Nate carried a sleeping Olivia to the front porch while Whitney dug for keys and pushed open the door. She held the screen with her back to let him enter first. He shot her a glance and winked as he stepped inside. As much as he liked playing daddy to the little girls, right now he was interested in some alone time with their mom.

“Put her in the crib,” Whitney said. “I’ll change her into pajamas later.”

She turned and started back down the single step toward his truck, long hair swinging around her shoulders. That red hair enthralled him, like the rest of her.

“I’ll get Sophia in a minute,” he called after her.

Whitney waved a hand over one shoulder and went right on walking. Stubborn woman, accustomed to being on her own. She had trouble letting him help her with anything except the ranch, and once she mastered a skill, she elbowed him out of the way and got down to it. No wonder her admired her. She was some kind of special.

Flipping the interior light switch with one free finger, he carried the dark-haired darling to her room, kissed her forehead, and settled her into the crib. As he removed her shoes, she murmured his name, and a well of emotion stirred under his ribcage such as he’d never expected to feel for someone else’s child. He had minimal experience with kids, but the twins had caught him in their charming net and wrapped themselves firmly around his heart. Exactly like their mother.

And he didn’t ever want to get loose.

Not that he was ready to share that particular piece of information with Whitney, but soon, he hoped. Soon, she’d know he was falling in love with her. Falling hard and fast.

Time and again, he’d reminded himself that she was not like Alicia. Whitney had known heartache, too. Every day his feelings grew, and, all the while, like some kind of Doppler radar homed in on a coming storm, his internal warning system beeped caution.

Today had been too wonderful for caution. He’d felt like a husband and a dad on an autumn outing with his beautiful family. When the woman at the pumpkin patch had assumed they were a family, he’d been thrilled.

A lump formed in his throat as he removed Olivia’s shoes and jacket and gazed down at the little girl, so smart and spunky like her mama.

Whitney entered the room with Sophia in her arms. Tenderly, Nate took the child and settled her into the crib beside her sister.

“They’re getting big,” she murmured. “My little babies.”

“They’re outgrowing this crib for certain.” Nate unzipped the Velcro on Sophia’s shoes, gently tugged them off, and handed them to Whitney. They were barely as big as his palm.

“I know.” She took the tiny gray-and-pink sneakers and lined them up on top of a dresser that could use a coat of paint. Sally’s, he supposed. “They need separate toddler beds, but those will have to wait until next year.”

A cloud passed through his sunshiny thoughts.

Next year, she’d said. Until the inheritance was settled. Until she sold the ranch and moved on. The woman confused him. Big plans for the ranch one minute. Talk of leaving in a year in the next.

With two fingers, he rubbed the spot in the center of his chest that suddenly ached like a blend of heartburn and heartache. He’d said he wouldn’t do this again, but here he was, running full out toward disaster. Unlike the disaster with Alicia, he could see this one coming, and he still couldn’t stop himself.

“Nate?”

He turned toward her, aware that he’d been staring down at her beautiful daughters while his mind had filled with conflict. None of that was her problem. She’d been straight with him from the beginning. The decision to be with her was his, whatever the cost.

“A couple of treasures you’ve got here, Ms Brookes,” he said, keeping things light, though his heart felt heavy.

“I know,” she whispered. “Oh, Nate, I know. Every day I thank God for the gift of these two girls and pray He keeps them safe and well.”

Her declaration moved him. She tried so hard in everything she did, but mothering was who she was. He wanted to promise to keep the twins safe, to keep her safe, always. To be there for her, for all of them.

How could he do that if she left next year? Or any year after?

Whitney flipped on a ladybug nightlight and moved toward the doorway to turn off the overhead lighting. She stood in the dim nursery, backlit from the living room, a golden glow around her.

He couldn’t resist. He stepped close, his boot-toes touching the tips of the old tennis shoes she’d worn on their outing. The girls had nice shoes. She didn’t. And that touched him too.

This woman got to him in more ways than he could count.

