Daphne covered her mouth as a yawn caused her to close her eyes and sigh. She was tired. She didn’t know why she was so tired. It wasn’t like she had gotten less sleep than normal. She’d skipped her workout, but that didn’t usually make her feel sluggish and lethargic. Maybe it was going out the night before and having a few drinks with Met. She wasn’t used to any kind of social interactions like that. Maybe it had just been too much all at once.

“Ms. Daphne?”

Daphne looked up and realized that Phyllis was standing right in front of her desk. Oh boy. How long had she been there? Daphne cleared her throat and tried to wake up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you buzz me. What can I do for you?”

“For starters, you can go home.” Phyllis assumed her grandmotherly pose of disapproval. “But since you won’t do that, you can pick up the phone call waiting on line one.”

“Oh, sure.” Daphne waved to Phyllis as she picked up the phone and pushed the button for line one. “Hey, Daph, it’s Carson.” The unmistakable twang of Carson’s familiar voice gave her hope. She needed him to agree to interview Met Hernandez as soon as possible.

“Hey, how are you?” Daphne suddenly did not feel up to this conversation, this task, or just about anything. Her insides were too jumbled up, and she felt too off-balance from her conversations with Justin. She tried to get her thoughts together but could not.

Fortunately, Carson was at least coherent and on the ball. “So, you want me to interview the Hernandez rodeo rat for our magazine?” Carson heaved a dramatic sigh into the phone. “Why would I want to do that? Seriously. Why? The guy is a drunk.”

“No. He isn’t.” Daphne resisted the urge to cross her fingers in desperate hope that she was not telling a lie. “He is a really nice, surprisingly articulate man. I promise you’re going to be pleasantly surprised.”

“Fine. But it has to be today, and I want to go out to the Hernandez ranch so we can get some good pictures.” Carson sounded petulant. This was not necessarily a good sign. “And you owe me one.”

“Fine. I owe you one.” Daphne looked at the clock hanging on the back wall of her office. “I think we can all get out there by noon. Does that work?”

“It’s going to have to.” Carson harrumphed into the phone and then ended the call.

Daphne was left to sigh as she tried to figure out where this incident fit into the long list of occurrences that seemed determined to make her life far more difficult than necessary. Why was her life suddenly headed down the toilet? When had that happened?

“Phyllis!” Daphne shouted. “Could you…”

No sooner had she thought his name than Demetrio Hernandez came walking through her office door. He turned and pointed back toward her secretary’s desk. “Did you need me to get Phyllis? She told me to just walk on in. Sorry. Would you like me to wait?”

He sounded so solicitous and—so—well—so nice. It was refreshing. Everyone lately seemed to be crabby or pushy or full of some agenda that was determined to make her the butt of some joke that made her the punch line. Met was just so blessedly normal that it was hard not to want to be around him.

Okay. That was ridiculous. She most definitely wanted to be around him, but she needed to start owning the reasons why. The guy was hot. He was nice. He was rich. And he made her feel like a beautiful, desirable woman. Now that she had that out of the way, she could move on and at least be honest with herself.

“Daphne?”

“Right. Sorry. I didn’t mean to zone out. I’m just a little distracted today.” Daphne stood up from her desk because it felt somehow more comfortable than just sitting there staring up at him with what was probably a goofy smile on her face. “You can come in. I was actually just going to ask Phyllis to call you and ask you to come in, so this is extremely good timing.”

“Am I in trouble?” His expression was solemn and his tone subdued. “Is this like getting called to the principal’s office? Because I have to admit that I’ve had that happen more than once.”

“No. It isn’t like getting called to the principal’s office.” Daphne could not help it. Somehow, teasing this man was as natural as breathing. “Although I don’t know. Your principal might have wanted to arrange a photo shoot for you as a teenager. It’s possible. You could have been the poster boy for the PTA car wash.”

“Oh yeah.” He winked at her. “Those PTA ladies were always trying to get me to take off my shirt and run through the sprinkler to bring in more money for charity.”

Daphne laughed. His smile was infectious. Somehow, she could not remain sad when he was around. He seemed to brighten her day. “Actually,” she said with as much dramatic flair as she could muster. “We’re going on a photo shoot and an interview! Isn’t that exciting?”

“Oh yeah.” Now he rolled his eyes. Met folded his arms over his chest. “Where is this photo shoot? Do I have to wear a suit? I hate suits, but I could probably borrow one from Laredo because he has a million of them hanging in his closet.”

“No suit.” She looked at his attire. The worn blue jeans, dusty cowboy boots, and plain white T-shirt were perfect. “You can wear what you have on.”

“Really?” He seemed to perk up at that. “Where are we going?”

“Your ranch.”

“My ranch.” It was like he didn’t even know where that was. How odd. His brows knit together in confusion. “I don’t have a ranch.”

“The writer wants to do it at the Hernandez ranch.”

“The home ranch?” Now he looked alarmed. How odd. “I don’t go out there, Daphne. Can you call them and ask if they can use my friend’s place? It’s called Clouds End Farm.”

“No.” Daphne felt weirdly stubborn about this. “I had to pull a lot of strings. You don’t get it. Carson wants to use the Hernandez ranch. That’s where we’re going. I think he’s probably got some photo op idea for the ranch sign or something.”

“Shit.” Met’s whole demeanor changed. “I’ll have to call my brother and let him know we’re coming. Otherwise your stupid photo crew will get a few rounds of buckshot in their hind ends.”

Daphne felt a jolt of alarm rip right through her. “What?”

