Nearly forty-five minutes later, Megan scrubbed her hands in the small half-bathroom.

The cold water was a shock to her system.

Who was the woman in the mirror? Wisps of hair had escaped the clasp at the back of her neck and framed her face. Her cheeks were flushed, probably from the exertion of hustling across the fields to the ranch house. Maybe from seeing Dan again. Her eyes were even sparkling a little, something she hadn't seen in the mirror since Emma's death.

Enough of that. Single moms didn't have time to gawk at themselves in the mirror. Time to gather up the kids and head home.

She couldn't help glancing around as she left the bathroom. Earlier, she'd been too concerned about Kelsey to care about her surroundings.

The Triple H ranch must do well for itself. The house was furnished just the way she would've done it. Warm and homey. Family pictures everywhere, including photos of a princess—Matt Hale's sister-in-law. Books scattered everywhere.

Why did the ranch house feel like home so effortlessly, when Megan had spent countless hours trying to transform the bungalow in town to a place where Julianne and Brady would feel comfortable? She didn't have the touch, apparently. Or maybe it was her they didn't feel at home with.

Kelsey had claimed the books as hers. She'd still been explaining her pre-eclampsia diagnosis when Dan and Brady had appeared, the boy clutching Megan's black medical bag to his middle.

Matt Hale had shown Brady to the office, where Julianne was already watching TV. Dan had disappeared, but Megan couldn't forget the concern in his eyes. Kelsey mattered to him. Were they related? Friends?

By the time she'd taken Kelsey's vitals and found the baby's heartbeat the old school way—by stethoscope—the pregnant woman had stabilized. Her blood pressure had been slightly up, but they'd called Kelsey's obstetrician on speakerphone, and the consensus was that a late-night visit to the ER would do more harm than good. Kelsey had promised to come in for an office visit first thing Monday morning.

Megan had excused herself to wash up, unable to block out Matt Hale's quiet dressing down of his wife.

Megan only hoped the woman would listen. Pre-eclampsia was nothing to joke about. It was dangerous for both mom and baby, and even though bed rest had to be difficult for someone as active as Kelsey—a runner and former Olympic champion—it was necessary.

Not wanting to interrupt, Megan exited the bathroom and tiptoed down the hall. Lights flickered, and flat noise came from under a door midway down the hall. Must be the office.

But only Julianne was inside, her eyes glued to the cartoon characters on the screen.

"Where's Brady?" Megan glanced back down the hall, but she hadn't passed him, and no lights had been on in other rooms.

Julianne's eyes went to the floor.

"Where is he?" Megan's heart started thundering against her breastbone. She'd set the rules for a reason.

"He really wanted to watch the rest of the rodeo," Julianne said in a small voice.

Panic spiked. There were so many things that could happen to a little boy by himself.

"Come with me right now." Megan knew her voice was betraying her anxiety.

Megan grabbed the girl's arm as they hit the back porch. The fields were dark for nearly a quarter of a mile until the arena lights flooded the action over there. So many places a boy could stumble and fall. Sprain his ankle. Get lost.

"The next time your brother does something stupid, you come and get me," she muttered.

Julianne's voice was still tiny. "But you said not to interrupt you."

She had said that. It hadn't even crossed her mind that Brady would leave the house. He didn't even know anybody here.

What was he thinking?

Dan had beat feet back to the rodeo. Not because he didn't want to be around Megan, but he knew Nate expected him back. Though there were plenty of cowboys around, this rodeo was the Triple H's responsibility.

One of the stock contractors had relieved him when the bronc busting started. The men were particular about their stock—with good reason, the rodeo association had rules to protect the animals—and wanted to ensure their expensive stock got into the arena all right.

Nate wasn't around to give him another job, and it'd gotten dark and crowded enough that Dan could hang around the shadowed side of the arena without causing a ruckus. He tried to relax into the feel of the metal railing beneath his hands. Loosen up his neck and gaze at the sky between competitors. The stars were out.

The aura surrounding the arena had changed. With the kids' competitions out of the way, the adult riders were all business. Even the crowd's cheers had changed, louder and more raucous as the night wore on.

He'd loved the roping competition when he'd been sixteen. Had thought it was going to be his winning ticket out of Taylor Hills.

Until Jimmy ditched him.

He still liked watching the cowboys working in pairs. Could still remember the feel of the lasso, stiff in his palm, sailing out over his head. The high of winning.

He still hadn't shaken the uber-awareness of his surroundings that his time in prison had instilled in him. If someone accidentally brushed against him, he jumped a mile.

Which meant he caught the slight movements to his right as a kid-sized body sidled up to the arena fence.

Dan squinted into the shadows. Brady. The doc's... sort-of kid.

He'd been quiet when they'd fetched the doc's bag from probably the only sedan on the property earlier. It'd been as out of place as the doc in her slacks with her hair up behind her head.