He didn’t want her to go. Ever. She needed him. He needed her.

A pulse throbbed in his neck. If he said anything, he might scare her away sooner rather than later. But he had to know. He had to understand. It was the only way to be prepared when the ax fell.

“Why all the big plans?”

Whitney tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“Today.” His voice was shaky. He cleared his throat. “We made plans for the farm. Good plans. Long-term plans. Why bother if you’re not going to stay here?”

She blinked. Twice. “Who said anything about leaving?”

“You did. After the year. After you gain ownership of the farm. You’ll sell out and move on.”

“I never said that.” She placed a hand on his chest. She could probably feel his heart racing. “The ranch is my home now. A place for my girls. I want to build it up and make it successful.”

Had he misread her? Misunderstood? He was good at misreading people.

Hope pushed up, lingered. “That’ll take more than a year.”

“Yes, it will, and I’m okay with that.”

His heart gave one hard thump. “So, you’re staying?”

“Yes, of course, I’m staying. I love this place.”

Relief seeped in like flood waters and brought with it joy. She didn’t plan to sell the ranch.

He’d never been so glad to be wrong in his entire life.

She was a breath away, her warmth emanating across the space to draw him closer.

He slid his hands over hers and up her arms, resting them on her red silken hair, mussed from the wind and activity but no less mesmerizing. Neither of them spoke, but his mind chanted, she’s staying, she’s staying.

His heart music tuned up, a symphony.

When he moved his fingers—calloused as they were—gently up her soft neck and over her velvet jaw, she shivered.

“Sorry.” He let his hands drop, though his voice remained a low throb of sound in the quiet room. “A cowboy’s hands are too rough.”

With a soft, mysterious smile, she tugged his fingers back to her face. “I like your touch. Manly. Strong.”

Pleasure jolted through him, electric.

Slowly he outlined the curves of her face, memorizing the texture of her skin.

With a near reverence, he traced her jaw, her eyebrows, and finally her lips. Her breath was soft against his skin, sending a tremor through him.

Beneath his fingers, her mouth curved.

“That tickles,” she whispered, “in a really good way.”

Her hands were on him now, light as a downy feather, copying his moves, investigating the firm angles of his jaw, the rough five o’clock shadow, before settling on his lips.

“You’re right,” he murmured. “That tickles.”

With a soft laugh, enjoying their romantic game, he nipped her finger, and she yelped, laughing to let him know she wasn’t hurt. She liked the game too.

Behind him, one of the babies stirred, sighed, and settled again. Hands cupping her face, Nate backed Whitney into the narrow hallway and pulled the door closed behind him.

Then, before he exploded into a million pieces, Nate guided her against the wall and let his tickled lips do the talking.

After Nate’s departure, Whitney relived the romantic encounter as she practically floated to the twin’s room. She still couldn’t imagine where he’d gotten the crazy idea that she wanted to sell the ranch, but one thing for sure, when he’d discovered the truth, he’d seemed delighted, relieved.

He cared for her. Really cared.

She stood at the crib and looked at her babies the way she’d seen Nate doing. Her girls idolized the man, and, from all appearances, he’d fallen under their spell.

And she had fallen under his.

She brushed wild black hair away from Sophia’s face and repeated the loving gesture with Olivia. Her treasures, he’d called them, and he was right. Even if she owned nothing, she would be rich.

Olivia hiked her bottom into the air and curled her hands beneath her. Accustomed to her sister’s restlessness, Sophia never moved.

The girls had exhausted themselves at the pumpkin patch, and now they slept so soundly, she didn’t bother to undress them any further. They would survive a night in purple sweat pants and T-shirts.

She left the room, her mind filled with two things—Nate and her parents. He was right. She had to try again to set things right. She wanted to. She needed to. The twins deserved no less. Nate had given her the push she needed to get moving.

She took the cell phone from her jeans’ pocket and stared at the screen. Was their number the same? Did they even have a landline anymore?