“My brother Cal lives out there. He doesn’t get many visitors, and there has been a lot of cattle thieving going on recently. He’s likely to shoot first and ask questions later.”

“Oh.”

Sometimes Daphne was completely out of the loop when it came to the world outside the civilized center of Denver. She forgot that the city had once been a wild and rather lawless place. Sometimes Denver still felt like an island of civility in the midst of complete chaos.

“So, can we go?” she asked Met. “I told him we’d meet him at noon.”

“That’s pushing it.” Met sighed. Then he swept his arm toward the door in a very overdone parody of a bow. “Go ahead, my lady. You lead the way. And I’ll drive.”

“Excuse me?” Did he not like her driving or something? Or was he one of those guys who believed that women were just crappy drivers in general.

He raised his eyebrows. “We’re less likely to get shot at if we’re in a ranch truck. It has the Hernandez Land & Cattle Company brand on the sides. Cal will recognize it and back off. So, let’s hope we get there before your photo shoot morons.”

Daphne was suddenly hustling her way past Ruth and Phyllis. “We’re going to a photo shoot if anyone asks!”

“You have fun now, honey,” Phyllis called after them.

Daphne did not tell the older woman that she was expecting to have about as much fun as she would participating in a Wild West show. She glanced over her shoulder at Met instead. “I thought you said you were going to send your brother a message that we would be coming out there.”

“If he’s on the range or in the barn, he isn’t going to be checking his phone or taking any selfies to post on social media,” Met said with a snort. He was moving toward the elevator with such long strides that she could barely keep up.

Why was it that the idea of not having a smartphone in her hand at all times was so terrifying to imagine? Daphne puzzled that out in her head as she went down in the elevator with Met. It was actually quite difficult to imagine someone not having constant access to a phone. When had that become the way of things? Or was she just hyper conscious about safety and always being connected to emergency services and helpful friends because she’d had Justin in her life for so long?

“What are you thinking about?” Met asked suddenly. “Your face just went pale as milk.”

“I—uh—I was…” Why was it so hard to lie to him? It wasn’t like her love life or lack thereof was any of his business. Right? So, why was she having such a difficult time telling him that it was nothing? It was nothing. Justin was nothing. “Justin came back to my office this morning and tried to bring me flowers.”

The words just sort of spewed forth as though her heart had been determined to circumvent her brain. It was her heart that felt everything so damned acutely and wanted help from any source possible.

“I’m sorry.” Met’s lips were pressed into a thin line. “That must have been terrifying. Were you able to manage him? I can’t imagine the incident last night helped your relationship with him any.”

What? She almost couldn’t respond. She was too busy freaking out at the fact that he was being so nice. People normally didn’t want to talk about it, know about it, or deal with the fact that she was the victim of a crazy stalker. They didn’t know what to do, and it made them feel uncomfortable.

“Th—thank you,” she managed to stammer. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

The elevator dinged, and they exited into the lobby. Met put his arm around her and escorted her from the building. “Is that man still here? Do you think he’s in his office in this building plotting something bad?”

“I don’t know.” It was an honest thought on her part. “It’s always hard to say what Justin will do. He’s unpredictable because he doesn’t follow any kind of logic. He’s a narcissist. He does things for entirely different reasons than everybody else.”

“That’s good you know how he operates, then.” Met was nodding. “That’s the best defense against someone like him. There are far too many times when we just assume that everyone on the planet is logical. Then we’re caught with our pants down because they do something that isn’t in the script.”

Daphne gave up the fight to keep her mouth from falling open in surprise. “How do you know all that?”

“A two thousand pound bull or a bucking horse doesn’t follow logic. Animals don’t have the same kind of hang-ups and cultural norms that humans do. You learn to never take anything for granted, and you always learn to expect the unexpected.” One corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile as he held the front doors of the building open for her. They exited side by side. She stared up at him as though he held all the answers to her most pressing questions. “I learned pretty early that people are even worse than animals. See, most people know what those cultural expectations and norms are. Right? But they don’t follow along like the rest of us because they think it makes them special and powerful. They break rules and violate other people’s privacy and basic human rights because they can and because nobody calls them on it.”

“I wish I’d had you around years ago to tell me this stuff,” she whispered. “It might have saved me a lot of heartache.”

He put an arm gently around her shoulders as he ushered her toward the truck he’d left parked on the curb in front of a meter. “I’m not sure I would have been any use to you back then. It’s taken me years myself to understand that stuff. Now I know. But don’t you think we have to get our butts kicked to the curb a whole lot of times before we learn?”

“Yes.” She sighed as he unlocked and opened the passenger door. “I think you’re absolutely right.”

He helped her up into the truck’s seat. It felt like a long way off the ground, but she didn’t care. That meant he put his hands on her waist to help her up. She loved the way it felt to have his hands on her. They were big and warm and so very secure. It made her feel tiny and cherished to be lifted off the ground as though she were someone special.

Once she was seated, he lingered there for a moment. His palms pressed on the tops of her thighs. She felt the warmth and the weight of his hands. Gazing into his face, she was unable to resist the urge to gently trace his jawline with her fingertips. His shadow beard was scratchy beneath the pads of her fingers. It felt good to touch him. Excitement wound its way through her system and left her tingling all over. His blue gaze caught her like a rabbit in a trap, but she did not mind being snared this way. In fact, if she were honest, she really liked it. There was something about Met Hernandez that made her feel more like a real woman than she ever had before in her life. And that was going to be hard to resist.