It went to show how small Dan's world had become. Sequestered on the ranch all the time. By his own choice.

He didn't have enough distractions. He'd thought of little besides the pretty doctor since he’d seen her both in her office and at the gas station. That glimpse of pain that had crossed her features... it had hit some kind of old-fashioned dinner triangle inside him. He still felt the echo of it.

And now the kid had snuck out here. Dan didn't have to do much guesswork to figure out why the kid was hiding in the darkest shadows.

Dan's senses tingled again, and he turned his head the other direction. Miles, Nate's boy, sidled up on his opposite side.

"Hey," Miles greeted him.

"Nice ride," Dan said.

Miles was the other person, besides Kelsey, who didn't seem to hold Dan's crimes against him. Maybe because the two of them hadn't known Dan before. Nate and his wife Kayla had adopted the boy just last year, the paperwork coming through just about the same time their baby girl had been born.

"My rope slipped," Miles said. "I lost a good half second for our team."

Movement from his other side. Brady was edging closer. Was the boy trying to listen to their conversation?

Dan turned to look at him. "You met Miles O'Malley yet?"

Brady's eyes caught a reflection from some light behind Dan, shining and about the only thing he could see of the boy in the shadows.

His eyes narrowed. He seemed unsure whether to run off or join the conversation.

Apparently Miles rated high, because Brady stepped into the light. "That was you riding? And roping?"

Miles smiled. You'd never know the kid had been an orphan before. He had an easy manner, helped in his mom's dog rescue. Loved to talk maybe more than he loved dogs.

"Yeah, that was me. What's your name? You new in town?"

"We just moved here. I'm Brady."

The boys knocked fists. They were probably two years apart. Miles was older. Brady could do a lot worse for friends.

"How'd you learn how to do that stuff?" Brady almost bounced in excitement.

"My dad taught me to ride." The pride in Miles's voice was easy to hear.

And Dan couldn't help the pinch in his gut. Nate was a good dad. Had been a good friend, until Dan had thrown everything away. That itch between his shoulder blades started in bad.

Miles's gaze slide to Dan. "I think Scottie is going to quit, though. He wants to play football, and his dad said he couldn't rodeo and play sports."

"Bummer," Dan said.

There was a beat of quiet. The bell rang, and two adult riders flew out of the gate on their horses, making quick work of roping and tying off a steer.

Dan heard the intake of air from Brady. And then the quiet, "Do you think I could learn how to do that?"

"Sure, you could," Miles was quick to insert.

But Dan knew better than to assume. "If your mom… I mean the doctor… if the doctor agrees, there's lots of places around here that give riding lessons."

Brady locked his eyes on the action in the arena. His shoulders drooped.

"She's not my mom," he muttered. "She's my aunt. My parents died."

Oh. Poor kid.

Miles moved around Dan to stand next to Brady and put his hand on the other boy's shoulder. "I'm sorry. My parents are gone, too."

The boy's compassion put a hot knot in Dan's throat. Adults could take notes from a kid like this, a kid with a good heart.

Then a strident voice rose above the rodeo noise. "Brady!"

Dan raised a brow at the kid, whose expression showed a mix of guilt and anger.

When Dan caught sight of the doctor, she looked frazzled and stressed. Her hair had completely escaped the knot, and her face was pale.

He raised his hand in a wave. When her eyes locked on him, he pointed down at his side.

Relief crossed her expressive face, but by the time she'd navigated through the crowd to them, she only looked stern. She had the little girl in tow.

"Brady! What was rule number one?"

She didn't reach out and hug him like Dan might've expected.

And the boy's shoulders tensed up immediately. He didn't answer her, just stuck his chin out toward the arena, jaw set.

Miles watched curiously.

He could almost see the doctor rallying her patience. "Brady, rule one."

Brady gritted his teeth stubbornly, still staring at the arena.

"You were supposed to stay with your sister," the doctor said. "It's not safe."

"It's all good folks here," Dan said, trying to reassure her.

She cut him an angry look. "That's not the point. What if one of those huge bulls had gotten out? He could've been trampled."

Okay, so she'd gone from a little worried to the sky is falling. There's no way the stock contractors or the ranch hands would let that happen. Plus, there were extra hands on horseback if some freak accident happened.

But Brady was having none of it.

And Dan could see the doctor's temper was about to snap.

He reached out and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Your aunt was worried about you. You have anything to say to her?"

Brady slid a glance at Miles. Dan thought he might refuse, but finally he mumbled, "I'm sorry."

But when Dan glanced back at the doctor, her eyes were fixed on him, not on the boy.

"You've pulled your stitches," she accused.

"No—" But when he looked down, a red stain was growing beneath his armpit. "There's a paramedic on call for the rodeo. I'll have him fix me up."

But she was already shaking her head. "Let's go back to the house."

