Amazed that a self-professed city girl like Ally could take so early to such a task, Hank moved the puppies away from Duchess and back into the incubator, one by one, where they would be certain to stay warm.

All except the littlest one.

“You want to put her in the warming box, too?” he asked Ally, before he went up to bed himself.

Her gentle smile beautiful to behold, she cuddled the tiny pup to her chest. “I think I’ll hold her just a little while longer,” she murmured, without looking up.

And Hank knew for certain what he’d only guessed before. Ally was in love. With the puppy whose life he had saved…


“JUST A LITTLE WHILE LONGER” turned out to be most of the night. Hank knew that, because Ally was still up, albeit nodding off, when he rose again at five-thirty. “You’ve really got to get to some sleep,” he told her, as he put another pot of coffee on the stove.

Ally yawned and stretched. “You’re up.”

Hank took the puppies and placed them at Duchess’s side, one by one, and made sure they all latched on. “I’m used to staying up all night to nurse sick animals.”

Ally shrugged and began preparing another bottle of puppy formula. “Financial analysts pull all-nighters, too.”

Hank didn’t doubt that she gave her all to whatever she did. Tenacity was something he and Ally seemed to have in common. However, he still thought she needed a break. He closed the distance between them, wishing he could kiss her again. He put his hands over hers, stilling the movements of her fingers. “Seriously, I can handle all the dogs for the next two hours if you want to catch a little shut-eye.”

Ally pulled away. “I can’t hit the sheets just yet. Gracie is due for another feeding.” Her kissable lips assumed a stubborn pout.

Hank pushed away the forbidden image her sweet, soft lips had evoked.

With effort, he concentrated on the problem at hand. “Gracie?”

Reluctant pleasure tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I thought she should have a name, other than ‘the littlest one.’”

Their eyes met. Once again, Hank felt a mutual purpose, a bond. The same sort of connection he figured parents of a newborn baby felt. But then she lowered her gaze, and it was gone. He studied the newborn pup’s velvety golden coat and scrunched up face. “Gracie is good. It suits her.”

“You’re not going to argue with me?” Ally joked, only half-humorously. “Tell me that I shouldn’t name a pup I’m only going to have to give away?” She snapped her mouth shut, as if worried she’d reveal even more of her runaway emotions.

Hank shrugged. “I figure you probably already know that. Besides,” he said slowly, “Gracie is the runt of the litter.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” she demanded, narrowing her eyes.

“Someone willing to pay top dollar for a show quality retriever may not want anything less than perfection. Cute as Gracie is, her size could be a deterrent.”

Ally fumed. “Not to me!”

No kidding. Her intense reaction worried him a bit. Ally was becoming personally involved in the situation and was bound to get her heart broken if and when Duchess’s owner showed up to claim the litter and their mama. She almost would have been better off if she had continued to loathe the canine species as much as she had when Duchess first showed up.

The sound of a truck motor in the driveway broke the silence. Ally wrinkled her nose and continued cradling the puppy like a newborn baby. “Are you expecting anyone?”

Hank shook his head. “You?”

She furrowed her brow. “At dawn?”

A knock sounded on the back door, and Hank went to open it.

His father was standing there, foil-covered plate in hand.

Hank figured he knew what this was about.

The blessing was, Ally didn’t. And if he could help it, she would never have any idea.

Chapter Six

“Might as well get it over with,” Hank told his father short minutes later. As the sun rose over the horizon, the two of them emerged from Hank’s pickup truck and strode toward the back. Hank opened the tailgate so they could get at the supplemental feed for his herd, and shot his father a knowing glance. “’Cause I know you didn’t come here just to say hello to Ally, see the new pups and help me tend my cattle.”

“You’re right.” Shane hefted a big bale of hay and carried it into the mesquite-edged pasture where the hundred cattle had weathered the cold and rain the night before. “I did want to talk to you in private.”

Hank cut the twine and separated the feed, scattering it about so the steers could get at it easily. “What about?”

The two of them got back in the truck and drove a little farther on before stopping and doing the same thing again.

“The word in town is that Corporate Farms is wooing Ally,” Shane stated.

Hank shrugged. “She’s talking to a Realtor about listing the property, too.”

