Trying to figure out how much he could tell Ally, without betraying the confidentiality of the business deal under way, Hank explained, “My cousin, Will McCabe, owns a charter service out at the Laramie airstrip. It used to be just private jets, flying in and out of there, but since I came back to the area he’s added a helicopter to his fleet. So whenever he gets a request-usually from a big oilman or one of the other prominent business people in the area-I fly the chopper.”

“Sounds lucrative.”

It was. “The revenue from those gigs is responsible for all the cattle I’ve bought thus far, and the additional money I have saved.”

Ally eyed him with respect. “How long will you be gone?”

Long enough to get the deal done, Hank thought resolutely. But wary of telling Ally anything before the plan was set, he replied cautiously, “I’m not sure. The person I’m taking wants to go to Dallas, with a couple of stops along the way, stay overnight, and then do the same thing the following day, en route back. Which brings me to the next question. Are you going to be able to handle Duchess and the puppies, or do you want me to bring someone else in to care for them?”

Ally glowered. “Seriously?”

“I did promise it wouldn’t be your responsibility,” Hank reminded her.

“Yeah, well, it’s not the first promise around here that hasn’t been kept.”

Hank let that one pass.

She lifted her hands in a placating gesture. “Sorry. It just seems that whenever something goes wrong in my life, it happens here at Mesquite Ridge.”

Hank tugged Ally close for another long, thorough kiss. Only when she was putty in his arms did he lift his head. “Things have gone right here, too, Ally,” he whispered.

Very right. And one day he hoped she would see that.


GRETA MCCABE APPEARED on the ranch house doorstep at six o’clock the following evening. Hank’s mother smiled warmly as Ally ushered her in out of the cold. “I tried calling before I came over, but there was no answer.”

Ally didn’t mind her stopping by without an invitation. It had been a little lonely since Hank had left for his trip early that morning. “I must have been out walking Duchess,” she explained.

Greta cast an admiring look at the newly painted woodwork and walls, then turned back to her and handed over a large paper bag bearing the insignia of Greta’s restaurant in Laramie.

“You didn’t have to do this.” Ally beamed with pleasure.

“I figured you’d be too busy to cook, given all you have to do around here,” Greta said.

She was right about that. Ally had been working hard all day, making washable canvas slipcovers for the living room furniture.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked so I put in a couple of different entrées. Just follow the reheating directions on the foil containers when you’re ready to eat,” Greta said. “And of course, the salads and desserts are ready to go.”

“Thank you. This is so nice.” Ally basked in the thoughtfulness.

“So how are Duchess and the puppies?” Greta asked.

Ally gestured toward the kitchen. “Come and see for yourself.”

While Ally put the food in the fridge for later, Hank’s mother knelt to say hello to the golden retriever and all eleven of the newborns. Nearly a week had passed since Duchess had given birth. All the pups except Gracie, who still lagged a little behind, were now close to two pounds in weight. And although their eyes were still sealed shut, they were getting about with increasing mobility, rolling and squirming across the warming bed when they were awake. Right now, they were all sound asleep in a pile of puppy arms and legs.

Greta smiled at the sound of the soft, gentle snoring. “I can’t believe no one has stepped forward to claim them yet,” she said.

Me, either, Ally thought.

The woman stood and regarded her with a soft, maternal expression. “So. How are you doing, dear?”

Ally swallowed. “Good,” she lied. Then added, more honestly, “Considering.”

Greta gently patted her arm. “This must be really hard for you, coming home for the first time after the funeral.”

Ally nodded-it had been. Happy to have some female company, she picked up the coffeepot off the stove. “Would you care for some coffee?”

“Love some,” Greta said.

Relieved that Hank’s mom appeared in no hurry to go, Ally poured two mugs of the fresh brew and brought out a tin of sugar cookies from the grocery store. As they enjoyed their snack, they talked about the progress Ally had made thus far, updating the ranch house.

Greta cast her an appreciative glance. “It’s not just the house that has benefited from your presence. Hank seems to be really flourishing since he’s been around you, too. Bringing in a Christmas tree…”

Which was still undecorated, Ally thought, a little guiltily.

