Chapter 4
Heather stood in the middle of the training field, whistle in her mouth and clipboard in hand as she worked with Holly, one of her top-performing rescue dogs.
Late afternoon sun cast long, golden shadows over the ranch, bringing it alive with a distinct rhythm.
The occasional lowing of cattle from a distant pasture, bursts of laughter from visiting guests, and the rhythmic clanging of the barn’s metal gates blended into an almost meditative hum.
For Heather, the steady routine of training her dogs offered a welcome distraction from the tangle of thoughts that had been pulling at her since Lyle had crashed back into her world.
She was mid-command when she felt the change in the air, a subtle but unmistakable shift, the kind that prickled at the back of your neck when someone familiar was watching.
Turning slightly, she caught sight of Lyle leaning against a nearby post, arms crossed casually, but those piercing blue eyes were sharply attentive.
This was becoming a habit. Didn’t the man have his own work to do?
She lowered the clipboard, pulling the whistle from her mouth. “Can I help you with something, or are you just here to critique my technique?”
Lyle grinned, his lopsided smirk enough to disarm even the most resolute of defenses—something Heather was increasingly annoyed to find she lacked around him.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said. “I’m on a recon mission.”
She bit her lip, wanting to laugh. “Recon? Involving me?”
“Yep. Mike and Joe want to write you into guest activities. I’ve been dispatched to gather intel on your training schedule.”
“Dispatched?” She was starting to feel like a parrot.
“Well, I might have volunteered.”
She did laugh then. “You could have sent a text.”
“Don’t have your number.”
She tugged her phone from the back pocket of her jeans. “What’s yours?” When he recited his number, she added it to her contacts, then sent him a text with a dog emoji. “There you go.”
His phone chimed with a three-note tune. Pushing off the fence, he came toward her, his gait loose and sexy. “This doesn’t mean I’ll stop finding excuses to drop by in person. I’m realizing I kind of enjoy the view.”
At that, Heather’s pulse quickened, and she forced herself to scoff lightly, tilting her head toward the field instead of letting his words linger in her chest. “Holly’s winding down for the day, but I’ve still got about thirty more minutes of working with her.”
Lyle held up a hand. “Don’t let me keep you. Just pretend I’m not here—unless one of these dogs turns wild and needs wrangling or doctoring. Then I’m your guy.”
Heather raised an eyebrow, her lips curving despite herself. She seemed to always be smiling around him. That was a welcome change from what her life had been the previous few years. “Oh, I’m sure a cowboy like you has plenty of practice wrangling mischief.”
“More than you’d believe.” His tone was playful, but there was a glint of something deeper in his eyes, something that made her heart do an inconvenient little leap before she turned back to Holly.
Clapping her hands, she let her voice regain its commanding timbre. “Holly, come!"
With precision, the dog responded immediately, trotting to Heather’s side and sitting attentively.
Heather crouched to scratch behind Holly’s ears, murmuring praise, before launching into a rapid-fire series of signals that had the dog weaving through a course of obstacles and scaling a low wall with ease.
When Holly returned to Heather’s side, panting happily, Heather gave her an enthusiastic rub before looking back at Lyle.
He pushed his hat back slightly, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Very impressive. The ranch guests would enjoy watching you work.”
Her cheeks warmed, and she stood straighter to mask it, brushing her hands off on her jeans. She was proud of her work and not above basking in a little praise. “Holly’s one of my best. She’s what I call a natural. She makes me look good.”
“Well, I don’t know much about training dogs at the level you do,” Lyle admitted, stepping closer to the fence, “but I’d say you’re a natural too. You game to have some guests come hang on your fence and watch you work?”
“Sure. Text me some time slots and I’ll be happy to work it in.”
The next few days passed in a whirlwind of training drills, client meetings, and unexpected interruptions.
Heather threw herself into work, hoping that the distraction of focused routines and familiar motions might ease the tension knotted deep in her chest. But no amount of busyness stopped her mind from circling back to Lyle.
Or Darren. Or the way Lyle had so naturally stepped into the protector role, even when she hadn’t asked for his help.
