Nate hunkered behind the heifer, aware he’d have to assist the birth if the baby didn’t deliver in the next few minutes. The first-time mama was fast approaching exhaustion. When she reached that point, she’d give up, and the valuable calf would die.

He glanced at Whitney, asleep a few feet away on the blanket he carried in his saddle bag.

He’d finally convinced her to rest for a while when it became apparent that the birth would take some time. She’d smoothed out the blanket on one condition—he wake her as soon as the calf appeared. In two minutes, she’d been fast asleep. The calf’s hooves had appeared thirty minutes ago, but he was reluctant to disturb his sleeping neighbor.

Truth was, the kiss had rattled him. He didn’t know why he’d kissed her. He hadn’t wanted to kiss a woman in a long time. Hadn’t wanted to care about a woman ever again. Not in that way. But when she’d told him that awful story about her ex-boyfriend’s abandonment, he’d wanted to hit something. Preferably her ex. But Whitney hadn’t asked for his sympathy. She’d taken responsibility for her mistakes, had admitted she’d made bad choices. Not many people did that anymore.

Alicia certainly hadn’t.

He pulled a hand over his face, considering his unlikely feelings for his neighbor. His friend. Did he want her to be more? Would she want that too?

He didn’t know, but he did know this much. Whitney plucked a chord in him that had gone silent months before Alicia left. During that time, his wife had chipped away at his love on a daily basis until he’d felt nothing at all. Then, tonight when he’d kissed Whitney, only a faint brush of lips, his music played again. Heart music.

He shook his head hard to toss out the poetic thoughts. He was tired. Crazy thoughts ran through a man this time of night, alone in the darkness with stars winking at him and the moon smiling, and with a beautiful woman sleeping nearby.

He rose and walked the few steps to where Whitney slept. He crouched beside her. She lay curled on her side, arms huddled against her body, her long hair fanned out behind her. She was probably cold. He should have covered her, but then, according to Alicia, he was lousy at understanding a woman’s needs.

“Whitney.” Not wanting to startle her, he whispered first and then touched her shoulder.

Her eyes popped open. “Is it time?”

His lips curved. “You wake up fast.”

“I’m a mother.” She sat up, shoving hair away from her face. He itched to do that for her, to smooth the long, silky hair and snuggle her close, to warm her with his body.

Catching his train of thought, he stood and reached down for her. Soft hand in his, he pulled her to her feet. She took a moment to stretch. He knew better than to watch those lithe movements of the female form, especially now when his head was messed up with thoughts of her. He went back to the heifer. Behind him, Whitney’s back popped, and he smiled again.

“Ground isn’t the softest bed,” he said.

“I don’t mind. I’m grateful for the rest.”

There she went again. City girl had some steel in her spine.

“Ready for a lesson I hope you won’t have to use? We’re going to have to help the heifer.”

“The baby won’t come on its own?”

“No. And the mama is getting tired.”

“Poor thing.” Whitney smoothed a hand down the cow’s back. “Labor and delivery isn’t for sissies.”

“Neither is pulling a calf.” He slid a glance at her. “You ready for this?”

Her chin came up. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

A tired smile lifted Nate’s lips. City girl or not, a man had to admire a woman with grit.

A few hours before dawn, Whitney and Nate returned to the Triple C. Lights still blazed, and they trudged inside to the sound of voices and the smell of bacon.

Connie stood at the stove, a carton of eggs at her elbow, while Ace toasted bread and Gilbert pulled plates from the cabinet.

“Fire’s out,” Ace said. “You look beat.”

“Had to pull a calf. B56.”

Whitney almost shouted, “Bingo” again but was too tired. She giggled instead and received curious looks from the others.To cover her giddiness, she asked the question foremost in her thoughts. “How are the twins?”

“Sleeping like angels. I told these boys to stay in here to eat and talk. Let the babies rest.”

“Thank you, Connie.”

“You sure you are okay?”

From Connie’s sympathetic expression, Whitney figured she looked pathetic, but she refused to play the tired greenhorn. “As okay as anyone else.”

Truth was, Whitney’s whole body ached, but she hadn’t felt this energized in months. She was running on adrenaline for three good reasons. The calf. The man. The kiss.

“At daylight,” Ace said, “we’ll drive around the burned areas and see what’s lost. Did you get the fall heifers moved?”

