Chapter 2
The late afternoon sun slipped low in the sky, slanting golden light across the Watkins ranch and painting long shadows over the rolling fields.
Lyle pulled his worn Stetson off his head and wiped at the line of sweat under his hairline.
The barn cat darted past his boots, a streak of gray fur, as Charlotte ran along behind it, giggling loudly enough to make Lyle’s heart ease a little.
It wasn’t much, but her laugh was a piece of the puzzle he’d been trying to solve every day since that shattered night he got the phone call.
He didn’t know whether it was normal grief for a little girl her age or something deeper, but each time her laughter echoed across the ranch, it felt like he’d done something right, even if he didn’t know what that something was.
Joe came sauntering out of the main house, a mason jar of lemonade in hand. His brother had that easy, calculated energy that made everyone around him look like they were running sprints while he played a chess game ten moves ahead.
“Admit it, you’ve turned into a full-out Texan again,” Joe said, leaning back against the fence with a grin.
“Don’t know that I left Texas so much as Texas left me alone for a bit,” Lyle replied, his voice carrying a trace of amusement.
His easy-going tone didn’t betray the weight pressing down on his shoulders—the ranch, Charlotte, his veterinary work, and the strange, persistent pull whenever Heather’s green-eyed gaze flashed through his mind.
Blame it on the way she’d burst into the barn two days ago or the fact that her chaotic energy had lit up the otherwise business-as-usual afternoon, but he hadn’t stopped thinking about that moment.
Joe narrowed his eyes. “You’ll settle back in, little brother. Always do. And speaking of settling back in… you’re gonna want to tread careful with that Heather Prescott situation.”
Lyle shot him a look, half-annoyed, half-incredulous. “First of all, there isn’t a ‘Heather Prescott situation.’”
“Mmm-hmm,” Joe said, his grin widening as he took a long pull from the lemonade. “That why you were leaning on every word out of her mouth when you were oh-so-carefully treating her dog?”
“Joe, I swear, you’ve got more fanciful ideas about people than old man Clyde has about rain patterns,” Lyle said, though his irritation wasn’t enough to keep a small smile from breaking through.
“Imagined or not,” Joe said, lowering his voice slightly, as though what he was about to say might sneak up on someone other than just Lyle, “just don’t get in too deep unless you’re planning on staying this time.”
The implication hung in the air between them like dust floating through a shaft of light. Lyle didn’t have to ask what Joe meant. And with Charlotte being his responsibility now, it wasn’t just about Lyle figuring out his restless heart anymore.
“I don’t have time to think much past the next few chores, much less entertain ideas about our neighbor,” Lyle finally said, pulling his gloves from his jeans’ back pocket and slipping them back on.
“Now are we movin’ those bulls tomorrow or not?
I’m starting to get calls from folks in town needing me to come out and tend to their stock. ”
But before Joe could respond, Charlotte suddenly called out, standing at the edge of the barn, “Uncle Lyle! Pudge climbed in the hay, and now she won’t come down!”
Joe tipped his hat forward. “That’s my cue to head toward the house before I get pulled into rescue duty. Best you get to cat-wranglin’, cowboy.”
As Joe ambled away, Lyle strode toward Charlotte, adjusting his hat before scooping the little girl up into his arms so she could peer over the edge of the haystack.
“And there she is,” Lyle said, voice calm and steady. “Looks like she’s waitin’ on you to coax her out.”
Charlotte leaned further into Lyle’s side as she pointed toward the small gray bundle perched precariously near the top. “Can you reach her?”
“Don’t you worry, Char,” Lyle said with an easy grin.
“This is nothing for us professionals.” As the words left his lips, his mind wandered to another professional, a sexy one with green eyes and mink-colored hair.
She was taking up a lot of space in his thoughts.
With Charlotte snuggled in his arms, and Heather Prescott tugging at his curiosity, he suddenly had the very real feeling that maybe, just maybe, for the first time in years, he didn’t entirely feel like he was running.
The next morning dawned with a crisp breeze and the soft glow of a sun just beginning to rise over the open fields of Bear Valley.
Heather stood at the edge of the training yard, her eyes scanning the horizon as her breath mingled with the cool air.
A row of eager tails wagged behind her, her canine trainees sitting dutifully with expectant eyes.
It was her favorite time of day—the quiet before the world fully woke up.