Greta ran a hand through her silver-blond curls. “Organizing that wallpaper removal party…”

Ally rubbed the edge of her plate with her thumb. “I was really surprised.” And maybe a little thrilled.

Greta studied her over the rim of her mug. “He feels for you,” she observed tenderly. “Probably because he knows what it is to lose a loved one.”

Was that all that was drawing him to her? A mixture of empathy and lust, with a healthy dose of property hunger, thrown in? Ally wondered.

Oblivious to the nature of her thoughts, Greta ran a nicely manicured hand over the tabletop, lamenting, “We never thought Hank would get over losing Jo-anne. But the years in the marines, and now this ranch, have brought him back to life.”

And Hank’s mom was happy to see that, Ally noted.

“I know you’re getting ready to put the ranch on the market…”

If I don’t sell it to Hank first, Ally thought, wishing all the harder he would find a way to make a decent bid, so she could accept it and move on. She would have peace of mind knowing the property was in the right hands to make it thrive, the way it should have all along.

Greta patted Ally’s hand. “I know the process can be difficult, particularly when it comes to sorting through your parents’ belongings. It can be a lot to take on alone, as well as very emotional, so if you need help…let me know. And before I forget, Shane and I would very much like for you to come to the annual open house at our ranch, on December 23…”

The day she was supposed to hear about whether or not she still had a job. Ally hesitated. “I’m not sure that will be a great time for me,” she said.

“Nonsense. You have to eat. In the meantime, if you need help with anything at all, you let Hank’s father and me know. We’re only eight miles down the road. And it’s not just a family thing that has us making the offer-or the fact that Hank is temporarily absent. It’s part of the code of survival around here. Ranchers help each other out.” She smiled warmly at Ally. “But having grown up on Mesquite Ridge, surely you know that.”

Actually, Ally didn’t. Her parents had always kept pretty much to themselves, and never asked for help for themselves-or gone out of their way to assist anyone else, even their closest neighbors. But maybe it was time that changed, too, she thought. For as long as she stayed in the area, anyway…

She thanked Greta again and walked her to the door, then went back to get Duchess and take her out into the yard.

As she went back inside, she noticed the message light blinking on the answering machine. There were two calls from Premier Realty and the title company, another from Porter, wanting to know if she’d heard anything more about the layoffs, and finally, one that was definitely not for her.

“Hank, honey, it’s Lulu. Are you ready for dinner?” the chic divorcée asked enthusiastically. “’Cause I’m starving after the day we’ve had together! Oh, wait, I think I just dialed your home number instead of your cell. Never mind. I’ll just come and find you.” Click.

Ally sat staring at the phone. The call had come in at six-fifteen, when she was out walking Duchess in the yard. The screen ID said the call had come from a luxury hotel in Dallas.

So that was where Hank had gone! Ally realized, stunned. Lulu Sanderson was the client he was flying around? And now they were in Dallas together, sharing a hotel, if not a room? What in heaven’s name was going on?

Chapter Ten

Hank knew something was going on with Ally when he returned home the following evening. He just wasn’t sure what had her suddenly ignoring his calls.

He shrugged out of his leather aviator jacket and walked through the downstairs. It was clear she had been as busy and productive in their two days apart as he had. Custom slate-gray canvas slipcovers now gave the sturdy but ugly furniture a classy new look. A new area rug, colorful throw pillows and lap blankets had been strategically added.

There was still no real feeling of Christmas in the ranch house, since the tree and mantel remained undecorated. Hank was determined that, too, would change.

Thinking Ally might be with Duchess, he walked into the kitchen. All the puppies were cuddled up together in the warmer, sleeping contentedly. Duchess was lying next to it. She lifted her head and wagged her tail when Hank approached. He petted her silky head and scratched her behind the ears. “Looks like all is okay here with you and the kids,” he murmured. Was Ally okay, though?

Hank gave the sleepy Duchess a final pat and headed on up the stairs.

Ally was standing in her bedroom in front of the mirror, blow-drying her honey-blond hair. Her slender form was covered by a satin robe with a tie sash. Her feet were encased in fuzzy slippers. Beneath the knee-length hem, her legs were bare.

Hank’s pulse picked up a notch.

Was this all for him?