Nate removed his hat to run a hand through his hair, a weary motion. “To the back lot. All safe. Even the new mama and her baby bull.”

“Is there anything else I can do to help before I go home?” Whitney asked.

“Eat.” Gilbert poked a plate at her. “We feed our hands.”

“She’s a good one.” Nate caught her gaze and held on. “Not a whimper of complaint, and she helped deliver that calf like a pro.”

They both knew she hadn’t done much, but Whitney was struck by how much his praise meant. Tonight had been an anomaly. She’d not felt successful at anything in a long, long time.

“You’re a good teacher. A good vet, too.”

They exchanged secret smiles, the barely-kiss a whisper in the air between them.

Gilbert cleared his throat, and she realized she had yet to accept the plate he offered. Fighting a blush under the surface of her fair skin, she ducked her head and reached for the bacon. Though not before she saw the looks exchanged between Emily and Connie.

After the long night, the sun rose and Whitney felt as if she’d been hit by a truck, particularly from her mid-back down. Muzzy-headed after less than three hours’ sleep, she rose with the babies. Both girls were full of energy and well rested. Naturally.

Nate, who had to be more exhausted than she, texted her at seven and met her at the barn fifteen minutes later. He looked as tired as she felt. Tired but good. Solid. Dear. And if her heart beat a little fast when he glanced her way, she pretended otherwise.

Not that she mentioned any of this to him.

They talked of the fire, the animals, the men who’d come to help, and the way Calypso pulled together in times of trouble.

What they didn’t talk about was the kiss and the feelings brewing under the surface. Which was fine with Whitney. She didn’t know what to do with those feelings anyway.

“Over a thousand acres of winter pasture burned,” Nate was saying as he unlatched a storage room.

The twins, ever a distraction, ran around the alleyway of the barn, chattering like the rock star hens. They were into everything, and Whitney broke off from work and the conversation to chase Olivia down and remove a glob of debris from a stubbornly clenched fist. The girls, naturally, thought the chase was a delightful game and ran away, giggling.

Meanwhile, Nate worked, doing her job with her animals. Who wouldn’t be attracted to a man like that?

The routine was getting easier. It was the non-routine that worried her. “A thousand acres? How do you know for sure?”

Nate hefted a bag of chicken feed and ripped it open with his pocket knife. The dusty smell of meal and grain wafted up.“We drove the burned areas at dawn.”

Whitney, reaching for a bucket hanging on a stall door, spun around. “You haven’t slept at all? Nate!”

He shrugged off her concern. Muscled shoulders bunched his blue shirt. Another distraction. “I’ll nap later.”

“Go home. Sleep. I can handle this without your help.”

Not that she didn’t appreciate and enjoy his company. As far as she was concerned, he could hang out here all day.

A bad sign. A really bad sign.

“You were up too.”

“Not all night, and I can nap when the babies do. You should go home.” She dipped the bucket into the feed sack. She could feed the animals. He needed sleep.

“First, I need to talk to you about something.” He removed his hat and wallowed his brown hair, a habit she noticed when he was tired or worried, as he appeared to be now.

“What’s wrong?” Whitney set the filled bucket on the dirt floor, more concerned about the man than the chickens. Another bad sign. “Did the mama and baby die?”

He stopped her with a hand motion. “Nothing like that.”

It must be the kiss. He didn’t want her getting crazy ideas. He regretted kissing a woman with an ugly past like hers, a foolish, stupid woman who’d committed more sins in a year than he had in a lifetime. Maybe he was even going to tell her that he couldn’t be her teacher anymore. That he didn’t want to be associated with a loser like her.

“About that kiss,” she blurted before he could say more. “I know it meant nothing. I didn’t take it seriously. A kiss between two tired people in the dark. Happens all the time.”

Not to her. Not with that kind of sweetness and power. Not ever, but she didn’t want to lose him. As her teacher. She didn’t expect anything else, even if the kiss had rocked her world.

Nate gave her a long, unreadable stare before taking her arm. “Walk with me.”

Her heart rattled in her ears. He was going to kick her to the curb. Tell her to leave him alone. She could take it. She had before. She’d survive. “The twins.”