Suddenly nervous and doubting herself, she wandered into the bedroom, kicked off her tennis shoes, and sat back against the hard oak headboard. Her pulse fluttered in her throat.

She was scared. Terrified, really. Would they hang up? Reject her? Remind her again that she’d made her bed and now she had to sleep in it?

Ugly arguments of the past flashed through her head until her courage began to flag. Maybe tomorrow morning would be a better time to call.

She started to put the phone away, but a sentence fluttered through her mind. God has not given us a spirit of fear but of power and of love…

During a time when Whitney had been so afraid of the future, a counselor at the pregnancy center had given her a card imprinted with those powerful words. That Bible verse had carried her through.

“God has not given me a spirit of fear,” she repeated.

Eyes closed, she drew in a slow, calming breath and prayed for courage and strength to cover the next few minutes and for the loving words to speak.

“Help me do this right.”

Then she pushed in the phone number and waited.

Thirty minutes later, Whitney fell to her knees beside the bed and prayed again. This time a prayer of thanksgiving.

She’d begun the call in repentance, asking for nothing but their forgiveness, proclaiming her love, proclaiming her sorrow at losing the best parents in the world, and sharing the news of her perfect twin girls and God’s blessing through Sally Rogers’s will.

Slowly, her mother had warmed to the conversation. By the end of the call, they were both in happy tears. Best of all, Mom and Dad wanted to meet the twins and had invited her to come home for Thanksgiving.

When the sobs of relief finally ended, Whitney rose to her feet and, smiling through tears, pushed in Nate’s number.

“I know it’s late,” she said as soon as his warm baritone sounded in her ear.

“Never too late for you. Especially if you called to tell me I’m awesome and you had a great time today.”

Heart soaring, she laughed. “You are and I did, but that’s not why I called.”

“No? What’s up?”

“I called my parents.”

“Good for you. And it went well, didn’t it? I hear the joy in your voice.”

“Yes. They want to visit me soon and meet the twins, and they invited us home for Thanksgiving.”

“You’re going?”

“If my budget allows.”

“You’re going. End of subject.”

“Okay.” She sniffled. “Oh, Nate, I’m so happy. They want me back. They missed me too but they didn’t know how to find me. Thank you for giving me the courage to call.”

“No credit here. God is good.”

“So good. I prayed and stepped out on faith and look what happened.”

He chuckled, a sound that tickled her ear and her heart. “Will you be able to sleep at all tonight?”

“I don’t know. My pulse is racing with excitement.”

“Adrenaline high.” He yawned. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. I’ll let you go. I thought you’d want to know.”

“You thought right. I wish I didn’t require sleep. I miss you already.”

“See you in the morning?”

“You can count on it. Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“’Night, Nate.”

She’d no more than clicked the end tab than a message light blinked on the screen. It was Nate.

Whitney grinned as she opened the text.

“Sweet dreams. I love you.”

If she’d been happy before, she was now ecstatic.

She texted back, “I love you too,” and then pressed the phone to her chest, filled.

Could life get any better?

Too excited to sleep, she showered and relived the conversations with her parents and Nate. Then, after a peek at the sleeping twins, Whitney headed outside to the mailbox. Darkness lay over the land with no moon above, but the security light illuminated her walk to the end of the driveway and the rural mailbox.

Most days, she received occupant junk mail and Sally’s catalogs, but utilities were due, and she was also still paying off credit card debt, a desperate choice during a desperate time. If Nate knew how many debtors chased her, he’d jump on Uncle Buck and ride into the sunset, just like in the movies.

No, that wasn’t true. He wouldn’t. Nate wasn’t the running kind. Nor was he the cheating kind. He’d said he loved her, and she believed him. Everything in his actions said he did.

She’d read his text over and over again, and it still read the same. A fine, upstanding man like Nate Caldwell loved her, a woman who’d messed up most everything in her life for the last ten years.