It was late Friday afternoon, but the sun still shimmered hot against the dusty ground. Heather had just finished a training session with a timid Border Collie named Muffin, who had finally started coming into her own, when she saw a figure approaching in the distance.
More guest coming to watch, she wondered? Mike hadn’t mentioned an extra time slot, and right now probably wouldn’t be good. She was expecting a private client within the hour.
Gathering Muffin’s leash, she shielded her eyes with one hand to get a better look.
Her heart gave a little leap when she realized it wasn’t Darren back for round three or one of the ranch’s guests.
It was Lyle, carrying what looked like a picnic basket in one hand, his cowboy hat tilted teasingly low over his brow.
Mercy, that man was one tall drink of iced tea!
One look and she was thirsty as all get out.
“Have to hand it to you, Vet,” she called out as he got closer. “You’ve got a flair for entrances.”
Lyle grinned, tipping his hat as he came to a stop just outside the training yard fence. “A couple of guests changed their mind about going on a picnic. Couldn’t stand to see good food going to waste, and figured since it’s lunch time, you might be just as hungry as me?”
Heather raised an eyebrow, tugging off her work gloves. “A picnic?”
Lyle leaned casually against the fence, his easy smirk softening into something more genuine.
“Nothing scandalous, Firefly. I promise. Just some cold sweet tea and a couple of sandwiches Mike whipped up. Think of it as a Watkins goodwill gesture. Can’t let our newly hired dog training demonstrator go hungry. ”
Heather smiled despite herself, her resolve to keep her walls intact weakening with every little thing he did. “Sweet tea, huh? I’d say you know your way to a Texan woman’s heart, but you’ve had that figured out for years, haven’t you?”
“C’mon now. Don’t flatter me, or I’ll start thinking you missed me while I was off in Montana.”
She rolled her eyes but stepped closer, opening the gate so he could join her in the shaded corner of the yard.
There’d been a lot of years and a lot of life between their youth, his move to Montana and her return to Bear Valley.
And although their paths hadn’t crossed since she’d gone off to college, she had to admit that she had missed him over the years—the fantasy of him, at least.
“Go ahead and set that down. I’ve got about a half an hour before my next client gets here.”
Lyle placed the basket on the ground, giving Muffin a slight nod of approval as the Border Collie padded over to investigate him cautiously. He crouched to scratch the dog behind the ears. “You’ve got a good eye for picking your rescues. This one’s gonna be a keeper.”
“She’s a work in progress,” Heather said softly, tinkering with Muffin’s collar. “But I think we all are, in our own way.”
Lyle’s gaze flicked up to hers at that remark, his expression unreadable for a moment before he straightened and leaned against the fence post. “How’s she doing on the scent-training?”
“Better,” Heather replied. “She’s getting faster at finding specific items, but she has moments where she hesitates. Still a little scared, I think.”
“Can’t fault her for that,” Lyle murmured. “Sometimes a little fear just means she’s got more heart than she knows what to do with.”
Heather wasn’t sure if he was still talking about Muffin, or if they’d crossed into metaphor territory, but the weight of his gaze made her stomach dip like she’d walked too close to the edge of a cliff.
She unfolded a couple of lawn chairs she kept for clients or spectators and offered him a seat.
“Most dogs I work with can’t hide what they’re feeling,” she said after a beat, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she sat and unwrapped one of the sandwiches he’d brought.
“People, on the other hand? Y’all are harder to read. ”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Lyle replied, his tone light but his eyes still holding hers. “You seem pretty good at spotting who’s trouble.”
If she weren’t so unwavering in her resolve to protect her heart, she might’ve admitted that Lyle Watkins was exactly the kind of trouble she didn’t have an answer for.
He leaned forward in the cloth director’s chair, elbows resting on widespread, denim-clad knees, a sandwich held in his large, work-worn hands.
Just looking at him made her mind go blank.
For heaven’s sake, she wasn’t normally the kind of woman who had to pick her tongue up off the ground in the mere presence of a sexy, handsome man.
Needing a distraction, she took a slow sip of the sweet tea he’d handed her and carefully changed the subject.
“You mentioned Charlotte’s staying close to Joe these days,” she said. “How’s she doing with everything?”