Nate caught Sophia as she raced by. Not to be ignored, Olivia lifted her arms toward him in the universal sign for pick me up. The cowboy lifted both girls into his strong arms. “You need a stroller.”

She needed a lot of things. But she didn’t expect him or anyone else to take care of her children. Defensive, she reached for her girls. “I can carry them.”

He scowled. “I didn’t mean that.”

Then what had he meant?

Nate bounced the twins as he and Whitney walked side by side through her barn, out the back way, and into the chilly morning. He was worried. No other way to put it. Worried about the woman and kids who were starting to mean a lot more to him than neighbors.

Whitney was holding her own, working hard, and she was a quick learner. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was what he and Ace had discovered just outside her fence.

Clive, who now behaved well enough to hang out in the barn lot, ambled from his feed trough to snuffle the humans and beg for treats.

The twins giggled and stretched wiggling fingers toward the animal. Nate tilted them away from the horse’s searching mouth. Even if he was gentle, Clive might nip a baby finger thinking it was a carrot. With a shooshing sound to let Clive know he meant business, Nate walked to the side of the mini horse and balanced both girls on the hairy back. They got to him, these little girls with their big eyes and sweet giggles. How could any man reject something this precious? And what kind of man was Nate if he didn’t keep them safe?

Dark pony tails in flight, Olivia jounced and bounced as if she was riding the mechanical horse at Walmart, her gurgle of laughter sweet in the animal-scented barnyard. Serious Sophia clung to her sister’s shoulder with one hand and to Nate with the other.

They were adorable gifts from God, and both had taken to him like horses take to sugar cubes. Not that he was all that sweet, but they sure softened up a spot in the middle of his chest.

Whitney stood on the other side of the short, squatty horse, watchful of her daughters. She was a good mama. Anyone could see that. What he couldn’t see was how her boyfriend had dumped her and them so heartlessly. Then again, he’d never understood Alicia either. He was pretty clueless in the human psychology department. Animals he understood. People not so much.

He lifted his face toward the sky, squinting into the glare. The day had dawned gray and cool with a distant hope of rain later. He was feeling a little gray and cool himself, though before he’d come to Whitney’s ranch, he’d chalked the gloominess up to fatigue. Now that Whitney had shot him in the chest with her cavalier attitude about last night, about the kiss that made his heart sing, he had no reason to lighten up.

He figured it was for the best. He wasn’t any good at the relationship thing, anyway, and he had a weakness for city girls with other plans. He didn’t fault Whitney. Unlike his ex-wife, she’d been honest about her intentions.

Still, last night had meant something to him.

Sophia reached for her mama, and Whitney lifted her from the horse’s back. Nate swung a protesting, kicking Olivia onto his hip.

“Horse. Horse. Horse.” Olivia catapulted her body toward Clive, surprising Nate, who caught her in the nick time to save a crash.

“Whoa, baby girl!” To Whitney he said, “This one’s going to be a horse woman like her mama.”

Whitney’s pale skin pinkened. “About that. I’m a little sore today.”

Whitney wasn’t a whiner. She probably she felt the ride in every bone of her body. “Haven’t ridden in a while?”

She grimaced, a cute, self-mocking look that made him wish for things he shouldn’t. “Fifteen years? Summer camp.”

“You could have fooled me.” He laughed but sobered instantly. She’d fooled him about the other too. The way she’d tiptoed up to meet his kiss. The way her arms strayed to his sides and her fingers kneaded at his shirt, tugging him closer. He’d been sure she’d heard the same heart music.

Fool. That was Nate Caldwell. Easily fooled by women.

Abruptly, he refocused on his mission and walked onward through the lot and out into the pasture land that connected with his property.

Whitney gazed toward the open field. “We’re going to see where the fire started?”

She was quick, smart. He knew that about her too. “You need to see it.”

Her head swiveled toward him. She looked alarmed. “Why?”

“You’ll see.” He wouldn’t share his suspicions. Not until he had more than gut instinct to go on.

“Down. I walk.” Olivia wiggled against him, and he lowered her to the ground.

Sophia, seeing her sister toddling on the yellowed grass, insisted on walking too. The twins stopped to investigate every rock and flower and dead bug along the way. In spite of his somber mood, the babies lifted his spirits. They were the definition of innocence, completely oblivious to their mother’s struggles with the ranch, to his worries, to the fire that had come too close to their new home. Babies seemed to take the world at face value and embrace the moment. These two certainly did, but what did he know about babies? Not nearly enough.

