Chapter 1 #2
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.
"You usually work like that?" he asked, taking in her tight jeans, fancy boots and even tighter tank top.
She wore a little cropped pink sweater she probably thought preserved her modesty, but it was sexy as hell.
Her shiny, rich brown hair flowed past her shoulders, shifting with every step she took.
The girl he remembered had usually worn her hair scraped into a ponytail or bun.
“I hadn't intended to work, but figured I'd get in a little instruction while Biscuit had a potty break. I was supposed to go to Cooter’s. Now, I think I better just get back home and take care of the puppies.”
“Cooter’s, huh? Planning on a little honky-tonking?”
She laughed. “Not exactly planning. More like being pushed.”
“Who’s doing the pushing?”
“Frank.” She raised her brows. “Remember him?”
He wondered if she knew how sexy that eyebrow quirk was. And he wondered why the heck he was noticing. And responding! He grinned. “Vaguely. Six foot. Bushy hair. My best friend since grade school?”
“Yep. That’s my brother. Ever since he and Lori got married, he’s decided that my life is boring and I need to get out and find a man.
” Little did her brother know that was the furthest thing from her mind.
Her ex-husband, Bret, had seen to that. But no one in her family knew the darker secrets of her disastrous marriage and she intended for it to stay that way.
Thus, her agreement to go along with Frank and Lori's persistence.
Lyle’s brow rose, tipping his hat. “Never known Frank to meddle.”
“He’s turned over a new leaf. It’s a bit much."
“So what’s the problem?”
She shrugged. “I’m more comfortable with animals than people.”
He could relate. To an extent. He certainly enjoyed getting out.
Definitely enjoyed women. Lyle tilted his head, his crooked grin softening.
“Well, Firefly, you’ve got a knack for the critters, no doubt about that.
But people aren’t so bad. You just have to train them like your dogs—some need a firm hand, some need a soft touch, and some just need a good belly rub. ”
Heather laughed, the sound light and unexpected. “Is that your secret? Charm every living creature with belly rubs?”
“Works on most.” He gave her a wink. “Though I suspect you’re a little more complicated than your pups. Probably take strategy and patience. Lucky for you—” he spread his arms in a mock boast “—patience is my specialty.”
“Is that so?” Heather rolled her eyes, but the edges of her lips curved upward. She turned her attention back to Biscuit, who had fallen asleep on the stainless-steel table now that the swelling and breathing issues had stabilized. Her voice softened. “Thanks for saving him, Lyle. He’s important.”
“That’s my job. Just don’t let him near another honeysuckle patch, and you’ll be fine.”
She smiled at that, an expression of both relief and gratitude that hit Lyle right in the chest. “I’ll try. Though these little troublemakers have a way of keeping me on my toes.”
“Word on the street is that you’re pretty good at what you do.”