She sighed and touched her mouth. Her cowboy’s kisses were better than any romance movie she’d ever watched. Passionate and hot, tender and loving, he stirred her blood, but even more, he stirred her heart and soothed that damaged place deep inside that yearned to be cherished.

Billy, the silly goat, spotted her shadow moving down the driveway and let out a baa followed by a slam of his head into the metal fence. She spun around to be sure he couldn’t get out, but all the gates within sight were safely secured. She squinted toward the barn. Though she could only see it in shadowy relief, everything appeared normal. If someone was playing tricks on her, they hadn’t stopped by today while she was gone.

Shaking off the worry, she tried again to convince herself that the incidents and mishaps were her own fault. No one was playing tricks. As the sheriff had reminded her, she was a newbie rancher. Things got spilled. Doors and gates got left open. The more she learned from Nate, the fewer mistakes she’d make.

But Nate had been worried, too, though neither of them had mentioned the incidents or the fire in a while. Things had settled down. Everything was safe and secure. Life was good.

A stillness lay across the land as the chilly fog of autumn moved in. Tree shadows streaked dark fingers over the barn and chicken house where all was peaceful. The birds had gone inside to roost. Even Mick Jagger would be mercifully silent until morning.

She’d come so far in such a short time. Thanks to the Lord Jesus, who’d blessed her with this place and with a real man to love.

The lawn was mowed and tidy, and the potholed driveway smoothed. On either side of the porch, a flower bed had been created and outlined with railroad ties, ready to burst into bloom next spring. The lawn and driveway were Nate’s doing, the flower beds hers and Connie’s. Hay was stacked in the barn loft for winter, stalls and shelters lined with fresh straw. On the front porch, colorful chalk drawings, barely discernible beneath the porch light, evoked a smile. Her babies. Her daughters. Her loves and her life.

Whitney strolled to the mailbox, reveling in the new contentment. She credited Nate with so much, although she was content within herself too, and that feeling had been a long time coming.

Failure after failure, mistake after mistake, but those were behind her now, covered by the redemptive love of Jesus.

Metal squeaked against metal as she opened the mailbox and retrieved a small stack of envelopes.

Back inside the house, she tossed the stack on the table and poured a glass of ice water from the fridge, humming the twin’s favorite song. “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.”

Happy. Fulfilled. Content. In love.

She flipped through the envelopes, tossing out the junk, until she came to a letter without an address. Only her first name, in bold type, appeared on the plain white envelope.

“That’s strange.” Frowning, curious, she broke the seal and pulled out a single typewritten page.

You and your daughters are in danger. Leave now while you can. Say nothing to Caldwell, or both of you will pay the price. Ranch accidents are real killers, and fire danger is still high. You and Caldwell were lucky the first time. You won’t be again. If that’s not enough to convince you to leave Calypso, just remember: children are easy prey. Keep your mouth shut and leave. And don’t come back.

A cry rose in Whitney’s chest and jammed in her throat. She clapped a hand over her mouth to hold in the terrified sound. Every hair on her body stood up.

Somebody wanted to hurt her babies, and they’d hurt Nate, too.

But she couldn’t leave. This was her home. This was all she had. Her children needed this ranch.

She read the note again, saw the innuendos. This person had set the fire that nearly burned the Triple C. Had it been meant for her? Or for them both?

Hands shaking so hard, she could hardly get her phone from her back pocket, she punched nine and one before coming to her senses. She couldn’t call the police. Even if Sheriff Hawk saw this note as proof, she had no idea who or where her enemy was, and she’d be putting her children and Nate in danger.

She wanted to call Nate. Oh, how she needed him, but the note threatened him, too.

Quaking, breathless, she rushed down the hall and looked in on the girls. They remained where she’d left them, undisturbed.

“Thank you, Father.”

Blood rushing in her ears and knees wobbly, she raced from door to door and window to window to secure the house.

Then she dug out the baseball bat she kept stored in the closet—the one she’d never expected to need in Calypso—and sat down on the couch to pray and keep watch the rest of the night.