She unclipped Benny’s lead rope, the floppy-eared Labrador beside her, then let out a long, deliberate whistle and watched as he trotted toward the scent trail marked between the fence posts. The dog was eager, his tail brushing back and forth like a windshield wiper.
“Good boy,” she murmured as Benny stopped suddenly, sniffed twice, and nosed the neon-blue handkerchief she’d tied to the cedar stake at the corner of the field.
Heather crouched down, ruffling the dog’s head before letting him lick her hand in triumph.
“You’re getting better at this every day, Benny. ”
Her voice cut through the morning stillness as she next gave Scout and Holly a series of commands.
The German Shepherd and Golden Retriever leaped to action, their movements confident but controlled as they zigzagged through the course she’d set up, seeking the scent she’d already primed them with.
Heather watched, pride swelling in her chest as the dogs performed with precision.
Training animals was the one place she felt entirely in control, a sharp contrast to the way her heart had wavered in Lyle Watkins’ presence two days ago.
Why did it have to be him? she mused, crossing her arms as her lips pressed into a thin line.
She was happy in Bear Valley—or rather, content.
Comfortable. Lyle’s sudden reappearance, with his easy charm, slow Southern drawl and undeniable pull was something she hadn't prepared for. The way he’d called her Firefly like no time had passed, like she was still the same girl who used to blush every time he smiled her way...
It rattled her, made her feel too much and too exposed.
“Good boy, Scout!” Heather knelt as the German Shepherd completed his final pass, wagging his tail furiously as his cold, wet nose nuzzled into her hand, depositing the small scrap of yellow fabric she’d hidden beneath a rock on the course.
She scratched him behind the ears, letting his enthusiasm tug a small smile from her lips.
“You’re going to make someone very proud, buddy.” She knew he’d be ready to go to his forever handler soon. That was the hard part of what she did. Getting attached to these special animals, then giving them up so they could go on to fulfil their true potential.
The crunch of boots on gravel made her straighten, her heart skipping once before she forced it to settle. Would she ever learn to feel completely at ease again? Like a normal person?
When she turned, Lyle was there, looking like he’d stepped out of a country song, his hat tipped low over those blue eyes and a confident stride in his step.
He tipped the brim of his hat as he got closer. “Morning, Firefly.”
There it was again, that nickname, curling through her like the lingering warmth of golden-hour sun. “Morning,” she replied, her tone even as she busied herself unclipping Scout’s lead. “I didn’t expect to see you out this early.”
“Thought I’d see what all the fuss was about with these world-class dogs you’re training,” he drawled, leaning on the fence with an easy grin. “Besides, Charlotte wanted to stay back a bit with Joe. He’s teaching her how to make biscuits, apparently.”
Heather’s lips twitched into a smile. “Joe? Teaching biscuits? That man doesn’t look like he’s ever touched dough in his life. I thought Mike was the fancy cook.”
“Yeah. Mike’s the cook. But Joe is turning himself inside out trying to soften Charlotte.” He tilted his head to watch the dogs. “So, this is where all the magic happens.”
Heather raised an eyebrow, one hand resting on her hip. “Magic? No, this is where hard work happens. But I suppose you wouldn’t know too much about that, Vet.”
“Ouch.” He laughed, the sound as warm as the sunlight breaking through the clouds. “You wound me.”
“You’ll live,” she said lightly. Scout barked, and she turned to shush him, pressing a firm hand to his side to reassure the animal.
She released him with a hand signal and the shepherd took off along the obstacle course, pressing a bell with his nose at each station before moving on as Heather called commands and heaped praise.
Lyle watched her work, eyes tracing the effortless movements with quiet admiration.
“You’ve always been good at this, haven’t you?” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now, laced with genuine curiosity.
Heather paused, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. “What? Training?”
“No.” He gestured vaguely. “Caring. For everything. Animals, people. Charlotte hasn’t stopped talking about you since you barreled in with Biscuit all bundled up.”
There was something in his tone that made her chest ache, a rawness that she recognized because she carried it too. “She’s a good kid. She just needs time,” Heather said softly, her hands busy untangling another leash.
“I hope so. She’s stronger than she looks,” Lyle murmured, more to himself than to her.
Heather hesitated, but the vulnerability in his voice had her turning toward him. “So are you, Lyle,” she said, surprising herself with how bold the words sounded aloud.