Megan was still shaking from the rush of adrenaline and fear when they reached the ranch kitchen. She needed to calm down, or there was no way she'd be able to stitch up the cowboy.

Brady had just walked off. Barely apologized.

She'd been so scared.

"Sit down," she told Julianne and Brady, pointing to the small table jammed in a breakfast nook. A glance through the doorway showed a long picnic-style dining table, which would've given the kids more room, but right now, she wasn't letting Brady out of her sight.

Dan addressed Miles. "Why don't you get your friends some lemonade? Scarlett probably has some cookies hidden away." The doctor looked at the other boy now. Seemed she’d barely noticed him when she'd found them. He'd followed them back to the house, and Dan had introduced him as Nate's son.

Julianne lit up, but Brady muttered, "Cookies are against the rules," beneath his breath.

"It's fine," Megan said through gritted teeth.

Of the two of adults in the room, it was easy to see who was making more of an impression on the kids. Julianne was smiling at Dan and even Brady had a sparkle of interest in his eyes.

Megan just wanted to get out of here. But she couldn't let a patient suffer. She put her bag on the table and opened it.

Her hands were still shaking.

"Is there a bedroom or somewhere…?"

And then Dan was there, closer than she expected. Pressing a hot cup of coffee into her hands, their fingers tangling.

"You can stitch me up right here. There's plenty of light. Why don't you take a minute, first?"

The mug’s warmth seeped into her. For a few seconds, she and Dan shared a connection. She took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of coffee and man, and some of her fear drained away.

She was caught in his gaze, in his touch. Warm and appreciative. A tether back to steady ground.

And then... more. An electric charge, an awareness zinged between them.

Abruptly, he broke away and stepped to the counter. He looked out the darkened window. He was pulling away. She'd felt him do the same in her office. What made him distance himself?

She leaned her hip against the counter, allowing a sense of calm to steal over her. Letting her mind stop spinning from visions of everything that could've happened to Brady but hadn't. Behind all of it, she continued to be aware of the man nearby.

"How long have you been riding?" Brady asked, voice low.

Miles answered in normal volume. "Not that long. When my mom and dad started fostering me, my dad taught me. They gave me Buster for my birthday last year."

"Really? You have your own horse?" Julianne asked the question, but when Megan glanced at the table, it was easy to see the jealousy streaked across Brady's face.

"I want to learn how to do clover barrels," Julianne chirped.

Megan winced. There was no way. As far as she was concerned, riding was dangerous and racing was twice as bad.

She took a big gulp of her coffee, burning the back of her throat. Enough.

She set the coffee mug down and went to the sink to scrub up. Dan saw her coming and moved out of the way.

Once she'd washed and dried, she moved back toward her bag on the counter while, silently, Dan unbuttoned his shirt and slipped his arm out to give her access to his injury. His miles of muscles affected her only for a millisecond this time, because she was prepared for it.

"Local?" she asked softly.

He shook his head.

He jumped when she touched him again, a brush of her hand against his lower back.

He inhaled on the first stitch, but remained perfectly still otherwise.

"At least you've only pulled half," she murmured.

"You're gonna have a wicked scar," Miles said from the table. He sounded far too excited for her taste. "Maybe it'll impress the ladies."

Julianne dissolved into giggles.

Megan frowned. "Some women aren't impressed with scars. Especially when they're stupidly earned. How'd you get this any way? From a bull?"

The back door banged shut.

"Dad!" Miles yelled.

Megan glanced up only for a second, noting the hard gaze that passed between Nate and Dan. Dan had tensed up beneath her hand, and whatever tenuous connection had been between them disappeared.

"The lady asked you a question," Nate said tightly. "How'd you get that?"

"Scraped against a nail while I was tearing out the fence in the west pasture."

Brady and Julianne had gone quiet, somehow sensing the tension between the adults.

"Try not to do any lifting or straining this time," she said.

"I couldn't let her fall," he murmured.

Megan knotted the last stitch. "Done."

Dan turned away from Nate, shrugging his shirt up over his shoulder. He looked at the floor as he buttoned up. "You can send me the bill," he said quietly.

"No charge."

His jaw worked.

Nate said something to the kids that she didn't hear.

Dan flicked a gaze over his shoulder at the other man. Muttered something under his breath. Then, to her. "I pay my debts."

Over Dan's shoulder, she saw Nate shoot a hard gaze at the injured cowboy. What was going on between them?

Nate's son jumped up from the table, breaking the tension that had grown from uncomfortable to super-sized. "Are we heading home?"

"Sure." Nate’s ease with his son was in direct contrast to his manner with Dan. "Better go check on your mom and the pups. Buster's all loaded up. We'll just stay and walk out with the good doctor."

Dan's tension seemed to ratchet up even higher, but he didn't say a word. He kept his eyes focused on the floor in front of him.

"Goodbye," she said.

He didn't answer, even as she walked out the door with the kids.