or anyone else. "

She walked out, furious at herself. That was always her problem. She knew when to stop. She just never did.

She knew he was following but didn't turn around until she reached the front door. When she had her hand on it, she faced him and made herself hold his gaze.

"You can't be mad at me; everything I said was true."

His eyebrows drew together, two deep lines forming between them.

He looked furious — and then something shifted in his expression, something she couldn't quite read, and it stopped her cold.

Because it hit her all at once what she'd actually done.

He owned his self-reliance, always had — his friends knew it, he knew it, and he'd never pretended otherwise.

But he considered himself and the girls to be a unit.

A team. And with what she'd just said — with that glance at Tanya sitting with her head down — she hadn't just called him out.

She'd drawn a line between them, put herself and the girls on one side of it and left him standing alone on the other.

He opened his mouth.

"Anyway, I really have to go." She kept her voice light. "I'll drop the girls off on Thursday. See you then."

She was out the door before he could find words, pulling it shut behind her and crossing to her truck without looking back. Her hands weren't quite steady as she started the engine.

She didn't pull away until she was sure he wasn't hot on her heels, determined to give her a piece of his mind.

She wouldn't blame him.

Perhaps she'd do better to give him a wide berth for a while. She was an expert in being simultaneously useful and invisible, after all;