In the foyer of Evangel Church, Nate went to the glass door and stared out at the crowded parking lot one more time. The service would start in a couple of minutes, and Whitney had yet to arrive. The only time she’d missed church since her arrival had been when one of the twins was sick. Even with two little ones to get ready, she was never late.

He frowned at the tree-lined street running parallel to the parking lot and willed the old Subaru to appear. He wanted to see her. Needed to be with her, especially after yesterday.

The fellowship streamed in, jostling and chatting the way they always did in the entryway before church. The congregation wasn’t large, and everyone knew everyone.

Visiting on Sunday mornings was a community event. Nate and Ace had done their share while waiting, and he was thankful to have his brother in church again after the last few bumpy years. But Ace wasn’t his worry this morning. Whitney was.

Emily came out of the sanctuary, a bulletin in one hand. “Hey, guys, service is about to start. We’re on the left side.”

“Whitney’s not here yet.”

His sister’s black eyebrows lifted. “Have you talked to her this morning?”

“She texted and told me not to come over. Said she’d take care of the animals herself.” He’d thought the text was odd considering last night’s conversation, but he hadn’t questioned it. They kept chores minimal on Sunday. She was being thoughtful.

“Maybe her car finally gave up.”

Nate frowned. He should have taken a look at the old Subaru, winterized it for her.

“When temperatures dip, old batteries can quit, old tires can go flat.” Ace paused to greet a friend, his grin flashing, before he looked back at Nate. “Call her.”

“Yes, worry wart. Call her.” Emily put a hand on his shoulder. “Your heart is showing.”

Nate didn’t care if it was.

“If she’s running late and in the middle of dressing the girls, she has her hands full. I’ll text.” His fingers flew over the message.

In seconds, her response appeared. Nate scowled at the phone. “She’s not coming. Says she has things to do and she’s too tired.”

One of Ace’s black eyebrows rose in sly speculative expression. “The two of you must have had a wild date last night.”

Nate elbowed his brother. “Cut it out. You’re in church.”

Ace laughed. “Joking. But cut the lady some slack. With two kids and the ranch and now you to keep her busy, she has a right to be tired.”

“I guess that’s true. Yesterday was pretty exhausting for all of us. Good but tiring. And when we last spoke, she’d said she was too excited to sleep.”

That was it. She hadn’t slept much. Excitement over the talk with her parents had kept her awake.

While he and his brother had bottle-fed orphaned calves this morning, he’d told Ace of his feelings and that he and Whitney were moving things up a notch. Regardless of his teasing, Ace was supportive and encouraging. Everyone on the Triple C liked their spunky neighbor. The way she’d pulled her weight the night of the fire had won widespread approval, and nobody could miss her hard work on Sally’s ranch. Correction. Whitney’s ranch.

The strains of Amazing Grace floated out from the sanctuary.

Ace clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Time to go in. You can stop by Whitney’s place later.”

“Right.” As long as she and the twins were okay, he could see them this afternoon. He didn’t like spending the morning without them, but he would live.

During service, Nate struggled to keep his mind on the pastor’s message. Something about Whitney’s text bothered him. It had been abrupt, terse, as if she didn’t want to talk to him.

Or maybe he was being paranoid. Meaning was hard to discern in a text. Admittedly, he was on unsteady ground. He’d stuck his heart out again, and the fear of falling on his face was real. What if Whitney had changed her mind about him? What if she regretted their conversation and all those kisses and words of endearment the night before?

She was scared of making another mistake too. Had his declaration of love been too soon? Had he scared her away? He swallowed the knot of anxiety and refocused on the sermon.

After church, they’d talk. Everything would be fine.

But before service ended, he got a call from the sheriff that dozens of cows had broken fence and were out on a busy highway. By the time, he’d gathered the cows and moved them to another pasture, the day was done, and so was he. Before he fell into bed, he shot a text to Whitney. Missed you today. See you tomorrow. And once again he added, Love, Nate.