The realization made him even gloomier.

“Too bad we can’t bottle that unbridled joy,” he said.

Whitney paused to remove a beetle from Sophia’s hand. This twin easily released the bug. He had a feeling Olivia wouldn’t be quite as passive.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

They talked as they walked, and he discovered he liked hearing about the twins’ milestones and the funny things they did, the differences in their personalities. Already, he could tell them apart by their facial expressions.

Olivia presented him with a crushed yellow wildflower, broom weed and, with a wink he stuck it in his shirt pocket. The little cutie clapped her hands and giggled, a balm to his weariness. The weeds needed to go before they choked out the good grasses, but he reserved that lesson for another time. Like him, Whitney was tired, and she had enough on her mind…with more problems to come.

He ground his back teeth, fretting over what could have happened here last night while Whitney was at the Triple C, what might have happened except for the mercy of God.

By the time they reached the back fence where her land joined his, the twins were in full piggyback mode. Sophia, perched atop his shoulders, patted his hat with both hands and talked nonstop to her sister. Their shouts and giggles and mostly unintelligible words tickled him. He almost felt like a dad.

Nate caught himself up short. Like his sister, he’d always wanted a passel of kids, but life doesn’t always pan out the way we hope.

To avoid a fatigue-driven melancholy, Nate corralled the thoughts to focus on the burned landscape spreading out before him. “The fire started here.”

Head down, baby hands tangled in her red hair, Whitney held Olivia’s legs close to her sides as she studied the five yard swath of scorched grass. Near the T-post just across the fence, in the area where her land met his, was an intensely burned circle.

Whitney’s gaze flew to his, a frown between her eyes. “What is that? I don’t understand.”

“Not sure. Maybe a campfire.”

She blinked in surprise. “Why would anyone be camping on the back of your property?”

“You didn’t give anyone permission to come in here?” He suspected the answer before she spoke but asked anyway.

Whitney shook her head. The sun shot a different kind of fire through her red hair. He wanted to touch it. To touch her. To reassure her that he would not let anything bad happen. But be it campers or something more sinister, he was concerned that something already had.

“I don’t know enough people in Calypso to let anyone camp on my land,” she said. “Could one of your cowhands have camped here?”

“Even if they had reason, which they don’t, all of them know not to build fires in weather this dry.”

He didn’t say the rest. That he didn’t like the idea that some unknown person had built a fire this close to her land—a fire that had gotten out of control, a fire that would have moved toward her if the wind hadn’t shifted. And he worried more than ever about leaving her alone on this ranch with two little ones.

As if feeling the seriousness of the conversation, the twins remained quiet for once. Sophia patted his cheeks every few seconds to remind him she was still on his back. As if he’d forget such precious cargo.

Whitney put a hand to her forehead, more bothered than she seemed to want to let on. “They could have accessed through your land.”

“Yes, but they’d have to cross a lot of acres to get here. Coming in from your side makes more sense.”

That worried him, too. Unbeknownst to Whitney, someone had trespassed across her property. He couldn’t help thinking about L.T., the cowboy he’d tossed out of her barn. He didn’t know the man well, but now he wondered. Was L.T. hanging around, waiting for revenge?

Stupid as it sounded, Nate felt responsible for her. Double stupid after she’d blown off that one moment—the kiss—when he’d listened to his emotions instead of his brain. But he couldn’t help it. He and Whitney shared similar stories. Exes who strayed, who kicked them in the teeth and hadn’t cared when they’d bled. And if that wasn’t enough, her hard times were harder than his. She had the twins and not much else, if that old car was an indicator. He had a prosperous ranch, a family, and plenty more. Any cowboy worth his boots would feel sorry for her.

“I don’t know what happened here, but you need to be careful. Keep your eyes peeled for any unusual activity.”

She flashed wide blue eyes in his direction. Startled eyes. “You think someone set the fire on purpose?”

He’d scared her. Dumb move.

“I didn’t say that.”

Nor would he bring up the fact that the wind had fortuitously switched directions yesterday, sending the fire toward the Triple C instead of her home.

Like the feelings brewing in his chest, some things were better left unsaid.