His dad lifted a silver brow. “I thought you had a deal with her.”

I thought so, too. Which was what he got for letting the arrangement be as convenient as Ally had needed it to be, when he had volunteered to watch over the property for her last summer, in the wake of her dad’s death.

Hank went over to check the water supply. Ice had formed around the edges of the trough, so he broke it up with a hoe. “She agreed to let me run cattle here and live in the house, in exchange for my help tending to the ranch.” At the time it had seemed the perfect solution for both of them.

Shane studied the property with a horse rancher’s keen gaze. “She knew you were interested in buying it?”

“Eventually.” When I had the money. “Yes.” Hank carried another bundle of feed across the rain-soaked ground. “She also figured-rightly so-that I couldn’t afford it yet.”

Shane followed with another bundle. “I wish you had talked to me before you struck that deal,” he said with regret.

Hank’s irritation increased. Tired of weathering his father’s meddling in his affairs, he squared off with him. “We both know what would have happened if I had!”

“You’d be better off now,” his dad countered, his disapproval as evident as his need to help.

“I’d be better off if you and the rest of the family stopped trying to coddle me!” Acting as if he were some damned invalid, instead of a decorated ex-marine embarking on the next chapter of his life.

His father grimaced like the take-charge man he was. “We’re not doing that,” he argued.

Like hell they weren’t! “You’ve done nothing but that since Jo-anne’s death,” Hank countered.

Shane’s jaw set. “You fell apart.”

Hank turned his gaze away from the mounting concern in his dad’s eyes. “And I’ve long since put myself back together again.”

Shane sighed. Tried again. “The point is, son-”

“The point is,” he interrupted curtly, lifting a staying hand, “we shouldn’t be having this conversation. Not now. Not ever.”


ALLY WAS UPSTAIRS IN the sewing room when Hank and Shane returned.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know something had happened while they were gone. The two men appeared to be barely speaking as they parted company. Which was a surprise. Ally had thought the McCabes were a close-knit family through and through. Yet as Hank stood watching his father’s pickup disappear from view, he looked as tense and bereft as she had usually felt when dealing with her own parents.

Not that it was any of her business, she reminded herself sternly, returning to the cutting table.

Seconds later, she heard him come in.

Footsteps sounded in the hall. The door to his bedroom closed.

Fifteen minutes later, Hank emerged, looking freshly showered and cleanly shaven. He paused in the doorway of the sewing room. A smile quirked his lips when he glanced at the puppies snuggled together in the warming bed, with Duchess lying on the floor next to it.

An eyebrow lifted in silent inquiry.

Self-consciously, Ally explained, “I needed to do work up here, and I didn’t think I should leave them unattended so soon.”

Hank nodded, a knowing light in his midnight-blue eyes.

“By the way, the candy cane shaped coffeecake your mother sent over was absolutely delicious.” The festive gift had sported a flaky golden bread, cranberry-cherry filling and cream cheese frosting.

Hank folded his arms and propped one shoulder against the frame. “I’ll tell her you said so.” He nodded at the sophisticated ivory fabric she was measuring. “What are you doing here?”

Ally picked up the shears and began to cut. “Making new drapes for the downstairs windows, to dress up the space.”

He came closer, in a drift of sandalwood and leather cologne. “You know how to do that?”

Her gaze flicked over his nice-fitting jeans and navy corduroy shirt, then rose in a guilty rush. “My mother taught me how to sew when I was eight. I helped her make custom slipcovers and draperies.” And she needed to stop remembering what it had been like to be held in his arms, kissing him passionately.

Hank hooked his thumbs in the belt loops on either side of his fly. “I didn’t realize she had a business.”

Ally swallowed around the sudden parched feeling of her throat. “They needed the income she brought in to buy more land.”

His gaze roved her face, settling briefly on her mouth. A prickling, skittering awareness sifted through her. “And put you through college?” he added, almost as an afterthought.

Ally tensed and marked off another length. “I did that myself.”

Hank did a double take. “Seriously?”

Ally picked up her shears once again. She bent her head, concentrating on her cutting. “They didn’t want me to leave Laramie County. They would have preferred I stay on the ranch and build a life here.”